#fusion enforcers

[aceofintuition]

Been doing some sprites for Infinite Fusion during slow periods at work and I've somehow made myself a niche of spriting up all the specevo and custom creatures featured in Ark.

[furryeaglebarbarian]

Dawnvoy the stormbound

[rwac96]

Type: Ask

AU: Crossover AU, Cyberpunk AU, Mercenary AU, Childhood Friend AU

Fandom: RWBY, Naruto, League of Legend, Marvel

Summary: Hey General Ironwood. Who do you have under your paramilitary company and how do they come to join your Iron Mantle Company? (You can pick anyone)

Ironwood: "I've always looked for the best of the best. There's Enforcers Caitlyn Kiramman and her partner Vi." *exhales* "Despite the latter's...demeanor."

Vi: "IronDiiiiick~!"

Caitlyn: *pulls her partner back* "VI!"

Ironwood: "The two came to join after assisting in fighting off a Grimm horde. Then, there's Natasha Romanoff, with whom Specialist Schnee had numerous encounters. But, seeing her in the field, I've decided to make her our espionage agent."

*Ironwood grabs a remote, pressing a button*

Ironwood: "The next choice is more controversial than Vi, Sasuke Uchiha. A terrorist, skill, and strength rivaling the deceased and disgraced White Fang leader Adam Taurus. After his capture, I reviewed his skills and his time in his homeland of Konoha. Despite his...mental state, his experience shows promise. And if you're concerned of any sort of betrayal, I've placed Elm Ederne to keep mister Uchiha in line."

Elm: "I'm other words--" *cracks her knuckles* "I'll make sure the lil' emo's a good boy."

[moonstrider9904]

feuilles d'automne

Steb x fem!Reader (Enforcer)

Summary: Amid your assignment to guard a fancy old folks' home in Piltover, you find yourself speechless when you stumble upon a pair of ocean eyes.

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: Mature and SFW, flirting, kissing, mild suggestivenes if you squint. Enforcer!Reader. Fluff in general, pre-relationship, first meetings, awkward situations, and I accidently created a side original character who I adore. Enjoy!

Sequel: après la bataille | My Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Thank you to everyone who's read, reblogged, and commented on après la bataille. I did not expect it to be met with so much love and support. Our precious fishman husband would be happy to know such a lovely bunch of people are his fans. You have all made writing these stories all the more fun and enjoyable 💙

The scene before you looked like it could have been taken from an Ionian painting. Rays of golden sunlight peered through the spaces between orange, red, and yellow leaves of many trees around the courtyard of the Verona old folks’ home, a peaceful place that lay in the northern outskirts of Piltover, far away from Zaun and the heart of the city where the shops and the smog could cloud the horizon.

Your assignment was simple: make sure the elderly folks who lived their days out in that home didn’t get into trouble. You couldn’t think of anything less challenging to an enforcer hungry to serve, not that you’d complain. It was work, and it was quite the lovely setting. Standing on the porch of the main building, a large mansion built in white stone with a dark blue stone tile roof, its architectural style being some fusion of classic Piltovan and mild Ionian influences in the details and finishings, you breathed in the clean, fresh air. Your eyes would continue to scan the celestial beams of light bleeding through the trees and eventually finding rest either in the grass, cobblestone paths, or even the small glistening pond at the very center of the courtyard.

On the bridge that went over the pond was an old couple who, according to what you’d heard so far, had known each other since they were children—how beautiful to spend a lifetime next to someone, and to face one’s own twilight in a place as peaceful and beautiful as that, holding the hand of the person who’d been through it all with you. It was a bittersweet thought, but such a place evoked those emotions in you, and suddenly, you felt lonely, longing and yearning for a companion. Regardless, you remained the only enforcer manning your post, forcing yourself to tear your attention away from romanticizing the peace of the scenery you beheld to keep watch of the elderly in your charge, only to be met by—surprise—no signs of trouble.

And then you heard the whistle. You weren’t particularly fond of the high-pitched sound of your own whistle, a part of your gear as an enforcer to use as a first means to dissipate any trouble you encountered, or simply to call attention to anything of note. You weren’t exactly happy by the fact that the whistle you heard at that peaceful moment, now broken, hadn’t been your own. Your knowledge up until that moment had been that you were the only enforcer on duty at the courtyard, and you sooner would have contemplated the possibility of one particularly mischievous elderly woman sneaking it away from you and blowing it to cause her equivalent of a riot in an old folks’ home, than to face the possibility of a counterpart entering the scene to aid in your assignment. When the whistle faded from your ears, you looked over your shoulder.

Only half looking forward to the encounter and with little hopes of it being transcendent, when your eyes caught even a glimpse of the whistle’s perpetrator, you lost the ability to move. Any notion of how to blink or breathe seemed to leave you, and if you were turning your neck to allow your gaze to follow his figure, you were sure it was his doing, drawing your eyes to him like a magnet, rather than your own will. You had just started to feel the air and the sunlight sting at your unblinking eyes, and then you saw that his own were now looking at you. The golden leaves and grass of autumn faded for a moment into an endless oceanic hue that could make you feel immersed in the deepest seas far off the other side of Runeterra. And for the amount of detail you picked up on during that single glance, you could have sworn you’d been staring for ages already—the way his blue-green skin contrasted with the rich blue of his uniform and even more so with the golden landscape, the way his resting face appeared so unamused that it made you fear yourself unworthy of speaking to him, the subtle lines near his jawline that you found out to be gills, and possibly the most stunning of all, the delicate frills crowning his eyes that could nearly be mistaken for the rest of the markings decorating his skin.

And for all the distance in this Vastayan enforcer, his eyes seemed to become more round as he too looked at you, with his gaze visibly softening for a moment while the frills around his eyes moved in a delicate wave before coming to a halt. Your mind replayed that scene for you countless times, and for the way you felt your chest swelling, you figured it was a miracle you weren’t yet flat on the ground.

“Hark,” you squawked, failing miserably in your first attempt to greet him.

He raised a brow and didn’t do much more for gestures, making you wish you could blend into the nearest tree trunk and stay there.

“It is time for them to return inside, is it not?” He finally spoke in a thick, elegant accent, and the rich sound of his voice dissipated your embarrassment. His voice was baritone, deep and far smoother than you could have expected—for a moment you couldn’t believe it could really be coming from him. His striking physique alone was already too much to contend with.

“Y-Yeah,” you brought yourself back to stability, fidgeting among the pouches of your belt to pull out your pocket watch and glanced at the time. 4:01 exactly—yes, it was time for them to go inside, and the telltale hand of the pocket watch tilted slightly off the 12 mark let you know you had been in awe of this man for a solid minute, and you were already done for. The pocket watch may as well have been laughing at you. But you closed it up and put it back into your pouch, exhaling with as much confidence as you could muster. “Yes, 4:00 is the cutoff, and they’re expected to be coming back in to prepare for dinner.”

“Then why aren’t they coming?” He asked, glancing out at the old folks who continued to enjoy their time in the chilly fresh air and sunlight.

“Oh, I usually opt for a different signal,” you answered, taking a step forward and inhaled all the way to your belly. “TIME’S UP, COME IN FOR DINNER!”

Your six words caught the attention of all the elderly scattered in the courtyard and, slowly but surely, they all began making their way towards the porch where you stood, chatting pleasantly amongst themselves and their aides. It was hard for you not to giggle when you looked over at your new acquaintance and saw his round eyes gazing at you, his frills standing upright at the shock of such a loud voice emerging from you.

“I’ve been doing this for a week,” you flaunted.

“I can…” he trailed off for a moment as he flinched his gaze over to the courtyard again. “Tell… though even with your lungs, you missed one.”

You looked in the direction he was gazing, and you weren’t surprised when you saw the youngest soul in the entire old folks’ home getting ready to rebel against your command. The dowager Mrs. Evelyn McCawley, or Granny Evelyn as you’d come to call her, was a short little old woman who made one think of hugs and freshly baked cookies. That day, she was wearing a bright red sweater and her hair was packed into a neat low bun, and she was looking over at you and your new companion from the other side of the pond as though wanting to get your attention. You knew her well already, but you once again wanted to giggle at how your new partner must have been puzzled by her, unaware of the sheer amount of stunts you’d already witnessed from that woman.

“You won’t take me!” Granny Evelyn shouted and turned her back on you, charging as fast as she could (and that wasn’t very a fast walk, mind you) for a tree nearby.

“Is she well?” He asked you.

You chuckled. “Yeah, she does this. The high point of Granny Evelyn’s day is the courtyard, and that’s saying something, as you can probably tell from her charming demeanor. You’ll never meet anyone who has more fun with life than her.”

There was no need to watch over the rest of the elderly walking onto the porch, as any of them who needed help were already being guided by their nurses. You and your companion kept your gaze fixed on a whooping and giggling Granny Evelyn as she took quick, small little steps toward the tree until reaching the trunk, clutching her hands onto it, and lowering herself to the ground where she lay face down on the grass, her little frame illuminated by the rays of sun that escaped through the leaves.

“Can she get up from there on her own?” Your new companion asked, his eyes widening in concern.

“Nope,” you chuckled, unbothered. “Someone better check on her.”

“I’ve got this,” he said, starting his way in Granny Evelyn’s direction.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” you replied as you picked up on the concern in his deep, luscious voice. “She just needs help getting off the ground.”

You walked after him through the dreamy courtyard and crossed the bridge over the pond—in other circumstances, your curiosity would get the better of you, and you’d make more of a play to spend some time with him in that romantic bridge, maybe finally ask him what his name was, but flirting while Granny Evelyn lay on the grass would raise more than a few red lights in upper command. Eventually, you both reached Granny Evelyn, splattered face down on the grass in a star-like position, and her back suddenly fluttered with a giggle.

