#sky gauntlet is what i call them!

[tippedarrows]

speaking of mine-imator though uhhhhh these were literally the first things i EVER MADE on that stupid thing...... uhhhhh. this was before I learned to import renders

[thesecondhandwoman]

A SISTER’S SACRIFICE

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: Vi had watched Jinx’s death, loosing her again despite finally getting her back. As you look for her after the battle, you find her on her knees and shattered by her sister’s sacrifice, rushing in to comfort her.

Request: @hallowed-hauntings

The battle was over, but Piltover was in shambles. Smoke rose into the dim, grey sky, casting a suffocating haze over the city. The streets were littered with the wreckage of both man and machine, the aftershocks of Viktor’s twisted Arcane creations still reverberating through the earth beneath your feet. The fight between Noxus and Zaun’s reluctant defenders had left the city broken.

And yet, nothing felt as broken as the woman you had finally found.

Vi was on her knees in the heart of the destruction, at the edge of the Hexcore’s wreckage, right where it all happened. You slowed as you approached, your chest tightening at the sight of her. Her broad shoulders trembled, her hands clenched into bloody fists against the ground. Her gauntlets—those indomitable weapons that had always seemed like extensions of her fiery will—were discarded nearby, cracked and useless.

But Vi herself looked even more fractured.

“Vi,” you called gently, your voice soft but unsteady as you stepped closer. She didn’t respond, her head hanging low, her pink hair tangled and streaked the black dye at her roots. Her back heaved as though she was trying to catch her breath, but there was no relief in sight.

You glanced down and saw it—the remains of Jinx’s signature monkey bomb. Its grinning face was barely intact, the edges scorched and jagged from the explosion. Your stomach turned. You didn’t need to piece together the rest.

Jinx was gone.

The memory came back in flashes. You hadn’t seen it directly but had heard both the bomb and the sudden murmurs while people recovered as you searched for Vi in the chaos. Vi had been cornered, battling Warwick—the monstrous, Arcane-corrupted beast that Viktor’s creation had unleashed. He had been too strong, too fast, it had thrown Vi completely off guard, especially since she thought Warwick was dead. But when his large form jerked up, Jinx didn’t hesitate. Not at the slightest.

She had saved Vi. Pushed her out of harm’s way. Forced her sister to let go. And then detonated her final monkey bomb, taking Warwick with her into the abyss.

You crouched beside Vi, hesitant at first. Her knuckles were raw, bleeding from where she’d slammed them into the metal again and again. Her entire body shook, each shudder a silent scream that didn’t make it past her lips. You reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, but she flinched violently at the touch.

“Don’t—” Her voice was raw, ragged, and trembling with grief. She finally lifted her head to glare at you, but her expression crumbled almost instantly. Her bloodshot eyes, rimmed with tears, searched your face as though she was begging you for answers you couldn’t give. “Don’t… touch me. I let her fall, I let her fall before even realizing she took out the fucking Crystal.”

Her words hit you like a blade to the chest, the shock hitting first, followed by an aching pain.

“No, Vi,” you said firmly, your own voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “You didn’t let her fall. She—she made her choice.”

Vi shook her head furiously, a choked sob tearing from her throat. “She didn’t give me a choice!” she yelled, though her voice wavered, more plea than accusation. “She just… she just shoved me away and smiled. She smiled at me. Like it was nothing.” Her hands clenched at her sides as she let out another anguished cry. “I should have saved her! I could’ve saved her, but—”

“But she saved you,” you interrupted, your tone soft but unwavering. You couldn’t bear to see her like this, drowning in guilt that wasn’t hers to carry. “She saved you, Vi. She knew what she was doing. She wanted to protect you.”

“She was my little sister,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking completely as tears streamed down her face. “I was supposed to protect her. Not the other way around.”

And before you could say something to retort against her statement, her hands moved to cover her face as her sobs finally broke free. They were raw, guttural sounds, ripped straight from her soul. You didn’t hesitate this time. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close despite the way her body shook violently against you. She resisted for a brief moment, her muscles tensing like she was about to push you away, but then she collapsed into your embrace.

Her fingers clawed at your back as if holding onto you was the only thing keeping her together. You buried your face in her hair, pressing soft, soothing kisses against her temple as tears stung your own eyes.

“I’m here,” you murmured over and over, your voice trembling but steady enough to ground her. “I’m here, Vi. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

She clung to you like a lifeline, her sobs shaking both of you. You could feel her grief pouring out of her, raw and unrelenting. For so long, Vi had forced herself to be the unbreakable one—the fighter, the protector, the one who always got back up no matter how hard she was hit. But now? Now she was just a woman who had lost the last piece of her family, and it was more than anyone could bear.

“I wanted to bring her back,” Vi choked out between sobs. “I thought—I thought maybe we could fix things. That we could be sisters again. But now she’s gone, and—and it’s my fault.”

“No,” you said firmly, pulling back just enough to cup her tear-streaked face in your hands. You made her look at you, made her see the truth in your eyes. “It’s not your fault, Vi. Jinx… Powder… she loved you. She chose to save you because you meant everything to her. Don’t take that away from her. Don’t let her sacrifice mean nothing.”

Vi’s face crumpled again, and you pulled her back into your arms. The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, kneeling in the ruins of Piltover as the world slowly moved on around you. You didn’t let go, not even as your legs began to ache and your heart weighed heavy with your own grief.

Eventually, Vi’s sobs quieted, though her breathing remained uneven. Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke again. “She’s really gone, isn’t she?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. “Yeah,” you whispered. “She’s gone,Vi.”

Vi remained still before slowly nodding against your shoulder, her arms still wrapped tightly around you. “I don’t know how to do this without her,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Vi didn’t say anything, but the way she held onto you spoke volumes. The weight of her grief was unbearable, but you would carry it with her. Whatever it took, you would help her through this.

Even if it meant piecing together the fragments of her heart one jagged shard at a time.

[polychromaic]

🌸 when the Hindriarch banished Eskhind and her kin from Bey Lah, Neelahind would follow her heart into voluntary exile. To abandon a surefooted life, as well as a coveted spot among the Fellowship, is nearly unheard of among both hindren and Wardens, but Neelahind was glowing when she took her leave. I hear the pair are quite happy together, practicing arconautics in the ruins to the west—at least, that's what the kendren bring news of when they come back to trade.

back at it again w more caves of qud deer gals ��✨ i'm kind of enamored with the ending to the Bey Lah quest where Esk and Neela both take off, so i wanted to see what they'd look like as a matched set of lesbian pariah-arconauts. geez, i can’t believe it’s been almost two years since i drew them last

image descriptions under break!

img desc: A drawing of a hindren deerfolk girl from "Caves of Qud". On the left a title card reads "Pariah Neelahind (she/her)". Some of the details are labeled. Her fur is a rich cedar red, with a lighter heartwood underbelly curling under her arms and on the inside of her legs down to her hooves; her curly hair is dark mahogany, tied back in a ponytail with a sky-blue bandana; her antlers are a pale heartswood, deepening to a rich velvet at the tines. She’s smiling, looking up and off to her right; she's poised upright, her arms spread to either side of her as she grips the haft of her war-scythe Yal, which is laying across her shoulders. She’s wearing shining steel platemail—a breastplate over a nanoweave surcoat patterned with pale lemon slices over pink (called "Pink Lemonade"); her armor is incomplete, but well taken care of. She’s wearing leather braces, a steel gauntlet on her left hand only, and a woven blue sash and bedroll across her back.

img desc: A drawing of a hindren deerfolk girl from "Caves of Qud". On the right a title card reads "Pariah Eskhind (she/it)". Some of the details are labeled. Her fur is ashen, with her pale undercoat spotting through on her forearms and flanks. Her messy hair is a greenish bleach-blonde, and one of her ears has a hole in it; her antlers are pale and their velvet is darker grey, and they're covered in little tied-on charms and brass tine hornaments. She has an eyepatch over her left eye, and a gap between her front teeth. She's grinning, slouching in a relaxed fashion, pulling back her hood with one hand and flashing a rock-on with the other; her front two legs are crossed, while the back two are spread like she's posing for a picture. She's wearing a well-worn chainmail hauberk, which extends down over her back; a ragged cowl, with buttoned slots along the hem of the hood for her antlers to fit through; a leather bracer on her left wrist, a steel pauldron on her right shoulder, a fingerless elastyne glove on her right hand, and two pairs of croccasins on her hooves. A pocketed saddle is slung over her back, along with a backpack and bedroll; on either side, the pockets are full of tools and bits. Tucked into her swordbelt is a sheathed folding carbide longsword and a gaslight kris; slung across her chest is a bolt-action rifle called "Peashooter" (it has a lesbian flag on its stock). Around her legs are several beaded bracelets and charms; one of them is the rightfully reclaimed Kindrish, complete with its carved deer charm.

[boneblushed]

Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.1 (Rex x Reader)

Hey everyone! guess whose in too deep!? me! I've clung to these fictional copy-paste men so much, you can call me a fucking LEECH!

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Epilogue

Landing on Umbara

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, reader insert, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

This is very briefly proofread so I die like a man

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

Umbara was dark. From what you gathered, it was extremely fucking dark. 

You prepared your supplies with Kix. As medics, you both needed to double and triple check every pack, case and box. 

Kix would be on the front. His expertise was more front line first-aid rather than your position behind the forces. He would keep the men alive long enough to get to your hands where you’d focus on the more intense medical care. While you would be armed to defend yourself, it was better if you stayed out of the line of direct fire.

Your safety and position were tied to the status you were given. As a natural born human in the GAR, your life was inherently seen as more important than the clones. This thought process was something you were vehemently against. You and your fellow soldiers were on equal ground. You’ve always tried to treat them with respect, kindness and patience.

On several occasions nat-borns would disrespect or belittle clones in your presence, which usually resulted in a verbal lashing from you. Much to the joy of your General Anakin and his padawan Ahsoka. 

And the affection of a certain Captain Rex.

You peered up from looking over the medical supplies you were supposed to carry. Currently your secret lover was across the hangar meeting with the Jedi generals, ARC troopers and commander of the 212th. 

Despite being in his helmet, you knew you caught his eye. Rex didn’t give anything away except a small movement of his hand. Something Fives didn’t miss, who gave you a small wave.

He knew of your relationship with Rex. So did Anakin. But other than those two, it was secret. All for his protection, as clones were forbidden from romantic partners.

There was a surge of energy in the hangar and you looked around. Your eyes met Kix’s before you nodded to him, “Showtime.” The first wave was loading up ready to get to Umbara’s surface. 

“I’ll keep Rex safe until you touch down.” Your medic friend winked at you before he stood, got his helmet on and got to his transport. 

Scratch that, Kix knew about you and the captain too. 

Several of the gunships lifted, flying from the hangar down to the planet below. The first wave of troops, including ARF troopers, were being sent down to clear the field. From there, a second wave of back-up, your wave, would join them. Your command was temporary. All you had to do was get them to the ground before they took orders from Rex and Anakin.

You adjusted your gauntlet with the communicator on it. T-minus 5 minutes. Your fingers danced over your supplies, double-checking everything you had. 

Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits…

“Ready, doc?” A trooper, Ringo, took you out of your thoughts.

With a nod, you lifted your pack and stepped up onto the gunship, “Ready. Let’s load up.”

Others followed your orders and soon, you were in the sky above Umbara. 

Despite the first wave’s efforts, chaos still reigned. Almost immediately your gunship was assaulted by artillery fire. A shot exploded next to you, shaking the entire air vehicle. A ship to the west of yours burst into an explosion of flames.

In response, your second hand shot up for stability. A trooper had their hand on your shoulder to help keep you steady. After a moment, the transport stabilized and you let go, stepping to the back where a crate of supplies waited.

“Dare, how close are we?” You chimed on your communicator. Hopefully you didn’t startle the pilot.

“Landing in 30, I can’t get to the landing site, so you’ll have to walk some to the staging area,” he responded.

“Play it safe,” You commanded, “Land where you can. And try not to crash, I like living and I'm sure the other men do too.” A couple of clones snickers in their helmets. Your little quip helped ease the atmosphere it seemed.

