#the universe is going to turn to dust and not one remnant off our actions will remain.

[your-local-femboy-bitch]

Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody. Everybody.

Why do so many people hate you like what did you even do

… Who hates me??

[xthewhiteravenx]

Fanfic Ideas I Probably Will Never Write (9/?)

SUMMARY: While at an antique store, you and colby accidentally both touch the same clock, throwing you both into a loop of endless day and night. The only thing that will save you is a violent act of you both driving into the antique store building. But while the antique store lays in ruins, something else was built between you two.

Rating: Teen and Up

The decision hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to stretch time itself. You and Colby stood before the ruins of the antique store, the remnants of shattered glass and splintered wood like fragments of a shattered reality. The relentless loop of day and night had pushed you to the brink, and now, the only way out lay in the violent act of crashing your car into the heart of the store.

The car's engine rumbled with an eerie anticipation, a reflection of the turmoil within both of you. The gravity of what you were about to do weighed down on your shoulders like a leaden cloak. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a crimson hue across the sky, as if the universe itself was holding its breath, awaiting the outcome of this endeavor.

As you and Colby exchanged glances, the flares of the car's headlights danced in your eyes, casting flickering shadows that mirrored the uncertainty in your hearts. The moment was charged with a mingling of determination and fear, an unspoken understanding that the consequences of this action were unknown, the outcome a high-stakes gamble.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice a blend of resolve and vulnerability.

Colby's gaze met yours, their expression a mélange of courage and trepidation. "As ready as we can be, I guess. It's now or never."

The words hung in the air like a declaration of defiance, a refusal to bow to the chains of the temporal anomaly any longer. With a shared nod, you both stepped into the car, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white under the pressure. The engine's growl swelled to a roar as the wheels lurched forward, propelling you toward the gaping maw of the antique store's ruins.

The impact was jarring, a cacophony of shattering glass and splintering wood that seemed to reverberate through your very bones. Time seemed to slow as the car plowed through the wreckage, each shard of debris a testament to the strength of your will to break free. The world around you blurred into a symphony of chaos and destruction, the very fabric of reality bending and warping.

As the dust settled and the car came to a stop amidst the wreckage, a tense silence enveloped you both. The store, once a holder of history and nostalgia, now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of the lengths you were willing to go to escape the relentless cycle. Breathing heavily, you turned to Colby, your eyes searching for any sign that the gamble had paid off.

Colby's lips curled into a wry smile, a mixture of relief and disbelief playing across their features. "Well," they began, their voice laced with a flirty edge, "I guess that's one way to make an entrance."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the moment releasing in a wave of emotion. "And here I thought we were just going for a leisurely drive."

The flirty exchange was a lifeline, a reminder that amidst the uncertainty and danger, your connection with Colby remained unbreakable. But it was the confession that followed that truly shattered the lingering uncertainty.

Colby's gaze held yours, their eyes revealing a depth of emotion that words alone couldn't capture. "You know, when we were stuck in that endless loop, there was something I wanted to say..."

Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with the weight of the situation. "What is it?"

A breath exhaled shakily, as if they were releasing a secret they had held onto for far too long. "I realized that life is too short—or maybe, in our case, too long—to keep things unsaid. So, here it is: I've always had feelings for you."

The confession hung in the air, a moment suspended in time as the world around you seemed to fade into insignificance. In the midst of chaos and destruction, amidst the uncertainty of survival, the raw honesty of Colby's words formed a fragile bridge between your souls.

As you reached for their hand, fingers intertwining in the aftermath of the tumultuous journey, you couldn't help but smile through the uncertainty. "Well, then I guess crashing into a building to break a time loop is as good a time as any to say... I feel the same way."

The tension that had gripped you both gave way to a shared sense of understanding, an unspoken promise that no matter the outcome, the connection you had forged was unbreakable. The wreckage around you held not just the remnants of a store but also the echoes of a confession that defied the bounds of time itself.

[lostandsearching]

Her Loss

Pairings: Maria Hill/Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff/Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is forever searching for her, the half of her soul that will free her form the pain in her heart. But what does she do when the roads fork into different paths and into different arms. How does she differentiate from true love and fleeting lust? Can she find the arms of her destined or will she simply doom herself and let them slip through her fingers.

Warnings: WandaVision elements used, swearing (maybe?)

Word Count: 2600+

A/N: Here’s chapter 3 and we’re following our favourite little witchy! Just a shout out to @theperfectlovestory​ for being so patient and reading through my chapters. If you ain’t read her work, you’re missing out! As always, reblogs and feedback are welcome. Enjoy :)

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Tossing and turning, she shifts around in bed uncomfortably. Having been able to sleep the night before, exhaustion catching up to her, she is faced with another restless night. Her sleeping has improved over the months. The nights she cried to sleep was no longer a regular occurrence but she still had her difficulties.

The bed was always too unfamiliarly empty no matter how much time had passed. There was no weight by her side causing a dip in the mattress, no strong arms wrapped around her waist encasing her protectively and no cool body to nestle herself against. Her empty bed serves as just another reminder of everything she’s lost. The fates had been cruel to her, delivering her time and time again into loving arms only to rip them away from her far too soon.

Having accepted that sleep will not welcome her tonight, she looked towards the wall clock on her right. ‘It’s only four but I guess I can enjoy the quiet and watch the sunrise for a little while’ muttering to herself. She clambers out of bed throwing on a large dark blue jumper, his jumper, and a pair of jeans careful not to make any noise and stir the children next door.

She loves Clint’s children dearly and wholeheartedly. They accepted her, a stranger, as family without hesitation or fear of her abilities. Little Nate went so far as running to her with the widest grin on his face to proudly proclaim that he’s also named after her brother. This only brought happy tears to her eyes as she engulfed him in a hug. Yes, she loved them dearly and she couldn’t be more grateful to the retired archer and Laura for opening their home to her but sometimes it was too much.

The happy shrieks of laughing children reverberating off the walls, the gentle and loving touches between Laura and Clint, the pure love and pride in Clint’s eyes as he took in his family at the dinner table would sometimes be unbearable for Wanda. This was supposed to be the life she had with him. A home, he had secretly bought for them, in a place called Westview with two children at least. They would have dinner together as a family, watch their children grow up like no time has passed at all, even go trick-or-treating wearing silly family costumes. Her life would have been filled with love, laughter and warm embraces but he was gone, taking her dreams along with him.

Wanda quickly threw on her slippers and crept as quietly as possible out of the farmhouse, trying to avoid rousing the slumber of the ever attentive Hawkeye. He may need hearing aids but Wanda would bet anything that he wore them to bed to avoid being taken by surprise. One misstep on a creaky floorboard would have him rushing out with bow and arrow in hand, ready to protect his family from any intruder, only for her to flounder a lame excuse at her sneaking around at an ungodly hour.

Lady luck was on her side it would seem and she escaped the confines of the home without incident. She is instantly greeted by a cool and gentle breeze caressing her skin. She sits on the steps of the home looking up at the clear night sky as the sun teeters on the horizon, teasing the darkness with a warm glow. She lets her mind wander back to over a year ago, to the events that unfolded after her return from the now dubbed Blip.

//

One moment she had Vision’s lifeless body cradled against her as she sobs, only to be suddenly greeted by a strange man calling her to arms, Vision’s body nowhere to be found.

“The fate of the world needs you to come with me now if we are to have any hope in defeating Thanos” and with that he opened a portal and passed through, Wanda nipping at his heels.

She thrust herself into the chaotic battlefield, remnants of the destroyed compound strewn about, with only one goal in mind. He took the love of her life, he took her life and he’s taken her home. Thanos has taken everything from her and now she’ll make him pay.

She flew in engaging Thanos, bombarding him with all the rage coursing through her veins. Angry, red wisps encase the tyrant threatening to rip him apart but as she was within a hair’s breadth away from finding her revenge, hell fire reigned from the skies knocking her off her feet. The battle for the gauntlet waged on being passed from Avenger to Avenger in hopes of getting it to some rickety van in the distance.

When all hope seemed to be lost, the gauntlet fixed around Thanos’s hand once again with an arrogant line about inevitability escaping his lips, their one and only chance arrived.

“Stark! Now!” a sound shouts commandingly before a woman encompassed in light crashes into the purple titan throwing him back. In the few moments after the order, Tony flew into action and disabled the gauntlet remotely allowing it to fall from Thanos’s hand and to wrap itself around the ready fist of Captain Marvel.

“Yeah, I don’t think so” she retorts with a head tilt and a cocky grin painted on her face. ‘Snap’ the battlefield is once again being covered in ash but it is Thanos’s army that is falling to dust with himself crumbling soon after. Being exposed to gamma radiation in space for years and receiving power from the space stone made her more resilient to the after effects of using the infinity stones. Painful as it was, she would recover.

Wanda on the other hand wasn’t sure she would recover herself. Not only had she lost Vision and her home, in what felt like a matter of fleeting moments, she lost the chance at avenging him by her own hands. ‘He’s gone, this will have to be good enough’ she finally relents to herself.

It was only after the battle had ended, when Bruce and Captain Marvel, she later learned, had been tended to that she found out the true price of  her, and the half the universe’s return. Natasha Romanoff had given her life in exchange for the soul stone, she gave her life so the world could be set right.

The icy cold Black Widow had held her at arms-length after Wanda had entered the older woman’s mind at Ultron’s behest. At the battle of Sokovia Wanda tried to remedy her mistake and prove herself but lost her first home and the life of her brother, Pietro, instead. Clint quickly took it upon himself to care for the young witch and urged Natasha to give Wanda a chance. He believed she already paid a heavy price for her mistake, she doesn’t need to be punished anymore.

With many gruelling training sessions under the watchful eye of the Black Widow, a tentative bond slowly grew, one of mentorship and then eventually friendship. Natasha grew to care for Wanda like a younger sister, although she would never out rightly admit of her fondness to the other Avengers. Wanda learnt to appreciate that the harshness delivered in Natasha’s training had served to keep Wanda alive, to give her the tools to protect herself from their dangerous job.

She had lost another loved one, Natasha on a planet and in a time she couldn’t reach, she needed to get one of them back. She approached the only man she knew that would have the unending finances to find Vision’s body. Although she still doesn’t trust Tony Stark, his hubris being the reason for her parents’ death and then his pride being the reason she was locked away in the Raft like an animal, she believed that his intentions were only ever good, even if his methods were questionable at best. He swore on his daughter’s life, much to the surprise of Wanda only having learnt of Morgan, that he would find Vision for her. She will try to trust him once more.

The compound needed to be rebuilt and Stark needed to build another time machine so that the stones could be returned to their original time, cutting off the branches, at least that’s what was explained to her.

//

It took no time at all, considering Stark’s wealth and that the world was also eternally grateful for the return of their loved ones, for the Avengers compound to be rebuilt. Surprisingly, especially to Stark, she continued to stay at the cabin whilst the new time machine was being built. She couldn’t possibly go back to the compound with both her love and her sister being gone.

“Please bring her back, I can’t lose anyone else. I don’t know what I’d do” she pleads with her arms around the super soldier. She pulls back from their embrace, tears threatening to fall.

“I’ll bring her back Wanda, whatever it takes” Steve promises with finality and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he steps into the portal.

Wanda stood there with bated breath, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself. She squeezes herself tightly as if holding back a terrible force and its impending explosion from within, should Steve fail. It isn’t until Bruce speaks that she tempts fate by opening her eyes, fixed on the platform once more.

“5…4…3…2…1. Ha! It worked!” he yelps, fisting the air with joy.

Wanda couldn’t believe the sight in front of her, Steve kept his word. Forest green eyes land on hazel green ones. She wasn’t too sure what happened, one moment she was standing and the next moment, she was crumpled on the floor sobbing. She finally let the tears free fall, allowing the anguish, loss and small reprieve to wash over her. ‘She came back, someone came back’ a mantra repeating itself in her mind begging to be believed.

With all the agility and grace attributed to the Widow, Natasha leapt out of Steve’s arms to engulf the younger woman in hers. As is always in the Avengers’ lives, the joy of a win is forever marred with sorrow at the cost of gaining it.

The compound having already been built, Wanda finally returned with Natasha by her side. The Avengers home was no longer filled with mirth as it once was, trauma, loss and exhaustion hangs heavy in the air. Clint had chosen to stay at the compound temporarily, with his family, to spend time with Wanda and Natasha. Tony and Rhodey chose to retire, Captain Marvel had long since returned to space but promised to visit when she was in the galaxy, Thor chose to leave the Avengers to join The Guardians in space and Vision was gone.

It was a week after Natasha’s return, a week at the compound that Wanda finally got the call she so desperately needed.

“Hey witchy, how are you liking the new digs?” Tony jokes. Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes as anger began bubbling beneath the surface.

“I am not in the mood for your jokes Stark” her thick Sokovian accent slipping past the cracks of her control.

Tony lets out a heavy sigh before responding. “OK kid, this isn’t a social call. I promised I’d find him but I don’t think you’re gonna like what I’m about to tell you” he tries carefully.

Her eyes are consumed with whirls of red while her hand holds the phone in a vice-like grip. “Where is he Stark?” she says through gritted teeth.

“I tried to get his body released to me this morning, but they refused. I could spend every dime I have and liquidate all my assets, they still won’t let him go claiming that he is government property since he signed the Accords.” frustration clear in his voice.

“I will get the best lawyers on the case but it will take time be…”

“Where” she interrupts with a bite in her tone.

“S.W.O.R.D”

//

After the events of meeting Hayward and seeing what he had done to Vision, Wanda knew she had two choices. She opted for the latter. She called Natasha as soon as she left S.W.O.R.D’s offices making her way back to her car.

“Wanda, what’s going on? You ran…” Before she could finish her questioning, she is interrupted by Wanda’s broken voice.

“S.W.O.R.D have Vision’s body and they wouldn’t let me take him home to bury him. They’re tearing him apart like an OBJECT! He gave his LIFE and they won’t even let what’s left of him find PEACE!” her anger is replaced by breaking sobs wracking through her body, ending her ability to speak any further.

“Come home now. Clint and I will fix it” She commands calmly and confidently.

Just as Wanda was the female assassin’s younger sister, she was also the archer’s daughter. No-one messes with the two deadly assassins’ family and escapes unscathed.

True to the Widow name, Natasha seduced and hacked her way into S.W.O.R.D’s data server and extracted details on questionable S.W.O.R.D activities including Hayward’s isolated server with files and data on his less than legal proclivities.

Clint, being true to his ethos, was crawling through S.W.O.R.D ventilation shafts, planting well placed audio and visual recording devices, courtesy of Stark himself.

With all the pieces at hand, Natasha only needed the perfect person for the execution. Her love for Wanda saw her doing the unimaginable for the first time. She asked for help.

“Maria, I need you to do something for me. I need you to get Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. Clint and I have all the data you’ll need to make it happen” her steady voice not betraying the pounding in her heart.

“Why would I get on S.W.O.R.D’S radar exactly?” Maria responds emotionlessly. She would have done it without question of course, but she can’t let Natasha know that. After all, she has a reputation to maintain.

“Because I will owe you a favour” Natasha retorts through clenched teeth. A pregnant pause fills the air before Maria responds.

“Send me everything you have and give me 48 hours” without another word, Maria ends the call and Natasha releases a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Maria, always a woman of her word, saw to it that 48 hours later Vision’s body was being returned to Wanda at the compound under S.H.I.E.L.D escort. Wanda may not have given her lover the death that he asked of her nor the vengeance that he was owed, but she could give him the burial that he deserved and the farewell she needed.

All the Avengers, including Rhodey, Tony and Thor, returned one last time to pay their respects, to honour their fallen ally and friend. Wanda laid to rest the love of her life and yet another piece of her heart.

//

“You know, you still aren’t as quiet as Nat” he teases taking a seat on the step beside her. “Penny for your thoughts?” he gently prods.

“Thinking about him” Wanda whispers, still unable to say Vision’s name since the funeral. “Thinking about what you, Nat and even Tony have done for me since”

He turns to look at the young woman and sees not only pain in her eyes, but a steady determination that wasn’t there before. He keeps quiet, allowing her to gather her thoughts without interruption.

“I think…no, I know I’m ready to go home Clint” she says with growing confidence. She finally turns to face the archer. She sees time, suffering and loss etched on his aging face but those are all muted by the brightness in his blue-grey eyes full of love and pride.

Wanda has survived the loss of her parents, her brother, her first home and her lover. She’s tired of surviving and she is finally ready to go home to start living.

“I’ll tell Nat so she can get a jet ready and prepared for you” and with that, they spend the last few moments together, sitting in silence and basking in the warm glow of the sunrise full of hope and gentle promises. 

Chapter Four

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Loving the Sun

Pairing: Sun God (Apollo) San and Reader

Group: Ateez

Word Count: 1,451

Genre/Rating: Greek God AU - Established Relationship AU - Forbidden Relationship - Fluff - Angst - Teeny tiny implications of smut - PG-13

Overview: He may have been immortal, but with you, there was just never enough time in the world.

Warning: Faintly implied mentions of losing a baby

A/N: Shout out to my sweetest @ezralia-writes​​ for putting up with my constant dumbass and helping me out when I need it, whether it’s to be a beta-reader, or me messaging her at 11 at night on how to describe men’s hair, or simply having a good simp session. You’re the best sweet pea and I hope you enjoy this - again - hun! *sending you all the flying smooches*

Tagging: @skyys-universe​ @kunrengui​

Main Master List:

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The blankets were warm as you shifted on the bed, lazily blinking your eyes open only to close them immediately afterwards, the sunlight streaming in through the window was much too bright this early in the morning. Rolling back over, you tried to open your eyes again, the sight of San’s bare chest coaxing you back to him as his body heat and faint remnants of his cologne from the night before made your mind foggy. With him lying next to you, and the silver chain of his sun necklace that reflected in the light, - that matched the one you wore - made it easy to forget about the outside world. At least, for right now.

Responsibilities? Gone the second his lips curled into his infamous smirk.

Deadlines? They vanished the moment his hands slipped into your back pockets; fingers always eager to grip what was forbidden to everyone but him.

Your name? Easily forgotten about when he kissed you. He’d settle his arms around your hips and carefully bring you closer until your bodies pressed together. Only then would he slide his hands up to your waist for a hug, breaking the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your shoulder because it had been so long since he last got to see you.

In the early morning light of dawn, the room looked like it was on fire, but a glance at his face had you thinking that he was being bathed in golden fairy dust. While awake he was beautiful. Asleep, he was ethereal. With cheek bones that the Gods and Goddesses were envious of, you gently reached a hand up to lightly trace its path, following the curve to his lips that even in his sleep, formed the slightest pout.

He suddenly inhaled, eyes blinking open just in time to see the tired smile that grew on your face.

“It’s early,” San murmured, his voice husky as he took your hand, his grip loose so that he was able to drop your arm around his waist. When he was satisfied, he slipped his left arm underneath his head and wrapped the other around your waist to drag you back to him, eliminating the space once more. San liked to feel you against him at all times, especially since he risked everything to take these chances to sneak his way back into your embrace.

You softly chuckled, feeling his fingers lazily stroke through the locks of your hair. “I know,” you whispered. “But I don’t want to lose any more time.”

There was a tired hum coming from him, lips tenderly pressing against your forehead before he laid his head back down on the pillow. The slightest shift from either of you and your heads would be bumping into the others, but done carefully, it was reminiscent of cats rubbing against each other.

“Don’t worry about time.”

“All I do is worry about time since we have so little of it,” you softly countered.

His black hair fell into his brown eyes and you reached up, brushing them away for him. He captured your hand then, bringing it closer for him to kiss your palm. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“The sun will rise whether or not I am there to guide it,” he promised.

