#the amount of headcanons i have for him...

[melody-busez]

my biggest headcanon (?) about Arthur Lester is that he is not usually this absolute tank of a human being, he just has a really extreme survival mode. so I imagine when all of this will eventually be over and he'll feel safe enough to do so Arthur will go back to an average, human amount of whining and John will be. oh so confused.

slow day at the office? Arthur will be like "god I am so hungry" and John, having seen him be literally starved to almost death and barely complain about it, will go "?????? omg are you ok????"

Arthur is the kind of guy to act like he's dying for a mild fever and then as soon as something actually serious happens he immediately goes "I am absolutely fine let's not talk about this ever"

or maybe I am just projecting my own stuff on him.

[gilmorenights]

Mmkay, since EVERYONE is hunting for your headcannons (including me lol), how about some of your favorite modern au hc's for all da characters?

YAYYY MORE HEADCANONS (I enjoy these asks sm you have no idea)

Yong is the most chronically online out of all of them. He uses brainrot terms 24/7 and is up to date with every new trend the moment there is one

Nuru is a swiftie, bite me if you don’t agree. She lays on the floor of her bedroom listening to The Prophecy on her very expensive limited edition vinyl from Target and has a collection of TS cardigans

Hugo has a motorcycle named Olivia. I LOVE when people add this little detail into modern aus (especially when he makes the motorcycle from scratch because he’s a genius like that)

Varian despises coffee (will only drink it with an insane amount of sugar and creamer), and his go to drink at cafes is probably a mocha of some kind because of the chocolate in it. Hugo, on the other hand, likes his coffee on the darker side and tells Varian he’s going to die in his 20’s from the amount of sugar he drinks

Varian was one of those prodigy children who went through academic burnout in high school

Nuru keeps herself very educated and up to date on worldwide politics

Yong uses discord as his main means of communication and won’t answer on any other platform

Varian owns a truck (will die on this hill), one of those old ones that has a super loud engine and windows you have to manually open, but there’s only a 50% chance it’ll actually open when you try. Same with the heat, Varian says it takes a while to heat up but most of the time it just blows cold air in your face until the truck is turned off

Yong got everyone on Team Radical addicted to block blast

Nuru hosts movie night at her house every Friday night, Yong always chooses Marvel movies

MECHANIC HUGO 🙏

Hugo has been using the same YouTube tutorial to cut his hair since high school

Varian and Hugo were either childhood best friends because of Donnie and Ulla or they were academic rivals who despised each other, there’s no in between

Valedictorian Nuru cuz my girl deserves it 🙏

Yong skipped a couple grades in school so most of his friends are older than him

Ulla had the slightest southern accent that Varian picked up as a kid. He grew out of it as he got older, but whenever he gets really mad or fired up about something, it comes out and Hugo makes fun of it (90% of the time he’s the reason said accent comes out)

I have more that I can’t think of right now but uhhh yeah

Hehe thank you for the ask <33

[numberonetacostan]

I know your trophy knowledge might not be too sharp but I do wonder if you have any specific thoughts or even headcanons about him ! ❤️

Hi Mirelly!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in your request!! :] Of course I can cook you up some headcanons for your guy! I like to think I have at least an okay grasp on all of the main ii cast members' characters [Contestants + Mephone4 + Assistants + Cobs] :) I may not know the common headcanons for them, though, so please forgive me if any of these end up being basic!

Ask and you shall receive, Trophy headcanons!

FINALLY I'VE HAD HIS ONE FOR AGES AND NEVER HAD A TIME TO SHARE IT. Are you familiar with the movie Ratatouille? How the little rat fellow sits on the man's head and pilots him around? I like to think that Blueberry does the exact same thing with Trophy. He cozies himself up in Trophy's head (where we have been told during some stream, I don't recall which nor who said it unfortunately, that he fits perfectly inside), and grabs on to his handles, and steers Trophy towards wherever he wants to go. It's not quite as graceful as in the movie, since Trophy is not a willing participant in this, but I'd imagine it being quite difficult for him to get anything out of his head, much less an object who very much does not want to leave.

Hmm, fuck it, Trophy is one of those people who adds a ton of dryer sheets to his laundry. A ton. I'd say a scent like sandalwood specifically, something generally seen as more masculine. So, since his clothing all smells strongly of sandalwood, so does he, all the time. So much so that it can trigger Tissues' allergies, on worse days. This may even start because in the beginning he, like a proper jock with not quite enough self awareness (he would be 0 months old so cant expect much), uses exorbitant amounts of axe body spray, and smells awful all the time. If you'd like, Paper telling him his body spray is a bit too strong could be what starts his shift to many many dryer sheets and 0 body spray. Others have told him before, he just didn't care coming from them.

Let's all hope that Trophy never ever sees nor even hears about the popularity poll that decided on the iii returning cast members, because he would be pissed. Only 250 votes? He got less votes than Box? Less votes than two objects who had intentionally quit the game? He would both complain about the votes being rigged and brag about being above anyone he beat, while internally feeling quite bad about it.

