#c: mcu strange

[fcntcstic]

"Well, I don't believe that's true." Reed, per usual, sounded very matter-of-fact about the whole thing. But he also wanted to approach the subject with some empathy and understanding. As fascinating as it all was, he genuinely wanted to help everyone that was stranded. "We all have different strengths to bring to table, right? From one doctor to another— I believe we can help each other."

"If you've come to ask for my help, I know just as much as you do." Which was unfortunately, nothing. It was a hard pill for Stephen to swallow, but it was the truth.

[thestarlightforge]

Who would’ve thought the end of the Michael Waldron/Sam Raimi Multiverse of Madness saga/debacle/reign of terror would be a gaggle of lesbians spending 3 years crafting THE most elaborate “go f*** yourselves 😌✨” the comic book industry has seen in Two Decades 😭

[nerdylibertarian928]

I would watch a show about these three torturing each other when they're not treating patients

[fanartka]

get away Wanda this is my movie, mine

[manilovetumblerusernames]

IM DOIN IT GUYS!!! ITS WORKINNNNNN

[squids-comics]

Damn! Remind me to never mess with Doctor Strange!

From: Fantastic Four Annual #3

[marcovaleyeah]

19.07.24

#Mira-Marathon | MCU

Film Name: Doctor Strange (2016); Production Studios: Walt Disney Pictures, Marvel Studios; Director by: Scott Derrickson; Screenwriter: Jon Spaihts, Scott Derrickson, C. Robert Cargill; Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Tilda Swinton, Mads Mikkelsen, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Rachel McAdams; Genres: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Action, Adventure; Running Time: 1 hour 55 minutes;

"Doctor Strange" is a superhero film where Benedict Cumberbatch plays Stephen Strange, a neurosurgeon who becomes a magician after an accident, learning from the Ancient (Tilda Swinton). He becomes the protector of the Earth from mystical threats. Pros: Impressive visual effects, Exciting and unpredictable plot, Dynamic and inventive fight scenes, Benedict Cumberbatch's charismatic performance, New mystical aspect of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Cons: Not enough Christine Palmer revealed, Some predictable plot twists, Protracted ending. All in all, "Doctor Strange" is a visually impressive and exciting film with an interesting plot and a charismatic main character.

My rating:

⭐⭐⭐⭐

[purityran]

open starter. open to everyone. verses page.

❝ I don't want your charity. ❞

Mari finds herself sneering at the other; she couldn't simply trust another person's motive to be pure. Kindness often came at a price for people like Mariana Cross. She's gone from being sheltered and primed to obey those with authority, to doing all she can to keep full control of her life. Freedom was cherished above all else, even if that often meant isolation. She didn't want their pity. It made her feel weak; made her scared; made her angry. She wasn't there to make other people feel better about their shitty lives. She was a human being. Some days she felt like a ghost: invisible to the world around her. Other days, days like this one, she felt like part of a freak show: a sad little spectacle to be looked down upon.

❝ I'm not a bunny in an ASPCA commercial. ❞ Her hands are in fists at her side, but only to hide that she's shaking. ❝ So --! [...] So, don't look at me like that! ❞ 

[trainer-from-unova]

sweet dreams

english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ 𝄞

ship: robert reynolds x afab!reader

summary: where you're in love with the man of your dreams, literally

au: more based on the comics than in the mcu and he's more powerful and aware of what he can do with his powers

c/w: constructed reality, amnesia, secret past, lies, implied stalking, lies, crying, light angst, domestic fluff, emotional hurt and not much comfort tbh, implied unsafe sex, not very graphic smut but a simultaneous orgasm, bittersweet open ending

a/n: even if you read it here kudos on ao3 are appreciated and english isn't my first language

word count: 1467

She didn't know how or why since she couldn't remember "designing" him in her imagination, nor was he apparently based on anyone real and she usually had enough to do with the fantasies she imagined before bed about her favourite fictional characters or famous people, but apparently her mind had designed another life and a fictional boyfriend that she dreamt about every night when she fell unconscious. His name was Bob, and they did all the things couples do: go on dates, tell each other they love each other, hug, kiss... Etc. He was the perfect boyfriend in every way — he was her type in every way and he was everything a girl would want in a boyfriend.

According to her diary she had known him for a little over a year, although it had been longer since she started dreaming about him — but in reality she had known him for much longer, she just couldn't remember him.

Little by little she became obsessed with him, and although she saw him every night, she wanted to compile all their encounters because when she woke up she sometimes forgot many things, so she began to write and draw in notebooks everything she experienced with him so as not to forget anything and to feel him closer, more real. Maybe he wasn't real, but unfortunately her love for him was.

