#of course this is without the mask & gauntlets (those would be the same and I just wanted to focus on the outfit)

[lifes-line]

DEFO DEFO TAZ SPOILERS

So one of my favorite taz aus is what I call "the replacement au" or the "Lup Au" which is basically what if it was Taako who died or went missing and it was Magnus, Merle, and Lup working for the BOB

In which case that poses a lot of questions for each arc so lemme tell you my theories on how it would've gone

Here they be gerblins:

Lup has always had a horrible ache in her heart. She wouldn't call it depression but no matters how hard she tries to move on and forget. She has always felt something painful and missing in her heart. Like someone ripped out a huge half of it and left her with the rest. She's had this feeling all her lonely life as a single child and no matter what magic she used on herself or how many people she surrounded herself with... she couldn't escape that feeling... Magnus and Merle somehow helped though. Being the absolute dumbasses they are.

Lup finds herself flirting with barry blue jeans and disappointed he wont be joining them later-

Lup sees Taako's skeleton/corpse and takes the wizard hat and his glave(or whatever his magical weapon he made during their year of artificing was)

She feels drawn to the phoenix fire gauntlet and she teases about putting it on alot(before phandalin goes to shit), she also gives it a high five but she isnt dumb enough to put it on and understands how dangerous it is and how devestating the events that follow are

Lunar interlude one

Lucretia is baffled to see lup having taako's things on but thats not important

im gonna say Lup gets pretty similar things to taako since they are the same class(just different schools of magic)

She doesn't fuck with leon as much as taako does but she still does of course

Murder on the rock port limited:

They get on the train without charm person but of course theyre still "not who they appear to be" as merle keeps loudly insisting they kill the ticket guy

Lup respects angus but they dont get close as he does with Taako so instead Angus gets closer with Magnus though Lup does offer to teach angus some magic lessons

Smokes that crab

Pretty much all of the taako things except she might be a lil less dramatic about the drink cart

Petals to the metal

Lup and hurley are bffs dont even trip

Lup defo found Sloane attractive but backed off when she found out she was taken

also found captain captain bane attractive

a quip of "My type are hardcore nerds with those obnoxious spectacles and sexy science facts"

Lup either picks a mongoose mask or goes with a phoenix I imagine

She would threaten the guards to get into the hammerhead base at first but then switch up to help out Merle's plan - or she'd just straight up kill the last guy and hit em with the "I forgot about that"

Since theres no way to absorb the arcane core she makes it explode and it works just as well

You can assume she has taakos position in the car ride, but most likely she cannot summon Garyl and instead klaarg comes in and saves merle and later her

Red robe shows up and shes the only one who fucking remembers the director telling them about them and she is the only one to insist they dont listen to him

but they do anyway and she gets majorly suspicious

Small lunar interlude:

Fuck Lucas but not fuck him but yknow

Oh yeah the red robe? "I want to let you know I am the only one who actually remembered we should've bounced"

Crystal Kingdom

Oooh transmutation relic not her thing

She cooks tho

Lucretia? "That's such a cute ass name, I'm gonna start calling you Lucy"

can i also have a red suit

that pink thing looks like salt

Also in consensus Lucas in fact a huge asshole.

Actually answers buddy bots question/riddles within the first two minutes

Yeah ill go into the elevator world? Oh no cockroaches? Yeah Lup makes fun of merle for liking cockroaches and then kills the one he missed.

They meet N03ll3 which is great and all but what do you mean you keep picking up lich activity

Go into Lucas's room cause Lup disguises self

Ok I dont know what a lich is why do you keep harassing me

Merle loses an arm oh fuck

Also gonna kill Lucas

fine lets learn some science

oh its that red bitch again - Lup is only not running because her boys wanna hear this too and also this lich is like weirdly flirting with her

"It's... Lup, where did you get that hat?" "Oh this? I took it off of some skeleton on our first adventure." "... oh my god.. you.. you found him... you..."

Weird I just made this lich who was flirting with me upset about my dope ass hat

YEAH SHES BEEN WEARING TAAKOS WIZARD HAT THIS WHOLE ASS TIME

skipping a bit woah oil can time

woah the crystal guy is back and instead of merle being the most dangerous its Luuuuuup? Whyyyyy????

"Wait haven't I seen you before?" He asks Lup and she tilts her head. The crystal shakes his head. "Nevermind. one second-"

Guys hes calling me a lich or possessed by one what do I do

Kick ass, Not tentacling dick ew, lucas there you are - woah magnus

Oh its the grim reaper, No we are not being shipped together-

Lore

"And you, Lup. Are still dead." "... Sorry what-" "You're dead?" "Nah I still got my hit points, I mean I'm bruised and bloody but I'm still alive." "Yeah is this maybe another Lup... or...?" "No. She's a lich. She is an undead entity that must be locked away in the eternal stockade." "How about fuck that (tries to kick his ass)"

More lore

YoU ATE THE WHAT

Oh hi kravitz, can you look pass this posession if I promise to have someone free me? And if this lich leaves me so im not a vessel anymore you can come get it, trust "... I.. I cannot let a lich get out of my sight." "Bro I cannot fight you anymore." "Well, it would be more dangerous if you died but you refuse to come peacefully." "I dont think Im a lich I just think im posessed - we've done a lot of crazy shit in our adventures-" bla bla bla fine its settled

We'll debrief in a sec ig here lemme uhh. i dont have transmutation its so over , just shape the damn stone and idk someone else can do magic right?

Debriefing oh yeah the red robe was there, yeah i lowkey dont really trust you, ok fine i can settle

They dont talk about the deaths to lucy in canon but after the debriefing Lup gathers the boys up and talks to them "Hey so you know how he called me an undead evil lich. so like... lets not tell the director and merle can you like perform an exorcism or something just to see if its true?" "Uh I have detective good and evil?" "Dope." And NOTHING HAPPENS BECAUSE LUP ISNT EVIL- but merle does detect some necromantic energy radiating off her whole being but he doesnt have like a spell to fix her so theyre like lets not worry about it rn

Lunar interlude

Alright angus this is magic, cooking? Why the fuck would i teach you how to cook

Ok you got me i grew up by myself in a lonesome life as a vendor but i didnt cook or anything I just spent my whole life doing side jobs and saving people. yeah fire is my speciality but like i wouldnt recommend it for you cause its literally fire. and youre a kid.

Whered I get the glave? A skeleton from a cave. He was wearing a red robe so lowkey maybe im possessed by his spirit but like... doubt.

Eleventh hour

I believe in you ango

woah we're here

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU FIGHTING THE WORMS LEAVE THEM ALONE THEYRE JUST BABIES

alright lets get this bread - bye avi - hello clay perosn. roswell? ok Wow that statue sure is red what the fuck

"This is bad.. this is a bad thing i did." Yeah I kept it.

Hi Cassidy im sure we can be besties

woah earthquake

Lets go in the inn, oh hello pretty elf lady, ok she doesnt care about me wdym you know magnus - guys wait dont make me talk to her alone

"Why do you live in a bubble?" "Lup." "WHAT?"

I wanna meet paloma fuck you guys

I will go to town on these scones, you need gold can I trade you anything else

I can hardly remember these goddamn loops so lets assume that lup and taako do alot of the same shit except she doesnt steal any of this shit -

Put him in a bubble... ok-

Hi Istus, What's this? Not a bag of holding? "This item... has the ability to bring back anyone from the dead, as long as they have been deceased for at least over a decade." "Oh this could be useful for all the guys you killed!" "Yeah!" "Well... you could save it too but... yes I suppose so?" "But only for over a decade." "Why the fuck is that so specific?" "STOP SWEARING IN FRONT OF CHRISTMAS" "ITS ISTUS"

Ok get that cup

Fuck you issak

WOAH ITS THE CUP BACKSTORY TIME; Besides the long periods of static and weirdly fuzzy childhood, Lup's biggest regret in her life? Well she didn't have anything really. She didn't put any of her skills to good use.. except once. She was performing her evocation magic for money and it got out of hand. She seriously injured an innocent person that resulted in their death. "Lup... that is your biggest regret. But it hasn't happened yet. If you claim me, we can go back and save that life. They would have never died. We can go back and save them."

thats the best i can do

Lup probably takes the longest to think this over because she cant handle the fact she murdered an innocent but Magnus's speak of "Tell me what happens if we dont do this" convinces her to stay

DONT KILL THE WORM YOU BITCHES, LISTEN TO JUNE

FREEDOM

Oh fuck its that red robe again - no we dont fucking trust you

"You don't... You don't trust me...?" He looks to Lup, and floats down to her level. Despite his occasional flattery and softness when he speaks to her, lowering himself and looking her in the eye pulls at something invisible in her heart. Something she hasn't felt in forever. "Lup...? You don't trust me?" "I don't even know you." The red robe whispers some more things and electricity flies off of him as he vanishes.

Hi Paloma oh a vision? "In your hour of greatest need, you will receive help from the forgotten one."

Ok back home - oh fuck IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER?

Lets fight? OK!

Lunar interlude

Date at the chug n squeeze? Wrong. Battle of the century. Almost.

Lup v Kravitz the two face off with Kravitz just trying to knock Lup out so he can safely transfer her into the astral plane without her dying

Lup, who doesnt think shes a lich, is just trying not to die.

They dont do this on the moon, they do this in neverwinter

IS THAT THE FUCKING RED ROBE?

As he saves you. As you're down you feel something phase through you as a red robe walks through your body and presents itself in front of Kravitz. He emits that same electricity off of his body and Kravitz looks baffled but only rifts a hole into the astral plane. "You're coming with me." As the battle is only beginning the red robe whispers to you, Lup; "Run."

PURCHASES THE RAGING FLAMING POISONING SWORD OF DOOM

Suffering game

Hey lucy, oh youre not fifty? Oh thats lowkey kind of fucked "Luckily as an elf i dont think i have to worry about that... sorry-"

Maggy where the fuck are you going

I feel like Lup would either follow magnus or magnus would defo ask Lup to help break out robi, so she does.

MAGNUS YOU FUCKING KILLED THEM-

Oh fuck get me out of here fighting these monsters

Lord artemis sterling and his bodyguards... cool.. ok

nvm lydia is hot

Ok this sucks

Lup gets the same sacrifices as Taako, so she takes the bad luck, shes fine with losing some life, hands? No Im not giving you my hand, fuck. MY APPEARENCE...? Yeah i dont care.

Chooses trust instead of forsake.

"Why should this person chose you?" "Uhh... Cause I'm hot as fuck." *applauds*

SAVES MAGNUS OFC - Oh is that the grim reaper? So Lup actually does try to save Kravitz cause lowkey she wants to be on good terms with him

Is that the red robe-

WE'RE TRUSTING HIM NOW????

her ghost looks ... weird.

Its nearly impossible to kill Edward, except when he's a lich. So. That's actually when Lup gets an idea. And she dies. Like full on explodes herself.

LICH LUP WOOOOOO

As soon as Lup is free from her body, her very very death and actually burning corpse. Everything hits her very slowly and soon all at once. So instead of killing edward immediately Lup instantly panics and starts to lose her cool... until "Lup?" She hears Barry's voice. It's not her anchor but it's enough to remind her of the situation at hand.

Lup destroys edward, so lydia destroys magnus's body

As Magnus sees Lup's liches form he isn't surprised, because he remembers when Lup sat down and told them all(?) about her and ... somebody's decision to become a lich... WAIT WHAT

Lup demands more answers from Barry and Magnus does the same, Barry is more sweet about it to Lup than Magnus

Merle is looking at Lup and Barry with upmost confusion and WHAT IS GOING ON????

To Barry's cave! Hey why is there two pods here

"So... I'm really glad actually, Lup, that you're here. And you're back... and as much as i wanna stop the end of the world to kiss you... We gotta move. We both saved what we could from our corporeal forms - mine is a bit more fresh but yours is back from the [starblaster]... so ... I actually don't know what you'll remember but youre gonna need it if we wanna get back on that moon base and confront Lucretia."

Merle can't hear anything and he is so confused, Magnus can understand this all and contiens demanding answers- before they both enter the tank, Magnus gets Lup's outfit while Merle pulls out deniem blue jeans AND WAIT BARRY AS IN BARRY BLUE JEANS?? beFORE THEY DO THIS

Lup looks to Barry and asks where Taako is. The name sounds familiar to Magnus, but his head is splitting in two before he can remember such a person. Barry can't bring himself to reply so he simply tells Lup he isn't sure but he doesn't have high hopes.

As they both go into their own tanks, Barry doesnt know anybody or anything. Lup steps out and she throws on her outfit and demands answers from magnus and merle of what happened after she died. "Am I a lich? Am I posessed? IS THAT BARRY?" And why is barry still so goddamn attractive?

Barry looks at Lup like shes the love of his life and actually starts being timid and nervous around her

Magnus tries explaining but once its all static the idea of another void fish comes to mind... PLANNING

BACK TO THE MOON BASE

heres the relic, magnus is dead, fuck you.

Oh hi angus, the truth? uhhhh i guess we can tell you oh is that zone of truth. dammit barry-

SECOND VOID FISH?

Oh my god........ my brother is dead. Taako is dead.

Hi Lucy, "I'm gonna fucking kill you now." But Barry holds Lup back as her fire wall is pathetic against her shield.

"I'm so sorry Lup but.. the pain was too unbearable. Taako.. Taako is gone. And he's not coming back."

Story and Song

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT-

As all hope seems lost after Lup remembers the other half of her heart, Barry and Lup are refusing to die because they cant be liches forever. They dont have anything to go back to-

She remembers Paloma's prophecy, and Istus's gift. It's a simple ritual - a simple spell and only thinking of her brother she casts it. And Lup almost loses it again when nothing happens.

It takes too much but Lucretia is the one who channels a spell to crush these beats in their own shield before she vanishes. ANd now we gotta do other shit yay

Lup and Barry and sent to find the ship but she can't bring herself to do so... "I... I know we're supposed to save the world and everything Barry but... but what's the point... without Taako here with us?"

Barry does what he can to comfort his fiance before he notices the sphere of black glass. "Listen.. do you remember in lucas's lab when we was going over everything?" "Ye.. yeah?" Barry takes a breath to elaborate but Lup cuts him off. "Barry you know transumtation isn't my school of magic." "I know but..." He points to the glave she's holding. "It's his."

And with that they feather fall down and give it a try.

While Barry begins to fight for his life - with the help of Lucas who joins them, Lup continuously tries and fails to open this portal. She slams her head against her own creation and curses Taako for not being here. How is she supposed to go on when Taako is gone? And she didn't even get to grieve? Or say goodbye? And why did Istus lie to her?

And then a rift in space opens. And there he is. Taako appears in his red robe without his hat or his weapon. Lup feels a hand on her shoulder suddenly as she hears her brother's voice say "Don't worry Lulu, I have magical powers." And when he touches his weapon to the sphere it's like an explosion goes off.

"Taako! Where'd you open that portal to?!" "The Astral Plane."

When Lup sees Kravitz (and he looks fucking awful.) behind him she suddenly flips out; "ARE YOU DATING THE GRIM REAPER?" "SHUT UP"

But it doesn't last long before Lup embraces Taako tightly.

TAAKO ONLY CAME BACK BECAUSE MEREL RECONNECTED WITH THE GODS BTW SO ISTUS COULDNT HOLD UP HER END OF THE DEAL UNTIL SHE WAS BACK-

OK SHIP TIME WE GET TOGETHER EVERYONE IS PISSED AT LUCRETIA BUT as theyre discussing the science behind it she suddenly offers, looking at the tres horny boys briefly that there is a third option. Thanks Paloma.

Taako stays on the plane to fight while Lup, sure she wont lose him again, kicks the hungers ass.

Epilogue, everything is pretty much the same because lup doesnt wanna run a school for magic and now that taako was apparently routing for lup in the astral plane the whole time shes off the hook

THE END YAYAYAYA

EDIT I KNOW I HAVE MORE WOOHOO:

Why does Taako die? Why does he care?

Well, Taako knew he couldn't just rely on a dance to cheer up Lup - so Taako decided he was going to do something good and destroy his sister's relic. Obviously he can resist the temptation but Cyrus Rockseeker does not. Taako blasts him with his glave(or clave or whatever) into the safe but ultimately dies.

We then we Taako wake up in the astral plane, behind the bars of the eternal stockade where a skeleton stands before him checking off a list. He says something in a cockney accent along the lines of "Finally, I've been lookin' for you."

"Crazy accent you go there Ghostrider, where am I?" "You're in the Astral Plane, Taako. Finally. You wouldn't happen to know where your others friends are? They're supposed to be locked up in here with you."

"... What-"

AND OVER THE TIME TAAKO SUCCESSFULLY FLIRTS AND SEDUCES KRAVITZ ESP POST CRYSTAL KINGDOM ARC AND THATS WHY THEYRE DATING NOW OK COOL-

[thequeenofthestorm]

D&D Armor in Elden Ring

A Fashion Showcase & Advice

Read Part One here

Introduction

Hello! It's me again... already. Yeah I should just make these videos instead of rambling on Tumblr about them. Would you guys watch these as videos? I'm not making much content on my YouTube channel anyway. I can decide that later. Anyways, if you read my post from last night, you would know that I use the twelve different D&D armor types to make my character designs in Elden Ring. Well, I want to go over some different designs I've put together for each of the armor types. I want to use this to show some inspiration to those of you who may not know where to start, and to help show some techniques you can use to make characters with even the lowest endurance wear what looks like plate armor without going overloaded! :D

Before we get into it, I want to introduce our model. This is Tempest:

She's a copy of my original 100% playthrough that I used for my first DLC playthrough. As such, she has the most DLC armor of all of my characters, so she'll be our model for today! As one last little thing: if you haven't you should totally try other races rather than just standard humans for your tarnished! I've got a half wolf for example. I also have one who lives in death, multiple nightfolk, and Tempest here is a Draconian! It can be a fun way to tie your build to your character's design. Without further ado, let's get into it: starting with padded and ending at plate. We, of course, don't need to do unarmored because I'm sure you know how to do clothing. The image descriptions will have the pieces in each armor set, as well as their Elden Ring weight class (unarmored, robes, ultra light, very light, light, light medium, medium, heavy, very heavy, ultra heavy, and oversized)

Padded

Gambeson and Particularly Thick Cloth

Leather

Armor Made Of... Leather...

Studded Leather

Leather Armor With Those Tiny LEGO Bricks

Due to there only being one studded leather set, this is the only example I made.

Hide

Armor Made of Thick Animal Furs and Pelts

Chain Shirt

Shirt Made of Interlocking Rings

Alright, so if you read my last post you're likely looking at the right set a little weirdly. I've been deliberately using chestpieces from the lists of armor in each type until now, so why did I use a suit of armor from full chainmail (briar) for the chain shirt. Well, if it wasn't already obvious, it's because it still LOOKS like a chain shirt when used in this context. The lists are great for full sets, but it gets a lot more nuanced when you start making your own sets. As you'll see throughout a few more types of armor, I'll be trying to use chest armor that's not in the same category I'm building for. Thinking outside of the box a little really helps, as the armor on the right fits for a Raya Lucarian Battlemage with the coloring and the mask, while also being heavier than the armor on the left.

