#just something random i wanted to draw…
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𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬
Just random random headcannons about my wife <3
She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.
“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.
Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.
“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”
But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.
Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.
(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.
“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.
Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.
Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).
Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”
Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.
VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.
Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”
Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.
“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.
Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?
Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.
Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”
You ended up loving her hair anyway.
Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are
She’s always warm; your personal heater
Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it
Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.
Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.
Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.
A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.
#ARCANE#i love sevika#sevika arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x you#sevikasbooyahhworks#headcanons#sevika headcanon
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Once again, I am plagued by combiner thoughts. And I know I'm going to get to it in that one fic, but I just want to ramble about Texaid for a minute and why it compels me
I just think there's something so interesting going on with the parallels between G1 Vortex and First Aid. They're both combiners. They're both the left hand in their combiner form. The mirror is there folks.
But Vortex is solidly connected to his gestalt. The Combaticons are always together. They're not having some other rando come in. They know exactly who they need to be in that unit. Even though they don't understand the world around them, they know who they are to each other.
Meanwhile, the Protectobots are scramble city style. Like, their configuration will change randomly (G1 Transformers, my beloved chaos continuity destroyer) and in later versions they'll even get random mechs joining and cycling through. The gestalt feels like coworkers at a job???
I just think it's so interesting, that the Combaticons have 1 thing that they are solid on and that is their reliance on each other. They get thrown through the ringer in many continuities (remember that time... megatron put a bomb in Swindle's HEAD in the G1 cartoons?? yeah??? no??? just me???). And I think that is such a HUGE draw to why folks love them as a combiner gestalt, while not many people are talking about the Protectobots.
But how juicy is it - that the autobot is the one who is left out on his own, just a cog to be placed in a situational weapon. While the Combaticons fight for revenge so OFTEN because they're looking out for the mechs that matter so much to them. And that's the real heart of Bruticus.
ANYWAY!
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Suspended
Matt Rempe x Short!Alt!Fem!Reader
Kinks used: mirrors, praise, degradation, choking, size, breath play, scratching, begging, biting, marking, unprotected, cream pie, blood (brief), spit (brief)
*Another user, @cuteandhughesy got the same request and we decided to release our own versions. I HIGHLY recommend reading her version as well as well as all of her other work. She’s extremely talented with her writing and I promise, you’ll find something written by her that you love!
The elevator came to a halt, causing both of us to let out frustrated groans. Red light bathed us, casting a somewhat apocalyptic glow over us. Our surroundings felt weirdly synonymous with the thoughts occupying our heads.
“Call button’s not working.” The tall man sighed and ran a hand over his face in frustration.
“So we’re fucked for the night?” I sighed as well, a scoff and an eye-roll following to accompany my annoyance and disbelief.
“Probab-fucking-ly.” The man said sarcastically and sat down on the floor. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sighed again. “Cute. No signal.” He muttered to himself. “You got anything?” He asked, lifting his head to look at me. I looked at my phone as well and tried to send a few texts to some friends, my roommate, a neighbor. Nothing.
“Nope.” I answered, popping the ‘p’ of the word. The man let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head as he tilted his head back. I sat down as well, a sigh falling from my lips. “So, what do we do?” I asked with a small shrug.
“I don’t know. 20 questions?” He asked sarcastically, his tone mocking.
“Fuck it.” I shrugged in response. He looked at me with annoyance and disdain before sighing and rolling his eyes. “Start trying to guess what it is.” I encouraged him.
“Is it an elevator?” He asked bluntly, irritation evident in his voice.
“Damn, you’re good.” I said with a slight smirk. He couldn’t help but let out a little bit of a chuckle, he had to admit I had a sense of humor. Or… I tried to, at least. Given our current circumstances, what else could I really do?
“Okay, 20 questions was a bust.” He said with an amused chuckle. “What about,” he paused to think, looking up at the mirrored ceiling. “I don’t know. Random trivia? Random shit. We can just quiz each other on… whatever.” He suggested as I moved to sit across from him, leaning back against the wooden wall behind me.
“Why not?” I shrugged again. “You’re going first this time though.” I nodded in his direction.
“Fair enough.” He answered in a bored, monotone voice. Despite the tension of the situation, the conversation was flowing pretty fluidly. We were both clearly still annoyed, but we were trying to make it work. “Who was the only person to knock out Muhammad Ali in a heavyweight title fight?” He asked with a smug grin.
“I’m 4’11 and I look like I just stepped off the set of The Craft. You expect me to know the answer to that?” I asked, drawing a sharp laugh from the giant man across from me. “Fucking… I don’t know, uhhh…” I thought about it and decided to just go for the stupidest answer I could think of. “John fucking Cena? I don’t know sports like that, man.” I groaned in annoyance.
“You could’ve said fucking Elmo and it would’ve been a better guess.” He sighed and shook his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Larry Holmes.”
“Who the H-E-double-honest-to-god-fuck is that?” I asked in mock offense. “Anyway, my turn.” I said over his laughter. “What does M&M stand for?” I asked him, a challenging glint in my eyes.
“Uhh…” He seemed stumped as he bit his lip in thought. I took the opportunity to look him over.
He was absolutely stunning. Tall. Like, really fucking tall. He had brown hair and these gorgeous dark brown eyes that I couldn’t help but get lost in. His facial features were pure art, like he was a sculpture made specifically for me to fawn over. He had a muscular yet somewhat lanky build but it still drew me in. His scent carried from across the small space of the elevator and holy shit. It was intoxicating. He smelled like the slightest bit of mint, something woodsy and ashy, and… cold. The man was the personification of seduction. Sex incarnate. I feared I may have gotten addicted to him before I was able to even get a proper taste. I tried to look away before he realized I was staring, so I averted my gaze to the mirrored ceiling, as if that made my predicament any better.
“Mars and Mercury? Because the Mars company?” He took his best guess. I was actually kind of impressed. Especially with that voice. Smooth, deep, thick Canadien accent. With each word, I swam… but I wouldn’t mind completely drowning in his voice if he’d let me.
“Close, actually.” I praised him subtly. “Mars and Murrie.” I corrected him.
“Why the fuck do you know that?” He asked with the most charmingly sexy lopsided smirk I’d ever seen in my life. I just shrugged with a small laugh. I didn’t trust my words right now. He made me way too nervous for me to keep my voice steady. “You okay?” He asked, nodding his chin in my direction. Fuck, he must’ve noticed how nervous I am. Shit. Fuck. Uhhhhh. Say something! Fuck!
“Yeah! Just stuck in an elevator. You?” I said with a slight laugh. YOU AWKWARD FUCKING IDIOT! Oh my god. Why would you say that? No fucking shit, he’s stuck with you! Dumbass! Is he laughing? Oh shit. Is he laughing at you or did he take it as sarcasm?
“Fair point. Not an ideal situation.” He spoke up. Oh thank fuck. He took it as sarcasm.
“Why don’t we play truth or dare?” I blurted out. Truth or dare? What? Are we in fucking middle school? Why the fuck would you even suggest that? Oh my god.
“Truth or dare? What is this? Middle school?” He asked with a chuckle, looking around at our surroundings. See?! Fucking idiot…
“No!” I said a little too quickly and a lot too loudly. I quickly cleared my throat to try to make up for how awkward I was being. “We might as well get to know each other since we’re trapped here for who knows how long.” I suggested. “Truth or dare could be an entertaining way to do that.” I stated with a nonchalant shrug. Good save, girl! He suspects nothing. Hopefully.
“I guess.” He laughed with a shrug. “I’ll bite. Truth or dare?” Speaking of bite…
“Dare.” I replied. I decided to be bold. Why not? I can’t run away, might as well just embarrass myself and get it done with.
“Dare you to tell me your name.” He said, his smooth voice echoing off the wooden elevator walls. My eyes met his and I found my lips pulling up into a small but slightly flirty smirk, involuntarily, obviously.
“____.” I answered in a more confident tone. I leaned forward and extended my hand towards him which he accepted without a second thought. His large hand completely engulfed my smaller one, his grip firm, polite, and gentle all at the same time. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to mine which tended to be freezing cold for some reason. He flashed me a warm smile as we leaned back against our respective walls again, our eyes locking again for a few seconds before we both quickly looked away. The energy in the confined space felt somewhat charged and I wondered if he felt it too or if it was just the absurdity of our situation. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” He cleared his throat. He decided to play it safe and I couldn’t blame him. It’s not like we could escape any awkwardness or each other right now. There was tension between us but I wasn’t sure if it sexual, aggression-based, or something else entirely.
“What’s your name?” I asked him. He knew mine so it was only fair to ask him now. He sighed but a hint of a smile graced his face.
“Matt.” He answered simply. He didn’t seem to want to be answering my questions. In fact, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Can’t say I blame him, really. “Truth or dare?” He sighed with a roll of his eyes.
“Truth.” I said, still avoiding eye contact. He was pretty, but he was intimidating.
“You seeing anyone?” He subtly nodded his chin towards me as he asked his question. Maybe I was wrong? His voice was slightly deeper than before and I felt a flutter in my chest. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes snapped back to his. He was surprisingly bold despite the arrogance and annoyance that radiated off of him. I wasn’t sure if I liked that or not yet.
“No.” I shook my head subtly as I tried to stop my breathing from becoming shallow. The rise and fall of my chest definitely gave away how affected I was though. I didn’t want him to see the power he had over me. He seemed like an asshole. But… he was at least trying, I guess? “Truth or dare?” My voice was hoarse and quiet, almost unlike my own.
“Truth.” His gaze was intense and his voice was unwavering. His cold eyes never left mine and I felt myself slipping further and further into the clutches of this captivating man who I now knew as Matt. I took a shaky deep breath, preparing myself to speak again.
“What do you do for a living?” I tried to alleviate some of the tension that was building between us.
“Work.” He answered quickly as he adjusted his body to sit up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do I make you nervous?” He asked bluntly.
“You didn’t even ask me to choose.” I replied with my eyes locked intently on his, not even acknowledging that he didn’t even give an actual answer to my question either.
“Didn’t have to,” he shook his head slightly, “you’re too worked up to choose anything besides truth right now.” His assumption was straight-forward, but not inaccurate.
“Try me.” I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn’t sure if I was more annoyed at his audacious attempt to psychoanalyze me in the moment or the situation we were in, but I decided to challenge him. He may be able to read me like a book right now, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still try to trip him up. I watched him scoff and bite the insides of his cheeks, the annoyance obviously affecting him as well.
“So, you’re choosing dare then?” He questioned me with raised eyebrows. I kept up my facade, determined to win this little dick measuring contest we had found ourselves in. He nodded slowly before a sentence left his mouth that caused me to freeze. “I dare you to take your hoodie off then.” I took another deep breath and set my jaw in determination. His is bigger. It’s definitely bigger.
“Fine.” I said, my tone laced with challenge. I pulled my hoodie over my head and tossed it to the side, leaving me in a black lace bra and a pair of jeans that hung loosely off my hips. I was set on maintaining my faux act of confidence. I sat there unmoving as I watched his eyes shamelessly roam over my curves. “Truth or dare?” I asked in a slightly raspier voice, my jaw set tightly.
“Truth.” He said but I wasn’t sure if he was even aware he was answering. His eyes were drinking me in and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He was absolutely 100% unapologetic with his gaze. He objectified me like I only existed as a device of his pleasure. He looked at me like a piece of meat. Like I was nothing. I think I liked it.
“How miserable are you in this elevator right now?” My voice was softer, a hint more seductive, completely unbeknownst to me.
“So fucking miserable.” He all but groaned out the words. His voice was raspy but breathy, a symptom of the effect I was beginning to have on him. His eyes finally darted back to mine. His eyes were slightly wider than before, more pleading. More… needy. “Truth or dare, ____?” The way my name dripped off his tongue sent a subtle shiver down my spine and I swallowed hard.
“Dare.” I all but breathed out the word as our sights stayed locked on each other’s.
“Lose the jeans.” His words were still groaned and that’s probably the only reason I didn’t even question his reasoning. Hearing the desperation and need in his voice was getting me so hot and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him. Without a thought or any hesitation, I stripped the jeans off, revealing the full matching black lace set I was wearing. A chuckle fell from him as his eyes took me in again, his bottom lip caught snug between his teeth.
“Truth or-“ I began but he cut me off quickly.
“Dare.” The word was rushed, a demand.
“Shirt.” I didn’t even have to elaborate. He knew exactly what I meant and he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. He was a lot more muscular than I expected. Talk about a sleeper build. His chest rose and fell as we took each other in. “Dare.” I said as he opened his mouth to speak. He smirked and his eyes darkened.
“Come here.” He said and patted his lap. Without protest, I obliged. As soon as I was within arms reach, he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. He groaned softly at the feeling of my back against his chest, a throaty chuckle following the sound. “Truth.” He breathed the word into my ear, his breath fanning across my skin, causing my back to arch off of his body.
“What are you thinking about right now?” I whispered, tilting my head back against his chest to lock eyes with him.
“Dare.” He said with a smirk, clearly not wanting to answer the question.
“I dare you to demonstrate what you’re thinking about.” My eyes drifted from his eyes, to his lips, and back up to his eyes again. A shit eating grin broke out on his face before he dipped his head down and pressed his lips against mine. My arms reached up above me and tangled in his hair while his ran up and down my sides, his giant hands stopping to grip at my hips and my ribs. We were rough and desperate right away, hungry for each other like we had been deprived of this forever. Which, in a way, I guess we technically had? He bit my lower lip, drawing a hissed gasp from me. His tongue ran over the spot he bit to soothe it but at the taste of blood, he sucked my lip into his mouth to stop the bleeding. Seconds later though, his tongue delved into my mouth, his tongue slowly swirling around mine. Sloppily, our tongues stroked each others, swirled around each others, sucked on each others. We pulled back with a thick string of saliva still connecting us, both of us breathing heavily. “Dare.” I whispered breathlessly.