You prepared a speeder. The small vehicle had been modified to carry a patient and allow you to transport extra medical supplies. It was outfitted with some extra armor and protection as well, so in an emergency you could activate a rayshield at the cost of the vehicle's speed.

“Doc, landing in 10.”

“Good job.” You spoke into your communicator before getting on the speeder. You counted down in your head, and just as you got to 1, the doors opened. 

The troopers unloaded, guns ready. Shots were fired, though it didn’t seem as concentrated. Explosions were going off, but at a relatively safe distance. Seemed the first wave did a better job than you originally thought. Your speeder got to the ground, and you made your way to the staging area with the rest of the men.

The battalion had established some trenches, allowing a brief moment of rest and preparation for everyone. You stopped right at the small medical area Kix had skillfully established. Already there were injured in the double digits. Without pause, you got to work.

“You nearly missed the party,” Kix snarked, handling a blaster burn on the thigh of a shiny.

“I’d call this fashionably late,” you quipped back, getting your hands on a different soldier. Blood was seeping from the bottom of his damaged helmet, staining his blue and white chestplate in red. Your mind kicked into training, “What's your name?” You asked, voicing a kinder tone. 

The poor clone was clearly in agony, responding with a tremor to his words, “S-Stag.” He swallowed, trying to control his mental state.

These damn soldiers liked to pretend everything was fine. 

“Alright Stag, I’m gonna remove your helmet.” 

He didn’t argue when you pulled it off revealing the extent of the damage. 

Severe blaster burn. Missing eye. Jaw visible. Shrapnel from the helmet had pierced his cheek and temple. Concussion possibly. 

His remaining brown eye looked wildly at you. You recognized fear. terror.

So, you gave him a reassuring soft smile, “Not too bad, I’ve dealt with worse.” Your fingers quickly wrapped around an injector filled with painkillers, “Here, I’m gonna give you something to help with the pain.” Your words seemed to have a positive effect because he nodded and let you treat him.

You worked quickly and efficiently, stemming the bleeding and getting him stabilized. When you were finished, he had calmed down considerably. Once Stag was stable, you moved on to the next trooper. 

By the fifth, you realized one of them couldn’t be saved.

He was a shiny. Barely off Kamino you guessed. The plastoid of his chest piece looked to be shattered and singed from a bolt to the chest. His breathing was shaky as he leaned against the dark trunk of a glowing tree. 

“I need a trooper.” you called taking the soldier’s hand in your own. You learned quickly into the war that the clones always wanted to die with a brother near them. A reminder that they weren’t alone.

“I hope I’m good enough.” 

That voice. 

“Rex,” Your head turned, looking up at him. You wished you could smile, but you had to keep your excitement under a mask. Plus, the situation didn’t call for it.

His warm eyes were on yours as he pulled off his helmet and knelt. There was clear sadness, knowing that this was the end for one of his men. So the only thing he could do was offer comfort.

“Fyre.” The captain spoke softly, “You did well.” He put one armored hand on the dying man's shoulder. 

Wordlessly, you gave Fyre a shot for the pain and held his hand, “Everything is alright now.” you whispered to him. This wasn’t uncommon, when you or Kix were too late to save someone. 

At the beginning you would burn through supplies trying to save everyone, only to fail and lose them anyway. Over the course of the war, you knew to recognize when all you could do was ease their pain and let them slip away. 

It was the grim reality of the war. You couldn’t save them all. 

Fyre coughed and squeezed your hand. His eyes closed and the clone took his last breath. 

“Damnit.” you swore, checking his pulse. You only felt stillness. He was gone.

Rex sighed, “You tried. So, thank you,” He stood and helped you stand. He couldn’t let his grief from the loss overwhelm him, “I wish you stayed on the ship.” The clone captain admitted, “I get the feeling Umbara is going to be brutal. More so than previous battles.”

“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” Your eyes quickly scanned around. No one seemed to be close enough or paying attention to the two of you, “My darling.” you added, interlocking your fingers.

Your lover looked around quickly before he responded quietly, “Mesh’la, be careful what you say.” Despite his warning, he made no move to pull away. In fact, he stepped closer, “For now, at least.”

Of course, you knew the two of you had to reign in your love and affection in front of others. On the battlefield he was the captain and you the field doctor. Trying to push those boundaries would stress him out. Afterall, if his romance with you got to Kamino, they’d call for a decommission. Something Anakin would never go for, but better safe than sorry.

However, he warmed to small touches and brief moments whenever the situation allowed. 

Your lips had a small smile, “I’m glad you're not hurt.” you raised one palm to stroke the side of his helmet. The battle wasn’t even an hour in and already his armor was dirty.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Rex murmured, keeping his voice down, “Please, ner kar’ta.” He was being protective again. Normally the captain was better at prioritizing. He was the leader of the battalion first and your lover second. But right now he seemed…spooked. Were things getting bad already? 

Umbara must be getting to him. After all this assault was much different than other battles.

“I’ll promise if you promise,” Your lips quickly pecked his visor. It was chaste and fast, so no one could see. Just a sweet kiss between the two of you.

He was about to respond when his communicator went off. 

“General Skywalker,” Your lover pulled back and raised his wrist up. 

“Come find me, I need the status of our men.” Anakin’s voice sounded on the other end, “and tell our good doctor I said hello.” 

You snorted.

“Right away, General.” the clone captain said, returning to his professionalism. He looked at you one more time before stepping away to find the jedi.

You sighed, “Back to work.��� Without waiting a second, you found another injured soldier and began to treat him.

Your eyes glanced at the shadowy sky for a moment, unable to shake the pit in your stomach. It felt like something was deeply wrong.

The darkness on Umbara must already be getting to you too.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

watched the s1 finale with my sister two days ago (but it was like semi-late when we finished watching and then some shit happened the next day so i didn't post her thoughts until now):

"vander would go on my hear me out cake"

"she has the fighting equivalent to blue balls. she's all revved up and no one to punch" (about vi when jayce left her with the gauntlets)

"i think you're just talking out of your ass" (about silco after renni's son died)

"i would've had your son killed for this" "i would've punch him in the face cause who the fuck does he think he is"

"you could go back to noxus if you like to talk about it so much" (about ambessa)

"with respect, i don't give a shit what any of you think of me anymore" "period, kind of attractive of him to say, just that though. i don't forgive how you've neglected viktor"

"this is a dinner party from hell"

"i was hating him but now i feel bad for him" (about heimerdinger)

i jokingly called the show a masterpiece sometime after we finished watching and she went "i wouldn't say that" so do with that what you will

"kay but the thing is, nothing he said was wrong" (about finn after he died)

"are they flirting?" (about jayvik when they were on the ledge)

"i feel bad for her but i'm not sad that he's dead" (about jinx and silco)

the credits rolled and she went "i'm sorry what" which is so me-watching-arcane-for-the-first-time-coded of her to do

"there's too much moral greyness for me"

okay and then i had her list her top 5 and bottom 5 characters (she struggled to find three more top characters after the first two, probably tells you a lot about her viewing experience)

top 5:

vander: "he has clear morals and he's just trying to protect his people and he's a good father figure"

ekko: "he's the little guy, when we first meet him that is, he's like a tech wiz. and for him to build this place, i'm proud of him"

caitlyn: "she's an actual good enforcer like she's actually trying to listen to the people"

viktor: "he just wants to help people and he's looked over a lot and downgraded so he tries not to do the same"

claggor: "he's just a homie, he's a ride or die, literally, i don't know, he just has a special place in my heart" (that "literally" was UNNECESSARY)

bottom 5:

silco: "he is the archenemy. he is persona non grata. he. killed. vander. so- he's also a crime lord who doesn't care about his own people. silco doesn't have a code. silco has no scruples"

sevika: "sevika is just annoying. why she tryna kill vi all the time? i mean vi's tryna kill her but-"

marcus: "i hate a crooked cop"

jinx: "the crimes. like the killing of those six cops, and the almost killing of caitlyn, and the kidnapping of cailtyn. like she's obviously a pawn of silco's so that's why she's lower than silco but she did some crime independently"

ambessa: "ambessa's a bad mother"

special mention: deckard: "he is bad, he was really creepy and a predator" and any of silco's goons (reason is obvious i guess)

and these are her thoughts on some of the characters who aren't in either of those lists (no ranked order, just the order she spoke about them):

jayce: "i don't care about [him], you're a bad friend and i hate when people are bad friends"

mel: "you're kind of two-faced but i do feel bad about the situation with your mom"

vi: "i'm still upset with what you said to powder but i like that you're trying to make up for it but unfortunately words stick"

cassandra: "booo *thumbs down*" (that's it i guess i don't-)

mylo: "booo *thumbs down* i feel bad that he died but he was really mean to powder"

heimerdinger: "i judged him quickly cause he was a bit annoying but by the end, he had a warm place in my heart and i always go back to him in the orchestra" (the scene with ray chen's insert)

sky: "i feel so bad for her. it's also kind of a commentary. even without meaning to, the man destroyed her to save himself"

tobias: "he cares about his daughter and what she wants and realizes there's a time and place for chastising"

episodes 1 and 2

episode 3

episode 4

episodes 5 and 6

episodes 7 and 8

[callsign-rogueone]

allies - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (part of my Brennan and Duchess series!) ✉: Would you mind telling us how they got each others attention in Basgiath? What made them fall for each other in the first place? words: 801 🏷: no book spoilers and no triggers! just bb bren and duchess meeting in year one at gauntlet training + a little happy moment from threshing day (and some info that will be relevant later in their story hehe). italics are spoken in Tyrrish!

Your foot slips out from underneath you, and there’s no recovering from it -- you’re falling. You manage to grab onto the nearest rope, the rough fibers burning your skin as they slide through your hands. Your descent slows, but you still hit the ground hard enough to wind you. You lie flat on your back for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, just grateful to be alive.

A familiar face enters your vision; a boy in your wing whose name you can’t remember. He’s cute, his hair falling over his forehead in soft waves as he leans down, light brown eyes watching you with concern. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him, stunned at the sound of the words you’ve only ever heard from your parents. How hard had you hit your head? “You speak the old language.”

He nods in confirmation that you’re not losing your grip on reality. “My father taught me. The ancient languages are a passion of his.” His pronunciation could use some work, but he’s got the vocabulary down. 

He extends an ink-stained hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. 

“How did you know I was Tyrrish? That I spoke the language?”

He blushes, suddenly shy. “I saw you use it to write your notes for Battle Brief. And your hair. I’ve only seen braids like that on portraits of the old queens in history books. It’s beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment -- Tyrrish doesn’t have the same parts of speech or grammatical structure as Navarrian, so his use of it, likely referring to your intricate hairstyle, could have very well been him calling you beautiful in your entirety.

“Thank you,…” you hesitate, trying to remember his name — he keeps to himself, and he’s never been a threat to you, so you had never learned it.

“Brennan,” he offers. A good name. Strong. 

You smile at him. “Nice to meet you, Brennan.”

The crisp accent you say his name in stirs something in his chest.

For a moment, everyone else ceases to exist. You’re the only people out here, the only two who can understand this conversation, who are aware of the magnetism between you.

You still can’t look away, both of you locked in place as you commit every detail of the other to memory; the small scar on his chin, the way his eyelashes move as he blinks at you, the light wash of freckles across his nose… the pattern of your braids, the impeccable neatness of the stitches holding your patches to your uniform, the soft curiosity in your eyes…

Something tells you to trust this boy with the soft voice who knows your language and recognized your traditions, who is looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky. 

“Allies?” you ask.

“Allies,” he agrees.

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

You whistle across the flight field, and Brennan’s head snaps toward the sound, every muscle in his body relaxing as he spots you.

There’s a massive black dragon behind you, the largest of the group you’d seen at Presentation, the one that had taken interest in you from the start of the term. She stands with the same regal posture as you as she surveys her surroundings, appraising the rest of the freshly bonded cadets and their dragons.

You’re grinning from ear to ear, unable to contain your joy. You want nothing more than to run to Brennan and embrace him, but you keep your feet planted to the ground until you’re told to line up to have your names recorded by the scribe.