I think Trophy would watch anime. Particularly sports anime, and not because he's a trophy and is athletic, but because that's where his idols are. His influences. He wants to be cool and sporty and masculine, and you can find guys like that in pretty much every sports anime. That's why he pulls things like saying 'pUH' at Knife, he's learned from dubbed anime. This may or may not have been an important factor in the start of his homoerotic tendencies as well, since as far as I know sports animes also have a lot of that.

I'm sure it's a relatively common headcanon for his favourite flavour to be banana, but I would like to raise the idea of him fucking so hard with banana bread. He's a little loaf eating freak /ref. If anyone bakes banana bread it's gone within a half hour. He does not ask to have any or to eat it he just unhinges his jaw and swallows it whole. His favourite food. He'd probably end up learning to bake it on his own (likely in secret) so he can be a little loaf eating freak more frequently, since others would stop making it once they resign themselves to never getting to taste it.

[narrators-journal]

Hey hope you're doing well!! Love your writing, so I wanted to request a senku fic where he's secretly a big pervert and is always "accidentally" getting into compromising situations with reader (who's "just a friend") until he finally gets to the point where he's literally grinding up on her in the lab, only stopping cause he's basically in public

Okay, so I took it easy on myself with this one and just gave you some headcanons. I know you said you wanted a fic, but I just could NOT cook on this one. So, take some thoughts and enjoy. I hope they’re goofy and fun like you wanted.

Senku is canonically confirmed to have a dirty mind, so it’s no surprise that he’s a pervert given the chance.

Pair that with someone who will play into it, and Senku’s having a blast.

Of course, Gen isn’t having a lot of fun, but he’s gotta learn to tolerate Senku’s bullshit, so it’s fine.

You and Senku though? You’d have a blast.

You two would have a bit of a game. A flirtatious, perverted game that neither of you would have the shame to stop in public.

Assuming you work as something of a lab assistant, the game’s even worse.

Expect jokes about Senku making aphrodisiacs, or viagra, or ecstacy in the stone age.

Sneakily setting up perverted little traps for one another, make jokes, and generally torment one another with pervy stuff.

For instance, Senku might sneak up on you to ‘correct’ a stance or experiment, or hold on something, and maybe just slightly press against you a little too inappropriately.

In return, you might come up to Senku and make an innuendo, or blow at his neck to just, generally fuck with him maybe, threaten to bite his sweet spot.

Aka, you both basically sexually harass one another lmao. That, or you’re just flirting very aggressively. Either way, no one’s sure whether or not it’s comfortable.

A lot of people would probably hope the two of you would date, but there’s an equal amount of people who’d probably deem that a horrible outcome, because by god would that make the jokes and antics worse.

That’s why Gen’s kept around, to reel you guys in for mixed and polite company.

The three of you would make a bit of a trio. Wherever you and Senku are together, Gen is needed to keep your little ‘game’ to a minimum.

[six-swords]

any angsty Scar (or Steb!!) headcanons? like how the first months of parenting was for him with Greer or such :))) (i like seeing ny favs suffer ❤️)

I don't have any angsty Scar HCs unfort 😔 I have a few for Steb though! These mostly apply to my take on canonverse Steb because in batfish-verse, Scar has hammered some self-worth into this man 🤞 cw for in-universe racism

Steb's parents are marai diaspora who came to Runeterra as children. While both of them speak a minimal amount of the marai language, Steb only knows foods, greetings, and other basic words. The loss of culture and language is something he doesn't think about often, but when he does, it makes him very sad :(

Steb doesn't have the best relationship with his parents. They don't fight much, but they're not close either. This is a major contributing factor to his emotional repression and lifelong loneliness problem.

Steb has always had secret daydreams about dating another marai and finally feeling understood and seen by someone. He's a bit insecure about his lack of knowledge about marai culture though, so he'd probably be too embarrassed to pursue another marai.

Steb's dedication to being an enforcer is partially due to his perception of the job as one that helps people. But a huge subconscious motivation is that he's always felt out of place as a vastaya, but being an enforcer serves the interests of the State and makes him palatable to the rest of Piltover. So in his mind, maybe the best enforcer will be "enough" to make up for being different.

He used to get bullied for being mute and vastaya during his cadet days.

He's so used to vastaya microaggressions that he doesn't really outwardly react now. Well, he never really did. He's very much a "don't rock the boat" type of guy at the expense of his own comfort and well-being.

He sometimes hooks up with people who fetishize him for being marai because it's just too much work to filter people out, and he's a little bit passively self destructive.

He's a workaholic and doesn't really have friends 💀. Because of his parents' emotional unavailability and trauma from why they had to leave their homeland, he never learned how to be open with other people and/or to trust his own emotions. So he has that shit down on lock. Besides, if he has work, which is totally fulfilling all of his needs, he doesn't need other relationships or have time for them.

Ahaha... this list makes it sound like I only characterize him as sad and alone. What being systemically oppressed and forcing yourself into the model minority role does to an mf ig 💀 But as most of you know, I usually write him post-batfish-character-dev, so he's worked through most of this thankfully 😭🙏

Thank you for the question!

