San Francisco Details (Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes, 2014)

WHAT IF THE WORLD DIES WITH THE SUNRISE? BABY, IT’S ALRIGHT, WE’LL BE UP ALL NIGHT! WHAT IF WE’RE UNMADE WHEN THE STARS FADE? JUST KEEP ME GOING UNTIL THE NIGHT TURNS INTO THE DAY! <3

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Sam Gamgee and he told me that the shadow is only a passing thing, that there is light and high beauty forever beyond its reach. 😌

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Éowyn and she told me that women of this country learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon them. That she fears neither pain nor death.

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Aragorn and he said "I BID YOU STAND, MEN OF THE WEST!"

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Faramir and he said that Shire must be a great realm, where gardeners are held in high esteem.

"I asked Chat GPT"...yeah well I asked Legolas and he had some exposition for us.

I could definitely go on, but that's good for now 😅

The Greatest Gift of All

(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

*

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town. 

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky. 

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning. 

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out. 

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast. 

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

*

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief. 

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being. 

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now? 

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

*

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life. 

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

*

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them. 

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition. 

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her. 

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

i've shared amal's gofundme (@amalashuor) several times, but i just received messages from her that broke my heart

amal is a 26 year old mother from gaza. she is an incredibly dedicated and loving mother to her year old daughter, maryam. before the war, she was studying to receive her masters degree in french language. on her instagram (@/amal_sufian97_) she shared beautiful photos of her life and family in the years before the war.

now amal, her husband, and maryam have been displaced several times and have nowhere to turn to. amal wishes to finish her degree, and both she and her husband want nothing more than a better life for their young daughter. every time i receive a message from amal, my heart is full knowing she is still alive, but it breaks for her suffering. i implore you, please donate any amount you're able to help amal and her family escape gaza. they deserve nothing less than safety, warmth, love, laughter, security, and life. as of july 6th, €1,025 / €30,000 has been raised. her campaign is also included on el-shab-hussein and nabulsi's spreadsheet of verified fundraiser (#175). if you're unable to donate, please share. i want nothing more than to give amal hope that she can provide a better life for her daughter.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help me get out of Gaza for my baby girl, organized by Amal Ashour

Hello, I am Amal Ashour. I live in Gaza. I am 26 years old Before the war, I was … Amal Ashour needs your support for Help me get out of Gaz

Aliit

Somewhere along the way, the Bad Batch picked up not only Omega, but another young girl too, though older than the female clone. She reached just below Hunter’s shoulder, and wore a drastically severe, short haircut, that not long ago included a braid.

A former Jedi Padawan, survivor of Order 66, cast into the Galaxy with no protection, and her previous allies, her friends, sent out to hunt the girl down. By some miracle, she managed to avoid them long enough for Clone Force 99 to stumble across her, and none of them had the heart to abandon the rather reckless, passionate little Jedi. So, she became one of their own; an elder sibling to Omega, and a second adopted child to the group.

But the girl, whose name was Mai Kryze, (she claimed the name had no connection to the former Duchess Satine, but Echo thought she looked eerily similar to Obi-Wan-Kenobi,) did not have Omega’s innocent disposition. Mai had seen the war, watched her people slaughtered, and been on the recieving end of the clones’ persecution.

One night, aboard the ship, the crew rested after a particularly arduous mission. Most of them by now were asleep, apart from two: Mai, and Hunter; however, he was only awake because the quiet sniffling from the cockpit refused to be ignored. He tossed and turned for ages, feeling guilty for leaving the girl alone, but unsure of how to help. She gave him a run for his money when it came to keeping emotions close to her chest; though he supposed it was the Jedi way.

Eventually, once the sniffling turned to sob, Hunter left his bunk and carefully worked his way through the ship, not wanting to disturb the others. Especially not Omega. When he reached the cockpit, he saw Mai’s hunched form in one of the seats, curled into a ball as her shoulders shook.

“I know you’re there,” she mumbled, head buried between her kness.

Hunter sat down next to her, awkwardly leaning on his thighs. He knew how to comfort Omega, now he had practise, but Mai never seemed to need any reassurance or comfort. Though he knew it had been an act, sometimes they all forgot, despite being a Jedi, Mai was only sixteen.

She wiped her face, head angled away from him as she tried to control her breathing. “M’sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather know something was up than sleep while you cried. Wanna talk about it?” Hunter asked, remembering a piece of advice Cut gave.

For a moment, Mai held his eye, uncertainty crossing her own. Then she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring out into space. “During the mission, I...I saw a wanted poster for the Jedi. Only two of the faces hadn’t been crossed out; Master Yoda, and my Master, Obi-Wan. The rest...so many. Even Master Windu.”

