#Logic Being the Lowest Form Of Magic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rauthschild · 2 years ago

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There are three General Jurisdictions --- air, land and sea.

The air jurisdiction stands above the land and the land above the water, both physically and metaphorically; as a result, the air jurisdiction courts stand above the land jurisdiction courts and the sea jurisdiction courts are last, representing the bottom of the stack.

Once you have this firmly in mind and understand the logic of it, it is much easier to understand jurisdiction and also the ranking of the courts.

There are two "practical" subdivisions within each General Jurisdiction and one "sacred" subdivision in each for a total of nine (9) subdivisions.

The practical or "practicum" subdivisions (this is where "practicing" law comes from) are seen-- meaning visible to the public; the sacred subdivisions are unseen -- meaning not visible to the public.

Each one of these subdivisions involves the administration of a trust, so there are nine (9) trusts total. These are express (sacred trusts) , testamentary (land trusts) and statutory trusts (sea trusts).

All nine trusts properly belong to the Autochthonous people, the Inheritors of the Kingdom of God-- so long as we prove ourselves to be God-born and Creator-born and Earth-born.

You have to be Autochthonous to this planet, you have to possess a body created by God, and you have to be energetically connected to God in spirit to pass the test.

Only the Highest of the Highest know this, and they don't tell you, because then you might think more seriously about many things that would in turn lead to the physical, mental, and spiritual growth necessary to be an Inheritor.

An Inheritor can "speak to" all nine subdivisions, which is, if you know your word etymologies, what "jurisdiction" is all about --- being able to speak to an issue in one or more of the nine subdivisions.

As an aside -- when you hear people talking about "Universal Jurisdiction" they are talking about a sovereign or sovereign nation's right to exercise jurisdiction, sometimes called "extra-territorial jurisdiction", outside their borders, and especially when exercised in pursuit of justice in criminal matters.

This is not to be confused with true Universal Jurisdiction which includes mastery of the spiritual realm as well as the physical.

Okay, with all that duly noted, what are the practical subdivisions -- the ones that we see and deal with day to day -- in each of the three General Jurisdictions?

Let's begin with the one that is by far most common in today's world -- the bottom of the heap: sea jurisdiction. Because it is the lowest, meanest, most deceptive, most unkind, and unjust of all, the sea jurisdiction's nickname is "Hell" and student bar attorneys in Scotland are still called "Devils".

The two practicum levels of the sea jurisdiction are Maritime (Commercial Contract) Law and Admiralty (Military) Law.

This is where Satan was "cast down" and it shows. Contracts formed in the sea jurisdiction ironically outrank treaties on the land precisely because of the merciless nature of sea jurisdiction law.

When people want to "bind" something, as in "binding with Black Magic", they bind it in this jurisdiction, and they "swear" to it with "oaths" -- all of which is specifically forbidden in the Bible.

This makes total sense once you realize that the sea is Satan's lair, and the Law of the Sea is Satanic in nature. The realm of the sea is inhabited by Legal Fiction Persons, dead wraiths representing offices, incorporated businesses, and THINGS which may be little more than a label or description or title or thought-form --- or even a number on a dog tag.

These Legal Fiction Persons exist within matrix-like constructions that are strictly organized in hierarchies of authority that are usually highly compartmentalized so that one hand literally doesn't know what the other hand is doing.

Like the sea, the realm of Hell is ever-changing, full of illusions, and veiled in secrecy. Even the language of Hell is coded and duplicitous, full of double entendres and substitutions and "special terms" that only the inhabitants are aware of.

All this taken together leaves no doubt that the sea jurisdiction literally is the realm of Satan, and the bar attorneys are his ministers, with no attachment to the realm of justice. This form of law is private in nature, meant to be confined to members of the city-- meaning Rome, and the district -- meaning British Crown Territory, and nobody else at all.

This will no doubt come as a surprise to many Bar Attorneys, but consider this: the current cycle of criminality which has infested our world began a few years before the Great Fire of London (1666) when a mysterious group called "the Companie of Merry Men" arrived in England from the Continent of Europe.

The Merry Men were an acting company-- that specialized in "grand illusions". To this day, the Bar Association is registered as an acting and theater company. Think about this and the peculiar language of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure and the instruction to "provide an appearance of Justice".

The Gates of Hell are not, so far as we need to inquire, attached to any specific physical place; rather, they exist as barriers to our perception locking us into a realm of deceit, injustice parading itself as justice, and illusory power.

The practicum levels of the land jurisdiction are International Land Law which includes the Law of Nations, and the Law of the Soil, which is the common law of living people. Together, these two subdivisions comprise the realm of unincorporated business (trade), agreements, and treaties among honorable men operating as Lawful Persons and accountable Governments.

Lawful Persons inhabit -- on a temporary basis -- another realm of the dead, which is honest, accountable, and bound by Public Law.

In comparison with the jurisdiction of the sea, the jurisdiction of the land is known as Purgatory, for it is the testing ground where both the nature of Law and the nature of Fact are examined, determined, and ultimately, judged.

Whereas the sea specializes in "veils" and illusions and deceits of all kinds, the land and soil are plodding pedants, focused on learning and defining the difference between "Good" and "Evil" and in a conscious way, determining the meaning and context of both.

The Law of the Land and the Law of the Soil jointly work together to establish the community and national standards that apply within the boundaries of that country -- for native and visitor alike.

So it is no mistake that the Federal Constitutions are called "the Law of the Land" from the viewpoint of the members of the city and the members of the district government, which live their lives in the General Jurisdiction of the Sea and speak--- literally--- in Municipal Code, or Federal Codes -- respectively.

Likewise, it is no mistake that the "denizens" that inhabit Washington, DC, and the "monsters" known as "humans" (that is, "hue-mans" meaning Legal Persons) that inhabit the District of Columbia, have to be limited and bound by contracts, in this case, the Constitutions, to keep them in line and within their bounds, occupying their respective theaters and performing their appointed roles.

Lawful Persons operating in the international jurisdiction of the land use the official language of this country, English, and use it honestly with no special secret codes or jargon to confuse or obfuscate anything. Likewise, they adhere to English Grammar, and don't use "styles" or special typefaces or orderings of names to obscure the nature of charges or the identities of parties to a suit or venue of the action.

The two practicum subdivisions of the jurisdiction of the air are Canon Law and Ecclesiastical Law. Canon Law deals with the standards and rules imposed upon the employees, priests, prelates, high officers and bondsmen of the Roman Catholic Church.

Ecclesiastical Law deals with the administration of the Church as an institution with respect to the rest of the world and especially those matters that the Church is responsible for as a result of its own activities such as the creation of Monarchies, and standards of time, weights, and measures, postal service, intellectual property management and ownership issues related to the establishment of names, genealogies, and other vital records, copyrights, trademarks, patents, and charters of incorporated entities as well as the definition and discipline of corporations themselves.

It comes as a shock to many people to realize that these basics of life, such as the establishment of individual identity and provenance have been left to the auspices of the Roman Catholic Church and in recent years, to Ecumenical Partners. Your intellectual property rights and means of enforcement have been established, defined, and enforced by religious institutions, and perhaps most surprising, the Roman Catholic Church is responsible for the definition, development and discipline of virtually all incorporated entities worldwide.

B Corps, C Corps, S Corps, Statutory Trusts, Cooperatives, Foundations, LLCs, LPCs, all the dizzying plethora of incorporated entities and their business models, were all created by the Church in the jurisdiction of the air, and this is why the Pope has the explicit right to discipline corporations. If a corporation acts in a lawless fashion resulting in injury to living people and their property, the Pope also has the duty to dissolve the offending corporation under Ecclesiastical Law.

The jurisdiction of the air is supposed to correspond to the realm of Heaven. All is supposed to be peaceful and well-ordered and pure, without the taint of fraud and self-interest and money, but as anyone can now see, the proliferation of all these so-called Municipal corporations is in fact a proliferation of Lies --- and an invasion of the jurisdiction of the sea trespassing into the jurisdiction of the air.

A vast army of Legal Fiction Persons without faces, without substance, and without accountability, has been unleashed on the trusting General Public in countries around the world and the Church has been dead asleep at the wheel, neither defending the integrity of the air jurisdiction nor disciplining the products of this unholy marriage.

This situation has resulted in the creation of Municipal Corporations as well as British Crown Corporations and numerous titanic legalized gambling rackets known as Insurance Companies, Title Companies, Clearinghouses, Securities Brokerages, and Mercenary Police Organizations, aka, Private Security Personnel used to prey upon the living population of the land and soil under color of law.

Thus we are faced, literally, with an invasion of Heaven by Hell.

Those people most responsible for this situation are ducking their responsibility to dissolve the offending corporations that have promoted war for profit in our midst, and which have created with malice aforethought the present medical genocide and maiming campaign which has killed and disabled millions of innocent people worldwide under the guise of promoting public health.

Thus, the representatives of "Heaven" have been compromised and redefined as the officers of Hell, partaking of the most heinous and foul fruits of the jurisdiction of Satan. In their delusion and love of Mammon, these False Priests and Popes have served Satan with willing hearts "in the name of Christ" --- and many haven't even realized what they were doing.

Either willingly and with contrition or under force and duress, those responsible for allowing Satan's trespass and for creating this Evil in High Places must be brought to their senses.

We must force a recognition of the cause of the wars and misery and criminality that have kept the Earth and its people enslaved for over 400 years.

It is nothing more or less than this, that Satan's Kingdom, the jurisdiction of the sea, has been allowed to invade Heaven, the jurisdiction of the air.

Satan's kingdom has been allowed to trespass and has not been punished and sent back to the Abyss by those men entrusted to defend the jurisdiction of the air.

Let all those appointed know that God is not dead and I am his Witness.

My final observation to those reading this, is that we all choose where we live --- or in the case of Hell, exist. Look now to the towers and the watch fires lit.

Satan has come as a ravening lion hidden in the bosom of the Church, which has well and truly become a whore for him, by following his ways and lusting after his rewards, by being seduced by worldly power, and by engaging in the proliferation of Lies (Corporations) and the hoarding of riches.

The officers of the Church have sunk under Satan's delusions, imagining things that are not and never were, thinking that by making the Church rich they are making the Church powerful. And then seeking only the power of money and falsehoods.

Look at what happened with the most recent Peter's Pence Scandal. The members of the Church were told to make a special offering to enable the Pope to have emergency funds to alleviate the needs and suffering of those displaced by wars and harmed by violence. Obediently, they offered up their hard-earned money. But instead of spending it on the refugees and the homeless and the orphans, the Pope invested it in a new banking center in the Inner City of London, luxury condos, and movie productions.

He lied to 1.2 billion Catholics and stood as a Liar before them and as an Officer of Satan and they did nothing.

It is as if they have lost their ability to add two plus two and arrive at four.

And having arrived at four, cannot find a way to reconcile what is right in front of their faces.

In the same way, we all have cause to know that we have been attacked by Municipal Corporations --- DOD, CDC, FBI, NIH, FEMA, IRS to name a few, and by Crown Corporations like Pfizer and Moderna and Astrazeneca and the American Bar Association.

We have cause to know that these entities have no natural right to exist and that they have murdered and maimed millions in the name of profit.

And now you know who is responsible for leaving them unpunished.

The jurisdiction of the air--- and that is far more than just the Roman Catholic Church --- is under attack from within. This attack is aimed against all religions, all churches, all synagogues, all temples, all faiths.

Don't wait a second longer. Sound the alarm. The time has come. The Faithful Remnant, all those who belong to the True God, must reimagine the world, because those indoctrinated to the Narrative of Destruction are at work and going unscathed.

The Ten Kings of Revelation have shown themselves. They are the ones that shut down their embassies in Turkey just before the technologically induced Earthquake. Exactly ten --- and they have shown who they are.

Gog and Magog (they are brothers) are squared off in the Ukraine. It won't be long until the pivot comes and all hell breaks out in the Middle East, as the Kingdoms of Europe and the Russians and the Chinese seek to settle the issue of energy resources.

It is imperative that we concentrate our attention on peace and on justice and on separation of powers, and refuse to be misled by any incorporated entity ever again.

Sincerely,

USNA, Family of Nations

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dustedmagazine · 6 years ago

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John Chantler — Logic Being the Lowest Form Of Magic; John Chantler — Move Along, Nothing Here to See; John Chantler/Steve Noble/Seymour Wright — Front and Above (1703 Skivbolaget)

Logic Being The Lowest Form of Magic by John Chantler

When it comes to ways and means, John Chantler is a slippery guy. Some might recall his older recordings on Lawrence English’s Room40 label, his membership in the duo For Barry Ray or his past work as a talent wrangler and dogsbody at Café OTO. Nowadays the Australian expatriate lives in Stockholm, Sweden, where he organizes the annual Edition Festival. On these three recent releases, Chantler moves between formats, music production methods and geographical locations. What ties them together is Chantler’s understanding of sound as a life-like force that can be invoked, invited and guided, but never quite controlled.

Logic Being the Lowest Form Of Magic is an album-length, download-only release that Chantler developed over a year and a half at electronic music studios in three countries to be played at Audiorama, a 21-speaker listening space in Stockholm. Boiled down to a stereo mix of reed organ drones and fluctuating Serge synthesizer tones, it remains an immersive piece of music, albeit one that depends upon the listener to run it through some decent speakers. The sounds accumulate like tumbleweeds against a fence, building up and bustling around, and the piece’s 36-minute duration gives one plenty of time to notice first the grain of each sound and then the way layers give way to more layers. The listening experience replies to the title’s unanswered question — what forms of magic are higher than logic? They are legion, and among them is the sensate experience of sound as it washes over and through your body, transforming your emotional and physical state and perhaps your spiritual orientation as well. Stray thought — the day we melt our weapons down to build a surround-sound, communal listening space in every town is the day we will know that humanity really can transcend itself. That’d be magic indeed.

A baser but still community-boosting impulse was the genesis for the Spreckels Organ Pavilion. John D. and Adolph B. Spreckels, the heirs of a sugar fortune, built it in the wake of the opening of the Panama Canal as part of a scheme to draw commercial interest to the city of San Diego. At one point its instrument was the biggest outdoor organ in the world, and while the pavilion’s fortunes have waxed and waned over the past century, it’s currently the site of weekly year-round free organ recitals and a special summer series of concerts sponsored by the San Diego Parks and Recreation Department. In 2017, a group of experimental composers wrote pieces for the Spreckels organ; four can be heard on the LP Organ For The Senses (Marginal Frequency), and while it doesn’t include Chantler’s contribution, you can get that from his Bandcamp page. You want immersive? Petition the return engagement and pack your bags for San Diego, where the force of the organ’s 5,017 pipes will turn your belly to jelly. Nothing you can fit into your computer can do that, but this ten-minute piece nicely sketches out the instrument’s potential. Chantler builds up ranks of sound, which part to reveal whorls of overtones and a sub-bass presence so solid you could herniate a disc just listening to it.

Front and Above approaches sound from another angle — instant music production. Chantler’s tenure at Café OTO put him in the room with London’s best improvisers, and this CD documents his first concert with two of them. Between them, saxophonist Seymour Wright and drummer Steve Noble have played with a formidable who’s who — Evan Parker, Eddie Prévost, Peter Brötzmann, John Butcher, Alan Wilkinson, etc. If you’re hearing him for the first time, Wright sounds like a successor of John Butcher; he’s alert, abrasive, able to change the temperature of a room with a single coarse note. Noble can fill the room with sound if he likes, but his playing is also highly detailed and endlessly variant. It’s handy to have a percussive thesaurus in the band with the third guy’s as likely to trigger a rain of mechanical pecking as he is to displace space with amorphous ghost tones. Sometimes Chantler is like a sound designer, influencing the atmosphere with subliminal presences, but he can respond timbre for timbre and gesture for gesture. This CD imparts an experience of constant unfolding, which makes sense given that it was the trio’s first encounter. Since then it has become an ongoing concern.

Bill Meyer

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mystery-salad · 4 years ago

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A thought, on reforging Caladbolg

When you learn that the sword can be reforged, it’s an amazing joyful moment. The legendary sword forged with the power of the Dream itself, from a thorn on a bough of the Pale Tree. Through the power it holds, the weapon can bend and change to manifest the qualities of its wielded. Both positives, strengths…and negatives, weaknesses. And now, it calls to the Commander (or a player character of your choice) to wield it, the first non-firstborn, perhaps even first non-sylvari to hold this weapon and have that unique connection to a living weapon.

In the process of reforging Caladbolg, you face a handful of challenges. The simple collections which involve locations tied to strong aspects of emotions or features in the world, and locations of shards scattered throughout the jungle it shattered in. But you also face another challenge, a little more...personal. Not to you, but to the past wielders, Riannoc and Trahearne. And these moments. These are interesting.

First the sword pulls you to Lychcroft Mere. A simple little sylvari settlement is Kessex Hills, wholly unremarkable save for the fact that this is where Riannoc made his stand against his own Hunt. The very Hunt Caladbolg was crafted for, and the first known Hunt to be failed entirely through death of the valiant. From the way he spoke of it, Riannoc’s Hunt was his life. He knew it better than the world itself and the people within it. He was blind to the fact that his apprentice was terrified, because he was here with the sword and he would win. Because it was what he was born to do. But he didn’t win, he was abandoned and overwhelmed. And with his death came failure, in the only form he could truly see it. He believed himself a fearless hero who could abandon all else, but he fell and fear overtook him in that moment, and he failed. The sword brought us to his lowest moment which he himself could not accept as he succumbed to it. “Caladbolg...I thought that with it in hand, I had no need for fear.” “Caladbolg draws out what is in your heart, hopes and doubts alike...perhaps it wanted to remind you to let your good outweigh your bad.”

Once you’ve worked through this, another vision is called for. Caladbolg pulls you to Matriarch’s Perch. So you return to the jungle, to the crash site in Verdant Brink. One could argue this location failed many, it was a tragedy in action and still serves as the site of many dead and lost. And here you find Trahearne, not the site of his death but where the airships fell. And you have the chance to inquire upon this. After all, you fought and learned from Riannoc at the location in which he died and relinquished his claim on the sword, so why not the same for Trahearne? The answer sheds an interesting light on how the sword may work. After all, it chooses the locations and it is through its own memories that you experience these visions of the past wielders. “Caladbolg does not see the world as we do. It could be that this region was its last battle before being broken, or it recalls a particularly strong connection to Marshal Trahearne.” Both options presented are viable surely, but...if it was simply the moment it shattered, why would it be the moment tied to Trahearne’s own misgivings instead of its own? If it was simply a strong connection, why not the moment it cleansed Orr with him? But then you hear the words voiced sourcelessly during the fight with him. A voice from nowhere, silent yet oh so visible just as with Riannoc, one that we can only assume is from Caladbolg itself. And the words don’t speak of shattering or bonds. They speak of failure. “But all the scholar found was despair at the impossible task. Perhaps from the beginning, it was indeed simply a dream.”

We’ve got a recurring theme, the sword is taking its new potential wielder through lessons and tests tied directly to the moment the previous wielders failed. Not just moments of hardship or setbacks, but hopeless failure. The kind you don’t simply bounce back from. And neither of them had. These were the moments at which both Valiants truly lost the sword through their own hopelessness, before any ties could be physically severed at all by death.

And then the sword pulls again, this time to The Artesian Waters, the place Orr’s cleansing began. A strong magical conduit to reforge Caladbolg officially and with it, forge your own bond to the weapon. Here you don’t face an outward enemy, you face yourself. A Remnant Of A Hero. And the words the sword speaks as you strike down your double? “Drowning in doubt, the hero could not even save themselves.”

Now I get the purpose of putting this fight where it is. It’s a poignant location for Caladbolg reforging itself, and it’s a universal location of importance to most (if not all) commanders. There was nowhere else the game devs could logically put this fight that would work so universally for as many player characters as possible as a location of significance. BUT…

Consider, for a moment, the sword pulling elsewhere. Caladbolg calling for a location of which Ridhais knows no significance. But the Commander does. The commander recognizes it by name alone, and feels their stomach drop. Consider Caladbolg reaching for the same hopelessness of the Commander that mirrors the past wielders. It means to test you, to see how you fare facing your own lowest point as Trahearne and Riannoc had both ultimately failed to survive themselves.

Where would caladbolg call the Commander, I wonder, if it truly sought to test what it hoped would be an unwavering bond to a new hero?

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #caladbolg #Trahearne #Riannoc #I spent most of last night crying over where the sword would take some of my commanders #where would it take yours...?#the sword is so alive so emotive #you experience the reforging through its own memories which is WILD #it learned and grew just as any child of the Pale Tree #and I’m sure it felt every bit of what it amplified #including the fear #and it sees a new wielder it sees the chance to work again #but it’s so afraid you could succumb to hopelessness too #and it wants and needs #so desperately #for you to push past those moments #it can not lose another like that #mywriting

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crypticpatterns · 3 years ago

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Adora :)

First Impression

Ohh, okay so this is interesting because the first episode I watched of She-Ra was actually the finale of season one. Me, my cousins, and my siblings all decided it'd be fun to choose a random show on Netflix and watch the final episode in the show and try to figure out what's going on in the chaos.