Scale Mail

Armor of Metal "Fish Scales"

Breastplate

A Fitted Metal Chestplate, Without Much Extra Protection

As with the chain shirt, this set's right outfit is using a chestpiece from outside the breastplate category. As with the chain shirt as well, this is to show that you can use sets from other categories to make armor of a desired type. For example, here we used the bloodhound knight chestpiece, which is half plate, but basically any suit of half plate or even full plate can be combined with some light greaves and gloves to make a breastplate with higher defenses! :D

Half Plate

The "Greatest Hits" of the Superior Plate Armor. High Torso Protection with Moderate Limb Protection.

Just like with the breastplate, I used a heavier chestpiece to make the armor on the right. This time, it's a full plate set of armor to make half plate. Just change out the legs for something with only about half of the legs protected, and you can make the gauntlets lighter too without compromising the type of armor.

Ring Mail

Armor made of large rings on a leather backing

You need to get very creative to make ring mail, and use armor that can be mistaken for ring mail. There's no ring mail in the game, so I used the shadow militiaman chestpiece for this, as even I'd mistaken it for ring mail originally when writing my first post on this topic.

Chain Mail

A Suit of Interlocking Metal Rings

So you'll notice that neither of these sets use one of the three chain armor sets in their chestpieces. For the left armor set, it's because the surcoats are individual pieces of armor, which I didn't sort in my last post. For the right, I used the common soldier cloth armor as a tabard, in a similar way the surcoats are used. With the way the armor is laid out, it's implied that chainmail is under the cloth.

Splint

Metal Strips Riveted Onto a Leather Backing

I'll be honest, the Gaius one was a challenge on my part. Gaius's chestpiece kinda sucks to work with lol

Plate

Full-Body Coverings Made with Shaped, Interlocking Metal Plates

Those two armor sets above use chestpieces (and just primarily armor) from the plate armor category. I want to show below two examples where I use robes to make the illusion of plate armor

Both of these use armor in the first two sections to make armor that gives the illusion of plate armor while being significantly lighter. Sure, you lose out on the poise and defense that a plate cuirass offers, but you still get more defense than if you built an unarmored setup using these. This same technique can be used for basically any armor type, but it tends to have the most effect with plate and chainmail. As a quick tip from me before I wrap this up as well, use Blaidd's or the Young Lion's gauntlets to make plated armor even when the sleeves roll up on the robes you're using, as they have enough reach to hide the majority of your skin. This works even better when playing as a draconian, nightfolk, etc. due to their dark skin tones. I betcha didn't even notice the back part of Tempest's forearm sticking out of the armor on the left.

Conclusion

Welp, I hope that read wasn't nearly as long for you as the last one. If you want to see the first post, click here to see it! I hope to make one last part to show the fashion of all of my characters, which totals to roughly 16. I want to show their armor and explain what type of armor I think they're wearing and why. Just like this post, it'll also contain the armor pieces used for each one in the image descriptions! If you made it here, thank you so much for reading. This time, I WON'T be getting sleep because it's only 1525 and I have the rest of the day ahead of me, but I'll probably relax and play Elden Ring while I wait to see what the feedback is here! Goodbye :D

[aladaylessecondblog]

light glimmers in a flower (good tav x gortash 7)

One week, and then two. Then four.

Tav had been placed under strict orders to ensure she bonded properly with Cald, that she was rested, and that any lingering damage from the birth was healed fully. Two weeks of confinement to the fortress, and six before any attempt should be made to resume marital relations.

Not, she thought sourly, That THAT will be a problem.

As she pulled a fresh sleeping gown over Cald's head she thought again of Gortash.

He'd spoken little to her since their argument. Had he been any other man she would have thought he was merely being considerate, perhaps heeding the midwives' orders, but him being...well, him, she knew better. Now she'd served her purpose, he didn't want her.

Tav reached a finger down, let Cald's tiny hand grip at it, and smiled.

He was a marvel, this little one. His movements had been a little jerky at first, but Berlina had said that was normal. He was already starting to raise his head on his own and bringing his hands closer to his mouth. She was tired, so achingly tired, but she hardly want to take her eyes off him. The rocking chair had been a blessing in that regard--she would often nod off holding him.

As she had now.

She only realized it when she felt someone attempting to take the babe from her, and automatically held him closer. Her eyes snapped open--

It was Gortash.

Her fear shifted to a strange mix of annoyance and grief, which she quickly masked over as she handed Cald to him.

"You should sleep, my lady." He took a step back, and gestured toward her bed with his free hand.

"I'll need to feed him again soon," Tav replied sleepily. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Or I would."

"Is the wet nurse not doing her job?"

"I didn't hire one."

"So you will spend everything for those unwashed refugees but nothing for your own son?"

"I don't call this nothing. There's no NEED for me to spend extra money on a wet nurse when I'm perfectly capable of taking care of him myself." It was another jab, but--after so much time without him, she thought it was simply the price of his company. This was what they were now, after all, right? She had given him what he needed, so there was no longer a need for him to pretend he wanted anything to do with her. She was almost glad. Had he continued in the same way as before, Tav was certain she may have started feeling more than she ought, considering the evil he was responsible for.

Fooled by pretty words...did you not do the same with me? Astarion's voice asked her. Poor thing, so hungry for affection you will believe any lie whispered in your ears.

"You are a Duchess, not some common child's mother. Certain things will be expected of you, and one of those will be not falling asleep when you re-enter society."

"That I don't yet need to do," she replied, "And we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

Gortash huffed. "You'll be doing it soon, so you should arrange for it within a tenday."

"I can't--"

"You can."

"I don't want to lose him to a doppelganger!" she burst out, finally. "Every time I think of letting anyone else handle him without me present I--I imagine that bloodthirsty bitch and what she or those Bhaalists would do if--if--"

He looked stunned.

"They were spreading pieces of that circus clown all over the damn city, what they'd have done with--a--a baby, I..."

Tav forced herself to take a few deep breaths, and was able to keep herself from shedding tears. She watched Gortash, as he let the sleepy Cald grab at the fingers of his gauntlet.

At least he will be good to the child.

"But as you wish, Archduke. I'll have a wet nurse hired."

"You could have said that more nicely," he finally replied. "I was under the impression the Bhaalists were...dealt with. There should be nothing to worry about further, on that head...though of course, checks can be done."

"There is ALWAYS something to worry about." Tav sat back in the chair. "Always."

"Clearly you've no end of--" Gortash suddenly tensed up and gave a slight yelp.

"What's wrong?"

"Static," he said, pulling his finger back from Cald and giving his hand a few shakes, as if trying to get something off it. "Given the way you have him wrapped up, it doesn't surprise me."

"That blanket is entirely cotton, it shouldn't--" Tav shook her head. She couldn't think of much more to say, not wanting to sound defiant, lest...

Lest he take away everything he's given you, Astarion's voice came again.

He will act only in his own self-interest, Halsin's voiced joined in. Mark my words, your days with him are numbered.

No, she thought, No, I'm still useful to him, he won't.

He has the means to provide for a cub on his own. Why does he need you?

The idea of losing Cald to a doppelganger was bad enough, but the idea that Gortash would take him from her was somehow worse.

"What," she said quietly, "Or...when, rather, do you wish me to re-enter society? Is there an event I need to attend with you?"

"A soiree celebrating the birth of my son and heir two tendays from now," Gortash replied. He looked down and let Cald take hold of his finger again. "You need not stay long, but we will both be expected to attend...and I imagine there will be a few who question you regarding your view of a son."

"He is no different to me than a daughter would be. I have only ever behaved that way when dealing with--troublesome male drow I ended up fighting. They could claim themselves to be hardened warriors all they like, but deference to a female is virtually ingrained in their souls."

Gortash was silent for a moment, as Cald seemed to be waking up. The boy clenched at his finger and brought it forward, into his mouth, gumming at it for a moment before beginning to cry.

"You see? Hungry." Tav stood tiredly, and moved closer, "Mama's coming, little one."

The babe's head turned in her direction and he calmed down almost the moment he was in her arms.

He looked up at her with his little red eyes and babbled, "Aaaaaaaaaaa...."

"That's right, Cald. Aaaaaaaa. You are inferior to nobody," she cooed and settled back in to nurse him. "My sweet, perfect little boy...one day you will be Archduke. Maybe even a King, if your papa has anything to say about it."

Gortash watched her in silence for several minutes, and then left.

At least this time, he didn't slam the door.

--------------------------------

The wet nurse was a human woman named Meara who had made a living nursing the children of others, despite having none herself.

"I had not thought it possible," Tav said. "Is it some spell you perform on...yourself?"

"My husband, rest his soul, liked to...let us put it politely and say he liked my breasts above anything else, and after much...interest...we realized I was producing milk. The healers say this is perfectly normal when you...handle...breasts frequently. So after he died..."

"You thought it the best way to secure an income for yourself." Tav nodded. "I...there is one thing that I hope you won't take issue with, but..."

Here she explained the situation with the Bhaalists, leaving out of course that Orin had once worked with Gortash.

"I worry that they make take issue with the way they were rooted out and...well..." she took a deep breath. "I don't wish to accuse you of being a doppelganger, but my husband wants to ensure his heir is safe."

They agreed in the end that a daily cut of the thumb with a small dagger would do the trick--just enough to draw blood. A gift of a ring with an attached healing spell would be provided to ensure nothing came of this little cut, and all would be well.

And, Scratch assured her, he could smell when someone wasn't right so would be happy to lend his aid.

I'll take care of the little master, he promised, Pups need to be watched!

---------------------------------

It was anxiety-inducing to leave her quarters, to leave Cald alone with anyone, but Tav swallowed her fear and forced herself through the dressing process and the short journey to the ballroom with Gortash.

She hated how she ached to take his hand as she walked beside him, hated the way she craved even a single touch. The necessary time of rest had passed, and he was free to come to her again...but the question was there--would he? She doubted it. He had barely touched her at all since the argument, let alone proceeded beyond that.

You want to touch him, even if you get nothing in return, Halsin's voice came, for the first time in months not as hard as it had been. My heart...you deserve better.

Sex is the easiest way to keep a man happy, followed Astarion's voice. If you can get him to take it, he will undoubtedly come back to you for more.

That was it. She would have to stay in his good graces somehow, and sex was the best way to do it. Tonight. She would try tonight, once they were back in his quarters...once they were alone.

They entered the ballroom, and Tav pasted on a smile.

---------------------------------------

It was as grand and glittering as any event for the elite of Baldur's Gate ever was, and the largest part of conversation she participated in was congratulations for bearing the Archduke his heir. Gortash, it seeemed,

"Girls have just as much to offer as boys, but you know how some human men are," said one of the high elven nobles, "Always on about legacies. And such a one the Archduke is going to have! With all but the drow, of course..."

"Oh, I think we both know the Archduke knows how to deal with drow," Tav replied. When there was a round of chuckles, she went on, "My little Cald will be more than able to carry on his father's heroics. What else could he do?"

"Fall in line behind the first lady to give him a hard glare, perhaps? Some men like that, drow or no," one nobleman said. "It's only that they're more...susceptible to it."

"It's a product of their upbringing, and he won't get it from me. He is just as valuable to me as any daughter would be."

"How brave of you," another said, "It will be quite a fight to make them respect a male leader, but I can't imagine they will be much trouble...at present, anyway. So few of your people are found here."

She went to the refreshment table after the conversation concluded, having warded off any number of little statements about how brave she was, and how pleased the Archduke must be.

(Once or twice she looked over in Gortash's direction and gave him a hopeful smile; both times he merely inclined his head.)

As Tav was heading back to her seat beside him, she felt a sharp-nailed hand at her elbow.

"Lord--Szarr," she said on turning to him, voice halting, throat suddenly dry, face paling, "A pleasure."

"Indeed," he replied, "I had not expected you out so soon. The Archduke seemed to think your recovery would take longer."

"I was already recovering well, he was merely being--considerate."

Cazador stepped in front of her, and raised one of her hands to his lips. She said nothing, but inwardly was praying he'd quickly grow bored.

What happened to all your bravado? Gone. It's just as well. You can't be too careful with Cazador, my dear. Astarion's voice whispered in her mind. Remember that.

Your position is too precarious. Halsin added.

"If you are not overtired--"

Please don't...

"--perhaps I might persuade you to dance."

"I can hardly turn down an invitation here," Tav said quietly, "Now can I? It would be...quite rude."

The smile that then appeared on Cazador's face was just a little too wide, wide enough she could see the points of his teeth. "Indeed. But you know better, of course."

"Of course."

She took his hand, let herself be lead, and didn't speak again until the dance actually began.

"I can't imagine why you ask me to dance when we attend the same...events," Tav kept her voice meek, "Surely there are other young women you'd like to ask."

There was a pause, and then he spoke in a sharp tone, "Look at me when you speak. You're being very rude."

She forced herself to look up.

Be perfect and pleasant.

After a slight pause he asked, in a strangely more pleasant tone, "Tell me, before you were the Duchess...when you still loved my wayward son...how did you reconcile his behavior with that love?"

"What behavior do you mean? Being catty? He tells me he never tasted...certain things...before me."

"Oh, a very clever liar, that one. Or perhaps you were simply easy to fool." He pressed just slightly closer. "I don't mean those he drained, I mean those he brought to me."

"Those he--brought to you?" She kept her eyes on his smirking face, eager for an answer. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Duchess..." Cazador tutted at her, and lowered his voice, "I know you know more than you let on...do you think he could have made spawn on his own?"

She didn't respond. She couldn't.

"There...are...thousands," he whispered, "Thousands, he brought me..."

Tav looked away, and remained silent.

Thousands? Really? He must be exaggerating.

And suppose he's not? Halsin's voiced asked her.

Astarion's voice remained silent. Tav found herself gulping.

"Have I told you more than you want to hear?"

"No more than I already knew."

"You're a terrible liar. You should work on that."

Another smirk. Tav again found no response.

"You seem much more subdued today," Cazador went on, "And I can only praise the improvement. Perhaps the Archduke will make a lady of you yet."

"I have tried to do him proud."

But you know you haven't, have you? You'd be in his bed already if so.

"I hope you don't refer only to the child. Any whore on the street could do that."

She remained silent for another few minutes, and stiffened on hearing him speak again.

"Nothing to say?"

"Do these insults have a purpose?" She asked after a lengthy silence, "What are you trying to do, exactly?"

"To remind you," Cazador replied as the dance concluded, as his piercing eyes met and seemed to cut straight through her own, "That you have risen quite high, but..."

Another kiss on the hand. An unsettling smile.

"You should think...how much farther you have to fall."

Tav found herself feeling momentarily faint, and only accepted the next dance from one of the other nobles out of fear Cazador might ask her for a second.

He was at least more pleasant, if also more slimy. He was another of those wishing for Gortash's favor on some matter or the other, and she muttered promises to speak to him about the issue.

She practically ran back to her seat after that.

"You look unwell," Gortash said after she'd eaten, "Perhaps this was not the best of ideas."

"It's nothing you need to be too concerned about," Tav replied in a muted tone, "I only needed to eat. I find my appetite has increased of late...your son is quite a hungry little thing."

He was silent for a long period, as they sat watching the crowds. He drained the last of a goblet of wine in front of him, then added, "I see Lord Szarr had quite a lot to say to you. Was there anything of note?"

"Only advice on how to look the part of a lady, for whatever reason." She took a deep breath. "I think he means to intimidate me."

I'm already on thin ice with him, I can't tell him more.

"They're all like that, to one degree or another."

Is that it? Is that all you have to say? Have I really fallen so far in your sight? Tav wondered to herself, No, Cazador's a threat to his power, he's GOT to do something about the man.

He would hardly share his goings-on with you, would he? Astarion's voice sounded off, Likely as not he has a plan and doesn't want you interfering. You never were particularly sneaky.

But I would want to help him, I don't understand...

Do you think he really NEEDS your help, darling? He's Archduke of Baldur's Gate, and you are the pretty thing on his arm. There is nothing you can do that he can't do better. Sad as it is to say.

I can do more than he might think.

"Yes...I'm learning that," Tav finally replied, "It would be better if we could have him as ally, I suppose, but he sees no need for allies, with that...ascension in mind."

Please, she found herself begging internally, Talk to me. I'll take anything, even an insult.

She wanted to ask what he was doing, what he had planned, but after battling it together in her head, decided against it. If she was right--if he was as done with her as he seemed, she couldn't bother him with much if she wanted to stay on his good side. He'd already talked of planning to deal with the man anyway, it wouldn't do good to prod him about it.

"You fear too much. We have this well in hand."

"Shall we say...becoming a mother has only added to my concerns," Tav said gently, "Before Cald I could be as foolish as I pleased. I lived on the road, what were a few petty dangers when it came to what lurked in my head? Perhaps I was more reckless than I should have been, but..."

She shook her head.

"But?" Gortash asked suddenly.

"But I spent so long being ready to die...that I forgot how to live." She thought of the little eyes, the grasping fingers. The way Cald had begun to look in her direction when she spoke. The way she saw danger for what it was, for all the new fears that had resulted from the birth of this little one who had stolen her heart. "And he reminded me."

Tav chanced a look at him then, and while he wasn't looking at her with that strained expression, at least he did not look angry.

"One dance," he said slowly, after having a few sips from another glass of wine, "And then I believe you'll have discharged your obligation."

"I would do more than that, if you would allow it," she replied softly, and finished her water. "Trust me."

He huffed slightly. "My lady, no one is as good as you are pretending to be. I would prefer the mask you put on before."

What surprised Tav was not that this remark hurt, but how little it did. It was nothing to his insults from before.

"It may have started a mask," she replied, taking the meek tone she'd used with Cazador, "But it has not been such for some time now. If you prefer to believe otherwise, that is your right. I ask no more of you than civility and duty demand."

The current dance they were watching ended, and he was silent until the time came for him to lead her out for the next. Seeing more than one pair of eyes on them, she pasted on a smile.

"And who taught you to keep such low expectations?"

Tav didn't answer.

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Champion Calem

Okay.  Maybe I was a little harsh on Champion Serena.  The frog bothered me.  And yeah, there’s two frogs, because DeNA has apparently just given up and thinks an event can just be two of the same Pokemon, as long as it’s a really popular one.  I admittedly hate it.  But I should be objective, and surely Calem will be treated a bit nicer since he’s a support, and we know how much I love those.

General Overview Sygna Suit Kris is better.  "That's not really fair."  Yeah but it’s true.  And it’s the entire reason to call him into question.

Here’s our thesis question for the post: What determines whether a support is good? There are a lot of answers. Generalizability to many teams, like Roxanne’s cap to special attack and speed, or Hop’s Attack/crit cap for team. Expanding an archetype by applying new tools like the rebuffs. And of course, role compression, which is the biggest selling point in my book. When a support buffs stats and applies field multipliers, it frees up the third team slot for a host of options, like debuffers, secondary terrain, or dual striker comps. Calem has a lot of speed and a 3 for 2 special on Recharging Strike 9 Brutal Swing, meaning he facilitated all three, and thus enters the coveted S-Tier halls as one of the top five supports in the game. Which is a damn good starting point. But where on this ranking does he fall? To answer that, comparisons have to happen with the other three: Ingo, SS Morty, SS Kris, and Aura Cynthia.