“We’re still doing this?” He smirked, licking my lips to break the string connecting us. “Dare you to sit pretty and let me do whatever the fuck I want to you.” I swear to god this man is walking, living, breathing sex. This stranger makes me so fucking weak and I don’t know how. I love it though. All I did was nod and keep my eyes on his. My breath caught in my throat as his hand slowly slid down my stomach and into my soaked panties. “Did I do this to you, baby?” He smirked as he slowly dragged his middle finger up the slick slit under his hands, causing my body to tremble slightly. “That feel good?” He murmured as he began slowly circling his finger around my clit. When his finger brushed against my clit piercing, my body stiffened slightly and I let out a little whimper. “Oh? What’s that, baby doll?” His finger brushed against it again.
“Piercing.” My voice was shaky as I looked down at his hand under the black lace.
“You like watching me play with you?” His voice was deep and raspy, his lips brushing the shell of my ear in a feather light touch.
“Mhm.” I bit my lip and nodded, watching him continue his slow movements. I heard him let out a chuckle before I felt his other giant hand wrap around my tiny neck and yank me back. He forced my face to look at the mirrored ceiling, his grip on the sides of my neck tight.
“Watch yourself, angel.” He practically growled, his hand on my clit circling faster and faster, causing me to squirm under him. I trained my eyes on my reflection above us. I was so fucking small compared to him. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So tiny and pathetic, writhing around for me like a bitch in heat.” He spat out the words. “You always get this wet and desperate for guys you just meet?” He smirked at me through our reflections.
“No sir.” I forced out the words, my tiny hands gripping onto the bicep of his arm that was teasing me.
“Sir?” He looked down at me in amusement. “Good girl. I like that.” He moved his hand faster, applying more pressure. My back lifted off his chest again as I felt a knot form in my stomach. “Pathetic little slut getting close?” His voice was teasing. I couldn’t speak, just nod. Then, he ripped his hand away, right when I was at the edge.
“Matt.” I whimpered. He brought me up to my knees by his grip on my throat and roughly pushed me forward. I caught myself on my hands and heard him fumble with his belt behind me.
“Sir.” He corrected before aggressively pushing my head down to the cool elevator floor. He moved the lace of my panties aside and swiftly plunged himself inside me, not giving me a second to adjust to his size. Starting with slow but hard thrusts, he kept his hand on my head, keeping it pushed into the ground.
“Yes sir.” I whimpered out the words with each of his thrusts.
“Such a pretty little whore.” He groaned. He gave a few more brutal thrusts before he slowly extracted himself from me and flipped me over on my back. He picked me up with ease, wrapping my legs around his hips and carefully standing up. Pushing me up against the wall, he tilted my chin up roughly again to look at the ceiling. “Look how pathetic you look already.” He smirked, holding my face in place. “I barely even fucked you, Princess.” His lips dropped to my neck and he immediately started sucking, biting, and licking at my pulse point.
“Oh fuck.” I whispered out a moan. My hands tangled in his hair again as I struggled to watch him work through our reflection on the mirrored ceiling. “So good.” I whimpered.
“You want more, baby doll?” He groaned against my skin, licking up from my collarbone to my jawline, nipping at my pulse point again. “You wanna get fucked like a pretty little slut? You want me to stretch this little hole out over my dick?” He chuckled and gave my throat a squeeze. “Want me to ruin you for anyone else? Turn you into my cute little plaything?”
“Yes sir.” I gasped softly, fighting the urge to look at him.
“Beg for it, pretty girl.” He growled in my ear, squeezing my throat tighter and drawing a pathetic squeak from my lips.
“Please, sir.” I gasped. “Hurt me. Do whatever the fuck you want to me. I’ll be so good for you.” The words came out in a rushed whisper as I finally looked back at his face. “Tell me what you want me to do,” I breathed out the words as my eyes locked on his. “Turn me into your braindead little cock sleeve.” I nibbled on his earlobe gently. “Ruin me.” He didn’t need anything else because he was inside me again within seconds, slamming in and out with reckless abandon.
“God, all you can think about is getting fucked, huh?” He groaned through his thrusts. He went so hard and fast that my moans were transitioning into screams. His hand flew over my mouth as he hit my g spot as hard as he could, grinding his tip against it. “You want everyone to know I’m passing the time by fucking this tight little hole?” He growled in my ear. “Such a desperate little bitch. Need me all to yourself, right?” He punctuated his question with another hard hit to my g spot. “Need everyone to know how good you’re getting fucked right now?” He let go of my mouth and I immediately sunk my teeth into his shoulder to keep myself quiet. “Yeah, show me how good I make you feel. Little fucking cock slut.” He hissed.
“Fuck me like you mean it, sir.” I hissed in his ear. He ripped my body off the wall and next thing I knew, my back was on the floor and his hips were snapping forward faster than before. We were going at it like crack addicts. “Oh my fucking god, you’re so pretty.” I groaned as my gaze landed on our bodies in the mirrored ceiling above. My vision was hazy but I could still see the marks he had left on my neck and collarbone. I saw how his body moved with mine and how my legs wrapped around his hips in a desperate attempt to get him closer.
“You wanna cum, don’t you, pretty baby?” He teased, his voice rough and breathy in my ear. “You want me to show you what getting fucked right should feel like?” He ground his hips against my g spot again.
“Make me cum, sir. Please.” I begged in a breathy whisper. He growled out a laugh and bit my neck. Hard.
“I’m gonna fucking break you.” He laughed as his hand slid between our bodies, his fingers circling my clit again. With the combination of his dick practically splitting me in half and his hand going crazy on my clit, I knew I wasn’t gonna last long. “Pathetic little slut. Look at you. You’re already shaking.” He said in a mocking tone.
“Feels so good!” The words were shaky and forced but they still caused him to groan and rest his forehead against mine. I felt a knot forming in my stomach and I dug my nails into the back of his neck, desperate for something to hold onto.
“That’s it, babygirl. Let it out. Show me what the fuck I do to you.” His words, once again, were growled out. This time through gritted teeth. “Pathetic little fucking slut. Cum for me.” His lips fell to my neck again where he started leaving more dark marks. He started thrusting deeper, his hand applying more pressure on my clit. “You’re doing so good, baby. My perfect little hole. Pretty little whore.”
“Oh fuck, MATT!” I had to use my hand to muffle myself as I came, screaming his name. My back lifted off the ground and my hips ground against his involuntarily as my body shook violently and my walls fluttered around him, grasping him tightly and releasing. Over and over and over again. My nails dragged down his back, over and over as I rode out my high on him. The tracks prickled with blood as low groans and hisses escaped him but he never stopped.
“Oh god, ____.” It didn’t take him long to cum after me. His thrusts had gotten harder, bruising even. His hands dug into my hips and he kept grinding against my g spot, daring to draw another orgasm out of me. When his hips started stuttering and his breathing grew more shallow, I knew he was almost there.
“Almost there, Matt. Fuck me like you own me.” I encouraged him to chase his high. He was so fucking close and I needed him to cum. I needed him to feel just as good, if not better, than he made me feel.
“I do own you.” He growled as he placed his hand on my throat, choking me again. “My personal cum dump now, yeah?” His body started shaking more. He was right. Fucking. There. “____.” He moaned and with one final thrust, I felt him twitch inside me. He kept thrusting, determined to dump everything he had in me.
“There you go. Fill me up like the good little cumslut I am for you, sir.” I giggled and ran my hands through his hair as he fucked himself through his high. He finally pulled out after a few minutes, smirking down at my breathless form on the ground.
“You look so pretty dripping with my cum.” He said in a small voice. “All pathetic and fucked out. All because of me.” He leaned over my breathless body to place a gentle kiss on my lips.
“Thank you.” The words came out in heavy breaths and my eyes locked with his. Without another word, he got dressed again. In my fucked out state, he carefully dressed me as well, placing gentle kisses along my body as he went.
“You did good, ____.” He murmured and pulled me into his chest. “Took me like a good girl.” He praised me.
“You did good too, sir.” I mumbled as I curled up in his lap and laid my head against his chest.
“You tired?” He asked in a soft voice. I answered him with a quiet hum and a subtle nod of my head. “Get some sleep. They’ll wake us up when they get us out.” He whispered.
We fell asleep like that and weirdly enough, I felt calm despite the situation we found ourselves in. Suspended in a box who knows how many floors up with a stranger, not knowing when we’d get out, and here we were. Holding each other like we had known each other forever. There was something so… serene. Was it the stress relief? Possibly. Regardless, I felt a lot less agitated and I think he did too.
At least we’ll get out of here on better terms than we walked in here on, right?
#matt rempe#mr73#m. rempe#m.rempe#matt rempe smut#matt rempe x reader#new york rangers#nhl#ny rangers
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Hello fellow ADHDer, may I interest you in some management tools?
Option 1: goblin.tools the AI tool that breaks down tasks for you. (Note: if you don’t want to use AI, you can skip to Option 2)
You can delete sub-tasks that don’t apply to you, or click the 🪄 icon to break down sub-tasks further. I often find that I’m not overwhelmed by the number of steps, but instead by trying to hold all those tiny steps in my glitchy working memory.
Option 2: Domestic Labor & Dragons. This strategy originated on TikTok, and most citations trails lead back to @this.isjules but I was unable to find the original video. Here’s my version of it:
1. On a day when you have a brain cell, make a list of the chores in your house by room or section. Number each item, try to make your list lengths correspond to standard dice numbers so that you can roll on them as tables later. Your options are: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, and 20. 🎲
3. Assign point values to each chore. The number of points doesn’t matter, but I like using 5pts for easier tasks, 10pts and 15pts for medium tasks, and 20pts for especially hard tasks. I made two lists for some unintelligible reason. You can just put the points on the same page, just like write them in another pen color or something.
4. Make your monster. Draw it badly. Use a randomizer website or pull from the monster manual if you want, just don’t get too precious with it, the monster’s purpose is to be defeated and we’re gonna scribble on it. If you want to do a big cleaning day, tally up your total possible points for doing every chore in your house, then divide that by two. (For me, all chores add up to 400pts so I make most of my Big Monsters 200pts)
5. FIGHT! Most of the time I really only end up needing to use the Roll for Chores sheet and the dice, but it’s really fun to scribble on the monster as they take damage and your house gets cleaner. You can optionally assign some reward for defeating the monster, but I just like the dopamine hit of defeating my Blorbo. Mine reset to baby mode upon defeat as seen with Bitey above. Final note: if you refill the same chore twice, take a break!! Get food!! The people who tell you to never stop moving are on their way to burnout!!! You can get momentum again by rolling the dice “just to see” what the next chore would be.
More options: Body Double with a friend, Roleplay that you’re Cinderella or your favorite character, put on a dance music album and only clean until the music stops, invite a friend over to have a reason to make your space clean when they arrive, put on videos of professional cleaners helping people get their space in order, hide shelf-stable snacks at the bottom of piles of clutter and only eat them once you’ve reached the bottom of that pile. Do whatever works! Throw shame out the window! If it works for you it’s not dumb!
(Note: this acronym is also sometimes called INCUP or FOCUS. I just like PINCH best.)
Good luck out there, friends! Now I have to go do the cleaning that I procrastinated by making this post. 😅
Sincerely,
A fellow ADHDer ♾️🦋
Clean home checklist:
"Do the laundry" as if doing laundry doesn't have 27 individual steps that each require other tasks to get done. Each task runs the risk of starting additional secret tasks.
"Organize kitchen" my brain has malware and it's overheating. CPU at 100%. There are no executives at my function
#adhd#managment tools#I made a whole book of these in the year between getting diagnosed and getting medicated#lmk if y’all want to see any other sections#like the one on going to bed#managment menagerie#goblin tools#goblin.tools#AI#coping strategies#domestic labor and dragons#roll for chores#PINCH#neurodivergence#neurodiversity#chores#housekeeping
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Beyond the Game
5. Playing for keeps
series masterlist
Before you knew it, the next day had arrived. Ei was already on your ass, barking reminders about how important today was. Your team would finally meet the others competing in the tournament, and you couldn’t afford to look unprepared. The thought of seeing him again made your chest tighten, but you pushed it aside as best you could.
The sunlight streaming through your window was relentless, forcing you out of the comfort of your bed. Pulling on something comfortable but presentable, you wandered out of your room to check on the others.
Lumine sat at the small vanity brushing her hair, her movements methodical. Xiao was already on the couch, fully dressed and looking like he’d been ready for hours. Venti and Fischl were engaged in a lively conversation, their animated gestures contrasting with the quiet determination etched across Xiao’s face.
You leaned against the doorframe, watching them for a moment. The easy way they interacted with each other was comforting, though the knot in your stomach refused to untangle. Today wasn’t just a big day for the tournament—it was a big day for you. A chance to prove yourself, to make a name for your team. But it also meant facing him.
"Morning," you said, your voice hoarse from sleep.
Lumine glanced up from her mirror, her brows knitting together in concern. "Did you sleep okay?"
You shrugged. "Good enough." It was a lie, but no one pressed further.
"Finally awake, huh?" Venti teased, throwing an arm around your shoulders as if he hadn’t been gossiping moments before. "We were about to leave you behind!"
"You would not," you replied, rolling your eyes at his dramatic grin.
Fischl raised an eyebrow, her usual flair for theatrics creeping into her tone. "Y/N, thou must steel thyself. The battlefield awaits, and destiny does not favor the unprepared."
"Translation: don’t let him mess with your head," Xiao said bluntly, cutting through Fischl’s dramatics with his usual sharp tone. He stood up from the couch, adjusting his jacket as his piercing gaze met yours. "You’ve worked too hard for this."
His words grounded you. You nodded, though the unease still lingered.
The ride to the venue was filled with idle chatter, Venti breaking into random snatches of song while Fischl and Lumine debated strategies for the matches ahead. Xiao, as always, remained the silent anchor, his presence reassuring even in its quietness.
When you arrived, the buzz of the tournament filled the air. Teams from all over the region milled about the massive hall, the hum of conversation underscored by an electric tension. You stuck close to your team as you weaved through the crowd.
