#insert kitkat

[trulyatessfan]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KITKAT!!!!!! @katrinahood (Her birthday was yesterday (May 23th) but shhhhh)

[itsblasttothepast]

While stalking another blog, tumblr did the funniest thing:

When I saw it, I was like:

Thank you Tumblr, for recommending me my own blog!

[kakusboyfriend]

Kit Karyotype

Aliases: Krait, Nekrom

Age: 36-42

Pronouns: he/they/it/she*

(if I feel like it. please dont use it yourself.)

Species: Anguipera Venenata

Height: 1,75m standing, ~70cm on all fours

Alignment: this specific version is Good!

Media: SMTAS, AEMH, TSSM. Tl;dr Marvel Toons

(f/os are sorted by color too! To make things easier :-])

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Skills:

Necrotic venom

Wall climbing

Teleportation

Camouflage/color changing

Extremely precise scent recognition

Thought projection + suggestion/behavior influence. Not exactly hypnosis or mind control, but a strong suggestion that leaves the mind malleable. He's also not a telepath; his only skill is making you hear His thoughts.

Other:

Mediation/negotiation/bargaining

Medicine and caregiving

Planning

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Relationships

Mac Gargan, Sarah (Gargan?), Curt + Martha Connors: romantic

Rhino, Otto Octavius, Quentin Beck, Flint Marko, Adrian Toomes: platonic

Hank Pym, Janet Van Dyne, Ultron, Vision, Whirlwind: Eddie Brock, Shocker: it's complicated/undecided

Peter Parker: truce in SMTAS, allies in TSSM

The Avengers: depends on the narrative. Enemies for now.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Since Kit is the only oc I have for Marvel, he has at least 3 different backstories, and I don't have time to write down each one! This is for TSSM only, because it's what I'm focused on at the time of making this! That one is also a bifurcated road, though; this is the non-villain version of it. We'll get to Electro later, promise 💛

Kit is an amnesiac alien that crash landed somewhere in the New York Bay a year before the series kicked up. With no memory of his origins, abilities, or even name, Kit crawls out of the water to seek help on land a few days later.

However, this only served to get him cornered by police since his odd looks were stirring up trouble. Scared, alone, and afraid for his life in a place he didn't know, he lunges at one of the officers, and bites his arm with strength he didn't know he had.

Everyone, Kit included, watches, horrified, as the cop's arm melts away in less than a minute. It's a disgusting mess, and Kit is even more scared now that he knows there's no way they're letting him out alive. Exhausted and desperate, he can only bring himself to curl up and mentally shout for them to leave him alone.

Surprisingly, this seems to work - every officer surrounding him is stunned, frozen in place. Had Kit been graced with more time or a working memory of his powers, he would have definitely taken advantage of the situation to make sure they didn't remember this traumatizing event. Since he had neither at the time, all he did was run off, hoping he wouldn't be followed.

Nothing of interest happened in the following year. There were rumors about a monstrous fish creature circulating now - they called him 'Krait' apparently, some even jokingly referring to the creature as 'Nekrom' if they knew about what happened that night - but Kit's life wasn't interesting because of it. All he did was try to survive in this noisy, unfamiliar world without, living off of weird hiding places and less than pleasant food sources. He did take to calling himself "Krait", though - it sounded familiar enough, and he didn't have anything else.

Eventually, we jump to the night of "Natural Selection", where Kit's hideout for the day is the Reptile House at the nearby zoo. He witnesses the whole lizard mess, of course - and he watches long enough to see the beast transform back into Curt Connors.

As the commotion ends, Kit is struck with an idea to give himself a lead into learning his identity, since he wasn't getting anything alone - he'd seen Curt in the news before, and, as far as he knew, a geneticist was his best bet at discovering the truth about himself. Better yet, a geneticist that was very much not likely to call the cops now, after everything he'd done.

Kit hangs around the campus in secret from then on - having rediscovered his camouflage and wall climbing abilities in the meantime, he puts them to good use - and waits out for a night where Curt enters the lab alone. One person was easier to convince - besides, however horrible it made Kit feel for doing things this way, Curt's guilt was the only somewhat solid footing he had in this situation, and he was banking on it for his own safety.

The rain is pouring as Curt hurries into the lab because he forgot something, doesn't matter what. Unbeknownst to him, Kit is already in the room, and plans to keep him there until he complies with his terms - he's desperate.

The doors are locked and the lights suddenly go out. Curt isn't really alarmed - not until he notices there's a person in the lab with him. He's ready to fight for his life, if he has to - he was in the military, after all.

But before Kit can say anything, a particularly deafening thunder surrounds them, making the windows shake hard enough that they seemed close to shattering. Kit let's out a loud yelp, and scurries under the nearest table, trembling.

This lessens Curt's apprehension - it's hard to be scared of someone who's afraid of something your son got over his fear of years ago - and he turns the lights back on. Not willing to leave whoever it might be in his lab alone, he approaches the table he saw them hide under - carefully, of course.

And, well. That's how they meet! Kit does end up talking it out with Curt, and they come to an agreement since it's hard to turn down the offer to study something you'd never seen before, even harder if you know they might not be from your planet. Over the months, Curt, Martha and Kit get closer as they work together to figure out Kit's origins, and since Kit has nowhere to go and doesn't know anyone else, he mostly sticks with them one way or another.

Ik this ending is a bit abrupt but I don't wanna keep u here even longer ^^;;

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Notes

Before recovering his memories, Kit is terrible at fighting. His expertise is manipulating people and situations so things go his way.

Because I don't care for making more than 1 Marvel oc, Kit's story is all over the place. Seems to me like his basis of operations is New York no matter what, though. Also, the TSSM one is more interesting to me atm, bc I get to explore a Kit that had the privilege of being treated with kindness and patience.

Kit also knows who Spider Man is, and this makes some things complicated while simplifying others. If Peter wants to, he can get his internship back without exposing his identity, no problem. But he feels insanely uneasy when he bonds with the symbiote, for reasons he can't pin down...

He'll get his memories back, eventually! He's very eager to tell Billy (and everyone else, but he really does love this kid too) everything he knows and all the planets he's been to :)! The truth is that Kit has a little bit more in the works, but I'll wait till I finish the series to write more!

[kate-bishops-waifu]

HEY GUESS WHAT IT'S KATE AND MY SIX MONTH ANNIVERSARY

[mimiriko]

You are increasingly becoming aware that bringing the exact amount of change to the vending machine was a risk. A risk you never make because this particular machine is notorious for malfunctioning and dropping snacks.

It’s near midnight. A lone breeze brushes past and ruffles your nightwear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could go back to your room, but there’s a tender soreness in your legs from the days work. It’s too troublesome for the mere purpose of sweetening your mouth.

But your chocolate…

“You’re still up?”

A figure shadows you. You look up to your right, and see the moon in the form of bedhair. Sometimes, he forgoes his glasses when everything is casted in black and slightly easy on his eyes, so you’re met with blue rimmed with snow peering down at you.

“Hungry,” you respond, focusing back on the task at hand. Cautiously, experimentally, you tip the machine further right, small uniform shakes to loosen the kitkat stuck on the edge, an arrow away from a bullseye. Satoru stretches next to you, idly releasing the kinks in his neck. “I wanted to sleep early today,” he bemoans, slumping to your side and stays put, even with you floundering with his weight.

“Quit it!” you yelp, tightening your grip on the machine. You’re finally making progress and he decides to set you back three steps.

“Suguru told me i’m getting eye bags,” he prattles, rubbing at the aforementioned place, “I cannot have eye bags. Imagine that! My perfect sky blue eyes and dull skin underneath. It will ruin my whole look.”

Almost there…you feel yourself going cross eyed from staring at the kitkat for so long. The hook of metal around the corner of the package is slipping, just a little jostle away from setting your chocolate free.

But you stop.

You notice it’s suddenly quiet.

The reflection of the display glass allows you to see him staring just as you are, attentively watching if you make it out of here happily or suicidal. You straighten a bit, weirdly put on the spot.

“Hey…why don’t you just—“ his hands shoot out, shaking it ten times rougher than you.

Your alarms blare. “Wait wait wait—”

Your kitkat is set free.

And you watch it drop to the row below it, on top of a juice box.

“Oh.” He says shakily, a nervous giggle following. “Whoops.”

