#overloaded telepathy

[bigthingsforeverintheworks]

reverse telepathy: everybody can see one specific person's thoughts

[widowsweet]

What does the Super Soldier hide?

Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader. Thunderbolts* x Mutant!Reader.

Summary: The Thunderbolts find an enigmatic message on the cell phone of the most grumpy soldier on the team. Intrigued by the mysterious sender, they decide to investigate on their own - but it doesn't take long for Bucky to realize that something is happening.

WC: 4,8k

Warnings: Fluff, found family vibes, Bucky being soft, team chaos, telepathy (mild), domesticity overload, slow burn revealed relationship, Yelena flirting lightly with the reader. (18+ insinuation, no explicit content!!)

A/N: The reader, in this story, is a mutant. Her gifts include telepathy and the ability to enter and manipulate people's dreams - something she has learned to control over time.

I'm considering turning this story into a mini-series with Bucky Barnes and the mutant reader, but nothing is guaranteed yet. For now, enjoy reading.🤍

Bucky Barnes was a private guy. He didn’t talk about his personal life—not because he didn’t trust anyone, but because he had learned, the hard way, that the less people knew about him, the better. And honestly? Having his past dragged into the spotlight as a former war assassin and now, as a “new Avenger,” was more than enough. He just wanted a bit of peace. A normal life.

At the moment, the Thunderbolts were scattered around the main lounge of the base like poorly placed pieces on a board.

Yelena was sprawled out on the couch like she had no bones, head thrown back, eyes closed, looking more dead than alive. Next to her, Alexei was lightly snoring in an armchair, hugging a pillow that clearly didn’t belong to him. Ava stood by the window, headphones in, eyes vacant, like she wished she was literally anywhere else. John Walker was flipping a knife between his fingers, clearly too bored to cause trouble—for now.

Bucky had left a short while ago. Said something about sorting out an issue with the transport from the last mission—not that anyone had really paid attention. He just tossed his phone onto the arm of the couch, grabbed his jacket, and walked out, leaving behind his usual trail of quiet grumpiness.

The room was silent. No conversations. Just the occasional building creak and the collective weight of boredom in the air.

Then the phone screen lit up, vibrating softly against the cushion near Yelena’s leg.

The message flashed for just a few seconds, but it was enough. Ava, closest to it, caught a glimpse of the contact name and narrowed her eyes.

“Sweetheart?” she read quietly, frowning.

Yelena, who had seemed asleep moments ago, opened one eye.

“What?”

“Barnes’s phone.” Ava nodded toward it, not touching. “Someone just texted him. It’s saved as Sweetheart. With an emoji. A pink heart.”

That was enough to make Yelena sit up with a speed no one expected.

“Repeat that.”

“Sweetheart. That’s what it says.”

Walker raised an eyebrow, slowly making his way over, still twirling the knife in his hand.

“Wait. Barnes? The same guy who growls if we ask whether he sleeps? He has someone saved as ‘Sweetheart’?”

Alexei, now awake thanks to the noise, noticed the group’s focus on Bucky’s phone and shuffled over, scratching his beard.

In a matter of seconds, they were all gathered around the couch, standing in silence in front of the device like it was some kind of sacred artifact. No one dared to touch it—not even Walker.

The screen lit up again. Another message.

“Sweetheart💝: Is it cold out there? I’m making soup for us ☺️💗”

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.

“Am I dreaming?” Yelena whispered, staring at the screen like it might explode. “Barnes has a girlfriend?”

“Or a very well-hidden fling,” Ava muttered. “Knowing him, this person probably lives in a bunker.”

Walker let out a low whistle, half-amused.

“That’s it. We’re finding out who this woman is.”

“Or man,” Yelena corrected.

“Or alien,” Alexei added, dramatic as ever.

“Whoever has the guts to send Barnes a heart emoji deserves to be studied.”

Ava shook her head slowly.

“You guys aren’t letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Yelena replied, already pulling out her own phone. “Time to plan a mission.”

Bucky, the moment he stepped back into the room, immediately sensed something was off.

It was too quiet. And not the usual kind of quiet—the kind that came when everyone was too tired to throw jabs at each other or fight over the couch. This was a different kind of silence. Staged. Artificial. Almost… too peaceful. Like they’d cleaned up a crime scene a little too fast before the cops arrived.

He paused for a second near the door, his eyes scanning the room.

Yelena sat on the couch, legs crossed, a cup of tea in her hands.

Ava—who practically lived with her headphones in—was without them. Sitting stiffly, her expression so neutral it practically screamed “I’m trying to act normal.”

Alexei was flipping through a magazine—upside down.

And John Walker was… smiling.

Bucky frowned.

“I fixed the issue with the transport,” he said flatly. “Just a problem with the hangar’s authentication system. It’s working now.”

“That’s good,” Ava replied—way too quickly.

“Nice,” Yelena added, sipping her tea with the forced elegance of someone pretending to be a civilized human being. “Very… efficient of you.”

Walker just nodded, still wearing that weird smile.

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t say a word. He walked over to the couch and grabbed his phone from where he’d left it.

The screen was still warm.

“I’m heading out,” he muttered, more to himself than to them.

And just like that, he left the room.

The following weeks were… suspicious, to say the least.

Suddenly, the Thunderbolts seemed way too interested in Bucky’s personal life. And not the healthy, supportive kind of interest you’d expect from a functional team. No—this was nosy interest, badly disguised as “concern for team dynamics.”

Bob—the soft-spoken, nervous guy who usually preferred to keep his distance from anything involving tension or weapons—started showing up in the most random places. He was never actually doing anything, but somehow always managed to be around whenever Bucky was on the phone.

“Oh! Hey, didn’t know you were here, Bucky,” he’d say, straightening up as if he’d just remembered his posture, pretending to check the thermostat on the wall. “I just… thought it was getting kinda cold in here. Or hot. Either one. Doesn’t matter.”

The following week, he popped into the elevator right as Bucky ended a call—with a slight smile still hanging on his lips.

“Hi! I was just heading up to, uh… get a document. I think. Might be lost. But hey—what a coincidence, right?”

Bucky would just squint at him. Say nothing.

Yelena, on the other hand, went straight for it—in her own way.

“Barnes,” she started casually, walking beside him in the hallway. “You’ve been smiling at your phone. That’s new.”

He didn’t reply.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” she pressed, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to read him like a map.

“Don’t be paranoid.”

“Not paranoid. Observant,” she said, raising a brow. “I bet she likes books. You smell like the kind of man who’d fall for a reader.”

He ignored her. As usual.

But she didn’t stop.

“Does she live with you?”

“Does she snore?”

“Do you smile in your sleep because of her?”

“Has she seen your arm? The vibranium one, obviously.”

“Yelena.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender—smirking. “I’m just saying… anyone who makes the grumpy supersoldier smile over text has to be interesting.”

John Walker was… less subtle.

In the kitchen, on a random morning, while they were both grabbing coffee, he dropped:

“So, Barnes… ever cook for someone?”

The coffee hadn’t even started dripping and Bucky was already thinking about chucking the whole machine out the window.

“No.”

“Okay, okay. Just asking. You know. Love in the air and all.”

Even Ava, who never got involved in the team’s personal nonsense, made a surprisingly out-of-pocket comment during training.

“You seem… calmer lately.”

Bucky glanced over without missing a beat on the punching bag.

“That a problem?”

“No. Just weird.”

She paused, adjusting the wraps on her hands, then added in her usual deadpan tone:

“You look like you’re sleeping better.”

He froze for a second, jaw tight—then resumed punching, harder.

Nothing made sense.

And somehow, it all made perfect sense.

They were circling. Prodding. Trying to chip away at any piece of the life he kept hidden—

especially that part.

It was another late afternoon at the Thunderbolts base, and everyone was gathered in the main lounge.

The kind of unofficial meeting that only happens when no one has anything better to do and boredom spreads like invisible gas.

Yelena was on the couch, tossing popcorn in the air and trying to catch it with her mouth (failing miserably).

Ava was typing something on her phone with robotic focus, not lifting her eyes once.

Alexei was reading an old Captain America comic, glasses at the tip of his nose, wearing the most judgmental expression known to man.

Walker was scribbling in a notepad full of group training ideas—none of them good.

And Bob, as always, was pretending not to listen but very clearly was.

The door slid open with a soft sound. Combat boots echoed heavily on the floor.

Bucky walked in.

He stopped in the middle of the room.

Everyone turned to look at him, slowly, with that fake disinterest of people who were obviously expecting something but trying to act indifferent.

Bucky crossed his arms.

“I know everything.”

Silence.

Yelena was the first to react, placing a dramatic hand over her chest.

“Know what?”

Walker frowned, leaning forward.

“We don’t even know what you’re talking about, Barnes.”

“Yeah,” Bob mumbled, chewing a cookie slowly. “There are lots of… things someone could know. You know?”

Bucky stared at them. One by one. His expression judgmental enough to be almost comical.

No one said another word.

He sighed, uncrossed his arms, and started walking toward the center of the room.

“I know you’ve been trying to figure out who I’m talking to on the phone. I know you’ve been following me, eavesdropping on conversations, asking not-so-subtle questions. I know there’s even a name for the “operation.” And that you dragged Bob into it.”

Bob raised his hands in surrender. Said nothing.

“And?” Yelena asked, resting her chin in her hand. “You gonna hit us?”

“ Thought about it. Still considering it,” he replied dryly.

Ava gave a small smirk.

“So… are you gonna tell us?”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. His gaze distant, like he was deciding whether opening that door was worth it. But when he spoke again, his voice was firm.

“Her name is Y/n. We’ve been together for three years.”

A pause.

A long one.

Not an awkward silence. But the kind that means something. The kind that happens when everyone finally stops pretending and actually listens.

Yelena blinked. Twice.

“Three years?”

Walker let out a low whistle, leaning back in the armchair.

“ And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Of course not.” Bucky looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “ Because I like peace. I like the life I have with her. And because you all,” he pointed slowly, finger turning in the air “can’t even keep a frozen sausage in the freezer without turning it into a civil war.”

“That was one time,” Alexei muttered.

“You’re chaos. And she’s everything that’s not that. I kept you out of her life on purpose.”

Ava simply nodded, like she understood. Bob let out a soft “hmm” of agreement. Yelena, though clearly surprised, didn’t seem offended.

It was the kind of truth that, coming from Bucky, made sense. He wasn’t the type to overshare. Every part of him was guarded, measured, protected.

But now… he was giving them a piece.

Walker was the first to speak again, voice curious, almost respectful:

“And why now?”

Bucky looked around. And exhaled.

“Because you’re not going to stop. You’re gonna keep snooping, asking dumb questions, turning this base into a bad reality show… so I’m ending it my way”

“And what way is that?” Yelena asked, already smiling.

He took a deep breath, defeated.

“I’m taking you to meet her.”

A spark lit up in everyone’s eyes.

“But listen up. You’re going to behave. No stupid comments. No invasive questions. No fake bonding attempts. Got it?”

“Barnes,” Yelena said, offended “ do we look like people who wouldn’t behave?”

He stared at her. Long. Direct.

“Yes.”

Yelena snorted.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

Bucky shook his head and turned to leave the room.

“Tonight. Get ready. No weird outfits. And Walker, for the love of God, don’t try to intimidate anyone.”

“I’m literally the friendliest person here!” Walker protested.

“That’s tragic.” Ava muttered.

Yelena was already grinning like she’d been waiting for this day for years.

And Bucky, even while groaning, even while rolling his eyes at every step…

deep down, he knew.

Maybe—just maybe—it was time to open that part of his life.

To show them that even the Winter Soldier was capable of love.

The group stood in front of Bucky’s apartment door like they were on a school field trip.

Yelena was chewing gum calmly. Walker adjusted the collar of his jacket. Bob looked way too nervous, hands shoved in his pockets, one foot tapping anxiously on the floor. Ava stayed impassive, but her eyes were sharp. Alexei held a potted plant he’d brought as a “gift” — no one asked for it, but he was determined.

Bucky, standing in front of the door, took a deep breath and turned to the group with that classic “if you mess this up, I will make you disappear” face.

“Okay. A few rules, and listen close because I’m not repeating myself,” he began, voice low and firm. “No yelling. No weird comments. No invasive questions. Keep your voices down. And for the love of God, don’t try to act too cool. You’re not.”

Bob raised his hand like they were in school.

“And if she, like… offers tea?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Say thank you and accept. Like a normal adult.”

Yelena grinned slightly.

“Relax, Barnes. We’re gonna be nice. Zero chaos.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You are the chaos.”

“But adorable chaos.”

Without another word, Bucky unlocked the door.

He turned the handle. And called out, in a voice softer than the team had ever heard from him:

“Babe? I’m home.”

A few eyes widened. Babe? Did he just say babe?

From deeper inside the apartment, a sweet, calm voice responded:

“I’m in the kitchen!”

And then you appeared.

You walked over with relaxed steps, like you already knew they were there.

You wore dark jeans that fit snugly and a black long-sleeve turtleneck, the soft fabric looking even cozier with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Your hair was tied in a messy bun — the kind that looked thrown together, but somehow still perfect.