In broad terms, Calem is strictly inferior. He cannot buff a stat to cap without 3/5, where he can get crit. He also has no team healing outside of Dark Zone, so entire archetypes go without aid. He also has to wait until his Buddy move is active before summoning the field effect, while the others draw it at will. And of course, it’s only 2MP, with no MPR. This is the most critical failure in my eyes, as 2MP is not always enough in a Gauntlet context. Cynthia may be on sync, which carries its own problems, but that just makes her excellent with DPS units. So if Calem doesn’t measure up broadly, what about specifics? This guy supports two whole types with their field multipliers, that’s already great. But how well does he help them?

Calem’s Buddy move will set Rain if he’s Water type, and provides +2 stacks of special moves up next. Hopefully the problem is obvious. With the condition of needing 10 hits on foes from all allies, Calem’s getting Rain and +2 special moves in the same time it takes SS Kris to give better special attack/crit and like +7 stacks. Calem cannot compete with Kris under rain. His role should be to complement physical water damage dealers like SS Grimsley, but notably, Grimsley needs Calem to cap crit, or he’s cutting his HP to horrific lows, and Calem cannot heal him. Rain is not Calem’s best showing.

What about Dark? Dark gets its Zone, and +2 physical moves. Which is bad. The only Dark type physical move worth it is Masked Royal, who again needs 3/5 for crit. Nanu, Grimsley, and Sidney have really weak DPS and don’t care, while BP Karen and Halloween Hilbert will absolutely kill themselves with recoil after getting +130% damage, because again, Calem cannot heal them. Special moves would have been significantly stronger as an effect.

I want to impress that Champion Calem is really good.  When your point of comparison is my pick for best unit in the game (yes, still), you’re clearing doing well.  But I also need to make clear that Calem is kind of an awkwardly designed unit.  He feels like he was designed entirely with Champion Serena in mind.  He perfectly complements everything she does, to the active detriment of carving out a more effective niche in his archetypes.  Had the moves up next effects been reversed, I feel like I’d be singing a slightly different tune.  But not an entirely different one.  His buffing kit is notably poor, his Buddy move is very hard to access, and it limits overall effectiveness compared to other field effect supports.  Also I feel like his bulk isn’t great, his grid has a lot of problems, and he feels much more optimized for CS and 3v3 than for the majority of Legendary Arena matches.  But I’m starting to get granular.

EX and Move Level? He's a support, so EX is always a good idea, though nothing he has is all that demanding of sync.  As for move level...much like Serena, this feels like a Master Fair that demands 3/5. Without 3/5, he loses Crit Squad and Safe Start, the only things saving his buff capacity and lack of healing support.  So if you just want the Zone or Rain and the stacks of moves up next, 1/5 is fine.  But you need to be very aware of who he's partnered with and what they can do.

Team 1: C!Calem, Masked Royal/Sidney, Nanu Dark-type team.  Calem can set Zone for them, eventually, and helps cap needed offenses. Note that Masked Royal requires Calem to be 3/5, or you can't cap crit, and it's a disaster. Nanu can debuff defense for their damage output.

Team 2: C!Calem, C!Iris, C!Elesa Champion Iris (I refuse to start calling her alt Iris) is actually a great partner to Calem.  Her own trainer move gives +1 crit and +2 attack, meaning Calem perfectly rounds out her needs.  It’s also worth noting that physical moves up does work out, given Power Play and the high base power of Dragon Rush.

Team 3: C!Calem, SS Grimsley/Lodge Silver, Nanu Similar deal to the first, but now with Rain.  SS Kris is amazing, but does nothing for physical Water types.  Calem gives a lot of physical power to units like SS Grimsley, who needed the help.  That said...3/5 required again, or Grimsley has to use his own trainer move and then dies a horrific death.  Though if you want a 1/5 solution, Lodge Silver gets all the crit rate and attack he needs.

Team 4: C!Calem, SS Cyrus, P!Dawn Calem can support SS Cyrus in CS, by helping set up the Dark Zone he needs to stay operational.  It just frees up a lot of Cyrus' time. Granted, you still need two trainer moves before spamming Dark Void, but you get the idea.

Final Thoughts I know I already stated this.  But I find Calem weird.  I really, truly feel like they designed him as a complementary unit to Serena before being his own unit.  There are such obvious tweaks to make him a more cohesive unit for his desired archetypes.  He’s still good, don’t get me wrong, but he feels really, really awkward in ways I feel like a Master Fair shouldn’t.  But hey, on the other hand, we’re getting second anniversary reruns this month, and if you want to talk about just dogshit units, Calem is not the first thing to yell about.

[firyfox]

Since Bakugo is an explosion guy , I thought it would be neat to design a Dynamight costume design inspired by demolition suits (and then styled to be more fitting for Bakugo) so here's a color outline & a detail sketch

[elencelebrindal]

Female Cloths that have no reason to exist

You all know what I’m talking about, right? Yeah, you do. You absolutely do. 

I’m talking about three specific instances of Silver Cloths that, instead of looking like armor and acting like armor, are more like... oh, you’re a girl? Let’s show that body! Let’s have nothing but a pathetic excuse of armor that should you try to fight will have you easily stabbed in the guts. 

What pisses me off is not the (bad) design itself. It’s the fact that the Silver Cloths are described are armors that cover the body more than the Bronze Cloths. Yet, we have Marin, Shain and Yuzuriha wearing nothing.  These Cloths should adapt to the body of the wearer, right? Well, I want you to imagine how those pathetic armors would adapt to a man’s body. It’s so painfully clear that those armors (or lack of armors) were designed without keeping practicality in mind, but just to have something revealing.

This is a really long post, so I’m hiding it under the “read more”, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there because I’m honestly tired. 

We have example of functional armor. We have June (who’s still better in Awakening as far as design goes, imo), and we have Thetis. 

So first of all, let’s take a look at those good ones, shall we?

This is, in my opinion, one of the best armors I’ve seen worn by a woman on this series. It’s not different from an armor you would see a man wear, just adapted to fit a woman’s body. It has everything; gauntlets, boots, cuirass, pauldrons... nothing’s missing.  A perfect example of how an armor should look. Not a comparison for a Silver Cloth, because the probability of a Silver Cloth having less pieces is high, but a comparison between a good decision and a bad decision. 

This is really good for a Bronze Cloth. The amount of armor, given the description of those Cloths, is perfect. She has everything, and at the same time not too much, perfect for an armor of that rank, since we know that the Bronze Cloth cover the smallest amount of the body when compared to Silver and Gold.  The only thing I don’t like is that she has an impossible “catsuit” (I really don’t have any better ways to call that) under it. It would make way more sense if the upper part was more like a tank top, than whatever sorcery is going on. You ever tried to wear sleeveless anything? You know that stuff slips off continuously.  Aside from that, she’s amazing. 

The main reason why I wanted to present these examples to you is to clarify that I’m not complaining about how much of the body is shown. There’s plenty more male characters that literally are unable to stay dressed on this show (Shiryu, I’m talking to you, wear a goddamn shirt for once).  I’m complaining about how unfair it is to have female characters being so... in a way, objectified. We have good examples, so why not using those examples for characters that should need more than what they’re given?

To make this even more clear, another armor that has no reason to exist is this:

Because honestly, a Surplice covering nothing of importance is really useful. 

I’m focusing on the female characters here because, while half a Surplice is bad, is not as bad as women wearing Silver Cloths that are supposed to be a better protection than Bronze Cloths and instead they get to wear metallic underwear.

This little armor: 

only makes sense for a Bronze Saint. They are supposed not to have a lot of it. And yet, this example in particular has more pieces than the classic Eagle Cloth. It does nothing, but it literally covers more than a Silver Cloth. This armor also has boots, of course. 

Let’s tackle the problem, shall we?

Try to convince me that she’s not wearing just a goddamn metal bra. Come on.  This is not armor.  This is Marin opening her closet, finding one of her fanciest bras, and wearing it alongside those gifts that are actual armor parts. 

The smallest Bronze Cloth of the classic series has a large total of pieces. Boots, gauntlets, some kind of cuirass, pauldrons, knee guards, helmet (in Saint Seiya the definition of helmet is weird, by now we know). Some of them also have those pieces that in a suit of armor could be faulds or tassets, some of them have simple belts, some have cuissess. Give or take 1 to 3 pieces, basically.  The smallest proper Silver Cloth has the same pieces, only they cover much more of the body. Or at least, they should, but we have examples of Silver Cloths literally being the same as Bronze Cloths. It makes me kinda frustrated, but knowing that those armors are stronger gives me a bit of peace.  The best Silver Cloth is the Lyra Cloth, obviously, since it actually matches the description accordingly. 

So... we have what? 2 for the boots, 2 for the gauntlets, 1 for cuirass, 2 for the pauldrons, 2 for the knee guards, 1 for the helmet, and give or take 1-3 pieces for the “optional” ones I mentioned. It’s 10 pieces of armor. 

How many pieces is the Eagle Cloth composed of? 0 boots, 1 gauntlet, 1 breastplate (in absence of other words to call that), 1 plauldron, 2 knee guards, 1 helmet.  It’s 6 pieces of armor.  She’s supposed to have the same, if not more, compared to a Bronze. 

Not only that, have you seen what she’s wearing under it? How is that even remotely comfortable in battle? You know how many times that weird... what the hell is that? A tight high sock? would slip down during a fight? Unless she glued it in place, I highly doubt it’s a good fighting outfit.  It would have been better for her to wear either a single catsuit, or even to keep the leotard but have both of the red tights (preferably leggings uh, you don’t go to battle in tights) be a full piece. 

The manga armor actually has one more piece. It’s not much, but it’s something. It resembles way more how other Cloth’s are treated, when the breastplate is so small.  However, it’s still missing boots. There’s literally no other Cloth, save for Ophiuchus, that doesn’t have boots. What now, they are too much for a woman to handle? June and Thetis have boots.  Marin gets leg warmers and shoes she has to personally provide, apparently, because her Cloth is a discount one. I get that it has to resemble an eagle, but come on. There’s totems depicting smaller animals that have more stuff. 

This artwork I found is from CamilleAddams on Deviantart:

See how easy is to give her a proper armor? It’s still missing the boots, but it’s already much better. It looks like a Silver Cloth, now. And this is only one of the many “updates” I’ve seen made by artists way more talented that I could ever aspire to be. 

This is my own sketch of a proper Eagle Cloth:

Is this really so unrealistic? To have an actually good Cloth for a Silver Saint?

Now, time to take a look at Shaina.

How many pieces is this armor comprised of? 1 breastplate, 2 pauldrons, 0 boots, 1 gauntlet, 1 helmet, 2 knee guards. A total of 7 pieces, just one more that Eagle. 3 less than a basic Bronze Cloth. 

The same exact discourse applies to the Ophiuchus Cloth. Copy-paste what I wrote for the Eagle Cloth and use it here.  Also the hot pink leg warmers paired with yellow HEELS (which yes, are stupid), green leggings and brown leotard are a spectacular combo. Who in the fresh hell decided the colors for her, this is a disaster more than her Cloth. 

At least she actually has no gaps between leotard and (hopefully) leggings.

I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but the Omega Ophiuchus Cloth is so much better than this, at least in base concept. The art is as ugly as my face in the morning, but the concept is legit. 

Look at this, ridiculous but PROPER armor. 

Once again, the manga has one more piece. It looks like she’s not wearing shoes, but it’s the manga, I give that a pass. 

But this particular Cloth makes me unbelievably angry, and you know why? Because the Ophiuchus Gold Cloth exists. And the Ophiuchus Gold Cloth is the proof that this thing doesn’t need to be so useless, because if that can be proper armor, this could be as well.  It’s a design choice, and it’s a poor one to say the least. 

Look at the Gold Ophiuchus Cloth (render by LadyHeinstein on Deviantart):

Look at this, and tell me that a decent suit of armor couldn’t be conjured for the Silver Cloth as well.  The Ophiuchus constellation is literally a man holding a snake. There’s no excuse for not having a human-like Cloth like, I don’t know, the Andromeda Cloth.  Instead, Shaina gets a version that’s not even half a human figure, with nothing to wear but discounted armor that honestly should go straight back to the shop where it came from. 

This is what makes me even angrier when it comes to this particular Cloth. 

Again, this is an “updated” version of the Ophiuchus Cloth by CamilleAddams on Deviantart:

See how much better it is? How much more realistic it looks, when it comes to Saint armor? It looks like a proper Silver Cloth like this, even with no boots. 

In comparison, here’s my own sketch (much lower quality, I know) of the Cloth:

It’s not that difficult! Just have them wear the same stuff their companions wear, is this so much to ask?

But now we come to the best one. Peak character design. So amazingly appropriate for battle that it’s stunning. Crane Yuzuriha from The Lost Canvas. 

What. The. Absolute. Fuck. 

How is that a Silver Cloth? How is that a Cloth? Come on!

Leaving aside the fact that I hate how she doesn’t wear the mask (I made a post about this whole issue, back in the day, I’ll try to link it as soon as I can), she has basically no armor on expect for her legs and arms.  Whatever bullshit is going on on her chest is everything but armor.  She has sandals, for gods sake. Sandals. You don’t want to be a Saint wearing sandals, this is not Ancient Romans having wars for breakfasts, this is a supernatural warrior constantly kicking the shit out of stone and trees (generally speaking). How are sandals something appropriate for a Saint? This is the same exact stuff I wrote for the skirts of the Saintias, it’s not appropriate for the setting. 

But let’s leave this, and let’s tackle what she (doesn’t) wear under her armor. Yuzuriha, my dear, I know that you have abs of steel and you want to show off, but that’s an excellent way to get injured all over with no effort whatsoever. Unless you have invulnerable skin, you’d want to wear something better than booty shorts and bandages that are apparently glued on her boobs. Wear at least something like June, if you don’t want to have sleeves.  This is a design flaw, not something beautiful. The concept is good on its own, but a Saint should NOT be dressed like that. They’re constanly being thrown at whatever surface is the hardest at the moment. Imagine your bare skin sliding at the speed of sound on rocks and dirt.  It’s not only unpractical, is technically dangerous. And I get it, this is an anime, everyone is invulnerable unless blood is needed, but even then this is utterly ridiculous. 

And now, the most ridiculous thing of them all: the breastplate.  It’s literally two sheets of silver feathers apparently glued to her skin. Nothing more. It’s not armor, it just... it’s literally nothing. She’s better off not wearing it, at this point, because it’s useless. 

She would just need a better breastplate/cuirass for that Cloth to be appropriate. Everything else is fine (minus the heels, but at this point why do I even try).  In comparison, a male Saint wearing that Cloth would probably end up shirtless, either the Cloth adjusts itself to the body or not. Who in their right mind would go in battle shirtless????? (yeah yeah, Shiryu and Dohko, but those two have armor on when they don’t act like strippers, at least pay them good money dammit). 

What infuriates me is knowing how the other Silver Cloths are like. It’s painfully obvious that Yuzuriha had to be the edgy woman with revealing clothes and armor, when you look at the REAL Silver Cloths of this series. 

Those shrtless dudes also want trouble, but at least they are somewhat covered. They still need to wear a goddamn shirt, but they also have more armor.  Why they can be THIS normal, but Yuzuriha has to look like she lost half her armor in a dumpster fire and tried to make to with the remnants?

I really like her as a character, and I don’t mind her wearing what she wears (dude, she’s can afford to dress like that, I wish), but the Cloth is terrible. 

The women in Saint Seiya Omega were better equipped than these three poor souls. I don’t like that series at all, and I forgot at least half of it (if not more) since the last time (aka the first) I watched it, but they do have more properly designed armors.  These three - Marin, Shaina, and Yuzuriha - are a perfect example of what you don’t have to do when designing armor for female characters, unless you don’t actually need the armor and it just aesthetic.  June and Thetis, on the other hand, are the perfect example of what you HAVE to do when designing armor for female characters, following the circumstances and the setting. 

Thank you for reading my (way too long) essay. Have a good day. 

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[austerulous]

◈   @talkawayknight​​ said:  ❛ 👀 anri??? :] ❜  //  send me a 👀

A name cuts through the perpetual roar of vacuity, dredging Anri from the bleak waters of distraction.

“Creighton… Creighton is here?”  How her dreamy countenance brightened at the possibility, focus sharpening features that often remained star-flung and faraway.  “No.  No, of course not.  He wouldn’t approve, would he?  No, no…”

Her noble husband was a prowling creature, shrouded in the dark of his own creation.  Anri could not conjure the image of him to her mind, could scarcely discern his outline even when he stood within arm’s reach – or loomed frigid and formidable over her.  Less a person, and more of a feeling.  A missed step in the dark, a shadow hovering in the corner of her gaze.  Haunting, hallowed.  

At the thought of his horror, the Lady of Hollows tugged fretfully at her thinning fringe.  Like any creature of the deep water, she is half-numb, half-blind.  One eye hung like a moon in its socket, clouded over, filmy and unseeing.  It had been pierced by the sword that bound them, in a marital ritual unlike any other.  No rings exchanged, no solemn-spoken vows, only the tip of a blade teasing through the slit in her visor.  If only she had known what would come of her surrender, if only she had been stronger.  If only she had listened to Creighton, and found her worth outside of another’s skin.  Perhaps then she would not live as a husk, in the painful twilight of dying dreams.

“You would know him if you laid eyes upon him.  Creighton, I mean.  A most beloved friend and stalwart companion.  Dear Creighton…”

Memories of his coarse voice, full of character and emotion, shaped by the cleft, brought a tremulous smile to Anri’s bruised lips.  There was a warmth to her friend, one that seemed to soak through his very gauntlets to stain her hands.  Slender fingers, rot-kissed and blackening at the tips, twitched as they recalled his amicable touch, his fumbling fondness.

“His hair is white as a heron’s throat, a cascade of snowy waves.  In my hands, it felt akin to the locks of another I loved… the same weight, the same texture…”

Horace.  His name was balanced like a knife’s dull edge on her tongue, his image was now beyond her sight, steadily eroding with time and decay.  The process of Hollowing slowly carved her out, reducing her to a vessel.  It robbed Anri of the beauty of the men’s contrast, all swan wings and raven feathers.

“His flesh is a living tapestry, home to a most peculiar mottling.  I never understood the origin of those sublime smudges, and was much too timid to ask.  I would have been loath to offend him with my curiosity.”  

In her regret, agitation.  Tension twisted and knotted in her gentle voice until it trembled.  

“His eyes are meltwater.  Blue can be a frightfully cold colour, but his shade is not so.  Not even his faithful mask can disguise their warmth, his tenderness…”  His love came without stipulation, without demand – platonic and gentle, but nonetheless fervent.  Anri shivered and sighed, fussing again with her fringe, her braids fraying, falling dull and lank to her shoulders.  “You mustn’t make mention to the Lord of the Dark.  It would kindle fury in his breast – ignite his ire – and you know the anvil against which he pummels his woes.”