Hunter watched her expression contort, an array of emotions flashing across it in an instant. His eyes widened at this, as she never let anything truly register on her face, and now...

Blazing anger reared its head, and Mai clenched her jaw, her hands gesturing wildly. “They’ve destroyed my people, my culture, everything! They’ve taken everything from me, and they won’t stop. Not until every single person in the Galaxy hates the Jedi, until they tarnish our memory forever. I will never be safe, safe enough to practise my beliefs, to help and to be who I trained to be my whole life. I can’t do anything. For anyone.”

She took a breath, calming herself, using the techniques her Master taught her. Anger came rarely to Mai, but when it did, she needed to work hard in order to control it. Brushing hair from her face, she glanced at Hunter.

“I know the Jedi aren’t perfect, believe me, I know. But so many of us were just good people trying to do what was right, to save lives and...I don’t know, try and bring hope to the Galaxy. Everyone makes mistakes, even Jedi, so we didn’t always get it right. But we truly care for each person in the universe, would lay down our lives for them; and yet, this is how the Jedi fall? Betrayed by one of our own, and hunted down by our friends. Sometimes I wonder if the will of the Force isn’t just some joke made up to make us feel better when things fall apart.”

Hunter wished he could take this pain away from her. The way it tore across her face, dug into her heart...she felt differently to others, he knew that. Force users connected with the world in a strange way, more deeply, and when something hurt, that pain ripped them apart. “Kid, I...I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make this any better. I saw Order 66, what happened to our Jedi...we cannot imagine what it was like for you. I’m sorry, truly sorry. The only thing I have to offer is...us.”

Mai raised her eyes to him; they glistened with tears, but her confusion at his words momentarily halted their fall. “What do you mean?”

“You lost a family, your people,” Hunter said, grasping her shoulder gently, “and we can never replace them. But we can offer you a new home, a new family, one where you are still free to be a Jedi. None of us will ever think less of you, or try to change you. Us lot may be a bit odd, but we’ll do our best to look after you, Mai.”

In the dark cockpit, their faces only illuminated by the stars outside, Hunter felt a connection, something had reached out and touched him in the silence. It took seconds for him to realise it was Mai; he recognised the presence, and smiled. She returned it, albeit shyly, and fought back a yawn.

“Thank you, Hunter. I don’t think you know how much it means to me that you all care so much. And I’m sorry I don’t really show how I feel in return...it will take time for me to get used to you guys. You bear your emotions so freely...that was a downside to the Order. No matter how deeply I cared for the people around me, I could never say it.”

Hunter hesitated a moment, then carefully pulled Mai into his arms, cradling the youngster with as much care as he would give Omega. She tensed, and he wondered if he had gone too far, then her arms wound around his middle and she clutched onto him. The way Mai clung to him, Hunter realised she’d probably never been hugged in her life, which only made him hold tighter.

For her part, Mai couldn’t have been more thankful for them. With these men, her new family, she might get the chance to heal, to continue her training in peace, knowing she was protected and cared for, so that one day, she could save them, as they had saved her.

Holding onto Hunter as if he’d vanish if she let go, Mai smiled, recalling a word in Mando’a Cody once taught her. Aliit. She had one of her own, now.

This is an interesting thing I'm noticing as I'm reading but it kinda seems to me like a lot of the Tolkien characters all seem to have elemental symbolism that seems to follow their characterization.

Like Gandalf and Bilbo both seem to have a lot of fire symbolism that follows them around. Gandalf uses light and fire as kind of his two go to weapons and he's the keeper of the ring of Narya which is the fire one. And of course Gandalf the White is forged out of flame. And then Bilbo's introduced in the middle of smoking, and he spends a lot of time hanging around campfires and hearths, like the campfire storyteller he is. He seems to like hanging out in the Hall of Fire at Rivendell, and his conflict with Smaug obviously also involves a lot of fire. He's also arguably the character who is closest to Gandalf.

Frodo on the other hand is like all water imagery. One of the first things we learn about Frodo is his parents were weirdos who hung out in boats and then drowned, and he's introduced filling drinks at Bilbo's party. He makes his stand against the Nazgul at the river. He himself nearly drowns like three times in the story, and spends a lot of time in boats, being haunted by dark waters, and the sound of the ocean (and of course ends the story going over the sea). Like the water symbolism with Frodo is nonstop and he shares that in common with Gollum, who specifically is characterized by pools, rivers, and lakes, as well as fish, worms, mud and roots and caves—very wet and slimy compared to Frodo's more mariner/wayfinder imagery. But they're still kind of two sides of the same coin.