Even when she was awake she dreamt about him, and how could she not? She knew that her obsession with Bob had gotten out of control and that it wasn't normal to dream about him all the time, but according to her it was a defence mechanism her brain had created. She knew it wasn't normal, but was she hurting someone, or herself? She thought about going to therapy, but she didn't have enough money to go and talk about her dreams — it wasn't a real problem. She told herself that her love for Bob wouldn't slow down her love life in real life, but unfortunately her love life was as non-existent as this one apparently was — she couldn't find anyone she really connected with, and she'd rather be alone than in bad company.

She knew the dreams were strange, that nothing there made sense and that it was better not to try to make sense of them unless you wanted to end up with a headache from the confusion, but it was strange to her that she always dreamt in first person, when normally, before him, she used to dream in third person. They also tended to have continuity and she no longer dreamt strange things, like flying a plane and in the next "scene" being on the beach having a few beers with Queen Victoria. And sometimes she was aware that she was dreaming.

But at the same time she was fascinated by how real it all felt at times, so real that it was even scary. At that precise moment she couldn't see him as they were in the dark, but she could perfectly feel every millimetre of his body against hers — his hot and naked chest against hers in the same state, her legs hugging his back, her arms hugging his head, her hands clutching his long hair, his breathing hitching and moaning in her right ear with every thrust... She could even feel him cumming inside her and pulling out his member.

"See you tonight, my love," he whispered sweetly in her ear before kissing her cheek with the gentleness he hadn't had while fucking her, but her mind was so clouded by the orgasm she'd just had that she almost didn't hear him. The only thing working properly for her at the moment was her sense of touch, and she felt him pull away from her as she felt his cum drain from inside her.

"Bob?" she asked when she caught her breath, or rather, when she woke up. There was no answer and she didn't feel him next to her either, plus she was wearing panties and a baggy shirt again and didn't remember getting dressed.

She only saw two small white dots in front of her, assuming it was sunlight coming through the tight slits in the blind. She reached out to turn on the lamp on the bedside table next to the bed. When the small warm light illuminated the place she saw that she was in the room at home and not in the room in the house she shared with him in her dreams, which she knew as well as the real one. She felt a tickling liquid coming out between her vaginal lips, and for a second she thought, or rather, hoped it was his semen as crazy as it was and even though she didn't want to get pregnant, but for better or worse it was just a lot of discharge from the erotic dream she had had. She was so busy trying to process everything that she didn't even notice that those little white dots had disappeared with the light.

Then she reached under the pillow, reaching for her mobile phone with her sense of touch. When she picked it up, she pulled it out and looked at the time on the lockscreen. It was early in the morning and she was working the afternoon shift that day, so she decided to lie in bed doing nothing but daydreaming, wasting time and waiting for him to fall asleep again even for a little while so she could see him again, but no luck.

He was sitting cross-legged on their bed, and on his crotch was her. He had his hands on her waist and she had her hands on his shoulders as they talked about whatever, though she was paying more attention to his face, scanning and analysing every detail as she took her hands off his shoulders and brought them to his bangs, brushing them out of his face in an attempt to tuck them behind his ears.

"I'm not so handsome that you can't stop staring at me," he joked, tilting his head to the side to see if her eyes followed him.

"You're such a dummy, you are so handsome!" she replied, pretending to be offended as she gave him a little tap on the shoulder with her dominant hand, and they both laughed. "But that's not all..." she said more calmly, "I have this feeling..." she said as she looked at various parts of his face and put her dominant hand on one of his cheeks, "that I know you in real life," she said finally looking into his eyes as he moved his head towards her hand, to feel her touch even closer.

"Maybe you did," he said with a melancholy smile and tone — he always got like that when she was aware that what she was living was a dream, "in another life."

It sounded beautiful, and maybe there were possibilities (considering the strange world she lived in, where aliens and magic existed), but she was a reasonable girl and thought it was more likely that he simply had the face of someone she saw at the train station where she worked. She saw thousands of faces a day, his face was probably of some guy who made a dent in her subconscious (and with how handsome Bob was, she wouldn't be surprised).

"And what kind of life was that? Um?" she asked curiously. She didn't believe that possibility, but she wanted to imagine this supposed past life.

"Maybe..." he said looking behind her shoulder. "I was a superhero and I had to make everyone forget about me with my superpowers," he said forcing a comical tone but still unable to look her straight in the eye, not wanting her to realise that what he was saying was the truth.

"Why?" she asked, wanting more information. The story sounded interesting.

"For safety, of everyone" and she assumed he meant it for his civilian identity, so that she and other loved ones wouldn't be attacked by villains.

"Well, that's sad," she said grimacing.

"Yeah," he said grimacing as her. He then hugged her, needing the comfort and protection of being so close to her and wanting to hide the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. Evidently she returned the gesture, hugging his head in silence until she sighed deeply.

"...I'd love it if you were real," she said sorrowfully.