You were smiling — that kind of smile that warms up a whole room better than any heater.

When you saw Bucky, you went straight to him and kissed him on the lips — slow, unfazed, just that kind of soft, simple affection from someone who loves without needing to prove anything.

“I’m glad you’re home, honey,” you said, gently fixing the collar of his shirt.

Only then did you notice the group behind him.

Five faces. Staring. Some clearly surprised, others pretending not to be — and failing.

You looked at them all, still wearing that gentle smile, and spoke naturally:

“So… you’re the Thunderbolts?”

A short pause.

“Bucky told me about you.”

And, without hesitation, you stepped forward with the calm confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

Yelena glanced at Walker. Walker glanced at Ava. Bob froze for a solid two seconds.

Bucky closed the door slowly, silently saying: Now that you’re here, choose your words carefully.

While he did that, you were already approaching the group with the same steady, warm energy of someone who knew how to break the ice — and maybe, secretly, already knew who each of them was.

You greeted each of them with a warm smile.

First, you offered your hand to Ava, who hesitated for a second, then returned the handshake with a slight nod. Then, you exchanged a knowing glance with Yelena, who immediately said,“You’re prettier than I expected.”

You just laughed, naturally.

Walker went in for the classic exaggerated handshake, and you matched it without flinching — smiling like you could already read him inside out.

Bob, nervous, nearly tripped over his own foot, and you instinctively caught his arm before anything happened, like you already knew it would.

Lastly, Alexei — the gentle giant — held out the plant, wrapped in what looked like improvised gift paper. His smile was awkward, like he wasn’t sure how to be cute but was trying anyway.

“Uh… this is for you. A gift. Bucky said you liked plants.”

Your eyes lit up as you took the pot, genuinely excited.

“I love it! My plants are going to be so happy to have a new friend,” you said, looking at the gift with pure joy.

Then you turned to Bucky with a bright look.

He returned it with a smile no one in the room had seen before — calm, loving… almost young again.

You turned back to the group, eyes shining:

“Please, make yourselves at home. Dinner’s ready… and the brownies are just a few more minutes.”

Yelena muttered, “She makes brownies?” already halfway convinced she’d just met the perfect woman.

As everyone started to explore the cozy apartment, Bucky stayed close to you — like he still didn’t completely trust the five of them not to break something… or ask you a hundred weird questions.

But you, with your calm voice and steady smile, didn’t seem fazed.

You chatted cheerfully, asking if the food was okay, if the seasoning was too strong, if they wanted water, wine, or both.

You had a way about you — that kind of grounding presence that made it feel like you could balance their collective chaos with just a look.

Bucky just watched.

A little tense, yes, but with that expression that said: You’ve got this.

Yelena, on the other hand, wandered around to take in the environment with genuine interest.

The place had soul.

A deep red vintage couch sat in the center of the room, with warm-toned cushions carefully arranged. In front of it, a rustic wooden coffee table held a vase of fresh flowers — daisies and lavender, probably picked by you yourself. A fluffy brown rug warmed the space underfoot.

But what caught Yelena’s attention was the pale marble bookshelf off to the side.

There were a few picture frames.

One showed you and Bucky on what looked like a trip — somewhere in Europe, maybe?

You smiled at the camera, arms around Bucky, who had his head turned to kiss your cheek. Sunlight framed the whole photo. There was peace in it.

Another frame, tucked in a corner, showed Bucky in black and white — clearly from the 1940s, probably during his military service. He looked… different. Softer. A boy trying to be a man.

But it was the last photo that made Yelena narrow her eyes. A group shot.

You were in it, but looked younger — hair down, laughing at something off-camera.

Around you were five very unusual people:

A red-haired girl with fierce eyes.

A guy with spiky white hair and a mischievous grin.

A Chinese girl with neon pink hoops and a yellow coat.

A serious-looking boy with glasses that looked way too high-tech to be normal.

And finally… a blue-skinned man with lizard-like features, yellow eyes, and a shy, gentle expression.

Yelena blinked twice.

They were definitely not normal.

She kept it to herself. For now.

She simply stepped away from the shelf and returned to the table.

Soon after, everyone was seated around a large dinner table — plates served, wine glasses clinking, the comforting smell of home-cooked food filling the apartment.

The warm lighting from the overhead lamp made everything feel softer.

Conversation flowed with rare ease for this group — like, just for a moment, they actually were home.

You served the last few side dishes and smiled:

“Hope you’re all hungry. Oh the brownies are almost done, too. Just a few more minutes.”

As you sat down, Yelena gave Bucky a long, amused look. He pulled your chair for you, brushed his hand down your back, and sat beside you with a small, content smile.

The meal was served, the food warm, the scent of spices and fresh bread floating in the air.

Everyone slowly started to relax.

You, ever the gentle host, went around asking if anyone wanted seconds, offering more salad, more rice, more of anything.

Bucky remained quiet beside you.

Always watching. Always present.

Bob, now two glasses of wine deep, took a generous bite of lentil rice.

It tasted like comfort. Like real food made with care. “God, this is amazing. I should ask for the recipe. Or just offer to live in the kitchen cabinet. Would she let me?”

And then, without even glancing at him, you replied, completely serene:

“No, Bob. I don’t allow people to live in my kitchen cabinets.”

Silence.

Instant silence.

Everyone froze.

Forks in mid-air. A wine glass halfway to someone’s lips.

Bob blinked. Twice.

“I… I said that out loud?”

You gave a soft smile, no explanation.

You just kept serving salad onto your own plate, like nothing had happened.

“What?” Yelena asked, brows knitting together.

Bucky didn’t even look up from his plate. He just muttered:

“She’s a telepath.”

The word lingered in the air like smoke.

Walker nearly choked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Ava just observed. She didn’t look shocked — but she was definitely focused now.

“Telepath? Like, you read minds?” Yelena asked, already way too intrigued. “Since when?”

You finally looked at them, that calm expression still your trademark.

“Since always. But I control it. I promise I don’t go around reading everyone’s minds… unless you think really loud”

You threw Bob a teasing look. He sank into his chair, utterly defeated.

“That’s not fair,” he mumbled, hiding behind his napkin. “My brain is noisy.”

“So that’s why Barnes kept you hidden all this time,” Walker muttered, still trying to process.

Bucky took a sip of wine like he was remembering exactly why.

“One of the reasons.”

“She’s officially cooler than all of us,” Yelena said, helping herself to more mashed potatoes. “Just saying.”

You smiled, accepting it like it was the simplest compliment in the world.

You continued chatting with them in that same soft, steady way — answering each question with patience and a little affection. Bucky stayed close, always watching, always alert, like he filtered every question before it reached you. Not out of suspicion… it was just his way. And you knew that.

The questions came from a softer place now. Not curiosity laced with judgment, but genuine interest. Almost excitement.

And you didn’t mind. You welcomed it.

As dinner went on, you started sharing a little about your life — your way.

You told them about the X-Mansion, where you grew up.

How your powers showed up early, and how Professor Xavier helped guide you with empathy.

You didn’t dramatize it. You just spoke like someone who had survived something hard and was now proud of it.

They listened. Really listened.

You mentioned your friends — the ones from the photo — and explained that it was taken during the Professor’s birthday party.

Jean had insisted on a photo with everyone before the celebration started.

It was one of those chaotic, happy days where everyone looked exhausted and laughing.

That photo captured it perfectly.

And then, without anyone needing to ask, you explained how you ended up in New York.

The accident that brought you into this universe.

No suspense, no melodrama. Just a story. A piece of your past.

Bucky, beside you, kept listening — jaw occasionally tight, his thumb rubbing gently across your leg under the table.

And they listened. With full plates and wide eyes, they listened to someone who held so much more than she showed.

By the end of it, the mood at the table had shifted.

Calmer. Closer.

Plates were empty.

The smell of brownies baking in the oven was already drifting through the air — warm, sweet, comforting. The kind of smell that makes you forget, for a second, that the world is harsh.

You stood up with a smile, brushing your hand over Bucky’s shoulder as you passed by.

“ The brownies are probably done,” you said, casually disappearing into the kitchen.

The second you were out of sight, Yelena turned in her chair, arm draped over the backrest, smirking.

“ Ohhh, now I get why you kept her from us, Barnes…”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, already bracing himself.

“ A woman like that? Honestly. I’d have kept her hidden too.”

Bucky muttered a low “Yelena…”

But he couldn’t quite hide the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Seconds later, you returned holding a simple ceramic tray, lined with golden, steaming brownies — some with cracked edges, others with gooey melted chocolate still glistening.

You placed them at the center of the table and sat down, grabbing a dish towel to protect your fingers.

It didn’t take ten seconds for everyone to dive in.

The compliments rolled in fast. One after the other.

You laughed, adjusting your messy bun, a little shy with so much praise.

You explained the recipe was a gift from Jean — from a sleepover years ago. She insisted baking would be therapeutic. And it was. The recipe stuck.

Everyone kept eating, talking with their mouths full, fighting over the last piece.

As the night wound down, people began to rise one by one — grabbing jackets, offering thanks, the kind of cozy chaos that comes with the end of a good visit.

You helped collect jackets, walked each one to the door, thanking them.

“ And thank you again for the plant, Alexei,” you said sweetly, holding the pot carefully.

He turned a bit red and mumbled a quiet “It was nothing” before joining the others down the hall.

Walker gave a lazy “Good night.”

Bob complimented the brownies for the fourth time.

Ava nodded with a small smile.

Yelena? She just said, “See you soon, future best friend.”

You laughed.

After a few more waves and hurried goodbyes, the door finally shut.

And it was like flipping a switch.

Bucky’s large hands were on your waist the next second, pulling you close — not roughly, but with that kind of firm tenderness he only ever had with you. The grip was solid, warm, like he’d waited all night for this.

You turned in his arms, smiling, and your lips met in a slow, deep kiss — the kind that says I’m here, I’m yours, completely.

When the kiss broke, you stayed close, your hands resting on his chest beneath the soft black shirt.

“ You did great,” he murmured, voice low and husky in that way he only sounded when his heart was soft.

You giggled gently, barely a whisper, your eyes locked with his.

“ Think they liked me?”

Bucky gave a crooked little smile.

“ Yelena was flirting with you.”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

“ Really? I thought she was sweet.”

“ Too sweet,” he muttered, already pulling you even closer.

The next kiss was different.

Hotter. Needier.

The kind you hold back all night, wishing you were alone sooner.

His hands slid down your back, gripping your ass firmly.

A soft breath escaped you mid-kiss, your whole body already melting into his.

When the kiss finally ended, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

His breath was warm, a little heavier — like the whole day was finally behind him, left right here in your arms.

“ I missed you…,” he whispered, voice rough and low.

“ We’re alone now,” you replied with a lazy, smiling tone.

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes locked on yours.

He reached for the collar of your shirt — that soft black fabric of your turtleneck — and slowly pushed it down, exposing your neck.

Carefully. Like unwrapping something he already knew by heart.

Without saying a word, he leaned in and began placing slow kisses there. One by one.

Warm. Lingering.

His lips pressing just enough to leave your eyes fluttering shut and your skin flushed.

He knew exactly where to kiss.

Exactly how.

And you knew — the night was only just beginning.

[blueweaver1]

Jeez Soundwave, you get to be a telapath and see into the multi universe?!?

Honestly this au idea came from the joke post about Cybertron x Soundwave i made. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

---

So basically in this universe there's a bot chosen to be the planet's Sparkbond. These bots are regularly changed out and retirer because it put a lot of pressure of their sparks. (This is propaganda, most of them actually go insane and then die soon after. Cybertron is not purposefully doing this, it's a giant cosmic entity that doesn't truly understand the small ones).

Cybertron is able to see into the Multi Verse and is trying to direct it's inhabitants into a future that avoids the worst the Revolution/ Civil War that's coming. However, while it holds back giving it's sparkbond everything, it often still overwhelms them.

Soundwave was never chosen to be the planet's Sparkbond. He had be sent by Senator Ratbat to assassinate the bot that been chosen to be the new Sparkbond. While trying to carry out his orders Soundwave was chosen by Cybertron. The overload of different lives and painful and disorienting, however the sensation wasn't new. It was very similar to how his life was before being able to control his telepathy. Using similar techniques to controlling his telepathy he's able to center himself. He is still has to be careful not to overload his processor, but compared to many Sparkbonds before him he's in a much better place.

Now he just need to figure out to end?curb?redirect? the seemly unavoidable war. Act crazy enough that the Senate stays off his back, but still be able to do things. Kill his old boss. And get the two idiots, that the wars always seem to center around, to actually talk before 4 millions of baggage happens. Maybe do some self reflecting, but only if he has time.

How hard can it be? 🙄

[goldenstorm0]

I cannot wait for an Adult Man to fight the Small Child. It'll be a great fight, my money is on the child

ok-ok, more thoughts under the cut

plot twist the thoughts are still not terribly serious

I think in a Donovan vs Anya telepathy fight, the main factor playing against her is simply her being young. She can have trouble sorting through and interpreting other people's thoughts, particularly someone like Loid who just thinks a lot. Donovan probably has a foot up on her in regards to that, just knowing offhand what information is important and what isn't.

