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letoasai · 2 months

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Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks.

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public.

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it.

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once.

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend.

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute.

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best.

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head?

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume…

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…”

“Just Phantom is fine.”

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form.

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form.

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.”

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.”

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.”

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.”

“Not if it’s your name.”

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?”

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.”

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?”

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him.

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.”

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy.

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening.

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu.

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin.

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?”

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.”

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?”

“Yes, but not this Earth.”

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?”

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.”

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?”

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.”

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.”

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.”

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet.

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?”

“Of course.”

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?”

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal.

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…”

“Eighteen.” Tim said.

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.”

“The bridge?”

“Balance. The living and the dead.”

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.”

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples.

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.”

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.”

“Exactly.”

“The power of ruling an entire realm…”

“Exactly.”

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.”

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.”

“I’ll put them at ease then.”

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?”

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities.

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good.

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.”

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating.

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for.

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy.

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way.

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.”

“You cook?”

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.”

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.”

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.”

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared.

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.”

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.”

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.”

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation.

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad.

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask.

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit.

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return.

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.”

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.”

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.”

Tim stared, “What?”

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.”

“Yeah?”

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders.

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata.

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away.

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…”

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching.

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass.

“I gotta kill my brother…”

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first.

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down.

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added.

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.”

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #dead tired #cameo appearance by Dick Grayson #This is a date

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bombsonboard · 1 year

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the day after yesterday: chapter one

Summary: Time travel is volatile, dangerous, playing god. And then sometimes it drops you in just the right place at the perfect time. It’s a matter of perspective. You decide.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 3k

series masterlist || masterlist

Warnings: Nausea, fainting, 40s Bucky

A/N: So this is the fic i’ve been meaning to give you for a while now and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thank you all so much for waiting much longer than I expected (And let me know if you want to be added to a taglist)

“I should’ve asked you if this was safe, huh?”

“Listen, just keep communications open and I’ll guide you through it, it's a piece of cake, really.” The glass wall between yourself and a smiling Scott Lang did little to reinforce his encouragement.

“I heard you turned into a baby-”

“That- that was a test run.” His voice nervously crackles through the speaker.

“You turned into a baby?” Hope Van Dyne returns with coffees for the pair.

“I will not tell you about that later.”

Failing to shake out the tension in your muscles, you conclude that it's not tension at all but just stupid fear trying to freeze your body into place. Fear was never really a warning to you, though, more of an inconvenience to actually living an exciting life. All of the research you had done to get here, the words that flooded through your brain, underlined in red, were thrown out of the window, torn to shreds and blown up with an atom bomb.

This was diving in at the deep end, to the fullest extent. Who needed particle physics now?

Scott presses down the button for the microphone one last time “Ready?”

“Piece of cake.” You give him the least confident thumbs-up known to man.

“Launching in 3, 2, 1-”

Time travel isn’t as fun as it looks in the movies, turns out. It’s nausea-fueled, jumping out of a plane and falling upwards, sideways and inside out. Having time to process you were actually small enough to pass through atoms is out of the question, you need to focus. What were the directions he gave you again? Was it two lefts then a right, or three?

“Scott?” You speak into your wrist. “Which way am I going?”

“It’s uh- hang on, Hope-” Something is starting to go wrong, his voice begins to fizzle and snap in your ear, only able to catch “fifty” and “cake!”

“I didn’t get that, Scott?”

Only a distant crackle replies.

“Scott! This isn’t funny!”

Silence.

“Lang!”

The twisted vortex is blasting past you at a million miles a second and zero sense of navigation is precisely what you don’t need.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Plan A wasn’t happening and plans B through Z didn’t exist, a consequence of combined idiocy and confidence. So, it’s time for plan ‘I don't know what the shit I’m going to do.’ You screw your eyes shut, throw yourself into the next tunnel, and pray to anyone that could possibly hear you that the fabric of space and time could handle a singular little tear.

Well, that’s the hope.

No one tells you how much a crash landing actually sucks, one minute you’re upside down and weightless and the next, you’re face down in someone's discarded trash and aching all over, feeling like you've just been flung off the empire state. As your suit disappears in favour of casual clothes, the groan that emerges from the depths of your throat sounds like some mangled stray because as soon as you make a sound:

“Hey, is there a cat in there?”

You go still, not only did you not want to be seen so time could resume its uninterrupted passing but to be found in a dumpster? That’s just embarrassing.

“Here kitty, kitty…” The sound of a grown man making ‘pspsps’ noises makes you cringe a little, being mistaken for a scavenging cat is as demeaning as you might imagine and half of you wants to burst out and give the man the fright of his life and stern talking to. But sense kept you still.

After a bout of silence, you assume the stranger has passed on with better things to worry about than a ‘cat’ in a dumpster. Crouching in your mess, you fish out the useless earpiece and glare, as if the sheer force of irritation might magically make it work properly.

“Stupid little government issued-”

“Hey-Who’s in there?”

You freeze again, bracing your hands against the sides of the dumpster for balance.

“I’m not going to hurt you, c’mon… I’m in the forces you can trust me.”

“Convincing.” You scoff before clapping your hand over your mouth a bit too violently and losing the footing you had before.

You yelp as you land on your back, staring helplessly at the sky from the dumpster, the sun beaming in your eyes. Miraculously, shade appears over you in the form of a smiling face.

“You’re not a cat.” He pulls himself up a little further “You alright?”

The sudden concern makes you want to laugh, but a wave of time travel related nausea stops you.

“I’m fantastic, thanks.” You groan sarcastically.

“What are you doing in-”

“What year is this?” You ask quickly, rubbing your eyes as the dizziness starts to fade.

“What year?” He asks, baffled, after a pause, he answers “...It’s 1943. Must’ve hit your head real hard to forget that.”

“What.” That had woken you up. Fumbling, you grabbed onto the side of the dumpster and pulled yourself up “No, that can't be right I didn’t-”

Then you saw his face.

“I fucked up.”

Inches from your face, staring back at you was The Winter Soldier.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Right there in front of you. But, different, younger, you could’ve sworn there was a literal fucking twinkle in his eye. After a short pause, he draws his face back from your stunned expression in amused confusion and lands back down on the ground.

“You gonna get out now?”

It was a strange sensation, meeting someone you knew in the future, in the past. Well, you didn't really know him, more like you once stood in the same room. All the same, it was disorientating and your re-emerging headache wasn't helping.

Stuck, you search your brain for a way out, but you were cornered, literally “I’m gonna…”

“Look, just get out so you can sort out whatever crisis I assume you’re having” He offers up his hand and you can do nothing but stare at his flesh that wasn’t metal yet. A thousand possibilities ran through your head of what could happen if you took his hand, most of them ending with the space-time continuum collapsing. But, something was telling you it was just a hand, what harm could it do?

Tapping against the metal, he startles you into sliding your hand into his and you climb over the side, almost falling over again if it wasn't for the hesitant hand on your waist that disappears as quickly as it touched you.

The pre-war-hero looks at you, up and down. “Ma said it was gonna be a strange day.” He mumbles under his breath and sighs “Always right.”

“I’m gonna go-” You don't want to screw up any more events of the timeline so you go to make a break for it but he's a quick hand, grabbing you by the forearm.

You winced out of instinct, he was still a super soldier to you, with ninety years of breaking skulls behind him. You hated thinking about it but it was hard to see him as something else. Something before.

His brows furrow at your reaction. “M’am, do you need a hospital?”

“No!” You exclaim that would lead to even more consequences, records where there shouldn't be “No. No hospitals” You shook your head, “I’m fine anyway!”

You forced a smile and he doesn't look impressed.

“You didn't know what year it was.”

“A momentary lapse!”

“Look, I won't take you to a hospital, okay? But for my own peace of mind let me take you to my ma and she’ll check you over, and then you can call someone”

“Oh no, no I can’t,” He’s still not letting you go. “Really it’s, I’m-” The dizziness comes back like a tidal wave, you hope the ground isn’t as hard as it looks.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, sweetheart, just- ”

"Don't call me sweetheart-" Your eyes roll back and everything goes black.

