#my brain doesn't forget how to teach

[abubblingcandle]

I love not having to work for 6 weeks in the summer but I do hate what it does to my body to then have to go back to teaching a full timetable just straight away

Every part of my body, mind and soul hurts

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. 

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption  my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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[demigodsanswer]

Headcanon: Percy and Annabeth, as a result of being a loving, functional, equitable couple, have caused no less then 8 break ups among their acquaintances.

Annabeth's friend in New Rome watching Percy run two blocks to the drug store to get her Advil for her ankle, because she left it at home that day by mistake:

Friend: Gods, how did you train him that good?

Annabeth, barely paying attention to what she said: huh? Oh I didn't train him much, really. I taught him Ancient Greek, some myths and stuff. I mean, I guess I kind of trained him in battle strategy? But that was more of a "learning on your feet" kind of thing.

Friend: No I mean train him to do whatever you ask, or do things without even asking.

Annabeth: What?

Friend: Like if my back was hurting, I don't think my boyfriend would run two blocks to Walgreens for me.

Annabeth: That's fucked up.

Friend: You ... didn't teach him to do that?

Annabeth: To be nice to me? No, I didn't.

Friend: Ugh, you're so lucky.

Annabeth: I ... think I'm going to kill your boyfriend, actually.

~

Percy forgets to print his paper and somehow manages to leave his computer at home. Annabeth is still home when he calls, and she logs into his computer, prints it for him, and brings it to him before the deadline with his favorite smoothie (she had time to spare, and her best friend was stressed).

Percy: You're amazing, babe. Thank you so much.

Annabeth: Of course. See you later. Love you!

Percy: Love you too!

Some guy in his class: You're so lucky. My girlfriend would never.

Percy: Oh, why not?

Some guy: I don't know. She just doesn't do things like that for me. And the smoothie? Fuck, you're lucky.

Percy: I mean, I know I'm lucky, but ... I don't know, it didn't even occur to me that she wouldn't do me a favor.

Some guy: And she doesn't, like, call you stupid for forgetting?

Percy: No. I mean, she might call me seaweed brain, but that's different.

Some guy: She didn't call you seaweed brain just now.

Percy: You're right she didn't ... hold on [calls Annabeth]. Hey are you mad at me? Well, it's just that I did something silly and you didn't call me 'seaweed brain.' Well, sure anyone could do it, but I did it. No, it doesn't hurt my feelings. Yeah, I like it. Thanks, I love you. [hangs up]. You should break up with your girlfriend by the way.

[humanjarvis]

i learned from you

synopsis: while talking with your colleague, you realize caleb is the closest thing you have to a mother figure. 

pairing: caleb x reader, reader is mc tags: light angst, comfort, fluff, reader had a rough childhood, reader has a period, reader and caleb's relationship is ambiguous but he kisses her head once, reader questions existence, reader is kind of a crybaby, grandma josephine implied to be a bum in this no shade to her word count: 1.3k

a/n: i hope this doesn't read weird #imnotintothat i just keep thinking about how caleb fulfills like 6 different roles in mc's life. he is so gender studies to me

“What do you mean you don’t know how to straighten your hair? Didn’t your mom ever teach you?” Tara asks in genuine confusion. 

With your sandwich halfway to your lips, you freeze. Although you were close with your colleagues, you weren’t all that open about your upbringing, for obvious reasons. Before now, everyone had always accepted your reticence on the topic. They’d never been people to overstep, but you guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“I don't remember much about my parents,” you respond carefully. “My memory from before the Wanderers came is a little blurry, sorry.” 

Tara’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as her cheeks turn scarlet. “I didn’t mean to—” she starts. “I wasn’t trying to—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 

You knew she didn’t know. That was kind of the point. Your whole thing was to move through life ignoring your early childhood, pretending you’d simply spawned into Linkon as a tween. But you couldn’t tell Tara that—she was sweet, it was an honest mistake, and she didn’t need your baggage at noon on a Friday.

Scrambling for something to break the tension, you blurt out, “I think she did teach me how to dry it, though!”

The peace offering is bland—to most people, drying hair is nothing special—but it works. Tara jumps back into the conversation, tactfully choosing to talk about her childhood so you could keep yours locked away in the depths of your mind. Crisis averted, you think. 

Except as the minutes tick by and Tara drones on, you realize the crisis is very much not averted. You’d brought up your “mom” teaching you to dry your hair to save you both from an awkward lunch, but when the lie left your mouth, it wasn’t your mother you were thinking of. It wasn’t Grandma Josephine. It was Caleb. 

Caleb had taught you how to dry your hair. It’d happened when you were twelve; a rowdy classmate had snuck up behind you and pushed you into the pool, leaving your hair a tangled, matted mess. When Caleb had found out your teachers were letting you go home early, he’d skipped his last two classes to be right by your side, running a shower for you while you sulked by the bathroom door. After you’d dried off and changed into the pajamas he’d left on the counter, Caleb came in from the hallway, carrying the same towel he’d used to dry your hair countless times before. Section by section, he’d squeezed the water from your hair, showing you how to without frizzing it up. “Not saying that ‘wet cat’ is a bad look on you, but I get the feeling you don’t want to look like that all the time,” he’d quipped. 

Caleb had been there for you for as long as you could remember, you realize. As you walk back to the Hunters Association, halfheartedly entertaining Tara’s chattering, the memories flood your brain: Caleb teaching you math. Caleb nursing you back to health when you had the flu. Caleb packing your lunchbox, Caleb doing your laundry, Caleb holding you through your first period. For all your firsts, all your milestones, and even the dull moments, he had been there. Your head spins as you stare at your desk, not even remembering sitting down. All your life, has Caleb been your only mother figure? 

You go home lost in thought. 

You stay that way for the whole afternoon, nearly forgetting about the movie night you’d planned for that evening with—you guessed it—Caleb. As you float around your apartment on autopilot, tidying up your living room and throwing on comfier clothes, the doorbell rings. He’s right on time. 

“Hey, pipsqueak,” he greets as you welcome him in. “I hope you’re hungry—I brought your favorite snacks.” 

You thank him with a smile, hoping his observant eyes can’t spot the way it wavers. Just two hours, you think. Two hours and then you’ll be free to question your existence all weekend.

The movie plays as normal. It’s easy to escape the worries on your mind with a fantasy blockbuster stealing your attention. It’s only when Caleb offers to make you a late dinner that the weight of your day falls back down to your shoulders. 

“No, that’s okay. I can just order something after you’re gone,” you refuse shyly. Having returned to your earlier haze of overthinking, you make a mistake. As Caleb moves to ruffle your hair, you flinch, dodging under his hand. The ensuing beats of awkward silence are all it takes for him to register that something is off.  

“...You just pulled away from me. You never do that unless you’re upset. Talk to me, pips—did I do something wrong?” He pauses. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you rush, throwing your hands out in front of you. “No, it’s just…”

When you trail off, he steps closer. “It’s just…what? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” he presses. 

“It’ll sound silly. And weird,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze. 

“Nothing about you is silly, pipsqueak. Except when you’re actin’ cute for my attention,” he adds, gently poking your nose.  

You reward his efforts to put you at ease with a shaky giggle, finally finding the will to talk. “Earlier, Tara just asked me about my parents—wondering if my mom had ever taught me to do something.” 

Caleb grimaces. 

“And with Gran so busy all the time…and with her…gone…now… I just realized the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother figure is you,” you breathe, your voice breaking at the end of your confession. 

Caleb’s unreadable gaze makes the tears arrive faster. “It’s just…you’re everything to me, Caleb. You’ve been with me through everything,” you sniffle. “Every role in my life you could possibly play, you play it, and I didn't even notice until now. You’ve spent over half your life guiding me through mine, and I just feel so helpless. I don’t even know if I'd be alive without you, and—”

Your tears constrict your throat, forcing you to pause if you want to breathe properly.

Even though he knows now is a bad time to dote on you, given the circumstances, Caleb would rather eat glass than turn a blind eye to your tears. He quickly shushes you, letting you cry into his sweater, and the more you relax in his embrace, the more you hate yourself. You really can’t do anything without him.

Settling you both on the loveseat, Caleb rocks you for a few moments before he begins. “I didn't know you felt that way, but it seems like you didn't either. Look, pipsqueak,” he sighs, tilting your head up to make eye contact. “Don't ever feel bad about how you were brought up. I won’t let you keep stressing yourself out over something that was never in your control.” He pauses, as if weighing the consequences of his next words. “And if it means anything, which I hope it does, I thank the stars every day that the universe was kind enough to let me take care of you. To see you grow,” he murmurs, pressing a long kiss to your temple. “Any way you'll have me in your life, I'll be there. Never feel ashamed for that.” 

With your heart pounding, you peek up at him, hesitant awe on your still-teary face. He meets your gaze with a soft smile, softly stroking your back, and you wonder what heroic deeds you accomplished in your past life to deserve him. “I’m sorry for pulling away from you earlier,” you whisper, nestling your head into his shoulder. 

You don’t know how long you stay there curled beside him, but the moon is high in the sky when he next speaks.

“So…mother figure, huh?” he asks, voice mischievous now that your tears have dried. “Better me than anyone else. You might have liked her more than me—can’t have that.” 

Lifting your head, you swat his chest. “Caleb!” you groan.  