“Banriondorcha,” you state to the group of officers. A few pairs of eyebrows raise, including the General’s, but they quickly replace the concern on their faces with flat disinterest.

Professor Kaori is the first to speak, the only one who smiles at you. “I was wondering when she’d finally decide to bond. She has chosen well. I look forward to seeing your signet manifest, cadet. I have no doubt that it will be strong.”

“Thank you.”

Brennan had been ahead of you in the line; he’s already returned to his orange daggertail. They look right together, the afternoon sun bringing out the red in Brennan’s hair to compliment the dragon’s scales.

You stop ten yards away from them and lower your head in deference, not daring to speak to him directly, but it’s clear what you’re saying: you come in peace.

He steps back, allowing you to move toward Brennan.

You’re both freezing, having been wholly unprepared for the chill of the air at 3,000 feet above ground, but there’s warmth between you as you embrace, laughing in relief.

“We did it,” you breathe.

He leans down, resting his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his face. “We did.”

[blooms-in-april]

The first time, they are young, dumb, and it's Ivy's pollen that does it.

It’s one of the early Superman and Batman team-ups. The title World's Finest is still awkward and clunky on their tongues. They know each other's identities, but it's barely even a partnership at this point. Even Clark can barely call them friends.

So when things go wrong with Poison Ivy, it's a sticky mess both of them want to forget.

Together, the two of them apprehend the villain, dodge her hostile plants and hand her over to the police commissioner. It’s a fairly typical fight and Gotham’s reporters crowd around, asking the friendlier visiting vigilante for his statement.

"I got involved because the labs Ivy was originally working out of were located in Metropolis. This incident involved the safety of both our cities."

"So that means we won't be seeing the World's Finest in Gotham anymore?" Someone asks.

Clark expects Batman to jump in on that question, but the man remains silent beside him, fists clenched, breathing deeply.

"Batman is perfectly capable of guarding Gotham on his own. As for the World's Finest, well, let's see what the future holds."

Batman's heartbeat is dangerously fast. Clark goes to look at him in concern, but something grabs the back of his cape.

"Get us out of here." Batman growls, and while Bruce tends to growl his words more often than not, this is so much deeper below his normal register that a shiver runs down Clark's spine.

Nodding farewell to the bystanders, Clark allows Batman to get a firm grip on his shoulder and takes off into the smoggy Gotham sky. Bruce's breath is scaldingly hot on his ear, his heart pounding like a ticking time bomb. As soon as they are out of earshot, Clark turns to his partner.

"Batman. What's wrong? Your vitals are all over the place."

His dark passenger is silent for a moment, before gritting out. "Land. I need- Land now."

Concerned, Clark lands on the firescape of a derelict building. Batman clutches at him for a moment, gloved hands digging fiercely into the collar of his suit, before ripping himself away to grasp at the railing.

"Batman. Bruce." Clark reaches out a hand, but Bruce flinches away. "Bruce. You need to tell me what's wrong."

"I can't hold it." Bruce is shaking so badly the whole rusted metal structure is shaking with him. "Fly away, fly away now, I can't hold it, Clark, leave. Leave now-"

Clark frowns. “I’m not leaving you alone if you’re in trouble. I thought you knew me better than that. I’d never leave someone who needed my help.”

Batman barks a laugh. “You can’t give me the help I need. You need to get away from me now.”

“No. I want to help. Bruce.” Clark clasps one wrist, the pulse beating so furiously he can feel it through the gauntlet. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

Blank white lenses meet his eyes and he looks into them steadily. Bruce takes a deep shaky breath, and something snaps as the Dark Knight pulls him into a deep kiss.

Excerpt from Chapter 1 of my fic:

[howlingday]

If you could pick an Eggman mech for team Rwby to fight what would it be?

Im gonna be basic and say the Egg Dragoon.

Not a bad choice, but I've got a different mech in mind for this fight.

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

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen~!"

"Huh?" Ruby looked to the hulking mech standing at the end of the street. It stood about as tall as some of the buildings, with one "hand" holding a massive shield the size of a bullhead while the other held a gigantic lance that seemed to be glowing with an orange light. The voice seemed to be coming from inside round-bodied machine.

"I've come to make an announcement! I am Dr. Eggman, and having arrived in this strange, new world, I have decided to expand the genius of my Eggman Empire to your world! Oho?" Team RWBY began their charge towards the now cackling man inside the machine. "So, please, do enjoy the show as I make an example of anyone who thinks they can stop me!" With a flick of a switch, missiles began launching towards the girls. "Get a load of this~!"

Blake hopped from one missile to the other before tying her ribbon around one and redirected it towards the machine. In response, it raised its shield to protect itself. With a grin, the madman launched his lance forward towards Blake, only to be knocked off-course by a yellow blur.

"What?!"

"Yang!" Blake called as she tossed her weapon to her partner. The yellow brawler caught it mid-air and used her shot-gauntlet to spin herself. Enough momentum was built to launch Blake closer to the mech.

"Too slow!" The mech leapt away with surprising speed, then swung its lance with a wide slash. Dr. Eggman led out a maniacal chortle as he watched the girl split in half... only to look closer in bewildered confusion as she was fine on the ground and an ice sculpture shattered in two places around her. "Great... Another super-powered animal who thinks they can play hero. I'll just take care of them from the air and- Huh?!" The mech attempted to lift into the air, only to be held fast to the ground by what looked like an iceberg around its leg. "Blasted ice... Full power to the left leg!"

The Egg Emperor took to the sky, ready to unleash another barrage of missiles on these four annoyances. Wait... There were only three on the ground. Where did-

Thoom! Thoom! Thoom! Skritch!

Ruby wasted no time after launch to dig her scythe into the hull of the mech, after firing with a few good shots, of course. Eggman turned the mech around to see the silver-eyed huntress looking at him with a scowling brow mixed with... no... She had that SAME cocky grin his nemesis had. Could he not escape that menace even so far away from home?!

"Curse you!" Backing away, the Egg Emperor launched everything it had at the little, red nuisance; lasers, missiles, its lance, and yet she still pursued in a shower of rose petals. With a spiraling motion, Ruby slipped under Eggman's guard and severed his shield arm. "Big mistake!"

Turning around mid-flight, it fired another barrage at Ruby, this time using homing missiles. As she fled, Weiss helped launch Blake and Yang to the mech. It attempted to swing its lance, but was held in place by some kind of magic... shaped like a snowflake. Blake and Yang began performing a spinning attack with Blake at the center and Yang as the pendulum force, driving deeper and deeper dents into the mechs hull.

Another retreat. He hated to be on the backfoot, but Eggman should have known that conquering a new world like this wouldn't be so easy, Sonic or no Sonic. And unfortunately, this world DID have a Sonic, who was screaming her way towards him... with all his missiles behind her. A classic maneuver, Ruby jumped away to safety, each missile colliding into the Egg Emperor's unprotected chest.

"Did... Did we get him?" Ruby panted, hands on her knees.

"Who was that guy?" Weiss asked.

"He said he wasn't from this world."

"Who cares who he is?" Yang called as she climbed up to the open chest cavity. "All that matters is that he's- WHOA!"

The blonde brawler was sent falling backwards as a bobbing balloon head bounced back and forth before the banded heroes. The balloon in question looked like a ball with half the face as a wicked smile, the other half a bald head, and a sharp, orange mustache and two, small blue glasses atop a pink triangular nose separating the two.

"Is that... him?" Ruby stepped closer, poking the ball with Crescent Rose.

"Did we just get duped?" Yang asked, rubbing her head.

"It's a decoy." Blake looked inside, past the spring. "There's nobody else in here."

"So, it was controlled remotely?" Weiss asked. "Then the controller must have been nearby. And probably long gone by now, too."

"Aw... And you were almost breaking a sweat, too." Yang teased.

"Oh, be quiet, Xiao Long!"

"Guys, let's not fight~!" Ruby whined.

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

"I knew I should have used the fully refurbished version." Dr. Eggman grimaced at his console. "I beat even the Egg-Mobile would have been more than enough to handle them." A grin spilt his face. "Of course, this was just a test run. Once I get my lab up and running here, I'll make those little girls regret ever thinking they could stop the brillian genius of Eggman! OHOHOHOHOHOHOHO~!"

[doshmanziari]

Shadow of the Erdtree: Some Reflections

Well, folks, since no one asked, here are some thoughts I've had while exploring Elden Ring's add-on, Shadow of the Erdtree.

The existence of an alternate shadow realm has solidified my conviction that what Elden Ring is depicting on micro and macro scales is the phenomenology of etheric bodies -- extending even to the moon, the double of which is visible from the Moonlight Altar plateau (this is reflected by Rellana's Twin Moons spell). Each of these bodies possess a regulating function. Although each might be generally described as doppelgänger, the occult scientist Rudolf Steiner wrote of the Doppelgänger proper as its own sort of body, responsible for the tension between aspiration and temptation. It's interesting to me that this is such a major preoccupation of the game, because it indicates a layer of esoteric involvement, on the part of Elden Ring's narrative conceptualizations, that I don't think anyone in the so-called lore community has picked up on yet. The shadow realm helps explicate the otherwise inexplicable Godefroy the Grafted, too.

Various details have also strengthened my impression that the revolt against Nature we see in Elden Ring is a revolt against motility -- motility being the ultimate enemy of utopia: a human conceptualization reliant upon infinite stasis. In the base game, I think we see this revolt most profoundly in the narrative of Ranni, who first abandons her own flesh and then strives towards the realization of an Age of Stars, that "thousand year voyage under the wisdom of the Moon." Although the Seedbed Curse represents its own revolt against Nature, it remains within the organic order. Ranni's vision is of the inorganic and remote. And I don't think it's unrelated that, in certain esoteric cosmological systems, the moon stands as most distant from the Absolute.

The colors of the landscapes and sky are amazing: vivid, autumnal, and strange. These palettes have only made me dislike the game's rain effect all the more, which does not deepen the arboreal colors (as it should) but drains all surfaces of color and sets them into a depressing, bland grayscale. To say that the rain is a part of why I consider Raya Lucaria to be Elden Ring's low-point in the realm of major level design could be seen as a trivial complaint, but visual drudgery will wreck even the best schemes; and Raya Lucaria is as far as you can get from that anyway. FromSoftware has done fine with types of snow (see, e.g., the Frigid Outskirts or Painted World of Ariandel), but I think they've yet to figure out rain, among some other graphical technicalities.

The forges are among my favorite instances of discrete level design, even if, or maybe because, they tend to contain only two or three enemy types, feature no bosses, and severely scale back the level of challenge. I happened upon one yesterday that I did find a little dull, but the other two were wonderful, brief, atmospheric knots, quiet sequences of colossal architecture, that sort of evoked shades of Stonefang Tunnel from Demon's Souls. On that note, I'd call special attention to the forges' theme music. The only other piece of music from the DLC that's gotten my attention is the theme for Belurat.

Plants are People, Too.

Torrent is just... a terrible inclusion for this game. It's maybe obvious enough to not warrant being said, but -- any design decision has to be evaluated on what it contributes to the system it's been set into, and Torrent adds nothing outside of the occasional, brainless convenience. I could maybe see an argument for Torrent's presence if he had some emotionally charged narrative integration, maybe like what Shadow of the Colossus did. Without this, Torrent is nothing but a tool which perpetually problematizes the overworld's scale (a bit too big, yet no fun to traverse at high speed) and trivializes all of its gauntlets on a potential and actual level far worse than anything the Spirit Ashes could ever do. Better to me would've been if the only way to use a mount were by defeating a mounted knight without killing their horse and then sneaking up to the runaway to gain ownership of it.

I'm finding the map much more engaging than that of the base game because of how it plays with abstractions and builds anticipation through that. One part of the map, for instance, shows a bunch of trees with red leaves. Reaching this place reveals these "trees" to be enormous red flowers. Another section shows pink, purple, and orange specks. What are these? And what are the gray, finger-like lumps erupting from the mass next to it? I've also found it tough to figure out how to progress from one plane to another because of how densely stacked and knobby the continent's features are, so consulting the map has been helpful in a way I rarely experienced with the base game's.