At a long table near the center of the room, Ei sat, surrounded by other team captains. Among them was Scaramouche.
Your stomach clenched, but you said nothing, keeping your gaze focused on your team’s path. For once, there was no risk of you sneaking glances in his direction. You refused to let him have that power over you.
“Welcome, everyone, to the Team Meet-Up!” The announcer’s lively voice boomed over the speakers, drawing the room’s attention. “This is your chance to meet your future competitors! Go ahead, introduce yourselves, and make some connections—friendly or otherwise!”
“That’s when—” Lumine began, but she was cut off.
“Hey! I’m Mona, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” a voice chirped behind you.
You turned to see a girl with striking features and confident energy extending her hand toward your team. Her eyes flickered toward Scaramouche briefly before narrowing.
“Kunikuzushi,” she said flatly, folding her arms. “I didn’t think you’d want to work with anyone besides yourself.”
Scaramouche leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “I only do what I need to win. Unlike you.”
Mona scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “You know each other?” you asked, sensing tension between them.
“Yeah,” Mona said, her tone sharp. “We dated for a while—until he became an ass.”
Scaramouche stuck his tongue out at her like a petulant child.
“Yeah, I totally get that,” you muttered under your breath, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
Mona’s gaze softened as she turned back to you. “We should totally hang out sometime,” she said brightly, pulling her phone from her pocket. Before you could process what was happening, she’d handed you her number.
You stared at it in surprise, her easy confidence catching you off guard. “Uh, sure,” you said, tucking it into your pocket.
“Great,” she said with a smile. “I think we’d get along. Let’s catch up later!”
As Mona walked off, Fischl leaned closer, raising an eyebrow. “Making friends already, are we?”
“Shut up,” you mumbled, though a small part of you felt lighter.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Scaramouche watching the interaction, his smirk faltering ever so slightly before he turned away.
For the first time in a while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, the day would be okay.
Or would end up in another disaster. But who knows mona seems cool.
short filler chap. I just wanted to give context for next chapter. Scarayn/kuniyn vs Scaramona 🗣️ (Scarayn winning) Sorry bout my HORRIBLE posting schedule. I have really bad insomnia and horrible procrastination issues.. BUT ITS FINE CHAT. Send in ask of who i should put on Mona’s team…
Scara and mona dated for about 8 months never took their relationship online besides the people that would take pictures of them when they were out together.
Scara doesn’t really know why he has to win. He just knows he has to win.
Series masterlist
Taglist 📩
@sketcheeee | @scaraenthusiast1 | @shutingstar | @automaticpatroltragedy | @bananasquash | @raineyun | @yuki-carmin | @vi0let-writes | @sushitushi | @shynsgore | @feiherp | @ale-t13 | @shyentsmissingink
#genshin impact#btg stuff#starz space ~ writes#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche x yn#scaramouche smau#scaramouche x you#scara smau#scara x you#genshin scara#scara x reader#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader smut#scaramouche x reader#scarameow#wanderer#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin fanfic#genshin wanderer#hat guy
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Pick A Card Reading
Before that here's a channeled song for collective.
What change is radically transforming your life?
Welcome to today's tarot reading! I always find tarot readings enjoyable, like reading chapters from a fascinating book. Before we dive in, let's set the scene and align with today's reading. Remember, this is a timeless read, so the messages can apply whenever you come across this post.
To start, take a moment to meditate on the question, and then choose the picture that draws you in. It could be a random object in the image or just an inner nudge guiding you to a particular pile. Feel free to choose more than one pile.
This is a general reading, so take only the messages that resonate with you and leave the rest. A tarot reading offers insight or answers to your subconscious questions. It's important not to force yourself into any interpretation that doesn't feel right; readings are meant to be more about entertainment and reflection than precision.
Be mindful of not taking things personally. This is a collective reading, and while some aspects might resonate with you, others may resonate with someone else. Please take your time with this reading. These messages are intended to awaken and provide insights, so I hope you find value in them. Enjoy the journey through these reads.
With Love
Abyss Seer
Pile 1
Pile 2
Pile 3
Pile 4
________________________
Readings are here 👇🏻
Pile 1
Conformations: Stork and fox and the soup bowl story, the forked road, straight bangs, messy hair, song named Hum pagal nhi hai bhaiyaa hamara dimag kharab hai, family and parents could be significant, dead fish, being eccentric, not fit in, standing out too much in the crowd
Something in your life could be changing to move you toward a specific goal. You might be shaping into the person who attracts that long-desired opportunity or gaining access to something you've always wanted. Pile 1, there’s something you've been dreaming of for a long time—possibly a long-awaited family dream you've been on a mission to fulfill.
I'm sensing Magha nakshatra themes: maybe someone being granted access to a family business or finally receiving their share of an inheritance. You might be leading a new line or school of thought with your family members. It was your dream to see this idea come to fruition, perhaps through market success, new investors, or business registration. It feels like one family approving another.
You've likely struggled with this issue for a long time, but now you see the success of your efforts. This achievement could be very emotional for you, bringing laurels and affection from loved ones. You may have felt stuck, unable to find love or support from your loved ones. Now, I see you taking swift action toward this long-term dream. Pile 1, good luck!
________________________
Pile 2
Confirmation: tongue twister she sells seashells on the seashore, Karla, Sarah, Coraline the horror movie, love and hate relationship, someone could refer someone as bitch and may get called back as a scum, take them with you (you could be asked to not hold grudges and take people with you, but at the same time don’t dull your own shine)
You might consider watching Pile 3 as well only if you feel called to it. There's something you've been delaying for a long time, Pile 2. Did you miss an opportunity or freedom to do something? You might be very goal-oriented, but there's some pessimism or fear of failure causing you to deviate from your goals. This could be a past pattern or bad habit repeating itself due to your current state of mind. There might be lingering anxiety about starting a new endeavor, leading to procrastination and worry about committing to new habits.
Celebrate your small achievements and start thinking positively by targeting negative thoughts and changing your thinking pattern. This cycle of self-sabotage is harmful. Avoid dwelling on those negative thoughts. Do well in life, Pile 2. You might be moving away from new friendships and people, disliking mingling with them. You could be trying to go solo to achieve your goals, leaving everything behind for yourself.
You might feel misunderstood, underappreciated, and isolated, perhaps feeling someone stole your credit. This could lead to a sense of worthlessness due to your own selflessness. I'm sorry for what you went through. Know that you deserve better friends and people around you. This might be why you want to distance yourself from new people. I'm seeing a strong feeling of self-preservation, Pile 2. Don't worry, work hard, and people will appreciate your efforts. Focus less on fair-weather friends and more on yourself. Take care, Pile 2. I feel for you and am sorry if that happened.
________________________
Pile 3
Confirmation: Paon ki jutti (song), Sydney Sweeney, number 333, 33, foundations, Anuradha nakshatra, someone from your past,1212, Australia
"Disrespect"—some female figure feels disrespected. This is anger channeled into radicalization, literally. The Hawaiian goddess of sacred rage, Pele, is coming through. There’s a mother figure in this pile who feels hugely disrespected, abused, and is doubting her faith and duty towards the collective. This is a very radical energy. " They are becoming more agnostic after whatever has transpired". They are hating and thinking how you have lost your faith in yourself after failing so many times.
Pile 3, you are someone agnostic, and you could be in danger of crossing this empress-like figure in the wake of her rage. This person could get furious at your heartache, the pressure you're feeling, and the fear of moving forward. You can trigger them, so be careful. This empress could be getting over a huge loss in life, an investment, a semester that went down the drain, or some trigger due to "Sweet Home Sydney" (a restaurant). Be careful dealing with this mother figure they might not be in the mood to be teased, she must have lost her assets because of your failures.
You could be moving on from a heartbreaking and stressful situation and trying to get your life together. You think that you are bringing your life to balance using sharp tools(im getting someone cutting their nerves) (even a sharp tongue if necessary). You could be determined to restore balance of mind through chaos. Pile3 they are coming to pull you out of this rut and you are trying to get rid of them. This awakening and rebirth could be due to their investment drowning because of you. This is an unforgiving energy. They might feel very cold to you at start but this all for your good
This grounded person may not be in
the mood for fantasy.. Pile 3, your awakening moment is this woman who doesn't want to see you slacking off. She has been carrying many burdens, and this could be someone you collaborate with at work. She could get very angry with you, Pile 3. You need to stop staying stuck in your head. You might have taken a new start without preparing for the consequences and are still moving on, carrying emotional burdens. This will get you back on track. Whoever this female is, she might be a strict mother figure, but she will get you back on track. She will dish it out very straightforwardly. There's no going back; you better start working hard.
________________________
Pile 4
Confirmations: 99, September, number 5 could be significant, 1313, Yee haa, cowboy, the west, Madison beer- make you mine, Flo Rida – Right Round,1616
"There's no power left in thy hand." Let me tell you something: if you take anything from someone, make sure to give them something in return or return what you took in due time. This is called borrowing. In life, nothing is taken without giving something back. This is the main motto of your reading. You may have borrowed or taken money or assets, become stingy with that money, and are not ready to give back. You could be basking in others' achievements and material gains to fund your own independence and freedom. But none of this was guaranteed for free. Be grateful for what you got for the limited time and give back.
Your mind is stuck in the thoughts of comfort without pain. Get out of this mindset. You might lose a lot in life due to fights and competitions, developing a loser’s mindset, thinking nothing is meant for you. This could lead you to take a wrong path you will regret in the long run. It's a survivor mindset, trying to run away when things get rough. Maybe there was a time you couldn’t run to safety, and now you have a survival instinct to run irrationally without seeing things clearly because you feel you cannot face the challenge. Remove that guilt. What has happened has happened. Accept your regrets for what you could not do to save yourself.
Don’t miss opportunities because of being stuck in your feelings. Use your rationality to get ahead in life. Stop wallowing in emotions. Get out of this emotional cycle and traumatic pattern. Your payback time is coming. The phrase "every dog has its day" comes to mind. You might have received an opportunity given with trust that you would return it tenfold, but you felt you didn’t deserve it. Anxiety hit when you first took it. You weren’t capable of receiving it because of a lack mindset. Then you were attacked by fake friends and your own self-hatred. You fumbled opportunities meant to move you forward.
The change that will transform your life is moving away from this toxic community. Let go of reasons to stay in a place you thought was good for you. Let go of what is not serving you. Look forward to results from your efforts and hard work. Move toward self-love and self-care, letting go of thoughts, ideas, and emotional pain from others. Proceed in life learning new skills, unafraid to express yourself and your beliefs. You are coming to balance, losing the lack and hoarding mindset, becoming more authentic. Heal yourself, learn to care for yourself, and turn controlling tendencies into self-discipline. Become a more balanced individual
#daily tarot#free tarot#tarot#tarot reading#tarot witch#tarot cards#tarot wisdom#pick a photo#pick a picture#pick a pile#pick a card#tarot pick a card#pick#tarotista#tarot blog#tarot journal#tarot pac#tarotcommunity#tarot divination#divination#intuitive readings#intuitive messages#Spotify
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hello ! i love your fics and analysis! I was wondering which tbhk ships you think will become endgame?
Anon I have the most white bread of answers but since you asked-
1 - Hananene.
Nene starts the manga by wanting a date. It doesn't matter with who, any hot guy will do. She has many infatuations but isn't in love with anyone, she just want to be loved.
Nene has a lot of small character developments in different areas throughout the manga, but her strongest and most consistent change is her increasing love for Hanako and her acceptance of it.
She is still a girl with a ton of emotions, and she finds hot people attractive BUT now she want Hanako and only Hanako. She rejects everyone she used to have a crush on, there is no doki doki's when she gets the attention of pretty people cause they aren't the boys she wants attention from anymore.
Even Teru doesn't compare to Hanako. She went on a 'date' with him and felt more excited about bragging than the actual 'date'
AND SHE DID NOT BRAG when hanako got back, she just wanted to enjoy that he's back.
I don't even know why I am going so in dept on the couple stablished since chapter 1 but since i'm already rambling: Despite everything crazy going on in the festival NENE'S BIGGEST FOCUS WAS TO CONFESS TO HANAKO. That's something she thinks more about than her own death, like girl- Hanako is her whole world. She will not get a romance with another person.
There is the question of "Will Nene survive?"
If she doesn't, she'll disappear and have no boyfriend but I bet she'll be thinking about Hanako in her death. If she finds a way to become a supernatural in a very wild narrative choice she will be able to stay with hanako in their cursed eternity forever.
In the case she lives and Hanako gets exorcised she won't move on. Aidairo loves tragedies and obsessive love, so I can't see her approaching crushes with the same whimsy after her love dies. And Aidairo would likely preffer to make her suffer in her grief and longing than give her a rebound with some random guy, cause it sure won't be Kou.
2 - Mitsukou
My personal preferences aside, it is clear they are written to have romantic implications. Kou will either die with Mitsuba (As shown in the new timeline), and stay with him in death.
Or live to have an intense homoerotic 'friendship' with him.
He legit can't get mitsuba off his head, he thinks about him more than anything during the manga and he has A LOT of problems to think about.
I can't personally picture an explicit confession but we had a lot of equivalents already. It would be weird for Aidairo to send them to the aquarium, make Kou obsessed with mitsuba (and vise verse), show that they are 'very very close' in this new timeline, keep drawing them star-struck by each other and so on without romance in the head.
Kou is also never able to put his feelings into words, like, bro that's suspicious as hell.
They always get matching art with all the couples in Aidairo's twitter arts too.
That's not queerbaiting, they may not be explicit but by the lord they are not subtle at all, there is never a single "oh Mitsuba is like a brother to me" moment, they don't undo any of the gay implications we see, they double down on it.
Kou may be bi but it sure isn't the Nene route that Aidairo is playing.
3 - Aoikane
Akane has loved Aoi since he was a little kid. Waaaaaaay before he got a clock keeper contract.
