#inertia-writes

[inertia-quotes]

" तुम्हारी मौजूदगी में लगता है कि

जिंदगी से कम शिकायत होने लगी है 

हर दिन तुम्हारी बातों को सुनके

थोड़ी सुकून की आदत सी होने लगी है "

- inertia m.

[cryptocism]

i started this a year ago for fun and then forgot about it for several months, but after many hours the cleans are done!

character animation for Frequency

music is Smokey Eyes by Lincoln

[librarycards]

pls ignore this is its too weird or too much labor, but i was wondering if you maybe had any tips or resources for ppl who have creative desires like writing but brain fog and fatigue tends to get in the way?

i do! it may not work for you bc people have very random/unexpected ways of dealing with this, but it's *very* common and there is hope :) [i think a lot of this is applicable across form, but i'm using "writing" here because it's what i'm familiar with]

one way is to be strategic about timing: this includes thinking about when you're least foggy/have the most energy, and/or the most "downtime" where there isn't anything in particular you need to do. many people wake up early so that they have alone time before their responsibilities. some people stay up late to write. i tend to do my daily writing (which I elucidate on below) in the evenings, around 7-10pm. whatever works, works!

relatedly: scheduling/routine is, for me, critical. i think it is for a lot of creative ppl. I write every day, in multiple ways: i keep a journal - i've done this since i was like 12, so it's as ingrained as brushing my teeth and i don't really think about it - and also work on some aspect of my current longest project [so, for the last 4 years, it's been the aforementioned second novel; for the 4ish years before that, it was Failure to Comply. i write other stuff during the daytime, of course, because writing is also my job(s). but if you're looking to establish a consistent creative practice, you don't need to be aiming for a certain hour or word count.

Instead: Aim for consistency and progress. Not perfection, not a "muse," not magic. There is no shame in making something that doesn't seem good, or that you end up deleting. in this particular instance, "perfect is the enemy of good" is 10000% true, and i think especially applicable to people who already experience external + internalized ableist ideologies on a daily basis. your art, regardless of what it is, should be a space where you get to make mistakes, change your mind, and learn new things. it should be something you can come to when you're tired, unsure, confused, scared, etc, even if it means just keysmashing and then closing your notes app for the day.

for me, having a daily practice, regardless of anything, means embracing the days where i write only one word and then despair, as well as the days i write pages. when i feel most depressed, in a very clinicized sense, i try to move from "everything i make now is going to be shitty :(" to "everything i make now is going to be shitty :)", not because i'm happy about it, but because....that's simply part of creating. everything is a bodily function. if you're not feeling good, maybe your poop will look weird. so too with writing. but you still do it. it can be mechanical. but it'll happen, and by doing it consistently, you give yourself the *opportunity* to locate insight hitherto buried, to have an idea creep up on your tiredself.

i guess in sum I'd say that the healthiest thing i ever did for my writing is something tantamount to body neutrality, which has also been an immensely positive addition to my set of frameworks for physical embodimindment. creative neutrality, i guess. this doesn't mean i don't tie my ego and personhood to work/productivity/quality. i mean, i totally do, and it sucks, but there we are. but it also means that i place that in a corner that does not touch my desire to chip away at something big, regularly. i make time every day to summon the urgency of whatever i'm working on, not because i'm proud of it at that moment, but because i want to give it another opportunity to give me something cool.

tl:dr: give yourself the gift of consistency and time, and don't be scared of making stuff that isn't good, or gets deleted, or doesn't make sense. write from wherever you want, physically, mentally, spiritually. give it the opportunity & even the expectation to happen and then work from there.

[delectableworm]

"That's it... Lick them all clean for me, sweetspark." Sentinel whimpered as he tried his best to clean up the mess he had made on the floor. He was told not to overload while you step on his spike but someone didn't listen and make a mess.

"You got my pedes dirty. Do you have any idea how long it took for me to buff that? To think I went through all the trouble of getting dolled up for you only to be repaid like this." You tugged the leash in your servo that was connected to his pink collar. A flashy colour for a flashy mech with your designation on it in cursive to show who he belonged to. Sentinel whimpered when he tugged forward again and grunted at your pede that you had lifted to his face, glossy optics glaring at you but you only tugged harder. "Lick."

It was one order. One command and it had him getting back to work quickly like a miner mining for energon. He put his glossa to use, licking your pede clean before moving to another one that you had graciously lifted to make his work easy for a good job. He licked that one clean too before it left his face and growled when you patted his helm while cooing at him.