You turn your face to his side profile, and he pointedly looks ahead. His neck is bared to you, unblemished and devoid of accessories. A solid mark left on him would paint a good picture, an outline of your teeth. It might be the first mark he has ever gotten.

You think of Yaga-sensei, and his strict protocol for punishment when a fight breaks out. Especially when it disturbs others, because you’re definitely sure his screams will bleed to the top floors. You’ll make sure it does. Shoko will give you a celebratory hug for finally giving it to him, but will be disappointed that you would have to miss your lunch together. Utahime from all the way in Kyoto will mail you a gift and you’re pretty sure even Mei Mei would send you some cash.

As if sensing your malevolence, he quickly backs away. “H-Hold on! Look—“ he digs in his pocket hastily and pulls out a note. With sweaty hands he inserts it into the machine, and takes your hand palm up and places another kitkat in your hold.

You stare at it, and then at his pockets. “Give me another.”

You end up walking back to your dorm with handfuls of chocolate and a broke Satoru holding more just for you.

[gladiators-spark]

*insert joke about kitkats*

gonna start posting less here cause I rarely use tumblr :p

additional doodles of my fav :333

cuando yo tiene mas tempo, yo quiero voy a pintar algo con el pendejo azul :33

[vettelsdarling]

Okay so if it's okay I have a seb (rbr seb to be precise) request. We all know rbr seb was a menace, chaos lover and flirty (we all love him for that) so enemies to lovers (at least one sided because I have no doubt this man while loving by all grid also hated by some) with seb would be amazing... Imagine all the tension 🫣🫣 but happy ending of course because nowadays I need my healthy dosage of fluff with a bit of angst sprinkle 💗🙏🏻

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Lissie note… I am SO happy someone finally requested Seb<3 An enemies to lovers too!!! This prompt is pure gold! Really love the one-sided touch too. Thank you!!!

Things to note

This is set to start in late 2010 and progress from there on (only until Seb’s last year at rbr)

Accuracy to real driver standings will be off due to the reader insert

Michael did not get in any accident here<3

Reader is 22 and Sebastian is 23

Reader is with Mercedes, driving alongside Michael (put him instead of Rosberg because Michael knows Seb better. You’ll get it when you read)

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Mercedes!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of cursing

Word Count: 6.4k+

Playlist Recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

Taglist: @drugged-kitkat , @darleneslane

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

A master of your art. That’s what you liked to think of yourself as. You weren’t driven by fame or money. Rather the excitement of the rush. The feeling of hitting each apex just right— you relished in it. If there was one thing you really were driven by, however; it was winning a championship. You’d won a few races in your career and had your national anthem played for everyone to hear, but no more of that. Your sole goal was to receive the title above all other titles.

Your dreams of such were cut short by one Red Bull driver. Sebastian Vettel. You sat there at the prize-giving ceremony, waiting for Formula One racers to be called up. Michael sat next to you with Corinna. She gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing you missed out on the championship and landed 2nd overall.

Michael claimed Sebastian meant no ill will. He was just young and spirited. You begged to differ. The smirk he’d give you after winning a race begged to differ. His whole… shtick… begged to differ.

Alonso was called on stage to receive his award for landing 3rd, which meant that you had to be ready to receive yours too. You brushed down the sides of your dress, asking Corrina if you looked okay. She seemed surprised you’d even ask such a question but reassured you with a smile and a nod.

When your name was called, a thump in your heart reached the base of your throat. Podium celebrations were one thing, but the prize-giving was an entirely different thing altogether.

Although it was supposed to be a celebration, all you saw was a sea of pitiful glances. Most people knew of your unfortunate position, though many were too afraid to comment on it.

“Sebastian Vettel” Oh the great Sebastian Vettel! World’s youngest champion yet! That could’ve been you. Easily. You hated the thought of not being there on the highest step. The young German gave you a wink before he received his massive trophy. You were in front of hundreds of people and the ceremony was being taped, so you did nothing but smile and seem grateful.

Sure, you were actually grateful for receiving anything at all, but it all seemed like pity. All that was left was to throw your own pity party with a pint of Pinot and a sad romance movie.

The interviews were a nightmare. Every single one of them kept trying to sell you their act. All the while the questions surrounded your relationship with Sebastian. One of undoubted hate for one another. At least on your side.

You didn’t even bother going back to the hotel. The after-party was the one thing you actually looked forward to. The booze, mainly. Anything to drown out your sorrows, really. Oh, how you despised all the small gestures people did for you as an act of congratulating you. Your mixed feelings nearly slapped the vodka shot out of a waitress’ hand. You were a menace in this state.

“Easy on those shots, you came here alone. Wouldn’t want to go home too wasted.” A voice came up behind you.

“Well, that’s a little too late, Hamilton.” His look was that of genuine concern. He knew what you were doing. He knew exactly what that vodka was for.

“You’ll get him next time. At least you’re on the podium, right?” Great. Even one of your closest friends started to pity you.

“Fuck off, would you?” Luckily, he was very understanding and didn’t take any of your words to heart. He got out of your way and went to socialize. That’s when the coin fell. You were alone. He was right. You had no means of getting home. Taxis were rare in that part of town, and your hotel was far away. You were really in a pile of shit.

“Whatever,” you mumbled to yourself and one-shotted a sipping whiskey. It burned your throat with vigour and surged through your body like a pest.

Completely wasted, you felt extremely hot. It didn’t cross your mind to take a breather outside. No, instead, you slowly pulled the sleeve of your dress down. With your shoulder exposed, you could only chase that relief of cool air.

That attempt? Cut short. By none other than Sebastian Vettel. Perhaps a championship in interference would serve him well. He stopped you and pulled your sleeve back up. It felt like an insult. Another jab that he wanted to throw your way.

“Fuck off and let me do my thing,” you kept aimlessly pulling at your sleeve. The feat was just as great as your races against him.

“Stop it. You’re drunk.”

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed. You want another trophy for that discovery?” The friction against the soft satin of your dress eventually made it tear. Both of you froze before you got up and b-lined towards the exit. Anything to get away from him. You pushed through the masses of people in the club and eventually got outside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rip your dress.” Much to your misfortune, the constant bother had followed you outside.

“You’ve already ruined more than just my dress. Must you ruin the rest of my night too?” You looked him deep in the eyes. You didn’t even have to act like you’d given up— because you most definitely had. No question.

“I’m about to make your night bearable if you’ll let me.” He took off his blazer and wrapped it around you, so you wouldn’t catch a cold in your skimpy dress. You hated the sentiment. You hated his whole “holier than thou” personality. Why? Because it was for show. He was nothing but a monster. He was behind many of your crashes and never gave you any space. You resented him for his quirky little stunts.

“Whatever, youngest world champion.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the title. He had played foul to win it. That title should’ve been yours, but no. Sebastian Vettel stole your glory.

“Come on, don’t be like that. At least value your own well-being. Let’s just get you a coffee to sober up with. You can curse me out as much as you want in the morning.” He tried to guide you forward, but you hunched over and up came all of your vodka shots. He held your hair back as you emptied out the contents of your stomach. It was revolting. You felt disgusting.

“I sure hope I won’t see you in the morning— let alone tomorrow.” Not exactly the toughest thing to say when you’re coughing for your life.

“You won’t even remember this, you know?”

“Makes it better. Then I don’t have to remember how I actually spent more than 10 minutes alone with you.” You were still hunched over, but the snarkiness in your voice triumphed that.

“You really dislike me, don’t you?” He chuckled.

“Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.”

The Red Bull champion ended up being right. You had completely forgotten about the exchange. Someone had hailed you a taxi and you’d drunkenly gotten yourself to your hotel room. That’s how you remembered it. You were still bitter about the ceremony and Sebastian’s selfish attitude. Sure, you’d expect nothing less from a racer, especially in Formula One, but he was a different kind of heartless. He mocked you. He didn’t care if he hurt you on track. That was your own fault.

Sebastian Vettel was your sworn enemy.

The media had become desensitized to your drama with him, as something always happened at every race. It was impossible to not argue with the guy. All he cared about was winning and he wasn’t in the sport to make friends. It was almost as if he wanted to be hated. You simply couldn’t understand how he and Lewis managed to get along. They somehow managed to separate their work from their friendship. You had that relationship with most of the grid, but Sebastian was too unsportsmanlike for your taste. Michael always tried to reason with you, often softening the blow of some of Vettel’s words, saying he “didn’t mean it” or was “just worked up”. You looked up to Michael, but you could never back that. It was bull. Sebastian had no redeeming qualities. He was overly flirtatious and aggressive. You hated that.

