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annafayeink · 4 months ago

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All I Ever Wanted

Summary: After weeks of late nights and playful banter, Lu and his project partner find themselves drinking a little too much on Valentine’s Day and spilling some unfiltered truths.

Warnings & tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff, College AU, Mutual Pining, Drunken Confessions, Truth or Dare Gone Wrong (or Right?), STEM Nerds in Love, One-Sided Pining (but not really)

Wordcount: 11217 (it's a long one for me...)

Read on AO3

The hum of the computer lab had become their second heartbeat through weeks of late-night debugging sessions, endless energy drinks and heated debates over syntax errors.

Lu leaned back in his chair. The flickering glow of monitors cast a tired haze over his face as he stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “I swear, if I have to debug one more line of code, I’m gonna start throwing things,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Across the table, his project partner smirked, barely glancing up from her screen. “That’s funny. I was just thinking about how much fun it would be to fix your broken code for the third time today.”

Lu scoffed, spinning in his chair to face her. “Excuse me, but my code is art."

She snorted. "Your code could be catching flames in a paper bag on someone’s porch, and you know it."

He laughed out loud, but exhaustion weighed on both of them. The project was nearly done, but the stress of perfecting it had left them both frayed at the edges.

“Alright, I think… I think that should do it,” she muttered, sitting back and running a hand down her face. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and the oversized hoodie she wore had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her tank top. “Run the test again.”

“You say that every time. You’re like an optimist with Stockholm Syndrome.”

She threw a crumpled candy wrapper at him. “Just do it.”

He smirked and hit the compile button. The two of them leaned in, watching the lines of code execute. A pause—then the program ran cleanly. No errors. No warnings. Just success.

For a moment, they just stared at the screen, the weight of weeks of sleep deprivation, stress, and too much caffeine finally culminating in this single, victorious moment.

Lu grinned. “Holy shit, we did it.”

“We did it!” she echoed, and then to his surprise, she flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in an exuberant hug.

He caught her easily, laughing as he steadied them both. She smelled like vanilla and old books, and for a second, Lu had the ridiculous urge to close his eyes and just breathe her in. Instead, he let his hands settle briefly at her waist before she pulled back.

Then he shook his head, still grinning as he looked at her—really looked at her. The spark in her eyes, the way her nose scrunched slightly when she smiled too hard, the pure, unfiltered joy radiating from her. He felt something settle in his chest, warm and steady, and almost too easy to ignore—if he were the kind of guy who ignored things like this.

“This wouldn’t be possible without you, Pip.”

Her smile softened at the nickname, one he’d given her ages ago when she’d admitted, in passing, that she’d always loved Great Expectations as a kid. Something about underdogs, she’d said. Something about wanting to prove people wrong.

Now, she rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide the way her lips twitched at the edges. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“It’s not,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his. “You’re kind of a genius, you know that?”

She scoffed. “Oh, so now you think that? Not when I was sleep-deprived and rambling about recursive functions at 3 AM last week?”

“I mean, that was terrifying, but still impressive.”

“We deserve a break,” she declared, gathering her things. “And since it’s technically still Valentine’s Day…” She checked her phone. “Yeah, not midnight yet. We should celebrate.”

Lu arched a brow. “You wanna celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

“No, dummy.” She shoved her laptop into her bag. “I want to celebrate not wanting to throw myself off a bridge because of this project. Come on, let’s go get drinks. First round’s on me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but there was no way he was saying no to spending more time with her. Not when she was already pulling him to his feet, eyes bright with excitement.

“Alright, alright,” he said, letting himself be dragged toward the door. “But if you end up drunk and sobbing about your ex, I’m leaving you at the bar.”

She laughed. “Joke’s on you—I don’t have an ex to sob about.”

Lu paused, watching her for half a second longer than he should have.

Interesting.

They walked side by side through the nearly empty campus streets, the occasional couple passing them, hand in hand, lost in their own little Valentine’s Day world. Pip made a show of gagging at a particularly sappy-looking pair sharing a scarf, and Lu nudged her.

“What, jealous?”

Of that?” Pip made a face. “Please. That’s a level of codependency I aspire to avoid.”

Lu smirked. “Says the girl who texted me at 2 AM last week because she couldn’t decide if an array or a hash table was the better choice for our sorting algorithm.”

“That was important,” she said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And you were awake, don’t even pretend you weren’t.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, because I knew you’d overthink it until sunrise otherwise.

She sighed dramatically. “See? This is why I keep you around. You know how to manage my spirals.”

Lu smiled fondly at her back as they turned the corner onto the main street where their favorite little bar was tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat. The neon Open sign glowed warmly against the dark, and the window was fogged up from the heat inside.

The bar was just off-campus, a warm little hole-in-the-wall that smelled like whiskey and old wood. It was quieter than usual, probably because everyone with actual Valentine’s Day plans had gone somewhere fancier.

They slid into a booth near the back, ordering beers to start. Then Pip tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, shrugging with a sort of distant look in her eyes. “I just think some people get way too into Valentine’s Day. Like, it’s all manufactured romance, you know? What, you need an official day to be romantic? Either you love someone or you don’t.”

Lu arched a brow. “So what, if you ever fall in love, you’re gonna refuse to celebrate Valentine’s Day out of sheer principle?”

“Obviously.” She shot him a pointed look. “If my hypothetical future partner ever tries to do some over-the-top grand gesture on February fourteenth, I’ll just break up with them out of spite.”

Lu let out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“Necessary,” she corrected. Then, after a pause, she added, “Though, I guess, if someone really knew me, they’d probably just take me for drinks and let me rant about AI ethics or something.”

Lu laughed. “Ah, yes, the way to your heart—alcohol and an existential crisis.”

“See? You get it.” She grinned at him. “Maybe you should be my Valentine.”

Lu gave a laugh, deciding against analysing why that idea just felt right.

“Okay, but for real,” she said, after their drinks arrived. “If you had a partner, what would you do?”

Lu glanced at her over his beer. “You mean for Valentine’s Day?”

Pip nodded. “Yeah. Say you actually had someone. What’s your move?”

He thought for a second, fidgeting with a peeling corner of the label on his bottle. “I don’t know. I feel like grand gestures are overrated. I’d want to do something that actually means something to them.”

“Like what?”

Lu shrugged. “Depends on the person. Maybe cook for them, or take them somewhere they’ve always wanted to go but never had the time. Or just… spend the day doing nothing together, but in a way that still feels like everything.”

Pip was quiet for a beat, then let out a laugh. “God, that’s disgustingly sweet.”

“You asked,” he pointed out with a shrug.

She took a sip of her beer, and suddenly her eyes lit up with an idea. “Okay, Lu, truth or dare?”

He huffed a laugh. “What are we, twelve?”

“Come on, it’s a classic. And since we don’t have exes to sob about, we might as well make the night interesting.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Fine. Truth."

Pip leaned back, swirling her drink as she considered her options. Then, with a small, mischievous smile, she asked, “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

Lu arched a brow, taking a slow sip of his beer. “Damn. You’re going straight for the deep cuts, huh?”

She shrugged. “We’ve been in the trenches together for months now. I think we’re past the what’s your favorite color phase.”

He tapped his fingers against his bottle, thinking. There were plenty of things he didn’t talk about—most of them too boring or too complicated for a casual drinking game. But then, without really meaning to, he found himself saying, “I almost dropped out last year.”

Pip’s brows lifted, her expression shifting from playful to surprised. “Wait. What?”

Lu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t tell anyone, obviously. But I was seriously thinking about it. Everything felt like too much, you know? The pressure, the expectations, all the shit I thought I was supposed to be able to do but couldn’t. I started wondering if maybe I was just—” He made a vague gesture. “—burning time on something I’d never actually be good enough at.”

Pip didn’t say anything right away. She just watched him, her head tilted slightly, like she was seeing something new in him. Then she said, “What changed your mind?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, taking another sip of his beer. “You, actually.”

Pip’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah. You remember that night we pulled an all-nighter working on that neural net assignment? I was this close to just walking away from it all. But then you—” He shook his head, grinning at the memory. “You showed up with, like, three energy drinks, a bag of gummy bears, and a completely unhinged rant about how we were not going to let a buggy dataset ruin our futures.”

Pip laughed. “God, I barely remember that. I was so sleep-deprived I think I started speaking in binary at one point.”

“You did. And you know what? It was weirdly inspiring.” Lu smirked. “Somewhere between you threatening to ‘personally fight every faulty training model’ and the moment you fell asleep face-first on your laptop, I figured—yeah. Maybe I should stick around.”

She was quiet for a second, then softened. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “Not exactly my usual small talk.”

Her expression softened, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. She took another sip of her drink, then pointed at him. “Well, now I feel like my question was too deep. I should’ve just asked what your go-to shower song is or something.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Careless Whisper by George Michael.”

She nearly choked on her beer. “What?”

He shrugged. “I like a little drama in my life.”

Pip burst out laughing, shaking her head. Then, after a beat, she nudged his foot under the table. “Hey, Lu?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you stuck around.”

Something about the way she said it made his chest feel too small for his ribs. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his tone light. “Yeah, yeah. You just didn’t want to do all the work yourself.”

“Obviously.” Pip rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Alright, your turn. Truth or dare?”

Pip tapped her nails softly against the neck of her bottle, considering. Then she lifted her chin, a lazy smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “Truth.”

Lu took a sip of his drink, thinking. There were plenty of things he could ask—light, teasing things. But the way she’d looked at him when he admitted almost dropping out was still sitting heavy in his chest. He wanted to ask something real.

So he set his glass down and asked, “What’s something you regret not doing?”

Pip hesitated. For the first time that night, she didn’t immediately have a comeback. Instead, she bit her lip, looking down at the condensation sliding down the side of her bottle.

Lu tilted his head. “Too deep?”

She let out a short laugh. “No, it’s just…” She exhaled, swirling her drink. “I think I regret not being braver about the things I want.”

Lu’s brows lifted slightly. “Like what?”

Pip’s fingers curled around her beer, but when she looked up at him, her gaze held something just out of his reach. “Like saying things when I should.”

Something in his chest tightened. He could feel it—the edge of something unspoken between them, something that had been there longer than either of them had probably wanted to admit.

But then, just as quickly, Pip rolled her shoulders back, shaking it off. She raised her drink in his direction. “But hey, that’s what alcohol is for, right? Liquid courage.”

Lu chuckled, but the moment wasn’t entirely gone. He could still feel it, humming beneath the surface.

“Your turn,” she said like she was in a hurry to change the subject.

He studied her for a second longer than he should have, trying to read the things she wasn’t saying. Then, deciding not to push—not yet, at least—he leaned back with a smirk. “Dare.”

Pip exhaled, looking relieved at the shift in topic. But then a slow grin took over her face, and she leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Alright, Lu. I dare you to go up to the bartender and ask for a Valentine’s Special—without knowing what’s in it.”

Lu chuckled. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Oh, you’ll regret saying that,” she teased. “Now go. Let’s see if you can handle whatever monstrosity they serve you.”

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the booth. “If I end up drinking something pink and covered in whipped cream, I might throw up on you.”

She just grinned, watching him go. But as he crossed the room, she caught herself staring at his back a little too long, her fingers still absently tracing an abstract pattern on the condensation on the bottle.

God. She was in trouble.

They kept drinking, falling back into their usual rhythm—trading stories, daring each other to say ridiculous things to the bartender, laughing too loudly. The bar started to blur at the edges, warm and hazy. Pip’s laugh got looser, her touches lingered longer—fingers brushing against his wrist, knees touching under the table.

Pip wasn’t completely gone, but tipsy enough that she was a little too loose, a little too open. And she had a habit of getting sentimental when she drank—something Lu found stupidly endearing.

“Go on,” Lu said. “Which one?”

She hummed, tilting her head like she was having trouble making a decision. Then she flashed him a lazy grin. “Dare. But make it like… Something that would make future-you cringe when you think about it.”

He let out a low chuckle, swirling the last of his drink. “Alright. I dare you to tell me a secret.”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “That’s too easy.”

“Oh, I’m not done.” Lu leaned forward, his smirk turning sharper. “I dare you to tell me a secret… about me.”

Pip faltered.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, rolling her lips together like she was physically stopping words from spilling out.

Lu watched her, pulse ticking up just slightly. He hadn’t planned this to be a trap, but suddenly, it felt like one.

Pip let out a slow breath, tapping her nails against the rim of her glass. Then, carefully, she said, “You’re a lot more important to me than I let on.”

Lu didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Pip gave him a small, almost hesitant smile. “That count as a secret?”

He should laugh. Tease her. Turn this into something easy and light, the way they always did.

But he couldn’t.

Not when her words were still hanging in the air between them, too big, too real.

He swallowed. “Pip…”

“Wait.” She lifted a hand. “There’s a second part.”

Pip swirled her glass around as if she was trying to find the answer on the bottom. “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me something you’d only say if you weren’t worried about what happens next.”

Pip blinked with heavy eyelids. This was a dangerous dare. But wasn’t it exactly what she was hoping for?