So my first impression of Adora was of She-Ra, since that's the form she takes at the beginning of the season one finale. This made my impression of the character pretty off because I thought of her as Strong Stoic And Solitary which isn't very accurate--but at the same time is an accurate idea of what she tries to be at her lowest points where she thinks she has to be a hero all alone. I initially thought her voice got lower in her She-Ra form because of one line she happened to deliver in a lower voice.

She was immediately a fascinating character, because she clearly suffers from a hero complex, and I really liked the conflict that gave her. I was thoroughly enraptured by her struggles in the finale despite seeing none of the build up.

Oh yes, and a funny assumption I made was that Catra was the one to defect from the Rebellion, but it turns out it was the exact opposite, and Adora was the defector.

Impression Now

Adora is an adorkable baby who deserves the world. I am so, so happy she finally got to reconcile with and be with Catra because it's the least she deserves after everything she's been through. She is so selfless and the perfect example of a strong but flawed heroine.

Favorite Moment

Bridal carryyyyy

I also loved the finale of season 4 when she destroys the sword and her hair falls out of her ponytail. *chef's kiss* Perfection!

Idea For A Story

Awhile ago a friend of mine and I brainstormed a post-canon story where during her expedition through the galaxy, Adora finds her long-lost twin brother who currently rules another magical planet he led in the rebellion against Horde Prime. I doubt we'll ever write it but I still think about it sometimes. I'd love to see Adora reunite with her biological family and meet Adam/He-Man.

Unpopular Opinion

Hmm, not sure if I have an unpopular opinion about Adora? I mean, I guess there is a section of a fanbase that blames her for Catra's abuse. That obviously completely misses the point of her arc. Adora was a child and holds no blame for what happened to Catra. It's not her fault Shadow Weaver instilled in her a hero complex and also made her too scared to do anything that might make Shadow Weaver see her as anything less than perfect. Catra's perspective on this is obviously warped because of her own trauma and is an example of how victims of abuse sometimes will lay blame on people who don't deserve that instead of the abuser who absolutely does.

Catradora isn't incest. They grew up together in a group setting. Under this same logic Kyle, Rogelio, and Lonnie are their siblings too but I don't see people freaking out about them being together. Shadow Weaver served as a matriarchal figure for all of them but they had no reference for "mom" or "dad" in the Horde as orphans with no idea how the outside world functioned. Also, they aren't even remotely related to each other. At this point we should start calling it beastiality because Catra is a cat. (People probably say that, don't they?)

Favorite Relationship

Catradora, obviously. Their relationship has been the main hook of the show for me since I started watching it. I was sadly closeted and homophobic when I first watched the show, but now I've accepted myself and Catradora is so important and empowering to me. It's ultimate friends to enemies to lovers and we stan. I'm so happy this show exists for the wonderful representation it has, and honestly even when I was homophobic I totally secretly shipped them hard.

Adora literally saves the universe by accepting gay romantic love from Catra and kissing her. It's beautiful.

Favorite Headcanon

I don't have many personal Adora headcanons but my favorite fanon headcanon is that she's ADHD.

Send me a character (spop or otherwise) and I'll tell you what I think of them! Anon asks are open <3

#adora #spop #ask game #catradora #she ra #headcanons #my posts

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 4: The Star Spangled Man With A Plan

Summary: As the SSR deals with the aftermath of the attempted theft of the serum by Hydra, Steve finds himself side-lined until he’s offered a golden opportunity to help fight the good fight��but it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be as he quickly finds out.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: This series is my contribution of sorts to the CATF 10 Year Anniversary Challenge. As always, some creative liberties taken.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Star Spangled Rebirth Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Absolutely not!” Katie blazed her hands on her hips “That is NOT what Erskine was going to do.”

“Well Erskine isn’t here is he, in case it had escaped your notice.” Phillips bit back “And neither is the serum after the last vial of it was smashed out on Brooklyn Pier.”

Steve sighed, his head bowing a little.

“Erskine said that post the transformation, Steve was supposed to be monitored for twenty-four hours before he did any major physical activity.” Katie continued, “Given that, and what just happened, you seriously want to take his blood?”

“She has a point.” Howard stepped in. “Personally, I’m not sure it’s wise. Private Rogers should be given the rest of the day at least under observation as was the original plan, where we can run the physical tests Abe had been planning to do.” He took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly.

“We owe it to him to do this right.” Katie spoke again, her voice loaded with emotion as she turned her eyes to the Colonel. Phillips gave a little groan, dragging his hand down his face “We can take the samples tomorrow.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Steve spoke, surprising himself with his sudden forthright nature and Katie glanced at him.

“No.” She said simply, turning back to Phillips. Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to look at Howard who was silently chuckling at his sister’s bossy nature. He gave a little shrug of his shoulders, and then his brown eyes turned back to watch as Katie stood looking at Phillips expectantly.

“You know, I’m beginning to rue the day I ever asked you two to join this team.” The Colonel shot, and Steve watched as Katie turned to Howard, smirking. “And wipe that look off of your face right now, Agent.”

“Sir.” She nodded, and then everyone’s attention was taken by Agent Carter as she walked back into the room.

“We have it.” She nodded, “The HYDRA Sub. It’s in the Tech Lab.”

“You wanna wait until tomorrow to work on that too? Perhaps, give that time to recover as well?” Phillips looked at Howard who snorted.

“You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” He arched an eyebrow as he looked at Phillips, “But I prefer to think of it as a metric for potential. You’ll be a great man someday, Colonel Phillips.”

Katie’s shoulders began to shake and she turned back towards Steve who was watching the scene play out in front of him, utterly perplexed. He still couldn’t get his head round Katie’s blatant disregard for her Commanding Officer’s authority. Howard, well, he could understand that a little more as he wasn’t in the man’s chain of command but Katie was. And she seriously didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Do we have any more intel on Schmidt?” Phillips turned to Peggy who blinked and looked at him.

“No, Sir. Nothing,” she took a deep breath, “but I think after today it’s safe to say that was another thing Dr. Erskine was correct about. Schmidt clearly has ambitions beyond simply being Hitler’s Chief Scientist. I think we should consider the fact that he’s equally, if not more dangerous.”

At that Steve heard Erskine’s words from the previous night as clear and as loud as if the man were speaking them to him in person. Schmidt must become that superior man.

He cleared his throat a little and felt all eyes in the room turn to him. “I think Agent Carter is right, Sir.” Steve took a deep breath “Last night, Dr Erskine was explaining to me about Schmidt. He said that Schmidt is convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, waiting to be found...”

“So he’s bonkers.” Phillips looked at Steve. “Terrific.”

“You know, we have forces out there fighting the Nazis.” Katie pondered for a moment, “Maybe the SSR needs to concentrate on HYDRA.”

Phillips looked at Katie, “You wanna chase HYDRA?”

She shrugged, “it seems logical to me. A lunatic Schmidt might be, but he clearly has a vast amount of followers that buy into the same rhetoric. That makes them dangerous.”

“And let’s not forget, HYDRA is, or was, Hitler’s deep science department. Now, Steve stopped them from getting the vial of Erskine’s completed formula, but who knows what else they have in their grasp.” Peggy added, “I saw a lot of things when I was under, a lot of things that if perfected could be disastrous. We chose to concentrate on Hitler as he had control of HYDRA. But, if Schmidt is going rogue as we suspect, then I’m afraid Sir,that as Agent Stark suggests, he could prove to be far more dangerous.”

“Just what we need,” Howard groaned, “two enemies to be fighting.”

“Oh pur-lease.” Katie looked at him. “Like you’re doing any actual fighting.”

“Shut up.” Howard glared at her, “You know as well as I do that I was plucked out for this instead of going to the front lines, just like you were.”

“The pair of you can take your squabbles outside.” Phillips looked at them, “I’m done. I need to brief Senator Brandt.” With that he turned to Peggy. “Get onto base and tell them they need to get into the President, inform him of our intentions so that he can approve them. You,” he then looked at Howard, “take a look at that sub, see what we’re dealing with from a technology point of view. As for you,” he looked at Katie, then to Steve, then back again. “take Rogers for whatever observations it was Erskine wanted to do. Then I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. Back here at Zero-Six Hundred.”

With that he swept from the room leaving the four of them behind. Steve turned to Katie, his arms folded.

“You know, I don’t need a load of tests to tell you I’m fine. In fact, I’m more than fine. I feel, well, I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“That maybe, but I’d feel better if you went along with it, please.”

“Oh, she’s serious, Rogers,” Howard smirked, “she said the magic word.”

At that Katie turned to glare at her brother, who held her gaze, his expression not faltering in the slightest. She threw him a positively filthy look before she turned back to Steve and he looked at her as she once more began to speak. “Erskine wanted to make sure that everything was okay, monitor the effects properly at least for twenty-four hours. We have no idea if it’s permanent, what it’s actually doing to you, whether the effects and transformation is still ongoing.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve held his hand up, giving her a nod, “Fine, I’ll submit for monitoring. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Could someone please find me something to eat?” He looked around, his stomach giving a huge growl at the perfect moment to emphasise his point, “I’ve never been this hungry in my life, and believe me, I’m no stranger to living with an empty stomach.”

**** It turns out that Steve’s appetite had increased exponentially too, which was to be expected considering his metabolism was working far faster than it ever had before. He wolfed down a huge helping of Potato and Hot Dog salad, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, an assortment of vegetables and a huge helping of apple pie. He had no idea where Katie had managed to conjure it from, and frankly he didn’t care either. All he knew was that in that one sitting he’d consumed more food than he usually ate in a day.

The rest of the day was taken up with him being poked and prodded and attached to all sorts of strange machines. Howard explained what each of them was for, but he wasn’t paying much attention. His mind was whirring, finally processing what had happened in the last couple of hours. He had been so sure about what was going to happen post getting the serum, that he’d be shipped out to help in the fight and now he didn’t have a clue where he was going to go, especially if they were now going to refocus their efforts on HYDRA. That said, it was all helping the war effort wasn’t it? HYDRA was a huge threat, if he was able to help take them down in any way, shape or form, then he was ok with that.

One of the doctors and Howard started explaining to him what the serum had done and at that point he tuned in to some of it, picking out the odd phrase like ‘super strength’, ‘increased stamina’, ‘enhanced metabolism’, ‘fast healing’, ‘super-sharp senses’, ‘memory expansion’, ‘logical improvement’. Howard looked at him and explained that as far as he could see, the transformation was complete, and was as permanent as they could hope. But Erskine had said that the serum wasn’t infallible, therefore how long the effects would last into the future they didn’t know. Forty, maybe fifty years or so. Steve wasn’t particularly bothered about that though, by the time that happened he would be well into his sixties or seventies and would he really care then?

Katie arrived back just as the Doctor who had been dealing with him had instructed the nurse to remove the heart monitor form his chest.

“Hi.” She smiled and Steve turned to face her, fulling intending on greeting her back, but before he could, the Doctor made a little noise of surprise.

“What is it?” Howard asked and Steve hastily turned towards them, wondering what was wrong.

“His heart rate just spiked.”

Steve gulped and hastily looked away from Katie as Howard turned to face him. His eyes flicked from Steve, to his sister who was stood in the doorway, a bashful smile on her face but to her credit she held her brother’s gaze as the man gave a groan.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, stepping into the room. “You done treating him like a guinea pig?”

“Hey, you were the one that insisted on the monitoring!” Howard pointed at her.

“Yes, because it was what Abe wanted,” she shrugged, “and I wanted to make sure everything was okay before you guys started stealing his blood like a pack of starving vampires.”

“Well you needn’t panic.” Howard arched an eyebrow. “The transformation seems to be text book. Your Super Soldier is as ready as can be.”

“Fuck you.” Katie shot back, and Howard gave a chuckle as Steve let out a little groan at the man’s teasing.

“That bad an idea huh, dating my sister?” Howard turned to Steve and he flushed immediately.

“That…no, I didn’t say that, I mean, not that we…”

“Ignore him Steve, he’s being a jerk.” Katie rolled her eyes. “And if he knows what’s good for him he’ll shut up before I knock his teeth out.”

“Threat received and understood, Kiddo.” Howard held his hands up as the Doctor bustled around and handed Steve back his t-shirt.

“You can leave now, Captain Rogers, but we would like you to stay here tonight.”

“Why?” Steve frowned as he pulled the SSR logo t-shirt over his head.

“Because I want to monitor your levels at complete rest.” The Doctor smiled. “Humour me, please.”

Steve shrugged as he swung his legs off the bed. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

“Your stuff is being brought over from the barracks.” Katie smiled softly.

“Any idea on where I’ll be going after that?” Steve stood up carefully, taking his time to pull himself up to his new full height.

Katie shrugged. “I suppose it depends on what Colonel Phillips and the President agree. I suspect we’ll head over to London HQ if we’re going after HYDRA in Europe, but we should find out tomorrow morning.”

“So, we have a free evening?” Howard looked at Katie.

“Well, sort of. Unless you want to get a head start on that submarine thing.” She waved her hand at the door.

“I don’t need a head start.” Howard shrugged, somewhat arrogantly, “I’m a genius, I’ll crack it tomorrow.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “You know I really admire your modesty.”

Howard chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what I was suggesting was that if we do have a free few hours, how about a drink? I got a bottle of vintage Macallan stashed in my lab.” He paused and Steve watched as his shoulders slumped a little and he took a deep breath before he looked back up at both Steve then to his sister. “Me and Abe had been saving it for tonight."

Katie took a deep breath before she walked over to her brother who wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug, gently kissing the top of her head. Steve looked away for a second, not wanting to intrude on the moment as he watched the doctor and nurse leave the room.

“We should have a toast to him,” Katie spoke, her voice cracking a little as she stepped away from Howard. She turned to Steve and smiled, “he’d have been proud this had worked.”

Steve nodded a little side smile pulling at his mouth as he remembered the banter he and Erskine had shared about the schnapps. With a nod he looked at Katie, the smile spreading further across his face. “He owed me a drink.”

*****

It was a strange night.

The three of them had shared a glass each of the smooth whiskey, which Steve had thoroughly enjoyed. It had tasted so smooth yet crisp. And he wasn’t sure if that was down to the fact it was stupidly expensive and high end, or the fact his taste-buds simply worked better. Howard hadn’t raised the issue of him and Katie again, for which Steve was glad. If he had been asked, he couldn’t say how he would have answered because he wasn’t entirely sure what they were. A casual fling? A hook up? He knew what he wanted it to be, but once again he was brought crashing back to reality. They were in the middle of a war. It was impossible.

Despite the myriad of thoughts and emotions running through his mind, Steve slept better than he had ever slept in his life. His chest wasn’t bad, he didn’t struggle for breath when he lay down flat meaning that for the first time he could remember he didn’t need to sleep propped up. Yet, on the other hand, he felt like he was waking up every five or ten minutes. The slightest sound or movement made by the various SSR staff nurses and guards milling around the small medical wing of the lab woke him thanks to his now enhanced, fine tuned senses. The Doctors and Howard had assured Steve that whilst it might take a while but once he was used to the heightening of his senses it would start to feel ‘normal’ to him in a way and he would learn to use them and appreciate them.

With a yawn, he cracked his head side to side as he raised it off the pillow. Whilst he didn’t know what time it was thanks to the lack of any natural light in the room, he knew that this time he wasn’t getting back to sleep. He climbed from his bed, stretched and waited for the usual pain to shoot down his back, but nothing. He then stood up, a little too fast and pitched forward before he steadied himself and drew up to his full new height, squaring his now broad shoulders back as he stood tall in his new posture. Again, Howard had told him he would soon learn to adjust his movements to compensate for the fact that he no longer needed to put as much effort into them. No sooner had he done that, a nurse appeared with his breakfast and she was followed by Agent Carter who wished him a good morning and then handed him a formal Army Uniform in his new size. With a soft smile and a thanks, he took it before laying it down on the bed, admiring the green wool and crisp shirt.

“When you’re ready then we’d like to take the blood samples.” Peggy spoke softly, “but there’s no rush. Take your time.”

“Rather just get it over and done with Ma’am.” Steve said politely and truthfully. The sooner he was done being prodded, poked and stabbed the sooner he could find out what was going on.

With that in mind he ate, washed up, dressed and was ready in half an hour flat. He was led out of the bunk room he’d been sleeping in and down the corridor back to the observation room he’d been in the previous day where he was instructed to roll up his sleeves and lay back as they proceeded to siphon off his blood. When they had one bag full they then hooked him up to another, and then another, the Doctor instructing him to tell them if he felt light headed but Steve had a suspicion that the enhancements to his body would simply enable him to generate more as fast as they took it. That said, by the time the third bag was full he was bored. Peggy seemed to sense it and she turned to the doctor who nodded and instructed everyone that they were done.

“Think you got enough?” Steve asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code.” Peggy replied simply, “but without Dr. Erskine, it could take years.”

“He deserved more than this.” Steve replied a little sadly and he meant it. The serum had been Erskine’s life work and now there was nothing to show for it as the last vial of the serum had been smashed on Brooklyn Pier.

“Well, if it could only work once, he’d be proud it was you,” Peggy looked at him.

Steve glanced at her, feeling a little embarrassed at her praise but he didn’t dwell on it and neither did she. Instead, she told him that once he was ready she’d take him down to the main lab were Phillips and Katie were talking to Senator Brandt about the plans for the SSR going forward. Keen to understand, he quickly sorted his shirt out.

He followed Peggy into the lab, his ears picking up the conversation as they entered.

“Speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country,” Howard shrugged. “But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works.”

“So much for not needing a head start, huh?” Katie teased and Howard glared at her before he turned back to Phillips.

“We’re not even close to this technology.”

“Then who is?” Senator Brandt demanded.

“HYDRA,” Phillips responded simply. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

“I’m on a number of committees, Colonel,” Brandt replied simply, completely unabashed at Phillips tone.

“HYDRA is the Nazi deep science division.” Katie explained

“It’s led by Johann Schmidt,” Peggy picked up, “but he has much bigger ambitions.”

“HYDRA’s practically a cult,” Phillips stated, “they worship Schmidt, they think he’s invincible.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Brandt asked and at that point Steve took a deep breath, finally he was about to find out what he was going to be doing.

“Spoke to the President this morning. As of today the SSR is being re-tasked.”

Katie and Peggy exchanged excited glances and Peggy looked back at Phillips, seeking clarification as she asked, “Colonel?”

“We are taking the fight to HYDRA,” Phillips looked at the woman. “Pack your bags Agent Carter. You too, Agent Stark,” he turned to Katie, “you’re flying to London tonight.”

Steve hesitated for a second, but when Phillips didn’t turn to speak to him and inform him where he was going, he hurried forward a little.

“Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment,” Phillips shot back. “You’re going to Alamogordo.”

Steve frowned a little, but then pressed some more, he wasn’t letting this go.

“The serum worked,” his voice rose a little.

“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.”

Katie wheeled round to look at Phillips, her face angry, “Oh, come on Sir, that’s-”

“I have put up with your insubordination for long enough. I don’t give a shit what you think, Agent Stark.” Philips snarled, “keep pushing me and so help me God, I will have you taken straight outta this unit and you’ll be back home typing up the Letters of Condolence.”

“But-”

“Enough!” Phillips snapped. “Now I suggest you disappear and pack.”

Katie took a deep breath, an angry noise escaping her throat as she turned and stormed away. Steve watched her go before he opened his mouth to argue some more with Phillips, but the man had already moved away.

They wanted to send him to a fucking research plant? Seriously? This was ridiculous.

“With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point,” Senator Brandt spoke to Steve and he turned to face the man. “I’ve seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country’s seen it.” Brandt turned to his aide. “Paper.” His aide obeyed, showing them the paper in his hand. It was today’s copy of the ‘The New York Examiner’ which bore the headline "Nazis in New York - Mystery Man Saves Child" along with a picture of Steve holding the car door in front of him.

“The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands," Brandt smiled at Steve. “You don’t take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab.” Steve felt a surge of hope flood his system as the Senator continued. “Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”

“Sir, that’s all I want,” Steve replied honestly.

“Then, congratulations,” The Senator held his hand out for Steve to shake. “You just got promoted.”

**** Steve’s hopes were short lived when Brandt explained what he had in mind - using Steve to boost recruitment and bond sales. But he knew he was getting nowhere with Phillips, so he decided to take the role and could only hope that it would lead to something else. Besides, it was important to gather support. The Forces needed all the financial and recruitment help they could get, and he could play a key part in that.

So Brandt said.

“Hey…”

Steve looked up from where he was packing the few items he’d unpacked from his trunk and looked at Katie.

“Oh, hi.” He said, turning back to his packing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she continued and Steve took a deep breath, straightening up.

“Who told you?”

“Good news travel fast, Captain.” She stressed the last word and Steve had to actively stop himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s a pretty good promotion considering you’ve been a soldier all of a week.”

“Yeah, well, it was too good an opportunity to turn down. In fact, it was the only opportunity to turn down.” He watched her as she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, before closing it again. And then Steve really did roll his eyes, “if you’ve got something to say, spit it out, Katie.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me,” she snapped back.

“I’m not being-”

“Yes, you are,” she folded her arms. “It’s not my fault Phillips won’t let you in on this. I’ve tried, believe me, but for whatever reason he’s not moving.”

“He’s not moving because he doesn’t like me.” Steve replied simply.

“Well, that’s his loss," Katie countered. “And what’s with the sudden display of self-pity?”

“What?”

