Time Loop - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Day 2 in the Middle School Time Loop: you remember that last time, everyone ignored you at recess because they were talking about a TV show that you hadn’t watched. This time, you lie and say you’ve seen it. They ask you who your favorite character is, and you don’t know any of the characters, and so you’re tongue-tied. They think you’re weirder than ever, or maybe a liar, which is worse (and true).
Day 3 in the Middle School Time Loop: you tell your parents that you feel ill. They let you stay home while they’re at work. You spend the whole day watching past episodes of the TV Show.
Day 4 in the Middle School Time Loop: Recess again. The same person asks you who your favorite character is. This time, you're ready. You eagerly tell them, and supplement your reasons for liking them with solid evidence from all 4 seasons of the show. But! Tough luck: you’re now too invested. The atmosphere turns uncomfortable. They go back to ignoring you like they did on the Day 1 that you didn’t know was Day 1.
Day 5 in the Middle School Time Loop:
You decide to try a different approach and update your style. You've noticed that Ashleigh, who’s blonde and constantly surrounded by friends, always wears pink stripey sneakers. You try wearing a pink dress. Someone says it’s cute, but you know from how they say it that it isn’t the good cute.
“I thought that pink was cool,” you protest, more to the uncaring universe than to anyone in particular.
Your interlocutor shrugs. “Maybe on someone else.”
Day 6 in the Middle School Time Loop: You keep your head down, but still surprise the teachers by somehow knowing the correct answers to every spontaneous question they throw out to the class. You study the outfits of your classmates more closely. You realize that it wasn’t the color, so much as the brand that made the difference. It proves the shoes were expensive. You note down Ashleigh's sneaker brand in smudgy ink on the back of your hand, and then after school you take half a year's saved-up allowance and buy a matching pair at the mall. Your mom raises her eyebrows but doesn’t stop you.
Day 7 in the Middle School Time Loop: Today you make it to lunch before anything major goes wrong. You think that the sneakers have protected you, and stare down at them lovingly, watching the Barbie-pink plastic stripes reflect the tube lights on the ceiling as you turn your feet this way and that. But then at lunch, Ashleigh comes up, arm and arm with a friend. Her eyes are a little pink, but only a little.
“Ashleigh wanted me to tell you that she’s really hurt that you copied her sneakers,” the friend informs you, nobly, as if it would be too unpleasant for Ashleigh to have to say this herself. Her mouth is solemn but her eyes are gleeful.
“I didn’t…” You start to deny it automatically, even though it’s true. And yet, something won’t let you apologize. Doesn’t she see your imitation for what it is: the most sincere compliment you know how to bestow? This is your Hail Mary.
As you meet her eyes, you realize she does know, but this only makes her despise you more.
“I think a lot of people have these sneakers,” you stammer, in the end, and they just sniff and turn away. You go back to eating your lunch alone.
Day 8 of the Middle School Time Loop: even though you do well in every class, you must be so much more stupid than your classmates, to be missing whatever detail it is that they seem to have caught. How do they do it so quickly? Before recess, before the end of homeroom, even, they all just know. You’ve had endless chances to do this day over and yet you never seem to be able to catch up with them. Running to stand still, you’ve heard your mother say, when she’s busy at work. That’s you. Running to stand still.
Day 9 of the Middle School Time Loop: you pretend to be sick again, and you realize that if you want to, you can pretend to be sick every day. It's easy to convince your parents: you look tired and unhappy, your eyes small within their dark circles, like some underground creature. You stop watching that TV Show that you never really wanted to watch in the first place, and instead dream your way through all your favourite childhood movies. Disney, Pixar, Studio Ghibli. You retreat into jewel-colored landscapes, where everyone is magical or beautiful or at least funny, and the heroes always win in the end.
Day 10 of the Middle School Time Loop: You notice that most of the Pixar heroes, the Disney princesses look more like Ashleigh than you. Long hair. Pale eyes. Button noses. And all of them, so thin.
Day 11 of the Middle School Time Loop: you go to school, but you don’t talk to anyone. You don’t even answer your name at roll call. Your teacher asks you if anything is wrong at school, or at home perhaps. You shake your head, but that evening you hear your father taking a call. You shrug off his worry: it’ll be forgotten tomorrow anyway.
Day 12 of the Middle School Time Loop: an unexpected development: your apathy almost seems to make your classmates like you more. When you say, truthfully, that you don’t care much for the TV Show that eternally dominates the recess chatter, some people look impressed. They ask you what you think is better. But you’re wise and don’t admit to liking anything. "Mysterious," someone says appreciatively.
At the end of recess, the girl who told you off for copying Ashleigh nudges you. “Hey. Look, Robert has an Up shirt. Kind of cute, that he’s still into that stuff, right?”
You know that it’s not the good cute.
You stare at her coldly. “The shirt just has a dog on it. It doesn't say he's from Up. So you must have liked the movie enough to remember him.”
She flushes scarlet, and hurries to catch up with Ashleigh, throwing you a dirty look. Robert glances at you gratefully but you don’t return his smile. He won’t remember that you did this for him. Anyway, you didn't, really. Do it for him, that is.
Day 13 of the Middle School Time Loop: You tell your parents you’re sick again. Today, you watch the second tier of Studio Ghibli movies, the ones that your parents always say, self-consciously, that you’ll find dull. Only Yesterday, Princess Kaguya, When Marnie Was There. You’re only a few minutes into Marnie when there’s a line that pulls you up short:
“In this world, there’s an invisible magic circle. There’s inside and outside. These people are inside. And I’m outside.”
