#this was so much fun to draw I needed this

[kari-sims]

Tomiko Moriyama (she/they) as my entry for the Total Drama Sims season 3 by @jonquilyst!! (thanks for letting me participate <3)

also huge wall of slightly amusing text below the cut (you've been warned!) cause i was caffeinated and ended up having some fun with this ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

👩 Age: 14 🪐 Lives in: Strangerville 🐛 Goals in life: to open a bug museum 💖 Orientation: thinks girls are cute, but doesn't want to waste their short teen years chasing them around (that's what the 20's are for!) 🎶 Hidden talent: encyclopedic knowledge of kpop girl group's songs and dances 🥇 Honorable titles: -> 'Mighty Collector of the Fun Hats' -> 'Prestigious Ambassador' at the ''International Bug Diplomacy Federation'' (only actual human member, but it'll grow, just wait!) 👍Likes: iridescent beetles / cut rock hard candy / slippery mud you can draw on / putting googly eyes on random things 👎 Dislikes: homework / cleaning things that'll get dirty again / humans evil bug killing inventions (unless it's a laser shooting death ray gun for mosquitoes, cause yeah, even a bug loving girl hates those bastards!)

[RECORD 434, another sunny day in strange Strangerville]

🔴 ▶ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

(sound of someone clearing their throat, followed by what's obviously a kid trying to speak in an exaggerated deep voice)

Tomiko: "Tomiko is a girl who didn't need a home with walls or windows - the roof to her 'home' has always been the sky above." (pauses, mutters to themselves) Ooh that's a good one! Wait, people will think i live in the woods, no? Wouldn't that be the dream…

(moment of silence as Tomiko daydreams, then remembers she just started recording)

"Tomiko doesn't have many friends, because she was destined to be a free-spirited loner. With the exception of Clarisse, a girl who dreams ofbecoming a marine biologist. Clarisse was made fun of by strangers on a dumb internet show she went to one day, all because she wanted to win the money and go on a trip to Sulani. Now everyone calls her the 'Dolphin Girl'. After Tomiko decided to console her at lunch in school, both of them ended up bonding over their crazy obssession with nature. They've been inseparable friends ever since."

(another pause, followed by an audible sigh)

"Well, they were inseparable, until Tomiko moved away. Now Clarisse is being weird for no reason... anyways, where was i?

(forgets why they went on a Clarisse tangent and starts to fumble with their unorganized notes)

"Oh yes, destined to be a free-spirited loner, ya-da ya-da. Unfortunately, Tomiko was forced to live in a boring house made of bricks, with white furniture, and a mom who was always mad about her muddy boots on the carpet."

(voice shifts to mimic the mom's screech)

- I'm not gonna raise a savage wild child! Since you love dirt so much, go live with your bum of a father in that Strangerplace world, or whatever it's called.

"Best thing to ever happen to me!" (voice switches to normal accidentally, then goes back to the fake deep one) - I mean - best thing to ever happen to Tomiko! Even though her dad looks kinda weird lately, walking around aimlessly at night in search of his mother. Classic dad, being a weirdo. No idea how this man got married..."

- Dad, I told you grandma still lives in Willow Creek. Why do you think she's in the middle of the desert? Also, she wouldn't be caught dead wasting away her fabulous heels in this god-forsaken place.

"Tomiko pretends she doesn't see it, because now she can do whatever she wants, why complicate things? The only problem is, there isn't much to do in Strangerville with the infection rumors going on, and all the damn sus soldiers. Also, the taste of travelling for the first time has left her wanting to see more. Imagine all the bugs she could find?! But you need money for that, sooo… what to do, what to do…"

(voice returns to normal, a bit defensive)

"Okay, fine, I'm the one recording this… (sighs) I know what you're thinking - "just steal from your dad!". Seriously, who do you think I am? Anyways, I did something else instead. I heard there's this competition with other teens where you get to travel the world, and guess what? I signed up for it! Without my parents knowing, of course, but that is irrelevant. They won't even notice I'm gone, I fear. I just hope the organizers don't ask for their permission, because Clarisse was the one who knew how to fake signatures, but now she's hanging out with other kids at school, and thinks she's better than me."

(inhales, then proceeds to speak loudly at a wall, probably)

"Like... Nina? The enemy? Be so for real right now Clarisse! My life is just grand without you! I'll get to travel the world and educate people on how bugs are friends, and definitely NOT disgusting or too dangerous! Well, most times. I'll also prove that even if you're a weird bug loving kid like me, you can still have a chance at a game that requires you to make friends. It'll be eaaasy! In a few weeks I'll be like, Clarisse who? Hahah!"

(brief pause on their flex-rant, which is totally NOT a defense mechanism because she's hurt by them growing apart. They return, slightly worried)

"Do you think I can die in there? Cause gosh, let's hope not! Imagine going on an adventure of a lifetime and not being able to tell people about your heroic deeds... that'd be so lame! Anyways, I'll see you when I see you, whoever is listening to this… Tomi out!"

🟥 ▶ •ııııııııııııııııı•

[RECORD ENDS]

wow if you're still here, thanks for reading, you wonderful bean! here, have a cute snail

(´・ᴗ・)>~🐌

[reidphobic]

trying hard not to get into trouble (but i’ve got a war in my mind) - s. r.

in which your criminology professor is just too tempting. 3359 words.

switch!spencer x switch!fem reader, questionable age gap & power dynamic, mild exhibitionism, authority kink, brief choking, praise, semi-public sex, oral (f and m receiving), mild degradation, no use of y/n

Your bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the plastic lecture hall chair, and you shift in your seat. Still, you focus diligently on the lecture, or, more specifically, on your professor. Dr. Reid is your favourite kind of challenge, a man you can’t have, the kind who won’t compromise his morals no matter how much he wants you — or, thinks he won’t.

You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on you just a second too long, flickers down to your chest before he catches himself. Toying with him is the highlight of your week, coming up with new ways to torture him, push his boundaries as far as you can before he snaps. The semester is drawing to a close, though, and you haven’t quite snared your pretty professor yet, so you’re having to resort to drastic measures.

It’s like he’s deliberately avoiding you, eyes sliding over you as if you’re not even there. You hope that means your barely-there outfit is working as intended. Dr. Reid refuses to call on you to answer a question, stuttering through his sentences and raking his hand through his unkempt curls. You wonder if they’re soft to the touch, if he likes having them pulled, if— Focus. You raise one hand, digging through your bag with the other. When his attention is finally on you, you spout off some stupid question that’s believable enough not to arouse suspicion; he sees right through it, though, knows the ruse.

Out of politeness, Dr. Reid keeps his focus on you as he speaks. His words come out rapid-fire as if he’s trying to escape you before you do any more damage. It only makes him stumble more, and his struggle is frankly adorable. His reaction as you wrap your lips around a cherry-flavoured sucker is audible, a hitch in his breath and a waver in his voice as you smile innocently around the candy. From then, he can’t take his eyes off you, watching your red-stained tongue lap at sticky sugar, fist clenching and unclenching at his side.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

Leaning back in your chair, you smirk slightly, wait to draw his attention. When he meets your gaze, you spread your legs, give him a deliberate eyeful of the tiny scrap of lace between them. At that, you physically see him snap, rail against the constraints of his moral compass, finally, gloriously give in. A thrill skitters up your spine as he stops in front of your desk. “See me after class,” he murmurs, jaw clenched.

“Yes, Professor,” you breathe, licking your lips as your thighs clench under the table.

You linger as your class lets out, carefully reapplying your lipgloss while you wait for the room to empty. When you’re finally alone, you approach his desk cautiously. “You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?” you say delicately, suddenly uncertain — you might just be in for the reprimand of your life, and that’s no fun for anyone.

“If you’ll just come with me to my office,” he says tightly, staring resolutely past you as he stands from his desk. Desire pools under your skin, your every nerve alive with tension as Dr. Reid lets you into his office. The sound of the lock clicking shut falls straight between your thighs — that’s when you know you’ve got him. You sit demurely in his armchair, legs crossed as he puts as much distance between the two of you as possible, standing across the room with his arms folded protectively across his chest. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my classroom.”

You smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” you say, putting on a wide-eyed, naive look you’re sure he won’t fall for. Unconsciously, he steps towards you. 

Dr. Reid’s gaze is unreadable. “Really? That little stunt with the sucker, I— I know what you’re doing, and it has to stop, okay?” he says, and, oh. He’s the one pleading with you.