He saw that Aoi cared so much about his opinion that she'd break out of her cold persona and burst into tears at the idea of being hated, and he locked in for life.
They are the codependent childhood friends troupe, the "I know you better than anyone" troupe, the "you are a part of my life I can't live without" troupe and they both love each other from the very start of the manga, not showing romantic interest in anyone else.
Nothing has made Akane change his mind about being with Aoi. Not being stabbed, not being rejected many times, not facing how bad aoi is at deling with her issues head on. He'll do anything for her time and time again.
in Akane's own words:
They had many build ups and a whole arc dedicated to their developments with each other (which is a lot considering they aren't main characters and Aoi usually get no focus in this manga.)
Narratively, it wouldn't make any sense to dedicate so many chapters pointing out how much they mean to each other and slowly working through their issues only to slap another ship at the end.
And is not like Aidairo said "They had their arc let's never talk about them again!", the author went out of her way to say "Even in a world where Aoi is in an arranged marriage, she still loves Akane"
They aren't subtle.
From the matching names, to the way they both crumble when they are separated from one another and keep thinking about marriage, they are very devoted. They have already explicitly confessed to the audience that they are in love with each other.
They'll either stay together forever or they'll die together.
#I wanted to put 'terukaneaoi' here but i gotta be realistic for once. Sorry teru i love you and i am down for being proven wrong on this#but i am 90% sure you'll end up alone#tbhk#toilet bound hanako kun#hananene#mitsukou#aoikane
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Hello, my fellow Entrapdak shippers!
I am happy to say it is once again time for Entrapdak Positivity Month, a fandom event created by the always lovely @maireadralph, who works tirelessly to put on all the major events, zines, and is currently running the Entrapdak Community here on Tumblr.
Now, like last year, I have decided to make another Ask Game for those who don't plan on drawing or writing anything but still wish to participate in the event this year.
The game is simple, just open your Ask Box and reblog this post so fellow shippers can ask you one of the questions I have written for this year. I will also link the Ask Game from last year if anyone wants to answer those (I know I'm willing).
Now without further ado, the questions:
What were Entrapta and Hordak’s first impressions of each other?
Who fell first, and who fell harder?
When and what made them realize their feelings for each other?
Who proposed first and how did they do it?
What’s the first Human/Our World AU that comes to mind when it involves Entrapdak?
What is the worst take on Entrapdak you’ve ever seen/heard?
What part(s) of their relationship made you fall in love with the ship?
How long have you been shipping them for?
Which of Hordak’s various designs throughout the series is your favorite (Season 1/2, Season 3/4, Season 5, or the flashback design in the finale)?
What is one thing they don’t like about each other that they can look past?
What is an interest/hobby they each have that you have no evidence for, but you know in your heart they love?
What is a weird crack headcanon you think about for fun?
What would happen if Entrapta joined the Horde before she was offered to join the Alliance?
What does Hordak wear now that he is out of the Galactic Horde?
What kinds of movies/TV shows/books do you think they like?
If you have/hypothetically had a playlist for them as individuals and/or as a couple, what is/would be on it?
For my writers and imaginers, what is an old story idea you had about or involving Entrapdak that you abandoned?
What was Hordak’s reaction when he met Wrong Hordak?
In your mind, what happened to Entrapta’s parents?
What was (x character)’s reaction to finding out Entrapdak was a thing?
How long did it take for Entrapta and Hordak to get into a relationship after season 5?
Who’s the most likely to tell the other about their feelings first?
How do you think Entrapta’s hair works (Robotics, Genetics, Magic, etc.)?
What type of music would they listen to?
Who’s bringing the stray animal they found on the street home?
What do they find the most attractive about each other (besides their mutual intelligence)?
What, in your mind, is Hordak’s punishment, and how does he feel about it?
Could you tell me about any potential kids they might have?
What’s something random you wanted to talk about regarding Entrapdak?
Your own SFW question?
And for those who would like to use it, Last Year's Ask Game:
#spop#hordak#entrapta#entrapdak#she ra#hyperfixation#entrapdak positivity month 2025#entrapdak positivity month#EPM 2025#epm 2025
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🐈⬛
#one piece#trafalgar law#one piece fanart#artists on tumblr#just something random i wanted to draw…#black cat energy boy#my art
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HI I STAYED UP WAY TOO LATE TO READ THIS PART !!!! :))
(also this might be my longest rb so far)
SIX UPON A TIME
"You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick." - let's kiss him on the mouth 🫶🏻
"A reason to get up in the morning." - SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH.
"But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus." - No I can't do this
"Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe. " - Nika I'm fucking crying. I wish I was exaggerating but I'm actually fucking crying before 10pm.
"But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real? " - the woman that you are. Oh. My. God. You are completely unreal this is phenomenal.
"His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either." - I have actual tears in my eyes you are so evil
"That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though." - Nika I'm fucking sick to my stomach what the fuck is wrong with you
Brief intermission bc I got too into it and read the rest twice before coming back to make notes (I was too immersed)
A crack in the sky you are insane I would FREAK
Where TF does bucky go during the day. As a naturally nosy gal the unknowns in this story make me ITCH I can't wait for everything to be revealed
"Why won’t you look at me? " - this is so hurtful why are you being so mean to me
HOW IS THE DELIVERY MAN EARLY IM LITERALLY IN SHOCK AND WE MOVED ON FROM THIS TOO FAST????????
"You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders." - hehe we have the cloak 🫶🏻
""I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"" - why did this make ME relieved like I'm stuck in the loop too 😭 I literally have felt anxious for our dear reader like I'm sick and this has soothed my heart the smallest bit (I'm still scared of you)
"You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed." - Frick you for putting him in the floor what has my baby done to you let him be comfortable 😭😭
"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up." - this made me LAUGH I needed that
CAPS BDAY IM CRACKING UP THATS SUCH A FUN SILLY MOMENT
"He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes." - THEY ARE SO IN LOVE MY GOD IM SICK
Why are we waking up to silence I'm gonna throw up Nika
What did the powers do
Alpine can see us that is both cute and scary 😅
"You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him." - what is wrong with you
"That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse." - how dare you write these 2 paragraphs and also put them so close together????????
"And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for." - FULL. BODY. CHILLS. WHAT A MIND YOU HAVE NIKA. I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS.
"Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you." - THE LAST LINE ?????? I'm speechless
"And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab." - ok chapter 7 pls 🫶🏻
I'm kidding you are PERFECT I can't believe I missed out on this for as long as I did?!!!!!!! Thank you so much for sharing your incredible brain with me I want to kiss you on the mouth I love you!!!!!!!
time after time [6]
series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
word count: 12.8k
chapter warnings: maybe reacquaint yourselves with the story premise, it's been a hot minute; characters refusing to be honest with themselves and each other; violence against side characters, minor injury descriptions; strange is still annoying
a/n: this is quite possibly the scariest fic update i've ever made. a lot has happened since the last chapter was posted, and i won't bore you with all of it. suffice it to say, i missed sharing this story. thank you for being patient with me.
series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3
six: butterfly effect
Working with Sam and Bucky was different than working with Natasha and Steve had been.
At the Compound, it had felt terrifyingly easy to find your place, to slip into the new role they granted you as if you were always meant to fill it. You’d felt that way before, and it hadn’t turned out quite so well. Maybe that was why you used to dread the end.
Now, however, for the first time in a while, you constantly had to prove yourself in order to not be left back in that dark place they’d found you in, alone and trying to make sense of any of it. And you liked that. The challenge was something you could live with, something you could enjoy more than the ever chilling anxiousness that things were simply too good to be true.
So when Sam called you on for a follow-up mission shortly after the first one, you jumped at the chance.
It didn’t matter that you barely talked about anything but work, even when you were hanging out in your spare time; in fact, you much preferred that to digging up the past. You even learned to find a wicked sort of enjoyment in provoking Bucky’s initial dislike of you to the point of where he would barely speak to you at all unless it was to snap at you.
You weren’t sure what you wanted him to do, but it was fun to watch the time bomb tick.
It wasn’t as easy to get under the new cap’s skin.
"You’re making us sound like we’re partners in a law firm," Sam said, a smile clearly audible in his voice even though his eyes didn’t betray it. Bucky didn’t even dignify you with a clench of his jaw.
"What?" you said, crossing your legs. "Every newspaper in the city calls you 'Wilson and Barnes'. Don’t you ever read the articles about yourselves?"
"Unlike some people, I don’t have all the time in the world," Sam said, leaning back on the couch with his eyes closed.
"Pity. The Bulletin called you the 'nation’s new dynamic duo' last week." You looked at Bucky, your eyebrows raised in amusement. "You’ve officially been downgraded to a sidekick, Barnes."
He answered with an empty glare of his own. "And what does that make you?" he said, but not like a question.
"Nothing at all," you still grinned. "Everything is right in the universe."
The reporters had yet to pick up on your addition to the team, which was proof enough that your powers still sufficed to fly under the radar. Combined with the fact that you were actually regularly talking to people again—and people who weren’t your therapist or your customers no less—, things almost felt like they were settling into a new kind of normal. Still somewhat weird, and still a struggle each day, but somewhat hopeful, nevertheless.
You’d almost forgotten what that could feel like.
“Right. You’d prefer people not knowing about your creepy powers.”
"Aww." You tilted your head to the side happily. "You think I’m creepy."
Bucky scoffed into his mug, refusing to look at you like he always did, and then he strolled off again.
In truth, you couldn’t blame him all that much. You’d lived with your powers all your life and still found them unsettling sometimes, particularly when they got away from you and left you trapped in a universe that refused to move.
That was none of his business, though.
Besides, Bucky had taken to moving around so quietly you could never tell he was there until he’d cough and you’d flinch, usually dropping whatever you were holding in your hands. You’d already cracked your phone screen twice.
Not that he’d know, or care if he did. It gave you great satisfaction to erase his amused smirk from existence.
"Give it time," Sam said without moving. "He doesn’t like new people."
"Neither do I," you murmured, and he snorted. "What?"
"Pretend with me all you want, but maybe do a bit of introspection there."
You crossed your arms with a pout. "You sound like my therapist."
"Mhm," Sam hummed, opening one eye to look at you. "You owe me fifty bucks for that."
"Fuck you."
"Oh, would you look at that, the price just went up."
He chuckled as you flipped him off and went to look for the coffee pot.
Of course, your way got blocked. The downsides of not hating having people around.
Bucky was leaning against the counter, considering you. "You go to therapy?"
"You should try it some time," you said distractedly, reaching around him to get your favorite mug. Bucky recoiled like he was afraid you’d burn him. You shook your head in annoyance. "Helps with the stink eye."
"Is that what they told you?"
"They told me I needed to process my grief, but I decided to focus on some more achievable goals." You took a sip of your coffee, sighing in comfort. "We came up with a compromise."
Bucky scoffed, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He still hadn’t taken his gloves off around you.
"Sounds like a way to drag it out," he said.
You frowned into your cup. "It’s not a race, Barnes. There’s no finish line for this shit."
Something odd went over his face, but he went back to avoiding your gaze when you tried to make it out. You knew him well enough by then to get the hint, and so you left him alone.
What was it to you if he didn’t want to warm up to you. That had no bearing on the fact that overall, your situation wasn’t all too bad anymore.
It was something, you supposed as you curled up in your spot on the couch with your book later that day, slipping in and out of time to keep your company a little longer because deep down, you knew you were sick of being alone.
It was weird and different, yes, but it was still something anyway. Something to do with your afternoons again.
A reason to get up in the morning.
*****
"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks quietly, carefully, but he makes no attempt to pull back from your embrace. It allows you to take another shuddering breath, inhaling his scent until it makes you dizzy.
The fact that you probably won’t be this close to him again any time soon makes you press into his chest even harder, hard enough to feel his heart flutter against your forehead, the shock of the situation making it pick up speed.
For a split second, you slip into a sort of vacuum, your thoughts quieting as he keeps mumbling to you, and in that blissful moment, your situation doesn’t seem quite so dire anymore, more like a bad dream. You’re safe now, aren’t you? How could you not be?
But then you blink back into reality again when Bucky sits you down on the closed lid of your toilet and slowly makes you let go of his shirt, kneeling down in front of you. The blue of his eyes is devastating, even though you have to keep blinking to keep him in focus.
You don’t want to have to do this, you realize once your gasps for air start calming again. You’re not sure if you can bear it.
But nothing in this loop has been about what you wanted.
And so your resolve is made, with your heart sinking until it’s hidden away deep, deep inside of your chest. You ball your hands into fists to keep your fingers from twitching.
Two or three times he watches you inhale, start to say something, halt before you can, almost choking on it. Like your body is refusing to go through with it.
"How do you know when I’m lying?" you finally ask, and your voice sounds oddly clear in your small bathroom.
Bucky’s face goes from concern to confusion, his frown deepening. You want to smoothe it away with your thumb.
You close your eyes so maybe the temptation goes away.
"What?" he asks, and he still sounds so damn gentle.
"I’ve never been able to lie to you," you say. "What’s my tell?"
You can feel him move away from you and the ache of it makes you look again. His shirt and his hands are covered in his own blood, and you’re sure there’s some fucking metaphor in the way it stains the golden inlets of his vibranium arm crimson but for the most part, you can’t unsee the damn irony of it all.
Because you’ve pissed him off now.
"You scared the shit out of me, Y/N. And Sam, too." There’s the sharpness in his voice you know all too well. You haven’t heard it in a while. "What the hell is going on?"
"I’m trapped in a time loop," you say, squeezing your fists more tightly. "I’ve been reliving this day for weeks, my powers aren’t working, I’m the only one who can stop time from completely collapsing, I can’t do that without my powers, and you’re gonna die later today. Am I lying?"
It’s maybe the worst way you’ve ever told him, because watching Bucky’s face change is almost too much. This is exactly why you’re doing it, though; as long as you’re going through this loop with a giant guilty knot in your stomach, you’re not going to make any progress. And you need to put an end to all of it.
So you meet his gaze, almost unwavering, and you don’t blink.