Love how much the Ancient Ruins of Rauh resemble The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, from the explosion of verdure, to the crude, architectural naivety defining the pseudo-Gothic structures.

With Shadow of the Erdtree, I keep coming up against an unresolvable simultaneity like the one mentioned above regarding the overworld. There's a lot of good level design to be found here among the dungeons, castles, and forts, yet the abundance and enormity of it all seems to have deprived the game of significant contrasts, and those special spatial moments, which I found much easier to locate and reflect upon with, say, Dark Souls or Bloodborne. Sure, the sky-piercing spiral of Enir-Ilim is a sight to behold; but soon enough the sequences of grand staircase upon grand staircase, great bridge upon great bridge, creates a perpetual climatic grandiosity that diminishes the very effect of a climax (and I'm not even sure that Enir-Ilim is the DLC's intended final location). Anor Londo or the Nightmare of Mensis could feel special because the qualities and features of their spaces stood apart from everything else. Elden Ring, I think, has gotten itself into a predicament by trying to one-up its internal material and all prior FromSoftware games through the enormity of its scale -- and challenge. More and more, I've been craving a new project from them that resets these terms of engagement, even while enjoying the consistency of the material at hand.

That's all for now! In time maybe I'll turn these thoughts to an essay for my Substack page, perhaps with a focus on the first two points.

[moondustgleam]

Every Armor Description in TDP: Xadia

There will be no accompanying visuals on this post, the designs are already on my blog under the individual character's tags. This is a compilation of all of them for people who don't want to scroll through all the images to get to the juicy lore. I reccomend everyone read Rayla/Runaan's, Callum/Karim's, Claudia's, and Soren/Viren's if you care about the show's lore.

They're organized by order they appear in the hero select menu in TDP: Xadia, region, and type of armor if you were wondering.

Rayla & Runaan’s Armor

Firebrand Wraps - Seize what is yours and burn away the rest.

Firebrand Waistcoat - Meant to keep the heat out!

Firebrand Runners - Let your colors shine in the light of the Sun.

Shadowblade Gloves - An assassin knows she holds fate in her hands.

Shadowblade Cover - An assassin knows she is already dead.

Shadowblade Footpads - An assassin knows we are all, in the end, alone.

Nightsky Grips - The Nightsky Bandit had no interest in the Great Climb, only in its climbers’ pockets.

Nightsky Vest - While the others sought a single treasure, he had his pick of plenty.

Nightsky Buckleboots - Only the Nightsky Bandit ever grew rich from the Great Climb - and his feet never left the ground.

Amaya & Zeph’s Armor

Katolian Gauntlets - “We are the hands of our kingdom…”

Katolian Surcoat -“...we raise blades, we bear shields, we carry the scars of the past…” 

Katolian Greaves - “...but we are the strongest when joined with others.” - Katolian Soldier’s Oath

Nightguard Gauntlets A relic of long-ago warriors who served the Dragon Queen, Luna Tenebris.

Nightguard Brestplate The Nightguard vanished with their Queen, but their spirits remained.

NIghtguard Sabatons Now they roam the Moonshadow Forest, searching for Luna’s heir.

Stormrunner Gauntlets - Maybe you could punch the Eternal Storm in the face!

Stormrunner Cuirass - Armor that really says, “Come at me, Eternal Storm! Bring it on!”

Stormrunner Sabatons - You know what? The Eternal Storm could use a good kick in the butt, too.

Callum and Karim’s Armor

Flamedance Tassels - Dance, little flame, dance to a silent song.

Flamedance Chemise - Warm our hearts and bodies, keep our spirits strong.

Flamedance Sandals - Dance, little flame, dance - for the night is very long.

Illusionist Handwraps - “Most people believe that reality is truth and appearances are deceiving…”

Illusionist Amice - “...but the Moon Arcanum tells us we can only truly know the appearance itself…”

Illusionist Treads - “You can never touch the so-called reality that lies just beyond the reach of your own perception.” -Lujanne

Feathered Wrists - Let nothing clip your wings.

Feathered Jerkin - Let nothing weigh you down.

Feathered Footwraps - Let nothing keep you from the sky.

Claudia’s Armor

Dawnheart Maniple - No shadows escape the wrath of the Sun at its zenith.

Dawnheart Amice - You buried your shadows deep - but the Light sees them still.

Dawnheart Slippers - When the darkness in you burns away, what remains?

Silvergrove Bracers - The traveler told a breathless tale: a village, there one moment and gone the next.

Silvergrove Vest - Impossible, they laughed at him: the forest’s magic has simply played a cruel trick.

Silvergrove Boots - But when the Moon is dark, is she not still there in the sky…?

Daybreak Reach - “I found my lover weeping, gazing up at the night skies…”

Daybreak Doublet - “... I took his hands in mine and said, my darling, dry your eyes…”

Daybreak Walkers - “...the dark is not forever, love! The sun must always rise.” -Skywing Song

Janai’s Armor

Golden Knight Vambraces - Gold, for the Sun’s light.

Golden Knight Hauberk - White, for her radiance.

Golden Knight Treads - Red, for her power.

Moonfire Grips - Some say the Moon is the Sun’s shadow, a pale imitator, a sad reflection.

Moonfire Tunic - Some say the Sun kills the Moon hen she dares grow bright enough to challenge her radiance.

Moonfire Greaves - The truth? The Moon and the Sun are sisters, a fire charred between them.

Empyrean Gloves Some - Great Climbers keep an open mind about strategy.

Empyrean Brigandine - One path to victory is to beat everyone else to the prize…

Empyrean Stompers -  …another path to victory is to beat everyone else with your fists.

Soren and Viren’s Armor

Blacksteel Grips - Something echoes in the metal.

Blacksteel Aegis - Does it sing, or does it scream?

Blacksteel Boots - What did they bury down there beneath the earth?

Ghostfeather bands - “Bit by bit the moon fades away, then bit by bit it will brighten again. That is our cycle.”

Ghostfeather Treads - “...for those who will come after you, think on all you will give them.” - Lujanne

Ghostfeather Tunic - “For those you have left behind, think on all they have given you…”

Skyblazer Vambraces - A group of elves called the Skyblazers were the first to ever attempt the Great Climb

Skyblazer Collar - Their ambition drove them higher, higher, and higher still…

Skyblazer Sandals - …but hubris brought them down again.

[mostlycorrectdipandpip]

Writing Phan Fiction About Ourselves Stories

I literally just listened to the video, typed as fast as I could, then edited the red squiggles and formatted it to look nice. Let me know what edits need to be made!

Story 1 - The Dragon Prince by Dan Howell

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Dan, from House Fire, whose motto was, "The fire in our ass will never die" and from Phil, the House Amazing, the Kingdom of Squatting. They were sworn enemies whose houses had been at war ever since The Great Lamp Licking incident. One day, Dan was bathing his fiery drake, Kamala Harris, when he saw a glint in the refection of his gauntlet. It was a surprise attack from that scally wag, Phil. He mounted his dragon and yelled his signature war cry, "ZING!"

Phil looked down on the Fire Kingdom. "More like squishy kingdom!" But before he knew it, Dan was on his tail. He was so close he was practically on his toe. Their beasts, Kamala Harris and Markiplier, realeased flames at the same time, like a torrent of lethal piss. Double KO, they fell to the ground and loss consciousness. Dan awoke to find Phil's brain stuck in Dan's eye. He shouted, "Wow, this is a moist situation." Phil roused, gayly. "You saved me," he said.

They locked eyes and knew in that moment how futile their feud was. They saved each other, did they have to slay each other? In that moment, Phil felt something skipping down his hips. He swam as hard as he could and suddenly, he felt it. Phil had birthed a beautiful purple egg. Dan scoffed, "the prophecy is true! It's our child!"

"The legendary worm, and we shall name him Gary," said Phil.

THE END

Story 2 - The Princes by Phil Lester

Once upon a castle, in the Kingdom of Evony, there were two princes belonging to warring families. Tonight was the last time they would meet before the great battle. Danielo awoke, sword in hand as he heard a shuffle at the door. Philipus walked into hid bedroom wearing a panty.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, but I thought I'd tell you that my father is bringing a dragon into the battle, and also a large enchanted hippo." Danielo cried a single tear.

"I don't want to die for this stupid family. I just want to be a knight with you and help old ladies cross the street."

"Why must we spill blood?" Danielo smirked. "Glory and amazon coins."

Philipus says, "Since it's our final night together, I thought we could do our favorite activity, twerking together. It might make up a bit sweaty, but it makes me constipated."

As the sun rose, the two knights had fallen asleep in a hay field using rabbit shit as bedding. This was the morning of the battle, they would be rivaling sides, leading the charge against each other. Danielo few into battle on his dragon, Jeff, scanning lines for his prince, Philipus. Philipus raised his sword into the sky as he was silhouetted by the beast. This was not a fair fight. The war had begun, thousands were being killed. Philipus has a secret weapon, a medieval salami.

His best friend flew down from his dragon and approached him. They crossed swords.

"I can't do this, Philipus" screamed Danielo. "I want to move to North Korea and start our jobs as OnlyPhans' models."

Philipus tried to reason with him, but suddenly Danielo's dragon, Jeff, started to breath fire at them both. It was so hot that Danielo was on fire. He had one final word for Philipus.

"Yeee," as both knights burned to death. They were then eaten by the dragon as a toasty BBQ snack. They tasted like Takis Fuego. The dragon went on to kill all soldiers and both kings. It ruled the castle in a happy gay life with his dragon boyfriend, Alessandra and laid a dragon egg they called Kip. They never saw a human again. The Princes were always remembered as the tastiest snacks in the Kingdom.

Story 3 - The Big Sword by Phan Howlter

They stared at the intimidating shape, thinking, "damn, that is one crusty shaft". Two lowly village boys had found a cave filled with sour cream and onion pringles. One of us must grip this with our teeth. They know one of them would gain the power of hamster flicking.

"I believe its you!" Mr. Phil, the wet pauper, exclaimed.

"Thank you. I got this for you. It's my favorite Party Hat."

"We will never know which on of us is truly the chosen one," uttered Dan, sexily. "We'll have to do it together."

And so the boys stood wearing sports bras, daring to survive the cyclone threatening to bare down on the. They interlocked hands on the shaft as they thought of their favorite food, egg.

"Either we both become heroes, or we might as well become trump supporters."

They yanked it with the might of a thousand anteaters and it burst from the ground, but in that moment, a glint of greed in each boys eye. They wanted the greatness for themselves and all of the steak knives waiting for them in the village. So they tumbled as the blade ripped open their jockstraps and with boing, they knew it was over and they were both impaled on the sword. Gravity was pulling them closer, like a toilet lid. As their noses pressed together, the blood poured out of them like a hydro pump.

"I always knew it would end like this," says Dan.

"You mean scared and throbbing?"

"I wouldn't rather do this with anyone else."

Then they died. Then forever, their petrified bodies stood as a warning to all who sought glory, if you dare to thrust, you will get put on the naughty step.

(respectfully, this was like.... a hard launch right? Like this is the hardest lauch I have ever seen??)

[ahabthetaco]

Turning you into a dragon monster girl would be pretty fun.

Like a long con thing, like magic gauntlets, made from a red dragon, with claws made straight from the dragon. Probably should have explained the curse of what happens if you wear dragon scales without checking with a wizard but I mean, what's the worst that could happen?

How you can't take it off cause it has great stats, how the days go by and it's easier and easier to use, like it's becoming part of you. The scales spreading up your skin, you think an allergic reaction at first but it's not, but the gauntlets call for you, it feels wrong to not have them on. Until one morning you wake up and forget to take them off the previous night, but finding them, no, finding yourself with scales lining your arms, your hand with black claws, with scales spreading more towards your back. Trying to stop it, drinking a counter potion but making it worse as you feel yourself change more and more. Feeling as you reshape and grow, your clothes and armor barely being able to hold you together as the scales spread, as your body grows to a proper dragon size, one to instill fear. Your chest bursts out, cracking your armor and clothes into pieces, a remnant of your humanity, as softer scales grow around them, perfect to still be grabbed~

The rest of your armor doesn't fair better, you use your new claws and strength to rip apart the remaining pieces, as your leggings snap and crack, showing off more and more of the new you, as the scales spread more and more, but the scales reach your face, as you feel your face reshape, your horns coming in, your muzzle growing, everything changing as heat builds up, the cries of change let out in a burst of fire, as more change comes. Feeling your wings pop out your back, each throb another growth and growth, you can feel your mind breaking, not of pain but of pleasure, letting out another roar of fire as you spread your new wings, illuminating the sky with your beautiful flames. The finale is almost here, as you grab your ass for the new sensation, a providing pain in your rear as your tail pops out, sending another wave of pleasure as it flops down, falling in pleasure as the first of your dragon orgasmic.

