#anyway i'm gonna post this and not look back

[katiascraft]

﹙LH44﹚ ── ❝ but then you happened ❞

── .✦ winter break, 2025

f1gossipgirl just made a post

liked by user23 , user67 , user1 and 24,678 other users

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED! Formula one driver Lewis Hamilton was seen out and about in New York City next to some friends and a mysterious girl. Sources told us they were kissing and showing a lot of pda! Unfortunately, the source couldn’t take any more pictures. What do we think about this? Seems lewis it’s ready for date life again!

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── .✦

summary - how you went from friend of a friend to lovers with the love of your life <3

warnings - age gap +10years. Reader’s on her twenties and lewis almost forty. Just use your imagination along the ride! also a bit suggesting but nothing explicit at all. I used many different girls from Pinterest.

blog masterlist

¡ tap to continue reading ू♡ ࿔ ۪

── .✦ silverstone, 2024

yourusername made a post

liked by yourbff, yourbrother, georgerussell and 1,432 other users

yourusername: so I’ve just learnt that my brother’s bestie regina. I mean, George. Drive cars in circles so I went to one of his races and this guy won the race and he was supercool. A lot of cars chasing each other with pretty handsome drivers and they have radios and I said don’t fuck it up loser to George! Insane! And I drank champagne and met a daddy called toto and his wife and I made a friend called Carmen. And now I know how cars go vroom vroom and yeah, better luck next time George! You can win! (I’m afraid you won’t anyway). So I learnt a lot this week. It was super productive I recommend! Also, anyone knows the @ of the guy that won??? It was George’s team mate (wich I didn’t know there were teams). But can’t remember his name so any help is welcomed! If you see this super kind and sweet guy, please talk to me I don’t bite ;)

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georgerussell: I feel insulted in SO MANY ways

⤷ yourbrother: maybe because you were ????

⤷ georgerussell: and you are not gonna defend your brother from another mother????

⤷ yourusername: i'm his sister

⤷ georgerussell: well, he didn’t choose you but he did indeed choose me so I'M SUPERIOR

⤷ yourusername: and then you want me not to HATE you

⤷ yourbrother: just fuck off both of you

⤷ yourusername: it’s MY comment section

⤷ georgerussell: it’s HER comment section

⤷ yourusername: stop copying me

⤷ georgerussell: you stop copying me

⤷ alexalbon: wasn’t I supposed to be the one fighting with you and not HER

⤷ yourusername: excuse me? Who tf are YOU?

⤷ alexalbon: you said my hair was disgusting

⤷ yourusername: OH YES!!! I like you. I recommend you to use elvive because you are worth it babe!

⤷ alexalbon: I don’t know if I should cry or feel loved

⤷ georgerussell: die

⤷ yourbrother: things are getting out of hand

landonorris: nice to meet you y/n, welcome to the madness!! He is @/lewishamilton . The best driver in the world at the moment!!

⤷ oscarpiastri: actually☝🏻🤓 that is max

⤷ maxverstappen: facts are not factering

⤷ yourusername: who are all of you???

⤷ oscarpiastri: im the one you called polite cat or cutie pie didn't hear you well

⤷ maxverstappen: i’m the one you said you didn’t like :)

⤷ landonorris: i'm the love of your life

⤷ yourusername: oooh you were the norizz kid!! Just to let you know I pucked 🩷

⤷ landonorris: I don’t like you.

⤷ yourusername: I thought you loved me?

totowolf: it was nice meeting you y/n! You’re welcomed anytime!

⤷ yourusername: if I could I would have stayed forever!

⤷ georgerussell: NO THANK YOU

francolapinto: you can look at his @ at the Mercedes page babe @/mercedesamgf1

⤷ yourusername: thanks all rizz kid <3

⤷ landonorris: now I hate you

── .✦

mercedesamgf1 made a post

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername , charlesleclerc and 1,432,567 other users

mercedesamgf1: THE GOAT IS BACK ! Congratulations @/lewishamilton !

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carmenmmundt: @/yourusername

francolapinto: @/yourusername

oscarpiastri: @/yourusername

⤷ yourusername: we’re gonna be besties I just know it <3

⤷ yourbrother: I told you he is too old

⤷ yourusername: I just wanna look at him leave me alone it’s my life

⤷ georgerussell: “look” more like “touch”

⤷ yourusername: then you ask yourself why I don’t like you

⤷ georgerussell: I actually don’t

⤷ carmenmmundt: he loves you

⤷ georgerussell: CARMEN UR SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY TEAM

yourusername: @/lewishamilton congrats champion! Was great meeting you <3 hope I can bump into you again and spill more beer in your shirt!

⤷ lewishamilton: @/yourusername it was nice to meet you! You’re welcome anytime!

⤷ yourusername: to the garage or your heart?

⤷ yourbrother: WHAT

francolapinto: a mi me gustan mayores, de esos que llaman señores 🎶 @/yourusername

⤷ yourusername: ok now you’re annoying.

user234: am i the only one aware they are all fighting here and lewis is reading everything ??????

── .✦ monza, 2024

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED ! formula one driver Lewis Hamilton has arrived to Italy this morning along with model Cindy Kimberly! We don’t know yet if they are dating or why they came together.

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user888: I don’t like her.

user753: CINDY???? REALLY???

user638: he’s just a man

user873: how shitty comments for real 🙄

francolapinto: @/yourusername

⤷ yourusername: so depressed now 😭

⤷ francolapinto: you lost the battle

⤷ yourusername: I made him laugh so much I though bro fell in love 😭

⤷ yourbff: babe stop embarrassing yourself in front of the entire world please

⤷ user972: WHO IS THIS GIRL WHY SHE KNOWS FRANCO AND WHY SHE WANNA DATE LEWIS

⤷ user2: everybody wants to date lewis

⤷ user23: i think she’s a friend of George and Carmen

⤷ user89: yeah Carmen posted her, apparently they know each other for a long time now

user3: FRANCO JUST CONFIRMED THEY ARE IN FACT DATING

── .✦

@/lewishamilton started following you.

── .✦

yourusername made a post

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, magui_corceiro and 784 other users

yourusername: this weekend I came prepared but not as I should cos monza you were insane! Amazing weekend with amazing people creating a lot of memories <3 congrats @/charlesleclerc I cried my eyes out!

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alexandramsaintlux: you’re so cute!! Glad to meet you girl!

⤷ yourusername: omg queen I already LOVE YOU

georgerussell: can’t believe I’m on the dump 🥹

⤷ yourusername: I can delete you

⤷ georgerussell: I love you too

lewishamilton: 🖤🖤🖤

⤷ yourusername: omg the cute super kind and sweet guy just noticed me!! im dead my spirit it’s talking

⤷ lewishamilton: you’re the nice one

⤷ yourusername: 🥹

⤷ georgerussell: you’re stealing my man

⤷ yourusername: was he ever yours? Heard he had a chick

⤷ georgerussell: he didn’t. He had me until you appeared.

⤷ yourusername: you invited me and no one can resist my charm

⤷ georgerussell: lol chill ur not Franco

⤷ yourusername: i’m better 😍

⤷ francolapinto: no one can beat me sorry

⤷ lewishamilton: oh she did bro

⤷ yourusername: omg 🥰

⤷ yourbrother: this is disgusting

⤷ yourusername: be GONE

charlesleclerc: ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user75: fav part of this weekend is this comment section for sure

── .✦ Las Vegas, 2024

yourusername made a post

yourusername: las vegas baby you were A M A Z I N G! Brother won 1000 extra so i'm able to eat now for the rest of the month! I'm so happy :)

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francolapinto: I HAD A CONCUSSION

⤷ yourusername: I didn’t yay!

georgerussell: AND I WON

⤷ yourusername: no one cares! Max is champion!!! 🥳🥳

georgerussell: I WON I WON I WON I WON I BEAT LEWIS

⤷ yourusername: no one can beat him. It is a shitty car.