[headedstraightforfrankcastle]

Random Vi headcanons

Plot: none, just random thoughts about Vi as your pretty little girlfriend <3

Disclaimer: both SFW and NSFW, not revised (please tell me if there's any mistake so I can fix it), mention of food

A/N: besties, I didn't forget about the smut! It just coming together pretty slowly because I'm working on an exam and all my strenght goes there. But it's coming, so stay tuned 👀

-

SFW:

Vi who always has a little smirk on her face because of the scar in her upper lip - her mouth is costantly slightly ajar and it makes her look as is in an endless state of are, mostly when she's looking at you

Vi who holds your hand as if it were the last safe anchor in a sea full of monsters

Vi who tries to cook for you when you don't feel like doing it by yourself, but she insists you absolutely cannot skip even one single meal

Vi who clearly makes a mess, filling the sink with dirty pots and utensils, struggling to keep up with something harder that a grilled cheese, but who keeps trying and ends up cooking a not-so-bad-but-very-personal version of your favourite dishes

Vi who later gives you the biggest puppy eyes while watching you eat, waiting fo you to tell her if she did good (you end up telling her she did even if it's a lie, because the effort that woman puts in everything she does for you is worth eating even dirt if she put it in a soup for you)

Vi who actually likes cooking with you as you teach her tips and tricks, because the way you do it without being patronising makes her feel important

Vi who insists on watching horror movies with you thinking she's good at hiding the dread

"It's just a movie, babe, no need to get scared", but she's actually the one taking her gaze of the TV when scary stuff happens. It always ends up with her snuggling in your arms saying it is for your comfort (you both know it's a lie)

Vi who loves to absentmindedly play with your hair and who's head over heels when you dye a lock of her same pink

Vi who is so messy in basically everything she does except handling you

Vi who sings in the shower thinking you can't hear her, not knowing you're actually sitting outside the door listening to her

Vi who would teach you some self-defence and love seeing you becoming stronger everyday, but will still be your scary dog privilege

Vi whose first reason to teach you how to fight is to admire you in your workout gear because your body and the way it moves is art to her - but seeing you so powerful when you hit the punching bag and knowing you can do it to whoever tries to hurt you is second place on the list

Vi who always shares drinks with you, so she's sure not to exaggerate with the alcohol and gets to have a constant contact with you at the same time

Vi who doesn't mind getting into little fights because she knows that when she comes home you'll fuss over her like a madman; it always ends up with you doing your best to mend her wounds while sitting on her lap, and she loves it

Vi who can seem like the toughest, meanest, harshest person to the rest of the world - but who, you know, has the biggest heart who she only shows to those she loves, especially you

Vi who is the best of both worlds, both strong and vulnerable, and who melts when you call her your wonder

NSFW:

Vi who likes your marks a little too much: your bites on her thighs and neck, the hickeys you leave both in places where everyone can see then and in hidded spots only she knows about (these are her favourites), the stinging red lines and half-moons of your nails digging onto her skin... the memories of you on her alter her brain chemistry in a way she cannot even describe

Vi who's a massive switch, but who's always at your service, mostly when she's fucking you dumb, be it with her fingers, her tongue or her strap

Vi who was sceptical about taking the strap from you at first, but later realizes how much she loves being at your mercy

Vi who loves making love (she stopped "having sex" with you a long time ago) while listening to a playlist you made with her and your favourite songs, humming the little tunes while she kisses you neck or eat you out, making you crazy

Vi who has you sitting naked on her knees and spends hours worship your body: caresses, kissing, the tip of her fingers tracing your curves, did I mention that you are her favorite work of art?

Vi who is super sensitive, way more than you, and loves taking her time with you before you take your time with her, so you can both finish together, her core rubbing against your until your screams of pleasure mix with hers

Vi who memorizes all your limits and knows you more than you know youreslf, but establishes a safe word anyway, just to be sure

Vi who never runs out of things she wants to do to you and who loves discovering all the nasty little things you want to do to her

Vi, with whom everytime feels like the first time, but who also is the most familiar habit

That's all besties! Hope you liked these little ideas, thank you for reading and have an amazing day <3

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

You're different, more than all of them expected. It's saddening for some, boner inducing for others. He likes the way you try to blow his brains out. The head of the GDA sees an opportunity.  [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one] [2] [Ao3] [4] [Chapter Index]

3 * Narcan Blues [6.4k]

"I'm tired of walking away to lose you,

I take my Adderall with milk and sugar,

I'm gonna be okay,

get the fuck out of my way."

 Alcohol - FIDLAR

  The defense wing was gone. All the engineers were sliced through. Only a handful of staff left compared to the hundreds stuffed into the Pentagon. So much blood he could taste the metal. So much death and destruction and all from one person. Now smashed into his floor. Re-animen called off. Donald hovered behind him, mechanical body exposed. 

        If one Invincible could do that and there were how many of these little bastards? The world was bent over, spanked, and properly fucked. 

        Communications with most world leaders had been cut due to death or satellites being smashed. Plan B through Z had been used and flicked aside like flies. But then, there was this very unexpected and hopefully fortunate turn of events. 

        Cecil Stedman leaned over the desk. Dozens of screens showing him the few remaining CCTV feeds of the area in question. The few living staff busted their asses, tracking the variants. Six of them converged on one singular location. They hadn't been together since they'd first zapped into reality. No portals opened and it didn't seem like one would anytime soon.

        He watched, listening to the crackling feed from the cheapest cameras business owners could afford. At first, he thought the prison-smashing, New York flattening freak was going to kill you on his lonesome. Then the rest came, one after another. Couldn't forget the one watching in the sky. 

        They didn't converge on you like hungry wolves. They spoke and then the strangest, best thing happened. One of them dropped dead. Killed himself on a whim, at your say so. 

        "I need everything we've got on her, now." He said to no one in particular, but heard the remaining staff scramble behind him.

        "You should sit down Sir," Donald said. "You're running on fumes." He held out an alcohol soaked rag.

        Cecil took it, pressing it hard to the bleeding slit in his head. A sliver of his skull was exposed to the air, blood gushing and rolling into one of his eyes. Not that he could see out of it, his vision was spotty and limited to begin with, his orbital had to be fractured. Flaxan bastard.

        "Can't, so you better get to teaching me on how to run on fumes."

        Donald didn't smile. Cecil hated himself for the jab but apologies were for later, way, way later. 

        He watched the newcomers rush in. Dog Girl, Psychopomp, Mercy, Running Man, and The Amazing Kidult. A handful of nobody scraps that surrounded his one and only hope for the planet. They were going to be torn to shreds. 

        Cecil was counting on that. 

        "How's the teleporter?" He asked.

        "Almost online, sir!" Someone shouted across the room. "I dunno if it'll be stable-"

        "Define almost." He didn't care about stable. 

        "Three minutes!"

        "God damn it." These nobodies weren't going to distract them that long. But his staff was doing all they could, fast as possible. He had to move onto the next step in the hasty plan he was gluing together with popsicle sticks.

               ***

       They waited, though the action had already started. When one is a Viltumite- so fast, so powerful- watching lesser beings run at them felt like slow motion. Not from fear, but from the monotony of it all. Waiting for something interesting or challenging, but the best they get is a punch that doesn't even tickle.

        The Amazing Kidult was a stretch of a contingency plan. He was more useful if you had to pretend to be somebody's mom, trust, the situation had arisen before. If you have to get into a preschool to kill one of the teachers, who was actually a drug runner who didn't deliver on the goods, he was useful. Nobody would let some random adult in, so Kidult would shift from his thirty-year-old self to whatever age you needed.

        Freaky, sure, but he could've done a lot worse with his powers. 

        You hadn't wanted him to answer the phone, but here he was. Throwing himself first into the fray. Thirty going on five to duck under an unenthusiastic punch thrown by Mohawk. Soon as he was in the clear, under the guy's legs, he was five going on thirty. Growing with a fist aimed straight for Mohawk's balls. 

        He was freshly twenty when Mohawk grabbed him by the throat, snapped his neck with a twitch of the hand. He dropped Kidult, cringing, "Weirdest dude I've killed in awhile." He kicked Kidult away, sending his corpse into the smoke of New York.

        Dog Girl lunged for Shoulder Pads. Going from your everyday Twitter-scrolling, Contrapoints watching, EDM mixing t-girl, to ginormous fucking werewolf. Maw open wide enough to bite him in half. Shoulder Pads isn't even a blur, one second, he's about to die, the next he's behind her.

        When shot, a dog does one of two things. Die quietly or let out such a pathetic sound it makes you want to kill. But when a Dog Girl's head is separated from a Dog Girl's body? That sound made you want to throw up.

        "Pathetic." He says, "But I'm not surprised (Y/n) enlisted the likes of you."        

        You didn't have time to unpack what that meant. Your finger shoots towards Lensless-or as you now thought of him, Boner Boy- too busy holding his suit out above his dick so no one could see the outline of his arousal.

        "Kill him!" You say, eyes locked onto Running Man's goggles. 

        Instead of looking horrified at the idea of fighting with a hard-on, Lensless grins. Running Man, a C-tier hero at best, zipped forward. Nowhere near quick or strong as the late Red Rush, but that didn't matter. He had what Red Rush didn't. An energy shotgun, so powerful he blasted straight through a kaiju last fall. Honestly, the only reason he was so high in your book was because of that gun but you couldn't tell him that- he's got a temper. 

        Round and Round Lensless he ran, a gray blur. Shotgun powering up and up and up. 

        Mohawk made his way toward you. "Look, babe, you know I appreciate a good ass-kicking, but this is just so lame; it's unnecessary! You know you can't fight me."

        "Cover me!" You tell Mercy. She's in front of you, solar-powered caduceus staff spinning in hand. 

        Round and round and round. Lensless head spun following his to-be attacker, laughing, "So are you gonna hit me or what?" 

        You blinked. Just blinked, but when you opened your eyes, Mercy's blood was shooting out of her esophagus like a fountain. Top half of her head splattered God knows where. Tongue twitching, bottom jaw pooling with blood as she fell to her knees then to the ground. 

        Mohawk stepped over her into your personal space. You stagger back, head reeling, stomach churning. You should've done this earlier, but got too preoccupied with the contingencies. With the backup plan that was blowing up spectacularly in your face. "Kill Yo-"

        You feel it coming. Your head whips to the side as vomit forces it's way out of your throat. Bitter as it was going down. You sway, head pulsing. 

        "Does being near me make you that sick?" Mohawk laughs but there's little humor in it.