There you stand, in the remnants of your armor, torn to shreds, 10 feet tall, wings spread out, your tail loving with joy, as you explore your new body. Quite the figure, curves to make any adventurer think twice, and even with scaled all around you're still soft in the places that matter, squeezing your new bust size with a moan and a flame escaping your mouth. But as you explored more you went to the white dragon in the room, your leaking pussy, and one touch sent you into overdrive.

Your fingers not enough, your mind quickly filling with the need to mate, begging, your party members finally arriving to hear the commotion, only finding a dragon girl, begging for relief, no, demanding it as it pins them and kisses them, leaving scales on them as well...

Feeling as their once regular dick turns into a dragons knot, the warmth growing hotter and hotter, hearing the moans from other members as they try to resist the changes, holding on to each other, trying to fight back but falling into the lust themselves as they change, ripping off their armor to freely let the change happen. You felt as if you got filled for the first time, a hot mess filling you deeply, as another mate grabbed you, another poor soul still needing to finish the process. Hours and hours, your once noble party of heroes turned into nothing but a mindless horde of dragons, breeding, and breeding, lost in lust. But in the end, you were left, that last one not passed out from it all, an expanding belly as you felt the egg start to form, what you didn't expect was me coming along.

A simple collar would do, marking your once troublesome party as mine to control, and to further my plans. Soon I will have my own army of fearsome dragons at my disposal, but it'll take time, the time I may not have, so enjoy this spell darling, just this once, feeling as you rapidly swell with both eggs and milk, feeling as your first eggs comes out, one by one, a nice batch of 4, great for a first time. Now relax my pet, for tomorrow is another day of fun~

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 66: Unspoken

Warnings: major character death, grief and loss, emotional distress, mature themes, angst, violence, mentions of blood, themes of self-sacrifice and acceptance, heartbreaking conversations, romantic tension and vulnerability, strong language, sexual themes

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Alice’s eyes snapped open, her head throbbing with the force of a brutal headache. She felt the weight of her body pressing against the ground, the familiar hum of battle still crackling in the air. For a moment, everything felt surreal, too disorienting to grasp, but then she heard it: Peter Parker’s voice, calling out to her.

“Miss Onyx!” he shouted, his tone panicked but familiar. “Get up! We need to move! The gauntlet!”

Groaning, Alice pushed herself up, her eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield around them. Her sword was lying just a few feet away, its blade gleaming faintly. She reached for it, gripping the hilt with steady hands. As she did, the ground shook beneath her, and she looked up just in time to see Thanos preparing for another brutal attack. He was fighting Wanda, her power nearly overwhelming him, but he wasn’t backing down.

Once she noticed what Thanos was about to do, she instinctively pulled Peter into cover, her body blocking his as she shielded the gauntlet with hew own. The barrage of energy blasts rained down on them, the air sizzling with heat and force. But just as suddenly as it started, the blitz stopped. Alice’s chest heaved, her senses on high alert as she cautiously looked up.

Then, she saw it – Captain Marvel, hurtling through the sky, ripping Thanos’s ship like it was made of paper. She couldn’t help herself. She let out a whoop, a triumphant shout that was both a relief and a declaration of victory.

“Fuck yeah, Carol!” Alice yelled, her grin fierce. “I bet the giant grape is shitting his pants right now.”

Captain Marvel’s descent was like watching a comet crash to Earth, and when Carol landed in front of Alice and Peter, a new sense of hope blossomed in Alice’s chest. She stood up, pushing Peter gently to the side, though he remained clutching the gauntlet.

“Hi. I’m Peter Parker,” he said, giving Carol a small, awkward wave.

Carol’s grin was infectious as she met his gaze. “Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?”

Alice straightened up beside Carol, smiling at her friend before giving a quick nod. “Hey, Carol. Glad you could make it.”

Peter shakily passed her the gauntlet, his hands still trembling. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that,” he said, looking toward the warzone.

But before Carol could answer, the ground rumbled again as Wanda appeared, flying beside Valkyrie, her Pegasus taking her through the air with terrifying grace. Wanda’s voice rang out, steady despite the chaos.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda said, confidence in her tone.

“She’s got help,” Okoye, who had joined them, spoke.

Pepper, Mantis, Shuri, the Wasp, Gamora, and Nebula followed, their arrival like a wave of reinforcements crashing down on Thanos’s forces. They stood ready for battle, determined to see this fight to the bitter end.

Carol began to push forward, flying through the Outriders, Sakaarans, and Chitauri with an ease that made it look effortless. Wanda and Valkyrie destroyed Leviathans in their wake, their power unmatched. Alice, too, was in motion, slashing through enemies, her sword singing as it cut through the air.

Ebony Maw was the next target. Alice’s sword met his chest with a brutal thrust, pinning him to the ground. As he gasped in agony, Alice leaned down, her eyes narrowing with pure fury.

“That’s for throwing me across the fucking field,” she muttered, twisting the blade for emphasis before pulling it free.

Just a few meters away, Alice noticed Corvus Glaive fighting with a Wakandan warrior. She didn’t wait for Corvus to get the upper hand on the struggling warrior. Her boots pounded against the dirt and shattered fragments of metal, and she barely paused to shout, “Leave this one to me!”. The Wakandan man gave her a grateful nod and stepped back, eyes wide as she stepped into the fray.

Corvus turned his blade-like gaze on her, a twisted grin pulling at his lips. “I ripped your head off once,” Alice snarled, dropping her sword on the ground, “I can and will do it again.”

He sneered, “No, you didn’t.”

Alice’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Let me refresh your memory then.”

Corvus lunged at her, his weapon slicing the air, but Alice dropped into a low roll, evading the deadly swing. Dust and dirt kicked up around her as she popped back to her feet and leaped onto Corvus’s back with a burst of speed. Her legs clamped around his shoulders, locking in tight, and her fingers curled under his chin, finding a grip.

Corvus roared, thrashing wildly, but Alice held firm, drawing on every ounce of strength she had. With a fierce, determined scream, she pulled, and the muscles in her arms straining as she wrenched his head backward. The sinews of his neck resisted, and he tried to throw her off, staggering backward, but she tightened her legs and twisted.

There was a sickening crack, and Corvus’s head ripped from his body with a grotesque, wet sound. His body crumpled to the ground beneath her, lifeless and defeated. Breathing hard, Alice landed on her feet, holding the severed head aloft before tossing it aside.

“Memory refreshed,” she spat, catching her breath as she surveyed the ongoing chaos, already searching for the next target. She wiped her hands off on her pants, the blood still dripping from her fingers, but it wasn’t until she heard a sharp intake of breath that she turned.

Okoye stood a few feet away, her wide eyes locked on the lifeless body of Corvus Glaive, his head lying discarded in the dirt. The look on Okoye’s face was a mixture of pure horror and absolute disbelief.

“Did you just-?” Okoye’s voice was strained, like she couldn’t quite process what she had just witnessed.

Alice, still catching her breath, gave a casual shrug, as if decapitation one of Thanos’s top warriors was no big deal. “Yeah. I did.”

Okoye blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. She finally settled on a deadpan, “I don’t know whether to be impressed or deeply disturbed.”

Alice shot her a grin. “Both is probably the right answer.”

Okoye could only stare, her face a picture of utter confusion and amazement. “You are a very, very strange woman.”

Meanwhile, Carol was streaking toward the van with the gauntlet, but the fight wasn’t over yet. Thanos was charging after her, but before he could reach her, he was stopped in his tracks by a blast from Pepper, Shuri, and the Wasp, knocking him back. Carol soared past him, but Thanos, now fully enraged, threw his double sword at the van. The weapon shattered the Quantum Realm tunnel, the blast sending Carol spiralling backward. The gauntlet slipped from her grasp, landing with a heavy thud on the ground.

Alice’s heart pounded as she sprinted across the battlefield, her boots pounding against the cracked ground. She’d seen Tony’s move, the way he’d tackled Thanos with everything he had, and now she was running toward the chaos, adrenaline pushing her faster. She didn’t know if it was the desperation or the sheer fury of watching Thanos almost win, but nothing was going to stop her from reaching him.

She reached the clearing just in time to see Tony being thrown in the air like a ragdoll, his body slamming against the dirt with a sickening thud. Her eyes locked onto Thanos, the gauntlet now on his arm, and she felt a surge of dread fill her chest.

The end was coming, and it was coming fast.

“No,” she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t have time to think, to hesitate. The world had gone quiet for a split second, the thrum of her heart drowning out everything else. She was already moving, charging forward, sword in hand. Her grip tightened, her breath steady.

Thanos’s fingers curled, and Alice’s stomach twisted as he prepared to snap his fingers. And then she heard it, Thanos’s voice cutting through the chaos.

“I am inevitable,” Thanos said, his voice dark and sure.

Alice reached him just as he snapped his fingers, and for a moment, nothing happened. Just a metallic “clink”. Thanos stared down at his hand in confusion, and his face twisted in horror as he realized the Infinity Stones were gone.

Tony Stark, now standing tall with the stones on his own hand, the power of them coursing through him, looked at Thanos one last time.

"And I… am… Iron Man.”

With that, Tony snapped his fingers.

Thanos’s army crumbled to ash, and Thanos, too, began to disintegrate. Horror filled his eyes as he looked around, watching his entire plan fall apart. He sat down, defeated at last, his form slowly fading from existence, his power, his dreams, evaporating into the void.

Alice’s feet seemed to falter with every step she took toward Tony. Her eyes were wide, her heart pounding, but nothing could prepare her for the sight in front of her. Tony, still laying amidst the wreckage, his right side a mangled mess of raw energy and shattered armour, was struggling to breathe. The very sight of him made her chest tighten in a way that felt like her ribs were cracking. Every piece of her screamed for him to move, to get up, to make some joke, something – anything – but there was nothing.

She couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, the hopelessness sinking in like a heavy weight that crushed her lungs. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground beside him, unable to look away from the slow, laboured rise and fall of his chest.

The power of the Gauntlet had destroyed him. There was no question now.

“Tony…” her voice broke, barely more than a whisper as she reached out, trembling hands hovering over him but unable to touch. She couldn’t bear to see him like this.

Bucky’s hand found hers before she could pull away, his grip firm warm. He didn’t say a word, but his presence was a quiet anchor, offering her the steadying force she needed. She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“He’s not…” Her voice faltered, and she could barely finish the thought. She didn’t wanna to say it. She couldn’t make herself admit it.

Bucky squeezed her hand tighter, his eyes full of silent understanding, and said nothing. He just stayed there, holding her, offering his support without needing to say anything more.

Peter Parker appeared then, soaring down from the sky with his webbing. He landed awkwardly beside Tony, his eyes scanning the fallen hero with disbelief. “Mr Stark?” he said, his voice trembling as he kneeled beside him, looking desperately for some sign of life. “Hey, Mr Stark? Can you hear me? It’s Peter. Hey. We won, Mr Stark – we won. You did it, sir. You did it.”

Alice couldn’t bear to watch as Peter’s voice cracked, his hands shaking as he tried to rouse Tony, his tears falling freely. She closed her eyes, her breath hitching as the overwhelming weight of it all settled in her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whispered, collapsing into Tony’s unresponsive form, his arms wrapping around him. “Tony…” His voice was barely a whisper, filled with so much pain Alice could barely breathe. He couldn’t lose Tony too – not like this.

Pepper arrived, kneeling beside Tony, her face etched with grief. Her hands shook as she touched his face, trying to hold onto him, as if touching him one more time might bring him back. “Hey,” she whispered softly, but Tony could barely lift his head.