⤷ mercedesamgf1: 🤨

⤷ yourusername: I won’t apologize

⤷ georgerussell: I WON WITH THAT CAR

lewishamilton: we should hung out sometime! You look good in that motorbike

⤷ yourusername: whenever you want sir. I must confess i’m really good at riding 😛😉

⤷ yourbrother: oh lord burn my eyes please I beg you

oscarpiastri: charles and I need some extra money to eat too

⤷ yourusername: you’re millionaires

⤷ oscarpiastri: we want to be humble.

landonorris: WHY HE GOT A PIC AND I DIDNT I BOUGHT YOU CHIKEN NUGGETS AND BURRITOS

⤷ yourusername: bc he didn’t think he had a chance with me

⤷ landonorris: EVIL

⤷ yourusername: you love me

⤷ landonorris: I hate you.

lewishamilton: red is your color

⤷ yourusername: I think I’ll go to Ferrari with you then

⤷ georgerussell: TRAITOR YOU BOTH ARE TRAITORS

⤷ yourusername: go to therapy.

charlesleclerc: exited to have both of you and lend some extra money ☺️

⤷ yourusername: I want lec ice cream

⤷ maxverstappen: leave my boy alone.

⤷ yourusername: rude

⤷ maxverstappen: you said you hated me and that red bull was evil

⤷ yourusername: because it is. Fuck Horner. Fuck the FIA.

⤷ checoperez: I wish I could say it out loud

── .✦ winter break, 2025

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED ! formula one driver Lewis Hal montón was seen out and about in Brooklyn, New York City having dinner with a mysterious girl. Source said they were very lovely to everyone of the staff and fans that asked for pictures and a lot of pda! What do we think? It’s another one night stand for Lewis or actually love has knocked his door?

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user234: how old is she? 20?

⤷ user231: does it really matter?

user765: if he is happy then we should be happy

user09: I NEED TO SEE THE PDA

user21: so Cindy wasn’t it?

user647: I think the girl is @/yourusername they’ve been interacting with each other’s accounts for a few months now

⤷ user1234: anyone knows her age?

⤷ user934: I think she’s on her 20s

⤷ user01: oh god

⤷ user653: I wish it was me tho

user88: I don’t like age gap relationships.

⤷ yourbff: no one cares

── .✦ winter break, 14th of february 2025

lewishamilton made a post

liked by yourusername, yourbff, yourbrother and 2,435,856 other users

lewishamilton: I hope that you get everything you could ask for: the cold side of your pillow, good peppermint tea with cool wind on the drive home with no traffic for miles, for spring to come. I swear I wasn’t looking for much but that’s just when you happened. Happy Valentine’s Day friend of a friend turned into the love of my life ❤️‍🩹

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user653: HE SAID FUCK IT LETS HARD LUNCH

user88: hard lunch is hard lunching

user123: I don’t like age gap relationships but THEM ✨

yourusername: how did I get so lucky? 🥹 you’re heavenly unreal my lewlew. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you with my whole being. Thank you for loving me and making me real happy ❤️‍🩹

⤷ georgerussell: you met him because of me thats how lucky you are. You’re welcome by the way

⤷ yourusername: why you gotta ruin every single moment?

⤷ georgerussell: I just hate when you kiss it makes me uncomfortable

⤷ yourusername: just move on already

⤷ georgerussell: CRUEL

⤷ yourusername: die

yourbrother: I get it now - love you both real much!

⤷ lewishamilton: thanks for accepting me in your family dude I love you

⤷ yourusername: my men 🥹

⤷ landonorris: i’m part of your men

⤷ yourusername: in your dreams maybe

⤷ francolapinto: I am part of her men

⤷ yourusername: yes you are my bestie 🩷

⤷ francolapinto: beaches for life!

⤷ yourusername: beaches for life ♾️

⤷ landonorris: I hate you all.

carmenmmundt: congrats beautiful people 💞

oscarpiastri: the leclercs are invited to the wedding?

alexandramsaintlux: can’t wait to see you both at the paddok showing your love

⤷ yourusername: I can’t wait to see YOU princess

⤷ charlesleclerc: ur already flirting with MY girlfriend after announcing your relationship with MY FRIEND? back up bitch

⤷ lewishamilton: we will talk before practice charles.

⤷ charlesleclerc: SHE STARTED

⤷ yourusername: 😇

── .✦ winter break, f175 event, february 18th of 2025

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 👀❣️ finally the moment everyone was waiting for! The IT couple of formula one just arrived! New Ferrari driver Lewis Hamilton and girlfriend y/n are present at the F175 Live Event in the O2 Arena tonight! They looked so in love and seemed to be having so much fun!

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user234: omg she is SO gorgeous

user23: im so happy for Lewis look at the way he looks at her

user77: get you a man that looks at you the way Lewis looks at y/n

user342: I don’t like them

user934: no one cares! Where are my papaya boys?

user33: she looks so pretty omg Lewis a lucky guy

user184: if they are happy then we should be all happy

user2954: best couple of f1 and I’m sure she’s gonna be the best wag!

user456: she is First Lady of formula one show some respect!

── .✦ melbourne, 2025

yourusername made a post

liked by lewishamilton , zackbrownceo, alexalbon and 967,662 other users

yourusername: as this year’s competition begins, I know I will be at the Ferrari garage supporting my love but my heart will still be black Mercedes 🖤 and that’s because of you Georgie. We can joke and irritate each other on purpose but the friendship we built can conquer it all. Without you I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And I wouldn’t be dating the love of my life. Thank you for being the friend that you are to me and the best of luck for this season! With love, the pain in your ass <3

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carmenmmundt: just for you to know he is crying like a baby

⤷ user234: we are all crying 😭

alexalbon: we love you George

landonorris: we love you George

francolapinto: why this feel as he was dead? He is rich and alive!

⤷ georgerussell: I hate you.

── .✦ THE END

don’t forget to like, reblog and comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

[kashverse]

dad!choso with baby cho at gymnastics practice?

another request sent earlier in feb…i'm sorry for the delay, please enjoy. choso family was first introduced in this post :)

raising four kids was no joke, but you and choso had somehow mastered the art of controlled chaos. your two sets of twins—yes, two, because the kamo genes clearly had a thing for balance—were the living proof of that. the older twin boys were forces of nature, a perfect blend of talent and unshakable confidence, while the younger twin girls had inherited their father’s quiet intensity, which made them intimidating by default.

gymnastics had been a surprise addition to the list of sports your boys excelled at. not that you doubted their ability, but with how aggressively they tackled every other sport—basketball, ice hockey, track—you hadn't expected them to have the grace required for floor routines and balance beams. yet, there they were, flipping through the air with the same ease they had when dunking a basketball.

"not gonna lie, i'm impressed," you mused, watching one of your sons land a perfect double backflip off the vault. "naturally," choso nodded, arms crossed, looking every bit the proud father. "they have the best genes."

"bold statement for a man who can barely do a somersault," you teased.

choso frowned. "i can do a somersault."

"can and should are different things, babe."

meanwhile, the younger kamo twins sat a little ways off, watching their brothers with unreadable expressions. while their brothers were all about high-energy sports, the girls had taken a different approach—more calculated, more deliberate. people had learned quickly not to underestimate them.

"you guys wanna try gymnastics too?" you asked, leaning down slightly. one of them—your youngest by exactly three minutes—gave you a look that could only be described as unimpressed. "no."

"why not? your brothers seem to enjoy it."

"because we like winning," the older twin stated plainly, as if that explained everything. 

choso nodded approvingly. "makes sense."

"that doesn't explain anything," you pointed out.

"we like sports where we can directly beat other people," the younger one elaborated. "team sports. combat sports. gymnastics is great and all, but it’s about individual performance. there's no opponent to crush."

ah. that explained the ice hockey and basketball obsession.

your boys, overhearing the conversation, skated over (yes, skated, because they had been on the ice rink earlier and hadn’t even bothered taking their skates off yet). one of them draped an arm over his sister’s shoulders. "you guys don’t know what you're missing. gymnastics is dope."

"dope, but not violent enough," the older twin girl deadpanned.

"not violent enough? did you miss the part where i could break my neck doing this?" he gestured wildly to the high bars.

"self-inflicted injury doesn’t count," she replied smoothly.

choso covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough to hide his laughter. you, on the other hand, had no such restraint.