However, we need to take into account that for Anya, mind reading is something that simply comes naturally to her. Even if she wasn't born with it and gained that power soon after birth, it would still be crazy early into her development. Although she doesn't know what information is/isn't relevant, she can still process it fairly quickly.

Plus she seems to use her powers in a variety of ways not only in collecting information, but also to help her locate people as seen early-early in the series, and directing people, like when she warned Twilight about the bomb (twice now that i think about it, in Bond's intro arc and the cruise ship arc) or when they were on the ski trip, and in manipulating people and using that instantly to influence them, as in the bus-hijacking arc.

For Donovan, we have far less information about him (or really technically a confirmation that he can read minds, only that Melinda suspects it), but I'm going to speculate that his theoretical abilities are far less attuned or refined as Anya's. Guessing from what Melinda said about when he started to change, it was soon after Damian was born. I'm going to guess probably a year or two, assuming that first Any'a has to successfully gain her powers in an experiment before Donovan undertakes the same process, so maybe a few months depending on what risks he's willing to take. That being said, no matter what, his brain would be fully developed.

So having a new sense added to the mix at such a latter date is going to mess with him more. We know that he no longer participates in events that have a lot of people at them except for the imperial scholar parent events. He is probably overwhelmed by a large groups thoughts and can't process them out as easily. From what we can tell, he doesn't even go out and about for smaller events where large groups can form, not like Melinda anyway. Anya still goes out on ootings, we can see her in crowds functioning pretty normally, and she mainly seems to get overwhelmed if she starts actively focusing on the groups thoughts or when emotions are high and/or negative (the rally in the first ooting and when she was looking at the penguins)

So while Donovan can leverage his experience to know what information to piece out, Anya has him beat in pure processing power. And with her being so young, she has more time to refine her abilities and make up for what she lacks. Her thought processes work seamlessly with her abilities, Donovan however doesn't get that. He is probably easier to overwhelm, needs more time to simply consume whatever he is hearing.

So, in a literal battle of the minds, Anya can just start dumping a ton of the irrelevant information she has to overload Donovan, thus winning the battle.

Sadly, Donovan could definitely just pick her up and throw her if need be.

So the score is kinda even rn

On actual thoughts for this chapter, I'm still processing. We now know that at least Melinda thinks Donovan can read minds, but we art exactly sure what that entails. Is it similar to Anya's, or is it different? An actual sort of dialogue like how Anya reads, or more of vibe, general direction of their thoughts or feelings? And like... is she right? she could be wrong, Donovan could just be a paranoid freak, he could of changed his actions not because he can read minds but because he knows that there are people who can. Idk, all I know is that Loid needs to start working with her to learn some techniques to help her manage her anxiety and to get her the fuck out of her situation, I have a lot of thoughts about what Loid should be doing to help her and at least some of them involve getting Melinda and Yor to hangout more.

[mochinomnoms]

*slams open door*

Mochi! Mochi! I have an idea.

So a troupe I see on pixiv fanart is a character swapping with their future selves. I saw one where Azul wakes up in bed with his future wife Yuu and she's teased him because she can tell it's past Azul and he doesn't recognize her. She gives him a hint how to recognize her by some birthmarks she has on her chest.

I've seen a couple artists do it with Floyd as well, and a fanfic with past and future Yuu swapping with each other and poor younger Malleus is overwhelmed because OMG this beautiful woman is flirting with me and she's my future wife? There's something hilarious about the younger guys just not knowing how to handle the future version of Yuu.

So now I'm thinking how funny it would be for Past!PTMYuu swapping places with future!PTMYuu. Like P!Yuu wakes up in an unknown house in somebody's bed and confused as fuck and gets even more confused because suddenly these little kids are running in, telling Mommy it's time to get up and Yuu's like, who's mommy? Then who should walk in but Jade telling the kids to let Mommy rest and then he notices that the Yuu in their bedroom is not his wife(Yuu's still wearing her NRC uniform and shouldn't fit it anymore after getting older and having kids) and ohh he's going to have fun with this. He'll start in with the thoughts "ohh my beautiful pearl was absolutely adorable back at NRC, look at how tiny and cute you were, I know you can hear me pearl..." And fuck he knows about her telepathy. Poor Yuu overloads with the fact that Jade actually married her, they have kids, and is still so damn in love with her as he was at NRC.

Meanwhile F!Yuu is back at Past NRC and is calming down Yuu's friends. No, your Yuu is fine. If I'm right she's with my husband and kids right now and he'll take care of her. Some of the cast are obviously curious about Yuu's husband and F!Yuu is all "nah... sorry I can't say, don't wanna mess with the future." and of course the one who wants to know the most is Jade. F!Yuu is laughing to themselves because man, they remember how down horrendously Jade was in school and he doesn't know at this time that Yuu can read his thoughts. I'd like to think Yuu learned to better control the telepathy so she just tunes into his thoughts every now and then and it's just his thoughts bouncing around like "Oh seven my pearl is absolutely gorgeous in the future. Please tell me I'm your husband. I have to be! What would our kids look like. How many would we have? Do they look like my pearl or me? I hope one looks like my pearl they'd be the cutest baby!"

Eventually somebody figures out how to send the Yuu's back to their right time. Hugs for everybody but P!Jade gets a quick peck on the cheek before F!Yuu hops into whatever portal is sending her back and the last thought she hears from P!Jade is him screaming in his mind how much he loves her.

P!Yuu gets back and now has to deal with Jade's even more thoughts about the future and apparently a few others people thinking that man, Yuu's gonna be such a milf in the future.

Somebody please help Yuu, poor thing can only take so much.

Ah I love silly time travel stories (I ignore paradoxes) and this is one of my favorite tropes! It's what one of the fics from the poll is based on, but with all of the overblot cast instead!

I'm so excited to write it, I have many ideas for everyone, especially Leona and Idia's chapters!!

For Jade though, I think it would be so funny. He's positively enamored seeing milf/dilf Yuu. He's internalizing everything, of course, so no one except Yuu and Floyd and Azul can really tell he's being affected.

He's staring a little longer than he really should, but he's surprised that future Yuu doesn't seem to mind. In fact, they're much calmer than usual. Usually they'd be excitable with their friends and quite shy and quiet with him. But future Yuu looks at him with such fondness that Jade lets himself dream that they look at him like that because they're future spouses.

(In the back of his mind, there is a mix of hope and dread. That's a wedding band on their hand. They're taken, but was it by him?)

Imagine everyone's surprise and shock when, right before leaving, future Yuu walks up to Jade (even in the future, they haven't grown much) to tip toe and press a sweet little kiss to the cheek as they cup his face with the absolute most tenderness.

Jade's frozen, the others are murmuring to each other, and future Yuu disappears and in their place is their original Yuu. Red-faced, covered in a large brown coat that most definitely does not belong to them, and staring Jade down.

Covering their red-face and all. Poor Jade is now giddy and a bit concerned (he hopes that scream was due to flusteredness and not fear, though he does love how entertaining they always are), while Yuu is screaming into their couch as they try to process several things, including the knowledge that they weren't at all displeased knowing that they married Jade.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

⚕️Managing Gallifreyan Neurological Trauma

Here's how to assess, treat, and stabilise neurological trauma in a Gallifreyan patient, whether they've suffered a psychic overload, a time-loop feedback, or just got hit very hard in the head.

🔍 Establish the Cause

Before you initiate treatment, you must establish:

Mechanism of Injury – What got broken

Region of Brain Affected – Where it broke

Type of Trauma – How it got broken

Severity – How badly it broke

Timing – How long it's been broken

Even with a Zero Room and every TARDIS trick in the book, you're not getting far if you're treating a psionic burnout like a cranial bleed. Gallifreyan neuroanatomy is too complex and too interconnected for guesswork.

🚨 When to Suspect Neurological Trauma

Neurological trauma is highly likely when any of the following are present:

Sudden loss or alteration of consciousness

Psionic symptoms: silence, leakage, hallucinations, disconnection

Irregular motor function: tremors, collapse, lack of coordination

Heart rhythm instability (especially synchronous rhythm)

No response to telepathic cues

🧠 Types of Gallifreyan Neurological Trauma

By Mechanism:

Physical Trauma – Blunt force, falls, or surgical error. May result in swelling, bleeding, or disruption of neural pathways.

Penetrative Trauma – Rare (due to skull density), but possible with energy weapons or sharp implements.

Chronotemporal Trauma – Exposure to paradox, time fracture, or unstable timelines. Expect time perception loss or chrono seizures.

Psionic Trauma – Psychic shock or feedback loop. Can cause telepathic disconnection, hallucinations, or TARDIS symbiotic link issues.

Disease or Parasite – Infections or invasive pathogens (physical or psychic). Includes degenerative illness and viral encephalopathy.

By Region:

Autonomic Brainstem Complex – Controls survival functions (hearts rate, respiration, bypass). Damage here is always critical.

Chronos Lobe – Handles time perception. Injury leads to time loops, stutters, or biodata distortion.

Somatic/Motor Lobes – Regulate physical movement. Trauma causes tremors, weakness, or collapse.

Psionic Cortex (Pineal Region) – Governs telepathy, empathy, and TARDIS symbiosis.

Cognitive Frontal Zones – Language, logic, and identity. Watch for aphasia, confusion, or behavioural shifts.

🕸️ Note: Gallifreyan brains are highly interconnected. Symptoms may not align with the location of the injury. Treat the cause, not just the presentation, as it may be deceiving.

🧠 The Super-Ganglion: Gallifreyan Brain Adaptability

Gallifreyans possess a large, voluntary-control super-ganglion connecting the hemispheres—a spider-like nerve cluster capable of:

Bypassing damaged neural regions

Shutting down senses or bodily functions

Re-routing cognitive load

Temporarily masking symptoms

This can help get information directly from the Gallifreyan about what happened, but it could also delay diagnosis. Therefore, always reassess regularly and don't assume a sudden improvement means recovery.

📋 Initial Management Steps

Assess vitals – GASS score

Evaluate consciousness – use verbal, pain, and telepathic stimuli

Scan for internal damage – advanced neural imaging or chrono-telemetry

Check psionic status – establish baseline, assess TARDIS link

Contain – apply psychic dampening if uncontrolled output or telepathic echoing is present

🛠️ Treatment by Severity

🟢 Mild–Moderate Injury

Psionic rest – move to low-stim environment, reduce sensory input

Grounding exercises – use tactile objects, orientation aids, meditation

Cognitive stimulation – telepathic games, TARDIS-assisted reconsolidation

Medication – anti-inflammatory, neural stabilisers (Gallifreyan dosed)

🟠 Moderate–Severe Injury

Healing coma – initiate under supervision or in a Zero Room

Symbiotic support – use linked TARDIS or bonded individual

Antibiotics/antivirals – if infection suspected or confirmed

Psionic therapy – reconnect disrupted pathways, emotional stabilisation

🔴 Critical Injury

Regeneration – last resort. Watch for instability.

Neural rewiring – TARDIS-assisted consciousness re-mapping

Psychic containment – isolate to prevent harm to self or others

Escalate to hospitaller – if symptoms worsen or remain unresponsive post-intervention

📈 Prognosis Factors

Favourable:

Injury is localised

Super-ganglion compensating effectively

Early intervention

Access to a symbiotic TARDIS

Unfavourable:

Damage to brainstem

Involvement of chronos lobe

Trauma in late regeneration

Delayed treatment or misdiagnosis

⚠️ Caution: Regeneration may resolve trauma or worsen it in unpredictable ways for the new body.

📍Key Takeaways

✔️ Always identify what, where, how, how bad, and how long ago before you treat.

✔️ Gallifreyan neuroplasticity helps them survive—but it can also hide problems.

✔️ GASS and ABCDE+P are your first-line tools. Never skip them.

✔️ Escalate if brainstems, psionic cortex, or chrono lobe are involved.

Medical Guides

These are all practical guides to assessing and treating a Gallifreyan in an emergency.

⚕️💕Gallifreyan CPR

⚕️👽Gallifreyan Assessment Scoring System (GASS)

⚕️👽ABCDE Assessment

⚕️⚠️Sepsis Emergency Response (SER)

⚕️⚠️Severe Trauma Protocol

⚕️🌡️Gallifreyan Thermoregulation and Emergency Response

⚕️🔮Psionic Emergency Pathways

⚕️✨Post-Regeneration Management

⚕️💤Gallifreyan Healing Coma Management

⚕️🩸Interpreting Gallifreyan Bloodwork

⚕️👶Gallifreyan Paediatric Emergencies

⚕️🧠Managing Gallifreyan Neurological Trauma

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features:⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[what-bot]

Program sense headcanons in Tron.

I have many so there's a readmore

Programs have different senses or level of sensitivity based on their function. They can change if upgraded; Tron shares some of his monitor senses with Beck using the disc

Programs designed to monitor a system or involved in communication have heightened senses, and a lot of processing capacity for them. Some programs are designed to get a broad idea of everything, while others are more specialised

Some see the program equivalent of shrimp colours - seeing radio waves is common in tower guardians or those who communicate with the internet.