Heat from his body appeared to transfer to you, spreading from every single spot where your bare bodies touched underneath the blankets that sat on your hips.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you whispered. “And you know it.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. Briefly, his gaze flicked towards the window behind you, the gauzy curtains doing nothing to stop the sunlight from filtering through the blinds that were opened at an angle. At most, he had maybe a few hours before the others woke and noticed his absence. He couldn’t let them find out that he was visiting you once more.

“I love you,” San murmured, setting his arm down to tap the back of your spine in a rhythmic pattern.

Your lips trembled despite pressing them together. Sliding a leg over his, you shook your head. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re apologizing.”

He was quiet. The room silent with the exception of the bed creaking with every shift made in order to get comfortable and closer. No matter how hard the two of you tried, there was always space and time trying to get in between you.

“Because for as long as I live, I will always be sorry for what they did.”

A chill blew across your face, and not surprisingly, the tears fell off your chin and onto the blankets. “You can’t apologize for your entire life for something you didn’t do.”

“Yes, I can. Our little one was meant to be here by now, I should have been here to protect the two of you but I wasn’t, and they took that away from us.” The corner of his mouth twitched. In the sunlight, you watched a stream of tears slide down his cheeks. “All because I fell in love with a human and as punishment, they took away what we both treasured.”

Out of instinct you lifted a hand to cup his cheek as you both leaned your foreheads together; the memory of a night not so long ago was still raw, the sting not yet having gone away. It was punishment for a crime that all the Gods committed, but yet, San was the only one to live with the consequences of his actions. That had been the first day in eons that the sun – having only been bright and full of warmth minutes prior – turned black as night and painful to gaze upon with the naked eye in mere seconds. There wasn’t much from that day that you recalled, the majority of it had faded away as a result of the events, but you remembered a looming figure with lightning flashing in his eyes, and the piercing screams. Whether they were yours, San’s, or a combination of both, you weren’t entirely sure.

What you were certain of, was that the man you loved had been taken away from you, and the child you carried, who had called its home inside of you for the last six months and you fondly teased for making it impossible to fit into your old jeans. It was that little one who had San crouching in front of your belly to sing the sweetest lullabies, who was suddenly gone, like they had never been there to begin with.

You had thought it was all a dream. Months had passed and you were starting to believe that it had been all a figment of your imagination. That you weren’t possibly pregnant or had met a man who wasn’t supposed to exist, but when you had been sitting at the park bench and the sun kissed the earth goodnight, he appeared. Kneeling in front of you with a cut on his cheek that hadn’t been there before, his clothes dirty with soot and the edges singed as if he had been reckless and gotten too close to a fire.

Kissing him, you slipped your hand through his hair as the tears mingled together. He rolled you over on your back, his body blocking out the sunlight as he slapped a hand on the blinds to close them. You could taste his please forgive me in his kisses, knowing that he would never be able to forgive himself for what happened that day. As you kissed him back, beads of sweat began to build up along your temple when he sat down on the bed and brought you onto his lap, his arms tightening around you even though you were already clinging to his shoulders.

Even as he loved you, his arms held you in a tight embrace, his breath and tears intermingling with yours with every desperate, but loving kiss. San was afraid. Fearful that like the little one, you too, would be ripped away from him.

It had never been easy, and it certainly wouldn’t be in the future. There were lonely nights when he couldn’t sneak away, whispers from jealous Goddesses trying to dissuade you from his advances, to having to keep the love you shared a secret. Even the heartache of losing him and the little one. But you’d go through it all over again. You had known that to love a God – a sun God nonetheless – was going to hurt.

As much as it hurt, loving him was worth the pain and even more. To live without the sun after all, was to die a cold and painful death.

[subwalls]

i simply think a sensory deprivation curse on c!dream would be like. hm.

raising a world seed into a full-blown server requires some negotiation. it’s not hard, because the universe loves each and every player that exists, but the voices are pickier about it, so it’s still a process.

dream is very good at it. he has to be, to spawn so many little worlds for manhunts and the like. this time, though, he’s asking for a lot more than he normally does: every natural feature the universe has to give, enough room for those he loves, every barrier to keep out those he does not, and enough power to administer justice as he sees fit.

the universe sings in eager delight. the voices twist closer, curious but skeptical. the starlit glimmer of their speech curls around him, staying just clear of the wishing seed he cradles between his hands.

now, hold on. the structures you seek are many. whose eyes will it be to appreciate them, even if they lie at the edges of the world, even if their gifts are not worth the trek taken?

mine, the player says.

the vast space you seek is heavy. whose shoulders will it be to hold the weight of it, when the world becomes too burdened to sustain its own place in the universe?

mine, the player says.

the protection you seek is unyielding. whose hand will it be to carve every permitted callsign into its most protected chambers, to tame the roaring blaze of its defense so that some may pass unharmed?

mine, the player says.

the power you seek is heady. whose body will it be to anchor the soul that must bear that responsibility, which will cave to the rebellion of the world against the will of its soul, if it must?

mine, the player says.

there is silence as the voices contemplate this. they drift away and draw near again, intelligible static moaning quietly from their unseen throats as they discuss amongst themselves. and then, at last, one addresses him again.

this is much to put on you and only you. but you have accepted this. do not forget.

you make this for the joy and laughter of your friends—this is easy to see, young dreamer. do not forget.

a server world is a world that serves. it will serve your friends. we will not tolerate anything less.

we will not tolerate oathbreaking. the world will not tolerate abuse.

you are its vassal.

you are its to punish.

dream says, i understand.

and the universe says, i love you, and the seed cupped in his palms pulses gently, and then fiercely, boldly, life blooming under the sworn promise of someone who will tend to it, and—all at once, the void is forced back. land shudders into existence in a rushing wave that reaches far and wide, and the core of it purrs to life into dream’s heart.

the wind whistles along the plains, laughing through the trees and their countless leaves. lakes lap gently at their shores at the base of mountains that stretch up to the sky, high and waiting.

and dream has his server. he inhales the sweet air and runs his fingers along the grass, curling his fingers along the soft petal of a flower and feels nothing but love and anticipation for what the server is and what it might become.

he lifts a hand and the protective borders of the world roar to him, walls of flame rushing past his senses before a shimmering white list coalesces before him. it is empty until he carves a few callsigns into it. just three, for now, but there is room for many more.

his friends arrive, after that. they play, and they relish, and they ask for more. who is dream to deny them, in a world meant to be theirs? he carves more names into the list. they arrive, they play, they ask. he carves more still, and then more, and more.

there is as much room as dream needs.

they skirmish and play-fight. it’s an easy thing, running rings around each other while shrieking for mercy or blood, building ugly things of wood and faith and cobblestone and friendship, playing pretend without a care in the world.

at least, it was easy, up until—

wilbur soot says, “this is a different server, independent of dream smp.” 

wilbur soot says, “you and yours are forbidden from stepping foot here.”

wilbur soot says, “this is l’manburg, and this is mine, and we will stand our ground.”

wilbur soot, whose father is the winged angel of death, who could nearly call the blood god his own family, whose bloodline is so entrenched in the dealings of voids and voices that he must know what dream had to do to turn a world seed into a haven of a server, this wilbur soot is the one who meets dream’s mask with a wide grin and an open taunt, daring him. mocking him.

and dream, remembering the responsibility he swore to take on as his own and no other’s, the word mine in echo through his soul, says, “no.”

and they war.

(you know this story.)

but it’s odd. it’s odd because after dream’s arrow sinks into tommy’s heart and dashes his soul against the rocks, he tastes ash in the back of his throat. it does not go away when he rinses his mouth out in the clear rivers of his land, nor when he gulps down a bucket of milk, nor when he bites into the cake his allies make to celebrate their victory.

the pastry melts on his tongue with what must be copious amounts of sugar, but he cannot tell that it is meant to be sweet.

dream tastes nothing but ash.

he laughs past it. there is an inkling of fear in his gut, but compared to the rib-shaking thunder of his heart when he’s low on health on a manhunt, it is easy enough to overlook. especially when tommy comes to him.

tommy offers a trade and dream is intrigued enough to accept. he figures that if tommy was willing to give up his most treasured items for this, for what is little more than a name and an toothless claim, then maybe this nation deserves a... chance.

in name, at least. not true independence—no more than a flower can be independent of the land it is rooted in—but there is no need to overreach his control when he’s already proven that they cannot do anything to him and his.

he lets them play. that’s what this server is for, in the end.

(the end. that should’ve been the end, but it’s not.)

not long passes before the fake nation festering like an unwelcome cancerous growth on dream’s land suddenly wants to make itself realer than before. it turns words to action with an election that goes sideways at its peak and buckles under itself. by the close of the day, its new leader has driven out its founding members, lighting the fuse to its own destruction.

dream, overlooking the chaos of it all, sighs.

this nation will never be anything more than a mistake, it seems. whether it is l’manburg or manburg does not matter; it binds its population by excluding something else, and thus by definition is a sin against a world made to be shared.

in the aftermath, dream curls a little tighter around his family, but it’s too late. the first crack has already been made and everyone is all the more fragile for it.

when a few more decide to take leave of the heartland, they do not tell dream. he finds out by the empty houses and unfamiliar flags, and he...

they...

... it’s fine. they did not like the fighting, is all. of course they would rebrand and skirt the violence.

it does not mean abandonment, surely.

dream does not raise his sword against his inner circle, no matter where they place their allegiances. he instead focuses on the one he’s certain is rotten to the core, and he’ll sing l’manburg’s praises if it means that piece of land will finally stop inciting war after war after war.

“its name is l’manburg, not manburg,” he says in the dark ravine of pogtopia, and wilbur cheers and tommy raises a brow and dream feels sick to his stomach.

tommy mumbles something about carbon monoxide poisoning and complains about the smoke from all the torches and campfires and lanterns they use to light up the place. wilbur rebukes that they cannot ventilate the smoke without giving themselves away, and so they bicker, but it occurs to dream that he hadn’t noticed the difference.

the stale smoke-tinged air smells the same as the fresh winds outside.

he’s handed a baked potato as he leaves. he holds it to his face for a beat before tentatively biting into it.

ash. dust.

the lack of taste, he’s grown used to. but his sense of smell is gone now as well, and that inkling of fear strengthens.

he remembers what he promised to the voices. his body will cave to the rebellion of the world, should he stray from its intended purpose. but he has yet to break an oath or abuse his powers. he doesn’t understand.

is it the side he’s on?

if the server vies for him to join manburg, then of course he will flip sides for it. of course he does. he even conspires behind their backs, ensuring that if pogtopia wins l’manburg still does not win.

he was right to, because the day of reckoning comes with the failure of manburg’s leader.

he was wrong to, because dream’s fingers go numb on the handle of his axe when he brings it down on his rival’s shield, and the feeling never returns. something in his chest sours with frustration.

(something cracks, deep inside, ripping apart hairline fractures into something more serious, more troubling. his soul quakes. the universe wails, but nobody has touched the server’s End by law decree, and the void goes unseen.)

dream rips off his helmet and lets time run out the invisibility running through his veins. he yields to pogtopia’s glaring victory with ease, because it was never the nation he fought for but his responsibility to the land it sat on.

and because he still wins, in the end. the ground ruptures as a blast consumes the remnants of manburg, and yet even then dream is the last to move away from it.

he knew it was coming, but reacted last, and not only that but overbalances along the way. he nearly tips sapnap into line of fire when he meant to pull him free from it.

they laugh it off later, but. sapnap looks over his shoulder more often. dream does not meet his gaze, instead contemplating the ground and how he did not feel the rumble of the earth before it blew.

he needs to sort this out. so he goes to find an open field.

he spends hours and then days in that field, figuring out how much he needs to pull back a bow to loose it swiftly. how tightly does he need to hold a weapon before he cracks its hilt? how roughly can he handle his own armor before the thorns bite back at him?

(elsewhere, an entity realizes it can touch, and it does. it uses that touch to kill those who kill on its sacred lands. the rules of the world must be followed. it does not know anything else.)

later still, a mushroom house burns.

dream looks to the smoldering remains with something tight and knotted and insufficient between his ribs, and then he looks to george, upset by the loss but upset more by dream taking back his crown, and he says, “it’s to keep you safe.”

his words leave his mouth, and the world falls silent.

dream blinks.

it’s not silent. he knows this because he can still feel the flames that should be crackling behind them, because george’s jaw is moving, because sapnap is nodding in agreement.

but they are silent. the world is silent.

no, the world is not silent. the world louder than it has ever been in its rebellion and his body is caving to it as he promised it would, and dream—dream does not falter, despite the sudden knowledge that the server he raised loathes every step he takes. he does not stammer.

he repeats the words he cannot hear but knows have left his lips, turns, and leaves.

he does not look back. he does not know that sapnap is calling after him, that george pauses mid-turn, that among the vitriol thrown at his back there is also a worry and a question. but there is no way for him to know, not with the server itself in uproar, devastatingly loud in the utter silence it inflicts on him.

fear claws up his lungs and he breaks from a walk to a jog to an outright run, and he runs and keeps running past all the structures he knows and built until it just forest and land and silence. safe, far, and alone, he digs his hands into the grassy dirt and says is this not what you wanted? is this not what i swore to do?

why do you hate me?

selfish, his precious world accuses. it is not a sound because there is no sound he can hear, but it is a hiss in his marrow, a keening in his soul. selfish, selfish. you leap for control you oughtn’t take and will burn them for it.

they burned me first.

did they? what did they do but till the fertile land? speak. speak. what did they do but flourish as you bid them to, wished them to?

they took from me and would not return it and struck back when i came to them. you are mine. i raised you.

and did you not freely give? is that not the purpose this world serves? do not forget. do not forget. do not forget.

dream does not so much pull back from the foundations of the world so much as it throws him out with teeth bared in warning and talons pressing down over his ribs, the ever-fragile beat of his heart cowed in its cage. it is a thought rather than a feeling, thankfully; just as it is the force of an arrow nearly knocking him down that makes him aware of the two others sticking out from his shoulders, once he lifted his arm to see what it was that had bumped into him.

his blood trickles down his arms as he yanks out the arrows, unfeeling.

fine, he thinks.

and dream, creator and administrator and player who cares too much and brought too much on his own shoulders, takes the injured confused uncomprehending thing so soft in the back of his mind, and puts it out.

enough is enough. his world is his server is his, and it will be brought to heel. even if it does not want him, and he does not want it, it is his to raise or raze and he will not have this haven ruined at the hands of the clumsy and unknowing.

who do you love, he asks it bitterly, yanking a netherite axe out of the air.

all of you.

who do you love, he asks again, and this time he finds his own answer in the way the events churn around one person, one survivor, one person who moves the server with a word and turns it against itself with another and leads every storm that rages: tommy.

all of you.

if you will not be mine, he says, then you will be no one’s. and he knows that this is a dangerous line to walk, and he has seen wilbur walk it to its bloody, deadly end, but he has right where wilbur had only words and songs. dream made this server for a reason and he will not give that up.

so he walks back.

he walks back, and he thinks, sourly, that maybe this is a blessing. the world takes his senses but he is stronger without them, really. who has need of taste or smell on a battleground? he can fight better like this, unfeeling, unburdened by pain.

it is easier to talk over their protests when he cannot hear them to begin with.

“exile tommy,” he tells tubbo, carefully shaping the words on his tongue, “and i will forgive you.”

and tubbo sputters and tommy rages and the world claws at him from the inside out, no, no, why are you doing this, this is not what was wanted.

he is calm, because their words pass over him without ever reaching.

he is calm, because they’re running out of time, and they will agree to him or die failing to. night is coming; shadows fall over them.

and then:

—nothing.

(nothing?)

nothing.

dream blinks. the void stares back at him, unblinking, stars aswirl and dancing, and just as he realizes that maybe night hadn’t come and maybe the void is not rising around him and maybe it’s just that his last sense is failing and maybe the world has rejected him for the last time and maybe everything he swore to do thinks he’s broken them and—

the silence breaks.

why why why why did you break what you swore was yours to uphold why did you lie why do you hurt and abuse and break. you were warned. you were told.

i didn’t.

you did. a server serves and you got in the way. do you not do this for your friends. why give them a beach to build on if you’re only going to punish them for using what they have. why. why why why.

... ,,uhhh honestly i don’t. know where this would go from here but because dream gets stopped early he still gets a chance to be better. the exile arc doesnt happen because dream just like collapses mid-negotiations lmao and even tommy feels kinda weird about stabbing him while he’s unresponsive. but i think i would like for the conclusion to be something like—

the universe says, i love you.

the world says, i love you more.

but it’s the the players holding him to their chests, hearts thumping in syncopation, tugging him from the brink of an edge that might have killed his love in a month’s time, who say, “i love you most. come back to us. come back.”

[occult-castiel]

A thread with no end

Cool metal lighter in hand, he finally takes a glance at the reason for all of this. 

It's small, swallowed whole by the thick yellow clothes Sam has it in. It yawns, puppy-like, and fixes his wide eyes on Dean.

Blue. Big and impossibly blue. Its shades too light, closer to ice than ocean, but it pulls something loose in him. It's — it's almost like —

When Jack is born, he doesn't come out fully grown.

[Part One]

[Ao3]

Chapter 2

When the sharp edges of adrenaline settle, the last couple of days are a blur to think about. The absence of it is always its own kind of tired — aches become apparent again. His temples sting. All thoughts are filtered through sludge. His stomach gurgles out loud groans. The reminder is a desperate attempt to make bodily functions matter again, but the desire for food is numb. If anything it makes him sick.

He shakes his head, uses his free hand to blanket his face, pinch the bridge. Trapped under the rough pressure, his tear ducts throb. But it’s all right. It’s fine.

Fucking peachy. 

Sloppy and mechanical, as Dean pulls the two of them off the ground. He doesn't look at the embers. The ash. His joins cry against all movement, each jagged step a chore. What should be solid ground slips loose under his boots. He has to catch himself with each half-stumble towards the house. Little snivels turn to full body whines, and Dean doesn't blame the kid. It can't be fun to get jerked around by some idiot that forgot how to walk right. 

The door juts open with a creak, and whatever course of action he might've tried to take vanishes. 

Unfiltered sunlight glimmers in through the curtainless window. Dust particles dance in yellow above the table where it's — it’s just empty now. His last pitstop. The last place Dean would ever get to look. To touch. Legs on autopilot, he trudges over. 

Light glistens off the table's glossy finish. Glints against the discarded keyring Sam somehow remembered to salvage. Carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers over the cool surface, and dread sits like a rock in his stomach. It was warm, right after. But the air has long since leeched any heat Cas left behind. 

Throat tense, he cups the keyring under his palm. Tightens his fist around it until the metal digs in and his arm trembles. 

It's not fair. None of this is fair. They used to have more allies. Friends. Something they could fall back on after so long of having nothing, but none of it even lasts. Like the universe has decided The Sam and Dean Adventure just ain't multiplayer. 

"Dean?" 

He shoves the keys in his pocket. "Yeah. Down here." 

Sam clunks down the steps and gives Dean a tight smile. Grey bags under his eyes highlight the bloodshot tendrils. His whole body slumped in on itself, the exhaustion of the last however-the-fuck long hitting him like a brick. Maybe he looks that bad too. 

Over one shoulder Sam has the world's largest baby bag — lime green and burgeoning with diapers. The zippers stuck halfway around. It thunks when it hits the floor, and Sam shakes a bottle. "Made some formula. There's an extra in the side pocket." 

"Thanks." Dean takes it. "Gonna have to toss the other one. Stuff can only sit out an hour." 

Sam doesn't say anything to that, just scrapes a chair to the table, plops down, and buries his face in his hands. That's okay. Silence suits Dean just fine. 

He repositions the baby in his arms, cradles the head against his shoulder so he's more upright. The kid latches on to the plastic nipple with ease. 