It makes sense, once you think about it. You know he used to be an FBI agent; a dangerous, high-stress job like that, it’s no surprise he’d want to shut off, hand over the control, be taken care of, entrust his pleasure entirely to someone else. “Why would I stop?” you pout. He’s close enough now that you could reach out and touch him. “I’m having so.” You take Dr. Reid’s tie delicately between your fingers. “Much.” You pull him in gently. “Fun.” You tug sharply on his tie, hard enough that he stumbles, bracing his hands on the arms of your chair.

He lets out a shaky gasp, like he’s expecting you to unhinge your jaw and swallow him whole. “This is… The, uh…” He clears his throat. “The way you’re acting in my class is not appropriate, and it needs to stop,” he says. You’d almost call it firmly, if not for the near-imperceptible tremor in his voice.

You note that he hasn’t pulled away. “I don’t think you want me to stop, Professor,” you murmur. “I think you want me to stop teasing you, and you want me to give you what you want.” Your smile widens the longer he stays silent; searching for the words to refute you, but the lie won’t come. “Tell me what you want, Doctor Reid,” you purr.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “You aren’t… It’s not…”

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want this,” you breathe, catching his jaw so he can’t look away.

His mouth opens, but no words come out, speechless in a way you’ve never seen him. “I… I’m twenty years older than you.”

You grin. “And?”

“I’m your teacher,” he protests, nearly a whine, and oh, isn’t that a delicious sound.

“So?”

“So?” Dr. Reid repeats, incredulous. “I can’t… have sex with you in my office!” he hisses, low as if someone might be listening in.

Your grin only widens, and you pull him down towards you, so close that his breath skates across your lips. He twitches nervously, like you’re close to breaking him, like he’s this close to doing something he’ll regret. “But you want to,” you murmur, cupping his jaw and letting your fingers trace his cheekbone. “Tell me, Professor… When was the last time you had something just because you wanted it, hm?” He shudders, eyes fluttering closed. “I’ll take real good care of you, sir, I promise.”

With a strangled groan, he gives in. The kiss is sudden, harsh like he’s furious with you for pulling him in like this. Soft lips give way to sharp teeth, greedy tongues, slotting together like you were moulded for him. Your hand slides up into his hair, tangling in his curls as you kiss him harder. A moan slips from your lips when you pull away for air, and the sound seems to drive him well and truly into madness. His lips meet yours with a renewed hunger, resting a hand at your jaw when he breaks away.

Spencer (you’ve just had your tongue down his throat, for God’s sake, you’ve earned the right to call him by his first name) strokes his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing down at you with awe and disbelief written across his face. He sucks in a sharp breath when you close your lips around his thumb, lapping at it just like the sucker from earlier. “You’re trying to kill me,” he breathes.

Releasing his thumb with a slick pop, you laugh. “Is that what you think?” You stand up, press your body into his. Spencer nods warily. “You’d know. If I was trying to kill you, I’d do something like this,” you murmur, sliding your hand up his throat and pressing down softly. His eyes flutter closed in surrender, and a filthy, spit-slick grin spreads wide across your lips. “You like that? Good boy,” you say silkily, letting go of his throat as he nods. “You gonna let me take care of you, Professor?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, and when you let your gaze wander away from his flushed face and down his body, your lips part softly at the sight of him straining against his pants. You dip your head to kiss his neck, wishing you could bruise, make him yours, but you restrain yourself.

Rough carpet grazes your knees as you sink to the floor, hands coming up to work his belt open. You kiss him through his pants, slide his zipper down with your teeth. Spencer whines, and the sound sends a pulse of arousal through you. “So needy, sir,” you croon, slowly pulling him free of his boxers. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen, thick and hard in your palm, drooling precum as you lean in to kiss the tip. The salt taste of him fills your mouth and you moan involuntarily, his hips twitching as you pump his cock slowly.

Hands thread into your hair, but the touch is gentle, reverent, born from need rather than demand. Not that you’d say no to his manhandling you, but you get the sense that’ll take some time. “If you want something, it’s polite to ask,” you tease, holding Spencer’s hips when he tries to fuck into your hand.

“Fuck, please,” he hisses, and the obscenity slides deliciously up your spine. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so gorgeous down there. I want you so badly, I just— please?” Spencer whines, and he sounds so sweetly pathetic that you take pity on him, wrap your lips around his head. The moan that falls from his lips is made of pure lust, and you shiver, arousal dripping between your thighs.

You suck and lick at him, eager and teasing, moaning as the taste of him fills your mouth. Spencer trembles with the effort of holding still, not fucking up into your mouth, and his hands unconsciously tighten in your hair. “You can be a little rougher, if you want,” you say, sliding your palms up his clothed thighs and taking him in your mouth again. You moan around him as his cock bumps the back of your throat, swallowing a gag with practiced ease.

Spencer’s hand curls into a fist in your hair, your stomach clenching in anticipation. The gentle sting when he tugs just a little buzzes under your skin, and you moan enthusiastically around him, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper. “Fuck,” he whines, hips jerking forward until his cock bumps the back of your throat. Heat throbs between your legs as he twitches on your tongue, and you can tell from the sounds he’s making that he’s close. 

You double your efforts, pulling off to lick around his head and drip spit along his length. Arousal throbs in your belly, hips grinding down against nothing. Slowly, you take him all the way back in, moan low in your throat when he’s buried to the hilt. You trace your tongue across the vein throbbing on his underside, and Spencer lets out the sweetest, most desperate little whimper you’ve ever heard. “I- I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, fuck, baby, oh, my God,” he gasps, needy and adoring.

His voice trembles as he begs, so soft you’re not sure he knows he’s speaking aloud, and the way he pleads your name, fuck. Time blurs around you, your head goes hazy, pleasure knotting itself deliciously around your insides. Spencer gives a strangled moan, a garbled sound that might be your name, and that’s all the warning you get. You swallow greedily as he spills on your tongue, twitching and moaning and praising you through short, gasping breaths.

He’s still twitching with the aftershocks as you pull off, kneeling to smile blithely up at him. Spencer’s eyes are wide, sparkling with adoration as he struggles for breath. “How was that, Professor?” you tease. “Do I get an A?”

He gives a groaning sort of laugh, pulls you to your feet. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, still gazing into your eyes. It’s disarming, and you get the distinct impression he can read what you’re thinking as plainly as if it were stamped on your forehead. “Come here, come on,” he adds, pulling at your hips and pressing your body into his. You’re almost shocked when he kisses you, hard and greedy and hungry, the most aggressive he’s been this entire time. He sanitises his damn desk three times in a class, for God’s sake — you’d half expected him to hand you a toothbrush when you stood from the floor.

And yet, he’s kissing you breathless, and his hands are tangled in your hair, and his body is pressed so close to yours that you can barely tell where you end and he begins. “Thank you,” he mutters against your lips. “That was incredible. You’re incredible. You’ve gotta let me— Come here, sit,” he says, guiding you to sit on his desk. You balance between scattered papers, an uncapped pen bleeding a black stain into your skirt. 

“Let you do what, Doctor?” you say, quiet and breathy, gazing up at Spencer with wide, adoring eyes.

Spencer smiles, and something warms in your chest at the sight. Long, delicate fingers trace along your thigh, push up your skirt until your panties are on full display. “Pretty,” he remarks, maddeningly casual. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Of course, sir. I don’t dress up for boys anymore.” You swallow, bite your lip. You decide to lay it on a little thicker. “See, I need a man.”

“Is that so?” Spencer murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Your heartbeat quickens, excitement throbbing between your legs as he drags them down. “Look at you, sweet girl. So wet. Is that all from sucking my dick?” he teases, and you shudder.

You don’t know where the sudden obscenity, sudden dominance came from, but it thrills you all the same. “Mhmm,” you murmur. “What are you gonna do about it?” Smirking, Spencer picks up your panties, lets them dangle from his fingertips, red lace starkly incongruous from the calm, studious background of his office.

After a beat, his grin turns wicked and he tucks them into his pocket. “Safekeeping,” he says, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. The movement is so tender that it stops you in your tracks, a shimmering thread of something more than simple desire stringing between you. His eyes glitter, and you know he feels it too. Then, long fingers start to work at the buttons of your blouse. “I want to see all of you,” Spencer says, bending his head to kiss your lace-clad breast as your shirt falls open.

His hand skates up your thigh, oh-so close to where you need it. “Please,” you breathe. “Please, sir. I need you.” Spencer draws his hand away and you whine pathetically, your bare thighs suddenly impossibly cold.

“Be patient, sweet girl,” he says, low and almost dangerous. A thrill skitters up your spine as he sinks to his knees, gazing intently at your dripping wet core. “Beautiful,” he mutters, so quietly you don’t even think he’s talking to you. His hands slide up to your thighs again, spreading them apart gently. “Are you gonna let me taste you, beautiful?”