Programs do not have a sense of smell

Less of a sense of taste than humans (they usually just eat energy, which tastes mostly similar. They can tell if it’s poisoned. Like irl, water from different taps tastes different but not by much.)

They DO have electroperception, and some have thermoception. Same with grid wildlife like bits.

A combination of the two above things lets monitors do that footprint-seeing thing that Dyson and Rinzler do (even if not directly linked in to be able to see system logs for that area)

Structures and vehicles give off different electrical frequencies. Programs whose function is related to those buildings can sense them, and receive signals from that which can hold information and helps them know where to go like they're ants following pheromone trails. e.g. programs in charge of the trains will have Train Sense

Messing with the above is totally what they used to control people in frame of mind

Programs also have their own signature they can use to tell each other apart

Electrical signals as nonverbal communication. Can communicate with Bits or Bytes this way

This thing that electric fish do called jamming avoidance

Programs can be linked with each other, common in counterparts or parent/child pairings (as in the computer version of parent and child), and share information with each other over the link like telepathy

Full black circuit-covering suits like Rinzler’s are stealthy both due to not giving off light, and masking the electrical signature of a program. They can disguise themselves as others using a similar principle

Users give off electricity, so they seem like a program to other programs on first glance, but those who know what to look for can tell the difference. Given it’s used in communication, programs can get confused talking to users as their electrical impulses don’t follow the same rules, but they can loosely interpret them with practice

Imagining Tron or other monitors getting sensory overload if network traffic is too high, or if in the outside world and standing among a bunch of computers/phones/servers/radio towers etc.

Programs in the outside world get pretty much none of the electrical feedback they’re used to, which can be unsettling for them

Idk how it would be different for Isos. I imagine there’d be a lot of similarities but their senses adapt/change based on their circumstances - getting stronger when needed and weaker when not

[hunters-paradice-sonic-au]

Ok ash plauge TAILS

Background:

Tails was found by the head of the Rising Dragon university, the best school for ash-shapers in the union, deep in the zone and soon after adopted him. Tails at the time acted very bestial due to surviving within the outer limits of the zone and beyond. He has exceptional talent when it comes to ash-shaping, being one of the best only a few months after learning the basics. He is the top student at his adoptive father’s academy despite his age. Tails has always felt uncomfortable in his own skin, whether due to his multiple personalities, transformation abilities or general gender dysphoria is unknown.

Description:

Tails is a heavily mutated fox. Though restraining many of the traits of his supposed kind; orange fur, furry ears, tail, and snout his exposure to the outside wasteland left him with various mutations. Most prominent among them being his multiple tails(4), though other mutations are; incredibly tough scales hidden beneath his fur (though he is still decorated by scars), minor color shifting (when panicked), two extra pairs of eyes, a jaw that can hinge outward into three segments (only fang knows how to do that though), retractable claws and second set of teeth that can cut through tungsten like paper, an extra pair of arms, and retractable wings (this is without ash-shaping). His standard uniform consists of a Cashmere lined puffy jacket with high-visibility stripes along its arms and very baggy silk pants. Tails uses a balenced combination of technology and ash-shaping abilities to fight at medium range. When frightened, angry, or experiencing spikes of adrenaline tails’s personality shifts to a much more feral version of himself named fang. Fang is an ultra violent version of tails that relies on primary their mutations to fight at close range, and does not hesitate to kill any they perceive as a threat. When tails is feeling tired, sad, or overloaded his personality shifts into a calmer, stabler mind named eyes who primarily uses ash-shaping to fight at longer distances. Eyes is cool headed and calculating, willing to befriend or backstab anyone as long as the body survives. Tails and his other personalities’s ash-shaping abilities include earth and metal formation, technology materialization, transformation, mutated beast control, and telepathy.

Views on others(from his perspective)

Sonic: who?

Blaze: she is a bit overbearing and try-hardy but she is kind and caring where it counts!

Silver: I heard he’s from the outside like me, though he seem a bit scared. He’s blazes best friend though.

Ivo: He’s an eccentric man, always in his lab when he’s not teaching or up on the surface.

[ladybunny44]

Good afternoon, Bunny. Here's my Takumi request No.4. Both Takumi and Isami propose to their girlfriends at the same time, albeit in different places. Bonus points if Isami jokes about twin telepathy.

🌟 "Twin Telepathy and Timeless Love" 🌟

Pairing : Takumi Aldini x Fem!Reader

Genre : ☁️🌷

Word count : ~1800

Summary : Takumi and Isami Aldini share an unbreakable bond as twins, but no one could have predicted how synchronized their lives would become. On the same day, albeit in completely different locations, both brothers propose to their girlfriends, leading to a heartwarming revelation of "twin telepathy."

TW/CW : Fluff overload! Light humor and playful sibling banter.

NOTIFICATIONS ꩜ ₊ ⊹! : Thank you again for the request! Enjoy the oneshot :) 📚

『••✎••』

The day was like any other in Totsuki’s famed Aldini kitchen—at least, that’s what Takumi Aldini wanted you to think. Little did you know, he had been planning something extraordinary for weeks, and today was finally the day.

Meanwhile, his twin brother, Isami, had a similar idea brewing. Despite being in different places, their seemingly synchronized plans would soon prove that “twin telepathy” wasn’t just a myth.

You adjusted your scarf as the cool breeze swept through the small Italian village where Takumi had insisted on taking you for a “relaxing day.” The cobblestone streets and warm glow of streetlights created a romantic atmosphere you couldn’t help but adore.

“Takumi, this place is beautiful,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He smiled, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “It’s one of my favorite spots. I thought you’d like it.”

As the two of you walked toward a small bridge overlooking a shimmering river, Takumi’s steps faltered. You turned to look at him, your brow furrowing in concern.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

Takumi took a deep breath, his cheeks tinged with a slight blush. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with nervousness.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat as he got down on one knee, his blue eyes locking with yours.

“Being with you has made me realize that life is better when you’re by my side. I want to spend every day making you smile, cooking you delicious meals, and creating memories together. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded fervently. “Yes, Takumi. A thousand times yes!”

Across the world, Isami was in a different setting entirely—a cozy picnic under the stars with his girlfriend, surrounded by flickering fairy lights.

“I wanted tonight to be special,” Isami said, handing her a plate of freshly made tiramisu. “Because you’re special.”

She laughed softly, playfully nudging him. “You’re such a sweetheart, Isami.”

He smiled, his heart racing as he reached into his bag and pulled out a similar velvet box. Setting the dessert aside, Isami got down on one knee.

“I’ve loved you from the moment we met, and every day since then has only made me love you more. I want to be with you forever. Will you marry me?”

Her shocked expression melted into a beaming smile. “Yes, Isami! Of course!”

Later that evening, Takumi called Isami to share his news, completely unaware that his brother had been up to the same thing.

“You’ll never believe what I just did,” Takumi began, his voice full of excitement.

“Oh, let me guess,” Isami replied, his tone playful. “You proposed to your girlfriend.”

Takumi froze. “How... how did you know?”

Isami laughed. “Because I proposed to mine too.”

There was a beat of silence before Takumi groaned. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Isami said, the grin evident in his voice. “Twin telepathy, remember?”

Takumi couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I guess we’ll have to plan a double wedding now.”

When you found out about Isami’s proposal, you couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it all. “It’s like you two are synchronized!” you teased.

“Don’t encourage him,” Takumi grumbled, though his smile betrayed his amusement.

That night, the four of you celebrated with an impromptu dinner prepared by the Aldini twins. The warmth of love and laughter filled the room, and as Takumi held your hand under the table, he couldn’t help but feel grateful.

You were his forever, and not even Isami’s jokes about “twin telepathy” could take away from the perfection of this moment.

[hoahoahoahoahoa]

it's always a treat to me when fic writers play with the actual downsides of edward's telepathy. the newborn stage of vampirism is talked up as being so horrific, and edward had to go through it with extra voices in his head (no wonder he played vigilante for a few years; i'd do it if only to purge the world of the very worst thoughts invading my mind)

i love when they play up the stress of having voices in his head all the time. i love the precarity of him not always being 100% sure if someone had said or thought a question at him, so he'd rather err on the side of caution and not answer if he's not certain, at the risk of appearing rude. i'd love to see him preferring to avoid big cities (or just crowded places in general) even after having a hundred years to get used to his gift, because shit that is still such a heavy thing to bear. i love when he's twitchy and distractable because even his multi-tasking vampire mind simply can't deal with the mental overload

[cogshippinghq]

Alternate Universe: Psychic System Shock {Part 1}

Also known as: what if Yusei was a psychic duelist?

Going to put a read more early because I'm going to be a pedantic nerd (it's still ship related I just take cohesive worldbuilding too seriously lmao).

Gonna split this into multiple posts, I lost steam. Oops.

Something I had a big issue with is how we were introduced to psychic duelists - psychics in general really - but very little of it was explained before it was basically dropped entirely. Which, you know, kinda sucks when two of the main cast (both the only girls on the main cast to boot, hmm) have major ties to that element of the world. So, to fill in the massive gaps in information we get from canon, allow me to go on the scenic route to get back to the point of this post.

I'll begin with the broadest categorization - Psychic versus Psionic. These two words are used interchangeably by most, but here, they are separate terms. Psychic refers to neural abilities that work intangibly; that is to say, they are not visible and do not affect physical things (good examples include mind reading, aura perception, and seeing duel spirits like Luna). Psionic then refers to neural abilities that are tangible in that they affect the physical world around the user (think telekinesis, healing, and monster materialization like Akiza).

More specific, but still relatively broad, classifications include, but are not limited to:

Extrasensory - Almost exclusively Psychic abilities that enhance one's perception abilities or allows them to perceive things they otherwise wouldn't. Mind reading, aura perception, spirit perception, advanced empathy, and pre/retrocognition fall into this category.

Elementalism - Almost exclusively Psionic abilities that allow one to directly control an element. This may refer to something like pyrokinesis (control over fire) or an affinity for a periodic element, like gold or carbon. The latter is much more rare than the former, however.

Tele Masteries - A blend of Psychic and Psionic abilities that are the staple powers most think of when they hear 'psychic' or 'psionic'. Telekinesis, teleportation, and telepathy are placed in this category.

Neural abilities are genetic - they're inherited from the parents, but it is a recessive gene, so those with powers are still rather rare. Rarer still is someone with particularly strong powers. Whether or not the strength of the parent's/parents' powers (or lack thereof) matter in how strong the child will become is a heavily debated topic in-universe, and I think leaving that open is a better idea than giving a definitive answer.

Further, there's a general age range for manifesting powers - ages 8-14 I think is good. I'm basing it off of Akiza, as she first manifested her powers when she was 8 years old. (Also, while it's not explicitly confirmed, apparently Luna awakened at 3 years old??? And it was so she could astral project into the spirit realm, leaving her body comatose??? HELLO???) This will become important.

The name of this AU - Psychic System Shock - is an actual thing in this AU; it's the name of the event where one awakens their powers. It's often a powerful event as the body releases all of the pent up neural energy it has been storing until that point. There are other neural ability issues/events, such as:

Psychic System Overload - PSO. This condition typically arises when one fails to expend any/enough neural energy. While it usually manifests in Psionic individuals as spontaneous, sporadic outbursts, it can manifest in Psychics as uncontrolled activation of their abilities, often resulting in debilitating headaches.

Psychic System Burnout - PSB. This condition is the opposite of PSO in that the individual is using too much neural energy. Symptoms include persistent lethargy, fainting, inability to activate powers, and bleeding from the nose or eyes.

Now, into the meat of this AU.

In this AU, Yusei's parents both have neural ability - his mother was Psychic while his father is Psionic. Yusei, then, is both Psychic and Psionic. However, for the beginning of the story, no one knows this because Yusei hasn't had his awakening event. Rather, he occasionally has horrible migraines every so often that he works around.

Similarly to my "canon" version, Hakase comes back to life during the Dark Signers arc and he and Yusei have their tearful reunion. Joining the Signers and company to finish the fight against the Earthbound Immortals, Hakase reveals his psionic powers to help the Signers cross Satellite to each control tower. With Jack on his own, the twins with Trudge, Crow off on his own, and Yusei deciding that he needs to face Kalin by himself, Hakase resolves to go with Akiza and Mina and flies them there on Prime Material Dragon. This allows him to have a good moment with Akiza in which Hakase offers to teach her how to understand and control her powers.

During Akiza's Duel with Misty, it's Hakase who intervenes against Sayer. Sayer is thoroughly unamused that the father of his sworn enemy is just as problematic for him, and becomes enraged when Hakase reveals his powers and fights him on equal footing. Sayer taunts Hakase about Yusei's lack of powers, that his son is as useless as he is frustrating, and Hakase coolly replies that power isn't everything. Using Prime Material Dragon as an amplifier, Hakase eventually goads Sayer into admitting the truth behind Toby's disappearance, and we return to canonical events.