The Barnes you knew of, in the present day, wouldn’t call you sweetheart, he wouldn’t call you anything. You were just the new girl, the scholar in the crowd of avengers and agents, severely under qualified to be there, your ‘my name is’ sticker might as well say ‘sore thumb’.

Scott Lang was the reason you were even allowed here, one email from him about putting the words from your papers into practice for the greater good and you were on your way. It was all a part of this new initiative in the post-blip world, ventures into time travel and what it could do for a planet that was desperately trying to piece itself back together.

It turns out, Scott had made a pretty strong case for you to be here in this room, something about giving ordinary people chances to help out. ‘Ordinary’ felt a little insulting, you had published papers on quantum mechanics, on particle theory, and Tony Stark once listened to you at a party for a good thirty seconds. But you weren’t genetically enhanced or a super spy,

and therefore classified as ‘ordinary’.

And a sudden altruistic reference from one Captain Steve Rogers meant they basically had no choice but to choose you.

Scott was busy prepping you on his ‘Very Important Rules of Time Travel’ when you saw Sergeant Barnes for the first time. You looked up, past the blackboard Scott had insisted on having and saw him there, across the military-owned aeroplane hangar that had been loaned for ‘avenger activities’. He was carrying a duffel, dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket, hands in his pockets, despite everyone in the room already knowing about his arm.

You had sworn he hadn’t seen you there but then you recall noticing his steps slightly stuttering as he glanced in your direction, Sam tugging him away before he could inspect further. It was a meaningless moment, so why was your brain nagging at you to think again?

“-Bringing home strays and you expect me to pick up after you!”

“She fainted! In my arms! I couldn’t just leave her there, she said no hospitals!”

“James Buchanan-”

“Ma, not the full name, please.”

There's a heavy sigh and the room shifts.

“You did the right thing.”

“Thank y-”

“But I’m not happy about it. You said you were going to the recruitment station.”

“I will, I just got sidetracked.”

“James-”

“I promise. This afternoon.”

“You better.”

You opened your eyes cautiously to find yourself lying on somebody's couch, the smell of home cooking greeting you kindly, your guard was reluctantly falling down as the blanket covering you slipped. Shifting and sitting up slowly, your senses whisper softly that there was no need for alarm, but then you remember who’s home this is.

If Scott ever finds out you managed to wind up in The Winter Soldier’s family home, he was probably going to strangle you, well, Scott wouldn’t but Hope definitely would. All you had to do was slip out of the back door and not touch anything-

“You’re awake.”

Bucky Barnes stands there in the doorway, a glass of water in his hands. You froze, watching as he placed it on the coffee table.

It’s a standoff, he’s scared you’ll bolt like a skittish horse if he makes the wrong move and you’re practically terrified of the implications of all of this. He speaks first.

“How’s your head?”

You hesitate, debating whether you could slip past him and make this all a funny anecdote.

“Really gave me a scare, y’know? I can make a dame swoon but that was…”

The lightness in his voice as he eases the tension down to a simmer makes you think twice for a second. If you could just lie your way out of this maybe it wouldn’t be quite so universe-ending.

“...Sorry I shouldn’t be joking. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah I am, thanks”

“You’re welcome, how’d you end up in a dumpster anyways?”

“Oh, I was…” Okay, first lie “...looking for something”

That wasn't that bad. Maybe a couple more details “...my necklace”

“Why’d you hide then, sure I coulda helped-”

“-You said you were in the forces.”

He’s caught off guard. “I, uh, will be. Was on my way to enlist when I heard you.”

“So, you’re not?”

He shakes his head “Not yet, but-”

Shit. Bucky Barnes was supposed to be in the army, he was Sergeant James Barnes. If there was any chance you had stopped him from becoming who he was supposed to be then-

“-you didn’t tell me your name actually, what is it?”

“Can I use your bathroom…please?”

“Sure, it's down the hall, on the left.”

You stood slowly, time-hurtling nausea had now been replaced by a sick sense of impending doom, and you weren’t sure which one felt worse. This day was really shaping up to be…something.

The lock slides and you have to stop yourself from screaming, reasoning with a heavy sigh that leaves you feeling no better. God, you look a mess, your reflection staring back at you in resentment and dumpster chic. Splashing your face with water and rubbing at the dirt staining your cheek, the next move forming in your head.

Number one, get out of here so you don’t cause any more disturbances, number two use your spare Pym particles to find a way home-

And, once again, shit. You tapped your back pocket, where you had kept them safe and they weren’t there. You frantically checked all of your pockets, in your shoes, had it rolled under the sink? Nope. That meant they had fallen out somewhere, probably when you landed in that dumpster.

If some raccoon had found them by now you were royally screwed. You looked to the skylight pouring light into the bathroom and debated how easy it would be to get up there. It was worth a shot. Perching yourself on the top of the toilet you reached up and flicked the latch open. It was a bit harder to open than you had expected, evidently, it wasn't used as an escape route much, but you eventually pushed it wide with a louder-than-intended groan.

The knock at the door startled you.

“You alright in there?”

It was Bucky.

“Yeah, I’m fine!”

“You sure?”

Pulling yourself up was proving a challenge, your safe footing was dwindling as you grasped at the edge of the window. With another heave, you got your elbows resting on the ledge but your feet were dangling in the air, one slip and you would-

The yelp you let out ends in Bucky bursting through the door to find you halfway through the window and clinging on for precious life. He had to hold back his laughter as you pedal in the air to get your footing back.

“You know we do have a front door you are more than welcome to use.”

“I thought I locked the door. ” You grumble.

“You think I can’t jimmy my own locks? Here-”

Bucky grabs onto your hips, swerving to miss your feet kicking him in the face. He tugs you down and you let him in your disgruntled defeat. With your feet back on solid ground and a frown on your face, he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re weird” He states “Ma’s made you soup, would be rude to leave without tasting it, c’mon” He holds the door open and watches you shuffle out of the bathroom, a little embarrassed.

The kitchen is small and cluttered, recipes littered about as well as people, a younger girl, no older than 12, and one older woman, wiping her hands down her front.

“Took this from Ma’s closet, Jimmy said you needed new clothes” The young girl placed a folded dress in your hands.

“No, I didn’t say that-”

“What's wrong with my clothes?”

“-I said her clothes were a bit…unkempt”

“Unkempt?”

“Unkempt? You said dirty. You’ve never said unkempt in your whole life”

“Becca. Shut up. And stop calling me Jimmy in front of people” Bucky drifts past his sister, leaving a kiss on the top of her head.

The Barnes household was far more chaotic than you had anticipated, to know that a man like Bucky Barnes comes from a place of such care and comfort, his hands for holding and helping before they were bound to kill.

You stare a little too long, the dress hanging from your hands, forgotten at that moment.

“You gonna sit or?”

He’s looking at you curiously, unaware of the conflict behind your eyes.

So you sit. The bowl in front of you is steaming, the smell too gorgeous to resist and the hopeful look in his mother’s eyes is a real heart twister. It tastes delicious, it's like nothing you’ve had before.

“What is this?”

“It’s soup.” Bucky shrugs next to you.

“Ciorbă rădăuțeană” His mother corrects him “It’ll make you feel better.”

And she’s right, of course. The warmth of the soup heats your very soul, settling and giving you a sense of reassurance, maybe you weren’t going to end the universe by simply being here. It was a lot for one soup to do, you suppose time travel makes you really hungry.

“It tastes amazing.” You compliment in between spoonfuls.

Bucky’s mother must’ve given him a look because he shakes his head when she smiles.

“I like her.” She shrugs.

There’s not much talking as you eat, neither of you knows where to really start, and you were grateful for it. It was a headache to even try and lie right now.

Afterwards, you slip into the bathroom, with a silent promise not to try and escape again as he watches you disappear with a hint of a smirk.