You nod frantically, cunt fluttering at his words. He kisses the inside of your knee, works his way down your thigh. A brief, bright spark of pain flickers through you as Spencer sucks a bruise into your skin and you moan. A rush of incredibly gratifying heat washes over you when you realise he’s marking you; a hidden little secret lying just beneath your polished exterior. Spencer won’t be able to see anything else when he looks at you. 

He pulls away from his assault on your thighs to look up at you, doe-eyed. “Tell me you want this. Please. I need to hear you say it.” You shudder, closing your thighs around his head and threading a hand into his curls so he can’t drag himself any further away.

“Spencer,” you moan. His eyes blow wide at the sound of his name from your lips. “Please. I need you,” you breathe. “Need you to make me cum, sir, please. Haven’t I been good for you? Don’t I deserve it?” You bite your lip to muffle a scream when Spencer leans in, licks a broad, flat stripe along your soaked core.

He’s methodical, at first, and you know somehow that he’s carefully cataloguing your responses. His tongue flicks over your clit, slow at first and then faster, pressure mounting between your thighs. Spencer moans into you, shifts his hips, and you realise: he’s getting off on this. A jolt of arousal so strong you literally pulse against his mouth rips through you, and you feel his lips curve into a smirk.

Big, soft hands dig hard into your thighs, pulling you flush against him like he could bury himself in you. “You taste so good, baby,” he whines, pressing his tongue flat against your hole as you grind your hips forward. Pleasure curls under your skin, swelling and pressing against your organs, crowding your mind until you can’t think, can’t feel anything but him. Your toes curl in your shoes, stomach clenching as your orgasm builds and builds. Breaking away, Spencer presses tender little kisses to your inner thighs, licks soothingly over his bite mark. 

Just as you’re starting to whine at the loss, he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Sudden, electric ecstasy shoots through your body when he sucks on your sensitive nerves and it’s all you can do not to scream his name for the entire campus to hear. “Oh, fuck,” you whine instead, rocking your hips in a frantic, desperate rhythm. “M’so close, sir, please— You gotta let me— fuck!” you gasp, cunt clenching as he slides two fingers into you. You’re so wet that it’s easy, a slick slide as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Look how well you take me,” he says, staring openly at the point his fingers disappear into your body, your greedy cunt parted around them as wet, obscene noises fill the room. He kisses your clit softly and your legs kick out. “You’re gonna look so pretty taking my dick, hm?”

Your mind goes blank, pleasure thudding sickly in your throat, humming in your ears. “I want it,” you whine. “God, I want you to fucking— mmm— bend me over this desk ‘n— fuck— make me all stupid for you. Oh, God, Spencer, m’so close!” you cry, tugging at his hair and writhing helplessly.

“Go on, pretty girl,” Spencer says, softly urging. “Cum for me.” He pumps his fingers, licks at your clit, gently coaxes you over the edge. Your hands white-knuckle the edge of the desk as pure pleasure washes over you. Your body slumps, weak and powerless against the weight of your orgasm ripping through you. Spencer doesn’t let up, smiling into you as you write above him, murmuring soft praises that fade into a low buzz against your pulse hammering in your ears.

Spencer’s lips and chin glisten with your arousal, still kneeling between your legs as you struggle back to your body. “That was… Shit, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand,” you giggle, testing your weight as you shuffle off his desk. Spencer leans down to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips is dizzying. Pouting, you glance up at the clock hanging over his door. “I have class.”

As much as he wants to, Spencer won’t tell you to cut class, and you both know it. “Would you like to, uh…” He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, and just like that, he’s back to the sweet, nervous academic you’re used to. “Continue this discussion later? I’ll— I’ll be here all day.”

Your lips stretch wide in a saccharine smile as you slowly button your shirt. “Why, Doctor Reid, are you asking me to meet you after hours? How scandalous,” you giggle, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss against his lips. “I’ll be back at six.”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Shenhe, Clorinde, Dehya and Noelle with S/N hugging them tightly.

(Genshin Impact) Shenhe, Clorinde, Dehya, Noelle, and Chiori's S/O hugging them tightly

Strong women...

Shenhe's whole body eases up the moment S/O's arms wrap around her, with them squeezing her as tightly as they can.

Her heart feels calm, yet its rapidly beating with S/O being this close to her.

Strange, yes, but far from unpleasant.

(Shenhe) "S/O?"

(S/O) "You don't mind me staying like this for a little bit, do you?"

(Shenhe) "I don't."

Shenhe returns the embrace by holding S/O closer.

Though of course she doesn't use her all her strength despite the fact she wants to return as much loving attention.

Because doing so would cause S/O's spine to bend at a 90 degree angle all of a sudden.

Clorinde goes stiff for a moment before exhaling, a small smile forming on her lips alongside a blush.

(Clorinde) "I take it you have missed me?"

(S/O) "Mmm...maybe just a little."

Their teasing tone betrayed their thoughts, as if the pressure around her stomach wasn't any indication either.

But Clorinde had no objection, doubly so since they were in private.

She leans back into their hold, a soft chuckle escaping her.

(Clorinde) "Then I am all yours for the night, S/O."

One hand reaches upward to their arm, gently holding their waist as she takes a deep breath, now fully relaxing.

And with one last gesture before sitting next to them, Clorinde kisses the top of their fingers, holding their hand as if it were made of glass.

Dehya is slightly startled but it doesn't take her long to immediately turn around and give a fierce hug back.

Her laughter was loud, quickly joined in by S/O.

(Dehya) "S/O! Geez, could've said hi first!"

(S/O) "Where's the fun in that?"

With a cheeky smile, Dehya lifts S/O off the ground as she gives them an even tighter hug than the one they were giving her.

S/O's breath hitched for a moment as it was almost crushed out of them, but Dehya put them back on the ground, her arms crossing in front of her chest.

(Dehya) "Dinner on me? Just got paid a nice amount too!"

(S/O) "Sure, you gotta tell me what happened out there!"

Her smile gets even bigger as S/O walks beside her, Dehya's arm immediately seeking S/O's and wrapping it tightly around them.

(Dehya) "Alright, let's see...-"

Noelle doesn't even physically budge when S/O suddenly hugs her, but she does yelp in surprise.

(Noelle) "HUH?!...Oh, S/O! Jeez, you scared the daylights out of me!"

(S/O) "Hah, sorry, sorry!"

Noelle blushes madly as she reciprocates their hug, her head resting on their shoulder as she did so.

Unfortunately for S/O, she used her full strength and they heard a few of their bones pop from their spine.

Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen, but they could still feel the pain and could stand upright, so that was at least a good sign!

After being dazed by her affection, S/O smiles at Noelle as she did the same.

(Noelle) "Did you need me for something?"

(S/O) "I got us a table for dinner ready, and wanted to see if you were off yet!...Might also need a healer."

(Noelle) "Oh! Yes, I am nearly finished! I will have this mess sorted out in no time but...what was that last part?"

(S/O) COUGH! "A-Ah, nothing!"

Chiori raises an eyebrow but doesn't really blush or budge, instead an arm softly reaches out to their wrists, gently shoving them upwards to give her more breathing space.

(Chiori) "What's with the sudden hug?"

(S/O) "Am I not allowed to show love to my beautiful girlfriend?"

She hummed in acknowledgement, finishing the sketch on a new design.

(Chiori) "Preferably not when she needs steady hands to draw something-."

(S/O) "I can hold you and be still at the same time!"

(Chiori) "Is that right?"

Despite her tone, there is no real malice in it, even as she sighs aloud.

(Chiori) "Alright, just don't squirm too much, alright?"

If S/O could squint, there's the slightest hint of a blush on her face.

Though S/O didn't need to that to tell them she was comfortable.

The way her shoulders slumped and she subtly shifted closer to them, head leaning back onto S/O for support:

That physical shift was what made S/O happy.

And of course, Chiori too.

...As long as they didn't intentionally mess with her as she was trying to come up with something for work.

[ver0nica985]

im so squid game brainrotted been waiting for season two for years im a legenddd thanoooooos

[capn-twitchery]

crucial twitch design feature. what are they feeling? are they even listening? are they going to attack you? who knows! :3 :3

also doubles as a reminder to myself to stop mentioning twitch's expressions in writing when literally nobody can see them-

[bloos-bloo]

HELLOOO!! I HAVE RETURNED- ANDDD Idk how to do lineups- please- this is a new type of embarrassing for me lmaooo-

BUT HEY! BISHOP REDESIGNS PART…. 3! YIPPEEE-

I didn’t change much lore wise- so the original sheet still has some info- but I will be info dumping under the cut with the individual art of each and like- my inspirations for them.