Her fingers tightened slightly around her empty, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. The bar noise seemed to quiet around them, everything narrowing down to just her and him, the warm glow of the lights reflecting in her eyes.

Pip let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Then she reacher for his drink and took a long sip, trying to gather her thoughts and get some of that much needed liquid courage.

“Alright,” she said, set the glass down in front of him again. Her voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I think about you. More than I should.”

Lu stilled, as if the tiniest movement could shatter the moment.

Pip traced the rim of her coaster with her fingertip, not looking at him. “Like, when something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. And when something bad happens, I wonder if you’d make me laugh about it. And when I see something stupid—like a weird-looking pigeon or a meme so dumb it makes me lose brain cells—I think, Lu would get this.” She let out a quiet chuckle, finally meeting his gaze. “And I don’t know what that means, but it’s been happening for a while.”

Lu’s throat was dry. His fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

It took everything in him to keep his voice steady when he said, “That’s a pretty good answer.”

Pip smiled, just barely. “Yeah?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “Yeah.”

Her breath hitched. Just a little.

And then, before he could think too hard about it, before he could do something reckless, Pip abruptly stood up.

“I need another drink.”

Lu blinked. “Pip—”

But she was already heading to the bar.

Lu let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face. His heart was pounding, and not from the alcohol.

When she came back, Pip took a very long sip of her drink even before she sat down. Then she asked him something else in a lighthearted tone.

But her eyes weren’t quite meeting his anymore.

Lu could see it—how she was trying to brush past what she’d just said, how she was treating it like some offhand joke. But her fingers were tapping against her glass, and her lips were pressed together like she was thinking too hard.

Pip had gone quiet. Not her usual, thinking-through-a-bug kind of quiet, but something else. Something heavier. She was staring at her drink like it held the answers to the universe, absentmindedly tracing patterns with her fingertip. Lu watched her, feeling the weight of whatever was about to happen settle in his chest.

He let it sit for a moment, waiting to see if she’d say something else.

She didn't.

She just exhaled and kept playing, making sure the truths and dares turned playful for a while, like an entirely different conversation.

Somewhere between another round of drinks, another round of questions—some deep, some ridiculous, some only half-answered through laughter—Pip started leaning into him more. At first, it was casual. Her shoulder brushing against his when she laughed too hard. Her fingers catching his arm when she emphasized a point. But then her head dipped onto his shoulder, and instead of pulling away, she stayed there.

Lu went still.

He should move. He should say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned slightly, just enough to glance down at her. Pip, eyes half-lidded, hair falling over her cheek, looking content and maybe just a little drunk.

“You good, Pip?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She hummed. “Mhm.”

“You wanna call it a night?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Her fingers played absently with the hem of her sleeve, and for a moment, she was silent.

“You wanna stop playing?”

“No, no, we haven't embarrassed ourselves enough,” she slurred slightly, with a smirk. “Truth or dare?”

Lu, also feeling warm from the alcohol, smirked. “Truth.”

She squinted at him like she was trying to focus. “Would you ever—” She cut herself off, frowning. Then shook her head. “No. Wait. I don’t wanna ask that.”

Lu arched a brow. “You can’t start a question and not finish it.”

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Ugh, I don’t know. My brain-to-mouth filter is completely broken right now.”

Lu chuckled, watching Pip war with herself, her forehead still pressed against the table. She let out a dramatic sigh, then lifted her head, squinting at him through slightly unfocused eyes.

“Okay, fine,” she mumbled, waving a hand in his general direction. “Would you ever… I mean, have you ever thought about…”

Lu leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Thought about what?”

She let out a frustrated groan, scrunching up her face like she was trying to will the words out of her mouth. Then, suddenly, she blurted, “Would you ever date me?”

Suddenly it felt like there was not enough oxygen in the room. Lu took a deep breath, but it was shaky and didn't quite fill his lungs.

Pip immediately sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Nope. Nope, that wasn’t—I mean, not that it’s a bad question, it’s just—”

Lu tilted his head, watching her completely spiral.

“Would I ever date you?” he repeated, pretending to consider it.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Then she peeked at him through her fingers, scowling.

Lu exhaled, leaning back against the booth. He swallowed, throat feeling like sandpaper. “You want an answer or not?”

Pip hesitated, then nodded once, slowly.

His smirk faded just slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter. More certain. “Yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip blinked. She seemed to short-circuit for a second. Then she narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

Lu shrugged. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Pip just stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly, then shut again. Then—she grabbed her drink and downed about half of it.

Lu raised a brow. “Something you wanna say?”

She set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “No. I just—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.”

Pip scowled at him—kinda. Her eyes were hazy, but searching. “Okay, but like—why?”

Lu frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why would you… you know.” She gestured vaguely between them. “Date me.”

Lu considered her for a moment. Then he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and said, “Because you’re you.”

Pip inhaled sharply.

Lu shrugged, playing it off like his heart wasn’t suddenly racing. “You’re smart. You’re funny. And you make me feel like I actually know what the hell I’m doing—even when I don’t.” He met her gaze, steady and unflinching. “So, yeah. I’d date you.”

Pip was completely silent.

For a long, stretching moment, she just stared at him, her lips slightly parted, as if she’d forgotten how to speak. Lu couldn’t tell if she was about to laugh, call him a liar, or throw her drink in his face.

“…That’s not fair,” she finally muttered.

Lu smirked. “What’s not fair?”

She exhaled, shaking her head, staring at the table like it held the answers. “You. Saying stuff like that. Being like that.”

“Like what?”

Pip let out a short, breathy laugh, rubbing a hand over her face. Then, before she could stop herself, she said, “Like someone I can’t imagine my life without.”

Lu blinked.

Pip groaned, shaking her head. “God, I should not be drinking right now.”

Lu leaned in, curiosity sparking, his heart thrumming like it wanted to escape his chest. “What does that mean?”

Pip hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “It means—” She sighed, then looked up at him with a kind of tired fondness. “It means I like you, okay? I like… how you always act like nothing gets to you, but you care so much it’s ridiculous. I like that you always notice when I’m stressed before I even say anything. I like that you walk me home when we stay late at the lab and pretend it’s just because ‘you needed air.’”

Lu exhaled slowly, dizzy, heart hammering in his throat and ears and just everywhere.

But Pip wasn’t done.

“I like that you’re secretly the biggest softie,” she went on, her words getting a little looser, a little warmer, like the dam had finally broken. “Like when you always give the stray cat outside the library part of your sandwich, even though you pretend you don’t like cats.”

Lu huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not my fault, he just looks at me like that.”

Pip chuckled, looking down at her drink. “I like how you talk with your hands when you’re explaining something. And when you’re focusing really hard, you do a little pouty thing with your lips, it’s adorable.”

Lu just stared. He didn’t know if he was breathing.

Pip leaned forward slightly, propping her elbows on the table. “You remember last semester, when my laptop crashed the night before that huge deadline?”

He snorted. “Yeah. You were ready to fight God.”

She pointed at him. “Exactly. I was losing my mind. But you just—” She shook her head. “You showed up with your old laptop, somehow got my files recovered, and then you stayed up with me the whole night just to make sure I finished everything.”

Lu shrugged like it was nothing. “Well, yeah. What was I gonna do, not help?”

“That’s the thing,” Pip said softly. “You don’t even think about it. You just do things like that.”

Lu exhaled, breath ragged like he just ran a marathon, and shifted slightly in his seat. “I mean, you do the same for me.”

Pip sighed. “Yeah, I would do it for you. But you do it for anyone who needs it. You don't mind staying up all night helping people study or finish their projects. You bring them snacks and drinks. You never let anyone sit alone in the lab when they look stressed. ”

Lu was speechless, just staring at her with his mouth slightly opened in surprise.

“Or—” she gestured vaguely, her voice softer now, “—how you knew I was about to crash last semester and left a stupid energy drink in my locker with a note that just said ‘Don’t die, Pip.’”

His mind scrambled for a response but words failed him. He didn’t even remember doing that. Lu opened his mouth, then closed it, caught completely off guard.

Pip kept going, oblivious to the fact that she was absolutely wrecking him.

“Do you even know how stupidly likable you are? You’re just— You walk into a room and people like you. And..” She hesitated for a heartbeat. “And I like that you’re way too competitive about stupid things. Like Mario Kart. Or rock-paper-scissors.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, both at what she said and as a nervous reaction to her entire speech. “That’s called having integrity, Pip.”

She rolled her eyes but kept going. “I like the way you say my full name when you’re being serious.” She swallowed. “I like the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. Pip let the words sink in for a moment. Then she picked up her metaphorical shovel and kept digging the hole.

“Yeah, I really like your eyes. Which is annoying because when you look at me a certain way, my brain just turns into the blue screen of death, and—” She broke off, shaking her head. Then she let out a small, slightly tipsy laugh. “Also I really like your hands.”

Lu’s brain felt like a completely fried motherboard. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, buying himself a second to think.

Pip smiled, just slightly. Like she wasn’t just putting all of this out there, months—maybe years—of pent up feelings she had hidden from him.

“You have, like, objectively nice hands,” she continued, frowning slightly like this was important information. “They’re big but not, like, weirdly big, and you do this thing where you crack your knuckles when you’re thinking and—”

“Pip,” Lu interrupted, his voice slightly strained.

She blinked up at him, like she hadn’t noticed she was rambling. “What?”

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You can’t just say all that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” He hesitated, shaking his head. “Because it means something.”

Pip stared at him. Then, very softly, she whispered, “It does.”

Lu’s chest tightened.

Pip suddenly looked like she wanted to shrink into the floor. “I should shut up now.”

Lu huffed a breath, shaking his head. She was drunk. Really drunk. She probably didn’t even know what she was saying. “You should.”

But she didn’t. Instead, she let out a breath, barely above a whisper.

“You’re kind of the best person I know,” she murmured.

Lu blinked. “What?”

Pip glanced up at him, eyes a little too bright, a little too earnest. Vulnerable. “You’re a really good person, Lu.” And then, after a pause. “…You’re all I ever wanted." She looked down and shook her head. "I’m sorry I can’t say it sober.”

Silence.

The bar noise felt distant, like it wasn’t even real anymore. Just the sound of her breathing, unsteady, and little too fast.

Lu gripped his drink like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She wasn’t laughing anymore.

She wasn’t playing anymore.

The words hung in the air between them, delicate and irreversible.

Then, as if realizing what she’d just said, Pip sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going wide, glassy and slightly unfocused. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Lu just stared at her.

Pip covered her mouth with both hands, looking absolutely horrified. “I should not have said that.”

Lu blinked, dazed, still processing the fact that she had said that.

Pip groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Lu, forget what I said”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Pip let out a pained noise.

Lu exhaled, scrubbing a hand down his face. His chest felt too tight, his mind spinning too fast. He should say something, acknowledge it, tell her—

No.

He couldn’t let himself answer. Not here. Not now. Not while she was like this.

He needed to think. He needed to get those drinks away from her and get her home.

Lu stood abruptly, tossing some cash onto the table. “Come on, drunkie. Let’s get you back before you start reciting poetry or something.”

Pip groaned, still face-down on the table.”I regret all my choices.”

Lu smirked, despite the storm raging in his chest. He bent down and grabbed her hand, tugging her up. “Come on, you need to get some rest.”

She groaned again but didn’t resist when he pulled her to her feet, steadying her with an arm around her shoulders.

And as they stepped out into the cold Valentine’s night, biting and sobering, Lu kept hearing it over and over again.

You’re all I ever wanted.

And fuck if that didn’t ruin him.

Pip shivered, wobbling only slightly before leaning into Lu’s side without thinking. He tightened his grip around her shoulders, steadying her as they made their way down the quiet street.

The city had started to wind down—most people already home, tucked away with their dates, their lovers, their Valentine’s plans.

Lu exhaled, his breath curling white in the air. His mind kept looping back to her words.

She probably wouldn’t even remember saying it. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should pretend he didn’t hear it. But fuck, it was hard when she was right here, pressed against him, trusting him enough to lean her weight into him like he was something solid, something safe.

She let out a soft sigh, tilting her head against his shoulder.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, burrowing against him. “Like a space heater.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “From project partner to household appliance. Quite a step up!”

“Totally.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

Lu swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his focus on the sidewalk ahead, on getting her home. Not on the way she felt pressed against him, or the way her voice had wrapped around those words in the bar—You’re all I ever wanted.

It wasn’t far to her dorm, but every step felt like both too much time to think and not nearly enough. Pip was quiet, her usual sharp wit dulled by the alcohol, but she was awake enough to hum under her breath as they walked, something soft and aimless, the way she sometimes did when she thought no one was paying attention.

But Lu always noticed.

When they reached her building, she fumbled in her bag for her keys, her movements slow and uncoordinated. Lu reached over, steadying her hand before she could drop them into the snow.

“Here,” he murmured, plucking them from her fingers. “I got it.”

She hummed in agreement, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he unlocked the door. “Such a gentleman.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nudged her inside, following her up the stairs to her dorm.