Then it came, a moment of terrible lucidity.  Anri blinked, her sightful eye shifting into full focus, drifting over the four walls that enclosed her, shadow-drenched and touched with mildew.  A cage, barren save for her, for the sparse and lonely trappings of ladyhood.

“Creighton…?”

Silence, of course, was her only answer.

[angelatmidnight1]

fuse as a lee PLEASE!! it’s too cute 😆😆

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

After a particularly bombastic match, Fuse treats himself to a cold beer, a grilled steak, and a well-deserved nap. Walter enjoys a good R and R session after a little mayhem, and today is no different. However, instead of enjoying that nap, a rather mischievous Legend crosses his path, and his name is Octavio Silva. It’s too tempting not to prank Walter as he slumbers, and the poor man is down for the count. Rampart joins him in the mischief and, much to his surprise, they discover that the explosives enthusiast is ticklish. Now, it’s time for the real fun to begin!

“Ahhh, that’s the stuff…”

Walter murmured aloud after he’d downed the rest of his beer. It’d been a long and trying day in the Apex Games; his squad never seemed to catch a break, and many of the fights just barely went in his favor. If it hadn’t been for the extra grenades in his pockets or picking the right time to drop his Mother Lode, the championship would’ve gone to someone else. But, alas, he and his squad managed to pull through and claim the crown for themselves. It was an exciting game, no doubt about it, and those were the kind of games ole Fusey couldn’t get enough of. They reminded him of being back on Salvo, back in the Bonecage, where he put many a bloke to sleep with his fists. He was in the prime of his life then and, like a fine wine, he only got better with age. Of course, he couldn’t spend all of his time raising hell, and there was nothing better than a cold beer and a grilled steak after a hard day. He was even lucky enough to have the entire common room to himself, since the rest of the Legends were all scattered throughout the dropship. After putting the empty bottle down on the table, the explosives enthusiast stretched out onto the couch. He decided to take off his metal arm to get more comfortable and put it next to the discarded bottle. Then, the tiredness finally catching up to him, Walter closed his eyes and dozed off shortly after.

What Fuse didn’t know was that Octavio was actually within the vicinity, wandering throughout the halls without anything to do. Normally, he would be hanging with Ajay or pulling off some sick stunts in his Gauntlet. Ajay, however, was busy working in the med bay and didn’t have time to deal with her hyperactive friend. And his Gauntlet, much to his dismay, was closed down for maintenance along with the entirety of King’s Canyon. The speedster never liked rules and tried to sneak in anyway, but he was caught and received a stern warning from the Games’ admins. Octane muttered some Spanish curses under his breath as he wandered into the common room. Maybe, he thought, he could put those thermites that he swiped on his way out to good use. He noticed Fuse on the couch and speeded over to him, grinning. If he was going to do anything with grenades, he’d definitely want the explosives enthusiast’s on his side. Since he was approaching from behind, he didn’t notice that the old man was sound asleep.

“Hey, amigo! I saw your last game, you were awesome!” he complimented. He climbed over the couch and plopped beside him. “You gotta show me how you pulled off that stick with the arc star. A collateral like that would look sick on my feed.”

When Walter didn’t respond, he arched a brow and turned to him. The explosives enthusiast was slightly slouched over, fast asleep, with his good arm draped over his stomach. Octavio blinked and leaned in to poke his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. The gears in his head turned and he grinned widely behind his mask. If he wasn’t able to pull some stunts or hang out with Ajay, he decided that he’d do something just as fun: pull a prank.

It took about ten minutes, but Octavio managed to dig up a can of shaving cream and a feather for a classic prank. He gave the room a quick once over to make sure no one was around to either distract him or wake the older man up. When he was certain that the coast was clear, he popped open the can and tipped over to Fuse. He slowly grabbed his hand and pried it off of his stomach so he could turn it over with the palm facing up. Every now and then he paused, looking for any signs that he might be waking up, but he didn’t give any. Lucky for Octavio, it seemed like Walter was a heavy sleeper. Octavio put a handful of shaving cream in the man’s palm and chuckled excitedly. Sure, this was a popular prank, but it was still funny.

Oh man, mis amigos are gonna love this.

Octane put the can down and put the feather between his index finger and thumb. He stepped closer to Fuse and took a breath, quickly fluttering it against his right cheek. At first, he didn’t give a reaction. But after a second try, Walter scrunched his nose and turned his head away. The speedster repeated the motion, flicking the feather back and forth, but the older man would just scrunch up his face and squirm away. There were a couple of times where it looked like Fuse was going to use his hand to brush his face, but he kept putting it down at the last minute, earning a groan from Octavio.

“Come on, just a lil bit higher…” he murmured, deciding to switch to his left cheek and increase his efforts. Footfalls sounded off behind the daredevil, but he didn’t notice, so the curious individual was able to walk up right beside him.

“Oi, what’cha doin’?” Came Rampart’s loud voice, which startled Octavio. His head snapped towards hers and he brought a finger to his lips.

“Shh! I’m trying to prank dormilón (sleepyhead) over here,” he whispered, gesturing to the shaving cream with the feather. “So don’t wake him up.”

Ramya’s eyebrows rose and she sat down at the opposite side of Walter. “Gramps is down for the count, huh? Guess he ain’t all that spry after all.” she snickered. She craned her head over to see the shaving cream in his hand and smirked. “Ooo, that’s a classic prank right there. Want some help? Bet I could dig up some markers.”

Octavio shook his head and waved her off with his free hand. “Nah, I’m good. Just need him to itch his face.” He explained, poking the feather into Fuse’s left cheek at random intervals. Walter stirred and grumbled, making the speedster retract his hand. It looked like he was going to wake up but, thankfully, he calmed back down and returned to sleep. Rampart rolled her eyes, leaning over Fuse to take the feather from Octavio.

“You’re doin’ it wrong. Watch.” The modder instructed, wiggling the feather against Fuse’s nose. Walter grumbled again and turned his face away, but Ramya was persistent. She propped herself up on her knees and crawled closer to him. She leaned forward, flicking the plume against his nose again. She balanced herself with her hand against his side, unconsciously gripping it when he fidgeted. Walter twitched and exhaled sharply through his nose. He leaned away from the invasive touch, this time curling against the arm of the couch, and sighed deeply. Ramya blinked and glanced over at Octavio. The speedster met her gaze and inched closer to Fuse, cocking his head to the side.

“Is he…?” Octane curiously poked at Walter’s ribcage, earning a grunt and a quiet, yet undeniable chuckle. The speedster’s eyes lit up with mischief and he grinned at his accomplice. “Mira, looks like tough guy’s ticklish.”

Ramya matched his grin and she walked two fingers along his side. Fuse squirmed and pushed himself further into the couch’s arm. He chuckled and murmured something indecipherable, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “I think you’re onto somethin’, mate.” The modder answered, crossing over his stomach to repeat the same motion on his other side. “Never thought I’d meet a ticklish Salvonian. Now I’ve seen it all.”

Octane and Rampart’s poking and prodding stirred ole Fusey out of his nap, albeit slowly. What started off as quiet grunts and chuckles evolved into prominent giggles as the duo increased their efforts. By the time Walter was somewhat conscious, his nerves buzzed with the ticklish sensations, and he jolted awake.

“AH! Whahat---oh, it’s just you lot.” Walter breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of the situation that he’d found himself in. He was still groggy from being disturbed from his nap. “You pups need somethin’? Or can this old dog go back to--”

He paused, feeling something foamy in his hand. He glanced at his palm and his eyebrows furrowed. “The hell? What’s this doing in my hand?”

Walter shook the stuff off of him. He noticed the feather in Ramya’s hand and smirked, putting two and two together. “Oh, thought you could prank ole Fusey, did ya?”

“He did,” Rampart nodded to Octavio, earning a glare from the speedster. “But he’s a bloody amateur. Guess it’s for the best though, otherwise we wouldn’t know how ticklish you are.”

Fuse gave her a bewildered look. “What?” he spat, yelping when Octane jabbed him in the side. “Hey, knock it off!”

Octavio chuckled. “Didn’t peg you as the ticklish type, amigo. That must suck for you.” He teased, aiming another poke at his stomach. Walter batted him away with his good hand and scoffed.

“I reckon everyone’s ticklish to some extent, mate. What of it?” The explosives enthusiast responded, only to have the realization hit him seconds later. He was sandwiched between two of the most mischievous Legends in the Apex Games, and he’d taken off the only thing keeping him from being the target of their mischief: his metal arm. Granted, the metallic limb wasn’t that far away from where he was, but one of the pups had agility on his side. Walter’s had worse odds though, so he lurched forward to grab it.

Like clockwork, the two younger Legends jumped into action. Octane grabbed Walter’s arm and pulled him backwards, causing him to yelp. Ramya was quick to get up and push the table holding the metal arm further away from where they were. Somehow, Fuse managed to free himself of the speedster's hold and stand up.

“Yeah nah, you lot can have the bloody couch. I’m going to enjohohohy myhyhy--ah! Stohohop!”

While Walter was distracted, Rampart snuck up behind him and poked at his sides. The explosives enthusiast sputtered and snickered, turning to fend her off next. This gave Octavio the opportunity to seize his arm and pull him back on the couch. Fuse yelled again and tried to push him back, but it was difficult to do with one arm. The ticklish pokes were only making it that much harder. So, although Walter outmatched both of the Legends in terms of physical strength, Octane was able to get him down and hold his arm above his head.

“Hurry, chica! Get his legs and I’ll keep his arm down.” The speedster called over his shoulder, adding to the tickle attack by scratching along Walter's stomach. Fuse arched his back and fell into a deeper pool of laughter.

“Nohohoho! Blohohohoody hehehell, gehehehet ohohohff mehehehe!” Walter protested, struggling to propel himself upwards by digging his heels into the couch. Ramya grinned and straddled the man’s waist, effectively pinning him down.

“Aw, ya ain’t afraid of a little tickling, are ya mate?” The modder teased, digging her wiggling fingers into his sides. Fuse laughed even louder and twisted his torso side to side.

“I ahahahain’t afrahahahahid of ahahahnytHIHIHIHNG!” He fired back, his laughter jumping in pitch when Octavio poked into the sides of his stomach. The speedster was positioned above his head, holding his arm down with his knee, and grinning widely. He opted for using his thumbs to drill into the spot, snickering when he bucked his hips and swore.

“Oh yeah? Then tell us where you’re most ticklish.” He challenged, smirking when Fuse’s head snapped up to him.

“WHAHAHAHAT?”

Octavio laughed. “You heard me! Tell us where your worst spot is, and we’ll leave you alone.” He repeated, using all of his nails to torment Fuse’s stomach.

“Maybe.” Ramya chimed in, finding his hip bones and giving them some quick squeezes. The old man yelled and swore again as he tried to buck her off of him. He didn’t want to accidentally send her flying across the room, but he hadn’t been tickled since his younger days, and he’d forgotten just how ticklish he really was. Granted, most people he came across didn’t want to tickle a man who had a metal arm and wielded explosives, but these two pups weren’t deterred at all.

Walter’s laughter was only getting louder the more they tickled him. Octavio had gotten bored of sticking to one spot and started poking at his ribcage. He arched his back and cackled; his ribs were a very ticklish spot, coming just shy of being his worst one. For a moment, he considered telling the pups where that spot was, if it meant they’d stop pestering him. But, the thought was gone almost as soon as it came up. If Ole Fusey was anything, he was certainly stubborn.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” He yelled, bucking his hips again when the speedster increased his efforts. “COHOHOHME OHOHN! YOHOHOHU’VE HAHAHAD YOHOHOHUR FUHUHUN!”

Ramya scoffed and reached behind her to squeeze his knee. He responded by yelping and drumming his leg against the couch cushions. “I thought you said you weren’t scared,” she simpered, her nails dancing along the top of his knee and underneath it. “It must be a really bad spot if ya ain’t gonna tell us. Which isn’t the best idea, cause we’ll find out eventually.”

Fuse tugged as hard as he could at his pinned arm, trying to wench it free, but the speedster held strong. He laughed harder the higher up Octavio tickled, throwing his body around. Octane was trying to gage which ribs were the most sensitive; he raked his nails against the bones at a rapid pace and scribbled at the spaces between them. So far, they all seemed equal in sensitivity, but the speedster wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY WAHAHAIT!” Fuse screeched when the speedster lingered on his two centermost ribs. The younger Legends perked up, slowing the tickling down just enough to keep the poor man giggling.

“Yeah? Got something to say?” Octavio asked, rhythmically tapping against the fleshy part beneath his ribcage. Walter gasped and lost himself in heavy giggles before he was able to put some words together.

“Lehehehet’s….lehehehet’s mahahahke ahahaha deahahahal…” he tittered. Maybe while he bargained with them, he could keep them distracted long enough to pull his arm free. “Lehehehet mehehe up, let me get back to me nap. And I’ll tehehll ya whahat you wanna knohow after.”

Rampart arched a skeptic brow and gently skittered her fingertips over his stomach. Fuse flinched and sucked in his stomach, prompting the modder to apply a little more pressure. “How do we know ya won’t cut tail and run the second we let you go?”

“I wohohohn’t! Yohohur mahahate wohohould cahahatch up to mehehe! Cohohme ohohn…” Walter snickered when Ramya switched from the gentle touches to deliberate scratching. “Leheheht mehehe gohoho!”

Rampart looked up at Octavio while she circled one nail around the man’s navel. “I dunno...whaddaya think, mate? Should we let him go?”

Octane withdrew his hands and pretended to ponder the request. He was having fun; no, he was having a blast, and he wasn’t ready to stop any time soon! Fuse was one of the last people he’d ever thought to be ticklish, and he didn’t think this opportunity would present itself again. He gave the old man a brief moment to breathe before he dropped his hands back onto his ribcage. He prodded at the fleshy part beneath the ribcage and worked his way up the bones, earning a scream and loud fit of laughter. “Psh, no way! This is the least bored I’ve been all day.” He piped, laughing when Walter tried to roll away from him again.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO YOHUHUHU BLOHOHOHOODY DROHOHONGOHOHO!” Fuse screamed and writhed when Octavio kneaded back into his centermost ribs. Ramya giggled and reached underneath his shirt, scribbling her fingertips against his bare sides and tummy. This prompted another scream and an even louder burst of laughter. “STAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHCKLING MEHEHE!”

“Nah, sorry mate. He’s my partner in crime, can’t let him down.” The modder quipped, gently pinching both sides of his abdomen. Walter almost threw her off of his waist and shook with raucous laughter.

“BAHAHAHAHA! I’LL KIHIHILL YAHAHA BOHOHOHTH! I SWEHEHEHEHAR!”

The younger Legends were laughing almost as hard as he was and they picked up the tickling pace. “Ooo, I’m so scared.” Ramya snickered, circling her nails back around the man’s navel. Walter snorted and furiously kicked a pillow, sending it flying across the room. Octane momentarily stopped tickling him and threw his head back with laughter.

“Sí, you sound terrifying right now.” He added, smirking. He tickled up higher still, reaching his uppermost ribs, and scritched at them at a rapid pace.

Now, Walter wasn’t someone who was easily frightened, but the panic set in once the speedster attacked those ribs. He violently thrashed around with his laughter bordering on hysterics. If Octavio tickled any higher, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH STHAHAHAHP! EHENOHOUGH ALREHEHEADY!” Fuse demanded through heavy fits of laughter. He arched his back when he alternated between the two ribs, rocking from one side to the other to try and avoid the tickles. His stubbornness was hanging by a thread now; maybe it would've been better for him to just come clean? Little did Walter know, neither Octane or Rampart were going to be as easily swayed now.

“Nope! You had your chance. And it looks like I found a good spot here.” The speedster answered with a grin, moving back down his rib cage to tickle each rib individually. Walter threw his head back and kicked another pillow off of the couch, his laughter taking on a desperate note. “Probably your worst one, right?”

Fuse frantically nodded. “YEHEHEHEHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIHT IHIHIHIS! SOHOHO STOHOHOP!” He shouted, practically splitting his sides when he gently pinched the centermost ribs. His laughter took on different pitches depending on where Octavio tickled; poking beneath the rib cage made him giggle uncontrollably, tickling along the ribs themselves made him scream and roar with laughter. Rampart looked up at the two of them; she noticed that the higher up he tickled, the more the explosives enthusiast struggled. She grinned, reaching up to join Octane in tormenting his ribs by poking at his lowermost ones.

“You get his armpits yet? I think you’d wanna be thorough.” She offered, her grin widening when Fuse glared at her...or at least tried to. There was no way she could take him seriously with how hard he was laughing.

Octane glanced at her and chuckled. “No, don’t think I have. Are your armpits ticklish too, amigo?” He asked, slowly poking back up the man’s rib cage. He felt Walter stiffen and he beamed behind his mask.

“N-Nohohohoho! Thehehey’re nohohohot!” He lied; the unfamiliar feeling of panic eating at his nerves increased the closer his nails got to his armpits. Did ole Fusey’s voice crack when he told this lie? No, it didn’t! And he’d deny it for as long as it could...but that would just be another lie.

“No? Bummer.” Octavio bit back a smirk and sighed, leaving his hands resting on the top of the rib cage, just underneath where his armpits started. Ramya halted her tickling too and gave the speedster a questioning look. If he hadn’t been wearing the mask, she’d be able to see that mischief in his eyes was still going strong. Even Fuse, who was grateful for the break, was a tiny bit skeptical. He glanced at his hands and then at the kid’s face, breathing heavily. Was he really going to let him go, just like that?

Well, the short answer was no.

“Guess I’ll just have to forget about it and go see i--SIKE!”

Without warning, Octane buried his hands in Fuse’s armpits and wiggled his fingers around. The explosives enthusiast screamed and immediately dissolved into hysterical laughter. He didn’t even have a chance to fight it; the ticklish sensations came swift and sudden, and left him writhing on the couch. This time, he accidentally threw the modder off of him, and he could only pray that she wasn’t injured. Besides a yip of surprise and a few words of profanity, Ramya was perfectly fine.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! BLOHOHOHOOHDY STAHAHAHAHA--” Walter’s demands were lost in his laughter as he dug his heels into the couch again. Since his arm was the only thing pinned down, he bucked himself forward to try and sit up. It didn’t work the first time, and it spurred Octavio to tickle him faster, drawing out more protests and wild laughter. He tried again, and again, and one more time after that, but the tickling had weakened him, and he didn’t pull his arm free before Ramya collected herself.

“Heh, well that looks like that was a lie, huh?” Rampart noted. Since she didn’t want to get thrown off again, she decided to sit next to the couch and poke at his ribs. Walter snorted again and laughed even harder, his legs flailing all over the place. “All the more reason to tickle you. Right mate?”

Octavio happily nodded and fluttered his nails along the length of Walter’s armpits. “Yup! You brought this on yourself, señor.” He grinned, going on a search for an even more ticklish spot along the armpits.