His shock bursts free as an incredulous laugh. "What?"
"I’m stuck," you say again, slower, nodding at his hands, his blood, continuing to push, "and you keep dying."
Bucky looks down, then, before his gaze falls back onto you and he sits back on his heels. The pause lasts for way too long, heavy and smelling of iron, and you’re pretty sure you’re suffocating. He only says one word, and it sounds so defeated. "How?"
You swallow heavily. "You got shot on a mission," you say, but he shakes his head, the fire returning to his eyes.
"No. How did you get stuck?"
"I …" You blink, because you’re not prepared for this question, because you can never predict what he’s going to say, because he keeps doing that to you, because somehow, and not like you’ve expected, you feel like you’ve been here before.
How did it happen? That’s not … Okay.
"It was an accident," you finally say, helplessly, defensively.
There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes. "What happened?"
"You died. You died that first time and I didn’t—I couldn’t …" You swallow the sob that threatens to shake your voice again. Damnit, you’re supposed to push him away.
He moves his arm, then hesitates, as if he wants to reach out to you but changes his mind at the very last moment.
Right. He doesn’t normally do that.
Except he has.
He has held your hand and pulled you closer and written on your arm and let you lean on him with the full weight of your body, as if to him, you weighed nothing at all. He’s been offering to carry your load so many times, and he doesn’t remember a single one of them.
"Please don’t look at me like that," you say tonelessly, watching Bucky retreat.
"Like what?"
"Like I’m gonna fall apart at any moment. And yes," you add when his mouth opens, "I—I know I just did, I’m aware of the irony, but this is exactly why I can’t keep telling you, I don’t—I can’t stand it." You press your wrists against your temples, ignoring the buzz of the whirling time symbols against your skin, the stinging in your eyes. "You shouldn’t even—I mean, are you even the slightest bit worried about yourself? Because I feel like I’m the only one here, and I should’ve just—"
You stop yourself, shaking your head. Your hands are very clammy all of a sudden, and when you tug at your rings just to do something, one of them slips off your finger and clangs against the tiles as if to punctuate the silence.
When you reach down, you move your wrist in a way that makes you hiss in pain and flinch back. Bucky’s eyes flit between your own and your hand, his frown deepening in a strangely soft way. "Did you break it?" he asks quietly.
"I’m fine," you mumble, and he looks at you disapprovingly. "You’d grabbed my hand just before …"
His jaw twitches as the blame settles in again, and you would do fucking anything to finally make him understand that none of this is his fault. That you should be in pain for what you’re putting him through.
"It should’ve been me," you tell him, because it’s true.
Even earlier in the week, you would’ve taken great delight in seeing Bucky Barnes’ face fall at something you’d said. Hell, you’d have probably enjoyed it on Thursday, because there used to be this easy sort of gratification that came from riling him up, from catching him off guard.
Seeing it now, though?
It makes your fingers twitch.
"Don’t say that. Not even as a joke."
"I’m not joking." You can feel your pulse in your ears. "They aimed a shot at me, and you pushed me out of the way, and you died. So by all accounts, if your instincts weren’t so damn noble all the time, it should’ve been me, and if I weren’t such a fucking coward, I’d have gone back and switched places with you weeks ago."
The thought terrifies you, even though it’s true. No part of you wants to go through the things Bucky is, but if someone gave you the choice between either one of you right now, you wouldn’t even have to think about it.
Maybe that’s the most terrifying thought of them all. You would die for him. Once, twice, however many times are necessary if that meant that he’s safe.
"I’d like to see you try," Bucky says, and something slams into your chest as an old familiar shiver runs down your spine.
There’s a pained edge to his gaze, contemplative and heartbreaking and …
"You’re doing it again," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
"What am I doing?" His hand brushes your knee, and your skin is left searing.
You swallow heavily. "Being noble."
Bucky chuckles softly, and his eyes leave yours for just a moment. "Don’t exactly feel like that."
He’s beautiful.
It’s a new thought, despite everything. Even when you’ve noticed it before, you’d roll your eyes at the fact and move on, because this was Bucky. So what if his face was delectably handsome?
But it seems like you haven’t known it at all, because right now, you feel the knowledge of it, of him, surge through you with all its facets. You can’t even begin to put it into words, because where would you start? How do you explain what he makes you feel when he hasn’t been there himself, not in any way that matters or sticks? And if it’s never happened at all, if time keeps unraveling like this, how can it even be real?
So it’s pure instinct that makes you move, like someone would pinch themselves to ensure they’re not asleep, even though you’re very aware that this isn’t just a dream. You need to confirm that Bucky is real, though.
The air stands still when your fingertips trace along his cheekbone, leaving a delicate flush behind in their trail, barely touching and yet …
And yet.
His breath hitches when they dip lower, almost reaching the place you’ve watched dimple when he laughs, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t laugh, either.
There’s a scraping sound at the closed bathroom door, followed by a short knock. You flinch backwards.
"I’m leaving the first aid kit on the bed," Sam calls from the other side. "Just … holler if you need me."
"Thanks, Sam," Bucky says coarsely, and you can hear steps receding. The scratching continues, though. That damn cat.
Finally, he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat.
"Do you want me to help you clean up?"
You shake your head. You’re not sure you could stomach more of this. "I’m good, don’t … Don’t worry about it."
Bucky drags a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself you can’t quite make out. Slowly, he gets to his feet again.
"We need to come up with a plan," he says, and you want to cry except … you’re tired. Tired and sick of this.
"I need to come up with a plan," you correct him. "We have been trying to do this as a team for weeks, and it doesn’t change anything except waste time and …" And hurt. "I can’t do it anymore, Buck."
There must be something in your voice that thaws his defiant glare a little. "So what’s the plan?"
And with a sigh, you fill him in on everything that’s been going on with Strange and your powers. Again. One last time.
You have to do this alone.
Bucky ignores your insistence that you can manage just fine and sets your wrist while you talk. Alpine, now free to roam wherever she pleases again, has decided the bathroom isn’t quite that interesting after a short look inside, and is now taking a nap in the spot of sunshine next to your bed.
"New deal," he says once you’re done, once he’s thought about it all, and you raise your eyebrows. "Don’t do anything stupid."
"You know me," you smile, checking the makeshift dressing around your hand. The green symbols are hidden by the layers of gauze.
Bucky doesn’t bite. "I’m serious, just—don’t."
"How would you know?"
"I wouldn’t," he says, snapping the first aid kit shut so vehemently Alpine’s tail twitches. "But I trust you."
Your head whips up at his words, even though his back is still turned to you. He doesn’t see your face as your heart is jostled into a new rhythm, so violently and unexpectedly that you lift your hand without thinking, pinkie outstretched.
"Promise."
He smiles when he notices, and you wish you could take a picture to carry with you through the rest of this nightmare.
That day, he dies with your stupid nickname on his lips, twisted into something that looks strangely close to that earlier smile. This one doesn’t have time to reach his eyes, though.
***
There’s been a change in the weather.
Not literally, no; of course not literally. Fuck, you long for a single cloud, a raindrop, a damn hailstorm to break the streak of endless perfectly sunny days that don’t fit your mood in the slightest.
But there’s a tinge to the sky that makes your stomach turn. It’s not very obvious to anyone who hasn’t looked at the exact same sunset for weeks on end, just a single strip of color across a storybook horizon. It looks like a crack.
"Do you see that?" you ask warily when you notice it for the first time, ominous and yet almost completely hidden by the trees and the buildings. Just dancing around the edge of your vision like another mockery.
"What?" Sam asks, eyes not leaving the path ahead.
"That … thing in the sky. What is that?"
Bucky stops and squints at where you’re pointing. "It’s called a cloud," he says dryly.
"With that color?" you murmur, but continue walking when he stops to turn to you, your wrist tingling. His stare is searing your neck, but you ignore that, too.
The best course of action, you’ve learned, is to shut your brain off as soon as you get out of the quinjet and just go through the motions, trying to ride out the mission like you’ve done dozens of times before. There’s a sort of autopilot you’ve fallen into after a couple of days, and it’s the only thing keeping you somewhat sane. Most days, it means it’s all over quickly, and you can’t help but feel glad about that.
You’ve given up trying to change your own actions to get him through the day.
But this …
It’s something new, and in all this monotony, that thought is both frightening and exciting. It distracts you enough to get you off script.
"Lovely interior design," Sam mumbles like he always does.
"Remember how this was supposed to be a day off?" You kick one of the pebbles in your path with a sigh. "What happened to 'don’t worry, Y/N, after training the day is all yours'?"
"Occupational hazard," Sam says, checking his map for the thousandth time.
"You know what I mean."
"Don’t you have tomorrow off?" Bucky says over the intercom.
Tomorrow. "Right." It comes out somewhat strained, your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. "And why do you know that?"
Sam shakes his head and there’s a brief crackle of static in your ear. For a fraction of a second, you nearly dare to hope Bucky will give you an answer, even though you have no clue what it would be.
"They’re heading your way now," he says instead, "so get a move on."
And just like that, you’re back on track.
Quickly clearing your throat of the lump that has formed there, you say tonelessly, "I probably only have one reset left. Two, if we’re lucky and you two aren’t being stupid again."
It’s taken you a while to get used to it. To the constant lying.
You’ve worn fingerless gloves on missions before, so that’s not raised any questions from the others yet, and your rings stay hidden away. You’ve been more reluctant to take them off since the one you lost on your bathroom floor vanished into thin air.
The other thing you’ve picked up on while endlessly repeating this day is that Bucky is less likely to catch you in a lie if he can’t see your face.
So you’ve made an effort of spending as little time as possible with him.
It’s surprisingly easy to stay in your room for the majority of the day, because he doesn’t remember it ever being any other way. Even today’s little exchange will be lost to the loop soon enough, just like that little pause he made, just like the bullet through his heart.
Still, when you wake up with a start on Friday, July 4th, you look at the sky first. Its perfect blue doesn’t soothe the sinking feeling in your stomach at all.
You’ve been waiting for something to change for weeks, and now that it’s here, you don’t like it at all.
"What did you expect?" Strange says with an infuriating composure once you’ve nervously recounted your experience. "I told you, time isn’t supposed to get stuck in this way. Of course your reality was going to act up sooner or later."
"I really feel like you should be more concerned about this," you mutter, letting a ball of green energy pass from your left hand to the right. It’s about the size of a quarter now.
"Honestly," Strange answers, "I thought something like this would have happened a while ago." He taps his fingers together. "Again. Slower."
"So what am I supposed to do then, just ignore it?" The green ball pulses with your indignation, turns around itself once and then sinks into your palm again.
"In all likelihood, it’s a one time glitch. If everything is back to normal today, I wouldn’t worry about it."
Your thumb rubs across the empty space on your finger. "Easy for you to say if you’re not the one who’s stuck in an endless hellscape."
"Aren’t I?"
You both roll your eyes at each other, but then you bite the inside of your cheek again, unable to shake the feeling of a whole new shade of dread. "What if it’s not just a one time glitch?"
The corners of Strange’s cloak roll up on themselves, and he doesn’t meet your eye when he says, "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."
It’s still early when you return to the present, too early for Bucky to be back from wherever he’s always going, so you decide to venture out of your room again, stretching your tired limbs. You’re pretty sure at this point that waking up on the floor is never going to feel fun.
Sam is in the kitchen as always, reading something on his laptop. He’s still sitting down, which means that it’s even earlier than you expected. You miss these early parts of the day, the calm before the storm.
If today were only made up of these few hours, you suppose, it might not be half so bad.
You pull up a chair next to him and lean a cheek against your hand. "What’re you doing?"
"Research." Sam sighs, rubbing his temples. "Remember that ULTIMATUM group?"
"Never heard of them," you say with a small yawn. "Is that an acronym? What does it stand for?"
Sam gives you a glare and your mouth twitches slightly.
"Anyway," he continues, turning his laptop so you can see the article he’s reading. "They’ve been more active again lately. Acquired a couple thousand dollars’ worth of lab equipment through one of their contacts and then went underground again."
Of course, you know all this. You’ve been over it again and again, back when you were all still trading information like it could save Bucky’s life. Like there was a deeper meaning behind any of this damn loop other than the fact that you, and you alone, fucked up.
Useless.
You close the mental door on those thoughts and take a deep breath. You hate to admit it, but all of this sitting around with your thoughts bullshit you’ve been doing has actually helped you to clear your head somewhat—if only to make it through the parts of the day you can’t avoid.
"And now what?" you ask, pretending to just have reacquainted yourself with the topic.
"Now," Sam says, taking his laptop with him as he stands up and strolls over to the kitchen island, "I’m waiting for Torres to get back to me so we can decide our next steps once we’re all recovered." He gives you a meaningful look and you scowl.
Then, slowly, his words register in your brain, and you stare at his back as he stretches and then moves to make some coffee, wordlessly taking one of your mugs out of the cupboard as well as his own.
"You don’t seem too worried," you say hesitantly.
Sam shrugs. "Until we have a proper lead, there’s not much we can do. And I doubt they’ll be doing any actual damage any time soon. They’re a lot more covert than the Flag Smashers ever were."
"Right," you say, more to yourself than in response.
"Try that again, less convincing?"
"I don’t know," you mutter, slowly following him to lean against the fridge. "Just … what if Torres did find something? Should I be getting ready?"
Sam frowns. "Are you not telling me something again?"
You try to shake the thought, pulling your arms around you. "Forget it."
You don’t, though.
It keeps bugging you, because that day like any other day, he knocks on your door at 4:32 on the dot, and you go on that mission anyway. And even though this has been happening for weeks, you’re just starting to suspect that you are, in fact, still not getting the whole picture.
***
Catching a glimpse of Sam’s phone turns out to be more difficult than you first thought.
You’re still trying to get the timing exactly right a couple of days later, and you miscalculate enough to catch Bucky on his way upstairs.
"Hey," he says, his shoulders tense when he looks at you. There’s a restlessness to him that he’s not quick enough to hide; or maybe you’ve just grown more perceptive when it comes to him.