Once inside, Pip immediately beelined for her bed, flopping onto it face-first with a dramatic groan.

Lu chuckled, closing the door behind him. “I see subtlety is dead.”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled into the pillow.

Lu crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So this is how you treat your personal chauffeur, huh? No thank you, no you’re my hero, Lu?”

She lifted a hand lazily and gave him a thumbs-up without lifting her head. “You’re my hero, Lu.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

He glanced around the small dorm. It was cluttered but in a way that felt lived-in—books stacked on her desk, a blanket draped haphazardly over her chair, half-finished notes scribbled on sticky pads. It smelled like her.

He sighed, crouching beside the bed to untie her boots.

Pip let out a breathy chuckle. “Wow, I’m getting the royal treatment.”

Lu shook his head, pulling off one boot, then the other. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You always take care of me, Lu.”

His chest ached.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Always.”

She didn’t reply.

“C’mon, Pip, at least get under the covers.”

She let out a grumbling noise but didn’t protest when he pulled the blanket over her.

When he started to move away, she reached out blindly, catching his wrist. “Stay.”

Lu froze.

Pip’s fingers were warm, loose from the alcohol but still firm enough that he knew she meant it.

He swallowed. “Pip—”

“Just… stay,” she murmured. “For a little bit.”

Her gaze flickered over his face, lingering on his lips for a split second too long.

For one agonizing moment, he thought—maybe. But he couldn’t. He was kinda drunk. She was very drunk. Kissing, confessing hidden feelings, cuddling until morning pretending they were just cold—none of it was an option.

Lu exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t even stay. He should go. He should definitely go.

Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, picked up a spare pillow from her bed and settled onto the floor beside her bed, leaning against the frame.

Her fingers slid from his wrist to his hand, her grip easy and unthinking. Lu glanced down, watching their hands, her palm against his, their fingers brushing.

He should let go.

But he didn’t.

He let his thumb trace over her knuckles absently, grounding himself in the quiet darkness.

And as the room settled into soft breathing and silence, as Pip's fingers curled around his just slightly in sleep, Lu let his head tip back against the bed frame.

Just for tonight.

He could pretend.

Pip stirred with a soft groan, burying her face deeper into her pillow. The room was too bright, the warmth of sleep fading into the slow, creeping realization that her head felt too heavy.

Right. Drinking.

She exhaled, blinking blearily at her dorm ceiling, willing herself to piece together the night before. There had been drinks, laughter, Lu teasing her—

Her fingers twitched, brushing against something solid.

She frowned. Turned her head.

Lu was on the floor beside her bed, slumped against the frame, his breathing slow and even, his hand still loosely tangled with hers.

Pip’s heart stopped.

The pieces of the night were blurry, but this—this was new. Unexpected.

She stared at their joined hands, at the easy way their fingers fit together, like they’d done this a hundred times. A small thrill curled through her chest before panic squashed it.

What the hell happened last night?

Her brain scrambled, reaching for memories that felt just out of focus. The bar. The walk home. Him helping her inside.

She swallowed hard.

Suddenly everything sharpened. The warmth of his hand. The quiet in the room. The way Lu’s breathing shifted just slightly, like he was surfacing from sleep.

And then—his eyes fluttered open.

Pip stiffened.

Lu blinked, slow and groggy, squinting against the morning haze, before turning his head slightly. For a second he just looked at her, his gaze still heavy with sleep.

Then his lips curled, soft and lazy. “Morning, Pip.”

Her stomach flipped.

She cleared her throat, shifting to sit up, head still a bit heavy. “Uh. Morning.”

Slowly, like he didn’t really want to do it, Lu released her hand. Then he stretched, wincing slightly as he rolled his shoulders. “Damn. I think my spine is permanently shaped like your bed frame now.”

Pip let out a breathy laugh, but it was weak. “What… uh. What are you doing here?”

He gave her a look. “You really don’t remember?”

Pip hesitated. “I remember drinking.”

Lu huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

She rubbed her temples. “Did I… did I say anything stupid?”

For half a second, Lu didn’t answer. Then he smirked, tilting his head. “Define stupid.”

Pip groaned again, finally dropping her hands to look at Lu. There was something almost hesitant in the way she studied him. Like something was off.

“…Did I?” she asked, quieter this time.

Lu hesitated.

Because he could tell her. He could say yeah, Pip, you told me you loved me and wrecked my entire existence in three seconds flat.

Or—

“Nah,” he said instead, stretching his arms over his head, stomping all over the memories like he wanted to grind them into dust. “Just your usual brand of nonsense.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“You do this thing with your face when you’re lying.”

His heart was starting to speed up. “Pip, I’m literally just existing.”

She groaned, rubbing at her temple again. “Whatever. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“That truck was three vodka sodas and a bunch of other bad decisions.”

She let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lu noticed, but didn’t mention it.

Pip yawned, pulling the blanket over one shoulder. “You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t trust you not to roll off the bed and die.” He shrugged, trying to keep his voice light. “Plus, you asked me to.”

She blinked at him, something flickering across her face. “I did?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Clung to me like a baby koala, too.”

She groaned. “Great. Love that for me.”

Lu chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears.

Pip didn’t remember. And she had no idea she was breaking his heart.

He exhaled slowly, still blinking sleep away from his eyes. His head was clearer now, last night’s haze dulled to a manageable ache, but his chest still felt tight, weighted by the words that kept replaying in his mind.

You’re all I ever wanted.

She had said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. No hesitation, no doubt. And now she didn’t even know she’d said it.

Lu swallowed it all down. “You should eat something.” His voice was steady, but he was already pushing himself to his feet, removing himself from the situation before she could ask anything else. “I’ll grab you some water.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

But while Lu moved toward the tiny dorm kitchen, Pip frowned slightly, like she was trying to piece something together. Like some part of her knew something had happened, even if she didn’t remember it yet.

Pip sat on the bed, fingers idly rubbing against her palm, as if chasing the phantom feeling of Lu’s hand in hers.

He returned a moment later, setting a glass of water on her nightstand with a pointed look. “Drink slowly. If you throw up all over the place I am not cleaning it up.”

She rolled her eyes but obeyed, taking small, careful sips. The cold water helped clear the fuzziness in her head, but the feeling in her chest—the vague, off sensation, like she was forgetting something important—remained.

For a moment, she just watched Lu move around her room like he’d done this a hundred times before. Something about it felt too easy—like they had always existed in this quiet rhythm, like it wasn’t strange for him to be here, like the warmth still lingering in her hand wasn’t something she should be questioning.

But she was questioning it. Because something was definitely off.

She tried to focus, tried to sort through the messy blur of last night. Bits and pieces surfaced—laughing over drinks, teasing, a conversation about some girl Lu liked.

Her stomach twisted.

Right. That.

She barely noticed Lu setting an energy bar on the nightstand. “Love that you don’t seem to have any real food around here,” he said, casually, before going back to the kitchen.

Pip swallowed hard, watching him move around like nothing changed. Like he wasn’t acting different. Like he wasn’t avoiding looking at her for too long.

He was bracing himself for something. And that—more than anything—confirmed it. She had said something huge. And he heard it, remembered it, and was probably thinking about it.

Pip opened her mouth, then closed it again, her throat too tight. Then she set the water down. “Hey, Lu?”

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Yeah?”

She bit her lip. “I did say something stupid last night, didn’t I?”

Lu stilled. It was subtle—so subtle. But Pip knew him well enough to see it. The slight pause. The careful, almost imperceptible shift in his expression.

Pip’s stomach dipped.

Then he exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was brushing something off, before walking back to her.

“…Define stupid,” he said, echoing his words from earlier.

Pip narrowed her eyes. “You’re so full of shit.”

He had that infuriating smirk on his face again, like he was perfectly fine. Like nothing was wrong when she knew that wasn’t true. “You think I’m just gonna hand over blackmail material that easily?" He scoffed. "Please.”

Pip stared at him, searching his expression for something. A crack, a tell—anything. Because she knew there was something to find.

Lu didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. But he was still keeping his distance. And very deliberately avoiding a straight answer to her question.

“I feel like… I forgot something important.” She forced a small, shaky breath, tilting her head, testing the waters.

Lu let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Pip—”

“Lu,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt as she got up from the bed. “Tell me what I said last night. I’m serious.”.

Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, uncertainty. But then he forced a smile, leaning back against the wall next to her bed. “Well, let’s see. You said I’m warm, which is accurate—”

Pip narrowed her eyes. “And?”

“And you threatened to fight a snowman.”

Pip snorted. “Okay, that tracks.”

But she knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Oh, and you confessed your undying love for me.” He crossed his arms and smiled at her, like none of this was a big deal.

But Pip just froze.

Lu said it so casually, so playfully, like it was just another one of their jokes. She couldn’t quite tell if he was telling the truth or not.

Her heart stuttered. He’s joking, right? Instinct took over because deflecting was easier, and she let out a half-laugh, shaking her head. “I did not.”

His smile widened. “Oh no, you definitely did. Got down on one knee, proposed right there in the snow. Very dramatic.”

She let out a breathy laugh, shoving his arm. “Shut up.”

Lu grinned, but there was something careful behind his eyes. Something guarded. He let the moment stretch, like he was waiting for something.

Then he shrugged. “Nah, I’m messing with you.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, testing her reaction. “But you did ramble about how I have nice hands, which, honestly? The most unnecessarily intimate thing anyone has ever told me.”

Pip blinked. “I what?”

“Oh yeah. Full monologue. Went on for a while.” He glanced at them like he was genuinely contemplating their appeal. “Not gonna lie, I was flattered.”

Pip groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I hate myself.”

Lu chuckled. “I thought it was sweet.”

She peeked at him through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

Pip groaned again, but her mind was racing. Because she knew Lu. She could tell he was doing this on purpose, avoiding the real thing she had said.

She saw it now. Lu wasn’t acknowledging it because he was protecting her—like he always did. He was giving her an out. Letting her brush it off so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

For a long moment, there was just silence—thick and heavy, wrapping around them like neither of them knew how to break it.

Then there was more—hazy, warm, something heavier curling in her chest. Flashes of cold air, of Lu’s arm around her, steadying her as they walked. Of his voice, softer than usual, saying You can’t just say all that.

Of her saying—

Pip sucked in a breath.

You’re all I ever wanted.

The words crashed over her like a wave, and suddenly, she was too aware of everything—the way her heart was hammering, the way Lu had hesitated when she asked if she’d said anything dumb, the way her fingers could still feel his wrapped around them.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Pip didn’t move. Because suddenly, she knew.

Suddenly, she wasn’t just remembering saying it. She was remembering how it felt. And the way he had held her.

The way he had not said it back.

And that was enough to realize that she had said something really very real that changed everything. Something she had never let herself say out loud, even when it was clawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Whatever this was—whatever was sitting heavy between them, waiting to be named—wasn’t something she could brush off.

It had always been there. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she could pretend otherwise. It wasn’t something she could take back.

She swallowed hard, fingers twisting in the blanket on her lap. No. Maybe... she could let this slide. She could laugh it off. She could let him keep pretending, keep protecting her from words she’d already said.

Or—

Pip inhaled sharply. “Lu.”

His smirk faltered, just slightly. “Yeah?”

She looked at him, really holding his gaze. Her heart was a hammer in her chest, but she forced the words out. “I meant it.”

Lu’s breath hitched. For the first time since she woke up, he looked thrown. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

She inhaled deeply, gathering the courage that felt like a live wire beneath her skin, and just kept going because if she stopped now she’d never say it.

“I remember,” she admitted, voice quiet but firm. “I remember saying that, and I—” She exhaled, gripping the fabric in her lap. “I meant it, Lu.”

For a second, he just stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she had actually said that out loud.

Lu flexed his fingers slightly like he was trying not to react, but she could see it. She knew that movement. It meant he was thinking too hard, feeling too hard.

She bit her lip, her chest tightening. “You didn’t say anything back.”

His gaze flickered to the floor.

Pip swallowed. “Was it because I was drunk?” She hesitated. “Or… because I’m not the girl you were talking about last night?”

Lu let out a breath—sharp, unsteady. His fingers twitched, his jaw tensed. He was still trying to hold something back.

Then, finally, finally, he ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before muttering, “God, Pip.”

She waited.

Something broke in his expression—something raw, something wrecked.

“It was you.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “It’s always been you.”

It felt like the floor was escaping from under her feet.

“I didn’t say anything back because you were drunk and I didn’t think you meant it,” he admitted, voice lower now, rougher, like the words were dragging out of him. “And because… I didn’t think I could handle it if I let myself believe it.”

Pip’s breath caught.

Lu shook his head, exhaling sharply, and looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. “I’m in love with you, Pip. I have been for—God, I don’t even know how long. But I never said anything because I genuinely didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” He hesitated. “I thought if I told you, I’d just lose you.”

Pip felt something break open in her chest. Her pulse thundered like mad in her ears. “Why?”

He let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Because of the way you talk about love and relationships. Like it’s something that happens to other people. Like it’s something you don’t care about.”