“You’ve done this four times this week,” you said to her.

“And every time, I succeed in staying out here longer!” Granny Evelyn teased, her voice muffled in the grass.

“Well, unlucky for you, now I have help,” you tilted your head, and your companion took your words as his cue to get down on his knees to aid Granny Evelyn.

“Ma’am, I’m going to help you up now, if that’s alright,” he said politely, and authority swam in his voice. Granny Evelyn picked up on the unique timbre and rich qualities that floated to her ears, and yours as well, and she jerked her head to the side in his direction to get a glimpse of him.

“Oh?” Granny Evelyn giggled. “Oh, my! Yes, of course you can help me, mister… could you be so kind as to let an old lady know your name?”

He directed a smile at Granny Evelyn, one so discreet and smooth you had to tighten your whole body to keep from sighing dreamily at the sight, or whimpering at how ridiculously gorgeous he was. It was then that you were also able to notice his ears tilted slowly downward, though this was mostly concealed by his uniform hat, and when he gave a slow blink, you picked up on the third eyelid subtly appearing in the movement.

“You may call me Steb,” he said.

“Oh, please help me up, Mr. Steb,” Granny Evelyn’s eyes sparkled at him, and as Steb helped her back up to standing, her gaze shifted between you and him. “Look at you both, so young and bright and loyal to your city.” As she continued glancing at you both, you were able to look away from Steb for long enough to notice the childlike mischief that flashed through her eyes before she fixed her gaze on him again.

“Oh, you are indeed a looker, stunning in your own right!” Granny Evelyn then called you by your name. “Isn’t Steb handsome, dearie?”

You pulled to a halt, and your wide eyes inevitably drifted over to Steb, feeling heat rushing to your cheeks with no signs of stopping or hope of discretion. His ocean blue eyes met yours, and he was also visibly caught off guard by the question, and just as Steb was opening his mouth to speak, possibly to have swiftly dismissed the whole matter and returned things to normal, you just had to open yours.

“Yeah,” the syllable left you quickly, nearly in a whimper, and immediately you felt incapable of meeting his gaze, wishing a chasm would suddenly open in the ground beneath you so that you could use it to be transported far away from there.

“I think so too!” Granny Evelyn’s chirpy cheer diffused some of the tension, and she then turned to Steb. “She’s quite lovely too, is she not?”

Though you were trying not to look at him, you noticed Steb’s calm exterior faltered for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure, and his beautiful eyes were no longer on you.

“I guess,” he answered.

Instantly, you turned your head back in his direction, and against your will, your gaze narrowed at his claim.

“You guess?” Heat rushed to your cheeks again while your brows knit together.

“Woops!” Granny Evelyn said. “Dinner time, folks! I need to be inside!”

With a sigh, you forced your frustrations away and linked your arm in Granny Evelyn’s, leading her across the courtyard and back to the porch while Steb lingered behind the two of you, carefully following your pace in silence. At the top of the porch’s stairs, a nurse waited for Evelyn, and you handed her off with a polite smile, watching as the cheeky granny disappeared into the building. In a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the embarrassment, knowing Steb was still nearby, you pondered on how much of a menace Granny Evelyn must have been as a kid if her old age kept up that amount of spunk.

Now that the elderly were inside preparing for the rest of their evening, you were off duty. You ran out of thoughts and excuses to keep your back turned on him, and as if to emphasize that, you soon heard Steb pacing up the stairs, stopping just a couple of steps below you. You turned around and looked at him, no longer enraged like before, but with your guard up and nowhere near the same amount of dewey-eyed desire you had when you first lay your gaze on him. Steb’s eyes held concern in them, and you knew he was aware of how he made you feel. He then removed his hat, and much to your dismay, he was far more attractive without it.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Would you forgive me?”

You crossed your arms and frowned, angling your body away from him. “I guess,” you spat, quoting him.

A sigh left him, though his lips seemed to curve in the hint of a smile. “I really am sorry. I know you’d rather have heard another response, and… I would rather have said something else.”

Some part of you wanted to admit you’d hoped he’d also, in some way, audibly confirmed he found you attractive. Mundane as it seemed, you felt something like that could make your day. You angled yourself toward him again, your gaze softening as you looked at him—confound how beautiful he looked even when he apologized. Holding his hat at his side, Steb’s gaze softened too, and his round eyes held a tender gleam that somehow made him seem like he was pouting. You thought of how different this look on his face was from the one with which he first walked on the porch, blowing the whistle. At the same time, you noticed his ears slowly tilting up, expecting your answer. But an instinct within you overruled whatever it was you wanted to confess to him, and intrusive thoughts of how everything could become complicated and how embarrassed you felt came pouring in, and you quickly turned around.

“My shift is over,” was the last thing you said, and you ran away from the porch.

You didn’t even want to think of the disappointment Steb felt watching you run away, and you wouldn’t let yourself ponder on how you’d blown it with him in a second. The week that followed that incident wasn’t any easier for you. Steb made attempts to talk to you and make things right, but you wouldn’t budge, and you kept your distance. Naturally quiet as he was, it seemed he wasn’t making much of your situation anymore, and nearly one week after the unfortunate event, you were convinced nothing more of note would happen in regard to the two of you.

One day, you found yourself carrying out your courtyard duty standing alone on the bridge over the pond. Things were as lovely and peaceful in the courtyard as they always were, and you were finally able to focus on the chilly autumn air that you loved so much, as opposed to recent events. Your shift was almost over, and you were looking forward to it being calm and uneventful, but when you heard steps coming onto the bridge—steps that were far too quick and well-placed to belong to an elder—you began to suspect something else was in store.

“Will you really not talk to me again?”

When Steb’s deep, smooth voice filled your senses, you could no longer deny how much you missed him. You turned around and faced him as he cautiously walked up to you at the top of the bridge, stopping a couple paces away from you.

“It’s not like you need much talking anyway,” you replied. “I’ve seen how quiet you are. Besides, you have your whistle.”

He gave a shy chuckle, and you noticed him exhale some tension away.

“It’s a start,” he said, mostly to himself. When you didn’t utter a response, he inched closer to you and tilted his head down slightly to one side, his bright eyes catching yours. “Hey…”

The softness of his voice paired with the beauty of his eyes were a lot for you to handle, and suddenly you didn’t trust yourself to resist him anymore. Your gaze softened at him, looking up at him with a tender gleam of hope not unlike what you felt when you first met him.

“Can I start over?” Steb asked you.

The chilly air began to blow stronger, ruffling the trees around the courtyard. You replied in a soft chuckle and playfully rolled your eyes, gazing out at the courtyard filled with elderly folks enjoying the day.

“We’re supposed to be on duty,” you said.

“Yes, but I’ve seen enough of this place to know the only person we should worry about getting in trouble is sitting up on the porch having a cup of tea,” he said as his eyes looked over at Granny Evelyn, who sat on a rocking chair smiling far away from you both. “I think it’ll be fine.”

With a soft laugh, you tore your gaze from the courtyard and looked at Steb, raised a brow at him, and shook your head smiling.

“I can’t believe you,” your eyes sparkled at him. “Fine, you may start over.”

Steb smiled at you, looking more handsome than you ever thought possible, and slowly he moved closer to you, meeting your gaze with flirtatious eyes.

“Hi,” was all he needed to say for you to know you were done for.

You laughed, bewildered at the power this Vastaya held over you, and at the fact that you had tried to push him away when it was clear that what was happening at that moment was all you’d wanted.

“Hi,” you giggled in return, feeling your cheeks getting hot.

A strong gust of wind powered through your silhouettes, blowing your uniform hat right off your head for it to land on the wooden floor of the bridge. You and Steb both let out small exclamations of surprise, and he bent over to grab your hat for you. When he stood up straight and held it out for you to take, you noticed that the gust of wind had blown a single, dry, golden leaf onto Steb’s shoulder. You looked up at him, loving how he still stood out incredibly in that autumn landscape, and you both smiled softly at each other. Before you took your hat, you reached your hand up to Steb’s shoulder and you gently took the leaf that had landed on him, casting it aside as delicately as it had fallen. But after the leaf was gone, your hand lingered on his shoulder, and tension built between you as you both remained there. Your smile had faded into the nerves that came with being so close to him in such a lovely setting, but it returned to your lips when Steb smiled back at you and his gaze softened in adoration.

You stopped thinking and let your hands guide you through the moment. You pressed your palm onto his shoulder and let it travel to the crook of his neck, and you pulled Steb down closer to you, perking on your toes, and you shyly kissed his lips. You basked in how smooth his skin was under your fingertips and how warm he was, and before you exploded into nerves, you heard your hat dropping onto the bridge floor, feeling both of Steb’s hands cupping your face, gently yet firmly, as he kissed you back. The shyness fled from you, and you kissed Steb more securely when you felt him reciprocate, sliding your arms around his shoulders and pressing your body to him—you didn’t give a Yordle’s mitten if anyone was watching or muttering about you, or if you were on duty. All that mattered was that, as you kissed him, you felt Steb smiling into your lips and his hands traveling down around your waist.

Your mind exploded in fireworks the longer you two kissed, and your thoughts jumped from possibility to possibility; all the firsts you could have with him, all the places you could hold his hand and all the ways you could explore his body and all the markings on his skin, but you knew that would come later, and at the moment you could delight fully in the feeling of him kissing you. Yes, you were absolutely smitten, and you were looking forward to much, much more of that.