It’s a nice dress. Clearly worn many times and loved, the deep emerald color now faded to a dustier green and the skirt was a little frayed at the edges, a dark mark from where it had caught fire momentarily years ago, it was a dress that had lived. At least it would help you fit in.

Emerging after a final check, you faintly hear a new voice in the kitchen. You hesitate, the fewer people you interact with the better. Sure, it was nice to pretend you were safe for a couple of moments but now you just wanted to get back home as unscathed as possible.

“You’re not escaping again are you?” Bucky calls out.

“...No”

Okay, deep breaths, just make it a polite hello and a swift exit-

“Holy fucking shit.”

next chapter

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #bucky x y/n #bucky x Female Reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #Clara writes

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nat-20s · 3 months

Note

For the ask meme: pov?

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

MARTHA TIME BABEY!! this is set in season 3!! also this got longer than i was anticipating so uh readmore time <3

Martha knew about the (in her opinion, a bit on the nose) rosebush that resided splayed across The Doctor’s ribs, and how it didn’t used to have thorns wrapped around it. She obviously knew of and thought fondly about the caduceus snuggled to his clavicle that matched her own. (and oh, how she remembered that day, him and his confusing heartbeat and his eccentricities, including pulling down the collar of his shirt with an enthusiastic “This one is you, isn’t it!”.) She was even aware of the swirling vortex wrapped around his wrist that faded in and out, belonging to one Captain Jack Harkness. That one was..interesting, to say the least.

But The Doctor tended to stay rather bundled up. Logically speaking, it was entirely possible that he had several more marks that she would never bare witness to. She just kind of assumed otherwise, though. The Doctor hardly seemed the type to accumulate soul marks willy nilly, and even when he did, they didn’t seem like they would be all that private. Definitely not a soul mark on the upper thigh type bloke, by any means.

Then he had to go and get himself shot. Sure, she wasn’t an expert in xenobiology (yet- she had some plans), but generally speaking, large wound treatment was the same regardless of species. Step 1: get them into a position where you can accurately assess the wound, for the love of god, Doctor, stop being a baby, take off your shirt, and stay STILL. Step 2: Stop the bleeding. Luckily the shot through the shoulder had been from laser fire rather than a bullet, cauterizing the wound. Clearly meant to injure rather than kill, thank god. Step 3: If bleeding is under control, clean the wound. She didn’t have all the resources she’d like, but the Tardis did provide a fairly extensive first aid kit, including sterilizing wipes that The Doctor, uh, probably wouldn’t have a bad reaction to. Hopefully. Step 4: Make the open wound no longer open: aka bandage it up and threaten to put a cone on him if he starts messing with it.

The final step, which was really only in this specific case, was stop focusing on the wound and see a large dark spot out of the corner of her eye. Curious, and just a tad worried that there was some Other thing going on, Martha actually studies the blotch between his shoulder blades. It’s not a blotch, or a wound, or a rash, but rather the spitting image of a beetle. Oh, interesting. Clearly a soulmark, though the color is slightly faded, and she couldn’t think of who it might go to. Swallowing down just the ever so slightest twinge of jealousy over The Doctor being connected to yet another someone, she couldn’t help but ask, “So who’s this one then?”

She even threw in a slightly cheeky grin, because she genuinely was more curious than anything. Instead of direct response, of course, The Doctor only replied with a “Huh?”

“The beetle? Smack dab in the middle of your back? You know the one!”

With a scoff, The Doctor hastily puts his (first) shirt back on, and sucks in a breath through his teeth as he pulls on the brand new bandaging. “I most certainly do not know the one. I don’t have a mark on my back!”

Martha rolls her eyes at him. “Do you really not know? It’s not exactly subtle.”

The Doctor turns to face her, stares for a moment, then...sonics his own back. Apparently that does something for him, because as he squints down to the readout? he lets out a classic, “What?”

“I mean, it’s not that odd of a mark, is it? Almost terrestrial, for you.”

“No, that’s not. It’s not the mark itself, it’s, well, I don’t know who it belongs to.”

“Wait, I thought you had this sort of thing all, I dunno, cataloged out? Filed and color coded and everything.”

“Yeah, I mean, it could be her-”

Martha’s eyebrows raise and she covers up another of the littlest, ittiest, bittiest pang with a teasing, “Oh her? You’ve got a mystery woman out there? Or should I say another one?”

“No, no, no, not like that, just someone I ran into-”

“Yeah, right, someone you ‘just ran into’ is someone you have a soulmark with.”

He grimaces ever so slightly, at it’s not from that stupid shoulder of his. “Yeah, you’re right. Can’t be...Well, should be interesting to find out, anyway. Now, where were we? Trensalor, right?”

He’s dashing off to the Tardis console before she can respond, and she lets out a sigh. She knows full well this conversation isn’t getting anywhere any time soon, so might as well go with it. Privately, she hopes that whomever this mystery person is that is now written on The Doctor’s skin is decent. Maybe even someone she could get on with, ideally.

She hasn’t yet discovered the beetle wing on her back.

#replies #anon #doctor who #soulmarks au #martha jones #tenth doctor #tennant doctor #donna noble #me being a fucking genius: oh ten and donna have matching soulmarks #BUT WHAT IF ROSE AND MARTHA BOTH HAVE PARTIAL SOUL MARKS WITH DONNA!!!! SICK!!!!!!!!!!!#my fic

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indiraisbored · 10 months

Text

SPOILERS TO HELLUVA BOSS S1E8

I watched the season 1 finale of Helluva boss and uh...

Like don't get me wrong, i loved some aspect about it (The Background, The Music and the joke where blitzo literaly puked his guts out, that caught me off guard and i had a small laught about it) but as a season finale.... it's just feels very weak and it doesn't really adress anything from Episode 7, only the fact that Blitz is a bit depressed and drinks himself to an drunk state where loona has to bring him home, dedicating how upsett Blitz was from the ozzie situation.

And, can we talk about the Elephant in the room...or should i say, the BEE in the room

I am not really a big fan of the design, i like her personality (A party animal who parties hard core but cares about the people inside the Party so they don't overdose or get WAY to drunk, worse case szenario would be to make her a massive unlikable Bitch)

But...the design of her and the fact she is supposed to be Beelzebub aka the one that rules the Gluttony Ring, it doesn't really scream "Beelzebub"

Beelzebub aka Bee is more of a Fox/Wolf Girl with Fire Hair and Teene Tiny Bee wings.

Probs to them to getting KE$HA on board but... i have the feeling that it would be the only time where we see Bee as a character, consunder the legal issues the episode brought during the production and that it took rougly 2 Years to air the episode. There is no way that she will ever appear again.

Also.. imo... it doesn't really make sense to me why Vortex would be dating someone who is part of the 7 ring, like... is it that easy to rizz a demon up to date them. We saw it with fizzarollie and Asmodeus who are lovely dovely togheter and are supposed to be the counterpart of Blitz and Stolas. But Vortex and Beelzebub? Idk tbh. I don't think that the relationship would be adressed in the show ever again.

Atleast the song "Cotton Candy was a banger"

But anyway, that's all i had to say about the episode, for now. If i have time, i will rant about it the next time, bye.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss season 1 episode 8 #critisism

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altschmerzes · 7 months

Note

🌹any bit of angsty comfort from the torture fic?

oh you know it!! thank you i'm excited to share some of this :)

got uh. got A LOT of that coming up, so here's a section from shortly after they've been allowed to take mac home from medical. it's a long fic so this is gonna be a bit of a long clip sldfkj, enjoy!! gonna put it under a cut bc of, well, It Is From The Torture Fic, though he's home and nothing further bad is like. actively happening to him.

specific content warnings: a Lot of references to murdoc pulling mac's hair and the whole Pliers Situation from part 1. (also a generalized like... sense of shame and having been somehow Ruined by what happened to him.)

Jack is sitting there on the couch with him and has been since they got home, paying only nominally more attention to whatever is happening on the screen than Mac is. Most of his attention is on Mac himself, even though his eyes are on the movie. He’s got a hand on Mac’s head moving his fingers through Mac’s hair in slow strokes. The callouses on his fingertips brush Mac’s temple when he reaches the ends and starts over again.

