Marvel, memes and a whole lotta fictional father figures!
Christian | AroAce | Quickson Supremacist | Anti st*rker | avid Rogueneto hater AO3 | YouTube | Ko-Fi
I love to write, draw and animate, and I'm always open for a chat! Have a great day!
Since June ended up being disgustingly busy on my end, I decided to put all the prompts for the House of Dadneto 2026 that I couldn't complete (as well as a few other WIPs I've been meaning to tackle) into this neat little bingo card!
My hope is to knock a few squares off each month and finish the card by the end of the year, and to make it extra fun, I thought I'd let you guys decide which ones I should work on first! My lovely council have chosen three squares for you to choose from, so make your vote and wish me luck haha! 🫡
Which prompt should I tackle first?
Hunger Games AU
Mythology AU
One Son's Worth - Chapter 2
Voting ended onJul 4
With that being said, I hope you all have an amazing day!! 💛
Since it's been a week since I posted the bingo, I thought I'd give you all an update on my progress this past week!! Here is a list of everything in the bingo card that I worked on:
The Hunger Games AU: 1803 new words!
Mythology AU: 103 new words + lore building
One Son's Worth - Chapter 2: 388 new words
Orbiter: Storyboard completed!
Outside of that, I also crocheted two plushies, inked some sketches of my OCs, created a spur of the moment Dark DOFP animatic, aaaand proceeded to get sick again for the second time in a month 😭 Overall I think it's been a pretty successful week though! I'll keep you all updated as progress continues 🫡
AHHHHHHH YES I DO REMEMBER AND IT’S STILL SO AMAZING!!! 😍😍😍 Thank you so much for bringing this scene to life in your awesome art, it made my day when you first showed me and it’s made my day again!! ✨
Seeing X-Factor in '97 reminded me of All New X-Factor. So naturally, I drew my fav three from that team. I looooved this serval suit design so much! 🖤🩶💛
being a writer is wild cause you'll get a crushing professional rejection and then five minutes later someone on AO3 with a username like destieltrashfire will tell you your work is holding their mental health together singlehandedly and you just gotta roll with that whiplash
as excited as i was for it, this might be the very first episode of x-men 97 i have actual qualms with because morph having to shift into jean to talk logan down and not being able to do it as themself is just. so ooc for logan??? i’m not even talking as someone who would like for them to get together, i’m talking as someone who watched the original series. jean isn’t the center of logan’s world, as much as he doesn’t always show it he does deeply care about his teammates, and he deeply cares about morph. morph’s entire role in the original series is basically just “person who wolverine cares deeply about”. they don’t exactly do a lot else other than be obsessed over by the wolverine. even if logan’s feelings for morph are 100% platonic as opposed to his romantic feelings for jean, morph should be perfectly able to talk him down as morph.
beginning to suspect that adult life is one long string of having to either be brave enough to look like a complete moron, or eternally suffering from the consequences of inaction
Gosh you're insane and I love you. Have a drabble because I'm equally as ill over them as you. (Don't ask for context bc there is none lol)
~~~
Remy's stomach was revolting, and not in a fun "Oh, just a tinge of seasick" kind of way, but a "You just got thrown out of time itself and thrown into a different dimension" kind of sick.
Because that was, literally, what had happened.
At least that's what the Professor -or, a different version of the Professor- told him before he proceeded to hurl all over the rose garden. What a miserable sight he must have made for a visitor from another universe.
A hand rested gently on his back as he reeled from another wave of nausea.
"Don't worry, you weren't the first and you won't be the last to throw up on these grounds."
Remy's heart flipped harder than his stomach, and he whipped his head up to face the man that had come to kneel beside him on the grass. Silver hair that shimmered in the sunlight. Warm brown eyes. An amused smirk.
His as de cœur.
"Pietro?" Remy choked out.
And the man smiled, but it wasn't his smile. It was softer around the edges. His gaze sympathetic, but not familiar. And the hand on his back was firm and comforting. Not like the way Pietro would drag him from the battlefield in superspeed or punch his shoulder in jest.
Before he could process what that meant, another wave of nausea hit, and Remy lurched away from the stranger that wore his friend's face.
The hand on his back was joined by a hand on his arm, desperately trying to steady him. Remy could have cried. If it was his Pietro, he might have. Instead, he pulled his composure together and drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to sit up so he could better see the man before him.
The differences became more obvious as his vision sharpened. The lack of scars. Laugh lines creased at the edges of his eyes. Cheekbones that were not defined by hunger, but age.
"How're you feeling?" the stranger asked warmly.
Remy winced at how familiar he sounded.
"You're not... you're not my..."
He couldn't finish the sentence.
It seemed he didn't need to though as the man's features softened. "No, I'm not," he answered simply, before offering a smile. "But I'm pretty close. And so are you."
Remy blinked in surprise. "You... have a me, here?"
"Don't think there's a universe out there that doesn't," he smirked.
"And are we..." Remy caught himself. Cleared his throat. "Are we friends?"
Patting Remy's back, this Pietro assured happily, "The best."
Warmth bloomed in Remy's chest at that.
"What about you?" Pietro asked. "Are we close where you come from?"
Another D!DOFP Gambit and Pietro drabble for my beloved @cal-caje (they make me ill and so do you)
~~~
"Chère, please stop."
Remy's voice was firm but not unkind.
A plea that fell on deaf ears as Pietro threw back his head and downed another bottle of bourbon to join the scattered mess on the floor.
"You've had too much," Remy said.