[mogruith]

Since I know you feel pretty positively about it as a plot point, I wanted to ask. IIRC, given he romanced her, does the child thing ever come up with Coranzan and Minthara? Does he have any larger thoughts on it?

No pressure to answer, ofc. I just wanna see if it's something you've considered within their back and forth.

Hiya Red! Thank you so much for the ask!! 💖 Sorry it took me so long to get around to answering this, things got a bit busy/weird this week.

But oh boy. Have I considered it?? Only the most normal of amounts of consideration. It's TRULY a struggle for me to stay on topic in this reply, but I cut so much to be as concise as possible.

Thing is, I've actually been thinking about this since I "datamined" the SWD lines myself back last December, never expecting them to become canon. I've always seen it as an interesting topic, given how often she reflects on her mother and her upbringing. It always feels like she's on the brink of some realization about herself. I suspect that might've been the original intent of some of those lines.

Anyway, on to the actual question-answering under the cut.

Does it come up for Coranzan and Minthara? Yes. It absolutely does.

The worst part of this update's execution is she would definitely mention it at least towards the end. So I guess it's up to us to headcanon it!

I imagine it's revealed shortly after Orin's demise - relatively late in the campaign. This is also on the heels of the alurlssrin conversation; the first time they express long-term commitment to one another. If she wasn't sure that he was going to be there for the long term, why should she say anything prior to that?

After Orin's death, she's really shaken up and comparing herself to Orin in terms of generational trauma.

"[Orin] was cruel, maniacal, sadistic. You could have been sisters." Minthara: "Given what we learned of Orin's mother, that is painfully accurate. We were both born of trauma, both raised by parents who protected us with one hand and tormented us with the other."

To me, this is a crucial moment where the gears are turning - there's some self-awareness of the kind of life she's been born into and realizing that it could have been something else. This is a natural segue to considering her role with her own child - and that maybe she needs to adjust its direction from what she learned.

And I think she'd bring this up in a reflective manner - not really sure what she can or should do about it just yet. Just that maybe things should be Different.

Coranzan's Thoughts

You are a better judge on this than I, my friend, but I don't think it's odd for drow to just decide they want to have a child and they make it happen through whatever means available to them. Especially in the noble world. So, I don't think her revealing this to him would be particularly shocking by itself. Her choosing to reveal it after keeping it so closely guarded might be the only thing he's somewhat surprised by. But the circumstances or whose it is? Largely irrelevant unless something about it threatens them - which I'm sure she'd mention if that were the case.

She's Minthara's daughter. Finding a home for her and raising her is important to Minthara. End of. Coranzan needs no other details.

The fact that she tells him about her daughter at all demonstrates some level of inclusion into something that would not be his business under ... traditional? circumstances. Revealing this is exposing a deep vulnerability and a willingness to be transparent. Initially, he's not exactly sure what she expects of him, if anything, but he understands that this is a Big Deal to her and it's extremely important that she's including him.

In the longer term, assuming Coranzan gets the chance to be part of Minthara's daughter's life, I think he'd like to be as involved in her life as much as possible and I think Minthara would encourage it to some degree.

Not for any ideas like father figures or something weird (to drow) like that. But like I mentioned, I think she's realizing that things could be different from her "traumatic" experience. Coranzan's a good example of that difference. Especially after witnessing how incredibly different his relationship is with his sister, Z'ress. Their sibling relationship, with seemingly unshakable trust, is something entirely unimaginable to her with her own family. And for Coranzan and Z'ress it's not a weakness. It's a strength. Something that's been demonstrated over and over while she's been fighting alongside them.

There's... a million other things I can rant about when it comes to this topic. From Coran's parents and his past dealing with kids, more thoughts on Minthara's mindset regarding this, and some other data-mined stuff that has implications for this plot, but it's way too much for now. I will never finish this post if I get into that.

For now, I'm gonna throw a few tags here for folks who have expressed interest in their relationship but I keep getting intimidated out of writing about it (and then I go posting about the most controversial topic she's had in a while - go figure).

@nemo-of-house-hamartia @moriarfer @pavusprince - no interaction expected, just keeping those who have asked about them in the loop.

[westernplains]

i don't usually draw digitally but here i am lol. love drawing ahk like this

[rocketbirdie]

here, have whatever this is

[madamemiz]

i want to dissect this guy tbh

trying to figure out how to draw him

[forsaken-headcanons]

I feel like there's a SAD lack of Dusekkar headcanons. So here's a random collection of them I have!! I don't think any TW/CW are needed but just in case; unhealthy habits are mentioned ^^;;

—I feel like Dusekkar is made out of light / energy rather than,,, organic stuff like everyone else. Beneath his pumpkin mask and flowing cloak is just raw light ( he's like a freaky jack-o'-lantern )

—^ I feel like all of the admins are distinctly different from most other characters and merely take a ( mostly ) human form to be more palatable,,but that's rambling for another time

—Despite his nature , he can still feel pain and still bleed. His blood is a blueish / purple color and has the consistency of a smashed pumpkin.

—Has chronic fatigue. His constant over use of magic doesn't help that at all ( floating rather than walking all of the time , constantly casting spells to aid the team , etc ). He has no desire to stop doing this, as he doesn't want anyone to suffer from his lack.