The last time he fee a baby was a lifetime ago in some stranger’s home, babysitting with an ex-angel post attempted-murder. He and Cas had straightened out his not-dates house, and the baby started fussing. The bottle was already made. He didn’t think about it when he started feeding the kid. When Cas saw him, he gave Dean a pleased smile and said you're good at this. 

It jolted his pulse. Compliments had a way of hitting him funny, but right then? In the low light of a picture-perfect suburban home? Right from the very human Cas who has sex and goes on dates and looks at Dean like he’s worth something? 

Neck warm and mind blank, he offered to help Cas do it right without thinking. 

And it was good, the light touches, soft adjustments that weren't necessary. But Cas never dressed down that much, so it was better than good. Dean spent the whole time thinking about how thin his cotton shirt was. Cas was smaller without the layers, and the warmth of him unfiltered. He tried to peel his hands away, but it was like he couldn't stop. Angel or mud-monkey, Cas felt strong and whole. 

The comfort of the words stuck with him for days. The feel of Cas underneath him never left. 

God, he should be here now. 

The baby’s pudgy face grimaces, and Dean moves the bottle back until it evens out again. 

"We need to figure out what we're doing." Sam's palms muffle his voice. 

"We're going home. Welcome to the joys of parenthood. Here’s to hoping it doesn't kill us during puberty." 

"It has a name." Sam drops his arms to his sides. "Jack. Kelly made videos on her laptop for him." 

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well ain't that just lovely?" 

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean."  

He's two steps away from being the spitting image of some scandalized Victorian chick, and it crawls under Dean's skin. 

"What? Jack here is the son of Satan, Sam. Fucking pardon me for not caring about mommy’s little home videos," Dean says. The baby — Jack, whatever — whimpers. Body tense, Dean slowly slides the bottle from his mouth. 

"He's a baby, not a monster. And I'm just saying we don't have to — to tuck our tails and go home." 

White spit-like liquid dribbles from Jack's mouth. Dean sighs. 

"Fan-freakin'-tastic. I forgot babies did this crap." Dean sighs, storms over to the table, and places the bottle down with a hard clank. "I'm not seeing an array of options here. We can't exactly put a Nephilim up for adoption. Or hire a babysitter." Carefully, he brushes off Jack's mouth with the color of his onesie. It’s probably the cleanest thing they have to do it with.

"There's Mom. If the portal was opened once, there's gotta be a way to do it again. Maybe the Book of the Damned, or the Demon Tablet..." Sam perks up. "We could try and get Donatello to help —” 

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." Dean lays Jack flat against his shoulder and pats his back. "First of all, you really want a soulless dude and Lucifer's kid bumping shoulders? Don't think they could be, I dunno, a bad influence on each other?" Jack releases a puff of air and Dean adjusts him back down. He levels a hard stare at Sam. "Second of all: Moms dead. Nothings gonna help that." 

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "You don't know that." 

Buzzing vibrates from Dean's pocket. He yanks it from his pocket for it. "Pretty sure I do. Lucifer ganked her the minute the portal closed." 

"You can't —" 

Unknown. He sends the asshole to voicemail. 

Sam shakes his head. Sighs. "Whatever. Who was that?" 

"Not Donatello." Well, it could've been. But whatever. He grabs the baby bag, then slings the lime green wrecking ball of a bag over his shoulder. "You've got Baby's keys. I'm taking the truck." 

The coach squeaks. Before Dean can make it out the door, Sam grabs the strap. The force yanks him in place. Dean swivels around and glares. Sam drops his hand and gives Dean a weary look. 

"Can we just talk about this?" 

Dean swivels around. "I don't know what you want from me. Crowley's dead. Kelly's dead. Cas is —" Pain pangs his chest, a little twinge that sends pin-pricks through his torso, down his arms. His eyes dart away and land on the table. The discarded, half-finished bottle sits just outside of the sunlight’s path. "Mom’s gone. We even lost Rowena. So I'm gonna take the kid, find a motel the next state over, and put up whatever sigils I can to let the dick brigade know they aren't welcome. Rinse and repeat until we’re back home." 

Sam scoffs, but whatever energy he had left is burned out. "Whatever. We'll talk later." 

"Unlikely." 

By the time Dean walks over to the table and grabs the bottle, Sam's halfway up the stairs. 

Dean pushes past Sam and grabs the bottle. By the time he walks through the door, Sam's halfway up the stairs. 

Ash has blown around the yard, smeared it in grey. Eyes downcast, pointedly away from the remnants, he beeline for the truck. Wind whistles by and smears ash across the lawn. Dean stares at the mustard-colored wet spots on Jack's clothes instead. 

Cars are like a testament to the owner. The truck is immaculate. The burgundy shines — there’s not a spec of dirt marring the strips of pearl-white. 

Dean doesn't bat an eye at the car seat. It’s green. Of course it’s green. His breath doesn't catch at the stupid cartoon bee sticker smiling at him on the car seat’s side.  And he doesn't think about Cas. 

Not him stumbling through a Walmart visit to buy the thing. God, he bets the nerdy little guy compared brands, sifted through online reviews in the middle of the aisle. He doesn’t picture how pleased Cas must've been at finding a pack of sticks, of all things. How the rest of them are most likely sitting in the glovebox. How it was probably the last enjoyable moment he had. Dean doesn't think — he doesn't. Merely shrugs the baby bag off onto the floorboard, buckles Jack in, and clicks the door closed. 

Sweat slick forehead pressed against the doorframe, Dean squeezes his eyes shut. 

The last conversation he had with Cas is a blur. An actual conversation, not stress-filled bickering over the newest pile of shit dumped on their doorstep. 

Dean tries to swallow, but the motion stops halfway through, and there’s nothing there to force down. 

The last movie night he'd managed to drag Cas into was over a month ago. It might’ve been the last time where either of them were reasonably happy. The last time his lips would tilt up in that small way that knots Dean's stomach. It isn’t fair. It's all wrong, and there’s no way to fix it. No magic is strong enough to bring an angel back, The only witch that could’ve tried is dead too. And any power Heaven could spare wouldn’t be used to help him. There’s only one shot to take, and it's the same useless one everyone’s thought of trying at some point. 

Dean grabs the side of the truck bed and turns his head towards the sky. He sighs. Here goes nothing. "Okay, Chuck. Or God, whatever. We need your help. You said — you said the world would be fine with us. It isn't. We've lost everything." 

He takes a deep breath, rocks his head to the ground. "You left. And I've never asked you for anything. Never begged. But now you're gonna bring him back. Cas. Mom. Hell, even Crowley." His hand tightens. "You owe us, you son of a bitch." 

"Please." It's begging. He knows it is and doesn't care. He’d beg for weeks straight if it wasn’t useless. "Please help us." 

A beat passes. Nothing happens. He didn’t expect it to work. God's never really gave a shit before, has he? 

It's fine. All fine. 

Jack cries when Dean slams the door. He strangles the steering wheel between his hands, hands that itch to inflict. Hit. Destroy. Sure as fuck not to nurture, not to quell the newborn screams, because Cas was wrong. Dean isn’t good at this.

A handful of deep breaths later, he leans down and fishes out a pink pacifier from the bag. Jack latches onto it, his pudgy face relaxed. Blue eyes float up to Dean. Innocent, full. It stings, and Dean turns away before his body uses whatever scraps of water it has left to make him cry again. 

When he brings the engine to life, Zeppelin creeps through the speakers, one track after the next in an order he memorized long before Cas got the chance. 

He plays it front to back on repeat until hunger and exhaustion win out, and he finds a motel.

[emperorsfoot]

I started watching the 2002 He-Man series recently. I never watched it back when it was still a thing in the early 2000s because 1) I don’t know it existed, and 2) I wasn’t really into the Masters of the Universe fandom at that time anyway so I had no reason to seek it out. So, these takes are coming at you from someone with no prior knowledge of the show and no emotional investment in the world or characters save for what I have already learned off the Grayskull wiki before watching (and what I have learned through ‘pop-culture osmosis’ here on Tumblr). 

There is one episode in particular that kinda bothers me. 

Season 1, Episode 15

The Mystery of Anwat Gar

The episode begins with Sorceress have a prophetic dream about Skeletor gaining new and formidable power from the ancient and mysterious island of Anwat Gar. Which was once home to the (now almost extinct*) Gar race. 

This is pretty average for Masters of the Universe cartoons as almost all MotU cartoons are made to sell toys. Unsurprisingly, the climactic fight of the episode features both He-Man and Skeletor getting gimmicky new armor which I’m sure Mattel happily turned a profit on. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Back to the summary. 

Hearing Sorceress’ prophecy, He-Man and Man-at-Arms rush off to Anwat Gar to stop Skeletor from gaining this fearsome power. 

While there, they are confronted by multiple traps which they must, thwart, escape, or overcome in order to get to their goal. Most of their strategies for getting out of these traps seem to be breaking or outright destroying them.

Finally, they get to the center of the island in which there is a large temple modeled after Japanese architecture (which provides a flimsy excuse for Mattel modeling their gimmicky new toys after samurai armor). There, they meet the guardian of the power, our newest action figure available at a store near you! 

Sy-Klone

Tell your parents to buy him now, kids! 

Anyway, Sy-Klone explains that the power He-Man and Man-at-Arms are seeking is sacred to his people and that he cannot let outsiders desecrate the temple and loot it. He-Man tries to reason with Sy-Klone and explain that they don’t want to steal it, they just want to take it back to Eternos with them to keep it away from Skeletor. (Ya know, cause that’s not “stealing” at all.)

There’s the obligatory fight to show off Sy-Klone’s action figure features. This show was made to sell toys, they have to.

At some point while Sy-Klone and He-Man are fighting, Skeletor has already managed to get inside the temple and steal the power for himself. There’s the traditional gloating in front of his enemies before Skeletor uses it to do a magical girl transformation that gives him to fetishized sci-fi samurai armor pictured above. 

Skeletor cackles evilly and then exits stage left, vowing to use his now power armor to destroy Castle Grayskull and claim it’s power for his own, blah, blah, blah. Standard villain shpiel. 

He-Man then goes and grabs the second set of overtly culture-coded armor for himself and goes to fight Skeletor. 

They fight. 

He-Man wins. 

Skeletor escapes. 

There’s not much else to be said about that. It’s pretty standard fair for a shallow children’s cartoon who’s purpose is not to tell a story but just to sell merchandise. You really can’t expect much. 

He-Man returns to the temple with both sets of armor. 

Now, one would think this is the part where the “hero” returns these very significant cultural artifacts to their rightful place in the temple under the custodianship of the guardian who is a member of the culture these artifacts are from. This is a kid’s show and -presumably- is also meant to tell some sort of moral to each episode beyond just “buy our toys”. 

But no. 

Instead of giving them back, He-Man fucking obliterates them. 

Right in front of the guardian who’s life’s mission was to protect them. 

Sy-Klone tries to stop him, but is thrown back by the force of He-Man’s power and can do nothing but look on in horror as these sacred artifacts of his dying culture are reduced to nothing but dust. 

And I’m not exaggerating. 

I mean -literal- dust.

Watching that, I 100% expected Sy-Klone to become an enemy. Really, and truly. I would have become He-Man’s enemy if I watched him destroy something significant and sacred to my culture. And I’m pretty casual about my cultural identity. But Sy-Klone devoted his entire life to preserving and protecting these items. So, as pissed as I would be, he’s gotta be that times 1000, right?

Wrong. 

After the artifacts are destroyed, Sy-Klone doesn’t even bat an eyelash. 

He’s just like, “My life’s purpose is gone? Oh, well. Guess I’ll just go die now.”

(This being a Japanese-coded society, I can only assume he was going to commit the Gar equivalent of seppuku.)

But He-Man stops him and is all like, “Listen, I know I just destroyed one of the last remnants of your dying culture and made you watch while I did it, but how about you come join my crew.”

And that’s what Sy-Klone does. 

The End

And, like the original He-Man show from the 80s, and the New Adventures of He-Man show from the later-80s, this one had a “moral” at the end of the episode. 

The “moral” of the episode was this:

“Doing your duty is important, but there's more to it than just following orders. The most important duty of all, is to do what’s right. Until next time!”

But like... what the fuck was “right” in that episode? How the hell are we, the viewer supposed to know what “the right thing” was. 

We just watched our hero... 

break into a sacred site

demolish ancient buildings and statues from an already vanishing culture

and outright destroy artifacts of particular cultural significance while a native of that culture looked on and begged him not to

Like, what the fuck, He-Man!?

I thought He-Man was supposed to be the good guy. But, I really don’t think there were any “good guys” in this episode and I cannot fathom what the writers were thinking when they drafted this episode or what the producers were thinking when they pushed it through production. 

I just-

This episode really, really bothered me and I had to vent about it. 

--

* Gar being nearly extinct is not mentioned outright in the show, but it is implied since the island is a ruin, and on the Grayskull wiki and the Classics line of the toys outright call the Gar a “rare race”.

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Fight Of Our Lives (one-shot)

Summary: Thanos might have succeeded, and not only erased half the universe, but hope in general. But humans are stubborn little bitches. And so are the Avengers. No matter if dead or not, the fight of their lives is coming and nothing will stop them from righting the wrong. (AKA this is me trying to cope with Endgame.) 

Pairing: Peter Parker x f!Reader 

but is very much so Avengers x f!Reader; Platonic!Steve x f!Reader; Dad!Tony x f!Reader; Platonic!Loki x f!Reader as well

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, swearing, injuries

Word count: 10074 (THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN, HOLY SHIT!!! STRAP IN< GUYS)

       When the snap happened, everyone was in a state of shock. Even Thanos himself didn’t necessarily understand he had succeeded, glazed eyes watching the gauntlet and his surroundings. Only when Thor backed away did he realize his goal was accomplished, so he used the Space Stone to disappear in an instant.        Y/N’s head turned to the side, eyes on Steve clutching his abdomen and looking at Thor with inexplicable fear. “Where’d he go? Thor… where’d he go?        “Steve?” Bucky’s voice cut through the buzzing in her head, but maybe she shouldn’t have glanced at the other super soldier. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned to ash and been swept away by the winds.       People all around her either felt their hearts drop to the soles of their feet or their bodies disintegrated, and when numbness spread through Y/N’s toes, she knew what was going to happen.        “Steve.” His attention was immediately on her.        “Oh, no, not you too,” the Captain was already rushing to her side, but his hands wrapped around a non-existent middle.        “Tell my dad, I’m sorry.”        Steve was left with nothing but an empty feeling in his stomach and an even emptier field. “Oh, God.”        They had lost.

***

       Steve had always been a good leader. He was Captain America, the man with the plan, always ready to jump into action and give out orders while following his own like the good soldier he was, but for the first time since he could remember himself, he didn’t know what to do. The reflection staring back at him as the remnants of his beard were washed away down the drain was unfamiliar.        This was a man completely lost, let alone out of his time. What was worse, he didn’t know where Tony was. If he was alive. The thought gnawed at him, eating at his brain day and night for almost a month now.        He sighed deeply, letting the air enter his lungs, holding it for a second before exhaling. With a clank against the sink, he let the razor fall out of his hands. Taking the towel that was on the counter, he observed his own features in the mirror.    Steve was more than a hundred years old, yet he looked barely thirty, and despite how tired he was, mentally and physically, his counterpart looked ready to fight, if not for the exhausted look in his eyes… the eyes that were shaking.        Steve’s brow furrowed when he saw the smaller mirror to his left start moving as well. A hand went to steady it, but then his razor rattled and fell into the sink, as the whole building started to tremble.        Nat, Rhodey and Pepper were already rushing outside when he joined the three. What he saw in the courtyard made his knees almost buckle from relief. He didn’t care about the strange glowing woman that placed a space ship on the grass, he didn’t care about Rocket moving forward with them. All he cared about was getting to the two people stepping down from the stairs.        When Steve’s arms wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, he could feel just how much skinnier the genius was, how malnourished and dehydrated he must be, but all that was a secondary thought to the one blaring in his mind – Tony was alive and on Earth.        “I couldn’t stop him,” were his first words to Steve, voice laced with pain and guilt.        Steve’s eyes dropped to the ground before flitting back up. He realized what he would have to inform him of, and he wished Thanos’s snap had also taken him. “Neither could I.”        “I-“ Tony started, unable to find the words before gulping and getting them out, solidifying them as truth. “I lost the kid.”        Fuck.        “Tony, we lost.”        We lost so much…        “Is umm,” he struggled for a second, not wanting to ask, terrified of the answer, but he didn’t even have to. Pepper was right there pulling him in her embrace, a choked back ‘oh my God’ escaping her before both hid their faces in the crook of their loved one’s neck.        “It’s okay,” Tony muttered, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of her collarbone. If only for a second, it was okay.        He slowly limped back inside the compound, heavily resting against Pepper and Steve for support.        Everything was pretty much the same way he’d left it in Rohdey’s care as he and Pep had gone to New York on a business trip before the whole Thanos showdown happened. Apart from the giant hologram pulling up each and every face of the people that had been dusted or were unaccounted for. With every word that Nat explained what was happening Tony felt more and more hollow. Until Peter’s face went up in the air. That took the last breath out of Iron man.        “Where is he now?” he asked, rubbing at his goatee referring to Thanos, “where?”        “We don’t know,” came Steve’s solemn response.        “He just,” Rhodey shook his head, “opened a portal and walked through.”        It was a lot to process. The same way he had disappeared from Titan with the Time Stone on the gauntlet was the same way he’d vanished from Earth after completing his insane task. As he looked behind him to where Thor was sulking, it turned out the god had had a chance at taking Thanos out. But revenge came with a cost.        When Steve said Tony had fought the Mad Titan it seemed like the most ridiculous thing ever.        “Who told you that? I didn’t fight him,” Tony pointed at himself. “No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the Stone. That’s what happened. There was no fight.”        The cruellest thing was that they’d almost had the glove, but in the blink of an eye, it was lost once more. All that effort, and here they were – broken and beaten to a pulp.        But Steve didn’t seem to give up. “Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”        Even in Tony’s nightmares, it was never this bad. He surveyed the room, the people he used to call family now with gaps in it, his new acquired Blue Meanie friend and the stranger that had saved them from aimlessly floating through space, but then it hit him.        “Where’s Y/N?”        Nobody dared to meet his gaze, but when Pepper squeezed his hand tighter, he didn’t need words to confirm his worst fear.        “Rogers,” he seethed, “where is my daughter?”        Steve’s chest rattled as he exhaled. “Tony, I’m sorry.” Unshed tears glistened in the Captain’s eyes. He was ready for an outburst, for him to stand up and pummel him to the ground, but he didn’t. Instead, Tony just turned his head to the side, looking into Pepper’s eyes where tears had been streaking down her cheeks ever since he’d returned. He clenched his jaw and nodded.        “The one thing I asked of you after you broke the Avengers apart was to look out for her. Look out for my daughter, keep her safe, do not bring her into this mess,” Tony was fuming and with good reason. “It was a simple thing, Rogers,” he sneered, “so no, I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no plan, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust,” Steve could feel each word cut through him like a knife, but the last word sliced his heart completely in half, “Liar.”        Then Tony did something no one expected. “Here, take this,” he ripped off his arc reactor and slammed it in Steve’s hand. “You find him,” he pointed at the blond, “and you put that on. You hide.”        He was just about to start apologizing when Tony’s legs suddenly gave out from underneath him, and he collapsed onto the floor.        “I’m fine,” the genius waved everyone off like usual, “I’m…” but he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was enveloped by darkness.        Everyone was already up and acting, Bruce setting up a makeshift hospital room, Steve taking Tony in his arms and rushing him to the bed, Pepper following everyone behind, so there was not even a second more she’d be separated from Tony. Never again.        It took everyone a couple of minutes to regroup but Rhodey finally came to inform them of Tony's status. “Bruce gave him a sedative. He’s gonna be out for the rest of the day.”    The Avengers nodded in relief. It was a small victory to have him back. It was something. So often they were used to loses and casualties, but this time, it was already way too much, and one more would just break whatever was left to break.        Rhodey dragged a hand down his face as the holographic monitor showing who was missing flashed, and Y/N’s face now stared back at him.        “God, fucking damn it,” he muttered, wiping tears away. His best friend’s kid. His goddaughter. His family.        When she had strolled in the compound walking in front of Steve and the rest of ‘Rogue Avengers’, he was ready to clock her in the jaw, knowing she would never back out of a fight. Too much of her father’s genes were in her.        “You know he’s going to kill me,” he groaned as Y/N smirked before pulling him in a tight hug.        “Not if you don’t say anything,” she mumbled in his chest.        All guilt aside, Y/N had been most likely their best chance at winning, excluding Wanda. She was probably the strongest Avenger in the group. Rhodey remembered with fear the time Tony had been kidnapped, and how ballistic the seven-year-old girl had gone seeing the ransom video the terrorists had sent.        She wasn’t supposed to know, but Y/N was a master at sneaking around the house, and as Pepper and Rhodey watched, she had caught a glimpse of her father. Let’s just say the whole of California experienced some strong seismic activity as her powers rippled out of her.        God, and the other one? Peter? He was gone as well. In a way there was a silver lining to it all – both of the teenagers being gone meant neither could do impulsive and rash decisions. After all, the two were in love, and Rhodey was one hundred percent sure they’d go to the ends of Earth and bring down the sky if it meant getting the other one back.        “You guys take care of him,” Carol’s voice brought everyone back to the present. It seemed like Y/N’s face on the screen had shaken them all up. “And I’ll bring Xorrian Elixir when I come back.”        “Where are you going?” she couldn’t be leaving them now. Not at a moment like this.        “To kill Thanos.”        People were up and rushing after the woman in a split second.            Nat was the first one to reach her, a strong grip on Carol’s bicep pulling her back to face them. “You know, we usually work as a team around here, and between you and I, we’re also a little fragile.” That was an understatement, but the fight was not over. Not for them. “We realize this is more your territory, but this is our fight too.”        On the outside, Natasha was acting like a leader, similarly as she always did by either Tony’s or Steve’s side, but on the inside, she was that broken little girl thrown into a single bedroom with a bare mattress and pillow, told she’d become the nation’s greatest weapon at the tender age of six.        Build-A-Bear was the first one to ask the real questions. “Do you even know where he is?”        Carol shrugged. “I know people who might.”        “Don’t bother,” Nebula interrupted. The whole time apart from when Tony was rushed to the hospital room, she’d stood to the side and watched. “I can tell you where Thanos is.”        The hologram was up and running again, only this time displaying the map of the universe provided by the ship log from the Milano.        “Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. Then when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him,” there was such venom in her tone towards her past-self, even Rocket flinched. “I’d ask “where would we go once his plan was complete?” His answer was always the same: to the Garden.”