It’s gentle and affectionate, the sort of thing that, on a good day, might make Mac blush and look away while he privately stowed the memory somewhere he’d always be able to retrieve it whenever he got to wondering if anyone had ever really loved him at all. That’s how it makes him feel when Jack touches him like this - loved. Safe, and important, and loved. Like he’s someone’s family. Someone’s son, he might even dare to allow himself to imagine sometimes.

Right now, though, it doesn’t feel like it usually does. Right now, Mac is fighting against a simmering panic that’s threatening to grow too large to tolerate the longer it continues. He knows that it’s Jack sitting beside him, knows who the hand on his head belongs to and even further knows that person is someone who would quite literally die before intentionally harming him.

Even so, the fear is strong and thick, taking over everything else until it’s all that’s left. Nausea stirs in his gut and dread hammers at the inside of his skull until Mac is certain that any moment the gentle stroking is going to turn into a vicious grip, yanking on his hair to twist his head back and around, wherever his captor wants him, because his body doesn’t belong to him and there’s nothing he can do to stop-

“Please don’t pull it,” he manages in a faint, nearly inaudible whisper when the vortex of anxious anticipation grew too strong to fight any longer and the only other option was lashing out in a desperate bid to get the man touching him to stop. The hand on his head goes very still, and Mac’s chest feels like it’s cracking into pieces. He closes his eyes and feels the hot trickle of a few tears coursing down the side of his face.

“What?” The question comes after a long beat of silence, and then Jack pulls away entirely. His hand leaves Mac’s head and Mac grieves acutely for its loss. A few more tears make it out through his squeezed-shut eyelids despite his efforts to stifle them. “Do you- Should I stop? If this is uncomfortable for you- if anything I ever do is uncomfortable for you, if it’s freaking you out, then I don’t have to-”

“No!” Mac doesn’t know where he gets the strength to say it, except that he feels like the alternative would be so much worse. “I mean, no, you don’t… You don’t have to stop, just- Don’t pull on it. Please.” The tone on please is practically begging, so close to the way he’d begged Murdoc to stop hurting him when he’d cracked and been unable to help himself, and Mac feels so ashamed of himself he might drown in it. Murdoc had laughed when he’d broken and started to plead, and it hadn’t even brought him any relief. If anything, the pliers had clamped down tighter, a thought that makes his side pulse in remembered agony.

You're not there, he tells himself, and tries to believe it. You're not there. You're with Jack and you're safe. He wouldn't do that to you.

“Okay,” is the response when it finally comes, delivered in a thick voice after a few moments of heavy silence. “I promise. I swear on my daddy’s grave, kid, I will not- I will never pull your hair.” The last part of the oath wavers, like maybe Jack was somewhere near being about to cry himself, and Mac’s throat throbs in a way that’s unrelated to the deep bruises ringing it.

So long passes with only the sound of the movie for Mac to pick up on, eyes still closed and face still turned nearly into the back of the couch, that he begins to feel strangely alone. He wishes he hadn’t said anything at all because the fear of his hair being suddenly and cruelly yanked is better than this. He would take that over the detached cold of feeling like he’s been split open and ruined so thoroughly that nobody could bear to let their skin come into contact with his when reminded of it. And then, just when he was halfway convinced that it never would, the touch returns. It’s even gentler than before and Mac’s chest hitches with something that might have been a sob of relief if it had the energy to be anything more than a slightly jagged breath. The hand brushes through his hair a few times, then Jack flattens it to the top of Mac’s head, his thumb stroking Mac’s temple.

#gav gab #gav answers #writing liveblog #fic: something to hold onto #ask box games #so much of parts 2 and 3 of this fic #part 2 in particular #is run through with like #the constant internal war between traumatic touch aversion and existing touch starvation/need for physical comfort/reassurance #and it SUUUUUCKS #but yknow #they figure out a way through it #there's a callback to this later in the chapter in a scene where mac needs help washing his hair #bc that is like the thing i'm probably more a sucker for than anything else #(hair washing scene)#and i'm just. oof boy ow ouchie

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kermit-ydafrog · 2 months

Text

So if you guys look at the poll almost everyone wants me to write the Hazbin Hotel x Teenager Y/N

Ofcourse this will be platonic since everyone in the Hazbin Hotel series is older than Reader since Reader in the story is just 16 alongside with Y/N's companions in the said series

So uh...

Here are some heads up to what are canon in my Series which is there Age and Sexuality(All of this is based from "Hazbin Hotel Wiki" some of it is made by me because not all of there Age and Sexuality is in the Wiki so if there Age or Sexuaity has this in it Cross Line it means it's more of my own canon Age and Sexuality)

And before I forget ✨SHIPS✨

(Disclaimer: If you don't like the ships in this category then don't hesitate to not read the story but if you do like some of it then just...read or not, It's your choice and it's up to you 🥰)

Anyways

So let's start...

🪫Age🔋

🏨Hazbin Hotel Staff🏨:

Charlie = 20

Vaggie = 20

Husk = 60

Niffty = 22

Angel Dust = 30

Sir Pentious = 22

Cherri Bomb = 20

✨Extra Characters✨:

Molly = 20

Arackniss = 23

Baxter = 23

Loona = 23

Blitzo = 26

Moxxie = 27

Millie = 28

Sally Mae = 26

Fizzarolli = 26

Odette = 24

Clara = 24

✨💕Oc's💕✨:

Max = 23

Nathan/Nate = 24

Henry = 24

Falisha = 21

👹7 Deadly Sins👹:

Lucifer(Pride) = Immortal

Asmodeus(Lust) = Immortal

Beelzebub(Gluttony) = Immortal

Mammon(Greed) = Immortal

Satan(Wrath) = Immortal

Leviathan(Envy) = Immortal

Belphegor(Sloth) = Immortal

😇Angels😇:

Adam = Immortal

Lute = 28

Sera = Immortal

Emily = Immortal

🔥Overlords🔥:

Stolas = Immortal

Carmilla = 37

Zestiel = 38

Alastor = 30

Rosie = 32

Vox = 30

Valentino = 33

Velvette = 32

Skull Head = 39

Frederick = 33

Bethesda = 33

Zeezi = 30

Stolas = Immortal

🏳️‍🌈Sexualities🏳️‍🌈:

🏨Hazbin Hotel Staff🏨:

Charlie = Bisexual

Vaggie = Lesbian

Husk = Pansexual

Niffty = Straight-Ally

Angel Dust = Gay

Sir Pentious = Bisexual

Cherri Bomb = Bisexual

✨Extra Characters✨:

Molly = Lesbian

Arackniss = Bisexual

Baxter = Heterosexual

Loona = Straight-Ally

Blitzo = Bisexual

Moxxie = Bisexual

Millie = Pansexual

Fizzarolli = Gay

Odette = Bisexual

Clara = Lesbian

✨💕Oc's💕✨:

Max = Gay/Non-Binary(He/She/They)

Nathan/Nate = Straight-Ally/Non-Binary(They/Them)

Henry = Straight-Ally

Falisha = Bisexual

👹7 Deadly Sins👹:

Lucifer(Pride) = Straight-Ally

Asmodeus(Lust) = Pansexual

Beelzebub(Gluttony) = Straight-Ally

Mammon(Greed) = Straight-Ally

Satan(Wrath) = Bisexual

Leviathan(Envy) = Pansexual

Belphegor(Sloth) = Asexual

😇Angel😇:

Adam = Bisexual

Lute = Straight-Ally

Sera = Heterosexual

Emily = Pansexual

🔥Overlords🔥:

Carmilla = Straight-Ally

Zestiel = Straight-Ally

Alastor = Aromantic/Asexual

Rosie = Straight-Ally

Vox = Bisexual

Valentino = Pansexual

Velvette = Bisexual

Skull Head = Straight-Ally

Frederick = Heterosexual

Bethesda = Pansexual

Zeezi = Pansexual

Stolas = Gay

💕Ships💕:

1.) Charlie x Vaggie = Chaggie

2.) Husk x None = ???