        "Yes." You gaggle out, spitting out the last of the bile. Hand in pocket, cracking the top off another bottle of codeine. It was a bad idea shotgunning one, puking it out, and shotgunning another. Some of the first had been absorbed into your system. Adding onto that absorption was prime real estate for death by overdose. You had no other options. Overdose or be tortured to death by a guy with your ex's face. 

        Ker-ack!

        The top of Running Man's body sails over head. Going splat on a building behind you. His legs are still moving around Lensless, who just held out his arm and cut the guy in half.

        "Why do they never think that I can just do that and it's over?" He scoffed, running the hand that had just killed Running Man through his hair. Blood clinging to the locks like gel. "So boring."

      You see the mass coming in hot. Running Man's gun barreling toward your head. You drop the bottle, half drunk, and hold your hands out to catch it. Mohawk is too busy trying to get his fingers under your chin to notice. The Phantom was busy liberating Psychopomp's arms from her body. Others noticed, Lensless raced, followed by Shoulder Pads. In the sky, the Viltrumite watches. Interested in you and your well-being, of course, but if you couldn't handle a gun flying toward your head- you couldn't handle him.

        To his pleasure, you catch the thing. Fumbling before twisting the gun into the right position, ready to fire at will. The thing pulses with purple energy, humming.

        Lensless stops, chest centimeters from the shotgun barrel. "Whew, thought I'd be picking your teeth up off the ground!"

        Mohawk is shoved out of the way as Lensless came in way too hot, spitting a, "Watch it, dipshit."

        Shoulder Pads stops behind him. Aware of the gun buzzing, vibrating in your hands. He wasn't afraid, more so curious. Watching you tilt the barrel up, aimed straight for Lensless's head. You really were different. Daring enough to point a gun a version of him (again), any version of him, despite his royal linage, despite his power. The sight was like a slap across the face, but he did nothing to stop what was coming. If Lensless died to you and his own foolishness- he deserved death. 

        In another universe, one with a Mark Angstrom hadn't taken- the same energy crystal slapped into the gun was fired straight at Omni-man. Sending him crashing through concrete. Hurting him, even just a little, was no small feat. Something that could hurt him? Imagine would it could do to his son, not yet fully grown into his powers. But you didn't know that, none of them did. If Lensless knew, he wouldn't have moved anyway.

         "Reminds me of old times." As the gun's power apexed, Lensless smiled and leaned down. Putting his left eye into the barrel hole, his hips undulating. "I've got an itch actually, mind pulling the trigger for me real quick?"

        Blammo. 

        You fall back, hands burning, shoulders aching, gun launching itself out of your hands, clattering thirty feet back and breaking useless against the concrete. Lensless shoots back as well, five, six, feet- holding a hand to his left eye, blood seeping between his fingerless gloves.

        "Man-" His laughs are breathy, wanton, "Oh man, I think you really got me there." His hand falls away, "Is it bad?"

        The light brown of his eye had split in two. Oozing vitreous tissue down and around the exposed bone of his cheek and lower eye socket. All the flesh and fabric around his eye had singed away. Leaving a pulsing, angry chasm. Blast so hot it'd cauterized most of his blood vessels. The few that remained open bled like rivers into the sea. 

      He pokes at one half of his eye, "I can still kinda see." He hums. 

        "You asked for that one dude," Mohawk said.

        "Don't call me, dude, dude." Lensless says, though he's smiling. Shreds of eyelids twitching, trying to close around the mess.

        "See, this is why you should be wearing goggles." Shoulder Pads commented. "Look at you. What use are you to my empire half blind?"

        Phantom let Psychopomp drop, still screaming, rolling on the ground, legs kicking like a de-winged butterfly. He stepped closer but not too close. He felt hot, too hot, just being on the same planet as you. Too close and he'd burn to a crisp. Too far again and his heart would ice over. 

        He knew you weren't the same person. You just looked like it, moved like it, sounded like it. He didn't believe in second chances either but still, if there was a second chance for you and him- how could he pass it up? Angstrom had made a good argument. "You miss her, I can see the loss has hit you hard." He'd thrown a punch, though Angstrom was already gone. Behind him. "Do you even remember what it was like to hold her?" Another punch. "Do you want to remember?"

        He did. So very badly. 

        Because he didn't recall the taste of your lips. It'd been so long. Five years, two months, three days without you felt like the thousands of years his father said he'd live. Being near you now, reversed time. The reveal of you, this you and your truth, was violently fast, too quick to process. It felt like a joke, like the rug had been pulled from under his feet. But he could fix it. Could make you whole again the same way you'd do for him once he got you alone.

        "You know you're not the only emperor of Viltrum here, right?" Mohawk said. 

        Shoulder Pads stiffened, pouting slightly, "I assumed we all were. I wasn't aware so many of us were weak enough not to take the throne." He shot a disgusted glance toward Lensless, who was still poking at the remnants of his eye.

        Talking like you weren't here, like they hadn't just shredded through your contingencies like cheese to grater. Your mouth screws into a sneer. Fingers digging into rubble so small it felt like sand. You rose, albeit wobbly. "Hey, pirate, come'ere."

        They stared in confusion a moment. "Oh! Are you talking to me?" Lensless pointed at himself. "Are you giving me a nickname already?" He was in front of you but you hadn't seen him move. The damage was worse up close. You could smell the burnt flesh. He leaned in for a kiss or just to violate your personal space. "Would should I call you? Sweetums? Hot lips? Babygi-"

        You shoved gravel into his eye socket. Pressing, twisting, scissoring your fingers to get the dirt in all the cracks and open veins.

        "You like that?" You snarled, though it sounded slurred. Stomach churning with sick. Head throbbing from the drugs. 

        "Fuuuck!" Lensless stumbled back a pace. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuckkk." He's moaning, groaning, in pain. Good. Satisfaction rises in your chest. "I think I just came." 

        ***

        Cecil's lips pushed in. Ninety seconds was all the distraction they got. All he could hope for was the degenerate version of the planet's strongest hero didn't snap her neck for that. He'd call on Mark for help if he could, but Mark was busy fighting off two versions of himself in downtown Tokyo. One in red and white, the other in the classic yellow and blue. He watched on split screens as the other Marks surrounded you. As their Mark fought for his, Eve's, and the people of the city's lives.

        Tokyo was the first city hit. They came out of green portals above Japan and got right to work. Mark and Eve were on a date in Osaka when this whole mess started. Just flown in after a job well done in New York. Tired from super speed, ready to get down to relaxing.

        It had been a good thing in Cecil's eyes, the kid was a loose canon these days, but he still saved hundreds at the time. All those people he saved were definitely dead now, based on how things went. The destruction was too catastrophic to contain. The other versions of him were too quick, too bloodthirsty. New York was practically defenseless with the people currently on his payroll.

        Cecil couldn't help either of them like this. Even when he could, he'd have to choose who to go to first. (Y/n) seemed like decent shot. Still, Mark was Mark, he was practically Invincible. Not going for him first would be one hell of a gamble he'd have to be absolutely sure about. "How much longer?" 

        "Ninety seconds!" A tech called. 

        A minute and a half to make a decision that could make or break the planet. Just another Tuesday. 

         "Sir," Donald shifted behind him, fingers fast on a keyboard as he pulled up the file, "That's (Y/n) (L/n). File says her and Mark used to date, sir." He swallowed. As the GDA it was their job to know everything about everyone important. Superheroes and villains top of the list, terrorists, politicians, and importantly, their connections. Dangling a husband or child in front of any one of those people could get them to do damn near anything. So the database was kept, a background thing, a backup.

        Though everyone who worked in that department thought it was useless and hated working on it- today they'd earn that paycheck. 

        "Tell me more," Cecil said, because to be honest, he had no idea who this girl was. 

        "They were together before Mark developed his powers. Very briefly after. It's likely they split after she started working for Machine Head." Donald said.

        Everyone thought the government couldn't possibly know and see everything. They could. Machine Head was a thorn in Cecil's side, but so small and insignificant when it came to the matter of the entire planet, he'd done nothing about it. Local criminal empires were for local heroes to deal with, not Cecil Stedman. 

        Cecil's finger tapped his bicep, arms crossed over his chest. He watched the battle between Mark, Mark, and Mark shift. Eve's leg was snapped like a twig, she went down hard and useless. Their Mark was on her, trying to carry her away while local heroes stepped into the fray. He broke through the atmosphere, screaming for help. Leaving just in time to see the local talent get shredded right through. 

        He hadn't killed a single one of them, whereas the city gutter rat had. Cecil swallowed, eyes switching back and forth, "Great. I'm sure his ex'll wanna work with us."

        "Probably not, but Sir, what those versions of Mark are saying implies they're not exes in their universe." Donald nodded to the screen. The Mark's surrounding her in a semicircle. Bloodied. One screaming about cum. 

        The decision was made. The bait was too good to pass up. Eve would live without immedatate medical attention.

        His fingers curled into his sleeves. "Someone not working on the teleporter- get me powercuffs, Narcan, the most noise proof headphones we can find, and a muzzle, preferably the same we used on the first re-animen, I like not killing myself."

        ***

        "Get away from me."

        He does, you wish he hadn't. Up close you couldn't see his bottom half so well. But as soon as he stepped back, you can see the imprint of his dick softening. See the wet stain on his lower abdomen. 

        The sight is... you don't know. You felt sick in a way that couldn't be from the codeine overdose or the life or death situation in front of you. Guts twisting in disgust, a disgust you had seen in others. You were unsavory to people around you, but interesting, like a pet they could discipline. Something they desired against their best interests. But the way he was looking at you with his one good eye, was beyond desire. He looked like he wanted to crawl into your chest and rut on your ribs. 

        You didn't know how to feel, but his companions not being cool with it certainly helped. 

        "Dude, what the fuck?" Mohawk said. "That is- wow, dude. Do you have brain damage?"

        "A little." Lensless eyes unfogged from your control, but not from lust. 