***

       The next thing Y/N knew was jovial cheering, loud laughing and warm golden lights encasing her instead of the burning plains of Wakanda.        “S-Steve?” she muttered turning around, surveying the grand ceiling and golden ornaments of the walls. “Nat?”        A large mass bumped against her back, and Y/N stumbled out of the way to let a burly looking man trudge past. “ ‘M Lady, my apologies,” he slurred, bowing a bit and then continuing on his merry way.        That’s when everything came rushing back – the fight against the Outriders, and how she took down Proxima Midnight with Wanda, the subsequent arrival of Thanos, and the snap.        “He did it,” Y/N whispered to no one but herself. “He actually did it.”        Instantly her head was high and searching the crowd which seemed to be dressed in some sort of medieval clothing, but that didn’t mean anything to her.        “Dad!” she bellowed as much as she could. “Peter!”        Please not them, please not them, please not them, Y/N chanted in her head as she squeezed between the crowd of people. From the corner of her eye, she saw an archway, beautiful green wines wrapped around the intricate marble, and that’s where she ran to – away from the people in what seemed like a garden outside, and into the building.        She was hit by a wave of warmth and even louder chatter than before. Almost never-ending rows of tables lined the inside of the hall and benches full of people she didn’t recognize. Nothing was familiar to her apart from a certain raven-haired man sitting at the very far end of the room, a beautiful woman with hair of gold right next to him.        “You!” Y/N shouted pointing at Loki. “You! I know you! Loki!”        But he didn’t hear it over how loud everyone was being, so in a true Stark fashion, she jumped on one of the tables, drawing all the attention to herself and thundered a ‘Yo, Reindeer Games!’        For a moment there, the god of mischief was stunned and left speechless. He was never speechless, but when the daughter of Tony Stark calls your name, it might have that kind of effect. As it did on the rest of the people.        Instantly he jumped over the table and ran to where Y/N was standing on the counter.        “How are you here?” he was completely breathless. The last time they’d met, he was not the Loki everyone knew now, but he’d never had any particular distaste towards the younger Stark. In fact, he’d kind of admired how the teenager was actually a useful addition during the battle of New York.        “First of all, where is here?” she motioned around the room, finally stepping off the table and out of someone’s plate. “Sorry,” she muttered to the man, but he only shrugged.      “Second of all, what’s going on? And third of all, where is my dad?”        “You’re in Valhalla.”        “Val-what now?”        “Valhalla. It’s where the fallen warriors of Asgard get to rest once their battle is done.”        “But,” she stuttered blinking rapidly as if that would wash away the scene before her eyes, “but I’m not of Asgard. I’m plain human. Midgardian. Earthling. You know, an ant to your… boot.”        Loki was just about to answer, he himself unable to understand how Y/N was in Valhalla when basically the most gorgeous woman she’d ever seen in her life approached the two. The same one that had been sitting to Loki's left.        “We’ve been waiting for your arrival, Lady Stark.”        “What now?” the question was softer than the flap of a butterfly’s wings, but the goddess, who as far as Y/N could recall her basic Norse mythology knowledge, was Frigga, had already turned to face her son.       “My love,” she smiled placing her hand on his cheek, and Loki practically melted in his mother’s touch. “You did a brave thing. You’ve always been brave and good, despite what has happened. But it’s time to be brave and good one more time.”        “Thanos won,” Y/N exasperated eyes flipping between the goddess and her son. “There is no fight. He snapped his fingers and did what he said he would.”        “Sweet child, I was raised by witches,” Frigga smiled softly at the girl. Usually, she’d sneer towards anyone that regarded her in such a way, but there was nothing condescending in her tone. “I see more than what meets the eye. It has been five years, and a battle is brewing. Your family will need each and everyone ready to help.”        “Five what now?” Y/N breathed out. “But I’ve been here barely a few minutes.”        “Time moves differently here,” Frigga placed a soothing palm on her cheek. “A decade on Earth is simply an intake of breath here. But there is no more time to lose.”        Loki’s green eyes widened as his eyebrows furrowed. “Mother, am I thinking right that you’re implying we should join the fight?”        “You were always the quick one when things needed to be figured out.”        “But… no one has ever returned from Valhalla. No one has ever come back from the… dead.”        “That’s because up until now, she,” Frigga gave Y/N a pointed look, “was on Earth.”        “Me? What the fuck does this have to do with me?” Sure, had the circumstances been different she’d be horrified by the language she’d used in front of an Asgardian royal, let alone a goddess, but frankly, Y/N was just about done with mystical mumbo jumbo and just wanted to get back home where she could watch cheesy B-rate horror movies with her dad while cuddling up next to Peter.        “No one can enter the halls of Valhalla apart from Asgardians.”        Y/N was pointing at Loki in no time. “He’s not one.”        “He was raised as one.”        “Well but I wasn’t. Human as a human can be,” Y/N placed her hands on her hips.        “But you have Asgardian blood in you.”        That made Y/N pause. There really was no other explanation as to how she could be in Valhalla. Sure, there was that time when aliens had kidnapped her from her own backyard after the whole Ultron thing went down, and she was rolling with the Guardians for a brief second before demanding to be put back on Earth cause that’s where her home was, but even her space travels were a sounder explanation as to everything going on rather than her being part of the race from Norse mythology.        “You never mentioned it,” Loki glanced at Y/N whose eye roll was the best she’d ever given to anyone.        “Because not knowing who my biological mother is, was the first thing, I wanted to talk about with the dude trying to invade Earth. Besides, Thor was of Asgard, and you continuously stabbed him. I kinda think it was in my favour not to, despite not even knowing it.”        Loki’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, but Y/N could see how he was trying to hold off a smile. “Well, maybe you’re half-Asgardian, but without a doubt, you’re a Stark.”        “You say I’m the key to getting us out of here,” Y/N was starting to get impatient. “How?”        “Your powers are deeply connected to your emotions as they are to the universe and every element swirling around us.”        Tentatively Y/N nodded, and Frigga whispered for her to close her eyes.     “Concentrate on your heart, your soul. Each stone represents a part of the universe. Let your powers go, let them roam the realms until they grasp at the source that calls for them.”        It sounded absolutely bonkers as the goddess coached Y/N on what to do, but she imagined her abilities like silvery tentacles that had a string wrapped around her heart, but the others were left free to slither their way through the galaxies and dimensions until the pull suddenly stopped, and she had a clear anchor to something.        “My Queen,” a woman with long onyx hair approached the trio. She was wearing a light grey uniform and a blue cape adorned her back, a glimmering silver sword hung by her side. “We heard what has happened, and who has come to pillage the universe. The Valkyries, if you’d allow it, would be more than honoured to fight beside our Prince and everyone else defending the world.”        Frigga just inclined her head, quickly glancing at Odin who up until that point had been sitting in his chair.        “You need to figure this out quicker,” Y/N groaned, stumbling a bit, but Loki was there to catch her. “I’m not gonna be able to keep at it for much longer.”        And then it was like a second breath had been given her. She felt her blood thrum with power as Odin, the Allfather, used every bit of Dark Magic he could summon and directed it towards Y/N.        Inch by inch Y/N grabbed onto the thread and pulled herself towards where the stones were calling. It took all of her concentration and attention to do so, but with every passing moment, she could feel them closer.        With a final tug at the tether, she extended her arms to her sides and opened up a portal, eyes glowing pure white, and teeth bared to the world. Like a lioness ready to attack, Y/N stepped out onto a battlefield.        But they weren’t alone. All around them she saw glowing orange circles where tens of thousands of warriors emerged. And it wasn’t just humans. She saw Skrulls, who she’d met while with the Guardians, the Asgardians that had been brought to Earth by Thor, and so many other creatures with different shapes and forms ready to fight Thanos. He hadn’t just angered Earth. He’d angered the whole fucking universe.        “Avengers!” Steve roared a hand extended forward, and Mjolnir flew right into his open palm.        I fucking knew it, Y/N smirked.        “Assemble.”        It took everything in her to keep that portal open. Not only that, as a scream tore her throat apart much like she was doing with time and space, Y/N put her whole being in it and expanded the gateway, the Valkyries rushing out in a majestic formation.        Thor’s scream of joy was something like an adrenaline rush, giving her more motivation.        “Just so you know,” Loki said unsheathing his dagger and letting his seidr envelop his left arm, “this boot," he motioned towards himself, "has no quarrel with this ant," he pointed at her.        “Good,” Y/N gritted, closing off the portal once she knew everyone was out. For a split second when she turned to look behind her, she saw Frigga’s smiling face. Whatever happened, she’d be there to welcome her warriors home. “But this ant,” Y/N motioned at herself with her thumb, “has a major quarrel… with that ugly ass boot.”        “Seems like a whole universe of ants does.”        That was enough of a signal for her to join the battle. Lifting herself off the ground, she rushed up to meet a Leviathan before taking it down like it was nothing. Bits of Odin’s magic were still there, and she was not about to waste them.        But no matter how many troops she took down, more seemed to take their place. It was like Thanos had a never-ending supply of them.        “Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?” Y/N heard Clint as he sprinted by her, and she lifted up a horde of oncoming aliens freeing his path.        “Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve’s voice was loud and clear in the comms, giving everyone the non-verbal order – protect whoever is carrying the gauntlet, and don’t let Thanos get to them.    “No!” Bruce, who Y/N only just now noticed was a morph of the Hulk and Bruce, countered back. “We need to get them back where they came from.”        “No way to get them back,” Clint grunted as he evaded a few aliens and resumed his mad dash. “Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.”        “Hold on!” a voice Y/N hadn’t heard in a while invaded the system, and she had to grin. She’d always liked Giant Man. “That wasn’t our only time machine.”        An obnoxiously loud car horn beeped across the battlefield, making everyone’s heads whip to the side as Steve rushed up a hillside.        “Anyone see an ugly brown van up there?”        “Yes,” exclaimed Brunhilde from high up above leading the storm of Valkyries against the Leviathans, “but you’re not gonna like where it’s parked.”        “Cap!” Y/N got his attention, taking everyone’s, who hadn’t seen her arrival, breath away. Including Steve’s. “Get that thing started, we’ll hold them back,” she motioned with her chin towards Loki, whose seidr glowed a brighter jade just at her words.        “Scott, how long do you need to get that thing working?”        “Maybe ten minutes,” came his rushed reply, as he heaved a few breaths in a moment of pause.        “Get it started. We’ll get the stones to you.”        When Frigga had said a battle was brewing, Y/N did not expect it to take the violent form of hot potato, but as Clint, and then T’Challa approached the van, her powers slowly depleted.        A moment of carelessness, and she was thrown away by the huge paw of a beast. It was just about to stamp on her when the bright beam of a repulsor created a hole in its chest. Y/N barely got time to roll out of the way of the corpse, before it thudded like a sack of bricks.        “Dad?” the word cracked in the middle, but Tony couldn’t move, as his daughter, the one he lost half a decade ago, was finally in front of him. After years of hopelessness, that was only regained a bit when Morgan was born, his family was finally whole again.        “Baby girl?”        That’s when Y/N threw all caution to the wind. She didn’t care about the battle, the screams and roars; all that mattered were her father’s arms tightly woven around her body, keeping her close to his chest – safe and sound in his embrace.        “I’m so sorry, dad,” she wailed in his arms. “I’m so sorry I put you through that.”        But Tony just shook his head, pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re here... right here, and that’s what’s important.”        Both of them nodded in unison, either at Tony’s words or just to reassure them the other was real. It was a tiny moment of peace before the sound of someone loudly yelling ‘Oh My God!’ brought them back to the fight.        “Where’s the gauntlet?”        “Last I heard Peter had it.”        “Peter?” his name was a breathless whisper of hope. He was there. They both were.        Tony nodded, gripping her bicep a bit tighter before letting go. “Keep him safe.”        And with that both Starks separated destroying Thanos’s army bit by bit while desperately trying to find where the stones were.        She was in the middle of battling against Ebony Maw, her powers ripping his heart apart from the inside out when the scarlet swirls of Wanda’s magic got her attention.        “Rain fire!” Thanos grunted, and instantly Y/N whipped her head around where Wanda was pulling the Titan apart atom by atom.        There was some sort of an answer that came from a troop she couldn’t hear, but when Thanos exclaimed ‘Just do it!’ she knew shit was about to get even more real than it already was.        From high up above, Thanos’s ships aimed their blasters towards the ground and unleashed hell upon Earth. Wanda was thrown back, and that made her release the hold she had on the madman. Without a second to spare, the wizards created shields with their powers but people who were not under their protection were still getting obliterated until Y/N extended both palms upward and imagined a layer that separated her from the beams.        Taking a deep breath, she felt sweat trickle down her forehead, and then she lifted the layer. Slowly but surely, she lifted it higher and higher, a shout of strain enveloping her in the process as she reversed the blasts and made them fly back to the ship. But that didn’t stop the oncoming array of attacks.        Y/N didn’t have unlimited power. Opening the portal from Valhalla had taken out most of it, and holding off another assault didn’t seem that likely. As she stared at the guns above, the girl readied herself to take the onslaught when they suddenly turned to the sky and started firing there.        No one could see anything through the plumes of smoke and ash apart from a quickly approaching ball of light, that in a matter of seconds shot through Thanos’s ship, rendering it useless, and making it crash in the nearby lake.        “Y-Y/N?”        Her heart had never stuttered so much as it did when Y/N heard that voice. She was frozen in place, unable to move or even blink. Her hands trembled in fear. Maybe this wasn’t real, maybe he wasn’t there in front of her, and all of that was something her mind was making up because Peter wasn’t actually back, but when she turned around she saw him holding onto the gauntlet as if it was his last lifeline hiding in the dirt behind a broken cement block.        “You’re bleeding,” was her first remark as she looked him over head to toe. His lip was split, and there was a gash on his forehead, but other than that and probably some major bruising underneath the suit, he looked fine. Well, at least he was in one piece.        A sob like chuckle escaped the brown-eyed boy, and she didn’t even get a second to brace herself before his arms were wrapped around her, and pulling her in his body.        “We should’ve stayed on the bus,” he cried, but a smile played on his face.        “Tell me about it,” her chest quivered as did her lips before she smoothed back his hair. “Dad’s so pissed about it.”        “More pissed than when he walked in on us making out the first time?”        “Yeah,” Y/N let out a genuine laugh, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “I think so.”        “Yes,” Tony’s voice invaded their moment as it cut through the comms. “I most definitely am, but we need to get the stones to the van before nut sack over there gets to them, so you might want to leave it for later.”        “You got something for me?” Carol motioned with her eyebrow at Peter, eyes flipping to the gauntlet. Safely, Y/N took it out from his grasp and handed it to the woman.        “I don’t know how you’re gonna get through all that,” his eyes roamed the oncoming army, a hand instinctively going to wrap around Y/N’s waist. He’d let go of her once before, he was not going to make that same mistake ever again.        “Don’t worry,” Wanda floated from above and settled herself behind Carol, eyes blazing red.        “She’s got help,” and the sight behind and in front of the two teenagers was the most marvellous one they’d ever seen and would ever see. Each and every heroine stood against Thanos’s army while the Valkyries made up the back, their winged mares neighing, swords high up in the air as a battle cry ripped through their throats.        “I uh got this chemistry test coming up. By any chance, anyone of you could help me with that?”        “Seriously?” Y/N snorted looking at her boyfriend. “We were dead just a few minutes ago and are fighting the biggest army in the universe. And you’re thinking about chemistry?”        “I just… I’d rather focus on anything but what’s in front of us.”        “We can think about chem and calculus and English after all this is done, I promise,” and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was able to kiss Peter again. If it hadn’t been for the impending oncoming of the enemy, she’d sag into his hold and never let him go.        “But first – we beat the shit out of them. And that one’s mine,” Y/N sneered looking directly into the eyes of Proxima Midnight. She had been the one that had almost killed Nat and Wanda in front of her eyes. It was payback. If only for the fact that Nat was not there. She didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that her redheaded assassin wouldn’t show up. Everything had a price, and so did the fight for survival, but they’d be damned if they didn’t make her proud.        It was a terrifyingly glorious sight to see as the women stood between Thanos and the gauntlet; it was clutched safely in Carol’s arms as she flew through the enemy using her photon blasts to disintegrate them. Though not everything could go as smoothly as it had been.        Right as Scott powered up the time machine in the back of the van, Carol aiming straight for the dead centre of it, in one last attempt, Thanos threw his double-edged sword, and everyone was knocked back with the explosion, Carol’s grip loosening and letting go of the stones.        That’s when complete panic ensued. They couldn’t go through this again. He’d made it clear - this time it would be personal, and not half the universe but the whole fucking thing would be wiped out.        One by one the closest people to the gauntlet rushed to grab it, but even through that, Thanos was able to put it on. He would’ve snapped his fingers if not for Carol grabbing onto his palm and bending his fingers backwards with her bare hands, pure rage lighting up her eyes. Y/N scrambled towards them ready to knock Thanos down when she saw him remove the Power stone, blast Carol away from it. Then her father charged at the Titan.        A desperate grab at his hand, Tony’s horrified face, a punch to his side and shake, and Thanos was free as Y/N’s dad laid on the ground, struggling to get up. At that moment she didn’t even care for the stones, as she witnessed her father in pain. But then she caught the glimpse of a green glimmer.        “I am…” Thanos smirked putting his middle finger against his thumb, “inevitable.”        But when he clinked nothing happened. Just as Y/N expected.        “And I…” she ran towards her dad, “am,” one more step, one more step, “Iron Man.”    Dad’s so gonna kill me was the last thing Y/N thought before he snapped his fingers, and she grabbed onto his shoulder letting the power of the Infinity Stones course through her body alleviating the strain on Tony.        She’d never felt this kind of pain and euphoria at the same time. Y/N was invincible, unstoppable, a goddess in her own right but at the same time, her heart was just about to give out when she saw the enemy horde, one by one and then at a more rapid pace succumb to the same fate she had five years ago.        With a gasp she found herself approaching the edge of not coming back when someone called her and Tony’s names.        “Friday,” Pepper’s voice sounded like a dimming filter had been placed over it with a tinge of a beeping noise added to it. “Release the right arm.”        On command, Tony’s suit detached from the whole, and the part with the stones dropped to the ground, making Y/N’s hold let go as well.        The two Stark’s crumpled to the ground, panting and trying to get as much oxygen in their lungs as possible, as they crawled a bit to the side where they could lean against the remains of the compound.        “You are so grounded, you hear me?” Tony rasped bringing his daughter close to him, and holding Y/N’s head tightly against his chest. “Forever. You’re never leaving the house or ever thinking about it.”        “So that means we can watch movies all day every day for the rest of our lives?”        “If that means you staying safe, I’ll chain us to the movie room.”        And in the midst of all that rubble and sweat and blood, Y/N and Tony finally pulled in breaths of relief.        “How did you know it would work?”        “I uh, remember that time when aliens sorta kinda kidnapped me?”        “How can I forget the worst moments of my life… up until that point.”        “Well, I and the Guardians did that. It worked then, so I assumed it would work again.”        A beat passed with Tony’s face completely expressionless before engulfing Y/N in an even tighter hug. “I’ll kill Peter, I swear I’ll kill that braindead-knockoff-Kevin Bacon.”        “Not before I kill you both,” Pepper’s arms were instantly around her family as if she was shielding them from the rest of the world. “God, I hate being a Stark.”        They released a collective chuckle and tightened their hold on one another. “Also, that time when those aliens kidnapped me?”        “Yeah?” Tony sniffled.        “Turns out that's not really true. I uh can teleport."    "You what?"    Y/N rolled her eyes. "My powers come from somewhere, and it turns out you hooked up with an Asgardian. I now remember that night we had a huge fight, and I wished I’d be with mom instead of you... I guess they decided to show up then cause the next thing I knew, I was shooting through this weird rainbow beam, and ended up crashing on a weird spaceship. Thought I'd been abducted when instead, I had just run away from home.”        Surprisingly enough, both Pepper and her dad laughed. “Really Tony?” the redhead asked him. “So human women weren’t’ enough, had to go for the extraterrestrial ones as well?”        “What can I say,” he let her wipe away a tear that slid down his face before resting his head against Y/N’s. “I have impeccable taste. Just look at who I married.”        “Y-You got married?” she was stunned beyond belief. That’s when it truly kicked in that it had been five years. Five years they’d lived without her, and had created a life she didn’t know anymore where she fit in.        “Yeah,” Tony nodded, squeezing Y/N’s hand in reassurance. “You uh you also have a little sister.”        Wave after wave after wave of emotions rampaged her body and mind. First, it was hurt they’d do that, that they’d try and move and replace her, then it was confusion as to what was her part in this whole equation now, and then it was relief and joy. She still had her family, and no matter what had happened, Y/N was happy they’d tried to make some sort of a life even after Thanos. It had been the exact thing they’d fought for.        “Guess I can officially call you mom then, huh?” she looked at Pepper through a teary gaze. The feeling when she wrapped her arms around her was nothing short of coming home.        “You’ve always been my daughter,” she whispered in Y/N’s hair. “Always.”        “I love you 3000,” Y/N whispered back.        That set her off into an absolute fit of giggles, as she shook her head, and brought her in for another embrace. “This time, you’re in the low six to nine hundreds, Tony.”        “What?” Y/N asked, looking at her dad, confusion written all over her features.        He just shook his head. “I’ll explain later.”

