praevii

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Otto wants to call her "Squiggles" or "fellow lesbian, " both with a dead serious face.

"I uh-" Liv stifled a laugh. "I don't hate them."

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GIVE  MY  MUSE  A  NICKNAME  /  PET  NAME.

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I promise I'm not dead

this semester is kicking my ass but I should have time to be on here after :'0

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"I wish upon you the fleas of a thousand camels, Olivia." (he does care, he's just a pissy baby)

"Otto my friend, if even one flea got into my hair I'd rub my head all over you." She gave him a little headbutt as demonstration.

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@nuclearms @dieamonster OCK SQUAD

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sensesdialed​:

  PRACTICALLY DANGLING ON AN EDGE for longer than he might have realized by now, Peter had been so close to his moments of respite— he should have known it would be ripped away in an instant. He should have expected this, too, with anyone who might have ever held a grudge against the young hero showing up again to catch in on the world’s newfound hatred for him. Except, the sudden fight with her IGNITES something in his chest, all the frustration and anger he’s held in for the sake of his role as a savior or desperate escape from those out for him, it runs through his veins, boiling, scorching. “Yeah, jet-lag’s the problem, totally-” He responds back, yet without his usual tone, run into the ground by sheer exhaustion. Focus remains on fighting off the arms, muddled mindset leaving it difficult to focus on the way he usually reigns in his strength ( if he uses enough, he just might be able to break the tech ), and although he stammers for a moment at the sight of the buzzsaws, Peter quickly ducks, a roll away to avoid the blades before popping up to his feet and sending a series of rapid-fire webs to hopefully slow their violent movements. “Right, yeah, trying to kill a teenager when the world’s already out for him, that’s a normal and mentally stable plan if I’ve ever heard one!” A pause, before he makes his next move, trying to get closer for hand-to-hand. “I’m NOT going to let this end the way you want it to-” 

Beneath her chipper exterior and the rush of being in a good fight for the first time in a while, Doc Ock was just a bit irritated that Peter had come back when he did. If he’d stayed away for just a few more days, progress on her latest plan could’ve taken a larger step forward. The latest component was still being constructed, and she was supposed to be working on it right now. Spider-Man probably wouldn’t let her steal the parts she needed anyway, just because they were a tiny bit illegal. So yes, she loved to fight him, but part of her also could’ve stood to have him stay out of her hair for a little bit longer. 

“Focus, Peter!” She scolded him like a disapproving teacher, still dissatisfied with his performance, the lack of his snappy quips that made fighting him fun. Doc Ock managed to dodge most of the webs, though one of her silicone arms was caught and pinned down. It was more efficient to focus on using the other three for now, rather than pause to try to free one of them. Another web caught the blade of a saw and it buzzed angrily in protest, the mechanism jamming with artificial spider silk. With a little growl of annoyance, she stepped closer and lashed out with her fist. So that’s how he wants to do things. She was happy to oblige. She laughed in response. He thought he was the first one to call her crazy? It just made her more determined to prove everyone wrong. With her two free arms, she stretched into the air as far as her pinned arm allowed and threw herself downwards, aiming another punch at Spider-Man. “You might not have a choice, Peter!” 

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sensesdialed​:

   AS IF THIS ENTIRE SITUATION WASN’T ALREADY overwhelming enough, of course another fight with Doc Ock just had to break out— forced to run from those seeking him out for a crime he didn’t even commit, labeled a cruel murderer at every turn, Peter doesn’t know what to DO. Exhaustion follows his every move, and with the stress only piling up, something’s clearly OFF. He quickly ducks to avoid another hit from her arms, gritting his teeth— everything is hazy, he can barely even get himself to quip, and most concerning is the anger that starts to bubble up in his chest. “I’m telling you, I NEVER did that! I– I never killed him, I didn’t cause anything!” Except he could’ve PREVENTED this, right? “Do we seriously have to do this NOW? The whole world’s out for me, isn’t that like a PERFECT vacation time for you?” Between the words, he uses a line of webbing to dodge her attack before pulling himself forward for an attempted punch of his own.