"...If it's any consolation..." he said looking at her again, "You're very real to me, you're everything to me."

"Yeah, but... I want to be with you always," she said, as much moved as frustrated.

"I'm always with you, I'm closer than you can imagine. Trust me, I'm your guardian angel."

And this time he wasn't lying.

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[ash-muses]

@animnerd @vbecker10 @lulubelle814 @mythical-muses @souls-for-fandoms @honorarystripes @ghostsandmirrors @originalbrooklynboys @swanprincessodette @official-president-loki @deviantredhead @itzzkaylaaa @curlyhairedwoes @marvelmcugirl @oswildin @jacobkowalskiisjewish

happy (early) valentine's day

a random valentines pack, have fun :)

тгк: kameyasart

Insta/Twt/BSky: kameyasart

[goosewriting]

Heyy! Just wanted to thank you for posting such quality work so regularly! Seeing the '' goosewriting posted '' notification genuinely brings me joy lmfao

Could you write about kindergarten teacher!reader x joaquin, who for some exceptional reason has to pick up his nephew/niece from school and meets the reader like that.

Maybe he doesn't mention the fact he works with Captain America or that he is Falcon, not wanting to brag or anything when they start hanging out. But then one day at school his nephew/niece brags about their uncle being Falcon and reader founds out like this

Matchmaker

summary: reader is a kindergarten teacher and gets a bit of a crush on that one handsome uncle.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: none

word count: 2.1k

A/N: tysm for your words, that really means a lot! i appreciate it 🫂🥰 i’m so sorry it took forever to get to, especially after you started your ask with me posting “work so regularly” 🫠 thank you for your patience and i hope you’ll like it c: 

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“My parents told me to give you this.”

You turn around to where the voice came from and look down to see one of your kindergarten kids, Carlos, extending his arm towards you with a folded note in his hand. After taking the piece of paper, you unfold to check it; it’s from his mother, saying that her brother, Carlos’ uncle, would be picking him up today.

“Thank you, go ahead,” you say, and the kid takes off to go play with his friends. 

You grab the notebook from the drawer in your desk and write down the name from the note by Carlos’ listed guardians. After putting it away again, you face your class and clap a couple of times to get their attention to start the day. 

The hours go by relatively quickly, and luckily it’s pretty uneventful, except for one little accident where a girl spilled some watercolours all over herself. When the day ends, you bring your class to the entrance of the building, notebook tucked under your arm, as you hand the kids back to their guardians one by one, making sure everyone is accounted for. 

However, nobody is here for Carlos yet, so he waits by the entrance on a little bench, colouring in his book. You’re putting away some toys when someone appears at the door, and when Carlos looks up, a huge smile spreads on his chubby face.

“Tío Joaquín!” he exclaims as he leaves his things on the bench to go greet his uncle.

“Hey, little man!” the man says as he crouches down and opens his arms, letting the kid tackle him into a hug as he laughs.

You approach the two, a polite smile on your lips, opening your book and checking the name again.

“Hello, Mister…?”

“Joaquín Torres,” he says as he stands back up, taking your extended hand to give a shake. Now that you’re looking at him properly, you notice two things: one, he seems strangely familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him before. And two, he’s very attractive: dark hair and eyes, strong build, tan skin, a smile that knocks the breath out of your lungs. There’s a slight prickle of heat on your cheeks, but you will it away, this really not being the moment to start crushing on one of your kids’ guardians. Luckily, your brain remembers to tell him your name as well as you shake his hand.

“Go get your stuff,” Joaquín says to Carlos, who runs back to the bench to pack his bag, and the man looks back up at you with a smile, and you inwardly curse at the beat your heart skips. 

“Mister Torres–”

“Oh please, Joaquín is fine,” he interrupts with raised hands.

You hesitate for a second, waging whether to be friendly or maintain some professional distance, but his name rolls over your lips far too easily.

“Joaquín,” you repeat his name, and he hums in acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue. “I know Carlos recognised you and you introduced yourself, but I still have to ask to see some ID.”

“Oh, of course,” he says, fishing out his wallet from a back pocket of his jeans, and grabs his ID to present it to you. 

“It’s just a formality, really,” you say sheepishly and take the card, comparing his name to the one you wrote in your notebook. Before you can stop yourself, you take a glimpse of his date of birth, corroborating your assumption of him being close in age. Not that it matters, you remind yourself. 

“Thank you,” you say as you hand him back the ID, and your eyes move on their own as you check for a wedding ring; there’s none. Good grief, will you calm down?, you reprimand yourself inwardly. 

“Not at all,” he replies, putting his ID and wallet back into his pocket. “If anything, thank you for taking this seriously and protecting the kids.”