“Hey, Pep…” Tony’s voice was a raspy murmur, so weak, but it was still him. Still the man who’d saved them all.

Pepper placed her hand on Tony’s Arc Reactor as Tony rested his hand on hers. She stared at his injuries, afraid of what was coming.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” She called the AI.

“Life functions critical,” the AI responded as Tony smiled with tears in his eyes.

“Tony,” she gently lifted his face so he could see her one last time.

Alice felt her heart tear in two. Her breath hitched as she watched Pepper say the words Alice knew were coming.

“We’re gonna be okay. You can rest now.”

And with that, Tony’s Arc Reactor flickered and died. The light that had once been a symbol of hope, of Iron Man, of all that Tony Stark had been, was gone.

Alice let out a strangled sob, her chest tight with a pain she couldn’t name. Bucky wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, but it didn’t stop the ache that filled every inch of her being. Tony was gone.

And then, in the midst of the silence, every hero who had fought beside him gathered around, kneeling in honour of the man who had given everything.

And there, on the battlefield, they all mourned together. For Tony Stark. For the hero. For the friend.

The air in the aftermath of the battle was thick with exhaustion and grief. Wakandan medics, led by T’Challa and Doctor Strange, had quickly opened portals and brough in advanced technology to check on everyone, making sure no one had injuries that couldn’t be mended. They cleaned up everyone’s wounds, patching up what they could, and offering the best healing methods they had at their disposal.

Alice had barely registered when the medics came to check her. She’d been lost in a daze of emotions – relief, pain, disbelief. The battle was over. They had won. But it didn’t feel like a victory. Not when they’d lost so much. Not when Natasha and Tony were gone.

Bucky had been cleared too, but he hadn’t left her side, his quiet presence a comfort that she wasn’t sure she could handle losing.

As the medics finished and left them both standing in the quiet aftermath, Alice turned to him, her voice soft but steady. “Come back with me,” she said, the words heavy with meaning. “To my place. In Harlem. We’ll just… be there.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his blue eyes scanning her face. But then he nodded, giving her a faint, sad smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

As they made their way to leave, Alice caught sight of Steve, standing off to the side, his arms crossed as he watched them. There was something in his eyes – perhaps a quiet understanding, a silent approval – as he looked at his two best friends. It wasn’t the usual Steve Rogers, always stoic and reserved; no, this was something else.

Alice could tell there was a flicker of something in his gaze – contentment, maybe even a hint of relief. He knew what Bucky and Alice had been through, both separately and together. How much they had carried, how much they had fought to get here. And now, seeing them finally find each other again, even after everything that had happened, it seemed to bring Steve some peace.

He smiled, though it was small, and the lines of his face softened, as if he was finally seeing something that felt right again in the midst of all the chaos. There were no words exchanged between them, but in that brief moment, there didn’t need to be.

Alice gave Steve a nod, her voice soft as she said, “We’ll be okay.” It was more for herself than anyone else, but Steve heard it.

Bucky, too, offered a silent acknowledgement, the quiet understanding between them all remaining unspoken.

And then, with one final glance at Steve, Alice and Bucky stepped out into the cool night, ready to find what they could in the stillness of her apartment, knowing that, in their own way, they had found each other again.

Steve stood there for a moment longer, watching them leave, before turning his attention back to the scene before him. But his mind lingered on Alice and Bucky, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace about what had transpired.

The trip back to her apartment was a blur, the weight of everything still hanging in the air. Alice had barely said a word, her mind too full of everything they’d just been through. They both needed space to process it, but she wanted him with her, wanted the warmth of his presence to anchor her.

Once inside, Alice could barely focus on anything beyond the overwhelming fatigue. She headed straight for the bathroom, wanting to wash away the blood, dirt, and remnants of battle that clung to her skin. The shower’s warm water felt soothing against her sore body, and she stood under it for a long time, letting it wash over her in silence. When she finished, she wrapped herself in a towel, her mind still swirling with everything that had happened.

Bucky, meanwhile, took his own shower in the bathroom next door. His movements were slower than usual, but Alice didn’t press him. She knew the weight of the battle had taken its toll on him, just like it had on her. The silence between them was comfortable, but not in the way it usually was. This time, it felt heavy.

After a while, they both emerged from the bathroom, feeling a little more human. Before changing into something comfortable, Alice gave Bucky the biggest sweatpants and t-shirt she had. Once she was dressed, she settled on the couch with a sigh. The quiet of the apartment was different tonight – no longer a sanctuary of peace, but a reminder of all they had lost.

Bucky sat beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. Neither of them spoke for a while. There was nothing to say that could make the pain go away.

Finally, Alice broke the silence. “You should come to bed,” she said softly, her voice raw with emotion. “Please. I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Bucky hesitated, but only for a moment. The look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He nodded, squeezing her hand before they both stood. He didn’t say a word, but as they made their way to her bedroom, he kept his arm around her, guiding her gently.

Once they were both in bed, the room dark and still, Alice curled up beside him, her head resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. For a moment, they just laid there, the quiet of the apartment settling over them like a blanket. Even though they had won, even though they were together, there was still that heavy, lingering sadness in the air.

When Bucky spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “We’ll get through this,” he said softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Alice’s heart ached, and she nodded. “Yeah, you and me. Together,” she whispered back.

And with that, they both fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, finding comfort in each other’s arms, trying to forget, even if just for a moment, the world that had been left behind. And, for the first time in a long time, Alice allowed herself to drift off to sleep, knowing she wasn’t alone anymore.

Bucky had stayed in Alice’s apartment for a few days now, and although the stillness between them was comforting in its own way, it was also heavy. They had both been through so much – the battles, the losses, the weight of the years that had passed. Everything was supposed to be different now, right? They had won. They had their lives back. But there was something in the way they were with each other that made Alice feel like they were still stuck in a limbo, uncertain of how to move forward.

It was the quiet moments that made her wonder if they were really moving forward at all.

At first, sharing a bed had felt natural. It wasn’t anything sexual – just two people trying to find comfort after everything they had been through. They didn’t need words to express what they felt. Just being near each other was enough. But over time, Alice found herself wanting more. Her thoughts turned to what they could be if they let themselves, what it might feel to hold him in the most intimate way possible.

She would wait for the nights when he was relaxed, when the tension seemed to face from his body. She would wear her most revealing pyjamas, nudge closer to him, just enough that she could feel his warmth, but not too much to make him uncomfortable. Her hand would inch toward his, the subtle movement meant to be an invitation, a gentle push toward the closeness they both needed. But every time she reached for him, he would either gently pull away or shift enough to create a space between them.

At first, Alice convinced herself it was nothing. He was exhausted. He was still processing everything that had happened. She understood that. But as the days stretched on, those small gestures – the ones that said more than words ever could – began to pile up. His eyes would never meet hers when she looked at him, and when she touched his arm or brushed against him, there was no reciprocation. It was like there was a wall, built from everything that had happened to him, to both of them, and no matter how much she wanted to tear it down, she didn’t know how.

One night, after they had shared a meal and talked about the small, trivial things that made the day feel normal again, Alice felt the same urge. They were sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, his arm resting on the back of the seat. She didn’t even need words. She just wanted to be close to him in a way that felt more real than the invisible barrier between them. The moonlight streaming in through the window cast a gentle glow across the room as Alice leaned into Bucky, her lips meeting his in a slow, passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, she moved to straddle him, her hands tangling in his hair, and she began to rock her hips slightly against him. Bucky’s breath caught, his hands instinctively finding her waist, holding her as desire surged between them.

For a heartbeat, it felt electric, an undeniable pull igniting between them. But then, Bucky stilled, his fingers tightening briefly on her hips before he gently but firmly lifted her and sat her beside him on the couch. The heat between them cooled in an instant, replaced by a tension Alice couldn’t quite interpret.

“I… I need a shower,” he mumbled hurriedly, not meeting her eyes as he stood up and made his way to the bathroom, leaving Alice flushed and longing, her heart sinking with confusion.

The air felt thick, suffocating. Alice’s chest tightened, her heart aching as she left for bed. The space between them was becoming more than just physical; it was emotional, and Alice could feel it growing wider with every passing second. She had tried so hard to be patient, to give him the space he needed. But with each quiet refusal, the doubt started creeping in. What if he didn’t want her? What if all this time, she had misread the signs? What if he couldn’t love her the way she loved him?

The next day, when Alice was feeling particularly raw, she decided to confront the silence that had settled between them. She had been avoiding it for as long as she could, but there was no more running from it. She had to know what was going on, what he was really feeling.

One evening, after a quiet dinner, Alice suggested they go to the rooftop to get some air and watch the fireworks that were being thrown that night. The sky had grown dark, and the city below them was alive with lights, but the distance between them felt more pronounced than ever.

They stood there, side by side, watching as the fireworks lit up the sky. It was a celebration of sorts – a tribute to the lives that had been restored, to the world that had somehow, against all odds, made it through. For a moment, Alice lost herself in the beauty of the lights, but her thoughts kept drifting back to him.

Alice tilted her head, her fingers fidgeting slightly as she gathered her courage. She turned to Bucky, her voice soft but carrying the weight of her vulnerability. “Are we… okay?” she asked, her heart thudding anxiously.

Bucky glanced at her, his blue eyes filled with a complicated mix of emotions – regret, affection, and worry. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as though the words he wanted to say were caught in his throat. “Yeah… yeah, we’re fine,” he finally said, though his voice wavered, and the uncertainty lingered.

Alice’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she couldn’t help the frustrated exhale that escaped her. “Bucky, please,” she urged, leaning in a little closer. “I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. You keep pulling away from me, and I don’t understand why.” Her voice softened, the fear in her eyes evident. “I just… I just wanna know if you want this. Want me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and his hands turned into closed fists before he forced them to relax. He looked down, avoiding her gaze, and his fingers fumbled with the fabric of his shirt. “It’s just… I-I…” He took a deep breath, visibly struggling. “I just haven’t-”

Alice’s eyes widened, a teasing smile breaking through her worried expression. “Wait,” she interrupted, a note of disbelief and humour entering her voice. “Are you a virgin, Bucky?”

Bucky’s head snapped up so quickly that Alice almost expected him to get whiplash. His eyes went wide, and his face flushed bright red. “What? No!” he sputtered, his hands flying up in panic. “It’s not that!”

A laugh bubbled out of Alice, the tension easing ever so slightly, but Bucky groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Alice,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his palm, “you’re killing me here.”

Alice giggled, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Hey, I had to ask! You looked so flustered.”

Bucky sighed, letting his hand drop as he shook his head, though his lips twitched upward at her laughter. “It’s just… I haven’t dated someone in so long,” he admitted, the humour giving way to vulnerability. He took a shaky breath, his eyes finally meeting hers. “And being in love with you… it feels like it’s the first time I’ve done this. The whole relationship thing.”

Alice’s playful grin softened as she listened, her heart aching at his honesty. Bucky continued, his voice low and sincere. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad. It wasn’t what I intended, really. I just… I wanna do things right with you. You’re too important to me.”

Her eyes glistened with tears she refused to let fall. Her smile grew gentle, and she reached out to take his hand, intertwining their fingers. “I… Bucky, it’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pressured you. Take your time. It’s totally fine, I swear.”

Bucky exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “I just… I wanna do this the right way, okay?” he repeated, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Alice’s heart felt like it might burst from the love she felt for this man. “I love you, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in that way she adored. “I love you too, Alice,” he said, and then leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, heartfelt kiss. The fireworks above seemed to echo their emotion, bursting with brilliance and joy as they held each other.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the warmth of being together and the magic of the night sky. The world felt a little less heavy, a little more bearable, as long as they had each other.

Then, after a few minutes, Alice’s curiosity got the better of her. She shifted slightly, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Hey, Buck?” she said, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice relaxed and content as he held her close.

Her grin widened. “You didn’t answer my question, though.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What question?” he asked.

Alice’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Are you a virgin?” she asked, drawing out the last word dramatically.

Bucky groaned, his cheeks flushing again as he threw his head back. “What-no, Alice,” he protested, laughing despite himself. “I’m not a virgin.”