"they got you there, bud."

your son scowled but didn’t argue because he knew better. instead, he turned to his brother for backup. "bro, back me up here."

"nah, they got you there."

the betrayed look on his face sent you into another fit of laughter.

"anyway," the younger twin girl continued, unfazed, "i think it's cool you guys do gymnastics. but it’s not for us."

"fair enough," your son conceded, ruffling her hair.

and just like that, the topic was settled. no dramatic arguments, no bickering. just the kamo siblings doing what they did best—being ridiculously talented, slightly terrifying, and an absolutely unstoppable force together.

[hivemuthur]

hihihihi i literally love ur writing smmmm like i actually need it sb. any time you post ik it’s gonna be peak literature 🙂‍↕️

anyhowwww, i wanted to request an arcane fic with a university au viktor x reader where viktor and reader are like academic rivals or wtv and they’re always bickering but viktor rlly wants to be her friend and doesn’t want to be rivals. sooo he tries like anything he can and as reader eventually warms up to him another guy comes along (maybe jayce or smth idk? or it can just be a random) and becomes their friend like almost instantly and viktor is JEALOUSSSS and envious and just ufhfhhffhhfghhf i need that sb.

it can be nsfw or sfw i literally do not care i just need that plot paired with your writing and ik it’s gonna be an absolute masterpiece.

Hey, love! You know what I'm gonna say, right? Sorry for the long wait. This will have 3 chapters, like for real, not like the other one that now is looking more like 5. I'm gonna say a few things got changed here, because I forgot the essence of the request while writing, but the general message is: Viktor is bad at flirting.

Tightrope - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit), frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU

Ch.2. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,9K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: I have a very poor name vocabulary sorry. Here's another Joe, this time he's a dude :v thank you @rennethen for beta reading and bearing through my shit with such grace. One trick pony here we go!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You squint as your eyes scan the list of projects for Heimerdinger’s class. And since the professor is just and fair, like a nice old man who has seen it all, you already know what to expect. But you check anyway.

He wouldn’t pair you—the almost top-of-the-class student, fighting desperately with your feet and elbows to stay there—with someone undeserving. This little annoying thing in the back of your head called hope still glows faintly, last embers about to die as you’ve read through almost all names known to you except for yours.

And as a bucket of cold water gets thrown over the ashen pieces of coal, you find it. And oh—

Of course. Next to it, your least favourite name. Of course, just… great. This is great. This is fine.

The last time you worked together, it ended with a lot of papercuts, pencils flying, and Jayce using notebooks and blackboards as shields—not to mention a tiny explosion because neither of you could agree on proportions.

So, like the responsible classmate you are, you make one final, desperate attempt to convince the nice little man to change your partner. For the sake of public safety and the well-being of everyone who steps foot on Academy grounds.

You are also nice and well-behaved, so even though the door to the classroom is open, you knock on the doorframe before disturbing the professor.

“Ah! I would lie if I said I wasn’t expecting you to show up. Please, come in!” he exclaims, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in sheer existential pain. If he already knows what you want, you already know how this is going to go.

Still, you press forward, stepping inside and clasping your hands behind your back in what you hope is a diplomatic stance. “Professor, I was wondering if—by any chance, purely hypothetically—there’s a possibility to switch partners for the project?”

Heimerdinger folds his arms behind his back, looking up at you with the kind of patient amusement that makes you feel like a child asking for extra dessert before finishing dinner. “Ah, yes. I was almost certain you’d ask that,” he says, nodding sagely. “And before you say anything else, I do hope you won’t drop out of my class if I say no.”

You open your mouth, ready to assure him that you would never be so dramatic—except that’s exactly what you were about to say, just in different words.

Before you can recover, Heimerdinger raises a hand and continues. “This project is worth thirty percent of your final mark,” he states, his voice gentle but firm. “I am, of course, aware of the... tension between you and Viktor.” His moustache twitches slightly, betraying a hint of amusement. “However, I must ensure fairness in all assignments. There will be no one riding on someone else’s back in my class.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Professor, with all due respect, we nearly set a classroom on fire last time—”

“The most beautiful diamonds,” he interjects, tilting his head with a knowing smile, “are shaped under pressure.”

You stare at him, jaw tight. He stares back, completely at ease.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“I—” you gulp on air, searching for words. Finally, a breath of surrender escapes you and you deflate completely, saying only, “Thank you for your time.”

Seeing your sagged chest and fingers grasping the edge of your notebook tightly, Heimerdinger offers you a consolation. “I know I seem ancient to you, child. But trust me when I say, I do remember what it’s like to be young, and a little bit of friendly rivalry can be transformed into something truly groundbreaking. Think Newton and Hooke! Tesla and Edison! Bohr and Einstein! All of them were in quandaries that led to further discoveries!”

While Heimerdinger lists off pairs of rival geniuses, completely different names surface in your mind, unspoken but undeniable. Verlaine and Rimbaud. Love and Cobain. Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. You are convinced those are the dynamics that loom over you and Viktor—just without all the feelings, of course.

And if only you were just competitors, like Bohr and Einstein, things would be so much simpler.

From the very first meeting, Viktor had been cold and reserved, his sharp tongue laced with enough venom to wither anyone foolish enough to challenge him. But if there was one thing you had to do to stay afloat in this sea of STEM sausages, it was dare. And challenge.

You still remember that moment vividly. How you almost stumbled when Jayce introduced you—because gods, he was gorgeous. An angular face that looked carved from marble, warm amber eyes framed by a fall of auburn hair. A boy so unfairly pretty that, had you met him a few years earlier, you would have fallen hard.

Your eyes swept him from head to toe before you slipped your hand into his, and for a single, traitorous moment, something fluttered in your chest. A rush of warmth, unexpected and unfamiliar.

Then you blurted out your name with an embarrassing stutter—

And the magic shattered the second Viktor opened his sweet mouth.

"Charmed," he drawled, but the dryness in his voice suggested the opposite. His gaze flicked over you in a quick, assessing glance before he tilted his head towards Jayce. "Is she another one of your projects, or does she actually know what she’s doing?"

The warmth in your chest evaporated instantly, replaced by a sharp spike of irritation.

Oh. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

With a weak smile, you thank Professor Heimerdinger, and your mind is so out of it that you almost curtsy—which you hastily disguise as an awkward bow. Nearly stumbling over your own feet, you literally fall out of the classroom, colliding with something big and solid.

“Careful there! Hi, oh—” A surprised voice reaches your ears, followed by a strong arm steadying you. “Hi there. Hi, um. You alright?”

Either he’s a halfwit or completely smitten with you, because his articulation leaves much to be desired. Not that you're one to judge, given your current coordination.

“Hi, sorry. Just a small… miscalculation.” You smile sheepishly and extend your hand out of habit, instinctively introducing yourself to your unexpected saviour. After all, that’s how you met Jayce.

“I’m Joe,” he says in one breath, your much smaller hand completely disappearing in his massive palm. “It’s nice to meet you.” He chuckles, a blush blooming across his cheeks—so unabashed, his eyes glinting—and oh.

Nice, you catch yourself thinking in the most obscene, ludicrous way as you zero in on his chest, the tight team T-shirt clinging to it.

“Eh, it’s nice to meet you too.” You grin, nodding, and blink stupidly, batting your eyelashes, not entirely sure what’s happening.

Before you get a chance to unglue the dumbfounded smile from your face and actually say something more, Jayce’s voice rings through the corridor, your name echoing off the walls.

“There you are! Oops! Making new friends? Don’t mind her, this is her love language.”

Jayce—the oblivious Jayce, a man so naïve it would never cross his mind what he is doing to someone you literally just met thirty seconds ago. Mortification is too weak a word to describe what you feel inside.

“Jayce!” You smack his chest and shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t mind him, he’s an ass.”

And as if poor Joe doesn’t have enough on his plate already, another voice bombards him, and you’re certain he’s beginning to regret ever catching you.

“Hello. Are you a new face in Heimerdinger’s class?” Viktor asks, wearing that redundant smirk, his voice stretching into a deliberate, chewy, gross thing that makes you scowl. Just outright cruel.