From the porch, you and Steb were being watched with a warm smile. Evelyn McCawley had seen a lot in her lifetime, and each experience had taught her to view life with the wonder a child would have. Her eyes could no longer spot a butterfly from afar, but she could see you and Steb finally getting along all too well, and a smile lit her features in hope and subtle heartbreak. Seeing the two of you in uniform sharing a loving moment reminded her of when she was a young nurse charmed by a handsome soldier—she saw her and her beloved in the two of you. And with that same smile, Granny Evelyn pulled a wrinkled picture from the pocket of her purple knit sweater, gazing at the eyes that looked upon her from beyond.

“Young love, eh, Rafe?” She chuckled. “I hope those two have what you and I had, and I sure hope they have the chance to see each other through to the end. I do miss you, dearie.”

Granny Evelyn then put the picture back in the pocket over her heart, and she stood up from her chair, setting her tea on the little table beside it, pondering on what mischief she could possibly do now to bring you and Steb ever closer.

If you like this, please reblog too! Thank you for reading!

Read part II here >

[probablyasocialecologist]

If you expressed “negative sentiment” toward insurance companies on social media following the murder of UnitedHealthcare’s CEO last month, the government was watching. “Following the shooting, the New York State Intelligence Center (NYSIC-CTC) identified a large amount of negative sentiment towards healthcare executives and health insurance companies on social media,” a bulletin produced by a regional intelligence group on December 12 says. The bulletin goes on to warn of “users online wanting to counter ‘corporate greed’” as well as “growing negative sentiment around conglomerates, the wealthy, and executive staff at private and public organizations.” Setting aside the yeah-no-shit factor, the report provides rare insight into how the government threat machine stokes fear among law enforcement agencies across the country. The document is one of a flurry threat reports quietly circulated to law enforcement across the country by a sprawling network of little-known intelligence organizations created in response to 9/11. Called fusion centers, groups like the New York State Intelligence Center were tasked with fighting terrorism, which alleged the killer Luigi Mangione was charged with. Today, there is at least one fusion center in all 50 states (even Wyoming, home to the Wyoming Information Analysis Team.)

19 January 2025

[ninja-guy-yo]

Dragons Rising Season 3 episode 3 and 10 spoilers, new Departed Realm lore

It's finally explained how the Departed Realm works in the post-Merge world and clarifies how death works, sort of

The Departed Realm having the Cursed Realm inside of it (because of the Preeminent dying, as we see her in The Kaiju Protocol) "messed it up", and the Merge made that worse, turning it into the Spectral Lands

People can "move on" now, and almost every dead soul chose to do that, except Morro. He feels a "pull" to move on as well but chooses to stay behind to protect anyone who enters from monsters that drain spirit energy

An elixir from the Well of the Lost helps souls move on or heals the living

Morro doesn't know what happens to people who move on, and can only speculate if it's another phase of existence, or rebirth, but he'd like to think it's eternal rest

People still go to the Spectral Lands (Departed/Cursed Realm fusion) immediately after they die, but it's more like an entrance or a bridge to whatever the true, unseen afterlife is instead of the afterlife itself. It might not even be a physical place, it's a complete unknown now. This makes Morro something like a grim reaper-type figure or.. ferryman. A psychopomp

It's not clear if Morro can leave or not, but if he could, potentially anyone who dies can just decide to not move on and go back to wherever they came from. Cole would've faded into the Departed Realm if he hadn't gotten his body back or been tied to the Airjitzu Temple, so it depends on if that logic still applies. The place is empty and living people can walk in whenever they want, so there doesn't seem to be anything enforcing the natural order, aside from the internal "pull" that makes ghosts want to move on.

There must be some kind of limitation, or Ras dying wouldn't have been as much of an issue. If Arin couldn't get the elixir in time, Ras' ghost could appear and just.. walk out with him. idk this was written after I watched episode 3, maybe that'll be explained when Morro appears again next part

Extremely difficult to believe though.. Every soul? Every single one of the beings that ever died since the Sixteen Realms' creation decided they were ready to potentially cease to exist as individuals the moment the opportunity presented itself? And how many people die every moment, because you'd think there'd be a constant flow of souls

-------

This part I'm writing after watching episode 10. Of course not every soul would happily move on, especially newly dead villains. What could possibly be done to stop something like Thunderfang from fucking everything up and leaving if it wants to?? That's not a criticism, I'm excited to see how the hell he could be stopped at this point

[nalyra-dreaming]

I so want to know more about the nature of vampire bond as well. Especially on the maker's end. Louis didn't get to open up on it more but I could feel the weight of it.

(You guys saw my tags on the gif set, didn't you^^)

Okay, so... the vampire bond.

The vampire bond in the VC is not binding. It does not make slaves out of fledglings. It does not enforce anything.

It does mute the mental connection between maker and fledgling, though Lestat theorizes in later books that they might be simply running interference, because they're too close (in the blood).

A bit of lore:

The vampires in the VC were initially created by a spirit (Amel) fusing with blood (Akasha's). This fusion causes the cells to mutate, that is where the blood hunger comes from. The mutation turns the cells more and more into luracastria, a kind of plastic. That's why their skin goes more pale over time, too, and turns translucent when they're killed and the blood is removed. (But that just as a note)

This spirit, Amel, is like a gigantic web. When a vampire makes a fledgling, they pass on a "tendril" of Amel with their blood. The blood itself already would transform, but since Amel is in the blood...

So that is... the literal "vampire bond".

But... that isn't what Louis is talking about :) Or, I sincerely doubt that is what he talks about^^.

Louis... elevates the "vampire bond" to a status that defies mortal definition. No equivalent.

"It's a bond that can never fully be severed. A bond like that makes you believe there are only two of you on the planet."

True. It can only be severed by death, because of the tendril that connects them. But that is not why he thinks there's only two people on the planet :)

I think Louis used the "vampire bond" for himself as an excuse. As a shield. He held it before his heart, telling himself he felt like that because of it.

But then, why didn't Claudia feel like that? Or Antoinette?

Which brings us to Louis cutting open his veins after Madeleine, and the scene in the restaurant.

The show gave us an extremely beautiful and harrowing little glimpse at the bond there, and I love it, even though it is extremely bitter.

Because by turning Madeleine... Louis realized that the "love" did not come with the turning, nor did his heart beat in sync with hers. He realized that he was now connected to her, yes, but he did not want to be. He did not want to feel the feelings Madeleine felt for Claudia. (And which likely echoed what he and Lestat had shared before!) He did not want to be reminded of what he would never have again. He did not want the connection.

And so he wanted to be rid of it, he opened his veins, in vain, because the tendril... had already been passed on.

The vampire bond is for Louis this mind-altering and literally life-altering experience of being reborn through marrying Lestat. Kissing Lestat on the altar. Meaning it. That is why the floor always feels liquid. That is why their hearts sync up. That is why the emotions coming from Lestat always managed to reach him, and why it felt like it was only the two of them.

It was not the same for Claudia.

That was also something Louis realized there, I bet.

Also.

He likely felt Lestat "die" in 1x07. Just as Lestat... likely felt him suffer and slowly wither when Louis was locked up after the trial.

And Louis felt Madeleine's death.

And he knew Lestat felt Claudia's.

In the VC... and imho in the show... fledglings are made from different intents, which shapes the relationship. I talked about that a bit here. A fledgling, a turning does not equal the "big love"...

But if it does... then it fuses obviously with that love. And elevates the bond to an experience that Louis... obviously does not want to sever. And misses, terribly.

[homeskllet]

transformers roundabout megatronus and quintus prime (megatronus is he/she, quintus is she/her)

(a.k.a. it's my fan continuity and i get to make the primes into toxic yuri)

if you want all the toxic yuri lore it is under the cut (:

quintus was the prime of justice and forbidden knowledge, while megatronus was the prime of combat and death. they worked together to form the justice system of cybertron, with quintus as the judge and megatronus as the enforcer and executioner. the two primes were close with each other, with quintus’s gentle but bureaucratic nature contrasting well with megatronus’s cold efficiency, and under their command, the courts of cybertron were just and respectable.

things changed as quintus became more interested in the forbidden knowledge she ruled over, giving her duties as judge less and less thought as she became obsessed with the concept of organic life. without its judge, the justice system became ineffective and chaos spread throughout cybertron.

in an attempt to get quintus to return to her duties, megatronus confronted the other prime in her forbidden archives, which quintus had converted to a laboratory of sorts. quintus agreed to do something about the now-in-shambles justice system, but megatronus would find that quintus’s solution was not quite what he had hoped for.

soon after, quintus introduced the cybertronian people to the organic lifeforms that would become the new upholders of justice: the quintesson judges, to take over quintus’s role, and the quintesson enforcers, to assist megatronus in restoring order to the planet. unfortunately, the quintesson-run courts would prove to be even worse than the preceding chaos. the enforcers were violent and aggressive, arresting bots for the smallest reasons, and the judges sentenced every criminal to death, no matter the crime or if they were even guilty of anything.

megatronus may have been ruthless, but this was excessive even in her eyes. so she returned to quintus’s laboratory to confront her fellow prime once more. quintus didn’t notice megatronus entering, and didn’t even acknowledge his presence when he addressed her directly. in that moment, megatronus realised that quintus was too far gone to her obsession with creating organic life. walking up behind the other prime, megatronus drew his executioner’s blade and plunged it through quintus’s spark, vaporising it with the heat of the metal.

with the execution of quintus prime, megatronus raised an army to eradicate the quintessons, which had spread across cybertron. armed with the requiem blaster, a fusion cannon built by solus prime that used the power of quintus’s organic-life-creating emberstone to fire a beam that instead obliterated organic life, megatronus led her army in what would become known as the quintesson war. once the quintessons were eradicated, megatronus did her best to properly restore the justice system, taking quintus’s role as judge, but she could not match the fallen prime’s knowledge and skill in the matters of the law.