Narinder changed a lot- ummm he’s such a slay now. Omggg- Tee hee- Anyways, His pronouns are He/Him and he’s Pansexual- yes yes. He’s no longer a disciple but he’s an Undertaker and a GraveWatcher. Thought it was more fitting for him-

Ummm he’s based off a Kurilian Bobtail cat :D I NEEDED TO MAKE HIM FUN TO DRAW OKKK?? AND NOW HE ISSS AKDBDJDBJD

Leshy uses He/Him pronouns and he’s gay demisexual Yaaayyy- :D He’s a bartender and occasionally farms, but he rather destroy the plots for fun or eat the crops.

I kinda took all kinds of inspirations for him- ummm first of all- I based him off the Moss Creeps from hollow knight- cause yeah- they’re adorable. HE HAS LESS CLOTHING CAUSE HES ALWAYS IN THE DIRT- Less clothes = Less of a hassle to deal with clothing being restrictive. It makes totallyyy sense- yes yes

Me accidentally making Heket my favorite- tee hee- WIBDKDBD OK- Heket uses She/Her pronouns and she’s aroace. She has no time for no MAN OR WOMAN- AS SHE SHOULD!! GIRLBOSS YOUR WAY THROUGH LIFE!! YIPPPEEEE- She’s usually a cook but once a while she’ll go on missions. Give her a weapon of any kind and she’s golden.

For the life of me- I cannot draw frogs- so I based her off of the Chinese Giant Salmander- just pretend she’s totally based off a frog.

Imma be so honest- idk why I always draw Kallamar so small- tee hee-

OK! Kallamar’s transfeminine who uses He/They pronouns. They’re also poly <3 love that for himmm- look at themmm- enough hands to holddd- A good think to point out is that they’re completely blind in his left eye- (looks like it’s right in this- um.. trust me-) they can never win- tee hee. Uhh he’s still a medic and occasionally helps at the tailors.

Kallamar my beloved- YOU COVERED UP!! YIPPEEE- THE SLUT DOES GET COLD /silly. Um- he’s based off a diamond squid- kinda sorta- I just loved the frills those squids had- tee hee-

MURRAAAA- MUURRAAAA-

Cough cough- ummmm. Shamura’s a demisexual nonbinary <3 (AFAB to FTN- me projecting PLEASE-) They’re still a disciple but their main focus is usually in the library or tailors. Unlike Kal- their second set of arms are retractable! Along with their legs- erm, you can tell when they don’t want to walk with those small ass feet- I bet it hurts.

I have- no solid inspiration for Shamura other than tarantula- I did steal the colored beads from my human design of them. Each bead being their sibling. I just love fluffy spiders-

FINALLY THIS BITCH- /silly

Emery uses all pronouns and is unlabeled! They love whoever- (do they even love? Idk man-) She’s normally known as the Shepard, carrying around the Shepard’s hook.. love that for them- tee hee- uhhh not much to say about her. I just love Emery- (The difference between the two Emerys is terrifying btw-)

Like Shamura- I have no official inspiration for them besides looking around Pinterest. Man- I just love how she came out though- like??? Ekdbdjbdkdbdjdvdid-

I wish I wrote more but my brain is dying- I’ll most definitely redesign my fankids and the spouses- 🫡 laaatteerrr- yes yes- tee hee-

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🍷Illicit Affairs🍷┃ Ch. 3

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

wc: ~ 3.2 k

summary: Lilia has a stressful day at work and wants nothing more than to enjoy a hot bubble bath—but she is interrupted.

*******************************************

All of Lilia’s pants had been in the washing this morning, leaving her with no other choice but to wear a pencil skirt that she didn’t dare bend over in for fear it might rip. The new concierge had been paying her enough attention today without the need for a spectacle. Who was she kidding? She would’ve laughed her pretty ass off if it would’ve happened. 

She drove home through the dense autumn fog after her shift and nearly ran into an unfortunately positioned trash can, but after a day of yelling at people to get their shit together because the hotel inspectors were bound to show up any day now as they did every year, she didn’t have an ounce of energy left to work herself up about it. Her scalp ached from a day of wearing her hair tightly pinned up, even now that she’d tugged it loose. 

In her driveway, she left the car without her parka but regretted it as soon as she'd stepped out. She was plucking the house keys from her bag when the front door opened. Alice came out with her hair curled and a tinge of scarlet on her lips that matched the ends of her fringe—a highly unusual sight. 

"Mh, where are you going?" Lilia sang. 

"Just Stephen's."

"Stephen." She weighed the name on her tongue. "He has a name. So it's serious."

"Well, we've had a few nice dates, and he's—he's a good guy, mamma, I promise. Even mom said so, and she—"

The house key dug into her palm as she clenched her fist around it. "Lorna has met him?"

“He was in the area, and—and you don’t like men.”

She huffed, blinking the ache away, swallowing, and nodded. While she might not have the same interest in men that Lorna did, she would have hoped Alice knew she would never mock her for dating one. Didn't she know that she loved her no matter what?

Alice sighed, a breath heavy with guilt. “Are you mad, mamma?”

“No.” She stepped closer and fixed Alice's lipstick with the edge of her red nail, holding her face between thumb and index finger. The smile didn't reach her eyes. “Just sad.”

Alice pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight, squishing her cheek against Lilia's as she'd done since she was a little girl. Lilia put her hand on the back of her head and felt the hurt in her chest melt away. Even when she drew away, Alice kept her arms looped around her neck, and Lilia put her hands on them, rubbing her thumbs in crescents. "You look beautiful, piccinia. Bellissima."

"Thanks." Alice smiled and let go of her. "I'm off now." She kissed Lilia's cheek. "Don't wait up for me."

She set about to leave, but Lilia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait. Have you heard from my docezza? She left so suddenly after the concert—"

"She cancelled band practice this week. Not sure what's going on, but I'll give her a call tomorrow."

Lilia took the information in, but it did nothing to quell her worries. Her mind went spinning with possibilities of what could've happened. "Va bene. Have fun, my love." 

"Bye, mamma."

She ran off with a wave, and Lilia looked after her for a moment before going inside. It was quiet. Her house was hardly ever quiet. Having Alice live with her again after the divorce had ensured it stayed that way, but now she was once again leaving the nest. When Alice had first left for college, it had thrown her into a midlife crisis that had led to her ripping the tapestry off the walls one night and then renovating the whole house. This time, she was developing a crush on the sinfully much younger best friend of her daughter.

She tossed everything aside—her bag, her coat, her shoes—and went to the bathroom to open the tap and draw herself a hot bath. Letting the water run, she headed for the bedroom to fetch her bathrobe, reading glasses, and the copy of Wicked Witch on her nightstand. While she was at it, she let her clothes pool at her feet and stood naked in front of the floor-length mirror. 

-> continue

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Bill Dickey - Comic & Ego Extraordinaire

Welcome to the club, why not meet the president?

William “Bill” Alan Dickey [04/13/80] | [5'11.5 (that .5 is real Important*)] Secretary of Comics | President of the Eltingville Club AOL / Online Users: [greedo318] | [DarkxKnightx] Theme Songs: What’s My Age Again? - blink-182 | My Own Worst Enemy - Lit | Brutal - Negative 25 Favorite Shit: Stan Lee, The X-Men, Complete Runs, Signed Editions, The Joker, Emma Frost, The Batman, Alternate Earths, Variant Covers, Crossovers, Torrent Sites, Action Figures, Statues/Busts, Alex Ross, Bondage Covers, First Printings, Continuity, Cosplay Chicks, “Headlights”.

In the ripe year of 1999, Bill Dickey couldn't be any more... Tired? Annoyed? A lonely piece o' sh-- But that's fine, everything is fine, right guys? .... Guys? The fact he's managed to keep the club together is baffling at best (and all thanks to Jerry, and May.. er.. Mr. Osewai, actually), and completely unbelievable at worst, but he's still got his friends (kind of) and they still like him (eh..) He's a nice guy, honest, just.. don't turn on your brain.

Variants Under the Cut--

Oh Captain, My Captain

His @ greedo318 account got banned essentially in the first two weeks of him getting it on Messenger about a year back, as May and Pete helped Josh essentially spam report it when he started to harass Josh there too. Hence the new name that he actually uses.

Mrs. Dickey is still trying to force him to get a job, and while he has applied, he flops any and every interview he lands with his stupid need to be the loudest asshole in the room.

This man's ego is absolutely the size of the sun, it's almost immeasurable I assure you, HOWEVER--

Show him some ⋆｡°✩spunk~✮⋆˙ show him you bark back just as harsh as him and he *might* just keep you around.