The relief that washes over you is so profound that you almost cry, and then, when the movie's over, you do cry. Ugly sobs that make you sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum at the mall, that make your head pound with a dehydration headache. But behind the tears, there's relief. There it is, the truth that you were searching for, through all these do-overs. There’s an invisible magic circle. Of course there is.
But here’s the thing about circles: the inside is small. The outside is scary, and lonely, but it’s huge: huger than you could ever have imagined before you turned around and looked.
When your dad gets home, he asks if you’re feeling better. “Much,” you say, and it’s true.
Day ?? of the Middle School Time Loop: Sometimes you go to school, but ditch class and go to the library or the playground and do your own thing even if teachers yell at you. Sometimes you wander around the neighborhood. Sometimes you ask your parents crazy things, like to take you to work with them, or to the beach, or to DisneyWorld. Sometimes they say no. A surprising amount of times, they say yes. You wonder if maybe they’re trapped in a time loop too.
Sometimes you sit quietly in other classrooms than the one you’re meant to be in, until they shoo you out or even send you to the principal. (He finds you baffling. You feel a deep, slightly mournful affection for him, like you would for an very old and tired dog). It’s surprising, the amount of different things that are getting taught in one school in one day. It takes you a long time to work your way through them all.
You watch a frog getting dissected a few times before you start to feel bad and don’t go back to that classroom again. Your favorite class to crash is art, because the teacher always clocks that you’re not meant to be there but smiles and lets you stay anyway. When you meet her eyes, it feels like you’re sharing a secret.
Day One-Hundred And Something of the Middle School ...Wait.
At some point, time started moving again, and you didn’t even realize it.
For so long, the reprimands you received about your future seemed so empty, so laughable. There was no future. Only a more- or less-bearable present. But now, your classmates remember the unhinged things that you do; now, your teachers’ and parents’ worries about the future have the full juggernaut weight of reality behind them.
You thought that you’d be more terrified. For so long, you’ve dreaded this forward momentum. No loading screen, no mini-games, just one single, awful, pulsating life. But things are different now. Time’s moving again, and here you are, so far outside the invisible magic circle that you’re not even sure that you'd be able to see it any more. You can still feel its power, but faintly, like the pull between two magnets when they're an arm's length apart. Easy to ignore.
“Are you ready?” Robert says, catching your eye over the kitchen table. He comes here first thing so you can get the bus together. At some point, during the time loop, you started to seek him out. He was outside the circle, too, you realized. But even more importantly, not once, on any of those grimly looping days, did you see him try and push someone else out to make a space for himself. In this crab bucket, that’s something that counts for a lot.
“Our final day of middle school,” he sighs, half to himself. “Never thought I’d see it.”
"Me either," you reply, getting up to put on your talismanic pink sneakers. They’re scuffed and dirty after years of wear, and certainly Ashley would never be caught dead in them these days. Maybe that’s what you should have told her, all those loops ago: that no imitation, let alone one as unskilled as yours, can ever be perfect, and that indeed the very imperfection renders it an original work in its own right. Time and thought and human care transforms even the most diligent copy into something else entirely.
But you’ve been through enough time loops to know that that sort of explanation wouldn’t go over very well.
(Trying to flirt) if we were in a time loop together I would try to save you every time even if I knew it was futile. I would go insane for you
Made this dumb mini animatic thingy, even though i have no idea how to animate and couldn't be bothered drawing their full bodies.
I hope you enjoy my dumb attempt at humour regardless.
@pillowspace here take a thingy *slams down on table and scurries away*
(this is technically my first 2nd person/reader fic, so uhh hopefully it’s not too bad):
You’ve been running yourself ragged with your daycare duties lately. It’s the… seventh loop? Maybe. You’re not sure. All you know is that you’re getting nowhere in your search for the cause of the time loops, spending your nights sleeplessly jotting ideas down in your notebook - though you know you’ll have to rewrite everything next time.
You don’t know how much longer you can take it.
“Y/N? Are you alright?”
You flinch hard, snapping your head up from where it laid on the desk. Above you towers Sun, patiently waiting for an answer behind the computer, fidgeting anxiously with the ribbons on his wrists.
“Me? Oh! Oh yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Sun deflates a bit. “You don’t… seem fine. Normally you leave by now but you’ve had your head down for quite a while. Did you get enough sleep last night?” “Isn’t that Moon’s catchphrase?” you ask, cocking your head.
“You make it hard to resist,” he replied, chuckling nervously.
“Well I did, so again, no reason to worry. I’ll be out of your… er, rays in no time.” Sun flinches, holding his hands out to shake them in denial. “Nonono! I’m not trying to get rid of you, promise! I’m just worried - me and Moon both!”
He leans over the desk to get a better look at you - horrible bags under your eyes, shirt buttoned incorrectly, and a disgruntled, slightly annoyed expression on your face. You quickly change it to a smile, shaking your head.
“I’m telling you it’s fine, Sun. And you’re right - I should probably get going now. See you tomorrow.”
“S-See you tomorrow…”
You smile more genuinely and stand up to grab your bag from the side desk, slinging it over your shoulder and signing off of the computer before walking over to the large double-doors. You place your hand on the handles just as you feel a light touch on your arm - a cold, hard touch.
Like metal.