"Hi," you say, crossing your hands behind your back. "Where’ve you been?"
He shrugs. "For a walk."
You already know he won’t elaborate if you try poking, so you don’t. "Was it good?"
"Lotta people." He hesitates when you continue to not meet his eye, and then he says, "Do you want to talk about it?"
You swallow, ignoring the tingling sensation on your wrist. "Not particularly. Do you?"
Bucky’s jaw twitches. "Nah."
Somehow, you feel like that’s also a lie. Once again, you’re left wondering.
The silence between you stretches as you continue to not quite look at each other, until you finally clear your throat, nodding at the front door. "I’m getting coffee, do you want something?"
Honestly, it’s just an excuse as to why you need to leave before he notices something off again somehow, but Bucky tilts his head in amusement.
"Didn’t you just get some this morning?"
"So? I like coffee."
"Really. I never knew."
"Screw you."
You can hear him huff behind you, but thankfully the door falls shut before you can do anything stupid. Like turning around to face him, for example.
You miss his eyes.
Why won’t you look at me?
When the elevator doors open, you almost yelp into your delivery guy’s face. He stumbles a half-step backwards, somehow managing to keep a hold of the boxes precariously balanced on his arm while he’s reading something on his phone.
"Oh my god," he lets out, "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just …"
"Early." You blink.
"Sorry?"
"Nothing," you say, frowning only a little. "Wait, let me get that."
You quickly sign for the delivery and open the door with your keycard, holding it open for him. You’re not exactly afraid of burglars these days, and besides; you know this guy by now.
"If you could just go straight ahead and to the right, that’s where the kitchen is."
"Sure thing," he shrugs. "Thanks—"
His mouth snaps shut and he blushes a little as if he wanted to say something else but thought better of it.
You’ve introduced him to Sam enough times you know he’s going to be fine, so you just smile and wave him in.
When you step out on the street, you instinctually look up at the sky. It’s outrageously blue, blatantly perfect for an endless Friday, and even when you squint, you can’t make out any irregularities.
It’s a tiny relief, but a relief nontheless.
Lucy is leaning against the wall just out of sight of the storefront, an unlit cigarette dangling between her lips as she rummages through her pockets. Her colorful makeup has begun to melt off in the sweltering heat, making the red-white-and-blue stars on her cheeks bleed into each other to look somewhat purplish.
"Are you off or on break?" you call over.
She lifts her head, the glare vanishing when she recognizes you. "Counting the seconds," she says. "Don’t you have anything better to do?"
You sidestep a couple of pedestrians hurrying to cross the street and join her. "Not really."
"I hate you." She finally fishes a lighter out of her back pocket, sighing contentedly as she takes her first drag. "I swear, this day just won’t pass."
Fine. Maybe your chuckle is a little shrill. "I’m sorry."
Lucy waves you off with a gesture crude enough to make a young dad with a stroller send the two of you a dirty look. "You without your shadow today?" she asks, inspecting her nails.
You blink. "My shadow."
"You know. Your friend who’s been in here eight thousand times and still gets confused when he orders." A cloud of smoke vanishes into thin air. "Kind of the lingering type, isn’t he?"
"He’s old," you say, because for some reason nothing else comes to mind.
"Not that old."
"No," you agree, "not that old."
For a moment, you’re afraid she’s going to ask you to pass her number along to him, and you’re already scrambling to find an answer somewhere in the depths of your brain, coming up empty. That’s the problem with being able to unhave entire conversations; you don’t usually really have to deal with reactions if you don’t want to.
Without your powers, though, you’re stuck, and it’s making you wish you hadn’t come here at all.
Instead of any of that, she pulls a flyer out of her other pocket. "Sorin and Cass are doing a gig in Brooklyn next week, do you wanna come with? They’re still terrible, but they got a new bassist who seems alright."
You take the flyer, staring at it. "I didn’t know they’re in a band," you admit.
The truth is, you’ve never paid that much close attention to the people you work with. Maybe that’s been a mistake.
Lucy shrugs. "You’re always doing your own thing." It stings, even though you’re pretty sure she doesn’t mean for it to. "It’d be fun if you came, though."
"I’ll think about it," you say, and your smile is a little unsure, but genuine.
So is hers.
"If you don’t want to hang with us all night, you can bring some friends, too." Her emphasis hangs in the air between you like a dare.
You snort. "I feel like this isn’t quite their scene."
"You feel like or you know?"
"Isn’t that the same thing?"
"No." She puts her cigarette out on the wall behind her. "Knowledge is based on experience. On memories. Your feelings don’t sit in your head. And so they don’t make sense and they’re not necessarily true." She winks.
"You’re weirdly smart," you say, shaking your head.
"I know. It’s a curse." Lucy sighs. "Anyway, think about it. I gotta get back to hell."
"You know," you say with a grin, "I could really do with a frappuccino right about now."
"You know what you could do?" she answers in her sweetest customer service voice, pointing you down the street. "Get in a trash can."
Damnit. You might actually grow to like Lucy.
She taps her fingers against her temple and then shuffles back inside, a hot rush of air blowing out of the AC as the door opens. You fold the flyer up to fit into your back pocket, hoping you’ll make it to that concert one day, and then you walk on, aimless again for the moment.
***
Time passes while it’s standing still.
The problem is, at least for the moment, that by all appearances you’ve reverted back to square one. Going through your day as though any of this is even remotely normal, counting the hours and minutes to reenter the astral plane and feel some semblance of control again.
It’s been nice, really, if you’re ignoring the constant underlying feeling of dread.
Which you’re getting better at.
You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.
Rinse and repeat.
You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.
Even on days when you’re sure you’re making progress with your powers, every reset makes it just a little harder to keep dragging yourself onwards.
You wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume.
"You look like shit."
Your head rolls to the side slowly, allowing yourself a glance while Bucky is still distracted with his arm. Concentration makes his brows knit, and something warm spreads in your chest.
"I’m so tired," you say, voice barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t look at you, but you’re grateful for it for once. Your eyes are stinging a little.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Yes. Yes. Yes.
"Not particularly."
"Do you want to talk about something else?"
You almost smile. "Like what?"
Bucky shrugs with one shoulder. "Like the fact that you just planted Sam into the mat head-first and yet made a face like you killed a puppy?"
Sometimes you wonder how he still manages to slip in without you noticing, no matter how many times he does it.
"Did I?"
"Did you kill a puppy? I’d hope not."
Your body’s been getting stronger, anticipating Sam’s every move. At this point, it’s not so much training as it is an exercise in muscle memory; but how would he know that?
It still isn’t enough. It’s never enough.
You pitiful, selfish, useless bastard.
"You’re doing it again," Bucky says and you blink.
"Doing what?"
"I don’t know, but I don’t like it."
Something inside you twinges uncomfortably and you wrap your arms around your knees, pulling them into your chest. "That might just be me, period."
Bucky huffs. "Take the towel on the right," he says. "I already used the other one."
So you do.
And then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume, and then you wake up with blah, blah, blah.
"I can’t do this anymore."
Strange watches you, but you don’t get up from where you’re lying, blankly staring at the ceiling, feeling like your chest is about to explode.
You don’t want to feel like something is tearing you apart every single time, even though you know it’s not permanent. There’s always the tiniest glimmer of hope that this will all be over soon.
Or maybe it’s dread.
"Maybe you can’t," Strange answers.
You blink, sitting upright. "What?"
"Maybe you are actually incapable of cleaning up your own mess. You’ve never had any training before, after all. Maybe you’re too weak."
Useless. Not good enough. Waste of time.
"If this is reverse psychology, it’s not working," you say through gritted teeth, pressing your eyes shut so tightly they don’t burn anymore.
Strange ignores you. "Maybe you’re going to be stuck in this loop forever. If that’s the case, there’s no point to keep trying either. Maybe we should just call it a day."
You can feel your breaths coming in shorter.
"Maybe you’re just going to keep failing to save anyone for the rest of your life."
"Stop it!"
An explosion of power goes through your body, bouncing off the walls and bathing the room in a ghostly green light. You cough and curl into yourself as you watch it billow, still echoing the words back at you, "too weak", "stuck in this loop forever". Your bones are heavy with exhaustion.
Strange crouches down next to you and a cup of fragrant tea draws itself up to the side of your face.
"You’re drawing the bulk of your power from pain. From a desire to fix things that you think you alone are responsible for when the truth is that each and every one of us is constantly creating reality."
"Fuck you," you mumble. When you sit up, your head is still swimming.
"You cannot keep this up."
"If I’m such a lost case, then why do you bother?"
"I’m trying to tell you that you’re not." He points at the walls, still covered by that greenish fog. "This is the strongest display of your powers I’ve seen from you yet, and it only happened because you were lashing out. Pain is not a sustainable source of energy. Imagine what you could do if you could be in control."
Do as I tell you.
"There’s no way to control my powers on a larger scale. It’s impossible."
"You keep telling me that, and yet you keep coming back. Why?"
You push yourself up to your elbows, wiping at your face. "Because I have to hope, right?"
"And there it is."
You take a sip of your tea and some feeling returns to your translucent fingers. Strange’s cloak draws itself around your shoulders.
The wizard himself stays quiet for another minute or two, before he asks, "Why do you think I’m talking to you right now? Helping you, even, nevermind your constant whining and your insistence that this won’t work, after you’ve spent your whole life running away from anything resembling actual responsibilities."
"I didn’t—"
"Answer the question."
"Because I created a time loop?" you guess.
"But you already know that this loop is just one point on the timeline. A single day, repeated endlessly, but going exactly like it was always supposed to, once resolved. So, without the time stone and my privileges as the Sorcerer Supreme, and with your protections still in place, how would I have found you?"
He knew exactly where and when to look for you. But he’s right, that shouldn’t even have been possible unless …
"I came to you," you realize. "Or, I will, once I get out of this." The relief that washes over you makes you want to sob. "So there is a way out?"
"Of course there is," he says, surprisingly gently. "Time isn’t supposed to get stuck."
You sit with that for a minute, hiding your face in your hands as Strange stays silent. Finally, you take a deep breath and look at him again with newly sharp focus.
"So why don’t you just tell me how to do it?"
He raises an eyebrow. "You know that’s not how it works."
"Yes. It is. It’s literally what I do all the time."
"What you do is leaving realities you don’t like by turning backwards."
"That’s not true."
"Just because your motivations aren’t entirely selfish doesn’t mean you’re right."
You’re so damn exhausted. The frustration of this whole thing is really starting to scratch at your sanity, and there’s an ache in your chest as you stare at your own sleeping face, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking.
Strange snaps his fingers to get your attention back.
"I’m not a mind reader," he says. "Out with it."
"I want to see him," you say, getting up. The cloak flaps around you in a very satisfying way. "Bucky. It’s early this morning, right? Just before the loop starts again. That means he’s upstairs."
"And what’s seeing him going to do?"
You ignore him and walk towards the door, reaching for the handle. Your hand goes right through it. You try it several more times, to no avail.
"Heaven help me," Strange mutters behind you.
Shutting your eyes, you take a deep breath. The circle of green tingles around your wrist.
Then, you walk through the closed door.
You fully expect to crash into the wood head first, but instead you feel the door moving through your noncorporeal form, and then you’re standing on the other side.
With a startled hum, you turn left, not waiting to see if you’re being followed.
You only hesitate in front of Bucky’s bedroom door. You’ve never actually been inside his room since he’s moved in; well, apart from that time he patched up your feet and you woke up in the astral plane for the first time. It feels odd to consider entering without him actually being aware of it.
Then again, there’s quite a few things at this point that he’s unaware of.
Before you can make up your mind, the door swings open just a little, and you automatically take a step back. Alpine sleepily slinks through the gap and trots off in the direction you came from, probably to sit in the kitchen and mope until FRIDAY activates the food dispenser again. On the stairs, she passes Strange who raises an eyebrow at you.
"Changed your mind?"
You glance into the room.
At first, you can’t find him. The bedding looks untouched, and there’s a brief flurry of panic that makes you step inside before you can keep questioning yourself.
Bucky is lying on the floor next to the bed, his hands balled tightly into an old throw blanket. It’s haphazardly draped across his torso, like he’s been trying to wriggle free during the night. He grimaces in his sleep.
Try the floor.
You can’t help but wonder when he’s last tried the bed.
"Can he hear us?" you ask quietly, not needing to look over your shoulder as you sink to the floor next to Bucky.
"No," Strange says. "Not until you put in a lot more work."
"Would he remember if I did?"
"I don’t know."
You do look back at him, then. "You know, considering your position you don’t know a whole lot of things."
You concentrate on your own hand until you’re starting to feel cool metal underneath your fingertips, ignoring the throbbing of your head. Carefully, you touch the crease between his brows, smoothing it out tenderly.
Bucky sighs a little in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. Doesn’t stop quietly murmuring in his dreams.
"You feel better?" Strange asks.
"Not really." You’ve already reached out to him without it having any repercussions too many times. "But that wasn’t the point."
"What was?"
"Just …"
Comfort. He brings you comfort, even when he doesn’t know it. It’s the same reason you keep waiting for him to arrive in the gym in the mornings, even though you could probably hurry up and miss him.
Even if the loop never ends, it’s still good to see that it’s bringing him back like it’s supposed to.
How incredibly selfish, you think as you continue looking at Bucky and letting a quiet, hesitant wash of calm come over you.
And then, all of a sudden, his eyes open.
You flinch backwards, but even though you’re almost face to face, he seems to stare right through you, his breaths heavy.
"Did I do something?" you say quietly.
"No," Strange answers. "This is just when he wakes up."
You watch as Bucky drags a hand over his face and then gets up with a determined tick in his jaw, grabbing a notebook from the nightstand. He scribbles something down, hastily, like it’s threatening to get away from him if he doesn’t hurry. You don’t have to read it to know it has something to do with what he’s seen in his sleep.