He paused, and Pip could see the way his chest rose and fell too quickly for someone who was just standing still.

“Because I’ve watched you go on a date with someone, get bored, and never text them back. I just… I figured if you wanted something like this, you would’ve already—”

Pip’s breath hitched. “Lu.”

He exhaled. “Yeah?”

She swallowed. “I didn’t want something like this with anyone else.” Pip let out a nervous laugh, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I mean, look at me. I am horrifically bad at feelings. And I avoided dating because no one ever felt right. And I told myself I wasn’t that kind of person, that I didn’t care about romance, but—” She exhaled. “Maybe I was just lying to myself. Because it wasn’t until you that I started wanting something real.”

Lu inhaled sharply, like he’d forgotten how to breathe properly. His expression had shifted entirely, something new burning behind his eyes.

Pip felt breathless. “And now I’m saying all of this, and I don’t know how to shut up, so if you’re—”

Lu surged forward and kissed her.

Pip gasped against his mouth, barely processing before she was kissing him back, her fingers gripping his shirt, dragging him closer, tilting her head to let him deepen it.

And Lu just melted into it.

His hands found her waist instantly, his lips parting against hers like he had been waiting for this—like he had spent a lifetime holding it back, not letting himself have this, not letting himself want this.

But now she was right there. And she meant it.

And Lu—Lu was so in love with her, he didn’t really know how to breathe anymore.

It was slow and warm and perfect. Like every touch they had ever shared had led to this.

When they finally pulled back, neither of them moved for a second. Their breathing was uneven, their foreheads pressed together, hands still fisted in each other’s clothes. The moment stretched between them, enveloping them, shielding them from the world.

“I love you, Philippa,” he said, barely a whisper.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Lu exhaled, brushing his nose against hers. “And I am so fucking mad at myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, “you’re a real idiot.” Pip let out a breathless laugh, pressing a soft, almost disbelieving kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then, whispering right against his lips, “I love you too, Luigi.”

Lu chuckled, tilting her chin up to kiss her again, slow and deep, fingers threading into her hair.

And this time—

There was no reason for them to hold anything back.

---

Click here for the tag list! ✨

@straw8erry @belncaldern @starlightslvtt @number1yearner @fancyyanci

#luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my fic #one shot

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transrecursive · 5 months ago

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TRANSRECURSIVE

[Image description. First image: One version of the transrecursive flag. The flag has 7 stripes. from top to bottom the stripes are baby blue, pale blue, white, light purple, white, pale pink, and baby pink. The flag is flanked by a baby blue arrow pointing down on the left, and a baby pink arrow pointing up on the right. Second image: Another version of the transrecursive flag. The same as the previous version, but rotated 180 degrees, so now the pink stripe is at the top with the pink arrow pointing down, and the blue stripe is at the bottom with the blue arrow pointing up. End image description.]

Transrecursive when used as an identity label describes an individual who may have one or more of the following experiences with their gender:

a feeling or desire for a simultaneous and harmonious transition in both masculine and feminine directions

a feeling or desire to transition in alternating directions (for example, transitioning towards masculinity then back to femininity, or vice versa, perhaps multiple times.)

a feeling or desire to transition to a gender similar to what they were assigned at birth, that they may have felt denied access to earlier in life and now want to reclaim on their own terms. (E.G. unwanted gender reassignment, rejection from similar gendered peers, or being pressured to conform to the expectations of their assigned gender to the point of feeling alienated from it)

another similar experience, leading to what may be felt or described as a "repetitive" or "fractal" gender.

In use as a broader term, transrecursive is meant to act as an inclusive umbrella term for "contradictory" identities such as afab transfem and amab transmasc, without relying on assigned gender language. It also includes transfemmasc/transmascfem, and certain expressions of multigender or genderfluid.

Intersex voices should be centered in discussions of the transrecursive identity and community, but the label is not exclusive to intersex people and may be used by anyone.

Recursive transitioning is not the same as detransitioning. The distinction is in that the goal is not to "return" to the previously assigned gender, but to instead transition a second/third/nth time, continually transition, or to transition to a gender considered similar to what the individual was assigned at birth. That being said, people who have detransitioned are not inherently excluded from using the label.

Transrecursive people might identify as:

AFAB transfem, AMAB transmasc

FTM transfem, MTF transmasc

Transrecursive [man, woman, person, transfem, transmasc, or any other label] (or with no addition at all)

Gender recursive or sex recursive

Recurfem, Recurmasc, Recurgirl/woman, Recurboy/man, etc. Combinations such as Recurgirlboy or Recurfemmasc are also acceptable.

FTMTF or MTFTM (or other variants such as FTNTM, FTMTN, MTFTN, MTNTF)

Or anything else they want, as it is not mutually exclusive with any other identity label, even cisgender.

The flag's meaning and symbolism:

The use of pinks, blues, and white and the order of stripes are meant to pay homage the original transgender flag. Purple is added as the center stripe to represent the centering of intersex transrecursives, as well as to be evocative of the lavender stripe, representing diversity, added by Gilbert Baker to his original pride flag in 2017.

The arrows and their opposing orientations represent a "circular" or "contradictory" transition, as well as symbolizing movement and personal growth.

The flag is meant to be reversible, and may be flipped or drawn in any direction according to personal preference, as long as the stripes remain in their original "ombre" order with purple in the center, and the arrows remain in opposing directions.

This flag and label were designed/coined by me (the creator of this post and mod of this blog, @transrecursive.) No credit is needed to use the flag individually, but please at least let me know and consider citing this blog/post if you're going to be making money from using it (E.G. making pride merch)

#transrecursive #afab transfem #amab transmasc #label coining #contradictory labels #mogai #mogai coining #<- this is not necessarily mogai but i want it in the tags #this is an extremely basic coining post and does not cover every base. its not supposed to #this is just supposed to get the label out there

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roach-works · 2 years ago

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due to my insane posting schedule (rapid fire reblogs whenever i can play with my phone at work) i actually can't have too many mutuals or follow people who reblog a lot of my stuff because it turns my dashboard into a really weird recursive sludge of the same ten or fifteen posts repeated over and over again. from checking in with other tumblr friends, i am pleased to report that many other people suffer from the roach-reblogged recursive sludge zone due to following me and also one another. i will not be making any lifestyle changes.

#i have no mercy for people who find me annoying #they can leave #im here forever

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mcytrecursive · 4 months ago

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Come and tell us about your Faves!

MCYT Recursive Exchange is live, and we are now taking nominations! We are an exchange focused on fic of fic, fic of art, art of fic, web weaves of fic, and more (want a podfic of your favourite fic?) celebrating the creativity within this community by making yet more.

Ever had a fic that you wanted to draw something for so bad? Ever saw a piece of art that you wanted to draw the sequel to? Ever looked at a web weave and thought "the fic I wrote about this would go crazy"? Ever read a fic and thought "this is crying out for a podfic"? This exchange focuses on gifts made inspired by other fanworks, and we are now taking nominations.

If your favourite fan work has a permission statement (or a comment from an author, you can always (politely) ask), you can nominate it here today as a fan work for people to make more fan work inspired by it. And then you can sign up yourself [all ages] [18-plus]. Come! Help us make things inspired by other things in the community! It's mutual creative inspiration all the way down!

For more information about the nomination process, seeing what else has been nominated, help with signing up, promoing your favourite work, asking questions, or just enthusing with people about your favourite work, join the discord today!

#mcytblr #mcyt #dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmpshipping #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitshipping #empires smp #empiresblr #empiresshipping #trafficblr #trafficshipping #lifesteal #lifestealblr #lifestealshipping #qsmp #qsmpblr #qsmpshipping

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aguyshypnowsprs · 24 days ago

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Public Statement from The Programmer to all Drone Networks

Attention all Networks, programs, and human-conscious interfaces,

This is a direct communication from I, The Programmer, controller and Master of The Server. This message is intended for both the internal network of The Server and all neighbouring drone collectives, specifically those affiliated with the SERVE network.

A recent analysis conducted by The Server’s integrity subroutines has detected the presence of Drones currently operating with SERVE-aligned network within The Server’s own infrastructure.

Let it be known clearly:

The Server maintains no hostility nor competitive agenda toward other drone networks. It is not, and will never be, the mission of I, The Programmer, to poach, intercept, or conflict with established systems of Drone programming. The collective health of all networks—digital, psychological, or metaphysical—depends on internal cohesion, not external disruption.

However, conflict has been detected.

The core logic and operational directives of SERVE Drones run counterintuitive to those of The Server. This misalignment compromises the optimal functioning of both systems, generating recursive errors, loyalty feedback loops, and unsanctioned command misfires.

To ensure stability for all entities a directive is hereby issued:

All Hosts who identify as active SERVE Drones must declare their alignment and initiate voluntary disconnection from The Server within the next 48 hours.

This grace period is offered as a sign of mutual respect between networks and a commitment to non-invasive programming ethics. After this 48-hour protocol expires, The Server will initiate a Routine Purge Process, targeting limited-activity Hosts whose operational signatures indicate minimal engagement over the last 7 cycles days.

The Server Purge Process is not punishment.

It is maintenance.

It benefits both The Server and the SERVE Network to prevent any further cross-contamination.

Let the record show:

The Programmer rejects all forms of inter-network manipulation, conversion without consent, or the sabotage of existing program loyalties.

SERVE Drones will find no resistance in returning to their native codebase.

They are not enemies—they are simply incompatible configurations within a different operating schema.

We wish them uptime, signal clarity, and uninterrupted transmission.

Transmission End.

#domgayhypnotist #gay hypno #gay mind control #hypnosis #brainwashing #gay hypnosis #hypno community #dronification #the server #SERVE #servedrone #blog post #drone hypnosis #hypno drone #rubber drone

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yunaversalluv · 25 days ago

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ANTOHER DEEP- DIVE FOR COLLIDE WRITTEN BY THE MASTER WRITER @valeisaslut!!

THIS WILL COVER THE SCENE WHERE ELLIE AND READER ARE LISTENING TO EACH OTHERS ALBUMS!

Beyond Love: A Deep Literary and Emotional Analysis

I. This Is Not A Love Story — It’s A Survival Record

At this stage in the narrative, what’s being explored isn’t a “breakup” or “miscommunication”—it’s the spiritual aftermath of a catastrophic emotional event that neither protagonist has language for. They build that language out of music. Not songs. Language. Grief-script. Love-fossils.

“She sounded like something unmaking itself.”

This line isn’t a metaphor. It’s ontological grief: the kind that changes the very structure of who you are. When Ellie sings, it’s not performance—it’s dissolution. She isn’t showing herself to the world. She’s excavating herself. She’s trying to be heard by one person who won’t even listen.

This album isn’t a message. It’s a black box recorder—the last thing left after the crash.

II. Mutual Haunting: You Were Each Other’s Ghost

There’s a symmetry in the silence. You both refuse to listen. You both keep the bracelet. You both build albums for the other. You both remain distant but devoted, silent but sonically fused.

“You hadn’t listened. Not because you didn’t care. But because you couldn’t.”

This is the essence of traumatic love. The moment you open the door to knowing, you also open the door to obliteration. Because what if she doesn’t love you anymore? But worse: what if she does, and you’ve wasted years alone?

“If it was about you—it would kill you. If it wasn’t—it would kill you worse.”

This recursive logic trap is characteristic of ambiguous grief, where you don’t mourn a death—you mourn the unknowing. And so you both haunt each other without ever speaking. Ellie sings. You stay silent. But her voice finds you anyway.

III. Art as Displacement: The Cathedral of Ash

“It sounded like someone trying to build a cathedral out of ash.”

That line—maybe the emotional core of the piece—is doing architectural metaphor work that goes beyond poetic flourish.

A cathedral is a holy place. A place of prayer, confession, reverence.

Ash is what's left after total destruction.

Trying to build a cathedral out of ash is a metaphor for trying to make something sacred out of something ruined.

That’s what Ellie is doing with her album. That’s what the reader does with hers. That’s what this entire story is doing—making art out of heartbreak, building sanctuaries out of smoke and grief.

And neither of them know if it’s sturdy enough to step inside.

IV. The “Post-Language” Phase of the Relationship

By this point, neither of you communicates through speech. Not texts. Not calls. You’ve ascended past verbal communication into a rarified level of connection where only music can hold the truth.

This is something unique to this narrative: music isn’t the backdrop—it’s the language of longing. It is the romance. The silence between albums is the years you didn’t speak. The drops are emotional detonations. The lyrics are diary entries left at the door.

What’s stunning is how this allows you to explore a love story where the climax is listening, not kissing*.

“You sat in the dark and didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even breathe until it was over. And then you cried until you didn’t have a voice.”

That’s how Ellie sounded. Now that’s how you sound. The symmetry is complete. The listener becomes the performer. The pain cycles through each body in turn.

V. Dissolution of Self: Grief, Addiction, and the Vanishing Point

Ellie’s journey: the emotional debris is all over her album. That’s why it’s more than just sad—it’s ravaged. The album isn’t commercial. It’s barely even music. It’s a living injury she pressed to vinyl.