He gives you a genuine smile, which you mirror. You both turn at the sound Carlos makes in frustration as he’s trying to sling his backpack over his jacket, but the side of it got stuck underneath.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” you say and walk the few steps back, crouching down at his side and straightening out the jacket to close the zipper at the front. “There you go.”

Carlos takes off again, but Joaquín holds onto his backpack as he tries to run past him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What do we say?” he scolds the kid, who turns around to you with a slightly annoyed look, but he quickly corrects it when he sees Joaquín’s warning glare. 

“Thank you for helping me,” Carlos mutters. Then he looks up at his uncle, who lets go of the backpack to take the kid’s little hand in his. “Can we go home now?” 

Joaquín sighs with a slight shake of his head, but a smile spreads on his lips. You follow the exchange in silence, biting back a smile of your own. 

“This kid, I swear,” Joaquín says in your direction with a chuckle. “I know he can be a little rowdy sometimes, but I hope he’s not been too difficult?”

“Not at all,” you assure him. “He’s a good kid.” 

“I’m only rowdy because I come after you,” Carlos interjects with an offended huff. 

Both you and Joaquín look down at the kid with brows raised in surprise.

“That’s what mom said,” Carlos is quick to add when he feels both your looks on him. 

“The audacity of this kid,” Joaquín scoffs playfully. “Ya voy a contarle a tu madre lo que dijiste, así que pórtate bien.” (I’ll tell your mother what you said, so you better behave.)

“Noooo, no le digas! Prometo portarme bien,” Carlos cries out. “Can we go now?” (No, don’t tell her! I promise I’ll be good.)

“Yeah, let’s go,” Joaquín says, about to turn to leave, but he stops to face you one more time. “Sorry about that. And that I was late. Thanks for waiting, I’ll be on time next time, I promise.” 

“No worries,” you say, giving Carlos a little wave, which he mirrors. “Get home safe!” 

“It was nice meeting you,” Joaquín calls over his shoulder as they leave, but you’re not quick enough to say it back before they’re gone.

You stand by the entrance door for a moment longer, your brain still reeling to try and remember where you know him from. 

“Next time, huh,” your coworker, one of the other teachers, appears out of nowhere and playfully pokes her elbow into your side. 

You startle a bit at her sudden appearance, but shove her right back with a chuckle. 

“Don’t even start,” you say with a slight roll of your eyes.

“I didn’t say anything,” she retorts, raising her hands in defeat, but the mischievous glint in her eyes betrays her. 

The next time Joaquín comes to pick up his nephew, he does arrive on time. You two engage in pleasant small talk as Carlos plays with his friend, whose parents haven’t arrived yet. Your coworker keeps sending you knowing looks from the other side of the hall, and it takes a lot of willpower to ignore her and keep listening to what Joaquín is saying. 

By the time all kids are gone, you’re still replaying the conversation in your mind, remembering every little gesture and quirk Joaquín has when talking about something that interests him. Turns out, you actually have a lot in common. 

It takes a little more encouragement from your coworker, but the third time Joaquín comes for pick-up, you ask for his number. There’s no denying now that you’ve developed a bit of a crush on the man. You fumbled the delivery a bit, stuttering as you assured him that you usually don’t ask for any parent’s number. To your pleasant surprise, Joaquín gently interrupted your rambling to reassure you that he’s been wanting to do the same but wasn’t sure if he was crossing a line. So with slightly flushed faces, you ended up exchanging contact information.

Over the next couple of days, you text back and forth, and finally he asks you out for dinner. You’re over the moon, and giddily accept. He’s told you he’s in the Army, so your schedules are very different, but you finally settle on meeting on the weekend for dinner.

On the Friday before the date, Joaquín comes to pick up his nephew once more. You’re both a bit flustered since you haven’t seen each other in person since exchanging numbers.

As Carlos is packing up some things he forgot in the classroom, Joaquín walks closer to you.

“So, how’s your day been?” he asks.

“It’s been good,” you say, taking a quick look around to make sure no other parent or guardian can overhear you as you give him a knowing look. “But it’s certainly better now.” 

Joaquín looks away with a silly smile on his face, the slightest shade of pink on his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, same,” he says. He’s about to add something when Carlos comes back, a drawing in his hand.

“Tío, look, look!” he says as he holds up his masterpiece. Joaquín takes the paper in his hands to inspect it, recognising the two figures to be Captain America midair with his shield held high, and the Falcon, wings splayed out on each side. 

“You drew this? This looks great, kiddo!” Joaquín compliments his nephew with a loving ruffle to his hair. The kid soaks it in and you see him stand a little straighter, chest puffed out. 

“Isn’t my uncle cool!” Carlos exclaims, huge grin on his face. 

You tilt your head ever so slightly, confused. 

“I mean, he is,” you start, looking up at Joaquín, who looks slightly mortified, and then back at the kid. “But I thought we were talking about the drawing?” 