Every interview he had with a woman was met with his flirty remarks and his devious smile. You always had to sit there and soak in his gloating. He was insufferable.

“I really don’t see what the problem is. He’s just really obsessed with his career, no?” You had invited your friend out for brunch before your plane. The first race of the season was in Australia. Mark Webber’s home race. A challenge for Sebastian. Mark was tired of his teammate. Much like yourself. You could smell a possible truce. Although that’d be foul play. Unsportsmanlike of you. Were you going to be the bigger person? Of course. You were mature.

“He makes me want to crash my car into his. I should definitely do that in Australia.” You were not mature.

“You don’t mean that. Besides, it’s not even that deep. You don’t have to make something big out of the rush he gets from being in the moment. Don’t you also cuss at your engineer from time to time?” She had a valid point, but it went into one ear and straight out the other. You loved her to death, but she was spewing nonsense.

“Sebastian is an asshole. That’s the bottom line. Whose side are you on anyway?!” You scolded. She twirled her fork in the pasta and let out a faint chuckle.

“Of course, I’m on your side… but you can’t lie. Sebastian is cute.” It was official. Your friend was possessed.

“In what world? I told you about his dirty tricks. How is he still cute?” He was the devil in disguise. Some drivers were able to see it, but most were gullible enough to even befriend him. Your hatred didn’t come from a place of jealousy. It came from a place of being cast aside because of him. Time and time again. It was tiring, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The Mercedes car wasn’t nearly as fast as Red Bull. You desperately wanted it to be.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is, maybe he’s not all that bad off-track.” Oh, but he was. His flirtatious behaviour off-track was nearly as bad as his insufferable one on track. You couldn’t stand it.

“He is. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your friend drove you to the jet and the two of you exchanged a few hugs and whatnot. She wished you good luck before you got on.

Inside, you saw many familiar faces. Michael being one of them. He pointed to the seat across from his own and signalled for you to sit. When you did, he leaned forward and you could already tell he was going to talk about your least favourite driver again. For whatever reason, he was set on trying to change your mind. “Seb is not a bad person”, “He’s just young and hot-headed”, and “He doesn’t know any better”… all of those excuses meant nothing to you. Sebastian was just that; a dirty driver.

“So, let’s find a way to beat him this year, yes?” You were taken aback. He never said something like that. Sure, he’d console you and help you through your sorrows of finishing behind Vettel, but he was always neutral. Never on either “side”. Though he did tend to seem like he was on Sebastian’s.

“We’re in a Mercedes. I don’t see any way for us. It’s just straight down on the charts. I mean, will I even be able to land a podium this year? I heard McLaren have been pulling their weight for this year. Like… a lot.” Michael contemplated what to say for a moment, but tried to console you nonetheless. He was a father, so he’d gotten quite good at that.

“We can still put up a good fight, right?”

“I suppose.” You could only hope for a miracle. Christian Horner was unrelenting with his new golden boy, Sebastian. The Red Bulls were unstoppable. You had no other choice but to follow Michael’s spirit. Just put up a good fight.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

It was practice day. You were getting ready, suiting up, and seating yourself in the car. Your heart was beating fast. It had been a while since you last sat in a real car. You’d done your fair share of sim racing whilst on break, but it was nothing compared to the real deal.

“Good luck,” your engineer clapped your helmet before you were released. The car felt surprisingly great. It was smooth and you felt like it synced well with your driving style.

Then came Sebastian. Again. He sped past you. Although you couldn’t see him, you just knew he was smirking behind that helmet of his. He relished in your mental torment. It was his source of amusement.

You finished P3. Lewis finished P2 and Sebastian, yet again, finished P1. It was only the first round of practice though. You promised yourself that you’d do everything in your power to finish P1 in the qualifying session.

You didn’t keep your promise. You fell short and landed a finishing spot at P2. Devastating, but your team was happy you got a front-row start anyway. Whenever the interviews finished, you tried to find Michael. Only to see him chatting with him. They were having a laugh— joking around. The sight made you furious. Again, not in jealousy, but the sheer thought that Michael fell for Sebastian’s shtick.

“Hey, Michael. Could we talk? There’s something about the car.” The interjection was abrupt and one might even call it rude, but did you care? Absolutely not. You had no reason to whatsoever. It was Vettel after all.

“Actually, I was just saying goodbye to Sebastian. Corinna is waiting for me outside. How about you tell me tomorrow? Maybe talk to the engineers too. Anyways, see you guys!” Just great. You sighed as you watched your teammate leave.

“That’s some rejection,” said the German standing next to you. Ugh. Wrong German.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s grab coffee sometime soon.” What? You were used to his flirty remarks being directed at the interviewers and whatnot… but this?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Unbelievable. He was unbelievable. You scoffed and put your hand in front of his face before walking off. Giving him the satisfaction of an answer wasn’t exactly your style, and it wouldn’t ever be.

“You didn’t say no!” He yelled from behind you. Ignoring him, you made a turn so that you’d disappear from his sight. His presence was exhausting and downright draining.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

“Box box,” said your engineer. You were on hards and chasing Sebastian who was on hards as well. It made no sense to pit after a mere 23 laps.

“Are you sure? I’ve got a good chance here. I don’t think it’s time. We didn’t discuss this.” The original plan was to pit when Sebastian would, and it seemed like he was going to do a one-stop.

“We’re sure. You need to get on mediums. We just switched Michael too. Get in.” You sighed and got ready to slow down in the pit lane. It was painful to see Sebastian take the win like that. P1 felt like a distant dream for you at that point.

“This better work. I swear, this better fucking work.” You were beyond frustrated about your current position in P8. The pit stop had taken longer than expected, making you lag a few places behind. Oh, how you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian rubbing his victory in your face. His first victory of the season.

You upped your game, completing smooth overtake after smooth overtake. All the way up until you regained your position right behind the Red Bull. There was a slight problem though. The car was starting to feel unusually hot. Sweat trickled down your face and the visor looked as if it was raining. You weren’t going to report rain though, as you knew your team would if there was any.

“Fuck, guys, it’s too hot!” You yelled over the radio. As expected, all your engineer replied with was a simple “copy”. It was swift communication, you knew that, but it sure as hell was frustrating. It felt like you weren’t getting any attention at all.

Your team performed pit stops rather quickly, which was a plus whereas everything else was a minus. It didn’t cancel out, but at least it helped combat some of the other problems your car had.

As most had predicted though, you were unable to overtake Sebastian or his new nickname “the finger”, and were stuck in P2. You couldn’t even enjoy the podium celebration. Sure, you sprayed some champagne and chugged a bit, but did you enjoy it? Not particularly. Michael had told you to not worry and just give it your all, but it was hard to forget when Vettel was in the way. His smug grin as he held his trophy and stuck his pointer in the air… you wanted to crush his ego. So bad. You were going to relish in the moment when Sebastian would lose out on a championship. It was going to be an unforgettable moment to be sure.

“You can’t be satisfied, can you?” Sebastian came up to you after the celebration. He was the last person you wanted to see at that moment, but his gloating was inevitable. Might as well get it over with.

“Not by you, I can’t.”

“You must know how that sounds.” Yeah, you were going to lose your mind. He successfully pulled off a tasteless and baseless trap. You walked straight into it like an insect stuck in a spiderweb.

“Whatever.” You took off your race suit, leaving on the fireproof suit to cover your body for the time being. It was already hot enough as is.

“Cute.” You’d gotten used to his little flirty remarks and comments. It was basically white noise.

“You’re not.”

“I was referring to you, you know.” He was quite literally impossible.

“Must you really make me suffer with your presence any longer? Isn’t winning and doing your little finger thing enough?!” When you started raising your voice, it grabbed people’s attention, so the young Red Bull driver pulled you with him to his motorhome.

“Did I not just enlighten you about my discomfort in your presence or did I daydream that?” You scoffed at him and pulled your arm from his grip.

“Look, I’m done trying to ignore your contempt for me. Do you seriously think that I will apologize for winning? This isn’t grade school. I was driving, I was faster, I won. Simple as that. If you can’t accept it and take the loss, then you really shouldn’t be racing.” Your heart sank to the bottom of your chest. Each sentence was like a dagger to the chest. You felt every little soul-crushing word in your gut.