“Heh, no, I just happened to catch your friend,” Joe answers without missing a beat. “And… I was hoping I could get her number.”

And that just. Does it.

You nod faster than you think, already reaching for his phone, clumping your number in there with sticky, shaky fingers and a stupid blush creeping up your neck. You avoid Jayce’s and Viktor’s eyes, but oh boy, you can feel both pairs drilling into you almost viscerally. Viktor’s especially—those fucking yellow embers burning right through you from under furrowed brows.

You flash Joe one last smile and a very awkward, very hurried, “Call me,” not knowing what has gotten into you. Then you let Jayce sweep you away toward your usual route to the cafeteria, while Viktor strolls behind, full of graceful disdain.

“So, I saw the tables, and…” Jayce clears his throat, chattering into your ear. “I’ve seen the pairs! We can share a lab, I’m paired with Sky!”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh and pat his shoulder—a touch saying more than a thousand words. Words that say how much you can’t wait for another round of throwing objects at Viktor, while Jayce scrambles to catch anything that might hurt Sky.

“Oh, are you not happy about the distribution of projects?” Viktor asks, a small smile playing at his lips.

“The project is fine. The distribution… I’m sure you understand.” You throw him an acidic smirk, your eyes empty of any emotion save for one slow blink. Neural Interface for Prosthetics is actually an incredibly good project—Heimerdinger got you there, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Well, maybe you could be just a little more grateful had he paired you with Jayce or Sky.

“Eh, you will forgive me, but I do not.” Viktor pauses and looks at you—challenging you. And you really hate it, because it works. “I do not wish to have the project jeopardized by something silly, as the topic itself aligns with my interests.”

“I’m sure the feeling is mutual, Viktor. Can we please eat? I am about to eat one of you if we don’t go to the cafeteria right now,” you sigh, exasperated, and your stomach growls to support your claim.

“You can eat me!” Jayce lands face down between your bickering, and you just laugh, completely disarmed.

Once you finally sit down, Viktor simply opens a book next to his tray, ignoring both you and Jayce completely—obviously sulking about something. Jayce, on the other hand, takes massive bites of his sandwich, staring at you intensely, as if willing you to spill the tea. When that doesn’t work, he speaks.

“So… who’s the new guy?” he elbows you playfully and you can barely understand him with his mouth full. But his eyes say it all—he is dying to know.

"Jayce, you’re so transparent I almost can’t see you. Where are you, Jayce? Where did you go?" You wave your hands around dramatically. He almost chokes. Viktor scoffs, unimpressed, barely glancing up from his book as he stirs sweetmilk into his coffee.

Once the immediate hazard of death by choking is under control, Jayce flashes one of those earnest grins—one that practically screams what a good person he is, full of pure intentions. "Oh, shut up. He seems nice, and I’m curious."

"He’s just a guy, nothing more," you hum, taking a sip of your coffee. And even though you have no idea if that little encounter will go anywhere, you can’t resist adding a pin. "Yet."

Viktor looks like he is holding back a scoff, so he just turns the page in his book with a violent sweep.

"Well… do you like him?" Jayce presses, oblivious to the tension at the table. He’s just such a gossip girl.

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Are you alright? Why are you so interested?"

Jayce shrugs. "I don’t know, I always thought you’d end up with someone of equal… interests?" Intelligence is what he really means. But that would be cruel. Just because a guy plays rugby doesn’t mean he’s brain damaged. Surely.

"Oh please, I hate STEM bros." You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with an air of finality, as if that settles the matter. You do hate STEM bros. They are full of themselves, have no respect for women and look down on you.

Jayce raises an eyebrow, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. "Erm… you are a STEM bro."

Viktor finally looks up from his book, watching you with the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as if mortally offended. "Jayce Talis! I am a lady! Not a bro!"

That is Viktor’s cue. “I don’t think that lack of testicles classifies you as a lady instantly,” he says in a deadpan voice.

And you don’t know what pushes your stupid mind to say it. Is it just muscle memory—your tongue snapping back whenever you talk to Viktor—or an actual intention to say something mean to him? You really don’t know. In one breath, you say, voice equally dead to his, “Of course not. If that were the case, you’d classify as a lady as well,” and watch the chaos unravel.

None of that happens, though. The underwhelming events carry on in painfully slow motion—Jayce’s eyes widening so much there’s a real threat they might never close again, while Viktor gulps his coffee with an agonisingly slow bob of his Adam’s apple. It’s only when he’s done that you realise he was fighting not to choke on it—because the next moment, he bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand.

Jayce exhales the breath he was holding and laughs as well—you’re not sure if it’s at your joke or simply at the sight of Viktor laughing so openly, an event so rare it shouldn’t go uncherished. Despite yourself, you grin. Indeed, Viktor’s face—his eyes squeezed shut to the point of a tear slipping from beneath his long lashes, smile lines filling out his hollowed cheeks, his teeth bared in an uninhibited cackle—is a sight to behold.

The stupid thing in your chest stutters, as Viktor wheezes and lowers his hand to rest on yours. “Remind me to never cross you again. Merciless is an understatement,” he says, barely, with a really warm smile and you find yourself blushing again, for the second time in a mere hour. Because of two different boys.

And as any moment made of pure magic in the history of magical moments, this one doesn’t last either. It gets violently interrupted by a buzz of your phone on the table.

If you wanna take a stroll, I have a free period now :) We can meet by the fountain. Joe, in case you wonder who this is :)

And your blush deepens. You calculate options in your mind and soon decide on the what the hell one. “I’m gonna scram boys. See you in the lab after class?”

“Yes. Please bring the less… distracted version of yourself if you can,” Viktor states and all the warmth evaporates from him at once. Back to the usual version of himself—sharp wit, balancing on the verge of cutting.

As you mumble an absent, “I’ll do my best,” and wave them goodbye, Jayce returns to his sandwich and sighs knowingly.

“You know… wouldn’t kill you to be a little bit nicer,” Jayce says, leaning forward on his elbows. His voice is casual, but there’s an edge of curiosity beneath it, like he’s prodding at something fragile just to see if it will break.

“This is me being nice,” Viktor replies in a neutral tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. The steam curls around his face as he takes a slow sip, his expression unmoving. He is being nice. He is trying to be nice. It’s just sometimes completely impossible to be nice to you when you get like this. Distracted. He scoffs to himself. It’s a strange friendship you have there, but it’s a friendship nevertheless—or so he likes to think.

Jayce studies him, his gaze sharp despite the lazy way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “No, that is just you being… well, you,” he says bluntly, tilting his head as if he’s considering whether to push further. “Being a dick is not a way to a lady’s heart.”

Viktor arches a brow, unimpressed. “Excuse me, but have we experienced the same scene? I was the one being offended and laughed it off like a gentleman, thank you.” He gestures vaguely with his cup, his fingers tightening just slightly around the ceramic.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “Then why are you so annoyed in the first place?”

“I am not annoyed,” Viktor states flatly, setting his coffee down with a little more force than necessary. He smooths his hands over his sweater as he rises from his seat, already turning away before Jayce can open his mouth again. “I am great. I am so great, in fact, that I will go and start working on that project. See you, Jayce.”

And then he just strides off, his cane tapping against the floor, leaving Jayce mid-sentence with his mouth open, eyes blinking slowly.

Of course, he is not annoyed. Maybe only slightly—and only because you’ve somehow managed to gain another distraction in your life right before you were about to start working on the biggest project of the year. And it’s just, well, fucking annoying.

***

When you glance at your watch, you yelp and press a hand to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath before breaking into a sprint toward the lab.

Viktor is going to kill you—especially since there’s no way to prove you were caught up in something important.

Because, well, you weren’t. It was Joe who took up all your time this afternoon. And he is… surprisingly nice. And smart.

You hadn’t expected that.

What started as a casual conversation somehow stretched into something far longer, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. He had opinions on films—actual opinions, not just generic statements about “liking action movies.” He had read some of the same books as you and even suggested a few you begrudgingly admitted sounded interesting. Sports came up, of course, but he spoke about them with a self-awareness that made it bearable. And when the conversation dipped into politics, he didn’t say anything that made you want to throw your coffee in his face. That alone was impressive.