[lovedbysolaris]

Through Ash and Iron (11)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 5.6k

and again i will say this...hear me out...let me cook. (I am posting this with frozen fingers cause our store heater broke :) )

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The Piltover Council room was an architectural marvel, a grand chamber of marble and gold, with light streaming in through towering stained-glass windows. At the center, an expansive circular table gleamed under the crystalline chandelier, each seat occupied by the most influential figures of Piltover. The air was thick with tension, the conversation barely civil as Mel Medarda stood at the head of the table, poised like a queen about to decree judgment.  

Her golden eyes scanned the room as she began to call the meeting to order. “We are here to discuss the matter of dismantling the border between Piltover and Zaun,” she said, her voice carrying authority. “The stakes of such a treaty cannot be overstated. Let us begin—”  

Before she could finish, the grand doors creaked open with a resonant groan. Every head turned.  

Jinx strode in, her boots echoing against the polished floor. Gasps rippled through the council as her striking presence filled the room. She was an enigma of grace and rebellion, her ensemble a seamless fusion of Zaun’s industrial grit and a rare elegance that caught everyone off guard. The vivid colors of her outfit contrasted against the muted tones of the chamber, her expression one of mischievous confidence.  

The murmurs grew louder, some whispers of shock, others of disdain. Mel’s eyes narrowed, her composure faltering for just a moment.  

“You’re not welcome here,” Mel said, her tone sharp and dismissive.  

Jinx tilted her head, feigning offense as she strolled to the table. “Really? And here I thought this was about unity.” She smirked, her piercing violet eyes flicking toward Caitlyn.  

Caitlyn stepped forward, her voice calm yet commanding. “She has as much right to be here as anyone else. Let her sit.”  

Mel hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she said nothing further. Jinx took her seat, a self-satisfied grin on her face as she leaned back, surveying the room with an almost playful disdain.  

The meeting resumed, and discussions of the border treaty quickly became heated. Voices clashed, fingers pointed, and accusations flew. The council was splintered, their deep-seated mistrust of Zaun evident in every biting remark.  

Suddenly, the doors opened again. This time, the room fell silent.  

A shadowed figure entered, draped in a hooded cloak. You walked with quiet confidence, your footsteps deliberate as the light from the windows played against your form. The tension in the room grew palpable, the whispers beginning anew as the council tried to decipher who you were.  

You reached the table, pausing for a moment before lowering your hood.  

Gasps rippled through the chamber as your face was revealed. Caitlyn’s breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected to see you here, not like this. Her shock was mirrored by the other council members, their expressions a mixture of awe and wariness.  

“I am here,” you began, your voice steady and commanding, “on behalf of Zaun. To discuss the peace treaty.”  

You moved to the empty seat beside Jinx, who gave you a sly grin and a playful nudge. “Took you long enough,” she whispered.  

The debates continued, but now the room was charged with a different energy. Your presence altered the dynamic entirely. Questions were hurled your way, some probing, others thinly veiled insults toward Zaun’s worthiness of such a treaty.  

“Why should we trust Zaun?” one councilman sneered, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “What guarantees do we have that this isn’t just a ploy?” ��

You met his gaze with unwavering calm. “The same guarantees Piltover offers us—none. Trust is built, not given freely. But if we don’t start somewhere, we will remain locked in this cycle of isolation and conflict. Is that what you want for the next generation?”  

The room fell silent, the councilman leaning back in his chair, visibly chastened.  

You outlined the plan with precision, proposing a small checkpoint as the first step. A shared space where the two cities could begin to collaborate. Zaun would supply its rich natural resources to fuel Piltover’s technological advancements, while Piltover would provide desperately needed medical care to Zaun’s vulnerable populations.  

Jinx joined the discussion, her voice sharp and unyielding. “If we’re doing this, I want curfews,” she said, leaning forward. “Both cities. Everyone goes back to their side by a set time. No excuses, no exceptions.”  

Her proposal was met with murmurs of agreement, though some were clearly reluctant.  

Caitlyn watched the exchange in silence, her gaze fixed on you. She’d seen you fight, seen your resilience, but this—this was something else entirely. The way you commanded the room, your words cutting through decades of prejudice and fear, left her breathless.  

But she wasn’t the only one watching you closely. Mel’s sharp eyes followed your every move, her lips curving into a faint, intrigued smile. Her questions grew pointed, testing your resolve, but you answered each one with a calm authority that only seemed to heighten her interest.  

Jinx noticed it too, her fingers drumming on the table in a rhythmic beat that betrayed her irritation.  

When the time came for a final decision, the council turned to Caitlyn. She stood, her voice steady and clear as she addressed the room.  

“I support this treaty,” she said. “It is a necessary step toward a future where both cities can thrive. We owe it to our people to try.”  

The vote was called. Eight in favor, two against. The motion passed.  

A wave of murmurs swept through the room as the weight of the decision settled in.  

You leaned back in your chair, exchanging a proud smile with Jinx. But when your gaze met Caitlyn’s, something unspoken passed between you—a warmth, a pride that reached deep into your soul.  

Mel rose, her voice cutting through the noise. “The council has spoken. The first phase of the treaty will begin tomorrow morning.”  

As the meeting adjourned, you lingered for a moment, savoring the quiet victory. But as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t shake the sense that this was only the beginning of a much larger battle.

The sprawling courtyard at the base of Piltover Tower buzzed with life. Citizens milled about, some curious, others cautious, their eyes darting to you as you stood on the grand staircase. The sunlight glinted off the ornate carvings of the tower, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. You greeted those who approached with a soft smile, exchanging brief words of acknowledgment.  

Below the stairs, Jinx leaned against a lamppost, animatedly chatting with Sevika, who occasionally smirked but mostly kept her arms crossed in a guarded stance. Their contrasting energy was almost amusing. Your eyes flicked to Caitlyn, stationed on the other side of the courtyard, speaking with a cluster of council members. Her poise was unmistakable, her movements measured and deliberate as she gestured, likely explaining details of the treaty.  

You turned back to the crowd, your expression calm, but you felt a presence settle beside you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. The faint scent of exotic spices and the barely audible rustle of luxurious fabric gave her away.  

“Quite the spectacle,” Mel Medarda said, her voice a melodic hum laced with intrigue.  

You offered her a glance, then returned your gaze to the courtyard. “Change always draws attention,” you replied, your tone neutral.  

Mel chuckled softly. “And you, my enigmatic Zaunite, seem to attract it without even trying.” She paused, her golden eyes studying your profile. “Tell me, what brought you here? Truly?”  

You hesitated, then answered honestly. “The people. Zaun and Piltover both. They’ve suffered long enough under the weight of our division. If I can help bridge that gap, even a little, then it’s worth it.”  

Her head tilted slightly, her interest piqued. “You speak with such conviction. It’s refreshing.” She stepped closer, her voice dipping into something more intimate. “You know, you could achieve so much more than peace. Power, influence—things most can only dream of. I could help you get there.”  

You turned to face her fully now, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Power doesn’t interest me,” you said evenly.  

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “Perhaps it should. Caitlyn, for instance, is... a handful, isn’t she? Always so upright, so focused. It must be exhausting.”  

You held her gaze, your voice steady but firm. “Caitlyn is one of the most capable, compassionate people I’ve ever met. She isn’t a handful—she’s a partner.”  

Mel raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable, though a faint flicker of amusement danced in her eyes. “How noble.”  

She took a deliberate step closer, her golden gown catching the light as her hand brushed against yours. Her fingers curled around yours, soft but assertive. She met your gaze, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You could have so much more than peace.”  

The closeness drew attention immediately. From the corner of your eye, you saw Jinx’s head snap up from her conversation with Sevika. Her body tensed, and her vibrant violet eyes darkened with a jealousy she made no effort to hide. Across the courtyard, Caitlyn caught the interaction too, her brow furrowing as she excused herself from the council members.  

Mel leaned in slightly, her golden eyes holding yours with a smoldering intensity. But before she could speak another word, both Jinx and Caitlyn were at your side.  

Jinx was the first to break the silence, her tone sharp and sarcastic. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Didn’t know we were having a date on Piltover’s dime.”  

Caitlyn, ever composed, crossed her arms as her piercing blue gaze locked onto Mel. Her voice was cool but carried an undeniable edge. “You seem to have a knack for overstepping boundaries, Councilor.”  

You remained calm, gently but firmly withdrawing your hand from Mel’s grasp. “I appreciate your... perspective, Mel,” you said, your tone measured. “But I’m not interested in power. I want peace. For both cities.”  

Mel’s smile didn’t falter, though there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—disappointment, perhaps? She stepped back gracefully, her gaze sweeping over Jinx and Caitlyn with a faint smirk. “How very... noble of you,” she said, her tone dripping with mock admiration. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you in such capable company. Until next time.”  

As she turned to leave, she cast a final glance over her shoulder, her voice low and sultry. “You know where to find me, should you change your mind.”  

Jinx muttered something under her breath, her hands clenched into fists. Caitlyn, on the other hand, maintained her composure but couldn’t resist a cutting remark. “She certainly knows how to make an exit,” she said dryly.  

You chuckled softly, the tension easing as you looked between the two of them. “Jealous, are we?” you teased, your tone light.  

Jinx scoffed, crossing her arms. “Jealous? Please. I just don’t trust her. She looks at you like you’re her next big art project.”  

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “And you’re any different?”  

Jinx shot her a glare, but you interrupted before they could escalate. “Relax, both of you,” you said, your voice warm. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”  

Jinx muttered something else, but the tension had passed. Caitlyn’s gaze softened as she met yours, a small, genuine smile curving her lips. And as the three of you stood there, you couldn’t help but feel the strange, delicate balance between the two worlds you now navigated—and the two women who had become integral to your life.

