#it's not HATEFUL to say ''here is where the ideology has gone off course in the past. here are the bad things that happened''

[weepylucifer]

Truly do not understand where people get these takes from. From what i've seen, the communist quest is the kindest to Harry by far

[hamliet]

Dabi’s Missing Heart

So I’ve been seeing two main responses to Dabi’s character as portrayed in BNHA 292, both of which I feel touch on a very surface understanding of his character and role in the story despite seeming like opposite takes.  

Take #1: 

Dabi is an unfeeling monster created to show the redeemability of Shigaraki and Enji in contrast with his true eeeevil villainy! He will never be redeemed! 

Take #2: 

Dabi is a sweet softy who did nothing wrong! He will never be redeemed because of this chapter which is so out-of-character! 

Note how they both have the same endpoint. I’m not actually gonna address the redemption question much because I can’t fathom what this panel foreshadows if not Touya’s salvation (alive): 

I’m not looking to debate this either; I’m just putting it here because I know it’ll come up if I don’t.

Instead, I wanna address Dabi’s character. He’s my favorite, and I’ve been asked a few different times whether I enjoy him as a villain or as an uwu poor baby, and my answer is always both. 

Dabi is a villain. This chapter’s rampage is, in my opinion, not remotely out of character for him. But neither is it the summation of his character, and he surely is not meant to make Enji look good by comparison. 

So, who is Dabi? 

Dabi is kind of a flaming jerk, and that’s why I like him. He’s an abuse victim who gets to be angry and crass and sharp. He pushes people away because he doesn’t want to open up to them and get burned (heh). He’s just like Shouto in that, except with a dose of murder. 

Believe it or not, this is a very realistic response to abuse, and very common too. It’s good to see that representation. If the writing was indeed just “he’s bad get rid of him,” well, that would of course be a terrible representation. But seeing a mean victim get redeemed? Now that’s some good sh*t I’m here for. 

If you want a sweethearted, misunderstood soft victim, there is one in MHA, and that’s Shigaraki. Dabi is not these things, but that does not mean he’s not a victim or that he’s somehow an unfeeling monster.

You see, Shigaraki is a heart character. Dabi’s the mind. (Heart and mind characters are a literary pattern that is utilized in literature across the globe; it’s not an eastern/western cultural thing. It has its roots in alchemy.) The problem is that you can’t have a heart without a mind nor a mind without a heart. If you lack one, you’re missing half the picture, and you won’t accomplish anything. 

We see this with Shigaraki in his quest to look for ideals, something to believe in, purpose to justify/enable acting on his feelings/emotions. 

Dabi, in contrast, has conviction and ideals, but eschews any kind of personal connection and care. 

So, both Shigaraki and Dabi struggle to unite heart and mind--but they need to do precisely this. 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki expressly envisions both Dabi and Himiko when musing on what his purpose is. 

Yet Shigaraki is able to unite more easily with Himiko as opposed to Dabi because Himiko is also a heart character. She claims to be motivated by extreme empathy that warps around to become a lack thereof (wanting to be who she loves).

Shigaraki’s motivations are basically revenge for hero society not saving him--which encompasses both a deep internal and external (societal) need for empathy and a need for better ideals. Shigaraki needs Himiko and Dabi. They’re a trio, and all of them need each other to grow. But Himiko, being similarly driven expressly by emotions, is easier for Shigaraki to understand and work with. 

The irony is that Dabi is actually a very, very emotional character as well. But what he does (as is typical for a mind character) is repress them, compartmentalize, dissociate. He constantly pushes people away, yet admits privately, to himself, that he’s primarily (and paradoxically) motivated by family. This is emotional, yet Dabi claims he “overthought” and, according to other translations, “snapped” can be actually be read as “went crazy” as a result over overthinking (note: both are mind allusions). 

Dabi repressing who he is--Todoroki Touya--is symbolic of him repressing his emotional side, because again, family and emotions are tied together for his character. Now his identity is acknowledged, and Dabi claims to be losing his mind (again), claims that he can’t feel, and yet is completely consumed by emotions. Like, does anyone think he’s being methodical and calculating this chapter? 

It’s not just negative emotions (rage, hate) that drive Dabi in response to his family. His seeking belonging and emotional connection is present even in a chapter where he tries to murder two members of his family and laughs off the risk to the life of another. 

See, Dabi first asked Shouto to validate his pain:

But like, given the circumstances, of course Shouto doesn’t really respond well. How Shouto responds is this: 

Shouto’s words are triggering. And keep in mind I am not blaming Shouto: he’s in shock and he’s a kid. I’m merely trying to explain how it likely comes across to Dabi. 

You’re crazy. Your feelings don’t matter. You don’t really care about Natsuo! You’re a villain and that’s ALL you are. Not a brother or abuse survivor. Just a villain. 

So, uh, yeah, Dabi then retreats back to being unable to feel, dissociating as has always been his coping mechanism. But that’s not all: Dabi’s been repressing for so long that of course he’s gonna go a little insane in response to the dismissal of everything he’s trying to point out. Why wouldn’t he? His family dismissed his pain back then and now again, and so, without that heart, without those emotions, principle is all Dabi has. This has been present since long before Stain’s ideology came into his life: 

Now, he answers this question of existence through Stain’s ideology.  Purpose is all he has, and to him, Shouto and Best Jeanist are dismissing that too. Why are they dismissing it? Best Jeanist dismisses him for an ideal: the overall good of hero society. Shouto has a mixture of this ideal and also like, genuine shock and pain. 

Back to Dabi. Dabi’s summation of himself and his purpose is incorrect and harmful to himself and others. I’m not excusing him or justifying, just explaining. It’s a tragic reflection of what Endeavor raised both Touya and Shouto to be (and thereby ironic that BJ uses an ideal to dismiss him): 

Instead of being raised to be the symbol of hero society--as Endeavor intended--he exists to destroy it. The root is the same: Dabi assumes he exists for hero society, as a tool. He dehumanizes himself, hence why his quirk physically harms him (which also fits his almost religious zeal for Stain’s ideology). But it is not all Dabi is. He’s not a tool, he’s a person, but to acknowledge he’s a person involves acknowledging his heart/emotional desires, and that gets to my next point.

Dabi’s not a reliable narrator about himself. At all. I’ve written about Dabi and dissociation before. So let’s look at Dabi’s devotion to his ideals, the ideals he puts above people and claims he only cares about... because there are moments where Dabi goes against those ideals. 

For one example, Dabi’s gone against those ideals when he’s allowed his personal need for revenge (an emotional/heart motivation) to overcome his longterm plan. Like, he was fully about to get himself killed here, even though that would likely mean no one would know the corruption of the Todoroki family and hero society, just for the chance to prove to his father that he hurt him. 

In addition, I’ve talked before about how Dabi’s the only character in the entire damn manga to comment that maybe using child soldiers is not okay. While it’s not explicitly stated, it’s reasonable to conclude that Dabi considers the abuse of children in hero training a sin of hero society that ought to be purged (hence, part of his ideals). 

That said, I have also pointed out that Dabi has gone after children in the past when it benefits his mission (Bakugou would like a word). So let’s look at four examples of Dabi and his principles concerning kids--since, after all, he claims to be motivated by heroes who hurt kids. 

Firstly, Dabi’s “save the cat” when he spared Aoyama. 

Why did he spare Aoyama? We can only speculate, but it seems quite likely there are two reasons: 1) hurting Aoyama would not add anything to his overall goal of downing hero society, and 2) a terrified, cowering kid might just have been a teeny bit familiar to Dabi. Here, his ideals--destroying hero society--either take a backseat to a reflection of his personal pain (and)/or his ideal of not abusing kids directly contradicted his ideal of bringing down hero society. But the important part is that in this instance, Dabi chose mercy and the goal of bringing down hero society was jeopardized as a result. 

So then why did he attack Tokoyami, Nejire, and Shouto this arc? Well, Dabi does things he knows are wrong for the sake of accomplishing his overall purpose. He does things he knows hurt himself for this purpose. This isn’t new. If he can’t be acknowledged, can’t exist as a person with emotions, then he at least will ensure he still has a purpose.  

In addition, let’s look at what sets Dabi off in all of these instances. (Again, this isn’t me saying “well actually Dabi’s justified.” He’s not. I’m just pointing to what’s in the text to explain the machinations beyond “bad guy do bad.”)

Dabi tries to reason with Tokoyami, pointing out that Twice was doing essentially what Tokoyami is doing: trying to save his friend(s), but Tokoyami doesn’t listen (also again: not me saying Tokoyami should have listened--realistically, in this situation, it makes sense Tokoyami trusted his mentor!)

Only after his reasoning was rejected did Dabi go to flames mode. He could have just let Tokoyami save Hawks, but instead he really wanted to kill Hawks and that overrode his other principles. Was this just because of his furthering his goal--killing the #2 hero would help destroy hero society--or because of a sense of personal revenge for Twice? That’s open for interpretation (in my opinion, it’s likely a mixture, because again, it tends to intertwine more than Dabi likes to think it does). His principles and/or emotions are brushed aside, and Dabi Does Not Like That. 

Dabi does this again with Shouto this chapter, asking him where he stands on their family issues, and gets brushed aside, and then Shouto goes into his rage mode and Dabi responds. Again, not saying Shouto is rational here or that he should side with Dabi’s murderous plan, but like, his words really don’t come across well to Dabi. 

Dabi going after Shouto after explaining things, asking Shouto for help, and then having his pain dismissed is pretty much a repeat of Tokoyami. When Dabi’s pain is dismissed, he says fine, let’s aim for the highest principle possible: making Stain’s will a reality, and damn any emotional ties. 

Dabi’s obsession with ideals, you might say, is a smokescreen to cover his own pain. Far from feeling nothing, he feels very deeply. (I promise I’m getting to Nejire.) 

So what does this indicate? Well, that Dabi does have a heart and a conscience. But when he lets his heart act, when his heart reaches out, he gets burned. His heart jeopardizes his overall purpose, so he most often dissociates himself from it. But by pretending he doesn’t have a heart, he dehumanizes himself, and he projects that dehumanization onto others (see: seeing Shouto as an extension of Endeavor, when that’s actually the precise image Shouto is trying to shed). 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki has been unconscious during the entire confrontation with Endeavor, nor is it a coincidence that Himiko has been MIA. But, Shigaraki wakes up a bit this chapter not only when hearing Dabi spout about how hero society needs to burn, an ideal/the thing Shigaraki lacks, and through a less important but still-ideal-driven character in Spinner asking him to accomplish his supposed ideal of destruction, but when Dabi saves Shigaraki and Spinner. 

Dabi doesn’t burn Nejire for lols (not that this makes it better because it doesn’t) or even for ideals. He burns her to save Shigaraki and Spinner, because they are his links to full humanity right now. 

(Again, this is also dissociation and projection: Endeavor did this! No, Dabi, you did. You’re perpetuating violence against kids rather than stopping it.)

But anyways, when Dabi calls upon heart, Shigaraki wakes. He lends Gigantomachia and thereby Dabi and the league power. 

Dabi can only grow and actually accomplish anything related to his ideals (fixing hero society) through accepting a heart--even though that will likely mean some painful surgery to shift his ideals to accommodate said heart, because pure ideals don’t leave much room for humanity. He needs to feel to actually change anything, because right now he’s just making things worse (hence, the need for saving and redemption).

I know the League aren’t the protagonists of the serIes, but their complaints aren’t exactly incorrect either (if anything they’re almost a little too valid). But through growing together, Dabi, Shigaraki, and Himiko might actually be able to accomplish something, and get themselves in a place where they can be reached and saved by Shouto, Deku, and Ochaco. Because to be saved, the kids will have to acknowledge the villains’ pain and complaints, and do something about it. 

[embermc]

c!Quackity's form of manipulation is interesting because, although he is definitely lying and purposefully being deceitful, and although he is very much being extremely manipulative by preying on people's insecurities and using what cuts the most deep to them in order to get them to do what he wants, there's also this sense that you get that, at least on some level, c!Quackity genuinely believes the general themes and meanings of what he is saying and trying to convince others of to be true.

I think it ultimately stems from the idea that a lot of c!Quackity's manipulation and convincing attempts he's made in the past few streams are absolutely loaded with self-projection. He, whether it is subconsciously or not, is not only choosing the members of Las Nevadas due to their skill set, what they can provide for him, or because they're currently in a lost, weakened mental state (although those all are a large part of it). In each of the planned additions we've seen so far (Foolish, Purpled, and Fundy), there has been a sense of himself, or an old version of himself, that c!Quackity has noticed in each of them, or at least projected onto them. Each of them represent an old ideal or version of Quackity, something that is very deep-cutting and central to his current philosophies and behavior. And in his attempts to convince them to join Las Nevadas, while he was also being purposefully deceitful, manipulative, and was weaponizing their insecurities, there was also this underlying sense that c!Quackity himself was lashing out, that he was trying to break through to them with what he believes is true due to his past experiences, and in doing so, was forcefully projecting a lot of his own insecurities, both past and present, onto them.

Take c!Foolish, for example. To c!Quackity, yes, he wants to use c!Foolish for his power and weaponize him, but c!Foolish is also representative of a former version of himself. A version that wholeheartedly believed in peace, believed in diplomatic relations in politics and was optimistic about improving the world around him through nonviolence, negotiation, friendships, and love. But now, c!Quackity is adamant about taking power by force, using any means necessary, however unethical and morally dark they may be. He doesn't believe that peace and diplomacy can work anymore, and believes that Foolish is, well, foolish, for thinking they can. c!Quackity believes it is a fruitless venture to pursue the betterment of the world through peace, diplomatic relations, and waiting in hope for something to go right. This is something he wholeheartedly believes now, and is trying to instill that belief in c!Foolish (albeit, through morally corrupt and pretty deceitful ways). c!Quackity looks back on that old, idealistic version of himself and sees wasted potential. He sees plans that never worked, philosophies that were flimsy and bound to fail, and ideas that never paid off. He sees his old self a fool. That is partially why, when faced with this person with such similar ideals and beliefs to his old self, c!Quackity can't do anything but openly experience frustration, and a little bit of disappointment and disgust. (Continuation under cut).

And then there's c!Purpled. In his conversations with c!Purpled, Quackity emphasizes the fact that Purpled has no legacy left. Everything he has is gone, he has nothing for people to remember him for, so he and his contributions don't matter. And c!Quackity then chalks this all up to be the fault of not only Purpled himself, but of the people, the powerful people and figures of authority, that have reduced him to being nothing and have overlooked him, used him. A lot of this speech is definitely c!Quackity being morally dubious in his attempts to recruit Purpled, but there was also this underlying sense of desperation in this scene, of growing emotion and frustration...specifically on Quackity's end. I want to talk about this quote in particular: "You will be a big part of history. Finally, you won't be used by shit people like Dream, or anyone else who has used you for your abilities, and for your skills, and for anything you've ever done on this server." This is a clear sign of projection, as a lot of this quote applies to c!Quackity far more than it applies to c!Purpled (although it can apply to Purpled as well.) Quackity has always felt undermined and used by those above him, whether it be Dream, Schlatt, or anyone else. He's always hated those who he views as tyrants and those who have manipulated or used him to their own benefit. I particularly remember a scene where Quackity, back in the Manberg era, was fuming over the fact that he felt that c!Schlatt was using him, playing him for a fool and using him for his political abilities.

There's also the fact that, due to him constantly being undermined by those above him, nearly every single one of Quackity's plans or ideas have been rejected, or have catastrophically failed. He was left with nothing. This is particularly clear during his pre-Doomsday stream, when Quackity reflects on how so many of his plans have failed, and was left to wonder if anything, and anything he's done for L'manberg, really even matters. Having his plans constantly foiled and being constantly undermined and "used" by those above him with more power, by "shit people," left him hopeless, with a sense of having nothing left he truly had faith in. That is, until Las Nevadas. Not to mention, the idea of being "forgotten" is one that most likely rings true to Quackity, even if he won't admit it to himself, as he's still troubled over being supposedly "forgotten" by his fiances. So, in a way, that's another small example of, although c!Quackity was being purposefully manipulative towards c!Purpled and was weaponizing his insecurities against him, there was still present that deep-rooted idea that, at least on some level, Quackity believes a decent part of what he was saying to Purpled because his arguments were rooted in his beliefs and frustrations with being used and overlooked in the past, although they have become laced and corrupted by his manipulation attempts.

And lastly, there's c!Fundy. This is probably the most blatant example of c!Quackity partially, most likely unknowingly, slipping out of a manipulative mindset for a small while in order to project onto somebody he sees a similar past version of himself in, or reminds him of past qualities and experiences of himself. He brings up again, quite passionately, that idea of being constantly overlooked by people with more power than you, of being oppressed and being told what you can and can't do. Now, of course, he's also being manipulative and deceitful here, because Quackity knows full well that c!Fundy would be enticed by this argument and would be able to relate. He knows that Fundy had a thirst for recondition and a desire not to be oppressed, not to be told what he can and can't do, as well as to have someone give him admiration and affection. He uses this to his advantage, in order to craft a pitch that Fundy couldn't refuse. He even uses people that don't truly have much power, such as c!Tommy, as examples of people that has had power over he and Fundy in the past (although, it's possible that c!Quackity's trust issues have lead him to believe that to be true as well, but that's a different topic and only a theory).

Point being, Quackity is clearly being manipulative here, and he knows it. In all of these situations, there is a good chance that he knows he's not being morally right. He mentions it to c!Sam, making a joke that implies he knows he's not the "good guy."

However.

I do still believe that c!Quackity somewhat believes some of that pitch to Fundy himself, as well. Because he too, has really had similar situations as he describes Fundy having. He was overlooked and pushed around by Schlatt, told what he could and couldn't do. He was told what he could and couldn't do in the early days, when he wanted to join L'manberg. He was even foiled by Techno and Dream, used by Dream in particular, numerous times. He had to have an entire revolution in order to gain the right to declare independence for what was a tiny little hill.