"Aww, such a good boy, Sentinel. Obeying my command like a good pup? Yes, you are. Yes, you are." You scratched behind his finials and under his chin in a gentle manner that got him to lean into the touch despite his coding screaming for him not to.

It was humiliating but if he wanted to keep his image as the greatest Prime, he might just have to suck it up. Speaking of which, he felt your servos pulled away as you leaned back on his throne with legs spread for him. He could see your spike standing tall, bobbing with each movement while you made yourself comfortable.

"Now," Another tug that made him stumble on his knees until his face neared the piece, "get back to work."

[radioactive-earthshine]

Honestly Thad retreating to the 30th century to wiggle in as Bart's replacement there as a Legionnaire would hit so hard.

Maybe he does it at first to finally gain victory over Bart post-Mercury Falling by living the life Bart should have had, but then just like in the Claiborne/Crandall home he starts to experience love and trust and genuine affection and he finds rapidly that he's not just there for petty spite but because he wants to be there.

Jenni loves him.

Jenni's father takes one look at him and is cooking him meals and making him a place at the table for him.

Meloni doesn't know what Thad tried to do to Bart and his father, but she knows a victim of her father when she sees one, and she embraces him as a son she never got to have. This delights Thad endlessly at first because he gets Bart's mother's love and Bart doesn't but that also sort of changes as time goes on.

Thad starts to care less and less about Bart, he's no longer in the equation anymore, this is about him and his life as Thaddeus Thawne, Inertia, Legionnaire of Earth.

Even so, Thad and Meloni have an awkward relationship based on mutual need for some sort of familial love and ignore that its Bart that keeping them together because if either unpack that then they both wont like what they will have to admit. Maybe Meloni finds out somehow what Thad tried to do and she almost blows his head off, but she can't do it, because she remembers that Thad was an indoctrinated child soldier and a weapon made from the madness of her father.

Maybe Thad and Meloni just kill their father together, or they try to but Meloni doesn't let Thad do it and does it herself because she doesn't want him to be what he was designed to be.

Legionnaires also don't kill and Thad is very much a Legionnaire.

They both keep it quiet. Thad didn't pull that trigger, Meloni did.

[jube-art]

Would you...make more...JJ art? 🥺👉👈

sure! lmao :) a fic snippet under the cut!

Cassie breathes out, the fire inside of her makes it cloud up in the cold mountain air. She grounds herself, trying to think back on all that her Aunty Diana taught her, about containing her anger, about keeping things manageable and not lashing out at the people around her.

It’s not Cassies fault that anger runs in her family.

Deemed just a bit too ‘rough’ for the regular teen titans, she’s been given an address to go to for a team meet-up that would “fit her deposition” better.

(That the teen titans wouldn’t have a name attached too.)

It’s an old Justice League base, up here in upstate New York just outside of the Catskills and she’s just a little early. Not terribly early she doesn’t think, just about fifteen minutes from the official meeting time.

She knocks on the disguised door, the official teen titans stationary in her hands tell her exactly how to knock and where.

Sure enough, the rock wall opens up, creaking with disuse, yawning a gaping doorway into darkness.

“This is a bad idea.” She tells herself, the words make more of that cloudy air puff around her, but she moves forward into the dark anyway.

The first thing she sees is Nightwing.

Robin is here too, helping him with something just out of sight.

Involuntarily she relaxes a bit. Nobody doesn’t know who Nightwing is, he was the one who handed her the little piece of paper in the first place, telling her to come here. “Hello?”

“Oh!” Nightwing turns, shoving what he was working on down underneath the table. Robin keeps working. “Wondergirl! You’re a little early! Hello!”

Oh god. Did Cassie mess up? Should she have arrived on time? Damn it, mom, she should have left when she wanted to-!

“Welcome!” Nightwing instantly is all charming smiles and a brilliantly handsome face. He moves forward, leaving Robin to continue what he was doing. “I’m glad you decided to take a chance on this little project we wanted to start up.”

Cassie really didn’t have much of a choice did she? It was either this last ditch sort of reject project that she had no information on or it was ‘don’t be a hero’

“We’re just waiting on the other three to be ready.” Nightwing is still talking, still with that relaxed tone and smile. “They should be getting here soon. Do you want some water? We have cookies too-“

Robin jerks back. “Don’t bite me you little shit!”

Nightwing’s smile freezes on his face, awkward. “Ignore him. He’s getting one of the participants on board for this little subgroup.”