It was… weirdly comfortable. Easy, even. Even when he lingered.

Joe’s gaze held onto you a second longer than necessary, like he was memorising the way you looked when you laughed. And when he hugged you goodbye, his arms stayed around you for just a breath too many. The slow way he untangled himself from you made it clear that if you hadn’t pulled away first, he wouldn’t have been the one to let go.

Shaking off the last remnants of Joe from your thoughts, you push through the heavy lab doors with a hurried stumble, your breath still uneven from the rush.

“Sorry, I’m late, guys—” The words die in your throat as you take in the empty room.

Only Viktor.

He stands at the workbench, sleeves pushed up, hands meticulously adjusting the placement of various tools and notes. At the sound of your voice, he pauses but doesn’t turn around immediately. The rhythmic ticking of the clock fills the silence, marking the seconds you take to process the situation.

No Jayce. No Sky. Just Viktor, and the sharp scent of metal and oil clinging to the air.

“Glad you could make it,” he remarks, finally turning his head just enough to glance at you. His voice is even, but something about it feels... off. You can’t tell if he’s irritated or merely stating a fact. Maybe both.

“Sorry,” you sigh, setting your things down with a thud. “I lost track of time.”

“With your new himbo.” It isn’t a question.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second. “Yes. And his name is Joe, Viktor, not a new himbo.”

Viktor hums—a short, unimpressed sound—and resumes his work, carefully aligning a set of blueprints. Somehow, his silence feels louder than an argument.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, more to yourself than to him, or rather into the empty space between you and Viktor, which seems to be expanding with each passing second.

“And where are Jayce and Sky?”

“They managed to sketch out the roadmap for themselves in the time you spent with Joe and decided they needed the library for further planning,” Viktor replies flatly, still not looking at you. The way he deliberately keeps his gaze averted only emphasises how much has been accomplished in your presumably very long moment of indulgence. How nice.

“Alright, would you like me to crucify myself, or do you want the honours?” Impatience gets the better of you, and you fold your arms tightly across your chest.

At that, Viktor’s hands still over the workbench. His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, though his gaze remains fixed on the floor, as if acknowledging you fully would be a waste of effort.

“I am merely stating a fact,” he says, his voice low, clipped. “This is more important than some affairs, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, really, Viktor?” You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “And here I thought thirty percent of my grade was worth sacrificing for some sloppy making out—but thank you so much for finally making me see the error of my ways.”

That makes him look.

And he is angry.

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing, gears visibly grinding in his mind as he weighs whether you’re just riling him up or—God forbid—whether you actually have made out with Joe.

His jaw tightens. “Just get to work already, will you?”

You say nothing, only flash him an acrid smile before reaching for your goggles on the workbench.

The two of you work in almost deafening silence, broken only by the occasional exchange of necessary questions and answers. You retrieve materials while Viktor arranges the workspace, and you scribble down the general plan on the blackboard, the tension in the air palpable.

Each time the chalk screeches against the surface, Viktor visibly winces, hissing under his breath and sinking his head between his shoulders in an exaggerated display of agony.

You roll your eyes but say nothing.

“Could you maybe try a little harder to make it less cacographic?” he mutters, irritation creeping into his voice.

The suddenness of it startles you just as you’re making another stroke, and the chalk lets out a bone-chilling whine against the board.

Viktor flinches violently, covering his ears. “For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, voice muffled behind his palms. “Let me do it.” He steps forward, reaching for the chalk without hesitation.

You anticipate the move, tucking your arm behind your back in defiance. A childish gesture, maybe, but if he’s going to be an ass about it, you’re not about to make it easy for him.

He doesn’t stop. He closes the distance between you in a few sharp steps, his expression taut with frustration. Before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist—tight, unrelenting. He pries your hand forward and gives a firm shake, forcing your fingers to unclench until the chalk drops neatly into his waiting palm.

A sharp twinge shoots up your arm. It’s not painful exactly, but it’s close enough to make you wince.

Snatching your hand back, you massage your wrist, eyes narrowing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

For a brief second, something flickers across Viktor’s face—regret, maybe. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath the same rigid composure he always wears like armour. He doesn’t apologise. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, he turns to the board and begins writing, his tone stripped of anything resembling warmth.

“I want to wrap this up before tomorrow,” he says flatly, chalk gliding across the surface with sharp, efficient strokes. “And you are being thoroughly incompetent. I told you to bring yourself not distracted.”

You let out a sharp scoff. “Okay, I am so sorry I was late. I’ll stay longer and finish up whatever we don’t get done in time. But you are outdoing yourself in being a complete twat today.”

You don’t wait for a response. Instead, you march over to the workbench, hands immediately finding the prototype components. If you focus on the task, maybe you won’t be tempted to launch something at Viktor’s insufferable head.

“Oh please, I do not trust anything you do without supervision,” Viktor says, scribbling quietly on the board, somehow making a point out of it.

“Viktor, are you serious right now? We literally have the same grades,” you huff, leaning over the table to pick up the components you need. You do your best to tune him out—his bickering is only distracting, and you need to rewire the prototype from the previous project.

Overall, the task is simple enough. The device is built around an EEG-based neural interface—a system that reads electrical activity in the brain and translates it into signals that can control a mechanical limb. In practical terms, the user wears a headband fitted with electrodes that detect neural impulses associated with movement. These signals then travel through a processing unit, which refines the input before transmitting it to the prosthetic itself.

That’s the easy part. The rest, well.

The prototype you’re working on today is a refinement of an earlier model. The previous iteration had suffered from signal lag and inconsistent responsiveness—issues you’re hoping to correct by integrating a new set of circuits and refining the algorithm for noise reduction.

You grab the headband from the pile of equipment, turning it over in your hands. It should work just fine if you tweak the wiring to accommodate the new design. Without thinking too much about it, you start securing the circuits, fingers working on autopilot as you weave the delicate wires through the correct channels.

Or at least, you think they’re correct—until Viktor’s voice cuts through your focus again.

“Are you even listening to me? What are you doing?” His tone is sharp, irritated—like he’s already asked this more than once.

Your expression tightens as he strides over to the bench, clearly unimpressed. “I just rewired it. Nothing too complex,” you mutter, adjusting a loose wire before reaching for the power switch.

Viktor doesn’t look convinced. He picks up the headband, turning it over in his hands with a scrutinising gaze. “Nothing too complex,” he repeats dryly. “Yes, because neural interfaces are famously simple. I’d rather be sure. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, reaching over and flipping the switch.

The reaction is instant.

A sharp jolt cracks through the air, followed by a strangled, almost undignified yelp as Viktor jerks back, dropping the headband as if it has burned him. His entire body stiffens, fingers twitching violently for a brief second before he stumbles, gripping the workbench for support, blinking rapidly.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh—shit—Viktor—”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest, his face twisted in a grimace. “Wonderful,” he grits out. “So that’s what you rewired.”

“God, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, rushing to him, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Your hands instinctively cup his face as you lean in. He blinks, startled, his mouth parting at the sudden concern—your brows furrowed, eyes searching his face for any sign of lingering pain, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he says flatly. “You’ve electrocuted me.” His hands move to seize your wrists, but you twist away before he can. Your palms return to his face, fingers framing him gently, and Viktor’s breath hitches.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, voice genuine. You are truly sorry, the worry overriding all the anger you had for him mere seconds ago. And Viktor has no idea how to react to this. He stands there, breath unsteady, before muttering, “I’m fine.”

You blink, straightening, and Viktor is almost ready to exhale in relief—until your hands shift again, this time pressing against his chest and back, cradling his heart between your palms. You stand beside him, hands firm but careful, instinct guiding you more than knowledge. You don’t even know if this is what you’re supposed to do for someone who’s been electrocuted, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

His heart thunders beneath your touch. The silence is so heavy you can hear yourself gulp on the lump in your throat. You don’t hate him that much, and you hope he knows it.