        "A little?" Shoulder Pads questioned. "You've just been disrespected and you've come in your pants- what do you mean a little?"

        Lensless shrugs. "Means what it means, dude."

        The Phantom edged closer. Fingers twitching. Tempted, very, very tempted to rid Lensless of his other eye. 

        You hear a meow, he comes out at the worse time. Caligula bounding from the rubble, meowing and curling himself around your ankles. You bend to grab him. A rush of wind and Lensless is in front of you, holding your cat. Stupid thing is purring with a hand ready to snap his tiny neck.

        "Will you use your powers on me if I kill 'im?" He gasps, realizing something with a grin, "Would you cry too?"

        He'd gone from lustful to violent in a millisecond. Actually, scratch that- he was both at once. He just saw another way to get his rocks off. 

        To answer he question, yes and yes. He can see it in your eyes. He's going to do it.

        Until a fist cracks his jaw, loosening his hold enough for Mohawk to take the cat.

        "Jesus, dude! Relax."

        Lensless laughs, rubbing his jaw, the punch barely fazing him. "Don't act like you care about that thing." 

        "I don't," Mohawk says, Caligula rubbing on his arms. "Killing something this weak is below us."

        "Maybe below you but not me." Lensless reaches for the cat. Mohawk jerks back. You can only watch. Scared if you say something he'll kill your sweet, idiot baby. "Aww come on, you're no fun. Don't you wanna see her cry?"

        Mohawk's gaze slides over you. Considering. Then he's gone in a crack. Returning just as fast, but without Caligula. He opens his mouth just before you start to scream, "Your ugly pet is fine. We'll get it back before we leave, okay babe?"

        You don't know if you believe him. You want to but you're stuck on the promise of 'when we leave'.

        Blood was rushing in your ears, you could barely hear yourself say, "Psychopomp, get up." She did. Balance wavering, blood spurting out where her arms should be connected to her body, pulsing to the beat of her heart. "Revive the others."

        "Hell no." She said. You'd forgotten. 

        A note about mind powers. Generally, they don't work well on other people with mind powers. Even if it's mind powers to raise the dead. And another thing that was working against you- you'd dated, very briefly, four years ago. Two months of sex and coping with your new life. Not finishing high school because of your jail sentence and your new role as Machine Head's grunt. Not going to college, not being with Mark. 

        She wanted to go the distance. Go clean, build a life together. Lesbians are fast with those sorts of decisions. You couldn't, wouldn't. You tried to force her to forget you on your two-month anniversary. Just to find out, psychics have a hard time controlling other psychics. The breakup was a huge blowout. Her calling you every name in the book. Unbelieving that she wanted to move in with you. Demanding you give her Caligula because she was the who wanted him in the first place.

        You kept the cat. Cleansed your phone of her number. Didn't cry over the loss in your life because she wasn't shit. She was a nobody grunt The Order sometimes called on. It made missions with her tense, but you dealt with it. 

        Until. 

        You'd almost died too many times to count. One of which was a deal gone wrong where your bodyguard wound up dead. Your head was next on the concrete chopping block, still dripping with the blood from his neck. You escaped with quick wit, but it scared the shit out of you so bad you redialed her number as a contact. Saved it as contingency twenty-seven. Assumed if you'd call she'd come. Another thing about lesbians, they have a horrible time getting over an ex. Then you never called or texted, forgot about her and who contingency twenty-seven was besides a panic alarm.

        She hadn't said anything today when you called, just came to where you said. Everything had gone so quick you hadn't had time to process that she hadn't been controlled. That she was who she was and somehow, even though years had separated your relationship like the grand canon, she came for you.

        "You're letting yourself die because I didn't take you back?" Usually, you kept relationships, even one night stands, under wraps. You didn't kiss and tell. Except, being ridiculously high was not your usual.

        That gave the bickering between the Mark's pause. 

        Her lip twitched. "You killed my brother, asshole." Oh. She didn't come for you in a romantic sense. She came for revenge, first for the city, then for you. 

        The dark cracks in Phantom's heart deepen. Mohawk smirked, still getting used to the idea that Dregs was not a cute hero name. Shoulder Pad's legs flexed, ready to move, to slice off Psychopomp's head for how she spoke to his pet. The Viltrumite in the sky lowered a degree to hear the drama that much better.

        Guilty as charged. "No, I didn't." You lie, because her little junkie brother didn't pay what he owed so yeah, Machine Head had you kill him. "Multi-Paul did."

        "Multi-Paul was in prison when he went missing." She was swaying. Soon to die if she didn't do something.

        "Not every Multi-Paul." You counter, absolutely full of shit. "Are you really going to let yourself die over an assumption?"

        Her knees looked ready to give when she said, "Up n'attem." 

        Light blinded you. Made Lensless groan and fall on his ass. The light was gone soon as it'd come. 

        The dead rose. Bodies not healed, still dripping and oozing, but crackling with the anger of the recently deceased. "Mercy, fix me."

        The headless body rose her caduceus staff high before slamming its end to the ground. More light. Your headache worsened despite the codeine supposed to be suppressing it. 

        When the light faded, Psychopomp had arms again. She'd gone pale from blood loss, still staggering. She held out her arms, sleeveless and baby-skin smooth, hands glowing as brought back more of the dead. 

           Dog Girl was first to rise, blood still spilling out of her neck. Kidult stood, body facing forward, head facing back. Running Man hobbled forward using arms as legs, guts trailing behind him like streamers. Then there were the civilians. Wes and his coworkers, innocent streetwalkers, alley lurkers, anyone and everyone within a hundred food radius.

        The pièce de résistance? Seventeen, shambling to his feet, fists twitching shut.

        "You're kidding me." Emperor Shoulder Pads sneered, launching forward to put a hole through Psychopomp. "You're seriously making us kill you again?"

        But you'd though ahead, you started speaking the second Psychopomp stared necromancing. The word, "Stop," out of your lips before he could move more than two inches.

        He stills. Hovering an inch off the ground. Body shaking with effort to throw off your control. Eyes wild on you, animal angry.

        Lensless let out a whooping cackle. "Oh thank God! I thought we were already done! This is gonna be awesome, I've never killed a zombie before!" His muscles tense under his suit, weight shifting as he decides who to pounce on first.

        His yelling makes your ears twitch.

        "Be still." You tell him and he is. You turn to the next, "Stay," and the next, "Don't move." You leave out the one in the sky. He hadn't posed a threat yet. 

        You flex your fingers, telling Psychopomp to bring the troops in. Let the zombies get in their first hits before your hold weakens. Which it already was. Nose bleeding, balance wavering, you were so sleepy and heavy-limbed despite the situation. Your heart slowing and vision blurring at the very edges. You knew what it meant. 

        The dead move like a wave. Slipping past you, leaving brushes of blood where they made contact. Fists and feet and bloody stumps came down on the versions of your ex. You refreshed your hold with the same turns of phrase. Bending down to grab the half-drunk bottle and finishing it to hopefully help.

        Throat roadkill raw. Ready to puke again, but you force your stomach to steel. You could puke when they were dead. 

        Except, the zombies, superpowered or not, leave no marks on the Mark's. Save for Seventeen, currently walloping the everloving shit out of Lensless. Socking him again and again, twisting his head side to side with every punch. Jiggling bits of his remaining eyeball falling to the ground.

        You'd have to step in more. Despite the sleepiness washing over you. The blur worsening. Your lips feel slow, tongue heavy, "Hey you," You say to none of them in particular, "Kill eachother."

        The first command you'd set snaps. Lensless is first to move, lunging to Phantom with a cat's yowl. Leaving Mohawk and Emperor Whatever to duke it out. They shear through bodies of the dead. Leaving them deader than before as they move. Throwing punches, kicks and tossing each other into buildings. 

        It lasts about nine seconds before your hold is gone. The command too taxing, too much, too many people at once. 

        They stop all at once. Expressions varying from pissed to entertained. 

        He's on you in an instant. Hand on your throat, holding you feet above the ground. "You-" Shoulder Pads snarls. You kick at the air. Choking around his hand. "Fucking-" Vision goes from blurry to blackening. You hold onto his wrist for support. "Dare?" 

        You try to command him, but you can't. Voice box pressed firm to your larynx. His grip is bruisingly hard, but you know it's absolutely nothing for the likes of him. "I should kill you for that."

        The others were coming. Fists raised. Snarls tight. Even the holier-than-thou angel in the sky was going to touch down. All of them, ready to punch the shit out of him. Not thinking it'd kill their precious in the process.

        Zombies clawed at your feet. Psychopomp reached out, grabbing your ankle, trying to pull you down but only making you feel like a rubber band. Death came from all sides, it'd be quick, but man it'd hurt.

        ***

        His people met up with Mark. He and Eve were en route. One problem solved.

        "How much longer?" He shouted, standing over the teleporter. Techie's arms like blurs.

        Donald returned, holding only souped-up headphones. "The light room is ready with everything, sir."

        "Forty-five seconds!" 

        Cecil threw the headphones on. Speaking loud because he couldn't even hear himself, "We don't have that much time, send me now!" He stepped onto the teleporter platform, hitting the big red button on its side before the techies could protest.

        ***

        Everything happened so fast you couldn't register it. One second four guys were about to hit the guy choking you out so hard it'd shatter your body- the next- you were in a while room falling on your ass. Psyhopomp still holding to your ankle, both of you breathing heavy. The zombies that were touching either of you dropped instantly dead- again. Parts of them that were there seconds ago melted to the floor.

        "Good." A cool voice said, "I was worried it'd do that to you guys instead."

        A hand you hadn't noticed falls from your shoulder. Wrinkled and pale. He steps away, giving you much needed personal space. "Cecil Stedman, head of the GDA." He's tall, frail, and wearing the chunkiest headphones you'd ever seen. "We need your help."