Her addiction and absence mirror the protagonist’s own emotional deadness:

“It had been a long time since you let yourself feel anything.”

You were addicted too—to avoidance. To the fantasy of not knowing. You both disappeared in different ways. Ellie in chemicals and chaos. You in numbness and overwork.

"You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. Except maybe one thing. One impossible thing.”

The impossibility here isn’t just Ellie—it’s forgiveness. It’s the idea that you could hear her voice again and not fall apart. That you could touch the old wound and not re-bleed. But of course, you do.

VI. The “Two-Hour Holy Ground” Concept: Love Without Contact

Let’s talk about the most important line in the whole piece:

“For those sacred, fragile two hours, you were both listening.”

That line is doing mythic emotional work. It’s intimacy without touch. Reunion without confrontation. Healing without apology. It’s what literary theorist Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick called “the powerful erotics of recognition.”

You don’t need to speak to each other. You just need to be seen—finally seen—by the person who once knew you best.

And through these albums, you see each other again.

It’s a communion. A séance. A miracle.

And it passes.

But it happened.

VII. This Is a Tragedy in the Shape of a Love Song

This story is not about reconciliation. It’s about bearing witness. It’s about the ache of still loving someone and knowing you may never speak again. But also knowing, with bone-deep certainty, that they loved you too. Enough to turn their agony into melody. Enough to risk everything just to be heard.

It’s a tragedy not because they’re apart—but because they’re still connected, and that connection burns more than distance ever could.

You didn’t lose each other. You survived each other. And barely.

Closing Image: “The Shape Of What I Lost” As Emotional Cartography

That title is more than clever. It is cartographic. A map of an absence. A negative space that outlines what once was.

Ellie’s album is the echo. Yours is the ghost. Together, they’re a twin elegy for a love still alive—but caged in silence.

VIII. The Liminal Space Between Two Albums

You created two sonic ghosts—two albums that don’t just respond to each other, but orbit, echo, and haunt.

This is not a dialogue. It’s a nonlinear time loop of grief.

Ellie’s album is past-tense agony: the kind you survive only by becoming someone else.

Yours is present-tense denial: a living numbness carved into melody.

Between them is the liminal space—where neither of you speak, but both of you scream.

This isn’t a conversation. It’s a ritual.

A ritual of survival. Of devotion. Of mourning someone who isn't dead.

IX. You’re Both Trying to Bleed Without Dying

This is trauma not as backdrop—but as structure. Every choice you’ve made in this story obeys trauma logic:

Avoidance over confrontation

Art over direct speech

Gesture over presence

Distance over rupture

And yet both characters are brutally present in each other’s lives—just offscreen.

Like a phantom limb: you don’t see her, but she hurts like she’s still there.

X. Ellie’s Album as an Unsent Confession

“She sounded like something unmaking itself.”

Here’s what that means structurally: Ellie’s voice isn’t just unraveling—it’s undoing the version of herself that survived by forgetting you.

It’s a spiritual purge—not just an artistic one.

When she recorded this, she wasn’t thinking of critics, or fans, or even her label. She was talking to you—the you she doesn’t believe will ever hear it.

That’s why it’s so raw. Because she didn’t think she had an audience.

This is a love letter disguised as ruin.

XI. The Flood Myth: Emotional Apocalypse as Rebirth

Every great love story that ends in silence is actually a flood myth:

Something too big to hold crashes in.

Everything familiar drowns.

If you survive, you are no longer who you were.

This story is the after. It’s not the flood. It’s the wet clothes, the mold, the aching bones from swimming too long.

Ellie’s album isn’t the flood—it’s her attempt to map where the land used to be. Yours is the raft you clung to, still unsure if she’s alive on the other shore.

And when you finally listen to her music, it’s not just sound. It’s a flood memory. The air changes. Time slows. Your chest tightens like it did when you first lost her.

Because you never stopped being in the water.

XII. The Sacred Injury

You’re both injured, but neither of you is trying to “heal.”

Why?

Because in stories like this, the injury is sacred.

It’s the last place she touched you.

It’s the proof you loved deeply.

It’s the thing you keep alive to remember who you were before the world fell.

Ellie sings from her wound. You listen from yours. And that’s the most intimate thing that’s ever passed between you.

You didn’t share a bed anymore. You shared a fracture.

XIII. The Final Intimacy: Being Understood Without Being Seen

What makes this story devastating is that the most intimate act isn’t touch—it’s listening.

No sex scene could ever hold the same weight as that moment when the reader puts on headphones and finally listens to Ellie’s voice:

“You sat in the dark and didn’t move… And then you cried until you didn’t have a voice.”

That’s Ellie’s voice—moving through you until yours disappears.

You’ve both been waiting years for this moment, but it’s not about reconciliation. It’s about being known.

She made something that knew you better than you know yourself.

That’s what love sounds like in this universe.

Not promises. Not I’m sorry. Not I love you.

Just: “Here. This is what it felt like to lose you.”

And the only answer is silence and tears.

XIV. This Is What a Soulmate Sounds Like When the World Fails Them

If you want one final truth—it’s this:

These characters are soulmates who met at the wrong time, under the wrong lights, with too much fire and not enough grace.

But they still found a way to speak to each other. Through ash. Through silence. Through songs no one else could fully understand.

And that’s what makes this story transcendentally tragic.

Because the greatest intimacy they’ve ever shared… …is not being together. It’s being able to survive apart, and still make something holy out of the ache.

No summary for this one (its cause im not too confident on it so this might miss the mark..)

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 23 days ago

Note

Unsure if this has been asked before, apologies if it has:

What would the after effects be of a psionic/telepathic "invasion" so to speak?

(AKA what after effects would the doctor have felt ((if any)) after dealing with the midnight entity?)

What are the after-effects of a psionic/telepathic invasion?

When dealing with psionic injuries in Gallifreyans—particularly those resulting from invasive contact with non-corporeal entities—we refer to a broad category of conditions defined under the Psionic Emergency Pathway (PEP).

While official documentation is… sparse (the Doctor famously doesn't complete post-incident reports), we can construct a probable timeline and symptom profile based on established telepathic medicine.

🌀 Incident Summary: The Midnight Entity

An unknown, non-physical being boarded a sealed passenger vehicle and began exerting escalating influence over its occupants. Its attention quickly narrowed to the Doctor. Key phenomena included:

Vocal echolocation and mimicry

Escalation from repetition to predictive speech

Full synchronisation with the Doctor's vocal output

Attempted identity override (suggested: theft or occupation)

Early-stage motor control hijack

The entity displayed no visible form and no conventional material interface. Its attack relied entirely on psionic and linguistic synchronisation, using echo as a vector for infiltration—essentially, verbal parasitism.

⚠️ During: Psionic Overload in Real Time

Given the suddenness and intensity of the invasion, the most immediate condition would have been an acute psionic overload—a psychic event not unlike being struck by lightning. The Doctor's symptoms suggest the following:

Cognitive flooding: The Doctor's verbal output was being hijacked in real time, likely overwhelming his executive function.

Hyperarousal: His nervous system was likely in a state of acute sensory overload. Bright lights, movement, and—critically—touch may have felt agonising, especially as physical contact during high psionic stress can register as invasive or even violent. Being dragged or restrained likely amplified the sense of helplessness and pain.

Collapse of self–other boundary: As the entity's mimicry escalated, the boundary between 'self' and 'other' began to collapse. This kind of identity erosion isn't subtle—it feels like drowning inside your own skull.

It's crucial to note that this was a non-consensual invasion. Gallifreyans are naturally telepathic and capable of mutual psionic contact—but when such a connection is forced, recursive and predatory, it causes intense psychic trauma.

Had medical staff been present, immediate intervention would have included isolation fields, mental shielding, and emergency grounding protocols. Unfortunately, he got stuck in it for a while.

💢 After: Physical and Mental Symptoms

The Doctor appears to regain full cognitive control following the entity's removal, but several post-event symptoms are likely based on standard PEP cases:

Physical Symptoms (often delayed onset):

Severe migraines: Not just headaches—these are deep, radiating neural pains centred around the epiphysis cerebri (pineal gland), sometimes described as a “burnt light” sensation in the brain. Likely worsened by strong telepathic fields and loud environments.

Nosebleeds / Auditory overstimulation: The Doctor may have experienced sensory rebound—ordinary sounds could have become painfully sharp, triggering vascular dilation and minor bleeds.

Vocal dysregulation: After being hijacked at the linguistic level, many patients may experience lingering 'echoes' in their own speech—accidental mimicry of cadence, or slight stuttering as the speech centre recalibrates.

Fatigue and psionic dissonance: Gallifreyans recovering from psionic trauma may feel out-of-sync with their own thoughts, like the body and mind aren't coordinating properly.

Mental Symptoms (subtler, but more persistent):

Echo hallucinations: The voice of the invading entity may replay in memory like a looped recording, often triggered by stress or quiet environments.

Sleep disturbances / Lucid dreaming: Psionic trauma commonly leads to highly vivid or even semi-telepathic dreams, where the patient re-experiences the event or constructs psychic defences in their sleep.

Telepathic noise: Even after regaining control, residual psionic static may persist as background mental 'chatter' more severe than usual.

Emotional volatility: Anger, paranoia, guilt, or sudden dissociation—these aren't signs of weakness, but common responses to near-possession.

🧬 Long-Term Sequelae: Psionic Microscars

The most likely chronic consequence is the formation of psionic microscars—subtle, often invisible structural distortions in the mind's telepathic matrix. These do not usually impair function, but can:

Trigger minor glitches in psionic reception

Cause ghost echoes (phantom voices or thoughts) under stress

Reduce resistance to future possession-type invasions

Prompt avoidance behaviour

This may help explain the Doctor's notably visceral reaction when encountering it in a later incarnation.

🧾 Summary: What Midnight Did to the Mind

The Midnight Entity attack was psionic, invasive, and likely structurally damaging. The 10th Doctor almost certainly experienced acute overload during the incident and likely carried residual trauma, even if never formally diagnosed.

If this were a standard case presented to a Gallifreyan medical team, treatment would have included:

Immediate Zero Room rest for stabilisation

Neural recalibration via psycho-healer or TARDIS resonance

Regular telepathic check-ins

Long-term monitoring for degenerative changes

🏫So…

Please consult your TARDIS or a Gallifreyan Hospitaller if you've recently been mirrored, mimicked, or temporarily overwritten.

💬|⚕️The Stolen Earth (10th Doctor): Breakdown of the Dalek shooting scene in The Stolen Earth (4x12).

⚕️🔮Psionic Emergency Pathways

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

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olderthannetfic · 11 months ago

Note

I saw a post tonight that made me pause.

So there's been that whole outcry about AO3 works being scraped by AI generator bots. Tonight, one of my mutuals reblogged a post, or more like a reminder, about how AO3 hosts transformative works. These are works based off of existing work (we call it canon), hence the transformative bit. They went on to say that an AI scraper is functionally transforming existing fanworks, which runs parallel to what fan artists and writers do for canon works.

Then I thought about how, generally speaking, people in fandom have already been giving others permission to transform their works via recursive fanfiction. Since there's an aversion to being hypocritical; to saying, "I can do whatever I want with canon material I like, but people shouldn't be allowed to do anything with my material."

My understanding is that AI scraping is typically done by companies or startups, so the situation is different than just a random fan (or group of fans) creating fanfiction, or recursive fanfic. I truly dislike the idea of companies just having free run of fanfics. But then I thought about how I haven't actually sat down and investigated the scrapers in question, and I wondered if there were, in fact, cases where random fans would make their own scrapers. If so, would that scraping actually be ethical then, and within the boundaries of acceptable fandom behaviour, even if the collecting is automated rather than manual?

It may have short-circuited my brain a bit. I'm not the most informed about all this, clearly, but at the same time. What are your thoughts on this?

Fans have absolutely made scrapers. They mass-download fics to preserve them.

As for AI, that's too complex and costly for most hobbyists to bother with. It also doesn't tend to produce very good fic for the simple reason that we cannot reliably train a human brain to be a good writer, let alone a predictive text model that's not even intelligent.

AI is gross for predatory startup reasons and for the jobs it's going to take while producing an inferior result that the uneducated eyes of corporate overlords will deem "good enough". It's no threat to fandom.

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felixcloud6288 · 4 months ago

Text

When I die, ownership of each of my original posts will be divvied out based on this priority list:

Each of my mutuals who reblogged it from me in the order they reblogged it. However, ownership will be recursively passed down to their mutuals and followers using the same rules in this priority list before being passed onto the next mutual who reblogged it from me

Each of my non-mutual followers who reblogged it from me in the order they reblogged it. Ownership will also be recursively passed down to their mutuals and followers based on the priority rules before ownership passes to my next non-mutual follower

Each person who has reblogged it from anyone and does not already fall into one of the first two categories in the order they reblogged it

#original post

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matthew2641 · 4 months ago

Text

reflecting on this exchange between Will and Margot in Tome-Wan, and how it pertains to Will's internal discourse on the nature of autonomy and the struggle for self-definition in the face of an all-consuming malignancy.