Cassie regrets everything. She’s gonna be working with somebody who bites? Who bites like a fucking child? Who is feral?!

Cassie’s all for fighting, all for war, but she’s also all for strategy, it’s in her blood. It’s apart of her power. She can’t deal with anything that’s little more than a feral beast-

Robin yanks around, bringing with him-

The boy is Cassie’s age. Black hair, a black mask over his eyes that can be nothing but one of Batman’s sort. He’s got a thick heavy and large cape on, black, going down to his ankles, pushing away from Robin with a sneer.

He’s sort of cute.

Pale face filled with freckles, thin and gaunt, a little taller than most boys Cassie’s age.

Is this- is this the new Robin?!

Cassie’s expectations of the group go way up.

“Hello?” Another voice comes from behind Cassie, causing her to turn and-

Oh my gods!

That’s! That’s Lex Luthor’s son! Dressed sharp in a form fitting leather jacket with skinny jeans and his signature thick sunglasses.

He’s got powers?!

“Ah! Superboy, so glad to see you-“

“I would rather not be called that.” The boy cuts off Nightwing, a sour expression on his face. “I would rather not be associated with that parent.”

Cassie’s mind is getting blown right now. What. What is going on?! Who is on this team?!

“Of course. I understand completely.” Nightwing’s still speaking for the bats. It looks like the older, still in the traditional uniform Robin is maneuvering the new guy to be front and center. “We’ll make a note of that going forward. Is there anything specific that you’d like to be called for now?”

The boy- superman’s son?!- just sort of looks sad now. Now that it’s been brought to attention, Cassie can’t see anybody but a younger version of Superman looking up from a punk’s face. “If I get one, I’ll let you know.”

The older Robin taps out some kind of pattern on Nightwing’s shoulder, and Nightwing taps one backwards onto Robin’s arm. They understand each other perfectly, as the older, traditional Robin goes ahead and leaves, headed to a side room with the label above it ‘Zeta’.

The new, strange, Robin (because who else is this?) sticks himself into Nightwing’s side.

The Superman … child (how?!) cocks his head at the behavior, the new Robin and him get into a weird stand off, eyes wide and unblinking. Creepy.

“Now we only have one more to wait on.” Nightwing tells the group at large. “Then after introductions we’ll discuss sort of what we have in mind for this group moving forward, and training both physically and mentally to help with both working as a team and working on handling what it takes to be a-

The concussive boom from outside makes Cassie’s ears pop. She winces at the sound, so does the kid of Superman

The bat’s both flinch, full body, jerking away physically from the noise.

The little new Robin way, way worse than Nightwing. Clinging onto Nightwing physically, off the ground and like a koala.

“That’s gonna be Impulse.” Nightwing sighs. “I thought Flash told me that they had stopped breaking the sound barrier-“

He sort of mumbles off, and the group waits a few beats in strange silence. When nothing happens for a bit, Nightwing actually reaches over to the command console and presses a button. “You have to go normal human speed, little dude.”

The group at large waits another second-

Like a flash, sure enough there’s two little wisps of a human being, one with red hair, one with blond. The two of them are wearing the same outfit, white and red, and are vibrating so hard that they are hard to get the details of.

Cassie can only see the chain that connects their wrists, tugging towards one or the other with every twitch.

It hits Cassie then, just how wild this is.

In the room right now is some powerful players, more powerful than Cassie was originally expecting when the teen titans had told her that with her … anger issues she might not be a good fit for the Titans name. Cassie expected to be thrown to the side, mad as hell, not put on a team that consisted of only power players. Batman, Superman, Flash, Wonder Woman, you couldn’t get bigger names.

And here they all sit, in some run down old base cave in New York, waiting to be told that they’re going to finally be a team.

[k0rt-j3st3r]

fun fact: it is actually cold as balls where I'm at so I've decided to make Thad suffer with me

I imagine he'd be just as intolerant to this weatger as I am <3 <3

(close ups underneath cut)

[catwithpartyhat]

Are there theories on why Daryl never has his hair up as it gets longer? Like is it so greasy it just slides out? Does he feel he doesnt deserve a hair tie??

[gnomewithalaptop]

two hummingbirds in the eye of a hurricane

G | 6.1k | Helen Claiborne & Thaddeus Thawne

Mistaken Identity, Character Study, Comic Event: Infinite Crisis

Summary:

Helen raises an eyebrow. “Just for future reference,” she says wryly, “I will always prefer you knocking on the door to you hiding under my porch like some kind of two-bit supervillain. Got it?” -- Midway through the end of the world, Helen Claiborne finds a speedster hiding under her porch. It's not the one she's expecting.