Finally, Viktor speaks, his breath still rattling. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in your touch after all.” He tries to sound wicked, but there is no venom in his voice.

“Viktor, you bastard. When have I not been kind to you?” you respond playfully, your hands still pressed against him.

“Ah, well. When you implied my alleged castration is the first that comes to mind. But rest assured, my testicles are good and well. I’d show you, but I’m afraid someone has already filled this position in your life,” he trails off, slipping back into his seemingly unbothered attitude.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. Still, your fingers linger, as if trying to determine whether his heartbeat is elevated from the shock or something else entirely. Or is it always like this? You don’t dare to ask.

Viktor tilts his head, watching you. “What about?”

“Any of it. You make me fucking gag,” you scoff, finally sliding your hands off him.

“Not yet—but I could.”

You barely have time to register the shift before he catches your hand, his thumb pressing against your palm. A slight twitch makes your fingers curl around his.

“You could what?”

“Make you gag.” The words slip out just as a smirk blooms on his face, faster than he can think to stop either. He can’t tell if he regrets them immediately.

The figurative pin drops. A high-pitched whine rings in your ears. Viktor’s gaze is drilled into you, thumb still pressing into your palm.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t miss a beat. “Well, would you look at that. So there is kindness in you after all,” you murmur.

“Ah, for you. Only kindness, nothing else,” Viktor hums, his voice a low purr as his thumb idly circles the centre of your palm. His grip is loose enough that you could pull away, yet you don’t. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something that makes your breath catch before you force yourself to scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

His smirk deepens. “When have I not been kind to you?”

“Like… ever?” You raise a brow, tilting your head as if you’re genuinely considering it. “You mock me. You think I’m outright stupid and don’t deserve my spot in class. You constantly correct me and fight me over solutions. You hate working with me, scoff at me, and laugh me out in front of Jayce. And Sky.”

Viktor clicks his tongue, his fingers squeezing yours ever so slightly. “Such is my love language.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, forget it.” You finally try to pull your hand away, but Viktor doesn’t let go just yet, his grip tightening for half a second before he releases you—only for his cane to hook lightly around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.

“Wait.” His voice is softer now, coaxing. When you glance at him, there’s something else in his gaze, something warmer, but it’s masked beneath that ever-present air of a prank. “I almost died, you shouldn’t leave me.”

You gape at him. “Viktor—”

“Alright, alright! I surrender.” He chuckles, but there’s something breathless in it. His fingers twitch against his cane. “Wait. Please.”

The sudden plea stills you. Your heart stumbles over itself before you swallow and straighten your posture, crossing your arms in an attempt to shake the feeling off.

Viktor exhales, dragging a hand through his hair before returning his gaze to you. “I do not mock you or laugh you out. I simply jest—I do that with Jayce all the time. You should have noticed by now.”

You purse your lips, unimpressed.

“I do not correct you,” he continues, his voice lilting, as if this is all some grand performance. “I offer you my point of view. And I do not fight you—I simply enjoy some intellectual sparring. Not many can provide one that satisfies me.”

Your fingers twitch, nerves sparking beneath your skin at the way he says satisfies, but you ignore it. Instead, you level him with a flat stare.

“You’re just gaslighting me at this point, Viktor. At least give me a head start before you snap my neck with this thing one day.” You tap the end of his cane with a pointed look.

Viktor grins—slow, wicked. His weight shifts, allowing the cane to rest a little heavier against your wrist, his fingers curling just slightly around the handle.

“Oh, come now. That would be far too merciful.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate that it does.

“Are you going to be good to me now?” Viktor asks, his voice so low you barely hear it, but the weight of it settles deep in your chest.

He takes a step closer, and your breath catches when you feel it—his exhale, warm against your skin, ghosting over your lips. His fingers brush against your wrist, the same one he had seized not long ago. A touch that lingers.

“You have almost killed me, after all.” You watch his lips twisted in a smile you’ve never seen before. And it scares you for some reason.

“Stop this,” you say, firmer than you expected, yanking your hand away. You clutch it to your chest like a wound, like something fragile he might pry apart if given the chance.

Viktor tilts his head, eyes sharp with curiosity. “Why?”

Your throat tightens. “You know goddamn well why.” You take a step back, shaking your head, something bitter curling in your gut. “I am not your project, you dick.”

Viktor’s expression shifts—his smirk falters, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. “Hey, that is not what I meant—”

But you don’t let him finish. You pivot on your heel, retreating towards the door, your pulse hammering in your ears. You need distance. The lab suddenly feels too small, the air too thick, charged with something neither of you were prepared for.

Behind you, Viktor’s voice follows, just a step behind. “Wait—”

You don’t.

The door swings shut behind you, and Viktor is left standing in the empty lab, staring after where you had just been.

A long exhale leaves him, and he runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath,

“Well, damn. That backfired.”

He frowns to himself, rolling his jaw as if trying to make sense of what just happened—of what he just did.

And for the first time in a long while, Viktor realises he doesn’t have a formula for this.

[chaysreality222]

✩₊˚.⋆

୭ৎ 𝓘 𝐒𝐇𝓘𝐅𝓣𝐄𝓓 𝓣𝐎 𝐌𝓨 𝐀𝓛𝐓𝓔𝐑𝐍𝓐𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝓔𝐀𝓛𝐈𝐓𝓨 𝓓𝐑 ୭ৎ

hii guys! :ଓ ˖˚⊹ i'm still not quite sure what to call this reality, so don't mind the title of this! this was a bit of a rushed post since i'm super busy atm but i needed to share asap.

so a little backstory! i've had the idea of shifting to an alternate reality where its almost an exact version of my current reality but with a few differences so that i can tell the realities apart. in this reality, there's supposed to be a car crash that happens in a storm or a vehicle carrying a "top-secret weapon" (aka form of the reality stone) and i some how survive but absorb the power of this "top-secret weapon". therefore, becoming a being with powers.

disclaimer: this isn't a marvel based dr! i just wanted to shift to reality where i have or obtain superpowers/magic. more specifically, Wanda's powers because she's one of my favorites.

i think about this dr every night before i go to sleep or every time i take a nap! basically scripting out in my head what i want to happen and so forth. i haven't made a physical script, but i will make one soon for sure. that's just a brief summary of what this reality was. i also want this to be a separate post for this dr to really get into the script and lore behind it <3

anyway, getting into how i shifted! there isn't really any how to be quite honest with you. i didn't feel any shifting symptoms or anything of that matter. it was just the simplicity of falling asleep and waking up again. i didn't even know i had woken up in a different reality! i had just gotten up like every school morning to get ready and it was only till i saw small things were different.

i got up from bed and went to turn my lamp on but it had been unplugged. first sign! i usually will unplug my lamp to plug a charger in but i knew for certain that in my current reality i had left my lamp plugged. second sign! i was getting nervous because i'm scared of the dark, so i reached to turn on my lights at my desk and those weren't working either. third sign! i went to turn on the big light and that wasn't working either.

i was really confused and paranoid at the same time. why wasn't any of my lights working? and what am i going to use as an alternative because i'm scared of the dark guys? so, i got my phone and turned my flashlight on to face it at the ceiling so it can illuminate some light in the room.

now that i was less afraid, i was really starting to wonder. i looked back at my desk again and saw that the mess on it was different. same items, different placement. this is when i started to really question, did i shift? am i actually in an alternate reality right now? so, i went to go check outside the window. same neighborhood, same layout of the driveway, but different cars. that about confirmed it for me!

then, i noticed the weather looked weird like a storm was coming. that's when the power being out actually started to make sense. this is when an unknown panic and fear set in. since i knew what was gonna happen if i had stayed there any longer, it started to scare me a little bit.

my exact thoughts being: "i'm not ready to be in a car accident today!", "i have a long day at school in my cr! i can't be here right now. i mean i could, but i don't know the time ratio from this dr to my cr. i can't spend too much time here because i don't know how much time is passing there", "i haven't even truly scripted this place out yet, i want to fix some things".

this is also when i had looked up and noticed two ceiling lights... that did it for me. this dr truly needs to be scripted. i needed to get out of there immediately! so, i sat down on the floor at the edge of my bed and placed my hands over my eyes. (guys, i was full on being dramatic for no reason. you do not need to do this to get back to your cr). i repeated the intention in my head to send me back to my cr and was back in my cr! but i fell back asleep because i was sooo tired! i felt so fatigued almost.

it was so unexpected but i'm excited to experience this dr! be on the look out for my script :) and dw guys, i will be scripting that my fear of the dark isn't paralyzing </3 also just noticing, that i may have created a new method?? maybe? i'm not sure! there has to be a method already like this. i didn't do anything special, just fantasized and maladaptive daydreamed my way there.

xoxo, c!