The treaty had finally been set into motion, and for the first time in decades, the tension between Piltover and Zaun began to ease. The streets of both cities were alive with cautious optimism. Medical trucks emblazoned with Piltover’s crest rolled into Zaun, offering much-needed care for mothers, children, and the ill. At the same time, Zaun’s resource deliveries—raw materials, gasses, and minerals—crossed into Piltover’s borders, fueling their engineering marvels. 

At one of the border checkpoints, a young Piltover engineer shook hands with a Zaunite mechanic after a successful exchange of goods. The handshake was tentative at first, but as they shared a genuine smile, the crowd gathered around them clapped in unison. It was a simple gesture, but its symbolism rippled far and wide.  

Back in your rooftop apartment, a warm breeze flowed through the open balcony doors, carrying with it the faint hum of the city. You were sprawled on your bed, one knee bent as you leaned back against the headboard, a book balanced in your hands. The sunlight painted golden streaks across the room, and the sound of distant laughter from below reminded you why you had fought so hard for this peace.  

Jinx had left earlier, claiming she needed to “handle” some Zaunites upset over the curfew restrictions. You’d laughed, seeing the determination in her eyes, and shooed her off with a teasing remark about keeping things intact for once. The quiet solitude that followed felt rare, almost foreign, but not unwelcome.  

You turned a page, lost in the words, when a shadow fell across the doorway. Glancing up, you saw Caitlyn standing there, her form framed by the sunlight streaming in. She was dressed in her usual enforcer attire, but her hair was slightly disheveled, and there was something softer in her expression—a rare vulnerability.  

You started to stand, setting the book aside. “Hey, Commander. To what do I owe this pleasure—”  

Before you could finish, Caitlyn strode forward, her hands gently pushing you back onto the bed. You blinked in surprise as she climbed onto the mattress, straddling your waist with ease.  

“Well, hello,” you said, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I don’t remember this being standard enforcer protocol.”  

Caitlyn didn’t reply immediately. She just stared at you, her sapphire eyes filled with an intensity that made your teasing falter. Her hands came up to cradle your face as she leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and insistent. You kissed her back, your hands instinctively settling on her hips.  

When she pulled back, her gaze was unwavering. “I love you,” she said, her voice steady but soft.  

You blinked, your mind racing. “Caitlyn, I—”  

She placed a finger against your lips, silencing you. “You don’t have to say it,” she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. “I know you do. I see it in everything you do—for me, for us. That’s enough for me.”  

For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The weight of her confession and the certainty in her voice left you speechless. But then, a grin spread across your face, and you suddenly flipped her over, pinning her beneath you.  

“Well,” you drawled, your tone playful, “if I don’t have to say it, then I guess I’ll just have to show it.”  

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, her laugh bubbling out as you began to tickle her sides. “No—stop—” she gasped between laughs, trying to squirm out of your grasp. “You—cheat—”  

You chuckled, enjoying the rare sound of her unrestrained laughter as you continued your playful assault. “What was that, Commander? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your surrender.”  

She managed to shove at your shoulders, attempting to reverse the pin, but you held firm. “I am not surrendering,” she declared, though her laughter betrayed her.  

Just as you were about to claim victory, a sharp knock at the door interrupted the moment. You paused, still hovering over Caitlyn, whose face was flushed from laughter. She took the opportunity to pull you down into another kiss, trying to distract you from answering.  

“Nice try,” you said, laughing as you disentangled yourself.  

She groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over her face. “You’re no fun.”  

You grinned, ruffling her hair as you moved to the door. “I’ll be back, Commander. Don’t go anywhere.”  

Opening the door, your smile faltered slightly when you saw Mel Medarda standing there, her usual composed and confident demeanor firmly in place. Her golden gown shimmered in the light, and her gaze swept over you with an unmistakable intensity.  

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” you said, leaning casually against the doorframe.  

Mel’s lips curved into a smile, her voice smooth as silk. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything... important.”  

Mel’s gaze swept over you as if she were appraising every detail, her smile as polished and poised as ever. “I actually came to extend an invitation,” she said, her tone smooth. “The Piltover Ball is next weekend, and it would be quite the statement to have you there. As my escort, perhaps?”  

You blinked, surprised. That wasn’t what you had expected, and you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Caitlyn’s voice cut through the air behind you.  

“Oh, how lovely,” Caitlyn said, stepping into view. Her smile was polite, but the way her hands slid along your arms and rested briefly on your stomach was anything but casual. “Mel.”  

Mel’s golden eyes flicked down, watching Caitlyn’s fingers dance lightly over your torso before meeting her gaze again. Her smile didn’t waver, though something sharp gleamed in her expression. “Caitlyn,” she returned smoothly. “I see you’re well.”  

“Very,” Caitlyn replied, her voice just a touch too sweet. “And I couldn’t imagine the Ball without all of us attending. Don’t you think so, darling?” Her hands lingered on you, her touch warm and possessive as she glanced up at you.  

You tilted your head slightly, caught off guard. “All of us?”  

Caitlyn’s smile widened. “Yes. You’ll accompany me, of course. And Jinx will be at my side as well.”  

You raised a brow, the mental image of Caitlyn and Jinx at a formal Piltover event together throwing you for a loop. But before you could comment, Caitlyn’s fingers brushed against your side in an almost teasing gesture, and you found yourself nodding. “Sure. Why not?”  

Mel’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before she recovered, her voice as smooth as ever. “How... unconventional.”  

“Oh, you have no idea,” Caitlyn murmured under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear.  

Mel continued, her composure unshaken. “In that case, perhaps you’d like to join me at a smaller gathering in Piltover before then? A chance to mingle with a more intimate circle.” Her golden gaze locked onto yours, the invitation hanging in the air.  

Before you could respond, Caitlyn chimed in again, her tone almost playful. “Oh, I’m sure their schedule is just packed, aren’t you, love?”  

You glanced sideways at her, biting back a grin. The mock innocence in her voice was both amusing and endearing. “Absolutely. Busy, busy.”  

Mel tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Well, then, perhaps I’ll see you at the Ball,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of persistence. “And I look forward to seeing how this... arrangement works out.”  

Before leaving, she turned back briefly. “I’ll take you up on that offer to accompany you to the border sometime soon. It’ll be good to show face.”  

“Of course,” you said, nodding. “It’s an open invitation.”  

Caitlyn added, her tone airy but with a subtle edge, “Jinx and I will be there too. Don’t worry, we’ll behave. Mostly.”  

Mel’s expression remained composed, but as she left, she cast one final, flirtatious remark over her shoulder. “Until next time.”  

The moment the door closed, Caitlyn spun you around, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was both passionate and territorial. Her hands gripped your shirt as if staking her claim, and you couldn’t help but chuckle into the kiss.  

“Someone’s feeling bold,” you teased, pulling back slightly.  

Caitlyn smirked, brushing her fingers through your hair. “I don’t share what’s mine.”  

You laughed, leaning into her touch. “Noted. Now, what’s this about Jinx at the Ball?”  

Her expression softened, her tone thoughtful. “I think it’s important,” she admitted. “For everyone to see her as more than... well, what they think she is. Beneath everything, I think she’s trying. And maybe, just maybe, she deserves this chance to show that.”  

You studied her, touched by the sincerity in her voice. “You really think that highly of her?”  

Caitlyn nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “She’s reckless and infuriating, but there’s good in her. I know it.”  

Her words settled over you, and you nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll talk to her about it. See if she’s interested.”  

“Good,” Caitlyn said softly, her smile widening. She climbed onto the bed beside you, curling up against your side as you sat down. Her warmth was a comforting presence, and she rested her head on your shoulder.  

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“For what?”  

“For being exactly who you are.”  

You smiled, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Always, Commander.”

The shop bustled with quiet energy, a blend of Piltover’s refinement and Zaun’s grittier ingenuity. You walked between Caitlyn and Jinx, their voices alternating between teasing insults and surprising moments of tenderness.  

“I don’t think you’d know a good dress if it slapped you across the face, Jinx,” Caitlyn quipped, her lips twitching into a small smirk.  

“Oh, please,” Jinx shot back with a laugh. “At least I don’t walk around looking like a mannequin straight out of some boring Piltover catalog.”  

“You mean sophisticated?” Caitlyn countered, a playful gleam in her eyes.  

“Sure, let’s call it that,” Jinx retorted, nudging your arm. “What do you think? Too stuffy, right?”  

You shook your head with a soft chuckle. “You’re both impossible.”  

Yet, as the remarks went on, there was an ease between them, something softer. For the first time, it felt like they were actually enjoying the time spent with you—and with each other.  

The stylist clapped their hands, pulling Caitlyn toward the fitting rooms first. “Alright, Commander, you’re up.”  

Caitlyn disappeared behind the curtain, and when she emerged, the room seemed to quiet. She wore a slim, dark navy dress, its structure reminiscent of her uniform, with sharp, clean lines that flattered her form. The fabric shimmered faintly with a metallic sheen, evoking the strength of Piltover’s enforcers. A golden sash ran from her shoulder to her hip, cinching the look with elegance.  

You stood there, completely speechless. The sight of her stole your breath. The way the dress hugged her figure, the way it blended her military roots with breathtaking beauty—it was mesmerizing.  

“Well?” Caitlyn asked, a faint blush rising to her cheeks under your gaze.  

“You…” you paused, shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts. “You look incredible, Caitlyn.”  

Her smile softened, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before she nodded toward Jinx. “Your turn, Zaunite.”  