A lot of what makes Quackity's manipulation and lies interesting is that, unlike others like c!Dream, his lies are laced with truth. When he manipulates someone, he doesn't usually just flat-out lie to them, and doesn't always just make stuff up. He takes their insecurities, accentuates them, and then uses them in order to attempt to manipulate the ideologies and motives of the person he's speaking to. And, as I've mentioned before, he projects. This makes it much easier for him to manipulate them, because he can connect to them and develop an understanding of their thought process. But it's also a way for him to subconsciously vent his trauma, his frustrations, and his insecurities.

Quackity is a character that doesn't speak about his emotions often, at least not anymore. To him, "there is no place for emotions in Las Nevadas." He doesn't want to get hurt, so he won't open up. So, in these manipulation attempts, attempts to use others, there's also this subconscious sense of Quackity taking his own frustrations, his own insecurities, and casting them onto somebody else as a way of venting and trying to find a solution to them. He speaks and rants about things that he partially believes are true, about violence over diplomacy, about being tired of being overlooked and used. From there, he can take these frustrations and make action out of them. Find a solution for the troubles and frustrations that now totally belong to the other person as well. This solution being the thing he sees as the solution for his own troubles: Las Nevadas. Because in reality, Las Nevadas isn't really the solution to any of the other people's problems. It's not the solution to Foolish's issues, or Purpled's issues, or Fundy's issues. But Quackity, in his desperation for a sense of his own agency, for a legacy, for an impact he can make on the world, sees it as the solution to his, and he wants that belief to be validated by seeing it as the solution to others' problems as well.

Now, of course Quackity, on some level deep down, knows that Las Nevadas isn't meant to help or heal the people he's recruiting. He does indeed partially want them for what they can offer him, their power, their skills, and so on. He is being manipulative in a lot of his words and actions because he knows he's using underhanded methods in order to recruit people that he can use. But, as I've stated before, Quackity has a tendency to think, at least on some level, that his actions are for the sake of ending oppression on others. He's hypocritical, in a way, and that's always been a part of his character, back since New L'manberg days at least. He's wanted power for himself and is willing to use people to do so, but also strongly believes that he's ending oppression and he's helping out those who are being "used" by tyrants. I think there's a similar situation here, although he's a lot more cynical and views himself as less of a hero now, and acknowledges that he's willing to use unjust methods and use others. He's slightly more self-aware of his misdeeds.

But he's still heavily projecting his own beliefs, insecurities, and ideals a lot, and I just find that interesting. It's a fascinating part of his character's thought process, because as I've stated before, he's aware that he's being manipulative, but his manipulation is still laced with partial truths, truths that he himself believes to an extent. c!Quackity is an incredibly interesting character, and his forms of convincing and manipulation reveal a lot of his inner thought process that he tends to prefer to keep hidden away, for his own sake.

[tomurasprincess]

Corruption Zone (Dabi x Reader)

Summary: You and your little group of surviving heroes are trying to make the best out of survival in a decaying city, torn apart by Shigaraki and his League of Villains. You’ve weathered many storms and many hero hunting villains, but as it turns out, the worst is still to come.

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Rating: E+ Warnings: Apocalypse AU. Dubcon, coercion, blackmail, mind break, major character deaths (I mean, hello apocalypse AU), yandere. Word Count: 8k+ Note: My entry for the BNHarem Discord collab! The theme this time around was apocalypse AU, and I had a lot of fun world building. I feel like I pushed myself out of my comfort zone with this one, so I hope you all enjoy it! The full masterlist can be found here, so make sure you check out the fics from all of the talented writers!

You sigh heavily as you glance around an old abandoned warehouse where you and your party are hiding out like rats in filth. You've been working on making the place habitable for you and your group, cleaning out some of the trash, unpacking what little supplies you have, and shoring up the place's defenses. It's not particularly hard work, but it's time-consuming and has left you exhausted.

But when you hear one of the doors open, all your exhaustion leaves you as you turn quickly on your heel to see who the intruder is. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see Shouto enter, fresh off a supply run. Your relief quickly turns to concern as you see that he's bleeding, and you rush over to check on him.

The fact that both Shouto and Katsuki were injured on a supply run is terrifying to you. They are your two most skilled fighters, and the ones doing the heavy lifting when it comes to protection. You merely help out as you can, acting as leader and support of your little band of fugitives. 

"What happened," you ask as you begin to check out the wounds. You realize you graze a particularly sensitive spot as Shouto hisses out a curse under his breath.

"There were no supplies or food at our usual spots. Bakugou decided to go deeper into villain territory to try to find something."

"And you just decided to go along with it," your voice comes out sharper than you mean, your concern for both of them showing through your anger. "We've discussed this, villain territory is too dangerous to just waltz right into."

"You know how he gets," Shouto gives a deep sigh. "And he hates the fact the group is so hungry."

"I know it's been a while since we've had real food, but it's not going to do us any good if you get yourselves killed. "Unfortunately, this is a massive understatement. The fact of the matter is your group is starving, and if something were to happen to Shouto or Katsuki, your group was done for.

"You try telling him that. He thinks we should be taking the offensive against the villains instead of hiding, anyway." Shouto sounds worn down, exasperated by his fellow pro-hero's attitude.

You know how right Shouto is. Bakugou believes that your group will be wiped out, one person at a time, if you continue on your current course. If you don't stop trying to simply survive.

Secretly, in the deepest darkest part of your heart, you agree. You have been losing members of your party slowly but steadily, and every loss seems to ripple through the group like an open wound. Worse than the starvation, worse than the hiding, was the heartbreak of all the friends and family your group has lost. 

You hear the door slam open, and then closed as the explosive male himself storms into the room. He's also injured, but looks far better than Shouto does. "You're damned right, Icy-Hot. I'm sick of this hiding shit, we're not getting anywhere with it. We need to take the fight to them." 

"And how are we supposed to do that, Bakugou? We don't know enough about what happened that day to keep blindly running into villain territory. For all we know, Shigaraki could still be alive."

You know Bakugou has been railing against stealth, against the hiding ever since hero society broke down. But Shouto has a point, as much as it terrifies you to admit it. The notorious League of Villains leader is MIA as far as you're all concerned, and you have no idea if he still lives or was killed in the spread of decay that happened on that horrible day several months ago.

"Tch, he could also be dead," Bakugou scoffs. "With all communications gone, the only way to find out for sure is to go into the Corruption Zone."

The Corruption Zone was the epicenter of it all, the place where this whole thing was believed to have started. The only reliable information anyone could get was that a catastrophic event spread across the city center like a creeping rot. There was no telling how many innocent people were caught in the crossfire, no reliable death toll. 

"Yeah? You know that we have no information to go by. We'd be rushing in blindly." Shouto snapped back. You place your hand on your forehead, feeling a headache coming on with the argument you know is about to happen.

"We have reports from heroes coming out of that area," Bakugou pointed out. 

"The reports are unreliable and conflicting. Until we know more, we should be cautious." 

"The fuck is the use in being cautious? If we don't have good information, then we should get it on our own!" Bakugou storms towards Todoroki, and you begin to make a move to step in between them. But you're saved from having to break up a fight when Bakugou abruptly turns and storms to the door leading outside the building.

"I'm doing a perimeter search. There might be villains around."Todoroki glances at you before falling into step with him as he moves to follow. Despite their differences, the two work well together, and you have been with them for several months now. You had met up with them as you were fleeing the destruction on the west side of the city, being one of the few heroes to make it out. Some might call you lucky for surviving and meeting up with them. You call yourself cursed. 

You make a move to go with them before Bakugou gives you a death glare over his shoulder. "I sure as hell don't need you to come with me, so stay here," the words coming out in a growl. His words sound gruff, but they come from a place of fear. Fear that something will happen to you and the rest of the group. "Icy-Hot, let's go." 

"We'll be right back, I promise," Shouto reassures you with a small smile after he sees your look of worry, and you nod your head at both of them. You trust both of these men with your lives. If they say they're coming back, then they will be.

While they're busy outside, you're about to do your own quick search of the warehouse when you hear a voice rise up from behind you. "Well well well, what do we have here, fellas?" You turn around to see three men blocking your exit. They were all dressed in black, with black combat boots and so many weapons strapped to their bodies that you could barely count them all. "Such a pretty little whore, running around all by herself." He glances at the other two men before smirking. "You a hero, little thing? You don't look like one."

Ah, low-level villains, obviously. Annoying, but not truly a threat to you. Your quirk isn't exactly the best for combat, being a supportive and not an offensive quirk, but you have a group backing you up and you're no pushover. You simply need to stall for a bit of time before the rest meet up with you.

"Would be a shame to leave her on the streets like this, don't you agree," the shorter of the men chuckles. "I don't think this one looks cut out to be a hero, do you?" The third simply nods his head at the question directed at him, his expression barely changing. He appears to be the follower of the group, content to simply await his next command.

Encounters like these aren't so uncommon. Some villains have moved on, content to rule their little territories in whatever way they liked. But others still have a grudge against heroes, choosing to continue to satiate their bloodlust by hunting them down and making examples of them. 

These were obviously the second type, and that usually meant they had more rage than common sense. The type to hunt down heroes were never usually the brightest of the bunch, and were equally as prone to dying by the hands of other villains than they were of actually killing anyone. They have no ideology, nothing keeping them going but their pure rage. 

What seems to be the leader of this ragtag group makes his first move, lunging out at you with surprising quickness for a man as large as he is. But you're quicker, and you launch yourself easily out of the way and use his momentum to throw him off balance and down to the ground. The shorter one lets out a disgruntled noise before making a go at you himself. This one is quite a bit faster, and you're not able to dodge in time before he's on you. You do a sharp twist before bringing your heavy steel-toed boots down towards his ankle. You connect and hear a cracking noise as he begins to howl and attempts to limp away from you.

You glance over at the remaining one, confident that he won't make a move on you after his partners humiliated themselves so badly. And you're proven to be right as he gives you a quick, respectful nod before turning and fleeing. He barely makes it two steps before ice covers his feet and crawls slowly up his legs. You grin as you see Todoroki, but your grin falls as you see his look of cold fury at anybody daring to attack you.You're pulled away from Todoroki by the sound of cursing and explosions as a loud, angry male comes flying down from a nearby ceiling. You can't help but roll your eyes at his sense of overdramatics before you notice the leader of the group out of the corner of your eye. You're going to be too late to dodge, you think with quiet fear, as you see him running towards you with a knife in hand. But Bakugou has already noticed, activating a burst of explosion from his hands to launch himself at the villain and throwing his arm out to block.

You see the skin on his arm split as blood gushes from the wound, but it doesn't even phase him as he throws a hard punch to the leader's head. There is a sickening crack as he connects, and the villain falls to the group unconscious. 

You give the man an unimpressed stare. "Do you always have to be so damned loud, Bakugou?""Tch, fine then, don't thank me for saving your ass." He scoffs at you with no real venom in his voice. "And next time, I won't."

"You shouldn't have done that, you know," you give a long-suffering sigh as you grab what little medical supplies remain. You take out the gauze, disinfecting the wound before starting to wrap it up in bandages. "I had that covered just fine without you." 

He gives you a snarl before pulling his arm roughly away from you. He's anything but dumb, and he knows how much of a lie your comment is. He knows how much of a skill gap you have between the two of you, even without taking his arrogance into consideration. "Yeah? Should I have let you die?"

"No, that's not what I -"

"Because that's what would have happened," he glares at you. "You're support, not offense. You need people to shield you, and he was closing in. Bastard had you, and we both know it. And I can't - we can't afford to lose any more people."

"I know that you feel responsible, that you weren't strong enough, but none of the losses were your fault -"

"Tch, whatever, I have shit to do," he scoffs as he quickly stands up to walk away. To avoid the conversation that he didn't want to hear. "I wish that he wouldn't blame himself so much." You glance over at Shouto, standing there with a stoic look on his face. "He has done everything in his power to protect this little family of ours, same as you. Beaten himself up over every loss we've had."

"You know how he is. Thinks if he were better, stronger, than we wouldn't have lost anybody at all." 

Tears sting your eyes at the thought of everything and everyone that you've lost up until this point, all the friends you've watched die. But you are still carrying on, still surviving. Your group has united together, your places and your roles all sorted and running smoothly. 

But things have changed recently, a strange atmosphere seeming to fill the air. Nothing that could be described precisely, but something the entire group felt. As if the world was holding its breath, waiting for some event that would yet again change the course of this world. Something was coming, something big. And you have no idea what it was or what to expect. 

But you are all still heroes even in these circumstances, and you have long ago learned to trust your instincts. So you began to move more frequently, find better hiding places. You don't stay in any one place for long, because staying still means villains being able to hunt you down. Staying still meant death.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the sound of someone rustling through their bag. As you glance up, you see one of your group pulling out a rope to tie up the villains. She notices you looking and smiles. "I don't think these two will be any sort of threat anymore." You mentally curse yourself for getting distracted enough to forget you still had villains in the area, even if they are unconscious. 

You glance at Shouto, the more level headed of your group, and he gives a quick nod. "I agree, I think they are too much of a coward to come after us again." You give a nod as you quickly move to help the woman tie them up, trusting his expertise on these things. 

You all know that this could either be a cruel or a merciful action. If other villains, even a few other heroes find these men, they could be killed outright. But if they can escape, then they earn their freedom, provided they don't come back after your group to take revenge. Villain or not, you feel the weight of this, having to make these decisions to protect your group.

Shouto sees the look on your face, and knowing your thoughts, walks over to put a hand gently on your shoulder. "It's getting dark soon, and we need to bunker down. We all know how dangerous it gets when it's dark." He gives you a meaningful look, but doesn't point out the painful truth. Doesn't mention the night a month ago when your group lost several members due to being caught after dark. That incident is what led to a group decision never to let that happen again. It was simply not worth the risk, even with your group at full power. And lately, none of you can claim full power. 

"Everything is clear, right?" You ask both men. At their nod, you move to leave the area. 

"Where the fuck are you going?" Bakugou snarls at you as he makes his way to stop you.

"There are a few people still outside," you explain as patiently as you can. "I'm just going to grab them really quickly. It will be fine." You wait to see if Shouto will agree, being the more relaxed of the two. He's not any less protective than Bakugou, but he is usually the more reasonable of the two.

He gives a quick nod at you. "Just make it quick. We'll go the other direction and grab the rest. I'm not sure what's taking them so long."

You turn on your heel quickly as you make your way out of the building, hurrying before either one of them can change their mind. You know they're concerned about you, but you've taken on the role as leader within your group. It's your responsibility just as much as theirs to keep everyone safe.

But as you make your way to the area where everyone was gathered earlier, you hear nothing. No chatting and laughing as they keep themselves entertained like they were earlier. Pure ice seeps through your veins as you run the rest of the distance. But you stop cold at what you see there. 

Blood. Blood on the ground, blood on the chairs, blood splattered everywhere. There are no bodies anywhere that you see, only the blood. "No no no," you whisper to yourself in horror. "Please, this can't be happening. Please don't let us lose anyone else."

But before you can decide what to do, you hear the sounds of battle and the crackling of distant fire. Shouto and Bakugou, you think with alarm, they must have gotten into some danger back at the warehouse. But as you run in that direction, you see something alarming.

The crackling you heard are flames, bright, dazzling blue flames. The scent of smoke is heavy in the air, fog covering everything as you stop to stare at the devastation. The warehouse that was to be your hideout has gone up like kindling, fully engulfed by the strange blue flames. A distant memory hits you, something you read during a news article about a villain with a flame quirk that was described similarly. But those thoughts all fly from your head as you see something that makes you stop in your tracks.

A still smoldering dead body was lying on its side away from you. Please please please, you send up a silent prayer, please don't be any of my group. But your hopes are dashed as you run over. The outfit looks familiar, jeans and a pink shirt with sneakers and a backpack lying behind her. You know this woman, have known her since the beginning. She was kind, gentle, and like you, she was not a front line fighter. For her to be dead, the enemies had to have cut a swathe through your defenses. Had to have gotten through Bakugou and Shouto.

You stand up quickly as you scan the area looking for enemies. As much as you'd like to cover her up, mourn her, you know that this is not the time for that. You have to protect the rest of the group from meeting the same fate. After their safety is secured, you can either count your losses and grieve, or you will no longer be around to care.

You creep slowly into the warehouse, trying not to jump at every shadow you see. You see no villains, but you do see more bodies—all from your group, all smoldering with that same blue flame. The smoke begins to fill the room, causing your eyes to burn and a coughing fit to start. 

Before you can try to leave to get some fresh air, you hear dark laughter from behind you, and a wave of heat rush towards you. You throw your body to the side as you roll to prevent any injury from slamming into the concrete ground. As you whirl around to face your attacker, you are shocked by what you see.

It's a tall, lanky man dressed in black leather pants, a white shirt stretched tight against his chest and a black leather jacket over the shirt. Most distinctive, however, were the noticeable burn scars covering most of the exposed skin you see. His face, arms, and hands are all littered with them, with staples buried in the skin as if to hold it in place. You unintentionally meet his eyes, and you see they are the same shocking blue of his flames, staring directly into you as if trying to analyze and exploit every weakness you have. And his cocky smirk says he has the confidence to do just that. 

This isn't one of those aimless villains you've encountered before. No, this is a hero hunter with a purpose. With an ideal. One that genuinely believes in the deaths of all heroes, who will stop at nothing to end his target. You instantly know that this one would fight to the death for his ideals, and in this tragic landscape of a former city, that was exactly what had to happen to make him stop. You are hopelessly outmatched. He knows it too, by the way he carries himself so casually, by the way he looks at you like you are nothing but an obstacle in his way.