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Compelling mediocrity is the most accurate description I've ever seen. Plenty of work in exploring what the writers refuse, lol.

Outright blocking the character tag is too real, I just sparingly, warily venture out into the tags once in a while, maybe reblog a post or two, and run right back. I hardly trust what majority have to say about things I love, even if it is compelling mediocrity, lol. Especially if a fandom is shipping dominant, it'll piss me off instantly. Which is funnier because usually I get mad about OOC things, but canon is ignoring previous characterizations here, so in one pot and into the other, lol!

Oliver being such a point of discussion anyway is too real, I think he just largely represents the critical lack of thought for who these characters are, or what anything means because of it. The more I think about him, the more questions I have, and the less canon makes sense. Like, basic things like his name. Like, I'm halfway sure Debbie ended up naming him, she comments he doesn't even have a time when Mark comes back with him, SO: and let's assume, ASSUME, culturally Thraxans don't name their kids right out the gate. Assume, 'cause Mark was there for a while to help construction before dipping, and was on the ship for a while before he got home, and that entire goddamn time, ain't nobody give that baby a name? How did Nolan not? Was he already mentally checking our there, or...? Like, Mark was coming back home, during that entire time, he didn't give Oliver a nickname? A name??? Did he just go "hey bro!" or "hey baby!" the entire time? Like, again I have to assume Andressa didn't name him on purpose, because why the fuck wouldn't she name her own goddamn baby, so must be a Thraxans cultural thing don't because OTHERWISE he should have a name from the get-go. Am I crazy, here? Please correct me I'm missing facts the show did point out.

And it's a very small detail, but it's also one that makes me start clawing at the walls.

Because if I am not crazy, it just wraps back around at how glaringly obvious shit isn't explained or explored or outright make sense when you think about it when looking at Oliver, because his very skin color doesn't make any sense. He has 0 of Andressa's traits. HOW. AND DO NOT TELL ME VILTRUMITE GENES ARE BUILT STRONG, NONE OF THESE MFS ARE PURPLE. But I'm gonna stop myself from ranting about points we've already discussed lol, Oliver pisses me off the most concept wise, but he could be so interesting, and they don't. Legit setup single parent Mark and then ??? DON'T. AND FOR WHAT. INSTANT MOMENT FOR MARK TO UNDERSTAND HIS MOM. THINK ABOUT HIS DAD IN A DIFFERENT LENS. REALIZE HE DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THE SAME WAY.

And trust I am writing that, lol. Mark's so fun to write when he's a guilt magnet, I love him. Wish he was still written that way canonically again. I haven't gotten that plot point yet, but I love writing Oliver and a tired, parental Mark. Like, he has no idea if staring at the sun if a thing Thraxan-Viltrumite hybrids can do without hurting themselves, but he'd rather be safe than sorry, so Oliver just shrieks because how dare you stop him from staring at the New Ball of Light in the Sky? Suddenly the childhood memory of Debbie wrestling a mini-cutting board (wooden) out his mouth makes sense.

The show telling us the colonizers are coming while Mark looks like he straight up forgot always floors me. Maybe have him frustrated and worried he's losing fights then? If he can't handle an overgrown centipede, (still a fucking insane writing decision, WHY IS HE SO WEAK ALL THE TIME), how he is gonna handle an army of Nolan's? Why isn't a thing? Because he's gonna make me forget? And truly, why doesn't Mark emphasize how scared he is for Oliver??? Why doesn't he feel an extra responsibility to get GOOD when there's another life on the line, and one that's happy to run himself into danger?

Truly, Mark's inability to see that kind of killing as killing could be a great thing to explore here! Heck, could've had Cecil bring that up during their whole confrontation! Because why isn't that considered killing, too? I am always asking where is Mark's needed mental breakdown over all for this, let him have one and rationalize this decisions for his own sanity, and boom, morality flexible arc! Now the blue and black fit makes sense!

And honestly YEAH? I would love to fucking know what was going on Debbie's head knowing this is what she's going to date. A functionally immortal, super powered being, who just won't age to you. How does she view that? She should have both as a treat, omg. I fucking love that. Also would love if she had a lower tolerance for bullshit moving forward after Nolan's fuckery. Cecil? Verbally aiming for the throat, she boldly talked to a man who could kill her, after knowing he had killed the Guardians, let her get even bolder. Talked about this before, but let her be fearless as shit, too, how often does your tolerance for danger or sense of it diminish in this kind of life? Heck, what if she's constantly traveling, something she clearly enjoyed and refused to let Nolan ruin for her, though simply flying over plane flying is gotta be annoying. But heck, maybe she and Olga does that together. Would also give reason for Oliver to be Mark's responsibility, and potential angst on Mark's end because he misses his mom but also won't allow himself to bother her? IDK. SOMETHING. Something that can ping-pong off everybody!

That's a new fucking detail that's gonna piss me off, too now, omg. Because seriously, we don't get to see that, so unless Kate was spying on her as during her own private recover, which HOW, HOWWWWWWWW, then what the fuck is she talking about. Like what. They should've gone HAM on both Kate and Immortal for leaving and boldly coming back when they wanted to, again, much like Rudy, where's the trust here? And yes, yes, they broke up the team, but where's the hostility form the get-go? I FORGOT ABOUT THAT WITH SHAPESMITH?? And truly bro can be bought so easily? Like, sure. What a crucial part of team.

Battle Beast is fun to me, he's like a fight-happy, furry Jasper in my eyes <3 Mark's weakness will always PISS ME THE FUCK OFF. It makes no sense. Any excuse is NEVER shown or depicted well to explain this bullshit. If I had the animating skills I'd do re-write, storyboards of how fights should have gone istg. ALSO YEAH? Nolan, when have 0 supervision, settled down and had a kid. TWICE. But also him ready to die BOTH times despite having two whole kids HE decided to endanger is always crazy. Bro get up and go be a parent. Also true??? Would he just beg to keep her??? Do Viltrumites get like take-home anything? Or did he truly not think anything through which is def possible, but also hilarious in the most absurd way.

Nolan loved his family like objects, and now has to learn to love them like people <- makes too much sense, but also Debbie has his emotional support plushie is killing me. The mental gymnastics had to be crazy.

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[gobspeaks]

i've been thinking about my most recent pathfinder character, Liz (Elizabeth)

She's a 4'5" catfolk monk (who packs a fucking punch I tell you what. 2d8 per punch, 5 punches per flurry of blows. she doesn't fuck around man) raised by human parents who left home as a teenager for reasons she didn't tell her folks

catfolks also aren't very common in the area so a lot of the people she interacts with have never seen one. local cat experiences microaggressions

however. she's one of the few people who can find the broken-ass rogue of our party after he pulls his little vanishing act so she gets mad props from the rest of the group for that which is nice

my big issue w her is she's just not very interesting imo

other characters we have include an aasimar(iirc) who developed powers over ice through sheer force of will and has a tragic backstory regarding a previous adventuring party (and the first person they ever loved- big props to their player bc they're so cool to learn about)

and a dhampir who went roughly 3/4 of the way through his full vampire transformation against his will before escaping and becoming an adventurer as a means of hiding from his family

but Liz is just kinda there. all the cool stuff about her was made up by our dm bc I gave her free reign to build from what I had for Liz's backstory (raised by human parents, left home looking for a sibling she'd never known/never been told about).

They added on something mysterious going on in the house, the implication that Liz was going to be replaced after she left (possibly by another catfolk), and the fact that the missing sibling was also a catfolk. The fact the missing sibling fled for reasons relating to the arcane, an arcane journal still updating with rough information about the sibling's movements, but also actively changing the specifics on the different journal entries.