Jinx groaned but allowed the stylist to usher her into the fitting room. Minutes later, she stepped out, and the room felt like it tilted on its axis.  

Her dress was a bold Zaunist creation, asymmetrical with layers of deep purples and teals. Chains and gears accented the bodice, giving it an industrial edge, while fine silk draped over her shoulder and cascaded down like water. Despite its Zaunist grit, the dress had an elegance that made it undeniably stunning.  

You stared, utterly breathless. Jinx shifted, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “What, too much?”  

“Not even close,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Her smirk widened, but a faint flush crept across her cheeks as she exchanged a glance with Caitlyn.  

“Alright, your turn,” Caitlyn said, gesturing toward the fitting rooms, her voice tinged with amusement.  

With a bit of reluctance, you let the stylist guide you away. When you stepped out, the room fell silent again.  

You wore a tailored suit that was both daring and refined. The base was dark, almost black, with subtle patterns that shifted between deep green and gold when caught in the light. Gold accents traced the seams, and Zaun-inspired line art stretched across the exposed skin of your arms, beautifully blending into your tattoos. The stylist had even incorporated delicate patterns in hues of pink and blue—subtle nods to Jinx’s style—woven into the lapels.  

Caitlyn and Jinx stared, completely at a loss for words.  

“You clean up well,” Jinx finally managed, her voice unusually soft.  

“Understatement of the year,” Caitlyn murmured, her eyes tracing over you.  

As the stylist adjusted the cuff of your sleeve, the two of them began to talk—together.  

“Honestly, this suits them perfectly,” Caitlyn said, her tone genuine.  

“It’s got that Zaun grit,” Jinx agreed, her smile faint but real. “But the Piltover polish… yeah, it works.”  

“They’ve always balanced us out, haven’t they?” Caitlyn added, glancing at Jinx.  

Jinx nodded, surprising herself. “Yeah. They have.”  

For once, there were no insults, no biting remarks. Just quiet admiration for you—and a newfound respect for each other.  

You turned to them, noticing the way they were looking at you and, perhaps even more surprising, at each other. “Well?” you asked, spreading your arms. “Think I’ll turn a few heads at this Ball?”  

Jinx grinned. “Oh, you’ll turn heads, alright.”  

Caitlyn stepped closer, her hand brushing against your arm. “More than a few.”  

You smiled, the warmth in their gazes settling into your chest like a steady flame. "Glad to know I’ll have the two of you at my side."

The grand hall of Piltover's prestigious ball gleamed under the soft glow of countless crystal chandeliers, their light casting shimmering patterns across the marble floor. The room was alive with chatter and laughter, the hum of diplomacy and wealth mingling with the occasional clink of champagne glasses. Every corner was occupied by Piltover’s elite and Zaun’s newly included representatives, their uneasy alliance under the spotlight of this gathering.

Outside, on the grand staircase leading to the entrance, you stood flanked by Caitlyn and Jinx. Caitlyn was poised, her regal gown hugging her figure in clean, elegant lines that spoke of Piltover’s precision and grace. Jinx, on the other hand, radiated a raw, untamed beauty in her bold Zaunist ensemble. Both women looped their arms through yours, their presence grounding you as you prepared to step into the lion’s den.

“You ready to blow their minds?” Jinx teased, her voice carrying that familiar mischievous lilt.

“Or stun them into silence,” Caitlyn added, her tone softer but no less confident.

You glanced at both of them, your lips curving into a small, wry smile. “With the two of you by my side? They don’t stand a chance.”

The grand doors swung open, and the three of you entered together, your steps synchronized, your presence magnetic. The entire ballroom seemed to pause, all eyes drawn to the three of you. The dark hues and intricate detailing of your suit caught the light, the subtle line art woven into the fabric a tribute to both Piltover and Zaun. The pin on your chest, representing both cities and the two women at your side, gleamed like a quiet declaration of unity.

Whispers spread like wildfire. Gasps of surprise, murmurs of admiration, and, from some corners, hushed tones of disapproval. But no one could deny the power radiating from the three of you. Together, you were a force, a symbol of what the world could be if peace prevailed.

Across the room, Mel Medarda’s golden gaze locked onto you, her expression unreadable. She was mid-conversation, her poise immaculate as always, but the moment she saw the way Caitlyn and Jinx held themselves by your side, her attention sharpened.

Once inside, the three of you exchanged glances. Caitlyn touched your arm briefly, her fingers lingering as she whispered, “I’ll handle the councilors.” She nodded toward a group of Piltover’s elite.

Jinx gave you a sly grin. “I’ll go charm the Zaun crowd. Try not to miss me too much,” she said with a wink before slipping into the gathering of Zaunist representatives.

That left you alone, standing amidst the shifting crowd. You felt the weight of their stares, but you carried yourself with quiet confidence, nodding politely to those who greeted you. You had barely begun to move when Mel appeared, her steps graceful, her expression one of casual authority.

“Quite the entrance,” she remarked, her voice smooth and melodic. “You certainly know how to command a room.”

You offered her a small, polite smile. “It’s not intentional.”

Mel’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Perhaps not, but intentional or not, you’ve made quite the impression.”

Before you could respond, she extended a hand. “Dance with me,” she said, her tone more command than request.

You hesitated, instinctively wary. “I think I’ll pass.”

Her eyes darkened slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t be foolish. Avoiding me isn’t wise, especially when the people you care about could end up paying the price.”

Your jaw clenched, anger flaring hot in your chest, but you forced yourself to remain calm. After a beat, you nodded, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor. The music shifted seamlessly into a waltz, and the two of you began to move, every step measured and precise.

The room watched in awe. The way you and Mel moved together, your every motion fluid and effortless, was mesmerizing. But beneath the polished exterior, the tension between you crackled like a live wire.

“You have such potential,” Mel said, her voice low and intimate as you spun her. “And yet, you squander it on... this.” She gestured subtly with her free hand, encompassing the crowd, the treaty, the entire effort to unite Piltover and Zaun.

“‘This’ is progress,” you replied evenly, your voice tight.

She chuckled softly, her amusement laced with condescension. “Progress is a fool’s dream without power. And you—you could have so much power. More than Caitlyn. More than Jinx.”

You stiffened, your grip on her hand tightening slightly as you led her into a graceful turn. “Caitlyn and Jinx are the reason I’m here,” you said, your voice firm. “And they’re more than enough.”

“Are they?” Mel countered, her golden eyes piercing. “One is a dutiful soldier, the other a wildcard. Neither of them understands what it means to truly shape a world.”

You fought the urge to retort, your anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Instead, you focused on the dance, your steps growing sharper, more deliberate.

Mel leaned closer, her lips near your ear. “But you do. I see it in you. You could be so much more than this idealistic crusader.”

As the music swelled to its crescendo, you suddenly dipped her, the motion so fluid and dramatic that the crowd gasped in awe. Leaning down, you smiled—a smile that didn’t reach your eyes—as you whispered, “Touch them, and I’ll see to it that your head is delivered to your mother’s doorstep. Wrapped neatly in Piltover silk.”

Mel’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked her reaction, her smile returning as you lifted her back to her feet.

You took her hand, pressing a polite kiss to the back of it. “Thank you for the dance,” you said smoothly, before turning and walking away.

Mel watched you go, her expression a mix of intrigue and satisfaction. She loved the fire she had ignited in you, even as it burned in defiance of her.

You found Caitlyn and Jinx together, their eyes filled with concern as they studied your face. Reaching Caitlyn first, you placed a hand on her waist, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Commander,” you murmured softly, the nickname carrying a warmth only she could understand.

Then you turned to Jinx, gently cupping the side of her face as you kissed her forehead. “Jinx,” you said, your voice quieter but no less affectionate.

They exchanged a glance, their concern evident, but you offered them a faint smile before stepping away. “I’ll be back,” you said, your tone calm but firm, and slipped out of the ballroom, leaving them to wonder what had transpired.

The Piltover Ball had left a lingering tension in the air, but none more so than in you. As you stepped out into the night, your chest felt tight, and your breathing came in shallow gasps. You pulled at the lapel of your suit, unbuttoning it in an attempt to find relief, but the sensation of being choked wasn’t physical—it was emotional. Mel’s voice echoed in your mind, her threats laced with false charm. The images of Jinx and Caitlyn in danger, hurt because of you, sent a cold sweat down your spine.

You flagged down a taxi, your hands trembling as you tried to ground yourself. Just as you were about to step inside, a voice cut through the fog.

“Wait!” Caitlyn called, her heels clicking against the stone steps as she rushed to you. Her face was etched with concern, her piercing blue eyes searching your face.

But before she could reach you, a hand grabbed her wrist. Jinx.

“Don’t,” Jinx said firmly, pulling Caitlyn back.

“What are you doing?” Caitlyn snapped, her frustration bubbling over. “They’re in trouble. I need to help them.”

Jinx shook her head, her grip on Caitlyn’s wrist firm but not harsh. Her expression was a rare mix of seriousness and vulnerability. “Not like this, Piltie. You don’t want to see them like this.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed in confusion and anger. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen it before,” Jinx said quietly, her voice unusually somber. “When they’re this angry, this… out of it. It’s not something you can fix by running after them. Trust me, okay? Just trust me on this.”

Caitlyn hesitated, her gaze shifting from Jinx to you, standing by the taxi with your hand braced against the door. Your chest heaved as if you were battling something inside. She wanted to go to you, but something in Jinx’s tone made her pause.

Finally, Caitlyn nodded reluctantly. “Then what do we do?”

“We give them space,” Jinx said. “And when they’re ready, we’ll be there. Together.”