You jerk away immediately, wildly swinging your bag around to hit your attacker directly in the neck, knocking his head loose and sending his faceplate spinning wildly. The sound of your feet pounding against the ground fills your ears as you follow your escape route as fast as you can. He'll take a bit of time - though not much - to connect to the wire, so the second-floor exit should work best.
You’re halfway up the staircase when you come to an abrupt stop, glancing up frantically at the bright lights illuminating your path. You whip your head around to see Sun sprawled out on the ground, his rays still spinning from the impact, his eyes already dim.
Your breath hitches. You practically leap down the stairs to rush to his side, kneeling at his side to inspect his faceplate. You can hear your heart pounding heavily as you carefully turn his head from side to side. As expected: the collision had ripped multiple wires and loosened the screws at the base of his neck. It was an easy fix, but it would leave the attendant immobilized for a while.
You stand up, stumbling over to the computers. You quickly log back in to file a report to Parts & Services, describing the wreckage in a brief summary before immediately logging back out. Stepping carefully over Sun’s body, you approach the double doors, where you left your bag. You pick it up, turning to glance back at your fallen friend. Your hands are still shaking - your breath hasn’t entirely calmed down yet.
You hurry out of the daycare, still listening to the pounding of your heart and the anxious taps of your feet on the floor.
Hopefully you'll catch yourself from hurting them next time.
The Harbinger
“Being the Harbinger should put you at a level of respect with the Healer and the Judge, in my opinion. You’re as powerful as them, maybe more,” Catrin said. He said this seemingly out of nowhere. The two of them were spending time together in the garden, and they had been silent until that point. Yoruth was enjoying the time more so perhaps than any other moment in his life. He never wanted it to end.
“There is an excellent logic to why it does not command such a respect,” Yoruth said.
“Oh? And what logic could possibly be excellent enough to warrant a relative disrespect of the only man on earth who can see exactly what will come to pass, with no error or inaccuracy?” Catrin challenged. He scuffed his boot to tear a weed from the ground and looked at Yoruth, waiting for the explanation.
“Well, have you ever considered that I see what will come to pass, no matter what efforts anyone might make? I know these things, I see them, but if they are intolerable I can do nothing to stop them,” Yoruth explained.
“Surely there must be a way,” Catrin said.
“If there was, then I would be on a level with any paltry diviner. But any effort I make to prevent a future from happening will only feed into the continuation of that future. And if I accept the future, then that, too will bring the future about. I simply know exactly what will happen, including any efforts made to stop them.”
“And what is it like?”
“Oh, the seeing? It is like being there. I can know as clearly as I can be in the time I am in. I need only look. Even time seems to pass as if I were in that future, but I can always return, and no time has passed at all.”
“And in that experience, can you not attempt something different?”
“I suppose I might. I won’t necessarily remember all that I have tried, but even as fruitless as all that effort may be, I suppose I could try. I would if I needed to.”
“Ah, we pray that you never need to. Do you see any tragedy?”
“Not here, no. I saw the downfall of a great many to the west of here, which would have already come to pass, but not here. Not yet, at least.”
“Why did you not warn them?”
“I did, of course,” Yoruth said. He bent down to put his hand around a flower, pressing his nose to it to smell it – it was in full bloom, fragrant, and beautiful. He saw its eventual death, but that only seemed to sweeten this small moment. Perhaps the tragedy of endings sweetens the beauty of the present? It is better because it must end, Yoruth thought, though the ending was never any more pleasant.
“Yet you are sure it came to pass,” Catrin said, standing over Yoruth.
“Of course,” Yoruth said, standing once more. “All I see comes to pass. My warnings only serve to allow someone to mentally prepare for their future, not to change it. I told the Commander himself, who is more broadly being called the Wolf these days. He brushed aside the warning, so I told some others also. None of it will matter. Some will survive, many will die. Some will only survive in the short term, just the battle. And the world will change.”
“Change how?” Catrin asked, running his hand along a strand of grass to collect its seeds.
“In unpleasant ways. A sundering, in several senses of the word. Sundering of souls from body, of power from power, of society.”
“Will it reach this place?” Catrin asked.
“Yes. It will reach this place.”
“When?”
“It will do you only harm to know. Let us enjoy this moment. We will have others, but perhaps none as sweet as this.”
…
Several weeks later, the constant badgering and complaints about shadow magic came to a crescendo. The island gathered and spoke against the practice of the magic, banning it entirely. Of course, in the case of many, that would be rather vague. Yoruth, for one, could not be detected using his magic. Except of course his shadow form, which was an unsettling creature with the body of a great bird and a human head. Others might be more effected, but ultimately, it was a measure to ensure that those without shadow magic felt safe.
Catrin was not a shadow caster, but he felt it unfair to ban the magic his friend had only used for the good of others.
“This is an unfair thing to do,” he would say to anyone who would listen. “What have Yoruth and the others ever done?”
“Oh, he has done plenty,” said one woman. “Every bad thing he says comes true, no matter what I do. He’s cursing us,” she said.
“No, he isn’t. He isn’t able to change the truth and neither are you. He only reveals the truth.”
“I wish he wouldn’t, so it wouldn’t be hanging over me,” the woman said.
“It’s not Yoruth, not really,” said a man. “It’s shadow magic. Not Yoruth’s fault, but he has an awful magic that poisons the earth.”
“It never once did, until all this negativity came into being,” Catrin said.
“Nevertheless, can’t have all my plants dying, can I?”