Like everything that makes her interesting was Not Me and it makes me kinda sad bc coming up with characters is my favorite part of the game and I'm Bad At It.

anyway. sorry. getting emo now :^)

[deoidesign]

One of my first digital pieces (2010) versus one of my recent ones (2024)

We all start somewhere!

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[toxintouch]

Started out as an elaborate “draw me like one of your French girls” joke and spiraled outta control from there... @lu-dao-writes posted the same scenario in their Kinktober 2024 and they were kind enough to give me their blessing to post my take! Please check out their fics as well!  If this scenario in particular interests you, I rec you this post! :3

Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || VERE x AIS x Reader

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Vere, Dacryphilia (Tears)* + Cockwarming + Size Difference + Consensual Voyeurism. Power Play. (Some feral monsterfucking spice sprinkled v lightly on top.) [*original challenge prompt, randomizer used.]

OTHER INFO: “You” pronouns used for MC/Reader. Unspecified genitalia for both POV Character and Vere but Ais has a dick. Reader is the receiving partner in penetrative sex.

“Hmm, hold that pose,” Vere purrs.

Ais huffs a hot breath into your face as he freezes above you.  His brows furrow, mouth twisting into a determined grimace as he grits his teeth.  His forearms tense hard where they are resting on either side of you, fingers flexing against the silken sheets.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you.  A hot, insistent ache.

You try to relax, try to breathe through it but the lack of movement makes you hyper aware of every inch, the raw feeling of him stretching you open, the way your body twitches so sickly-sweet with the effort.  You inhale a slow, shaking breath, chest trembling, and shut your eyes in an attempt to block out some of the sensations—the clawing need gnawing at your core.

“Eyes open, darling,” Vere corrects you, tone somewhere firmly between scolding and teasing.  “And turn your face back towards Ais.  I’m trying to capture the moment .”  Your heart is pounding in your ears but you can hear Vere’s smooth, sly voice with perfect clarity.  Ais is an overwhelming force but Vere is a magnetic presence; no matter how caught up in each other you and Ais can get, Vere will always command attention without effort.

You turn your chin as requested, only to be caught in Ais’ gaze

(Caught and breathless–the same way you were when he was bullying his thick length into your hole, thrusting sharply and sighing in satisfaction, his fingers still at work massaging and pressing and stroking as he sunk into you inch by inch; he'd prepared you until your entrance was puffy and swollen, sopping with thick, medicinal smelling lube and he still had to take his time.  Fucking you slowly until you could take all of him.  And then, the moment you finally could...)

“Hmm, that's better.  Stay just like that.  Let me see those pretty expressions.”  You hear Vere adjusting his heavy vellum paper.  The glide of quick, clever lines being drawn.

You maintain eye contact with Ais, drunk off his breath, his body, the very essence of him, hovering so close above you, and are utterly unprepared to meet his intensity.  The way he looks at you like he’s seconds from devouring you, barely held in check by the challenge that Vere has laid before him.  Before both of you.

You bite into your lower lip as you shift involuntarily, oversensitive nerves still riding the throbbing of Ais’ dick.  He’s so fucking thick and girthy that he presses at the soft spot inside you without even trying. The angry pulse of him is a gratifying thrum, stoking your aching heat by way of mere burgeoning contact.

His cock gives another strong twitch and your insides clench around him.  He feels so fucking good–you almost think you might be able to come like this, if you can get your body to keep on clenching like that. 

—Almost.

Your next breath comes out as a sob.  There’s a high pitched whine building at the base of your throat and your lashes are wet when you blink.

A monstrous snarl escapes Ais’ lips, one that you can feel even more than you can hear, the vibration of it echoing through your body everywhere you're pressed against him.  The pinnacle between your thighs pulses with it, and your toes curl involuntarily as an errant tear runs down your cheek.  Ais is shaking, sweat dampening his face, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly, his eyes locked on you as he barely holds himself back.  “Sparrow,” he says, gravel in his tone. 

You say his name in return, your head tipping involuntarily, bearing the softness of your throat, faded marks from both your lovers decorating your skin.  You hear the sheets rip below you, torn into shreds where Ais’ nails have dug into them.

Vere sighs pointedly.  You hear him stop his work, tap his charcoal against the paper as if he’s not entirely satisfied with the scene in front of him.  He pauses for a long time, leaving you both in limbo.

When he moves, it’s to stand.  To saunter over to you both.  You’re pinned beneath Ais, unable to look away, but you can feel Vere’s shadow fall over you just before his hand touches your face, forcing your eyes to his as he catches a crystalline tear with his index finger.

“Shame,” he says, dipping his fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up the taste of your tears, lavishing the digits with his tongue.  You whine out a desperate, quiet note just from watching his tongue at work and he basks knowingly in the attention.  “I really thought I could get you both crying.”  He smiles dangerously once his fingers have left his mouth. 

He uses them to drag a wet path down Ais' spine.  “Oh, but the night is still young.  Perhaps I may still think of something that will do the trick...”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦"Kinktober Speedrun & Other Gratuitous (TOUCHSTARVED) Smut" on Ao3

[sketchy-tour]

Okay listen I got distracted while working on my ask doodles. BUT LISTEN THIS IS SO SELF INDULGENT cause I was listening to an early 2000s playlist on spotify and realized... Reboot Wally would so be a blink 182 fan. And you SO know he would sing that mess at karaoke. A dork. I love him.

Reboot AU belongs to @/bloodrediscream (Man I do not need to tag them for just my silly doodles.

I WILL HOWEVER tag @kawaiialeisha because I feel like you'd appreciate this

[cementcornfield]

Zero excuse not to pay our best players. Btw.

[drawnbinary]

It's Hassius day (856 -> 8/5-6) So here's a WIP of an acrylic stand I want to make (●´◡`●)

[cherrirui-official]

Sorry I've been gone for pretty much all month, the ancient ones awakened from their slumber and only I could defeat them. Anyways Happy Pride! Yippee!!

[squircatlies]

Everyone keeps talking about this old man's tits, but I haven't seen a single drawing of him in a turtleneck with a slutty cutout.

I have to do everything around here myself, don't I?

Anyway, this is my new Gravity Falls au where everything is the same but instead of turning Ford into a golden statue during the Weirdmageddon, Bill just made him wear some slutty outfits.

[azaracyy]

haikaveh week 2024 day 1: student days

[despairforme]

WELCOME 2025!

[ As per tradition, here is our New Years post! Happy New Year everyone! u v u /////

2024 was another amazing year! Woah I had such a lovely time. Did many fun things and filled my life with love and gratitude. Also personal growth towards becoming the kind of person I want to be.

Writing wise, 2024 was weak. I did what I said, and didn't prioritize roleplaying. However, I wasn't able to fill my writing time with actual writing. I chose to do other things instead. I don't regret how I spent my time, but I would like to have more of a result to show. My word-count ended at 156 000 words ( 70k for Nnoitra ). A huge drop from 2023. It was an important lesson for me. It showed me that I am way more productive when I set myself stricter goals, instead of relying on my inspiration only to carry me.

That brings me onto the plans for 2025!

MONTHLY WRITING GOALS. I need monthly milestones ( realistic ones ) to work towards and complete. Without any concrete goals I don't push myself enough.

CONSISTENCY. My best writing year was the year I wrote every day, and so I really wanna push myself towards something similar. I also want to try and be more active across my blogs ( I say this every year ) - I've downsized my blog-count from 6 to 4, so I hope that'll help.

FINDING A SHIP FOR NNOITRA! This has been a repeating goal the past few years. I really miss writing a ship for him. I did put effort into finding a ship for him in 2024, so I'll continue my efforts. I hope 2025 is the year he falls in love!

These are my writing-related goals. I have many other goals for 2025. Mostly related to working on procrastination, mindset and productivity. I'm always excited for a new year, and the past few years have been so amazing! I'm blessed to have a beautiful life. I'm thankful for all of my friends on here for making my online time so enjoyable! <5 Wish you all about for 2025!! ]