—Naps a lot outside of rounds. He can sleep practically anywhere. It's not uncommon to find him propped up against something, sleeping 'standing' up

—When he sleeps his ' eyes ' don't close. The light shining through the holes of his mask dim / go dark. It's a little uncanny.

—He has a seemingly unlimited amount of knowledge. If you have a question, he has an answer. Every single time.

—^Sometimes he will sit around and tell the other survivors stories or facts to pass the time in-between the horrors. It's nice , considering they don't really have much to do in the form of entertainment.

—Hes very kind all things considered. His tolerance for BS is very high.

—^He's the type of guy to sit and talk to his plants or nurse a bird back to health that hit his window.

—His social skills are a little.. meh. Despite his wisdom and kindness , he falls short here. He often ends up saying off things. Morbid , weird , out of pocket stuff , etc. The socially awkward king ( he's just like me for real )

—I don't think he'd have any bad opinions on any other survivors. There are people he likes more than others , sure , but he doesn't down right hate anyone in particular. He will offer his aid to whomever needs it regardless.

—He knows sign language. Sometimes talking is hard when you're tired.

—I feel like he could translate basically anything. Talking straight nonsense? He somehow knows what you mean. It's magical

I love seeing some Dusekkar appreciation here! I rarely ever see headcanons for that pumpkin guy, and he's one of my personal favorites. I love all of these headcanons! I love the detail that Dusek is made up of light/energy rather than being a person. It makes a lot of sense!

[artylla]

i'm truly enjoying drawing different paul eras so i thought i should do my favorite one ever:

66 and 67's james paul mccartney

[m1d-45]

look, don't touch

summary: a minor mishap in the lab leads to a chain of.. interesting events with the second harbinger

word count: 4.8k

-> warnings: reader is badly burned + mentioned blood + somewhat graphic description of injury, dottore + his reputation, you think you're going to die at one point (not serious, in passing, you don't)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and non-canonical segments

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

you weren’t an earnest follower in celestia by any means, but if they could get you out of this then you would happily spend the rest of your life devoted to being a pastor.

mostly because that’s the only way you’d live to see the light of day again, but that was besides the point.

on a good day, working for any harbinger came with a lot of challenges, but you had ended up with the most ruthless and least rational. every time you walked into the doctor’s lab, there was a healthy amount of fear that it would be your last. at least one fight was going on at any given point, trying to read their horrendous handwriting gave you a headache, the constant mood swings and volatile behavior just the tip of the iceberg. on top of that, you also had to deal with being dragged into every idea and whim they had; your technical job title was merely ‘assistant,’ but that was far too narrow a band to cover everything you did that wasn’t in the fine print.

like this. standing with your hands shoved deep into the chest of a skywatcher ruin drake, fumbling for a casing supposedly “just a little further,” if beta’s continued pressuring was anything to go by. he was standing somewhere behind you, theta on the other side of the drake trying to figure out how to pry off the thick bolts sticking out of its spine. theta you could understand. he was mostly machine himself, so it made sense he’d be the one to pull apart the touchier components, but beta? beta, fussing with the wings of the drake, doing a whole lot of nothing while you shoved your very human and non-replaceable arms into a tangled mess of gears and wiring. you’d already gotten burned once, a thick droplet of oil falling onto your wrist from above that theta apologized profusely for, and you weren’t eager to do so again.

sure, if your arms did get ripped from their sockets you’re fairly certain you’d receive prosthetics in return, but that didn’t excuse anything. just because they were capable of amazing feats of science didn’t mean you wanted to be another test subject.

“you can do it,” beta ‘encouraged,’ leaning on your shoulder and not at all making it more difficult to strain for the part he wanted. “you saw the plans.”

of course you did, you were the one that had insisted he look them over again before ripping into the machine. behind the chest plate, behind the core, straight to the back was a wide bundle of wires. in the very center was a segmented strip of chained together casings shaped vaguely like dumbbells, supposedly easy enough to pull out. what was inside? who knew. probably beta. you’d found the wiring just fine—not just fine, you’d scraped yourself along far too many gears and raw edges to be entirely intact—but there was nothing inside it. you picked out the thinner wires one by one, and while you’d succeeded in finding the structure they were supposed to be in, it was empty. yanking it up had rewarded you with a bruise on your forearm and nothing in the slot below it, so you fed it back down and prepared to pull.

“please behave yourself, beta.” theta’s voice comes from higher than it was last time, a loud bang from above you reverberating through the entire machine. you try not to think about it.

“i’m supervising-”

“i’m supposed to be supervising,” you interrupt, gripping two bars of the structure and preparing yourself. “i don’t get paid enough for this.”

you breathe, your grip tightens, and you pull with everything you have. above you, something pops, and the frame in your hands is suddenly very slack. you don’t even have a chance to feel for the capsules before something hot and burning poured on your arms, a thick oil that clung to your skin and refused to leave. beta moved quicker than you could think, grabbing your sides and practically carrying you away from the machine. the sludge was forming a wide pool on the floor now, a dark lumpy black that stretched all the way up to your elbows and made you painfully aware of that fact. beta had grabbed a roll of mechanic’s towels and roughly wiped off the excess, the drag of the napkin on raw skin making you hiss. it left a reddish residue behind, though the sight of your hands quickly blurred with tears.