Another man, a bit older than the last: “Well, it’s not so much that Yoruth is an issue. Or the others, really. It’s just that if we become known for our acceptance of shadow casters, they’ll all come flocking, and then we’d have a problem. We can’t support them, and they’d steal all the resources from the rest of us. It’s them coming here that’s the problem. And not just for us, for them, too.”
“And you believe they don’t deserve sanctuary anywhere on earth?” Catrin asked.
“Oh, somewhere – it only cannot be here. We cannot support them, so none of them should come. Some coming over would be a slippery slope.”
Catrin continued to try, but he soon realized that his efforts were fruitless. He kept himself appraised of the news, and tried to use that knowledge to show the destruction being caused by all of them, but they wouldn’t listen.
“The Healer is dead. He has been killed. And he is the Healer, the most respected mantle of all time. He was killed. And he would not have found sanctuary here. Perhaps if he had, he would be alive and able to help us all work to fix this issue. At the very least, we would have good medical care!” Catrin said on a street corner.
“We didn’t kill him, though, did we? So it’s not really our fault. Just unfortunate,” a man said as he passed.
Catrin told Yoruth all about his struggles, and Yoruth nodded. Unfortunately, he had known that these efforts would fail. He also knew that similar efforts would also fail. Truly the inexcusable actions of a few had poisoned the reputation of the many. There was no going back from that, it seemed, and things would need to get worse before they got better.
“Are the others, like you, are they all going to die?” Catrin asked, exhaustion and the grief of ongoing failure crossing his face.
“No, not all,” Yoruth said, smiling grimly as he handed a mug of tea to Catrin. “Many, though.”
“Who? Will they all be killed?”
“Are you sure you want that answer?” Yoruth asked.
“Yes, I must have it.”
“The Plantwright is to starve herself, trying to repair the dead fields, promising she would not eat again until it was from the field she was working on. That field will not produce for many years after her death is forgotten.
“The Reckoner is, even now, being hunted. She has the power to change things, unlike me, but I can see everything she will change, and she will eventually be caught, and killed. The Steelwright will die many times, his deaths undone by the Reckoner, and he will die a final time after watching her be killed.
“The Commander died in the battle, as I told him he would. He was set to agony by a man named Liam. He was killed by the same one who will kill the Reckoner. There is nothing any of us can do to stop him.
“The Healer died by his own oath: never to harm. He could have defended himself, but he defended his patients. Without his care, those patients also died, except one, who will go on to live a life of sorrow, never knowing why his caretaker was killed, or why his mother died next to him.
“The Bookwright will lock herself away, recording all she can with her pen and her hand scrawling details she never knew. She will record most of this era of pain, before her hand will write of her own discovery and death, and the book she wrote will be destroyed by the orchestrator of this all.
“The Stonewright will be thrown from a great height, which he will survive. And yet he will die when his works, deemed evil and profane, are thrown from the same height and onto him.
“And I will die-”
“Stop.”
“Sorry?” Yoruth asked, interrupted from his seeing.
“I do not want to know how you will die,” Catrin said. “Who will live?”
“Oh, about half. They will be successful in hiding. The Patriarch will be among them, dying of an illness after denying his friendship to the Crystalwright.”
“All of these are so incredibly sad. How do you handle it all?” Catrin said.
“It was a learned thing. I started knowing of many deaths, in detail, when I was young. So I have practice. The first fate I learned was of the Soulwright,” Yoruth said, thinking back.
“And what happens to him? Another victim of all of this?” Catrin asked.
“No, no – he, then she, then she, then he, and all of them for generations will die as children, just as their power is manifesting. The power will sunder several years from now, but then each will die separately in the same manner – being hunted by various hired assassins.”
“Oh, Yoruth, you have known that this whole time? That is what is in your mind?” Catrin said, pityingly.
“Not only that. A great many good things, too. But those wane with time as we enter a darker age. I should say that my successors may be haunted by an even greater darkness for some time, sorrow more consistent than sorrow should be.”
“Do you know that for certain?” Catrin asked.
“No. No, that one is a guess. I can see none of my successors. Perhaps they shall be happy.”
…
Some months later, and Yoruth had been stepping outside less and less. He had seen increasingly hostile looks and seemed to be unwelcome anywhere, so he went nowhere. Catrin had been kind enough to help him get what he needed, but of course, Catrin’s association with him had marked Catrin for hatred, also. So eventually Catrin took as much food and water as he could and holed up with Yoruth in the hope of waiting out the harsh feelings. Yoruth had no such hope, but allowed Catrin to have it.
And then, the day came. The sun rose as any other day, but it seemed redder to Yoruth, with his knowledge of what it would bring.
Knocks on the door were the start. Yoruth and Catrin did not answer, but the knocks grew more insistent, to the point that Yoruth knew they were not knocks made with hands, but knocks made with axes. It was not to be long, then. Yoruth, doomed, held a knife. He would try, do his best to save Catrin. He would fail.
The door burst open, and Catrin stood in front of Yoruth to block the path between the angry mob and their target. The axes and torches were too much for a singular knife, and Yoruth watched as his best friend fell at their hands, victim due only to his unwavering friendship and for no wrongdoing.
Yoruth saw all of their deaths. The people in the crowd would die in a variety of ways. One of them, by Yoruth’s hand. Just the one who had landed the killing blow on Catrin.