***

       It took them all a couple of days to regroup and rearrange, but once that was done, once the tearful reunions and greetings were over, it was time for true celebration. Though, if someone had told Y/N that the same Loki that had stabbed his brother right in front of her eyes on the balcony of Stark Tower was the same one that practically sprinted towards Thor to embrace him, she’d tell them to fuck off.        Now they were all dressed in whatever best attire they could find, with smiles on their lips as they watched Pepper and Tony renew their wows. Y/N who had met Morgan less than forty-eight hours previously, stood tall and proud to their right as Rhodey helped her father stand up from his wheelchair and give Pepper a kiss.        “Come on,” Y/N whispered to Morgan, who was still unsure about the older sibling she’d met. Of course, not a day had gone by where either her dad or mom talked about her sister, but it was another thing to meet the girl. “I think Happy and Rhodes said they’re making burgers.”        Together they walked behind their parents, and no one could wipe off the smiles off their faces. Even Hank Pym was there, and it was a known fact that he and the Starks had never gotten along.        “Pete?” Y/N turned to her boyfriend, who instantly joined her other side, “will you take Morgan inside? I just need to quickly talk to Steve.”        “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he nodded, and couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks as she pecked his lips.        As fast as she could she ran towards where they’d made a miniature of the time travel machine with the intention of Steve bringing the stones back to their correct place in time.       “I’m coming with you,” Y/N announced pulling on the bracelet on her palm that she'd hidden in the pocket of her pants, and stepping onto the platform. “And you won’t stop me.”        “Y/N, I don’t think your dad would agree to this,” Bruce remarked, his hand, much like her father’s in a sling, though where Bruce only had that and burns that would forever scar his right side, the prognosis for Tony to ever walk again on his own were slim. But that had never stopped a Stark.        “Of course, not,” she snorted tapping the device twice and letting the time travel suit encase her body. “Why do you think I ran? So he wouldn’t know about i-“ but it was just her luck as the man of the hour himself appeared out from behind the woods.        “Hey, hey, whoa, where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Tony exclaimed his wheelchair rolling towards the launchpad faster than Y/N thought was possible especially on the forest floor. “You are grounded!”       “Oh, come on, dad!”        “No,” he was surprisingly stern about this. “You zip it right now. I don’t wanna hear about it. Step off that thing right now, and get that piece of crap off of you,” he motioned towards the time travel suit and the bracelet.        “Please, dad, just… just trust me on this one. I’ll be back in a second. I just… I just wanna say goodbye to Nat. She’s the reason all of us are back here...”        With a sigh of defeat, because even a Stark couldn’t talk a Stark out of anything, Tony retreated. Y/N quickly skipped down the platform to give her father’s cheek a kiss, before joining Steve.        “Protect her. Whatever comes her way,” Tony said looking straight into Steve’s soul. This time he wouldn’t let his friend down.        “With everything I have.”        “Ok, you, dramatic gramps, let’s cut the cheesiness. Bruce?” Y/N grinned at the scientist.        “Ready to jump in three…” he started the countdown, “two…”    “See you in a minute,” Y/N winked and was gone.

***

       Putting the stones back was a whirlwind, and it made Y/N feel like a badass spy that had to infiltrate a base and then disappear unnoticed. She never really joined in on stealth missions, as that was not her forte, but fuck was it fun. Especially when Steve told her how he had to fight his old self on the first time around.        “I never knew how ridiculous that line was,” he chuckled, as they stepped onto Rocket’s ship, that he’d leant to them to get to Asgard, Morag and Vormir.        “I find it quite endearing. At least nowadays,” she nudged his shoulder and settled in one of the free seats as the Milano turned upwards to the sky and thrust them into space.        “Y/N, I’m sorry,” Steve murmured looking at her where she was strapped in place. “For everything. I thought I was doing what was right by not signing the Accords, and instead, I ripped our team apart. And with the whole Thanos thing… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…”        That was loaded confession Steve had just put-upon Y/N, and as she was processing it, the overwhelming need to relieve him of the guilt eating away at her brain, a bright green light beeped on the panel, and they were pushed into the atmosphere of Vormir.        Cautiously the two exited and started to track their way to the sole mountain on the whole plane.        “You know, we’ve never been a team,” Y/N said looking up to where the two pillars reached into the sky. “Teammates fight together, follow orders, train together… that has never been us. We bicker, play pranks to the point of it walking the edge of mean, we spend our Friday nights curled up next to one another and throwing popcorn around. That’s not a team. That’s a family.”        “Evenings without you were a bore,” Steve said wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.        She wistfully sighed, skipping ahead before turning around and walking backwards. “I can only imagine. I mean with just birdbrain as the funny one and entertainment – I’m surprised you didn’t grey from the boredom.”        “Who knows, maybe I’ve just been dying my hair the whole time.”        “Oh, I’d like to see that process. You and Bucky sharing hair secrets is something I’d pay for.”        Steve snorted right as they approached what seemed to be carved out steps that lead to the top of the peak. “It’s actually Wakandan shea butter.”        “Seriously?” Y/N’s eyebrows were so far up her forehead, they merged with the creases there.        “Leaves everything smooth and silky.”        “When we get back,” she pointed at the Captain, “you’re gonna hook me up with your supplier.        “Gladly…” a small pause settled before he spoke up again. “So, why did you wanna tag along? Really?” Steve’s voice was raised so he could talk over the howling winds.       “Something uh someone said to me, made me think a bit. I dunno what’s gonna happen, but I wanna know if my hunch is right.”        But Steve didn’t get her to elaborate on what the fuck that meant when a floating cloak appeared before them. Y/N’s eyes were instantly white, and Steve had unsheathed the shield they’d gotten while back in the 70s.        “Steve, son of Sarah, Y/N daughter of Anthony,” an accented voice spoke to them. Y/N glanced at her companion from the side of her eye, only to see his mouth open in complete disbelief. “It has been a long time, Captain.”        “Son of a bitch, you’re still alive.”        “Indeed. As you know, I too once sought to acquire the stones, but alas, it was not what fate had intended.”        The way Steve was clenching his jaw made Y/N fear for his teeth. “And what was fate’s intention?”        “I am here, to be a guide to you, and all who seek the Soul stone.”        “Then lead the way,” Y/N murmured.        And without any struggle, Red Skull did as told.        “In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love,” the figure announced as Y/N made her way to where the cliff ended. “An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul… but you are not here to retrieve the stone, are you?”        “Nope, not one bit,” she said retreating and letting Steve open the case, Y/N’s gloved hands wrapping around the tiny glowing piece. With every step she took, she started to rethink her decision, but she’d come all this way just for this, she was putting her dad through more stress than necessary just for this.        Y/N was right on the edge, making Steve more nervous than ever. They’d come so far, with such high costs, he couldn’t lose her too. He wouldn’t recover, and he knew neither would Tony or the rest.        She turned around her, hair whipping at her face as she looked at Red Skull. “You said soul for a soul, right?”       “That is exact, my child.”       The winds were harsh at the top of the mountain, and the snow was not fluttery or light as it usually was during wintertime in New York. These were harsh icicles pelleting her skin.        “Y/N?” Steve cautiously asked, slowly approaching the woman, but she didn’t hear or see him. For a moment, her grip on the stone was so tight her knuckles turned translucent, and then she let go.        The stone glimmered like amber as it dropped down, down, down. When it touched the ground, the two beams that created the archway started glowing before bright light shot up into the sky, and Y/N had to shield her eyes from its intensity.        In that blink of an eye, she was transported away from the mountain and somewhere down below where they’d started their ascend. Her hands trembled as she opened them to see that the stone was no longer there.        And she was completely alone, as a matter of fact.        “No,” she looked at the expanse of water, as the light of the whole planet had dimmed leaving her alone and drenched in darkness. “No, no, no, no, no!” Y/N smashed her hands against the surface of it, anger coursing through her veins before a soft hand appeared on her shoulder.        “Baby Stark, you miss me?”       There, with that crooked smile of hers stood Natasha. Her hair was back to the red tone, blonde only covering the tips of the long tresses, but there she was – wearing that same ugly red and white suit as her and Steve.        “No,” Y/N sniffled scrambling up from the water and into her open arms. “Not one bit, you, self-sacrificial idiot.”       “That’s more of a Stark thing, isn’t it?” her whimpers could be heard all across the quiet planet, but that didn’t matter, given how both of the girls were crying.        “Yes, well, it shows you’ve spent time with my dad and Steve.”        The happiness pressing on the two was borderline suffocating. It was only when Natasha pulled back, bringing Y/N’s face between her palms.        “I’m so sor-“ but the girl was quick to shake her head.        “None of that matters,” she gripped the redhead’s forearms. “None of it. We won, and we’re back and we’re going home.”        The smile on the assassin’s face was the most dazzling thing Y/N had ever seen, and her breath would’ve been taken away if not for the screams of her Captain.        “Y/N!” Steve hollered as he dashed towards where he’d seen her laying in the pond, after having been knocked out by whatever the mountain did, but his panic evaporated when he saw who she was embracing.        “Nat?”        He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was there and just as tangible as his own skin and bones.        “Hey there, you, old fossil.”        He was still a few yards away, but he crossed that distance in no time, and before she could pull in a breath, Nat was up in his arms, both of their bodies shaking with tears of joy and laughter.        “You ever pull a stunt like this again, Romanoff, I swear I’ll make Fury put you on desk duty.”        “After all this, that sounds like a dream.”        “Be careful what you wish for,” Y/N piped up from the sides, grinning as she recalibrated her bracelet and moved towards the ship. “You might just get that.”        “Home?” her eyebrow raised in a sleek arch, as the other two Avengers ran up next to her and synched up.        “Home,” Nat whispered before being dragged down to the quantum realm.        The blink of an eye and the three of them stood back on the platform in the middle of the little forested area. Their suits retreated, and the trio’s beaming grins could’ve overpowered the brightly shining sun up above.        “Tasha?”        Nat’s head whipped to the side, seeing a completely stunned Clint, but she didn’t give her best friend a chance to regroup as she leapt off the podium and had her legs and arms wrapped around his middle and neck.        “Ten bucks on Clint trying to kill Nat for what she did,” Y/N muttered, leaning to the side as Steve, and she removed the bracelets, giving them back to a very much so confused Bruce, but not that confused Tony and Loki who had joined their little gang.        “That’s why you went back? To get Nat?” her dad asked, and Y/N shrugged. “How did you know it would work?”        “I uh I didn’t. But it was something his mom said,” she replied motioning at Loki. “She said about my powers and them being connected to the stones as the stones being connected to the universe. And that my powers are connected to my soul.”        Tony smirked, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it. “You really are my daughter, aren’t you?”        A soft fluttery feeling erupted in her stomach. “Also, the words ‘soul for a soul’ was a pretty big give away, but that I found out only when I got there.”        As Pepper rushed out of the house, ready to kill her daughter for going back in time and her husband for allowing it, Bucky had slowly moved to stand next to his best friend.        “What happened to that ‘Happily Ever After’ you always dreamed about?”    He expected Steve to be upset about being back, blame Y/N for somehow coercing him to return, given how the two super soldiers had had a talk about him living out his life with Peggy. But instead, the blond was gnawing on his lip trying to keep a smile at bay.        “I think I just might have that right here,” he finally breathed out. “I uh I had my dance, but… I knew she’d be happy with or without me.”        “You sayin’ we wouldn’t be able to live without your old ass?” Sam smirked as he approached the pair, and it made Bucky snort.        “Obviously. But uh…” and that’s when he finally averted his attention to the thing strapped on his back. “I actually came to give you this.”        It was one thing to fight aliens, it was another to accept what Steve was offering.        “I can’t do that,” Sam shook his head looking at Bucky for support, but the man just stepped back and raised his hands in a ‘don’t involve me into this’ motion.        “Yeah, but I think you can,” Steve smiled at Sam. “Come on. Try it.”        Tentatively, as if it was made of glass, not vibranium, Sam, strapped his arm through the leathers and put the shield in front of him.        “How does it feel?” Steve asked, eyes surveying his friend from the side.        “Like someone else’s.”        “But it isn’t,” Steve shrugged, patting Sam’s back before the soldier pulled him in a hug.        “I’ll do my best.”        “And that’s why it’s yours.”        As they pulled back neither was ashamed of the tears that rolled down their cheeks. “And what will you do?” Sam sniffled holding onto the shield. “Join Bingo club?”        Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, pushing at Sam’s arm and making him stumble. “Actually, something I should’ve done a while back.”        Both of his friend’s faces were the epitome of confusion as Steve marched away from them with sure steps, but that all changed when he called Nat’s name making her spin away from Clint and Wanda, and directly into his arms. A split second, and Steve’s lips were on her.        The cheering and whooping were just as intense as when Tony and Pepper renewed their vows by the lake. The only thing that made the two pull back was the desperate need for air, but even as they did so, their foreheads remained together.    "Where did that come from, Cap?"    "I've wasted too much time on dreams and 'what ifs'. It's time I act on them."    The pair grinned from ear to ear before a giant shadow loomed over them, and that truly made the pair pull away.        “I hope you’re okay with this,” Steve mumbled looking up at Bruce. No matter what and no matter for how long, he and Nat had had a thing, and the ex-Captain could never live with himself knowing Bruce was unhappy, but by the gentle smile on the professor’s face, he knew there was no animosity towards what was happening.        “Steve, I tried to bring Nat back because we’re family, not because of a kiss we shared. Besides,” he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “I met someone along the way.”        Nat’s scarlet eyebrows shot to the middle of her forehead. There went the best spy in the world award. “Why didn’t you tell us?”        “Because we didn’t wanna label anything, especially with how the world was, but uh… I think we might give this a serious shot.”        “Who’s the lucky girl?” Nat’s signature smirk adorned her lips, and in all her life she would’ve never bet on the fact that the Hulk would ever blush.        “It’s uh it’s actually Betty… Ross.”        “Thunderbolt’s daughter?” the day had been full of surprises but even that beat everything in Clint’s book.        “Well we had kinda something going on before Hulk was even around, and we just reconnected after the snap… so trust me, I have nothing against you two going at it.”

***

       She could hear the laughter of everyone as Bruce told Steve and Nat to not create some sort of weird super soldier spy babies. The two of them were already a handful, and Y/N smiled at the sentiment.        “You okay?” Peter whispered into Y/N’s neck. It felt wrong to speak above that level, the scenery was way too calm for that. Even the waves across the lake were muted.        “For the first time in almost eighteen years, I can say, I am,” she gave him a tight smile, holding the glass case of where her dad’s first arc reactor was displayed. “He’s giving it up. The superhero life. For good now.”        Peter’s lips quirked up. “How do you know? This is your dad we’re talking about.”        “Yeah, but I think mom would actually commit murder if he even thought of being Iron Man…” Y/N looked over the lake.    It was bittersweet to know how much her family’s life had changed in those five years she was gone. She had a little sister now, Pep and Tony lived here in the countryside, and now he was passing up the mantle of Iron Man.    “I know he’ll always be there when we need him, when the real shit’s going down, but I’m happy about him not doing it anymore. He deserves a quiet life with mom and Morgan.”        “And you?” Peter observed how his girlfriend chewed on the bottom of her lip before releasing it once his thumb went to pull it out from between her teeth. “You deserve that as well with your family.”        “And we’ll have that,” Y/N intertwined her fingers with Peters, and pressed a kiss to them, “but first, we’ll protect the Earth. I think that’s why he gave this to me. Sort of a symbol of – now it’s your turn.”        Peter’s brows furrowed. “Your turn?”            “You’re looking at the one and only Iron Maiden.”        “Like the band?” he smirked.        “Or like the torture weapon. We’ll see what happens.”        He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he kissed Y/N’s exposed shoulder, but their moment was disrupted when someone lightly tapped against her back.        “Dad said to come and get you,” Morgan nervously rolled back and forth on her feet. “We’re making cheeseburgers and having juice pops after that.”        “Really?” Y/N smirked taking Morgan’s extended palm and standing up, the arc reactor securely held in her other hand, and Peter’s hand on the small of her back. “Sounds like the perfect combo.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan@nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae@wantingtobekorra @kylokayd @infamousmany @3blue-dreams3 @sarcasticvodka @synka-rin @3nmxnxt3r @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @nikolett3 @eyesinconstellations @youngbloodholland @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines @luluthegreatandterrible @bambamwolf87 @drakesfiance @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I’ve been working on this the whole day, but I apologise if there are any grammar errors. Some of the dialogue taken from the actual movie script.