Peter ought to be thanking her. The world’s attitude towards Spider-Man had changed, but she still thought of him as an old foe. She was almost as happy to see him as she would’ve been to see a friend, albeit in a fiercer and more murderous way. It had been boring without him around. “It’s okay if you did! I’ve killed people too. It gets easier.” Peter was definitely off his game. He gave the impression that he wanted to fall into bed instead of fighting. “Are you that jet-lagged, Peter?” Doc Ock dodged the hit, if narrowly enough to feel it pass. “More like the perfect time to work.” She’d already set the wheels of her latest plan in motion while he was gone, but Olivia Octavius was no simple schemer. Her plans required, well, planning, and time, and dedication, all of which she had. And if she was required to beat up Spider-Man in the process, so much the better. She aimed two arms at him again, a distraction while the upper arms reached into the flat compartment at the back of her harness and came out armed with buzzsaws.

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whatimprojecting​:

      This is definitely… weird. It’s definitely weird, but Dr. Octavius seems casual, receptive to his being here after the first big moment of surprise. 

      Robbie walks further into the room, setting the bag aside without looking away from her face. It isn’t suspicion– he trusts her, he considers her a friend –but he can’t help trying to get a feel for the room; she didn’t want him here. If he’s overstepping, he’d like to know. 

      The problem with that is, he’d also really like to know about the ports. He doesn’t want to be shooed away. 

      ‘If you promise to keep it a secret I guess you can watch’ isn’t the dazzling invitation he’s hoping for, but it’s permission regardless. Curiosity has been given the reins against the best wishes of his nerves. He’s about to get annoying. He deserves to, after she took this project on the road without him and made all of these upgrades. 

      Dr. Octavius is hiding her back– He only got a glimpse of them, which means that Robbie has to ask, “How do the ports attach? Are they under your skin? Is there a plate, or are you only relying on the muscle?” 

      Wait-wait-wait– There’s a more pressing issue here.

      “Are you sure this will even work? No offense, boss, but don’t you think getting four implants on an ‘I hope’ is jumping the gun?” 

Maybe she shouldn’t tell him every single bit of information pertaining to how she got here, how she developed the neural interface with which she hoped to control the arms. No, she should keep her cards close to her chest until she can patent them- but, on the other hand, Robbie is just a kid, and she knows him pretty well. 

Dr. Octavius thought it over very quickly and decided she could let him in on a few secrets- she’d tell him just enough to answer some of his questions. It was simply too hard to resist the urge to share this innovation. 

“They’re primarily subcutaneous, yes, but the attachment is external. They work independently- in case something happened, I wouldn’t want all of them to be damaged just because one is. Especially since they’re attached to my spine.” Olivia gave a little laugh. “Indirectly, of course.”

 It’d still hurt like hell if something ripped one of the arms out, but there’d be much less chance of a permanent spinal cord injury. That was a high priority for her, naturally. She really liked having a working nervous system. 

“Reasonably,” she answered, bright and cheerful as ever as she readied the arms to attach to the cybernetic ports in her back. “If the outcome was certain it wouldn’t be an experiment.” She knew the tech was sound- she’d already staked her life on that and she’d survived. Everything was set to work like a charm. All that was left was to put it all together. Dr. Octavius’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. “You ready? It’s time to make history.”

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@sensesdialed​​​

“Too slow, Peter!” Doc Ock rolled in midair, her arms flowing in a graceful arc to catch her as she dodged. Spider-Man was holding his own, sure, but she could tell something was off. Their first fight since he’d gotten back to the states and he was going to give less than 100%? That wouldn’t do. “What’s the matter?” Two of her arms lashed out, the other two supporting her as she circled him. Her laugh was soft, her tone pleasant, as if she were discussing the weather with an old friend. Little Peter Parker a murderer- who would’ve thought? To be honest, Doc Ock didn’t believe it, but the important thing was the world did. “Don’t be shy,” she teased, aiming a strike at his neck. “Show me the murderer everyone’s talking about.” 

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“Yeah, those are muscles I guess.” 

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ok pinned post time

so I'm pretty much a full-time student which means I don't always have time to post stuff and I'm not great at starting threads

however I do check this blog every day so unless I say otherwise I'm available to rp and you can always hit me up!

basically you might not always see me on the dash but I'm probably still here

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The person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dashboard.

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“Collider? I hardly know ‘er!” 