Yoruth saw himself pushing his knife into the man’s neck, which would kill him. But before it did, the others descended on Yoruth. Yoruth knew that if he cast his shadow, he could survive a few moments longer – but he didn’t want to. He wanted to save Catrin, to find some way to prevent his death, fruitless as it might be. Whatever previous attempts he might have made, this one was not fruitful, and the shear fact that he was still doing this meant that none of them had been. He would have to repeat what he assumed he had done many times before.
Yoruth voluntarily forgot all that he had learned in the months of looking into this future. Then, if he was lucky, he would be able to stumble upon a decision that would change the outcome as he looked again. He didn’t think it was possible. But even fruitless, he had to try. To him, it would be an endless loop for all eternity – he would never give up. But for the rest, this horrid fate would continue on, and Yoruth and Catrin would die.
As he forgot what he had learned, he found himself once more, in the garden, with Catrin. An eternal moment of silence, of bliss. And he began looking once again into the grim future, trying to find a path to get at least Catrin out of this alive.
holds mic up. favorite ISAT character?
THIS WAS A TOUGH ONE… [grabs mic] *ahem*…while I’d like to say Siffrin or Odile I actually flip out every time loop is on screen so…
LOOP WINS!!
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
F/M
Fandom:
僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Midoriya Izuku & Everyone
Characters: Midoriya Izuku Uraraka Ochako Midoriya Inko Bakugou Katsuki U.A. Students (My Hero Academia) U.A. Faculty (My Hero Academia) Original Characters Yagi Toshinori | All Might Tsukauchi Naomasa Muscular (My Hero Academia) Nono Seika(Sakurada Reset) Sasaki Mirai | Sir Nighteye
Additional Tags: BAMF Midoriya Izuku BAMF Uraraka Ochako Midoriya Izuku-centric Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk Inspired by Sakurada Reset Midoriya Izuku is a Dork Midoriya Izuku's Hair Is Fluffy Because It's Full Of Secrets Time Travel Time Loop Supportive Midoriya Inko Sassy Midoriya Izuku Uraraka Ochako Has Multiple Quirks Maybe some angst Mostly Fluff Hacker Midoriya Izuku Smart Midoriya Izuku Cats
Language:English
Stats: Published: 2021-10-21 Updated: 2023-03-13 Words: 79,945 Chapters: 19/?Comments: 812 Kudos: 2,003 Bookmarks: 593 Hits: 67,618
Perfect Reset
shansome
Summary:
Midoriya Izuku's quirk: Perfect Recall. The ability to relive any part of his past with all five senses isn't exactly the most powerful of quirks. Despite that, Izuku's going to become a hero. Even if he has to essentially fight quirkless.
But then one long, long, day, he meets her. And everything changes.
Or: If Uraraka had a second quirk, one that lets her rewind the entire world back to a specific point. The only catch? Her own memory gets reset along with everyone else-everyone, that is, but a single boy with a weak quirk.
"Stuck in the timeloop as a punishment" is cool and all, but stuck in the timeloop voluntarily though? Oh, brother. Stuck in the timeloop cause you just can't move on. Stuck in the timeloop even if you know that it's not real and whatever should've happen already did. Stuck in the timeloop even if doesn't makes you happy. You just can't bear the thought of not being able to see them ever again. Stuck in the timeloop even if you know you should move on. Stuck in the timeloop even if you know they would want you to move on.
But maybe just a little while longer.
It is November of 1893. You have just killed a vampire. Exhausted and worn, you close your eyes and rest.
You wake up. It is May of 1893. You are on a train en route to Transylvania. Your diary says you have had queer dreams lately.
You try to believe it.
(An old woman puts a rosary in your hands. You accept it without question.)
You are a guest in a castle you have never been in before (you recognize every hallway and know without trying that every door is locked). Your host is a man you have never met before (you killed him you killed him you killed him he had turned to dust and there was blood on the snow).
One morning you cut yourself while shaving.
There is nobody behind you in the pocket mirror’s reflection.
You turn fast, and the razor is like a Kukri knife in your hand.
L o o p
Each of Her breaths are a light year apart, a black hole maw wide. Each inhalation is the space between Big Bang blooms, each exhale as distant as the furthest dreaming twinkling realities. The chandelier like snowflakes falling from the silenced grey sky, puffy and crystalline, falling ivory stars that shined against negative blackness. In one world she is Carolyn, another Sabina, another Katy, another Rebecca. Car crash and robbery gone wrong and heart attack at 76 and happy end at 90. Ends are not met, beginnings unraveled to meet this point over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. The snow falls and her breaths continue, even as the false sun beyond lead clouds turns to the bloodshot sphere to burn the world to embers, even as this ashen world yet to be and the long dead sun ease into black-dwarf grave a trillion years un passed. Inhale, exhale.
Time is the great band. Beginnings bleed into endings, bleed into beginnings. This is the nature of all things. What dies nurtures the soil, and life rises out of its black foam, and what falls upon it is consumed in turn to nurture what comes next. Out of the muck from the earliest days until the hammer blow of extinction sent it back, only to crawl once again forward— ever forward. Defiant to the cyclical ends that are so numerous. Death. Plague. Conflict.
How many times were our ancestors reduced, resigned back to primitive form? How many generations of potential obliterated by so many fearsome ends, each form cut away by that cold scythe that dictates what lives and what dies? Ninety-nine percent of all life forms upon the Earth have withered and died. A cathedral of the extinct is the greatest achievement of this living world, not the things it has produced that breath and fight and breed, no— it’s mightiest haul is all the bones, all the skeletal remnants tucked away in her soils. The chorus of life is but a whisper to the requiem that follows, millions upon millions of voices strong.