3.) Niffty x Baster = Biffty

4.) Angel Dust x Alastor = Radiodust

5.) Sir Pentious x Arackniss = Pentniss

6.) Cherri Bomb x Molly = Cherlly

7.) Loona x None = ???

8.) Blitzo x Stolas = Imp Bird

9.) Moxxie x Millie = Mixxie

10.) Lucifer(Pride) x Sally Mae = Salifer

11.) Asmodeus(Lust) x Fizzarolli = Fire Clown

12.) Beelzebub(Gluttony) x Vortex = Bee Fox

13.) Mammon(Greed) x Falisha = Green Angel

14.) Satan(Wrath) x None = ???

15.) Leviathan(Envy) x None = ???

16.) Belphegor(Sloth) x None = ???

17.) Carmilla x Zestiel = Angel Webs

18.) Rosie x Henry = TV Rose

19.) Vox x Emily = StaticHalo

20.) Valentino x None = ???

21.) Velvette x Nathan/Nate = Vate

22.) Skull Head x Lute = Golden Skull

23.) Frederick x Bethesda = Married Couple

24.) Zeezi x None = ???

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alovelyburn · 8 months

Note

Sorry to bother you! I wanted to ask you a question. In this post (https://www.tumblr.com/alovelyburn/702015278075248640/hawkfawun-alovelyburn-re-the-eventual-ending-of?source=share) you said that "...GRIFFITH has died, FEMTO the demonlord just reforms within the Vortex to start the cycle again by being the first of the next set of 5 Godhand. Because in the end you can't fight destiny, and the wheel keeps turning." How is this possible? If you could easily explain in more detail. Thank you! <3

So, one thing we know about the Godhand is that they cycle somehow - every 216 years a new one wakes up, but there's never more than five. It also seems to reset at some point, because if it were like a conveyor belt where one Godhand gets tossed off the end when a new one gets on the belt then there would have been five when Femto showed up, it's just that the oldest would then uh, retire or something. Go wherever Godhand that have served their time go. also, because when we see Void's birth there is, much like with Femto, four others + him.

So if we look at that then it seems almost certain that Void was the fifth/youngest of the previous Godhand cycle. But now he's the oldest of the current Godhand cycle.

This leads to speculation that the Godhand cycle basically works... well that way: the youngest Godhand of cycle 1 becomes the leader/oldest of cycle 2, and then the youngest of cycle 2 becomes the leader/oldest of cycle 3, etc etc.

If we accept that (a theory, obviously, but the post you refer to was all supposition anyway), then the next thought is... well that means Femto is the foundational member of the next cycle. Which makes sense because of the obvious parallels between Femto/Void and Guts/Gaiseric. So the theory I guess would be that Void was the Femto of the last cycle, and Femto is meant to go on to be the Void of the next cycle (not their names, their roles).

Now, from here it's VERY much speculation whereas the rest is pretty obviously derived from canon facts (not that it couldn't still be wrong, just saying it's more solid ground than the rest of this post).

So since Griffith was also the one reincarnated into the world, which is something that happens every 1000 years, my thought was basically, perhaps the fifth of the Godhand reincarnates into the world, and then eventually reascends to take on the metaphorical throne of the foundational member of the next cycle while their four contemporaries go off and do whatever they do. This makes sense to me because Griffith is seemingly destined to set the next age of humanity - this gets said a bunch of times, right? So under this theory, the youngest Godhand of set 1 is incarnated into the flesh, changes the world/sets it in the direction it's meant to go, and then... presumably goes back to being a Godhand and starts the Godhand cycle appropriate to the new age that they just created.

That would mean, however, that once the "human" body is gone, the Godhand goes on - otherwise Void wouldn't be there anymore (under this theory!)

Which is how I got to the end of that post - that even if Griffith's "human" body dies, it doesn't necessarily mean Femto dies. The human body is, as Griffith himself called it, a vessel - he's a Godhand inhabiting a humanish body (a Griffith-like body I daresay), not an actual human.

It also fits the themes of the series because Guts keeps fighting fate but only ever ends up moving things to where they're meant to be. So by this theory, even if Guts kills or causes the death of NeoGriffith, ultimately he has only moved fate farther along by sending Femto back to the Astral plane to start the cycle again.

At one point Miura said one of the questions of the series is whether the cycle ends with Guts or continues after the story is done, after all.

I hope this is neither confusing nor condescending, but if it is, I apologize in advance. I feel a little like I'm overexplaining, but better to explain too much than too little I guess.

#ask #anonymous #ariel talks about berserk

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give-soup-please · 2 years

Note

Hmmm idk if it's too much but I'll try not to make it complicated as much as possible.

Could I get romantic head cannons (or platonic whichever) about the narrator who meets the reader in another game. Like the assets, dialogue, objects, and characters from tsp gets transferred to another game. But in this game the narrator is the player, and he meets the reader who is his position (Or would they be more in a position like GLaDOS from portal 1? idk) And the whole point of the game is to find the reader.

(Idk sorry if it's too much Hehe)

Narrator Gets Transported to a Game Where He Has To Find The Reader

(bended the prompt slightly. Hope that's alright)

The office starts to dissolve, and the narrator begins to panic. Something in the code has changed, and he hates it. A swirling vortex appears, and chairs, filing cabinets, monitors, and stacks of papers are all absorbed. The narrator clutches onto his desk, but realizes with mounting horror that the desk is moving towards the portal as well.

He lets out a final yelp before disappearing from his world entirely.

He sees you for a few moments before his vision goes black. He takes in your casual posture, your pile of papers, the way you effortlessly rearrange his assets, and all he can think is, “This person is stunning.”

He wakes up in a new world, with no way to control what’s going to happen. You begin to narrate him, which is startling, to say the least. He’s going to find you. He needs to find you. Either to make you put him back where he belongs, or just-

Just to look at you again.

“The narrator got to his feet, and began to walk.” You say, shuffling your papers. It’s not the practiced rote of someone who’s said something hundreds of times.

The narrator really hates obeying someone else. Is this how Stanley felt? He begins to explore the boundaries of the game, trying to break through the walls and ceiling like some more ambitious players do.

He’s very inexperienced at it, having never been on this side before. He tries to run headfirst into a wall, thinking he’ll phase through, and your unscripted laugh catches him off guard. It’s lovely. If he was made of less stern stuff, he’d keep running into walls just to make you do that again.

He shakes his head. He should despise you for this, but… He doesn’t.

The narrator follows the path you’ve designed, keeping his eyes peeled for your potential location. When you aren’t narrating, he does his best to keep up a cheerful commentary of his own. Talking is his biggest reflex, especially when nervous.

“Exquisite decor. These paintings look very familiar. Suspiciously so.” He counts it as a victory every time he can hear a smile in your voice. “Yes,” you say, lightly teasing him. “I can’t say I remember exactly where I picked them up. Strange.”

It’s not completely bad, being here. Yes, he’s out of control in a semi familiar environment, and he can’t quite determine your intentions, but he has someone to talk to at least. And you don’t seem to dislike him, which definitely helps.

“You know,” he says to you at some point, “If you’re getting tired, maybe I could narrate for a while. Just to give you a break.” What an absolute liar. You chuckle and say, “Someone narrating their own story as they play it? People would think you’d gone mad. Besides, you don’t know where you’re going.” The narrator has to concede this point. He’d rather not get a bad ending if he can help it.

Your game essentially turns into a large walking simulator, and you and the narrator chat amiably about this and that. The narrator knows he should be angry and scared and demanding answers, but you’re so relaxed, and your voice is pleasant to listen to, and every time he surprises you by doing something unexpected, it’s a lot of fun.

He begins to understand things better from a player's perspective, now that he technically is one.