Someone please just get him a better acne face wash and a steady form of income that isn't his mother's paychecks bro please for the love of god--

He was actually one of the first in the group to get a car, but he never has money for gas so he like never drives it. It was a "gift from dad" according to his mom, but he doesn't believe her for a minute. (He's convinced she bought it for him to get him to move out.)

His mom watches Titanic every year on his birthday after 1997 and he HATES it to the point he has threatened to disconnect the breaker if she kept playing it at full volume.

He is still convinced that he has a shot with May (Despite her telling him repeatedly no) and is INSISTENT about it like a possessive little weirdo (news flash, he doesn't but he's delusional so it's fine)

^^ This absolutely pisses Pete off but he can't say shit cause he's a baby that won't ask her out so--

The night of the Destruction of Joe's Fantasy World, Mr. Osewai had tried to stop in and pick something up for May when he walked in on.. well, Dickey on fire. His paternal instincts kicked in and managed to help the kids and smooth some things over with the families (and.. may or may not have threatened to rip out Joe's tongue but like it's fine).

Dickey has a strong sense of gratitude for the guy, even if he expresses it in the WEIRDEST ways, 'cause at the end of the day the guy kind of saved his only group of friends from his own bullshit.

When he does eventually land a job, it's essentially a generic gas station attendant, but they let him read his comics on the job when he has to work nights so that's a plus?

Guh guys I hate this man so much can someone please explain why I have so much fun drawing him please please please--

also... this somethin' y'all want?

[treatbuckywkisses]

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 💚

[zeldalizzy]

I noticed you said that you're into both LU and LOTR... have you considered how those characters might interact? 👀 /curious /nf

- hero-of-the-wolf

Ooooo, ok ok actually yes i have!! Someone also requested a drawing of the Chain as the Fellowship so that may or may not be coming soon also! ;)

Anyway, in terms of how they would interact, hm. I think that each Link would kinda latch onto a member of the Fellowship that they most resemble, and kinda stick to them, but i think both groups would be chummy, and i mean, the pure defensive and offensive power of the Chain and the Fellowship combined would be immense.

In terms of similarities, here's kinda how i think of it:

Gandalf and Time: both are leaders, both are ridiculously powerful but don't use all their powers, both are kind, cryptic, and self-sacrificial, and have a soft spot for the little ones

Aragorn and Twilight: horse girls, but also natural born leaders, kinda mysterious, VERY protective, strong warriors, and extremely noble. Also they were both raised by a different people group (aragorn was half-human half-elf, raised by elves, twilight is hylian, raised by ordonians)

Boromir and Warriors: yeah so... this one is kinda just vibes. idek why, but would Warriors take three arrows or more to save one of his brothers? Absolutely. Also, Boromir is a Captain (Captain of the White Tower) and Wars is too, so they would relate on many levels there about taking armies to war and what not. Also... yeah... sorry Wars, of all the ppl to try to steal the ring it would be you. So sorry. And then he'd feel horrible about it and probably cry.

Legolas and Wild: long-eared archers with long, blonde hair. nothing more needs to be said here.

Gimli and Four: ok, hear me out on this one. Four is a blacksmith. He would have SO much respect for dwarves in their weapons and in their smithing skills in mining and making armor. He would probably just see shorter guy with a beard and latch on immediately because of his grandfather too. And both are a little embarrassed about being short and would NEVER want to be tossed unless absolutely necessary. Gimli would also be very impressed by Four's skills and have a lot to teach him too!

Sam and Sky: also vibes for this one. Sure Wild might be the Cook, but no one is as kind-hearted, loyal, over-protective, and compassionate as Sky and Samwise. Both have special ladies too, and Sky would 100% no hesitation carry one of his brothers up a massive exploding volcano if need be. Both soft, huggable, but not to be underestimated on the battle field.

Frodo and Hyrule: the burdens, my friends. the burdens. Frodo has to carry the cursed ring, Hyrule has to carry his cursed blood (as seen in Adventure of Link). Both are a bit shy, but very brave and loyal (we talkin' book Frodo here) and both have to go through a ton, kinda on their own. they are also both polite and selfless and have pure hearts that help them to resist the evil thrust upon them.

Legend and Merry: the trouble and disasters these two would get into, my goodness gracious. Legend may be a bit prickly around the edges, but he's also a prankster (Entrance), similarly to Merry. However, both of them have good hearts despite how they present themselves as tricksters. They are both loyal brothers who are extremely brave and adventurous.

Pippin and Wind: mostly just personality for this one. fun, childlike energy, brave, and sometimes make rash decisions. but also kind, lighthearted, and loyal. both are the youngest so they both have to deal with over-protectiveness from the other members of their group. they are both also dangerously curious, and likely to get up to mischief if one does not keep an eye on them...

Well, that was a total whirlwind, sorry for ranting!!! but I hope that answered your question!! Thanks so much for your ask, @hero-of-the-wolf!! i hope you are doing well! nice to meet a fellow LU and LOTR fan!! 🩵

[ethobslabbin]

thought it would be fun to put together a bingo card for the upcoming S6 playoffs!! very much an outsider looking in when it comes to mcsr but hopefully this is at least kind of balanced lmao

(sorry for crunchy quality im too lazy to fix it)

more details on the refrences/how i plan to judge each square below the cut:

hackingnoises boat craft(tm): will count any miscraft made by hax but bonus points if its actually a boat. this is a reference to how much hackingnoises has struggled to accurately craft his items especially last playoffs. for an example, watch the first fulham analysis from his finals against doog

scariest opponent selected early: the season 5 and 6 playoffs are structured so that runners with higher seeds get to select who out of 4 lower seeded runners they want to play. will count if anyone makes a +100 aura pick. last season bigbigmongey chose to play silverrruns (ranked season 1 winner) during round 2, shocking literally everyone. it was based as fuck. (he then lost 0-3)

feinberg strays: will only count if casters audibly/visibly react to the number of strays feinberg gets. this is a refrence to feinberg often getting incredibly lucky with the stray blazes that spawn in his fortresses. strays can greatly increase how fast a runner can get all their rods, and are one of the only things not standardized between runners in ranked.

LCQ player wins set: LCQ player is in refrence to the 4 runners that made it through the last chance qualifier. they are typically seen as underdogs, and an LCQ runner beating an auto-qualified player in a best-of-5 is pretty rare. last playoffs none of the LCQ players made it past the round of 16.

ALERT: will only count if fulham circles something and then draws an arrow towards it during an analysis segment. this is a refrence to the ALERT emote, which is of a flashing red circle with a red arrow pointing towards it. fulham uses a drawing tablet to underline and emphasize his analyses.

muted: will count if feinberg, nerdi, or fulham speak without realizing they are muted at any point during playoffs.

rowl luck: will count if 7rowl gets extremely unlucky OR his opponent gets extremely lucky during their match

runner misses stronghold: will only count if the runner completely whiffs. getting caved/hitting but needing to dig down or up to actually hit starter will not count

HBG vs HBG: feinberg, dandannyboy, silverruns, and doogile are all members of HBG. will count if any combination of these four face each other during playoffs.

repeat winner: will count if any previous playoffs winner wins again

new player introduction video: will count if a player who has not given an interview for playoffs before gives one. feinberg doesn't count.

[novasolstarr]

Man..

I have the most overwhelming urge to draw so much Eyefest n Sebastian things today what the fuck

I love this stupid duo so much, and I need to spread the platonic close friends relationship between them so much more UGHHH

I also really wanna delve more into how I view Sebastian n Painter's relationship more cause that's another can of worms that I think would be fun to explore and share hmmm..

[guhbwuh]

hello! this might be an odd question but how do you stay motivated? is your art just really old and you upload it whenever? because to me, it feels almost like you’re drawing all the time with how often you post, and i’m just curious how you don’t get incredibly burnt out from all of that.

sorry if this is incorrectly worded or difficult to understand, i’m not sure how to properly ask this question.