When my people arose it seemed that we were the inheritors of a mighty mantle. An impossible age was upon us. Immortal, invincible— the apotheosis of industries and arts that our minds had summoned from purest imagination to hardest realities. Continents became little more than gardens for us to shape, the weather and its rebellious storms tamed with simple amusement until every day was pleasant and demure to our liking. We forged metal, flesh. Even light became just another palette to the artist and the engineer in all the shapes of our divine whim. We kissed other worlds until the stars in the night sky sang with the influence we wrought. Those first travelers, machines as they may be— they were the heralds of our coming upon the Galaxy..
And then came the loss. The disease that was upon us then was slow and ancient already, a stilling sickness that did not rot flesh or weaken bone; no, no, this silent dredge did nothing more but dull our minds, weaken our wills. Immortality brought weakness, endless resources stifled creativity. Our art, majestic and vast and mighty as it was, and it was mighty!— all of it blended, meshed. We were all doing the same in our countless, same-same-same heavens.
That was not what killed us, no, but it did weaken us just enough. Cracks in the walls from tenacious vines, hungry mold. Just waiting for the right push.
The Adversary came. Our Nemesis. And it was relentless. Merciless. It was the face of annihilation. An out-of-context event that turned so much divinity and so much power into ash, into the painfully folly that was. We crashed, we burned. We broke. So many beautiful fresco shards immolated. The continents we had tended melted away into slag, the storms we had tamed became raging gales that stripped the soil and stone from so many surfaces until all that was left was obliteration. They scoured all that we had touched. Like God erasing our hubris from his creation.
We ran. What else was there to do?
We vanished into the dark. Burning and burying all that was left behind, all that might incriminate the direction of our exodus. Some fled to a distant galaxy, believing this affliction was here and here only, amongst familiar stars. Others buried themselves in obscure, esoteric ritual and mindsets, hoping to vanish into regressive pasts that might unfold. Legions of dreamers and acolytes wove wonderful delusions for themselves, for the minds that remained, bodiless and hidden in tiny alcoves scattered. Others still went out into the Maw, believing they could reason with our oncoming extinction. Their questions were all silenced. One by one.
In our flight we found the ruins. The tombs and abandoned projects, the memories; all of it came with the realization of what had come before. The endless cycles of time realized in fragments, in pieces. Life arose, mind igniting in the sludge and the cold and the harshness, the inevitable ascension. And then the hurried, black silence that was total and uncompromising. Snuffing out civilizations in a methodical diminishing. One by one. Until nothing remained but the silence. When we found the remnants of our distant, forgotten forebears, and the telltale signs of their own inescapable fates, we had no time to mourn. The Adversary was already upon us.
It still is. We are at our Cradle now, though it is unlike to be where we truly originate from. It is all that remains. Our enemy walks the surface and soon will be amongst here, down beneath. Finishing their ultimate work. We do not why. Never will we know.
In our final hour, in our last struggle, we leave this record for you. These few, precious gifts.
May the cycle end with you.
Or let your end be sudden and complete.
Soulmate AU List - part 5
Disclaimer: Some AUs overlap. They will (hopefully) be mentioned in one place only. Keep scrolling to find what you’re looking for. This is not entirely alphabetical. This is not a complete list and can always be added to/improved.
See previous posts for additional variations.
Table of Contents - **tattoos (soulmark)
1. General 2. Placement 3. Symbols 4. Touch 5. Timers 6. Words 7. Writing (see communication/sound)
**time related
1. General 2. Life/Death 3. Timers (see tattoos)
**tattoos (soulmark)
General
*you have a compass on your body that points in your soulmate’s direction, and it stops spinning when you and your soulmate meet
*your soulmate’s thoughts appear on your skin, changing as the thoughts change
Placement
*tattoo/soulmark can be anywhere on the body
a. nonspecific place on body b. specific place on body
c. ankle d. arm e. cheek f. chest g. hand h. hip i. neck j. palm k. wrist
*soulmates always have their marks in the same location
*soulmarks can move or shift on skin
*tattoos are always stationary and do not move
*soulmarks change over time
a. grow over time b. shift or move over time
Symbols
*you and your soulmate have identical soulmarks
*soulmates have matching/corresponding soulmarks (ex. sun and moon)
*your soulmark starts off as a dot/one symbol but changes
a. when you and your soulmate touch for the first time b. over time c. as you get closer d. as your soulmate changes as a person e. when you and your soulmate make eye contact for the first time f. at a specific age g. other
*your soulmark glows when your soulmate is
a. nearby b. touching you
c. other people can see the glow d. only you can see the glow
*your soulmark itches when your soulmate is
a. nearby b. touching you
*your soulmark changes (insert) based on your soulmate’s emotions/mood
a. colors b. shapes c. other
*your soulmark changes (insert) based on your soulmate’s location/type of weather they’re experiencing
a. colors b. shapes c. other
Touch
*when your soulmate touches you (for the first time), colors appear on your skin
a. any color b. specific color c. permanently d. temporarily
*when your soulmate touches you (for the first time), symbols appear on your skin
a. any color b. specific color c. permanently d. temporarily
Timers
*timers count until you meet your soulmate
*timers count until your soulmate’s death
*you have timers for counting both
*Timers count
a. up until event occurs (to a potentially infinite number) b. down
*Timers count in
a. seconds b. minutes c. days e. months f. other forms of counting/timekeeping
Words
*your soulmark is the name of your soulmate(s)
a. full name b. given name only c. surname only
*names on both wrists, one is soulmate, the other is