He finishes a few dozen loops, each with slight variations, before he finally plucks up the courage to ask, “Is there any chance I could see you?” You fall silent, having not expected this. “Uh- What?” The narrator is a little embarrassed, but he pushes on.

“You- I- It would be nice to see the person who put me here. I did, for a moment, before it went black, but it didn’t feel like enough.”

The silence stretches between the two of you, and the narrator’s heart clenches because he’s put himself out there, and he’s being rejected again. He’s about to say something passive aggressive and petulant, when you quietly say, “Are you sure?”

The narrator says nothing, and a new path opens for him to follow. He tries to practice self control and not rush, but you can tell that he’s excited to see you. You guide him up to your control room.

The two of you are facing each other at last. You take in his appearance, he takes in yours. “I think,” you say after a long moment, “The game is over now. What would you like to do next?”

The narrator has had time to become smitten with you. He’s lost track of how long the two of you have been doing this. “Anything’s fine,” He says, “As long as we do it together.”

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #headcanon #answered ask #tsp #tsp narrator x reader #narrator #stanley parable

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rust-bearer · 3 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/were--ralph/738710446832500736/you-become-infected-in-a-zombie-apocalypse-how-do

Link to a poll for reactions to getting bitten by a zombie above, and I figured I’d send it your way because it makes really good brain material for thinking about what our poor survivors might do in such a terrible situation.

I gave some simple answers for Combaticons/First Aid in a separate post but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it, if you had any. Bonus points if you’re like “character x wouldn’t do any of the above, they’d do this” etc etc honestly no wrong answers but I love the endless potential. Also, you probably already know this, but any and all characters you wanna study for this would be great, I’m down for anything. Just love your zombie au thoughts ngl.

Ok I spent a few days thinking about this one. And obviously I’m going to go with First Aid first because of course I will.

Drawing inspiration from Delphi, the infected patients pose no threat as we know. Aside from wandering around maybe, and dying. First Aid isn’t shown to be very affected by this- both literally and metaphorically. And even before he found out he was ‘immune’, he and Ambulon took on the burden of care for those infected. (Meanwhile, Pharma- KNOWING exactly how this disease worked, how it infects, how it triggers, what it does to you- hid.). It speaks a lot to how First Aid is. The same sort of, self sacrifice and care and firm badassary without meaning to.

So First Aid would logically get infected in the zombie au. If it was any sort of real life scenario. Maybe he’s a carrier for the disease actually. But, he absolutely would realize he’s infected when he’s bitten. Even if it’s a scenario where only 99% of bites lead to zombification, he would treat it as 100%. He would never risk anyone’s life for even the idea that maybe he could survive.

If he’s fast enough, I can see him severing his own limb. Otherwise, he doesn’t tell anyone. He is infected and he’s going to die, and so he quietly leaves one day under some pretense. He still has one last thing to give everyone else, and that’s hope; hope that he’s okay, and he’s alive out there, even if he’s dead and he knows he’s dead. He gives them that hope. And he goes to die alone.

Vortex never really saw much of a big deal on zombies. ‘Turning’ into one isn’t a change, in his eyes, it’s just sort of… a logical conclusion to his life, he thinks. Any life. It’s not so bad. You live forever, probably, you’re never hungry, you don’t even kill each other- only the guys you want to. And that doesn’t seem so bad. So if he’s infected, he’s the wild card that might not tell anyone, or might tell everyone. Who knows what he does.

Swindle blames someone else. He likes his family, but uh, hey, come on, him? Infected? There’s a 1% survival chance too, and he’s got all these meds stockpiled; come on, as if he’d die? You don’t really believe that, right? And he’s not even infected; it was someone else. Someone else got bitten. He wasn’t bitten, he was scratched. This even his blood. This is just a bruise. Don’t look under his sleeve.

Brawl doesn’t have much feelings of sorrow about the thing. If it was later on in the apocalypse, he’d be remorseful, and even scared. But early on, it’s just… well, that’s that then. He’ll go down fighting. He tells everyone, and then goes out and kills as many zombies as he can before he dies to.

Onslaught is also a contender for chopping off his own limb. Though, this isn’t like First Aid, who knows medicine and knows where to cut, how to cut, what to do; this is, grab a knife, and cut. Of course he’d tell the group. But only because he isn’t going to die. He’s the guy who’s not in denial, he absolutely believes he can beat this infection. The person who fights anesthesia before surgery. That kind of guy. Sort of a flipped mirror of First Aid too; where there’s life, there’s hope.

Blast Off tells a few people. Maybe only one, even. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s- he’s realistic. It’s terrifying, isn’t it? To suddenly realize your mortality. He doesn’t want to die. But maybe that’s all he can do now. He tries to hold it off, but it doesn’t work; and the group can’t decide what to do with him. He asks First Aid, in the end, to help him out. He doesn’t want to die as a zombie; he wants to die human. So Blast Off spends the last day alive with his family, shooting zombies from afar. Before he, quietly, turns in and does the same to himself. First Aid will lie and say he died in his sleep.

#first aid #zombie au #vortex #transformers #Onsalught #brawl #blast off #swindle #BIG biiig long post #many thoughts

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multifandomfanfiction · 2 years

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Two Ghosts Chapter 1

TITLE: Two Ghosts Chapter 1 PAIRING: Iceman/OC, Rooster/OC (if you squint) RATING: T CHAPTER: 1/? SUMMARY: It was just a routine training session, but it changed Noel “Mongoose” Grenier’s life forever. The legends of pilots flying through time vortexes was true, because it happened to her. Dropped into 1984 during Maverick’s Top Gun training, she must navigate keeping her secret while also completing the program…again. Will she return to her own time unscathed? Or will she lose her heart in the process?

“Good morning, aviators. This is your Captain speaking,” Maverick’s voice came through their comms, “You know the rules. Only guns, no missiles. We do not go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet.”

“That means you, Roos,” Mongoose quipped.

Rooster rolled his eyes at his wingman.

“No one bet any pushups this time,” Fanboy said.

“What’s the matter, Mickey Mouse? Didn’t you like all those pushups?” Mongoose asked.

“I know you did, Mongoose,” Hangman teased, “I caught you staring.”

“I’d rather get blown out of the sky.”

“You have! Twice!” Rooster reminded her.

“Roosie, have I told you how much I hate you?” Rooster chuckled.

“Not today, darlin’. I was afraid you’d forgotten.”

“Okay, enough chit chat. Let’s turn and burn!” Maverick said.

Mongoose anticipated Maverick’s move and shot up into the clouds.

“Mongoose! Where the hell are you going!” Hangman yelled.

Mongoose laughed. “Keep up boys!”

“Where is she?” Hangman asked Rooster.

“I don’t know. She disappeared from my radar.”

Mongoose leveled her jet out in the clouds, keeping an eye out for Maverick. The clouds started swirling around her. “Guys, anyone else seeing this weird storm?” Mongoose asked.

“What weird storm? The sky is clear,” Fanboy said.

“Where the hell are you?” Rooster asked.

“Mongoose, descend now!” Maverick ordered.

Mongoose tried to descend, but nothing happened. “My controls won’t work!”

“Where are you? I’m coming for you,” Rooster said.

“I don’t know! Rooster!”

Rooster could hear the panic in her voice. “Just hold tight, princess.”

“Ro….he…”

“Mongoose?”

There was nothing.

“Noel?”

Rooster was starting to panic.

“GOOSE!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next thing Mongoose knew, she exited the clouds and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at her radar and saw nothing. “Rooster?” she asked.

There was silence.

She looked down and saw water.

“What the fuck?”

She’d been flying over the mountains of California, not the sea.

“Hangman?”

Mongoose scanned through radio frequencies until she heard a voice.

“Uh guys, I’m picking up a plane.”

“Is it one of ours?”

Wait. She knew that voice. She’d heard it on videos at the Academy. “Admiral Kazansky?”

“Holy shit! It’s a girl,” the other voice said.

“Admiral Kazansky? That sounds good doesn’t it?” Iceman said.

Mongoose rolled her eyes.

Great. Another Hangman.