However, Hakase becomes concerned about Sayer's words. As both he and his wife had powers, Yusei should have them, too. Prior to this, Hakase had chalked up the lack of usage as Yusei either being Psychic or simply reluctant about them around people without powers. But if, instead, he hasn't awakened his powers, then he's about a decade late and the resulting shock could be disastrous.

[Something I need to post about is Hakase's confrontation with each of the Goodwin brothers. Note for future me. NOW ONTO THE ACTUAL SHIP STUFF!]

In the interim after the Dark Signers' defeat, Hakase and Yusei grow closer and closer, both trying to make up for lost time. Unlike in "ship canon" and actual canon, Yusei chooses to join Hakase for living arrangements (Crow stays in Satellite with Martha for his flock and, because it's the one straight ship I'm ride or die for, Jack lives with Carly to learn how to be a regular human being).

Late nights are ended earlier than Yusei would like, typically because his father resorts to picking him up and carrying him to bed. Yusei complains and sulks about not getting to finish his mechanic work, but he rather likes being carried around like this; like a relinquishing of power in exchange for unwavering safety. It's also a good position for Hakase to place gentle kisses to the top of Yusei's head.

(Some nights are harder than others. Yusei's always had nightmares, and while having his father there to hold him close and whisper reassurances, they don't go away. Some get worse; Yusei lost his father once before, after all, and now he knows the loss would break him in a way that might never be fixed.)

Early mornings are started with more gentle kisses, this time pressed around Yusei's face, neck, chest and arms until he finally decides to show he's awake. Despite how early they wake up, they don't usually get out of bed until at least an hour after.

(Some mornings are hotter than others. Yusei wakes up hungry more often than Hakase, but Hakase has more than enough to keep up. It's not uncommon for Yusei to reveal in the feeling of being full for a while before they start the day in earnest.)

The first time Hakase witnesses Yusei having one of his day-ruining migraines, Hakase realizes that his fear is reality - Yusei hasn't awoken his powers yet, so now there's a backlog of energy potentially ten years deep. As Yusei tries to sleep through the worst of the pain, Hakase cradles him close, and he can feel the power pulsing within Yusei, thrashing at its too-small confines. His boy is a ticking time bomb and it's nothing short of a miracle that prior events didn't unleash them before Hakase was there to play damage control.

But that raises a big question as to how Yusei's power should be set free. Leaving it isn't an option, but just breaking the dam is going to get someone killed.

[year-of-whump-tropes]

Here are the themes we've got:

Living Weapon Whump

Dehumanization

Emotion removal/repression

Orders & obedience

Defiance

Intimate Whumper

Touch/physically affectionate whumper

Manipulation (includes demanding behaviors)

Creepy whumper

Yandere whumper

Team Whump

Bound/trapped together

Hiding wounds

Self-sacrifice

Unhealthy/harmful team

Magic Whump

Used for their magic

Magical side effects

Nonhuman whump (includes immortal)

Magic with a price

Conditioning/Brainwashing

Conditioned whumpee with Caretaker

Conditioning (process) (includes punishments)

Fully conditioned/brainwashed

Trigger/activation words

Recovery

Caretaking/comfort

Relearning/reclaiming things

Regression

Triggers (I feel like nightmares would actually work best distributed throughout some of these other themes instead of as a separate week)

Captivity

Tied up/restraints

Sensory tortures/restrictions (reworded to include overload as well as deprivation/restriction)

Possessive whumper

Torture/abuse

Hero/Villain Whump

Overworked/pushed too hard

Stuck together

"Reformation"

Disproportionate retribution

Pet Whump

Dehumanization

"Training"

Pet paraphernalia (Collars, leashes, cages, etc.)

Institutionalized

Mind Control/Possession Whump

Chemical/tech-based mind control

Telepathy/mind-control powers

Supernatural possession

Parasitic possession

Role Changes

Whumper-turned-whumpee

Caretaker-turned-whumpee

Whumpee-turned-caretaker

Whumper-turned-caretaker

Sickfic

Care/treatment

Fever

Sick while with Whumper

Poison

[phantomdoofer]

Tower Town, Chapter 35 - Baby's Day Out

Peppino walked down the street, carrying Tony in the crook of his arm. The youngster, almost three now, was looking around, pointing at anything that caught his eye, telling his Papa all about it in laughing tones. Peppino dutifully oohed and ahhed at every single one. The world was still new and bright to the child.

He was careful to keep those feelings at the front of his mind. The little boy’s telepathy was getting strong now, almost uncontrollable, and as keyed up as Peppino was, he didn't want to scare the child more than he could help.

For once, Giuseppe wasn't available. Understandable, at least. Anita was in labor with their second child, and Giuseppe already had his hands full keeping Sofia, now a rambunctious toddler, out of trouble while supporting his wife. Gustavo was working. Even Margherita was feeling under the weather. So, for the first time ever, Peppino was having to leave the boy at a daycare. It would be the first time Tony had been left alone, without someone he already knew.

The thought was giving Peppino fits.

As he walked through the doors of the daycare, a matronly Pig walked from behind the counter. “Hello there, Mr. Spaghetti!” She greeted him airily, “I suppose this is little Tony, eh?” She held her hands out to take him.

Peppino hesitated. He'd been extremely unsure about the entire situation, and now he was having second, third, and fourth thoughts. He mentally shook himself. It's just for a few hours, Pino, he thought, and they're the best-vetted place in town! Reluctantly, he handed over his son.

Immediately Tony turned and looked up at the woman's face. He seemed curious, but then he turned and held his arms out to Peppino. “Papa? Wanna come back now.”

For the umpteenth time that morning, Peppino's heart clenched. He put on a smile, but it was very forced. “You'll be staying with Mrs. Iggsley for a few hours, my little polpetta,” he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice, “I'll be back very soon to get you, bene?”

The way Tony's face shifted was almost a caricature - his bottom lip was stuck out in a frown, and his eyes were huge, shimmering with unshed tears. He'd inherited a powerful set of emotions, and they frequently overloaded the little boy. He's too young to learn to control them yet, Peppino thought sadly. 

Peppino put a hand on Tony's head. “It'll just be for a few hours, Antonio. I have to go…”

Immediately Tony burst out into a full-throated bawl, his eyes showering tears, and he reached up and grabbed Peppino's forearm with both little fists, gripping on with superhuman strength.

Peppino was on the verge of a breakdown. He hated doing this, but he didn't have any other choice. Gently (but having to use his own super-strength) he prized the boy's hands off his arm. “I'm sorry, polpetta, I'll be back as soon as I can!” He looked up at Mrs. Iggsley. “I hope he doesn't give you too much trouble…”

The woman shrugged and smiled. “He's not the first, and he won't be the last, Mr. Spaghetti. If anything happens we'll let you know, all right?”

As she turned to walk away, Tony's wails turned into full-on screams, and Peppino reached out a hand reflexively. “You, ah, you-a know about-a his strength, tu no?”

She turned, smiling. “Oh, yes. We'll take good care of him, Mr. Spaghetti, never fear!”

Peppino nodded sadly. He knew there was no way yet to make his son understand that this was only a temporary thing - even as developed as he was, some things just took time to understand.

So he waved, turned, and left.

He broke into a run so fast he had to check himself from breaking the glass around him with a sonic boom.

~~~~

Fake was in the kitchen, happily grumbling to themself, when the young woman who Peppino had recently hired came quietly through the doors.

“Mister, um, Mister Fake…” she said meekly.

Fake turned gently, carefully trying not to surprise her, but not so slowly they seemed more creepy than they already were. She'd already proven a shy, nervous type. “Yes, Carrie? Can I help you?”

She looked down and shuffled her feet. “It's, um, it's Mr. Peppino, sir. He's acting… strange.”

Fake nodded. “Morrrre than usual, you mean?”

She looked up and nodded. “Could you please come check on him?”

Fake quickly wiped their hands on a towel. “Of courrrrrse.”

The young woman quickly went back outside, moving towards the register. Fake followed behind.

Peppino leaned forward onto the counter, one arm draped and dangling off, the other clutching his chef's hat. He was staring off into space, his eyes distant and blank. He seemed to be muttering to himself.

Fake felt a twinge of concern. While he was much better than he'd been before (by Peppino's own words, anyway - Fake hadn't been there for Peppino's many, many breakdowns), and especially so since Tony's birth, he seemed in the middle of a full meltdown. 

Fake glanced around - the pizzeria was empty for the moment. A mercy, there. They moved forward, gently touching the man's shoulder. “Peppino?” Fake said quietly. “Arrrre you all right?”

The man seemed to be muttering to himself in Italian. “Come potresti farlo? Si fida di te! E lo hai lasciato solo! Deve odiarmi! Come potrei farlo? Mio figlio! Sono un padre orribile…”

Fake leaned back. He was castigating himself over leaving Tony. It's a daycare, it's not like he abandoned the boy on a street corner! Fake shook his shoulder. “Peppino. Peppino! Stop! You'rrre spooking the customerrrrrs!”

The man seemed not to hear them. He continued muttering imprecations on himself.

Fake harrumphed. We have to snap him out of this! Then they had an idea. This is a bit dirty, but it should work…

Fake leaned back and carefully reshaped their voicebox to as close as they could remember. In a great bellow, Bruno's voice rang out…

“Spaghetti! Vieni qui ORA!”

Peppino yelped and leapt to his feet, spinning, his eyes wild with anxiety. He looked around quickly, confused. “Signore Tagliatelle! Mi dispiace! Non volevo... aspettare, questo non è…” He paused, his eyes cleared, and he glared at Fake, who was crouching back down. “That was a nasty-a trick, Fake.”

Fake shook their head, but they didn't seem too contrite. “It worked, didn't it?”

Peppino grumbled, but agreed.

Fake put their hands on their hips. “So, what's the problem, Peppino? If we had any customerrrrrs right now, you'd be spooking them quite nicely."

Peppino looked to the side, rubbing his right arm. “I-a feel so bad, leaving-a Tony with-a strangers. He was bawling his little-a eyes out when I left…”

Fake shook their head. “We're harrrrdly the person to come to for parental advice, Peppino,” they said, “but we do know that it had to happen evennnnntually. We can't stay with them forever.”

“I know, I know,” Peppino grumbled. “But…”

Carrie ambled over. “Mr. Peppino, I know I'm just butting in, but… I have to say, you acting this way about it just means you really care.” She paused, nodded, and scurried back to the register, looking terrified.

The two men, looking a little stunned, turned back to each other. “She's got a point, Peppino,” Fake said.

“But what do I do??” Peppino said, almost wailing. “I can't-a stand it!”

“I'd say look forward to getting him back,” Fake said cautiously. “It's not forever, Peppino, just a day. One that you'll have to repeat. It's part of life.”

Peppino stroked his goatee, thinking on Fake's words, as the being ambled back to the kitchen. Why am I reacting so badly to this?

The answer came almost immediately. I'm afraid of hurting him. Of hurting someone I care about again. Of failing them.

Despite his realization, he knew it wouldn't be as simple as that to resolve. He resolved to call his Mama that night. I could use some motherly advice.

Peppino felt his pocket vibrate, and quickly pulled it out. Giuseppe! He clicked the link from his brother -

The image showed Anita, looking tired but smug, in a hospital bed, in the background. In the foreground, a hugely-smiling Giuseppe held a small bundle, out of which peered a red, wrinkled face.

Meet Gustavo Sergio Spaghetti!

Peppino smiled brilliantly. The name said a lot. After all the vitriol they felt towards him after our breakup, at least they've managed to remember who he is, not just how he was, for a time. “Hey, Fake! Come-a back out here for a minute!” He waved Carrie over. “Let me show you my new nephew!”

The young woman seemed reluctant, but moved over. Fake came back out and leaned over Peppino's shoulder.

The young woman’s demeanor changed entirely. “Aww, he's adorable!” She cooed. She leaned in closer, making baby talk at the screen.

Fake and Peppino looked at each other, smiling. “Didn't take herrrr long, did it?”

Peppino chuckled. “Optimized health can-a do that. And it's-a not like it's her first. Mothers often-a have less trouble with later births.”

Carrie leaned over, making a questioning noise. “Mr. Peppino? Is something wrong with the baby's eye?”

“Giuseppe didn't say anything about it…” Peppino said, zooming the image in; then, seeing what it was, he laughed loudly. “Ha ha ha! Those are-a crosshairs! He's-a inherited Anita's power!”

Carrie looked at Peppino, confused. “She has powers, too?”

“Oh, just-a the one,” Peppino said airily, “but it's a doozy! She can zoom in and-a out like a scope, and once she's-a locked on to something, she almost never misses!”

“Like Sheriff Lantte?” She said.

“Yep! Exactly alike, in fact,” Peppino crowed. “Strange-a coincidence, that.”

“Does… does everyone in your family have powers?” Carrie said quietly.

Peppino nodded. “Sì, everyone I know, anyway.” She looked uncomfortable. “Does no one in-a your family have powers?” Peppino said, surprised.

“No,” she said. “Well, I think one cousin can make wood change color or something, but no big, special powers.” She looked envious.

Peppino turned to her. “Ragazza, having powers is as much a curse as a blessing,” he said firmly. 

“It must be nice, though,” she said wistfully. 

Peppino reflected on all his broken furniture over the years, the repair bills… the number of times I've almost killed someone by losing my temper… “It has-a its problems.” He pulled at his beard. “I mean, look at-a little Tony. He's-a already showing the same strength that Seppe and I have. But he's so young… he can't control it. I'm afraid…” his eyes lit up.

Carrie looked surprised. “What is it, Mr. Spaghetti?”

“Call me Peppino,” he said absently. “I think I just-a figured out the other reason I'm-a worried. I'm afraid Tony could-a hurt someone… or himself.”

Carrie giggled. “There's probably a good dose of daddy-worry in there, too.” Then she put her hands over her mouth and gasped. “I'm so sorry, Mr - I mean, Peppino! I didn't mean to be so familiar!”

Peppino shook his head, coming back to reality, and laughed. “Non c'è problema, ragazza. I told you before, I don't stand on ceremony.”

“But Mr. Brando calls you Signore,” she countered.

“Brando is… a special case,” Peppino said. “He’s-a my student, not-a my employee. He insists. I'd prefer others weren't-a so… formal.”

“Oh, right,” she said hurriedly. “He's so good that I forgot you said he's still in his apprenticeship.”

Peppino chuckled. “He insists I still have a lot to teach him… but I'm-a not so sure. As you said, he's-a quite good.” Peppino shrugged. “He just-a needs to realize that.”

“He seems to enjoy working here, though,” Carrie said. “Maybe he just doesn't feel ready to go out on his own yet?”

“Probabilmente è vero,” Peppino said. “You have another good point, ragazza.” He waved a hand. “Now, as-a your boss, I'm ordering you to be less-a stiff and-a more relaxed. Inteso?”

The girl seemed to argue with herself, then stomped her foot. “All right! I'll try!”

“Bene,” Peppino said, smiling. “Now. I'm-a sorry for spooking everyone. That's-a being said…” he said, scratching the back of his head and looking embarrassed, “I think I'll-a call and just… check in.”

“All right,” she said, smiling. “I think I can handle out here. I can always ask Mr. Fake for help.”

“Grazie for understanding, ragazza,” Peppino said. “You know, you should-a be more assertive more often, too. You're sharper than-a you seem.”

As the chef went back through the doors, Carrie contemplated what he'd said. Then she felt a wave of suppressed panic wash over her, and she sat down, giddy. I can't believe I talked to my boss like that! And he was Ok with it! Even told me to do it more often!

As she sat, turning her thoughts over in her head, the bell jingled, and sheleapt to her feet. “Oh, so sorry! Welcome to Peppino's!”