“theta, we’re leaving.” beta puts one hand between your shoulders and quickly pushes you out of the project room, a sliding door opening into the upper lab. you blink out your tears as best you can, mostly relying on beta to guide you past the maze of tables and machinery. this section of the lab didn’t have a medbay since the segments allowed up here never needed one, so it meant you had to walk all the way down to the lower lab for first aid. how fun. you weren’t keen on letting this stuff stay on you for any longer than it had to, but since when was any dottore known for his safety measures?

even in your limited vision, you see more heads turn toward you than usual as the door hisses open. beta don’t stop to pay them any attention, walking you straight through to the door marked with a red cross, hand tightening in your shirt when you stumble on the slight step.

“careful,” he says, like you’d ever be in this situation of your own accord.

the faucet hisses and so do you, gritting your teeth at the pressure on your hands. you blink rapidly, struggling to find the soap before he puts it right in front of you, pressing down the top and letting it fall into your hands. your skin is bubbled and angry, shaking hands and blurred vision making it impossible to figure out where anything was. instead of doing anything remotely helpful, beta just stands at your side like the world’s worst lightpost, providing no insight and only unnerving you further with his presence. the only indication he’s not lost in some manic daydream is occasional mumbling, though that may actually be evidence the more you think about it. you’re not sure how much time passes, just running water over your skin to stave off the pain. eventually, he sighs, “fine, i’ll go,” a nonsensical statement you almost don’t notice wasn’t meant for you before he speaks a little louder.

“i need to go, but i’ll get kappa for you.”

like he wasn’t already there to see you walk in. “sure.”

he lingers, then leaves. you continue washing cold water over your skin to keep the burning at bay, knowing full well its a superficial solution. best case, you’re burned severely and are either fired for incompetence or made to work through it. worst case, whatever chemical that was made its way into your bloodstream through one of the many scrapes you got and you were about to drop dead from a heart attack any moment now. neither option was rather thrilling.

your palm can’t take much more of the water pressure, but the thought of trying to twist the valve off is equally unappealing. pain, or slightly adjacent pain: a typical day in dottore’s lab. you never thought you’d be on the receiving end.

the door doesn’t creak as it’s pushed open, but the sound of boots on the floor gives it away. who you can only assume is kappa turns off the water, blotting up the excess on your arms with a soft towel that still felt too harsh.

“i know, i know…”

you watch through blurred vision—was that the cause of your headache, or was it the stress?—as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small tin. he moves delicately, barely a whisper across your skin as he spreads the salve over your arms. soft gel pads his fingers, a cushion of translucent silicone over everything sharp edge or hard plate. you could barely pick out the seams between the layers of his hand, each of them slipping and melding together in one fluid movement. the salve leaves a cool numbness wherever it touches, your pain swiftly becoming a faint memory. you’re somewhat surprised by how quickly it works, though you probably shouldn’t be. if they could figure out delusions, they could figure out an effective topical pain reliever. he gently twists your arm just enough to see if he’s missed anywhere, not pulling any of the irritated skin. once satisfied, he makes quick work of wrapping it, white bandage spiraling up your arm faster than you can blink. he tapes it shut just below your elbow, and the process begins anew.

there’s not much else to do but watch him work. your tears are finally starting to recede enough that you can see clearer, gauging the damage on your arms. it’s… well, terrible, if you’re being frank, skin peeling and blood smearing into the pale beige salve. you're definitely going to blister, and there’s no way you’ll be able to so much as pick up a pen in this condition. hopefully prime accounts for that when he decides your next shifts, though anything you do is realistically going to hurt. you’re pretty useless like this, even as a proper supervisor you couldn’t exactly take notes. you don’t have an ancient supercomputer in your brain like kappa or theta, and even the most basic of tasks involved your hands. no matter how good kappa’s medicine, there’s no way you’ll be in well enough shape by tomorrow.

“you’re worried,” kappa says, neither a question or a statement. an explanation, maybe, but to who?

“pardon?”

he ‘looks’ up (you’re fairly certain he only does that for your benefit) though his hands don’t pause, the red diamond on his face plate pulsing faintly. like his hands, the seam between black metal and bluish silicone is so small it might as well not be there. the silence stretches for longer than you know what to do with, long enough that he finishes with your arm, wiping off his hands on the towel from before. “your shirt has holes in it,” he says like it explains anything, ‘looking’ back down to wrap your hand. you’re able to watch this time, the roll weaving around your fingers and hand before being quickly spun along your arm, perfectly taut. he cuts it with his nail and tape dispenses out of his thumb to seal the end. he lingers there for a moment, thumb pressed on your inner elbow, before finally backing away. “you should change. there’s a closet behind you that should contain a spare shirt if you’d like."

you look down, noticing that he’s right. some of the goop splashed onto your shirt, leaving a smattering of holes. the skin beneath was fine, thankfully, but he was right. definitely not lab-safe, though not many of the actual substances you worked with were safe either. you were surely under-qualified to be handling khaenri’ahn machinery.