        You move slowly, like you were moving through the same syrup you'd just drank. "Fuck you." You don't know who he is, what's going on, but you didn't want to hear it. You wanted to kill. You wanted to see the fucker who threatened your life die. You didn't want to be here. "Send me back."

        Your threat is a lot less impactful as Psychopomp almost vomits on your shoes. You scoot back with a snarl, though Cecil doesn't seem to mind. 

        "I can see your lips moving kid, but I can't hear you." He taps the headphones. "Got a look at what you can do and I don't want that pointed at me any day."

        Psychopomp scrambled to her knees then to her feet. "You-!"

        Cecil held up a hand, "There's no one to raise from the dead here, save it. I'm not your enemy."

        She swayed, foot to foot, still reeling from blood loss. "You better not be lying."

        "Still can't hear you. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you're angry. You can be, at them, not me. We need your help, the both of you, to take these Invincible's down. Can't say we'll let you go after that, but you'll have jobs working for us." His gaze slides meaningfully over you, "And not on the streets."

        In your increasing stupor, you slur, "No, send me back. I've got- I've got to kill 'em all."

        He watches your lips move but does nothing to act on your behalf. "Look kid, we're really low on options here, so do me a favor and stop scowling. This'll go a lot easier for you if you cooperate." 

        Your vision goes blacker and blacker. "Send me back." You can't even put power behind your words anymore. Arms going limp by your side. You lay back, heaving, feeling yourself trying to duck and bob the effects of the overdose, "Send... send me..." You pull a bottle from your pocket, fingers too weak to uncap it.

        "Jesus." Cecil says, "You're going blue. Narcan her, now."

        There are hands on you, though you can't see them. All you see is white, Cecil, and Psychopomp. 

        Your head is tilted back, neck supported in a gloved palm. Something plastic is shoved into your nose. The spray shoots down your nasal passage, burning all the way. A scream ripping through your throat before the plunger is all the way down.

        Bone deep. The ache is in everything. Behind your eyes, inside your marrow. You're lying on your side, vomit spewed out on the floor in front of you. Esophagus on fire. The world comes back into focus with your heart beating erratically. 

        Cecil is crouched in front of you. "I know now's not the best time," he says, voice gentle but face hard set, "but I'm really gonna need you to work with me."

        You feel Psychopomp behind you, holding you steady on your side in case you seize. The hands on you are gone. 

        You peel your face off the floor, lucky it wasn't sticky with puke. Cecil holds out a hand to help you up. "Kill him." You say.

        Psychopomp lunges over your body. Hands posed to wring Cecil's neck. "I was hoping you wouldn't do this." A gun flies out of a hidden torso holster and connects with Psychopomp's temple. You don't hear the crack, but she crumples. "Get the muzzle."

        There's an order on the tip of your tongue, before you can look to find out who you're ordering, before the words can come out, a monstrosity of a muzzle is thrown over your jaw. A rubber stopper shoved between your teeth. Leather straps pulled tight as the muzzle is locked tight around your head. You claw, trash, kick but the invisible hands hold you down.

        "I'm sorry we have to do this," he says, not looking sorry at all.

        He touches your shoulder. "Take us there." He says to the emptiness.

        You are gone.

        Then back, in a different place. Green everywhere. Clear blue sky ahead. A quaint town all around you. Abandoned.

        You're on the ground. Grass soft under your bloodstained sweats. Cecil stands over you, his invisible men holding your hands behind your back. 

         Cecil looked down at you, "Tristan De Cunha." He says, "Most remote island on the planet. Used to be a town before the US Government bought it back in twenty-twelve. The safest place on the planet to be- for now."

        You writhe, uncaring about geography. 

        Cecil lets the headphones slide down to his neck. He presses a finger to his ear, "Muscle and bone density?" He asks.

        "That of an average human," comes a flat reply. Nothing special about you. 

        Cecil nods to himself, suspicion confirmed. "Good." He nodded his chin toward something behind you. "Don't let her hands free while you lock 'er up." 

        You're pulled ass backwards. Heels dragging, the only part of you touching the ground. It's no use. They're strong, and though you can't see them, they outnumber you three to one. Cecil follows, frowning. 

        You're pressed to a cold pole, moss crawling up the sides. At night its bulb used to come alive after sunset but now, on this southern island God knows where, it does not. Your arms are thrown behind your back. Something heavy is locked around one wrist. Secured so tough it nearly cuts off the circulation. You try to free your other arm, but just like the other, it is locked into the device. The pieces are sealed together in a massive metal cuff made for a berserker- not you. 

        The invisible soldiers step back. Their boots pressing imprints to the grass. "Thanks, boys." Cecil nods as they zap away. "Teleporter's fully online now." He says to himself more than you. "Look kid, I'm gonna do something you're not gonna like." If you could talk you'd ask 'more than you already have?' Reading your eyes, he says, "Things'll get worse before they get better. Just remember, after this you'll have a job with us."

        From his pocket comes a phone. He taps to the camera app and starts recording, only his face in frame.

        "Invincible, the people of Earth surrender." It's a lie, through and through, "No more military might will be sent your way. All governments are to stand down effective immediately. The planet is yours." The message could've ended there but instead he pans he camera down. To you muzzled, cuffed to a pole, uselessly fighting against metal and concrete. "As a show of good faith, we have (Y/n) (L/n) waiting for you on  Tristan De Cunha island. Two thousand five hundred miles east of Buenos Aires, one thousand five hundred miles west of Cape Town. We will make contact within the hour after she's been collected for negotiations." He ended the recording, pulled his hand through his remaining hair and sighed. "It's about the most obvious trap I've ever set but it just might work." 

        He sent the recording off. "That'll be playing on loop on every speaker and screen round the whole world in two minutes." His smile is wry, tired, uneven with scar tissue. "Don't let the fame get to your head." The smile drops as soon as appeared, "If they unmask you, don't do anything stupid. I'm sure I don't have to tell you twice, but these people are dangerous." You glare up at him, willing his head to explode. It doesn't. Your breathing is heavy. Saliva pooling around the muzzle bit. "You've got about ten minutes before they're all here so uh, brace yourself. We'll be watching."

        He disappears in a bolt of white-blue. You are alone, but not for long.

[cavetreasures]

Sorn's problem

I've been thinking about Sorn and what I'd probably find if I cracked his skull open (lovingly) and stirred through his brain, and I have an interrrrpretation.

I feel like there must be something that's holding Sorn back from being fully himself and going for what (who) he wants. One reason is that it wouldn't be entirely satisfying for me to discover that he's doing all this simply because he's just that emotionally stilted — but there are other little things as well, like the below shot of the camera lingering on the back of his head as he's watching Jun leave the car.

You usually see things like this when the story is telling you that the character is hiding something. Might be confirmation bias though, and I'm not sure how much effort they're putting into narrating through camera shots, but anyway.

When we first see Sorn, we watch him through Jun's eyes, and Jun sees him as this unhinged, hypersexual creature — wild and unrestrained, getting off in the middle of the day, in a public space, lacking any shame or inhibitions. Free and unfeeling. I'm however convinced that Sorn's actions in that first scene are directly related to Jun.

What if he thinks he's not allowed to be with Jun? If that is true, then what he was doing in that scene was forcing himself to perform an exaggerated version heterosexuality — but then he notices Jun, and his efforts go out the window.

I think Sorn has always been aware of his attraction to Jun. He does all those deliciously devious things to Jun without batting an eye because "well, he's heterosexual, it doesn't mean anything, he won't feel anything for me anyway, I can bullshit my way out of this." He thought he's just going to suffer with his one-sided thing, and Jun will never know.

And then Sorn disappears because of The Reason (feelings of worthlessness, or family drama, something else, or everything at once). He severs the connection completely because he needs to, trying to get over Jun. And it's completely fine, because Jun doesn't feel anything for him anyway. He has a girlfriend, he's alright. So Sorn tries to forget him, but it doesn't happen — because he's hooked, and no matter how many partners he has, they just cannot fill the Jun-shaped hole in his heart. They can never satisfy him enough. He never lets them really see who he really is; he never allows them into his personal space.

But at least he's at peace, because Jun is straight— so there wasn't even a potential possibility for a relationship, right? Well, no wonder his reaction to finding out Jun is openly gay is so mixed when they meet each other again. His obsession is back. He cannot stand the idea that Jun is going to have more — and it is not going to be with him — so the bullshit is back on, and he goes off the rails.

Sorn creates this situation where he thinks he's in control, where he's going to get a taste of as much as he can, for as long as it's possible, without stepping over the line. And in his mind it's fine, because Jun doesn't like him, so he's the only one who's going to get hurt — and he's probably used to suffering already.

And he's in denial of Jun's growing feelings for him, justifying Jun's unusual animosity by attributing it to his own jerkish behavior, arguing that it's normal for Jun to have such a reaction to everything that he does. And his friends always calling him a jerk and blaming every little thing on him without really paying attention to his feelings are not helping in any way — they're just solidifying his delusion and maybe reinforcing his bad guy self-concept.

Similar to his whole "no-attachment sex apprenticeship" thing, the printer prank was done to get Jun's attention, teach him a lesson, and keep him in control. He thought Jun wouldn't suffer because it wasn't that serious to him — but Jun cried. He underestimates Jun's emotional depth and plays into the condescending mentor persona, convinced that he's the only one who can be really affected. In other words, he has his head stuck in his own butt.

So I think soon everything will slip out of his control and it will blow up in his face. Jun will get hurt, Sorn will have to face the devastating consequences of his actions, and I will cry. :)

[forsaken-headcanons]

This is my first time sending asks and I'm still kinda new to tumblr, kinda nervous so I'll try to keep the headcannon simple

I like to think that Dusekkar liked sword fighting pre-forsakening and sometimes sparred with Shedletsky, I feel like Shed probably taught him and some of the other admins the basics of sword fighting, with Dusekkar being pretty good at it, finding it enjoyable and wanting to learn more techniques and stuff.