"Don't tell me what to fucking do," Pietro drawled, his vision so blurry he couldn't even glare.
A bad night. One of many in the past month. Remy began to worry how frequent these nights were becoming.
"You're scaring me, chère," Remy said nervously. "This isn't like you."
Sneering, Pietro forced himself to stand from the couch and muttered, "Fine- I won't bother you."
"That's not what I meant-"
Pietro tried to move past him.
Remy caught his arm- crossing a boundary he knew he shouldn't, but so scared that he might leave and never come back that he didn't care.
As predicted, Pietro shoved his hand away with a scowl. "Don' touch me," he spat.
"Don't leave, then," Remy begged. "Please- just talk to me."
Wiping at his eyes, Pietro murmured tiredly, "Nothing to talk about."
"You sure? Because you've been all over the place for weeks, chère," Remy said with a hint of frustration. "I got no idea when you're coming over- if you're coming back. You drink yourself away till I barely recognise you anymore."
Pietro huffed. "You've seen me drink before," he defended himself weakly.
"Not like this," Remy refuted, pointing to the bottle still clutched in his hand as he snapped, "Never like this."
"What does it matter?"
Remy's heart clenched.
"You matter! Isn't that enough?!"
Finally- finally, Pietro lifted his gaze. Brown eyes that he adored muted to a dull grey in the low light. Tears he had tried so hard to hide now caught in his lashes.
"Remy…"
All Remy's frustration fled from his system, replaced with worry in one swift motion.
"Yeah, chère?"
Pietro sniffled.
"I'm so tired…"
Remy's heart shattered.
And he didn't say anything. Didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to help.
All Remy could bring himself to do was step closer and gently reach for the bottle in Pietro's hand, pausing when the speedster flinched, before sliding the bourbon out of his grasp. Pietro didn't fight to hold it. Remy took that as a good sign.
Gesturing to the couch, Remy waited patiently as Pietro fell back against the cushions and laid down. It seemed only natural to drag the blanket off the armrest and lay it over Pietro, who was quickly fading into unconsciousness. Exhausted to the bone- maybe even deeper than that.
Remy would be lying if he said he slept well that night. In fact, he spent the whole night sitting in the adjacent armchair, watching the staggered rise and fall of Pietro's chest. Assuring himself the man was alive. That he wouldn't run away without a goodbye, this time. Scared of what might become of him if he continued down this dark spiral.
"Don't leave me now, chère," Remy whispered, somewhere late in the night like a prayer. "My heart just wouldn't take it."
Pietro continued to sleep, smothered in an alcoholic haze, and Remy could do nothing more than let out a tired sigh.
D!DOFP PIETRO AND GAMBIT FEED ME BRO FEED MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
The sound of glass shattering against tile broke Remy out of his slumber.
Within a heartbeat he was rushing out of bed, jacket hastily thrown over his shoulders and cards flicking between his fingers with a current of energy. He expected an intruder. It was only natural for a thief to have many enemies.
But as Remy rushed into the shadowed kitchen, he found something far more distressing.
His friend -and so much more- leaning over the kitchen sink, arms shaking violently, head hung low. It was only then Remy noticed the dark stains on his hands, matching the spots on the floor mixed with broken glass.
"Pietro?" Remy asked, stunned.
Before Remy had even drawn in another breath, the scene before him shifted. The fragments of glass disappeared. The blood splatters on the floor wiped away hastily. Pietro, angled away now, clutched at his hands out of view.
"Sorry..." Pietro said suddenly, but the words felt strangled.
Sliding his cards back into his jacket, Remy approached with an overwhelming sense of concern. "Are you right, chère?"
Shaking his head slightly, Pietro muttered, "Just dropped a glass- I'll replace it."
"The glass is the least of my worries," Remy said as he leant against the bench where Pietro stood, a bloodied rag pressed between his palms. "How your hands?"
"Nothing to be concerned about," Pietro stated coldly.
"Tough luck- 'cause I am," Remy said with a shrug, earning a weak eye roll for the man.
"My powers slipped," Pietro finally answered, moving past Remy to throw the rag in the trash, the cuts on his hands all but healed within mere seconds. "Turns out glass isn't all that fond of superspeed."
Remy had seen Pietro rush around with bottles of vodka in his hands, and never once had they shattered under his touch. Then again, he had never seen Pietro's hands shake like they were now- shuddering so fast and so suddenly they looked almost blurry. No glass in the world would be able to withstand that kind of strain.
Remy dreaded to think what horror could make his Pietro tremble like that...
"I didn't mean to wake you."
It wasn't an apology exactly, but it was the closest Pietro knew how to give.
"I'm glad you did," Remy said easily.
"You can go back to sleep," Pietro replied.
Tilting his head cheekily, Remy crooned, "Only if you're planning to join me, chère."
Pietro shot him a look between exasperated and bemused. "Insufferable Cajun," he scowled, though the speedster made no rush to leave. Wouldn't have even come back to the apartment if there hadn't been some level of fondness for the thief that owned it.
"Only teasing, mon cœur," Remy said. A lie for Pietro's sake or himself- he wasn't entirely sure any more. "You know you're welcome whenever you please."
Rubbing the last line of a wound into his hand -fading into the tapestry of scars he refused to speak of- Pietro nodded gently. A wordless thank you.
"I'll be out of your hair by the morning," Pietro said, as if to reassure him.
Remy couldn't imagine anything worse. "How 'bout you join me for breakfast instead?"
Smirking, Pietro walked out of the small kitchen towards the couch he had unofficially claimed as his own. "We'll see about that," he mused.