HIII not odd at all, ive been posting super frequently recently so i get it😭 i think it comes down to a few situational things for the most part.

i'm neck deep drowning in one of the largest hyperfixes ive had in years (haha this is the biggest reason, probably!)

when i have free days (like today) i can just work away at art because for me, its strictly done as a hobby, and if i have small slots of free time drawing is on the same level for me as say... working out or gaming for a bit. i have fun with them all i just need to choose which haha 😭

if im posting chibis, they can be done pretty quick on my end and i do them in groups on one big canvas so its really just a bunch of little simple things

i work fast and im never really hung up on perfecting details in my work, i move between parts of my drawings frequently to prevent getting stuck on one bit

another big thing is kinda.. just listening to my brain. i know pretty well what i can handle. if i can't draw, i wont force it. if i can, i wont push past what i have the capacity for!

sorry, this isnt really helpful as pretty much everything can just be "because ADHD"d 😭😭😭😭

[tf2heritageposts]

So, there’s been a big buzz about Team Fortress 2 after the prodigal son of Comic 7 came to us, and ya wanna know what the buzz is about, hm? this post will be a guide to the basics of getting into tf2, and becoming more familiar with the fandom, from a dude who's been in it for bout fourish years

INTRO

Well, to start things off, TF2 is a game created by Valve in 2007, aka the creators of the video game marketplace Steam and the extremely popular video games Half-life and Portal. There are also some theories that they all exist in the same universe, but this only is canon to HL and Portal some people will say it also contains tf2 but ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The video game is free on Steam, that is with a massive asterisk as it does contain in-game purchases with real money,for  which you have to purchase a pass at 2 dollars to be able to talk in game or use voice commands. Valve says this is to protect against bots but the bot problem has been over for months and it still hasn’t been solved so what are ya gonna do? For much cheaper, you can go into the mann co store in game and purchase a vitasaw for .22 cents and viola you can talk now!

Something to note is that you do not need to play the game to engage with the fandom. I’ve been running a semi-popular TF2 gimmick blog for almost three years now and I’ve noted that maybe 20-30% of the fandom has never touched the game or even has steam. All of the fancy lore is purely supplemental material found outside of the game through comics, and you could easily just watch videos containing all of the voice lines if you truly wanted to know what the men you were drawing and writing sounded like. 

THE ACTUAL GAME

Regardless, TF2 itself is a first-person shooter with game modes such as payload, king of the hill/control points, and capture the flag if you’re feeling spicy. If you’ve played overwatch, this is that but it won’t trigger epilepsy by playing it. There's also alterate gamemodes such as payload race where both teams are trying to get a payload to the other side, medieval mode where basically any guns are banned and you are slapping people with swords and fish, as well as pass time which nobody plays but has an extremely obscure and complicated achievement attached to it.

There are also community servers where there are extensively more options for playing, such as casual+ servers where the goal is creating a “better” version of the casual servers. This usually means no crits, changes to bullet spread, aka stuff most non comp players Within these community servers, there's many different gamemodes you can play, such as 10x servers where the damage weapons do gets increased 10x 100x 10000000000x etc etc. There are also “fun” servers where the server owner has put about 100 different plugins and you are just having fun non-serious times. It’s fun. 

There are way more community game modes out there for you to enjoy; such as vs Saxton Hale/freak fortress, dodgeball, prop hunt, and plenty more. Explore that community tab to your heart's desire :]

Also! TF2 has a game known as Mann vs Machine(usually called MVM) where you and six other people all kill thousands of robots who are trying to get a bomb to the other side of the map throughout multiple rounds. It’s good fucking fun man. If you want the chance for loot/an extremely rare form of a weapon if you play a map enough, it’s 72 cents per ticket…….but if you don’t care and just want mindless fun, go boot camp and play for free. Boot camp also has way more maps, and often has charity drives hosted by the community where you can earn a neat little badge.

The game also has an extensive player player-driven economy, but unless anyone asks for a post with the basics since I know more about the economy than I’d like, I’ll just say you don’t need to worry about it. lollichop stocks

THE VIDEOS

Now, for the part, most people know about TF2, aka the Meet the Team series of videos. These are a series of 1-3 minute videos on the Valve YouTube channel that introduce the mercs through a consistently inconsistent format. A few of the videos are formatted like an actual interview with the mercs, while others are formatted more like mini TV shows. They’re all wonderfully entertaining and the source of multiple extremely popular memes, meaning even if you don’t know it you’ve been exposed to the videos before. Most famously, it’s the source of the “professionals have standards” image as well as “he could be any one of us”.  It’ll take you around 15 minutes to binge all of the videos. Even if you aren’t interested in getting TF2, I’d heavily recommend watching the videos due to how funny they are, plus genuinely good-looking 3d animation. The link is right here

There’s also Expiration Date, aka the pilot of the canned TF2 adult swim show. It’s also up on the valve’s channel and is around 15 minutes. It is probably one of the best things Valve has made for TF2, as well as being probably one of the most quoted shit on this godforsaken internet. It’s where the “dear god, there’s more” meme is from. Watch it. Right now. it's only like 15 minutes, what else are you doing with your time?

THE COMICS

This is where all that juicy lore is. Over the last 17 years, the valve has released free comics to go along with the major updates of TF2, as well as a main series of comics called “mann co no More”. The last comic in this series, which only took about 7 years to come out, aka the length of time someone could have a child and then have that child be in elementary school, was released a few weeks ago as of writing out. 

Something to note is that while the update comics are all mostly goofy and do contain some *very important lore*, they’re not serialized and can be from anywhere within the TF2 timeline. Meanwhile, Mann Co No More is a serialized comic and is trying to be a consistent story. It’s an extremely goofy story with about 40% serious and genuinely interesting plot and 60% whatever the fuck soldier is doing at any given moment

It’s all very good fun. Fair warning though if you try to become a TF2 loremaster you will go insane. I sure as hell did. 

And now that you have all of the official stuff out of the way, it’s time for

TF2 YOUTUBERS

For your beginner in the fandom, there are three main YouTubers I would personally recommend 

Lazypurple, my personal favorite TF2 YouTuber, is most famous for his series of videos “How it FEELS to play __” where he goes over what it's like to play any given class. Except medic. He’s still working on that one. Give him time. https://www.youtube.com/@LazyPurple

Another I’d recommend is Soundsmith, most well known for his guide series on playing the soldier subclass(aka alternate game style) of troldier. And also his cosmetic stereotypes series but he doesn’t like that one these days. He also has a series of videos called “A mann’s guide to the __” where he goes over a more obscure or not very used weapon in TF2. Don’t let the title fool you, it is in no way an actual guide. As a quick warning, Soundsmith sometimes uses the R slur in his older videos. He no longer uses it but just as a warning. https://www.youtube.com/@SoundSmithTF2/videos

Finally, there’s Uncle Dane, most famous for his guides on playing Engineer in the most optimal way possible. If you want to main Engie or even have a passing thought about playing him ever, watch him. https://www.youtube.com/@UncleDane

For some other picks on favorite tf2tubers of mine:

jontohil2: https://youtube.com/c/Jontohil2 most famous for his spy psychology series and guides on playing spy

solar light: https://youtube.com/@SolarLight?feature=sharea most famous for his guides on playing the subclass demoknight and also being the best demoknight player par noneelmaxo https://youtube.com/c/elmaxoTF2 most famous for trying to manipulate the steam marketplace that one time and for his playing 100 hours series. He’s retired nowadays but his videos are still good.

and now

TF2 FAN CONTENT

Sfms: 

Source Filmmaker, AKA SFM, is a free animation software developed by Valve originally developed for use in the Meet the Team series of videos that is available for public use. The main draw to the software is the ability to make (easier) 3D animation using premade models that are either built into the software or added in through the steam workshop. Due to TF2 and various other valve properties being built into the software, TF2 is often used as placeholder models for SFM videos. But a good chunk of the SFM community are TF2 fans using it to make fancontent(the most famous ones I will get into later)

Some personal favorite SFM makers mine are:

The winglet https://youtube.com/c/tf2thewinglet most famous for winning every saxxy ever

kostamoinen https://youtube.com/@Kostamoinen?feature=sharea most famous for nothing in particular but just generally being a very good sfm maker

https://www.youtube.com/@SilentManJoe/videos most famous for animating for lythero and not being someone you should watch if you’re under 18 generally

And for some underrated picks:

Misan - https://www.youtube.com/@Misantropico

Hotpockette- https://www.youtube.com/@hotpockette/videos 

Colonel fantzipanzen- https://www.youtube.com/@ColonelFanzipantzen/videos

GMOD:

Garry’s Mod,, AKA Gmod, is a sandbox game made as a mod of half life 2. It’s not meant to be an animation software, but dude to some extensions you can download off the workshop, it can be used as a stop motion software with the ragdolls in the game. This is how people animated before SFM was a thing by the way.

GMOD is most famous for being the source of the most batshit tf2 shit you’ll ever see that also doubles as humorus body horror. TF2’s early fandom humor was based off of gmod. And before you ask, skibidi toilet is an SFM series, not gmod despite the similar humor. 

The most famous GMOD maker is stblackst, who makes some of the highest quality shit you can make in GMOD. However, he often uses the r slur and some of his videos contain some extremely uncomfortable jokes, but unfortunately that’s how it is sometimes. 

Another famous and classic gmod creator is thatgraycartoonpony, most famous for his video “Pyro Paints” that showed everyone that you CAN make pyro funny and expressive. Some of the best. 