“Wow… you really are more of an asshole than I thought. I don’t care that you won. I care that you gloat. I care that you don’t care about me. You don’t care about any of the others. We could die for all you care. Do you want me to die? Is that it?” All rationality had left your mind the moment he insulted you. Red was all you could see.

“You’re twisting my words. I merely said that I won’t apologize for winning. I never said I wanted anyone injured.” He was right, and you knew that. Deep down, you knew that he was just like you. Passionate about the sport. The only difference was that he was in a winning car… and you unfortunately weren’t. Was it his fault? You were too blindsided by rage to even consider any other possibilities.

“By the way you drive, I beg to differ.”

“You’d be lying to me and yourself if you were to tell me you’ve never gotten caught up in the moment. You know exactly how that feels.” He somehow had a counter for everything you threw at him.

“What about your constant flirting? Why do you keep rubbing your victory in my face like that?” The look on his face contorted into that of a confused one.

“What do you mean?” He asked, obviously at a complete loss.

“You asked me out for coffee.” You said whilst confidently crossing your arms over your chest.

“You seriously think that’s a front for something?” He almost found it amusing. The way you overanalyzed his motives.

“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Before you had the chance to respond, Mark walked in with Christian behind him. That was your cue to leave, so you did without hesitation.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

It had been a good while since you last had a real talk with Sebastian. A few years to be exact. The jabs and games were still happening. Neither of you had dared address any of it, but one thing remained stuck in your head like a broken record; “You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Every day and night, that thought passed through the thousands of others. It stood out. It was like the moon in a starry sky.

During those years, Michael had retired. It broke your heart, but seeing as Lewis replaced him; it wasn’t all that bad. Mercedes had gotten increasingly better as well— which meant that you had a better chance at beating Sebastian for every year that passed.

Lewis, being one of your closest friends on the grid, agreed to help you win your first championship. The Red Bulls had their run. It was time for Mercedes to shine. You needed to win.

“Lewis, I don’t think I can do it this race. There are too many low-speed corners. Red Bull will take this one home… Sebastian will take this one home.” You sat in your garage and moped as Lewis leaned against a pillar opposite you.

“It’s fine. They’re basically useless in high-speed corners this year. Besides, you already have 3 wins over him. Just one race won’t hurt. Well… it’ll sting, but see if you can land a podium, yeah?” Did you even want to try? You knew that Sebastian would mock you either way. It was almost as if your world didn’t revolve around the championship anymore. It was all about him. All about Sebastian.

“Yeah nah. I don’t think I can.” You stared at your feet. The race shoes were starting to feel clammy around them.

“Do you really believe that’s the mindset of a winner? No. Just think about doing whatever you can do. You don’t have to care about anyone else when you’re out there. Let yourself loose.” Lewis was right. You did care too much. You seldom crashed into anyone, all because you cared for their safety.

You ended up winning. You didn’t know how it happened or what you did to make it happen. Lewis’ words just kept swirling inside your brain; “Let yourself loose.”

You stood patiently and waited for the interviewer to finish up with P3 and P2, watching as Sebastian looked ever so disappointed. It was humorous. You felt amazing. The other wins you lorded over him didn’t feel that liberating. They felt good, but not great.

“—And here’s the deadly Mercedes! You were on fire today! We did not expect this aggressive approach from you. It was breathtaking. What did you do differently?” That was the question. What did you do differently? You stopped caring. You remembered you weren’t in the sport to make friends. You were there to win.

“I mean, I did what I had to do, really. I focused on winning and I listened to great advice. I simply just won.” The interviewer looked at you with a question mark etched onto her forehead but didn’t press further on that question.

“I know your first loss to Sebastian proved quite upsetting, would you say the tables have turned?” She smiled at you. It was clear from the beginning that she was on your side. After all, being the only female racer on the grid— you had a magnetic effect on fans of the sport.

“I can’t say for sure yet, but I can definitely hope!” Your voice was cheery and sweet, but that was just a front. You couldn’t wait for his downfall. Standing on that stage at the ceremony, watching all life drain from Sebastian’s eyes. That was your goal.

People had every right to tell you off, but at what cost if you didn’t care? Lewis had just helped you unlock the very thing that could potentially destroy the smug Red Bull driver.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

The season was going smoothly. Fans roared in your favour and even threw gifts at you whenever you went on the scene. Yours and Sebastian’s roles had switched. You were the new fan favourite. Everyone could attest to that fact.

There was a slight thing bugging you, however. The many Instagram and Facebook fan pages that were dedicated to shipping you with Sebastian. They made edits, they came up with extreme theories… It was mortifying.

People in the Mercedes garage weren’t quiet either. If anything, they were even worse. Constantly bugging you about your “obvious” chemistry with Sebastian and whatnot. Which, in your opinion, didn’t exist.

You only harboured hate for the man. He was foul. Through and through… right?

Lies. Although you didn’t dare tell anyone, you didn’t quite hate him anymore. After letting go and caring less, you felt like you could finally see things from his perspective. It made you realize that he just wanted to win. Well, on top of mocking you. That was what had your mind in knots. He claimed he only teased you because of your reactions, but he refused to acknowledge your obvious distaste for it.

He had, however, begun to limit his snarky comments and cruel smirks. He actually started distancing himself. He rarely spoke to you and only ever interacted with you when the two of you landed a podium together.

You felt like something was missing.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Lewis asked. The two of you were sitting in your respective chairs in the cooldown room. He had somehow scored a P2 finish, with you upfront and Vettel in P3.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. Zoned out, I guess?” You stretched your arms and wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead. Sebastian watched you throw the towel onto Lewis’ lap. Your teammate threw it back and the two of you shared a silly moment.

Something brewed inside the young Red Bull racer. He had been slacking off. He knew that all too well. His teammate, Daniel Ricciardo, was going to outscore him. There was nothing he could do about it. Not when Mercedes had gotten the upper hand. Not when you were in the way. The only pain he felt was from watching you with Lewis. He despised seeing you all happy-go-lucky. That was it. No, it wasn’t. He hated seeing you joke around with the other drivers. The sight of you laughing at a mechanic’s joke? His blood boiled.

The courage he once had was slipping. Much like his performance. He couldn’t focus on winning when losing was his only way to reach his ultimate goal.

“We should probably get going. Time to listen to your national anthem… yet again,” Lewis jokingly sighed and ruffled your hair, whilst you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

You saw a cheerful sea of Mercedes employees. A 1-2 finish. Any team would be ecstatic if their drivers pulled that off.

Sebastian stood next to you. He couldn’t bring himself to muster even the smallest smile. Putting it mildly, his plan was starting to look like it had gone to shit. Not only was he losing the races, he was losing…

“Lew, look at this,” you grinned. Lewis obliged and was met with a burst of champagne. He let out a small yelp before picking up his bottle and spraying you.

Although he probably had a reason, you were beginning to hate how Sebastian never even spoke to you. The only solution; spray him. You poured a cold shot down his neck, to which he jerked his shoulders forward in an uncomfortable motion. It made him smile. Your heart swelled with some form of comfort in knowing you could make him feel some sort of joy.

Was that Lewis’ design all along? Making you see things from Vettel’s perspective? Perhaps. Whatever it was, you knew that your hatred for him had faded. This was replaced with stealing small glances and a spike in your heart rate when he was near.

You often felt your heart pump thickly in your throat. Your insides were littered with butterflies. You felt all jittery around him. Well, until he stopped with his flirting. He completely stopped interacting with you. It had your stomach in a twist. Were you too late? Did you not do enough?

“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?”

You knew exactly who you had to see.

It was perfect, given that the next race wasn’t that coming weekend. You decided to give Michael a call, asking if you could see him at his house in Switzerland. Him being something of a father figure— said yes.

It was time to dig into the past. Not through the eyes of who you once were, but who you became. You were able to see things from every angle. Sebastian had clearly flirted out of sheer fun and mischief, but something underlined that cause. You. It was foolish of you to be so blinded with rage and hatred, that you couldn’t see him for what he was. A man who was struggling to keep your undivided attention. You weren’t yet convinced, but surely Michael would be able to set you straight.

You first greeted Corinna and the kids, who were not so much kids anymore. Michael came down to give you a hug and invite you to his cosy home office. He brewed some tea and placed it on the table.

“It’s so nice to see you again. I haven’t quite gotten used to retirement, but I did it once before, so I can definitely do it again!” He chuckled.