P.S. feedback is always appreciated

P.S.S. my tags are always open :)

[just-a-caffeine-addict]

Quotes Accrued in a Decade

“…as you well know, the source of the Nile remained invisible to those who lived next to it for a thousand years. Identifying it required a stranger. (A fresh pair of eyes may see what others miss)” –Sherlock Holmes (From The Perils of Sherlock Holmes: Short Stories)

“A couple of years before he died, I kissed my father goodbye. He said, ‘Son, you haven’t kissed me since you were a little boy.’ It went straight to my heart, and I kissed him whenever I saw him after that, and my sons and I always kiss whenever we meet.” –Terry Wogan

“A wise man makes his own decisions, an ignorant man follows the public opinion.” –Chinese Proverb

“All great truths begin as blasphemies.” –George Bernard Shaw

“An army of donkeys led by a lion is better than an army of lions led by a donkey.” –Genghis Khan

"An error does not become truth by reason of multiplied propagation, nor does truth become error because nobody sees it." –Mahatma Gandhi

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” –Cesar A. Cruz

“As we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.” –Marianna Williamson

“Ask not what your country can do for you –ask what you can do for your country.” –John Kennedy

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply give you courage.” –Lao Tzu

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know.” –English Proverb

“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.” –George Bernard Shaw

“By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.” –Confucius

“Can you really have a bad experiment? I don’t know. But can you have a bad result? Yes.” — EvanAndKatelyn (From Can Resin Preserve a Pumpkin Carving?)

“canon is but the sandbox in which i strike lightning to form glass. trouble me no more with your quibblings and quorums, lest i grind you to dust beneath my heel and build stories from the remnants of your bones. Avast, foul fiend” —taako waititi (From Tumblr)

“Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers?” —Victor Hugo

“Cucullus non facit monachum (A cowl does not make a monk).” – Fool/Feste (From Twelfth Night)

“Demons run when a good man goes to war…” –River Song (From Doctor Who)

“Due to high cost of ammo, there will be NO WARNING SHOTS FIRED.” –Warning sign

“Every couple needs to argue now and then. Just to prove that the relationship is strong enough to survive. Long-term relationships, the ones that matter, are all about weathering the peaks and the valleys.” –Nicholas Sparks (From Safe Haven)

“Everyone gives the title of barbarism to everything that is not in use in his own country.” –Michel de Montaigne (From Of Cannibals)

“Families are the compass that guide us. They are the inspiration to reach great heights, and our comfort when we occasionally falter.” –Brad Henry

“Fiction reveals truth that reality obscures.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Fools take a knife and stab people in the back. The wise take a knife, cut the cord, and set themselves free from the fools.” –Unknown

“Forget injuries, never forget kindnesses.” –Chinese Proverb

“Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” –Thomas Edison

“Herr, wirf Hern vom Himmel -oder Steine, Hauptsache er trifft (Lord, throw some brains from the heavens -or stones, as long as he hits the mark)!” –German Proverb

“History is for human self-knowledge...the only clue to what man can do is what man has done. The value of history, then, is that it teaches us what man has done and thus what man is.” —R.G. Collingwood

“Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility.” –James Thurber

“I can pretend I’m a fish, but I shouldn’t try to breathe underwater.” –Unknown

“I have the patience of a saint. Saint Cunty McFuckOff.” –Words on a cup

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 1,000 ways that won’t work.” –Thomas Edison

“I made some good deals and I made some bad ones. I really went in the hole with this one.” –Quote on a grave

“I occasionally think, how quickly our differences worldwide would vanish if we were facing an alien threat from outside this world. And yet, I ask is not an alien force ALREADY among us?” –Ronald Reagan

“If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” –Isaac Newton

“If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might nearly be free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.” –Victor Frankenstein (From Frankenstein)

“If the world tells me I’m mad, whereas I know I’m not, which of us is right? Thus, being mad is what? Inventing a life one hasn’t lived or loving a woman met in another lifetime? Is it clinging to unsatisfied desires?..” Doriel (From A Mad Desire to Dance)

“If you’re afraid - don’t do it, - if you’re doing it - don’t be afraid!” –Genghis Khan

“If you’re going to be a writer, the first essential is just to write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before the water starts to flow.” —Louis L’Amour

"If you're not asking the questions in a thoughtful way, you're not going to get any results that are useful or interesting." –Tony Wagner

“If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader.” –John Quincy Adams

“I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.” –Jimi Hendrix (From Axis: Bold as Love)

"Imagine a world in which every single person on the planet has free access to the sum of all human knowledge." –Jimmy Wales (Founder of Wikipedia)

"In caucus terrae, luscus rex est (In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)." –Latin Adage

“In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” –Abraham Lincoln

“In time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” –George Orwell

“It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.” –André Gide (From Autumn Leaves)

"It's not that I'm so smart. But I stay with the questions much longer." –Albert Einstein

“It’s true. I forget important things sometimes… Sometimes I do think I should give up-- just let the crown win and the world freeze, with me in it. Some days I can’t remember a single reason to keep fighting. Some… Some days I-- I can’t remember her. But giving up’s EASY. You know what’s hard? To BELIEVE in your own worth, to KNOW you’ve got something special in you even if nobody else can see it. Even when YOU can’t.” –Ice King |Simon Petrikov from Adventure Time

“Learn yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” –Albert Einstein

“Learning to trust is one of life’s most difficult tasks.” –Isaac Watts

“Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor.” –Sholom Aleichem

“Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.” –Ann Landers

“Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” –James Baldwin

“Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” —“The Wonder Years”

“My family is my strength and my weakness.” –Aishwarya rai Bachchan

“Names are the sweetest and the most important sounds in any language.” –Dale Carnegie

“No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.” –Mary Wollstonecraft

"No mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips." –Sigmund Freud

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” –Lin Yutang

“NO TRESPASSING. Violators will be shot; Survivors will be shot again.” –Warning Sign

“Nobody knows you as well as our spouse. And that means no one will be quicker to recognize a change when you deliberately start sacrificing your wants and wishes to make sure his or her needs are met.” –Stephen Kendrick from The Love Dare

“Notice: Anyone found here at night will be found here in the morning.” –Warning Sign

“"One thing nature is very good at is creating incredibly complex microscopic structures. That's because nature's machines are the size of molecules, while our crude versions are the size of rooms." –Theodore Gray (from Molecules: The Elements and Architecture of Everything)

“Only the sufferers know how their bellies ache.“ –Burmese

“People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war, or before an election.” –Otto von Bismarck

“People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is ‘You’re safe with me’ - that’s intimacy.” –Taylor Jenkins Reid (From The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo)

“Play taps for my ass, cause it’s dead as hell.” –Unknown Quote

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. (It doesn't matter which one we choose; Equally involved, equally responsible)”

“Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.” –Markus Zusak (From I Am the Messenger)

“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.” –Theodore Roosevelt

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can” –Arthur Ashe

“Take nothing but pictures; Leave nothing but footprints; Kill nothing but time.” –Caver’s Creed

“Take with a pinch of salt (Don’t completely believe what’s told).”

“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life.” –Richard Bach

“The end of one thing is only the beginning of another.” –Unknown

“The family is a haven in a heartless world.” –Attributed to Christopher Lasch

“The helper seeks to help others because he knows what it is to be helpless.” –’ Zen’ Wander (From Wander Over Yonder)

"The million-dollar question: Why aren't we kinder? The second million-dollar question: How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less

delusional?" –George Sanders

“The need for a body of common knowledge and common reference ...grows more necessary so that people of different origins and occupation may quickly find common ground and, as we say, speak a common language...it also ensures a kind of mutual confidence and good will. One is not addressing an alien, blank as a stone wall, but a responsive creature whose mind is filled with the same images, memories, and vocabulary as oneself.” —Jacques Barzun

“The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them.” –Marilyn Monroe

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!” –Roosevelt

“The only time you should look in your neighbor's bowl is to make sure you have enough.” –Louie CK

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” –Albert Camus

“The sacrifice which causes sorrow to the doer of the sacrifice is no sacrifice. Real sacrifice lightens the mind of the doer and gives him a sense of peace and joy. The Buddha gave up the pleasures of life because they had become painful to him.” –Mahatma Gandhi

“The secret of a good memory is attention, and attention to a subject depends upon our interest in it. We rarely forget that which has made a deep impression on our minds.” —Tryon Edwards

“The secret to humor is surprise.” –Aristotle

“The surplus wealth of the few will become, in the best sense, the property of many, because administered for the common good.” –Andrew Carnegie

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” –G.K. Chesterson

"The word 'why' not only taught me to ask, but also to think. And thinking has never hurt anyone. On the contrary, it does us all a world of good." –Anne Frank

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” –Ernest Hemingway From A Farewell To Arms

“There is no satisfaction in vengeance unless the offender has time to realize who it is that strikes him, and why retribution had come upon him.” –Jefferson Hope From Sherlock’s Adventures

“There will be something you hate in every job. The trick is finding a job where you love the good parts enough to make up for the crappy parts.” –post

“There’s a name for you ladies, but it isn’t used in high society… outside of a kennel.” –Crystal (From The Women of 1939)

“Though we tremble before uncertain futures… may we dance in the face of our fears.” –Gloria Anzaldua

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” –Elie Wiesel (From Night)

“Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l’admire (A fool always finds a fool to admire him).” – Sherlock Holmes (French translation)

“We’re taught Lord Acton’s axiom: all power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely[...] I believed that when we started these books, but I don’t believe it’s always true anymore. [...] What I believe is always true about power is that power always reveals. When you have enough power to do what you always wanted to do, then you see what the guy always wanted to do.” –Robert A. Caro

“We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence.” –Joseph Roux

“What we have done to ourselves alone, dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” –Brother Albert Pike

“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” –Henry Ford

“When you wish upon a star, you’re a few million light years late. That star is dead. Just like your dreams.” –Unknown

“When you’re a brat, running fast is enough to make you popular. When you’re a middle-schooler, the guys who can fight will be popular, and after that it’s the guys with brains who can get the girls.” –Master of Protagonist (From The Fruit of Grisaia)

“Where we love is home –home where our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” –Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.” –Plato

“You are the company you keep.” –Unknown

“You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul" –Chef Gusteau (From Ratatouille)

“You walk around a drunk, you get a tired drunk. Splash ‘em with water, you get a wet drunk. Give ‘em a coffee, you’ve got a wide-awake drunk…” –Unknown

[alchemisland]

The Antiquarian and the Devil's Dog

April 1928.

I, Martin Bryn-Kolkiln, wish to commit to paper the strange events of Friday last, April 9th 1928. For what seems an age I have been chasing time, little tempting pockets of freedom peppered throughout the week, but the crafty seconds evaded capture. My rest too, like the proverbial snoozing hound, has been disturbed to much chagrin, prolonging the day's drudgery.

I had been away for several weeks prior to the incident, pining for home on the sun-cursed dig sites of the Nile delta. Aerial raids destabilized the region, yielding formerly guarded treasures to the gloved hands of fevered antiquarians, creating a scramble the likes of which beaurocrats had not seen since the African pile-on. At one such site, in the frame of a ruined mosque we found an idol, stark and malignant in its shadow-haunted grotto, providing ample fuel for speculation among my uneducated workforce.

My postprandial scribblings, so long a staple of my working week that no servant dares scurry past my quarters upon seeing the glow neath the door signalling occupancy, go neglected of late, my notepad chastely going without flourish.

I have been much beset by idleness, my usual studious nature replaced by bouts of extended procrastination. I do not fear that you will judge too harshly my slovenliness once I recount my adventure in full.

The journey from London towards Matfield is punctuated with occasional wondrous natural vignettes. A journey I had taken many times before, I spurned heirs for comfort and slid far down on my seat, staring out the window. Wild horses cresting grassy knolls against the backdrop of God's own country.

I had informed colleagues of convalescent intentions, two weeks bedridden to document my trip, so it came as a reluctant surprise when a letter arrived requesting my urgent presence at the Powers Estate. It spoke of a strange discovery as work began on a proposed pleasure garden "to rival Xanadu". The author supposed the discovery would be pertinent to my historical interest, and suddenly I was keen to reevaluate my proposed hermitic fortnight.

I set off that same evening with only a light jacket tossed overshoulder. The note's concluding statement disturbed me most. The scribe, generously an amateur, was firm that they had uninterred the skeleton of an enormous hellhound.

I cycled to match Nike's record laps and barely caught the evening train. Upon alighting, a short preamble along a pleasant pebbled path paired with pastures carried me to the estate, its foreboding walls stark and unmissable against the sweeping hillocks. Overhead, through a bore in the wounded firmament, a lance of otherworldly pearlescence triumphed.

The moon in its wane sat stop the rounded domes of the main compound like a crown's centrepiece, its design an eclectic mix of Eastern and Western classical art, rounded arches twinned with dappled pillars, obsidian grotesques with forked tongues freed of their pursed half mouths. Inside, French tapestries decorated the walls, Greek marbles on every landing, enormous canvas features depicting glorious hunts in gilded frames tacked lavishly on every capable surface. Looted Pictish stones inscribed with mysterious runes decorated the fish pond. This was wealth. Old money.

Casement Power, younger brother of late Lord Richard, inherited no property, instead reviving a modest annual wage to fund his excess. The scurrying fox and the baited badger that presumably made up his cost of arms could not satiate his warrior spirit, so he traveled to Africa where the large game roamed.

It crossed my mind while tracing its mighty girdle that perhaps a secret exotic pet had been disinterred, cyclopean only to an amateur.

I found myself frozen at the gates. Some fuedal conditioning told me my sort still weren't welcome here, and I stood hypnotised by its granduer A fortress fit for a martial family.

A buried phalanx of ghoulish hoplites raised their jagged spears to form the gate rails, fearsome black rods as a ward to the timid, a black bas relief in its centre. Pushed its hinges dragged and howled in dull flight, which I took as a sign of reluctance on the house's part.

Once inside I turned right, veering from the cedar-lined drive down a snaking path of trodden grass towards a distant glow. With my forearm raised to tide the eye-hungry branches, I came to stand in a copse offering a clear vantage of the fiddler's kirkyard, where four beacons crudely jammed into the soil guttered, illuminating a profession of loiterers. One waved my shade closer, evidently the letter's author.

The grass grew sicklier in the albumen of my redoubt, tusks of jagged rock bursting through the topsoil. Little wonder this field alone was designated the plebeian pit, it must have been the only infertile patch inside this splendid garden of bulbed delights.

A terrible scream rang out as I took my first ginger step forward. It crowed shrilly, razorlike against the eardrum. Wretched as banshee's wail. Mighty as the seven trumpets sounding to toll the seventh seal's opening. The Djinn's howl. When the screaming stopped, an orb of light rose and hovered about the hungry mouth of an open grave. Unaccustomed to the light, its radiance blinded me, and when finally those briny trickles tamed enough to pry them back open, I found myself back in the copse where I had stood a moment before, the kirkyard beacons up ahead.

I stared to my hands, unable to discern their shape in the darkness. I needed to be positive I wasn't dreaming. It was bitterly cold. Does one feel true cold in the nightland? I surmised then I was not sleeping and in fact alertly experiencing high strangeness. Sudden nausea stole my legs and I keeled over retching.

Prone on the lawn I watched the distant beacons ignite and extinguish in sequence, casting strange shadows, then in unison they doused. Plunged into void, I felt the grass against my cheek mutate into something harder, with many sharp points. I lifted one eyelid and saw the gates. I was outside the compound, as if I had never before entered!

The bas relief's dark contours adopted an ominous aspect, moreso than previous observations yielded. Their bulbous forms tricked me with feigned normalcy. Brushing the stones set in my palm like jewels, I winced to my feet.

One idle lance shone directly on its centre. Beings that at first seemed grecian effigies altered in the pale moontorch. The icons, lacking perspective, still bulged with taut muscle. Lacking the vocabulary to describe the 'otherness' of its shape, Revelations must serve as an imaginative stimulus. The beings were contorted demons with men's bodies and genitals, coated head to toe with coarse black hair.

Where their mouths should have been jutted jaws like that of the snapping Nile crocodiles. One figure above all I was hypnotically drawn to carried by his shoulder a noxious stinger slick with venom poised to strike. Alone was he armed with a pestilent whip, distinguishing him as a leader of sorts, if rank existed within an anarchy of grotesques.

Even as fantasy, this folly was gratuitous, a remnant of the freakshow. The metal itself gleamed as if slick, though no hint of varnish my nostrils scented.

I pushed open the gate as a matter of promptness, again it screeched, reeeeeeeeeeeeeeee - like a vixens wail. Events were unfolding like theatre beats, precisely as they had moments ago, only now where I was sure I had steered right, the dig site was to my left.

I thought voicing the skeptic aloud to might steady frayed nerves. Marsh gases were spirits to feudal farmers before wise men dispelled their ignorance, replicating in micrcosm the binding of the primal flame which elevated our kin above the fierce descendants of Echidna. Perhaps what I experienced was a phenomenon as yet unexplained, wholly within the realms of fact.

Seeing the skeptic permitted entry, the coward tried his charms on the doorman, a masculine fellow with traps the size of roset chickens. Without baudy company to mock my yellow belly, I thought of home, there was time enough yet. Sure, the trains wouldn't run until morning, but a man still might still safely walk the tracks in these leafy byways, and at the station Bucephalus waited.

Whether the men disturbed the rest of a hellhound or bones of a dead doe expanded by the ceaseless freeze-thaw action could a question remain, a chilling inkling to ponder on the Samhain.

A faint dust was visible in the air. A golden sporehaze like foundry sparks taken flight, shifting breezeless. Whether it was the unholy residue of occult practices blighting the gloam or a warning of impending spiritual disaster from the universe itself, I don't know, but I knew to follow my gut, instincts hard-honed.

I sped out the open gate, avoiding its siren keen, and kept a blistering pace until the lane melted where gravel gave to slick grass, then further on nearly stumbling were the tracks, a steel corridor of gnarled teeth. Stemming from negligent workers, trackside grasses growing unwieldy cast ominous shadows, obscuring assailants from the side. I slowed briefly, ensuring my stride matched the distance between planks.

After a time ambling I heard from behind the definite sound of paws plodding, four distinct footfalls increasing pace to match my own, causing me to sprint forward with surprising intensity, flapping like a disturbed bird to keep upright.

Paws clacked against the timbers quick as knuckles on a tabletop, dull heavy thuds, then something emitted a low growl that released the auxiliary adrenaline stocks. Without regard for form I reached my maximum possible speed, tissues, coins and paper scraps falling from my pockets all the while.

I was sure no fevre dream had taken hold, that what gave chase was tangible evil, an anamalous malignance out of another world, an oppressive presence. Some distance at last came between I and it, or least the sound of its routing, but still the aroma of fetid meat wrinkled my nostrils. Intense heat flared across my shoulder blades, as the footfalls came closer than ere before it flared to a searing agony.