"I don't know what you want, but you need to leave." You back slowly away with your hands up as you try to convince him you're not a threat. "The rest of my group will be here any minute now." It's a bluff, a large one at that. You don't know how many of your group are left alive or where Katsuki and Shouto are. But it's the only option you have. There is no way you can fight a villain of this caliber on your own, not with your pure support quirk.

"Aww, princess, you're a terrible liar." He tsks at you as he begins to saunter towards you. You back away a few more steps as you make your way to a back exit. You remember where it is even without having to look, having memorized the warehouse hours before you even decided to stay here.

The villain's smirk widens when he sees your body tense, and flames rise to his palm as he lifts his arm. This is it, you're dead, he's far too close for you to dodge the flames that are about to come for you.

But instead, he sends the fire towards something behind you and your blood freezes in your veins as you hear a blood-curdling scream behind you. You whirl around and see another member of your party on fire, but before you can run to him a wall of fire surrounds you, trapping you in with the villain. 

You turn to stare at him in horror, unable to comprehend what is happening. Unable to understand that you just watched someone else you care for die a brutal death.

"Speechless, sweetheart? I know I have that effect on people." 

There is no way out, flames surrounding you on all sides except for where the villain is standing. As you study him one more time, you realize you've heard of someone matching his description before. You sort through all the information you have of known hero hunters, trying to match his flashy appearance with a name. But when your shocked brain supplies it, you almost wish you didn't know.

"I know who you are," you try to sound confident, but your voice lacks power and comes out timid. "You're the League of Villains member, Dabi. The one who attacked the training camp at UA. Known for arsons and murders across the city even before this began." 

This man is one of the League's most elite members, and happily took to the task of hunting down remaining heroes after the catastrophe began. He is well out of your skill range, and even with Katsuki and Shouto, this would be a difficult battle. With you alone, you stand no chance.

"Oh? So nice to be recognized," he grins at you. "I keep killing the stupid ones who don't know me. A little disheartening, I must admit." 

"Where is the rest of my group? Are they - "You can't bring yourself to finish your sentence, to ask the burning question of how many of your friends are still alive.

"Hmm, and what would you say if I told you they're not all dead?" He cocks his head to the side as he stares at you.

"I'd say you're probably lying, or they'll all be dead soon." "

Wrong on the first count, right on the second. Unless…" he drags out the last word, watching your expression as it turns to cautious hope. 

"Unless what?" The words stumble out too quickly, making you seem too eager, and his expression sharpens with amusement to see it.

"Unless you do a little favor for me, doll." A sense of dread crawls up your spine at the thought of doing a favor for the villain standing in front of you, but you feel like you have no other option but to hear him out. At worst, it's something you won't do and you'll die here and there with the rest of your group. At best, it's something you can tolerate and you all live to see another day.

“What's the favor? I'm not saying I'll do it, but I'll hear you out."

"Don't really have much of a choice there, do you?" He rolls his eyes as he waves his hands around to indicate the fire spreading across everything. 

"Just get the fuck on with it," you hiss at him, not wanting to play this little game with him anymore. "Tell me what you want."

His smirk turns dark as he gives you a long, lingering glance up your body. "What I want is you, doll."

Your eyes widen at his words, and you try to think of something, anything else that he could possibly mean by such a statement. But you know deep down exactly what this man wants from you. "I - I don't, I mean…"

"You're acting like a blushing virgin, doll." But he looks surprised when you do blush, eyes shifting away to look at anything but the man standing before you.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep laugh. "You really are a virgin. Fuck, I lucked out finding you, didn't I?"

You want to back away, run, and get out of this situation, but the fire behind you prevents you. So you're forced to simply watch as he begins to approach you, coming to stand far too close for your comfort. He reaches out a burnt hand to cup your chin as he forces you to look up into his eyes. They are even more of a brilliant blue this close, and you can't stop yourself from staring into them.

"What will you do if I say no," your fear preventing you from raising your voice above a whisper. "Then your group dies, simple as that." A casual statement, as if it means nothing for him to wipe out an entire group of innocent people. You begin to tremble at what you know you're about to do. You don't want this, not at all. But you want your group to die even less. What is a little indignity if it secures their safety?

You give a quick nod, not wanting to say the words that mean you agree to this.

His hand goes to your neck as he squeezes, putting enough pressure into the movement that your breath is forced out of you. "Use your words, doll."

Not surprising that he'll be cruel about this, making you utter the words that agree to this proposition despite the fact that you have no real choice in the matter. "I agree."

His grip tightens on your neck again, even harder this time as he doesn't immediately let go. He waits until you reach a hand out to grab his arm, trying to pull it off you before he finally lets go. 

You take a quick gulp of air before talking. "Fine, I'm yours, is that what you want to hear?" You snap the words out at him, fear making you bolder than you should be.

Your question is answered as his hand comes to tangle into your hair, lips crashing into yours as he pulls you roughly into him. He forces his tongue into your mouth as he dominates the kiss, teeth nibbling at your lip as he massages your tongue with his own. It's a sloppy, heated kiss that has drool dripping down your chin when he pulls away, lips already looking red and swollen from his biting.

"God, I am going to enjoy ruining you, doll," he growls into your ear. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer into his body, hand going under your shirt to rub up your back. His hand is almost hot enough to burn, and you try to wiggle away only for him to clamp down harder. He drags you over to a clean area of ground as he shoves you down onto the hard cement, settling in between your thighs.

"You - you want to do this here?" You manage to choke out in shock.

He grinds himself against your core as he laughs. "And why not? Good a place as any." He runs his hands along your sides as he pushes your shirt up, leaning down to kiss the skin around your stomach.

"But - the fire, and what if any of my group comes in -"

His hand glows blue for a split second as he grabs your shirt, burning it off of you and throwing it to the side. "Then I guess they get to see you fucked like the whore you are." He pulls you up enough to place heated kisses along the column of your neck, sucking dark marks into the skin as he continues to grind against your core. 

You pant a bit, feeling like you're burning up yourself as sweat rolls down your body from the heat of the fire and the heat of him. He traces a finger along your bra, a plain white number that you found when you were desperate for new clothes. "Nice bra," he snickers as he unhooks it with one hand, throwing it aside just as casually before taking a breast into his hand. "I should find you something prettier than that." 

He kneads the soft flesh of your breast and tweaks the nipple with his other hand, taking it into his mouth. He sucks just the side of too hard, and you squirm at the slight stab of pain as he grazes it deliberately with his teeth.

"Would you just get on with it already," you snapped, wanting this experience to be over with as quickly as possible so you can move on.

"You agreed, doll," he smirks, "and that means I'm going to take my time with you."

He reaches down to unzip your pants, tugging on them as he looks at you. "Unless you want me to burn these off of you, I'd suggest taking them off."

You quickly raise your hips and wiggle them down a bit, not wanting him to use his fire so close to your skin. It's a bit hard to pull them off, the heat of the room causing you to sweat. Eventually, Dabi gets impatient at your progress and rips them off with one quick movement.

He spreads your legs quickly with one hand as he runs a finger up your clothed sex. You quickly look away from what he's doing, only to feel his palm on your legs get hotter. You snap your eyes back at him as he stares at you with a menacing look.

"Don't you dare look away, doll," he growls, "I want you to watch as I eat this pretty pussy." 

His vulgar words cause a jolt of arousal within you, and you timidly look into his eyes as he pulls your panties to the side. He rubs two fingers up your folds, causing you to let out a small gasp.

"Mmm, doll, you're already so fucking wet for me." Dabi groans as he licks his fingers. "You DO want this, you little hero slut."

"N-n-no, I don't, I really -" But the rest of your sentence is cut off as he dives down in between your legs, licking along your folds as his nose prods against your clit. 

"Oh shit, please stop," you moan as you throw your head backward, trying to ignore how good it feels. But the feeling only gets more intense as he spreads you apart enough to take your throbbing clit into his mouth. You let out a surprised shout, the pleasure of it taking you by surprise as you feel yourself getting wet.

Dabi doesn't mind as he licks up your juices before lashing his tongue against your pearl, slipping a finger into your tight heat at the same time.

"Oh fuck doll, god you're so tight." He works his finger inside of you as he tries to loosen you up, sucking at your clit the entire time and making you feel dizzy with pleasure. You can't stop your panting, hips bucking almost against your will as you try to seek the feeling you sense building up inside you.

"I bet you've never had someone do this to you, huh?" He slips another finger inside of you, this one going in easily because of how wet you're becoming. You whine at the feeling of his fingers scissoring inside you, opening you up so that he can slip a third finger inside. This time, the feeling stings as he forces his finger past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. You can't stop yourself from clamping down on his fingers, trying to push them out.

He pumps three fingers inside of you as he takes your clit back into his mouth, curling his fingers inside of you until he finds that sensitive spot that has you writhing against him. He slams into that spot over and over again as you feel waves of pleasure building. You don't want to cum, you really don't. Not for this man who is forcing you into this. But you don't seem to have a choice in the matter.

"Fuck, I know you're close doll," he lifts up just enough to whisper, the vibration of his words only causing more pleasure against your throbbing clit. "Don't fight it, just cum for me." His fingers increase their pace even more, pounding his fingers inside of you against that spot that has you seeing stars. "I want you to cum all over my tongue."

Your legs are shaking from trying to hold off against the pleasure, but as he grazes his teeth lightly across your throbbing clit, you squeal as you finally reach your end. Your walls flutter around him as you feel liquid gush out of your cunt. Dabi happily laps it all up like a starved man as he lengthens your orgasm, refusing to stop his fingers from moving inside of you. 

When he pulls away, you feel ashamed to see that his mouth is coated with your juices. "Taste yourself, doll, don't you taste delicious?" He chuckles as you try to get away, simply forcing his tongue into your mouth. 

He lifts up to undress himself, pulling his jacket and shirt off and revealing a scarred but toned chest. His pants are next to go as he unzips and pulls them off quickly, revealing his lack of underwear when his cock is pulled free from his pants. He is an average length, but girthy with a bead of precum already leaking from the tip. Even more concerning for you are the metal studs that run down his length and a Prince Albert piercing at the head of his cock.

You shiver in fear at the thought of those piercings rubbing against your insides, but it also sends a bolt of arousal straight to your pussy. You quickly glance away, not wanting to look any longer. But Dabi doesn't appreciate you looking away from him. He reaches out to grab your chin, digging his fingers in as he turns your face to his. "You like what you see doll," he whispers, reaching down to pump his cock a few times with a closed fist. "Because this is about to be inside that wet cunt of yours."

You blush furiously at the vulgarity of his words, but you don't dare to look away from him. "You can stop here," you plead in a quiet voice, "you don't have to continue." 

"Mmmm, but I want to continue." He grabs your legs as he drags you closer to him, pulling a gasp from your throat as your back is scraped across the cement. He settles himself firmly in between your legs as you feel something prodding at your entrance. "You have no idea how much I want this, doll. Ruining a little hero like you is a chance I can't pass up." He drags his length down your folds as he gathers up your juices to lubricate himself, and the feeling of one of his piercings rubbing against your sensitive clit has you letting out a small moan.

"See, doll?" He grins darkly as he spreads you open with one hand and begins to push in slowly. "Don't try to deny it, you want this. Ahh fuck," he hisses at the feeling of his cockhead breaching your entrance, "god, you're so damned tight."

You let out a whine as you feel him slide in, little by little, into your throbbing cunt. It hurts a bit more than you expected, and you throw your hands up to his chest to try and slow him down. But he simply laughs as he makes a small but hard movement to thrust himself even further into you. You let out a little whimper, head lolling to the side as you try to ignore the pain.

He finally bottoms out inside you before stilling for a second, his legs shaking with the need to be moving inside of you already. You're surprised that he paused at all to let you get used to his size. But your gratefulness vanishes quickly as you feel him grab your hips, shifting into a position that allows him to enter you even deeper. You squirm in pain as you feel him press right against your cervix.

"Am I too rough, little hero?" He mocks as he begins to thrust into you, tearing a small scream from you at the pace that is too quick to be entirely comfortable. "I want this tight little cunt of yours to be sore for days once I'm done with you." His hand runs up and down your body as he fucks you, feeling so hot that you feel like you're on fire. Your skin is drenched with sweat at the heat of his body and the fire still blazing around you. Even the cock pounding away at your throbbing cunt feels too hot. But the piercings dragging against your inner walls are cold, and the contrast in temperature has you moaning unintentionally, feeling pleasure despite yourself.

"That's a good little hero, moan for me." He reaches down to tweak your aching clit between his fingers as he pulls you up just enough to plant open mouthed kisses down your neck and chest. "I want you to cum around my cock, doll, think you can do that for me?" 

"N-n-no," you choke back another moan, "I'm not gonna cum for you, you bastard." But you feel the telltale tightening of your lower abdomen, feel the throbbing of your clit like a heartbeat at the need for orgasm. 

"Is that so?" His smirk turns vicious. "Guess I'll just have to try harder then, won't I?" You scream as his hand between your bodies gets hotter, two fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit. He begins to change the angle that he's thrusting, watching your reaction closely as he seeks that sensitive spot inside you. He chuckles darkly when he finds it, pulling a loud squeal from your throat as he begins to aim for it mercilessly.

The slap of skin against skin becomes louder, balls smacking against your ass as his fingers rub against your clit even faster. Your cunt clenches down around his cock, and you let out a choked sob as his piercings grind even harder against your inner walls, catching on that sensitive patch inside you. 

"Please, fuck," you plead with the villain, not knowing if you're begging him to stop or never to stop. "Please, I need -"

"I know what you need, doll," he hisses out a curse as your pussy contracts around his cock again, lewd wet noises filling the room. "You need to cum, don't you, babygirl?"

When you don't respond, his fingers lashing against your clit suddenly come to a complete stop. "Tell me, is that what you want," he snarls into your ear before trailing lower to sink teeth into your neck.

“God, please yes, I need to cum" you sob out, wrapping your arms around the villain pounding you into submission as you trail your nails down his back. "Dabi, please -'

His fingers instantly go back to your clit, grinding hard against the sensitive bead as he continues to suck bruises into your neck. "Then cum for me, doll, cum all over this cock."

As if on command, you're thrown over the edge, screaming out your orgasm as your cunt flutters around his cock. He doesn't slow down, continuing to move his hips as he fucks you through your orgasm. Tears are running down your face from the overstimulation, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

"Too much," you gasp out as you try to catch your breath, "it's too much."

"Aww, doll, would you be that cruel," he tries to taunt you before cutting his sentence off with a choked curse. Fuck, your cunt is squeezing me so hard, fucking shit."

He no longer cares about your pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, thrusts going erratic as he seeks his end. You're so oversensitive that you feel another orgasm building up directly after your last one, and you wail as you feel liquid splash out of you and onto Dabi's chest.

"Fuck yes, good girl," he grunts, "squirt all over my cock as I fill you up."Your eyes widen in shock and alarm as you furiously shake your head. "No, shit Dabi please not inside, I'm not - "

But it's too late, the look on Dabi's face turning into an evil smirk as he locks his hips in place. He lets out a deep groan as you feel thick ropes of cum coat your inner walls, almost burning you with how hot it is. It seems to take forever until he stops cumming inside of you, and tears run down your face as what just happened comes crashing over you.

He pulls out of you with a sigh, sitting up as he looks down at you. "You make such a pretty sight, all fucked out and dripping my cum like a little slut."

You shiver at his words, looking away so he doesn't see how his words send a thrill through your still tired body. You sit up slowly, wincing as you feel how sore you are between your legs. "That's it then, I'm free to go and my group is safe, right?"

He doesn't answer immediately, choosing to dress as slowly as possible with a look on his face that says he's considering the question. "Hmm, I don't recall saying you're free to go."

Your veins turn to ice as you stare at him in confusion, desperately hoping you're misunderstanding. But a deep, dark part of you tells you this is no joke, no misunderstanding. Tells you that you were stupid to trust a villain. "But that was the deal, that my group would be safe and we'd all be free to go."

"Ehh, I changed my mind." You're rendered speechless at the casual tone to his voice, as if he were telling you what the weather was.

"You - what the fuck do you mean, you changed your mind?" Your rage is blinding, leaving your vision to turn red and fury to boil the blood in your veins. You leap up, ignoring all the aches and pains of your body as you rush at Dabi. "Do you mean you're going to kill them?"

He seems unphased by your outburst, merely choosing to laugh at you. "I mean, dear old Shouto is probably already dead."

Your hand flies up to your mouth to stop the scream bubbling up in your throat. "You're lying," your voice comes out barely above a whisper. You shake your head repeatedly, backing up away from Dabi as if to ward off his next words.

"Go see for yourself then." He barely finishes pointing towards one of the exits to the warehouse before you're off, door slamming behind you as you hope and pray that he's lying, that it isn't true. 

But it is now fully dark outside, and you're unable to see where you're going. You're in too much of a blind panic to care though, continuing in the direction you think you may find something and not caring about the dangers. You come to an abrupt halt as one foot slips out from under you, causing you to land roughly on your butt. 

Your hand lands in something sticky, and you raise it to your face as you try to determine what it is. It's so dark in this area with the power cut off that you can't make out anything besides a mysterious substance. But then a blue flame catches a nearby trash pile on fire, and the blazing light from the flames illuminates the area.

As you slowly look at your hand again, you don't want to acknowledge what's there. Your brain tries to stop you from processing the truth, but it happens anyway. With sharp clarity, you recognize that your hands are covered with blood. That's when the smell comes in, the entire area reeking of iron and smoke. 

But the thing that catches your mind the most, that makes you want to scream and never stop screaming, is the body that you see at your feet. Shouto Todoroki, the man you saw just hours earlier, full of life and willing to risk everything to protect you and your group. The man who now lays lifeless at your feet, sightless eyes staring into the sky at nothing. His complexion already looks ashen, and you reach out gingerly to touch him only to realize that he's still warm. This must have been recent, you think.