“I’m glad you’re still holding up well. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that Mercedes is leading at the moment.” You smiled at him and took a sip of the tea he’d made for you.

“I have been following up. I watch almost every race, actually. Whenever my kids have time, we throw on the sports channel and watch you and Sebastian. That’s to say they always have time for that. In fact, my son, Mick— his dream is to race for Mercedes.” Mick was growing steadily and did karting regularly. You didn’t see why he wouldn’t be able to earn a seat at Mercedes eventually.

“About that… I came here for advice… regarding Sebastian.” As embarrassing as it was to beat around the bush, saying things like that outright was not exactly your forté.

“What, did he finally confess?” You were dumbstruck by his sudden question.

“Excuse me? What?”

“Well, you see, he was always coming to me and asking me how to get you to talk to him. I always said that he could figure things out for himself. By your reaction, however, I’m guessing that didn’t exactly work?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.

“He was crazy about you, I remember. The more riled up you got, the more he’d come to me for advice. It became routine for us to sit and talk, actually.” You had your suspicions, but never did you know that he was actually into you. Those fan pages and edits could’ve only fueled it. Your heart was beating faster and faster. It felt like it was nearly about to burst. Definitely, because you didn’t like him like that. You were just starting to sympathize. Nothing romantic. At all. No. Nothing.

“You know what I think?” Michael added when he saw your tomato-red face.

“I think he’s losing those races on purpose. Just to satisfy your needs. For a long time, he wanted to earn as many world championships as myself, but recently… something else seems to be stuck in his mind. I think his priorities lie elsewhere now.” You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration. Your heart couldn’t stop going faster than your car on race day.

“I also think you may feel something for him too.”

“Thank you, Michael. Truly… but I have to go.” You booked the earliest flight out. Needing some time alone with your thoughts.

Michael was almost always right. In this situation? There was no way he wasn’t.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

You were back on the top again. The podium was the exact same as the last race. The celebration was grand. It was all pretty much the same. Your focus was more on getting time alone with Sebastian.

After everything had died down, you decided to visit the Red Bull motorhome and knocked on Vettel’s door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a surprised look on his face, upon opening the door.

“We need to talk. Invite me in?” He let you walk past him.

“What is it? Are you here to blackmail me?”

“What? No. Why would I ever do that?” Your face grimaced at his idea.

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling that great right now.” He was all mopey and looked as if someone had sucked all the life force out of him.

“I actually came to talk to you about… um… well, us.” You were fiddling with your fingers in your lap, too scared to look him in the eyes.

“Us?”

“I spoke to Michael.” You weren’t sure how to lead the conversation from start to finish.

“You did?”

“He told me about everything.” Your eyes met his in a flash of awkwardness.

“Look, that was a long time ago and—”

“I don’t hate you anymore,” you cut off. His eyes lit up at your words.

“What do you mean by that?” Was he really that desperate to hear you say it, or were you too scared to say it?

“I don’t know… I guess it means you can start flirting with me again or whatever…” you mumbled sheepishly. It felt so embarrassing to tell him face to face. Your heart was thumping louder than the pit stops Mercedes did. Your face was redder than the Ferraris.

“Could we see where this takes us? I mean, if you’d like.” He seemed to be just as embarrassed about it as you. It was kind of cute, actually.

“Yes… I’d like that.” Although the conversation was surprisingly short, it left a huge impact on Sebastian. He was more or less depressed on the podium but the interviews that followed? He was a firecracker. He acted as if he’d won the lottery, smiling like an idiot and stealing glances from you here and there. It was an odd but welcome, warm feeling that spread throughout your body.

Who would’ve thought? Both Lewis and Michael were able to set you straight. You used to care too much. You used to think about yourself only, when it came to Sebastian. It was impossible to put yourself in his shoes until Lewis taught you otherwise. Your feelings? You would’ve let yourself crush them over time, had it not been for your talk with your mentor.

Much time passed, and you had won races upon races. You were still getting much-needed advice on everything from races to simple daily routines, by Michael. Sometimes you went to Lewis. He was easier to reach and you were always able to have quick conversations with him before the races. Everything had accumulated to the current momentum. The glory that you were about to relish in. The people you were about to make proud.

You sat in your seat with Sebastian on your side. He had only recently asked you to be his. It took some dates and deep, meaningful talks before you got there, but the wait was worth it. Life had never felt better. You were completely enamoured with Sebastian. The feeling was more than mutual. He was helplessly and irrevocably in love with you.

He was called to the stage as 3rd overall. The crowd cheered, but you cheered the loudest. If you had told your past self that you would be cheering him on at the ceremony, you would’ve never believed yourself.

Lewis was called next and you were called last. Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling at you. People were cheering and you were in a state of euphoria.

Your trophy was the biggest, brightest, and most grand in the room. However, it could never compare to the adoration on your boyfriend’s face, as he saw you hoisting it up into the air.

After all the interviews and the longest ride back to your hotel, you crashed onto your shared bed with your lover. The two of you stared at the blank ceiling, feeling a state of absolute tranquillity. The two of you had come so far.

“I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian turned his head to face you.

“Thank you, Seb.” You followed suit.

“Do you think we wasted too much time?” You asked. In all honesty, a tinge of guilt hit you every now and then. If only you had come to terms with yourself and your feelings earlier…

“All that time was worth hearing you tell me that you love me. I don’t think we wasted even a single moment. Everything that has happened so far… you know, it all built up to this.” You smiled at him and pulled him into a loving kiss.

Sebastian Vettel, I love you.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

[kitkatlovingalgebrateacher]

*insert clever intro post here*

Roleplay blog for a criminally underrated FPE character.

I honestly don't really have any headcanons for him besides him teaching algebra, being a Kitkat addict and an Aromantic icon, secretly being a big softie under his strict personality :33

His sibling is @oreolovingmathteacher (HAII POOKIE 😻😻)

Other fpe blogs that are very cool

@oreolovingmathteacher

@m1ssbl00mi3

@principal-grace

@trans-music-teacher

@abbie-the-anxious-one

@engels-ask-blog

@claire-the-silly

@oliverthesoapeater

@zip-the-chaos-child

@edward-the-silly-guy

@that-emo-skell

@rubythesillyrobot

@riley-crazy-kid

@alice-monstrous-princess

(Sorry for the tag- 😔)

Main rule is no nsfw.

[sweettoothstomp]

I wanted to say I love your moshi sona Kit Kat, do you have any lore for them?

YES!!! i have a ton of lore for Kitkat!! tho i will condense it down for a tumblr post. IT MIGHT BE A BIT CONFUSING BUT UH HERE WE GO!!

Kitkat (they/he) is my self insert sona! 

Their life is weird and wacky with sometimes entering a time loop/cycle (the pick your path books) they don’t seem to mind it tho, new experiences for the same plot! the time loops do end at some point when Kitkat goes through every option available. no one else knows what’s happening, they just get a really weird sense of deja vu.

 He also has an insanely big crush on Strangeglove but is in DEEP denial and acts like he hates him (but he really doesn’t.) Kitkat even has a dart board with SGs wanted poster on it but the darts haven’t touched the poster at all, instead they have made a heart around it.

EVENTUALLY tho Strangeglove gets this feeling he’s definitely seen this pink katsuma-diavlo thing more than reality has shown him. He creates a device to peer into the mind of kitkat while they are asleep to try and see their memories. Strangeglove finds out much more than he bargained for. 

Dont wanna drag on but both of them somehow get involved with each other and it blooms into a relationship. ALSO Kitkat can now go back in time (never forward). yeah , he can control it now sorta. He still gets stuck in them too sometimes okay!! okay. :) oh and Kitkat lives in a shared home with their best friend named Tim Tam. (my friend @/toonietoon36's oc)

(ive also thrown him into the movie timeline where he takes the role of Katsuma and all his friends take the other roles. + a timeline where Kitkat + CO are the supers?)

[dynamic-k]

'AH, yeah, I just figured that Dark was behind Ted's actions, since Ted can't act alone.'

now i have more fuel for my questions!!! >:]

Okay, so Dark uses the chip thingy he implanted into his brain to communicate with the bots.

Therefore:

If Dark's chip became broken, what would happen to the button bots? If they can't act independently, would they just shut down, or would they go through what they know of Dark, and try to find what he would most likely tell them to do in that situation to follow that?

Also, an extra weakness for Dark i guess. What if someone hacked into the bots to make them make Dark's vision and stuff all weird?