“Yeah, I drew him! That’s my uncle!,” Carlos leans over the drawing to point at the figure coloured in green. 

It takes a second for the information to click in your brain, but when it does, your head whips to Joaquín’s, who averts his gaze like he’s a boy who just got caught getting into the cookie jar in the middle of the night. 

“So that’s why you looked so familiar,” you finally say with a chuckle. Seeing that your reaction isn’t negative like he thought it’d be, Joaquín breathes in relief. Carlos takes his drawing and rushes back to finish packing up upon his uncle’s instruction.

“I can’t believe I’m going on a date with the Falcon,” you say in a low voice, more to yourself than anything else. Joaquín looks around to see if anyone else caught that, but all other parents are focused on their own conversations. 

“It’s not like I was trying to keep it a secret,” he says, and when his gaze finally finds yours again, your heart does a leap in your chest. “This isn’t how I meant for you to find out, though. I hope this doesn’t change anything…?” 

“Of course not,” you reassure him. “I hope you’re ready for a lot of questions, though. The moment the other kids get wind that I’m friends with the Falcon, they’ll want to interview you for sure.” 

“That’s fine by me,” he says with a chuckle. His phone pings and he takes it out of his pocket, looking at the message. “Well, time to go. My sister wants us to pick up some groceries on the way home.” 

“Right, Carlos should be done packing,” you say, turning around to check on the kid, but he’s out of sight from where you stand. When you turn your head back to Joaquín, you let out a low gasp as he’s suddenly standing very close to you, and he very quickly places a kiss on your cheek. 

“See you tomorrow, then?” he asks in a low voice, a slight fear in his eyes that you’ll say no after his bold move. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply just as softly, and your hands come up to fix the collar of his shirt, brushing your fingers over his jaw. 

“Are you two about to kiss?” a voice startles you both, and you quickly take a step back to put some distance between yourself and the man. Looking down to the side, you find Carlos looking up at you with slight disgust. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Joaquín is quick to say with a nervous chuckle to drown out Carlos’ onslaught of questions, among which you think you hear ‘Are you going to marry my teacher?’ and ‘Does that mean I don’t have to come to school anymore?’. 

A wave of heat erupts on your cheeks as they leave, and when you turn around to go back to the classroom, you find your coworker standing there, giving you an ‘I told you so’ look, a smug grin plastered on her face.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie, @magikdarkholme, @tsunchani, @Chuchu8293, @bitchy-bi-trash, @guynamedaurel, @crumbledcastle28, @sarahskywalker-amidala, @crazy4lyricb, @hiireadstuff

[gremlin-girly]

Day 14: Winter Soup

Pairing: Winter Soldier x gn!reader

Fandom: MCU

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, insinuation of ptsd/past abuse, ya'll are just having some nice soup :), petnames (sweetheart)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: When a strange man turns up in your home for some unknown reason, you decided to offer him some soup.

Word Count: 448

Prev | Next | Fluffcember | Flufftober 2024 | Navigation

Not many people know what to do when there's a strange man in their kitchen. The usual ports of call, according to life and TV, is to:

a. Scream

b. Call the cops

c. Hide

d. All of the above

But somehow you created your own special fifth option (hereby referred to as option e): Give him soup.

He pokes at the soup with his spoon and you watch him over your own bowl. You can't tell if he's about to burst into tears or dart off into the night. There's something about his eyes, something that tells you he's a lost, stray in need of food and probably a hot bath rather than a six foot lug of a man in tac gear.

After a particularly hot slurp of soup, doing the whole hoo-ha-ooh charade, he looks up at you.

"Sorry," You mumble with an apologetic look. "Hot."

He nods but doesn't say anything. So, he clearly understands English. You watch as he stirs his soup again before finally bringing it to his lips. The air is heavy. You don't know why you care about what he thinks of your soup, but you do.

You want to make a joke; asking him not to kill you if it's awful but you think better of it. You still don't know if he would kill you.

His hum catches you off guard and you jump, looking over at him. His eyes flutter, and you think he definitely will cry. He sniffs a few times and raises a shaky hand with a second spoonful again, before he's suddenly gorging the soup.

His spoon clatters against an empty bowl and he looks over at you worriedly and you just smile at him around your own spoon.

"Want seconds, sweetheart?" You ask gently, getting to your feet and angling yourself to the stove. You're face is blasted with the smells of basil, garlic and roasted tomato as you lift the lid from the pot. You hold out a hand for his bowl which he carefully hands to you.

Ladling the soup to the brim (thank God for Bulk Soup Sundays), you reach into the bread bin and butter two slices of bread, placing them next to his soup when you set the bowl down. Retaking your seat, attempting to finish your own bowl, you watch him curiously.