"Wondering how long he's been dead, doll?" You were so absorbed in staring at Shouto that you didn't even hear Dabi approach. 

You slowly nod your head, not able to trust your voice.

"Oh, he was hanging on to life when I found you earlier, doll," Dabi's smile widens into a truly devastating smirk."No no no no no, that can't be the case, it's not true, you're lying, you have to be -" You can't stop the words from tumbling one after the over. You want this all to be a horrific nightmare, but you know this is reality. And you know deep down that Dabi isn't lying this time.

You glance down at the body - no, Shouto, not the body, never the body - and you notice there is wetness on his face. You wonder when it started raining, until you see another droplet hit Shouto's face. You reach your hand numbly up to your face to realize that you're crying, not even realizing when you started. 

You feel nausea churning up in your stomach, and you barely stop yourself from throwing up. Hot shame courses through your veins at the thought that while he was dying, hoping for help, you were in there - 

Dabi appears in your field of vision as he kneels beside you to peer at your face. "Ohh, that look on your face. Guess you realized the truth, huh? That you were getting off around my cock while my poor, sad little brother was out here dying."

"Brother?!" You're surprised you're able to say anything at all, but the word spills out before you can even stop it."Yeah, brother," he scoffs with disdain. "I was the black sheep of the Todoroki family, the one that got discarded. Always said I'd get my revenge, but I never thought it would be so satisfying."

You know some of the missing persons cases, having researched some of them yourself while you were a student. So you're able to supply the true name of the man in front of you with relative ease. "Touya, you're Touya Todoroki, aren't you?"

"I'm not that man anymore." The villain looks surprised at you knowing that name, although you can't tell if he's impressed or angry. "Just call me Dabi, dollface."

"If all you wanted was revenge, then why your brother? He suffered too," you fail to choke back a sob. The pain of knowing that someone went through so much only to end up like this pushes you into more despair than you thought possible.

Dabi simply shrugs his shoulders. "I already killed dear old dad when this began. It wasn't enough."

This is news to you. Although you never personally cared for Endeavor, the fact of the matter is that he was the number two, and then the number one hero. His loss would be a massive blow to whatever surviving hero community was left. "What about the others then? The other heroes, what happened to them?"

"Your little group really was ignorant, weren't you? Don't you know the truth? You have to suspect it, at least."

You lose your patience and snap at him. "How the fuck would I know what happened to the hero community? I wasn't there!"

"Well then, I'll let you in on a little secret, doll." He leans in towards you as if whispering a juicy secret. "There IS no hero community left. That damned hand freak won."

Pure chaos swirls through your brain. All along, your little group hoped to one day reclaim the city. Reclaim hero society, build it back up to be even better. But maybe it still wasn't all for nothing, perhaps if a hero had taken Shigaraki out, things could still be okay. 

You stare closely at his face as you ask the next question. "And Shigaraki?" 

"If you're asking how he's doing, then I can tell you he's doing just fine. Alive and well in his little den of filth within the city." He cracks up, laughing at the look on your face. 

Everything was hopeless. Everything and everyone you loved, dead and gone. The villains won, Shigarkai was alive, and Shouto was lying dead at your feet. Bakugou was probably dead as well, and you can't muster up the courage to ask the truth. 

You cover your ears with your hands as you rock back and forth, trying to ward off all of the information coming at you. But Dabi takes your hands into his as he pulls you into his lap. "Shh, shhh," he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "You still have me, now don't you doll?"

You whimper as you curl your face into his chest, trembling with unshed tears that no longer want to come. "Yes, I do." As sick and fucked up as it is, it's not a lie. He truly is all you have left.

"And you want to stay with me, don't you?" He whispers his poisonous words directly into your ear, all the while rubbing comforting circles along your back as he holds you like a child.

"I do want to stay with you, Dabi." Another horrifying truth. 

"Such a good girl." He kisses along your face and forehead, cooing at you in such a mocking way that it makes you feel sick to your stomach. "My good little girl, aren't you?"