Written as part of the 2025 DC Rare Character Exchange!

--

It’s only as she's approaching the porch steps that she finally sees it: illuminated in the dark, hidden inside the hollow crawlspace under the stairs, reflecting back the beam of her flashlight like a cat’s—a pair of golden, half-lidded eyes.

Immediately, Helen shrieks and rears back, bat raised over her head. Almost as quickly though, she registers the rest of the picture—the limp, half-wet brown hair curling around his ears, the tiny press of a mouth above a too-big chin, the dull shine of the goggles, pushed over his forehead.

The bat falls to the ground with a dull thump. Helen can’t bring herself to care.

Because that’s Bart Allen staring at her from under her porch stoop.

As if in a dream, she takes a step forward.

Immediately, Bart scooches back.

“Hey, nonono,” Helen says, frantic nonsense erupting from her mouth as she falls to her knees. “Shh, no, it’s just me, you’re okay. It’s just Helen.”

She aims her flashlight down through the gaps between the steps, careful to angle the beam of it so it isn’t shining in Bart’s eyes. It just so happens that this manages to place it directly on the black-soled treads of his boots.

Something about that observation makes her brain stutter for a moment, before she rationalizes it to herself. Impulse had always had white soles, sure, but Bart hasn’t worn his old costume in months. And she hasn’t really gotten the chance to study the new Kid Flash gear now that she’s not the one running his clothes through the laundry every few days.

Black boots are probably just in this time of year. That’s all.

[Continued on AO3]

[inertia-quotes]

dehradun days

you meet them for the first time,

knowing it's probably the last.

might as well make the most of this time,

since life comes at you fast.

you find the strangest of signals

in the no-network zones.

cross-tent communication with folks,

just rambling about the unknown.

there's the warmth of shared laughter,

that carries you through freezing nights,

and you look up at the flickering stars,

to finally see things in a different light.

and at 11,000 ft above sea level

you finally reach the peak,

just to realise the joy was in the journey,

and the friends you made that week.

you'll visit caves & splendid cafes,

and remember the city in mere parts,

but years later, you'll still tell everyone,

how dehradun captured your heart.

[cryptocism]

next chapter fit lets goo

[doomspiral]

Reading ur religious texts (whichever) can also be fic research if ur totally insane

[anj-does-stuff]

Inertia

Chapter 1 || Jujutsu Kaisen

Hi hello there I come with offerings of SatoSugu angst

Rating: Mature Characters: Geto/Gojo, Shoko Tags: Cursed Spirit Gojo Satoru, Came Back Wrong, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better (but it does get better) Warnings: Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Some Body Horror Summary: Before him was a writhing mass of formless energy, liquid in the air and shapeless like the sea. A tar-like black substance thinned out like a blanket, inspecting the mess it made of its victim. In its endless void, lightning licked its edges and fractal colour reflected back. It reminded Suguru of— It didn't. It wasn't. A shudder thrummed through the substance hovering over Tōji Fushiguro's remains. The cursed spirit noticed him. Rolls of black fluid fanned out, then tightened back in. It swirled and compressed, taking on a humanoid silhouette, featureless as a shadow. Suguru felt eyes on him where there were none, the aching chill of being perceived by a threat. Then they opened across its face. Six hauntingly blue eyes. “Suguru.” It recognized him. It said his name with Satoru’s voice. OR: Gojo becomes a curse, and Geto learns to live with it.

[novemberdevils]

do you have any little teaser snippets of chapter 5 you want to share?

uh here's an evil one i just wrote. arguably some implied nsfw. if you know the context

But instead of saying anything sane or normal, Jack opens his mouth and says, “I wanna cash in.” Nico barely looks at him. “What?” “I want a picture of you like this,” Jack says. It sounds completely ridiculous now that he’s said it all out loud, but— “You owe me. From Imola.” For a moment, Nico just blinks at him. Then, “Where’s your phone?”

ha. ha ha. i thought about picking a more Emotional snippet but this is funnier. monaco is a great race guys

[endollvors]

Thad, Billy, and Doing it by Yourself

Concept: Post-Mercury Falling Thad strikes out to become a solo hero. If he can become a better hero than Impulse, without Impulse's help, that's still replacing Impulse like he planned. Fawcett City has spotty outside reporting and no Flash presence. So no one will even be able to see him. It's perfect. Or, it would be if 30th century records were reliable. Captain Marvel has this Speed of Mercury thing. Billy just wants to make friends with a rare visiting hero.