~~~~

Peppino sat down at the desk in his new office. A recent addition, everyone other than Peppino had insisted. “Listen, Pep, if you're gonna run a franchise, it's not gonna look good to be doing it out of the closet of your kitchen,” Gustavo had said. 

It wasn't as big as everyone had wanted it to be, but it was well-appointed.

He leaned back in the chair. He'd splurged a bit more with it; well-padded and sturdy, he leaned back and smiled. I really should do things like this more often. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the daycare. After several rings, a perky female voice chimed through. "Little Smiles Daycare, can I help you?"

Behind the chirpy voice, Peppino heard several little voices screaming. Peppino's alarm rose. Oh Mio Dio, I hope that isn't Tony! “Ciao, signora, this is Peppino Spaghetti, I was just calling to check on-a my son, Tony?”

What sounded like a small avalanche came through the phone, and Mrs. Iggsley's voice clearly said, “get off of that, you little devil!” 

“Mio Dio, signora, is everything all right?” Peppino said.

The young woman laughed. “Thank you, sir, but this is nothing unusual. In fact, your son is the only one that isn't causing trouble. He's just been playing by himself. Until, um…”

Peppino's heart jumped. “ ‘Until-a, um’ what?”

“Er, well, one of the other kids decided they wanted the toy Tony was playing with, and, um, a scuffle broke out.”

“Is he OK??” Peppino tried not to yell, standing up in alarm.

“He's fine, sir, he's fine,” she said hurriedly, “but when the other child tried to hit him, he pushed them away… across the room.”

Peppino sat back down heavily. “Oh, Madonna Santa… are they alright?”

The voice perked back up. “Oh, it's nothing unusual here! The walls are quite well padded! The other child received no real injuries. Just a bruise. And frankly, the child in question is quite a little bully. Always terrorizing the other children. Personally, I think little Tony put some much-needed fear in them!”

Peppino relaxed, but just a little. “So he's-a OK? They're not-a filing charges or anything?”

“No worries, Mr. Spaghetti,” she responded. “We have very good insurance. Everyone knows some children are powered. We keep an eye on them.”

“So, um, why-a all the noise?” Peppino said, perplexed.

The woman snorted. “Your son isn't the only one here with a strong power, sir. Mrs. Iggsley can handle it.” A pause. “Did you want to come pick him up?”

Peppino thought for a moment. “No. No, I think we'll be fine. Thank you for-a humoring me.”

“It's nothing unusual,” she said happily. “Especially for first-timers! If anything happens, we'll let you know ASAP, okay?”

Peppino agreed mechanically, and they hung up.

Fake slipped in while he looked at the ceiling. “Everything allllll right?”

Peppino filled Fake in, and the clone chuckled. “Glee hee hee. Kids will be kids, we suppose.” They paused, then crouched down a bit farther. “Peppino, can we suggest something?”

Peppino raised his eyebrows. “Have you come up with something new to put on-a the menu?”

Fake shook their head. “No, something for you. Go pick up your son early.”

Peppino leaned back. “Weren't you the one who was suggesting I don't-a do that earlier?”

Fake shrugged. “The day is slow. And your son is probably missing you. He's used to his uncle caring for him, after all. And…” they stopped.

“And…?” Peppino prompted. 

“Peppino, we must ask - is anything different between you and…”

Peppino sighed. “We still talk, Fake, but it's-a purely business,” Peppino said. “Gustavo… from what I hear, he hasn't so much as-a glanced at another partner since our breakup.”

“But… how do you feel?” Fake prompted.

Peppino turned, looking out the small window. “I wish… I wish he would come back. Everyone has buried the hatchet… except-a him. It's-a been a year.”

The pair sat in silence for several minutes. “Doooo you really think he's reformed?” Fake finally said.

“I think… I think he's not ready to forgive himself,” Peppino said quietly. “He hurt us all badly, Fake. And I think he hurt-a himself, in the deal. I've-a talked to his employees, and… they say that, while he puts on a smile for-a the customers, as soon as he's alone, he's almost… mechanical.”

Fake looked thoughtful. “Perrrhaps he should seek the assistance of a professional. A therapist. Not everrryone can manage on their own.”

Peppino shrugged. “Probabilmente. I'll-a mention it to him.” 

Peppino's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. Gustavo. “Speak of the devil…” He clicked the Connect button. “Pronto?”

“Peppino!?” Gustavo's voice was high-pitched, frantic. 

Immediately Peppino's adrenaline shot up, and he started shaking a little. “Gustavo? Amico, what's wrong?”

“Peppino! Turn on the TV! Hurry!”

Immediately Peppino ran to the dining room of the restaurant - the TV in the dining room was always on. 

“This is a National News special report… members of the infamous Susapien League have launched an assault on several locations in the city of La Crosta, taking hostages of friends and family members of their recent targets. The police, as well as local Special Operations agents, are working to resolve the issue, but tensions are high. The Leaguers have taken hostages, including several children, and weapons have been brandished as…”

Peppino's mind seemed to crash. Tony. 

Mechanically, he raised the phone to his ear again.

Gustavo was almost babbling, and his voice was edged with fear. "They attacked here, the hospital, and the daycare. We fought them off here, and Giuseppe took down the ones at the hospital, but they surprised him, and he's unconscious, injured. And the daycare…!”

Peppino felt his heart stop… and then his head exploded in murderous rage. My son! My friend! My brother!! They could have hurt Sofia and Gus and Anita!!

They're threatening MY FAMILY!!! 

A blood-red haze filled the edges of his vision…

A hand landed on Peppino's shoulder. 

He spun around, his eyes bloodshot -

Fake stood, their expression as cold as ice. “Peppino, we know you are furious now. We are, as well. Soon, we will likely hear as much from our friends. But we must be cautious. Haste could result in these terroristi harming someone.”

Peppino's rage began to temper itself. He breathed hard for several seconds… then growled. “Damn you, you're right. We can't-a just charge into this.” He heard a crack in front of him. Looking down, he realized he'd unconsciously shattered the edge of the stone counter in front of him.

Peppino pointedly pulled his hand away from it before he broke something more expensive.

Several patrons rushed to the counter, their faces a mixture of fury and concern. The babble of voices, asking questions, offering support, expressing anger and worry and concern, both comforted and irritated the big Italian.

Peppino raised the phone back to his ear. Gustavo was still frantic. “Peppino! They have Tony!! What do we do? I heard you say we shouldn't charge in, but- !”

Despite his burning fury, mixed with the terrified shaking of his body, Peppino managed to keep his voice even. “Amico, respirare. I'm-a sure the polizia will let us know our-a options as soon as they know. We…”

The front door bell jingled…

Peppino looked up in time to see Vigi ooze quickly into the restaurant. The cheeseslime had the same expression on his face he'd had when he and Peppino had faced off in the Tower, years before - a look of cold fury.

He waved his gloved hands at the crowd as he oozed up. “Alright, alright, folks, give the man some room. Understand yer concern - we share it - but right now I bet he needs air.”

The patrons all expressed agreement, and backed off.

“Gustavo, Vigi just-a came in. I'm-a gonna put you on speaker.” He clicked the button, setting the phone down on the semi-fractured counter between them. “Go ahead, sceriffo.”

Vigi climbed up onto a stool. “Kinda surprised yer not already on yer way to La Crosta, Peppino,” he said.

Peppino snarled. “I started to, but Fake talked some-a sense into me.”

Vigi nodded. “That's good. The ones at that daycare are the only ones left. They're th’ only ones who actually took hostages.” Vigi snarled the last word out with undisguised disgust, spitting to the side. 

For once, Peppino didn't chastise him for the mess.

“They didn't just attack yer people, Peppino… but you were one of th’ biggest targets,” Vigi growled. “Giuseppe took a hit t’ the head. One of ‘em had th’ brass to try and come inta the nursery! Nurse told me yer brother did some real damage. An' it was a good thing they were at th’ hospital already. Heard it got a little… bloody.”

Peppino recalled the talk they'd had on the roof, years ago, when he and his brother had discussed their respective murderous insanity when they truly snapped. “They should-a count themselves lucky.”

He heard Gustavo snarl in absolute fury over the speaker. “I swear, I’ll kill them all. Just let me at them-”

“Gustavo, as a friend, I understand, but as a Sheriff, I gotta say - stop talkin’. Yer getting on dangerous grounds w’ words like that. I already had t’ send some of my people over stop Noisette - whoop, there she goes…”

An almighty ruckus broke out outside, and everyone looked out through the broad windows just in time to see Noisette burst out the front door of her cafè. The little rabbit-woman, normally gregarious and happy, was practically shrieking at the poor officer in front of her, who was backing away with their hands held up defensively. Noisette's eyes and hair were literally on fire with rage. 

Everyone's eyes were wide with fear… except for Peppino, Vigi, and Fake. Noise always said she was the most dangerous of us after Fake, myself and Seppe, Peppino thought bemusedly.

Waving a finger in the officer's face, Noisette turned, stalking towards Peppino's. Peppino saw Noise quietly walking behind her, their toddler son, Timmy, on his hip. He looked unusually serious.

Noisette slammed the door open, striding over to the counter, the crowd parting like an ocean in front of an oddly-cute prophet. She slammed her hands down on the counter. “I'm gonna kill ‘em,” she said. 

Vigi growled. “Listen, y'all are friends, but y'all can't be sayin’ stuff like that! I gotta take it seriously.” He turned to Peppino, who was grim but quiet. “Honestly a little surprised at how quiet y'are, Peppino.”

Peppino's lip twisted. “Trust-a me, it's-a taking real effort.” 

Noise, standing behind Noisette and looking upset, cleared his throat. “Uh, I know I ain't normally th’ voice o’ reason, but Vigi’s right. We gotta play this cool.”

Noisette rounded on her husband, who stepped back. She was as fond of Tony and Giuseppe's kids as her own. “I ain't standin’ around and letting some brain-rotted Pigs hurt those kids!” She shouted.

Timmy whimpered, and Noise bounced the child with unexpected tenderness. “Sette, yer scarin’ Timmy. And me.”

Noisette leaned back, and the flames in her eyes and hair died down. She blinked. “Oh, Timmy-poo, I'm so sorry. Mama's just a little upset, is all.” She turned back to the counter. “But what're we gonna do?”

Fake leaned down. “Weee could go into camouflage mode. Sneak in, take back the child."