You give an empty nod at his words. This is fine, you think. You'll be fine. It's better than wandering the wastelands alone, better to have someone to talk to. No matter what he wants you to do, no matter what you end up becoming at his side. It's still better than being alone. And as one last tear falls down your face, you cuddle up into his arms, close your eyes and pretend you believe it.

~~~~

Tags: @trafalgar-temptress​, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @tamakisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @k-atsukidayo, @gallickingun, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @1-800-callmekatsuki

[toujourspur13]

The Black family / Walburga Black / canon.

As I said before I do not care that much about canon/fanon/headcanon because transformative works by definition include a wide variety of different interpretations. However, I am forever perplexed when I see uncompromising opinions on the Black family - particularly the unwavering certainty that Sirius Black’s parents were psychotic abusers. All personal opinions aside - why is this so popular?

I mean - it’s absolutely ok to headcanon this version and to play with it - but saying 'don’t you dare say they did not physically and emotionally abuse Sirius' is a little strong, isn’t it?

This is a mystery to me. So…let’s discuss my favourite subject…Again.

Let’s stick to the facts. The frequently cited things proving the abuse in the Black family are as follows:

Sirius said his parents were awful maniacs (pureblood ideology)

he ran away from home

he was severely depressed in OoTP

Kreacher

Portrait

So…when you say that Sirius’s parents were abusive…you mean exactly what? These people got cold feet when they saw the real nature of Voldemort - I guess it somehow implies that they did not share his methods…that they were against violence as a tool to get purebloods in charge.

But then it usually goes this way: ‘well at least he was verbally and emotionally abused by his family’ - but is it so? Is this based on the portrait of Sirius's mother? She insulted strangers who took over her house and her runaway son - how does this prove anything about how Sirius and Regulus were raised and treated when they were kids? I agree it’s rather impolite - jkr did a good job showing how purebloods perceived others ( those below them) -but in all honesty, this has very little to do with Sirius and his childhood.

Why to make Sirius a victim at all? - c’mon he was tougher than this, he spent 12 years in Azkaban; are you actually saying that a portrait throwing insults at everyone is worse? I doubt that. And is it such a surprise that a mother who lost her son (that said son actually ran away and abandoned his duty) would be that furious at him when seeing him again...even if it’s only a portrait...I believe it to be a rather unpleasant experience for a parent when a child runs away.

We already talked about the portrait a lot - I don’t even want to mention it here- - I feel we should rather pay more attention to the fact that Sirius himself was not an angel.

I am not saying the colourful vocabulary of Walburga Black should be used…but Sirius himself upon seeing Snape  immediately  recognised his weakness and went for it without any hesitation …we are talking about Sirius who in fact was quite a renowned bully ( I mean - we know for a fact that from time to time Sirius and James got carried away)…

And it was Sirius who sent Snape to meet and chat with a real werewolf (yes, I agree - he was not thinking this through - he probably was just vexed and fed up with Snape and thought he wouldn’t go there, would get cold feet or idk run away…But it actually changes nothing. If a drunken driver hits someone it will be 100% his fault whether he means it or not. Whether he is in a fragile mental state or not - such situations are definite. It’s the same with Sirius - even if he did not mean anything bad he should have understood the cost of his mistake - all teenagers make silly things but not all of them send their classmate to meet a werewolf - James thought it not a very good idea as I recall… -

So we see that Sirius was not an angel from the start and I can hardly believe he was a victim by nature. His behaviour loudly manifested that he used to get what he wanted with no thought of the consequences.

And all those pictures of bikini-clad girls on the walls in his room prove that he was quite a spoiled boy who had nothing to fear from mum and dad. Harry himself noticed «Sirius seemed to have gone out of his way to annoy his parents». All this shows that Sirius was not afraid of his parents at all. What kind of masochist would suffer for motorbike posters? That would be ridiculous.

Let’s move to Kreacher: If Sirius’s mother had been a monster why even mention her heart?  JKR wrote this for a purpose and this heavily implies that Sirius's situation was never meant to be ‘the abusive heartless parents vs the poor helpless victim’.  

The fact that Sirius ran away and hence broke his mother’s heart says against the popular idea that he was not loved by his family, that he was always the second one, that they abused him. I’m 100% certain that Kreacher told the truth in that scene. Why would he say something like this if it were not the truth - something like…that his beloved mistress having been so upset over Sirius running away that it broke her heart. Just tell me one reason that would have justified such a lie - why to say this at all?

Then this: “Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal … my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them … that’s him.”…. “He was younger than me,” said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”

I’ve already said it before - this ‘better son than me’ is exactly what insecure 14-year old kids like to say. Well...he’s a bit older but it’s not as if he had a life and a chance to mature. Moreover, I don’t know if it comes as a great shock but a lot of teenagers like to badmouth their parents…usually, it involves something like ‘those bloody uptight retrogrades know nothing of the real world’ (it fades away when they get closer to thirty).

To be serious, I find that it’s just another example of similarities between Sirius and his mother. They clearly did not know what it means to be composed, polite, and respectful. Yeah…I think that, on the whole, parents are owed their children’s respect (unless they are completely inadequate - somehow I don’t believe this was the case). Someone should teach both of them what mutual respect means. Anyway, there is nothing in this quote that says that Sirius was subjected to any forms of abuse - it’s about how Sirius justified his running away,  how he saw the situation.

There’s also the fact that Sirius was incredibly unhappy because he was back at his childhood home and having to spend time around anything that reminded him of his family: “Hasn’t anyone told you? This was my parents’ house,” said Sirius. “But I’m the last Black left, so it’s mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I’ve been able to do.” Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius’s voice sounded”.

Here it comes…the severe depression that makes people question the severity of his abuse… I have thought a lot about this because it is the reason why some consider ‘the abusive blacks' canon while others believe it was more of a tragedy of the family rather than the banal brutality.

Of course, Sirius was upset in that house - but I don’t think he suffered the memories of his unhappy childhood - I think he suffered from the strong feeling of guilt. Being in that house meant an everyday reminder that he was a failure. And it’s not even a lie. If you look at his whole life you’ll see that he literally failed everyone in his life: he failed James and Lily - they were dead and he unwillingly became the reason. It was his plan that turned everything into a tragedy.

And, to some extent, he failed Harry- he was not around him like James and Lily would have wanted. Sirius did not give him the real family - he only promised they'd be the one «when it’s all over».

And finally - he failed his parents, his brother, his own family.

Is it possible to live with so much guilt in your heart?

I don't think that Sirius completely forgot who he was born to be. If the family keeps traditions and can trace its existence back in centuries you can't shake it off even if you want. I doubt Sirius switched it off just because he had griffindor friends. He was the last Black - it is tragically poetic that he was once the hope of his family and then this family died with him. If Sirius had heart (and I truly believe he had a heart) he knew exactly what it meant to be trapped in the house that represented the death of his family. A constant reminder  that he was the last one.  

“The others’ hushed voices were giving Harry an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though they had just entered the house of a dying person”. 

I think that the scene when he threw his father's ring away - he threw it away because it was all over for his family. It was the end of the dynasty - and for him it was all over long before he met Bellatrix for the last time.

Well, I admit Sirius' situation is open for wide interpretation but I don’t think the abusive black household is a canon thing - of course, it’s fanon. It makes Sirius a hero who broke the chains when in fact he ended up being a victim of his own life.

You know, it always seems strange to me that fandom when discussing Walburga usually overlooks the simple truth of life - that even if you are clever enough and mean good for your loved ones it is still possible to end up on the losing side, on the dark side.  However, mistakes don't automatically turn humans into monsters.

To some extent Sirius’s story represents the consequences of war.  No-one is protected; the whole families could be wiped off the face of the earth. It’s a simple yet profound idea. It correlates with the main idea of hp books far better than the ‘abusive psychopaths’ (there are already Voldemort and Bellatrix - there is no-one who can beat them in this department).

All I say - it’s okay to imagine them bad if you want- your right - but don’t write everywhere that it’s canon because it is not.There is no need for such inflexibility especially when it comes to the fandom - a place where everyone should be welcomed and their views on the books be respected.

[stolen-pen-name23]

hello! how about #8- “You’re looking a little pale.” and/or #15 “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.” with Obi-Wan and Dooku?

Hi Kate!!! Thanks for the prompt!! // from these prompts // prompts now closed!

I have no idea when Dooku actually left the order, so I made it up for my purposes. Obi-Wan is still a padawan here, but he's like 19-20ish.

Read on Ao3 (or below the cut)

Here ya go!

---

The floor of an unfamiliar starship is not the most pleasant place to wake up.

Admittedly, the cold, hard floor of a starship is not the worst place Obi-Wan has ever woken up, but it certainly isn’t the most ideal place to come back into consciousness on.

He blinks, focusing his vision on his surroundings. The space he is in is barren but sleek. He can tell that the ship he has found himself on is a nice ship.

Groaning, he assesses himself for injuries. Aside from some slight motion sickness from laying on the floor of a ship in flight, Obi-Wan is physically unharmed.

He pushes himself to his feet and carefully inches his way down the short corridor. Peering into the cockpit, he can see the side profile of… no. It can’t be.

“You’re awake,” Dooku says plainly without looking at him.

“Master Dooku?” Obi-Wan questions.

“Actually, it’s ‘Count’ now. I’ve had a bit of a title change.”

Yes, that was right. Dooku left the Order a couple years ago when Obi-Wan was still in his early teens. He doesn’t know much about Dooku’s departure other than that it was due to a difference in ideology. Obi-Wan is not sure what that ideology may be. The other Jedi hardly speak of it. Qui-Gon never does.

“What am I doing here?” Obi-Wan asks cautiously.

“No pleasantries for your Grandmaster?”

“I see no reason for them,” Obi-Wan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve only met you a handful of times. Oh, and you kidnapped me.”

“Fine, we’ll skip the salutations then,” Dooku says. “You’re here for a reason that you will see shortly.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. Of course, he isn’t going to get a straight answer.

“How wonderfully vague, though I suppose you are more forthcoming than most kidnappers.”

“I presume you have experience with them then?”

“It cannot be helped that so many people want me,” Obi-Wan smirks.

“A lot of arrogance for a young man who does not know where he is.”

“Call it a character flaw.”

Obi-Wan looks down at his hands.

“You’re wondering why I have not bound you,” Dooku says.

Obi-Wan shrugs his shoulders. “The thought did cross my mind. As I mentioned, this is not exactly my first time getting kidnapped.”

“Why would I have you bound? You are not my prisoner Obi-Wan.”

“Oh really? I do not remember choosing to be here.”

“You will choose to be here.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t care for the certainty in Dooku’s tone.

“If I’m not your prisoner, why did you take my lightsaber?”

“You’re not my prisoner, but I do not need any hotheaded padawans getting any funny ideas before we get where we need to go.”

“And where may that be?” Obi-Wan tries again.

The Force seems to thrum around them and dread pools in Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“A looking glass, of sorts,” Dooku answers.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. This lineage is so weird.

“Must you be so cryptic all the time?” Obi-Wan asks. “Why not just tell me where we are going?”

“I could tell you, or I could let you see for yourself,” Dooku says. With that, the ship slips out of hyperspace and glides towards a green planet.

“Where are we?” Obi-Wan asks again.

Dooku plucks at levers and pushes at buttons, taking his sweet time in answering Obi-Wan’s question. “This planet does not have a name, though there are several places throughout the galaxy that are like it. Rare as they are, they are places of great import for individuals like us.”

“Individuals like us?”

“Force-sensitives.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the way Dooku says the words, like their shared abilities somehow make them the same.

They are not the same.

“So why are we here?”

“You are here to see your destiny.” The statement comes out simple and sure.

Oh, Obi-Wan does not have a good feeling about this at all.

***

The ship lands in an unassuming clearing in an unassuming forest on an unassuming planet.

Dooku makes Obi-Wan get off the ship first, much to his annoyance. It would have been very easy to steal the ship if only Dooku had gone first.

“I advise you stay close,” Dooku says, clearly having already thought about Obi-Wan’s would be escape plans. “This forest is not a place you want to be alone in at night without a communicator. I would hate for you to get lost.”

Obi-Wan looks around and gets the sense that Dooku is right. Obi-Wan has his fair share of survival skills learned through a mixture of experience and traditional Temple-based training, but that does not mean he wants to put them to use.

Dooku takes the lead, but even then, Obi-Wan feels as though he is being watched.

The forest is not as unassuming as Obi-Wan initially believed. His bad feeling intensifies with every step he takes — the Force pulsing through his veins tells him to be careful.

It is not long before the bad feeling turns physical. The longer they walk, the worse Obi-Wan begins to feel. It started as a nagging headache blooming in the back of his skull. Now, he fights dark spots that dance behind his eyes.

“You’re looking a little pale,” Dooku says in a way that is both deeply condescending and somehow still somewhat caring.

Obi-Wan takes a few labored breaths and tries to blink back the dark spots from his vision. He rests a palm on a tree trunk and leans against it. “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Obi-Wan whips his head over to Dooku and immediately regrets the fast movement as it sends another wave of nausea through him. “What did you do to me?”

“It is not me. It is your attachment to the light. That is the source of your weakness. Practitioners of the light side don’t do so well in places like this.”

Dooku hands him a canteen and Obi-Wan eyes it warily.

Dooku sighs and rolls his eyes. “Would I have gone to the trouble of taking you all this way just to poison you? Drink.”

Obi-Wan accepts the canteen.

“The light is not my weakness. It is my strength,” Obi-Wan says after a long draught. He hands the canteen back to Dooku.

“Maybe,” Dooku says. “But not here.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep, centering breath and tries to remain calm. Wherever he is, he gets the feeling that he absolutely should not be here. He carries on anyway.

Twigs snap and leaves crunch under his feet until he notices them start to dampen. Solid ground turns soggy the farther they walk. They approach the gaping maw of a cavern, and at its face lies a spring — the source of the mud. Light dances on half of its surface while the other half lingers in the shadow of the cave.

“I presume this is where you are taking me?” Obi-Wan asks, unable to pull his gaze from the spring.

“Very astute,” Dooku says. “Keep going.”

The mud under his feet squelches and sticks, almost as if nature itself protests his movements. Obi-Wan does not want to keep going. Everything inside of him is telling him not to keep going.

Get out of here, Obi-Wan. It’s not safe here, Obi-Wan. It’s dangerous here, Obi-Wan.

The voice in his head telling him to stop almost wins, but his body is weakened by the dark energy that pulses through this place and Dooku is pushing him along. His feet drag and he is brought forth towards the spring.

Dooku kicks the back of his knees and he falls to the ground. His hands sink into the mud.

Now on his knees, Obi-Wan finds himself staring at his own reflection on the surface of the water.

“What is so special about this?” Obi-Wan asks between labored breaths.

“I’ve already told you.”

Obi-Wan looks back at the water and finds himself staring at someone new. No. Not someone new. Himself. Older. But it is undeniably him.

His Padawan brain is gone and a beard covers his face. His brows are set in a harsh look of concern — the same one Qui-Gon makes fun of him for, though there is nothing funny about the scene that begins to play out in front of him now.

A fire. A fury. The Jedi Temple under siege. Scorch marks. The gleam of sabers and the blue bolts of blasters.

Everyone dead or dying.

Everyone except him.

“This is a trick. This can’t be real,” Obi-Wan says, but he cannot tear his eyes away from the water’s reflection.

“Of course it is. Don’t you see?” Dooku implores. “This is your destiny.”

Obi-Wan shivers, the cold of the Dark Side raising gooseflesh across his skin. He can feel his body trying to submit under the pressure of the Dark Side, even as his spirit resists. The pressure builds and his body trembles. He feels as though he is about to pass out and he is sure he would have, were it not for a familiar voice that calls out.

“That’s enough, Dooku,” Qui-Gon says. “Let him go.”

Hope sings in Obi-Wan’s chest.

“Padawan,” Dooku says. “Good of you to join us.”

“Let. Him. Go.” Qui-Gon’s strong voice echoes through the cavern.

“I’m not holding him and he is not my prisoner. He looks into the waters of the Dark Side purely of his own volition.”

Qui-Gon ignites his blade and strides toward Obi-Wan. Dooku ignites his own saber and blocks Qui-Gon’s path.

“Do not interrupt him, Padawan.”

“Do not call me that,” Qui-Gon hisses. “And get out of my way.”

“He needs to finish this on his own.”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon says. “Don’t look at that. There is nothing for you there.”

“Master?” Obi-Wan squeaks out, sounding more like a scared youngling than the young man that he actually is. “I don’t like it here.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon says. “We can leave. Just look away from the water.”

Obi-Wan wants to look away from the water, but its pull is that of a siren call. Irresistible.

“Master Dooku said my destiny is in here.”

“Master Dooku is a liar. Come with me. Please Padawan, just look away from the water and come with me.”

“You are making a mistake, Qui-Gon.”

“The only mistake I made was taking my eyes off of him. I knew you had changed, but kidnapping? You’ve resulted to kidnapping padawans now?”

“Look at him, he is hardly a youngling anymore. You could make him a knight tomorrow if you knew how to let go. But either way, drastic measures have to be taken to show him the path he should follow.”

“This is not his path,” Qui-Gon says. “He will never join you. He will never join the Dark Side.”

“Are you so sure?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon says firmly. “He’ll never join you. Obi-Wan… he’s… he’s different. He’s good. Even your ichor cannot taint his light.”

“Even the most righteous Jedi are tempted by the dark.”

“Not him. Never him.”

Obi-Wan can feel the strength of Qui-Gon’s convictions, his hope, through their bond. He clings to it like a drowning man clings to a rope and with what remains of his strength, he pulls himself from the dark waters that threaten to consume him.

“Master?” Obi-Wan questions weakly.

“You are making a mistake, Obi-Wan,” Dooku says. “Only pain and misery await you if you stay on your current path. You saw it yourself and you shall see it again.”

“The future is in motion,” he says shakily. “Nothing is set in stone.”

“Don’t be naive, Obi-Wan. Remain on your path, and the future you saw remains inevitable.”

Obi-Wan swallows back the lump in his throat. “Regardless, there is no future where I follow you.”

Obi-Wan staggers forward. His fingers grasp for his lightsaber, but he knows he is in no condition to take on Dooku. To his relief and to his surprise, Dooku does not reach for his own saber. He stands to the side and lets Obi-Wan climb back up the hill. He does not look angry, only disappointed. There is not much time for Obi-Wan to ponder this before Dooku shakes his head and turns back, walking out the way they came in.

Qui-Gon watches Dooku leave, never taking his piercing gaze off of his former master until he has blended fully into the shadows. With his disappearance, Qui-Gon darts down the hill towards Obi-Wan. Rocks and loose dirt rolls down the hill with each of Qui-Gon’s heavy steps, but it does not slow him down.

The sight of his Master and the security of knowing he was coming to save him makes some of the fight die down inside of him. He trips over his own feet and falls forward on the slippery hill. Mud and dying leaves stick to his robes and his skin while the smell of decay that accompanies a forest floor fills his nostrils.

He just wants to get out of here.

Though it seems he will not have to wait much longer. Strong hands grab his arms and drag him to his feet. Qui-Gon dusts off his shoulders while giving him a once-over.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Not… not really.”

“That was a yes or no question, Obi-Wan.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says, trying to put more strength behind his words. “He cannot hurt me.”

“Actually, he can, but I’m glad he did not.”

Obi-Wan offers Qui-Gon a weakened smile.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Qui-Gon says, lending Obi-Wan a steadying arm.

Obi-Wan leans on his Master and lets him guide him home.

[welcome-tothe-madness]

Yo so like, after watching Book 3, I think I wanna kinda just put my thoughts here on Simon because so far he’s been one of my fav characters because of how well written he is and I just wanna like, idk, ramble

i absolutely adore how Simon and Grace are essentially 2 sides of the same coin, but also fundamentally different, and this is how their paths diverge. i think a large part of why Grace was able to start her redemption is because of how much she loved kids, and making them feel less alone. She thrived off of taking in lonely souls and showing them a “better way.” She genuinely felt bad for Hazel and wanted what was “better” for her. This doesn’t excuse any of her stuff, but her general love and compassion for other kids is really was kickstarted her on her redemption.

Simon did not. Not to say he didn’t care about Apex, but I don’t think he cared for the kids themselves. He cared about GRACE. He cared because she cared. If she had taken his hand and said “let’s leave this all behind” I’m sure he would have followed her. So while Grace is bonding with Hazel and learning to be ok with Tuba, all Simon sees is a distraction and someone holding them back. He also sees Grace not as enthusiastic to get rid of Tuba and keeps putting off killing her.

Now, about Tuba’s death. I see a lot of people marking this as the moment they started to hate him, and they’re not wrong, this was the key point where he became irredeemable. But I want everyone to take a step back and look at what we’ve seen so far. We know his backstory with Samantha, and i think everyone believes that’s the only reason he hates denizens. That could be the MAIN reason, but I don’t think it’s the ONLY reason. Remember why they were running in the first place? Because there was a bug denizen chasing them. We know from Book 1 that these big monsters are actually the creatures that inhabit the train. I think there is a big chance that he witnessed a denizen transform in front of him, and try to attack him. This is also supported when Grace has to explain to hazel why she doesn’t like them, she says “they’re unpredictable.” What’s that supposed to mean? Using context clues, I think they’re aware al the denizens are actually those soul sucking creatures. Yeah, no wonder they don’t feel anything for them when they die. As far as they’re concerned, they could turn and kill them at any minute.

