I'M A PHYSICIST,

personals DO NOT INTERACT ( rp sideblogs are the exception ) independent / private / selective recommended 16+

Curtis “Curt” Connors, as seen in Spider-Man 2 (2004) and Spider-Man 3 (2007) Heavily featuring influences from 616, the novelization, and headcanons Studied by Kriss ( he/him, 18+ ) / GMT+8 / college student

↝ A STUDY IN: mentorship, misunderstanding, and retrieving something lost.  Asclepius, god of healing, truth, and prophecy.

↝ CONTENT WARNINGS: includes untagged and recurring mentions of reptiles, war, violence, alcohol consumption (light), internalized ableism, death, and loss of limb. Highly advised not to follow if any mentions of the topics put you off.

↝ STATUS: mid-high activity, runs mostly on queue

↝ HEADCANONS: still WIPs ! ( those marked with ✧ are highly important and best read prior to interaction ) [ ✧ the lizard ] / [ mental health ] [ war ] / [ ✧ internalized ableism ] [ ] / [ ]

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furrowed   brow﹐     the   act   alone   of   closing   the   notebook   is   hardly   what   struck   octavius   as     strange﹐     it   was   the   abrupt   urgency.     as   though   curt   were   suddenly   possessed﹐     hellbent   on   concealing   each   page   from   every   curious   gaze   but   his   very   own﹐     a   thought   that   did   not   entertain   otto   so   much   as   it   imbued   the   once   seemingly     ordinary     item   with   an   air   of   immeasurable   mystique.          ‘‘‘‘     𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎   𝚊𝚛𝚎   𝚗𝚘   𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎   𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜   𝚗𝚘𝚝   𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕.     ’’’’         he   smiled﹐     to   himself   as   much   as   to   curt﹐     though   his   gaze﹐     both   overtired   and   intense﹐     remained   fixed   on   the   notebook.          ‘‘‘‘     ah﹐     i     forgot     who   said   that﹐     i’m   afraid.     ’’’’          he   spoke﹐     slowly﹐     allowing   each   word   of   his   to   marinade   in   brief   silence   before   taking   a   deep   breath   in   through   his   nose.     both   of   his   eyes   once   again   greeting   curt   with   a   dull   warmth﹐     like   the   embers   of   a   dying   fire﹐     in   spite   of   how   his   innocent   confession  stung   just   a   little   against   his   pride.          ‘‘‘‘     i’m   sorry   to   disappoint   you﹐     𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛   𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜.     but   i   think   it’s   a   little     late     for   any   ordinary   student.     in   spite   of   all   your   hope.     ’’’’          octavius   shoved   his   hands   deep   in   his   pockets﹐     abandoning   all   thought   of   the   strange   notebook   or   even   his   own   pride﹐     otto   now﹐     not   without   a   small   wince﹐     leaned   ever   so   slightly   on   the   desk.          ‘‘‘‘     if   you   ever   require   help   with   anything﹐     curtis﹐     you   know   i’m   more   than   happy   to   oblige.     𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎   𝚒𝚜   𝚗𝚘   𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎   𝚒𝚗   𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.     ’’’’

Maybe  at  a  later  date,  Curt  would  reveal  the  contents  of  the  notebook.  What  would  a  𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛  𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚝  make  out  of  scribblings  by  someone  who  hadn’t  studied  so  much  as  𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗  𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢  intending  to  enhance  the  human  body?  He  doesn’t  hide  the  notebook,  knows  it  would  only  bring  more  attention  if  he  stuck  it  in  a  drawer  or  on  a  shelf  at  the  moment,  but  he  feels  somewhat  protective  of  it.  Thankfully,  Otto’s  prying  eyes  end  at  the  quote-  one  that  Curt  lets  out  a  laugh  at.  

“I’m  not  𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐,  Otto,“  he  genuinely  believes,  although  he  sees  it  as  an  irony  that  it’s  𝙾𝚝𝚝𝚘  of  all  people  offering  such  a  sentiment.  He’s  only  got  one  hand;  he  couldn’t  count  the  amount  of  times  on  his  fingers  that  he’s  had  to  drag  him  away  from  his  work.  Though,  in  Otto’s  defense,  one  of  them  is  a  physics  professor  and  the  other  is  changing  the  world  in  other  ways.  “Just  some  side-project  I’ve  been  considering.”  His  smile  stretches  at  that,  avoiding  eye  contact;  𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎-𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝  is  a  mild  descriptor.