Vigi shook his head. “But what about th’ other kids? An’ this bunch have guns. They could start shootin’. Naw. We gotta let experts handle this.”

Everyone other than Noise growled in frustration. Peppino shook his head. “Experts or-a no, I'm-a gonna be there. I'm-a not going to stand by and leave-a my son alone.”

Noise nodded. “Tell ya what, Peppino. I'll get one of my cars t’ take ya. All of ya.” He bounced Timmy up. “I'll stay here with the nugget.”

Peppino’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “That's… molto carino da parte tua, Noise.”

Noise looked his son in the eyes. “Y’know, I wasn't sure about havin’ a kid, but…” he grinned a bit, and Timmy giggled, “the little guy has grown on me. I know how I'd be behavin’ if it was mine.” He grinned wickedly, his teeth shifting into vicious fangs. “Half the city'd be a crater by now.”

Vigi looked from Noise to Peppino. “Y’know they won't be able t’ let you get very close. Y’know that, right, Pep?”

Peppino nodded. “Lo so. But I'm-a not going to stand around when-a mio figlio is in periglio!”

Vigi nodded. “All right, Peppino. I'll go with ya, say yer with me.” He raised a gloved finger, looking stern. “But if I say to do or not do somethin’, ya do what I say, OK? Hero or no, they'll run ya off if they think yer a problem.”

Peppino nodded.

“I'll meet you there,” Gustavo's voice piped up from the phone. “I'm not gonna leave my son alone, either.”

~~~~

The car, just big enough for all of them, stopped several blocks away. “Sorry, folks, can't get no closer,” the Pig driver called over his shoulder.

Vigi opened the door. “S’alright, son, we can walk. Thanks for the ride.”

The others - Peppino, Noisette, and Fake - called agreement and piled out.

As Peppino passed the driver's window, the Pig waved a hand. “Hey, Mr. Spaghetti, I need to tell you something.”

Peppino paused, curious.

The Pig blushed just a little. “Just want you to know… not all us Pigs agree with the Susapiens. I hope it all goes all right.”

Peppino smiled and shook his head. “I never even enter-a-tained the idea you would, young man. But grazie, nonetheless.”

The Pig smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Spaghetti. Take care.”

Peppino looked ahead as the car slowly turned away. This part of the city was tightly packed at the best of times… and now it was cramped with police and Spec Ops. Ahead, beside a distinguished-looking human, stood Gustavo and Brando.

Brando and Gustavo turned, quickly moving towards the group. Brando locked arms with Peppino, his face stricken. “Signore, I'm so sorry this has happened. I wish there was something I could do.”

Peppino did his best to stifle his shaking. “Lo apprezzo, amico. But we must be prudente.”

Gustavo looked up into Peppino's eyes, his face quivering with fear and grief. “Peppino… our son…”

This is the most emotion he's shown in ages, Peppino mused. He knelt down, and the gnome wrapped his arms around the Italian, bawling out his grief. 

Peppino felt his own resolve break, and he bent his head down, choking out his own tears.

As the two fathers shared their pain, Vigi spoke to the officer beside them. “Sheriff Lantte,” he said, shaking hands.

“Captain Kowalczyk,” the man replied. He turned, seeing the others behind them. “You're… you're Peppino Spaghetti,” with a slight bit of awe.

Peppino looked up and stood, flushed a little as tears continued streaming down his face. “Sì. My-a son is in there… I couldn't just stay away.”

Kowalczyk frowned. “I understand, but it's a delicate situation,” he said, his words terse and clipped. “These Susapiens have lost their minds. Their sponsors have already publicly renounced them - the ones that survived themselves.”

Noisette's ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

The captain grimaced. “These fanatics staged a coup. They murdered most of their financial backers, stole their fortunes, and did - this. There never were a huge number of them, but…”

Everyone's eyes went wide. “Mi… mio dio,” Brando whispered.

Captain Kowalczyk nodded. “Yep. In fact, only one survived.” He pointed at a well-dressed Pig - one Peppino found to be familiar. 

Peppino growled deeply and marched towards the Pig, the others following, swept up in his wake.

The Pig, shivering and cowering, turned, saw the Italian, and squealed in abject terror. “Please! Don't hurt me! I'm sorry! We didn't know - how could we -” he stopped, unable to speak anymore. “We didn't want this,” he choked out. “We just wanted… justice!”

Peppino went blood-red with rage, but managed to hold his temper in check… mostly. “Justice? Justice?” He grabbed the Pig by the lapels, picking him up.

Kowalczyk raised a hand, but Vigi stopped him. “Let it play out, Captain.”

Peppino held the terrified Pig up to his face. “What kind of-a fucking justice is there in-a what you’ve-a done?? Shutting down small-a businesses? For serving pork?? How-a many poor lost their livelihoods - their dreams - for your god-damned so-a-called JUSTICE??” Peppino was practically shooting steam out of his nose. “How many-a lives have you ruined? For what?? You arrogante, odioso, MALVAGIO-” 

Peppino paused - the Pig was almost delirious with fear.

Peppino took a deep breath, and set the Pig down… but didn't let go. “Listen to me, you fucking sciocco arrogante. People have been hurt. People have-a died, because of you. Now a group of people - children, one of whom is-a my infant son - are being threatened with pain and-a death. Because of-a you, and-a your so-called fucking justice.” He pulled the Pig back into the air. “I swear… if-a anything happens to-a my son… or any of these-a people, for-a that matter… I will make it my life's-a work to make sure you spend the rest of-a your days in the deepest prison in the world, paying the price for your-a justice.” 

The last word was spat with the vilest venom Peppino could muster.

The Pig whimpered. “I… I…”

Peppino set the Pig down, his rage having transmuted into nauseated disgust, and turned back to his friends. “Mi dispiace, Capitano. Had a bit of atemper-a tantrum. So. Tell me what's going on.”

Kowalczyk cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring what had been perilously close to a death threat against the Pig. “Well… right now we have negotiators speaking to the terrorists.” They turned, and Peppino noticed several Spec Ops agents speaking into radios, and even one with a megaphone. “So far, all we've gotten is demands for ‘justice.’ Whatever they mean by that,” Kowalczyk said.

The Pig spoke up. “We… the Susapiens made it our mission to have all pork products eliminated from public use,” he said quietly. “In truth, we knew it couldn't be completely eliminated, but… some of our number apparently took it far more seriously.” He put his cloven hoof-digits to his face. “At our most recent meeting - this morning - we were actually discussing… giving in. But some of them… some of them…” the Pig's eyes began to water. “They turned on us. I happened to be… out of the room. They… they murdered the others. Seized what funds they had on them. Then… they did this. There was a helicopter on the roof - that's how I eacaped.” The Pig looked up at the tall Captain. “I swear to you… we never intended this.”

Everyone stood in stunned silence. Finally, Vigi spoke. “Intended or no, it's your teachins’ that have these folks in a tizzy. Ya got blood on yer hands, sir.” He turned towards the daycare. “If anythin’ happens to these people… I'll be helpin’ Peppino put you away.”

Everyone other than Kowalczyk added their affirmations to Vigi's words.

Kowalczyk cleared his throat again. “Anyway. They're getting nowhere so far. The worker in the daycare are refusing to leave. Say they want to protect the kids.”

Gustavo smiled weakly, looking up at Peppino. “Told you it was well-vetted.”

“We can't risk an assault. They have too many hostages,” Kowalczyk said.

“Have they made any demands?” Noisette said, strangely serious.

Kowalczyk shook his head. “None, actually. They seem to be… locked-up. They don't want to give in, but they don't seem to know what they want.” He sighed. “It's a true standoff.”

Fake growled - the sound reverberated like a giant frog’s croaking. “Is there nothing we can do?”

Suddenly Brando’s eyes lit up. “Un attimo… I think I saw one of their weapons earlier. It didn't look like a standard gun.”

Kowalczyk nodded. “They're energy weapons, based off Old Tech.”

Brando’s smile turned almost malicious. “Could Paolo do something about that? Almost all Old Tech these days is descended from the stuff from the Tower, no?”

Everyone looked perplexed. Finally Kowalczyk spoke. “I suppose it's worth a try. Can one of you contact him?”

“Way ahead of ya, big guy,” Noisette said; she already had her phone out.

Gustavo looked unconvinced. “But… Paolo's in Boiler City. Maybe he could remotely access them eventually, but… what could he do right now?”

Noisette grinned mischievously. “Watch and learn, Gussy-wussy,” she said. “Noisette got me the latest phone tech! I can do so much with this thing,” she said in a happy sing-song voice.

Everyone stared at the rabbit-woman, looking a little stunned. “I guess it pays to have connections,” Kowalczyk said weakly.

Vigi shook his head. “T’ be fair, even we didn' expect that,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Noisette, that's all well ‘n good, but that still leaves us with a bunch o’ hostages.”

“Aaaand there's no guarantee they do not have other weapons. Knives, for one,” Fake rumbled.

“But maybe if they realize their weapons are disabled, they'll give up?” Brando volunteered.

Everyone shook their heads. “Going by what… what he said,” Gustavo said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the quivering Pig, “these guys are zealots. Fanatics. I bet… I bet they know the cops know about the murders.” His eyes walked up. “All those kids… they…” he sucked in a shaky breath.

Brando placed a hand on the gnome's shoulder, and Gustavo turned, weeping into the man's shirt.

Peppino felt his own heart breaking at the sight. If anyone doubted his real feelings, this ought to set them straight. 

Then he noticed something else: the gnome was twisting something in between his hands. Looks like a shank of… gray fur? 

His eyes widened. Gray. Rat fur? Brick?

Peppino walked over, kneeling down. “Gustavo,” he said quietly, “has-a something happened to Brick?”

Everyone froze, turning towards the little man.

Gustavo shivered, twisting the hank of hair. “She… she disappeared a while ago. I don't know why. Not long before… before everything happened. She was just… just gone.” He choked, barely able to speak. “I was… I was alone. So alone. Here, alone, everyone gone, expecting me to come to them…” his face was streaming with tears. “I couldn't… I couldn't stand it! Not… not again! So I… I started… and then… then you found out, and everyone was so angry, and-and I hated myself for treating everyone so bad, and… and…”

Peppino felt his throat close up. “Oh, mio caro amico…” He wrapped the gnome up in a bear hug… and found himself surrounded by the entire group. “Mi dispiace tanto, amico. If I'd only known…”

Gustavo sniffed. “That's doesn't excuse what I did, Peppino,” he whispered. “To you. To Tony. To Anita and Giuseppe and everyone. I… I deserve to be alone.”

Everyone broke away. “Everybody deserves a second chance, Gussy,” Noisette said, her eyes misty. “Everybody.”

Fake nodded. “Nearrrrly everyone here is here noww because of second chances,” he croaked.

Gustavo looked around, his eyes wobbling. After several moments, he looked down. “Grazie mille, i miei amici. I'll… I'll try to be worthy.”

Kowalczyk cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt this heartfelt moment, but… we still have a group of fanatical murderers holding a bunch of toddlers hostage.”

Noisette's phone started ringing,and everyone broke away so she could answer… but Peppino out his hands on Gustavo's shoulders. “Lo giuro, amico, when this is-a over, we'll all help you find-a Brick.”

Gustavo nodded.

Noisette was chatting amiably to whoever was on the phone, then paused. “Actually, hang on, the guys here should hear this, too. I'm gonna put you on speaker.” She clicked, holding the phone up. “Go ahead, Paolo.”

“All right,” the voice of the Ninda rang out. Noisette wasn't kidding, it doesn't even sound like a phone call! “I saw what's going on - it's all over the news. I think I can help, at least a little. Captain… sorry, didn't get your name?”

The captain cleared his throat. “Captain Kowalczyk, sir, of the La Crosta PD. I assume you're Mr. Totino?”

“More’s the pity, sometimes,” Paolo said ascerbically. “Noisette's right; if I can find out what kind of weapons they have, I can give her a code to disable them. You don't happen to have a picture of one, do you?”

“No need,” a quavery voice said behind them. Kowalczyk turned; the Pig had stepped forward, shaking but looking determined. “They're PT-307 Fireflys. I recognized them from one of my cohort’s private stores.”

Kowalczyk shuddered. “Small but powerful. Glad we didn't try to rush in.”

“On the other hand, I'm familiar with those,” Paolo said smugly. 

Kowalczyk looked unconvinced. “And you can… shut those down, Mr. Totino?”

“Most of that sort of tech is descended from the Tech we took out of the Pizza Tower, Captain,” Paolo said. “As such, some of the code of the Tower is there… and I know override codes.” Noisette's phone beeped. ���I just sent you the current codes you can use, Noisette. You should be able to send a Lock command from your phone. Be careful, it'll only work for twenty minutes.”

Noisette saluted. “On it, Paolo! Thanks!”

As the woman typed furiously, Kowalczyk leaned over. “Not that I'm not grateful, Mr. Totino, but… doesn't this mean you could essentially shut down any advanced tech, anywhere in the world, at any time?”

“Anything descended from my tech, yes,” Paolo said. “But I don't give that information out to just anyone. And I know better than to exploit that sort of thing.” Pause. “I’m not my ancestor, Captain. I'll take these secrets to my grave. I'm only doing it now to help those kids.”

Kowalczyk nodded. “It's appreciated, then, Mr. Totino. Thank you.”

Peppino could almost hear the wide grin. “Happy to help, sir. Everyone? Take care.”

The line clicked as he signed off.

Shortly Peppino's phone buzzed. 

A message from Paolo. Your son is in there, isn't he?

Peppino shuddered, and replied. Yes.

The phone buzzed again. Didn't want to call you out. I'm sorry. It'll be Ok. With all of you there, I know it.

Peppino smiled. Thank you, amico.

He stared into the distance. Hard to believe we used to be mortal enemies.

Noisette dramatically pressed a button on her screen, and a grating brrrrp sounded. “Aaaand done! Those guns are no better than toys now!”

The group turned towards the daycare. “Now we just have to figure out how to get a group of murderous fanatics to give back their hostages,” Kowalczyk muttered.