Anyways, because the Spectre is dumb and likes torture and nerfing Dusekkar to hell and back, it kinda blocked off (that's the best way I can describe it, hope it makes sense) Dusekkar's memories of sword fighting because having a powerful mage that can also use a sword efficiently is kinda OP. Every time Shed tries to re-teach Dusekkar, he just forgets it again, he can't relearn.

Of course, the Spectre wouldn't be the Spectre without inflicting some form of emotional torment on the survivors so it allowed Dusekkar to keep The Dusekkar (the sword he has in his milestone 4 and his favourite sword) in his cabin but he just can't remember how to use it. He feels like something is missing whenever he looks at it, like he's forgetting something important but he just can't recall anything. Sometimes he feels a sense of joy and excitement when looking at it but those senses are long gone and forgotten. He probably just covers the sword with a blanket or something so he doesn't have to look at it and feel empty whenever he does.

So much for trying to keep it simple, anyways that the headcannon, 3am brain has given me the confidence to finally post a headcannon here :D

wait this is peak... distant memories of better times translated through familiar feelings wrapped in a cocoon of what was once the remembered past... do you think he instinctively tries to correct the grip of something he simultaneously knows nought of its use? a fly with its wings torn off. a staff without its mana. a sword without a master—though, in this case, it lacks one who remembers. tosses him around

[catscidr]

I come with more brain rot that occurred to me during my shift.

Xiao being so so nervous to hold your hand with his gloves off. Please kiss the emos hands. He's so scared he's gonna hurt you, but he also wants to make you happy. I personally thing he has sharper canines so the look like fangs, kisses when he mentions them are maditory. He might Telenor away the first few times but after that he might pick up and try and get more kisses.

Scaramouche doesn't know how to complement people. His Kazuha voice line is proof of that. He will try so hard, bur they just come out so wrong. Please teach him how, or ask Nahida to help him. He does love you he's just gotta figure out how to say it.

sharper canines Yes but also xiao with longer and sharper nails…. xiao-with-more-birdlike-design-characteristics my beloved ueueghghh..... anyways moving on

start by taking off his gauntlets first n then kiss his gloved hands to get him used to it! help him get less nervous about handling you by doing small things like that, interlocking your fingers together (still without the gauntlet) and, when he’s finally almost to the point where he’s comfortable ditching his gloves, suggest wearing his gloves in his stead!

there’s still going to be a barrier between your skin and his, so, using his logic, it should be fine! plus the added intimacy points because you’re wearing his gloves….. they might not quite fit but it’s the thought that counts anyways

ooh and when he gives you the green light to hold hands without any gloves… give him so many smooches he’ll forget why he was nervous in the first place ♡ and it opens up a whole buncha new things you can do together! like now you can do each other’s nails! (or just his, if you’re not the biggest fan of manicures)— either way, he’ll still come to you to file his talons nails

he could do it himself by either using the nail file you got him, or by going out to clear some monster camps without the help of his spear, but he prefers the gentle way you handle him instead ♡

scaramouche my beloved. my awkward, maladroit, clumsy, beloved. he knows what he wants to say, and he's so sure of himself that he can say it, but as soon as he opens his mouth it’s like he just…. short circuits.

it's something he never wants to admit, but when he notices that you stopped smiling as much as before when he started... trying to compliment you? because he just ends up confusing you, and eventually frustrating you with the strange "insults" he ends up throwing your way? he can't stand it

but you catch on easily (because he's easy to read once you get used to his attitude), and gradually just play up the act of being hurt whenever he tries to compliment you

he eventually drags his feet to nahida for help, but she already knows why he's scoffing more than usual because you went to her for advice. but she still helps him and pretends she doesn't know why he's asking her "how to compliment people without making their smile droop immediately"; and when he goes to use his newfound skills, you beat him to the punch by complimenting him instead

needless to say, he knows how to compliment you now ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º) will he do it? ehhh, give him some time and eventually he will ♡

[princelysnape]

Sevy headcanons?

my severus snape headcanons

you're in for a loooong ride, anon🙂‍↔️

extremely black eyes. i don't know if you know this, but true black eyes don't actually exist. or rather, they do, but it's usually linked to some eye condition. i don't care though, severus totally has black eyes—you literally can't tell his pupils and iris apart. it's rather unsettling at first. it makes his eyes look huge, still and glassy, like a doll's

naturally left-handed, but forced himself to learn how to use his right hand at fourteen. for multiple reasons: 1) because making potions was faster using both hands, 2) when the marauders attacked him, they usually tried incapacitating his wand hand first so being able to switch was a matter of survival, 3) there's a weird superstition in the wizarding world about left-handed people being cursed and extremely unlucky in life (it's fading away with time, but older generations would still side eye him) and 4) during formal duels, both opponents have to use their right hand as per the rules

his favorite subjects as a hogwarts' student were defense against the dark arts, potions (obviously), and funnily enough, history of magic. yes, in this exact order. but prince, what do you mean potions isn't first place??? easy, he loved potions, but he fucking hated slughorn's teaching methods and general presence. also, because they knew severus affinity for the subject, the marauders would constantly try to sabotage him

he also hated binns' class, he couldn't focus for shit. so guess what? he forced himself to learn more about it. he couldn't afford to fail at any of his classes, so he would spend hours in the library reading books about the damn goblin wars. turns out it's actually very interesting and binns is just a terrible teacher

that's how he discovered his taste for non-fictional books btw. those extra reading materials after class? the ones no one ever bothers to read? his favorites, he loves it

this may come off as a surprise, but he's actually not a very fast learner. it takes a while before a new information takes root in his brain. he's persistent though. yeah, maybe he didn't get it at first, but you can bet your ass he's going to keep trying until he masters it

which is why he's a very accomplished wizard despite being rather average magically speaking. while he doesn't have magical rawness on his side, he's precise, strategic and smart

he's a midnight owl. not for the reasons you may think though. like, yeah, he has nightmares and they can be very vivid sometimes, but mostly he just works better during the night. and it's just nice being awake while everyone's sleeping, you know—it's peaceful and quiet. also, when his dad came home drunk, he would forget to lock the doors or would leave the stove on, so severus forced himself to stay awake to make sure everything was alright before actually going to sleep

he's always using multiple layers of clothing. like, we're talking at least three layers at all times. sev runs cold, and the climate inside hogwarts (especially in the dungeons), doesn't help his situation. mostly though, it's a control thing. he doesn't need to wear so many clothes, he could merely cast a warming charm on himself, but the weight and constriction of them makes him feel grounded and in control. in control of himself, his emotions, his surroundings and his body. he finds a sort of delight in putting everything on, one by one, in the mornings. it's like an armor

there weren't a lot of things to do in cokeworth during the summer (and much like harry, he also couldn't touch anything magical while at home), so he had to learn to enjoy his own company if he didn't want to go literally insane. like yeah, sometimes he would go out to meet lily and they would get up to dumb shit here and there, but still. he couldn't be out after dark because of her curfew and severus already had finished anything readable in his house by the time he was twelve. but there was one thing he had that couldn't he taken away: his mind. he can stay inside his own head for hours making up stories and scenarios

which is why he's extremely creative and imaginative. when you're already used to thinking outside of the box, inventing stuff like new spells or potions can be somewhat easy. not that it didn't take effort and research on his part—it did. but who else would think about making a spell to make toenails grow abnormally fast?

he did have a crush on lily when they were young. the kind that forms when you know someone so deeply, you just can't help falling for them too, you know? and severus is so emotionally starved, of course he would. but it's also complicated. i mean, his crush on her lasted until they were around thirteen, i would say. after that, things started getting blurry for him because he did fall for other people too or had other crushes and lily was just the most "safe" one. the most familiar, if that makes sense. snape's worst memory changed everything though. and then once again when she died. these days everything he feels for her is negative and the only good things come from memories long past—nostalgia. she had a crush on him too, but during a very difficult time of their friendship (fourth and fifth year). by then, he was mostly over her

his doe patronus is a representation of himself, not lily (though he uses memories of her to fuel the spell). it's who he is, his truest version: bony, skittish, soft, meek and sacrificial. no, i don't care what anyone else says. the doe patronus is originally his because i said so and there's that

he has a weird relationship with food. i mean, i wouldn't say he starves himself per se—hogwarts has a three meal course everyday, all he has to do is eat and severus is a man of habit. also, he hates wasting food. if there's food, he'll eat it until he finishes everything. but if there isn't, if he has to go to the supermarket, cook for himself and actually feed himself, he'll just dismiss it as unimportant and will keep dismissing it until he's starving. yes, he's used to hogwarts' routine, but he's also used to going hungry. this isn't something you can just unlearn even after years of knowing you have enough to eat

everything involving self-care is dismissed when he is out of hogwarts tbh. sleeping, showering, eating... it's all waved away as a nonemergency in his head. instead, he focuses on cleaning and organizing his house, catching up on his list of books to read, trying new ideas for potions etc. and then the next thing he knows he hasn't properly slept in three days, two days since he last showered and he only ate a small piece of bread in the morning. working at hogwarts is simultaneously bad for his mental health, but good for self-care. it wouldn't do for his students to tease him after all

after swm, a few people propositioned him on the low. he thought they were mocking him so he rejected them all rather rudely and then proceeded to cry about it for weeks. but to be fair, he wouldn't have said yes even if he believed it was genuine. the event's memory was still too fresh

he cries rather easily, he's very sensitive. some people headcanon he grew out of it, but i don't think so. he cries a lot, he just hides it better these days

i hope this satisfied you, anon🫡

[sorcerous-caress]

So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

[blorbocedes]

Hiii - for the fic prompts:

girlcedes - 7. Trapped in a room/closet/elevator

Lewis is glaring at Nico like she orchestrated this.

"I have places to be too." Nico says out loud, in her general direction. They're standing as far you can socially distance on an elevator. An elevator that the intercom buzzed in and reported would take fifteen minutes to send in the guys to fix. That was twenty minutes ago. Such glitz and glamour to live in Monaco.