Meanwhile, Fuse was dying laughing. He did all he could to try and propel himself forward to escape, but Octavio’s knee kept his arm in place. The last thing he wanted to do was plead, but he was running out of options, and he only had so much oxygen. “OKAHAHAY! ALRIHIHIHGHT! I’M SOHOHOHRRY!” He yelped, thrashing violently when the speedster lingered on the lowermost areas of the armpits, just a hair away from the ribs. Whenever he stroked there, he twitched and absolutely howled with laughter. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!”

Ramya was the first to take notice; Walter didn’t seem like the type of guy to beg, so she assumed that they didn’t have a lot of time to keep on tickling him. She gently scratched at the ultra sensitive ribs that Octavio found: the uppermost and center most ones on each side of the rib cage. He desperately shook his head, attempting to dodge their hands, but they easily kept up with him. Thankfully, after a few more bouts of heavy laughter and intense struggling, Fuse finally pulled hard enough to get his arm free.

He immediately hopped to his feet and hurried towards his metal arm. The younger Legends blinked, surprised that he actually managed to get away, but it didn’t last long. They chased after him, laughing, and caught up with him before he could get a hold of his limb. Walter whirled around, extending his good arm out to defend himself, but it was too late. Both Octane and Rampart launched themselves towards the explosives enthusiast at the same time, each one burying a hand into an armpit. Fuse flinched and barked out some more protests mixed in with laughter, but ultimately, he ended up back on the floor in stitches.

“AHA! I GIHIHIHIHVE! I GIHIHIHIHVE! ENOHOHOHOUGH!” Walter yelled. He planted his hand on the floor and tried to use it as leverage to push himself up, but crashed back down when both Legends increased the tickling pace. At this point, poor Fusey was too tired to really try and get them to stop, so he could only shout another ‘plehehehehease’ before his laughter fell silent.

Rampart gradually halted the tickling and gently elbowed Octane. “Alright, alright. Let 's stop. Think grandpa is all tuckered out.” She chuckled, scooting back to give the man some room to recover. Octane pouted, but stopped shortly after Ramya did.

“Fine. Hey, no hard feelings, right amigo? I was super bored till you came along.” He added, heading over to where his metal arm was. He picked it up and handed it to Walter, who had to take a few extra minutes to catch his breath before he was able to grab it. He attached it back to his limb and exhaled. Fuse was still tired, but for a completely different reason now.

“...Glad I could be of service,” Walter quipped sarcastically. Octavio extended a hand to him to help him to his feet, and the older man accepted it gratefully. However, much to the speedster’s confusion, he didn’t release it right away. The speedster’s brows furrowed and he tried to tug his hand back to him, but when he looked into the man’s face, he saw a similar look of mischief in his eye. It made a shiver run down his spine. “But you do realize that disturbing me from my nap isn’t something I’m going to let slide, ay?”

Octane paled and only increased his efforts to yank his arm back to him. Thankfully, Rampart was still nearby, and she saved the day by giving the explosives expert another poke to the side. Walter yelped and jumped away from the touch, allowing both her and Octavio to scramble away. Fuse watched them go but, instead of chasing after them, he returned to his seat on the couch. He chuckled to himself; for now, he was going to return to his well deserved nap. But, when he woke up, ole Fusey was going to start some trouble...in more ways than one.

I was pretty nervous to post this since it's a little bit shorter than my usual fics, but the length of this one just felt 'right' when I finished writing and reread it. This is also my first time writing for Fuse and I'm still working on getting his character down, especially since this was kinda an impulse write :P. Anyways, I hope you liked the story.

[felidaefighter]

To Become A God

Contrary to popular belief, Dream had never been a god. He’d had a relatively normal childhood, and even though he could do a bit of magic here and there that wasn’t accessible to most other people the way potions and enchantments were, he wasn’t some all-powerful being. He trained hard for both his wits and his fighting prowess, and was rivaled decently-- at least at first-- by his close friends and allies. He loved his friends and his pets and the land that he had a loose domain over, and though he enjoyed fighting at the end of the day he would always choose peace if he could.

Somewhere along the line, something changed.

Hard to tell what, looking back. It came more as a dawning realization over months, like the drawn-out morning of a bloodred sunrise. As Dream watched everything everyone ever loved get dangled over them as leverage, burned, killed, destroyed; over and over and over again. As he saw even the tiniest specks of trust instantly betrayed by scam after scam. Attachment, he realized, was futile-- it was also the key to power and regaining control.

So he got rid of his attachments. Bit by bit by bit. Subtle, reserved, always careful to think ten steps ahead. He severed them all, strings of attachment that doubled as strings one could use to puppet him like a marionette, emotional bonds and physical items alike. Even then, he had his doubts, though-- at least until Tommy tried to taunt him with Spirit, of course. It was that night, after he had finished placing all the obsidian he had, that he noticed the first physical changes.

The heavy weight of armor suddenly felt lighter and more natural to Dream than his own body. Neither did the weight of sleep hang over him-- so he tested himself, because it was fun, because he could. He was already so much stronger and more skilled than his peers and allies, but now, without the need for sleep, these skills were easily doubled. He confessed to Technoblade that he didn’t sleep, and the piglin seemed to think this a statement of a tired man to be pitied. Dream smiled under his mask at that. It was always better to be underestimated, after all, even by those you are likely to ally with.

Dream did take his armor off, of course. He had to when he was pretending to respect L’Manberg and earn President Tubbo’s hesitant trust. He genuinely considered letting those fools take their attempt at his life when he heard about the intentions behind his invitation to the festival, laughable as it was, but quickly decided against it. They would only become harder to control if they had for even a moment a sliver of hope that they could kill him. Besides, he couldn’t keep going into L’Manberg with his armor off. Physically couldn’t. There was something... wrong. Or maybe something right that wasn’t human anymore. See, he had gone to take off his armor, just to make sure it hadn’t gotten too worn. Sat down in the community house and undid the leather straps that kept his boots on his feet, and went to inspect it. The emptiness in the boot and his foot were the exact same thing. So he came up with a plan to distract them instead, and detached himself, as he had with everything else, from whatever that sight and sensation was making him feel.

“In all destruction... there’s a new beginning,” Dream told Tommy, generous enough to share his newfound wisdom with the only other person who understood the truth about it all. All destruction. All new beginnings. “Beautiful.” Dream’s fingers weren’t really there under his gauntlets when he flipped on the redstone switches that began the crater, but Dream was there. The myth, the legend, himself in (almost) all his glory. Tommy called him a monster for it; maybe he wasn’t incorrect in the physical sense. In every other way, though, Dream knew he was right. It was what he had to do. The fact that it was fun only added to it all.

Hood and mask and layers upon layers of clothing, Dream had come prepared, because he knew that Tommy wouldn’t want him in armor, knew that Tommy would do what he had been taught and dig a hole for it, not knowing he was digging into his own soul as he did. He wasn’t expecting Tommy to demand the mask go in as well. Poor little Tommy, clawing for scraps of anything he thought Dream might have attachment to. Thinking he could be humiliated.

“Your armor as well,” Tommy said. Dream pondered that he could do with a mask of his own, for even though his posture and tone were attempting to radiate power, fear still radiated from his eyes like a beacon of too many feelings all in the same person.

“I don’t think you want me to do that, Tommy,” Dream replied, trying and succeeding to sound like a broken man. A much better liar than Tommy ever was; ironic for their histories.

Tommy always resorted to insults when he was nervous. “Don’t try to tell me what I want. Why don’t you want to take your mask off, huh? You ugly?”

And Dream smiled, a broad grin that mirrored the painted face of his mask-- but he didn’t let it show in his voice, tried to sound humbled and meek, for the sake of the show.

“There’s nothing under here but a nightmare.”

Nearly everyone scoffed and laughed a bit, especially Tommy, so Dream relished the way their faces dropped in shock and horror when he obliged and took off his mask. “Should I take my hood off as well?” Dream asked, pretending it was an honest question, and Tommy looked like he was about to puke. There was a shaky chorus of “no”s. It was funny to watch Tommy conflicted over whether he should take back what he previously said and let Dream put his mask back on or have to deal with the void that currently inhabited the space where Dream should have been (though still technically was.) Ultimately the former won out.

As seriously as the Warden took his job, he let Dream keep his mask even in the highest security cell. It was “unnerving”, he had said-- Dream found it a fun little prank to throw his clock in the lava for Sam to replace, and wait for the visit in silence with his mask off just to see the look of unease on the face of the man who was trying to seem intimidating and all-powerful. He withheld that little detail from Bad, and it certainly made an effect on what the demon thought of the situation. Dream thought a lot about his own situation, too-- just not the cell part of it. The rest of it.

He thought about what it meant to have attachment. He thought about power. About control. And about the magic that only he had been able to do, long before even this. Detachment from items, detachment from people, detachment from this plane of reality. He did still have an anchor-- this he knew. Their own little story they had written all for themselves, he and Tommy, that was just too fun to stop being attached to, at least for now. Tommy was the only other person who had ever understood what attachments truly meant-- only he had gone the exact other way, leaning into his emotions and becoming even more human. Even more killable, even more mortal. But Dream? Contrary to popular belief, he had never been a god. But everyone on the server had better hope they kept believing it. Because when the time was right and Tommy wasn’t fun anymore, he was going to be.

[ghoultramp]

daisies [bakugou x reader] {req}

▷       bnha

↳ pairing: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

↳ content: student!reader w/ undefined quirk, post 298, hospital setting, angst, hurt, comfort, (implied) ptsd, descriptions of injuries

↳ words: 2.5k (w/ bonus drabble)

⇢ summary: there was no amount of training that could have prepared any of you for this. it was chaos, pandemonium, all-out-war. you didn’t want to open your eyes to a world without him, you were sure there was no way that Katsuki could have survived those injuries.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: for ann, thank you for the request, i really did have fun writing this!

loosely based around the events during ch. 285/286. p,s. i also just really love soft bakugou

There was no amount of training that could have prepared any of you for this, not you and your fellow students nor the Pros who fought by your side. It was chaos, pandemonium, all-out war.

You whipped your head around, panicked when you caught sight of Katsuki spinning on his heels to run in a direction away from you. There was no way he would be able to hear your voice over the screaming and shouting around you, nor over the explosions and debris hitting the ground somewhere in the distance but you had to try.

"Kacchan!" you strained your voice, panicking, shouting as loudly as you could. "Kacchan!"

He briefly looked over his shoulder to you, watching as his mouth moved as he continued to run. You shook your head, mouth agape, looking further ahead in the direction he was running; it was Izuku, the green electricity produced by his quirk unmistakable. Your heart beat painfully hard against your chest, eyes flitting from Izuku to Katsuki and back again.

You watched as Katsuki sprinted as fast as he could, pushing through the painful pulling in his muscles. Izuku needed help, he wasn’t about to let him down—not now, not ever again—he couldn’t.  

“Please, wait!” you screamed, almost doubling over trying to raise the volume in your voice. It wouldn’t make a difference. You bore down on your teeth, the tension pushing against your jaw.

No matter how hard you tried, it wasn't until he stopped—a prepared stance with his oversized grenade-shaped gauntlets directed at the floor—were you able to catch up to him. Panting, trying to catch your breath, you looked around at the carnage around you. Katsuki’s face was turned to the sky, his face contorted in a mix of anger and fear. You followed his gaze upward; your hands instinctively reached for your mouth as you gasped.

You watched as Katsuki propelled himself forward, shouting orders to Endeavor and Todoroki-kun who readied themselves on either side of him. Ears ringing, you were helpless as you watched on in shock; where had all that strength and courage gone?

The realisation was a slap in the face; your quirk was of no use here. This battle had gone on long enough, you were feeling just about ready to drop. The guilt ate away at you while others around you pushed and pushed and pushed. You looked back at the group you’d separated yourself from, crying out in anguish when the only sight you saw was a billowing cloud of smoke.

You turned back to Katsuki who looked over his shoulder at you; baring and gritting his teeth in determination. You gave him a quick nod and watched as he, Todoroki-kun, and Endeavor propelled themselves upward, toward the unknown assailant and Izuku.

“Please…” you whimpered through gritted teeth, knuckles turning white as the skin pulled taught against bundled fists.

It happened so fast, too fast for you to properly register what you were seeing after being momentarily blinded by a flash of hot, white flames. Long, dark tendrils reached out toward Izuku, you felt your hand instinctively reach out toward him. You saw the unmistakable trail of Katsuki’s gauntlet explosions, propelling him toward his best friend; his body reacting of its own accord.

Eyes wide, the only thing he focused on was Izuku; boosting himself through the air, nothing mattered at that moment. Katsuki pushed and pushed against his fatigued muscles, his shoulder coming into contact with Izuku’s battered and bruised body.

You now understood the adage of time slowing down, or coming to a standstill; the moment Izuku’s body was shoved to safety, you heard nothing but the whooshing of blood coursing through your veins and the loud, thudding beat of your heart. Helpless, you could only be a standby witness as the long, dark spokes pierced Katsuki’s body.

One. Two. Three. Four.

And they were gone. Summoned back to where they came from.

Your legs carried you forward on pure adrenaline, eyes locked on Katsuki as his outwardly lifeless body fell from the sky. The tears burned at your eyes, fists swinging at your sides, muscles pumping and burning.

No, don’t you die on me, Kacchan!

Don’t you die on us!

“Watch out!” was the last thing you heard before it went dark.

Something heavy and hard collided with you, taking your body out from the side and sending you airborne.

Alive: Numbers Unknown.

Injured: Numbers Unknown.

Dead: Numbers Unknown…

Searing hot pain.

With ease, you could vividly remember the pain that swaddled you, right before the trauma to your head rendered you unconscious. Too scared to open your eyes, you lay there with the image of Katsuki’s smile projected in the darkness. You fought against your lips as they twisted, stopping yourself from crying out.

You didn’t want to open your eyes to a world without him, there was very little chance he could have survived such injuries, a fact you didn’t want to believe, but one you were so sure of.

You watched—confused at first—as the soft smile on his face twisted into a grimace of agony. You watched as he looked down at his shaking hands.

Blood. His blood.

You couldn’t open your eyes, trying so hard to fight against the image, your chest heaving up and down with your panicked breaths.

“Kacchan…” you whimpered, lip trembling, “I’m sorry.”

You watched as his four gaping wounds pulsed in time his heartbeat, grotesque in its detail. This was your own guilt torturing you, telling you, ‘this is what you’ve done.’ It didn’t matter that there was no possible way you would have been able to save him, it didn’t matter that he was the one who threw himself into danger; no, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that you didn’t save him.

You continued to watch as this apparition of Katsuki grew paler and paler, horrified as he coughed on his own blood. He reached out his hand toward you and—

“No!” you screamed, eyes snapping open, limbs flailing against the mattress as you bolted upright, you felt the pull of an oxygen mask around the lower half of your face. 

You whimpered, lips pulling down at the corners as you felt the dam about to burst. You looked down at your bandaged hands and brought them to your face. You worked quickly at removing your mask, choking back against the wailing sobs you knew were coming. The plastic made a horrible noise as it hit the tile floor, carelessly throwing it over the side of the bed.

You buried your face into your hands, allowing yourself to wail, your weary shoulders shaking violently with your sobs. It was incredibly painful, but the grief of losing him… there was nothing else comparable.

Your bandages were soaked, but what did that matter? You turned over your hand, eyes following a tube that lead to an intravenous drip hanging on a wheeled pole.

Sniffling, you made an attempt at taking in your surroundings; if the unmistakable medicinal smell didn’t give away your location, the sterile, white hospital room certainly did. Bright yellow curtains framed the window opposite you, the half-open blinds allowed the golden afternoon light to pour in. Your eyes fell to a small, simplistic bouquet on the table beneath it.

It was pretty and delicate; sweet little daisies surrounded two, beautiful red carnations. You supposed it added some colour, mentally reminding yourself to thank whoever filled the vase.

You growled against clenched teeth, inching your legs closer to the edge of the bed with the intent of swinging them over. It was agony, you wanted nothing more than to curl up into yourself and scream. Scream until your lungs gave out, cry until your tears ran dry.

But you were here. You were alive. You had to be thankful for that. You had to push forward and fight, you couldn’t let anyone’s death be in vain.

Your eyes scanned the walls for a clock, it had to be late afternoon by your guess.

Your feeble hand gripped the wheeled iv pole tightly, holding on for dear life as you lowered yourself to the floor. You were thankful for the warm, fluffy slippers that hugged your cold feet as you began to shuffle forward. Just seeing the face of one of your classmates would be enough, you told yourself while pushing through the pain, the door inching closer and closer. 

It seemed unnaturally quiet as you opened the door, peeking your head out into the corridor, you’d expected far more doctors and orderlies, maybe even patients, but it was silent. It felt too eerie, sending a slight shiver down your spine.

You shuffled forward tentatively, fully emerging from your room. Unsure of which direction to go, you eyed the door closest to you. As you edged closer, you noticed the door was open ever so slightly. The first thing you noticed was the mop of green hair spread across the pillow.

“Izuku,” you said softly, placing a hand flat against the door.

You gently pushed against the door, opening it enough to notice a second figure in the room with him. They were sat at his bedside, hunched over; the only features you could make out from your viewpoint was their heavily bandaged body beneath their light blue hospital gown.

The door groaned when you opened it further, piquing the attention of the second figure. You watched as a tussle of blond hair came into view.

“K-K—“ you stood in shock, the same letter repeating on your tongue.

He placed a hand on the back of the chair to face you, Katsuki’s bright red eyes widened. He moved incredibly swiftly when he pushed himself up, the chair almost toppling with the amount of force he displaced in an attempt to propel himself at you.

 “You’re awake!” he cried, his hands pulling you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tightly.

“You’re alive!” you bawled, throwing your own arms around his broad torso, grabbing at the back of the hospital gown as you fell against him.

Katsuki gently rubbed at your back, holding your trembling body in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, sniffling, rubbing your sodden cheek against his chest, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help.”

He gently shushed you, his hand now stroking the back of your head. Katsuki gently placed his hands around your biceps and held you out at arm’s length; he bent slightly at the torso for his eyes to meet yours.

“I should be the one saying sorry,” he told you, a soft, sad smile played on his lips.

Your eyes glanced over at Izuku, up close, you wondered how he was still alive; his small frame battered from head to toe, his arms bound under thick casts and bandages. You choked back a sob, looking back at Katsuki.

“Kacchan…” you whispered, bringing your hand up to place it on an uninjured cheek.

Gazing into his sad eyes, you watched as they became glassy. You gently stroked your thumb against his cheek, as if to coax out his tears, allowing him to cry. You saw his face twist against his urge to cry but when you looked up at him with your big, sad doe eyes and soft, gentle smile, he felt his walls break.

He grabbed you, grabbed you so hard against him as he heaved against anguished wails; your heart twisted in your chest at his pain.

“If I had only been stronger!” he sobbed, you felt him cling to the fabric of your own gown. “Just a bit faster! If only I—“

You pressed one palm against his back while your other hand found purchase in his hair, gently stroking at his tousled locks.

“Kacchan,” you interrupted him, as gently as you could, “you risked your life.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” he fought back, his voice just as desperate as his hold on you.