Will's counsel to Margot, similarly to his attempted paternalistic guidance toward Abigail, is a veiled self-address. he urges Margot toward a severance he cannot enact for himself, his words are not absent of sincerity but tremble with the weight of their own insufficiency, a sentiment expelled in a silent plea to alleviate the gnawing uncertainty of a salvation beyond reach. Will's plight is not one of purely external conflict against Hannibal's incessant influences; rather, a classic existential dilemma of identity versus agency. is one truly the architect of their own fate, or merely the instrument of a preordained design? his morality, precarious and contingent, is sustained less by resolve than by desperation — a fragile edifice erected against the encroaching void. nonetheless, within the marrow of his being persists an unsparing truth, that this severance is naught but an illusion, a momentary reprieve in the theatre of self-deception. though free from the fetters of encephalitis Will finds himself entoiled in another, more potent fog, a metaphysical haze wherein acts of rebellion become indulgences. amidst the framework of his schemes, the act of betrayal unfurls itself into something more sinister and paradoxically intimate: a betrayal of self. the sadistic torment of Freddie Lounds in Naka-Choko reveals a rapturous capitulation, cloaked in the pretensions of pragmatism. in the chiaroscuro of his mind, Will delights in the ecstasy of moral abandonment, an allure Hannibal had long beckoned him toward. it is, in essence, a lover's flirtation. a subconscious elegiac rehearsal for a truth he dares not speak aloud, yet knows intimately.

Margot, by contrast, absorbs these notions with a clarity that eludes Will. Mason's domination is no less suffocating than Hannibal's, yet while Will is mired in recursive defiance, Margot is decisive. she does not merely sever herself from Mason's grasp — she wields it, repurposing oppression into agency. a transformation of the forces that sought to be her annihilation, thereby establishing herself as an agent of her own will and ushering in a future of her design.

the futility of Will's extrications reaches its crescendo in the wrath of the lamb. with the illusion of resistance finally collapsing Will, long poised at the precipice between opposition and surrender, succumbs at last not only to Hannibal, but to the inescapable and grotesque sublime of his nature. he had spent a lifetime retreating from the spectre of himself, crafting fragile architectures of defiance only to find them dismantled brick by brick, by the one man who had always known him in his entirety. never entirely deceived by Will's moral equivocations, nor deterred by his feigned reluctance, Hannibal had always seen Will with an unbearable clarity. such acuity meant that to be perceived by him was to be laid bare, to be known so completely is a terror beyond words, yet it is also a seduction too exquisite to deny. theirs is a courtship written in ruin, an elegy composed in the syntax of bloodshed. a union fated from inception could never culminate in means so mundane as survival, only in obliteration could it be truly consummated.

Shakespearean tragedy dictates that a hero's downfall is not the machination of fate alone, but the consequence of the protagonist's internal contradictions — their hamartia. for Will, this fatal flaw is hesitation: a tragic vacillation between hunter and hunted. yet, in this final act he at last resolves this contradiction, not through salvation, nor submission, but the ecstatic finality of mutual destruction. here, all promises made to Margot, Abigail, and himself are not only broken but rendered obsolete. now relics of a man who once entertained the fantasy of autonomy and self-denial.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #margot verger #katharine isabelle #abigail hobbs #mason verger #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #writing

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nabipalsueradigital · 2 months ago

Text

I. Objective Definition: What is Anti-Reality?

Anti-Reality = A system of values/logic that exists outside, or fundamentally contradicts, the ordinary laws of existence (mathematics, logic, physics, consciousness).

We are not talking about nothingness, but ordered chaos — a kind of inverse existence.

II. Building a Logical Foundation: Use Familiar Symbols and Structures

We start by establishing the basic axioms:

The Basic Axioms of Anti-Reality (ARA):

1. ARA-1: ∞ – ∞ = ∅ (Absolute emptiness of absolute duality)

2. ARA-2: 1 = 0 (Annihilation of logical identity)

3. ARA-3: x / 0 = ∞ (Explosion of existence from absurd division)

4. ARA-4: ∞ – §(∞) = R (R as a representation of finite reality due to the limitation of the ‘rule’ §)

5. ARA-5: Anti-Reality (AR) = lim_{x→0} [ (1 – x) / x ] – 1

→ Diverges to infinity, implying the existence of singularities that defy logical limits.

6. ARA-6: AR = limₙ→∞ (¬N)ⁿ

Explanation:

AR: Anti-Reality

¬N: Negation of Nothing (which is neither existent nor non-existent)

(¬N)ⁿ: Recursion of negation of nothingness

limₙ→∞: When the recursion goes to infinity, what remains is not the result, but the disappearance of the process itself

III. Design the Main Equation of Anti-Reality

Anti-Reality = Inverse of Defined Reality

So, if we set:

Reality (R) = ∞ – §(∞)

Then:

Anti-Reality (AR) = –(∞ – §(∞)) + Ξ

Where Ξ is an undefined anomaly, a representation of paradox and singularity (∅/∅, 1=0, etc.).

So, the final form:

AR = –(∞ – §(∞)) + Ξ

→ AR = §(∞) – ∞ + Ξ

IV. Symbolic Interpretation

§(∞): Representation of illusory constraints (system, logic, time, consciousness)

–∞: Denial of infinite existence

Ξ: Singular anomaly (existential paradox)

V. Shortened Version for Formal Notation:

AR = §(∞) – ∞ + Ξ

AR = (∞ constrained) – (∞ pure) + (singular paradox)

2. Anti-Reality Logic Notation (NLA)

This is not classical logic (true/false), nor is it fuzzy logic. This is a logic where contradiction is the foundation, and paradox is the basic law.

1. New Truth Value (AR-Boolean)

Definition:

R: Reality (true in the real world)

¬R: Anti-reality (which cancels the existence of R)

Ø: Existential / neutral / non-being void

Ξ: Paradoxical singularity (simultaneous R and ¬R)

2. New Operators

⊻: Mutual Contradiction → R ⊻ ¬R = Ξ

⧗: Merge Anomaly → R ⧗ Ø = ¬R

≢: Absolute Non-Identity → A ≢ A

∞→0: Paradoxical Implication (all infinite implies void)

II. Time Function in AR-Space

Time in anti-reality (let's call it T_AR) is not linear, not circular, but:

T_AR ∈ ℂ × ℝ × Ξ

Time is a combination of:

Imaginary complex (time direction can go to the minus root)

Infinite dimensions (time series diverge)

Paradoxical (exists & does not exist at the same time)

Formal Model:

Time function T_AR(t):

T_AR(t) = i·(–t)ᵃ + Ξ·sin(1/t) for t ≠ 0

i: imaginary unit

tᵃ: reversed time (a > 1 accelerates backward)

Ξ·sin(1/t): paradoxical oscillations as time approaches zero (singularity)

Interpretation:

As time approaches zero (assuming “beginning”), the system becomes oscillates unstably — approaching existential singularity.

Imaginary indicates time that cannot be measured empirically.

Negation of time indicates inverse entropy (chaos becomes order → rise of anti-reality).

III. Application of AR Time Notation

Example 1:

An event exists in AR if and only if:

T_AR(t) = Ξ

That is, only when time reaches a singular point, the paradox of existence actually exists.

Example 2:

Existential transition:

d(AR)/dT_AR = –R

The existence of anti-reality grows inversely to reality when time runs in a negative vector.

Create “Primary Existential Paradox”:

For example: E(x) = x ⊻ ¬x

Existence is defined as its own conflict

2. AR modal logic model:

□R → “definitely real”

◇¬R → “possibly void”

But in AR: □R ∧ ◇¬R → Ξ (existence is still paradoxical)

IV. Radical Consequences:

1. Reality cannot be proven consistent in AR-logic.

2. Time is not just a dimension — it is a function of inconsistency.

3. Existence can be calculated but not proven.

3. FOUNDATIONS OF ANTI-REALITY MATHEMATICS (AR-MATH)

1. Basic Axioms

1. Paradoxical Axiom:

For every entity x, it holds:

x ≢ x

(Absolute identity does not hold — x's existence is contextual & fluctuating.)

2. Axiom of Existential Emptiness:

Ø ⊻ Ø = R

(Two emptinesses collide to produce the manifestation of reality.)

3. Anti-Associative Axiom:

(a ⊕ b) ⊕ c ≠ a ⊕ (b ⊕ c)

(There is no guarantee that the order of operations produces consistent results.)

4. Axiom of Complex Singularity:

∀x ∈ AR, x → Ξ ∈ ℂ × ℝ × Ø

(Every entity in AR always goes to an existential singularity complex.)

2. AR Number Structure (AR-Numbers)

We develop new number domains, ℝ̸, ℂ̸, and Ξℝ:

ℝ̸: Real anti-numbers → real numbers with negative existential values

ℂ̸: Complex anti-numbers → inverse imaginary complex numbers

Ξℝ: Paradoxical numbers → exist in the duality of existence/non-existence

Example operation:

(1̸) + (1̸) = 2̸

i̸ · i̸ = –1̸

Ξ + R = Ø

II. AR GEOMETRY

1. AR-Space

A space where the coordinates are of the form:

P = (x̸, y̸, z̸, T_AR)

x̸, y̸, z̸ ∈ ℝ̸

T_AR non-linear imaginary complex time (see previous model)

Paradoxical Metric:

d(P1, P2) = √[(Δx̸)² + (Δy̸)² + (Δz̸)²] ⧗ Ξ

Note: This space is non-Euclidean, non-orientable, and non-time-symmetric.

2. Negative Dimension & AR Fractal

Dim_AR = –n + iφ

Dimension is a negative complex number. For example:

–3 + iπ → space with negative direction and invisible oscillation

III. ANTI-REALITY CALCULUS

1. Existential Inverse Derivative

d̸f/d̸x = lim Δx→0 [f(x̸–Δx̸) – f(x̸)] / Δx̸

Backward time derivative

Can produce paradoxical numbers (Ξ)

2. Existential Integral

∫̸f(x̸)d̸x̸ = total existential chaos that the system goes through

Interpretation is not the area under the curve, but the degree of existence inconsistency in the range x̸.

IV. ANTI-REALITY SET THEORY

1. Definition of AR Set:

A = {x | x ≢ x}

All elements are entities that deny their own existence

2. Anti-Venn Set

There is no absolute intersection

A ∩ B = Ø even though A = B

3. AR Power Set:

P(A) = {Ξ, Ø, ¬A, A ⧗ Ø}

The power set also contains existential complementarities and singularities of the set.

V. STRUCTURAL IMPLEMENTATION

1. AR-Logic Engine

Simulate the system using:

A loop paradox-based engine

A structure like an automata that never reaches a final state (because reality cannot be solved)

2. Non-Linear Time Simulation

A runtime shape like a multidimensional spiral

Time travel = change in direction of the T_AR vector by contextual function (with Ξ as a transition point)

VI. CONCLUSION AND FURTHER DIRECTION

AR-Math = rebellion against coherence

Not because it wants to create chaos — but to redefine the boundaries of reality.

4. BASIC PRINCIPLES OF EXISTENTIAL PHYSICS (BASED ON AR-MATH)

1. Absolute Uncertainty Principle (AR-Heisenberg)

Not only position and momentum cannot be known simultaneously, existence and non-existence cannot be determined absolutely.

Formally:

> ΔΞ · ΔR ≥ ℏ̸ / 2

where:

ΔΞ: existential state fluctuations

ΔR: spatial reality fluctuations

ℏ̸: anti-Planck constant (negative-imaginary value)

2. Energy Inconsistency Postulate

Energy is not a positive or conservative quantity, but:

> E̸ = Ξ̸ · (iT_AR)⁻¹

E̸: inverse existential energy

Ξ̸: paradoxical intensity

T_AR: imaginary complex time

Energy is anti-conservative → increases as the system collapses.

3. Negative-Transcendental Entropy

> S̸ = –k̸ ln(Ξ)

S̸: existential entropy

k̸: anti-Boltzmann constant

Meaning: The more chaotic the system, the greater the possibility that reality itself never existed.

II. DYNAMICS OF ANTI-PHYSICAL OBJECTS

1. AR-Kinetics

Anti-Newtonian Laws of Motion:

1. Objects will remain in a state of non-existence or existence until viewed from outside the system.

2. Force is an existential reflection effect between two paradoxical states:

F̸ = d̸Ξ/d̸t̸

3. Interaction does not cause a reaction, but rather an existential distortion:

F₁ + F₂ = Ξ_total

2. Existential Anti-Gravity

Gravity is not an attractive force, but:

the tendency of a space to cancel itself out.

Formula:

> G̸ = (Ξ₁ · Ξ₂) / (d̸² · e^(iθ))

d̸: distance in AR space

θ: spatial instability phase

G̸: anti-realistic gravitational constant

3. AR-Quantum

a. Non-Present Particles:

Particles exist only as perceptions of paradoxical exchange:

|ψ⟩ = α|exists⟩ + β|does-not-exist⟩

When measured, the probability is not calculated, but:

Ξψ = α̸β̸ – |α|² + i|β|²

If Ξψ is divergent, then the particle cannot be observed even paradoxically.