that’s beside the point. you turn around, finding the cabinet he’s talking about easily. shirts, pants, even a spare set of shoes. they seem to be mostly for the younger segments, but you pick out a shirt your size easily enough. you check behind you, seeing kappa turned away politely, and carefully pull off your shirt. you put it aside, silently thanking whoever decided to leave the shirts unbuttoned in the cabinet. probably kappa. it’s softer than you expect it to be, smooth blue that you’d almost mistake for some sort of fine silk if you didn’t know how resilient it was. every one of the segments wore them, fire, acids, and even beta’s occasional scalpel all deflected as if they were never there. it probably would have survived the corrosive from earlier, really, which makes you a bit bitter. the buttons close easily even with your limited dexterity, leaving neither bumps nor gaps down the front because prime was too good to be caught with a straight shot to his heart. if he was worse at his job it might be easier to be upset, but you couldn’t feel anything but begrudging respect about the man that hid a tie in the cuff to keep the sleeves secure around your elbow.

not for the first time, you wish you were given your own designated set. that would mean acknowledging you as more than an assistant, though, and prime seemed to be allergic to calling you even that. it was always either your name or ‘help’ with such a specific lilt that you couldn’t even describe it, something unique to whatever thoughts bounced between the precious few marbles still left in his head.

you liked to think you were more than just a standard helper. if nothing else, then the fact that you’d been working with him for as long as you had with your sanity intact had to mean something. according to rumors of payroll records from the ninth’s workers, the longest a previous assistant had lasted was barely a week over six months, and you had survived in this lab for more than a few years without getting fired, killed, or worse.

that could always end today, though. ruin drakes were endemic to sumeru and had to be carried across half of teyvat to make it to prime’s door, let alone the time spent finding and disabling them. failing a simple task on the first day was likely a perfectly fine reason to have your head on a pike. never mind that it wasn’t your fault, that it wasn’t your idea, or that you were grossly underqualified to supervise disassembly of khaenri’ahn machinery in the first place. since when was any segment known for his rational thinking and level-headed nature? fun joke.

you pick up your discarded shirt and thumb one of the many holes with a sigh. the edges were coarse and likely would only worsen in the wash, so there goes your uniform. the least of your worries, really.

“prime wants to talk to you,” kappa starts, drawing your attention towards him. his hands are folded neatly in front of him, mechanical voice slow and almost hesitant. you never knew a segment to be unsure of himself before, though you suppose prime is as good a reason as any. “but i can tell him you need rest. i understand today has been stressful for you.”

that was one way to put it. putting off talking with prime and going back to your quarters to avoid the problem for twelve hours sounded ideal, but you weren’t a fool. if prime was asking you to see him immediately after the incident, he had something to say, and denying a harbinger was a surefire route to whatever afterlife awaited you.

“thank you, but i’ll go see him now.”

his shoulders visibly fell, but he nodded. you dropped your shirt in the trash can as you followed him out, again ignoring the various other segments scattered throughout the lab. none stopped whatever they were doing, but you could feel their eyes on you, see their blue hair twist in your periphery. they’ve probably seen injuries far worse, and yours were already covered up… it was probably kappa, really. he rarely left phi’s side for any longer than he had to.

kappa input his access code without looking. or, you could only assume he wasn’t looking; even though his head was turned toward you, it didn’t mean anything. which was worse, that he could act without looking like he was, or that he acted like he needed to look?

his finger hesitates over the enter key. “you’re nervous,” he says again, this time actually feeling like it was directed at you. you never asked about before and probably never will. “he doesn’t seem upset at you.”

you bite your tongue to keep from being mean. you know he means the best—he was literally coded to be an empathetic caretaker—but prime wasn’t known for broadcasting his heart on his bloodstained sleeves. he could seem anything he wanted and it never had to reflect what he was actually feeling.

“thanks,” you reply instead, and he nods, the door sliding upward with a hiss.

the upper lab is empty. all the equipment is still there, of course, glassware and sealed jars littering the countertops, but all of the chairs are pushed in and vacant. nobody besides you walks along the tile, and the hallways beyond this section are empty too. stretches of white floor and steel doors your only company, the fluorescent lights buzzing above you.

it’s unnerving. have you written a will yet?

you turn to the right, towards prime’s office. it looks like all the rest, with a clear plastic bin hanging next to it and a keypad below that. you knock with your entire fist, two bangs that are a little too loud on your end but likely barely audible on his. his doorway is a foot thick, a well-defined border between the harsh lighting of the hall and his deceptively welcoming office.

whoever the fatui hired as interior designer deserved a raise. a nearly black wood bookshelf covers the entire left wall, volumes packed together with remarkable efficiency. on the right, a large map takes up most of the space, notes and string marking plans you don’t try to read. shelves of files and pinned up diagrams surround it in equally dense displays. the floor is a well-buffed dark wood that clicks under his heels as he rounds his desk, silent. the pristine white papers spread across his desk are the brightest thing in the room, interrupted only by the backs of the two chairs in front of his desk. he doesn’t pull one out, nor tell you to sit, only approaching you quietly. you can’t remember the last time someone dressed business casual was intimidating, but there’s a first time for everything. his gloves are a thick mystery fabric that barely a suggest a touch on your arm, blue palms carefully following the bumps and valleys of the bandage. you raise it, letting him inspect kappa’s work wordlessly. he doesn’t comment on the shake to your hand you’re certain he can feel, and in fact doesn’t give much of any indication at all. his face is unreadable behind the mask, a detail you’ve yet to determine as a good thing or not.