Also, i’d like to bring up Book 2, when we’re first introduced to Simon and Grace. When they’re trying to recruit Jesse, they planned on killing Lake off to “help” him. Look at just how many kids are in Apex. What’s the likelihood that a majority of them befriended a denizen that they later had to sacrifice for initiation? This isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. They’ve done this a LOT, possibly hundreds of times. Tuba’s death to Simon was just another day of initiation. Does it make it any less wrong? Of course not, he fully had the capacity to bond and redeem himself just as Grace had, and they even got along right before her death. But in Simon’s eyes, he was too far gone, Tuba was a dangerous creature holding them back and he finally found the perfect opportunity to get rid of her like they‘d always done. Grace’s horror is what’s new to him. Her acting shocked, disgusted, scared? She’s never done that before. She’s always planned it, egged it on, encouraged it, PRAISED him for this behavior. And note what he says to her after the job is done!! “Let’s see how high OUR marks have gotten.” He knew Grace was insecure about her number lowering, and did something he usually got praised for, and even thought it’d help her. It wasn’t a selfish betrayal (sort of, I also partially believe he did it to get on Grace’s good side again) but he also did it because he knew how down she’d been.

I also just wanna say Grace should have communicated better with him. I don’t know if things would have turned out better or different, but a lot of his later actions were derived from her dishonesty and her distancing himself from him. She never told Simon what she was thinking. She never told him about her hesitation. She never let him in on anything. Instead? She chose a denizen over him. She decided to change and grow and expected Simon to follow suit. He isn’t a mind reader, how the hell was he supposed to know plans had changed and he was meant to keep Tuba alive? How was he meant to know?

This doesn’t make any of his actions ok. Trusting the cat over Grace and trapping her in her own mind? There’s no ”justifying” that (not that I’m trying to justify) but I think I’ve reached a level of understanding with his character. A lot of what happens is because he’s been left in the dark. Yes, he had the opportunity to change and it is his fault for not taking action, but I think a moment that struck a nerve with me is when Grace said “I’m not responsible for your problems, I don’t owe you anything.” She’s right, she’s not responsible for him not bettering himself.

She’s not responsible for his betrayal. She’s not responsible for his jealousy over Hazel. But you know what she is responsible for? Shoving this ideology down his throat, refusing to communicate, and then acting disgusted and lashing out at him for doing everything she’s ever taught him. She’s the one that taught him a higher number was better. She’s the one that’s always took command/control. She’s praised him for shitty behaviors and when she sees the result of it? It’s not her problem. I completely understood when Simon screamed out “YOU OWE ME EVERYTHING.”

No, she doesn’t owe him everything, but her toxicity towards him is a major factor into why he turned out how he did. Treating people like shit and then saying it’s not your problem when it affected them? (Btw, I’m NOT a grace hater and do not believe she is the source of all his problems, clearly he is his own person and has the capacity to grow as well, but saying she doesn’t owe him anything?? Not even an apology for lying and keeping secrets?? that’s what mainly struck a nerve.)

Also, I wanna bring up another moment that I think solidified hate for him. When Grace saved him, and he tried wheeling her. I can also understand why he did this. Is it right? No, obviously no it’s not ok. But I think the reason he chose to shove her off is because when he asked “why did you save me?” Her response was “I don’t know.” You don’t know? You don’t know why you were compelled to save your number 1 friend for years? Someone who stuck with you through thick and thin, clung to every word you said, and did everything you asked? You don’t know why you saved him? Even after everything? In such an emotional and high tensity moment, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. Again, not something he should have done, but it’s something I can understand. If my scorned ex best friend saved my life and said they didn’t know why, I’d probably feel angry too.

anyways yeah, he’s still a shit person but he’s complex and i think a large reason why his character works so well is because of how well he is written. He did horrible things but there was always a reason, it was never ”mwuahaha, I’m evil now.” And that’s what I love about Infinity Train. Everyone feels so real. Anyways yeah ramble over, if you’ve read this far, feel free to discuss more with me if you feel like I overlooked anything or just wanna spark more conversation!! <33

[enviedear]

dreams → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco tries to make amends with his old bestfriend he pushed away. the girl who saw the best in him, and still might.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.6k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you knew what was to come before it actually came. you could tell from the way he acted. instead of confiding in you, he would ignore you. instead of listening to you, he would find an excuse to leave the conversation.

your best friend was not your best friend anymore. but you were a hopeful third year then, and the thought of a diminishing friendship seemed ridiculous.

it was a horribly cold day when it all happened. you were sat near the frozen black lake, watching snowfall when you had heard the familiar call of your name.

when you turned around you had seen your best friend, draco.

“i’ve missed you! come sit beside me and catch up,” you exclaimed.

“i can’t do that, y/n.” he had said, simply.

you still remember the way you looked at him. your eyes were full of innocent confusion.

“draco what are you talking about? are you scared of getting your ass wet from the snow?” you had teased.

“no. i just can’t be around you anymore.” his eyes were colder than the air around you.

you didn’t say anything, just continued looking at him. none of it had felt real. sure draco wasn’t the nicest boy in your year, but he was your best friend. this all had to be some joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

“i can’t hang about some ditzy hufflepuff. if i want to keep my friends i can’t be seen with you. and if i want to date pansy i can’t have some lovestruck girl around me all the time, can i?” he had hissed.

lovestruck? no. not at the time, in third year you only wanted a friend.

“oh. okay, i’m sorry for bothering you then.” you had mumbled.

and that was that. nothing else was said between the two of you. you had quickly abandoned the notion of watching the snowfall, and instead, slipped into your empty dorm room.

you had made your way to your bed, closed the curtains, and laid there for hours. the thoughts in your head keeping you awake. you’d missed dinner, and your dorm mates had brought you some without a word. that night, it rained. it was a terrible thunderstorm.

but the thunder seemed to match your pain, and it comforted you a little. and after that night, you started enjoying every thunderstorm.

you were now in your sixth year, and many things had changed. mainly, your feelings toward a certain blonde slytherin.

“if i were parkinson i’d feel so embarrassed for myself.” your best friend, ruth giggles.

the two of you were at dinner, and ruth had a perfect view of draco and pansy.

“why? what’s happening?” you ask.

“well, she’s trying to hold his hand but he’s much too focused on his turkey leg to take notice of her. poor girl, you’d think she’d figure out the bloke doesn’t like her.” ruth sighs.

you roll your eyes, “pansy would put up with anything for malfoy. she’s so dependent.”

it was a horribly rude thing to say of course, but it was true. you were sure everyone knew that parkinson would do anything to get into a relationship with malfoy.

“well, i’m all done. want to head to the library with me before it closes?” ruth asks.

you nod your head and grab your bag.

the walk to the library after dinner had become part of your daily routine, and if it weren’t for ruth you know you’d probably forget to study most days.

the two of you find a table to sit at, and take out your books. it’s only november, so the workload isn’t too heinous yet. you choose to review your potions notes and begin to study ahead for the upcoming lesson.

you’re in the middle of reading a section about the elixir of euphoria when ruth tells you she’s going to head to bed.

“okay, goodnight. i’m going to finish this and then i’ll be down there.” you smile at her.

she bids you goodnight, and then you’re left alone. by the time you finish, it’s well past bedtime. but lucky enough, you’re a prefect. the fact always comes in handy for you.

you pack away your books and begin heading for the hufflepuff common room. you’re just outside the library when you see someone pass by the adjoining corridor.

the dim light makes it impossible for you to determine who it is, so you follow after them.

“excuse me! no one is to be out of bed right now. i’m going to have to give you detention..” you trail off, making eye contact with the familiar grey eyes of your childhood.

“y/l/n.” he says, almost surprised.

you don’t say anything, you simply pull out a detention slip and hand it to him.

“get to your common room, malfoy.” you mutter, turning around.

“are you still mad at me?” you hear him ask, his tone light and careful.

“whatever are you talking about?” you glare, turning to face him once more.

“you know what i’m talking about, y/l/n. i think you’re giving me this bloody detention because you’re still upset i didn’t want to be your friend in third year.” he spits.

you feel your ears grow hot before you reply, “we’re not kids anymore. i’ve moved on and so should you. leave me alone, malfoy.” and with that, you leave the boy standing alone.

the next day is much the same as usual. you start the day with charms, struggle your way through advanced transfiguration, and go to herbology. after lunch, it’s time for your free period.

most days, ruth accompanies you outside near the black lake to sit and relax. with everything going on in the world these past few years, you’re glad to have a friend you can confide in. today, however, she’s stuck retaking a charms test. so you’re all alone this evening.

the cold november air casts goosebumps on your skin, but you’re too focused on your thoughts to care. all day, you’ve found yourself reliving last night with draco. you’ve played the situation out so many times you’re convinced that at this point, you’ve come up with every single way the conversation could have gone.

maybe you could have be nicer to him? maybe you shouldn’t have spoken at all? maybe you should have put him in his place more?

all of these thoughts bombard you, and make you feel just like you did back in third year. weak, confused, and hurt. you didn’t even know why you were thinking of draco so much in the first place.

well, maybe you did know. even though you weren’t friends anymore, you still looked out for him. there were plenty of times people would speak badly of him for things he couldn’t change, and you’d be quick to defend him.

you also always listened in to any conversation where his name was brought up. at this point, you were sure it was instinct.

you didn’t like draco anymore, but you still loved him. granted, not the way you loved him as a child. no, now you have a love for him that rivals any love poem, song, or illustration.

and you hate it. you don’t know why you love him, and it doesn’t stop you from loathing the person he is now. though, you’ve often let your mind slip into a different scenario. one where draco never stops being your friend. he doesn’t care for what others have to say. and after school the two of you fall in love and live in a cottage in italy.

but the only cottage you can possibly see in your near future is hagrids’. so you always stop the thought before you can become too invested. all your wishes for a different life with draco can never come to fruition anyway.

you check your watch and see it’s time to head inside for dinner. you’ve almost reached the greenhouses before you’re violently pulled backward, causing you to fall straight on your ass.

you look up and are greeted with the very face you told to leave you alone.

“great, it’s you. have you come to hex me for your little detention?” you remark, getting to your feet.

“you’re such a brash person to be in hufflepuff, has anyone ever told you that.” draco spits, before lighting his tone, “sorry i didn’t mean— i just need to speak with you.”

“so you flung me on my ass?”

“i didn’t mean to!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “i don’t want to speak with you. for the last time, leave me alone.”

“y/n you don’t understand i don’t have anyone else to talk to!” he shouts.

“oh so now you want to talk to me! just because your other friends are too busy now. what is it they’re busy with draco, helping the dark lord?” you seethe.

he huffs and looks down, not saying a word.

“that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? keep me out of it, malfoy. i don’t want to be a part of your pathetic ideology.” you jeer.

he keeps his gaze on the ground when he mutters, “i don’t want to be a part of it either. that’s why i wanted to speak to you,” he looks up and stares right into your eyes. “i need help.”

your mind goes a mile a minute. you can’t stop looking at him. you don’t know if this is real or not but you reply before you properly think it out.

“what do you need from me?”

you see him relax a little. his eyebrows lower, he slouches a bit, and his eyes become softer. he looks more like the draco you knew. the thought makes your stomach drop and your mind race.

“can i take you somewhere?” he asks.

you nod your head and begin to follow the tall boy. he leads you into the castle, and up to the seventh floor. he looks at you before telling you to stand where you are and walks up and down the corridor three times.

you look at him confused and are about to suggest that maybe someone hit him with a confundus charm when suddenly a door appears in front of you.

“the room of requirement?” you ask, amazed.

draco doesn’t say anything as he pulls you into the room with him.

the room in question amazes you. there are millions of things that capture your gaze. it makes you feel extremely small.

“what are we doing here, draco?” you quiz.

“i’m going to show you something but you have to promise not to judge too quickly,” he stresses.

“i can’t just promise you—“ you stop yourself, taking away your defenses, “i won’t judge you draco. just get it over with.”

he lets out a deep sigh before lifting up his sleeve on his left arm, and you know what it is before he shows you.

a dark mark.

“draco, that’s kind of hard not to judge,” you affirm.

“i know. y/n, but i didn’t want it. he— he made me. my bloody father ruined everything. now i have to play as the dark lords' pawn. he’s asked me to do the unthinkable...” draco falters.

“what do you mean? what’s the unthinkable?”

the boy in front of you begins to look even more broken and hurt as he no doubt begins to think about whatever is troubling him.

“dumbledore. i have to kill him.” he says, tears pooling out of his grey eyes.

the confession causes you to step closer to the boy. you search his face for a lie, but come up empty-handed.

“you don’t have to, draco! you can go into hiding with me. we can go into the muggle world. do not do this, draco.” you plead.

“y/n you don’t understand. the dark lord will kill my mother if i don’t. she’s doesn’t deserve to die because of father’s mistakes or my cowardice. i have to do this. i just need one person to know that i never wanted to do it.” he tells you, desperately trying to wipe away his tears.

you can’t bring yourself to say anything, so instead, you wrap your arms around him. he’s still cold from the breeze outside and he shakes a little still from his confession. but you hold onto him and rub his back.

“i’m so sorry for everything. for third year, for this. i’m sorry y/n. i know you told me that i shouldn’t be worried about something that happened when we were kids, but i can’t help it. i never forgave myself.” he whispers into your ear.

“i know you’re sorry, draco.” you whisper back.

he pulls away from you and puts a hand on your cheek, “i was scared. you made me a good person and it scared me. and i loved you. salazar, did i love you.”

you furrow your eyebrows, “you loved me? back in third year?”

“so much. i never stopped really. i thought about telling you so many times over the past few years, but i could never work up the courage. then this happened and—” he sighs looking down at his mark, “well i thought i should tell you before everything happens.”

“i love you too. i hated not having you in my life.” you confess.

“i’ll never leave you again. i know it’s a lot to ask of you. i want you to tell me if you don’t want to be a part of this. you don’t have to put up with my fucked up life.” he expresses.

“i know you’re good, draco. i’ll make sure that after all of this is over, you’re not seen as something you’re not. when harry kills him and ends it all, i’ll be here. i want to be here for you, and i will.”

his eyes take in your words, watching your lips. the two of you are so close you can smell the deep and musky fragrance of his cologne. you feel the beat of his heart. his eyes bounce around from your mouth to you eyes, looking more asking each glance.

finally, you begin asking him the same question without the use of words. he doesn’t hesitate and connects his lips to yours. there’s electricity to the kiss. the motion causes your world to become brighter. you feel as though you’re opening up a part of your soul that hasn’t been touched in years, making you lean in deeper. the two of you are exploring parts of yourselves and each other, and before you can figure one thing out the kiss takes you to a new revelation.

the kiss starts to become even more hungry and intense. draco slips his free hand to the back of your neck, and you bring your hands to his soft hair desperately trying to pull him even closer. you feel your face get hotter and your stomach flutters more. draco’s lips are like the violent thunder you’d grown so accustomed to loving over the years. it makes you yearn for more, even though you know you have everything. you have every single fiber of the blonde boy. his soul is yours, and yours is his.

when the two of you pull away, nothing is said. you both silently come to the same conclusion, what you two share now makes up for what was lost.

“i’m so glad i never moved on from you.” he professes.

you smile a little at his wording, thinking back to the previous night. looking back in it now, you don’t understand why you’d ever lie to him.

“i never really wanted you to.” you say.

even though nothing is perfect and your situation had too many issues to write down, you and draco feel comfort and ease the both of you haven’t felt in a long time.

this time, you won’t let it escape you.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Tommy’s (and Tubbo’s) Character /rp /dSMP

This is a bit of a rant so like be warned. I have nothing against any CCs mentioned in this, this is all roleplay, lighthearted, and just a bit of fun analysis. Mostly this is a ramble about how I see certain people analysing Tommy’s character on tumblr and twt, and why I think they’re wrong. This isn’t directed at anyone specific, just a trend I’ve been seeing that kinda irks me. I don’t dislike the fandom, just a few ‘takes’ have been really weird for me.

TW for everything below: analysing the effects of trauma, abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, and lack of therapy.

I’m not really liking how victim-blamey everyone is getting currently in the dSMP, both in fandom and canon. In canon with certain characters but especially in fan analysis posts and especially about Tommy and Tubbo. People legitimately celebrating that Tommy might start ‘apologising’ for his actions more and 'growing as a person' somehow don’t realise that hes been made this way through a tonne of negative reinforcement. abuse, and gaslighting. And people blaming Tubbo for actions he had no choice in, rather than the actions he did choose.

Currently, as I see it, Tommy is so scared that anyone would find a reason to be pissed off at him that his fighting spirit has been completely crushed. He was exiled and abused when he should have been helped and given an understanding figure to guide him and teach him how to deal with things non-violently. In everyone’s eyes, the problem was that Tommy was creating violence with no real reason, acting recklessly and commiting crimes. Tubbo, having made him a part of his cabinet, knew that this would only harm the country. So instead of talking to him reasonably, he got angry, put him on trial, and punished him with the logbook (humiliating him by making him report back to Fundy, which he obviously hated). Tommy’s actions were, of course, bad, but did he deserve everyone ganging up on him? No. Especially when Tubbo was supposed to be in his corner, helping him out like he always said he would (”It’s me and you vs Dream” etc). This is the first betrayal of trust from Tommy’s POV. He doesn’t understand what he did wrong to its full extent, and no one can explain it to him. 

However, Tubbo was under a lot of pressure from Dream and George, and he’s a literal child President, so his ‘safety over friendship’ actions are understandable. I don’t believe Tubbo is solely to blame for anything he’s done in season 2, but it can’t all be excused. If you are to blame Tommy for his recklessness, you have to blame Tubbo, at least partially, for his disregard for Tommy’s feelings and mental state. There were other ways to go about the entire thing, including the trial, which was just horrible to watch, and agreeing to give Dream the disc, something Tommy gave him in pure confidence that it would be safe with Tubbo. Yikes moment.

At that time, Tubbo knew a lot of things about Tommy. In fact, he probably knew the most about Tommy out of anyone on the server. He knew the discs were incredibly important and a comfort item for Tommy. He knew Tommy had trauma from being exiled in the past. He knew Tommy was abused, or at least manipulated by Wilbur, in addition to growing up in war. Wilbur once told Tommy to stop being reckless, and Tommy listened, changing his attitude because he looked up to Wilbur so much. Then Wilbur said ‘let’s be the bad guys’ and stopped trying to mentor Tommy. There’s a conflict here, because Tommy was told by Wilbur that he wasn’t good enough to be President (links to the idea of ‘not being strong enough’) but he knows that Wilbur was a bad person. But Tommy is never given the chance to reconsile his feelings surrounding Wilbur, both because of Ghostbur and because of the conflict he starts with George. So he is harbouring a mixture of emotions about his mentor and brother, not understanding how to untangle the ‘real Tommy’ from the manipulated boy he became. 

What was going through his head when he stole from George and griefed him? Perhaps the thought that he needed to show he was still the same old Tommy. Maybe the need to ‘prove himself’ as a strong person? It could have just been an outlet for his trauma. He’s grown up in a world where everyone is either a friend or an enemy. George isn’t a friend. How was he supposed to know that hurting him was bad?

Tubbo was pressured into the actions he took against Tommy, but he was pressured far too easily. There is no moment where Tubbo turns to Tommy and makes sure he’s okay, he views him as ‘selfish’ and overdramatic, and sees his actions that way. This makes sense from Tubbo’s POV, he’s struggling to be President in ways that Wilbur *knew* he would, but in Tommy’s eyes this is the worst betrayal he’s ever known. The moment Tubbo (rightfully, but poorly executed) defies Tommy’s plan to hire Technoblade (ahem, seeing Techno as a weapon again) and exiles Tommy is the moment their friendship shatters. They’re two people who don’t understand each other anymore. Two people who are technically in the right, but only hurt each other. 

What Tommy needed was a therapist, instead he had Dream, who put out the fire of rebellion that made him so strong, and Techno, who was trying to help but doing it in the wrong way. 

People see tommy's change post-exile as a good thing because he's not as rebellious anymore and he’s thinking things through a lot before he does them, but they will soon realise that his rebellion was one of his best traits and the fact that no one saw it as anything but a problem really shows. He now second-guesses himself so much and is so scared of being wrong that everything seems too difficult and too dangerous. Every trait can have a positive and negative side. Tommy's defiant nature would have made him the perfect negotiator with a little practise. In fact, he had plenty of good ideas before he was exiled (using spirit against Dream, though it didnt work in the end, for example). The negative side of this was recklessness and the desire to cause problems on purpose, but what he needed was a friend (looking at you Tubbo) who understood that hes been through several wars, was manipulated by Wilbur, and hasnt known a time of peace where everyone who wasnt on his side was out to kill him. Now that ‘fight’ is gone he's just become easier to manipulate.

