𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡

hi girlies.....you know i've been teasing a new blog/world etc etc and i'm proud to announce me and the group chat are finally ready to release our new project!!! we made a private formula one verse called aurelion racing, where i write the lead racer at @gridcrown !!! its a blog i've been working on behind the scenes for a little over a month now. gabi most generously is making another dual f1 oc blog found over at @raceoval and i would LOVE if everyone considered making f1 verses/blogs to join us!!!!!! below you'll find the rest of the team! esme and laurel are also joining us, so please consider giving them a follow soon <3

when it's just the two of them, the tower has a heightened silence. less noise, more intention. tara markov sits cross-legged on the floor near the computer banks, palms resting flat against the cool metal as if she needs the reminder that something here is solid, predictable. screens glow in soft blues and greens, reflections breaking across her face like shallow water. she likes this room. information doesn’t lie the way people do. it only waits to be asked the right way. she glances over at barbara, fingers curling once before she speaks. ❝ you make it look easy, ❞ tara says lightly, almost teasing, though there’s something earnest tucked beneath it. ❝ knowing where everyone is, what they need. you even know what’s coming next. ❞ a beat. ❝ when i’m around you, i don’t feel like i have to guess so much. ❞ her smile is small, careful, the kind that doesn’t ask for too much. ❝ it’s nice. having someone who sees everything and still lets you stay. ❞

the tower feels too high tonight. too far from anything solid. tara markov stands near the training floor, boots planted hard against the mat as if she’s afraid the ground might forget her, as if gravity is a promise that can be broken. her power stirs anyway, low, restless, answering old instincts she didn’t choose and voices she didn’t invite. slade’s presence lingers in her head like a bruise you don’t touch but always feel, shaping her thoughts before they finish forming. control disguised as guidance. care disguised as command. she hates how quiet it can be. how normal it can look from the outside. she doesn’t turn when dick comes up beside her. she pretends she’s watching the city, pretending is something she’s very good at now. ❝ you don’t look at me like you’re waiting for me to mess up, ❞ tara says after a moment, light and careful, like it’s nothing important. ❝ most people do. ❞ her shoulders lift in a small shrug that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. ❝ you trust me like it’s normal. like i’ve earned it already. ❞ a pause—too long, just shy of noticeable. ❝ i’m not used to that. ❞ she glances at him then, quick and fleeting, a smile already in place. ❝ don’t worry, ❞ she adds, easy, rehearsed. ❝ i won’t give you a reason to regret it. ❞

the tower never quite sleeps. it breathes instead, steel and circuitry humming low beneath the salt-sweet air, a constant reminder that even safe places stay alert. tara markov feels it through the soles of her boots as she stands near the windows, fingers flexing unconsciously, as if the earth might answer even here, even suspended above the sea. she has learned to listen for it everywhere. the weight beneath floors, the tension in walls, the way stone remembers being broken. tonight, her power feels restless, coiled tight, responding to thoughts she refuses to finish. slade’s voice still echoes where it doesn’t belong, precise and cruel, threading itself through her instincts like barbed wire. control disguised as instruction. protection disguised as debt. she hears donna before she turns. donna always moves like she trusts the space she occupies, grounded, unafraid, carrying strength the way others carry breath. tara envies it in a quiet, aching way. when she looks back, there is a small, careful smile already waiting on her mouth, practiced but not false. ❝ you ever notice, ❞ she says softly, nodding toward the endless dark beyond the glass, ❝ how the ocean looks calm until you remember what it can do? ❞ her gaze flicks to donna’s face, searching, trusting despite herself. ❝ i like it here, with you, with them. ❞ a pause, fragile but honest. ❝ it makes it easier to forget… other voices. ❞ her fingers curl once more, then still. ❝ i'm being helpful, right? ❞

zoyaaaaaaaaaaaa make a wag oc right now or i'll die

space does not let go of them all at once. it lingers in a quiet, insistent, settling beneath the skin like a second pulse. susan storm feels it humming through her as the ship seals, as alarms dim, as gravity remembers their names. the lab smells scorched and wrong, ozone threaded with metal, as if the stars followed them home. she lifts her hands without meaning to, watches the air hesitate around her, bending in a way that feels less like magic and more like recognition. for a breath, she understands how constellations keep their distance, how pressure can be gentler than force. power, she realizes, is not noise. it is control. it is knowing when to hold.