a. enemy b. rival c. other
d. you know which is which e. you don’t know which is which
*list of (insert) on arm (or leg)
a. list of soulmates b. list of highly compatible people
*the first words that your soulmate says to you appear on your skin
*the first words you say to your soulmate
*the last words you soulmate says to you
*the last words you say to your soulmate
*words on your skin list what your soulmate is feeling
*words on your skin list what kind of weather your soulmate is experiencing
*the most frequent thing your soulmate will call you appears on your skin
*every lie your soulmate tells you appears on your skin
a. it also appears on their skin b. it only appears on your skin
*each soulmate has one half of a quote that is important to their relationship
*the words appear
a. in your language b. in their language c. in their handwriting
d. one letter at a time e. one word at a time f. all at once g. other
Writing (see communication/sound)
**time related
General
*you will keep looping your life until you meet your soulmate
*you meet your soulmate the day after the worst event of your life
*time stops when you meet your soulmate
a. you freeze b. you can travel around
c. when time restarts you find yourself where you started
d. when time restarts you find yourself where you ended
e. you cannot change the world around you
f. you can change the world around you in minor ways
g. you can affect the world around you in any way
h. you control when time starts
i. you don’t control when time starts
j. there is a limit to how long time stops
k. you don’t need sleep when time is frozen
l. you do need sleep when time is frozen
*time stops during the birthday of the
a. younger person b. older person c. both d. other
*you and your soulmate switch bodies during the birthday of the
a. younger person b. older person c. both d. other
*you and your soulmate have to go through different soulmate AUs for a
a. specific amount of time b. a random amount of time c. until you have gotten to know each other
*at a specific age/time soulmates are paired together for a sort of battle royale/competition
*at a certain age, your soulmate receives a file about you
*you can send one item to your soulmate every year (see Communication/Sound)
Life/Death
*if you don’t meet your soulmate by your #th birthday, you die
*as you die, you flash through your soulmate’s entire life
*everyone has life points/years and people can give their soulmates their own life points/years if the soulmate is lacking
Timers (see tattoos)
Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Wayne Munson Additional Tags: Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson Summary:
Second Steddie one shot in this book is up now. I like the time loop idea, so I've made my own little time loop fic. Posting it here as well
Time Loop
It was April. 1988. Everybody had survived the Vecna ordeal, even Eddie, while Steve had dragged his bloody body through the gate, using whatever clothes he had available to wrap around Eddie's wounds. He'd survived, he'd made it to the hospital. And Eddie and Steve had been inseparable. They started dating. Steve was head over heels in love. They'd been together for a year and a half now. And never in his wildest dreams did he think a car crash would be what killed Eddie.
Steve had gotten the call and his whole world had come crashing down. Eddie was the love of his life, they'd built a life together, a life that Steve didn't want to live without Eddie. He was a wreck all day, and when he finally crashed on his and Eddie's bed he cried. He cried for hours, and he cried himself to sleep.
When Steve woke up, he was a little disoriented. He had a killer headache from crying so much the night before and it was a struggle to peel his eyes open. When he finally registered his surroundings, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was in his bed. Not his and Eddie's bed from the house they'd bought together, but his bed. From 1984. He recognized all the changes.
Frantically, Steve got up. He had no idea if this was a dream, but it had to be. Right? But it felt so real. Everything felt so real. He checked the clock on his nightstand. 11 am. Then his calendar. A Tuesday in early April. Which meant Starcourt Mall hadn't opened yet. Which meant he should be in school. Specifically at lunch.
Looking down at his clothes he registered that he was wearing one of his sweats and Eddie's Judas Priest shirt. It still smelled like Eddie, because to Steve he'd worn it the previous morning. Before he'd gone to work. Before he'd been hit by a drunk driver. Tears sprung to Steve's eyes and he brushed them away. He couldn't bring himself to change out of Eddie's shirt, so he kept it on.
He didn't even bother to style his hair, he just grabbed his keys, slipped his blue jacket on, put on his shoes and got in his car. He didn't expect Eddie to be at school if he didn't have to be, so he found himself at one of Eddie's favorite spots. The record store. And Eddie was just leaving it, a cigarette between his lips that he was about to light.
Eddie looked beautiful and vibrant, long wild brown curls blowing in the light breeze, wearing his black ripped jeans, his handcuff belt. A Black Sabbath tshirt and his black leather jacket, along with all of his accessories. Blinking back tears, Steve got out of his car.
"Eddie!"
At the sound of Steve's voice, Eddie immediately pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, spun around, and upon catching sight of Steve, he immediately went into defense mode.
"Ok man, don't beat me up, but whatever I did I probably deserve it."
"Ed... Why would I beat you up?"
Eddie cautiously lowered his arms, frowning slightly. Instinctively Steve wanted to smooth out the crease between his brows, Eddie's beautiful lips curving into a little pout of confusion.
"Uh. Because you're Steve Harrington. King of Hawkins High. And I'm Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, and is that my Judas Priest shirt?"
Eddie looked even more confused than ever as Steve glanced down at the shirt, then back up at Eddie.
"Yeah."
"Ok uh. Did you break into my trailer or something?"
"No. Eds, ok, listen to me...."
"Did you just call me Eds?"
It was out of habit, one of Steve's endearing nicknames for Eddie. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing slightly. He could feel the tears coming again but he pushed them back.