“You? An Admiral? Yeah right, Kazansky!”

“Mav?!”

Maverick’s brows furrowed.

“Of course you fucking know her,” another voice said.

She looked over and saw Maverick next to her and in his backseat was Nick “Goose” Bradshaw.

What the fuck was going on?

Suddenly there were alarms screaming at her. She let out a pathetic whimper, really wished she had Rooster and Hangman covering her.

“Eject! You’re gonna go into a tailspin and trust me, you don’t wanna hit that water in a jet.”

Mongoose laughed. “You know, I always feel so much better after we’ve talked, Mav.” She pulled the handle under the seat, but her parachute didn’t deploy.

“Shit,” Maverick cursed, “We’re gonna need the coast guard.”

Mongoose tried again and it deployed partially.

Well it was better than nothing.

The last thought Mongoose had before she hit the water was of Rooster.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Mongoose came to, her vision was blurry. All she could make out was a blonde man with a mustache and a dark headed man.

“God Roose, you are not gonna believe the dream I had…”

Her vision cleared and Goose and a younger Maverick were standing in her room.

She immediately started freaking out. “No, no. This cannot be happening. It’s not possible. Please tell me Rooster and Hangman are punking me.”

“Rooster and Hangman? Are they part of your squadron?” Maverick asked.

“They’re my wingmen. They were covering me when…”

“We’ll have a search and rescue team sent out. See if they can find anything.”

“Wait. I’m in hospital. They must have given me something. I’m hallucinating. I have to be.”

Mongoose tried to sit up and nearly cried out at the pain in her ribs.

Goose lightly pushed her back down. “Don’t try to move, darlin’. You hit the water pretty hard.”

Tears filled Mongoose’s eyes. She didn’t understand what was happening.

Where was Rooster? Why was his dad here? Why was Maverick so young?

Before she could freak out again, Maverick asked, “What’s your name?”

“Lt. Noel Genier. Callsign: Mongoose.”

Maverick laughed. “Mongoose?”

“Me and my…my squadron were at a bar and the guys got into a fight. I took four of them down on my own.”

“Like a mongoose,” Goose said.

Mongoose nodded.

“Do you know what year it is?”

Judging by the fact that she was most definitely still in Miramar and Goose was still alive...

“1984.”

“And the president?”

Shit.

She didn’t know that answer. History had never been her best subject. So she faked a headache.

Mongoose pressed her hands to her temples. “God. My head is killing me.”

Maverick gently lowered her hands and kissed her hairline. “I’ll have a nurse get you some painkillers.”

Goose stood up and patted her on the knee before leaving with Maverick.

She stared at the place where they stood.

What the fuck was going on?

Taglist: @indynerdgirl

#rooster imagines #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw imagines #pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell imagines #top gun #top gun imagines #top gun:maverick imagines #top gun: maverick

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apathetic-arsonist · 1 month

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mkay ive thought about this particular hank headcanon quite alot so now you can join me in my horror vortex vvv (long-ish post ^^")

so uh the headcanon im talking about is the fact that i fucking chopped his arm off, uhm now this raises 2 main questions

1)why cant they just re-attach it?

well if we go by the example of hanks jaw then they cant replace parts of him that are like. completely destroyed. bisected? just bring both pieces back it'll be fine! (relatively) exploded? gather up those wimble pieces in a trash bag! we'll put him back together! almost good as new!

there were no pieces of hanks jaw to get back so they can't fix it. shrimple as that!

2) what happened? this ones pretty simple and ive explained b4 so

the gist is basically yah rember when audi replaced the arm tricky ripped off in ep 11? yeah no audi didn't just do that out of kindness (of course not why would she?)

remember when audi seemly caused jeb to vomit blood in ep 8 (lets assume her watching jeb on her computer and that was related). that. but instead of affecting the lungs since it can enter through the open wound tricky created it causes like gangrene-ish effects

and im sure you know the comon. historical. treatment for gangrene.

okay yeah well if it kills them just bring him back whats the big deal?

well like basically every time wimble has died its been an external cause ( guns, explosions, swords) but infections are internal and if ya dont remove whatevers causing the internal issue then well revival wont be very effective will it?

so basically since hes got fucking gangrene squared triple antrax tuberculosis or whatever we can count that arm as being. completely destroyed. so uh. too bad so sad?

ANYWHO if ya read that thanks! i suppose. i def coulda explained that alot better but ehhhh (this has been in my mind for ages this is essentially thought vomit and will probably be completely ruined next episode but. fuck it we had fun didn't we? (well i did i dunno about you))

#IF THERE ARE HOLES IN THIS OR IM OVERLOOKING SOMETHING IM REALLY SORRY!!#hank madness combat #madness combat #madcom #hank j wimbleton #madness combat headcanons

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askthethorpeparkrides · 1 year

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(Everyone) What's you guys' favourite drinks?

- The Islanders rely on their favourite beverages to take them through the demanding task of entertaining parkgoers. Some other fun facts:

- Stealth will only drink Coca-Cola out of glass bottles. "The plastic ones just aren't as cool!"

- Colossus also likes bubble tea. Her favourite flavour is vanilla, but it's pretty uncommon in the stores, so she tends to settle for taro. She tried making it herself once, but it ended in disaster. The Lost City folks and her have wonderful tea parties every week!

- Saw is lactose intolerant, but also allergic to soy, so his go-to alternative is oat. In fact, if he can't have oat milk in his coffee for whatever reason, he'd rather just get tea.

- Xavier's drink is a whisky on the rocks with a bit of still lemonade. They're very particular about most things, and also likes to talk to the night bartender. Who knows why Derren's having a coffee at this time of night, though.....

[Image ID:

Image 1: A 4 paneled comic reading from left to right. Panel 1: Nemesis Inferno, a young woman with medium dark skin, orange eyes and brown wavy hair with orange highlights sits at a table, holding a tumbler of lemon iced tea. She rests her chin on one hand with a ponderous expression and says: "That's a good question, actually! I'm drinking lemon tea right now, even though it's out of season, but it's not my favourite. Or maybe it is? Well, I do love a good smoothie, or just juice (though not orange, yeuch) and flavoured water is nice too. I guess there's just so many that it's hard to decide. Maybe I should narrow it down by starting with drinks I don't like. Hmm..."

Panel 2: Stealth, a young Asian man with light-medium skin, bleached white hair with navy tips and dark red eyes wearing a black, white and red racing suit and a trans flag pin thrusts a glass bottle of Coca Cola towards the viewer, winking charismatically. He says: "Nothing quenches my thirst better than the refreshing taste of Coca-Cola!" A small caption at the bottom of the frame reads: "Note. Stealth is not sponsored by Coca-Cola. Please don't sue us."

Panel 3: Swarm, a young dark-skinned black person with black and grey hair braided into a coily ponytail, dark green eyes and dressed in a camo coat and black bulletproof vest, holds a can of Pepsi Max and asks Stealth: "What about Pepsi Max? That's my favourite." Stealth is turning round to give them a thumbs up and says with a friendly smile and eyes closed: "It's good!"

Panel 4: Chibi versions of Stealth and Swarm stand in front of a descending dark purple gradient. Stealth opens the bottle of Coca Cola and says: "but Coca Cola is still way better." Swarm smiles, unconvincingly, and replies: "Uh, yeah. Whatever you say, big guy." End Image 1 ID.

Image 2: a 4 paneled comic reading from left to right.

Panel 1: Colossus, a fat white woman with curly pale teal hair dressed in Ancient Greek attire, holds a fancy china teacup filled with brown tea. She smiles with her eyes closed and says: "A cup of Earl Grey is my favourite, and it's even better when my friends are at the table!" She's surrounded by a pink glow and cartoon flowers. Behind her, far in the distance, stand Quantum, an elderly Sikh man waving at her with a cup of tea in his hand, Zodiac, a red-haired white woman wearing long loose clothes and smiling, Rush, a woman with medium skin and turquoise hair in a grey dress and eating cake, and Vortex, a dark-skinned woman with deep purple hair and a starry dress who's posed and smiling at the camera.