Finally in our most famous gmod creator trinity, there’s eltorro64rus, most famous for his absolutely insane gmod videos even for gmod. He’s a classic https://youtube.com/c/Eltorro64Rus

For my personal favorite picks:

Dasmashidx- https://www.youtube.com/@DamashiDX

Crazyscoutfin- https://www.youtube.com/@CrazyScoutFIN

Alxium- https://www.youtube.com/@Alxium

Gooserious- https://www.youtube.com/@GooSerious

FAN GAMES:

Something that’s not talked about a lot for some reason!

The two main fan games I’ll discuss here are both by germanpeter on gamejolt

Overtime- https://gamejolt.com/games/overtime/255028

This one of germanpeter’s two crossover tf2 games. Here it’s a crossover of TF2 and Undertale. A legitemtnly fun experience and a good undertale fangame. Fair warning, the sprites are vaguely terrifying.

Midnight Mercenaries- https://gamejolt.com/games/midnightmercenaries/375928

Another crossover game, this one being a crossover of TF2 and Hotline Miami. One of the most fun fan games ive ever played period. Fair warning, if you know what hotline miami is like tone wise, it’s carried over here. Ending may be a bit too angsty and depressing for some people.  

Capture the Intelligence- https://gamejolt.com/games/gmod-capture-the-intelligence/850383

This one is not made by germanpeter! It’s a short horror game with heavy early 2010s gmod inspiration and is pretty goofy. I haven’t personally played it due to time, but I’ve  heard it’s good.

and now

FANDOM ESSENTIALS

Emesis Blue (and Spy’s disguise)

Emesis blue is a horror film created by the studio Fortress films that came out in 2023. It is one of the most popular sfms in the TF2 fandom ever, and is a full length movie. Seriously, it’s two hours long. I don’t wanna spoil it but I promise it’s good.

However, it’s technically a sequel to another Fortress Film SFM called spy’s disguise. This one is only 20 minutes, and much more humorous than Emesis blue. It is full of body horror though whoops! I would recommend watching it beforehand though. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MiJWNkmWfs - spy’s disguise https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0ODG8bFme0&t=4s - Emesis blue

Pootis Engage 

A sfm two part series by the wonderful ceno0 that completely changed the SFM landscape. It is so fucking well animated I can’t stress this enough. It is also extremely horny so I’d only watch if you’re of age. 

Pootis engage - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jl6lee2wyPQ&list=PLvgjnNWlcA0x_WMVzuZquKYwTFVbiBekn&index=1&t=144s&pp=iAQBPootis engage// extreme - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGJBUauU-CE&list=PLvgjnNWlcA0x_WMVzuZquKYwTFVbiBekn&index=2&t=134s&pp=iAQB

The Heavy is Dead

Aka that video we as a fandom are annoying about. A video by the wonderful gmod creator Delak, who doesn’t really do TF2 nowadays, you need to watch it. Not optional sorry

Freak Fortress:

Have you been wondering what the hell is up with those weird edgy looking versions of Tf2 characters? And why some of them consider communion to be literally eating Jesus’s flesh? 

Well, Freak Fortress is a  community of people who make videos using GMOD with community created characters called “Freaks”. You know how SPC is a community/fandom of people who make SPCS and then everyone uses SPCS in their own stories and whatnot? It’s like that. The freaks are usually mercs with specific cosmetics or alterations to their models that act as their own chracters rather than being the mercs.

The most famous ones being

Painis Cupcake - https://tf2freakshow.fandom.com/wiki/Painis_Cupcake

Christian Brutal Sniper- https://tf2freakshow.fandom.com/wiki/Christian_Brutal_Sniper

And Christian Pure Spy- https://tf2freakshow.fandom.com/wiki/Christian_Pure_Spy 

You may notice I linked wiki pages and not videos or playlists. This is due to a few reasons

CPS’s videos are all taken down and you have to watch them through archived channels now, which are pretty hard to find with youtube’s shitty search engine

So many people make different videos with just these three characters, it’s better just to look at the video section of the wiki pages and go through there

If you wanted to get into Freak Fortress, I’d reccomend finding a freak you like on the wiki and then binging all of the videos linked on their page. 

My two personal favorites: 

Soldine -  https://tf2freakshow.fandom.com/wiki/Soldine

Polish Soldier- https://tf2freakshow.fandom.com/wiki/Polish_Soldier

Lil Pootis:

A cute little kind of extremely dark at some points 2d animated series of tf2 videos by the wonderful Quazies. The series is going to be completed for good soon, but as of right now there are nine videos 

and that should be about it. if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. or if you want any gmod reccomendations. i fucking love gmod woo

[spectral-phases]

Tim Drake as Rook (and Blackbird)

I've seen posts floating around trying to suggest new names and new costumes for him, and I've seen really great designs (u/Hunkerdown_son's Gray Ghost suit) that I like a lot more than what he's gotten. (Poor kid's gone back to Robin and was feuding with Damian about who's the better Robin? Like, boy, you could be in college, you are a whole-ass adult now, god damn, can the writers let you develop). There's Cardinal, Flamebird, Redbird, every red bird there is. And like, I get it, Red Robin was one of his more iconic runs (pre-Flashpoint), his OYL costume was primarily red, he was Red Robin wearing basically a Robin costume for a little while there too.

One of the name's I've seen is Rook. And that fascinates me. I actually had a hazy image of it pop into my mind, like a terrible "got any more pixels?" JPG picture of an artbook all zoomed-in and blown out one, of what that might look like.

(Artist's recreation of the above described image)

So I made it.

(Look, I know. I know. That is not how "Rook" would be stylized for the logo, but listen, listen. Cursive k basically has a mini-R in it and I was having fun with this. Okay? I don't draw much these days and I'm not a comic artist/graphic designer. I do math for a living.) (I spent very little time on the logo for Blackbird, but you get the idea. The "R" gets twisted nicely into a "B" for Blackbird, in my opinion.)

Design choices and everything below. Very stupidly long.

Rook first because I know the color is going to be a sell.

Rook is a bird in the corvid family, with crows, so they're exceptionally smart birds. Rooks are also the name for the chess piece that can perform the trickster maneuver called castling where they trade places with the king (It's not hard to do, necessarily, just like, a 4D move compared to the normal chess moves, and not something the average person knows about). Being that he's been relegated to the "boy genius" role and he is vicious and cunning with his mind more than almost anything else (See Robin #137's "Show your face here again and we'll frame you for the kind of crimes even other hardened kills don't condone or forgive" speech, him blowing up the LoA's computers in Red Robin #8 after somehow creating a program/virus on their systems while under constant supervision, or all of Red Robin's "The Hit List" arc). (I know he's not the only one who can do or has done, things like this, but he does it a lot, is my point).

Rooks, the birds, as a symbol of death are also fascinating to connect to Tim. He's never "died" like the other Robins have, but his mantra in his introduction is basically "Batman needs a Robin." Because Batman/Bruce has been traumatized by losing his son, Jason, and is spiraling, dialing up the violence towards criminals, dialing down his ability to care whether or not he survives, destroying his interpersonal relationships in the process. Death as a symbol can mean the literal figurative death, but it also can mean the end of a phase of life, of letting something go, and moving onto a new chapter.

And that's what Bruce needed to do. He, of course, would always miss Jason, but he needed to move past the pain, move past the agony, become what Batman was supposed to be again. Tim's the one who got him there. He's the one who convinced Bruce to open that new door. Tim's the one who put the "family" in Bat-Family because Bruce sure as shit was not going to do that. Here, this post explains that a bit more eloquently.

https://www.tumblr.com/thattimdrakeguy/190044791065/would-you-consider-tim-the-heart-of-the-batfamily

Rooks, the birds, are also blue/purple in color, which I think is great for Tim. I know, I know, everyone wants him with red. I get. I really, truly, get it. But let's just...take a step back and go outside of the box a little for his color. Now, I know, not everyone keeps the same color consistently (the number of times Nightwing has just bounced between Blue and Red, for example), but there is usually a "main" color strongly associated with each member of the Bat-Family.

Nightwing gets blue, duh (and also bluebird). Red Hood gets red (and also Nightwing when he's having a shit time and also Kate Kane's Batwoman and also Damian's Redwing). Damian's Robin often gets green (though I low-key associate green with Tim's Robin more than Damian's, Tim's no longer going to be Robin here, so Damian can have it). The Signal gets yellow (and so does Cass's Batgirl/Black Bat/Orphan). Stephanie as Spoiler/Batgirl has purple (and so does Huntress and Barbara's Batgirl). And Oracle gets lime green.

We don't need any more red symbols in the family. It's already out of hand without throwing Tim in there. And out of all the siblings, he's the only one without a distinct color.