"Not you. Claustrophobia." Lewis grits her teeth. She's sitting in a corner, squatting in her Dior running shoes. Probably showing off her knees can still take it.

Nico's leaning by the glass mirror because she's wearing a white pantsuit.

Oh right. Claustrophobia. Nico always forgets because it's always funny, the cars they drive in is more cramped than the spacious elevator. But it's about control, she gets that. Lewis in a Formula 1 car is just an extension of her body. But Lewis would always keep the door of the drivers room open, back in Mercedes.

"How are you scared of this and not jumping off a plane? It should be child's cake to you. Hm, that's not right. Child's play?" Nico frowns trying to locate the metaphor in the medley of languages in her brain. She speaks mostly to keep Lewis distracted. Nico herself is not, her positive outlook mantras covered this. Negative thoughts cannot happen if you don't let it. That's why she never checked her portfolio after the AI company she invested in rugpulled millions. It simply does not exist if she doesn't give it the power to.

"Skydiving is incredibly safe," Lewis bites the bait, "It's safer than scuba diving. And you're in control the whole time."

"All it takes is one parachute not opening." Nico shrugs. Even the thought makes her shudder. Absolutely not.

"Good thing they strap you with two then." Lewis drawls. She doesn't say it, too graceful these days, but the idiot is implied.

Nico rolls her eyes but is beaten in the marketplace of ideas.

She turns to the mirror, her shoulder length blonde hair bouncing. There's a pimple cropping up under her chin, she can feel it. She presses down on it, warning it to stay there.

"Don't do that - you look fine." Lewis is frowning, looking up at Nico from where she's crouched.

Nico used to obsessively poke and prod at her face staring at the mirror as a teenager. She's a little embarrassed Lewis remembers from their days of sharing rooms during karting.

"It's the only mirror time I get. Vivi and I are very mindful of not passing any body insecurities to the girls. Entering the pre-teens is a very impressionable time." Nico explains. She doesn't need her daughters rubbing off on her complexes.

Lewis gets up, lithe like a cat, in her oversized crewneck. She looks pointedly at the lack of ring on Nico's hand. "How's the divorce going?"

Nico purses her lips. "Conscious uncoupling. Very well, thank you. How's Ferrari?" She switches the subject. "Learn any Italian yet?"

"I've downloaded Duolingo." Lewis smiles, sheepishly, the gap in her teeth is still charming even after all these years.

"I remember teaching you some." In bed, tangled up in each other, another lifetime ago.

"I'm sure none of that was usable, man."

"Hm. You should try ti va di fare dolce su e giù?" Nico smirks.

"What does it mean?" Lewis asks.

Nico just smiles in that way when she knows something Lewis doesn't. "I'm sure Leclerc will be down. Happy to... accommodate." The double entendre in her voice gives it away.

Lewis takes a step closer, her hand on the railing where Nico is standing. And suddenly, the elevator feels like a much smaller space, with nowhere to hide. She shakes her head, the rings on her tattooed hands glittering. Nico feels strangely naked without hers. "He's not my type."

Nico leans forward. "And who is?"

The elevator doors ding open. They are on Lewis' floor.

[n0odlz]

NCC x ETC Headcanons

(No, these are not romantic (눈‸눈)

✦Family Ties

Bill & Aaron

• Do NOT let these 2 near each other. It's only gonna cause trouble for everyone. Christmas dinners? Tuh, as if! Thanksgiving? Forget about it. Heck, even a family trip to the water park! Just go ahead and check that off the list right now..

• Bill and Aaron are cousins, which was only found out after Bill and Aaron got into some huge fight about comics and how underpaid the artists are. Somehow, Mrs. Dickey got ahold of this information and immediately told Bill they were related.

"William, that is your cousin! You two should not be fighting."

"Mom, WHAT? I-... I-.. YOU- YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! "

"Enough, William. I don't have time for your bullshit, especially since we'll be having a family get together this Friday. Don't want your aunts thinking I'm a failure of a mother, do ya?"

• Aaron is obviously older. And you'd think any time something goes wrong, the adults would blame it on him since he knows better. Nope! It's always Bill since Aaron could do no wrong 😇!!1! 11

• The only reason they could ever like or admire each other is because they both lead clubs. Aaron is the whole reason Bill even started the Eltingville Club and any time Aaron brings up the fact that he was totally inspired by his older cousin, Bill denies it with his whole heart.

Jerry & James

• They're brothers! How cute! Well.. No! Maybe when they were kids- actually, no. They've been arguing pretty much their whole life. Probably worse than Bill and Aaron. They're cousins, so they don't even see each other that much. Jerry and James is a WHOLE other story.

• Every fight starts because James is "Older and stronger" and there's nothing Jerry can do about it. James being such an asshole is what made Jerry into one too, no matter how much their parents tried to intervene, nothing would work.

• "Extract the problem" is what Jerry's therapist would say, but how can you extract the problem when you're literally forced to live with it till you're 18? Guess you'll just have to tough it out then, huh?

• (Based on what Mr. Dorkin said) Jerry would've probably turned out fine with a brother. He wouldn't have needed to hang out with the club as much (or at all). But that would only be if he had a little brother. See, little siblings would be easier to handle, especially since they're still growing. They're small and easy to train like a puppy, they've got no real interests or personality so it'd be up to the older sibling to influence them in the way they want! Now older siblings? Don't even think about it. "Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?" Well unfortunately, James isn't a dog. And he can't be taught new tricks either.

• If you're wondering why these two have different last names, don't worry, their mom is not a cheater 😸!! Their mom and dad couldn't decide who's last name to give the kids so they decided to give Jerry his mother's maiden name and James their dad's last name

• James obviously makes the million year old "ur adopted lmao" joke on Jerry just because he doesn't have the same last name as everyone else in their family. At some point when they were younger, James SOMEHOW convinced Jerry he was genuinely adopted. I mean.. How the hell do you even pull that off? THEY LOOK IDENTICAL!! DOWN TO THAT FUCK ASS BOB 💔

─────────ೋღღೋ─────────

This is HEAVILY inspired by what anon said in this post (anon, if you come across this post YOU'RE VERY INSPIRATIONAL)

(Also where I got the Jerry sibling thing from)

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Babysitting Their Kid-Selves

I threw this together in a haze on Discord uhhhh enjoy thank you to @windalchemist001 for putting the idea In My Brain

------------------------------------------------

HEARTSLAYBUL

Riddle - struggles between wanting to help his youngerself have positive experiences, but also knows that depending on how old he is, it might just be super stress inducing. Finds a middle ground in giving his younger self an "easy" assignment and then giving him the time of his life, 10/10

Trey - he's burnt out from being the oldest, and from momming Riddle, and from taking care of the dorm. His kid self is being told to go play outside and don't get hurt (which his kid self obeys, and comes in when he's hungry and that's about it) very laissez-faire bc he can't be bothered. He knows the other boys in the dorm wouldn't let his kid self get hurt anyways, especially Riddle, who likely ends up taking the brunt of the responsibility 7/10

Cater - hehe yeah his kid self is Traumatized, he brings him to play video games/teach him to skate board/intro to Not Sweet snacks and ends up getting a kid trauma dumping to him. Or. he sees his kid self and nopes out, immediately asks anyone else to take care of him because he's gonna go :sparkles:cry:sparkles: but you don't need to know that. Either 9/10 or a 2/10

Deuce - Awkward at first, but honestly, just does what his mom did for him, smooth sailing, 10/10

Ace - "hah, I'm the best babysitter in the world, only the coolest kids can handle me. Think you have what it takes?" <- secretly really good with kids but only because he had his big brother as a role model. He also knows now all the tricks his big brother used on kid him so he has some fun being that to himself, as much as a handful as kid self is. 8/10

SAVANNACLAW

Leona - Sees how hopeful his younger self was, knows that Savannaclaw knows better than to fuck with it, leaves his child self in community care and leaves bc he doesn't want to reminded of the love he didn't recieve when he was little 10/10 for looking out for both of their mental health

Ruggie - oh my god he adores younger self, teaches him everything he knows, uses his "adorability" to his advantage, but also uses Leona's cash to buy ingredients for a food his younger self rarely got to try as a treat. Honestly, 10/10

Jack - He's a little awkward around his kid self, asks Leona for advice, gets none, asks Vil for advice, Vil ends up Momming and taking over sorry baby Jack. N/A he didn't give up the child intentionally but he also didn't really get to babysit

OCTAVINELLE

Azul - Oh hell no, like at first its like "look how far of come" but the self loathing immediately takes over again. Kid Azul's only saving "grace" is the tweels who terrify the baby by accident but are actually really soft and caring with him. Azul just makes sure his kid self has something to hide in bc "nobody wants to look at that" 2/10

Jade - Knows What He's Doing, and he's going to treat his kid self as gently as possible because he knows what's coming for him in later years :) 10/10

Floyd - Does fine until the kid cries and then pawns his kid self off to Jade 6/10

SCARABIA

Kalim - He's a big brother, but he's not big brother, you know? He likes to make sure the kid has fun and feels safe but he forgets to take breaks and give him water and oh god now he's on a magic carpet bc child self has to go to the bathroom and they're on the WRONG side of the dorm. Very caring, very loving, a little airheaded. If he takes his attention off him he wanders off. Jamil usually has to step in, but neither of them want him to. 7/10

Jamil - In a similar boat to Leona, but instead of leaving his kid self to someone else, he ends up going off campus with his kid self and lets him beat him in races/video games/ dance offs/ etc. so he can feel like he's the best at something for once. They end up cooking together, and honestly it heals adult Jamil a lot too 10/10

POMEFIORE

Vil - Carries a bit of contempt as well as admiration for his younger self. There is a part of him that wishes things had gone differently. Vil likely ends up keeping his kid self in his room all day, but while they're in there, they do all the things Vil remembers wishing he could do, like throwing a tantrum, finally having his feelings about Neige be validated, making a mess, eating whatever he wants, etc. etc. It's just it takes half the day for him to get to that point, before there's a break through it's almost pure ice on adult Vil's side with his kid self just sitting on the bed. 6/10

Rook - Doesn't want anything to do with his kid self, knows his kid self is self sufficient, tells him to not talk to anyone and leaves him alone. ???/10

Epel - Epel uses his kid self as an excuse to go get messy and dirty and play all day. He WILL blame his kid self for any accidents that may occur inside of Pomefiore. Kid self finds it unfair but funny, but can be bought back with some apple slices with caramel. It's a lot of fun, but a lot of clean up. 8/10

IGNIHYDE

Idia - Blames his younger self for the whole ||Ortho|| thing and uh. Would probably lock him out of his room. Ignores/pretends he doesn't exist. Kid Idia seeing ||Ortho "alive"|| would probably have him breaking down. 0/10

Ortho - .....