Pippin and Merry get a lot of plant and tree symbolism. Besides hanging out with ents and drinking tree wine and that time they both got eaten by a tree, it's clear Merry grew up wandering forests and knows a lot about wild plants (and writes a book on it later) and Pippin gets a ton of association with Gondor, y'know, that place that is represented by a big ol' tree. Their tobacco leaves too actually kinda play a pivotal role, and are again, very plant focused.

You'd think Sam would also be more earth oriented, being he's a gardener, but not really? Unlike Merry who's out here spitting plant facts 24/7 and working on his plant book, Sam's interest in plants seems like to only be around when he's on the clock. His symbolism is all very celestial. He's the guy who ends up using the Star of Earendil. He sees Earendil while he and Frodo are walking through Mordor. He evokes Elbereth, the Star Goddess like multiple times. He names his daughter after the star-sun shaped flower Elanor which literally means "Sun and Stars." And if you think about it, Gardener is actually kind of a perfect role for a star-guy when you remember how dependent plants are on the sun. He also seems to share some kind of connection with Galadriel who is also caked in a lot of star imagery. It also tracks he'd be paired with Frodo thematically as he serves as a guiding light to a mariner, in contrast to how Gollum represents the depths.

IDK what all that means, I just think it's neat!

there's a method to my madness there's a secret to this town there's a reason why i'm still living here though i can't think of it right now

I'm torn between a desperate want for the Pevensies to have lived out their lives in Narnia air fad, and the absolute beauty people come up with when writing about their return to earth. This is brilliant. Everything I love!

thoughts on the Pevensies returning home

Peter Pevensie was a strange boy. His mind is too old for his body, too quick, too sharp for a boy. He walks with a presence expected of a king or a royal, with blue eyes that darken like storms. He holds anger and a distance seen in veterans, his hand moving to his hip for a scabbard that isn't there - knuckles white. He moves like a warless soldier, an unexplained limp throwing his balance. He writes in an intricate scrawl unseen before the war, his letters curving in a foreign way untaught in his education. Peter returned a stranger from the war, silent, removed, an island onto himself with a burden too heavy for a child to bear.

Only in the aftermath of a fight do his eyes shine; nose burst, blood dripping, smudged across his cheek, knuckles bruised, and hands shaking; he's alive. He rises from the floor, knighted, his eyes searching for his sisters in the crowd. His brother doesn't leave his side. They move as one, the Pevensies, in a way their peers can't comprehend as they watch all four fall naturally in line.

But Peter is quiet, studious, and knowledgeable, seen only by his teachers as they read pages and pages of analytical political study and wonderful fictional tales. "The Pevensie boy will go far," they say, not knowing he already has.

His mother doesn't recognize him after the war. She watches distrustfully from a corner. She sobs at night, listening to her son's screams, knowing nothing she can do will ease their pain. Helen ran on the first night, throwing Peter's door open to find her children by his bedside - her eldest thrashing uncontrollably off the mattress with a sheen of sweat across his skin. Susan sings a mellow tune in a language Helen doesn't know, a hymn, that brings Peter back to them. He looks to Edmund for something and finds comfort in his eyes, a shared knowing. Her sons, who couldn't agree on the simplest of discussions, fall in line. But Peter sleeps with a knife under his cushion. She found out the hard way, reaching for him during one of his nightmares only to find herself pinned against the wall - a wild look in Peter's eye before he staggered back and dropped the knife.

Edmund throws himself into books, taking Lucy with him. They sit for hours in the library in harmony, not saying a word. His balance is thrown too, his mind searching for a limp that he doesn't have, missing the weight of his scabbard at his side. He joins the fencing club and takes Peter with him. They fence like no one else; without a worthy adversary, the boys take to each other with a wildness in their grins and a skillset unforeseen in beginner fencers. Their rapiers are an exertion of their bodies, as natural as shaking hands, and for the briefest time, they seem at peace. He shrinks away from the snow when it comes, thrust into the darkest places of his mind, unwilling to leave the house. He sits by the chessboard for hours, enveloped in his studies until stirred.

Susan turns silent, her mind somewhere far as she holds her book. Her hands twitch too, a wince when the door slams, her hand flying to her back where her quiver isn't. She hums a sad melody that no one can place, mourning something no one can find. She takes up archery again when she can bear a bow in her hands without crying, her callous-less palms unfamiliar to her, her mind trapped behind the wall of adolescence. She loses her friends to girlishness and youth, unable to go back to what she was. Eventually, she loses Narnia too. It's easier, she tells herself, to grow up and move on and return to what is. But her mourning doesn't leave her; she just forgets.