He mumbles a thank you as he tears into the bread with his teeth, and you offer a warm smile.

"No worries. Help yourself to as much as you need."

You had the strangest feeling like your life was going to change, thanks to the stranger before you. Although, you didn't know just how much.

[terrimisu]

Just Bob • robert reynolds

Chapter 1: Poke and Prod

Fandom: MCU | Thunderbolts (Sentry)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader (Y/N), ensemble cast

Warnings: mental health themes, dissociation, trauma flashbacks, emotional breakdown, telekinetic burst, subtle horror, past overdose

Word Count: ~2.4k

⸻

Summary:

At Valentina’s request, Yelena walks Bob into his session—this time, all the way in. But something cracks beneath the surface. And when someone from his past reappears, what he’s worked so hard to suppress erupts, in ways even the Tower can’t contain.

⸻

Bob felt more on edge than usual—especially as Yelena stepped out of the elevator with him, heading toward his psychiatrist’s ward.

His brows furrowed as he turned to her.

“What are you—”

“Let me come with you,” Yelena cut him off, her soft gloved hand brushing his shoulder. She took his wrist firmly and led the way.

His eyes lingered on the back of her head—on how strands of blond hair bounced with each step, the polished floor beneath echoing the soft squeak of her boots.

It was a strange companion sound that made his usual trip feel less lonely.

But as they neared the hallway—passing the lobby and a few pieces of equipment—his vision blurred, warped at the edges. He stopped in his tracks and squeezed Yelena’s hand.

“S-Stop,” he stammered.

Yelena quickly turned back as they reached the door.

“I… You shouldn’t—” he stumbled, tongue heavy as he tried to think of an excuse for why she shouldn’t come in.

But she looked at him with soft, pitiful, caring eyes—then opened the door to his psychiatrist’s office.

“Valentina told me you’d be coming,” the doctor said, peering over the edge of her glasses before pushing them up the bridge of her nose.

Yelena gently ushered Bob forward, and he hesitantly took his usual spot on the green faux-leather couch. He glanced at Yelena as she sat beside him.

“V-Valentina told you to come?” he asked, almost disappointed—like he’d hoped Yelena had come of her own accord.

“Something like that,” she said.

The psychiatrist didn’t wait long to interrupt.

“We haven’t been talking much in sessions. She wanted to see if this would help.”

She flipped through her notes—barely more than bullet points. Most of them pulled from OXE’s files when Bob was first admitted for the Sentry project.

“You don’t have to have her here,” Bob muttered. “I… I want to do this on my own.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. He cleared his throat.

⸻

Behind the ward walls, Valentina watched on a secure monitor.

“Did you ever have anyone help you in moments like this?” the psychiatrist asked.

Bob bit the inside of his cheek. His eyes dropped to his hands.

“No. Not really,” he answered. Then: “I mean…”

He trailed off. Like he’d tasted the words on his tongue—and decided to swallow them instead.

“Sort of?” he tried again, unsure.

An image flickered in his mind.

A woman’s voice. His name on her lips like light at the edge of dark. Like something sacred and gone too soon.

He could hear it.

A memory tucked behind louder stories: the ones he told to explain himself—his father, the overdose, Malaysia, the meth-fueled summer job. Things that sounded heavier. Things people believed.

But this one was different. This one stayed buried deeper.

“Bob, stop.”

“No, please, I have to try. It’s my fault that—”

The words echoed inside him like a replay on loop. His eyes shut tight. The office disappeared. No Yelena. No psychiatrist. Just the darkness he floated above for years.

“Bob.”

A woman’s voice. Weak. Distant. Familiar.

“It is your fault.”

A chill slithered down his spine.

Void.

“Stop!” Bob yelled.

The camera feed flickered. The walls cracked.

⸻

In the observation room, Valentina jumped back.

As if on cue, Mel opened the door.

“The building just shifted,” she reported, stepping aside to let someone in.

“She’s here.”

Valentina turned—and froze.

A woman stood in the doorway.

(H/C) hair framed her face in soft waves, neat but natural. Her skin wasn’t airbrushed, her features untouched by glamour—real. Distinct. Her (E/C) eyes shimmered with nerves, her lips trembling into a cautious smile.

“You must be Valentina,” she said, extending a hand.

“Y/N,” she introduced. “I’m surprised you didn’t hesitate. Most would, when special operatives show up at their door.”

Valentina turned back to the monitor.

“Sit. Mel, close the door.”

Y/N sat beside her. Her voice came out hoarse, like she hadn’t spoken much—like it hurt.

“That’s him. That’s really him,” she whispered. “I saw the photos you sent but… oh my god.”

She lifted her hands to her mouth. As if in prayer.

“Bob,” she said softly. Her eyes welled. “Oh, Bob.”