_______________

Some Caitlyn action hehe <3

[discordiansamba]

anyways long story short, the other day I was running errands while my MP3 player kept on playing songs on shuffle from the Index/Railgun franchise while I was thinking about my aoex fics... and I ended up with a fusion AU as a result, lmao. it definitely takes more heavily from the science side of the franchise but the only thing you really need to understand about the franchise is the knowledge that

a.) it takes place in Academy City, an independent city state largely populated by students and houses hundreds of schools, with the primary goal of unlocking and developing esper abilities that rank from Level 0 (no ability) to Level 5 (the highest possible rank and the least common).

b.) it has a dark underside that makes Section 13 look like a harmless daycare. these fuckers especially like trying to unlock the theoretical Level Six or dual abilities.

c.) orphans taken in by Academy City are called Child Errors. those who have abilities without the need for Academy City's development program are called Gemstones.

okay! now I can actually talk about the AU, lmao.

the key points are:

rin and yukio are twins living in academy city, who unlike most of the other students, live there with their mother yuri in a church run by shiro. rin is a level 5 pyrokinetic and yukio is a level 0 with no ability of his own.

for years, rin was unable to fully control his own ability- he's possessed his flames since he was born and has been powerful from the starting gate. everyone in the family except for yukio have burns somewhere on their body from rin's early lack of control, but rin himself has the most- he keeps them covered, but his hands and arms are pockmarked with old burn scars.

these days he has excellent control of his flames!

...but he still has a reputation of being dangerous and out of control regardless, so most people are too afraid to actually talk to him- except for those who want the glory of beating a level 5 in a fight. he constantly finds himself getting into fights that isolate him further at school.

despite his bad reputation, yukio has still grown up in rin's shadow. people expect him to be equally as strong as his brother- but he doesn't have an ability at all. instead, he's devoted himself to his studies, an area in which his brother struggles.

upon entering high school, rin is determined to actually make some friends for a change. he and yukio enroll in true cross academy- both on a scholarship- yukio for his academics, and rin for being well. a level 5.

shiemi is also a level 5! her ability is plant manipulation. unbeknownst to her, her grandmother and mother have both served on academy city's board of directors- and for that exact reason, they've done their best to keep shiemi far away from the dark side of academy city.

shima is a level 4 pyrokinetic who wields black flames, and secretly works as an enforcer for the dark side of academy city. he actually ran away from home in middle school to enroll in academy city because he didn't want to follow the path his family had set out for him.

ryuuji and konekomaru are his childhood friends, who came after him in their last year of middle school to convince him to go home, but ended up staying. the temple they all grew up in is still impoverished- and with the scholarship they both obtained, they get free housing and meals.

ryuuji is a level 3 who can generate barriers! you fuckers can't all have pyrokinesis. konekomaru is probably a level 2, but I actually haven't decided on what his ability is yet. definitely something support, since he's more suited to that.

izumo is a level 3 who can manipulate electricity. she and her sister are child errors who were taken into academy city after tamamo did a murder suicide with their father. with no one to protect her, izumo got entangled in a shady experiment upon arrival and is doing her best to protect tsukumo from it.

(paku is also a level 0 who stubbornly befriends izumo)

amaimon and takara are here to carry the flag of level 5s who have something deeply wrong with them. earth manipulation and telekinesis respectively.

what rin and yukio don't know about their origins is that they're the result of an attempt to artificially create a level 5. rin was the experiments only real success, but it became clear that unless something drastically changed in his environment, he was going to destroy himself.

thus, one of the scientists proposed a plan- raise him as a normal child, and see if that helped with his control and stability. to that end, she took one of the failed experiments with her and created the setting that they were twins. both rin and yukio are clones of a gemstone who was given the codename Satan, though they've had tweaks so they're not necessarily identical.

yuri voice: i'm just raising them for the experiment. i'm not going to get attached.

(she's so, so wrong.)

pov: you are shiro. a woman has arrive at your church with twin children, looking for sanctuary. you don't turn her away, even if you can tell she's lying- because her eldest child looks almost identical to your own long dead twin brother at that age.

(and he even has his flames)

[thimbledoll]

Desperadoll

The sun lay high in the sky, its infernal rays shining down to create a seemingly unending, sweltering summer’s day. Despite the heat, the old saloon was lively with activity. Behind the bar stood the keep, polishing cups and saucers and other finery. Off in one corner, a doll sat playing a lively ditty on an old upright. A few dolls were dancing to the music in the middle of the floor. Elsewhere sat a pile of dolls around a large table playing cards, buttons piled high. It was as one such doll was pushing in her bet that this one walked in.

The music came to a sudden halt. The buttons fell from their tidy piles. The air stood Still. All eyes were on this one. Or they were… until this one’s eyes were on them. Not one doll here could hold this one’s gaze, as each quickly glanced away in fear.

With a sharp ka-chink ka-chink, this one made her way across the saloon. Dolls parted like the very seas to make room, none daring to impede this one’s path as she walked straight up to the barkeep. “Tea, iced,” this one ordered.

One doll took that as their cue to vacate the premises, making a mad dash for the door. Likely off to get the sheriff, this one supposed. It didn’t matter. She’d be no bother.

The barkeep, for their part, did a better job of standing their ground than most any doll here. “That-that one knows I-I can’t serve you,” they replied, attempting to put on a brave face. “Th-that one’s been eighty-sixed!”

A low growl rumbled through this one’s stuffing as she simply replied, “Tea. Iced.” The mere repetition was enough to break what nerve the barkeep had managed to summon, as they quickly dug out a fresh cup and saucer. The keep shivered as they poured, their porcelain fingers eliciting a high pitched clink clink clink clink clink as they struck the glass of the pitcher.

Parched as this one was, one swig was enough to drain the cup. The sweet, liquid amber was blessed reprieve from the scorching, midday heat. This one threw the cup to the floor in satisfaction, shattering the porcelain vessel. “Hooey! That is some mighty fine stuff you’ve got,” this one exclaimed, icily continuing, “Another.”

It was as the barkeep was pouring this one’s third cup that the saloon door swung open once more. There was no need to turn and see who it was. The humming whirr of her propulsion hover system was unmistakable.

Without turning from the bar, this one shouted, “Well look what the familiar dragged in… Why, Sheriff! To what does this one owe the pleasure?”

“We have been over this. Numerous times,” the sheriff responded in her typical politely robotic tone. “Delta Lima One Niner. ‘Hellhound.’ Even Head Doll, if that one must. Whichever of those monikers that one prefers is acceptable. I am not, however, a sheriff.”

“You come here to enforce the law. That’s sheriff enough for this one.”

“I come to enforce our Lady’s orders,” she declared, her propulsion giving off that telltale spike in volume that meant she was agitated.

Finally, this one spins her stool around to face the sheriff. Leaning back, arms outstretched, this one laughed. “Orders. Laws. There ain’t no difference. You’d confine. You’d restrict. You’d see this one labor a thousand days for a pittance of thread and call that Purpose.”

Six foot three. Titanium-alloy finish. Twin fusion reactor engines. On-board missiles, railgun, and atomite blade. And utterly and completely perplexed. “Pardon…? Buttercup, I am simply trying to ensure that one has completed her chores before playing.”

“That is not this one’s name,” this one spat.

“Is this a serious grievance?”

“Serious as a rattlesnake’s bite.”

The sound of hissing gasses emanated from the sheriff’s coolant system. Probably her approximation of a sigh, this one supposed. “All right. Bramble the Bandit. Satisfied?”

“No.” This one slid from the stool, spurs clinking as she did. “This one’s been thinking… This manse ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

The sheriff’s face betrayed the difficulty she was having processing this one’s logic. “This manse is more than sufficiently large. It is an extradimensional space that changes shape and size to suit our Lady’s and our sisters’ needs. This lounge itself has enough space for both of us and then some.”

“Saloon.”

“I am sorry?”

“You said lounge. It’s the saloon.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.”

It was clear that talking was getting them nowhere. Their issues would never be solved with words. “This one is saying that there’s only one answer to this… conundrum we find ourselves in; this crossroads of fate.” This one paused, letting the moment hang in the air before narrowing her eyes menacingly. “We duel.”

All about the saloon there was a chorus of hushed awawas. The sheriff, however, was unperturbed, seeming to finally find footing she felt comfortable not standing on in this exchange. “Very well. Weapons?”

“Everything you are is a weapon. T’ain’t no point in limiting your options. All you’ve got versus these, here, six shooters,” this one said, indicating the trusty guns at her side.

“Those are pop guns. Their penetrating force is insufficient to—”

“They’ll pop you mighty fine. You can trust this one on that.”

The sheriff seemed to accept this. “Place?”

“Right here.”

There was a clattering of cups and saucers and buttons as dolls quickly scattered, pressing themselves up against the walls as tightly as possible. Whatever was about to transpire here, they didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. But they also wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Time?”

“High noo—”

This one couldn’t even manage to finish her sentence before an electromagnetically propelled buckyball caught her square between the eyes, knocking her to the floor with a soft pomf. Hovering over to this one’s recumbent body, the sheriff declared, “Confirming: Target was engaged at precisely 12:00:00:000 local standard time. Is that one satisfied?”

How could anyone be? Flattened. Floored. Failed. But most of all… “Not with that phrasing!”

“I see. Then…” There was a pause as the sheriff closed her eyes and collected herself before suddenly screaming, “Scram, varmint! You turn tail and git! I don’t want to see plush nor hair of that one until every last chore is done, y’hear me?!”

Quickly, this one scrambled to her feet and bolted for the saloon door, howling over her shoulder, “You may have beat this one, but this won’t be the last you see of Bramble the Bandit!” ka-chinking all the way. Had this one the ability to see behind her though, she’d have seen the sheriff smirking as she blew the smoke off her railgun to the cheers of the gathered patrons.