~~~~

An hour later, the group stood just outside the police line. Peppino was trying to maintain his composure, but the wait had been excruciating.

Giuseppe had messaged him about the minutes in. I'm OK. Anita and the kids are OK. But I heard about the daycare and the restaurant. Is Gus OK?

A few scrapes, he said, but they're OK, Peppino sent back. But there's a standoff at the daycare. They're at a standstill.

Do you want me to come down there? He sent back.

Peppino felt his heart lfit at that. To offer to be away from his wife and children… he thought. No, fratello, he sent back, there are plenty of us here. And someone might try again. Stay with your family. I'll feel more at ease knowing you're safe.

Well, Spec Ops has this place locked down tight, Giuseppe replied, but all right. I had to talk them down, to be honest. Guess these guys take attacking a retired general's family seriously.

Peppino smirked. As they should. Be careful, fratello.

Same, fratellino. 

Kowalczyk walked over; he'd been speaking to Fake. “Your friend's camouflage abilities are coming in handy, Mr. Spaghetti. They've been scouting.”

“And what did they find?” Gustavo said.

“Something… strange is happening,” Kowalczyk said. “The people are… disappearing.”

Everyone paused. “Disappearin’?” Vigi said, confused. “How?”

“Weee’re not sure,” Fake said. “Any person not in the hands of a terrrrrorist disppearrrrs. The terrorists, as well.” They smiled grimly. “Onnnnly Tony and one other are left.”

Kowalczyk nodded. “Whatever's going on, they're probably getting desperate. No weapons and almost no hostages… we have to be very careful.”

“ATTENTION!” A voice called from inside the daycare. “OUR DEMANDS HAVE CHANGED!”

“I’ll bet,” Kowalczyk muttered. He turned to the Spec Ops officer near him, a tall Ninda. “You're the negotiator, Major Ingerah,” he said. 

The brown-skinned man raised a megaphone. “We hear you! What are your demands?”

“WE KNOW SOME OF THE PARENTS OF THESE CHILDREN ARE HERE,” the voice called. “ONE IN PARTICULAR. WE DEMAND TO SPEAK TO MR. PEPPINO SPAGHETTI!”

Everyone turned to Peppino, who had gone white. “M-me?” Peppino stammered. “Why-a me?”

Ingerah and Kowalczyk looked at each other and frowned. “They probably feel like they can get something from you,” Ingerah said.

Peppino felt a panic attack already starting. Gustavo reached out and took one arm, Noisette the other.

Their touch calmed his nerves… slightly. “What… what should I-a do?”

Ingerah held out the megaphone. “Ask,” he said.

Hesitantly, Peppino stepped forward. The crowd had gone quiet; everyone knew the situation was delicate. He held up the megaphone… “I am Peppino Spaghetti! What do you need?”

“WE KNOW WE STILL HAVE YOUR SON,” the voice replied. “WE DEMAND ASYLUM!”

Peppino turned; Ingerah shook their head. “They can't ask asylum, they're all citizens! Tell them that.”

Peppino relayed the message, and there was a pause. “WE REFUSE TO BOW TO CANNIBALS!”

Peppino turned again, and Ingerah shrugged. “We've been hitting this snag all day. They're fanatics.” He pursed his lips, then nodded. See if you can get him out in plain view. Maybe we can take him out.”

“He's sure to have the kid, though,” Kowalczyk countered heatedly. “We're not risking the child!”

Ingerah nodded. “Agreed. But we need to see if the kid is still OK. Mr. Spaghetti? Over to you.”

Peppino was shaking badly, but nodded. “I-a need to see if-a my son is hurt! Step out-a-side so we can see you!”

The voice replied with derision. “OF COURSE! SO SOME SNIPER CAN GUN ME DOWN?”

“I-a promise, that won’t-a happen,” Peppino called back. “Please. I just-a want to know my son is OK.”

There was a long pause, and finally, a response. “ALL RIGHT, I'M STEPPING OUT! ALL OF YOU, LOWER YOUR WEAPONS!”

Kowalczyk and Ingerah both signaled to their people, and everyone lowered their weapons. “All-a right, you're safe, whoever you are!”

Shortly, a surprisingly-thin Pig stepped out, with Tony in his arms… and a gun to the boy's temple.

Brando had to restrain Gustavo. “TONY!” The gnome cried out. Noisette put her hands to her face. Fake growled loudly, and Vigi put a hand on Peppino's leg. “Easy, amigo.”

The Pig looked disheveled, wild-eyed. “I don't know how you got the other hostages, or what you did to my friends, but… I refuse to go down alone!” He hoisted the child up, brandishing the gun. “I'll… I'll have justice!” 

Peppino put the megaphone down. “Giustizia?” he said. “What-a giustizia is-a there in threatening to murder a small child, Signore?” 

In the throes of instinct, Peppino stepped around the blocking tape. Ingerah reached for him, but Kowalczyk grabbed his shoulder. “Wait,” he whispered.

The Pig terrorist was wild-eyed. “I-I know what you can do! You can kill me at super-speed! I'll-I-I’ll kill the boy first!”

Peppino held out his hands to the side. “I won't-a do that,” he said calmly. The shaking had stopped. Saving my son is most important. “Please. Just… give me my son. We can-a talk. I won't-a let them hurt you.”

Suddenly, from the side, a huge gray blur shot past… 

And Tony was gone.

Behind him, Peppino heard everyone cry out. He turned…

Gustavo was holding Tony, and both of them were bawling. Beside them stood -

Brick?? Peppino thought incredulously.

Then he remembered the Pig in front of him. He turned…

Unsurprisingly, the Pig now had his gun trained on Peppino's chest.

“How did you do that??” The Pig squalled. “You planned that, didn't you??”

Peppino shook his head. “Sinceramente, I'm as-a surprised as you are,” he muttered. “But we can still talk, amico. Please. Put-a the gun down.”

Peppino held out a hand.

The Pig, tears in his eyes, lifted the gun.

He pulled the trigger…

And nothing happened.

The Pig's eyes went wide, and he slumped to the ground. “How - how did…”

Peppino knelt, smiling sadly. “Friends in high places, amico. Now-a please. Give-a yourself up quietly. It'll go better for you.”

The Pig looked up, defeated, and nodded.

As the police and military took him into custody, Peppino walked back to the crowd. Everyone was cheering.

Peppino had only eyes for his son.

As he walked up, Tony held out his arms. “Papa,” he said. “Papa!”

Peppino wrapped the boy up in his arms, pulling him close, and started bawling. “Mi dispiace,” he blubbered. “Mi dispiace tanto, mio figlio.”

Peppino heard new voices around him, and looked up…

Giant Rats were appearing from everywhere, carrying children, escorting adults.

Peppino turned to Brick. “Did… did-a you save them all?”

Brick nodded, squeaking proudly. Then she knelt to nuzzle Gustavo.

The gnome reached up, rubbing her muzzle. “Oh, amica, I've missed you so! Tell me-”

Suddenly both gnome and rat froze, and Brick stood up, looking surprised.

“Brick?” Gustavo whispered.

Brick nosed the gnome over, looking confused.

Brando walked over. “What's wrong, Signore?”

“I… I can't hear her,” Gustavo whispered. “I can't hear her!” He looked up, grabbing fistfuls of Brick's fur. “Can you hear me?” he said, his eyes full of tears, his voice desperate.

Brick sadly shook her head.

Everyone stared as Gustavo buried his face in the Rat's fur, sobbing.

[bloghyperfixes]

Daishinkan would struggle with his emotions and sometimes have a mental breakdown, and poor Celestia tries to call the Lil angel down singing songs or saying loving things like "You're not a mistake, you're the most beautiful angel in existence"

Yes I love angsty shit and yes I wanna make U cry

I LOVE GLASS WHERE PERSONS ARE GROWING

I think about how Daishinkan at some point can't put his thoughts into words, his head is swimming, his brain is overloaded with what's going on, causing him to freeze, searching his empty head for the right word. He could switch to telepathy, but something prevents it, if the children or partners call out to him, asking him to answer something, he looks at them with a blank, dull stare. Daishinkan slowly, very slowly shifts to vocalization, the unrestricted angelic larynx freely allowing sound communication. And it's not a cat's meow for a status check, Daishinkan can mimic the sounds made by a Yautja or a xenomorph, he lets out a disgruntled growl at his inability to function

[jessmindspace]

Imagine being able to sense everyone else’s emotions around you. Now imagine whenever your own emotions get heightened that sensing everyone else’s maximizes so that you don’t know what you’re feeling is your own emotions or everyone else’s anymore. This is what it’s like for Cris with her empathic powers 😔

I like including small aspects of myself in my characters, and her powers can be a bit like sensory overload for me: if she’s around large crowds for extended periods of time, it can be terribly exhausting and emotionally draining. She needs to isolate to recharge and retune herself with her own emotions, otherwise she’d mix up the nexus of emotional signatures around her with her own and eventually lose herself 8’D Telepaths and those with telepathy-related powers are at much higher risk of going insane, which is why they need a lot of self-regulation and discipline in their lives to avoid that.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Can you tell a distinctive features of gallifreyan kids from newborn to teens,bodily(biological),psychological and social?

What are the distinctive features of Gallifreyan children and teenagers?

Gallifreyan childhood is more of a slow bake than a two-minute microwave job. Unlike human kids who race through two decades, Gallifreyans develop over about a hundred years, with huge changes in physiology, psychology, and social roles.

👶 Infant

Biological:

Oldbloods may have only one heart until their first regeneration.

Baseline temperature is higher (16.5–20.5°C) and metabolic activity is rapid.

Highly vulnerable to cold, due to underdeveloped internal regulation systems.

Rapid cellular development.

Motor skills are still refining.

Psychological:

Demonstrates early cognitive ability beyond human standards—memory retention and puzzle-solving are noticeably sharp.

Early expression of genetic instincts, like unease near time anomalies or innate threat recognition.

Psionics not yet under control—leakage or feedback may occur, but is usually minor.

Social:

Raised communally by their House, with early life focused on tutors and caretakers rather than a family construct.

Social contact is minimal and highly structured; play exists, but it's closer to enrichment activities than fun.

🧒 Child

Biological:

Enhanced healing and notable physical resilience.

Still vulnerable to the cold and sleep as much as human children.

Psionic activity becomes more erratic—false positives in consciousness tests are likely common due to unstable telepathy.

Psychological:

Developing emotional regulation but prone to psionic outbursts or passive telepathic bleed-through.

Memory probably becomes extremely long-term oriented—what they learn here may last through multiple incarnations.

Time sense may begin to stir, often without explanation or awareness.

Social:

Around 8, they're pulled from their House and placed into an Academy. This is abrupt, isolating, and an honour.

Children are sorted into Chapters, which shapes their sense of identity.

Expect fierce academic competition, House pride, and low tolerance for anyone not conforming.

🧑 Teenager

Biological:

Will appear 16–18 for decades.

Healing abilities and stamina are high; cardiovascular resilience becomes adult-standard.

Sleep as much as human teenagers.

Psionics stabilise just enough to be dangerous—sudden bursts of clarity, and accidental mind-reading or thought broadcasts are all possible if they're not paying attention in psionics class.

Psychological:

Time sense begins to assert itself, causing temporal dysregulation, especially during stress.

Puberty is complex—neural rewiring occurs, and with it comes emotional extremes, sensory overload, and identity instability.

Social:

Teen Gallifreyans begin to really self-define. Many will conform, some will not...

🏫 So…

Gallifreyan children are not smaller Time Lords. They're complex, biologically volatile beings navigating psionic development, sensory overload, time perception, and cultural rigidity. They build themselves over a century, and their Houses keep a very close eye on what they're building.

Related:

💬|🍼👽How long would it take for a Gallifreyan-Human hybrid child to realise they're not human?: All the little clues a new hybrid might pick up on as they grow.

💬|🧸🏡Does a Gallifreyan's House determine which chapter they'll be a part of?: Looking at Academy affiliations and the Academy selection process.

💬|🧸🧑‍💻What are Gallifreyan teenagers like?: Talking about the strange world of Gallifreyan adolescence.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