The monitor glitched. Static bled into the screen.

The lights flickered.

⸻

Back inside the ward, Bob’s breathing was shallow, erratic.

Yelena’s hand gripped his—tight, anchoring.

“Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

He exhaled hard through his nose, his shoulders trembling.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he stammered. “I keep thinking about it again—this time it doesn’t hurt like the rest.”

“What happened?” the psychiatrist asked.

Bob’s eyes twitched, unfocused. Gold shimmered faintly inside deep blue.

He opened his mouth to speak—then froze.

“Bob.”

No one in the room had said it. It was something external…or internal?

He felt a sinking feeling inside of him, its darkening depth looming in the pit of his stomach and rising to his chest.

It’s just the Void, he thought, that part of him that weighed him down in silence, but seemed to be breaking the barrier more than usual.

“Bob.”

It came again.

Not condemning. Not afraid.

Not questioning or clinical.

It was grateful. Relieved. Almost warm.

He focused on it. Let it in.

“Oh, Bob.”

The sound rang sharp in his ears—like bells next to his head. His name echoed and landed.

His eyes opened.

And this time—they glowed brighter. Warmer.

His hand clutched Yelena’s tighter. The room began to shake.

“Whoa—okay,” Yelena said, voice tight. Her other hand steadied his forearm.

“You’re squeezing a little too hard.”

The psychiatrist looked terrified. Confused. Like she was realizing this wasn’t part of the manual.

“Bob, calm down.”

His gaze shot upward—to the security camera tucked in the corner.

Not angry. Not monstrous.

Just scared. Terrified. Like a child waiting for punishment.

“She’s… no.”

His heart raced, and his eyes gleamed a bright light of a thousand suns.

“Y/N.”

The camera sparked—and snapped. Machinery dangled from the wall and thudded against the room. The psychiatrist shrieked — covering her head from stray cinders.

“Who’s—” Yelena began, but her words halted.

Her hand suddenly felt weightless.

She looked beside her.

Bob was gone.

⸻

📝 A/N:

Finally we meet Y/N, and it seems she not only shakes up Bob, but the whole tower. Next chapter will be released soon! Kinda wanna get the ball rolling.

Taglist:

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Taglist open. DM to be added.

[deficd]

Strange can't exactly recall the last time that normality meant something other than a passing set of syllables. Long before this, he imagines, likely long before residency if he'd find himself in the vein of exaggeration.

Hey. Neuroscience is its own flavor of weird.

But unsteadiness— inquietude is still a familiar companion. And a hungry one, at that. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlacing— quaking minutely, a constant sensation, like a conjoined twin or— an alter. His voice is a fine needle, threading the line between sarcasm and sincerity.

"Funny's a bit subjective these days. But, since you ask—"

His eyes flicker, glancing over Marc's shoulder where the serpents pause, gold eyes unblinking. He doesn't immediately finish the sentence, lets it linger like incense smoke in the charged air.

"Well, obviously, they're snakes."

Come on, guys. See their flicking tongues? The scales?

Strange's mouth parts to continue--

"We’re so much better than regular snakes, though," the other reptile cuts in, with a fair bit of self-satisfaction.

A magician's sigh bears the same weight as Atlas. He's been contemplating locking them into an oversized terrarium. "But besides them," he continues, "I've been hearing the occasional voice... yes. Impressive, if you managed to pick up on it. You're not the only one to---" a pause, and he cocks his head, looks at Marc with an odd glint in his eyes. "---No. You are the only one to notice."

He leans in a bit, lowers his voice, a touch more serious, less dismissive, now that they seem to be getting to the point without thousand-year-old snakes to derail the conversation. "You came to me for a reason."

It's not a question.

"You know what's happening?"

Marc is let in much quicker than expected, which causes him to blink and hesitate for a second before he follows - steps into the unknown, a building that doesn't really appear very impressive from the outside---

But man, the inside sure is. Not only the furniture, the way the whole place is laid out (quite nice actually, yeah, albeit a little creepy), but also the fact that, uh, there's... speaking snakes.

And Strange is super nonchalant about them, whereas Marc is not.

He almost flinches at the odd display, at the voices trying to taunt him; He knits his brows and squints at the animals, lips pressed into a thin line, as he keeps following the man who's giving him all sorts of odd-vibes here - something a little uncomfortable, something a bit in awe, something... reverential, almost. Should he really be here? Fuck, why is it him who has to deal with this kind of shit, why can't he just stay at home and---

"...Guess that one comes with the job?" Steven mutters, a little high-pitched, far from relaxed. "Since we're Khonshu's avatar, and this is about another Egyptian god trying to get their hands on---"

Marc hums, interrupting the other's trailing words this way, inhales and exhales as he notices that those serpents are actually following them---

Of fucking course they are.