Because they can highlight stuff, so could they just go haywire and destroy Dark's brain etc.???

Or would Dark's coding be too complicated for even experts to hack??

hm... OH I JUST GOT A NEW IDEA

Blue learns alchemy from Vic, and Yellow could learn computer science from Dark!! they could be that one technically two now person who gets up all the information and makes a plan to hack in for a kidnapping back a kidnapping!! if that makes sense.

And if you saw me refering to when potentially King Orange and Purple kidnap Vic, no you didn't

Going back to the bots, sorry my brains jumpy, if Dark died what would they do?? And what happens when he's unconscious and can't think? WAIT WHAT ABOUT SLEEPING-

I think I went hyper from eating a KitKat. XD

Thank you for reading this,

-R

Be forewarned: There is a lot of lore rambling below the cut.

AH- We appear to have a slight slight misunderstanding-

|Okay, so Dark uses the chip thingy he implanted into his brain to communicate with the bots.|

Uhhh, not quite- It's only a more instantaneous communication. Remember that Dark did that surgery on himself during his and Chosen's first few years of heroing, but not like right at the start. So how would Dark have communicated with his beloved button-bots before the chip in his head existed?

Verbally commanding them present time, and precoding certain instructions into the bots beforehand, was how he did it before he went and made the chip design and then surgeried himself. He still does do that, like how in chapter three of Arc One:

The bots are constantly idle, listening to conversations and other audio surrounding Dark, as the button-bots remain on Dark's person at all times. [The bots are recharged with energy when idle as buttons, and said energy is stored inside Dark's vest which is gotten from a small wired battery Dark has stored in both his wrist cuffs. He changes the battery to a new one as needed.]

Because the bots pick up on all audio, and are programmed with precoded specifications, Ted clearly overheard what Chosen wanted Dark to do. When Dark pulled Ted out, [Dark had the chip at this point in time] Ted sent a confirm message straight to Dark's vision, like it was asking if what Dark wanted was for Ted to handle the school situation and make sure that the school was under the impression that Second would be staying home. Ted's artificial intelligence was set well enough, and the bot used artificial soundwaves that matched similarly to Alan's voice, in order to be convincing, and it was pulled off very well.

Without the chip, Dark always had to verbally give commands and sometimes this was inefficient and slowed things down. The reason it was slow, was only so because Dark is extremely cautious about where and what his bots do, so there are many walls of precautions set in place so the artificial intelligence doesn't run in the wrong direction and a bot thinks it should do something other than what Dark wants. That's why there are confirm messages and such, like "Are you sure that [insert command] is what you wish to happen?"

There was not confirm messages before the chip existed. Instead, Dark just gave orders, and the bots were never programmed at that moment to formulate thoughts and orders themselves, because they would be under the risk of assuming something incorrect. After the chip existed, Dark added the codes that allowed the bots to use information they received to guess what Dark wanted to happen, because now the previous "risk" did not exist. It was alleviated by the ability for Dark to directly receive confirm messages, and there was no longer the possibility that a bot would assume the wrong thing and try to do something Dark didn't want to happen. With the chip, if a bot did happen to misunderstand, than Dark could cancel it mentally when the confirm message appears in his vision. If he had that code set up without the chip, and a bot misunderstood something Dark would be forced to chase after a bot physically in the moment and try to verbally re-issue a corrected command. Hence, the reason that "think and estimate" code was not added to the button bots until after Dark gained mental connection to his bots via the chip he implanted.

....I hope all of this is making sense, oh my sticks- I did say I would ramble about how they worked, I have so much lore in my head that needs an excuse to get out-

The chip no longer exists as a physical chip under Dark's skin. It has melded with the rest of his code and being, and now is literally in his bloodstream as a direct part of himself. Dark and the chip are one, and this action cannot be undone. [This does mean that the chip cannot fracture physically though, neither can it somehow corrode or be corrupted due to Dark's receiving of physical injuries.]

The bots cannot be "hacked", they only respond to Dark. They recognize Dark and Dark's being and Dark's code and everything that is Dark. Unless someone somehow managed to literally be exactly like Dark in every way, looks, code [DNA], mind, the chip...

Yeah, that isn't happening, every stick is different.

Even if somehow the recognition software implanted into the bots is damaged, they STILL will know the difference between Dark and someone else pretending, because they are still CONNECTED to Dark and Dark only with an unbreakable bond and connection that would not extend to anyone else. Even if the bots are blinded and their audio processors are offline and damaged, even if their code scanners that differentiate every stick was broken somehow, even if anything they use to recognize sticks was not working, EVEN IF they could not tell apart one stick from another, DARK WOULD STILL BE KNOWN. Always, they will know where Dark is and they will NEVER mix him up with another.

Now for Yellow and Dark's connection with each other. >:3

I have plans for the story in this regard, and Dark does indeed end up as somewhat of a mentor figure to the kid, though not like how regularly and consistently Vic ends up teaching Blue. [Vic and Blue's bond is, uh, primarily Arc Three material. I shouldn't say too much, but meh- You asked. At this point, with how much I have shared, who cares about my rambles and why I shouldn't ramble about certain things-]

Yellow and Dark will be amazing together, and Yellow already has a certain knack for technical and code-related things, so Dark is very happy to have something of a protege.

Anyway, the entire reasoning behind this ask was Dark's weaknesses with having the chip, yes? Well, guess what. There happens to be an upcoming incident that occurs, revealing just exactly what this weakness could be and how Dark gets through it.

Because Dark Whump, why not- U v U

The chip does have coatings on it [back when it was solidly a chip in form and before it began its absorption process into Dark's code as a whole] that prevent electrical and signal-interference damages as well. I forgot to mention this fact earlier in my explanation. A friend once asked me about whether or not Dark's chip could be decommissioned via such things, under the assumption that since the chip is made of metal, it could be weak in ways that metal is weak. I was reminded of this while answering this ask, so I'm including the information here midway, hehehe :D

Now uh- I never did say that King and Purple successfully end up yoinking Vic- There may be an attempt, though- EHEHHEHHEHHEHEHHE

Oh circuits, I need to keep my mouth shut sometimes. [and then Scarlett proceeded to not keep her mouth shut- /silly]

Interesting theory or guess that Yellow might attempt to be a hacker? If that's what I'm understanding from what you said? Yellow doesn't end up hacking anything per se.... But uhhhhhhhhhhhh-

.........Oy. I actually don't think I should say what I want to say here, that's too big of a spoiler. ....This is a lore ramble, not a spoiler ramble, I must remember this-

All I will say for now, is that Yellow has a significant importance in Arc Two, to a very large degree OTHER than the fact he designs and makes work the majority of the Color Gang's costumes/upgrades.

Arc Two was always meant to be much more focused on the Color Gang than Arc One was, partially as a sort of apology for how much the quadruplets were left out at the time of Arc One's climactic points, where we only really got to see mercenaries and the hollowheads. Primal is also a big focus, but so is Dark, Second, and Victim. And King and Purple. And Navy and Orchid very much, oh dear I have LOTS of plans for them.

It's meant to be more well-rounded in character includement, is what I mean. Everyone gets the spotlight, even if technically Second is still the main main character. XD

Going back to the bots: My brain also jumped-

If Dark dies, the bots deactivate? [sorta?] permanently because every function is tied to Dark, except for the energy part, of which is stored in Dark's wrist cuffs. The battery could be recharged and maintained by someone else, and it would not take much effort to get the bots back online, but what I mean by "deactivate" is the way that they work. They could be online again, yes, but they won't do the things they did before. They will not follow orders from another, and will not fly, or do anything but sit there and technically be "online". Now, if Yellow or someone went to the trouble to painstakingly reprogram them, and they no longer were tied to Dark [and this is dependent on how much Dark's body would corrode] than yes, they could function again with the abilities they wielded previously, since those function still exists, but couldn't work or activate without Dark's presence.

If Dark is unconscious, or in sleep, his button-bots are probably on his vest, in idle positions as buttons. If Dark is, for example, knocked out while fighting and his button bots happen to be on the field not as buttons while this happens, then they will now be limited in their actions to a very select few set of precoded commands.

This includes, protection of Dark and those he deems protection listed, such as Second, Chosen, Alan, Vic, any friends he has on the list as well, and of course any sticks the bots understand are civilians. Remember that the database in the button-bots for the population of the city is incredibly expansive, and Dark has a stored list of nearly everyone, so the button-bots can easily know who is who. Or they can artificially think it out whether a stick is a civilian or not, based on the circumstances of the current situation and the things a civilian would do/places a civilian would be.