“theta analyzed the substance that fell on you.” his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard before, like he’s uncertain about breaking the silence. he doesn’t let go of your hand. “it was mostly oil, yes, but it also included a mixture of slime condensate and some sort of elemental anchor. his working theory is that when the core collapsed, the slime mixture first spilled into the oil line, then that burst. the anchor dissolved into the oil, releasing its energy, and the slime helped it stick.”

dottore has a reputation well known across the entirety of teyvat and beyond. he was irrational, heretical, setting up seemingly nonsensical lines of dominoes that led up to a crushing wave of death. he did not care, he did not feel, he held no mercy. his office was more mystifying than the abyss, and a non-zero amount of his subjects had chosen the latter rather than stay. within the fatui, within his very lab, this fog did not lift. even theta and his khaenri’ahn brain couldn’t reliably track the thoughts behind prime’s actions. that thought at least made you feel a little better, because there was no way in a thousand years that you could ever rationalize prime explaining himself to you.

“you have experienced, in essence, a severe chemical burn.” finally, he lets go, stepping back and turning away to dig through the files on his desk, the rustling sounding too loud after he spoke so.. did you dare say softly? your skin prickles where he touched and you don’t know what to feel.

he comes back with an inch-thick stack of stapled papers and a pen, holding out both. you don’t dare flip up the blank cover page yet. “you will stay with kappa and phi until you are better, and follow whatever treatment plan he prescribes. you will fill one of these out three times a day: at morning, at noon, and at night. am i understood?”

paperwork? was that all? a lot of it, certainly—was there even enough time in the day to complete three of these stacks?—but far less than you were hoping for, let alone expecting. regardless, you nod, “when would you like me to start disassembling the ruin drake?”

the silence stretches. you can feel his eyes on you and you’re certain the weight isn’t phantom, even despite the mask. you run over your words again, searching for fault and finding none. you’d hoped by presuming you’d be working again you might save some of his anger, but did he not want you to? was that something he expected you to know already? did he not want the drake disassembled at all? the delicate wiring was certainly ruined by the waterfall of whatever anchor he said fell on you, and even if theta had somehow managed to salvage it there was no way it could be up to par.

“what?”

ever a man of few words. his fangs catch the light and you regret talking more with every second that goes by. “i assume you can no longer run any of your tests on it, so-”

“when did i mention the drake?” he shakes his head and crosses his arms with a surprisingly neutral sigh. “i give you explicit instructions to stay with kappa, yet barely a moment later you’re talking like you’re going to do something else. here i thought you showed promise…”

his words hold no bite. his arms, though crossed, are not taut with anger. you liked to think you’d gotten pretty good at being able to read the various segments’ moods, but that meant you’d either severely miscalculated or prime was teasing you, and you couldn’t decide which was worse.

you were lost, and the silence was continuing for uncomfortably long. “i’ll.. go see him right away, then?”

you can’t keep your voice from tilting into a question, having wandered neck-deep into unfamiliar territory, but he blessedly doesn’t comment on it. he waves you away with a stiff nod and you half-bow before turning around, not stopping until you’re safely down the hall and in the main lab with two doors between you. you leaning against the cool wall and stare at the packet in your hands. paperwork in exchange for an indefinite time off proper work sounded more than uncharacteristic to you, especially when a prized machine was damaged in the process. you turn over the pen kept beneath your thumb, seeing the ink inside slosh around within the glass chamber. it was one of his pens, not the standard practically indestructible ones kept around the labs. maybe that was why you were thrown off, he just really lost it this time. was this the calm before the storm?

you don’t stick around to find out.

the upper lab is still empty, an eerie feeling following you as you walk past the lines of tables and equipment. all of the actual chemicals are put away, which is a little reassuring, but it’s still wrong. even if the others are out, at least theta is normally sat at his desk. you walk a little quicker.

kappa is obviously awaiting your arrival, only idly watching phi mesh together gears on the floor—isn’t that a safety hazard for someone so young?—and perking up the moment you walk in. he waves you over to him, sitting on a large couch in phi’s play area. you cross the striped tape and enter the protected space, feeling only slightly like a criminal seeking sanctuary. kappa is sitting with feet propped a small coffee table in front of him, one you set down papers and pen on before joining him.

he notices the different pen. you can tell by the way his glance turns into a stare, ‘eye’ locked onto it with a slightly brighter glow. he sits dead still, transfixed… then his chest rises in another faux breath, his attention shifting to you instead. “see? not too bad.”