Panel 2: Saw, a pale-skinned white man with messy, curly dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, a thick beard, dark circles under his eyes and wearing a light grey shirt with a rusted metal cage over his shoulders and ribs, is looking at the viewer and signing the BSL for latte, with his index finger to his palm. He says: "Vanilla oat latte. One shot of espresso."

Panel 3: Xavier, a dark-skinned desi masc with curly dark brown hair with lilac highlights, red-blue heterochromia and a plaster over their nose, wearing a black tank top with a light purple X on it and a scuffed black leather jacket, sits at a tabletop with a whiskey on the rocks in front of him and his hands on his chin. They look downhearted, and say: "...And yet things still aren't the same anymore. This whole zombie thing's just....not my style. It was far simpler, well....back in the 90s. Look, I know, it's cringy, the park's evolved way beyond then and everything, but it all made sense. I was x, the cyberpunk secret agent, the biggest draw, cool with the teens, and liked being me, too. And denim doesn't suit me at all. I wish I could decide my theme instead of always having to chop and change at the marketing team's whims, and........ hello? Did you catch all that?"

Panel 4: it's now clear that Xavier is sat in front of the counter of a bar. He looks to the right in annoyance at the bartender, a white person with freckles and a red ponytail in a blue button down shirt, who is not listening to him but serving Derren a coffee. Derren is a medium-skinned, slightly older man with long, brownish-red locs in a ponytail tied with a blue ribbon, dressed in an elegant red coat with silver tasseling, gloves and a stationmaster hat. The bartender says: "Soy milk cappuccino with cocoa powder and a pump of hazelnut?" A small bit of text under their speech bubble adds: "Though I thought this was a bar, not a coffee shop..." Derren grins delightedly with his eyes closed and one finger up, saying "Why thank you! Yes, that's tremendous." End ID.]

#thorpe park #humanisation #rollercoaster humanisations #thorpe park human au #alton towers #nemesis inferno #stealth #the swarm #human au #ask #x no way out #wd the ride #colossus #askthethorpeparkrides #ask answered #thank you!!

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bombsonboard · 2 years

Text

the day after yesterday (teaser)

summary: Time travel is volatile and destructive. And then sometimes it lands you in just the right place at the perfect time. Usually it’s both. You decide.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

word count: 1.3k

tags: nausea, passing out, time travel is tricky, 40s Bucky is his own warning

A/N: Hey Guys! It’s been a hot second lol. Planning on this being a full fic and this isn't even all of chapter one, but it won’t be fully out for a while as I plan to write it all and then release weekly, so hold on tight cos it’s gonna be a while. (This also is probably not the final version but u guys deserve it)

“I should’ve asked you if this was safe, huh?”

“I heard you turned into a baby-”

“That- that was a test run.” His voice nervously crackles through the speaker.

“You turned into a baby?” Hope Van Dyne returns with coffees for the pair.

“I will not tell you about that later.”

Failing to shake out the tension in your muscles, you conclude that it's not tension at all but just fear trying to freeze your body in place. Fear was never really a warning to you, though, more of an inconvenience to actually living an interesting life, at least that is what you told yourself.

All of the research you had done to get here, the words that flooded through your brain, underlined in red, were thrown out of the window, torn up and gone up with a nuclear bomb. This was diving in at the deep end, to the fullest extent. Who needed particle physics now?

Scott presses down the button for the microphone one last time “Ready?”

“Piece of cake.” You show him the least confident thumbs up known to man.

“Launching in 3, 2, 1-”

Time travel isn’t as fun as it looks in the movies, turns out. It’s nausea-fueled, jumping out of a plane and falling upwards, sideways and inside out. Having time to process you were small enough to pass through atoms was out of the question, you needed to focus. What were the directions he gave you again? Was it two lefts then a right, or three?

“Scott?” You speak into your wrist. “Which way am I going?”

“It’s uh- hang on, Hope-” Something started to go wrong, his voice began to fizzle and snap in your ear, only able to catch “fifty” and “cake!”

“I didn’t get that, Scott?”

Only a distant crackle replied.

“Scott! This isn’t funny!”

Silence

“Lang!”

The twisted vortex was blasting past you at a million miles a second and zero sense of navigation was precisely what you didn't need.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Plan A wasn’t happening and plans B through Z didn’t exist, a clear oversight on your part, so it was time for plan ‘I don't know what the shit I’m going to do.’ So, you closed your eyes, threw yourself into the next tunnel, and prayed to anyone that could possibly hear you that the fabric of space and time could handle a little mishap.

No one tells you how much crash landing actually sucks, one minute you’re upside down and weightless and the next, you’re face down in someones discarded trash and aching all over, feeling like you've just been flung off the empire state. As your suit disappears in favour of casual clothes, the groan that emerges from the depths of your throat must sound like some mangled stray because as soon as you make a sound:

“Hey, is there a cat in there?”

You go still, not only did you not want to be seen so time could resume its uninterrupted passing but to be found in a dumpster? That’s just a bit embarrassing.

“Here kitty, kitty…” The sound of a grown man making ‘pspsps’ noises makes you cringe a little, being mistaken for a cat was as demeaning as you might imagine and half of you wanted to burst out and give the man the fright of his life and stern talking to. But sense kept you still.

After a bout of silence, you assume the stranger has passed on with better things to worry about then a ‘cat’ in a dumpster. Crouching in your mess, you fish out the useless earpiece and glare, as if your irritation would force it to suddenly start working.

“Stupid little government issued-”

“Hey-Who’s in there?”

You freeze again, bracing your hands against the sides of the dumpster.

“I’m not going to hurt you, c’mon”

“Convincing” You scoff before clapping your hand over your mouth a bit too violently and losing any footing you had before.

You yelp as you land on your back, staring helplessly at the sky from the dumpster, the sun beaming in your eyes. Miraculously, shade appears over you in the form of a smiling face.

“You’re not a cat.” He pulls himself up a little further “You alright?”

The sudden concern makes you want to laugh, but a wave of nausea stops you.

“I’m fantastic, thanks” You groan.

“What are you doing in-”

“What year is this?” You ask quickly, rubbing your eyes as the dizziness starts to fade.

“What year?” He asks, baffled, after a pause, he answers “It’s 1943. You sure you’re okay?”

“What.” That had woken you up. Fumbling, you grabbed onto the side of the dumpster and pulled yourself up “No, that can't be right I didn’t-”

Then you saw his face.

“I fucked up.”

Inches from your face, staring back at you was The Winter Soldier. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Right there in front of you. But, different, younger, you could’ve sworn there was a literal fucking twinkle in his eye. After a short pause, he draws his face back from your stunned expression in amused confusion and lands back down on the ground.

“You gonna get out now?”

Stuck, you search your brain for a way out, but you were cornered, literally “I’m gonna…”

“Ma said it was gonna be a strange day.” He mumbles under his breath and sighs “Always right.”

“I’m gonna go-” You don't want to screw up any more events of the timeline so you go to make a break for it but he's a quick hand, grabbing you by the forearm.

You winced out of instinct, he was still a super soldier to you, with ninety years of breaking skulls behind him. You hated thinking it but it was hard to see him as something else. Something before.

His brows furrow at your reaction. “M’am, do you need a hospital?”

“No!” You exclaim that would lead to even more consequences, records where there shouldn't be “No. No hospitals” You shook your head, “I’m fine anyway!”

You forced a smile and he doesn't look impressed.

“You didn't know what year it was.”

“A momentary lapse!”

“Look, I won't take you to a hospital, okay? But for my own peace of mind let me take you to my ma and she’ll check you over, and then you can call someone”

“Oh no, no I can’t” He’s still not letting you go. “Really its, I’m-” The dizziness comes back like a tidal wave, you hope the ground isn’t as hard as it looks.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, sweetheart, just- ”

"Don't call me sweetheart-" Your eyes roll back and everything goes black.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #marvel imagine #bucky x reader #Clara writes

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