“This, moping around, acting all deflated.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well you’re off, over there. Fighting the fight but me, well, looks like I’m gonna have to play ball with Senators doesn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!” Steve’s voice rose and Katie blinked a little, but besides that she showed no signs of having registered his angry tone. “What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice, Steve.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snorted. “And my choice here is what? Go to the damned White Sands Proving Ground where they can run more tests on me? Keep me locked up like some kind of lab rat?”

“I didn’t say they were always good choices.”

“Well what do you think I should do huh?”

“That’s not for me to say.” Katie shook her head. “But I can tell you one thing....”

“What?”

“That I have faith in you to do what you feel is right, and continue to be the good man I know you are.” Her words were soft but they hit Steve like a freight train and he swallowed, suddenly aware of how down right shitty he’d been. “And if you’re telling me that it feels right that you go where Brandt wants you to go then…” she shrugged.

“I have to try.” Steve replied.

“Well, in that case, I’ll say what I came to say in the first place," she gave him a soft smile, “good luck.”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “Thanks. Look, I’m sorry I snapped. I just, well, truth be told I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, all I ever wanted was to be a soldier and to fight on the front lines. Like my dad did, and Bucky.” He sat down on the side of the bed, “And I agreed to this procedure because I thought it was my ticket there, ya know?”

“I get it,” Katie nodded, crossing the room to sit beside him. “And I understand how frustrated you feel, believe me.” He turned to look at her to see her glancing down at her hands before she looked up at a spot on the wall opposite them. “I just can’t say anything to make it better, other than repeat what I said before. I have absolute faith and belief that you’ll do what you think is right. And that’s all any of us can do.”

Steve looked straight in her eyes as they flickered across both of his and he took a deep breath, her words echoing round his mind. Throughout this, she and Erskine had been the two people who had utterly believed he was the best man for the job so to speak. Now Erskine was gone, and he was about to be separated from her as well. And it pained him to think about it, as he realised that he was going to miss her, for more than the simple reason that she’d been a friend to him.

“You know I’m sorry we met the way we did,” his thoughts blurted out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Katie frowned, “what?”

“No, I err…” Steve sighed and then gave a snort. “Guess the serum didn’t enhance my ability to talk to a dame without completely making a total screw up of it.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Katie smiled, “you do a decent job most of the time.” She paused as Steve gave a little huff of laughter before she turned her body a little more towards him, “what’s on your mind, Soldier?”

“I meant, I’m sorry that we met when we did. And, you know, not sooner.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands, “or maybe even later, when all this is over.”

“If it ever is,” Katie sighed and Steve raised his eyes to hers as she licked her lips a little. “Steve, I’m not sad I met you when I did. Quite the opposite actually. It’s been…” she paused for a moment before she smiled “…a little ray of hope in an otherwise very gloomy world.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “you know, a reminder that no matter how ugly the world seems or how much it changes, it’s still a beautiful place.”

Steve thought on her words for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“What?” She asked as she noted his expression.

“You just remind me of my mom,” he smiled. “She was always a 'look on the bright side' kind of woman. No matter what life threw at us, she was always reminding me there were people far worse off.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She was,” Steve smiled with a short nod. “kind, compassionate. Just more ways you remind me of her.”

He didn’t miss the faint flush on Katie’s cheeks as she looked down at her hands and then raised her eyes to look at him, “I’m honoured.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I meant what I said the other night before we, you know.” He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat felt like a tennis ball. “I like you, more than like you in fact.”

“Kinda sucks we’re about to be separated doesn’t it?” Katie looked at him, her eyes sad and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“But, I’m a firm believer that if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.” Katie shrugged and at that Steve gave a scoff. She turned to him, a playful look on her face. “What, you don’t believe in fate?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “you make your own luck.”

“Right.” A little side smile broke on her mouth, “you did a good job with that when you happened to be at the Expo the same time Erskine was.”

“Lucky coincidence.”

“And what was me getting accosted by a load of rapscallions in Brooklyn?”

“A not-so-lucky for you coincidence.” Steve shrugged.

“You know what the definition of the word coincidence is?”

“Not word for word, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Sass bag.” Katie nudged him with her elbow and he chuckled, “but you’re right, I am. It’s a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent casual connection.”

“And?”

“Fate is the development of events outside a person’s control.” Katie looked at him, her eyebrow arched, “just as a coincidence is beyond a person’s control. And if fate is what’s gonna happen to you no matter what you do, and coincidence is merely a matter of being in the right place at the right time, then what if you’re in the right place at the right time because it’s simply meant to be.”

Steve looked at her, utterly sideswiped at her sentiment. Whilst he wasn’t sure he agreed, the logic was surely there and the fact she’d laid it so bare, been so open with him knocked him for six. He saw her eyes flicker to his mouth again, and in a sudden surge of confidence he gently moved, taking her face in his hands and pulling her to meet him in a soft, gentle kiss that was loaded with meaning.

“Yup,” she sniffed a little as she pulled away and Steve was both surprised and horrified to see the tears in her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his, their noses bumping a little, “this definitely sucks.”

“Write to me,” he whispered, his thumbs swiping away her tears and she smiled, nodding, before she caught his lips again, this time the kiss was deeper, and Steve had to fight back the groan that was bubbling in his throat as he felt her tongue slide against his. They were interrupted by a loud noise outside and Katie pulled away, dropping her gaze a little before she sighed and stood up.

“Stay safe, Soldier,” she smiled, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “I’d hate for you to come back horrifically disfigured.”

At that Steve snorted, “would it put you off?” He teased, “I didn’t think you were that shallow.”

“I’m not,” she smiled as she made her way to the door. “It’d just be a helluva waste, a face like that.”

With that she was gone and Steve felt his smile fade, the warmth in his chest replaced by a hollow feeling which engulfed his entire body, as the realisation spread across him that he had no idea when he would see her again.

If indeed, at all.

****

November 1943.

“I already volunteered, how do you think I got here?”

“Nice boots, Tinkerbell…”

“Hey, Captain! Sign this”

The heckling from the assembled crowd rang through Steve’s mind as he sat dejectedly on the side of the stage, the miserable, cold rain matching his mood. His hand moved absentmindedly, shading in the drawing he’d sketched in his book. A very apt sketch of a Circus Monkey on a Unicycle clutching the damned shield he’d been given as part of his costume. It turns out the “battlefield” that Senator Brandt had been referring to was nothing more than a grotesque road show across the US and various other places on the Allied Map encouraging people to buy war bonds.

“The Senator's got a lot of pull up on the hill. You play ball with us, you’ll be leading your own platoon in no time.”

Yeah, a "platoon" of chorus girls and confetti cannons, complete with ‘Adolph’ himself. Steve had knocked him out countless times, and was still no closer to getting in on the real action.

He’d travelled all over the place during the last four months, the tour had been successful, and there was no denying that it was helping the effort in a way. “Bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazi’s bing bang boom.” But this wasn’t what he had signed up for. Nor did he believe for one second that this was what Dr. Erskine had in mind for how his serum would be put into use.

He’d made a few propaganda films, all part of the course according to Brandt who had then had the bright idea to send Captain America on the USO tour, to attempt to lift spirits. So here he was in Italy, five miles from the front line, having finally made it overseas as a soldier, only to be stood on a stage in front of the men he should have been fighting alongside, being pelted by rotten fruit and vegetables instead of bullets.

It didn’t help that he knew the SSR were fast ramping up their efforts on HYDRA, having been reassigned to somewhere in mainland Europe, not unlike himself at that point in time. He’d had a few letters from Katie, but he had no idea where she was. She didn’t go into details, which was to be expected, she couldn’t and her mail always reached him through the usual military channels. He’d tried to remain positive in his letters back to her, focussing on nights where had a particularly good show, meeting and greeting his ‘fans’ afterwards, carefully omitting details about the women that now seemed to be throwing themselves at him. Be it in bars, back stage or simply as he emerged from the venues; there was no shortage of ladies vying for his attention. And had he been that way inclined, he could have taken any number of them dancing and then back to wherever he was staying that night, but the fact was he didn’t want to.

Because no matter how pretty or forthcoming the girls were, his mind and heart remained with a certain green eyed agent.

It was ironic, when he thought about it. The Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the song dubbed him, yet Steve felt as if he had never had less of a plan in his life.

“Hello, Steve," a familiar voice spoke in his ear and Steve jerked his head up in surprise and turned, doing a little double take as he looked up at Katie.

“Hi,” he instantly felt his heart rate pick up dramatically in her presence, like it normally did as his eyes laid upon her. She was dressed in standard Army green wool pants that were tailored for a man with wide legs and long length that she tucked in to her well-worn mid-calf boots which were brown leather with lace protection straps and looked as if they had happily trudged through mud and been beaten until they broke in and needed new soles. Her unit issued jacket was the same colour green as her pants, but the harsh canvas material gave a weighted appearance across her shoulders as it was buttoned and zipped it up. Beneath it, she wore her wool tie and collared shirt, no doubt tucked into her trousers for a crisp clean look.

Steve noted how it was a stark (pun intended) difference to the previous smart pencil skirt and jacketed uniform he had seen her in at the SSR base which Peggy, who stood to her left, was still sporting. But then again, the two women were very different, and knowing Katie as he did, she wasn't one to conform and who knew what she had been up to whilst on the front line.

All it did was serve to make Steve feel even more self-conscious and ridiculous in his own outfit, designed for dancing and prancing around not active combat.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, his eyes flicking to Peggy before they returned to Katie again.

“Officially we’re not here at all,” Peggy smiled. “That was quite a performance.”

Great, they’d seen it. His shoulders slumped at little as he turned away.

“Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I’m used to are usually more uh, twelve.”

“Probably less full of jerks as well,” Katie snorted and Steve looked at her, his mouth curling into a slight smile as Peggy let out a sigh.

“You know what soldiers are like. Present company excepted of course,” Peggy quickly corrected herself as Steve had cocked any eyebrow at her sweeping assumption, before she turned to the other agent. “I warned you-“

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Katie replied with a roll of her eyes.

Peggy took a deep breath, before she turned back to Steve, swiftly changing the subject. “I understand you’re "America’s New Hope"?

“Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit,” Steve chanted off, the words flowing out of him the same way they did whenever he spoke to someone about the Roadshow and he grimaced as he realised just what a damned puppet he had become.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” Katie teased and Steve took a deep breath.

“At least he’s got me doin’ this,” Steve felt a sudden need to defend his decision to take the role in the first place, especially after their conversation before he had left. “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options?” Peggy looked at him, nodding to his sketch book which was still open in his lap. “A lab rat or a dancing monkey?”

“You were meant for more than this, you know?” Katie added gently, and Steve looked at her, hesitating as his sarcastic reply died in his throat. Instead he looked away, a little dejected. She was right, he had been meant for more that was the whole point of him taking the serum. But even after he’d been turned into this Super Soldier, been given such power and capability, he still wasn’t enough.

“What?” Katie pressed gently, having noticed his hesitation.

“You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

Before either of the women could respond there was the sound of a horn honking which diverted their attention. Steve turned to watch as an ambulance pulled to a halt outside the medical tent. The back doors were flung open and several injured soldiers were pulled out of the back on stretches, nurses and medical staff rushing to help as they disappeared through the drapes of the tents, the walking wounded being helped down and aided as they limped behind.

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve commented, a deep feeling of sadness at the sight of the injured men flooded his chest.

“These men more than most,” Peggy commented and Steve turned to look at her, a little confused as to what she meant.

“Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano,” Katie explained. “Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh. The rest were killed or captured.”

Steve felt his chest tighten, as if someone had trapped it in a vice and his head momentarily span as the meaning of her words sank in.

“The one-oh-seventh?” He breathed out, begging it to be wrong. But Katie simply frowned as she gave a nod.

“What?”

Steve swallowed and looked around before he rose to his feet. “That was Bucky’s unit.” He turned to face her, his voice sounded alien as he almost choked on his words. Katie’s face slid into a look of recognition, her mouth falling open.

“Barnes?” She asked and Steve nodded, as he ran a hand down his face, once more glancing round desperately hoping for Bucky to appear and rip into him for his ridiculous outfit. But he knew that if Bucky had been in that audience, he would have already found him. Which meant that he was either amongst the injured soldiers in the tent or…

“Who’s Barnes?” Peggy asked form behind him.

“Steve’s friend from home,” Katie replied gently as Steve turned back to look at the women.

“I need to check if he’s there,” Steve nodded towards the medical tent.

“Not a good idea,” Peggy cut him off. “You saw their reaction to you before. If you go waltzing in you’re going to upset them.”

“I don’t really care,” Steve spluttered

“Well you should,” Peggy looked at him sternly.

“I have to know if he survived!”

“Okay, look…” Katie took a deep breath, and he tore his eyes away from Peggy who was still glaring at him to look instead at the other woman. “Phillips will have the list of the-“ she hesitated, clearly searching for the best word “-casualties. We can ask him.”

“Phillips is here too?” Steve frowned, although he wasn’t sure why that had surprised him. Decision made, he turned and started running across the camp shooting a, “come on,” over his shoulder as the heavy rain pelted down onto them all.

He busted into the tent, “Colonel Phillips,” and the man looked up, a disgruntled expression spread across his face before he took a deep breath and looked back down at the papers on his desk as Steve strode purposefully towards him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man with a plan, and what is your plan today?” Phillip’s voice was laced with sarcasm but Steve didn’t care. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and that was Bucky.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.” Phillips snapped, looking up at him once more and Steve ignored his angry tone, his stubbornness showing through as he continued to pres.

“I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

“You two and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips pointed to both Agent Carter and Katie in turn.

“Can’t wait," Katie sassed back and Phillips’ head shot up to look at her as he once more fixed her with a stare that could freeze over hell, but Steve didn’t have time for this.

“Please tell me if he’s alive, Sir. B-A-R…”

“I can spell,” the Colonel stated harshly as he tore his eyes from Katie. He looked at the papers in his hand and with a sigh dropped them to his desk and when he spoke his voice was a little softer. "I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry."

Steve swallowed, a feeling of cold washing over his body as the Colonel's words sank in. It might sound familiar but there was a chance it could be another Barnes. It was a common name, after all, and even if it was Bucky’s name on the letter, he could be missing assumed dead, not actually confirmed dead. Peggy and Katie had told him before that there were still men from the unit trapped behind lines.

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he’d really had time to consider them properly.

“Yeah! It’s called winning the war.”

Steve frowned, “but if you know where they are, why not at least…?"

Colonel Phillips stood up, the expression on his face belonged to a man who had just lost his final bit of patience. "They're thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save." He moved around the desk to stand in front of Steve, his hands falling to his hips as fixed him with a stern and challenging glare. "But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl."

Steve took a breath, the anger coursing inside him at the dig that Phillips had just made, but before he could say anything, he heard Katie scoff besides him.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Phillips turned to Katie, his face contorted in anger “You are this close…” he held his thumb and forefinger up a fraction of an inch apart.

Katie’s jaw clenched and her chin tipped up defiantly as she glared back at the man. Steve, having had chance to compose himself slightly now the spoke in an attempt to draw the attention back away from her and onto himself.

“I think I understand just fine.”

“Well then understand it somewhere else.” Phillips turned away. “If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes”

As he spoke the last words, Steve took note of the map which lay on the table and he noticed a flag marked with an H which caught his attention. And then, he made his decision.

The Star Spangled Man finally had a plan.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

***** Chapter 5

#Stark Spangled Rebirth #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america #CATFA 10th anniversary challenge #mcu #mcu fanfic #fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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maandarinee · 3 years ago

Note

what are all the podcasts you listen to?

anon I'm so glad you asked

Since it is a pretty long list including synopses (stolen from the podcast feed or website because I'm Bad at summaries and in some cases it's been a while since I listened) I'm going to put it under a cut.

I've separated the list into "Complete" (either finished or cancelled) and "Ongoing" podcasts. Some have additional comments by me. Current favorites are marked orange. My eternal beloved are Our Fair City and Wolf 359.

Complete

ars PARADOXICA: "When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe."

Blackwood: "Five years ago, Molly Weaver, Bryan Anderson, and Nathan Howell started a podcast focused on the local legend of a monster called The Blackwood Bugman. Quickly, the investigation grew out of their control, as they discovered that, not only are the legends seemingly true, many people in Blackwood have turned up dead or disappeared without a trace." --> [this feels like the Blair With Project, but as a podcast. Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

Dreamboy: "Dane, a spun-out musician spending the winter in Cleveland, Ohio, has two main goals: keeping his job at the Pepper Heights Zoo and trying not to waste all his time on Grindr. What he doesn’t expect is to get swept into a story about dreams, about forevers, about flickering lights, about unexplained deaths, about relentless change, and about the parts of ourselves that we wish other people knew to look for. Oh, and also a murderous zebra." --> [very NSFW; does cool things with music! Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

King Fall AM: "...centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants." --> [cancelled after 100 episodes, ends on a huge cliffhanger]

Our Fair City: "A campy, post-apocalyptic audio drama." --> [I know the description sounds like nothing but just trust me, I love it so much]

Steal the Stars: "...is a gripping noir science fiction thriller in 14 episodes: Forbidden love, a crashed UFO, an alien body, and an impossible heist unlike any ever attempted."

Stellar Firma: "...a weekly Science Fiction, Comedy podcast following the misadventures of Stellar Firma Ltd.'s highest born but lowest achieving planetary designer Trexel Geistman and his bewildered clone assistant David 7. Join them each episode as they attempt to take listener submissions and craft them into the galaxy's most luxurious, most expensive and most questionably designed bespoke planets. However, with Trexel's corporate shark of a line manager Hartro Piltz breathing down their necks and I.M.O.G.E.N., the station's omnipresent and omniinvasive stationwide A.I. monitoring those necks to within 3 decimal places, they'll be lucky to make it a week before being slurried and recycled into raw human resources." --> [semi-improvised, I thought I'd have a problem with the improv bit because that's not usually my thing, but no, I absolutely devoured this]

TANIS: "...is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur." [+ spinoff The Last Movie] --> [I have no clue what the hell is going on here]

The Black Tapes: "...is a serialized docudrama about one journalist's searc for truth, her enigmatic subject's mysterious past, and the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt them both."

The Magnus Archives: "...is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Individually, they are unsettling. Together they begin to form a picture that is truly horrifying because as they look into the depths of the archives, something starts to look back…"

Time:Bombs: "...a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. Ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming."

Wolf 359: "Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. He's stuck on a scientific survey mission of indeterminate length, 7.8 light years from Earth. His only company on board the station are stern mission chief Minkowski, insane science officer Hilbert, and Hephaestus Station's sentient, often malfunctioning operating system Hera. He doesn't have much to do for his job other than monitoring static and intercepting the occasional decades-old radio broadcast from Earth, so he spends most of his time creating extensive audio logs about the ordinary, day-to-day happenings within the station. But the Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that." --> [starts funny, turns very intense]

Ongoing

Alba Salix, Roya Physician (+ The Axe & Crown): "A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom." + "Gubbin the troll tavernkeeper deals with his clueless new landlord, his shady niece, and some new competition."

Archive 81: "A found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound."

Arden: "A (fictional) true crime podcast about cold cases and the reporter and detective who try to solve them."

Brimstone Valley Mall: "The year is 1999. Lurking somewhere between Hot Topic and the food court, five misfit demons from Hell kill time inciting sin in a suburban shopping mall. When the lead singer of their band goes mysteriously missing, the demons only have two weeks to find him before they play the biggest gig of the millennium - or face the wrath of Satan herself."

CARAVAN: "First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary." --> [also pretty NSFW and horny in general]

Death by Dying: "The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows." --> [I had to stop listening to this in public because it kept making me undignified laugh and snort noises]

Desperado: "Blood magic, Voodoo magic, old gods, new gods: We've got it all! Follow the story of misfits from all over the world, as they try to survive and protect their heritage from modern-day crusaders."

EOS 10: "Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight."

Girl In Space: "Abandoned on a dying ship in the farthest reaches of known space, a young scientist fights for survival (and patience with the on-board A.I.). Who is she? No one knows. But a lot of dangerous entities really want to find out. Listen as the story unfolds for science, guns, trust, anti-matter, truth, beauty, inner turmoil, and delicious cheeses. It’s all here. In space."

Janus Descending: "...follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from two alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as one character describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and the other, from beginning to the end." --> [absolutely harrowing horror]

Love and Luck: "...is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails and set in present day Melbourne, Australia. A slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic, it follows the relationship between two men, Jason and Kane, as their love grows both for each other and their community." --> [soft and gay, feels like a warm hug]

Potterless: "Join Mike Schubert, a grown man reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, as he sits down with HP fanatics to poke fun at plot holes, make painfully incorrect predictions, and bask in the sassiness of the characters." --> [the only non-fiction podcast on the list]

Primordial Deep: "When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. Soon, she and a team of experts find themselves living on the research station The Tiamat, traveling along the abyssal plains as they search for answers far below the waves. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. Reawakened, prehistoric monsters are rising from the deep -- jaws wide and waiting, and in the darkness, something is stirring."

Red Valley: "No one at Overhead Industries wants to talk about defunct research station Red Valley, and account man Warren Godby is out of his depth. When he meets Gordon Porlock, a disgruntled archivist with a bag of tapes from the station’s last known occupant, they will begin a journey to the limits of experimental science, confront horror and trauma from the past, present and future, and try to remember the cheat codes from Sonic the Hedgehog 2."