Alice burst into laughter, and Bucky couldn’t help but join in, the two of them giggling like teenagers, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten. The fireworks continued to explode above, showering them in light, but nothing compared to the joy they found in each other’s arms.

As the laughter died down, the rooftop returned to a quiet stillness, the sky now painted with the remnants of the fireworks’ dazzling display. Alice and Bucky sat together, a comforting silence settling over them, though a new tension began to coil in Alice’s stomach. She leaned her head on Bucky’s shoulder, savouring his warmth, but the weight of a secret pressed down on her heart.

Bucky’s arm was wrapped securely around her, but he noticed the way her body tensed tightly. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

Alice hesitated for a moment, then forced a smile. “Yeah,” she replied, but the tightness in her chest didn’t ease. Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt nervously. She knew she had to tell him the truth, no matter how afraid she was of his reaction.

I have to tell him about what happened between me and Steve, she thought, her mind swirling with anxiety. The memory of her past relationship with Steve was something that she couldn’t keep from Bucky. He deserved to know, especially now that they were moving forward together.

But as she looked into Bucky’s kind, trusting eyes, the words caught in her throat. Not tonight, she decided. Not here, not like this. She swallowed hard and resolved to tell him after Tony’s funeral. It would be the right time, and he deserved to hear it directly from her.

Bucky watched her carefully, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. But for now, he let it go, gently squeezing her hand. They stayed there on the rooftop, holding each other as the stars emerged one by one, a silent promise lingering between them that they would face whatever came next together.

The morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains in Alice’s apartment, casting a warm, golden glow that spilled across the floorboards. The peaceful ambiance was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotion still gripping Bucky. Alice lay fast asleep in the bedroom, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, her breathing even and calm. Bucky had slipped out of bed with care, moving as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her. He left a note on the kitchen counter, promising he’d be back soon, though he hadn’t given a hint as to where he was going.

The streets were eerily quiet as Bucky made his way to Steve’s apartment. He took the familiar route, memories flooding his mind – memories of the war, of decades lost to Hydra, of everything that had happened to him and Steve. And yet, here they were, still standing, still breathing, and still fighting, even after everything. But Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling of something coming to an end.

When he arrived at Steve’s place, the door was already ajar. He pushed it open gently, stepping inside to find Steve standing by the window, his back to Bucky. Sunlight spilled over Steve’s shoulders, making him seem both golden and impossibly weary. Bucky’s heart tightened in his chest; he knew his best friend well enough to sense the gravity of the moment before a single word had been spoken.

Steve turned around slowly, his blue eyes meeting Bucky’s. There was a calmness there, but it was layered with something else – something Bucky hadn’t seen in along time: peace, maybe, but also a deep, aching yearning.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted softly, his voice steady, but his eyes shimmering with a bittersweet kind of resolve.

“Hey, punk,” Bucky replied, though his attempt at levity fell flat. There was no masking the heaviness in his voice. He stepped closer, searching Steve’s face. “What’s going on?”

Steve exhaled a slow breath, his gaze drifting out the window for a moment before he looked back at Bucky. “When I went back to the 70s to get the stone,” Steve began, his voice low and thoughtful, “I saw her. I saw Peggy. And right then… I knew what I had to do.” His eyes grew distant, like he was reliving that moment. “I knew that was my chance, Buck. My chance to finally have the life I’ve always dreamed about. The life I never thought I’d get back.”

Bucky swallowed, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. “Steve…” he whispered, though he couldn’t quite form the words that needed to follow.

Steve’s lips curved into a small, wistful smile. “And then, during the battle, when I saw you and Alice together,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly, “it just made me realize it even more. Seeing you two find each other again, seeing you be happy… it hit me, you know? I want that for myself, too. I need it. I deserve to be happy, to be loved. And Peggy… she’s always been my girl. My happy ending.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, the full weight of Steve’s words crashing down on him. He stepped forward, his boots feeling heavy on the floor. “What are you saying?” he finally managed, though his voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

Steve’s smile was sad, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Once I return the Stones, I’m gonna stay in the past. With Peggy. I’m not coming back this time.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the words hanging between them like a heavy, unbreakable truth. Bucky felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, his hands trembling slightly. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his emotions from spilling over.

Steve stepped closer, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Tell me I’m not making a mistake,” he pleaded, his voice breaking just a little. “Please, Buck.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, and he had to swallow hard before he could speak. His mind raced with memories – of Brooklyn, of alleyway scrapes and shared laughter, of the decades stolen from them both. But he saw something in Steve’s eyes that made his heart ache: a longing for peace, for a love he’d waited too long for. “No,” Bucky finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “No, you’re not making a mistake. You need this. You deserve to be happy, Steve. To be with Peggy, your girl, the love of your life.” He took a shuddering breath. “It’s just… I just got you back, and now I have to lose you again.” His voice broke, a tear spilling down his left cheek. “I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

Steve’s own tears finally fell, and he pulled Bucky into a tight embrace. They clung to each other, two brothers who had endured so much, their bond unbreakable even in the face of this impending farewell. “I know,” Steve whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m gonna miss you too, Buck.”

Bucky closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Steve’s shoulder, memorizing the feeling of this hug, the warmth and strength of the only brother he’d ever known. “Damn it, Steve,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Why does it always have to be like this?”

Steve pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Bucky’s eyes. His hands still rested on Bucky’s shoulders, as if he were holding on for dear life. “I wish it didn’t,” he admitted, a tear slipping down his cheek. “But this… this feels right.”

They stayed that way for a moment, holding each other, the unspoken love and pain between them palpable. Finally, Bucky stepped back, wiping at his eyes. “Have you told anyone about this yet?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Steve shook his head. “Nope, just you. I’m planning on going to Alice’s apartment later this evening to tell her.”

Bucky managed a small, sad smile. “Hum, okay. I’ll make sure I’m not there so you guys can have some privacy.”

Steve looked at him, slightly puzzled. “No, it’s okay, Buck. You don’t have to go.”

But Bucky insisted, his smile widening just a fraction. “You two should talk alone. I know how close you are.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise, a realization dawning on him. “Oh, you know?” he asked, his voice soft. For a moment, he wondered if Alice had already told Bucky about their past relationship. “And you’re… fine with that?”

Bucky chuckled softly, though his heart still felt heavy. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, the sincerity in his voice clear.

Steve felt a small sense of relief, though a bit of surprise lingered. “Oh, okay,” he said. “How do you think she’ll react?”

Bucky took a moment, his mind drifting to Alice’s smile, her laughter, and the strength she carried in her heart. “Honestly,” he said, his voice warm and genuine, “I think she’ll be happy for you.”

Steve's expression softened, a mix of hope and gratitude crossing his features. “Thanks, Buck. That means a lot.”

Bucky hesitated, a nervous edge creeping into his demeanour. He rubbed the back of his neck, taking a deep breath before meeting Steve's eyes. “Speaking of Alice,” he began, his voice faltering for just a moment, “I’ve been thinking about something. Actually, a lot.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” he asked, his concern for his friend momentarily pushing aside the heaviness of their conversation.

Bucky swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his next words. “I’m thinking about asking her to marry me.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open slightly as the words sank in. For a moment, the room seemed frozen, the significance of Bucky’s confession wrapping around them like an invisible force. “You… you want to marry her?” Steve echoed, as if he needed to hear it again to truly believe it.

Bucky’s heart pounded as he shifted uncomfortably under Steve’s gaze. He nodded, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve thought about it for a while now. She even noticed I’ve been acting strange. Ever since we got everyone back… she’s my home, Steve. The way she makes me feel… it’s like, even with everything we’ve been through, there’s hope. A future.” His voice trembled, raw with honesty.

Steve’s initial shock melted into a slow, warm smile, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Bucky,” he said, his voice filled with genuine affection, “that’s… that’s incredible.” He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, his eyes shining with happiness. “I’m so proud of you. And so happy for you both.”

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, a relief flooding through him. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “You think it’s a good idea?”

Steve nodded, his grin widening. “Absolutely. Alice is one of the strongest, most loving people I know. And you… you deserve this, Buck. You deserve to be happy and to build a life together.” Steve’s expression softened, a wistful glimmer in his eyes. “If anyone understands what it means to have found love after everything we’ve lost, it’s me.”

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and he looked away for a moment, trying to steady his emotions. “You really think I can make her happy?” he asked quietly, vulnerability seeping through his tough exterior. “After everything… the things I’ve done, the things she’s seen… she still deserves better.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “Hey,” he said, his voice steady and unwavering, “Alice chose you. She’s seen all of you, the good and the bad, and she still loves you. That’s real, Buck. And I know you’ll make her happy because you love her with everything you have.” Steve paused, his expression turning serious. “You’ve come so far. You’ve fought so hard to be the man you are now. You’re more than worthy of this, and don’t you ever forget it.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, and he found himself blinking back tears. “Thanks, Steve,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That means everything, coming from you.”

Steve smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. “So, when are you planning to ask her? Got a big, romantic plan?” he teased lightly, trying to add a bit of levity to the conversation.

Bucky chuckled, some of the tension easing from his frame. “I don’t know,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, it’s Alice we’re talking about. She’s not one for grand gestures. I want it to be… simple but meaningful. Something that shows her how much she means to me.”

Steve nodded, his eyes alight with understanding. “Knowing her, she’ll probably appreciate something heartfelt more than anything flashy. Just be yourself. Speak from the heart.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a genuine smile, the kind he didn’t often show. “Yeah,” he agreed, feeling a bit more confident. “That sounds like something she’d like.”

Steve’s expression softened with warmth. “She’s gonna be so happy, Buck.” His voice grew quiet. “And knowing that you two have found each other again… it makes all of this a little easier for me.”

Bucky swallowed, his gaze locking onto Steve’s. “We’re gonna miss you, you know,” he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. “But I understand. I really do.”

Steve’s eyes misted over, and he pulled Bucky into another hug, their bond speaking louder than words. “I’ll miss you too,” he whispered. “But knowing you’re happy, that you have a future with Alice… that makes this goodbye a little more bearable.”

They stayed like that for a moment, two brothers in arms, holding onto each other and the life they had fought so hard to reclaim. Finally, they pulled apart, both looking a little steadier, a little more resolute.

“Promise me you’ll take care of her,” Steve said softly, his voice full of unspoken love and trust.

Bucky’s gaze was fierce, his blue eyes blazing with a protective intensity. “Always,” he vowed. “With everything I have.”

As the evening settled over Harlem, the warm glow of streetlights spilled into Alice’s apartment, painting the walls in a golden hue. The day had felt long and surreal, filled with the quiet echoes of mourning, victory, and the crushing reality that they’d never be the same again. Alice stood at the kitchen counter, fiddling with a mug of tea she hadn’t touched, her thoughts a tangled mess of relief, grief, and worry.

Bucky had kissed her on the forehead before leaving. “I’ll grab us some pizza from that place you really like,” he’d said, the tenderness in his eyes almost enough to settle the unease in her chest. Almost. Alice had nodded, watching him walk out of the door, the click of the lock echoing in the silence that followed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, trying to make sense of the ache she couldn’t seem to shake. The war was over, but not the pain. Not yet.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and her heart skipped. “Coming,” she called, placing the mug down and heading to the door. When she opened it, she found Steve standing there, dressed in casual clothes that somehow seemed too normal, too ordinary, for someone who’d carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Hey, Ali,” Steve said gently, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Steve,” she whispered, surprised. “Hey. Come in.” She stepped aside, and he walked in, his movement deliberate, as if he were carrying something fragile. As he passed her, Alice’s brows furrowed. Something about him seemed… different.

They stood in the middle of her living room, and odd, heavy silence hanging between them. Steve’s hands fidgeted, an unusual nervousness tightening his jaw. Alice’s worry spiked. “Is everything okay?” she asked, voice soft but tinged with concern.

Steve’s eyes found hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. He had always been her steady anchor, the man who carried too many burdens but never wavered. But now, he looked vulnerable, like a man who’d made peace with something he hadn’t dared to hope for in a long time. “Alice,” he began, his voice breaking slightly. “We need to talk.”