He may be getting better (see: telling Dream to go fuck himself) but there hasn't been any long-term growth because he was never told what kind of rebellion was good and what was bad. He was just told it was all bad. By Dream (and by Tubbo). Who he doesn't trust. So he's just going to revert back to his old ways because no one told him what was bad in a way that didn't make him feel like everyone was against him. Dream is the enemy (though Tommy’s feelings towards him are complicated, they make his brain go all ‘flippy floppy’) and Dream told him that rebellion was bad, so rebellion must be good always, right? 

And then there's Techno. Techno did nothing wrong except for when he did. Techno is 100% right except for when he isn’t. He doesn't understand Tommy because Tommy was never fully open about what Dream had done and how it affected him. That's not Tommys fault though, because who the fuck openly talks about their trauma? So neither of them are to blame for pretty much anything up until the confrontation at the community house. 

However, Techno's methods and ideology were not what Tommy needed. He was thrown from one extreme to another over and over again, from complete subservience to total rebellion. Neither of these inforce good attitudes in Tommy. One, as stated before, makes it so that he will regain his negative traits again. The other reinforces those violent traits as good, just like Wilbur did. The only difference is that Techno had good intentions, he wasnt trying to use Tommy, which is why he feels so used when Tommy 'betrays' him (Techno doesnt realise that he himself betrayed Tommy by teaming with Dream, he sees it more as a transaction than a personal thing). Techno feels so hurt by Tommy ‘viewing him as a weapon’ that he goes on with his no-mercy attack, completely dropping Tommy at his lowest point. 

Tommy says he doesn't want to be like everyone he's hated. In fact, he say's he is 'worse' than all the villains. This is very obviously untrue, though he was clearly going down a dangerous path with Techno's influence (see: bullying Fundy, spawning wither, kidnapping Connor, and saying that the discs are more important than Tubbo, more on that later). He's not a villain but who exactly has said he's not a villain. Dream? Techno? Neither of them can be trusted in his eyes. They say he's a good guy, Wilbur wanted to be the bad guy, who's right? He doesn't know. He has a crisis of morality. 

And? Some people want to point at that and say 'aha! Character development! He's finally realising his actions have a negative affect on others!' OH GOD NO??? He's a *child* who thinks that he is worse than his abuser. Does that sound like positive character growth to you? 

Lastly, the discs. We know theyre a comfort item blahblahblah. He hates himself for valuing them more than he values Tubbo. He's literally innocent in this. He’s been horribly manipulated by Dream to believe that the discs are worth anything. Theyre really not worth anything if they are being used as tools rather than, yknow, discs. My poor boy. He doesnt trust people, so what can he trust? The discs. But then he says it out loud and realises he misses Tubbo and he wants to be with his best friend again and and and WAHHHH. This also isnt really character growth its just fucking sad leave me alone. 

Anyways what the fuck guys. @ Niki and Jack what the fuck. Yeah we get it it’s miscommunication but wtf. Kinda worried that the actual lore will make Niki and Jack’s hatred of Tommy justified in some way and take on a big victim-blamey vibe, but I’m hoping that everyone is smart enough to not do that. I cannot praise Tommy enough for how he’s portrayed his character. I’m currently hoping that he himself understands the true complexity of it all. I’m sure he does.

Mostly though im actually pissed off at all the people praising tommy's character for 'maturing' when hes literally just got trauma. Nice one, tumblr and twt users. Thanks. Great job. He hasnt 'learnt his lesson', he’s traumatised. What the fuck.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk, leave your responses in the reblogs and comments.

[into-the-afterlife]

Why I Ship Johnny/Female V: Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2]

This is Part 2 of my essay series on why I ship Johnny and female V. Back in part 1, I covered why I ship female V specifically with Johnny and not male V, as well as some thoughts on Johnny’s sexuality. This time, I’m looking at Johnny himself. (Content warning: there is some discussion of rape and how rape is handled in fiction.)

Johnny, ambiguity and age-old romantic tropes

Look, I’m just going to come out and say this: part of my interest in this ship is thirsting over Johnny. And when I’m interested in something, whether it’s an intellectual, creative or sexual interest, I like to do what I always do – analyse it to death. So what is it about the actor, the performance and the character that makes Johnny as attractive as he is?

Keanu Reeves himself, obviously, can’t be ignored here. He has a gorgeous face and voice, but crucially, he’s distinctively beautiful. Obviously, everyone has the right to be into what they’re into, and I don’t want to shame anyone for their tastes. But I do not understand people who are into the blandly beautiful. Sure, there’s nothing wrong about, let’s say, Chris Evans. But what’s right about him? Where are the snags that catch your attention and hold it? Where’s the life?

Reeves, meanwhile, is attractive because he’s unusual. He has long, dark hair, but he’s regularly photographed at public events with it mussed-up. He has a chiselled face, but his cheekbones are high enough that he looks alien. He has all the charisma of any Hollywood actor, but, whether this is him as he is or an especially well-calculated image choice, it comes off as genuine. When watching interviews with him, you feel less in the presence of a star and more an especially fascinating stranger at a party, one who, despite bursting with witticisms and stories, somehow wants to talk to you most of all.  

There’s also an element of age ambiguity here. Reeves is in his fifties, and while age suits his looks better than youth did, it shows. Meanwhile, Johnny the character is in his thirties when he dies, and to match this, the animators smooth out Reeves’ face and darken his beard. They also give Johnny the (unrealistic but glorious) organic arms of a dedicated bodybuilder. So what Johnny ends up with is the presence, confidence and charisma of an older guy, combined with the physicality of someone younger. It’s potent, to say the least. It also adds to Johnny’s uncanniness as a character. He’s caught between maturity and youth, life and death, humanity and machine; he’s hard to pinpoint no matter where you look. And whether you express this academia-style, as, ‘the gothic associates uncanniness with sexuality’, or internet-style,  as, ‘I’m a monster/robotfucker’, this is, as the kids say, pretty damn hot.

This uncanniness, as well as Reeves’ looks and performance, also offset some of the more unlikeable aspects of Johnny’s personality. This is best illustrated by the concept art created for Johnny before Reeves was brought on board. (Found courtesy of the lovely folks at r/LowSodiumCyberpunk.)

As you can see, they had a lot of Johnny’s look already nailed down. But this makes the differences all the more startling. This Johnny looks like he’s been dragged through the wringer. His hair is messier, and he seems to be getting premature wrinkles and balding. He’s strung-out, with a genuinely hopeless cast to his face. His look is also a lot more dated. While our Johnny has elements of the old rocker, the jean jacket, bandana, V-necked black jumper and aviators clipped to the tank top root this Johnny inescapably in 1980s music and fashion.

Why is all this relevant to shipping Johnny with V? Partially because I’m shallow, I’m not going to lie. But it’s also because making Johnny look like this would have made him much more obviously an intrusion. A guy dressed like this next to 2077’s booty shorts and space buns is like a ghost in a ballgown next to a woman in jeans. He’s not just out of time; he’s been irrevocably left behind. Johnny’s face here also has much less in the way of possibility. Where our Johnny says, ‘maybe your life would be better if you listened to me’, this Johnny screams, ‘my way is hopeless, but you can’t ignore it’. It’s leaning much more into the tragic aspects of Johnny’s character and of the genre of cyberpunk. And don’t get me wrong – I love that artwork, and think that angle would be an interesting artistic choice.

But making Johnny a tragic intrusion like this removes the element of seduction, so to speak, from his character. What makes Johnny attractive, ideologically, sexually and romantically, is a balance of certainty and uncertainty. On the surface, he’s passionately, blazingly certain of his politics, his music and himself. If you’re taking a leap of faith, whether that’s fighting against the corpos that rule your life or hopping into bed with an engram, what draws you to it is the kind of confidence that makes you doubt your own certainties. Yet too much of that can be off-putting. Nobody wants a partner who’s so cocksure (pardon the pun) that they don’t listen to what you want, and nobody wants a political ally who’s gone so far into their own rhetoric that they can’t convince those outside it.

Therefore, the common factor across all the ways Reeves’ looks impact our perception of Johnny is the balancing of two seemingly opposing things. Keep that in mind, because it only gets more relevant the deeper into this ship, and Johnny’s attractiveness, we go.

Of course, Reeves’ looks are far from the only thing he brings to the table. His acting, across body language, facial expressions and voice acting, is incredible. I want to take a look at his voice acting, as well as his voice generally, first.

I’m not familiar enough with the subtleties of American accents to pinpoint why, but Reeves’ accent sounds slightly different to the more generic accents of other famous actors. Perhaps it’s because he’s Canadian. Either way, his consonants are less harsh on the ear than other A-list actors, his vowels less elongated. He speaks slowly, sounding as if he just woke up. His voice is mellow and soothing; it’s the sort of sound you could take a bath in.

(For reference purposes, I’m listening to this Cyberpunk trailer as I write this, as well as, um, this video that I’ve watched far too many times. XD)

Obviously, to play Johnny he has to modify that laid-back aspect of his voice. But it’s interesting how his natural voice and his ‘Johnny’ voice bounce off each other. Reeves is able to pull off a much more belligerent Johnny than many actors could, precisely because of that laid-back quality his natural voice has. Think of that ‘impressive cock’ line. It’s made as funny as it is because of the total lack of shame in how Reeves delivers it. But in the mouth of an actor like, let’s say, Robert Downey Jr, that level of shamelessness would just come off as annoying. Reeves uses his natural voice to amp up Johnny’s, for lack of a better word, Chad-ness, far beyond the place another actor could manage. Because he has that base of softness, he can go hard on Johnny’s arrogance.

Why is this relevant to Johnny’s attractiveness as a character, as well as why Johnny/F!V are a fascinating ship? To develop a character well, you have to have an extremely solid base to start on – and that base is where a lot of writing and acting falls down. The audience has to know intimately what a character is usually like, or who they seem to be, before burrowing into the character further is made effective. That equal hard/soft approach means that when Johnny does soften later in the game, it seems both unexpected and inevitable. Even as the harsh tone and words were conveying one thing, that softness underneath was always conveying another. But the fact that Reeves can go hard on the arrogance makes that change much more impactful than it would be in another character. Once again, we’re seeing an equal balance of two seemingly opposing qualities, not openly leaning towards one or the other.

There’s also some aspects of the body language Reeves and the animators give to Johnny I’d like to focus in on. While I’m not an actor, nor am I a psychologist, and therefore am likely to have missed things, there were a few things I noticed when going through footage of Johnny in pivotal scenes. (If you spot something I haven’t talked about, please reply or reblog! I’d love to get a back-and-forth discussion going.)

Over and over again, Johnny’s body language has two layers. There’s what I’m calling the ‘douchebag’ layer, which is where Johnny seems insultingly relaxed. The scene when V and Johnny first meet, as well as the scene at the diner, have two great examples of this. Johnny gets into V’s space, but it’s slow, catlike. There’s no urgency when he leans in, nor when he stands over V.

Similarly, at the diner, he tells V he doesn’t want to kill her anymore – something pivotally important for their relationship and the plot - while putting his arms behind his head and his feet up on the table. It communicates, at least on the surface, a real sense of disrespect. ‘I don’t give a shit’, says his posture, ‘whether you hate and fear me or not’. His threatening slowness when they first meet, meanwhile, communicates that he doesn’t think V is a competent opponent. Why should he hurry if he can get her any time?

At least, that’s what it looks like. Take a look from 9:40 onwards here. Sure, he swings his legs up on the table – but not before hurrying into the diner booth and tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. Even when he gets into that relaxed posture, he’s bouncing his leg the entire time. Those catlike movements I talked about when they first meet? If you look from 5:42 here, they’re there. But they’re also interspersed with banging his head incessantly against the wall, pacing back and forth and glitching unpredictably all around the room.

This is where the second layer of Johnny’s body language comes in. Underneath all that casual condescension, he communicates constant, frenetic energy, even anxiety. Even in his default, idle animations, it’s extremely rarely that Johnny communicates real coolness and calm. He covers constantly racing thoughts and feelings with a slick persona.

What this does is very like the hard/soft balance of the voice acting I talked about earlier. Because the ‘douchebag’ layer of body language is the most obvious one, you pick up on that first. But the other layer is there throughout Johnny’s entire arc, and it goes into your brain on a much more subconscious level. Then, when Johnny’s guard does come down, it seems like a natural development of his character while still being a surprise. Once again, there’s that knife-edge balance between two disparate qualities. And for me, attraction always lies in the space between.

There’s also something highly sexual about the way he gets into V’s space when they first meet, the way he stands over her. When first playing the scene where they first meet, it felt like watching the moments before an act of rape. You see him first as he leans over you while you’re still in bed. He beats you to the ground, smashes your head into the window, and towers over you while you’re collapsed on the floor. Given the context of him taking over your body, the overtones are unmistakeable.

But again, crucially, that frantic body language and his lines are the complete opposite of how someone behaves when making the kind of power play that rape is. The pacing, the panicked words and the fact that he’s caught off guard all communicate disempowerment. While it’s still a violent, frightening scene, it’s not a monstrous one.

Why is that relevant to discussing Johnny’s attractiveness, and Johnny/V? Because rape fantasies and male domination are some of the oldest tropes in the book for M/F romantic arcs. Done properly, they play on desires of sexual submission without explicitly acknowledging the kink, depict the eroticism of that liminal space between humanity and monstrosity I talked about earlier and allow you to fantasise about being deeply wanted. Of course, that last bit isn’t a factual depiction of rape in real life. But in the fantasy, the story, the idea of being ravished is partially about being special, being so uniquely attractive that the guy loses all control of himself. If you have a more conservative or repressed view of your sexuality, the ravishment/rape fantasy also allows you to fantasise about sex without seeing yourself as a slut. (This post is a great look at that last idea as applied to the movie Labyrinth, if you want to find out more.)

The idea of sexualised monstrosity is also everywhere in the tropes used to characterise Johnny. He’s a troubled rockstar, an angst-ridden artist who died tragically young, a violent political rebel, part human and part supernatural creature, a charismatic, cocky, seemingly heartless guy, who just might have a heart if you look deep enough. What all these tropes have in common is the promise of both reassuring humanity and fascinating, exciting monstrosity.

Reeves’ and Johnny’s looks combine strangeness and humanity. Reeves’ voice acting moves between soaring arrogance and languid softness. Johnny’s body language combines fear and overconfidence. And the use of age-old romantic tropes in an unexpected context, as well as the use of these specific romantic tropes, knit all the effects of the other things together to create that balance between the human and the strange. He’s unusual enough to be interesting, human enough to seem real and associated with all our cultural symbolism of an attractive man. With all that going on, how could you not find him hot as hell?

But the thing about these tropes is, they’re also so common they’re clichéd. Not just in fandom, but all across Western media and art. So what lifts Johnny and Johnny/V out of being something generic? What makes them so fascinating that I’ve written thousands of words about them? What, in short, makes them different?

That’s what I’ll go into next time.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[heraldofzaun]

what are your thoughts on viktor and being neurodivergent? though like, obligatory disclaimer that if riot ever did come out and say that "hey! viktor is canonically [something]" that would be catastrophic but i think it is a little bit of fun for consideration

Oh! Well I like to think he's autistic, which is partially because I am too. (Of course in canon it would be catastrophic because haha, oh man, look at how they've treated Blitzcrank's biographies ever since they gave him an updated one. There's some coding in there, alright, and I am... not a fan...)

I’ve posted a lot of long posts recently (this is no exception) and this is also on a kind of tricky subject, so I’m readmore’ing it.

So anyways, while I have to admit that some of the reason why (my) Viktor is autistic is because I am - I think that you can make a general semi-convincing argument. Or I'm so wrapped up in my own interpretations that I can, at the least. Anyways, from here on out when I say Viktor I mean my personal take. Your mileage may vary on applying this to other interpretations.

(Also, thoughts on new lore Jayce's being kind of coded to be like, a stereotypical autistic dude? (If you have any I mean.) I don't like that Riot is doing it, of course, but I've seen a few good rehabilitative takes on it in fandom. @hamartio's Jayce springs to mind, because their Jayce has been developed over the years and also written by someone who like. Cares. Anyways, I have my own personal Jayce ideas that rely on his old lore so he's not really an asshole there, at least in those regards, so I don't really have many thoughts on new Jayce. I think new Viktor is... pretty coded as well, but it’s also insanely stereotypical. The whole “always working, always wants certainty, gets into automation not because he (primarily) wants to help those injured by catastrophes in Zaun but because the catastrophes interrupt his work” thing makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll write sometime on why the rewrite of his lore fails, in my opinion, to hit upon the same themes of his first - would that be of interest to folks? Anyways, this parenthetical is too long.)

I think that autistic Viktor is cool and makes sense, somewhat because of the fact that the ways he goes about solving his problems are, er, unorthodox. (Of course I am not saying that the GE is because he’s autistic, because that’s stupid. This is why I’m kind of squirrely about talking so openly about what I think Viktor’s got going on, and why I don’t really trust if a non-autistic person headcanons him as autistic. There’s a lot of room for that headcanon to just reinforce the “autistic people are supergeniuses with no emotions that work based off of Facts and Logic” trope, and I hate that.) Since a lot of autism is about feeling adrift from/at odds with neurotypical society, I think that Viktor’s general solutions and also his idealistic leanings in the face of everything Zaun is tracks for that. Roboticization makes sense as a way to stop suffering and death, because it’s more achievable than individual feats of immortality through magic or whatever. Viktor doesn’t really get why people would be so opposed to it - he’s made it clear that while he dislikes his own emotions and wants them gone, he doesn’t expect others to cast off theirs. (Maybe he expected that when he was in the thick of his emotional pain, mostly because he couldn’t imagine others choosing differently than he at the time, but not in the current day.)

Of course, externally, when the scary cyborg man who admits to cutting off his own limbs says “no, being a robot is cool, you can keep your emotions even”, any Zaunite (or any person) is going to interpret that as “he is definitely lying”. Viktor doesn’t quite make that leap. (I have thoughts on the whole Theory of Mind concept and I don’t mean to say that Viktor can’t empathize - he does, and does too much - with others, but I think that in this instance he just can’t quite understand sometimes why people don’t believe him.) He also doesn’t quite get why people would be so attached to the bodies that they’re currently in, especially if he can make a mechanical replica. Or why people might want to die and pass into non-existence after a life well lived. (To him, personally, there’s always more to do. Also he’s terrified of death but that’s another topic.)

I also think that Viktor’s empathy is of the hyper- rather than hypo- kind, partially because I feel like outside of self-advocacy groups the mere concept of autistic hyperempathy is seen as like... impossible? It’s also because he generally seems to be kind of an emotional guy in canon before Stanwick, what with the lore saying that “almost no trace of the original man remained” in reference to Viktor reemerging as someone without emotions. That, combined with the fact that he was described as having a “hope to better society” before everything went down, kind of makes me believe that he was a naive idealist type. (Again, not that autism makes you naive, but...) But yes, hyperempathy. Hence "no pain, no wars, no suffering, no death” being part of his ideology for the Glorious Evolution. He gets pretty ripped up about people being hurt, and it’s really only gotten worse over the years as he’s grasped the full scope of pain in the world.

Personally, I write pre-Stanwick-incident Viktor as someone who is still somewhat awkward with expressing emotion, but it’s not due to him not having them. It’s due to the fact that the ways in which he naturally expressed them and in which he interacted with the world were just... seen as odd/different/etc. (I don’t think Runeterra has an autism diagnosis or particularly excellent psychology, even in Piltover and Zaun, so he just gets the “you’re a weird dude” treatment for his entire life.) Stimming or smiling a certain way or talking a lot about his interests or, you know, the general autistic existence is weird to most people around him, as it unfortunately is in real life. So he’s more reserved until you actually know him, because he’s just masking all the time. (Fun fact about my Viktor: he’s pretty expressive under that actual mask of his. It helps to not have to micromanage expressions all the time when he isn’t experiencing a bout of flat affect due to [gestures vaguely at everything else going on with his mental state], although he sometimes feels poorly about not being able to manage himself. But that’s his issues, and I think it’s good for him to show emotion.)

Side note - Stanwick was able to do such a number on Viktor due to: a) Stanwick being very charismatic and manipulative, on top of being an actually smart man and scientist - he’s really a great example of a “good Zaunite”, in the sense of being good at being what the culture rewards, b) Viktor actively dealing with the death of his parents and Stanwick being an older adult who’d treated him kindly and had never seemed put-off by Viktor’s oddities, and c) Viktor not realizing that he’d get backstabbed, because yes he knows that that happens in academia but Stanwick’s nice. Whether or not the outcomes would have been the same if Viktor were more competent at being “a good Zaunite”... well, probably not. Viktor ended up where he did because of who he is.

(Secondary side note: Viktor has a very strong and very black-and-white sense of what’s right and wrong, as well as general black-and-white thinking. You can see how that would have... not helped in the situations he was put through.)