Rusty Quill Gaming: "An actual play podcast following a mixed ability group of comedians, improvisers, gamers, and writers as they play through the extended, tabletop roleplaying campaign Erasing the Line, an original game world of the GM’s crafting." --> [took me a while to get into because I have trouble focusing on non-scripted things, but eventually I got really hooked on the plot and attached to the characters. This podcast is really fucked up at times if you think about it]

SAYER: "A narrative fiction podcast set on Earth’s man-made second moon, Typhon. The eponymous SAYER is a highly advanced, self-aware AI created to help acclimate new residents to their new lives, and their new employment with Ærolith Dynamics." --> [feels like Welcome to Night Vale but narrated by GLaDOS from Portal]

StarTripper!!: "Join Feston Pyxis on a road-trip through the cosmos, as he leaves behind his old life in search of the best and wildest experiences the galaxy has to offer!"

The Amelia Project: "...is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand new identity! A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa."

The Big Loop: "...a biweekly anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained narrative exploring the strange, the wonderful, the terrifying, and the heartbreaking. Stories of finite beings in an infinite universe." --> [I don't like anthologies, except this one]

The Bright Sessions: "Dr. Bright provides therapy for the strange and unusual; their sessions have been recorded for research purposes." --> [think X-Men, but with therapy instead of a school]

The Deca Tapes: "Recordings have surfaced of ten people that are locked into the same space together. We don’t know where they are, or if they'll get out. But the answers must be somewhere on these tapes."

The Silt Verses: "Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories."

The White Vault: "Follow the collected records of a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the vast white wastes of Svalbard and unravel what lies waiting in the ice below."

Tides: "...is the story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces. She must use her wits, sarcasm and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected." --> [think The Martian, but on a water planet]

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery: "Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents."

VAST Horizon: "Nolira is an agronomist tasked with establishing agriculture in a new solar system, but when she wakes up on a now- empty colony ship, the whole of her plan disappears. The ship has been set adrift, with numerous mission-critical problems requiring immediate attendance outside of her area of expertise. Nolira is aided by the ship’s malfunctioning AI, which acts as her confidant and companion during the fight for survival."

Victoriocity: "Even Greater London, 1887. In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions."

We Fix Space Junk: "...follows seasoned smuggler Kilner and reluctant fugitive Samantha as they travel the galaxy, dodging bullets and meeting strange and wonderful beings as they carry out odd jobs on the fringes of the law."

Welcome to Night Vale: "Twice-monthly community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true. Turn on your radio and hide."

Within the Wires: "Stories told through found audio from an alternate universe."

Wooden Overcoats: "Rudyard Funn and his equally miserable sister Antigone run their family's failing funeral parlour, where they get the body in the coffin in the ground on time. But one day they find everyone enjoying themselves at the funerals of a new competitor - the impossibly perfect Eric Chapman! With their dogsbody Georgie, and a mouse called Madeleine, the Funns are taking drastic steps to stay in the business…" --> [one of THE funniest podcasts I have ever listened to]

#ask #anon #please talk to me about podcasts at all times #podcasts #podcast recommendations

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Chapter 4: The Star Spangled Man With A Plan

Summary: As the SSR deals with the aftermath of the attempted theft of the serum by Hydra, Steve finds himself side-lined until he’s offered a golden opportunity to help fight the good fight…but it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be as he quickly finds out.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Once again, huge thanks to my beta readers and plugger of mind gaps where I was blocked… @southerngracela and @icanfeelastormbrewing

Any mistakes are my own. I’ll probably spot them once posted but, whatever!

SSR Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

“Absolutely not!” Katie blazed her hands on her hips “That is NOT what Erskine was going to do.”

“Well Erskine isn’t here is he, in case it had escaped your notice.” Phillips bit back “And neither is the serum after the last vial of it was smashed out on Brooklyn Pier.”

Steve sighed, his head bowing a little.

“Erskine said that post the transformation he was supposed to be monitored for twenty-four hours before he did any major physical activity.” Katie continued, “Given that, and what just happened, you seriously want to take his blood?”

“She has a point.” Howard stepped in. “Personally I’m not sure it’s wise. Private Rogers should be given the rest of the day at least under observation as was the original plan, where we can run the physical tests Abe had been planning to do.” He took a deep breath and bowed his head slightly.

“We owe it to him to do this right.” Katie spoke again, her voice loaded with emotion as she turned her eyes to the Colonel. He gave a little groan, dragging his hand down his face “We can take the samples tomorrow.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?” Steve spoke, surprising himself with his sudden forthright nature and Katie turned to him.

“You know, I’m beginning to rue the day I ever asked you two to join this team.” The Colonel shot and Steve watched as Katie turned to Howard, smirking. “And wipe that look off of your face right now Agent.”

“Sir.” She nodded, and then everyone’s attention was taken by Agent Carter as she walked back into the room.

“We have it sir.” She nodded, “The Hydra Sub. It’s in the Tech Lab.”

“You wanna wait until tomorrow to work on that too, you know, give that time to recover as well or…”

“You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” Howard arched an eyebrow as he looked at Phillips, “But I prefer to think of it as a metric for potential. You’ll be a great man someday, Colonel Phillips.”

Katie’s shoulders began to shake and she turned back towards Steve who was watching the scene play out in front of him, utterly perplexed. He still couldn’t get his head round her blatant disregard for her Commanding Officer’s authority. Howard, well, he could understand that a little more as he wasn’t in the man’s chain of command but Katie was. And she seriously didn’t seem to give a shit.

“Do we have any more intel on Schmidt?” Phillips turned to Peggy who blinked and looked at him.

“No, Sir. Nothing.” She took a deep breath, “But I think after today it’s safe to say that was another thing Dr. Erskine was correct about. Schmidt clearly has ambitions beyond simply being Hitler’s Chief Scientist. I think we should consider the fact that he’s equally, if not more dangerous.”

At that Steve heard Erskine’s words from the previous night as clear and as loud as if the man were speaking them to him in person. “Schmidt must become that superior man.” He cleared his throat a little and felt all eyes in the room turn to him.

“I think Agent Carter is right, Sir.” Steve took a deep breath “Last night, Dr Erskine was explaining to me about Schmidt. He said that Schmidt is convinced that there is a great power hidden in the Earth, waiting to be found...”

“So he’s bonkers.” Phillips looked at Steve “Terrific.”

“You know, we have forces out there fighting the Nazis.” Katie pondered for a moment, “Maybe the SSR needs to concentrate on Hydra.”

Phillips looked at Katie, “You wanna chase Hydra?”

She shrugged, “It seems logical to me. A lunatic he maybe, but he clearly has a vast amount of followers that buy into the same Rhetoric. That makes them dangerous.”

“And let’s not forget, Hydra is, or was, Hitler’s deep science department. Now, Steve stopped them from getting the vial of Erskine’s completed formula, but who knows what else they have in their grasp.” Peggy added, “I saw a lot of things when I was under, a lot of things that if perfected could be disastrous. We chose to concentrate on Hitler as he had control of Hydra. But, if Schmidt is going rogue as we suspect, then I’m afraid Sir, that as Agent Stark suggests, he could prove to be far more dangerous.”

“Just what we need.” Howard groaned, “Two enemies to be fighting.”

“Oh pur-lease.” Katie looked at him. “Like you’re doing any actual fighting.”

“Shut up.” Howard glared at her, “You know as well as I do that I was plucked out for this instead of going to the front lines, just like you were.”

“The pair of you can take your squabbles outside.” Phillips looked at them, “I’m done. I need to brief Senator Brandt.” With that he turned to Peggy “Get onto base and tell them they need to get into the President, inform him of our intentions so that he can approve them. You…” he then looked at Howard, “Take a look at that sub, see what we’re dealing with from a technology point of view. And you…” he looked at Katie, then to Steve, then back again. “Take Rogers for whatever observations it was Erskine had set up. Then I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep. Back here at Zero-Six Hundred.”

With that he swept from the room leaving the four of them. Steve turned to Katie, his arms folded.

“You know, I don’t need a load of tests to tell you I’m fine.” He looked at her, “In fact, I’m more than fine. I feel…well, I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“That maybe but, well, I’d feel better if you went along with it, please.”

“Oh, she’s serious Rogers.” Howard smirked, “She said the magic word.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve held his hand up, giving her a nod, “Fine, I’ll submit for monitoring. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

It turns out that Steve’s appetite had increased exponentially too, which was to be expected considering his metabolism was working far faster than it ever had before. He wolfed down a huge helping of Potato and Hot Dog salad, meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, an assortment of vegetables and a huge helping of apple pie. He had no idea where Katie had managed to conjure it from, and frankly he didn’t care either. All he knew was that in that one sitting he’d consumed more food than he usually ate in a day.

The rest of the day was taken up with him being poked and prodded and attached to all sorts of strange machines. Howard explained what each of them was for, but he wasn’t paying much attention. His mind was whirring, finally processing what had happened in the last couple of hours. He had been so sure about what was going to happen post getting the serum that he’d be shipped out to help in the fight and now he didn’t have a clue where he was going to go, especially if they were now going to refocus their efforts on Hydra. That said, it was all helping the war effort wasn’t it? Hydra was a huge threat, if he was able to help take them down in any way, shape or form, then he was ok with that.

One of the doctors and Howard started explaining to him what the serum had done and at that point he tuned in to some of it, picking out the odd phrase like “super strength”, “increased stamina”, “enhanced metabolism”, “fast healing”, “super-sharp senses”, “memory expansion”, “logical improvement”. Howard looked at him and explained that as far as he could see, the transformation was complete, and was as permanent as they could hope. But Erskine had said that the serum wasn’t infallible, therefore how long the effects would last into the future they didn’t know. Forty, maybe fifty years or so. Steve wasn’t particularly bothered about that though, by the time that happened he would be well into his sixties or seventies and would he really care then?

Katie arrived back just as the Doctor who had been dealing with him had instructed the nurse to remove the heart monitor form his chest.

“Hi.” She smiled and Steve turned to face her, fulling intending on greeting her back, but before he could, the doctor made a little noise of surprise.

“What is it?” Howard asked and Steve hastily turned towards them, wondering what was wrong.

“His heart rate just spiked.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, stepping into the room. “You done treating him like a guinea pig?”

“Hey, you were the one that insisted on the monitoring!” Howard pointed at her.

“Yes, because it was what Abe wanted.” She shrugged, “And I wanted to make sure everything was okay before you guys started stealing his blood like a pack of starving vampires.”

“Well you needn’t panic.” Howard arched an eyebrow, “The transformation seems to be text book. Your Super Soldier is as ready as can be.”

“Fuck you.” Katie shot back, and Howard gave a chuckle as Steve let out a little groan at the man’s teasing.

“That bad an idea huh, dating my sister?” Howard turned to Steve and he flushed immediately.

“That…no, I didn’t…say that, I mean, not that we…”

“Ignore him Steve, he’s being a jerk.” Katie rolled her eyes. “And if he knows what’s good for him he’ll shut up before I knock his teeth out.”

“Threat received and understood.” Howard held his hands up as the doctor bustled around and handed Steve back his t-shirt.

“You can leave now, Captain Rogers, but we would like you to stay here tonight.”

“Why?” Steve frowned as he pulled the SSR logo t-shirt over his head.

“Because I want to monitor your levels at complete rest.” The doctor smiled, “Humour me, please.”

Steve shrugged as he swung his legs off the bed. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

“Your stuff is being brought over from the barracks.” Katie smiled softly.

“Any idea on where I’ll be going after that?” Steve stood up carefully, taking his time to pull himself up to his new full height.

“Nope.” She shrugged, “I suppose it depends on what Colonel Phillips and the President agree. I suspect we’ll head over to London HQ if we’re going after Hydra in Europe, but we should find out tomorrow morning.”

“So, we have a free evening?” Howard looked at Katie.

“Well, sort of. Unless you want to get a head start on that Hydra submarine thing.” She waved her hand at the door.

“I don’t need a head start.” Howard shrugged, somewhat arrogantly, “I’m a genius, I’ll crack it tomorrow.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “You know I really admire your modesty.”

“We should have a toast to him,” Katie spoke, her voice cracking a little as she stepped away from Howard. She turned to Steve and smiled, “He’d have been proud this had worked.”

It was a strange night.

The three of them had shared a glass each of the smooth whiskey, which Steve had thoroughly enjoyed. It had tasted so smooth yet crisp. And he wasn’t sure if that was down to the fact it was stupidly expensive and high end, or the fact his taste-buds simply worked better. Howard hadn’t raised the issue of he and Katie again, for which Steve was glad. If he had been asked, he couldn’t say how he would have answered because he wasn’t entirely sure what they were. A casual fling? A hook up? He knew what he wanted it to be, but once again he was brought crashing back to reality. They were in the middle of a war. It was impossible.

Despite the myriad of thoughts and emotions running through his mind, Steve slept better than he had ever slept in his life. His chest wasn’t bad, he didn’t struggle for breath when he lay down flat meaning that for the first time he could remember he didn’t need to sleep propped up. Yet, on the other hand, he felt like he was waking up every five or ten minutes. The slightest sound or movement made by the various SSR staff nurses and guards milling around the small medical wing of the lab woke him thanks to his now enhanced, fine tuned senses. The doctors and Howard had assured Steve that whilst it might take a while but once he was used to the heightening of his senses it would start to feel ‘normal’ to him in a way and he would learn to use them and appreciate them.

“When you’re ready then we’d like to take the blood samples.” Peggy spoke softly, “But there’s no rush. Take your time.”

“Rather just get it over and done with Ma’am.” Steve said politely and truthfully. The sooner he was done being prodded, poked and stabbed the sooner he could find out what was going on.

With that in mind he ate, washed up, dressed and was ready in half an hour flat. He was led out of the bunk room he’d been sleeping in and down the corridor back to the observation room he’d been in the previous day where he was instructed to roll up his sleeves and lay back as they proceeded to siphon off his blood. When they had one bag full they then hooked him up to another, and then another, the doctor instructing him to tell them if he felt light headed but Steve had a suspicion that the enhancements to his body would simply enable him to generate more as fast as they took it. That said, by the time the third bag was full he was bored. Peggy seemed to sense it and she turned to the doctor who nodded and instructed everyone that they were done.

“Think you got enough?” Steve asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code.” Peggy replied simply, “But without Dr. Erskine, it could take years.”

“Well, if it could only work once, he’d be proud it was you,” Peggy looked at him.

“Speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country,” Howard shrugged. “But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works.”

“So much for not needing a head start, huh?” Katie teased and Howard glared at her.

“We’re not even close to this technology,” he finished by means of an explanation.

“Then who is?” Senator Brandt demanded.

“HYDRA,” Phillips responded SIMPLY. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

“I’m on a number of committees, Colonel,” Brandt replied simply, completely unabashed at Phillips tone.

“HYDRA is the Nazi deep science division,” Katie explained

“It’s led by Johann Schmidt,” Peggy picked up. “But he has much bigger ambitions.”

“HYDRA’s practically a cult,” Phillips stated. “They worship Schmidt, they think he’s invincible.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Brandt asked and at that point Steve took a deep breath, finally he was about to find out what he was going to be doing.

“Spoke to the President this morning. As of today the SSR is being retasked.”

Katie and Peggy exchanged excited glances and Peggy looked back at Phillips, seeking clarification as she asked, “Colonel?”

“We are taking the fight to HYDRA,” Phillips looked at the woman. “Pack your bags Agent Carter. You too, Agent Stark,” he turned to Katie, “you’re flying to London tonight.”

Steve hesitated for a second, but when Phillips didn’t turn to speak to him and inform him where he was going, he hurried forward a little.

“Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment,” Phillips shot back. “You’re going to Alamogordo.”

Steve frowned a little, but then pressed some more, he wasn’t letting this go.

“The serum worked,” his voice rose a little.

“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You...are not enough.”

Katie wheeled round to look at Phillips, her face angry, “Oh, come on Sir, that’s…”

“I have put up with your insubordination for long enough. I don’t give a shit what you think, Agent Stark.” Philips snarled, “Keep pushing me and so help me God, I will have you taken straight outta this unit and you’ll be back home typing up the Letters of Condolence.”

“But…”

“Enough!” Phillips snapped. “Now I suggest you disappear and pack just like Agent Carter did when I told her to.”

Katie took a deep breath, an angry noise escaping her throat before she turned and stormed away. Steve watched her go before he turned back to argue some more with Phillips, but the man had already moved away.

They wanted to send him to a fucking research plant? Seriously? This was ridiculous.

“Sir, that’s all I want,” Steve replied honestly.

“Then, congratulations,” The Senator held his hand out for Steve to shake. “You just got promoted.”

Steve’s hopes were short lived when Brandt explained what he had in mind - using Steve to boost recruitment and bond sales. But he knew he was getting nowhere with Phillips, so he decided to take the role and could only hope that it would lead to something else. Besides, it was important to gather support. The Forces needed all the financial and recruitment help they could get, and he could play a key part in that.

So Brandt said.

“Hey…”

Steve looked up from where he was packing the few items he’d unpacked from his trunk and looked at Katie.

“Oh, hi.” He said, turning back to his packing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she continued and Steve took a deep breath, straightening up.

“Who told you?”

“Yeah, well, it was too good an opportunity to turn down. In fact, it was the only opportunity to turn down.” He watched her as she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, before closing it again. And then Steve really did roll his eyes, “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out Katie.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy with me,” she snapped back.

“I’m not being…”

“Yes, you are,” she folded her arms. “It’s not my fault Phillips won’t let you in on this. I’ve tried, believe me, but for whatever reason he’s not moving.”

“He’s not moving because he doesn’t like me,” Steve replied simply.

“Well, that’s his loss," Katie countered. “And what’s with the sudden display of self-pity?”

“What?”

“This, moping around, acting all deflated.”

“It’s easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well you’re off, over there. Fighting the fight…me, well, looks like I’m gonna have to play ball with Senators doesn’t it?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes, I do!” Steve’s voice rose and Katie blinked a little, but besides that she showed no signs of having registered his angry tone. “What choice do I have?”

“There’s always a choice, Steve.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snorted. “And my choice here is what? Go to the damned White Sands Proving Ground where they can run more tests on me? Keep me locked up like some kind of lab rat?”

“I didn’t say they were always good choices.”

“Well what do you think I should do huh?”

“That’s not for me to say.” Katie shook her head. “But I can tell you one thing....”

“What?”

“I have to try.” Steve replied.

“Well, in that case, I’ll say what I came to say in the first place," she gave him a soft smile, “Good luck.”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “Thanks. Look, I’m sorry I snapped. I just, well, truth be told I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I get it,” Katie nodded, crossing the room to sit besides him. “And I can understand how frustrated you feel, believe me I can.” He turned to look at her to see her glancing down at her hands before she looked up at a spot on the wall opposite them. “I just can’t say anything to make it better, other than repeat what I said before. I have absolute faith and belief that you’ll do what you think is right. And that’s all any of us can do.”

“You know I’m sorry we met the way we did,” his thoughts blurted out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Katie frowned, “What?”

“No, I err…” Steve sighed and then gave a snort. “Guess the serum didn’t enhance my ability to talk to a dame without completely making a total screw up of it.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Katie smiled, “you do a decent job most of the time.” She paused as Steve gave a little huff of laughter before she turned her body a little more towards him, “What’s on your mind, Soldier?”

“I mean, I’m sorry that we met when we did. And, you know, not sooner.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands, “Or maybe even later, when all this is over.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah…” she shrugged. “You know, a reminder that no matter how ugly the world seems or how much it changes, it’s still a beautiful place.”

Steve thought on her words for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“What?” She asked as she noted his expression.

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“She was, ” Steve smiled with a short nod. “Kind, compassionate…just more ways you remind me of her.”

He didn’t miss the faint flush on Katie’s cheeks as she looked down at her hands and then raised her eyes to look at him, “I’m honoured.”

Steve took a deep breath, “I meant what I said you know, the other night before we…you know.” He swallowed thickly, the lump in his throat felt like a tennis ball. “I like you, more than like you in fact.”

“Kinda sucks we’re about to be separated doesn’t it?” Katie looked at him, her eyes sad and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “you make your own luck.”

“Right.” A little side smile broke on her mouth, “you did a good job with that when you happened to be at the Expo the same time Erskine was.”

“Lucky coincidence.”

“And what was me getting accosted by a load of rapscallions in Brooklyn?”

“A not so lucky for you coincidence.” Steve shrugged.

“You know what the definition of the word coincidence is?”

“Not word for word, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Sass bag.” Katie nudged him with her elbow and he chuckled, “but you’re right, I am. It’s a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent casual connection.”

“And?”

“Fate is the development of events outside a person’s control.” Katie looked at him, her eyebrow arched, “Coincidence is beyond a person’s control. And if fate is what’s meant to be no matter what you do, and coincidence is merely a matter of right place, right time, then what if you’re in the right place at the right time because it’s simply meant to be.”

“Yup…” she sniffed a little as she pulled away and Steve was both surprised and horrified to see the tears in her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his, their noses bumping a little “it definitely sucks.”

“Stay safe soldier,” she smiled, her hand gently cupping his cheek. “I’d hate for you to come back horrifically disfigured.”

At that Steve snorted, “Would it put you off?” He teased, “I didn’t think you were that shallow.”