DIASOMNIA

Malleus - Can't handle his kid self as much as he insists that he can. Probably does something that accidentally triggers himself (both versions) and Lilia has to take over before there's a major melt down. They do have ice cream together after. 5/10

Lilia + Silver - I'm Waiting, Sorry

Sebek - Doesn't want to take care of his kid self. At first he thinks it's cool but then his kid self is biting everything, asking so many questions, getting close to Malleus without permission, showing off his adorable baby side, and kinda hates big Sebek purely because he has magic "already". (Sebek was canonically a 'late bloomer' with magic). He gets Too Stressed and then also gets more pissed off when Silver seems to do a better job baby sitting, but Lilia runs intervention. uhh. 3/10

hhhhhhhhhh bye Tag list: @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

Kwazii And Tweak Dynamic Headcanons

<rough sketch sorry lol>

@traumatizedartist

They are ✨SIBLINGS✨ to me-

EDIT: I forgot to mention that I'm 1000% sure neither one remembers to do their laundry all the time so they totally steal eachothers clothes 😭

The big sister of thr octopod and our tiny daredevil gremlin?!!

cmon yall remember the earlier seasons though 🥺 hed crash a gup or sneak out in the middle of the night drive the gup b (and she always woke up whenever he left she has that rabbit hearing)- she has the Big Sister Authority, she just let's you use the gups 😔🙏 u better be grateful kwazii

Him KNOWING he'd be in so much trouble when he snuck out to *try* to teach shellington to drive-

(They canoncially ended up both crashing after shellington imitated kwazii CRASHING and then shellie was like "owh no! We should call tweak :o"

and kwazii immeditaly yelled out NO-i I i mean we can do it ourselves! Its fine! <:] no need to tell tweak matie"

Not to mention he looks up to her and calls her a genius???

Tweak loves this little guy and his antics though 😭 she loves to see him happy but she's really the type to either encourage the mischief (like girl we all know u did not need to make flying fish mode really ans truly u did that for the silly cat) or be the one yo get him into trouble 😭

He def doesn't crash the gups like before, but I feel like at a certain point she absolutely made him help her. I headcanon that he actually started helping her alot more with repairs and etc as time went on, hes not some engineering genius but he can help

They're also both so proud of eachother and trust eachother so deeply, esp in The Ring Of Fire where they both had to escape the flooded (and on fire???) Underwater base that tweak used for big gup repairs and upkeep

Tweak loves old classic games and kwazii never really had too much exposure to popular media, unless u count his comics lol, I feel like autism meets adhd with them yk? U can't convince me that tweak wouldn't have introduced him to sonic the hedgehog and that he wouldn't have LOVED it

They have banter and inside jokes and they know eachothers habits and needs yk?

They look out for eachother, whether its trying to prevent the other (kwazii cough cough) from getting into trouble or being the one willing to risk their own safety to make sure the other is ok 🥺

Also for my own au kwazii did spend a considerable amount of his teen years alone, meanwhile tweak just has the autism where u do not know how to "live normally and properly take care of urself"

They both have atrocious sleep schedules me thinks, with kwaziis adhd making him be up at random hours and tweak falling deep into the rabbit hole (pun INTENDED)of engineering and working

I think he helps remind her to take care of herself without any judgement you know

Tweak is the type of person to not judge anyone either and just hear you out i think and kwazii seems like the type who would go waddle in a seamp for hours to dig out the necklace you lost just so u could be happy

So yes they love eachother and they mean the world to me 🥺

Kwazii is just so excited about everything this woman does lol, and she's like oh God this guy really is somethin and I think thats great

Shes just like sure hun to him yapping for 3 + hours about his idea to add fcking canons or some sht to the gups as she's welding stuff together

Also I think kwazii would be a decent mechanic for the gups after all the years of practice with tweaks supervision and teaching i mean he has whole mini pirate ship replicas in jars for crying out loud, as long as he can keep his brain engaged i think he has the ability to do precision work and repairs, esp since he did sail on his own by himself for years anyways

Woods pretty different from metal but tweak is patient with him, even if her "oh u fcked up" glare (and the weight of its consequences) could absolutely smite you on the spot

I might be forgetting some stuff but yall see the vision right, but lmk yalls headcanons n all that lol

ALSO ANY CULTURAL HEADCANONS I HAVE ABOUT TWEAK IS OBJECTIVELY CORRECT CUZ IM FROM THERE TOO ( I'm joking lol people can have different opinions duh, but fr i just i feel connected to her in my soul 🥺)

(Like girlie kwaziis room is better than yours, why the fck don't u have a dresser but instead just a whole *ss kitchen table? Not bed frame, no decent lighting, repair parts on your floor its a mess- like i feel you tweak I've been there, but bbg its been years and im sure the other crew members have talked to u about this, atp its a CHOICE and honestly continueing to live like that is real)

[nabi-unveiled]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favorites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

tagged by @dramalove247 @thisonelikesaliens @my-rose-tinted-glasses and @hughungrybear Thank you all so much for the tag!!! 🫶

Let's start by saying that I absolutely ADORE this prompt. Because I definitely get scenes stuck in my head. I'm much more likely to rewatch specific scenes than whole episodes or shows.

My personal guidelines:

Only QL - let's keep it simple

Cannot be currently airing or a very recent watch because that doesn't prove it'll stick

I am eliminating My Personal Weatherman, My Beautiful Man, and When it Rains It Pours. Just assume that every scene from those three shows is imprinted into my brain on a permanent basis.

For ease, I am just going to think of a category and then go with the FIRST scene that pops into my brain. No overthinking allowed. That means these will probably not be favorites, but they are obviously in my brain for SOME reason.

The First Scene I Thought Of When I Got Tagged

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Hayama collapsing to the ground in relief after chasing after Yuki and realizing the reason he had left. There had been such a great build up of emotional tension, that his collapse felt like a release.

Scene That Made Me Laugh

HIStory 4: Close to You

"You want to gossip? Fine. I'll give you something to gossip about." I laugh every time.

Scene That Prompted Me to Watch The Show

I Feel You Linger In the Air

Surely I don't need to explain this choice. I saw the olive oil clip after the emoji game and binged the show shortly thereafter. The scene holds up even in the context of the show. And the show itself is beautiful.

Scene That Gave Me Big Feels

Kiseki: Dear to Me

The montage showing all of the birthdays that represents Ai Di's feelings and pain over the years, but also Chen Yi's realization that he caused that pain.

Scene That Gets Personal

I Hear the Sunspot

I've talked about this scene before. I know Kohei's pain and frustration here when you know something was said/important and people refuse to repeat themselves. It basically feels like you're not worth the effort, and it sucks. Even worse is if someone says it in a demeaning way (Taichi did not). To be clear, I also understand Taichi not wanting to repeat himself. It was a painful memory. But I love that Kohei threw Taichi's words back to him and that Taichi did end up repeating himself. For the record, I'm not Kohei. Even with a loved one, I'm not going to ask you twice. (Note: Read sassy spite into that last line not some morose depressed vibe.)

Spicy Scene

Lost in Translation

It's bookcase adjacent, and...the only thing I actually remember from this show. Lol.

Scene That Is Hard to Describe

Color Rush

I'm cheating on this one, because the two scenes go hand in hand.

I've never felt like I did a good job describing this show or the scenes in it. But this is about the one who sees in grey teaching the other about his world followed by the one who sees in color teaching about his. It reminds me of the book Flatland (which is on my blog header). How do you describe something to someone who has no framework for that experience? I think this entire show is an awesome representation of so many societal issues including the effort required to understand people with vastly different experiences.

Scene With A Fit That Kills

Don't Say No

I did say I was going with the first scene that came to mind, and it was this one. Yeah...I really love that red suit. I WANT that red suit.

But I am not sure I want the attention that would come with wearing it anywhere.

Scene That Comforts Me

Keita Hatsukoi

I've definitely talked about this scene at some point before too. I don't understand my emotions easily, and I end up talking myself out of them the majority of the time. But there was a time, when I thought my world was going to fall apart that I kept saying "it's not a big deal" in my head and this scene kept popping into my brain. It was comforting and made me feel it was okay to reach out to someone with a very casual "so this happened". The first thing they said "Are you ok? That's a big deal". Oddly comforting.

Scene That Makes Me Go "Awww"

The On1y One

Ok. I just realized this ended up very similar to Big Feels. I meant for it to be like a "aww how sweet" fluffy moment, and this is what popped into my brain. Apparently my brain is hardwired for the pain rather than the fluff. I mean...it's sweet. Right? 😭😭😭

Scene That Made Me Go "Relationship Goals"

Every You, Every Me

So much about this pair I love in general, but I really appreciate the open way they talk about sex. So much sex positivity in this arc.

Ok. I've already thought about several other categories, but...I just went back and counted. I'm already at 11. Oops. Lol.

This was SO much fun just thinking about scenes. I loved it. 💖

No pressure tagging: @bronte-blues @obsessedferalgremlin @iguessitsjustme @babyangelsky and anyone else who wants to play!