I imagined an enormous fissure somewhere along the rows of planks behind, a tunnel hewn from riven flesh, from where mangled fingers rose to grasp my tails, bidden aid Cerberus. The beast thundered along now, terrible jaws searching the air. Teeth, dagger sharp and serrated for tearing flesh clean off the bone, came within inches of my ankles. I felt drops of reeking saliva raining down when the beast's tongue whipped at the empty space I occupied a moment earlier.

In truth I cannot recollect much further, gripped by adrenal berserk time held no meaning. New memories ceased forming. All non-critical faculties were off.

After an eternity I emerged into the dirty light of the station and dared to slow, coughing a lung by a signpost, the chase had not been so rabid these last lengths. The spell which coated those bones in living flesh expired as Sol threatened her wakening divinity, bleaching the hills.

The horizon turned red as iron ore. Hours faded like charcoal met by floodwater. Dawn arrived, silent and chorusless. I found no snapping Cerberus or terrible mastiff, only a dizzying corridor of shifting darkness stretching to infinity, for the dawntorch did not pierce the thicket there. In relief I howled, noting aloud to none in particular that this was likely a record time for this journey, surpassing even the no-stop trains that carried resources to the Hebrides overnight.

In spite of everything, I had to question if a creature ferociously pursued me at all, or merely had some friendly dog trotted alongside for a time. As to whether my own footfalls quickening sent me into a panic I was unsure. Should I be terrified, relieved, embarrassed or a combination of all three?

Next came the darkest revelation. I sat, legs dangling over the lip of the platform, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, held it as if the smoke would absorb my woes.

A draft met my back and the sodden shirt plastered thereupon. No, more than a breeze, a pain. I gingerly pawed the raw area, if the phrasing can be pardoned, and found three scrapes stretching hip to hip. At night they vomit pus onto the swanfeathers corset of gauze I have taken since. Another paroxysm sent me spiralling into blackness.

I suppose it was near enough morning when I woke. Some kindly commuter or station man had taken notice and fetched a doctor, I have no memory of this.

The doctors informed say it will be some time before the wounds heal, that I may never recoup my former vigour, and even in miraculous circumstances, there is danger of tetanus.

Tetanus.

The lacerations were proved to have been canine in origin. Doctors, veterinarians and trappers consulted have been completely baffled by their length, stating no native creature is capable of inflicting wounds suchlike to a man grown.

With this nightmare put to page I hope the oily tendrils of it are scraped from my mind. I must retire to steam the wound again. Most, my spirit is shaken. I have not felt anxiety like it since the war.

I cannot complain overmuch, but blast sleeping on my front! How anyone finds solace in this repose is beyond my imagining, I feel like a lizard basking on hot stones.

April 20th, M Bryn-Kolkiln

[lowat-golden-tower]

Out on a Limb

Haha... so this is Yandere's chapter. Do I even need to warn you about the impending blood and violence and deranged-ness? It's Yandereplier. Shit's gonna get a little real here.

Oh, and a small warning for animal abuse threats. No squirrels were actually harmed in the making of this chapter.

@alcordraws and @angstphilosophy, sorry for this. X’D Though I bet you’ll enjoy it too.

AO3 Mirror

Chapter 9: carving for senpai

"He loooves me, he loves me not. He loooooooooves me, he loves me not."

King was roused from a late afternoon nap by the sound of a voice. It was far, far too close to the tree and he was honestly surprised his subjects hadn't woken him sooner. Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around, fearful something might have happened to them.

Thankfully, they were all gathered nearby, perfectly safe and sound. Though the fact they all appeared to be watching something perked his interest. It was odd for them not to be panicking or going into a frenzy at someone so close to their nesting boughs. Maybe that meant the interloper wasn't a threat? Then again, they'd been freaking out over Artiplier, and he hadn't proven antagonistic. Just weird. King was still trying to sort out that particular encounter.

Heaving himself away from his preferred nest of overlapping branches and leaves, King shimmied out to his usual perch when it came to dealing with those on the ground. The squirrels parted and made space for him, but otherwise didn't tear their gazes away from the mop of bloody crimson bobbing along below.

Oh God. There was only one ego who'd kept that color throughout all of Mark's hairstyle transitions.

Yandereplier hummed happily as he plucked another petal from the daisy he held. His grip on the poor thing could only be likened to a stranglehold. "Senpai loves me." He giggled and gave a happy little sigh, setting the petal in a little pile on his lap. He was sitting beneath the tree, his back to the trunk, and there were several mangled flower stems scattered on the grass around him.

His fingers plucked- no, ripped- off another petal. "Senpai loves me not." Yandere's voice dipped into a deeper, more dangerous register as he glowered at the little petal. Rather than dropping it into the pile with the others, he proceeded to mangle the bit of flora between his thumb and forefinger.

King could only compare the sight to someone squashing a particularly disgusting, annoying bug. Worse yet, Yandere proceeded to eat the remnants, chuckling darkly to himself.

"Yeah, right, as if that's true. Senpai loooves me, of course. Stupid flower petals." Having apparently run out of both petals and flowers to mutilate, Yandere carelessly tossed the empty stem away. He looked down at the petals in his lap with an adoring expression. "You're my lucky little charms! I'm gonna press all of you into the photo album I have of senpai. One for every page, so I know for a fact he must love me!" Yandere's fists were clenched, and there was an eager, violent gleam in his eyes.

King felt his insides shudder. Fantastic. Of all the egos to decide hanging around his tree, it just had to be this one. Artiplier might have been a little unstable too, but at least he'd been harmless. King didn't need to see a knife to know Yandere had one on his person. It was a constant.

No wonder his subjects were just watching. Any little thing could set Yandere off. They weren't stupid. The only reason they hadn't vacated the premises entirely was because of the babies. They were just as on-edge as he felt; anxiety gripping at their hearts, at the possibilities.

Maybe, if they just stayed quiet, Yandere wouldn't even realize they were there. Yandere was always absorbed into his own world anyway. If he was just going to pick flower petals and sing and mutter to himself about his senpai, then there was no problem. He'd eventually get bored and leave, and everything would settle back to normal. King knew he didn't have to reiterate this point to his subjects, but he made a "shushing" gesture anyway. Nice and easy.

Yandere had been humming while he delicately slipped the petals into a plastic baggy and sealed it up, stuffing it down his shirt. King had no idea how that kind of logic worked, as the shirt was so loose on Yandere that anything inside should immediately fall out, but then Yandere never really followed the rules. Of anything. Including the universe.

The uniformed ego rose to his feet with another happy hum, dusting off the back of his skirt. He combed fingers through his hair; meticulous and anxious. King might have found the display endearing, if it wasn't for the fact he'd seen both hair and hands covered in blood more than once. "Now, let's see. I came out here for a reason, I wanted to do something super special kawaii desu ne for senpai~ Something that would be around forever and ever and ever, just like our love." King shuddered when Yandere's voice dropped to a rumbling growl again and ducked a bit further into his tree.

Yandere, however, was still sunshine and rainbows for the most part as he turned around to face said tree. "Oh yeah~! I remember now. I wanted to immortalize my love for senpai~ Trees are around for centuries, just like our love will be. And it's soooo romantic!" He pulled out the knife King had been waiting trepidatiously for and held it up, a wicked grin on his face and that same dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, fuck, he's gonna carve up the tree...." King muttered almost inaudibly under his breath. He could see his subjects immediately grow agitated and tried to quiet their angry chitters. "No, no, shhh. It's better that knife go in the tree than in you, I'm sorry, I know, it's too dangerous. Just calm down... shh..."

Yandere, thankfully, seemed oblivious for the moment. Too wrapped up in his fantasies, most likely. "...and when we're oooold and graaay I can bring senpai here to this tree, and we can smile and laugh at the cute little heart with our names in it~ Uguuu, it's so sweet, I think I might just die!" He heaved a ragged breath, the knife trembling a little in his grasp as a faraway look entered his eyes. It only lasted for about ten seconds, then the "peaceful serenity" returned with another giggle. "But not before senpai~!"

King watched Yandere move up close to the tree, tracing the blade along the old bark. He attempted to pull his subjects in close to his body; to comfort and soothe them and prevent impending disaster. He was only minutely successful. It was clear as day the squirrels wanted to jump in and defend their tree as they had against all the other egos.

Yandere wasn't like the other egos. Yandere might not hold any reality warping abilities, but he was by far the loosest cannon- even compared to Wilford. Wilford probably wouldn't harm King or his subjects on purpose. Yandere, on the other hand...

King's mind drifted back to the incident where Billy had stolen shirt scraps from Yandere's room. The ego had been utterly furious, near to foaming at the mouth with eyes wild and crazed like a rabid animal. He'd threatened to catch King's squirrels and skin them all alive. To make a hat out of their fur for his precious senpai. He said it'd be easy, like skinning a person but less work, or like dissecting an animal in biology class.

King had returned the scraps and proceeded to take all of his subjects into deep hiding for over a week. He only ever ventured out for supplies, and every time he did, he swore he felt himself being watched from the shadows. Eventually, Yandere's mind shifted to more current transgressions, but King always worried the ego held a grudge.

"It's gotta be perfect. The very bestest spot for senpai! Riiiiight... here!" Abruptly, Yandere rammed his knife deep into the tree. It practically sank to the hilt, and the brief display of power set all the tree's inhabitants to cowering.

"See? He'll kill you if you bother him, just let him carve his stupid thing and maybe he'll leave," King whispered, fretting. All the squirrels had taken to hiding within his clothes and cape; one even tucking away beneath his marvelous crown. He sighed in relief. At least they were listening to him. The last thing they needed was to draw any attention to themselves.

With some effort, Yandere wrenched his blade from the tree, and began the ardous task of carving into the bark. He traced out a jagged heart first, of course. Then came the more precise art of drawing out the names. He lean in close, eyes squinting and tongue poking out as he focused on every tiny line. It had to be perfect. Perfect for his perfect senpai. Only the best. Nothing else would do. In his contentment, his intermittent humming shifted to soft singing. "I love senpai, yes I do~ He's for me, not for you~"

So far, so good. Yandere hadn't noticed any disturbances. Surely, surely after he completed his task, he would leave. King watched from his perch, holding and comforting his agitated subjects. They were furious, understandably so, and he was irritated as well. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do. The best course of action was no action at all. He'd make it up to them, somehow.

Of course, King had discovered fate quite enjoyed toying with him at this point. Just as it seemed Yandere was scratching out the last "e" in his name, King felt something wet and sticky drip from his chin. His heart stopped and his eyes widened. Oh no.

A small glob of peanut butter landed on the curve of Yandere's wrist, giving him pause. He blinked out of what appeared to have been some sort of trance, turning his attention to the smudge of light brown. Slowly, his head tilted, as if he were attempting to process the information. King watched with baited breath, hugging his subjects closer and silently cursing his majestically nutty beard.

Yandere's head snapped up without warning, deadened brown eyes locking onto King in a single breath. King choked, feeling frozen in place by that merciless gaze. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He wanted to speak, to say something, but he'd lost track of his words and his breath just wouldn't come out right. Yandere, nonplussed, didn't tear his gaze away from King as he brought the marred wrist up to his mouth. He licked the glob of peanut butter from his skin, agonizingly slow, never breaking eye contact. He didn't immediately swallow, or move, but when he finally did a spine-chilling smile slipped onto his serene face.

"Denka...." The word slipped off Yandere's tongue thicker than the peanut butter he'd just consumed; a deadly purr which promised only pain and suffering. The grip on his knife had tightened, and he tore it from the bark with a wretched sound. "So. This is your tree, is it?"

At last, King found his voice, though it was breathless and stuttering as he tried to placate Yandere while he was still apparently subdued. Maybe he could still avoid any violence or conflict. "N-no, no! It's- it's just a tree. Just staying in it, that's all. No ownership over it or anything. Totally free tree! Just pretend I'm not even here." He held up his hands, praying Yandere would take his words and gestures at face value. He had a nasty tendency of reading far too deeply into things, and contriving his own meanings from them.

Yandere's grip hadn't visibly loosened any, though. The smile on his face escalated to a rather unhinged grin; showing off his pearly whites while his upper lip minutely twitched. He looked positively manic. "Oh, you can't fool me, denka! I've heard the others. You won't let anyone near your precious tree. Won't let them come up there. Because you've got something to protect! Riiiiight?"

King swallowed hard. Normally, he'd be flattered that any aspect of his reputation preceded him. He was so often forgotten about, after all. However, in this particular instance, he wished his notoriety wasn't quite so high. It had only been causing him problems as of late. "I-I... uh... I mean, yes, but- I c-can make an exception...!"

"Awww, well isn't that generous of you." Yandere hummed sweetly, toying the point of his knife. He either didn't notice, or didn't care, when the deadly sharpness cut through the skin of his fingertip. A droplet of blood trickled down the blade, and King knew it wasn't the first- nor would it likely be the last. "Unfortunately, I don't! No exceptions for senpai! No exceptions for anyone! Senpai is mine, everything about him, everything he owns, is mine, because senpai loves me very much, and I love him, and no one can be a part of that! No one can take that from me! No one!" Yandere was practically screaming by the end of his rant, swinging his knife about dangerously.

King was uttering every last curse he knew in his head. This wasn't good. The situation was rapidly spiraling beyond his control, as it was wont to do with Yandere involved. Shifting gears, he ushered his subjects to the deeper branches; their nests and burrows. If all Hell broke loose, he didn't want them to be trapped with him. Yandere was more likely to attack the human target. "Yandere, c'mon, let's just talk about this..."

"No! No talk! The only voice I want to hear, is senpai's! The only eyes and face I want to see, are senpai's! You're not my senpai! You're just a silly king up in his tree! Well..." Yandere's grin, already chilling, turned utterly sick in appearance. His eyes were bloodshot suddenly, almost the same color as his hair. He was trembling, head low and twitching between his shoulders. "What's a king to a radical, anyway?"

King's breath caught in his throat. "Yandere, no-"

"YANDERE YES!" The ego let loose a blood-curdling cackle and stabbed at the tree again. This time, however, he used it as leverage to pull himself up, planting his penny loafers firmly against the bark. His eyes were wild swirls of brown and red, his grin deranged and his bangs falling messily across his face.

King screamed on reflex. He couldn't help it. He had stemmed off of Mark's subconscious ideas, after all. Terrified, he looked wildly around, but they'd exhausted the last of the tree's walnuts on Ed. They had no defenses, besides their location, which was quickly becoming a moot point in the wake of Yandere's vicious determination. He was scaling the tree with a ferocity and reckless abandon, not caring for the bits of bark and wood he sent flying or the smaller branches he snapped off. So long as he reached his destination, he would be satisfied.

King only wished that destination wasn't him. If Yandere got up there, who knew how much damage the ego would cause. It could be a complete massacre. Everything King had worked so hard to protect and defend would be gone. Any remaining subjects he had would have lost faith in him, in his abilities as their king. He wouldn't be able to blame them.

"One little, two little, three little squirrelies! Four little, five little, six little squirrelies! Seven little, eight little, nine little squirrelies! Lots of dead squirrelies laying all on the ground!"

"Oh god, oh fuck, fuck, what am I gonna do, oh god, ffffffuck..." King gasped, panicking, tugging at his hair and pressing knuckles to his mouth. He could feel his heart racing wildly in his chest. He had to do something. Yandere was closing in; it would only be another minute or two before he was in the heart of the tree. Then it would be all over. King had to do something.

Yandere let loose another deranged chuckle, and the sound shook King to his very core. This was it. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit back and allow Yandere to terrorize his kingdom. He'd tried playing nice, and he'd tried being diplomatic. Clearly, diplomacy wasn't the answer here. Clearly, Yandere only understood one language: his own. If King couldn't get through to the murderous ego, then he'd have to stop him. Period.

He really wished there was a better way to do it.

Removing his cape, King carefully set his crown off to the side. His subjects sniffed at it warily, confused, but he merely shot them another reassuring smile and a thumbs up. "Don't worry. I've got this." Turning to look back down at Yandere, who was now far too close for comfort, King drew a deep breath. His chest was tight, but he knew what he had to do. There were no other options. No one was going to help him.

With a high-pitched shriek that was more terrified scream than ferocious battlecry, King threw himself down from his perch. He held out his cape in front of him and slammed hard into Yandere, sending them both plummeting to the ground below. Their mutual screams mingled into a terrible sound, only cut-off by the harsh impact of their combined weight meeting the grass. King had landed fully on Yandere, said ego's body covered almost entirely by the expanse of his cape. Beyond King's heaving breaths, there was silence again.

The impact had knocked the breath from his lungs. Once he regained enough of it, he grimaced. Yandere hadn't so much as twitched since they hit the ground. "Uhh..." Crap. What if King had killed him? Could he even kill another ego? What if Yandere snapped his neck, or broke his back, or smashed his skull against a branch on the way down? Could he come back from that?

Panic began creeping along the edges of King's consciousness. He ached all over, and there was a sharp pain in his side, but Yandere had completely broken his fall. Clearly, the smaller ego had taken the brunt of the damage. "Oh god."

Frightened to find himself looking into hollow, empty eyes or to see Yandere's neck twisted at a gruesome angle, King slowly pulled down his cape. He had to know. If he'd accidentally killed Yandere, if he'd committed ego murder...

He was met with a groan and a huffed exhale, and he felt his lungs seize deep within his chest. Yandere's head shifted, lolling slightly to one side, but otherwise he didn't stir. His eyes were closed, his face and mouth slack with unconsciousness. He was knocked out cold. Not dead, still breathing, not horribly disfigured or mutilated. King released a shuddering breath of his own, tension easing out of his muscles. "Oh thank god...."

With the false alarm came better awareness of his surroundings. King could hear the anxious chittering of his subjects and looked up. Several had meandered down the tree, clearly worried, while the rest remained near the nests as he'd requested. Their concern warmed his heart and brought a small smile to his face.

"It's okay, everybody! I'm okay! Just a little bruised up. I'll be just- ah-" King sucked in a sudden, harsh breath as he started to pull fully away from the unconscious body beneath him. He hissed, wincing and grimacing, and pressed a hand to the side which had been twinging since they landed. He jolted again when his fingers brushed metal, slick and warm with some kind of liquid. His heart rose up into his throat and stayed there. "Oh..." The word was so soft it might as well have been just another exhale.

Slowly, scared of what he'd find, King lifted his arm and craned his neck to get a look at his torso. Color drained from his face. Yandere's knife was sticking out of his ribs, still gripped tightly in his hand. It had pierced through his robe and either skewered him upon landing, or Yandere had stabbed him during the fall.

Either way, he'd been hit. It wasn't extremely bad, seeing as he wasn't spitting up blood, but the wound wasn't exactly shallow. Hissing further, King knew attempting to wrench the weapon from Yandere was likely futile, even in his unconscious state. Desperately staving off the urge to hyperventilate and panic, he drew rapid breaths and carefully pushed his body up. A pained whimper slid out of him along with the knife, fresh blood gushing to stain his shirt and blend with the red of his cape. It was tannic and sharp in the air, making him want to gag. "Shit..."

Pressing a hand tightly to the wound made him grit his teeth and flinch, but he knew it was necessary. He needed to wrap the wound with something. Staring at his already ruined cape, he thought a silent "fuck it" and took advantage of the knife still sticking through the material.

It took a few minutes, but King managed to obtain a sizable chunk from the bulk of his cape. Yandere still hadn't stirred, which was a relief. King had no doubts the younger ego would be all too happy to finish the job. Wrapping the cloth around his torso, he made the makeshift binding tight as he dared and carefully knotted it off. By that time, sweat was beading on his brow, and he was feeling a little sick. He sat, heaving and gasping, until he felt a soft weight drop onto his shoulder.