Anyway. If we dip into tertiary colors, we can fix all of that. I made a mock-up of what I mean drawing the symbols mostly by memory in a few minutes. For Huntress/Helena Bertinelli, I just used her mask.

See how Tim as Rook gets to be wedged in between Nightwing's blue and Stephanie's purple with Violet? Tim Drake is a Dick Grayson fan first, Nightwing fan second, and person a distant third, so going more blue with his scheme is a much better fit. You could come up with a name for him to be teal, but violet is better for Rook, and like he's also close to Stephanie's Spoiler/Batgirl colors and say what you will of his relationship with her, she is important to his character as friend/girlfriend/friendly-ex. And Dick went from "Red/green/yellow" to "Blue/black" so Tim can go from "Red/green/yellow/black" to "violet/black."

Oh, and it lets him get his "R" back. The one from the 90's that's just so iconic that he was literally introduced with as Robin. If we can have a million different bat symbols then we can have two different R's floating around and no one will be confused.

And anyway, with all of that in mind, and that terrible image haunting me, I decided to draw a quick reference sheet for what Rook might look like. I think I spent like 2 hours on the final version, with an hour and a half on sketches I hated/deleted. Anyway.

I had a nice dark green in here instead of sky blue and a dark purple instead of dark blue, but then I was looking at the purple/green combo and "I'm in dangered" my way out of the Joker color-combo.

Instead I decided, since he's a young person and the violet I chose was sort of blacklight-esque, then why not make him look like some kinda blacklight glowing guy. The youth these days still love that kinda stuff, right? And it ties into the themes of being a light in the dark and crime-scene stuff and all that. The colors came from how lead glass reacts under black light, and while I imagine the violet parts do show up in black light, it's the light blue parts that actually glow in blacklight.

If you want to draw this design or make up your own Rook design or tweak this design go ahead, like, for example if you wanted him to have the sharp pointy cuffs that I couldn't get to look good at all (but please tag me if you do, I wanna see it, unless you're shit-talking me. Then don't tag me.)(Shit talking means "my god, this asshole who cannot draw at all" and not "It was okay, but I thought it might be better like this/with some tweaks/more coherent colors" one I can take and the former will make me cry).

(If the notes are hard to read, they will be in text at the very bottom)

Obviously, I got a little too obsessed with the mask for my own good. I didn't want him to just have a domino mask, I liked the protectiveness of his Red Robin cowl (if not the look), and I wanted more coverage while also having his hair out because he has really good hair. So it goes around the back of his head in a band, protecting his temples and the back of his head, but nothing else for his hair to show. It is supposed to blend with his hair so we get the illusion of the cowl, but drawn by someone better/more time/shading it'd be fairly obvious up front where his hair and mask are, but less so from the back. And Tim has done the mask under a mask gag before and a self-destructing mask, so I feel like him having approximately 30-billion fail-safes to prevent it from just being pulled off of him is in-character.

And then I decided, that since Tim is Nightwing fan second, he can have a red version of the outfit named "Blackbird" for when he's feeling a little moody or feisty the same as Nightwing has the red Nightwing suit for...reasons ("We wear red in new continuities" or whatever. Why have one outfit when you can have several?). This time the colors were inspired by red cadmium glass under blacklight and the red winged blackbird.

Red Winged Blackbird's symbolically are "a sign of change and transformation. They represent the power of love and compassion, as well as the need to take action in order to make positive changes in your life. The red winged blackbird is a symbol for spiritual growth, inner strength, courage, determination and self-awareness." Which. You know. Fits Tim. And there's red. So. I feel like that's an easy sell. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I wanted to reference his OYL, Post-Crisis Red Robin (regular and data alter), and Robin (Post-Crisis/Rebirth) outfits for the design. I didn't care for much of his post-Flashpoint Red Robin outifts, adding Nomura/Kingdom Hearts zippers levels of belts to him or just being Robin with two "R"s for a symbol and bad hair. You can see the OYL in the edges of the cape and the interior of the mask. Robin, Rebirth in particular, with his elbow pads and knee pads, shoulder armor and the shape of his boots. Red Robin in the bandolier harness/belt thing he's got, but every thing on it is one of those hammer space utility belt pouches the Bats are so well known for, so he can have a bajillion of them as the "tool using" Robin. The "V" center and arm-stripe/finger-stripe combo is, obviously, reminiscent of Nightwing, and his Red Robin data alter, which is also reflected in the larger mask (though the nose is not as beak-like).

(OYL References, the dialogue in the second to last panel of the first reference is misattributed, in case you were confused as to why Tim is dissing his outfit and Dick is talking like Tim)

(Red Robin References)

(Robin References)

And obviously, I just put his "R" symbol on a circle and called it a day. Although I was clearly going off of memory instead of a direct reference, but whatever. Whatever. It fits better in a circle the way I did it. And a circle is a better buckle/clip than the oval, which was a deliberate choice. So. Anyway.

Notes (from top left to bottom right, grouped by what they're describing):

Shoulder Shot: "We're brining back his iconic 'R' from the 90's for 'Rook. (pointing to the R symbol)." "The cape can be rolled back to reveal some light shoulder armor that doesn't change his silhouette when the cape is down (pointing to his shoulder armor and the rolled back cape that is reminiscent of his over the shoulder "black with yellow" capes)." "Feather pattern that emulates Nightwing's arm/fingerstripes (pointing to the side of his arm)." "His elbow pads have the same shape as his kneepads for the skaterboy vibe. (pointing to the pads over his arms and knees)."

Sketch of harness: "Bandolier harness hides under the cape that clips into his insignia (pointing to the symbol in the center)." "Each space is a pouch (pointing to every area between the pointed ridges (which are hollow tubes with screw caps that can also hold things for maximum hammerspace))."

The detailed shot of the mask: "The face mask is partial emotive with white lenses that have thermal and night-vision (next to the white eyes)." "The foil layer of the mask can peel off unless actively held when the mask is lifted, and cling to his skin with a static charge that makes it almost impossible to peel from his skin (pointing to the teal circuit bit that is lifted from the pointy bit of the mask (the circuits are water/sweat proof, don't worry))." "There are dozens of magnetic locks that have to hit in the right on/off pattern to life all layers of the mask. Each finger in his gloves can have an active magnetic charge, so there are over a thousand combinations (pointing to the foil layer and the inside of the mask)."

The sketches of the mask lowered and raised: "The back of the mask is made of interlocking combs that seal together with metal locks to avoid it coming off unintended (pointing to the back of the raised mask)." "Durable, flexible rubber-like material (pointing to the sides of the mask, back, and the expanding fan like section that allows it to raise while still being one-piece and the top of the mask that would roll against his forehead)." "The mask can be lifted up when the locks are undone (pointing to the raised and lowered mask and the expanding accordion like structure)."

The sketch of a side profile of his head with his bangs and face half there: "Where does the mask end and his hair begin? Like Kujo Jotaro's cap, the world may never know (pointing to the back of his head where the black mask and black hair would blend together)." "The back of the mask combs through his hair and the top layers of his hair cover it (providing an actual answer)." "The nose of the mask has padding that protects his nose from breaks and conceals the shape of his nose and cheeks (next to his nose, which is half covered by the mask)."

[kj-beastboy]

HAII lulu here first (srry i js spammed ur account i needed to show my luv) ALSO IM SO INLOVE WITH UR ART OMG, ur art lit brought me back to the fandom again ugh the way u draw wifey flug js hits so hard and ur colors rlly blow me away if i could have ur art as my wallpaper on everything i would (im already doing teehee) ALSO agh srry for any gore on my account i didnt realize u didnt like it! ill make 2 versions so u can see a blurred gore version

I NOTICED, HIII I'm a bit late but!!

I love to see that! I'm so happy I found your art too you're amazing!😭💗💕

but I never said I don't like gore, idk where that comes from! I just have huge trouble drawing blood myself bc I don't know what it looks like and I can't look at it irl as I faint... I have a lot of ideas bc I like Flug being the dominant and unhinged lunatic that he is in canon but I'm just not good at making anything dealing with dark or upsetting topics (and I'm a little scared of how people would interpret me as a person, I can't tell which of my ideas are cool and which are "too far". I'm too old to deal with this stuff online I'm just here to have fun)

I very openly don't like sexual violence and that's my hard boundary as there's even laws for fiction in my country that I have to follow, but gore is great to me and fully allowed!

I certainly adore your cannibal Flug so damn much🥴🩷 that is the kind of stuff I'd love to make too bc it's one of my fav secret headcanons...

here's some chubby Flug bc I might just love that one from you even more... but I can't decide... I need more of both...