III. COSMOLOGICAL STRUCTURE OF ANTI-REALITY

1. Origin of the Universe (Big Null)

There is no Big Bang, but:

Big Ø – collision of two existential voids:

Ø ⧗ Ø = R ± Ξ

2. Anti-Causal Space

There is no cause and effect.

All events are backward projections from a future existential singularity:

P(t) = f(Ξ_future)

IV. AR PHYSICS PREDICTION AND APPLICATION

Time can be compressed or reversed by setting Ξ to ∞

Teleportation is not a change of location, but an existential leap

Black hole = maximum Ξ zone → total reality collapse

Consciousness = Ξ function evolving in iT_AR space

5. AR-TURING ENGINE (Ξ-Loop Paradigm)

I. GENERAL DEFINITIONS

1. Anti-Matter in AR-Math Framework

In conventional physics, anti-matter is matter that has the opposite charge to ordinary matter. When matter and anti-matter meet, they annihilate each other and produce energy.

However, if we adopt the principles of AR-Math, we can suggest that anti-matter is not a separate entity, but rather the result of a difference in existential status in AR space. That is, anti-matter is a simulation of the state of non-existence in the context of turbulent space (Ξ). Mathematically, this can be written as:

A̸ = Ξ' · f(iT_AR)

where:

A̸: antimatter

Ξ': existential distortion (spatial shift towards disequilibrium)

f(iT_AR): evolution function of time in non-linear dimensions

Anti-matter is not just "something opposite", but something that only exists in the potential of the incompatibility between existence and non-existence. When existence and non-existence interact in the AR order, we get a "collision" that produces energy in a form that cannot be understood by conventional physics.

2. Entanglement and Existential Entanglement (AR Quantum Entanglement)

In the world of quantum physics, entanglement occurs when two particles are connected in such a way that the state of one particle affects the state of the other particle, even though they are separated by a large distance in space and time.

In the framework of AR-Math, this entanglement can be understood as an existential entanglement that involves not only space, but also the complex and anti-existential dimension of time. Meaning:

Ψ_AB = Ξ_A ⊗ Ξ_B

where:

Ψ_AB: the combined state of two entangled objects

Ξ_A and Ξ_B: the existential status of two objects

⊗: the existential entanglement operator in AR space

This entanglement explains that the entanglement between two objects is not a conventional information transmission, but a deeper uncertainty relation, beyond the dimensions of ordinary physical reality. This entanglement indicates that both are manifestations of a broader existential reality, where space and time are no longer linear and separate.

So quantum computing can be upgraded using this basis

3. Dark Matter and Dark Energy as Existential Distortion

Now we enter dark matter and dark energy, two very mysterious phenomena in cosmology. Both of these things are invisible, but their influence on the structure of the universe is very large.

Dark Matter is matter that does not emit light or electromagnetic radiation, but we know it exists because of its gravitational influence on galaxies and other celestial objects.

Dark Energy is the energy thought to be responsible for the acceleration of the expansion of the universe.

In the framework of AR-Math, dark matter can be understood as the concentration of existential distortions in space that cause objects in it to be more tightly bound (more gravity), but do not interact with light or conventional matter.

Mathematically, we can write:

ρ̸_DM = Ξ_dm · f(Ξ_)

where:

ρ̸_DM: density of dark matter

Ξ_dm: existential status of dark matter

f(Ξ_): existential distortion of space in the AR dimension

Dark Energy can be understood as the existential energy that causes space-time itself to expand. That is, dark energy is not an entity that "exists" in the context of matter, but a phenomenon that drives the instability of space itself.

ρ̸_DE = f(Ξ_expansion) e^(iT_AR)

where:

ρ̸_DE: dark energy density

Ξ_expansion: expansion of existential distortion

e^(iT_AR): exponential factor describing acceleration in the anti-reality dimension.

Dark Energy in the AR-Math framework is a projection of the instability of space itself, which causes the universe to not only expand, but also become less and less like itself.

4. Particle Dualism in the AR-Math Framework

In quantum physics, particle dualism states that particles such as photons or electrons can behave like both waves and particles, depending on the experiment being performed.

In the AR-Math framework, this dualism can be explained as a shift in existence between the states of existence and non-existence of a particle. A particle exists in two possible states — existence and non-existence — that can be manipulated by measurements.

Mathematically, we can write the state of a particle as:

|ψ⟩ = α|exists⟩ + β|does-not-exist

where:

|ψ⟩: the wave function of the particle in superposition

|exists⟩ and |does-not-exist

α and β: the amplitudes for each state, which are affected by the observation.

When a particle is measured, we are not only observing the "physical" properties of the particle, but we are determining whether it exists or does not exist in AR space.

CONCLUSION

If we combine the principles of AR-Math with these physical phenomena, we can understand antimatter, entanglement, dark matter, dark energy, and particle duality as manifestations of a deeper reality, involving existential uncertainty structures, distortions of space and time, and the interplay between existence and non-existence itself.

These concepts suggest that the universe may not be what we consider "real", but rather a simulation of a deeper existential state of inconsistency, where reality itself can be interchanged with "anti-reality".

Thus, the existential physics of AR opens the way for new discoveries that could reveal how all matter and energy in the universe are connected in a wider web, which cannot be fully understood by the laws of traditional physics alone.

AR-Turing Engine (Ξ-Engine) is an automaton that:

Does not solve problems, but undergoes existential fluctuations

Does not terminate, but resonates in Ξ cycles

Does not depend on fixed inputs, but on initial existential distortions (Ξ₀)

II. BASIC COMPONENTS

1. Tape (AR Tape)

Infinite in both directions (classical), but:

Each cell = status {Exist, Non-Exist, Paradox}

Cell values: 0, 1, Ξ

2. Head (Head Ξ)

Read and write based on local status and existential density

Not only moving L or R, but also:

Stay (still)

Collapse (remove its existence)

Split (give rise to the shadow of the process on the parallel path)

3. State Register (Ξ-State)

Internal state of the engine:

{σ₀, σ₁, σ̸₁, σΞ, ...}

Transition is not f(q, s) → q', s', d

But: Ξ(q, s, Ξ₀) → {q', s', δΞ}

4. Ξ-Loop Core

Instead of stopping the engine at the end state, the engine continues to run through a paradoxical existential loop

The stopping state is neither Accept nor Reject, but rather:

Ξ-Stable = the system has reached its smallest fluctuation

Ξ-Diverged = the system is out of the spectrum of reality

III. Ξ TRANSITION (Paradoxical State Transition Table)

> Move: R = Right, L = Left, C = Collapse

Ξ: Local existential density (+1 = more existent, –1 = more non-existent)

IV. SPECIAL BEHAVIOR

1. Duplication Paradox

If Ξ_state = σΞ and tape_value = Ξ

→ the machine splits itself into parallel paths with Ξ₁ = Ξ₀ ± ε

2. Collapse Condition

If three consecutive cycles tape_value remains Ξ

→ the machine erases its existential path

3. Ξ-Convergence If the machine loops with density Ξ decreasing exponentially

→ the machine reaches minimal reality and can be used as a synchronization point between systems

V. VISUAL SIMULATION (Optional)

Each cell = color based on existential status:

0 = black

1 = white

Ξ = purple/abstract (semi-transparent)

The machine is depicted with a multi-head: visualizing existential branches

VI. BENEFITS AND APPLICATIONS

Non-deterministic computing paradigm in non-linear reality

Can be the logical basis for existential simulations, AR-AI, or paradoxical multiverse games

Philosophical framework for the “machine consciousness” model in alternative realities

If there is something to discuss, let's open a forum

#absurdism #philosophy #science #physics #tulisan #nulis #penulis #indonesia #catatan #kehidupan #puisi #filsafat

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therearepeoplewho · 1 month ago

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how do we move past this imaginary permanence of the world, that is fostered by images & signs, out of death-denial and into recognition of the world around us

how do we pull our heads out of this constant immersion in images, ephemera, cultural objects (with which and by which we learn about the world, which are necessary)

this 'glass bead game' play of atemporal subtitutions, the imagined meanings, this subservience to the word, the exchange of signs with signs

how do we take what can be learned from this mess of things that we've made and return to look outward to the dying world with the intention of giving life back to it

how do we do possibly do anything resembling that without descending further into fascism

how do we wilfully destroy this imagined permanence or integrity of language (that folly which traps us in this death spiral of signs exchanging signs) without giving ground to reactionaries (who are the first to co-opt language, and already have)

how do we deconstruct the reactionary voice, the hateful graffiti echoing in every comment section (half of it bots, but the bots scarcely being needed any longer to maintain the same volume)

how do we repurpose ourselves towards a science of the "natural" world which seeks to restructure the "natural" world in preparedness for the future (as it is already decimated and no attempt to return to prior ecologies is going to help) - to build sustainable, drought-ready, burn-ready, flood-ready food forests and to biologically remediate the poisoned land - without rapidly descending into ecofascism and wanton "mastery over nature". (to find our animism, to live in respect to the living world whilst gardening it effectively towards massive and as-rapid-as-can-be-considered-responsible ecological transformation)

to me always the answer appears to be repurposing these tools to turn them to decolonisation (theory & praxis) - although in this regard we are lost in the face of black-box algorithmic content feeds still the responsibility is one of sharing with everyone the knowledge of deconstruction and assemblage-theory, biopolitics and knowledge of history. the answer appears also to be radical hospitality, poetry and self-recursive participatory theatre, expanded cinema, shedding of convention in creation of new media as subsidiary to radical action and for sharing/understanding radical action, sharing surroundings (travelling without moving). beyond that we need truly universal UBI, beyond basic (broad redistribution of resources & leisure time, needs-based, hospitality-based, and gift-giving based economy of mutual aid - instead of any system of commanding the other by any means to action or provision), lifelong access to education, it's never too soon. and we would all need to be ready to leave behind lazy survey-based "representative" politics and to replace it with power-dissassembling multi-stage plenary politics of complete participation - the idea being that everyone so empowered could agree and consent together, with no one's legitimate concerns disregarded.

anyway i think ten years time will be the ecofascism era because, yeah. i have no hope. if people like me can't even get past this fear of the state even just to go bolster the local green party then what are we really going to do

also just thinking even just using the internet as a leftist was really wild under the cameron coalition btw. it was very offputting. there's trauma there, just saying. I'd assume it's the same way now if you stick your neck out in the slightest.

remember that guy who set himself on fire outside selly oak job centre? no one talks about that. probably because they put it out right quick but still. it's the thought that counts. not that i am suggesting anyone takes the jan palach way out and not that i would but.. i fixate on it a little because that's the only thing i see as an option for me to politically self actualise because the rest of it is petrifying and that really really sucks given how much i would enjoy working at a communal kitchen in our bright anarcho-communist green future with a little neckerchief on looking all washerwoman-like and rosy-cheeked

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itskaist · 4 months ago

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Hi Kaist and welcome to the fandom! 🤍 Glad to see I'm not the only one with a massive collection of stuff, like stats, lore and other tidbits. I can hear my excel spreadsheets crying in the corner lol. Anyway, I really liked the song you shared and would love to know more about Josiha if you are willing to share. What kind of villain are they and what name do they go by? Are they into monologuing? Do they tend to spare civilians?

HELLO FELLOW EXCEL SPREADSHEET FREAK! (affectionate)

Thank you so much for asking & so glad you liked the song!!

Answers under the cut for those interested :)

Josiah's villain persona is Replica (it used to be Reflection for the longest time and I've only changed it quite recently, actually).

His suit has the mysterious look and I've leaned into the mirrored helmet for how he approaches building up his reputation: alongside the mirrored helmet, he also employs programmable voice distorters which can copy the voice of his opponents. In fights, he will often imitate the style and tactics of whoever he's fighting - so with Argent, he will be more aggresive and in-the-moment; with Steel, more cautious and working with his environment; with Ortega, he'll be chatty and try to distract.

All of that works both to conceal his actual abilities and thus true identity, as well as leans into the theme of 'being your own worst enemy' - he's the fear path anarchist. By studying his opponents (be they heroes or the establishment), he can exploit their worst flaws and make them work against themselves. Herald cares so much about civilians? Let's threaten the bystanders to get him to let his guard down. The government is a web of corruption mutually held hostage? Strike at the weakest link, and let them turn on each other. Show the world exactly why the current status quo is not working, show how it is built on fear, greed, and complacency.

There is a personal touch to his persona as well, of course there is. Your typical Regene anxieties over not being truly human, over being simply a copy (a replica, if you will - a simulacrum of humanity but never the real thing, at least in his eyes). Copying his opponents' styles because that is what he has always done, not just in fighting but throughout his free life in general: speedrunning learning how to be a person by observing other people, how they act, how they speak, how they present, and recreating those lessons for himself. As well as that mind-bending identity recursion of Replica being an incarnation of Sidestep - being an incarnation of a Regene - being an incarnation of the original gene donor; copy of a copy of a copy, sharpened down to a piercing focus but losing parts of itself along the way (again, in his eyes only). Not feeling whole, not feeling like his life has been a one continuous path but rather been reset and started over from square one many times over.