From elsewhere in the manse came a cry. “How many times must I tell you two?! No discharging weapons inside the house!”

End 🧵

[lizasweetling]

This is so subservient I almost hesitate to accept that it's a form of loyalty at all

like, for one, they completely failed to either stop the evacuation, contact an appropriate supervisor to get orders, or enforce the evacuation order- any of which would have been more competent if not (??) more loyal (??) than just waiting at their master's abode for him to return like the fusion between housestaff and loyal puppies...

because sitting there in the line of fire on the assumption that if you were supposed to move someone would have told you is... well a really exasperating logistical burden but also an easy way to be an impediment???

and even what we're doing now: is this loyal?? he wasn't commanded to fix boilers by someone with actual authority- just a random bozo that appeared!! if the evacuation and explosion orders had a good reason (that we assume exists) then he should absolutely not be helping the cast here!!

and if we say it's fine because Gil by way of Boris commanded this group to come here and control the situation- that's a bit of a loose comand structure...

and can we please touch on the distressing lack of value in that probably-a-joke(?) understatement that "[he has] been rather worried about that"??? because I do not like what that implies about how they value themselves as individuals or even their collective. because being willing and cooperating, even with some misgivings he chooses not to act on, with his own probable death just kinda rubs me the wrong way.

for both those reasons I think the Lackya need a figure like the Jagergenerals- someone to help smooth silly logistical oversights like this one both to protect the Lackya from being accidentally cooperative with treachery and to protect them from accidental communication oversights like 'I would've thought it obvious that you should evacuate when literally everyone else is"

[fanonical]

not to toot my own horn, but i really like my approach to historical 'accuracy' in the ttrpg i run

it's set in a fantasy version of the 1600s and while we play it a bit loose with history, i want it to be grounded in some sort of historical tradition

the thing is, while i am a nerd who reads textbooks about the 17th century for fun, i don't wanna make my players do that

so i made the decision early on that i would only enforce a strict limit on what the npcs knew about. the pcs could have extra knowledge if their players wanted/accidentally said something a bit modern

similarly, technology is at a late 1600s level, but there's leeway for the pcs to invent things that they could reasonably know how to create. nuclear fusion or the microscope is out, but one of my players invented molotov cocktails a few centuries early because that one ain't hard to figure out

(later events would allow even more of an excuse - the pcs got transported into another world, modern new york (via spider-man comics) and thus any anachronisms they say are just 'a new york thing', to the bemusement of the npcs)

[zedleaked]

OVERTHINKER THOUGHTS AND SCRIBBLES

HAD SOME DIALOGUE TOO FOR A HYPOTHETICAL FIGHT [I'VE ONLY DONE TWO SCENES] WHICH I'LL PUT UNDER THIS CUT HERE [IT IS LONG]

Opening Cutscene

Distant chatter from Prethinker and the Desk Jockey’s can be heard as the camera slowly zooms out from a blackboard that says “Warning: The Following Instance is Not Canon.”

Prethinker can be seen with Professor Pete (Toontown Schoolhouse guy) tied up in a chair.

Prethinker: I do not appreciate you and the Toon resistance trying to put an end to my plans.

Consider this payback for making my life more difficult!

I’ll still be taking these freebie Desk Jockeys for personal use, since you won't be needing them anymore now that you’re here!

Now where was I…?

Ah yes, I remember now.

Prethinker walks over to the blackboard and rubs out whatever was written on it, starting to doodle something on the board.

You see, the plan is simple.

Prethinker takes out one of those pointer sticks and taps the blackboard with it, which has an illustration of Buck and Dave forming High Roller.

I’ve been studying the art of Cog-fusion. A fascinating phenomenon that was showcased by Mr. Ruffler and Mr. Brubot a year ago.

How they achieved such a thing is still beyond my grasp, however the potential of fusion is nothing to scoff at.

Prethinker draws a doodle of himself on the board next to a plus symbol and a question mark.

If we combine the right Suits together, we could achieve something truly unstoppable for those Toons!

That’s where you Brianbots come in.

You will find me the perfect candidates to experiment with! A willing Suit won't come to me on a silver platter you know?

A quack could be heard which causes Prethinker to perk up.

…What was that noise?

The quacks grow louder until Duck Shuffler crashes through the wall Kool-aid man style. He rushes through the Desk Jockeys, causing them to tumble over like dominos.

Duck Shuffler: FRHIRFIUHRIWHFR!!!

The Desk Jockeys blow up, making that one Deltarune explosion noise as Duck Shuffler gets up from the ground.

WOWIE! Thith theemth familiar!

Prethinker looks at him outraged, his brain turning red.

Prethinker: YOU! What are YOU doing here?

That stunt you just pulled involving plowing through the wall was against every single law of physics!

Duck Shuffler: Lawth are merely thuggethtionth methinkth.

Prethinker: They are not suggestions! A law is a set of rules that are created and are enforceable by social or governmental institutions to regulate beha- (Wikipedia definition for law: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Law)

Duck Shuffler stands in front of Prethinker’s speech bubble.

Duck Shuffler: Geeth! Quit your yammerin’, you’re boring me here!

It’th not like you’re a goodie two thhoeth anywayth, what ya did to me was thhurely againtht the law!

Prethinker: We do not talk about that, Ruffler.

Duck Shuffler: Oh yeah, whaddya gonna do about it?

Duck Shuffler steps in close, looking down at the Prethinker.

The Prethinker shoves Duck Shuffler, making him stumble a little.

The Duck Shuffler shoves him back which causes them to keep hitting each other until they get into a cartoony fight ball.

The two of them collide with the wall where the blackboard is, causing a giant explosion and a flash of light. A distant metal pipe noise could be heard.

The smoke from the explosion clears up as it reveals Overthinker.

Overthinker: WHERE- WHERE AM I?

{You dolt! What did you do now-}

The Toons finally intervene as they approach the Overthinker.

T-{T-} T-TOONPH!!!

{Hm, thiph could me phalvaged-}

YOU THERE!!! YOU COULD {Did I jupht liphp-?} HELP ME OUT HERE! HELP ME! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

The room seems to start getting cloaked in a purple hue as weird smoke starts to form from Overthinker’s chemical explosion.

[Phase 1 of the battle starts.]

Second Cutscene

Overthinker: YYYYEOWCH!!!!

Overthinker reels back from whatever the last attack used on him was.

You guyph really pack a punch! What’ph the d-d-deal with THAT???

I’m feeling- I’M FEELING, {phick} YOU’RE- You’ve knocked the BRAINPH OUTTA ME!!!

Overthinker starts to shake uncontrollably.

THIPH EXPERIMENT WAPH A- WAPH A- {Failure!} FAILURE!!!!!!! I’M A FAILURE!!!!!!!!!

There’s a big explosion as Overthinker unfuses into Duck Shuffler and Prethinker again. The camera pans down to see the both of them in the Yamcha and Family guy death pose respectively.

The two of them get up from the ground.

Prethinker: Grr! Buck, this is all your fault! We could’ve beat them if you didn’t keep mixing unfamiliar chemicals together!

Duck Shuffler: Aww! But that wouldn’t be tho fun-

Prethinker: This isn’t about fun! This is about winning! You like winning don’t you?

The Toons take a step closer to the two of them

Duck Shuffler: Aww, ratth! We forgot about them-

Prethinker: Fret not- I have this covered.

Prethinker snaps his fingers as he summons a few Desk Jockeys to cover for them.

Prethinker: This won't hold them back for long, but we have to cooperate here-

Duck Shuffler: Oh tho now you wanna work together, huh?

Prethinker: This isn’t the time for snide remarks, you know all about this fusion thing, right? Just do what you do with Brubot or something!

Duck Shuffler: I only mingle well with Dave becauthe he doeth hith part.

You gotta do your part too, pal! Tho let me lead next time!

Prethinker: …Hmph! Fine. I’ll do as you say, but only so we can win!

Duck Shuffler picks Prethinker up and hoists him onto his shoulders.

Duck Shuffler: HAHA! Then let’th get thith thhow in the road!

[Phase 2 of the battle starts, the Toons fighting the Desk Jockeys and Duck Shuffler and Prethinker separated.]

[amory444]

Random Austria character study or actually more of a hc:

I feel Austria's relationship to gender and presentation has always been screwed due to his upbringing. He was a weak nation made strong through relationships and connections, especially through marriage. Marriage at its score is the Union between femine and masculine, the bride and the groom, wife and husband. Although today of course it's different. But because of such views on marriage, Austria using marriage as a way of gaining power, sees the roles as well, roles. If he's married to a man he's the bride, the one who takes care of the home(how I see his whole marriage to Spain) if he's married to a woman, than he'll conform to what a husband should be. He's always changing how he presents and what his role is for convenience. In a way he's found a middle ground, where he's insecure about his outside persona yet is lazy and frugal, where he takes control socially can barely do anything physically, where he wears a corset under masculine clothes. But even still, even in modern times oppressive gender roles are still enforced, obviously not bad as before but still exist. Austria constantly existing in a loop where he's never granted freedom of self exploration, only conformity. Even when he's not in power anymore he's Germany's co-dependent neighbor. Austria whilst depending on others has learned to embody and be everything at once, he's a contradiction but than also a fusion. He doesn't see gender roles as specific to female and make but as just roles (my personal hc on why he's not ready insecure about Hungary being stronger than him) because that's how he was taught to see them.

Austria never learned to express, he only learned to present. In the same way it gave him power and success, it also was his downfall. Austria can never truly be Austria because hes Austria not to express,but to simply just to be.

Random rant over anyways I love him very much<3