“Please, Katsuki,” you told him, adding a sternness to your voice that made him pause.

Begrudgingly, you pushed him away gently, holding him by his bicep to turn him around to face Izuku.

“He’s alive,” you continued. You looked up at him as he rubbed at his wet, red face. “You risked your life for him, and when he wakes up,” you gently lay your head against Katsuki’s arm, “we can be here together.”

bonus drabble:

⇢ the thought of reader making katsuki aware of flower language gives me a kick; i hope you think it’s as cute as i do

 Katsuki looked down at the small bundle of flowers in his hands, they were so delicate in comparison. He was so relieved that you were still alive but, just like Izuku, you were still unconscious. The anger and guilt were so quick to rise to the surface but he told himself that—just this once—he’d sit by your side calmly.

“So, um,” he mumbled and cleared his throat, “you remember telling me about flowers meaning things?”

He took your small hand in his own, he didn’t like how frail you looked, how much your body had endured. He wrinkled his nose.

“I, um,” he groaned, “this is stupid.”

He sat back in his chair and covered his eyes with a large, bandaged forearm. He turned his head to see the vase sat beneath the window. He leaned forward.

“Tell you what,” he said, pushing himself up from the chair with effort. He stifled a wince.

It only took Katsuki three of his wide strides to reach the table. He shrugged his shoulders, grabbing the jug of drinking water.

“It’ll do,” he murmured, filling the vase.

He turned around to make sure he could see you and—had you been awake—you could see him. He frowned and fiddled with the flowers. He gently pulled out two big, beautiful carnations.

“This way, when you wake up,” he began, “maybe you’ll remember what you told me...”

He placed the red flowers, a shade that matched his eyes, in the vase.

“…because my heart certainly is aching.”

He felt his eyes sting when he looked back at you. Katsuki cleared his throat before doing the same with the daisies.

“They’re so delicate,” he whispered, “just like you.”

He felt his cheeks flush, a sweet, tender blush against his skin. 

“And I do, y’know,” he said, now returning to your bedside, “I do love you truly.” 

He sat down, cupping your hand in both of his. He squeezed gently.

“Please,” he fought hard against his sobs, “please, wake up soon.”

He brought your hand to rest on his forehead, he sighed heavily before softly kissing the back of your hand.

“You can do this,” he told you, “I believe in you.”

[theangrycomet]

This was supposed to be an easy mission- get in the mad scientist’s lair, download files, maybe blow some stuff up, and get out.

They would have gotten away with it too if it hadn’t been for the final line of defense.

Who would have thought a villain of this caliber would have been so old school as to set up a trapdoor connected to his desk top?

“You know, I’m surprised the Bodegamen of all people sent such amateurs to infiltrate my place.” He mused, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense before walking back towards the computer. “I’m a little hurt actually.”

The Glowsticks were now, much to their fury, tied up. Hung up like meat in a butcher shop, they dangled by their feet. Glaring at him, they exchanged short, scheming looks as they fidgeted with the rope.

The villain in question lounged in his chair, ignoring them as he tried to figure out what the heck was going on with his computer. His intern was on the other end of the room on another computer, doing something likely malicious. 

“Where’s Fink when you need her?” The villain mumbled, clicking around the screen as the three realized they were being IGNORED. 

“Uh hello- heroes tied up and seemingly in a stitch?” Jordan drawled, eyebrow raised (or lowered? They were upside down after all). “This is your cue for an evil scheme monologue?”

“Dr. Feakins, help me out with this.”

“One second, sir.” Crossing the room, her heels snapped against the linoleum like a BB gun. Roman shuddered as she passed, a wave of nausea washed over his stomach.

“Okay seriously- who uses rope anymore!” Jordan griped, pulling at the taut twine to no avail. Even with her strength, she couldn’t beat it without leverage which she was tragically lacking.

 All she earned for her efforts were a pair of chafed wrists. Casting a longing glance at her sword, her mouth twisted downwards- or rather, upwards- into a frown as she groaned. “Ugh- why didn’t dad let me have that knife gauntlet Bismuth made!”

“I told you- you should’ve asked your mom first.” Roman muttered half-heartedly. Ugh, the feeling wasn’t going away. 

What was going on? He never got sick.  

He bit his lip, staring suspiciously at the redhead now typing at the computer. Feakins... Where’d he hear that before?

Kaiden, per norm, was too busy analyzing their surroundings for quips, much less questions. He was focused on analyzing all that he saw within the recesses of the lab.He could just see the corners of his eyes narrowed as they flicked about, taking in everything and putting the pieces together. 

Personally, he was wondering how his friend could even concentrate with the blood rush. 

“A Gempiran weapon might have helped you escape this one.” The villain straightened up from his computer, now that Feakins was at the station.

He shrugged, smugly picking up the sword beside him. 

“This is lovely craftsmanship.” Weighing it in his hand, he played with the balance.Taking a few playful swipes, his form wasn’t half bad. Jordan noted the signs of a rusty swordsman who’d let himself get out of practice. 

“Too bad I’ll never see it in action.” He mused, threat thick in the air.

“Oh don’t worry Professor Venomous-” Thick brows furrowing, she smirked- oozing confidence. “I’ll make sure you get a close up when we kick your butt.”

“Uhuh.” Rolling his eyes, Venomous replaced the sword against the wall. “Let me guess, your little EVO friend’s gonna help you.”

Jordan glanced as well as she could at the jacketed hero. Though she couldn’t see a lot, what she could worried her.

A miserable grimace twisted across his significantly paler face. Sweat had broken across his brow and dripped into his hairline. Shaking like a leaf, he looked close to passing out. 

An oddly familiar crooked grin stretch itself across the mans lips at Roman’s discomfort before he nodded to the intern, still working on the computer. 

“Nice work, Feakins.”

“Always here to help, sir.” Came her chipper reply as she undid the damage of their flash drive. 

Meandering over, he went to the third Glowstick, who had yet to break his silence during this little exchange. No complaints, no smart aleck remarks. 

Just a mouth set in a flat line beneath (or really above) a pair of dark shades. 

“Well you’ve been quiet,”  he drawled, leaning on the the railing amused. Poking his chest, he watched the hero swing back and forth lazily. “Got any last words for me, blondie?”

Kaiden glared, glasses slipping up his nose.

And than he smirked, fang peeking of from his upper lip.

“Last words?” Raising an eyebrow, his head band shifted, loosening a bit. It didn’t help that his glasses were slipping with them, catching on the pink material. “Awfully bold for a snake as out of the game as yourself.”

Venomous scoffed, opening his mouth to make some sort of counter argument. And than he stopped. 

Kaiden expected a sort of superior expression- like a cat might make after knocking your coffee mug onto your laptop. Instead, he looked…

Surprised?

Purple eyes blinked at each other, Kaiden’s narrowed in challenge as Venomous’ widened in revelation. Whipping his arm out, he snatched Kaiden’s glasses, knocking the headband loose. It headband fluttered indignantly to the floor.

“Wha- HEY!” Blinking at the abrupt change in lighting in clarity, he was soon squinting angrily at the big purple-grey blur before him. “Give those back!”

“Dude- did you just take his glasses?” Roman exclaimed, immediately regretting opening his mouth as Dr. Feakins approached. His stomach lurched as his body was slammed with a cold flash.

“Okay that’s just low!” Jordan instinctively reached for Kaiden’s spares in her pocket, only to be painfully reminded of the rope digging at her skin. “Ugh, jerk.”

Staring at Kaiden’s features- his proud nose, high cheekbones, set jaw- the more he looked the more everything screamed him. How had he not seen it immediately- it was all right there. Even the eyes were the same- though Kaiden’s were far more guarded than he were at this age. 

The hero in question, was more than a little thrown off at the intensity of his gaze- lessened in the blur that was his less than exceptional vision. 

Kaiden wasn’t going to lie; taking his glasses? Incredibly smart move on Venomous’ part. Now not only did the professor impede his sight, he also allowed himself to see where Kaiden was going to strike.

That is, if Venomous had that combat experience to follow the eye. 

He wasn’t sure if the man did.

A small seed of doubt worried into his mind as a realization struck him. Normally between the his research, POW card knowledge, and the numerous stories told by his family and friends, Kaiden had a good idea of what to expect with any prominent villain.

But Professor Venomous?

He knew nothing about him, outside of no one willing to talk to him about the guy. Only what he had observed in the last 10 minutes. Unless he figured out a plan, they might be screwed.

Venomous broke into laughter, as though reading his mind, and startling the others.

“Oh this is RICH. You three aren’t supposed to be on this mission- does anyone even know you’re here?” He asked, amused.

“Of course they do.” Kaiden lied through his teeth. 

“Liar.” Walking around him, he gestured with the captured shades. “KO would drop dead before sending you to me.”

KO? How did Venomous know to call him KO as opposed to Knock Out? What was his father’s name doing so flippantly in the villain’s mouth? Venomous said his Dad’s name with such casualness- most said it with nerves strung tight in their voice.

With Venomous, it was as though he knew his Dad personally...

“You won’t see the irony here,” Tilting his head, he leaned to the side to get a better view of Kaiden’s face, noting the little necklace dangling at his throat, balance precariously on his jaw. “-but I’m actually supposed to be having my anniversary dinner with my husband in a few hours so you three making an appearance is hilarious.”

“Oh congratulations!” Jordan beamed automatically before scowling. “Wait, no you have us hog tied!- I revoke my congratulations.”

“What irony?” Ignoring her, Kaiden twisted to face him- suspicion pinching his features before settling into a mask of indifference. “The only thing I see is a fuzzy purple raisen about to get his butt whooped.”

“Aw, the little hero making threats? I’m shaking in my boots.” 

“You should be.” Venomous’ eyes lit up with intrigue as a volt of violet electricity sparked jaggedly down the teen’s arm. 

Venomous leaned down in front of Kaiden with a wicked grin.

“Tell you what, sport. I’ll cut you and your little friends some slack. I’ll just skip to straight to the psychological and emotional torment today.”

“What?”

“You’re lieing.” Jordan said flatly.

“And pray tell-” Roman’s teeth chattered, as Freakins handed a remote to Venomous with out a word- still at the computer. “how exactly are you going to do that?”

“Easy. Shipping you back to the Plaza with out so much as a scratch on you and showing that you three aren’t even worth the time and effort of a bored villain well into his retirement to properly defeat.” he shrugged easily. “Not too flattering on a heroes image. 

The two grimaced as Kaiden frowned. 

That didn’t make any sense. Just a few minutes ago Kaiden was certain he’d do something. he’d be threatening them with experiments and dissections and the like. Stooping down to mere embarrassing teenagers before their peers? Sure, it was low and would send most other heroes-in-training’s self-confidence and egos spiraling down the drain.

But it was not exactly threatening. 

There had to be another angle- what was it? What could PV possibly gain by letting them go?

Kaiden frowned as the nauseating presence of the intern finally got to the EVO.

“Roman?!” The two were sidetracked as Roman heaved. Shuddering, he coughed as his throat burned with bile. 

“You okay?”

“I TOLD you snack machine sushi was a bad idea!”

Venomous rolled his eyes as he pressed a button on the remote. 

“Ugh it’s in my sinuses!”

“Aw buddy-”

“AAH!”

A large Box rose from the floor and opened up beneath them. The ropes were cut and they fell screaming into it- lid snapping tight behind them. 

The Box was still for a moment before it writhed back and forth with the Glowsticks outrage. He could just here Kaiden’s shouts above the others.

“Fight me Venomous!”

A smile tugged at his mouth as the portal opened beneath the Box, sucking it away to be delivered at the Plaza.

Watching them disappear, Venomous leaned back on the railing, pondering. 

[cultofstan]

My love for Bane!!

Before you read, I want to make it clear that there are some nsfw parts to this posts. If you are under 18, please don't read!

This post will go over various details and reasons why my heart belongs to the big green giant know as Bane from Batman and Robin (1997). Get ready for a long read, because I've got a lot to say.

(If you haven't check out my Bane Wallpapers, go do check them out! They bring me so much joy, I hope they do the same for you ppl too!)

His mask is very cool and unique, because if you look closer you see they used Bane's comic book mask as a base and then just changed the mouth area and added black eye pieces on top of the red piece he normally sees out of. Imo, it is the best movie Bane mask we have ever had! A lot of people hate the multiple tubes coming out of his head, but I think it makes things extra spicy! A constant reminder that your not just dealing with any normal super human, you dealing with a venom infused one that can fight you like it's nothing! The bulging veins that can be seen in certain lighting is a detail I feel deserves more love. It adds to his big and tough demeanor. You can really tell the venom is working wonders on him! The zipper on the top of the head and the fact that his mask is most likely made of tight leather or latex brings thr entire thing together and is truly a marvel to look at! I absolute love it!💚Imagining him slick that smooth, stretchy, husky mask on while the venom starts to pump into his brain and muscles just does things to me. If Bane offered me a chance to wear it, venom or not, I would do it in a heart beat! It would probably reek of sweat, his bad breath, and of old leather, but I wouldn't care. Just the thought of inhale all those smells brings me a joy I can't describe! 😍

When I was a kid, in addition to his lovely mask, his clothing choice was another thing I loved about him. It looks like Bane is just wearing a black cotton tank top with some black sturdy pants, but I've always the headcannon that it's actually very flexible black latex one piece! It makes a lot more sense when you notice his collar, chest harness, wrist bands, crotch diaper, and boots are also make out of a harder leather with spikes and studs! I swear, half of my clothing choices/dreams come from this man! His boots, for the most part, are very frankenstein/gothic inspired with thick sole and it going all the way to his knees. The copper rivets are the only things that make them stand out, imo. I've had thoughts were in order to prove my love to him I have to lick or kiss his boots while he judges. I'd hate it for the most part, because they probably taste like dirty and dust, but I want him to know that I do love him, so I'd do small smooches starting from his toes and work my way up his leg until I'm straight up licking his boots. I'd get so carried away he'd probably make me stop pretty quickly so I don't get sick 😂. His spiked collar and wrist bands are easily the clothing items I want the most! Any time I see someone on the street with spikes in their clothing I immediately think about him. Because he's worn them for so long, they're probably not that tight or rough but still firm enough to not sag. Maybe even a little flaky in certain parts. I don't think I'm comfortable with myself enough to wear a collar in public but I've come so close to buying spiky wrist bands or gauntlets it's crazy I don't actually own a pair yet. One day, I'm sure. His crotch diaper, for lack of a better name for it, is the one thing I'm 50/50 on. Some days I think it really adds to his look, especially with the spikes that go out. Plus, to a certain extent, it makes practical sense because that way heroes cant go from behind his and try to restrain him, or can't throw too many kicks, without getting poked/cut by the spikes. But other days I think it just doesnt look that great, because it ultimatly looks like a big metal diaper, it takes away from his intimidation. Plus, I won't be able to give him proper hugs! (I want to give daddy all the hugs he deserves! 💚) His chest piece is what brings everything together. The little Bane symbol is so cute, I've always looked for a pin or something to buy but no luck. I actually used to have this Bane cape that I won at Six Flags when I was little. I cut the symbol of his face out of it and tried multiple times to attach it to my jean jackets but I suck at sowing. 🥲 The leather straps that hold the chest piece compliment the other leather pieces of his outfit. The metal looking chest piece looks wonderful and adds a layer to his character that I both love and hate. In this movie he's a drone, a mindless agent that is only allowed to follow orders. I'll will discuss this in a bit. But for the record, I hate the fact that Bane is written as big dumb idiot in this movie. It's the one big problem I have with him, which sucks because I literally love everything else about him!

I've probably watch the Bane transformation scene in Batman and Robin, like, a thousand times. No joke. I didn't realize it then, but seeing a short, thin, twink become a tall, hulking, king really hit my desires in the right way. Like, now, I know for sure that's one of my kinks and it makes me so damn happy! Granted, I've never been skinny in my life, but I've always wanted to be a musclar and strong man, so it makes sense why I love this scene so much. It's a literally fantasy of mine brought to life! More specifically, I've always wanted to be a type of strong that allows me to run miles like it's nothing, throw punches that instantly knock someone out, and lift so much weight that I borderline have a superhero body. Don't get me wrong, this is seriously mentally unhealthy because I know it's kind of impossible considering my personality and the actuality of gaining so much muscle, but I believe as long as I realize it's a dream and not beat myself up over it, it's not too bad of a thought to have. Actually, if you think about it, this Bane is kind of a plus size body representation. Sure he's got giant arms that can crush my bones like tooth pics, but he's pretty bulky with a big belly. That might be too much of a stretch to say, and I totally understand if people don't agree with. That being said, I have to say it, this man probably gives the best hugs in all of Gotham! He's so big that you don't even need a jacket in the house! Just let him embrace you and you'll never feel alone or cold again! His thick hands holding you in really tight, his muscles locking you in and warming your arms, while his gut pushes you back a little of your feet, like he wants to swoop you into his arms and carry you! 🥰 He'd be careful with his spikes of course, don't worry. A detail that sends me over the moon about Bane in this movie is his green skin. I can't put my finger on it, but it really adds to the whole transformation and therefore my thirst for him grows even bigger! Especially because it's completely unique to the movie. It looks so good that I wonder why the comics haven't adopted something similar.

I could go for hours about how I think the writers butchered Bane's character in this movie, but I want this post to mainly act as a positive appreciation post/background for head cannons that I might post about him one day. So to end, and give a taste, I'll finally talk about Bane being a drone in this movie. In weird way, because he's played as a mindless servent, it makes this version of Bane one of the easier Bane's for me to fantasies about. This is because in the movie, it's implied Bane only follows Poison Ivy because she was the first person he didn't see as a threat. Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if she used some of her suductive powers on him. (I would too, just saying) So, with that established, I like that he's a mindless drone because it means that, in my head, he's not exactly my "servant" but he will basically do whatever I say. Why? Because I will prove to him I not a threat either, and only want to love him!! He'll have a concuious and his own goals, and I'll follow along and help because I trust him and want to support him, but, for the most part, he will do what I say and love me in return. I could explain this more, but I want to save the juicy parts for the follow up post I have planned for this. 😏

If you've read this far, thank you. From the bottom of my hear. I've never wrote something this personal or long. I hope I can continue to do more of these, if I'm passionate enough.

[superworldunkown]

Chase you to the Top

AN: Dad Bakugou fics are my favorite. I am 100% convinced, with evidence I made up myself, that Bakugou would literally be the best dad in the worst way. Would his children swear? Yes. Would they be wholesome and the righteous hero’s in the making? Fuck yes. I’m here for it. Also, Bakugou and a POC character would make the most cutest biracial babies, like I cant. But I’ll write it anyways. 

Summary: The day finally came when Deku passed Kacchan on the Hero Billboard charts...but, surprisingly, Bakugou is still on top. It’s mostly BakuDeku friendship, with a nice helping of Dad Bakugou, and a sprinkle of Bakugou x POC reader. The perfect recipe.