The first clue should probably be the convenience store robbers that keep having their guns disappear out of their hands. It’s kinda funny? Billy doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be a joke so he tries to keep Captain Marvel professional while the current robber rants about how she was holding it and it was just gone. He says something about necessity and hurting other people and asks her to look at the teenager who’d been manning the register and ask if she really thinks that two hundred eighty bucks is really worth pointing a gun at him. Guns can kill people. The kid grimaces at them, but the robber looks guilty, so he’s going to call it a win. He doesn’t think about it much until later.

Billy is surveying the city when he notices. He doesn’t technically need to, Speed of Mercury and all, but it’s the afternoon and he’s settled into summer routine enough to know he doesn’t have anywhere to be until the evening. It’s not enough time for him to leave to do anything interesting, not if he wants to get back to Fawcett in time. And he needs to be back in Fawcett in time. Homelessness is like that, a lot of hurry up and wait on very rigid schedules. Besides, Captain Marvel doesn’t really get hungry, so he’s patrolling. It keeps him busy.

The point is that he sees the green and black blur enter the bank in main almost the instant after the alarm goes off. The wisdom of Solomon tells him to wait and see what’s happening before going in like he’d planned. Ten seconds pass, moving slower than usual with Billy’s focus on the bank. The alarm turns off, which, it shouldn’t. Billy’s stopped a robbery in that bank before and it takes ages to shut off the alarm, because they need a couple of managers with keys and codes and to make a call to the police station. Billy’s actually apologized and left early once the robbers were dealt with before, because the noise was getting to his enhanced senses. He tilts his head and squints at the shadow moving behind the door. Another five seconds pass.

The black and green blur reappears, more clearly now that Billy’s paying attention. It’s a teen, hero? He’s not carrying anything with him, but he’s also not anyone Billy’s ever heard of. He looks like a Flash, maybe. With the speed and the thingies on the mask. His hair’s short and a reddish brown, but it’s growing back in blonde at the roots. Billy’s kind of excited. There aren’t a lot of outside teen heroes that pass through Fawcett. Well, even if he is a villain, it’s probably for the best for Billy to introduce himself. Well, not himself. Captain Marvel. 

“Hey!” He calls, loud enough to be heard, and also probably fast enough for the fast kid to notice him. His voice sounds strange to his own ears. He’s not used to using speed like this. He smiles and waves his arms a little wildly, in case he was incomprehensible. The teen’s head snaps towards the roof Billy’s sitting on and his eyes catch on him immediately. It wasn’t like he was hiding after all, with the crimson suit and the white cape, and the lightning bolt. Oh, and the waving. Billy remembers to stop waving. What little Billy can see of his expression goes all scrunched up. As they stare at each other for another second that’s probably subjectively longer. Then the teen bolts. Billy wastes just enough time being surprised to lose him entirely when he runs through a wall. Cool.

Billy manages to stop in time to not break the wall the green and black speedster went through and pokes it a little to make sure it’s real. He means, it was last week, but weirder things have happened in Fawcett. Once he’s sure the bricks are all still bricks, he backtracks a couple blocks to try and check out what happened at the bank. Investigate, maybe? Billy’s not Batman. He’s not going to find scuff marks and psychically intuit the whole situation, or whatever Batman does at crime scenes. But he can talk to people, at least. Try and find out if anyone knows what happened with the alarm. Billy puts his hands on his hips. Well, turns out the alarm went off because someone was trying to rob the bank. Probably the guys tied up in the corner. Also, nobody knows more than that, because teller Missy thanked him for stopping the robbery when he showed up and Billy definitely did not do that.

It’s kind of fun to be in a bank that’s not being robbed. Well, Billy’s eyes slant over to the pile of robbers in the corner. Not actively being robbed. The alarm isn't going off and nobody is upset, he’ll count it. It’s a novelty. Captain Marvel doesn’t have much reason to be at a bank, and Billy Batson has even less. He smiles at Missy and asks her to tell him what happened before he showed up, and she launches into the story, how they showed up, waited in line, and then they all pulled out guns and started yelling. Normal bank robbery stuff, she says, and Billy has to stifle the urge to giggle. When Missy starts talking about how the robbers just disappeared for a second before they noticed that they were all on the floor, Billy wonders if he should tell her about the kid- no not kid, Billy hates being called a kid, because he’s a Superhero, and he was older than him anyway. The mean green teen machine. Missy says that her manager thinks the robbers sabotaged the alarm. Billy, does not think that, but it’s been almost an hour, and he has places to be. So he smiles and tells her good luck and makes his way toward the soup kitchen.