There are only a few set commands that are precoded, in which the bots are allowed to follow without needing Dark's confirmation. If Dark is knocked out, and a bot processes a situation that requires the usage of a more dangerous use of abilities and therefore needs to use a confirm message in order to proceed with the bot's conclusion of what it needs to do, then without Dark to confirm message the conclusion, the button-bot can do nothing but return to Dark as a button or not proceed with the conclusion it made. They are only able to do the simplest of precoded commands, as a set precaution. Imagine if Dark woke up and the bots had set something on fire by accident, or by procedure of a wrong/incorrect conclusion of situation. This wouldn't do, there needed to be preset restrictions on the artificial thinking processes.

Mostly, all the bots would be able to do while Dark is out, would be protect and defend. If a building started to catch fire because of a villain, the bots could put it out, though. They are not inherently useless just when Dark is out of commission for the time being. This possibility is very dependent on Dark actually getting knocked out mid-fight, in the first place, however, and this is very unlikely due to Dark's high skill.

...

I think that may be it for now- Honestly, this was SO SO much fun to answer!! I feel like I had a brain clog released, or something. Rambling is so therapeutic!! :D

Thank you EVER so much for your asks!! I hope there may still be more! [aside from that one still in my inbox that I haven't finished yet-]

[washbearzz]

i'm obsessed with that cover you did for pawprint panic with the cat!! it's so cool! is there more art of that kitkat somewhere???

thank you! :D

and yes, there is!! they've also been illustrated on the inserts for the upcoming CDS, along with the old milestones image & the mockup DS cartridge. all of which can be seen below:

(note: the cat on the album cover actually has a nickname! we have called them 'paw', while the other cat you can see here has been called 'print'. you can tell them apart by their patterns--see the last image for more info!!)

all art by me of course, aside from the last image--that was drawn by napcast!! aka @sillyguiro :)

[shortstorysandoneshots]

Shameless self insert moment incoming...

The clatter of dishes faded, leaving the kitchen in a tranquil quiet. The vintage KitKat clock swung with a steady rhythm, its soft ticking creating a comforting backdrop. Then, like a gentle breeze, the familiar melody of Frank Sinatra's "Someone to Watch Over Me" filled the air.

SARAH: (softly) This one's a classic.

I glanced at Sarah, and in the soft glow of the kitchen lights, her eyes carried a glimmer of fond nostalgia. She seemed to lose herself in the music, swaying gently as if each note held a cherished memory.

BUCKY: (curious) You a fan of Old Blue Eyes?

SARAH: (nodding) Big fan. Sinatra's got a way of making you feel every word.

The music invited us to a silent dance, and as Sarah, setting aside the dish towel, swayed to its gentle cadence, I noticed a vulnerability in her that I hadn't seen before. It was a moment, unhurried and unguarded, that made me see her differently.

BUCKY: (softly) Mind if I take the lead this time?

She looked at me, surprise mingled with a playful grin.

SARAH: Be my guest.

As I stepped closer, extending my hand, the kitchen transformed into a dance floor. The vintage clock's swing seemed to synchronize with the music, creating an intimate space within the familiar surroundings.

BUCKY: You know, it's been a while since I danced.

SARAH: (teasing) Careful, soldier. They say dancing is the fastest way to a girl's heart.

I chuckled, appreciating her attempt to inject some lightness into the moment. It eased the tension that had been subtly building.

BUCKY: (smirking) Well, I'll keep that in mind.

As we continued to dance, Sarah's playful remark lingered in the air. I could sense a hesitancy in her words, a mix of shyness and a desire to keep things light. It made me wonder if she was as surprised by this unexpected connection as I was.

BUCKY: You always been this good at defusing awkward moments?

SARAH: Comes with the territory of being a journalist. Gotta have a quick wit.

BUCKY: (smiling) I can appreciate that.

The dance continued, and our conversation flowed naturally, like a gentle stream winding its way through uncharted terrain. The vintage clock swung, a companion to the shared laughter and the quiet understanding that unfolded between us.

As the song reached its final notes, our eyes lingered in a silent exchange. The music, the dance – they became metaphors for something unspoken, a connection that defied the simplicity of the moment.

SARAH: (softly) That was unexpected.

BUCKY: (smiling) Sometimes, the best things are.

The vintage KitKat clock's swing persisted, marking the end of the song and the beginning of a quiet yet profound moment in Sarah's small kitchen, where music, dance, and newfound connections converged.

[whitleyschn33]

RWBY Volume 9 Episode 3 Liveblog Thoughts

I know I didn’t do episode 2, but there wasn’t really anything about it that caught my attention enough to make a post about - save 2 things, but those are better left to their own posts.

I’ve just finally gotten home from work, had dinner, and washed up, so I’m feeling very sleepy. If I miss something you think is worth being commented on or further discussed, let me know!

- ��The Red King helped Alyx” I saw KitKat say this earlier, and it’s something that’s been in the back of my mind for a while as well - I wish we knew the story of The Girl Who Fell Through the World ourselves rather than having elements of it introduced basically right before they happen. I know working in another campfire storytime without being boring would be difficult (actually, side note, notice that we haven’t seen night here yet? No moon...), but I feel like something could have been worked out. A scene where the girls talk about the versions of the story that they grew up with (since myths and fairy tales often have multiple versions), arguing about the details and giving us as the audience a clearer understand of how the full story goes and how each kingdom/family of RWBY interprets and tells the story. Would have been nice to know this story from more than a couple lines in volume 8 (that I had to be reminded of existing) before we start living it.

-I got to give props to the sound design on the Prince so far, I really like the clinking noises as he moves, really helping sell that he’s a living puppet.

-Uhhhh, insulting the guy you’re expecting to help you probably isn’t a great idea, even if he is a brat.

- “The king would still be here if it wasn’t for your kind” - so the guards do recognize human beings. Did Alyx kill the Red King? (Insert Wreck it Ralph “Things are finally getting interesting around here” screencap)

-Weiss being this overly expressive in her poses still isn’t funny, please stop.

-I’m really digging the score, very fun and bouncy.

-”How could you” best voice work I’ve heard from Lindsey in a while, very nice~ Also, uh, kinda to be expected, Ruby. If someone’s entire gimmick is the color red, makes sense green isn’t their thing.

-Well uh... that’s kinda dark, but... they’re toys. Can they even die like that? I was half expecting their heads to roll out and still be talking to each other.

-Not sure I’d be too eager to play games with someone that just said they found beheadings fun.

-I feel like the butterfly must be connected to either Alyx or the shadow boy in the painting.

-Soldier coughing up sawdust - not funny, but a nice touch

-Ruby, do not play a game you don’t know how to play, you are going to lose bad

-Okay, really liking the score, I’m very glad that it’s back after a noticeable abscene.

-Also, was this just... not in the story? Did Alyx not play checkers/chess with the King? Chess is a pretty big deal in Through the Looking Glass, so I would’ve assumed it would be part of Alyx’s story as well. Guess the Red Prince is more sadistic.

-Okay, this is Risk, not Checkers.

-Uhhh, the rules were to move a pawn one space each turn - why does Weiss charge ahead multiple spaces? Also, what constitutes a turn if Ruby is allowed to move 5 pawns in a row?

-Annnnnd Weiss hasn’t moved from her starting spot on the board.

-So “turns” are just whenever the Prince thinks the turns are. Fair enough, this is Not-Wonderland.

-Ruby, I wouldn’t be so cavalier about your species. We don’t know Alyx’s story that well, but we do know she started a war and “lied and cheated her way” through Ever After, so it’s not likely that the people would have a good impression of her or anyone like her.

- “You’re humans! You must have cheated!” Yep, something tells me if Alyx played a game, she cheated her way through it.

- And there’s our cat

- I like the cracks. Nothing else, just a sucker for it.

- Also, really digging the song. I’m going to actually look forward to hearing the full version.

- OH MY GOD, SOMEONE FINALLY RUN OUT OF AMMUNITION. Have we ever seen this happen in RWBY before? 

- It’s nice to finally get some action. Not the best choreography, and some of the stunts have me cringing, but I appreciate the show of actually teamwork in the fights, combining semblances.