Midoriya dreamed of this day. It was finally here. The Hero Billboard Chart JP Annual ceremony. All of the training, the battles, the wins and losses, it all seemed worth it to have his name once again be echoed in the same stadium as his mentor, All Might. Of course, Midoriya was nervous beyond recognition. But, in true Midoriya fashion, he spent all week preparing and perfecting his entrance walk, his wave to the crowd, and the speech the top heroes gave. He had it down to a science.   After all, he was now a top hero! However, he was not prepared for the ranking, 

Midoriya ranked 3rd.

Kacchan....4th.

He ranked higher. He surpassed Bakugou?! And now, the entire world was going to see it. This could very well be his final Hero Billboard Chart moment. He was sure Bakugou was going to blast him on live TV. Maybe he shouldn’t have invited his mother as his plus 1.

He gulped, despite how hard his body was rejecting any more fluid into his already churning stomach. The two hero’s stood side by side backstage, both dressed in their full hero costumes; Bakugou foregoing his left gauntlet. Since the war with the League of Villains several years back he only dawned both gauntlets in serious missions where the firepower was absolutely necessary.  

The roar of the crowed hummed through the walls and thick theater curtains. The two hero’s haven’t spoken to each other since their rankings were reveled in private late last night. Some hero’s weren’t even given any notice to their rankings. He and Bakugou were the exceptions.  Bakugou and Midoriya stood out for so many reasons. Both seen and unseen. To the public, they were the symbol of the next generation of Heroes. Also, the Hero Committee knew of Bakugou’s fiery temper, so it was probably for everyone's safety that it wasn’t publicly announced without notice. 

Midoriya thought for a moment. They weren’t kids anymore. And their friendship, dare he say it, had transformed so much from their days at U.A. They were on speaking terms, they trained together. Ran missions together. Bakugou even threw himself in danger to save his life once. Hell, he was even invited to Bakugou’s wedding, and only 5 other classmates were invited! They had become so much closer, but was that all about to be destroyed?

But Midoriya couldn’t live with the silence. He had to say something. Something to cut the tension. Something to make Bakugou look at him, acknowledge him. Even if he got screamed at, he had to say something. 

He began slow, and quiet, “So...Uhh, pretty exciting we both made it so high up, huh?”

Oh no.

Was that pandering? Shit!

“I mean, its great right? We’ve both worked so hard. You worked even harder you know, your quirk is so amazing and you’ve become such a great hero- not that you weren’t in the first place...Sorry not likethatKacchanijustknowyou’vebeenwatingforthismomentyourwholelifeandihopeI’mnotruiningitbecauseirankedhigherthanyouthisyearbuttheresalwaysnextyearwhoknowsmaybetheyputmehigherbymistake-”

“Damnit Deku! You’re muttering again! And It’s pissing me off!” 

The green haired man didn’t know why the abrasive response made him smile, “Sorry, Kacchan.” 

Bakugou huffed an inaudible response while he began tinkering with his gauntlet before setting it down at his feet, “Shit, forgot to turn the safety on.” 

“You’ve gotten so strong, you dont even really need those anymore.” Midoriya pipped up, “You’re now able to set of explosions that can be felt half a mile away-” 

Red eyes were cast his direction, “I should’ve gotten that restraining order. You know so much about me its weird, ya damn nerd.” 

“Am I really still a nerd to you? After all these years?” 

Before the explosion hero could respond, the presence of a small child caught their attention. The curly haired child stood in front of Bakugou, staring up at him with wide, bright eyes. She dawned orange dress with green polka dots and small black and red shoes.

“Oh, Hey Ki-” 

“What are you doing here, kid?” Bakugou’s brash voice filled the backstage. He knelt down in front of her, snarling, “Looking for an autograph or something? Well they ain’t free!”

The girl didn’t bat an eye. Rather, her freckled face scrunched up as she responded with a giggle, “You’re mean, Daddy.” 

He was beaming, “Damn right I am.” He snatched his daughter up his arms, lifting her in the air as he stood. The girl laughed at her new found height before she began reaching for Bakugou’s hero mask. 

“Kiara-there you are!” You called out while rounding the corner, eyes finally set on your daughter, “You can’t run away from Mommy like that.” 

Kiara was Bakugou’s 3 year old daughter. She was the perfect balance of you and Katsuki. She had your brown skin that glowed with tiny freckles, curly hair, albeit blonde like her fathers. She had your smile, big and bright. And just like her namesake, she was the princess. You were convinced she got that from Katsuki’s side of the family.

“Hey, Y/N.” Midoriya spoke, only to be enveloped in a big hug.

“Deku! I heard the news! I’m so proud of you, number 3 hero, that’s amazing! Try not to break any bones during your speech, okay?”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll try not to.”  

Bakugou let out a small laugh. You turned your attention towards your husband and wayward daughter, “And you, no swearing during yours either! I mean it Katsuki if she learns one more word...” 

Kiara watched you before mimicking your moves, waving her small finger in her father’s face, “Yeah, no spearin-” She finished with a squeal as Bakugou flashed his teeth playfully bit at her finger.

‘Top 10 heroes, take your position at the main stage. Again, top 10 heroes, main stage please.’ 

“Alright missy, Daddy and Deku have to go.” You reached out for your daughter who whined in protest, clearly not ready to depart to their seats.

“You sure you can hold her?” Bakugou asked softly, staring down at the small bump that showed ever so slightly from underneath your sweater.

“Trust me.” You reassured him, “If I let her feet hit the ground again, she’ll rush the stage. Okay, Kiara one last hug and it’s time to go.” 

Kiara gave her father a tight hug before leaning away towards your arms, “No madder what Daddy, you’re still my mumber one hero.”

While he only witnessed the tender moment, for Midoriya it finally dawned on him. At the end of the day, he didn’t surpass Kacchan, not even by an inch. Midoriya was still chasing after him, just like when they were kids. It didn’t matter where he was ranked or what the public thought of him. 

To the people that mattered. Who truly loved him, 

Kacchan was already number 1. 

AN: I just really want to write more Dad Bakugou. Mah Heart! Do you need Baku-dad in your life, too?  Let me know. 

[saferemercer]

Worthy

June 26th, Late Evening, After the Queen’s Gala

"There ya go lass, she's all set for yeh!" 

Safere glanced at the dwarf gryphon master, still holding the winning ticket in her hand. To the right of her, stood Snowbeak, the majestic, white Wildhammer gryphon she had just won in a high society raffle. The beast was immaculate; feathers shining in the moonlight, beak seemingly polished to a mirror sheen and talons sharp as adamantine steel. She was straight out of a storybook. 

Safere looked down at her rented tuxedo; a crab meat stain on her collar, one cufflink gone and her shoes having stepped in something grey and slimy. She didn’t want to think about that too much. All in all, she felt pretty damn foolish standing in front of this paragon of gryphon-kind, ready to take her as a mount. 

“So uh...you have any tips for how to...uh, care for her?” she asked. “I mean...I have another gryphon, but he’s older and kinda half-blind…”

The dwarf chuckled, unlatching the gryphon’s chains. “Oh, Snowbeak is ah’ feisty young lass, she’s gonna want ta’ fly around prettah’ often. You’ve got ah’ roost fer her, yeah?” 

Safere rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah...definitely,” she hoped. 

“Good, good. She needs tha’ best of care! You gala types can manage that, ah’m sure. You ah’ knight or ah’ cleric of some kind?” 

Safere rubbed her head, harder. “I’m...a...uh, protector.” 

“Protector! Ha, tha’ sounds good! Yeah, Snowbeak is fit fer the grandest of adventures. The soarin’ clouds, the tallest mountains, the greatest-” 

“I get it, I get it,” Safere said, through gritted teeth. “I’m...sure we’ll have a wonderful time together.” 

The dwarf shrugged and gave Snowbeak a final pat on the snout, before he opened the gate and led her out of the pen. Safere walked up to her, trembling just a little. She raised a hand and brought it down to touch her beak. The gryphon stared into her eyes, as she was touched. Safere swore she could sense a subtle disappointment in those eyes. She sighed. 

“I know, Snowbeak...we’ll...make this work,” Safere said, now starting to regret ever taking a raffle ticket. 

July 20th, Mid Evening, Crowsfield.

Snowbeak was screaming at her. Well, squawking might have been more accurate, but it sure felt like screaming to Safere. If the beast could speak common, she had an idea of the level of vitriol she’d be experiencing right now. 

“I know, I get it, you’re angry!” Safere grumbled, trying to clean her feathers with an old brush. “We don’t...we don’t fly as often as you’d like...and I wish I could fix that, but I just...don’t travel as often as some people. Ok?! Buddy doesn’t mind, do ya pal?” 

She turned to the black gryphon in the pen next to her. The cross-eyed, older gryphon was chewing on a large ferret he had caught earlier that day, but in the same way a tired farmer might sip on a tall glass of sweet tea. He was in no rush. 

As if Snowbeak could understand Safere’s words (she was almost certain she could, some days), the majestic gryphon snorted at her, in seeming disgust. 

Safere sighed. “Yeah, I know, you don’t like being compared to Buddy. But he’s the only gryphon I’ve ever really known before, so maybe we can just-” 

Snowbeak raised her legs and flapped her wings right in Safere’s face, knocking her to the ground, landing flat on her ass in the dirt.

“Oh, fine!” Safere shouted, lying down in defeat. “Have it your way! I’ll just let you-” 

“Might I be of assistance, Miss Mercer?” 

She looked up to see a man in copper colored armor, standing above her, offering a hand. She turned around and gripped his palm, rising back to her feet. She recognized the man immediately. He was the only one she knew who would wear a fully enclosed helm in such sweltering weather. 

“Mordecai, right?” Safere asked, despite knowing she was right. She just..hadn’t spoken to him that much. 

He nodded. “Indeed, Miss Mercer. Mordecai Sharpe, at your service.” He sounded calm and helpful, even if his expression was entirely unreadable. That copper-colored mask he wore always bore the same neutral, placid expression. His eyes were the only thing that could be seen. Kind brown orbs, blinking every so often. 

Safere sighed, dusting off her trousers. “Well, uh, have you got any experience with gryphons? At least more than I do?” 

Mordecai nodded once more. “I rode one for nearly a decade. Back when I was a more...active member of The Silver Hand. She was a gorgeous creature, fair and swift...but I didn’t appreciate her at the time.” 

Safere blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that I...neglected her,” he began to say. “Not in the sense of health or feeding, I assure you. I always kept her well fed, clean and cared for. Until the day she died, she never missed a meal, nor was she abused. But…” 

The man’s shoulders fell, for but a moment. “I didn’t truly appreciate her. I never even named her. Not really. Whenever a fellow knight would ask me, I would say something like...Silverwing or Judgment. But it was a hollow excuse for a title. I simply didn’t care. She was a beast to be used for glory. Much like a sword or a shield. Cared for, certainly. But never loved. Never seen as more than a tool.” 

Mordecai turned to look at the gryphons. “Do I have your leave to approach her?” 

“Sure,” Safere replied, shrugging. “Just be ready, because she’s in a mood.” 

He walked up to Snowbeak, slowly reaching into a pouch on his waist and retrieving a handful of wildberries. Once he reached the gryphon, he held out his palm and let her eat from it. She did so with some trepidation, but soon enough, had cleaned his gauntlet entirely. She then leaned her head against his arm, as he stroked her gently. 

“A beautiful lady...you should be very-” 

“HELP!” 

Mordecai and Safere turned around to see a young woman running toward them, a distraught expression on her face. The paladin ran forward to meet her halfway. 

"Miss, what is wrong?!" 

"Please, they took my brother, please they took him into the forest-" 

He laid a hand on her shoulder...and she seemed to calm down, enough to explain more clearly, at least. By then, Safere had joined Mordecai by his side and was listening closely. 

"She took Theodore, the...some witch, I saw her snatch him from his bedroom window and take him into the moor! I tried to run after her, but these...skeletons rose up from the dirt! Undead monsters! Out in the Bleakmoor! Please sir, miss…please help my brother…” the girl wailed, tears welling in her brown eyes. 

“We have no time to lose. Miss, return to your home and wait for us there. We will find him. Safere,” Mordecai said, turning to face her. “Might we-” 

She nodded, already running back to Buddy. “Come on!” she called back. Fiddling with her ebon gryphon’s chain, Safere mounted him and pulled the reins. He may have been an older gent, but Buddy knew when it was time to get serious. Years of getting Safere out of sticky situations had given him a kind of sixth sense. He rose to his feet and flapped his wings, ready to burst off. 

Mordecai was running up now, while the young woman returned to her homestead.  He looked at Buddy and Safere. “I...don’t know if I’ll be able to fit on there with you. Or if your gryphon can carry my extra bulk,” he said, gesturing to his mix of chain and plate mail. “Perhaps if-” 

Safere shook her head. “You’re taking Snowbeak!” 

The paladin shook his head. “No, miss Safere, she is yo-” 

“This is not the time to argue, pal! Get to it!” Safere shouted. 

Mordecai nodded and ran to the ivory bird, expertly climbing upon her saddle without even a wayward twitch from the proud beast. She shrieked out a battle-squawk and took to the air almost immediately, leaving Safere and Buddy to catch up. 

They were soaring above the hills now, keeping low enough to spot any figures...if it wasn’t so bloody dark. 

“I can’t see a damn thing down there!” Safere shouted, the wind coursing through her hair. 

“Let us remedy that,” Mordecai roared back. “Cover your eyes, Mercer! For just a moment!” 

Safere did as she was told, bringing her wrist back across her eyes, just as the night turned to sunrise in front of her. Her peripheral vision was a holy inferno, but it soon faded enough until she felt comfortable to gaze openly again. Mordecai was still glowing, casting a net of light across the hilly moor below. 

“There!” he said, pointing down. Sure enough, no longer shrouded beneath a barrow-hill, Safere could spot a crowd of figures. Over a dozen skeletal warriors, covered still in the dirt and grime of their former resting places. Most gripped broken hatchets and rusted blades. A couple held ancient shortbows. These two decrepit snipers took aim as Safere and Mordecai came down upon them. With surprising dexterity, an arrow was loosed, aimed right at Snowbeak’s chest. 

But the gryphon saw it coming, swiping the missile away with a talon. The other shot toward Safere and Buddy; its aim was less true, allowing them to dodge the projectile with a quick turn. By then, the two of them were landing. Hard. 

Snowbeak smashed into the center of the undead, scattering two of the boney bastards into splinters. Mordecai pulled his great morningstar from his shoulders, the flanged head gleaming with golden fire, as he slammed it into the rotting ribcage of another, crushing the sternum and wasting the foul creature away. 

Safere came down less glamorously, but no less effective. Her cutlass in one hand, silver edged and shining, slicing through the skull of the axe wielding monster nearest to her. The foolish archer she had landed by, tried to swat Buddy with his bow, only for the elder gryphon to grab him in his beak and snap his spine. 

“Interlopers!” A shrill voice screamed. Safere turned to see a wretched old hag, twisted and deformed, holding a young boy by the scruff of his pajamas. The child was wailing, kicking at his captor, to seemingly no avail. “You will not stop the sacrifice to Gorak Tul!” 

“Gorak Tul is vanquished, fiend! Killed in his own realm of shadow and failure!” Mordecai growled, shattering the knees of an approaching skeleton. “You will accomplish nothing!” 

“Yeah, you suck!” Safere helpfully added, stabbing another undead. 

“Fools! Gorak Tul’s spirit lingers, forever! And I will be his new bride!” the witch shrieked, raising a twisted dagger to the child’s throat. “The boy’s blood will show me the way!” 

Safere grit her teeth, looking around for any options. There were still a half dozen skeletons advancing. Buddy was fighting off one more to her left. Snowbeak...was gone. Where had she-

Mordecai let loose a sharp whistle. The gryphon moved so fast, she was more of a blur of white upon the wind, than any discernible form. Just as the witch had barely begun to look behind her, she was rammed by the Wildhammer gryphon, sending her gangling form flying forward, her loose grip on the boy’s shirt going slack, as he fell a few feet to the ground. 

Safere ran over to him, making sure he was unharmed. Aside from some dirt stains and a bruise on his shoulder, he seemed to be fine, if still wailing and terrified. Within that handful of moments, Mordecai, Buddy and Snowbeak had dispatched the handful of remaining skeletons, their bones scattered and unmoving. The witch...lay in a defeated pile nearby, groaning like a sickly weasel. 

“You are beaten, monster. Submit and be judged!” Mordecai commanded, his aura pulsing like wildfire. He stood above the subdued wretch, morningstar at her throat. 

The witch mewled and raised her elongated arms, in a show of surrender. “I...yes, I am defeated! Oh, brave and powerful paladin! I...submit to your mercy! Please!” Her yellow eyes wide and pleading. 

“Mercy! How could a villain such as you deserve-” Mordecai began to say...before stopping and sighing. “Very well, witch. You will come with me, bound and subdued...to be judged by the people of Autumnhearth! And see what mercy they lay upon you!”  

The paladin barely shifted his gaze, but for a mere moment, he did glance at his belt, to retrieve a length of rope...only for Safere to watch as the hag began to channel a pale blue energy in her palm. 

A Ruinous Bolt! Safere thought to herself. She had been researching just last night. In a flash, she drew her Gnomish pepperbox from the back of her trousers and fired. One, two, three, four…

Her aim did not fail her. Each silver shot ripping into the hag’s flesh, with the last metal ball landing right between her sour yolk-yellow eyes...which made the spell in her palm fade away and the witch slump back onto the ground, as dead as her would to be husband. 

Mordecai looked back at the shot riddled body and exhaled. “My thanks, Miss Mercer.” 

She nodded, sweat dripping down her forehead. In her arm, the young boy blinked and wiped away tears. “That was...so loud!” he squeaked. 

“Ah yeah...sorry about that, Theodore,” Safere said, grimacing. “But it’s over, your sister is waiting for you.” 

The boy nodded and hugged her, still crying, but less feverishly. Mordecai came over to him, kneeling down and offering a hand. 

“How would you like to fly on a gryphon, master Theodore?” he asked. 

For likely the first time that night, the boy smiled. 

--------------

The reunion with Theodore’s sister (Charlotte, they learned) was full of more tears and smiles alike, but the boy was soon returned to his own bed, with a small number of local farmers promising to watch over the house until morning. Mordecai would join them, sitting down by the front fence with Safere. Snowbeak and Buddy waited nearby. 

“That was...an exciting evening, wouldn’t you say, Miss Mercer?” Mordecai said, having removed his mask, among the two of them. Safere had seen his burned visage before and grown accustomed to it. The permanent half grin across his partial lips and exposed cheek, were little more than a beauty mark to her by now. 

“Hell of a lot more...fighting than I expected, that’s for damn sure,” she said, sipping from a glass of fresh milk. Supplied by Theodore's grateful farming family, after the two of them had refused the meager amount of silver they had scraped together as a reward. “But this is good cow juice.” 

Mordecai sipped from his tin straw and nodded. “Indeed. Regardless, you fought well. Thank you again for your expert shooting.” 

Safere chugged the last half of her moo-juice and stood up, brushing off her pants. “Don’t mention it, Mordo. Last thing I needed tonight was having to tell Wes that her Warden took a Ruinous Bolt to the chest.” 