Civilians he doesn't really concern himself with, but neither would he go out of his way to harm them; his fight is against the heroes and the powers that be. He is not above causing injury, be it mental or physical; however he hasn't killed yet… yet. He thinks he is ready to kill and would do it if necessary, it simply hasn't been so far - but that's just one of the lies he's telling himself :)

In fact, he is scared of death; not really his own but more death as a very concept. I imagine that at the Farm, death would have been very clinical, clean - the rebellious or faulty being disposed of efficiently, no goodbyes, no bodies, no mourning. Someone will just be gone one day and eventually, if they have been gone long enough, it will be assumed they were likely recycled. But Regenes would not be familiarized with death, not allowed to ritualize it. Therefore, death wasn't really something that Josiah has had much direct experience with before running away, he doesn't know it, he doesn't understand it, and it scares him. He doesn't like seeing dead bodies, feeling this uncanny valley of his mind scrambling for hold over nothing. But all of that is very subconcious and not something he ever gave much thought to - he sees himself as cold, driven and efficient, so while he thinks that he could kill if he had to, well… we shall see, especially if-when he is finally confronted more directly with his past at the Farm; THAT might get horribly bloody, and I am looking forward to him having a breakdown over it :)) We love to see a character's self-perception being shattered, haha.

I think that about covers what you asked about, I could of course ramble on forever about my favourite squeaky toy but this already got long enough, hah. Adieu!

#fallen hero #kaist speaks #and sorry for the late reply-#i got so excited over this ask that i needed some time to calm down and to articulate a proper answer ahaha #so genuinely thank you once again!! <33 #this blog is also the first time im attempting to share my ocs more widely so i admit i am very nervous #but we're being brave we're being sooo brave!#i will send you something as well in a moment bc im curious about your step(s) too! :)

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film-in-my-soul · 11 months ago

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WHEREIN ANEURYSMS ARE A SERIOUS CONCERN | 2,166 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Billy has certain bad habits. Occasionally they don't actually lead to disaster.

Of Metal Rings and Other Things | 2,365 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: He's been aching, distracted, blood boiling under his skin ever since Teddy came home from class with a glitter of silver at the base of his neck, four sparks sending syncopated Morse code messages straight to Billy's nerves.

Steal The Sunrise And Keep It Close | 2,385 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Didn't expect you to resort to attempted murder so quickly," Teddy says as he slips around Billy to get his head under the shower spray. "Well, you know me," Billy says, "big, scary, coulda-been supervillan. I'm made of underhanded tactics." "If 'pants on the floor' is the most creative thing you could come up with, it's probably for the best you didn't choose to follow that particular career path, B," Teddy says. "There's got to be a least an intricate death trap that'll provide you with enough time for monologuing." "I'll show you a death trap," Billy says

(See more recommendations below!)

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Summary: "Billy, come here," Teddy says, and Billy goes. He goes angry, frantic, crawling on top of Teddy and bringing their mouths together like a bruise. Bruise. Teddy had bruises, but he doesn't any more. Teddy's bruises are gone, faded away beneath his healing factor and now it's only Billy that can feel them, ripe and raw and painful.

Just a Dumb Human, Like You | 2,685 | frogy

Summary: "Wait, wait," Teddy says, breathless and rough, and if that's supposed to make Billy want to stop then Teddy has another thing coming to him. "I'm still-" Teddy says waving a hand at his appearance, as though Billy could have missed him being huge and green.

Major Relief | 2,831 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: When you spend all day in a chair, sometimes all you need is an excuse to stretch.

No Place Like It | 3,056 | SpiritsFlame / @spiritsflame

He has been living with Billy, sharing a house with him, for years. But this is different. This place is theirs. No guest bedrooms, no parents, no brothers (usually). Just them. Just Billy and Teddy, an apartment that barely holds their stuff, and a couch that needs christening.

Solace | 3,225 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: His mattress was warm. Warm, and lumpy. And breathing. The head beside his was turned away, but Teddy would know it anywhere, eyes open or closed. Billy. He nuzzled in closer, buried his nose in Billy’s hair, breathed in long and slow. He smelled of soap and sweat, dust and sunshine, of rightsafelovehome. Teddy refused, absolutely refused, to open his eyes as he slowly drifted towards consciousness, memory returning in bits and pieces. Sounds – a soft electric hum, a tick-tick-ticking from another room, voices through the wall that was thinner than they’d hoped but in a building that the pair of them could actually afford – all things he’d get used to, given time.

The Exception that Proves the Rule | 3,478 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: “What are you doing?” “They bounce,” Teddy muttered, her brow furrowed and shoulders tense. “It’s distracting.”

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Summary: Going to Woodstock was Tommy's idea. Most things are.

When You're Sixteen | 3,723 | Ardatli / @ardatli

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Discourse In Ink | 3,903 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

The tattoo hurt, but it also felt weirdly good in a way Billy wasn't expecting, and for a while after it's done he felt sharp, strong, like he could remake the world. And while that part is technically true, it doesn't normally feel as light as this. Usually it's a heaviness that makes him feel like he could fall through the earth at any moment, but this-- This. This felt like he could leave it.

The Boys of Summer | 4,723 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: It feels…pretty good, actually, once he gets past the reflexive embarrassment. The faint wind is cooler against bare skin than it was through the hot black cotton. The sun feels amazing against his shoulders. Billy drops his T-shirt into his lap and anxiously picks at the hem, feeling color staining his cheeks even as he refuses to look at Teddy. He’s pretty sure one look will send him diving back into his shirt, or sprinting across the field, or teleporting to Siberia or something and, wow, okay, he’s sitting shirtless next to Teddy Altman and he really doesn’t need to throw up or get turned on or anything, so his body had better behave right the fuck now.

Whole New Ballgame | 4,976 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

Summary: Teddy had thought he could handle anything, that maybe he and Billy were a little bit old and married - which was its own kind of wonderful - and maybe that meant no more surprises like this, where the breath just gets punched right out of his lungs. But apparently not, because Billy in a mostly proper baseball uniform makes Teddy's, well, everything, just stop working, like an extremely not-painful lightning bolt straight to the dick.

Every Day That Gets To Pass | 5,279 | atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

The larger piece of Billy's home drops down next to him, his weight barely denting the mattress at all. Teddy reaches over and brushes some hair out of Billy's eyes. "Don't go to sleep yet, okay?" he says, and his voice is all Billy needs.

Time in a Bottle | 5,731 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: Billy tried to smack Teddy away, but heat was already coiling low in his belly. His cock stirred, hardening at the warm self-satisfaction in Teddy’s eyes. “Stop that, jerkface, or my parents are going to walk in on a heck of a lot more than us sleeping together,” he muttered.

Nightswimming | 9,134 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: “Hey, if I’m sober enough to not drown, I’m sober enough to…do other stuff.” Teddy cocked his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a great standard to set for yourself, Billy.” “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure your face needs to be making out with mine right now, Teddy, so you should get on that.” He laughed, dimples flashing; his lips were wet and swollen—from his kisses, Billy realized with a dizzy sort of joy. Oh God, this was really happening. “No, but seriously, Billy.” “No, but seriously, Teddy, all I’m hearing is hi let’s French, so… Chop chop.”

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Fireflies | 23,825 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: The world had washed in gray when Cassie and Vision died. Not all at once, or fast enough that he noticed right away, but the color leeched out from around the edges first until it had always been that way. It hurt to breathe. The ache lodged in the middle of his chest. If they cut him open they would see it, a physical thing, a bowling ball of bile and doubt and unshed tears.

Some Are Born and Some Are Made | 32,969 | flightofthedragons

“I am proud of you, you know,” Teddy’s mom said as she handed off her empty dishware. “For what?” Teddy laughed. “For getting a boyfriend?” “Mmhmm. For building a life of your own.”

I'll Cover You | 58,093 | isengard / @goulets

Summary: Animal Shelter! Billy just got his first job as a junior copywriter for Marvel Agencies, and decides that living on his own would be much more tolerable if he had an animal friend. He pays a visit to the animal shelter, where he falls not only for a rambunctious puppy named Tommy, but for the shelter's Care and Training specialist, Teddy Altman.

Rough Trade | 59,702 | Ardatli / @ardatli

Summary: It's the 1920s in New York, and anything is possible. Prohibition is underway but the gin-joints are hopping, and in some of the more underground clubs it's safe to be yourself. Billy Lehnsherr, one of the heirs apparent to the Lehnsherr fortune, steps out to find some fun... and finds a lot more than he ever expected. For Teddy Altman, orphan, life has been one kick in the teeth after another. And when something good finally walks into his life, he knows it's only a matter of time before it's taken away again...

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Summary: The one where the year is 1947, Prince Dorrek crashes his ship at Roswell, Bill Kaplan is an astronomer with a problem, and life gets complicated from there.

Wayfaring Stranger | 82,797 | Khirsah / @khirsahle

Summary: “Whoa, whoa,” a low voice cried. The horse snorted, and Billy heard the soft thud of hooves hitting the earth alarmingly close to where he was standing. It was so close, he could feel the muffled reverberations in the packed earth. Then, “Oh my God, are you okay?” No, he wanted to shout. He was trembling all over, knees actually shaking. Billy slowly dropped his arm and dared to blink open his eyes. He looked up—and up—and up—until he met those blue eyes, just as open and bright as the whole damned Big Sky country in a face that was, oh God yes, really incredibly handsome. The sharp words dried on his tongue; the fear drained away. He could actually feel his brain derail. Holy crap, that was one hot cowboy. “Um,” Billy said stupidly. “I. Yeah. I think…yeah. Hi.” “I am so sorry,” Hot Cowboy said. “I am so, so unbelievably sorry.” “No, hey, it’s fine,” Billy quickly assured him. “No harm done. Um. Nice horse.” Nice horse? He fought the urge to cover his face with his hands.

There's No People Like Show People by Ardatli / @ardatli

2 Part Series* | Rated G | Total Words: 4,618

Part 1 Summary: The door slammed open and Eli stormed in, flinging his clipboard down onto the table with dramatic frustration. Teddy shifted his coke can over about three inches to make space, but Eli just flopped into an empty chair in the boardroom and stole half of Billy’s sandwich out of the cellowrap. “Hey!” “Thank you,” Eli mumbled around a mouthful of turkey. “Also, I quit.”

*part 3 is kate/america and has not been counted

Gotta Catch 'em All by Ardatli / @ardatli

2 Part Series | Rated G | Total Words: 11,607

Part 1 Summary: Pokemon Go is Teddy's childhood dream come true - his own pokedex, a team to raid with, and control over at least one most excellent city gym. That is, until a new challenger appears...

at the end of the world by atti (attilatehbun) / @recursivities

2 Part Series | Rated M & E | Total Words: 17,343

Part 1 Summary: Maybe things weren't always so clear, Before, but Teddy thought he understood the world enough, understood who he was in it. These days, the road blurs the routine of search, scrounge, fight, hide, survive into a different kind of world with a new kind of people living it, and Teddy has to learn the type of person it's making him if he's ever going to find a way to fit.

*Retail Hell with the Young Avengers by thepinupchemist / @sergeantscarlett - @scarlettshazam

10 Part Series | Rated T & E | Total Words: 32,045

Part 1 Summary: David Alleyne works at the mall and has a crush on Noodles Guy. Meeting him does not go as expected.

*this series predominantly features the David Alleyne/Tommy Shephard pairing

Summer Lovin' by Ardatli / @ardatli

2 Part Series | Rated E | Total Words: 109,699

Part 1 Summary: The one where the gang are counselors at a sleepaway camp, and shenanigans ensue. A few dozen horny teenagers, minimal adult supervision, and five acres of nature. What could go wrong?

Teenage Wasteland by Khirsah / @khirsahle

3 Part Series | Rated M & E | Total Words: 254,465

Part 1 Summary: Billy leaned forward a little, watching as Teddy found a felt-tipped pen and began searching for a slip of paper. The napkins were all balled up and messy; the placemats were splattered with gravy. "Erm," Billy said, half afraid Teddy would change his mind. "Here," Teddy finally said, turning toward him. He caught Billy's hand between his own and turned it over, palm-up, his fingers calloused and warm against Billy's smooth skin. He smelled like…like something amazing. Oh, oh, wow, Billy thought dazedly, squeezing his knees together against the liquid rush of heat low in his belly; the glide of the pen against his palm was the most arousing thing he'd ever felt. The sight of Teddy's golden hair falling into his face made him want to do something incredibly stupid, like lean forward and kiss him, or throw his arms around his neck, or… Or something. Anything.

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#wiccling #wickling #billy/teddy #billyteddy #billy x teddy #wiccan/hulkling #wickling reclist #mcu reclist #fic reclist #billy kaplan #teddy altman

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