"Uh. Yeah. Sorry."
"Ok Harrington, what has gotten i to you? I mean are you high or..."
"No. No I'm not. It."
Steve sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. He felt so utterly exhausted and he just wanted to hold Eddie and never let go.
"Eds, please, I just. The last 24 hours have been crazy for me and. And you're familiar, you're comforting....."
"Steve, we don't know each other."
"Right. Yeah. Right. Um. I guess I'll uh. Sorry."
Steve turned to walk away, more tears stinging his eyes. But that desperation to hold Eddie, to have him in his arms, even to kiss him, reared it's ugly head. And Steve was always weak when it came to Eddie. He had him wrapped around his finger and Eddie had always known that.
On impulse alone Steve turned back around, trapping Eddie between his van and Steve's own body. They were flush against each other, Steve's arms encasing Eddie, placed on either side of his head, and his mouth came crashing down on Eddie's, a desperate kiss.
For a moment Eddie stood there, eyes wide and too shocked to respond to the kiss. But Eddie has always been crushing on Steve if he was completely honest, and the urge to indulge in this kiss was too great. His eyes slid shut, his mouth moving with Steve's, tongues tangling, fingers threading through hair and a soft groan escaping from the back of Eddie's throat when Steve nipped at his bottom lip.
When the kiss broke they were both breathless. And now that it registered what had happened, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink.
"Shit. Sorry. I. I won't tell anyone..."
"Eddie shut up."
Eddie snapped his mouth shut and stared at Steve.
"I kissed you for a reason. I'm not high, I'm not drunk and this isn't one of those one and done and never speak about it things."
"I. I don't..."
Eddie didn't quite understand, and his blush deepened. And then he was ducking away, out from under Steve's arms. Steve wanted to protest but he didn't, stepping back from the van.
"I um. I'm sorry. I'll. I'll see you around."
Steve didn't get a chance to say anything else, because Eddie was suddenly in his van, tearing away from the parking lot.
------------------------------------------------------
It turned out that it wasn't a dream, and Steve was in fact in a time loop. Each loop Steve tried to figure out a way out, or tried to figure out how to get Eddie to believe what was happening, what they were to each other. And every time it blew up in his face.
This time, Steve had a plan. The day started out the way it did the first time, the way it did every time, but this time he'd managed to convince Eddie to sit in his van with him so they could talk. He told Eddie that he was from 1988, where he and Steve had been a couple for a year and a half and that now Steve was stuck in a time loop.
"A time loop?"
Steve fidgeted with his hands.
"Yeah."
"And we're. Together?"
"Yep."
"That's, this is crazy," Eddie says going to start his van so he could kick Steve out and drive away.
"What if I gave you proof?"
Eddie stopped, halfway to the ignition.
"Proof."
"About us."
Eddie leaned back, dropping his hands in his lap. He didn't believe Steve could provide proof, but he decided to hear him out.
"Alright shoot."
"When you were little. Your mom would put on her Muddy Waters records. And she would dance with you around the living room. That was before she died. These pins on your leather jacket. They came from her sewing kit."
Steve could see the tears springing up in Eddie's eyes as he blinked rapidly.
"How did you know that?"
Eddie's voice came out shaky.
"Because you told me."
"I've never told anyone that," Eddie whispers.
A tear made it's way down Eddie's cheek and Steve reached out to brush it away.
"Eds."
Eddie sniffed and turned his head to look at Steve.
"We're real. We were real. We are real. I've never loved anyone the way that I love you."
Eddie sniffed again.
"But this is a time loop. It's not real. I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll be today and I won't remember any of this."
"Somehow I'll figure a way out of this time loop. And you will remember me. You'll remember us. You'll remember everything."
Eddie nodded slightly.
"I just have one request."
Eddie tilted his head curiously.
"On April 12th. 1988. Don't go to work. No matter what, just. Just do not go to work."
"Steve..."
"Please. Eddie just please."
And just like Eddie had Steve wrapped around his finger, Steve had Eddie wrapped around his finger. Just one look with his tear filled puppy dog eyes, and Eddie crumbled.
"Ok. Ok, I won't go to work."
Steve kissed him then. It wasn't hot and heavy, but it was slow, sweet. A soft taste of lips and tongues, and this time Eddie returned it without hesitation. When Steve went to bed that night, he expected to wake up to the loop starting over again. But it didn't.
Instead he woke up in the familiarity of his and Eddie's bed. It was early morning, the sun just beginning to shine through the window. Eddie was awake and very much alive, slipping on his Judas Priest shirt and a pair of Steve's sweatpants. Steve's heart fluttered, jumping into his throat. He knew this morning. The morning Eddie's supposed to die. When Eddie saw he was awake, he leaves over, pressing a kiss to Steve's lips and then smiled that beautiful dimpled smile.
"I'm gonna go make us some breakfast. Then we can cuddle up on the couch and have a lazy day, watch some movies."
"You're not gonna go to work?"
Eddie frowned and Steve reached up, gently smoothing out that crease with his thumb. Eddie's lips curved up gently at the sweet touch.
"Something's telling me I shouldn't go today. I don't know, just a feeling. Can't really explain it."
Steve smiled then, a beautiful and bright one. He knew why. Eddie's mind not have remembered but his soul did.
"So you're gonna call in then?"
"Yeah. Pancakes?"
"Mhm."
Eddie kissed him again, once, twice, another dimpled smile.
"Eds?"
"Yeah baby?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."