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i am once again wishing for an aaron davis to be liv's crime friend

honestly I'd kill to have any of the sinister six to rp with

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whatimprojecting​:

      The doc was back, which meant that Robbie was happier to be at work than he had been in the month-and-change she’d been gone, and then part-time. Sure, the other techs at the lab were nice (and they’d kept him just as busy), but with Dr. Octavius’ work Robbie could really see the progress in real-time– and that timetable was much quicker than on other projects. It was nice to feel so useful, so intelligent. 

      Diffusing whatever genuine emotion he’d just expressed; Dr. Octavius was also one of only three techs who could tolerate his recurring ‘uh-oh; I think I dropped our very expensive equipment and I am looking very pathetic about it’ prank, and he felt like his distressed face was falling out of practice in her absence. There was really nothing worse than a stagnant stand-up routine. She was lucky to have avoided it while she was recovering at home. 

      The receptionist he’d spoken to on his way in didn’t know just where to find her, but as her assistant Robbie considered himself an expert on Dr. Octavius’ regular haunts. He’d stuffed his things into his locker, pulled on his coat, and to the great relief of doctors without their own interns he hardly spoke to anyone while he searched. With that delightful little spring in his step it didn’t take him long at all to find an occupied lab– god bless expensive modern interior design for semi-translucent walls –and though he knocked Robbie wasted no time before he opened the door and stepped through. 

      “It’s me, Dr. O! And I brought–” As soon as he’d pulled the paper bag out of his coat he forgot that he had it and that it’d mattered, because in front of him the good doctor was trying to attach the prosthetics she had designed to some flashy new ports on her back, and the notion sort of topped surprise donuts, “… Contraband.” 

“Robbie!” Dr. Octavius’s look of surprise quickly morphed into a bright smile with only a hint of nervousness. This latest venture had been a secret, at least to a degree- she was okay with her employees knowing, in fact it was probably better in the long run if they did- but outside of Alchemax it was strictly confidential. For now. It wasn’t illegal to attach cybernetic implants to your spine, but she anticipated some blowback when the news reached the public. Certain people who didn’t share her vision for the future would probably throw around words like ‘crazy’. For that reason, she’d prefer to keep it hush-hush for now, and not let any reporters get their hands on the story. 

“Hey kid.” There was no point pretending he hadn’t seen her about to attach an arm to her spine, but she still turned so that her back wasn’t visible, leaning against a lab table. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She eyed the bag he was holding. “What is that, lunch? Technically allowed in the building, but not so much in the labs, y’know?” Not that she really cared at the moment. Might as well address the elephant in the room. 

“So... guess why I’ve been out of the lab for a while.” Olivia scratched her neck and gave a little laugh. “It was going to be a surprise.” Robbie’s visit was also surprising, to say the least. She had temporarily suspended internships with her directly, but he’d decided to drop by himself. It was almost sweet, assuming it was because he’d been worried about her, but mostly it was inconvenient. 

“I, uh. I found a way to control the arms more precisely. Or at least I hope I did. I was just about to do a test run.” She smiled widely now, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses as she pressed her hands together. “I’m kinda keeping it on the down-low right now, but if you promise to keep it a secret I guess you can watch.” 

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for a while I was worried I was losing muse for liv but it's coming back

which is great but also unfortunate because I also kinda want to make a third rp blog-

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@whatimprojecting​

It felt good to be back in the lab. 

Sure, she’d been back since surgery, but only part-time. She’d huffed and grumbled whenever the pain in her back was too much, frustrated to no end to be defeated by her own body. For the first couple weeks she’d been out of commission entirely, lying at home on her stomach and reading cheesy old sci-fi novels. It had been fun for a while, but the lab was her true passion. Finally, finally, her muscles had healed enough that one of her MD friends who had helped with the surgery had cleared her to try out the arms.

Olivia was alone in one of the larger rooms with the sealed container that held the latest version of her cybernetic arms. She laughed to herself as she opened the crate, giddy with anticipation as she lifted coils of silicone as carefully as you would hold a child. Once they were laid out on the workbench she slipped off her lab coat, revealing the old cycling jersey she’d put on underneath. She’d cut holes in the back to expose the four circular ports now embedded in her skin, connected subcutaneously to her spinal cord. She was about to connect the first arm when she heard something outside the door. “Who’s out there?”