Lucy remains bright, carrying a happier song than her sister. She dances endlessly, her bare feet in the grass, and sings the most beautiful songs that make the flowers grow and the sun glisten. Though she has grown too, shed her childhood with the end of the war. She stands around the table with her sister, watching, brow furrowed as her brothers play chess. She comments and predicts, and makes suggestions that they take. She reads, curled into Edmund's side as his high voice lulls her to sleep with tales of Arthurian legends. She swims, her form wild and graceful as she vanishes into the water. They can't figure out how she does it - a girl so small holding her breath for so long. She cries into her sister, weeping at the loss of her friends, her too-small hands too clumsy for her will.

"I don't know our children anymore," Helen writes to her husband, overcome by grief as she realizes her children haven't grown up but away into a place she cannot follow.

You Sacrifice Your Life for Your Family: Steve, Bucky, Peter.

(Inspired by^)

You stared at Thanos, shivering from the icy wind billowing around the mountain top. Blood dripped from your lip, and splattered over your side where your arm was tucked to give some semblance of support.

His eyes were like nothing you ever saw - soulless, determined, and utterly focused on this one goal. Another shiver ran through you. This time, it had nothing to do with the wind.

"You choose one to die," he said, speaking softly, "the others live."

Your eyes drifted over their faces. Steve, Bucky and Peter. The three most important people in your life; a brother, a partner, and an adopted son. Thanos chose well, you thought bitterly.

They were scattered in the snow, beaten and bloodied, held in place by the power of the stones. Their eyes searched for you, wide, panicked, fearful. You smiled, but it faded too quickly to be genuine.

"If..." you turned back to Thanos, determinedly avoiding the others, "what if I die? Do they all live?

Thanos cocked his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. A chorus of protest rose immediately from her left, pleading and desperate struggling.

"Yes," Thanos said, and triumph burned in his voice; this was the outcome he wanted.

"Y/N, no!" Steve hissed, "don't you dare. I'll die, pick me!"

You finally faced them properly, smiling softly at your brother, answering him with a slight shake of the head. "No, Steve...this is how it has to be."

He opened his mouth to object again, but your arms wrapping around his torso cut him off. You almost laughed, still expecting to embrace a thinner frame, even after all this time. "Look after them, Stevie. Look after yourself."

His face was wet as you pulled away, but he forcefully nodded his head. You sighed, content in knowing he would honour that.

Bucky's whole body strained to free itself, fury slowly falling away to fear as he looked at you. "Doll, please...Y/N, don't leave us."

"Mo cridhe, this is the only way for you all to live," you said, stumbling forward to gently cup his face, "how can I choose between the three I love more than anything in this universe?"

He choked back a sob. "But, Y/N..."

You pressed a kiss to his lips, holding back tears of your own as thoughts and memories raced through your mind. Discreetly, you slipped your dogtags and the locket you kept with the precious pictures from the 30s, updated with a few from the present, into his pocket. You knew he would need them more than anyone.

Pulling back, you smiled. "What a life we've led, James, what a life..."

"Y/N...mum..." Peter whimpered, sniffing.

Quickly going to him, you enveloped him in a warm embrace. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, tearings flowing freely.

"My brave, brave boy. I'm so proud of you, Pete. So proud. You remember that, alright? I love you, I did this for all of you."

You kissed his forehead, accidentally smearing your blood over his cheek. He sobbed, head dropping.

"Be a good boy for Bucky, yeah? Listen to him and uncle Steve. Promise me?"

He nodded slowly, voice shaking. "I promise..."

"Good boy, you're a good kid," you said, pressing a hard, final goodbye kiss to his hair.

Drawing away from him took more energy than expected, and you staggered slightly, breathing heavily. You had stopped stemming the blood flow from your side, now the clock was reaching its end.

Thanos waited, patiently expectant, on the cliff edge. You huffed, rolling your shoulders, and walked steadily forward. But you paused, one last time, and looked back at your family.

"Remember how much I love you, all the good days we spent together, our glorious life..." you met Bucky's eyes, the man you called husband, and grinned the most radiantly he ever saw, "because it was glorious, wasn't it?"

You stepped off, and the clouds cradled you on your way to the end of your line. The smile you wore never wavered, neither did your resolve falter, thinking of golden days of youth and love, the laughter of the family you built ringing in your ears.

Their screams followed you all the way down, your name in their mouths the last thing you ever heard.