“Christ, Connors.” He muttered softly, “I never get a chance to get a look at the news these days, but– an 8-foot lizard man? And you can’t even remember what happens once you pass that threshold?” The thought alone almost makes Otto worry if he’ll get any sleep tonight. He felt an urge to keep an eye on his friend instead of resting…

Far from prying eyes inside the old building, he was finally able to take off that dusty hat and heavy coat, his actuators stretching out and chirping, finally free after hours of staying hidden. “I suppose it would be best if we scrounge up some blankets in the meantime, you look like you’re getting cold.” Doc handed the coat to his actuators and they draped it over Curt’s shoulders– It was still fairly warm…

Maybe  he'd  have  laughed  any  other  time,  the  surprise  in  Otto's  tone.  But  the  time  𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔,  𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔,  𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚜  and  Curt  doesn't  know  how  long  left  until  the  creature  reappears.  A  cool  breeze  brushes  through  the  drafty  building,  Curt's  eyes  shutting  closed  for  a  few  seconds  to  grip  torn  cloth  tighter  to  bare  skin,  although  Octavius  hands  his  coat  over  him  and  whatever  warmth  is  left  in  it  is  greatly  appreciated.  Humans  were  not  intended  to  be  cold-blooded  creatures;  Curt  would  testify  greatly  to  that  fact.  "It's...  It's  something  that  happens  to  me  sometimes."  He  attempts  to  brush  it  off,  for  Otto's  sake.  "We  have  an  hour...  or  maybe  two."

"Don’t worry about it,” he glanced back with a half-cocked smile, “Whether you were there or not couldn’t have changed the outcome as much as I’m sure you wish it could have. I’d still be like this and… Rosie…” Otto realized at that moment, he never truly got time to mourn the death of his beloved wife, but now wasn’t the time for it.

He shook his head, the actuators lowering him to the ground as they’d reached an old abandoned building. They then grabbed onto the wood panels covering the door and pried them off effortlessly. “Do you expect any further mutation from your experiment or does this only affect your arm?”

Octavius wasn’t sure what could happen, but it would be good to know the possibilities should he have to do anything drastic. Curt very clearly trusted him in return to not only keep him safe but hidden as well, even in his sleep-deprived state.

Curt  lets  a  𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚢  𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎  hang  over  them;  Martha  is  still  alive  and  well,  but  he  hasn't  seen  her  for  weeks,  Billy  much  less.  The  former  professor  looks  away,  towards  the  ground  into  a  vast  nothing,  the  sound  of  the  wood  being  being  pried  aside  bringing  him  back  to  the  reality  they  had  to  face  now.  His  blood  now  running  a  different  temperature,  Curt  curls  his  one  good  arm  around  himself,  grabbing  hold  of  torn  fabric  in  attempt  to  trap  whatever  body  heat  was  left.  His  body  is  nothing  but  a  𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎  𝚋𝚘𝚖𝚋  now.

‘ you’re not going t- ’ there is a hidden edge of panic to her voice. ‘ oh, you’re not going to call my dad. cool, cool. thank you, sir. ’ there’s fear in her eyes, + her breathing pattern changes. ‘ um, thanks. but don’t blame day, yeah. um. it won’t happen again, sir. ’

Otto nods, understanding of Dr. Connors’s situation, the metallic arms lift him from the ground, “Luckily, I found a place to hide away for the evening. There should be enough space for both of us–” The actuators chirp at him and he rolled his eyes, shoving them away from his face, “Yes, there’ll be space for you too, relax… Now, follow me before Spiderman or the police find us.”

There was a quick inhale through their nose, and they fidgeted nervously. They usually don’t do stuff like this. It was the first time they did it. They didn’t think about what would happen if they got caught. It’s been a while since they got in trouble for something.

With the comment about disrespect, Day’s mouth pulled into a sour frown. “We gave the same amount of respect back. Sure, teachers are criminally underpaid— that’s a topic for another time, actually, but he didn’t even want to be there. Why should we give respect if he wasn’t gonna do the same? You treat your students like people. He didn’t care. That’s unfair.”

Fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose; not mad, just 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍. Though, even he knows how such a thing is no better to Day. Parent sits up from his seat, chair scraping against the floor, bridging the gap to lay his hand on Day's shoulder. Day took after Curt a lot; the missing arm had made him laugh, the golden hair another. But Day's own wide-open heart was something they could only learn from Curt and the 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 that came with, well, that was all Mari. He so much as softens his gaze and sighs, heavily.