“i have to complete three of those a day.”

his head tilts, smile growing. “i’m glad to see he’s finally acting in accordance in his thoughts.”

before you can even begin to dissect whatever that meant, phi calls his attention from the floor. kappa’s eye flashes as he takes his feet from the table, standing.

“forgive me, i have to go. why don’t you get started on your paperwork?”

there it is. you almost forgot he was an identical copy of the guy who made you dig through a ruin machine because ‘it’ll be good work experience.’

you settle the stack of paper on your lap, uncapping the pen and flipping away the cover page to reveal the dense form beneath. your name, easy enough, then the date below that. next was the… approximate time of injury? why had he given you an incident report? he probably slipped it in on top of the other stuff for filing purposes, though you don’t know why when he would have gotten all of that information from theta. maybe he wanted to see if you’d lie? you may have willingly signed up to work under him, but you weren’t so stupid as to lie to a harbinger.

you described what you saw as best you could while not having any sort of medical training beyond ‘blood should stay inside the body,’ then treatment from kappa. your hand was already beginning to ache a bit from having to hold the pen, but it was tolerable enough when the page was finished in less than a minute. you let it relax a bit as you flipped the page, skimming the questions. your name, of course, then the date…

you flip the first page back to double-check what you already knew. they were the same. did he think you’d run out of space? it couldn’t be a fluke, surely—was one for kappa? questions fill your head, ones you ultimately decide to shake away. whatever the case, you didn’t need to touch this page, so you moved onto the next.

the next was the same. so was the next. you used your thumb to flip through the entire stack rapidly, confirming that yes, the entire packet are one-page incident reports, what’s going on? prime’s not careless enough to make a mistake like this. maybe beta, trying to one-up his past brilliant idea by sabotaging your work, or perhaps the goop had sprayed up to theta and fried his circuits.

“uh, kappa…”

he looks up from the elaborate string of gears phi has set up, smiling. “are you done? if you are, you should come over here and see what phi’s made.”

the younger boy visibly perks up, red eyes shining. his hands tap against the floor eagerly, “would you? please?”

you pointedly look at the stack, peeling up half of it so kappa can see your dilemma, but he only laughs in response. “come, dear. let’s leave that for later.”

you hesitate, unsure. there’s no reason kappa would have to lie to you. he has a direct line to prime in his head and was probably told to make sure you stayed on task, so… if he doesn’t see a problem with it, then that must mean this is how it’s meant to be, right? carefully, you set down the stack on the coffee table, capping prime’s pen and leaving it on top. prime had, for whatever reason, given you an unexpected out.

so you take it.

[qsmpbutwithsignlanguage]

I see your 'QSMP players' irl romantic partners are patron gods that give them assistance in times of need' and your 'Tommy is Tubbo's patron god because of the marriage gag and Tubbo is very, very tired' and I raise you a 'CDawgVA is IronMouse's patron god who randomly appears to tell IronMouse to go to sleep and has bought nearly every Cinnamoroll in existence for her'.

Just. Think about it.

[ziezii]

zuko's stressing and dreading for the next council meeting happening in a few days for new installments for their new city, he's talked to katara about his feelings but decide to keep his dread about what to do a secret

but, for the past two days he's seen it. little scribbles on paper giving him ideas and opinions on the thing he was working on. he immediately thinks his wife was behind all of this and smiles at the thought (he'll have to thank her later)

that smile however, turns even wider when he comes to his study room the night before the meeting and meets his 8 year old son, seemingly brainstorming

their relationship has been somewhat rocky, only turning for the better the last couple of months. so when he walks in and his son notices, they spend (and will continue until he's an adult) the majority of the night in prepping for the meeting

[meamiki]

5% of a color headcanon.... two versions since b&w emphasizes the dagger more i think but i still like the warm tones ASFSADA

i am not biased towards rainbow daggers whatsoever i promise (lie)

((also friend is streaming now and im there too!! bit more info linked here, its rated mature tho))

[wilsonsmcgillsweatshirt]

House's problem isn't that he lacks empathy. It's that he has too much. He cares to the point that it's self-destructive. That's why he avoids interacting with patients like the plague because he knows that he'll care. He knows that he'll get attached, and he can't cope with that kind of vulnerability. House can empathize with and understand people so well that if he didn't constantly fight against it, he'd lose himself. He insults people and hurts people, and pushes them away as a survival tactic. Nobody spends that much time trying to convince people they don't care when they actually don't care. He has experienced so much heartbreak and abuse that he's learned his only way to survive is to push people away. He's not just trying to convince others he doesn't care. He's trying to convince himself, too. And he fails every single time. Because Gregory House loves people. He relates to them, he cares about them, and he feels vast amounts of empathy for them. He never gives up on patients, and he'll try to convince you that it's just because he loves puzzles, and while he does, it also is because he cares. When you experience that much empathy for people, it saturates every single part of your life. Every interaction you have becomes painful and overstimulating. You start to lose yourself. House is desperately trying not to drown in the minds of others. His ability to understand and care about people is what makes him a great doctor, but it's a blessing and curse. So he bites and claws and avoids and fights because it's all he can do to stay afloat. He's trying to constantly battle experiencing the emotions of others, on top of his own emotions, all at the same time.