- I like the cat’s voice - still don’t like his design, even if I can appreciate it as meant to resemble a “texture not found” effect (I hope that’s what they were going for anyway, cause otherwise yikes), but I appreciate the smooth talking, soothing the prince to get his way. 

- “The one thing you were put on this acre to do” Oh?

- “They might not come back” - implying that the soldiers do.

- Ohhhh, slick line from the cat~

- “We’re in it’s stupid sequel” - Weiss is honestly a mood. I would enjoy her attitude towards this a lot more without the attempts at comedy, as this is the first time I’ve smiled at one of these lines.

- I, uh, really hate these “Blake exposits the plot of TGWFTTW (i got tired of typing it out) to the team”, because this is something the girls *should* know. Even people that haven’t read or watched any adaptations of Alice in Wonderland know the Cheshire Cat, and I know they’ve mentioned him in the last episode, so all four of the girls should instantly realize who this must be, and anyone watching the show would know what this is meant to parallel. Otherwise, what was the point of making TGWFTTW a story that all the girls knew? If you were going to have Blake explain everything anyway, why not make it a more obscure story? Maybe even a fairy tale among the Faunus specifically?

-And there’s our dear Neo. Odd that she fell so long after the others when we saw her falling with Ruby, but whatever, they’ve already lampshaded that.

-A one woman army now. Not sure how this is a progression of her semblance, but it does make me think that all the figures we see behind her in the opening are just clones she’s made, which I am far happier with than the idea of even more characters to keep track of and worry about this volume.

Overall? I actually enjoyed this episode - some fun action, good music and score. While some of the lines are cringe and none of the comedy really lands like it’s supposed to (I have no idea why they’re writing Weiss as though she’s RWBY Chibi Weiss, but it’s annoying, please stop), but I’ll take it. Definitely the most I’ve enjoyed an episode since Dark.

[kakusboyfriend]

Omg I keep forgetting I made these edits of Mac last December just for funsies... I actually still really like them and one of them is my icon on Reddit LOL

[mutasmutosarchive]

— 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐬' 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

— 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬

· Phillip Graves – Call of Duty Modern Warfare – insert: Maeven 'Mesa' Fletcher – tags: ╎phillip g. , ╎ship – agrestic. , ╎insert – mesa.

· Rick Flag - DC - insert: Kiernan Lorne - tags: ╎rick f. , ╎ship – cryptomnesia. , ╎insert – kiernan.

— 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬.

· Jordan Trace – R6 – insert: Einar 'Hex' Beaumont – tags: ╎jordan t. , ╎ship – custodire. , ╎insert – hex.

· Walker - Masters of Horror - insert: -- - tags: ╎walker. , ╎ship – venarius. , ╎insert – .

· Wesley Mitchell – Common Law – insert: -- – tags: ╎wesley m. , ╎ship – covenant. , ╎insert – .

— 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬

· Herbert West – HP Lovecraft's Re-Animator Movies

· Kate Laswell – Call Of Duty

· Samuel "Zero" Fisher – R6

· Alex Keller – Call of Duty

— 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐬

· Travis Marks – Common Law

· The Wolfman – Darkwood

· Max "Mozzie" Goose – R6

· Håvard "Ace" Haugland – R6

· Taina "Caviera" Pereira – R6

· Elena "Mira" Álvarez – R6

· Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda – R6

· Lt. Keaton "KitKat" Whaley – Shadow Company OC

· Johnny Cage – MK

· Simon "Ghost" Riley – Call of Duty

· Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – Call of Duty

· John "Soap" Mactavish – Call of Duty

· Cicero – SCP Foundation (SCP Overlord Film)

— 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬

· Farah – Call of Duty

· Kenshi Takahashi – MK

· Robert Wheeler – Into The West

[dominoblues]

I WANT TO BE A WORM CRAWLING INSIDE MOKUBA'S BRAIN AND STARE AT HIS THOUGHTS IN BLISS.

----

The KitKat bar is challenging him. He is sure of it. Looking at him behind the glass with a smug expression. Mocking him, making fun of him. I dare you to push the button. Fucking annoying. He redirects his attention to the row below. The small pack of Kopiko tells a different story altogether. It is begging him, watching him with pleading eyes to free it from the sorrow of the refrigerated prison. That KitKat asshole must have everyone under its thumb, ruling as a king over the microcosmic empire of snacks called FamilyMart. Well, fuck you KitKat.  

Mokuba inserts the coins in the slot (one cherry blossom, two phoenix hall) and presses the number ‘one’ followed by the ‘five’. The machine awakes from its sleep with a buzz. The metal coils of the prison rotate releasing the captive small pack which falls in the open compartment below. Finally, freedom. Mokuba grins victorious. He kneels and pushes the compartment door reaching for his cold prize. He shoots a last glance at the snack on the other side of the glass: emperor KitKat is raging, yet powerless. That doesn’t mean Mokuba has put a stop to his reign of terror. No, the moment he turns away KitKat will divert its rage and punishment to the other prisoners under his control. Well, nothing Mokuba can do about it. Goodbye asshole. Not my fucking problem.

He walks away from the vending machine and sinks on the closest bench in the white room, his body feeling understandably heavy because he hasn’t slept in ages. Like a true Kaiba. Fuck hospitals fuck doctors fuck my idiot brother laying semi-comatose upstairs. Again. For the second time. A cosmic wicked prank, that’s what their life is. Years pass seasons change and we are clinging in this fucked up eternal looped hoax of our misery stuck in the same immutable frozen truth over and over again. I hate you so much. I love you so much. I have been surviving just fine without you and I cannot live without you.

Mokuba leans his head compliantly against the wall, closes his eyes and lingers. Seconds, minutes, hours. It doesn’t matter. If he falls asleep, someone will come waking him up just in time for the bijillion things appointed on his daily to-do list he doesn’t even bother to check. As if he needed to. cfo at 9.00 meeting.meeting.meeting. industrial illusions ceo at 11.00. report to the board at 12.00 because those assholes wants to keep up with everything that’s going on like they give a shit about him and the other idiot because this machine for pigs cannot stop grinding and profits.profits.profits Marx was right.   

Mokuba lets out an exhausted sigh. He opens his eyes again and looks down at the Kopiko pack hanging from his fingers. He pulls it open and sticks his hand in to draw the small wrapped confectionary. Lunch break at 1.00 reports.reports.reports. r&d at 2.00 testing.testing.testing. He removes the thin paper and shoves the sweet block into his mouth whole. Released from a lifetime under dictatorship only for it to end its journey in a stinky toilet. Someone somewhere has written a philosophical essay about the meaning of life of FamilyMart snacks. The intense flavor of coffee melts in his palate. Mokuba’s eyes fixes on the white spotless ceramic tiles covering the floor of the small waiting room.

Seto woke up two days earlier in the ICU. He opened his eyes briefly. However, they soon had to administer an IV dose of morphine before he went into tachycardia. Doctors tried to cheer him up saying the response to pain was a good thing. YEAH LET ME TELL YOU A COUPLE OF THINGS ABOUT MY BROTHER’S PAIN, he wanted to yell. Not a word about the rest, though. It is still too early to know, mister Kaiba. He called Mokuba’s name. That must have been a good sign, right?

He had been comatose for sixteen days, fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes after the surgery. Mokuba had been measuring the time painstakingly with the meticulous precision of an atomic clock because that’s exactly what Seto had been for two weeks: an idle mass of still particles and unreactive electrons at zero frequency of resonance and momentum debunking the entirety of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle; an immovable and immutable pile of flesh and tubes, lines and cables sticking out his nose, chest, stomach and bladder as an extension of his own starving emaciated body.

Yet, Mokuba thinks there’s something decorous and beautiful in his blissfully simulated sleep. Even in his resting state Seto is a fixed mark in the flow of time. Pale and inert like marble crystallized in the eternal beauty of a greek statue that would make Michelangelo blush in admiration and jealousy at his sight. Seto’s charming even in a coma, gorgeous and grotesque as something born simultaneously from the hands of a Canova and a Dalí. It horrifies him and it amazes him he can barely keep his eyes away from the lifeless cocoon.

He woke up then and he went back to sleep. Seto is now a pupa. The chrysalis will complete its transformation and Seto-imago will emerge from its shell at the conclusion of this metamorphosis. Will you still be the same will you be different will you still love me will you accept the pain that we are fucking broken and I don’t care about perfection I never wanted a flawless you I want you to accept me/us for who we are.

-----

(WIP)