When the words stop flowing, he sits on the edge of the bed for a minute longer, but the tension doesn’t leave his shoulders. Finally, he rolls his left arm a few times before pulling on a shirt and his running shoes.
He always goes for a run in the morning. You’ve made fun of him for it before, but you hadn’t put together that while Strange was trying to get you to clear your own head through sitting still, Bucky might be doing the exact opposite to get the same result.
The door clicks shut.
"Are we done with the spying, then?" Strange says.
"No need to get weird about it," you mumble and take his outstretched hand.
***
Something changes once you know that your situation actually has an end date, even though Strange either cannot or will not tell you how many more loops you’re going to have to go through until then. Even so, there’s a new assurance to your every step again, a determination grown from the knowledge that all this isn’t for nothing. That there is an out.
You can cling to that.
"What would you do if you were stuck in a time loop?" you ask, letting your legs dangle over the ledge of the roof.
"Ew, no," Lucy replies, shaking the few remaining ice cubes in her cup emphatically. "My shift was long enough as is, and I’ve been looking forward to my Sunday off all week."
"Fair point," you concede.
It’s early afternoon then, and you’ve found a quiet spot on the top of the Tower. If Lucy was at all confused why you’d shown up at the store right when she clocked out and asked her to hang out, she’s not showing it. Over the past couple of loops, you’ve learned that she really likes to go with the flow, and you appreciate that.
"If it’s not today, though," she continues, like she’s thinking aloud. "Imagine the books you could read. You could try out all that stuff that you say you want to do, and then you never have the time to actually do them."
It’s a good thought, but a lack of time has never really been an issue for you. "Nothing you do would really stick, though."
She squints against the sun. "You realize that’s a pro, right? No consequences whatsoever. I could cut my bangs again and they’d be gone the next day."
"You used to have bangs?"
"Never, and I’m willing to state that in a court of law."
You smile and lean back on your elbows. "If something good happened, that’d be gone, too, though. You don’t get to keep that, either."
"Yeah," Lucy says thoughtfully. "I’d still remember it though, right? It still happened. I could make it happen again."
"Maybe." Your thumb scratches the empty space on your pinkie. Even though you’ve turned your entire bathroom upside down, your ring is still gone, like it just up and disappeared from this reality. You can’t help but wonder if that rift in the sky from a few todays ago has anything to do with that.
"What about you?"
"Hm?"
Lucy takes another slurping sip from her almost empty cup. "What would you do in a time loop?"
You can’t help but laugh. "I’d try to keep making the good things happen, I guess."
"Sounds like a lot of work."
It is.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" someone shouts behind you. "It’s in the fricking nineties today and you’re baking?"
"Technically, we are baking," you say, nodding at Lucy and leaning back further so you can look at Sam upside down. "And we’re baking for you."
"Hi, cap," Lucy says, pulling her sunglasses off.
"Hey." Sam crosses his arms and fixes you with a very cap-like glare. "Why are you baking for me."
"Y/N said it’s for your birthday."
"My—" He cuts himself off, rubbing his temples. "My birthday’s in September."
"Whoops," you say, your grin just believable enough. "My bad, cap."
"You’re not funny," Sam says, "I hope you know that."
You know.
Of course, today isn’t actually his birthday, not even if time were allowed to pass normally. It is day forty-fucking-nine of the loop, though, which makes it your fiftieth time living through this crap and frankly, you all deserve some damn pie.
It’s not going to make a difference in the long run, of course, and yet you can’t help but feel like keeping count of those little markers of time helps to hold your head above water. Making the good things happen, even if they don’t change a thing and no one but you is going to remember.
So you simply say, "It’s turtle pie," because you know that it’s Sam’s favorite. "Hey, what’s the time?"
"Oh, it better be," he says, holding his phone up for you to read and then marching out of your field of vision.
Sadly, you’re just about a minute early.
"He could’ve stayed," Lucy says when you let out a frustrated huff.
"He has that thing at the Garden," you tell her distractedly, taking a mental note to stall Sam a little longer next time.
"There you are."
You flinch at the sound of Bucky’s voice, barely daring to move your head when he sits next to you, his back to the brink.
He never comes up here. That’s the whole point.
"Hi?" you say carefully, and a grin tugs at his mouth.
"Not you," he says, nodding to the ground in front of him.
You turn around fully to find Alpine taking a nap just a few feet behind you, her snowy tail wrapped around a flower pot.
You let out a relieved breath and ignore the small sting in your chest. Of course he’s not up here because of you. Why would he be?
"Gee, thanks," you murmur, quietly shifting around so your hands are hidden underneath your legs. "You sure know how to charm the ladies."
You glance back at Lucy, but she’s looking at her phone, her eyes once again indecipherable behind the large sunglasses.
Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Think you could handle my charm, Y/L/N?"
He might has well have doused you in a bucket of ice water. You’re suddenly very aware of every single cell in your body, and you don’t like the challenge sparkling in his eyes.
So you do what you always do and you block it out. Dismiss and distract.
"Does Alpine seem weird to you?"
He tilts his head, his jaw tight. "Weird how?"
"I don’t know," you say, staring at her. "She’s just been acting … odd, lately. Today, I mean."
And following you around in a way you’re pretty sure she’s never done before. Not before the loop, at least.
Bucky sighs. "Did you make her scratch you again? Because I’ve told you before that I’m not getting rid of her for enforcing her boundaries."
"First of all, I never make her scratch me, she does that well enough on her own."
"That’s victim blaming," Lucy says without looking up. Bucky snorts and you almost roll your eyes.
"Second of all, she’s up to something. I know it."
"Oh, yes," Bucky says dryly just as Alpine makes a small noise in her dreams, her nose twitching. "That’s the embodiment of evil right there."
"I don’t trust her," you mutter.
"And yet the cat’s the weird one."
"I hate you," you mumble, standing up. "I’m gonna go check on the pie."
"There’s pie?" Bucky says.
"Not for you!"
You turn at the door to see Lucy leaning in to show Bucky something on her phone; the frown has disappeared from his face, his shoulders relaxed. If he’d pull off his glove right now, it’d almost be like sitting in a park.
That’s good, you tell yourself as the door slams shut behind you with a bit too much gusto. Reminds you that there’s nothing special about you in particular, which is much needed, really.
Can’t wait to punch that one out of your system later.
Again and again and again and a—
"Whoa, whoa, you alright?"
You blink. Riff slumps to the ground in front of you, body limp.
Bucky stares at you in concern, his hand still on your shoulder. His lip has split open and there’s the usual bruise already forming on his cheekbone. You can’t help it. Your gaze is drawn down, your breathing shallow.
You screw your eyes shut to snap yourself out of it, but when you open them again, Bucky hasn’t moved an inch.
"Never better," you whisper, and for a split second, you almost believe it yourself.
Liar, liar, liar.
***
At least, you suppose, reality seems considerably less broken these days. No more cracks in the sky.
You get your wake-up call when you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY …
"… FRIDAY?" you say into the silence of your room, your heart pounding wildly. This cannot be happening. Not now.
Not yet.
He got shot again yesterday.
A pleasant jingling sound rings out. "Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N."
You look at the clock on the wall. Ten to eight, just like every morning. "What day is it?"
"Today is Friday, July 4th."
You can taste bile in your mouth despite your relief. There’s an impatient thrum to the symbols around your wrist, like a noose that’s tightening.
What did you expect?
"Rise and shine, McFly! Time to get your ass kicked!"
"Didn’t you set FRIDAY to wake me?" you ask Sam as you’re climbing the stairs, nerves on edge.
He looks at you weirdly. "I did. You’re up, aren’t you?"
You bite the inside of your cheek. "Didn’t sleep well."
That much, at least, is still true. Full nights of sleep are a long distant memory from before constant back-to-back repetitions. The only time your body shuts off is when you manage to sleep for a little bit in between your astral visits and the mission call.
"I hope you don’t think that’s an excuse," Sam says, bumping your shoulder, and you manage a tired grin.
"You wish."
Today, you let him win, even though your ankle makes an odd crack when you land on the mat. You’ll take care of it later.
"You look like shit."
Grief and relief, you’ve learned, both taste like salt and iron, but the latter is so much easier to swallow.
"That makes two of us," you say, sitting up slowly. "How was your run?"
"Good," Bucky says, putting the cloth away and stretching his fingers out. They catch a ray of sunlight. "What’s wrong with you?"
Not this again.
"Later, okay?" you answer, because that’s not a lie. "Let’s just … not, right now?"
"Alright," he says.
And, oh, you want to tell him again. Because he doesn’t press it. Because you miss having someone to share things with. Because you miss telling him the whole truth. Because you’re scared, and tired, and sick of losing him.
But those are egotistic thoughts, and so you keep them all to yourself and take the towel on the right.
There’s one good thing about this today. You make it to the living room just in time to finally catch a glimpse of Sam’s phone right when it pings with Torres’ message.
I can check it out on Monday if you’d like.
That’s it. No urgency, weirdly proper spelling, not even an exclamation mark.
In other words, you’re not sure what you expected but you’re no closer to answers than before.
"What does it matter?" Strange sighs when you tell him all of this with a frown.
"It matters," you reply, "because if we hadn’t gone on the mission, Bucky wouldn’t have died that first time and none of this would’ve happened."
"So what?" he says. "It’s already done."
"But if I could prevent it—"
"It already happened."
"I can make it not happen."
"You and what powers?" Strange says sharply. "Even if you did that, it wouldn’t stop the loop."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you’ve already seen first-hand that it’s bound to you and your powers, not to whatever you do or don’t do during the day. Karma is a fairy tale for those who don’t want to take responsibility for their actions."
"Do you really still think this is me not taking responsibility?" There’s a green flare that goes through you, hot and seething and making goosebumps crawl down your arms.
Strange smiles at the sight. "Let’s find out."
He extends his arms and slowly opens his fists until orange symbols dance across his shaky fingers. The band around your wrist prickles at the weight of his magic flooding the air.
Strange’s cloak nudges you towards the center of the room and your heart gives a heavy thud. "What, right now?"
"Would you prefer being stuck for a couple weeks more?"
"Of course not it’s just—I don’t feel ready."
"No one ever feels ready until they try."
And maybe it’s because it reminds you of something Steve once said, but it makes you step up, falling into the stance you’ve practiced over and over again. You breathe in deeply and close your eyes.
The pull comes easier now. Your powers have just been resting, nestled somewhere deep inside your bones like glowing embers, waiting for you to call upon them.
When you look at your open palm, the green wisps of your powers have curled up to the size of a ping-pong ball. You take another steadying breath and let it glide to the tips of your fingers, carefully letting it balance itself out for a second before moving your other hand.
"Good," you can hear Strange say quietly.
Slowly, carefully, you let the threads untangle until they’re just about to touch the green band circling around your wrist. You can feel the electric tingle of it, the soft beat of each passing second contained within, and you push past it.
You’ve done this before, so you’re not surprised when you feel the energy drain from your body almost immediately. Up until now, though, it’s just been trial and error, not expecting anything to happen. This time, you have Strange’s magic feeding some of his strength into you as well, and so instead of hesitating, you press on, your heartbeat speeding up.
The band around your wrist does the same.
"Don’t lose your focus." Strange’s voice sounds very far away, almost warped.
Very funny, you might have said, but you’re too busy watching it all unfold.
The whirring inside of your head grows louder as the circlet of time keeps rotating with accelerating speed, faster and faster until your eyes start tearing up and there’s something that looks almost like a crack.
You gasp quietly. At first, you think you might have just imagined it, but then the split starts growing, the symbols growing farther and farther apart as the band itself keeps spinning. Your pulse is beating in your ears. Your wrist feels like it’s being set on fire.
There are voices, then, quiet and fast, like you’re watching a sped up movie, music and noises and chatter and birdsong and a whooshing sound like something flipping right past you. Then, something like distant shots.
I’m getting Bucky out of this, you think as the green band continues rotating until suddenly, there is a shockwave of green light that takes up your entire field of vision.
You close your stinging eyes, keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor as your powers rush through you once more and then, with a shudder, settle down again, exhausted. The glare subsides. Something like a trickle of sweat runs down your noncorporeal neck.
"Did it work?" you ask, your voice rough, not daring to look for yourself. There’s no answer, though. "Doc?"
Slowly, your eyes readjust to the gloomy darkness of your room in the astral realm. The only source of light is the glowing green band continuing to circle around your wrist, the rifts stabilizing again like it’s clicking back into place.
You swear under your breath and turn around to ask what went wrong, but Strange is no longer standing beside you.
You’re all alone.
***
Three, two, one—
"Iced grande extra whip caramel macchia—shit!"
You catch the plastic cup before it drops onto the suit of the business man standing in line in front of you. "Here you go, sir."
He grabs his drink with a grunt and hurries back outside. One of these days, you might ask him why he’s in such a hurry, but it’s not today.
You’ve grown to adore the noise of the pre-noon rush. The cacophany of the whirring machines, the AC and the people is just loud enough to make your head calm down a little. Besides, being alone in a crowd has never been easier than when you know for a fact they are not going to remember you.
The drinks are starting to pile up at the hand-out, and because you feel bad for your colleagues, you start handing them out to people. You’ve been here a lot, after all.
"Tall hazelnut latte for Misty!"
Plus, it helps to keep your mind from wandering back to everything that’s going wrong.
Strange still hasn’t returned.
The astral dimension feels different when you return the day after your experiment, like someone’s been pulling invisible strings to make everything just slightly more disordered and dark.
It’s cold, too. You watch your body shiver in her sleep as you wrap your arms around yourself. The books are still there, shimmering slightly with the magic they contain.
"Doc?" you call out, and the vibrations of this place hum it back at you. There’s no answer.
The book at the top of the pile is still opened to a page, as if it’d just been left a moment ago, and you pick it up. The words glide around like they are looking to jump back into an inkpot, and you have to squint to make out any of them.
Incursion, the section header reads. Result of a contraction in a universe’s timeline. Can cause premature disintegration or collapse of any one reality within the multiverse.