“I’m not,” she smiled as she made her way to the door. “It’d just be a helluva waste, a face like that.”

With that she was gone and Steve felt the smile fade from his face to be replaced by a hollow feeling which engulfed his entire body, as the realisation spread across him that he had no idea when he would see her again.

If indeed, at all.

November 1943.

“I already volunteered, how do you think I got here?”

“Nice boots, Tinkerbell…”

“Hey, Captain! Sign this”

The heckling from the assembled crowd rang through Steve’s mind as he sat dejectedly on the side of the stage, the miserable and cold rain matching his mood. His hand moved absentmindedly, shading in the drawing he’d sketched in his book. A very apt drawing of a Circus Monkey on a Unicycle clutching the damned shield he’d been given as part of his costume. It turns out the “battlefield” that Senator Brandt had been referring to was nothing more than a grotesque road show across the US and various other places on the Allied Map encouraging people to buy war bonds.

“The Senator's got a lot of pull up on the hill. You play ball with us, you’ll be leading your own platoon in no time.”

Yeah, a "platoon" of chorus girls and confetti cannons, complete with Adolph himself. And he was no closer to getting in on the real action.

He’d made a few propaganda films, all part of the course according to Brandt who had then had the the bright idea to send Captain America on the USO tour, to attempt to lift spirits. So here he was in Italy, five miles from the front line, having finally made it overseas as a soldier only to be stood on a stage in front of the men he should have been fighting alongside, being pelted by rotten fruit and vegetables instead of bullets.

The Star Spangled Man with a Plan, the song had dubbed him, yet Steve felt as if he had never had less of a plan in his life.

“Hello, Steve," a familiar voice spoke in his ear and Steve jerked his head up in surprise and turned, doing a little double take as he looked up at Katie.

“Hi,” he instantly felt his heart rate pick up dramatically in her presence, like it normally did as his eyes laid upon her. She was dressed in standard Army green wool pants that were tailored for a man with wide legs and long length that she tucked in to her well-worn mid-calf boots which were brown leather with lace protection straps and had no doubt been happily trudged through the mud and beaten until they broke in and needed new soles. Her unit issued jacket was the same colour green as her pants, but the harsh canvas material gave a weighted appearance across her shoulders as it was buttoned and zipped it up. Beneath it, she wore her wool tie and collared shirt, no doubt tucked into her trousers for a crisp clean look.

Steve noted how it was a stark (pun intended) difference to the previous smart pencil skirt and jacketed uniform he had seen her in at the SSR base which Peggy, who stood to her left, was still sporting. But then again, the two women were very different, and knowing Katie as he did she wasn't one to conform and who knew what she had been up to whilst on the front line.

All it did was serve to make Steve feel even more self-conscious and ridiculous in his own outfit, designed for dancing and prancing around not active combat.

“What are you doin’ here?” He asked, his eyes flicking to Peggy before they returned to Katie again.

“Officially we’re not here at all,” Peggy smiled. “That was quite a performance.”

Great, they’d seen it. His shoulders slumped at little as he turned away.

“Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I’m used to are usually more uh… twelve.”

“Probably less full of jerks as well,” Katie snorted and Steve looked at her, his mouth curling into a slight smile as Peggy let out a sigh.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Katie replied with a roll of her eyes.

Peggy took a deep breath, before she turned back to Steve, swiftly changing the subject. “I understand you’re "America’s New Hope"?

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” Katie teased and Steve took a deep breath.

“At least he’s got me doin’ this,” Steve felt a sudden need to defend not only the Senator a little but also his decision to take the role in the first place, especially after their conversation before he had left. “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options?” Peggy looked at him, nodding to his sketch book which was still open in his lap. “A lab rat or a dancing monkey?”

“What?” Katie pressed gently, having noticed his hesitation.

“You know for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I’m wearing tights.”

“They look like they’ve been through hell,” Steve commented, a deep feeling of sadness at the sight of the injured men flooded his chest.

“These men more than most,” Peggy commented and Steve turned to look at her, a little confused as to what she meant.

Steve felt his chest tighten, as if someone had trapped it in a vice and his head momentarily span as the meaning of her words sank in.

“The one-oh-seventh?” He breathed out, begging it to be wrong. But Katie simply frowned as she gave a nod.

“What?”

“Who’s Barnes?” Peggy asked form behind him.

“Steve’s friend from home,” Katie replied gently as Steve turned back to look at the women.

“I need to check if he’s there,” Steve nodded towards the medical tent.

“Not a good idea,” Peggy cut him off. “You saw their reaction to you before. If you go waltzing in you’re going to upset them.”

“I don’t really care,” Steve spluttered

“Well you should,” Peggy looked at him sternly.

“I have to know if he survived!”

“Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. And what is your plan today?” Phillip’s voice was laced with sarcasm but Steve didn’t care. At the moment he had one thing on his mind, and that was Bucky.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.” Phillips snapped, looking up at him once more and Steve ignored his angry tone, his stubbornness showing through as he continued to pres.

“I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

“You two and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy,” Phillips pointed to both Agent Carter and Katie in turn.

“Can’t wait," Katie sassed back and Phillips’ head shot up to look at her as he once more fixed her with a stare that could freeze over hell, but Steve didn’t have time for this.

“ Please tell me if he’s alive, Sir. B-A-R…”

Steve swallowed, a feeling of cold washing over his body as the Colonel's words sank in. It sounded familiar…so, maybe there was a chance it could be another Barnes, maybe? It was a common name, after all…and even if it was Bucky’s name on the letter, he could be missing assumed dead, not actually confirmed dead. Peggy and Katie had told him before that there were still men from the unit trapped behind lines.

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he’d really had time to consider them properly.

“Yeah! It’s called winning the war.”

Steve frowned, “But if you know where they are, why not at least…?"

Colonel Phillips stood up, the expression on his face belonged to a man who had just lost his final bit of patience. "They're thirty miles behind the lines. Through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save." He moved around the desk to stand in front of Steve, his hands falling to his hips as fixed him with a stern and challenging glare. "But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl."

Steve took a breath, the anger coursing inside him at the dig that Phillips had just made, but before he could say anything, he heard Katie scoff besides him.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Phillips turned to Katie, his face contorted in anger “You are this close…” he held his thumb and forefinger up a fraction of an inch apart.

“I might just be a chorus girl, but I think I understand just fine.”

“Well then understand it somewhere else.” Phillips turned away… “If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes”

As he spoke the last words, Steve took note of the map which lay on the table and he noticed a flag marked with an H which caught his attention. And then, he made his decision.

The Star Spangled Man finally had a plan.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

#stark spangled rebirth #steve rogers #captain america #katie stark #stark spangled #chris evans #steve rogers x original female character #chris evans characters

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vajranam · 4 years ago

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Five Dakinis Families

All dakinis have extraordinary powers -- the worldly ones and those referred to as wisdom dakinis -- but only the motivation of the latter is completely pure. The life story of the Mahasiddha, Tilopa (988 - 1069) tells how after he met the dakinis who could manipulate appearances, he encountered the ones embodying the five activities, and then at last, in the heart of the mandala, The Wisdom Dakini, herself. The Life of Padmasambhava According to Yeshe Tsogyal describes a similar progression.

Tilopa Meets the Dakinis

The 4th Chetsang Rinpoche (1770-1862) of the Drikung Kagyu tells how the Bengali brahmin boy, Salyeu, out minding water buffalo, was visited by a "fearsome, ugly woman" who told him to ". . . herd buffalo And read scriptures. There you will find the prophecies of the Dakinis."

With this, she disappeared.

Some time later, while he was reading under a shapa [hat-shaped?] tree, she returned, and asked him to identify himself to her. He gave the appropriate, ordinary information, but she corrected him, saying:

"Your country is Oddiyana in the North; your father is Chakrasamvara; your mother is Vajrayogini: your brother is Pantsapana [Hind: Panchpana], and I am your sister, Bliss-giver. If you want to find the true buffalo go to the forest of the bodhi tree. There the stainless Dakinis hold the ear-whispered teachings."

He said, "If I go there, the Dakinis will pose obstacles and prevent me from succeeding." She said: "Yogi, you can get the teachings. You have received the predictions And kept the samaya vows."

Realizing she was a Dakini, he said: "The path is dangerous and I do not know how to traverse it." In reply she gave him a crystal ladder, a jeweled bridge, and a coral-handled key, saying: "I give you my blessings; depart without hesitation."

The young man, who would become known as Mahasiddha Tilopa, then crosses the country to reach Oddiyana where, using the magical tools, he negotiates a poison lake and the "iron wall of Ghandola." Then, he chooses the correct one of the three gates to the Temple of Ghandola and, using his coral key, he enters.

First, he meets nirmanakaya "stainless Dakinis Who desire flesh and blood." in their many fearsome forms that make terrible noises and threatening gestures, but he is not afraid. Frustrated, they fell into a faint, and when they regained their composure, they begged his forgiveness and admitted:

"We are to you as the butterfly to the lamp; The butterfly hopes to extinguish the lamp, But instead dies in the light. ... , ... ."

One among them continued: "I am just an ordinary being, without authority. If I do not ask our leader's permission to let you in, She will eat my flesh and drink my blood. Therefore, precious one, do not think unkindly of me."

Then, samboghakaya Loka Karma Dakinis appear, but by making the three threatening ritual gestures, Tilopa overpowers their faculties of body, speech and mind. They suffer the same as the previous group, and their leader, "a Minister," goes to announce him to the Queen. When she permits him to enter, he does not even bow but rather assumes a state of meditation, so the host of attending Dakinis get angry, saying:

"She is the blessed one, The mother of the Buddhas of the Three Times. Let us beat him Who shows no respect."

The Mother intervenes saying that he is ". . . . The father of the Buddhas of the Three Times. Even a rain of vajras . . . Could not destroy him. Therefore I will give him the teachings."

She instructs him in prana [breath/energy] and other unrecorded things, but he insists on more, and Tilopa says that he wants " . . . the perfect teaching. The stainless bliss, the great secret Of the ordinary and the extraordinary."

She then agrees to confer the three wish-fulfilling gems including the self-arising body of co-emergent Wisdom and Means united; the speech that is the 7-syllable self-arising emerald in the Dharmakara, and the 5-pointed vajra jewel of self-arising mind, but only if he can understand the signs. The host of Dakinis express their doubt that he will be able to understand the signs, but Tilopa responds directly to the Mother, that he has 3 special keys, and that they are:

1. The self-liberation key of samaya that grants access to "the light of wisdom which dispels the darkness of ignorance, And to self-awareness, self-arising, ad self-clarity."

2. "the key of experience Which opens the door to the mind-as-such, Self-appearing clarity which is ever unborn, . . . ." and

3. "the key of experience of the realized yogi" that opens the door to "Mind-as-such, Dharma-as-such, and Dharmakaya."

At that the Dakinis rejoice and hold a Ganachakra feast in which they prepare the sindhura (vermillion powder) mandala and further empower him by means of both oral and mental transmissions. They give him 13 distinct tantras for the future benefit of beings including Tantra of Vajra Dakini, Tantra of Sangwai Zo and Tantra of Vajradhara Self-appearance. Then they liken him to a bird and, having addressed him as Chakrasamvara and as Prajnabadra, they beg him to remain with them.

Knowing the future, Tilopa explains that he must return to Tsukgi Norbu (Crest Jewel) Monastery "For the spiritual sons Naropa, Ririkasori and others."

As he was leaving, a formless Dakini bestowed 9 special objects with instructions to:

1. "loosen the knot of the mind"

2. "act like a sword striking water"

3. "chase the sun of realization" [a lasso?]4. "see samaya in the mirror of your mind" 5. "see that the light of awareness is wisdom"6. "turn the wheel of the channel and wind net" 7. "see the outer mirror equalizing taste" 8. "see the mahamudra [a seal?] of self-liberation" 9. hold "the jewel of great-bliss speech"

And that, according to the Drikung Kagyu, is "how Tilopa as a human being over- powered the Dakinis, and how he received the teachings. "

Consorts of Transcendent Buddhas

Tibetan Buddhism acknowledges, besides the historical Buddha Siddhartha Gautama Shakyamuni (532-486 BCE) other buddhas (awakened ones/fully aware ones) of the past and the future. At the ultimate level of reality there are transcendental buddhas. These are thought of as five families or categories of buddhas.

Their female consorts are regarded as "enlightened wisdom" which, paired with the male aspect or "skillful means," give rise to the enlightened compassionate activity of the universe(s). Hence there are 5 major corresponding dakinis: Padma-Dakini, Buddha-Dakini, Ratna-Dakini, Karma-Dakini, and Vajra-Dakini or Vishva-Dakini (vajra-cross dakini.)

Dakinis of the Five Families

The Padma or lotus dakini is stocky with oily, pink skin.

She is talkative and lusty.

She controls gods, demons and men.

With her, the doors to rebirth in lower realms are closed.

Buddha (Sangye) dakini is bluish white.

She is smiling, placid and long-lived.

She confers longevity and rebirth in the dakini paradise.

Ratna or jewel dakini is tall, slim, golden- skinned with white hair.

She sings and dances.

She grants wealth and success in life.

With her the hell realms will be closed.

The Karma or activity dakini is white and radiant.

She is smiling, respectful,

trustworthy, and generous.

She grants worldly success and rebirth as a human.

Vajra (Dorje) or thunderbolt dakini is fair, flushed and radiant.

She has special marks such as 5 white moles at her brow.

Compassionate, pure, virtuous and devout, with her there is no falling into any lower realm.

[From John Stevens' Lust for Enlightenment (Shambala 1990) citing Dowman's Divine Madman.]

or Four Orders

The Sanglingma or Life of Padmasambhava According to Yeshe Tsogyal repeatedly makes reference to four orders.

The lowest order of dakini consists of beings who have not fully divorced themselves from the world of existence, samsara. This worldly kind of dakini is the sort that may behave like Tricksters -- sometimes helpful; at other times, mischief-making. These dakinis can appear as beautiful fairies or angels, but also as ghouls and demons.

or Five Sisters

In the life story of Padmasambhava, The 5 Tsering-ma were transformed from evil-doers who could manipulate beings by means of visual and auditory illusions into sworn and bound protectors of the dharma by the Guru.

From Thinley Norbu's Magic Dance: The Display of the Self-Nature of

the Five Wisdom Dakinis. (Shambhala, 1999):

Five Wisdom Sisters,

If we do not complement you,

You become five witches,

Making us ill and bringing us suffering.

Because we cannot banish you,

Always our fate depends on you.

Five Wisdom Sisters,

If we do complement you,

You become five angels,

Making us healthy and bringing us happiness.

Because we cannot separate from you,

Always our fate depends on you.

Five Wisdom Sisters,

Nothing can be done without depending on your mood.

Farmers cannot grow their crops,

Politicians cannot rule their countries,

Engineers cannot work their machines,

Doctors cannot heal their patients,

Scientists cannot do their research,

Philosophers cannot make their logic,

Artists cannot create their art,

Without depending on your mood.

Five Wisdom Sisters,

Nothing can be known without depending on your grace.

Tibetan lamas cannot chant with cool highland habit,

Indian gurus cannot sing with warm lowland habit,

Japanese roshis cannot sit with dark cushion habit,

Muslim sheikhs cannot dance with bright robed habit,

Jewish rabbis cannot pray with soft-voiced habit

Without depending on your grace.

Five Wisdom Sisters,

Even the most mysterious miracles cannot occur without complementing your purity.

Buddha Shakyamuni cannot rest with tranquil gaze of his lotus eyes underneath the Bodhi tree,

Guru Padmasambhava cannot play magically with countless sky-walking dakinis,

Lord Jesus cannot walk weightlessly across the water,

Prophet Moses cannot see the radiantly burning bush,

Brahmin Saraha-pa cannot straighten arrows, singing wisdom hymns with his arrow-maker girl,

Crazy saint Tilopa cannot eat fish and torture Naropa,

Greatest yogi Milarepa cannot remain in his cave, singing and accepting hardships

Without complementing your purity.

You are so patient.

Whoever wants to stay,

If you don't exist,

Cannot stay.

Whoever wants to go,

If you don't exist,

Cannot go.

Whoever wants to taste or touch,

If you don't exist,

Cannot taste or touch.

Whatever our actions,

You are always supporting

Patiently without complaining.

But we ignorant beings

Are always ungrateful,

Stepping on you,

Calling you Earth.

You are so constant.

Whoever wants to be purified,

If you don't exist,

Cannot be purified.

Whoever wants to quench their thirst,

If you don't exist,

Cannot quench their thirst.

Whoever wants to hear,

If you don't exist,

Cannot hear

Whatever our actions,

You are always flowing

Ceaselessly without complaining.

But we desiring beings

Are always ungrateful,

Splashing you,

Calling you Water.

You are so clear.

Whoever wants to fight,

If you don't exist,

Cannot fight.

Whoever wants to love,

If you don't exist,

Cannot love.

Whoever wants to see,

If you don't exist,

Cannot see.

Whatever our actions,

You are always glowing

Un-obscuredly without complaining.

But we proud beings

Are always ungrateful

Smothering you,

Calling you Fire.

You are so light.

Whoever wants to rise,

If you don't exist,

Cannot rise.

Whoever wants to move,

If you don't exist,

Cannot move.

Whoever wants to smell,

If you don't exist,

Cannot smell.

Whatever our actions,

You are always moving

Weightlessly without complaining.

But we envious beings

Are always ungrateful,

Fanning you,

Calling you Air.

You are so open.

Whoever wants to exist,

If you don't exist,

Cannot exist.

Whoever doesn't want to exist,

If you don't exist,

Cannot cease to exist.

Whoever wants to know phenomena,

If you don't exist,

Cannot know phenomena.

Whatever our actions,

You are always welcoming

Spaciously without complaining.

But we ignorant beings

Are always ungrateful,

Emptying you,

Calling you Space.

You are our undemanding slave,

Tirelessly serving us,

From ordinary beings to sublime beings

To fulfill our worldly wishes.

You are our powerful queen,

Seductively conquering us,

From ordinary beings to sublime beings,

Into desirable qualities.

You are our Wisdom Dakini,

Effortlessly guiding us with your magic dance,

From ordinary beings to sublime beings,

Into desireless qualities.

#wisdom #spirituality #mindfulness #meditation #religion #buddhism #self care #zen #visualization #tibet

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

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jalice2020 day five

JaliceWeek2020 Day 5: Angel/Demon

Afterglow

Notes: This is the third version, because I thought the others were going to be ‘too long’ and then this became a behemoth. I’ve lost all sense of whether it’s actually worth posting, but it’s 6,300+ words and a whole day of work that I refuse to waste. These prompts are going up out of order because I feel like being contrary and am totally disorganised.

And I found the idea of ‘demon’ fascinating because what else would a vampire be but a very specific form of ‘demon’? Plus there were so many (utterly amazing) fics about demon!Alice, I decided to flip the script.

I am also totally running with the angel thing in a much longer fic, because I had so much world building, so much more history for both Alice and Jasper, and I was sorry that I couldn’t include it.

There were three things of which she was certain.

The first was that her name was Alice.

The second was that she was born an angel.

And three, she was getting ready to die.

—

He finds her in an alley behind a diner, slumped against the brickwork, struggling to breathe. He sees her, and for a moment he doesn’t realise what he’s seeing - why would he? Who, in living memory, has laid eyes on an angel?

But he remembers the stories, told around a Monterrey bonfire, of the markings, the aura, the divinity of those nearly mythical creatures. Creatures born of hope and love and all those things that he left behind on that last ride. The older ones always had angel stories, of their astounding beauty and immense power; of wings that stretched out eight, ten, twelve feet of pure white energy that could cut through any substance known to creation. Of miracles and healings and forgiveness that filled all the hollow spaces inside. Of blood that can only be offered willingly, or it becomes fantastically and irreversibly poisonous.

He goes to her side, his hunt forgotten. Maybe it is the stories, that childish, lingering hope at the back of his mind that there is absolution for his actions, that he has not fallen so low he cannot rise up again.

Or maybe it is seeing a creature as broken as he feels, and the twist of pity-empathy in his gut won’t let him turn away from her. She is so small, so utterly… forgotten.

She was a great beauty, he can see that underneath her suffering; her skin has a grey cast, and her lips blue, her eyes underscored with dark bruises. She’s so thin, her skin stretched tight. The celestial markings still adorn her tiny arms, from wrist to elbow, a collage of flowers and stars and maps and symbols utterly meaningless to him, but faded like an old bruise.

Something utterly precious, just thrown away.

His red eyes meet hers, and she gasps, tries to make herself smaller. Some half-forgotten lesson tells her that red-eyes, demons, are the lowest evil and she must protect herself. But with what? She has lost her wings, has lost her magic, has lost much of her memory.

She has been discarded, and is worth nothing more than a demon’s gaze, his next meal. It would be better to go quickly than to linger with this heaviness in her bones and lungs and heart and mind. Whatever divinity is left in her blood, perhaps it can gift him with something - she doesn’t even know what a demon would wish for with angel’s blood, truly. But for a quick end, she would offer it willingly.

She gasps again as he lifts her, and cradles her close, his eyes studying her carefully as he settles her in his arms, making sure he causes her no pain, even as fresh bruises bloom on her skin.

“What…?” she croaks, as he sweeps out of the alley, away from his chosen meal, from the buzzing signs of the diner, and into the night.