Something fluffy and warm nuzzled along his jaw, and King's smile returned. "Billy..." He managed a weak laugh and reached up with his less bloody hand to gently stroke a finger along his subject's side. "I'll... I'll be okay. Thank you. Hang on."

King couldn't just leave Yandere by the tree. The moment he woke, he'd be right back on the warpath. No, King had to get him out of there. He wasn't looking forward to what would happen next, but like with everything else so far, he didn't have much choice. Setting his jaw and furrowing his brows, King wrapped the remains of his cape around Yandere and hefted him into his arms. His side absolutely screamed in protest, and he felt more blood trickle from the wound as he exerted the muscle there.

His knees wobbled. King cursed, quite colorfully, under his breath. Billy bumped in concern at his cheek again, and he forced up another weak grin. "I've got it. Don't worry." His voice was tight from the strain. Thankfully, Yandere wasn't too big. It was only a struggle to carry the ego because of King's injury. Stumbling and swaying, he made his way through the back door of Egos, Inc.

King wasn't certain if it would be advantageous to run into another ego or not. Seeing a bloody mess associated with Yandere was nothing new. However, apparently the egos weren't regarding him in a very happy or positive light nowadays. They might get the wrong idea if they spied him toting along an unconscious, bloodied Yandere.

No, it was probably for the best he didn't run into another soul along his journey.

Unsure of how else to handle the situation, King settled for locking Yandere in a closet. He'd be furious when he woke up, but unable to immediately seek vengeance- if he recalled who knocked him out in the first place. One of the other egos would eventually hear him screaming and pounding and maybe come let him out. It wouldn't be King, that much was for sure.

With that threat out of the way, King could turn his attention to his wound. He winced as he realized he'd been trailing and tracking blood through the building. He was an ego, which meant he could withstand more than a normal human, but even he had his limits. He should probably go see the doctor in the clinic. Yet... his gaze drifted out a nearby window, landing on the tree. If he went to the clinic, Dr. Iplier would restrict him to bedrest, and his subjects would be defenseless. Vulnerable. The mere thought alone constricted his lungs all over again.

No, no... King could manage. It was just a little cut. Yandere hadn't pierced anything vital. He wished he could at least swipe some painkillers or actual bandages before he left, but all of those supplies were in the clinic. Far too risky. He snatched a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread and a large bag of trail mix from the break room instead.

He'd survive. He could manage. Even though dragging his limping form back to the tree was an effort in and of itself. Heaving his body up the branches was worse, but once he was settled into his perch, he felt better. King pressed a hand to his side, grimaced, then forced another smile for his worried subjects. "I'll be okay. I'm glad none of you were hurt. Please don't worry about me."

The squirrels exchanged glances, intelligent creatures they were, before promptly swarming onto King. He gasped softly, but every squirrel was careful not to step on his wound. They linked up together, crossing paws and tails and fluffy bodies until they'd formed a sort of blanket over their injured ruler. It was getting late, with the sun setting beyond the leaves, and King was touched by the caring gesture. A tingle started up in his nose and his eyes burned with the threat of tears as he sniffed. "Guys..."

His lips wobbled, and he wrapped bloodstained arms around his loving subjects. He'd never felt so warm. This, their loyalty and trust, made everything worth it. Gradually, the pain in his abdomen lessened to a barely noticeable throb, and he was able to drift off to sleep. Comfortable with the knowledge his kingdom was safe once again.

[antr-and-the-babies]

Top 10 RWBY Characters That Didn’t Appear in V4 (Some Spoilers)

Hello all my wandering ants of the colony. My name is Hunter the Ant, AKA Antr here to talk about an amazing show: RWBY!!!! That's right, we're going to be taking a short look at one of Rooster Teeth's shining works and talk about the possibilities of character appearances for Volume 5 and on. But before I begin, let me put a BIG spoiler alert for those of you who might want to get into it. For those of you who haven't watched the show and didn't heed my spoiler alert, allow me give a brief summary of the show: RWBY follows the growing chronicles of Ruby Rose, a teenage girl who wields a mechanical sythe training to one day become a trained warrior called huntsman/huntress. These warriors have the duty of protecting people from any threat that may come into being. Their primary enemy are monsters known as the creatures of Grimm; black and red, nightmarish beasts whose only function is to destroy life. These beings are attracted mainly to the negativity of mankind. Disrupt the peace, and Grimm will follow. Ruby plans on following in her family's footsteps and becoming a trained protector. Along side her is the rest of team Ruby: Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company and the groups typical "spoiled" rich girl; Blake Belladonna, former White Fang member, cat faunus, and the groups dark and brooding girl; and Yang Xiao Long, the cheerful but hot headed strong woman of the group, and Ruby's paternal half-sister. Together they form the title group: RWBY. Throughout the series, Team RWBY come in contact with both friends and enemies that propel the story; such as their close allies Team JNPR, or their enemies for the first three seasons who are (unofficially) know as Team CRME (or just  Cinder's Faction if you want to include the character Neopolitan). These characters play a crucial role in the development of our main female leads, helping them grow as people, huntresses, and as team mates.   With Volume 4 having just ended and Volume 5 announced to premier sometime in Autumn, there are certainly a hand-full of characters that people want to return or know more about. Some, obviously, are more popular than others. Today, we're going to be looking through the characters that either played an important supporting role in Volumes 1-3 and didn't appear in Volume 4, or characters that were mentioned/hinted at in one of the previous volumes that could have an impact in the story for Volume 5. These are in no particular order of importance. I'm just jotting them down as I go. Let's do it! ____________________________________________ 1. Leo Lionheart Its's no secret now that pretty much every major headmaster in the series is a reference to a major character from "The Wizard of Oz." Ozpin/Oscar is The Wizard, Glenda is The Good Witch, and Ironwood is The Tinman. Now, at the end of volume 4 we are introduced to the new headmaster of Haven Academy; the man we will be following and who will be helping our heroes for the duration of volume 5, Leo Lionheart. If his name isn't an obvious enough tip-off on who he's based off of, the fact that he's un-courageously sold out his school and the people of Mistral to Salem's lacky Watts should give you a clue (He's the cowardly lion guys). Ruby fans have been wondering about the other headmasters ever since the introduction to Ironwood back in Volume 2. Leo was actually first mentioned by name by Ironwood himself, however that wasn't until Chapter 11 of Volume 4. He was briefly mention by Qrow in "A Much Needed Talk," saying that they hadn't heard from him in a while; even before the attack on Beacon. While what we know on him is slim, what we do know doesn't paint him off as a very trustworthy ally. As stated before he has connection with Salem, and most likely will sellout information to save his own skin. BUUUT, knowing how the Cowardly Lion is in "The Wizard of Oz," hopefully he'll have a turning point in his character arc and gain the much needed bravery people expect from him. 2. Winter Schnee Winter Schnee is the elder sibling to both Shitley and Weiss, and the first born child to Jacques Schnee, owner of the Schnee  Dust Company. To date, Winter has appeared in only two episodes, had a cameo appearance in a family picture, and was mention once towards the end of Volume 4. Along with this, she's also one of the few characters we had no prior lead up too before she was introduced. Hell, before she turned up we didn't even know Weiss had any family other than her father. All we know about Winter's position  is that she works somewhere right under Ironwood in the Atlas military defenses. She's sort of on the same boat as Weiss, feeling as though it is her duty to protect and serve the people of Remnant in order to make up for her father's misdoings and reclaim the good Schnee name.  However, while Weiss decided to become a huntress,  Winter went for a more strict/ firm position of protection. At the end of Volume 4 Weiss and Ironwood mention that Winter is stationed in Haven, so it's a definite conclusion that we'll be seeing more interactions between her, Weiss, and possibly the rest of Team RWBY and RNJR. It'll be interesting to get a bit more info on her. What kind of authority she holds in the ranks. Not to mention, what kind of classified missions she's been up too since the fall of Beacon. Has Ironwood informed her of the growing situation? Only time will tell. 3. Neptune Vasilias (and the rest of Team SSSN Neptune was introduced in the first episode of Volume 2. He's a close friend to Sun Wukong, and was the first love interest to Weiss Schnee (still possibly is). Right from the start Neptune presented himself as a smooth intellectual who loves the ladies. And while we haven't seen him fight that much, the assumption could be made that he's one of the more unique huntsmen out there given his weapon of choice: An energy-shot gun that transforms into an energy guandao, which Then can be transformed into an electric-based trident. We got a lot of Neptune in Volume 2, a little in Volume 3, and then only a mention in Volume 4 with Sun saying he (and the rest of Team SSSN) are back in Mistral. Aside from his suave personality and crippling fear, we don't really know much about Neptune's background. In fact, he's one of the few characters who hasn't shown his semblance (others being Jaune, Taiyang, Mercury, Ironwood; just to name a few). Maybe in Volume 5 we'll get to see Neptune more in action AND get his semblance. I mean, if it can take Rooster Teeth four volumes to get to Ren's semblance, I think we can get Nepune's. Plus, it would be interesting to see how his interactions with Weiss would go after her time of self-empowerment back home. Will she still be interested in his type? Unlike Atlas folk, he was there on the ground with her after-all. Who know? 4. Penny Polendina Yes, I know Penny is "dead," but the big argument against that is that...she's a robot. Not human in any sense. And I know what all of you are going to be throwing in my face: "Well, she was able to generate an Aura. That obviously makes her unique." And yes, you would be right in the sense that all beings with an Aura have their own individual and unique Auras (excluding the Schnee's) and essentially have a soul, but remember the information we got in Volume 3, Chapter 6. Atlas had been experiment with Auras and all sorts of tech to manipulate and transfer things of that essence. We don't know under what circumstances Penny was created. We don't know how she's generating her Aura, or who created her in the first place. All we knew was that she was a robot who was under protection of Ironwood and sent to Vale to enter the Vytal Festival in order to see if she was ready. I can't be the only one to think this, but...wouldn't Penny's creator or Ironwood have kept the original schematics and blueprints on how to make another robot. Or better yet, REPAIR the broken robot. Like I said, we don't know how Penny is generating her Aura. Just because her robot body got damaged doesn't mean her Aura was. If it was implanted in her the first time, It could again. We never saw what happened to her body after everything that happened during the fall of Beacon. You really don't think that the government wouldn't go and collect the pieces? This is just a personal wish, but I really hope that some how they take Penny's dwindling Aura and put it in a new body. She reactivates, but doesn't remember everything fully. She's sent to Ironwood to continue being watched and slowly her memories start to come back of what happened. She then escapes from Atlas (which is currently under lock-down and having it's own travel ban) and goes to find her friends. She learns what happened to Pyrrha, and offers to become part of Team JNPR. It's only a wish though. It'll probably never happen....... 5. Neopolitan Oh Neo. To date, Neo is one of RWBY's most mysterious characters; that title formally belonging to Yang's mom Raven, but now Neo is pretty much on the same level as Summer Rose. We know literally NOTHING about her. All we know is that she works for Cinder (formerly Torchwick), and possibly Salem. Other than that she's pretty much a mystery. I mean, how are you supposed to learn anything about a character who has no voice? Yeah. To non-RWBY fans who don't know, Neopolitan is a mute. Probably because her concept from Monty Oum was so sudden into the universe, that they didn't have time to find an appropriate voice actor. And by then, she'd already made a name for herself as the silent, cocky wing-woman to Torchwick. At the end of Volume 3, the last we saw of Neo was her floating off of Ironwood's stolen ship into the sky of crowded griffins and nevermores. Presumably she landed far off from where all the action was happening, and seeing how everything was going down south she made her escape. Now, whether or not she returned to Cinder after all this is unknown. Neo's loyalty seemed to be more towards Torchwick then anyone else, but she still has connections. Maybe she took over Torchwicks crime organization after his death. Or maybe she's laying low. Hiding from Cinder so she won't be dragged any further than she already is. I know at this point in the series things had to be written out to make way for newer challenges. Obviously, the need for an underground crime network isn't as important now that our heroes have an actual threat, but Neo felt like more than just a common criminal. I mean, she was able to take out Yang with ease in Volume 2. And she had no problem dealing with Ruby...up 'til the point she blew her off the ship. I'm just saying that Neo seemed to be more skilled than most of the other villains we got at the time. Plus, considering how popular she, I don't think they'd just write her off as "missing in action" I think she'll make her return. And we won't even hear her coming. 6. Glynda Goodwitch Glynda was the first official huntress we saw in the show (Ruby herself doesn't count). As we've seen on multiple occasions, she one of the more powerful huntresses. Her abilities (and possibly her semblance) gives her almost magical abilities beyond any other normal huntress we've seen. She's not using dust, and she's not a maiden. She's just a strict, kick-ass lady with an awesome cape and zero tolerance for tomfoolery. Yet, we didn't get any of her for Volume 4. We saw a reused clip of her broadcast on  TV of her trying to rebuild Vale and reclaim Beacon, but nothing else. As the woman who was pretty much Ozpin's second in command you'd think they give her at least one line of dialogue in the new volume. Hell, Port and Oobleck had more time on screen than she did.   Well, Oscar has now emerged from Ozpin's dust, and now has to help with all the madness that's going on. Considering Glynda is one of the few people who was informed on everything, chances are that when she hears Ozpin has come back and is in the body of a child, her reaction will be about the same as Qrow's. She knows all this craziness. She probably knows more then Qrow and Ironwood considering how she's literally at Ozpin's side majority of the time. She probably knew this was going to happen and is now waiting for any word to get to her about it. She has a duty in Vale to regulate and control the Grimm outbreak, but any chance she gets she'll be on a one way trip to find Oscar and Qrow and help in any way possible.  It would be awesome if Qrow and Glynda became Oscar's mentors, helping him become the new Ozpin. Qrow would teach the basics, and Glynda would perfect them. Seems like a good combo to me. 7. Adam Taurus The Volume 4 opening deceived us! We thought we were going to get a Blake vs. Adam fight, and the most we get from Adam in the entire volume is a mention from Salem and Yang's Nightmare. Though, all that means is that we'll be getting that fight in Volume 5. Though, that makes me a bit worried. Not for him, but for everyone else. Adam was first introduced in the "Black Trailer." He didn't make his series debut until the end of Volume 2. He's the leader of the faunus terrorist group "The White Fang," a once peaceful but now violent organization that wants to destroy mankind so that the faunus species can be the dominant ones. Blake also used to serve right under him and be part of his villainous schemes. As of right now, we don't know how Adam came into power, why he's so bitter and extreme, or really anything about his past. All we know is that he had a thing for Blake and he cut off Yang's arm...what a resume. And now that she's rejected him, he's going berserk and vowing to kill everyone she loves to prove...to prove...I don't what it's meant to prove, but it does show how evil he is! Obviously, Adam has eyes EVERYWHERE. Thanks to Ilia, Adam now knows that Blake took a stop back home in Menagerie. That's probably not a good thing for her parents. And now with Blake leaving for Haven, Adam's probably going to get word of that and meet her there to continue his destructive rein over her. Aside from Blake, Yang would also be facing her anxiety towards him and getting back at him for cutting her arm off. It would be a scary, yet awesome scene to have the two fighting it out. Though, I think in the end Adam would still win, and it would be up to Blake to try and save her again. The point is, Adam will be coming back. He's too bad to let go. 8. Summer Rose Unlike Penny, I know Summer isn't going to return. Obviously, a character who died before the story even began can't magically show up five seasons later, however there's still a ton of story they could do with her. Literally since Volume 2 and 3 people have been begging for a Team STRQ flashback episode. We'd finally be able to see a living Summer Rose, and possibly see where things went so very very wrong in their team history. Maybe get a little info into Her and Tai's relationship after Raven ditched him. Who knows!?! I can only hope they give us this much needed flashback. 9. Unknown Scientist The assumption can be made that this unknown scientist might indeed be Penny's "father." Considering he was watching the tournament, and his reaction to her sudden death, it is likely to be true. But what I'm surprised about, is the lack of discussion about him, and the lore that comes from knowing who he is and how Penny came into being. I came into the show a bit late, I must admit, but still the amount of talk that goes into him is staggeringly low from what I expected. Penny is based on the tale of Pinocchio; no secret about that. She's a robot who's only partially "alive" and used mechanical swords attached to puppet-like strings. Since Penny was made around this fairytale that means that this man can only be one person: Geppetto. He's the one who built her, so obviously he's the "puppeteer" who created a false being to act like the child he never had. And that's all well and good, but there's two more major characters to the Pinocchio tale ): The Blue Fairy and The Talking Cricket (I know his name is Jimmeny, but I don't know if she's based of the fairytale, or the Disney interpretation). The woman who gave Pinocchio life in the first place and the person who gave him moral advice.. Who are they, and what connection do they have with our unknown scientist? Is she the source of Penny's Aura? Was she once a living being who had her Aura sucked out of her and placed in the body of a robot? Di Penny have another person who looked out for her? Was that who her partner Ciel Soleil was from Volume 3, episode 5? I'm hoping we get some hints in Volume 5, but knowing how Rooster Teeth and Monty setup character reveals, it's probably going to be another volume-and-a-half before we even get mention of him again. A man can only dream, and wish upon a star.   10. Weiss' Mother I'm going to make a wild claim here and say that maybe, just maybe, Weiss' mother is the Winter Maiden. I know, I know, it seems TOO obvious to be true, but there are tons of signs that could lead anyone to believe that she might be the Winter Maiden. First, her location. The Schnee's reside in Atlas. As we learned from Qrow, Atlas (formerly Mantel) is basically a frozen tundra of a continent. It's equivalent to our Antarctica. Given the Maidens abilities, wouldn't it make since for them to reside in areas that correspond to the season they represent? I mean, take Amber for example. If you look past the fog (and the awesome fight going on in the foreground), what do you see? While we don't know where exactly she was when she was attacked by Cinder, the setting indicates it was an area of changing natural colors. Almost as if it were Autumn in the area she was. It corresponded perfectly with her because she was the Fall Maiden. And now our heroes are in Haven, an area that has fresh green flora and fauna everywhere. And the next Maiden we know Salem is looking for is Spring. Seems pretty likely that maybe we'll get our next Maiden in Haven. Just like how it seems pretty likely that our Summer Maiden would reside somewhere hot, like Vacuo, and our Winter Maiden somewhere cold, like Atlas. Next, the daughter's power choice and names. Ever since Volume one, Weiss has been referred too as something icy; most notably her nickname "Ice Queen" which Qrow also calls Winter. In the beginning we all assumed they were just called that because of their cold personalities and where they came from, but with the introduction of the Maidens, perhaps this is a hints for something else. Their powers may also be a hint of their mother's Maiden prestige. Of all the types of dust Weiss has been shown using, the one she uses the most is ice. Wouldn't it make some sense that the reason she uses ice more often then fire, wind, electricity, etc. is because she took after and is copying her mother's abilities? Weiss never said she hated her mother. She never even mentioned her. There's something here. Lastly, she didn't appear in Volume 4 at all. Volume 4 was the basically the volume of FAMILY. We had Yang with her father, Blake meeting up with her parents, Ruby traveling with Qrow, Qrow interacting with Raven, and then Weiss with ONLY her Father. Why? Weiss' mother is the only living parent of Team RWBY to not show up on screen. I don't think she's unimportant. Literally all the parents have had an impacting role in their children's lives and in the setting. Weiss' mother IS important, but her time hasn't come yet. They're saving her for when the hunt for the Winter Maiden begins. When will such a hunt begin? Probably not for a good 2-3 volumes at least; 5-6 if they decide to go for the Summer Maiden before her. All we can do is wait. ____________________________________________ Well, that's all the characters I can muster up for now. What do you think? Do you think any of these characters will contribute a bigger role in Volume 5? Leave a comment below and tell me what you think. Until next time, this is Hunter the Ant signing off!