"Just great," you say, slapping the book shut again. "I get it, alright? You can come out now."
But there’s no sound apart from your own heartbeat.
Your noncorporeal head is swimming with pressure as you pass through the closed door and into the hallway. The walls seem larger than usual, the stairs warping ever so slightly underneath your feet so that you can’t look at them for too long without feeling seasick.
Upstairs, the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. The silence follows you, though, lingering in the grayish morning shadows like the remnants of a nightmare.
Bucky still mumbles in his.
You can’t make out what he is saying, and you wouldn’t have understood the words, anyway, but there’s sweat on his brow again. His fingers are tightly clutching the thin throw blanket like it’s shielding him from whatever he’s seeing in his dreams.
You take a step closer to him, desperate to do something, anything, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye.
Alpine is perched on top of the bed, complacently tucked into herself on one of the fluffed up white pillows like it’s really her room, not Bucky’s.
And she’s staring right at you.
You take a step to the side, then another. Alpine tilts her head, her large eyes fixed on you. They follow your gestures as you wave your hand.
A quick glance tells you that Bucky is still sleeping. You take a deep breath and conjure up a small dot of bright green light, letting it dance across your fingertips. Alpine uncurls herself in interest, her tail twitching.
"You can see me," you whisper, and the little spec of your power disappears.
The cat meows in disappointment.
Carefully, you move closer to the bed, reaching out your translucent hand until you place it on Alpine’s head.
She rubs against your palm.
You chuckle incredulously, scratching behind her ears. "You little devil."
Alpine seems particularly pleased with herself. She starts purring.
This is simply bizarre, you think as you continue petting her soft fur. You’re expecting a sarcastic comment from behind your shoulder any minute now, but it doesn’t come.
So, you lower yourself down on the floor next to Bucky, the tips of your fingers not quite grazing his arm as you swallow heavily.
And then you wait until he gets up.
It’s possible, you think as you watch him leave and then make yourself wake up too, that Strange is simply messing with you for the hell of it. You don’t like the timing of this, though. Your day still continues on and on and on, like it always does, but it seems just a little too pointed that this would happen right after you had your first hopes of getting out of here in a long time.
It doesn’t help that the reality glitches have decided to return with a vengeance.
Every day is still July 4th. You wake up with a start, you train, you get coffee, you fight over lunch, you take your astral visit, you go on that damn mission. It’s the details that start to get … fuzzy.
In the beginning, every single thing around you was the exact same every single day. Now, though, there are sometimes details that are just wrong. A different mug left on the drying rack. A mess all over the tables in the lab. Weird noises all over the Tower.
You don’t know what to make of any of it, and so in general, you follow Strange’s rule of thumb and simply ignore the things that are wrong one day and then right the next—which, thankfully, is all of them. You just go with it, telling yourself that this is simply reality malfunctioning a little, like a machine that needs oiling.
Weirdly enough, that doesn’t reassure you in the slightest.
But what else can you do?
You lose a few hours here and there, time seemingly speeding up at random sometimes now. One morning, Bucky isn’t in the gym like he usually is, and you work yourself up over it so much you nearly have a panic attack. In the end, you almost crash into him outside of his room, and a rush of reassurance floods through you with such force you can’t even look at him.
That time, Sam is there when Bucky gets shot, and it’s his cry that follows you into the next day. Your hands are clean this time, and somehow that feels worse.
Everyone’s back to their usual stuff again, and that’s that.
Another time, you’ve barely rolled out of bed and into your bathroom—"Rise and shine, McFly!"—when you’re suddenly jolted forwards and you wake up with a start to the sun in your face and FRIDAY blasting The All-American Rejects at full volume. Your stomach feels like it’s still turning, nauseous, as if you’d sat up too fast.
That feeling still leaves a bad taste in your mouth, sticking to the back of your mind like the blood you haven’t even had time to wash off.
The thing that demands most of your attention, though, is the pile of books waiting for you in the astral realm. Since you don’t have any control over the loop itself, you pour all of your energy into trying to understand the theory behind your powers. It’s giving you a constant headache, and it takes a lot longer than you would like to admit, but at least you feel like you’re doing something that’ll last.
Nothing else will.
There’s one last lonely cup sat on the counter next to your own, which signals that the rush is over for now. You can see Lucy wiping her forehead as you wave your goodbye, picking up both drinks on your way out and handing one of them to the guy just hurrying back downstairs.
"Here you go," you say without stopping, glancing at your phone. You haven’t stayed this late before.
"What the—" you hear behind you, just before the doors glide open and you’re greeted by the sound of traffic and a hot breeze of air.
If you’re lucky, you can make it back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’ve moved on to a particularly hefty tome about relativity, and you’d like to—
"Hey! Miss? Hold on a second!"
You look over your shoulder to see the delivery guy has run after you, cup still in his hand. His bike is leaned against a lamp post nearby, his cap dangling off one of the handles.
You found out a couple of weeks ago that he takes his break just after dropping off your order, but you don’t usually make eye contact anymore.
Now, he holds out his cup accusingly. "That’s my drink."
You smile. "Good for you."
"No. No, that’s not—I mean—how did you know it was my drink?"
And because nothing really matters and you really want to go home, you say, "It has your name on it, doesn’t it?"
You expect him to look at you with wide eyes, just like people normally do when you know things you’re not supposed to. His mouth will drop open, speechless, his frown will deepen, and you can wink at him and continue on your way so he can spend the next couple of hours wondering what just happened.
The cup falls out of his hand, but somehow he manages to catch it before it hits the sidewalk. When he looks up at you again, and his expression is unlike anything you’ve seen coming.
"But that’s not …" he says quietly. "Do you remember me?"
And then it’s you who’s speechless, because the shock on Peter Parker’s face is more than you bargained for.
*****
"Honestly, I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this," you said quietly, looking over the rim of your glass at the crowd.
"You complaining?" you heard Sam’s voice say over the little earpiece you were wearing.
"Not at all."
Apparently, people connected to terrorist organizations threw incredibly fancy parties.
You hadn’t felt this glamorous in a while, if ever, dressed up to the nines in a dark green jumpsuit with an incredibly flattering cut that you’d never had a reason to wear before. Despite your initial doubts about this whole thing, you felt great, for the first time in way too long.
"Are you gonna move any time soon?"
Well. Mostly.
At least Barnes cleaned up nice, you supposed; it almost made up for his grouchy demeanor.
With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and got back to work. You let the crowd swallow you up, seemingly on your way to the restrooms, and then you stopped it all to slip upstairs unnoticed by prying eyes and cameras.
You didn’t hold it for very long; you had to rattle some doors, after all, and despite your espresso martini, it was still hard to tell if you could manage several redos back to back. After all, you’d only been back in the game for a couple of weeks.
It took you a few tries to find the right office, and locating the files was comparatively easy with what you already had access to. There it was, proof that ULTIMATUM had managed to secure most of the Flag Smashers’ previous supporters as well as some high brow weapon dealers.
While you copied everything onto a flashdrive, your eyes caught one of the designs. You frowned.
Even though you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly, something about it seemed just slightly too highbrow for an organization of the international bad egg committee that was supposedly still mostly underground. Your gaze started drifting through the rest of the office, noting the usual boring books and glass awards in the bookshelves on the far wall. You pulled open one of the desk drawers.
"You almost done in here?"
"Fuck!" You slammed the drawer shut again, getting your pinkie stuck in the process. "Damnit, where did you come from?"
Bucky pointed over his shoulder.
"Fuck me," you murmured, your eyes stinging at the pain.
Bucky looked nonplussed. "Can’t you just undo it?"
"Great input, thank you." The flashdrive beeped softly and you shut everything down again. At least you were definitely sober now. "What are you, anyway, my babysitter?"
"Wouldn’t have to be if you could check in on time," he answered, checking the corridors, then nodding for you to follow.
"Time’s a social construct," you murmured, but followed him, the flashdrive hidden in your fist.
You didn’t even make it to the staircase.
"Didn’t I tell you?" a voice said right before several triggers clicked and you both froze. "I knew I’d recognized that arm. And who do you have with you here, Winter Soldier?"
No one, you thought, and then you yanked time backwards so forcefully you stumbled into the desk, your heart still racing. The copy sat at 57%.
You felt almost seasick with the rewind, but there wasn’t any time. "Keep going upstairs," you said into your earpiece.
"What?" Bucky said.
"I’m fine. Don’t come get me. Just keep going," you gritted through your teeth, trying to calm your breaths. 70%.
"Exit plan C, then," Sam said.
Bucky didn’t answer. You looked at your hands. There was a slight tremor to them, but nothing too bad. If you could get the nausea under control, you could probably make it past the cameras one more time.
You should’ve eaten more.
As soon as the flashdrive was done, you ripped it out and forced everything to a halt again. Your palms were sweaty as you hurried out of the office and in the direction of the staircase, your lungs burning. This didn’t feel like a good sign.
You stumbled over your damn heels and the noise returned for that moment you lost your concentration.
Not good enough.
Sweat pearled on your forehead as you and the universe held your breath again. You could feel your hold slipping with every second that wasn’t allowed to pass. Time was impatient with you.
A small crowd had assembled at the bottom of the stairs. As you closed in on them, you felt a jolt go through you and suddenly found yourself surrounded by people as time attempted to right itself again. Your nails dug into the skin of your palm so hard you could feel yourself draw blood.
It went quiet again and you moved through them, almost blindly. Everything seemed to be spinning.
Behind your shoulder, you could hear several people talking, interrupted only by the world stopping around them every now and then.
"—d’you—see that—"
"—could’ve—sworn there—”
And with time stumbling and flailing around in confusion, you made it out of the building and into the waiting cab.
chapter seven
thank you for reading!! you can follow my library blog @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications 💚
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Clone High is 22 today yay
hope i'm not late.... well, another year passed and clone high stays iconic and funny as hell!! happy birthday, the best show in the world!!
#clone high#clone high fanart#digital art#i know it's lazy!!!#but i wanted to celebrate so i just had to draw something!!#hope you like it anyway#i put my soul in this lol#lol this random ass cake on the table#I LOVE DRAWING CAKES FOR BIRTHDAYS OKAAAYYY#IT'S MY HOBBY
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these sketches are all inspired by @miribalis fanfiction "Managerial Liberties" where Adam stays at the hotel (spoiler - he is not happy and he is still stupid) [and please everyone who sees this post also has to read "Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War" so we can scream in each other's faces how INSANELY good both fanfictions are]
#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel sketch#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel niffty#i think i broke every bone in my body trying to come up with a design for adam without his mask#there are not enough references#dont question his horns (which look different in the fanfiction btw but im too stupid and tired)#the positioning is QUESTIONABLE#the sketches of him and niffty are just my thoughts what might happen in the next chapter#will they give him a suit? or will they force him to wear an even bigger potato sack?#my theory is that they just hate him because they all have to be furries and he still is just some random white guy#the JOY I FELT WHEN I SAW THAT BUDINCA POSTED A NEW HAZBIN FANFICTION ON AO3#cannot be explained#i want to draw something for bedtime rituals so badly#my art
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Warm up doodles of @munchboxart 's OCs, Yue and Ro
#I hope you don't mind the tag and fanart!! I just wanted to draw something SR and they popped to mind#They were super fun to draw btw! Big fan of the intense eyebags and shredded tentacles#scribbles#v#splatoon#salmon run#also yes I do the splatling thing with my close friend during random comps it reminds me of that one frogs kissing video
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He is so very tired
#idk man i just wanted to draw something. and side profiles are my fave thing everrr#anyways another random dude#art#doodle#sketch#artwork#digital art#drawing#illustration#artists on tumblr#original art#i want to add more and make it a bit more detailed but still kinda fuzzy and weird looking but im tired and it looks decent enough#so time to post :3
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sticker of shame on top of my head that says "i turn everything i love into a monster hunter au". some boys that bite just dropped
#i think this is the first time ive drawn what is intended to be zack fair with like something close to his canon design#every other time it's been the very specific self indulgent version of zack i like to draw. oups#zack fair#cloud strife#ff7#monster hunter#mortifying ordeal of tagging btw. like look at this random shit i doodled. sorry#also they did not Just drop. ive had this cooking for a little too long i just want to figure out how to structure things....#i promise cloud is actually weirder than he looks and also teheres a lore reason why they didnt get cool ears#sorry if this is all this blog becomes . i still need to redo it so bad#ff7 monhun au
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Started looking at a few of ur artworks and Im absolutely blown away with how unique it looks!
Starting as a beginner artist, was it hard to find ur niche and audience? Or was this something u never really thought about/ realised?
Funnily enough I had the opposite in terms of trying to find an audience when starting out. A lot of my earlier art was just a bunch of random furry ocs/nonsensical doodles/etc just trying to hop on whatever art bandwagon was going on to try and fit in and prove myself as an artist. It was only when I realized I wanted to create impactful art for myself, along with wanting my art to be something that can stand alone and not have to be influenced by context for the viewer to connect with it, that really let me start creating the work I make now. After shifting to more personal work I found people were a lot more receptive to my work, and I just managed to build my little niche over time. Peoples reactions to my current art definitely influences what I make now, but even then I always just created works for myself, and I’m very grateful people like it :)
I do consider the work below as one of my “cornerstone” drawings in terms of my development as an artist, it was my first work were I actually tried working a full scene, along with using it as a vent piece. Really set the tone and standard for all my other works
#I also just decided I wanted to make bigger pieces the day my childhood best friend killed herself#something abt it just made me realize I should channel my emotions into art rather than trying to make random drawings#the drawing I posted was started the day she was admitted in a coma#and finished it on the day she ended up passing#now that I think about it her anniversary is only a few days away#is that the right word??? the day she passed idk#I feel like I’m never good at explaining this stuff#but wanting my work to be something you see on the wall and you stop and sit with it a bit is something I’ve always wanted#make no mistake I am still a furry. I just am not in as many communities as before where my entire life was drawing cinnadogs and grem2#ask
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