“Rest, little one,” is all he says, as if he has a plan. “You’re safe.”

Those half-remembered warnings feel paper thin as she is cradled like treasure against his strong body, as he moves confidently through the streets. Even through her threadbare clothing, it is the first time she has been touched since she can remember, and it is… nice. It is nice and it is easy enough to close her eyes and let whatever is to happen next come upon her.

—

His room in the boarding house is small and worn, but fine enough for him to have a minuscule wash room of his own. The angel sleeps deeply, the sleep of the gravely ill, and he tucks her into the untouched bed in the corner, whilst he ventures into the yet unvisited common kitchen to find her food.

The landlady sweeps in, a well-lived woman - who has never trusted the red-eyed man - likes him a little more as she watches him make a right mess of toast and tea, and she quickly assembles a little tray. This isn’t the kind of establishment that cares what he does in the room he pays for, and she doesn’t really consider the possibilities when he asks for an extra towel and pillow.

The angel sleeps through the night and well into the next day, and he can feel the heat coming from her skin. He dribbles cooled tea between her lips, and curses the fact he has no memory of nursing from the army, of his human life. He refuses to request more help from the landlady, and finally he gives up all pretences and manages to gather the girl up and clamber into the narrow, stained little bathtub together, filled with cold water that he hopes will curb the fever.

She dreams of fire licking her limbs and red eyes staring into her soul and her lips are so dry and everything is all jumbled up and then she is staring at the very tall red-eyed monster cradling her in a bathtub full of cold water, and patting her face with a cloth and worry on his face.

Somehow she regains control of her limbs, enough to reach one shaking hand up to his cheek - it seems impossible that the most evil of creatures could be so handsome, could go to so much trouble for her. She wishes she could ask him a million questions, but she is so very tired, and it is easier to settle back against him and sleep as her fever rages.

—

They are together a week before she is lucid enough to ask questions and offer answers, for them to even learn the other’s name.

Alice.

Major Jasper Whitlock, ma’am.

A soldier, a killer, in his human life. That makes her sad for him, that humans choose to set themselves on a path that is paved in death and misery but there is nothing that can be done about that now. And for a soldier turned vampire, with all his terrible deeds indented on every inch of his arms and neck, with luminous red eyes and a hard stare, he is not.. bad.

In fact, he shows her the first kindness she can ever remember.

He brings her food, strange choices at first, but he soon learns - angels like sweet things, fruits and honey and candy; thin soups to build her strength up, well-sugared milky tea to help her sleep. He brings her some clothing - a proper night dress, and a blue day dress that is far too long, but it covers up the bruises on her stocking-less legs. He reads to her, cheap novels that have covers depicting in young ladies and flowers and cannot be vaguely interesting to him.

She knows he slips away to hunt, to drain humans of their life, but she sees the slump in his shoulders, the tired, pained look on his face upon his return and she wonders if those paper-thin lessons were wrong. That demons do have souls, souls that are weighed with every choice, every action, of their cursed existence. After all, a vampire is just a human gone astray, really. And for all of their flaws and follies, ignorance and arrogance, humans are essentially good, kind creatures. There is a reason they are so staunchly guarded by the angels, after all.

What if Major Whitlock is only a demon because the angels failed him?

When she is well enough to stand, to limp slowly around their tiny room, he offers to take her to church, and she wants to giggle, but he looks so serious and so determined to escort her there that she agrees; churches are for humans, and so is the religion found in them. But she thinks she understands - angels and churches and religions have been so tangled up together that it is some kind of logic, to take her there. He even brings her a hat and gloves and new shoes for the excursion, letting her limping stride set the pace, letting her lean on him as her lungs struggle to keep up.

His arm is gentle yet strong around her, and she leans closer to him, breathing in a scent of pine needles and rainwater.

—

The closest church is of moderate size and limited wealth - the parishioners are hardworking people with little money - and the pastor is an elderly man who has overseen the births, marriages, and deaths of those people, all of whom he can name on sight. It is a late night, counselling a young couple, and he ambles around the church, setting it right for the next morning.

He looks up when he hears voices, and sees the silhouette in the doorway - one tall and one small. For a moment, he mistakes them for an adult and child; perhaps siblings? Strangers or newcomers, certainly. They take a place in a back pew, the taller figure helping the smaller into her seat before settling beside her. It is then he approaches, to welcome them and offer them counsel, before he realises what he is seeing.

The red eyes of the male, firmly fixed on the diminutive girl. And he wants to banish the monster, this fiend from the sanctified ground on which they stand, of which he should not be able to enter. But the flickering candles throw light onto the girl, and the sight of her is a reward paid for with decades of his faith. It is a split second, a flicker of light and shadow, and he has Seen her. The ghost of wings that fold around her in filmy light, the slight glow of her skin, the wisp of lost golden markings, such beauty his mortal eyes has never seen. She looks up at her companion with affection in her eyes, and she takes his hand, and the pastor does nothing more than nod and bless them both in passing; whatever has brought the pair into his church is beyond that of mortal comprehension.

They stay a little while before the devil helps the angel stand, and the pastor watches as the girl limps from the church, leaning heavily on her corrupted companion and says a little prayer for them, one to see them both to whatever sanctuary they might be needing. And then he extinguishes the candles.

—

Time meanders on, and Alice grows stronger. Strong enough to walk unaided, though she still takes his arm every time they leave. Strong enough to teach herself to mend their few clothes, to prepare herself food, though he finds her with candy and fruit just as often as something properly nutritious.

Seeing her cheeks round with chocolate, blushing with embarrassment at getting caught, is the first time he’s properly laughed in decades.

She looks so well now, with faint colour in her cheeks; her eyes are a blue he could get lost in, a swirling galaxy of shifting light and colour - they are most inhuman thing about her right now. Her lips have lost the blue cast, are now a rose pink that makes her look very kissable, but thoughts like that are dangerous, and feel heavy in his chest. Her markings look like some kind of bruise-coloured tattoos that are slowly darkening. He hasn’t asked about them, about the meanings behind them, but when he holds her hand, he sometimes finds himself tracing the lines of the flowers, the stars, the symbols - he thinks he has them memorised.

But eventually, it is time to move on. His body count is rising, getting closer to noticeable, and the money is running out - they only have what he takes from his victims, and it has been slim pickings for a few weeks. He hates to have to admit why they have to leave, but she doesn’t flinch, just smiles and requests a bag for her things as if fleeing a city because of too many bloody disappearances is a perfectly normal reason to leave.

So they leave Philadelphia, hand in hand, with no particular destination in mind. And for a long time, that’s how they live - boarding houses in the city, forgotten farm houses in the country, cradled by long grass in forests where the night sky peeks through. Those are the nights she lies pressed up against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, as she traces constellations with her finger as she relaxes into sleep.

Those are the nights that are imprinted on his brain forever.

—

They find themselves in the back of Vermont in the fall; it’s been a few years since they left Philadelphia, wandering around the country. She looks beautiful to him that day, with a flower crown in her hair - the flowers drooping but not yet wilted - and her very worn out pink dress that is shredded below her knees and a filthy white shawl with more holes than lace. He clasps her hand tight in his as they meander through the forest; she hums a song under her breath, one that is sweet and soothing and intoxicating and he can never remember the tune until she sings it again.

He isn’t paying attention, when they settle on a camp site and she flits off to find something edible - fruits, herbs, flowers; she is surprisingly adaptable. And for all the legends and half-truths, she has no trouble or reluctance eating animal flesh, as long as she cooks it on a fire first, though she always cries when it has to be a rabbit.

They are upon them at once, a coven of five aged vampires, suspicious and on edge as they see his eyes, his scars, his cold glare at the interruption and his own failure to sense them.

At the strange, sickly amber of their eyes.

It’s a tense conversation of his intentions, his purpose on their lands, and his honeyed words are thinly veiled threats. He is grateful that Alice’s sweet scent (roses and linens and melting snow) is easily covered by his own, an illusive little quicksilver protected by her own sacred biology. He has them almost convinced them to, in laymen’s terms, fuck right off and leave him be when Alice returns.

“Jasper?”

The older woman gasps at the sight of her and the entire family go from suspicion to anger and disgust - the shawl slung low around her elbows (covering up her markings, good girl), the girlish, tattered dress, and flowers in her hair. The apples clutched in her pale hand, one with an obvious bite mark. Her blue eyes bright and skin flushed, and decades later he will remind them how damn unobservant they are that they thought she was his victim, lured into seclusion, when two bags sit by the tree, when everything about her was uncanny and inhuman enough to tell them the still-shocking truth. It was fall in the forest, and the flowers in her hair were still fresh, for god’s sake.

But in that moment, she is the innocent, a future meal of a monster, the sacrificial lamb.

“Sweetheart, come away from him,” the woman gestures to her, but Alice is no longer smiling, and if they looked closer, they’d see the storm rising in her eyes (he loves that about her, the way the blue of her eyes darkens and churns when she’s worried or afraid, and lightens and ripples with her joy. He could watch her eyes forever.) She drops the fruit, and moves closer to him, her hands reaching for the sleeve of his coat.

The coven move too fast, and the only reason they aren’t destroyed is because he is too aware of her; she is pushed aside in their efforts to manhandle her away from him, to drag him through to their side of the river. He lets the biggest one push him to his knees, his arms tight and awkward behind his back. There is a growl is rumbling in his chest, and he can smell it - her blood. It’s an odd, distinctive smell that is enough to make him freeze. It’s not a lot, maybe a scrape, but this coven… angel blood is somehow a walking, resistible temptation. They could drain her dry (and die horribly for the effort) but she’ll still be perfectly dead and that cannot be allowed to happen. He begins to struggle, but the big one holds him firm and shit. This is bad.

“Let him up, please.”

He can only move his head enough to see her standing, a small cut on her leg that will be gone in a day or two. She looks … displeased. He’s never seen that look on her face before.

“You’ll be okay now,” the redheaded boy tells her superiorly. “You should find your way back to town.”

“Let him up,” she retorts, just as arrogantly as the boy, as imperious as a queen, and there is a stillness, an edge to everything around them - no birds or breeze; even the running of the river seems rather muted.

“We’ll deal with him,” the big one says confidently, and that is the wrong thing to say.

“Let. Him. Go.”

It happens all at once, an echoing order that is not yelled but thunders in all their ears. They yell and gasp and are tossed away like paper dolls and he finally gets a look at his girl in all her glory.

She’d told him once, off-hand, that she’d never be fully healed again. That she accepted that she was Fallen and Shunned, and what she had managed to recover, she was grateful for.

Not recovered, his ass.

She was great and terrible and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her arms thrown wide and the shawl gone, her markings glowing white, her eyes pools of white energy. And behind her, stretching four feet, easily, on either side were her long wings, crackling with pure light. Markings he hadn’t glimpsed before peeked out from the neckline of her dress, and her skin had a faint glow to it, the entire effect as if a star was entrapped inside her body.

It is his captor that bears the brunt of her wrath, gasping in pain as her gaze focuses on him, the rest of the coven disorientated as they pick themselves up.

The last of the group, the blonde woman who might have been mistaken as an angel herself, is at his side immediately, wanting to help but unsure how to as he howls at whatever Alice’s power is doing to him.

“Stop it!” the blonde vampire screams, “STOP IT.”

He manages to get back to her side, wanting to reach out and pull her to him, but he doesn’t know if he can touch her like this.

“Alice?” he says. “We’re okay.”

The energy recedes as quickly as it appeared, leaving her looking cranky but pale as she immediately tucks herself against him as the coven inspect their fallen member.

He is disorientated and startled but unharmed as he reassures the blonde woman, the rest of their gazes falling to the couple over the river. More than a girl in a pink dress and a man in an overcoat.

“I can’t read them anymore, Carlisle,” the redhead murmurs. “His is … too quiet, and hers is in a language that… I think she made up.”

Alice spits a sharp word at the boy, holding him so tight he knows she was - is - afraid.

The leader, this Carlisle, simply stares at them with an indescribable look on his face. Incredulousness and awe and confusion and amusement dance around them, and he shakes his head.

“In all my years, I have never…” he began, wiping his face with his hand, an indisputably human gesture. “I apologise, my family misunderstood.”

Alice grunts and still glares, and if Jasper knows anything, it is that she holds a fantastic grudge against that which wrongs her - the woman who called her a harlot in a town back in Minnesota; the perfectly spoilt fruit tart from a shady baker; the young man who tore her dress in Boston. If those things can keep her gaze dark and sour her mood, he doesn’t fancy being any one of these creatures.

“Carlisle?” the older woman asks curiously, and the big one is back on his feet and seems to be entirely unaffected by whatever Alice had done to him.

“What is she?” he asks with genuine curiosity, his arm around the blonde.

“I believe this young lady might be an angel.”

—

That’s how they meet the Cullens. Carlisle spends three days hovering around them with delighted, boyish excitement until Esme gently redirects his attention and energy. Esme, who is so kind to them both, even with his red eyes and scars (later, she will smile at him and tell him that she knew that no matter where he had come from, no one who treated Alice so gently could be anything other than a true gentleman). Edward is frustrated with them both, and mutters comments under his breath as Alice snipes back in a language no one else understands - which just agitates Edward more. She admits later, when they’re alone, that she hardly remembers learning the language and probably couldn’t hold a conversation in it but does in fact remember most of the good swears and insults, and he laughs loudly at the idea that angels are pure and good and selfless as she taunts the arrogant little vampire.

Rosalie hates them. Hates his red eyes and violence, hates Alice for hurting her mate. Emmett is more curious and entertained than offended, and shrugs off Rosalie’s rage - “Babe, you’d do the same to them for me.” He’s more interested to know if Alice can change the colour of her ‘lights’ at will - like a disco ball - and Alice congratulates him on asking the actual dumbest question in the history of creation and of course that means Alice and Emmett are friends now, even though he described her attack as being ‘boiled from the inside out’.

How does he feel about them? Well, they offer them a nice room with a bed for Alice and little bathroom, and Esme goes to find Alice food - Carlisle sending her with a ream of notes on angels and their preferred diet despite the girl’s insistence anything will do. They are respectful and genuine and he cannot fault their welcome into the house. There are clean clothes and books and amusements and every possible comfort except human blood.

That is a conversation he has alone with Carlisle, whilst Alice joyfully eats her way through a pile of candy roughly the same size as she is. It is a long conversation, a hard one. Of all the guilt and the pain and the regret; of every horror he has never spoken of to Alice, of every fear that lingers in his bones.

And when he finishes, he feels lighter.

Carlisle smiles benevolently, and explains the advantages of abstaining from human blood, of existing only on the blood of animals.

“It does, admittedly, take away some of our strength,” the older man warns but his mouth quirks into a smile. “Not that I think you have to worry about your safety with such a… formidable mate.”

Jasper is quick to correct him, ducking his head so that Carlisle might not see the longing in his eyes. They are not mates or lovers or sweethearts. As much as he admires her, a goddess in his eyes; as much as he restrains himself from noticing the slender curves hidden by her clothing, from letting his gaze linger too long, they are mere companions; the closest of friends but no more than that.

Carlisle chuckles outright at that. “I assume this isn’t your preference?” he says, with a grin that makes him look his age.

He scowls, refusing to take the bait.

“In all my years, I have met many people in many differing kinds of relationships,” Carlisle says, with that knowing look on his face that Jasper decides he hates. “And I can tell you without an ounce of doubt that no angel - or woman - would look at a vampire like that, would defend one so fiercely, without holding him close in her heart. I think, if you were to make a gesture, it would be warmly reciprocated.”

And for a moment, he is full of hope. Hope of a future where he could press a kiss to willing lips, could slide his hand over the curve of a waist. Could trace the markings hidden by her dress with his fingers, his mouth, learn them by heart.

But the truth is, he is a monster. The blood in his eyes, the scars on his skin, the violence in his movement… it is what he is. That he would not sully her with his touch, if she would even accept such a thing. And in truth, he could not bear to be dismissed from her side. He would walk her down the aisle to a worthy man, as long as he could remain in her orbit.

“No,” he shakes his head. "She is… and I am… it would not be fair.” She already Fell once, why drag her further down?

Carlisle studies him carefully, the regret rolling off him in waves. “If you’ll pardon me for prying, how on earth did you end up meeting Alice? I only know of one other who has met an angel; they are illusive creatures.”

Jasper looks up, a quirk of his lips at the memory. “I found her in Philadelphia. She was dying in an alley. I tried to help her.” And the story slowly comes up; the long wait for her fever to break, trying to build up her strength, their brief attendance at church that was more for him than for her; their little pilgrimage around the country. How she loves to watch the stars, to wear flowers in her hair, and sings like the angel she is. How any money they had went to food, and she found sweet irresistible - more than once she went barefoot rather than go without a slice of cake, a bag of strawberries. He ends up smiling by the end of the story, the warmth of the memories surrounding him.

Carlisle looks at him incredulously. “Jasper, you found a dying girl in Philadelphia, and you saved her life,” he says so gently. “You raised an angel from the dead out of pure selflessness and honour. And you sit here and tell me that you are deemed unworthy? I cannot believe it, myself.”

Jasper shakes his head and thinks of all that he has been told, about animal blood, and protecting human life. About all that he has seen and felt with that diminutive girl beside him.

“For her, I have to be better.”

—

They settle into the Cullen family with relative ease - Esme is a doting mother figure to Alice, whose quirks he found so charming are utterly foreign and confusing to the rest of the family. But Esme carries no frustration to find wilted flower crowns discarded through the house; to find Alice has eaten a week’s supply of food in one night; to find an ugly scorch mark on the couch when Edward provoked the girl far enough for her magic to get involved.

Carlisle is still fascinated, but is affectionate to the small girl who has so many questions about everything, everywhere. He cannot answer many of her questions about angels, but he has more than enough stories about his life to entertain her for hours.

Edward and Alice snipe at each other constantly, as she continues to conceal her thoughts, and somehow mute Jasper’s, from his probing. The thing is, they could be good friends if they wanted; he wonders if Alice still holds a grudge from his dismissal of her during that very first meeting. Emmett, however, thinks Alice is a fantastically weird addition to their family even if her powers remain unused. Her intuition is second to none, and she is strong enough to exist safely in the household, but mostly she is unremarkable. He likes ruffling her hair and asking dumb or embarrassing questions (“So when you have sex, Lite-Brite, do you go all glow-y?” he asks one day, just ambling into the room with that question on his brain, and Esme scolds him and he growls, and Alice turns faintly pink and admits she wouldn’t know. Emmett does feel bad when she reveals that, and buys her an enormous bag of fudge that means he’s automatically forgiven.)

Rosalie tolerates them - she likes how annoyed Edward gets with Alice, and that Alice is an eager student in the art of fashion and shopping, and has suitable awe for Rosalie’s beauty and attitude. But she resents Alice’s divinity, that somehow the universe judged this tiny girl to be a precious, sacred creation, and decided that Rosalie herself was worth less than humanity.

They treat him well enough - politely, respectfully, and that’s all he asks. Carlisle offers relatively good counsel on most subjects, but most specifically on hunting animals. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, and he fails more than he succeeds. He sees frustration in the faces of the Cullens every time he returns with red eyes, but he never sees Alice flinch or fluster. She greets him with that same special smile every time he walks into the room, her sheer presence a balm. And that unconditional affection, that is when the shame feels heaviest on his shoulders.

So he tries again.

And again.

And it gets easier. Or rather, he gets stronger. The gaps between red eyes get longer, and his eyes lighten slowly from red to orange to amber. But the burn in his throat remains, and he struggles constantly. But he reminds himself, the prize is worth it. She is worth every second of burn, every disgusting animal, every long night resisting the urge to hunt.

She will always be worth it.

—

After Vermont, there is Minnesota, then Montana, then… well, they begin to blend together. All are within abundant hunting grounds, all in beautiful homes, all provide comfort and luxury he could never have imagined providing her. She fits it like a glove; her beautiful clothes, the abundant library, the ease of every day life - it is a palace for a princess and he is so happy that she is happy.

It is the place where Carlisle insists he go to school with the others, tempting him with the possibility of college in the future. She cannot go; they have no ways of concealing the inhumanity of her, and she struggles to contain her powers sometimes, especially when distressed. Even one sad movie an have her shining like a discount glow stick. Carlisle does much research on the subject, to try and help train her, but his research is slow and they still don’t know much. One day, she’ll join them. She’s determined, even when she scorches another dress, another chair, another wall. One day.

She pounces on him every single afternoon, demanding to know about his day, about his classes, about what high school is like. For so long it was just her, then it was them, then it was the family - the idea of classmates and friends and peers is so foreign. He dutiful fills her in, though many of the details she demands are not things he has noted. She always touches him during these conversations, hanging over his shoulder, curled in his lap, tucked at his side.

And even when Rosalie and Edward tell her to stop bothering him, forcing him to relive the tedium, he encourages it. Because as dull as school is, recounting it to her as she clings like a little possum to his back, is his very favourite part of the day.

And somehow, maybe because of that, something changes between them. Their closeness holds something new - potential, maybe. But her eyes seem to really see him when he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead; her cheeks get a little pinker when he compliments a new dress; he finds himself reaching for her less, and finding her already there more often.

They still share a room - he has no need for his own, not with the communal library on the third floor - and he tries his hardest to give her privacy. But he’s caught her changing more than once, seen a glimpse of more markings on her pale-flawless-exquisite spine. He lingers too long in that view, berating himself for his perversion, but he cannot resist. He wonders where else the tattoos lie.