He doesn’t see the green speedster for a while, but then again, he’s mostly been hanging around the bank until they fix the alarm. It was actually pretty easy, just a few disconnected wires, but they had to wait for someone to come open up all the panels to actually get to them. He’d think that the guy had left the city if it wasn’t for the fact the disappearing gun thing is still happening. 

Almost a week later, Billy’s patrolling again when he catches a glimpse of green out of the corner of his eye. He floats over, and pops up above the lip of the roof the speedster is sitting on. “You cut your hair!” Billy says, barely keeping himself from pointing at the blond buzzcut. He smiles even as the teen startles and throws something at him with a yelp. He decides to let it hit him instead of dodging. Anything going that fast can do a lot of damage, and Billy, at least, is invulnerable. He moves with the impact as a cellophane wrapped turkey club splatters against his chest before he can register what it is and try to catch it instead. He frowns at the mayonnaise and tomato oozing down his suit. He hates wasting food, and this was probably the guy’s lunch. He turns back toward him with an apologetic smile only to see an empty rooftop.

He sees the speedster again that afternoon, while trying to beat the heat by flying in slow circles over the city. “Third time’s the charm.” He says to himself, before dropping a couple stories to hover above the pavement and keep pace with what, based on the effort he seems to be putting in, is to him, a light jog.

“Hey, sorry for startling you, and about your sandwich. Good work with that bank robbery. It was really cool. Are you new? What’s your name?” He gets out all in one breath, before the guy can run away again. The speedster stops on a dime to stare at him with his hands raised for a punch and Billy overshoots for a moment before he can get back in the hero’s orbit. There’s a pause, not really a long one, objectively. But enough for Billy to remember that this guy is fast too. Faster than him. “You don’t have to tell me, I just wanted to say thanks.” He adds with a Captain Marvel smile. 

This jerks the teen out of his frozen state and his hands snap down to fist in his lap. His head turns away even though Billy can tell he’s still being watched out of the corner of his eye. Billy gets it, he’s done that before with strange adults too. He dims his smile to a more casual level.

~

Thad knows that leaving the lab was a bad idea. This whole thing is a bad idea. He once again curses the 30th century’s information uploads and looks up at Captain Marvel. He hadn’t known that Fawcett’s superhero had superspeed when he picked the city. He’d had to go back to the lab and research everything after he’d been seen. He’s not fast enough to actually catch Thad, but he keeps showing up and being friendly. It reminds him of– Thad cuts the thought off with practiced ruthlessness. Marvel is only a minor ripple in his plan. He sneers at the man, and he deflates like a balloon, even losing control of his powers enough to sink a few centimeters in the air. Thad would never show that kind of weakness. He stops and lets his hands drop to his sides, flexing and releasing in rhythm as he tries not to attack the hero ruining his scheme. Captain Marvel stops with him and resettles himself to hover cross legged above the pavement in front of him. The anger builds the more that Captain Marvel smiles at him and he crushes it back down.

“Inertia.” He rasps, without really knowing why he’s bothering to answer.

“Oh,” Captain Marvel snaps his fingers and points at nothing in particular. Thad doesn’t turn his back on Captain Marvel to look. “Like the law of motion? Cuz’ you’re fast? That’s such a cool name. Did you pick it yourself?”

“No.” He says, flat and final. 

“I like it.” He says, like that matters at all, and holds out his hand for a shake even though they’re too far apart to actually touch each other. “I’m Captain Marvel.”

“I know.” Thad says, and doesn’t acknowledge the outstretched hand past evaluating its potential as a threat: Low. After a second Captain Marvel lets it drop into his lap, looking almost dejected. Thad finds himself briefly missing Ivan when the man pouts. He ignores the thought. 

~

“I don’t need your help.” He snarls, and for a moment he’s not talking to Captain Marvel in the stagnant heat of Fawcett City’s streets. He’s looking at the emaciated figure of Max Mercury and being buffeted by the speedstorm.

“I just thought,” Captain Marvel starts and drops his head a little while he fidgets with his hands. It’s a tactical disadvantage for him to take eyes off a target like that. “Fawcett doesn’t get a lot of outside heroes.”

[mj-says-hey]