The air grew thick, and Alice’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. “Okay,” she said cautiously, gesturing for him to sit. They settled on the couch, side by side but worlds apart. Steve turned slightly to face her, and the intensity in his gaze nearly unravelled her.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “And I need you to hear me out, okay?”

Alice swallowed, her throat dry. “Okay,” she whispered.

Steve took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging. “When I went back to the 70s, I saw her. I saw Peggy.” His voice cracked, the pain and longing so raw it made Alice’s chest ache. “And for a moment, if felt like all the years, all the fighting, all the loss… it just fell away. I saw the life I could have had. The life I’ve always wanted.”

Alice’s eyes welled up, and she reached out instinctively, her hand resting on his. “Steve…”

He gave her a small, pained smile, covering her hand with his. “Alice, I’ve always been the man out of time,” he continued, his voice wavering. “I’ve tried to make peace with it, but I can’t. I’ve given everything, and now… I need to take something back. I need to be with her.”

The words sank in, and a tear slipped down Alice’s cheek. She wanted to be happy for him, to be relieved that he’d finally get what he deserved. But the thought of losing him again shattered something deep inside her. She had already lost Natasha and Tony. She didn’t want to lose Steve too. “You’re… you’re staying in the past,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glistening. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m staying with Peggy. I can’t keep being the man out of his time, Alice. I need this.”

Alice’s breath caught, and she tried to hold back the sob rising in her throat. “But we just… we just won,” she choked out. “We just got everyone back together, Steve. You’re my family. How… how am I supposed to say goodbye?”

Steve’s face crumpled, and he reached out, pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt, her heart shattering with the realization that this was goodbye. “I know,” he whispered, his own tears falling. “I know it’s not fair. But you’re strong, Alice. You’ve always been so strong.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I’m strong because I had you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be strong without you.”

Steve placed his hands over hers, his thumbs brushing her tears away. “You don’t have to be strong alone,” he said. “You have Bucky now. And he loves you more than anything. You two are gonna take care of each other. Promise me you’ll take care of each other.”

Alice sobbed, nodding even though it felt like her world was falling apart. “I promise,” she whispered. “But it’s not gonna be the same.”

“No,” Steve agreed, his voice thick. “It won’t. But you’ll be okay. Both of you.”

They stayed like that, holding each other. Steve eventually pulled back, his own face streaked with tears. “You know,” he said, his voice cracking but a smile tugging at his lips, “when I saw you and Bucky together, I knew you’d be okay. I knew you’d finally found the happiness you deserve.”

Alice let out a shaky laugh, her tears still flowing. “He means everything to me,” she whispered. “But so do you.”

Steve’s smile grew, even as his eyes remained sad. “And you mean everything to me,” he said. “I’m so proud of you, Alice. Of the person you’ve become.”

She took a shuddering breath, trying to etch every detail of this moment into her memory. “I’m proud of you too,” she said, her voice raw. “For everything.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history pressing on them. Finally, Steve stood, his movements slow, like he was reluctant to leave. “I’ll see you again, you know,” he said, his smile soft. “In another time.”

Alice nodded, her heart breaking but her love for him burning brightly. “In another time,” she echoed, her voice trembling.

And with that, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes lingered on hers, filled with a love that would never fade, even across decades. Then he turned and walked out the door, leaving Alice to stand there, the echo of their goodbye ringing in her ears.

tags: ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​@capswife

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masterlist

[the-wayward-arc]

What happens to the iron dragons and thunder Lords after Nora and Yang's passing? Do they have some way to keep their memories alive? What about the rules they had in Legion what happens to those?

Loyal Au: The 2 companies became their chapters when the Legion split. With Yang passing peacefully at the age of 109, she was buried with her family, the private cemetery heavily guarded by three Iron Dragons at all times. Her gauntlets were reforged, at her request, into weapons befitting of the Iron Dragons chapter master. They are a symbol of his office and one of the very few things they have left of her. Iron Dragons repainted their armor to match her palette. Their chapter insignia being Yangs with a Dragon's skull in the center of it. They do their best to live up to her legacy.

Chaos Au: Yang's violent death came to destroy the Iron Dragons. In their anguish, as their Legion fell to the powers of Malal, the Iron Dragons allowed themselves to be possessed by great daemons in order to gain the power they need to avenge their mother. Great was their rage and Anguish, their need for power, that they actually turned the tables into the daemons that possessed them. Instead, devouring the daemons within themselves to harness the power, greatly mutating into their namesake while growing massive in size and keeping their will and personality. The Iron Dragons are extremely violent and ensure they rain down fire from the sky.

Thunder Lords

Loyal Au: The Thunder Lords chapter is unusual in the fact they are small in number and all their battle brothers use only terminator armor. The reason why they have such an amount is because they scavenged as many as they could during the heresy. Raiding Traitor Armories and scavenging them off the dead, both traitor and loyal. As such, the chapter is only 300 strong. As such they have a motto "Strike like a hammer! Hard and thunderous!" The peaceful passing of Nora at 98 did hit the the Thunder Lords hard. Repainting their armor to match her colors and wearing her symbol with great pride. They honor Nora by being not only being the heaviest hitters but coming down like a hammer upon their enemies, destroying everything in one fatal strike. The chapter keeps itself at its current strength due to limited number of Terminator armor. Much like Yang's weapon, Nora's was reforged into a might Thunder hammer for the Chapter Master to signify his status and office. It is a terrifying weapon capable of much more devastating destruction than it previously was, know that their mother would absolutely love it as such.

Chaos Au: Holding their Nora as she took her final breath in front of them sent every single Thunder Lord into an eternal rage. Their minds became fragmented at the lost of their mother and even more so when they mutated into Chaos Obliterators when they fully gave themselves to Malal who bestowed them his own vile version of the virus that severely mutated them and turned them into violent hulking killing machines. Fused to their very armor, they are in eternal agony but also eternally furious as they relive the moment of Nora's death in their minds. Seeing both allies and enemies as obstacles in their way to save Nora, always calling out for her. Forever reliving that moment. In a subconscious vain attempt to be closer to her, their right arms are permanently fused to their thunderhammers. Swinging violently to anyone that gets near them. Their are only 40 of them left (bit of a retcon from 10 I stated before.) Gunnvaldr is the only one of his brethren to keep his sanity and the only one they listen to outside of Jaune. Even at times, above Jaune. They are kept in stasis or restrained.

[xbunnybunz]

that shore, you're sure. [Mizu/Reader]

Summary: You opened your eyes, saw his blue ones. Closed yours again, opened them, and drowned. 

Genres: Romance, Angst, Historical

You remember what it felt like to wither at sea, it felt like a dream, a long and winding dream.

You opened your eyes, saw his blue ones. Closed yours again, opened them, and drowned. 

The tide was gentle, but the waves were never as small as they seem. 

No one on the coast could have saved you, not the urchin divers, the sailors, nor you, or you, or your past self, learning the waters with your heart ripe in upturned palms.

When seawater weighed in your belly, you did not think of death. You only bore the thought of oneness with the shore. The hush of lapping foam along the sea-torn sands. Peace. Hiss. Shh. 

His hands ghost up your arms, barely skimming skin. An onryō. He is your poltergeist in the flesh.

You tremble and he watches with still eyes, steady hands.

“You are afraid.” He speaks. 

A rolling tenor in his voice, gentle and almost familiar. Where have you heard this before? 

Hiss. Shh.

“I always am.”

Your hometown was by the water before you were sold. There were white gulls, crates for trade, new boats ready for voyage, old boats ready to sink with the next storm. There, you learned the beauties of the world.

Here, you learned of its bitterness. 

How the world leaves you more and more splintered every time you dive back into the water. How it devours you, tosses you, spits you up again, sodden, gagging and gasping air. You are a shipwreck that will always be less a boat and more a remnant of the sea. 

How do you love the oceans that know only to swallow you whole?

He traces a single finger across your shoulder. The sleeve of his yukata shudders and collapses, and you see, today, he is not wearing the gauntlets. It drapes down his arm in folds, revealing the pure and toned flesh underneath. 

He rests the rough pad of his thumb on your exposed collarbone. 

Keeps it there. Watches you.

How do you love?

You’ve spent moons laying with faceless men, body plated and devoured time and time again.

But he never strips, only ever discards that heavy cape, shrouded in a thin layer of powdery snow. He has a beautiful face. One you couldn’t forget if you tried.

Strong brows, high cheekbones, a sloping forehead. 

A demon, the other hostesses call him. They turn their backs to him and unlike other frequentors, he lets them. 

They say the sky gives the ocean its color. But what makes a man a monster, the blood he has spilled, or his own? 

Even behind amber-tinted lenses, there is no mistaking the hue. 

The honey colour of his glasses fused with the blue of his eyes to make a strange, damp color. He never removes his hat even when he is in the private room with you, alone. Always just observes from under the shadow, gaze heavy. Hiding, hiding. As if he is afraid of being discovered.

“Don’t be.” He replies.

What makes a man, a man? The bodies he has claimed, or his own?

You’ve seen the litheness of his form under the cloak. The sinewy stretch of neck and elegance of battle-calloused hands, so formed to the shape of a blade’s hilt you almost missed it the first time.

You can feel your pulse on his fingers, ba dum, ba dum. It is racing. This broken body cannot tell from lovesickness to seasickness. Drowning and swimming. 

Samurai must keep secrets. That’s what other men you have lain with before have said. In this way, names have slipped through your fingers like sands through a sieve. Purposes, lives. You bore yourself to them and received nothing in return, and you are used to it, cannot find it in yourself to be heartbroken. 

Still, now, something aches. 

You remember what it felt like to wither at sea.

He holds your heart in his hands like a ripe peach, though light-handed as he is, muscle memory or affection or fear or love will teach you to split yourself apart for him, but he does not seek to ruin, does not seek even self-destruction. He will turn his gaze away when you lower your kimono past your shoulders.

How then, do you love? 

You imagine the ways his body may become nicked with new scars while he is out in battle, how always, he comes back merely to behold you with his eyes, in the flesh, as he bleeds out, panting heavy, fading in and out of consciousness, but eyes blue and thrilling and always always always so fierce. 

You think of him even when he is gone. 

How his face never betrays his thoughts, how because of this, you must watch his body. A muscle jumping under the snowy skin of his rippling forearm. Throat tightening and releasing with a swallow.

How do you swim in oceans that have only wanted you asphyxiated?  

You think of the spit in his mouth, thick and viscous, imagine it in your mouth instead. That is how you always begin.

In your room alone, when you finish, you cry. 

You are the sea and the shipwrecked all at once. He can leave you sputtering on the shore for more, that you know. But he doesn’t. He is gentle, he is unlike other men, unlike even the corrupted you who knows love as only a worldly pleasure, yet still, he haunts without laying a hand on your body, this beloved and horrid onryō man. 

His finger on your pulse. 

Gossamer. 

It devours you whole, a fire. A touch no mere man could give. 

He never goes further than this. Self-control no mere man could have.

When you sleep, you often have dreams and nightmares woven into the same ball of unraveling twine, spinning and spinning and spinning a memory of seafoam frothing between your toes, then swallowing kicking in the dark, swallowing salt water by mouthfuls. 

Last night, you slept and envisioned a desiccation. 

You do not know what you can do with this ship of a body without the ocean to toss it, turn it into castoffs.

It is what you were made for.

What makes a man a liar? What is said, or what is left unsaid?

“I could never love a man again.” You confess.

He does not respond.

You remember what it feels like to wither at sea. 

He watches you silently from behind his tinted spectacles, from under the shade of his hat. He is good at hiding. Eyes azure as the ocean blue, broken and as familiar as flotsam. But he is an abominable reflection of yourself in fractals, that, neither of you can avoid.

His gaze does not falter. Does not falter. 

He drops his hand from your pulse and somehow, it thrums on painfully without him there to caress it. He looks away and the tide crashes at your feet. You are back on the shoreline, alone and ready to be wreckage.

You understand.

You remember what it felt like to wither at sea. 

It felt like opening your eyes, seeing her blue ones for the first time. Closing yours again, opening them, and swimming.