Carlisle looks at him with knowing eyes, and Esme beams every time she sees, or thinks she sees, something. But no, not yet. Not until he’s worthy of every hope, can grant every single one of her wishes and whims. Not until he can court her as she deserves.

It’ll happen, he’s determined. He will make himself worthy, reforge himself in any hell that he can find, if it makes him a better man for her.

Inevitably, he slips again, and they have to move, and he is furious with himself. Every time he thinks he might see the light at the end of the tunnel, he weakens. Two steps forward and one step back.

He spends the night on the couch, watching movies without seeing them, and trying not to notice the warmth of her skin as he endlessly traces the lily-star-celestial map that are her tattoos. She falls asleep against him, a heavenly weight, and he wishes for a lot of things, but mostly for sleep.

—

There were three things of which she was certain.

The first was that her name was Alice Cullen.

The second was that she was a fallen angel, which wasn’t such a bad thing to be.

And the third was that she was completely and irreversibly in love with one Major Jasper Whitlock. And she was tired of waiting.

—

He has taken her into the forest, the spring air crisp, and the plants blooming. She skips beside him, her fingers interlaced with his, and it’s a lovely day - the canopy of the forest concealing the glitter of his skin. It’s one of those lazy, peaceful days that he lives for.

She leaves him sitting by the river, as she gathers wild flowers and leaves, settling beside him as she makes her crown - nimble fingers twisting and weaving. The white and yellow blooms match her new dress. And then she is wrapped around his back, crowning him in leaves and tiny red and white berries.

“My prince,” she whispers in his ear, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss on his cheek. And she pulls away, just enough space for him to turn his head and align their lips and he’s many things, but he’s also a man deeply, deeply in love.

Their first kiss is a slightly awkward angle, but it is… it is his absolution, his greatest hope, his most perfect joy. For her, it is finding home, the last piece of an indecipherable puzzle finding its place, it is entirely new and yet as familiar to her as her own self.

After he pulls away, she twists herself into his lap, her eyes so wide and flickering blue and white, a pink flush to her cheeks. She looks so hopeful and loving that he cannot help but steal another kiss, another jewel to hoard in his dead heart as she sighs happily against him.

But the real world is still outside their private little glade, and finally he pulls away.

“We can’t,” he croaks, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Oh Alice, I can’t.”

“Why not?” her question is so innocent, he wants to wrap her in his arms and keep her here forever, where nothing will ever sully her.

“You’re an angel, darlin’. An honest to goodness angel. You deserve so much better,” he murmurs, half against her lips. “Not me. I’m a goddamned monster.”

Alice sighs again. “Oh Jasper, I wish you could see you as I do,” she says so sweetly. “The person who lifted me out of the trash, the person who healed me, the person who cared for me and protected me and loved me without question or expectation.”

She traces his face, her soft fingers running over his nose and lips and cheeks.

“I’ve waited so long for you to be worthy to yourself,” she continues. “Because you were more than worthy enough for me.”

The next kiss is deeper, passionate and he pulls her flush against him, feeling the buttons on her dress press against his chest, probably cracking them. Another one follows, and then another, until it all blurs together, and he’s slid his hand further up her leg than is truly proper, and her hands are tangled in his hair.

Her smile is the sweetest, a little shy, as she buries her face in his neck - drawing in his scent - and he notices the faint glow around her markings, almost like her powers are blushing.

“I’ve waited for you - for this - for so long,” she whispers to him, the words almost lost in the light breeze.

And he holds her close, holds her tight. “I never meant to keep you waiting.”

She looks him in the eye, gold meeting blue, and her smile is radiant, as beautiful as every story and every myth. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

And then she leans in for another kiss.

—

There were three things of which Jasper Hale was entirely certain.

One was that he was a vampire in love with an angel.

The second was that his angel loved him back, as completely as he loved her.

And the third was that they had the rest of eternity to be together, whatever the future might bring.

#jaliceweek20 #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #my fic: afterglow #my writing: afterglow #ugh so much stuff about angels and demons and powers got cut and i am gutted #definitely coming back and writing a 20 chapter fic about angel alice and all the supernatural beasties carlisle rescues #and alice's wonky powers and her broken wings and argh #hoping this will be like the brief history of us which is actually Not As Terrible as I Thought #also haven't read this through because i am tired and i still have 4.5 more to write tomorrow #angel!alice and vampire!jasper might make another appearance for another prompt #good night

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sayedhusaini · 3 years ago

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NBA player Jonathan Isaac of the Orlando Magic explains why he is hesitant to take the COVID vaccine at a post-game press conference, Oct. 27, 2021.

It is virtually a religious belief in the dominant liberal culture that people who do not want the COVID vaccine are stupid, ignorant, immoral and dangerous. As large sectors of the population continue to question or disobey their COVID decrees, they have begun to make more explicit this condescending view.

Liberals feel free to disparage them as "stupid” notwithstanding long-standing (though diminishing) racial disparities among this group. A CNN headline from last month told part of the story: “Black New Yorkers may have the lowest vaccination rates, but community groups refuse to give up.” Citing data from the city's health agency, the network reported that “citywide, just 28% of Black New Yorkers between the ages of 18 and 44 are fully vaccinated. The Hispanic community is the second-least fully vaccinated population in that age group, with 49% being fully vaccinated.”

Two weeks ago, Bloomberg reported that while some of the unvaccinated are unable to get the vaccine (due to work pressures or health conditions), most of them are vaccine-hesitant by choice and continue to reflect racial disparities. Under the headline “U.S. Racial Vaccine Gaps Are Bigger Than We Thought: Covid-19 Tracker,” the news outlet reported: “the White vaccination rate is not as bad as it had seemed and Hispanic communities are lagging more than previously thought.”

Yet liberal elites continue to call anyone who is unvaccinated "stupid,” ignorant and immoral. On Sunday, New York's Democratic Governor Kathy Hochul, when announcing her intent to use National Guard soldiers to replace health care workers fired for refusing the vaccine, told her audience: “yes, I know you're vaccinated, you're the smart ones.” She then said those who refuse to get the vaccine are not just stupid but have turned their back on God: “there's people out there who aren't listening to God and what God wants.” Gov. Hochul added that the vaccine “is from God to us and we must say, thank you, God,” and said to her "smart” vaccinated supporters: “I need you to be my apostles.”

On September 16, CNN host Don Lemon maligned those who have chosen not to be vaccinated as "stupid,” "selfish,” filled with “ignorance,” and “not acting on logic, reason and science." He then issued this decree: “it’s time to start shaming them or leave them behind.” When controversy erupted over the lavish indoor gala former President Obama threw for himself, at which his guests were unmasked while the servants were masked, New York Times reporter Annie Karni explained on CNN that while some of Obama's neighbors on Martha's Vineyard objected, many believed that a maskless party was fine because “this is a sophisticated, vaccinated crowd." Late-night host Jimmy Kimmel suggested the unvaccinated should be deprioritized for health care in hospitals, while Howard Stern recently lambasted the unvaccinated as “imbeciles” and “nut jobs” and argued they should be denied health care and be left to die.

That the unvaccinated are inherently primitive and stupid troglodytes was always a claim as baseless and offensive as it is counter-productive. Although I personally took the vaccine the first day it was available to me — as I repeatedly said I would in every forum where I speak, including Fox News — it was always clear that there were cogent reasons while those with different circumstances and risk factors (age, health, prior COVID status) might assess their own risks differently and reach a different conclusion. And what made me most comfortable about my choice to get vaccinated, or to decide whether my kids should, was precisely that it was my choice, after informing myself: the idea of forcing someone to do it against their will, or condition people's rights and privileges on vaccine compliance — as both President Biden and the ACLU astonishingly advocated — always struck me as inconceivable.

The attempt to equate being unvaccinated with stupidity and ignorance suffered a massive blow on Wednesday night when NBA star Jonathan Isaac was asked why he was hesitant to take the vaccine. Like many unions, the NBA's player union has refused a vaccine mandate, and Isaac, the 23-year-old player with the Orlando Magic who previously had and recovered from COVID, gave a stunningly compelling, informed, well-reasoned and thoughtful exposition on his rationale for not wanting the vaccine. Isaac also defended the right of individuals to make their own choice. One need not agree with his ultimate conclusion on the vaccine to see how groundless (and obnoxious) it is to claim that anyone who chooses not to take the vaccine — like him — is stupid, ignorant and primitive. I really encourage everyone to watch his two-minute master class in demonstrating why such a choice can, depending on one's circumstances, be perfectly rational:

Is there anyone who can argue with a straight face that Isaac sounds stupid, ignorant or evil? One can cogently dispute the wisdom of his conclusion: while it is true that most people who recover from COVID (as he did) enjoy "natural immunity” in the form of antibodies — indeed, one major study found that “the natural immune protection that develops after a SARS-CoV-2 infection offers considerably more of a shield against the Delta variant of the pandemic coronavirus than two doses of the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine — some studies conclude that immunity is stronger still with the vaccine.”

Nonetheless, Issac is indisputably right that the risk of dying or becoming seriously ill of COVID is extremely low for someone like him: early 20s, healthy and with natural immunity. In fact, during the entire course of the pandemic, the total number of people aged 15-24 (Isaac's age group) who have died of COVID — in a country of 330 million people — is 1,372: fewer than the number in that age group who have died of non-COVID pneumonia. Add onto that Isaac's physical fitness and the fact that he already had COVID once, his risk from contracting the virus is vanishingly small.

It is true that the long-term effects of COVID are unknown, but that is also true of the long-term risks from these new vaccines. Isaac is also right ….

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tommybaholland · 4 years ago

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Burn With Me (Todoroki x OC)

Chapter 0 (Prologue) — Chizu Ryuzaki: Origin

Pairing || Shoto Todoroki x fem!OC

Summary || it’s the first day at UA and chizu hopes to make many new friends. however, not everyone seems to be as eager as she..

WC || 6.6K

warning: this series will involve mature themes such as mild language, mentions of abuse/trauma, anxiety/panic attacks and violence. also this is NOT a spoiler free zone...read at your own risk!

UA High School.

One of Japan’s national high schools with a renowned hero course that produced some of today’s top heroes, like All Might and Endeavor. Anyone who aspires to be a great hero, one of the very best, aims to attend UA.

Chizu was no different. But it was surreal to be standing at the entrance of that oh so familiar ‘U’ shaped building, ready to begin her first day of training to become a hero.

Of course, it wasn’t easy. The last few years of her life in general haven’t been the greatest. But it was only more motivation for her to work hard to achieve her goal. Her mother, who was known as the Dark Magic Hero: Mysteria, had always supported her and had faith in her, even during her lowest moments with training her quirk. Now Chizu could only hope that her father would do the same, despite that she hadn’t been the most promising aspiring hero in training.

“Do you know what high schools you want to apply to?”

“I….wanna do a hero course...and I think UA is the best choice.”

“Chizu...we talked about this—”

“I’m never going to get any better if I don’t go to UA!”

“Chizu, why would you want to go to UA when you’ve chased out every trainer I’ve hired? You clearly aren’t that serious about it. I think you should expand your options beyond becoming a hero,” her father replied bluntly.

She didn’t know how to respond, too focused on trying to choke back the feeling of crying. It frustrated her that she felt this way, having had this conversation too many times before.

“Why do you want to be a hero, Chizu? What’re you gaining from being a hero?”

Chizu couldn’t look at him, her voice quiet in an attempt to have the words come out more smoothly.

“I-I just...wanna be like her. She overcame a lot to get where she was!”

“And you saw how that turned out for her. What makes you think you can avoid that kind of fate?”

“I mean, I think it’s possible—”

“Do you WANT to disappear and never be seen AGAIN CHIZU?”

Her lip started to tremble as she winced at his stern voice. Her voice was small, trying to be heard.

“Of course not but…”

“Then I need you to think logically about this and decide what you want to do. Don’t get upset about it.”

“I have,” Chizu reinforced, gritting her teeth. “And if being her isn’t enough for you, then I’ll be better than her!”

“Well,” her father only began to laugh. “You better get serious then, because I am not going to pay all that tuition for you to get kicked out like you did in middle school.”

She seethed at his words, knowing they were true but that he didn’t have to say it out loud. Take a deep breath, take a deep breath, take a deep breath...

“You’ll see! I’ll train every day and work hard to pass the entrance exams,” she promised.

“You better get a special recommendation if you wanna get in, then.”

“No, I want to work hard and earn the right to be there—”

“Hey, I’m letting you do what you want but you’re gonna do it how I tell you to...now go get a letter from your tutor...”

Sure enough, ten grueling months passed and Chizu took the entrance exams for students with special recommendations. Overall, she felt proud of herself for what she was to be able to do with her quirk, given her disadvantaged training circumstances. But getting to the practical exam, she wasn’t sure what she could show off was going to be enough. There were so many people with amazing and powerful quirks which they could control with ease as well as demonstrate a range of different abilities with them. She didn’t know if she could compete to stand out against these other kids her age.

But Chizu kept her promise that she made to her father and did her best.

Turns out, she was one of four students admitted to UA under special recommendations. She was placed in class 1-A with 20 total students in the class. She was hopeful to see a familiar face from the special entrance exam but she figured the odds would be slim.

She was currently speed walking down the hall, trying to locate her classroom. It was still early, approximately 15 minutes until homeroom would start. She couldn’t tell if she was just really really anxious or really really excited to start a hero course at her top choice school with 19 other hero hopefuls. She was nervous that she’d have trouble making friends, given that she hadn’t attended real school in about three years, but she wanted to try to make a good impression on her classmates and hoped the rest would follow easily.

She finally saw a sign that read ‘1-A’ with a rather tall entryway open next to it. She peeked around inside, seeing that almost half the class was there already. She was about to walk further into the classroom to choose her seat when she heard a frantic voice behind her.

“Uh….excuse me?? Is this….. class 1-A?”

Chizu turned to find a boy, who looked very out of breath, standing behind her.

“I think so,” she replied while getting a better look at her new classmate. He had messy green hair with green eyes to match, and freckles dotted on his cheeks.

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thanks. I thought I was going to be late—”

“Oh heyyyyy, it’s you!”

A girl with short brown hair and rosy cheeks appeared in the entryway this time. Chizu thought she seemed very friendly with her bubbly demeanor.

“OH! Hello, it’s….you,” the green haired boy replied. “Also, I just wanted to say thanks for offering to give me some of your points…”

“Oh, it’s no big deal! You rescued me, after all!” She beamed, leaving Chizu confused as to what they were talking about. She guessed it might’ve been the other entrance exam, which probably almost everyone in this room could relate to, except for Chizu. But it’s possible she was wrong.

“DEKU WHAT’RE YOU DOING HERE!?!?!?!”

An angry blond haired kid yelled from his seat over on the far right of the classroom, catching everyone else’s attention.

“OH HI KaCcHAN!” The green haired kid answered, nervously waving.

Everyone seemed to know this guy. Also, ‘Deku?’ That’s a strange name. And why was the blond guy yelling? It’s too early in the morning for that.

Chizu awkwardly stepped away from the situation without another word. She didn’t want to be rude but she felt out of place and she figured she’d learn their names later.

These were her classmates for the next year, anyway.

She took her exit down the far left row of the classroom, away from the angry blond kid, who was still screaming at that poor green haired boy. It was hard to drown him out, but Chizu tried to focus on finding where to sit. Most of the seats in the front were taken already so she decided to head all the way to the back where there were more empty seats.

As she got to the back row, she spotted a boy sitting in the second seat from the far right. She recognized the half white, half crimson red hair as one of the other applicants from the special entrance exam. She hesitated on the thought of walking over and talking to him. She remembered him having a rather intense aura about him during the exam and it seemed to encourage an unwanted rivalry between him and another applicant, whose animosity stemmed from some other time that was seemingly beyond Chizu.

But she figured that maybe he was just nervous or was feeling the pressure from getting into UA, just like everyone else there. He was the only person so far that she would maybe have an easier time to befriend.

She let her feet guide her the rest of the way over until she was about an arms length away from his desk. Chizu stepped back a bit as she was met with a stoic, unreadable expression, heterochromatic eyes meeting her with unwavering eye contact. The scar painted over his left eye was mostly covered by the red side of his hair, but only made the teal of his eye even brighter.

“Sorry, um,” she struggled to find her words for a moment. “Is that seat taken?”

She pointed to the seemingly empty desk to his left. He didn’t even look to where she was pointing, simply shifting his gaze back to its original position straight ahead.

“No,” he replied in a deep, low voice that matched his aloof affect.

“Okay, thanks,” she grinned before walking to the other side of him to take her seat.

She placed her bag on the hook on the side of her desk, before the commotion up front caught her attention once again. More students had joined the classroom, with the green haired kid continuing to be the center of everyone’s attention.

“Whoa, you’re the guy that broke both of your legs while taking out one of those zero pointers with one hit! That was so manly!” remarked another boy with spiky, vibrant red hair.

“Yeah, haha, that was me,” the green hair replied nervously.

“BIG DEAL I GOT MORE COMBAT POINTS THAN THAT DAMN NERD!” the angry blond spoke up. Everyone ignored him except for a tall kid with glasses who only scolded him.

“You there! Get your feet off the desk!”

“HUH?”

“It’s only the first day and you’re disrespecting the property of this fine establishment,” he continued while chopping the air with his hand. “We should all be model students as the future heroes produced from the country’s finest hero course!”

“You’re kidding me, right? And WHO ARE YOU, YOU DAMN EXTRA!?”

“I’m Tenya Iida and YOU should get your feet off the desk!”

“Name’s Katsuki Bakugo, and I’m already going to be the number one hero, better than All Might, SO GET OUT OF MY WAY!”

Jeez, if everyone in this class was going to be like that guy, then Chizu had half a mind to just leave now. She turned her attention back to the small crowd forming at the front. It seemed like everyone was just introducing themselves, wanting to be friends with the timid but supposedly ‘manly’ green haired kid.

“Hey! I’m Eijiro Kirishima!”

“I’m Hanta Sero.”

“Mina Ashido!”

“I’m Denki Kaminari!”

“I’M...MINETA!”

Chizu couldn’t keep up with all the names being tossed around and it seems neither could the green haired kid.

“Hey guys...I’m Izuku Midoriya! It’s great to meet you all!”

So I guess ‘Deku’ must be a nickname? Or quite possibly an insult, given by the way the blond, or Bakugo, had screamed it at him.

Chizu sunk in her seat a bit, wishing that she could be as affable as this Midoriya kid seemed to be. And it wasn’t like he was trying that hard. But she still had the chance to get to know the peppermint haired boy sitting next to her. She turned to face him, who looked like he was watching the scene in front just like she was.

“I’m Chizu Ryuzaki, by the way.”

She thought he didn’t hear her when he didn’t respond for a moment and opened her mouth to continue talking.

“The name’s Shoto Todoroki,” he replied, refusing to look at her as he introduced himself.

“It’s nice to officially meet you! I saw you at the special entrance exam, and just thought I would say hello,” she explained, hoping she wasn’t coming off as too forward or awkward.

The air was silent between them for a few moments again before his eyes shifted over to her, hooded heterochromia catching her own.

“You’re wasting your time,” he warned. “I’m not here to make friends.”

He returns to his assumed position without another word, effectively shutting Chizu out. She couldn’t help but feel like she did something wrong, staring down at her hands on her desk. But at least she knows his name now.

“Hi!” a voice catches her attention to the desk in front of her, where a pretty girl with dark hair was now seated. She looked slightly familiar.

“I’m Momo Yaoyorozu,” she introduces herself in a sweet voice.

Chizu didn’t know if she was talking to her or the cold boy, who she now knew as Todoroki.

“I’m...Chizu Ryuzaki,” she responded hesitantly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! You were great at the entrance exam,” she complimented with a bright smile.

That’s right, she was there too. Chizu seemed to greatly underestimate the odds that she would end up in the same class with two of the other three special recommendations admitted to UA. Would the fourth one turn up though?

“Oh, thank you! Likewise, it’s great to meet you too!” Chizu replied genuinely.

“I’m glad the other applicants admitted through special recommendations are in this class, too. When I heard there were only four I didn’t think the odds would be in my favor to meet the others!” She admitted, as if she had read Chizu’s mind.

“Yeah...kinda crazy, right?”

The girl smiled again before looking over at the group at the front. “Do you want to go meet the other girls with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Chizu agreed, finally feeling at ease.

She went with her new friend, Yaoyorozu, over to meet the other women in the class. They were a minority compared to the number of boys in the class, but to Chizu that just meant a few more future female pro heroes.

All the girls seemed really nice and cool. Ashido and Uraraka were really sweet and bubbly. Yaoyorozu was also very nice, but extremely intelligent as well. Chizu didn’t remember her much from the exam but she guessed that her quirk had something to do with knowledge. Tsuyu or ‘Tsu’ as she liked to be called, seemed very level-headed and calm and Jiro seemed like she had a cool sense of style or music taste, given that her earlobes extended into headphone jacks.

Chizu was already in awe of her female classmates and had forgotten about her less than desirable, first impression with Todoroki.

“I think this year’s going to be great! I’m honored to be in a class with such talented others,” Yaoyorozu declared.

“Yeah, I think so too! I haven’t met everyone yet, but I’m so excited!” Uraraka beamed.