He chuckled and stood with her. “You recognized the spell? How impressive.” 

“Yeah, all that reading paid off, just like Mere said it would,” Safere replied, smiling. 

“You make the steward proud, I’m sure,” Mordecai said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you returning to Easthollow with your gryphons, then? They’ve had a busy evening too.” 

“One of them, yeah,” Safere said. 

“Good, I hope they-” 

The paladin turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “One of them?” 

“I’m leaving Snowbeak with you, Mordo. You made an incredible team. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna break that up.” 

Mordecai shook his head, raising a hand in disagreement. “No, Miss Mercer, I couldn’t accept such a-” 

“First off, call me Safere. Or Saf, even,” Safere said, making sure her cutlasses were properly attached to her belt. “Secondly, I’m not gonna hear any arguments on this. Snowbeak deserves someone like you. Someone brave and worthy of her. Someone who can make the best use of her skills. And that ain’t me.” 

The man was silent for a moment. “You are worthy of more than you think, Mi...Safere. And you are as brave as any champion of the Hand that I’ve ever known. You joined me in the search for Theodore without a second thought. Lent me your steed, without hesitation. Charged into the mass of undead and stood by my side.” 

He whistled, causing Snowbeak to trot over. Mordecai rubbed her neck and watched as she nuzzled back. “If this is your desire...your command, I will do so. I will care for and love Snowbeak, as I failed to do for my former steed. But never believe it is because you are unworthy. Promise me this.” 

Safere sighed and smiled, looking down at her boots for a second or two. Before returning his gaze and nodding. “I promise.”

He nodded back. “Good. Also, I ask that you bring Buddy along to visit every so often. The two are quite...attached.” 

She blinked and looked from Snowbeak to Buddy. The white gryphon was looking back at him, softly cooing. Buddy in turn was waving his wings slowly and...prancing? 

“Buddy, you scoundrel!” Safere exclaimed, laughing. “Have you been laying down some moves behind my back?!” 

Buddy squaked, shaking his wings and hopping up and down. Snowbeak scraped her talons in the dirt and squawked back. 

“Best warn your gryphon master of the possibility of eggs, in the future, eh?” Mordecai cautioned, chuckling along with her.

Safere gave him a thumbs up. “You bet. Keep safe out there, Mordo! See you soon!” She left with a spring in her steps, mounting her flirtatious bird and soaring off toward Easthallow. The wind in her hair felt like energy flowing through her. She let out a loud “woooooooooo!” and grinned. 

It had been quite a night to fly. 

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Keeping Me Alive

Chapter 10: Get Out Alive

by @dracusfyre​

    Now

“Save who you can,” Tony said to himself as he splashed water on his face.

He blindly grabbed for a towel and dried off, meeting his eyes in the mirror for what felt like the first time in years. “Don’t look back.” He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and went out into his bedroom. He picked up the photo that sat on his bedside table and took it out of the frame, tucking it into the pocket of his pants. Glancing around his bedroom, he nodded once, and went down to his workshop. He saluted the painting of Howard on the wall then dug out the photo of the Winter Soldier from his desk and set it on fire, dropping it to the concrete floor and watching it burn.

 “Ready, JARVIS?” he asked. He ground the last bit of embers into the concrete to put them out.

 “Are you ready, sir?”

 “Yep,” Tony lied. “Let’s rock and roll.”

“Let it Burn Protocol initiated.” As JARVIS spoke, Tony felt the first explosion rock the house, rumbling through his feet as he stepped into the matte black suit in the gantry in the middle of the room. The facemask closed over his face as cracks appeared in the walls of the lab, and as the ground fell away from his feet he was already in the air.

36 days ago

Once he was sure that Stane was gone for good, Tony went down to his work shop and said, “Wake up, JARVIS, we have work to do.”

Sitting down at his workstation, he opened up the master file with the suit schematics and eyed the hologram critically. The hardest part of the suit to master was going to be the flight system, so he isolated and magnified that part from the diagram, studying the repulsors built into the gauntlets and boots with stabilizers along the back. “Start machining the parts I’m going to need for these,” he said. “Circumstances have changed and we are going to need to hit the ground running, so to speak."

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS said, and the whirring of machinery became a low hum, punctuated by sharp bzzts as parts were cut and de-burred. Tony studied the prototype, exploding the diagram, moving it around, and after a while came up with a short list of non-critical design items he could spoon feed to Hydra to show his ‘enthusiastic’ cooperation. An hour later, the whirring stopped and the sudden quiet broke Tony out of his concentration. He sat up and stretched, wincing as his back popped. Standing, he went over to the coffee maker and started a new pot, then dug under the counter for his emergency stash of scotch, splashing a fingers worth in his mug while he waited for the coffee.

He had realized two very important things today. The first was that the Soldier needed saving even more than Tony did; the knowledge that the man was Hydra’s slave, kept ignorant and locked up until Hydra needed an attack dog, had shifted Tony’s world view like a kaleidoscope, shaking up everything he thought knew and making an entirely new pattern. The second was that he couldn't keep waiting around for a chance to escape, he was going to have to make one.

This suit, he knew, was the key to both of those realizations. But this half-baked, insane plan to rescue the Winter Soldier was going to kick the anthill big time and Tony also knew he needed to have some kind of plan for dealing with Hydra in the aftermath. This wasn’t going to be like Afghanistan, where he thought he was out and got pulled right back in again. The stakes were way too high this time.

With that thought in mind, when the coffee was done, he filled up his mug and went back to his desk. He pulled up the operating program for the suit and created a subroutine to overload the reactor, ignoring the flash red warning that said that this would result in a critical core breach and an uncontrolled chain reaction, and set the activation code as “Last Resort.”

One way or another, he thought as he sipped on his doctored coffee, this suit would be his way out.

  32 Days Ago

Tony stared tiredly at the news as he took a swallow of stone-cold coffee. The breaking report was about the assassination of an Iranian nuclear scientist. Iran was already blaming Israel, who was of course denying it, but in response Iran was threatening to pull out of the treaties against nuclear enrichment and swore they could split the atom within the year. Political and military analysts were seeing storm clouds on the horizon unless someone backed down and talking about how another war would tax America's already overstretched military. Tony, meanwhile, could tell that this assassination had Hydra's fingerprints all over it, and knew that this was almost certainly the work of the Soldier. "JARVIS," Tony said, muting the television. "I need you to break into Hydra’s servers and find everything you can on the Winter Soldier. Cross reference it with the name James Barnes.” There was a chance that Stane had made the name up, but it seemed unlikely – from what he could tell, the Soldier would have responded to anything, and ‘James Barnes’ was a lot more specific than a simple ‘John Smith’ or ‘Joe Blow.’ “Actually, while you’re at it,” Tony said, having a sudden thought, “I want all of Hydra’s files. Copy them to one of SI’s remote servers.”

Hours later, Tony was just finishing up the wiring assembly for the repulsor system when his computer dinged. Setting down the soldering gun, Tony rubbed his eyes tiredly and turned on his monitor to see what JARVIS had found. To his dismay, there were thousands of files on the Winter Soldier; as he scrolled down the list, he realized that they went back decades. “Fuck,” he said aloud as he looked at the dates and the file names, most of which were a string of letters and numbers that no doubt made sense to someone in Hydra but gave no clue as to what the file contained. He buried his head in his hands and tried not to cry at the enormity of the task in front of him. He was so tired that his eyes were blurry and his head was pounding, but every time he tried to close his eyes he kept seeing James’s body arching with pain and hearing his screams.

“Sir, it has been twelve hours and thirty-six minutes since you last ate,” JARVIS said. “And you’ve made four mistakes in the past fifteen minutes. You need to rest.”

“I have?” Tony pulled his magnifying glass back over to the circuit board and saw what JARVIS was talking about. “Shit. Alright, fine.” He pushed away from the desk and went to the bar sink next to the coffee pot and ran his head under cold water for a second. He came up and wiped his face and the back of his neck, shivering as water dripped from his hair down his back, and went upstairs to look for food. Leaving his work shop felt like he was crossing into hostile territory, like he could be attacked at any moment. And he could, he thought as he opened the refrigerator. Stane had made sure that he always had free access to Tony’s home, because a locked door meant secrets and the only secrets Hydra allowed were their own. He wished he could just walk away from this place, blow it up and find a place to live that Hydra had never stepped foot in, a place that would feel like it was his –

He froze with a jug of orange juice in his hand. He stood there, thoughts racing, for so long that the chiller on the refrigerator came on with a hum. Then Tony said “Huh” to the boxes of leftovers and absently shut the fridge door, OJ still in hand.

25 Days Ago

“JARVIS, this doesn’t make sense,” Tony said, rereading the file for the fifth time. “This thing is saying that the first Winter Soldier was James Barnes, but the current Winter Soldier is James Barnes.” It was hard to think that it was a clerical error, since the earliest files went back to the 1940s and consisted of paper files that had been scanned into a computer sometimes in the 80s. “Is it an alias? Are all Winter Soldiers called ‘James Barnes’ as a security precaution?”

“Facial pattern analysis indicates that it is the same James Barnes,” JARVIS said, and it flashed up an image that looked like a scanned-in polaroid; in it the man was unconscious on an operating table, face dirty and bloody and pale. Next to it JARVIS pulled up an image from Hydra’s own security footage of what the Soldier looked like without his goggles and mask on. There was a vague resemblance to Tony’s eyes, but as the facial recognition algorithm measured the features in each photograph, the conclusion was mathematically precise – there was a 99.7% chance that it was the same man in each photo.

Tony’s face went slack with shock. “How is that possible? He’d have to be almost 100 years old!”

“That part I don’t know, sir.”

“Holy shit.” Tony went back to the original file, reading it more carefully. “James Buchanan Barnes,” he read. “Born 1917. American POW.” He paused at that and sat back in his chair. “Why does that sound familiar?”

In response, JARVIS pulled up a Wikipedia page on Tony’s screen. As he read it, Tony was speechless; for a long moment, he flipped screens between the dead-eyed man from Hydra’s surveillance footage and the smiling man with his arm around Captain America, but this time he didn’t need JARVIS to tell him that it was the same man. The implications made his stomach turn, and as he stared at the screen he exhaled shakily and covered his mouth with his hands. 80 years. James Barnes had been in Hydra’s clutches for 80 years.

He stood suddenly, sending his chair rolling backwards. “We’re doing another flight test. Right now.” 80 years was already far too long, and Tony wasn't going to let it be one more day longer than it had to be.

19 Days Ago

“Tony!” Ms. Potts said with surprise. “I didn’t expect you in the office today.”

Probably because Tony had been dodging Stark Industries for a while now, only coming out of his lab long enough to get her to leave him alone before burying himself in work again. It had occurred to him as he got in his car to go to SI headquarters, blinking in the bright sunlight, that this was the first time he had been outside of the house since Stane’s forced excursion. “Yeah, I wanted to meet with you,” Tony said, shutting the door behind him.  He set a stack of papers in front of her as he sat down.

“What’s this?” She said, flipping through the papers. There was a line of confusion between her eyebrows which only deepened as she started reading them.

“I’m making you CEO of Stark Industries,” Tony said. “Effective two weeks from now. Should be an easy transition, you do most of my job anyway.” He grabbed a pin from her desk and clicked it, the sound loud in the sudden silence. “Sign on the highlighted line, please,” he added, holding the pen out to her, and despite everything he had to smile at the stunned look on her face.

  11 Days Ago

Tony put a hand on Rhodey’s arm and met his eyes, willing him to understand. “I’m saying that Afghanistan wasn’t a random attack,” he said urgently. “I think I was being targeted, and I think whoever did it might try again.” He palmed a thumb drive from his pocket and slid it across the table. In the Hydra files, JARVIS had found that a senator named Stern had been behind the Afghanistan attack, apparently trying to get Tony out of the way so that his good buddy Justin Hammer and his company Hammer Industries could take over SI's lucrative military contracts. There was all of that and more on here, just enough information that if Rhodey put all the threads together he would start getting the bigger picture. Pierce, the STRIKE teams, all of it. “If anything happens to me, I need you to finish what I’ve started.”

“Tony, if you are afraid for your life-“ Rhodey started, still looking dubious but starting to get alarmed.

“Not just me. You. Ms. Potts. Anyone I'm friends with. I can’t do anything to make these people suspicious,” Tony insisted. It was strange to feel like he was lying even though every word he’d said was true. “No unexplained bodyguards, no sudden trips, and absolutely no cops.”

“I don’t like this,” Rhodey said emphatically. “You’re asking me to sit back and wait to see if someone kills you!”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tony said. That part was a lie. He had a plan in the broadest definition of the word; mostly he was making it up as he went along and praying he could handle the fallout. “I need you to trust me.” Rhodey’s mouth was a grim line and his jaw was tight, and Tony knew he wasn’t convinced so he pulled out his trump card. “I can’t do this unless I know you are safe,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning forward. “I won’t risk you.” It took a long minute, and Rhodey looked like he was swallowing something unpleasant, but he finally nodded and put the thumb drive in his pocket. Tony exhaled and sagged with relief. “Thank you."

“When this is over, you better have a good damn explanation,” Rhodey said threateningly, and Tony barked out a humorless laugh.

“You won’t even believe me when you hear it.”

  8 Days Ago

After Tony hit save on the final design of the suit, he stumbled over to the couch and landed on it face first, exhausted. He was laying on the couch, eyes drifting shut as he went over his plan for the hundredth time trying to figure out if he’d missed anything when the lab went dark. “What the hell, JARVIS?”

“Sir, it’s been 56 hours since you last slept,” JARVIS said. “I’m turning off your systems for a minimum of twelve hours.” The light in the stairwell going up to the main floor turned on, its glow just enough to let Tony get from the couch to the door without running into anything.

Tony stayed stubbornly on the couch. “We don’t have twelve hours to waste,” he said. “Turn my power back on.”

The lights stayed off. “Sir, you are a hazard to yourself and others.” Tony scowled and wondered if he had actually programmed JARVIS like this or if he was channeling the man himself. "Also, there's nothing for you to do while I assemble the suit."

“Fine. Ten hours.”

“Ten hours," JARVIS repeated. "I will be monitoring the situation while you sleep,” he added, and Tony knew that he meant not just monitoring Stane and James, but also Tony’s vital signs to make sure he actually slept.

“You’re insufferable,” Tony accused as he made his way up the stairs.

“Yes, sir.”

 2 Days Ago

“Sir, there’s something you should see.”

Tony looked up from the fine-tuning he was doing on the suit’s shoulder-fired weapons to look at the computer screen. JARVIS had maximized the window where he was constantly monitoring Pierce’s communications and highlighted a text that had just been sent. It was to an unknown number and all it said was lvl 10, CovJer10131973 nlt 200810162200Z. The first part was clearly a target identifier and Tony knew enough about the military to recognize the latter as a date time group, set for five days from now. “Bring up the camera feed,” Tony said, and sure enough when Tony looked at the video surveillance of the room where James was kept, he could see that the lights in the room were on and a technician was already in the room powering on computers. They’d found out a while ago that what Tony had taken for a hyperbaric chamber was in fact a cryostasis chamber, which partly explained why James was almost a hundred years old but looked younger than Tony.

“Shit." Tony exhaled long and low, feeling his heart rate spike with nervousness. "How long it takes to thaw him out? Was that in his files?”

JARVIS was silent for a moment. “Evidence suggests approximately 24 hours from the time the procedure is first initiated,” he said.

“Right,” Tony said grimly, turning back to his work with a new urgency. “Guess it’s time.”

 Now

Tony flew north along the coast as his house collapsed into the Pacific Ocean behind him, throwing billowing clouds of dust and smoke into the air as carefully placed explosives reduced it to a smoking ruin. It was thrilling and terrifying to know that for all intents and purposes Tony Stark was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He'd become a dead man after all, and now the only thing left was this suit and his mission: rescue the Winter Soldier then burn Hydra to the ground.

“Pull up James' video feed for me," Tony said as he flew. Since he was over water, he set the suit to autopilot and shifted his attention to the small window at the corner of his HUD.  James was out of the cryostasis chamber, sitting on a chair as a medical assistant appeared to be taking his vitals. Every now and then he shivered, still shirtless. Other technicians were milling around, tending to the computers, and standing guard were was two members of the STRIKE team, hands on their weapons as they kept an eye on him. His records had indicated that he was prone to ‘erratic violent outbursts,’ which Tony figured was code for “periodically tries to fight back.” Tony had actually been happy to read that, because it meant that Hydra hadn't managed to break him completely. Right now, though, James just seemed willing to numbly submit to whatever the technicians were doing, his long hair a curtain in front of his face as he stared at the floor.

“Sir, we are approaching the facility,” JARVIS said, and minimized the video. Tony flew lower to the water, navigating around the giant cargo ships at dock. Even for a twenty-four hour facility it was late, and there were only one or two ships that had people still unloading shipping containers. He landed close to the Hydra facility but out of the line of sight; he had managed to camouflage the suit to the best of his ability, but he couldn’t hide the bright lights of the repulsors so he made the rest of the approach on foot.

JARVIS’s scanners found four total guards around the building, patrolling in pairs. By sticking to the deep shadows cast by the stacked shipping containers and the orange-yellow glow of the sodium-vapor security lights, Tony got within hearing distance and hit them with a pulse of high-pitched wave frequency. They both stiffened and fell over, paralyzed, helmets bouncing off the pavement hard enough to knock them unconscious. Tony bound them with their own zip ties and hid them out of sight, then used his backdoor access to the security system to unlock the doors and set all the surveillance cameras on a one hour loop. As he strode through the door into the lab, all eyes turned to face him, and before anyone could even speak there was a brrrt noise and they fell to the floor, killed by the precision targeting system Tony had built into his suit.

When JARVIS confirmed they were all dead, Tony took off the helmet and looked down at one of the bodies; the one closest to him had been here a month ago, monitoring James’ vitals as they wiped his mind. This was the first time Tony had killed anyone and he expected to feel..something, sad or upset or even vindictive, but he didn’t really feel anything. It all felt too easy, and Tony knew it was because he had designed a suit that had made it that easy. All the more reason that Hydra couldn't be allowed to get their hands on it.

James was still sitting in the chair, watching Tony as he approached; he hadn’t even gone for cover as everyone around him had died. Tony wondered if it was out of surprise or indifference. “Do you know me?” He asked, coming to stand in front of him. James studied his features for a moment and shook his head. “My name is Tony Stark. You are James Buchanan Barnes, and I am here to rescue you.” Tony offered him a hand to get to his feet, but James didn’t move, he just stared at Tony with those glacier blue eyes. There wasn't blankness in them now, only a narrow-eyed look of consideration. “Come on,” Tony tried again. “We’re escaping. We have to hurry before more people show up.”

James didn’t move. “There is no escape from Hydra. The only way out is-”

“Death, I know.” Tony kept his hand out but gestured expressively around the room with the other. “But they never said whose death.”

James studied him again, then turned his gaze to the dead bodies. Finally, after a long moment, he took Tony’s hand and let him pull him to his feet.