A seat is being taken on the chair the wizard gestures to, with Marc clearing his throat, taking another sip of his coffee; He feels as stiff as a board, that's also why he's not leaning back, remains... sitting on the edge instead, dark eyes flicking across the room - the snakes - before he looks back at the reason for him to be here in the first place.

"Aight. Yeah." Lets talk, then. ... Marc tilts his head a little, then offers a bit of a half-hearted shrug, another clearing of his throat. "---So... uh, you experiencing anythin'... funny, lately? Odd, maybe? Dunno, like uh, hearing voices or some kind of shit---"

He pauses, then nods over at the serpents.

"---Besides the ones of these two, I mean? Whatever they fuck they are..."

[zephyr-ro-emenki]

You can definitely tell where the divergence point between YFNSM and the MCU is, and that's at Midtown. Doctor Strange and the Venomized Beast coming through was not meant to happen. It was a random factor that was diverting from a Canon Event. That's why Doctor Strange said "We're not supposed to be Here" and that's because he knows exactly where Here Is, and what time it is, so he knows that him appearing and damaging Midtown is diverting from the Canon and he has to leave quickly.

Through that, we now know a lot more about the scrapped MCU version of the script story, and what things can be applied to Tom Holland's Spider-Man.

First off, Uncle Ben died about 6-7 months before Civil War. We know this because YFNSM starts off with Peter and May still grieving Ben, with May still having her wedding ring on. Along with Peter saying "It'll distract me from all that's been going on lately..." And then immediately mentioning Ben to May, implies it was recent, within a month or so.

Aside from the doctor Strange Canon divergence fight of destroying Midtown and subsequently getting Peter bitten by a different reality's radioactive Spider, we can assume all the other events are fully canon to the MCU Timeline, just with Peter having to go to Rockford Bales Highschool while Midtown is being reconstructed. He still has that convo with May, Pearl (who is just a Repackaged Liz Allen from the original script) was still his childhood babysitter he developed a crush on but she went to Rockford Bales Highschool instead of him going to Midtown and subsequently meeting Liz Allen, Nico Minoru probably also exists in the MCU, but Peter not saving her from the Symbiote means they never became friends that say, and probably stayed classmates, Roxxon was mentioned so we can also assume that exists (and maybe that's where Peter's spider came from in the MCU), he still has similar crime events, and saving nearly the same people (just that Harry is replaced by a more MCU Canon equivalent, hell maybe it's Flash), and we get a full recreation of Peter's MCU intro from Civil War that tells us this really is just a divergent MCU Timeline. The Oscorp/Future Foundation suit is meant to be Peter's Stark Suit, and so all villains he fights while in said suit can be traced back to Peter having fought them in MCU Canon but it was during that 1 month between Civil War and Homecoming.

We can also now confirm that there is a version of the Lizard in the MCU, it's just not Curt Connors, but instead Carla Connors. If Oscorp does exist in the MCU, but is just a smaller company than Stark Industries until post Endgame, then Harry and Norman Osborn (probably these same Harry and Norman) also exist in the MCU, and we'll just meet them in this College Trilogy. All of the villains from No Way Home Probably all exist in the MCU, but are either Gender Swapped, Race Swapped, or more likely just haven't gained enough traction or been around the events that make them villains yet. MCU has Matt Gargan's Scorpion in the MCU, he just hasn't undergone the procedure to give him his iconic tail, Aaron Davis the Prowler exists, but he doesn't have his tech yet, and they had a Shocker who had all of his equipment who just hadn't learned to use it fully yet. We can now add Carla Conners the Lizard to the confirmed in MCU list, alongside Lonnie Lincoln as the Tombstone, who we haven't met in the Canon MCU because he was a Rockford Bales Student first, and he hadn't had his villain origin story yet.

Furthermore, we can confirm exactly what Peter has been doing during those months between Civil War and Homecoming, and which Crimes he couldn't stop because he was somewhere else in Canon MCU.

For instance, Butane Burning down the wrong building under someone else's orders? That still happened, but Peter was in Germany fighting the avengers while that was going down. We know that Peter will be fighting a lot of his D-list/C-List Villains from the comics in this show primarily, and we know through concept art we'll be seeing Doc Ock, but we don't know the status of any of the other MCU Characters.

I think, going by No Way Home Canon, the only Villain he didn't encounter in the MCU that he will probably encounter in this show, is Doc Ock. Any Green Goblin appearance in this show and Peter encountering him would be because of diverging timelines, but I think Doc Ock may also be a consequence of Canon divergence, specifically the "Divergence leads to events happening quicker" kind.

Either way you put it. I'm so excited for the next Drop of episodes so that they can help confirm or deny my thought process.

[squids-comics]

Dr Strange is broke and his house is being condemned. Poor guy...

From: Strange Tales #147