“If you’re looking to make friends, you might as well leave now.”

A brooding, unfamiliar voice emerged, coming from outside the classroom. The group closer to the entryway peeked outside, one of them being Midoriya, who screeched at what he saw.

A man in a yellow sleeping bag suddenly appeared at the entryway. He shed the sleeping bag to reveal the rest of himself. Was this guy...supposed to be their teacher?

“Welcome to the UA Hero Course.”

Everyone automatically took their seats as he approached the podium at the front of the classroom.

“My name is Shota Aizawa, and I’m going to be your homeroom teacher.”

His long dark hair covered most of his face and if it wasn’t covered by his hair, his large scarf would make up the rest. Chizu was sitting all the way at the back of the classroom but she could tell by his monotonous voice and half-lidded, unamused expression that he wasn’t going to be giving out good marks left and right.

“Starting today, you are all heroes in training. And instead of going through a normal orientation, I’m going to evaluate all your quirks with an apprehension test,” He explained, handing out packages of clothing, which Chizu recognized as a gym uniform.

“Everyone put these on and meet out in the PE fields.”

Chizu stood with the rest of her classmates out on the fields by the school, all matching in their blue, red, and white uniforms, the top and bottom forming a ‘UA’ design on the front. She chose a spot behind Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida as Mr. Aizawa stood before them, explaining the process of the test.

“Today you will go through the quirk apprehension test. This test will allow you to show off your abilities so I can gauge your potential as future heroes. Since you weren’t allowed to use your quirks in middle school, your performance should be even better than if you completed this test normally.”

“Bakugo,” he singles out the blond. “What was your furthest throwing distance in middle school?”

“Heh. My best was 64 meters,” he replies in a cocky voice.

Mr. Aizawa holds out a ball to him. “Throw it using your quirk.”

“Easy enough,” Bakugo snickers, taking the ball from him and stepping into a boundary circle. He winds up his arm a few times to warm up before pulling it back.

“DIE!”

He yelled as he launched the ball with a huge explosion coming from the palm of his hand. Everyone watched in awe as the ball soared into the sky, disappearing into the clouds. Chizu didn’t really like the attitude of this Bakugo guy so far, but she had to admit that his explosion quirk was pretty impressive.

Mr. Aizawa checked a device which measured Bakugo’s throw.

“That’s 705.2 meters.”

“Your quirk improves your performance, but that performance can only be maintained by how much control you have of your quirk,” Mr. Aizawa explained as Bakugo retreated back to the group, basking in his classmates’ reactions.

Everyone began chattering, distracted with being excited over participating in these tests.

“We get to use our quirks?! This is going to be so fun!” Uraraka beamed.

“Yes, this will be a great opportunity to show what we can do,” Iida commented.

Chizu mentally agreed with Iida but also was interested to see the others’ quirks. Not to size herself up against anyone, but just because she was genuinely curious.

“Don’t get excited,” Mr. Aizawa continued, effectively shutting everyone down. “I will be keeping track of each of your scores at each test. At the end, you will be ranked from best to worst. The person who comes in last...will be expelled.”

The mood of the group shifted drastically, many people gasping in shock. Midoriya let out a screech of terror while Uraraka spoke her mind against Mr. Aizawa’s casual caveat.

“But that’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair,” Mr. Aizawa retorted, malice in his bloodshot eyes. “And as heroes, it’s your job to combat that unfairness. Now let’s get started.”

Chizu wasn’t especially nervous about her performance, as her training for the entrance exam mostly focused on agility, flexibility, and strength, like her mother would do with her when Chizu would train with her. Most of the tests had something to do with physical fitness, so she was pretty confident. She also had good basic control of her quirk for it to be versatile enough for each test.

But Chizu was more interested in each of her classmates’ performances. The range of the types of powers in the class was pretty diverse and it was impressive as to how everyone adapted their quirks to the test. But it seemed like there were one or two people who particularly shined in a specific test which was designed for their quirk, like Iida’s engine power, which had the fastest time in the 50-meter dash.

Although, one person became a spectacle in terms of showing off his power. Midoriya completed every test normally, leaving Chizu and probably others to wonder why. She noticed that he was visibly anxious about taking the test once Mr. Aizawa said someone would be expelled. Maybe he was letting the pressure get to him, and his quirk would hurt his performance more than help.

But didn’t that spiky red haired kid mention that Midoriya beat a huge obstacle at the entrance exam with one hit?

Something just doesn’t add up.

They arrived at the ball throwing station, in which they had to throw a ball as far as they could using their quirks, just like Bakugo had done at the beginning. Uraraka by far had made this her test, her throwing distance maxing out at infinity meters. Maybe one day someone will find that ball...in space.

Midoriya was up next, still looking very anxious but also pensive about what he should do. Like if he should use his power or not. Meanwhile, Bakugo seemed to be keeping a very close eye on Midoriya and his performance.

“You don’t really think he has a quirk, do you?” He questioned Iida.

“What? Of course he does, he has to!”

Bakugo bared his teeth while watching Midoriya, leaving Chizu to question what kind of past relationship these two had before UA. She turned her attention back to Midoriya, who was getting ready to throw his pitch. His throwing arm began to turn red and glow with yellow all through the muscles in his arm. He began to pull his arm back, building power to throw when Mr. Aizawa stepped in, his scarf and hair suddenly coming alive.

Midoriya’s arm stopped glowing, dropping the ball as he was now caught by Mr. Aizawa’s scarf. Midoriya looked terrified as he looked up to his captor.

“I erased your quirk,” Mr. Aizawa explained.

“Y-You’re….Eraser Head?!”

Everyone began murmuring again about the revelation. Chizu had heard of him before, yes. He was a Pro Hero whose quirk could erase quirks, but to be honest she didn’t understand how that would help him fight off villains. He seemed pretty well versed with his scarf, though.

“I watched you during the entrance exam, Midoriya,” seethed Mr. Aizawa, pulling the trembling kid closer by his scarf. “You severely injure yourself after using your power...what good are you if you’re useless after one hit?! You don’t belong here.”

What the hell was this kid’s quirk? So far, it sounds powerful but to physically injure yourself to use it? Chizu wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It also wasn’t fair that Mr. Aizawa was putting him on the spot in front of everyone like that. Everyone here was chosen to come to UA for a reason and clearly this guy was no different. But then again, Mr. Aizawa made sure to make his stance on ‘fairness’ very apparent on the first day.

Everyone else froze with anticipation as Mr. Aizawa continued scolding Midoriya. However, Bakugo seemed to be getting a kick out of watching the scene in front of him, hearing him laugh under his breath.

“Heh, heh. Dumb Deku.”

Mr. Aizawa let him go, his hair returning to its original position. He forced Midoriya him back to the boundary circle, leaving the green haired kid dumbstruck at what just happened.

“I restored your quirk. Go ahead.”

Midoriya picked up the ball, looking at it for what felt like a while. Chizu couldn’t imagine what was going through his head right now. But surely if he could pass the entrance exam, he could get through this too.

She and the rest of the class observed with anticipation as he held onto his right wrist with his left hand, as if to stabilize it as he pulled back his arm. His arm wasn’t glowing anymore, but it looked like one of his fingers began to glow. It seemed like he was focusing his power into only his finger as he swung his arm, that finger doing the rest of the work by propelling the ball into the air. Everyone watched as the ball soared, even Bakugo looked shocked.

“He….HAS A QUIRK?!!!?”

Chizu glanced back at Midoriya as continued to hold onto his wrist, one of his fingers now swollen and colored a gruesome purple. That didn’t look good.

Mr. Aizawa measured the distance. “705.3 meters.”

Bakugo snapped. “YOU DAMN NERD, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

The angry blond charged forward, his palms spitting out small explosions. This kid seemed to have more issues with Midoriya than Chizu would’ve guessed.

Midoriya instantly cowered away but peeked up when the impact never came. Mr. Aizawa’s hair shot up again, his eyes glowing red as his scarf pulled Bakugo away from Midoriya.

“What’s...your scarf... made of,” grunted Bakugo, struggling against the material, helpless with his quirk being erased.

“It’s a capture weapon made out of alloy mixed with carbon nanoparticles,” he explained. “You’re wasting my time.”

He released Bakugo, who was still visibly enraged, from his binds. “And don’t make me use my quirk too much; it gives me dry eye.”

Midoriya returned to the rest of the group, standing on the other side of Iida, who blocked him from Bakugo’s continued rage. However, that didn’t allow Midoriya to completely ignore the angry blond, trembling at just the sound of his vengeful yelling.

“You’ve been lying all this time, Deku!! And I’m gonna make you PAY!”

Chizu could not take her eyes off their interactions, not noticing that it was her turn to throw.

“Ryuzaki, let’s go.”

Chizu turned her attention back to Mr. Aizawa, who looked impatient by her distracted demeanor. She apologized before walking over and grabbing a new ball from him, moving to take her place in the circle.

Bakugo always managed to stand out the most with his rather ‘explosive’ aptitude at each test. But Chizu was able to match his ability in a more subtle way. She only wished that she could use the move that she had always thought about trying but never actually put into practice. It would certainly launch the ball far, but would take up too much of her energy. Not to mention that she had never actually done it before. Now was not the best time, especially after what Mr. Aizawa said to Midoriya. She would have to opt for something much simpler but would get the job done, like Midoriya had demonstrated.

She took a few deep breaths while swinging her arms, loosening up the muscles, while blackish-purple, flame-like energy began to emanate from her hands. She let the ball be taken in by her quirk, pulling her arm back while inhaling deeply one last time before exhaling with a grunt, sending the ball off her hands with force of the flames, much like Bakugo did with his explosions.

The ball flew far, disappearing into the sky like the rest, never to be seen again.

“705.3 meters,” Mr. Aizawa announced.

Chizu smiled, silently praising herself, while Bakugo did not seem too happy. Everything seemed to piss this guy off.

“GET YOUR OWN MOVE, YOU DAMN EXTRA!”

“Well...it’s not like I can just change my quirk,” Chizu replied earnestly.

“WELL LEMME CHANGE IT FOR YA.”

“Kacchan calm down!” Midoriya shielded Bakugo from attacking her. “Sorry, sorry, he’s just not great when it comes to not being the best.”

“GET OUT OF MY WAY DEKU!”

“Bakugo! I won’t tell you again,” scolded Mr. Aizawa.

Chizu ignored him while her other classmates praised her.

“Wow, that was so cool!” complimented Uraraka.

“Thanks! Not as cool as what you did, though” Chizu remarked. “That ball’s probably still floating somewhere!”

“Yeah...I didn’t think that would actually work,” she replied, her cheeks getting slightly rosier.

“Your power is so impressive, Ryuzaki!” Yaoyorozu interjected.

“Well, so is yours!” Chizu pointed out. “You have to know all those molecular structures and think quickly about what you’re going to make.”

“Oh, it just takes studying, that’s all!” she replied modestly, waving Chizu off.

The moment of relief was hitting Chizu, giving her the chance to really breathe. She was going to be fine and her journey at UA was going to be nothing but rewarding for her.

But at the moment, she felt someone’s eyes on her again.

“Todoroki. Your turn.”

Footsteps came up, and she looked up to see him passing by her, shooting an icy expression right at her eyes. She honestly forgot that he was even there, as he opted to stand at the back of the group.

After she would complete a test in which she relied more on her quirk, she’d catch him staring at her. More like glaring, but in his own way. It wasn’t full of malice or rage, but it definitely wasn’t friendly. He did say that he wasn’t there to make friends, and he meant it.

He went last on every individual test or would complete one that called for partners by himself. During the sit-up test, they had to be paired up, with one person holding the other’s feet while they did their sit-ups. Todoroki simply used his ice quirk to freeze his feet to the ground. Chizu knew he had a second quirk, something to do with heat, but it seemed he only used it when he had to and never at full power, like when cleaning up his ice. The exact range of his abilities were still a mystery, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

Overall, he mostly minded his own business. It was only the first day, he’s probably just slow to warm up. And if that was the case, Chizu didn’t blame him with people like Bakugo in the class.

After the last test was done, Mr. Aizawa had no mercy in showing everyone where they ranked, pulling up the final results on a hologram screen. Fortunately, Chizu didn’t have to look far to find her name:

Momo Yaoyorozu

Shoto Todoroki

Chizu Ryuzaki

Katsuki Bakugo

Tenya Iida

Fumikage Tokoyami

Mezo Shoji

Mashirao Ojiro

Eijiro Kirishima

Mina Ashido

Ochaco Uraraka

Koji Koda

Rikido Sato

Tsuyu Asui

Yuga Aoyama

Hanta Sero

Denki Kaminari

Kyoka Jiro

Minoru Mineta

Izuku Midoriya

Sighs of relief echoed throughout the group, some people more relieved than others. Bakugo, of course, was not too pleased. Not only with the fact that he wasn’t in the top three but also by way that Chizu was ahead of him.

“LISTEN HERE SHIT FOR FLAMES,” he yelled, stomping over to her. “THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU’RE AHEAD OF ME IS BECAUSE YOU COPIED ME. IF WE FOUGHT FOR REAL I KNOW I’D WIN FOR SURE, YOU GOT THAT?”

Chizu could only humor him, smiling. “I’d love to see it, Bakugo.”

“DON’T SMILE AT ME, I WILL KILL YOU!”

“Give it a rest, man. Just be happy you’re in the top five,” the boy with the spiky red hair assured, patting Bakugo’s shoulder in praise.

“Well at least you’re in the top 10, Kirishima! I barely made it!” another blond boy commented.

Chizu turned her attention back to the results, not surprised by the two people above her. Yaoyorozu was seemingly unmatched so far with her ability to make anything she needed in that time and place. And Todoroki...that was pretty self explanatory. It was impressive that he was still very high up yet only used half his power to achieve that. Impressive to some but insulting to others, maybe. But this was only motivation for everyone to work hard and focus on improving their own skills. Everyone except for…

Poor Midoriya, who came in dead last, which meant today was not only his first but last day at UA. Chizu felt bad for him as he cowered behind everyone else in the group, seemingly letting the news sink in as discreetly as he could. It seemed like he tried his hardest to make do with what he could, even when people like Bakugo and even Mr. Aizawa were nothing but doubtful and discouraging. It was quite admirable...something that a real hero would do.

“Don’t be too proud if you’re at the top,” Mr. Aizawa interjected. “You’ve got just as much training as the rest of the group. And as for the rest of you, you’ll need to work harder than ever if you want to be at the top of this list.”

He really didn’t spare much praise for anyone, huh?

“Also...no one is expelled.”

The entire class gasped while Midoriya looked like he was about to pass out from stress.

“Then why did you tell us that someone would be expelled?” Tsu questioned, asking what was on probably everyone’s mind.

“That was just to get you to not hold back,” Mr. Aizawa replied with a sadistic smile.

Dumbstruck didn’t even begin to describe the reactions throughout the group. Well, at least he chose not to expel anyone….today.

“Which is what you should be doing from here on out,” he continued. “You’re here to go plus ultra and nothing less.”

“YEAH!”

“Class dismissed.”

Chizu returned back to the school with the rest of the class to change out of their gym clothes before heading back to the classroom to retrieve their belongings. It was only the first day for the first years, meaning that they only had orientation that day and their actual classes would start tomorrow.

She felt pretty good about her performance during the quirk test. She was genuinely happy to rank third in the class but also would’ve been happy to be in any position. Maybe not last like Midoriya but only because Mr. Aizawa deceptively put the pressure on thick.

But being at the top isn’t everything, at least to Chizu. Because when you’re the best, where do you go after that? What else is there to achieve? It only gets harder because at that point, you have to maintain your spot. People will only see you as a target to hit, a pawn to knock down, whether you want them to or not. She often wondered how a hero like All Might could handle that pressure, being the number one hero. Maybe she would get the chance to ask him since he’s teaching at UA now. Her mother always said there’s a reason he’s number one and why he’s maintained it for so long.

And it’s not because he’s the strongest or the fastest, or because he saves the most civilians, and it’s not because his identity is held under lock and key. If you ask someone why All Might is their favorite hero, they might mention one of those three, or something similar. But those reasons all come together for something bigger:

He’s more than a hero. He’s an inspiration, a keystore for the hero society. And that’s why no one will ever take his spot.

Someone like Bakugo could probably only do that in their dreams. He’s got the passion though, Chizu could give him that.

But he should watch out, otherwise someone like Shoto Todoroki might make him freeze up when the time comes.

Chizu couldn’t help but let her mind drift to him. She just couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his expressions towards her. He was trying to silently tell her something. Was he jealous or something? But how could he be? He literally placed above her in the quirk test results. If anything, Chizu should be jealous but she only feels confused and slightly paranoid. He was very quiet and very observant from the way he was looking at her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t let him get to her...

She couldn’t afford a repeat of middle school. More importantly, her father couldn’t afford it. She wanted to show him that she could attend a national high school where she would achieve her goals of becoming the best hero she could be.

Chizu returned to the classroom to grab her bag, observing the empty desk next to her. Todoroki must’ve already left for the day. Alone, most likely.

And it looks like she would be leaving alone too, most of the other desks empty as well.

As she walked towards the entrance of the school, she contemplated talking to Todoroki. But what would she even say to him? ‘Hey why do you keep looking at me like that?’

No, she needed to remain calm and unbothered. She took a deep breath, exhaling as she exited through the front doors of the school.

“Oh, Ryuzaki!”

She turned to see Yaoyorozu coming over to her with Jiro, Tsu and Ashido in tow.

“We thought we missed you! Would you like to walk with us?” she proposed, her voice as sweet as when she first spoke to Chizu earlier that day.

Chizu grinned at her. Looks like she wasn’t going to be alone. Funny how things can turn around like that.

“Sure, thanks.”

She joined the rest of the girls and they began walking down the long path that led to the school.

“You guys can call me Chizu, by the way, I really don’t mind it,” she offered, never having been one for formalities. “Where’s Uraraka?”

“She’s waiting with Iida until Midoriya’s finger is healed,” Tsu replied.

Chizu nodded, not needing to ask any further. Although Ashido had no problem carrying a conversation.

“Ohmygosh, did you guys see how Mr. Aizawa was talking to him earlier? Super harsh!”

The rest of the group agreed, including Chizu. Yaoyorozu agreed as well, but continued with a qualifying explanation.

“Yes, it was indeed very unsettling and rather unnecessary to do in front of the whole class. However, one must accept their flaws before they can improve. We all have our shortcomings, and accepting them is only the first step to becoming the heroes we want to be.”

And that’s why she’s currently number one in the class.

The girls continued to chat amongst themselves as they walked, mostly about how they felt about the first day and what they expected for the rest of the year. They neared the end of the road to the school, an intersection coming up ahead. There was another student sitting on a bench on the side who looked all too familiar to Chizu.

“Ohhhhh guys, shhh,” Ashido spoke in a hushed tone. “He’s so cute, I love his hair!”

“His quirk’s pretty impressive as well,” Tsu commented.

“You should’ve seen him at the special entrance exam. He seems to have a very admirable drive,” Yaoyoruzu agreed.

Chizu stood on the side for this topic as they continued to quietly talk about him. They quieted completely once they began to pass by him, but Chizu couldn’t be more aware of his presence, turning her full attention towards him.

Todoroki sat as silent as ever, looking down at the screen of his phone. Chizu couldn’t help but keep her eyes on him as they got as close as possible to him. She wasn’t very discreet about it, but then again, he hadn’t been very stealthy about looking at her either.

So of course he looked up from his phone to find her eyes on him.

She felt a pang to her heart upon catching his eyes, one gray and one teal, scar and all. But she couldn’t look away. There was something different about his expression. Compared to earlier today, his eyes were soft but... sad? She tried to spare him a small, apologetic grin before turning her attention back to walk with the other girls.

Little did she know, his eyes followed the group as they walked away.

Ashido went nuts over what had transpired, shaking Chizu by the shoulder, with excited declarations of his liking to her. Chizu merely brushed it off in saying that she should’ve left him alone. But really, she was more confused about this guy than before. His emotions were all stored in his eyes, but why did he seem so sullen? She wasn’t about to pry into his personal affairs but she had to admit her intrigue.

Who are you, Shoto Todoroki?

a/n: welcome everyone to my new series!! i know it’s different from my usual writing but i’m so excited bc this oc has been in my head for a min. if u haven’t noticed i’ve been into anime/manga series recently so i thought i’d try to expand on my blog a little bit, hope u don’t mind! but if you’re only here for tom and friends, that’s okay! dont worry i have other things planned that’ll i’ll be sharing VERY soon so stay tuned.

but anyway how does everyone like this series so far?? it’s going to follow the anime/manga arcs but ofc i’ll be changing some stuff here and there bc this is a todoroki luv story and chizu has to get in there somewhere yeknow. also there will be less but longer parts than i normally write which is something i’d like to challenge myself to do as well as try to portray more complex characters as accurately as possible in a romance context. but anyway hope you enjoyed, add yourself to the taglist if you wanna see more!!

for some reason i’m always super nervous when i post a new series, this one especially since it’s not my usual stuff so pls PLS interact/leave feedback if you’re able!! there’s a lot of questions that need to be answered but i’m particularly curious to know if anyone has ideas about chizus quirk or why shoto seems to not like her....lemme know..

ok i’m done thanks for reading~~

be a hero for chapter 0 (feedback much appreciated)

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