This is getting kind of rambling, but I guess the point of this is that Viktor’s wanting to remove his emotions may be cloaked in the language of them being “inefficient” or “unhelpful”, which would feed into autistic stereotypes, but it’s really more of a matter of them being too painful and raw for him to process. He feels too much and hurts too much, and no amount of positive emotions in the world will (in his mind) make up for the pain he’s felt and will feel. So it’s better to not feel anything at all, isn’t it? At least then you aren’t overwhelmed by it all.

Viktor just hasn’t fit in with Zaun for all his life, really. Not as an odd child who can tell you all about science-fiction and techmaturgy, not as an odd and reserved teenager/young adult, not as a bright young doctoral student still dealing with grief but trying to make the best of it, and... not as the Machine Herald. But now he’s given up on trying to fit in, for better or for worse.

(Other miscellaneous and less serious autistic thoughts on him: generally a pretty fixed diet, partially due to being autistic but also due to what’s easily available in Zaun + what agrees with his stomach. A fan of weight and pressure - I like to think that the reason his outfit is like that is that he finds it comforting, and also that he has a weighted blanket or two around. Special interests of general techmaturgy, robotics, and science-fiction. He can talk for hours about any of those, and has. Both his parents were mildly spectrum-y, his mother a little bit moreso, so they just kinda assumed that him being him was out-of-the-ordinary and a bit strange but not something “horribly wrong”. Oh! And his third arm, which is under a little less conscious control than the rest of him, still stims sometimes when he’s working or otherwise not paying attention to it.)

This was very long and jumped around a lot, because I find it hard to give a convincing paragraph-by-paragraph argument about exactly why I think that Viktor is autistic, or rather why I headcanon him as such. But hopefully it was interesting! I just have a lot of thoughts on him, as well as the general state of autistic-coded or perceived-as-autistic-by-individuals (both allistic and autistic) characters in media and so it’s very hard to do anything concise without branching out into discussing other topics.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 5: Logicality

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 5 - Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience.

Content Warning: strong emotion (duh), yelling, food mentions (one line).

Word count: 1.8k

He remembered back in high school, when things had gotten rough for him. Not that they had a reason to. Virgil had told him countless times that it was okay that he didn’t have a reason, he was allowed to feel sad just because, but his childhood friend’s words meant nothing during the times he was curled up on his bed at three am with a black hole in his chest, quietly sobbing apologies to the soulmate that could certainly feel his sadness as intensely as he did. If it was just him suffering, it wouldn’t have been so bad. 

When university began, and his mental health began to improve, Patton was giddy. It took him a few months to adjust to missing his family, getting used to the crowded dorms, and the increased pressure of classes. Except now the classes were about things he really enjoyed, clearly pushing him forward in his Psychology career, and the people were so much nicer than in highschool. Bullies didn’t really… exist in college, not the way they did back there, and he found himself flourishing. 

But now, no longer constantly focused on his mental health and that alone, a part of him, deep inside, was a little bit worried that he didn’t even have a soulmate. He never really felt the strong emotions his friends claimed to feel, emotions clearly detached from them but oh so real. Virgil was privy to spurts of pure courage, almost ecstasy, that would have him jumping off his bed to pace on the floor with a huge grin stretched across his face, trying to dispel the energy. Janus, a friend he made in one of his psych classes, sometimes talked about the negative emotions he got from his soulmate, the surges of hatred and bitterness that made him curl his slender fingers around the nearest object until it snapped or his fingers cramped up. The borrowed emotion, both good and bad, were something Patton hadn’t experienced yet, and the implications of that frightened him. He wanted a soulmate so badly… he would be crushed if he didn’t have one.

These were the thoughts rushing through his mind as the three of them walked into Philosophy 109, Virgil and Janus having an animated conversation about last classes homework. Something about Karl Marx; he wasn’t sure what they were torn about, exactly. He always had a tough time listening in this class, not due to the content of the lectures, but just because something about the prof set him on edge. Virgil offered that ‘his voice is kind of irritating’ and Janus pitched in that ‘his slides are always sloppy’, but none of that was quite… it. It wasn’t anything he could put a finger on, but just walking into the classroom had him stewing slightly. 

Just as Janus was seemingly reaching the peak of his arguments, hands waving wildly, Virgil dug his elbow into Patton’s ribs.

“Hey, did you want to get dinner after class or wait until before English?”

The elbow in his side hurt, and before he realized what he was doing, Patton had shoved Virgil off of him. The shorter man stumbled, nearly knocking into the professor that had just walked into the room before catching his balance. His brows furrowed.

“Dude, you good?” 

Patton’s eyes widened, almost comically, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil glanced at Janus, who merely shrugged, “Class is about to start.” He gestured meekly at their usual table and they sat, Patton taking the aisle spot before Janus could. Another look was shared between the other two. Patton was usually overly eager to sit in the middle, giggling at Virgil’s snarky notes and stealing Janus’ snacks, but right now he felt on edge. Defensive. Angry. 

Huh- that was new.

His leg shook under the table as the professor greeted the class, nearly knocking Virgil’s travel mug off the table if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. He was running frantically through his mind, trying to find the trigger that had caused his anger. The day so far had been nothing unusual; morning classes and lunch at the cafeteria (grilled cheese, heck yeah), study session with the dorm in the lawn outside his building. Nothing had gone wrong, and even if this prof wasn’t his favorite, it wasn’t anything he couldn't get over so why-

Oh.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that these weren’t his feelings. This wasn’t him. And that thought alone should have snapped him out of it, should have made him jump up and dance on the table because oh my goodness he actually has a soulmate, his worries were for nothing!

Except he couldn’t. Virgil’s concerned glances were increasing in frequency as his pen dug into his paper, trying his hardest to concentrate on the lecture over the raging blood in his ears. His teeth hurt, and he realized he was clenching his jaw hard enough to bite through rock. His leg still jittered, his notes were becoming more sloppy, and for the love of god, if this prof doesn’t stop talking I’m going to-

“WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY?”

At first, Patton thought he was the one who said it. His note paper had been ripped from his notebook, crumpled beneath his fist, and Virgil and Janus sure both looked shocked enough. But then the voice continued, coming from the back of the class.

“You’re a terrible professor, are you aware of that?! Did you get your teaching degree from a fucking Dollar Store?! I’m surprised you graduated middle school, you half-witted, socially insensitive, entitled, piece of-”

“Mr. Starr, out of my classroom! Now!” The prof bellowed, causing Virgil to shrink into his hoodie. The man flew past the three of them, slamming the door behind him. Patton didn’t even realize he was following him, water bottle in hand, until the prof tried to call him back to his seat, which he ignored. 

That was his soulmate, he was sure of it. 

By the time he was standing in the empty hallway, his rage had started to calm down. His hand was starting to unfurl, leaving red crescents in his palms from his nails, but he could still feel the simmering anger rolling and lapping at his insides. Curling around his stomach, pushing at his heart, twisting in his fingertips like a flag in a gentle wind. 

A slam down the hallway reminded Patton of what he’d set out to do, and he took off after the sound, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t lose the man he was chasing. After that freak-out, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man dropped the class, since he obviously hated the prof so much. And he didn’t get a good enough look at him, so if he lost him now, who’s to say when he would find him again? 

Patton exited the building, assuming this was the door he’d heard a moment ago, panting slightly. He surveyed the parking lot desperately, the lawn surrounding the building, the walkways leading across the campus like vines, and… yes! There he was, standing against one of the trees, head tucked to his chest, hands shoved into his pockets almost aggressively. 

This is stupid, what are you even going to say? He pondered as he crossed the grass quickly, sizing up the man in front of him. Black button up, blue jeans, hair pushed out of his face, and Patton was reminded of just how gay he was. This man was gorgeous, in an I-could-kill-you kind of way. 

He didn’t acknowledge Patton as he approached, but he could see the man watching him out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. Wordlessly, Patton handed him the bottle of water, trying to hide a smile when he took it hesitantly, popping the top off and taking a sip.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Patton squeaked, taking it back when he was done.

“I didn’t expect anyone to follow me.”

“Well…” He gestured to himself lightly, giggling, “I’m here.”

The man stood his ground, seemingly uncomfortable with the attention, “You don’t have to stay. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind.”

“Nonsense!” Patton grinned, “I’ll just steal a friend’s notes. Plus, I’m sure you need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“I’m not bothered! I’m serious. Sit down.” Patton gestured at the ground, flopping down onto the lawn. He looked at him warily, like he was weighing the pros and cons in his head, before joining him, leaning against the tree.

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Logan.” 

“Nice to meet ya, Logan! So, why d'ya scream at Jacobson like that?” He said it lightly, but he didn’t miss the slight wince from the other. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m not generally one to lose my temper. It’s just…” He looked like he wanted to apologize more, stop talking, like he was being a nuisance. Patton gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and a nod, which seemed to be enough to spur the other on.

 “I can’t stand him. He injects his own philosophies and values into the concepts we’re studying, and it muddles the main ideologies to the point where it’s hardly about the original topic anymore. It’s as if he’s teaching a course on himself.”

“Why don’t you just drop it?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so cutting, but if Logan was bothered, he didn’t show it in the small shake of his head.

“I need the credit. And by the time I realized how flawed his lessons are, it was past the drop date. I didn’t have time to fill out the paperwork, so I figured I’d muscle through it.”

“Well… it is half way through the semester, so you did pretty good.”

He murmured something under his breath that Patton didn’t catch, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not good enough’, before looking up to meet Patton’s eyes for the first time. Boy oh boy, if Patton hadn’t been able to breathe before, he was fairly certain he would die at this point. 

“Why did you follow me?”

It was at that point that it occurred to Patton: he had no proof. Sure, the rise and peak of his mysterious anger coincided perfectly with Logan’s outburst, but if their interaction so far was anything to go by, this guy wouldn’t fully trust something that wasn’t one hundred percent factual. Claiming to be his soulmate might just scare him away, and for all that was good and holy, Patton didn’t want that to happen. So… he’d waited nineteen years to meet his soulmate, he could take it slow. Bring up his history with depression, the emotions that Logan must have felt at the same time, and maybe, hopefully, let him come to his own conclusions. He wasn’t in a rush.

“I just thought you might want a friend.”

[samingtonwilson]

A Bid on Bucky

Summary: You spend thousands of dollars at a bachelor auction for Bucky when you could’ve had him for free this entire time.

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: this fic is damning evidence that idiots in love is my favorite genre, your honor. i’ve more likely than not used this gif before but idc because im lov it

Tony Stark is a humanitarian— a fact you have neither forgotten, nor will he allow you to forget. 

Oftentimes, he’ll remind you verbally and, other times, a visual reminder will be posted on the team’s social media accounts. The pictures of him at the elephant sanctuary he helped found in Thailand are your personal favorites.

If news of his latest cause is not filling the pages of The Times or showing up on CNN’s special segment of Billionaires Who Care with Christiane Amanpour, it’s being distributed via monthly text reminder of reasons to leave Tony’s special coffee alone— last month you were told, “His donations allowed the doors of Planned Parenthood to remain open in developing nations such as Burkina Faso, and all he asks for in return is that his teammates do not finish his goddamn coffee.” 

Of course, because you all live for him sniffing out your mugs at morning meetings to discover the culprit, his reminders only lead to greater coffee theft as it, in turn, increases the redness in his face when he finds the morally corrupt heathenous criminal— who is usually Clint. 

In true Tony Stark fashion, though, his favorite way to remind you all, and the rest of the world, is through a gala. A gala where champagne flows like water, money is no object, extravagance is to be expected, and, as a member of the team, attendance is mandatory. 

At first, you hated the damn things. It’s not like you’ve ever cared about the private island one guest owns which another guest is so obviously jealous of, or if the deal to buy a chunk of land on the light side of the moon before that hippie Elon Musk usurps it all has successfully closed. 

But now? Now that you’ve learned how to direct the money those snots brag ostentatiously about into causes you truly care for with a couple little sly techniques, you fucking love the things. 

You and Natasha have a game, actually. Whose Shameless and Absolutely Disingenuous Flirting Will Lead to More Money Donated to (Insert Tony’s Latest Cause Here)? 

Natasha is the current titleholder as Smelly Von Oil Tycoon’s wife shooed you away before you could close the million dollar deal and Cowboy Hat McFast Food Franchise would have given up his entire company if Natasha kept batting her eyelashes at him. But in the end, just as every other time the two of you have played, you both felt like winners because the almost obscene amount of money was helping fund housing for Rohingya refugees living in Bangladesh. The competitive edge to it is just for entertainment. 

This time, though, seeing as this event is an auction and you are in no mood to flirt with red-faced old men with paper-thin skin, you have taken to auctioneering with Sam. 

Motioning to a projected photograph of a luxurious Paris hotel room with a view of the Eiffel Tower in your best Vanna White impression, you grin as brightly as you can. “And the last item Sam and I will be auctioning off together is a two-night stay at Plaza Athénée in Paris. First class airfare for two is included, as are two tickets to the Louvre. You’ve been to Paris, haven’t you, Sam?” 

“Why, yes, baby girl, I have,” he replies with a grin as broad as yours, the spotlight and his natural charm causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle like diamonds. You think for a second that you can actually hear Bucky scoffing in the audience. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but I will say that it is called the City of Love for a reason.” 

“Of course, our unlucky-in-love Sam shared those kisses only with every bit of bread and cheese he came across but you can share it all with someone special.” At that, Sam elbows you gently in the ribs with a fond roll of his eyes. “We’re going to start the bidding at twenty-thousand dollars.”

Immediately, paddles shoot up and Sam begins calling out higher bids and paddle numbers while you lean your hip against the podium and take a long sip of your champagne which has since, unfortunately, gone lukewarm and flat. Your face pinches and you scan the crowd for a wandering waiter. 

Before you can, though, your head tilts just as you spot Bucky, a large button reading “BACHELOR #4” pinned to the lapel of his tux.

He’s laughing. Not openly and loudly like he usually does when the two of you are alone, but his shoulders are shaking and he’s grinning so the skin beside his eyes wrinkles. You think fleetingly that his cheeks might even be dusted in pink as he ducks his head. 

The sight makes you smile, too, and you set your champagne aside. It’s secondary now. 

“Congratulations to Mr. Baldwin and all the other winners of these wonderful vacations,” Sam says once the winner has been announced and ushered backstage. “Sadly, our time is up for the night.”

You nod and pick up your microphone again. “Yes, but you will be seeing Sam again tonight as a part of the Bachelor Auction. Give the crowd a spin, Sam, show them what they could be going on a date with.” 

Sam unbuttons his wine-colored tuxedo and spins slowly, a slight swing in his hips. He’s met with several wolf-whistles, a rose thrown on stage, and a brief retching noise courtesy of Clint, to which Sam replies with a wink and a scoffed, “The glory is too much to handle for the insecure and faint of heart, ain’t it, Barton? We got a doctor on retainer in case you pass out.” 

Sam holds out his elbow to help you down the stairs and you gratefully loop your arm through his, your other hand hoisting the hem of your dress above your ankles. 

You sigh after meeting one of the bid winners, smile falling from your lips the moment you turn away. “I should’ve bid on that Marrakech trip.” 

Sam cocks an eyebrow. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit that you have yet to release him and simply follows you as you head to the bar. “Enjoy it last time?” 

“You mean when I was there to locate stolen Chitauri weapons?” you let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “Steve didn’t even let me glance in the relative direction of a souq when that was the only reason I volunteered.” 

“So that’s a no?” 

You take the fresh flute of champagne a waiter offers and nod your thanks. “That’s a hell fucking no.” A pathetic pout and, “I deserve to love Morocco.” 

“Makin’ that face at me won’t help your cause. Makin’ that face at Pervert Santa Claus over there,” he points to a man, rosy-cheeked with a white beard and wandering eyes, who you recognize as the winner of the trip. “That’ll get you what you want.”

You make a face, tongue sticking out as you gag, and set your glass atop the bar. “First of all, even the prospect of sex with me will make his heart give out.”

Sam laughs into his tumbler of whiskey and rolls his eyes.

You grimace openly when the eyes of an elderly man— his arm around a woman who looks to be barely in her twenties— linger a bit too long and smile when he visibly shrinks. “And B., I only flirt with them to get donations. I’d sooner never leave this tower again than get with one of these ‘I only donate money to boost my public image’ types.” 

He hums and a slow, lazy smile curves his lips. He nods his head in the direction of something behind you. “Barnes’ got a different ideology.”

As casually as you can, you turn your body to lean your elbows atop the bar and tilt your head ever so slightly to glance where Bucky is standing. 

Standing and laughing. How is he still laughing? 

Arching an eyebrow at the woman he speaks to, you lift your glass to your lips. “Doesn’t look like she fits the bill.” 

“You’re joking,” Sam laughs, shaking his head as he sets his elbows on the bar as well. His shoulder brushes yours and, despite the itchy fabric of his tuxedo, you don’t mind. “That’s Maris Scheufele.” 

Long, chestnut brown hair swept over one shoulder to keep her back bare, her gown is silky, liquid gold. Dripping in wealth.

You purse your lips and turn back to Sam. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

“Chopard heiress.” 

“Chopard like—” with wide eyes, you point at the sapphire and diamond earrings borrowed from Pepper on your ears and the matching ring on your left index finger. “Like Cannes Film Festival Chopard? Like that Chopard?” 

“Yeah, that Chopard.” He has to stop from laughing at the look you offer him. He thinks he might see your skin turn green in a matter of minutes. “She’s more loaded than Cigarette-Breath Du Rideshare-App-CEO from the elephant benefit.” 

You manage a small smile and a quick roll of your eyes, only to have them once again land on Bucky and the Chopard heiress. Maris. 

You aren’t jealous— per se. Jealousy is an ugly emotion, after all. Childish, and inconsiderate, and rooted in insecurity. 

Sure, she’s cuddled up next to someone you’re in the midst of denying feelings for out of fear and the prospect of being undeserving. And, sure, she’s covered in diamonds and you’re usually covered in dried blood, dust, and dirt from HYDRA facilities. But you aren’t jealous. 

You know you’ve wasted your time, his efforts, and your emotions being anything but happy with Bucky. Chances lost never come around again, right? So you’ve made your peace with it. You’ve had to make your peace with it.

With how much you’ve messed up, how many chances you’ve lost. With how perfect she is and how perfect he looks laughing with her. 

Perfect. 

So perfect that your teeth grit and the grip you have on your champagne flute tightens.

“He’s gonna bring in the big bucks.” 

You snort. “I thought he had different ideologies.”

“He does. But you know she ain’t gonna let him get auctioned off to anyone else.” A corner of Sam's lips turn up in disgust as he, too, stares at them with little stealth. Nick Fury would be ashamed in you both. “Lookin’ at him like he’s a piece of jerky.” 

“Jerky?”

“Old, dried up beef.” He then hums in agreement with his own words. “Nasty, hundred-year old beef.” 

With a laugh— a laugh that has the cadence of a sob— you drop your head into your hands. 

You meet Bucky’s eyes when you pick your head up, his head tilted in silent question. Perhaps at your wet, ironic smile, perhaps at the pull of your eyebrows. 

You shake your head in response and it’s when he almost immediately returns to laughing at whatever Maris Scheufele is saying that you straighten with a frown. 

What the hell kind of name is that anyway? Maris.

“What the hell—” you pause to take the glass from Sam’s hands and polish off his whiskey. “What the hell is so funny?” 

The glass is snatched back. “Not you finishing my drink, that’s for sure.” 

Shrugging as you continue to stare at Bucky and Maris, you mumble, “Put the next one on my tab.” 

Sam snorts as he asks for another drink, facing you as he adds, “S’an open bar, you cheap ass.” 

Once you’ve been able to secure a fresh, much stronger drink for yourself, you loop your arm through Sam’s again and set your chin on his shoulder. Your noses nearly bump when he looks at you and you both laugh softly. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” 

“You did.” He yelps and laughs when you pinch his side, lightly knocking his head against yours. Gentle eyes meet yours as he says, “Not tryna be harsh, but you had him and you let him go.” 

“I know.” 

“He spent weeks moping about it, you spent weeks moping about it.” 

“I know.”

“It was miserable comforting both you idiots.” 

“Yeah, you’re the real victim here.” 

Despite your dry tone, he nods in agreement. “You could tell him right now. Get all this bullshit over with and out in the open.”

Just the idea makes your heart rate spike. “He might reject me. Exact revenge for what I did.” 

“Barnes is a lotta things. Greasy, geriatric, testy, fuckin’ annoying as shit—” Sam hisses when you pinch him again, “— but vindictive ain’t one of ‘em.” 

Before Sam can convince you to move even an inch from the part of the bar you’ve dubbed yours for the night, warm fingers wrap around your elbow and tap your arm five times in quick succession. A secret identification code. 

A secret identification code that makes you smile despite yourself. You lift your head from Sam’s shoulder and hope you don’t look too eager as Bucky leans back against the bar, facing you entirely. “Look who it is.” 

He waves vibranium fingers and grins, a bit of that thirties charm you’d heard so much about shining in his blue eyes as he looks at you. “Hi, sweetheart. Wilson,” he adds with a playfully curt nod, chuckling when Sam returns it. “You were great up there. Prettiest MC I’ve ever seen. Almost had me buyin’ the trip to Morocco to make up for the shit Steve put you through.”

You feel Sam shaking in silent laughter and sigh when you hear his whispered, “For fuck’s sake.” 

“Only ‘almost’?” you ask with a pout Bucky grins at and wide eyes that have him swallowing over a dry throat. “What does a girl have to do for you to actually bid?” 

He shakes his head after a moment of simply staring, chuckling. “These poor bastards don’t stand a chance against you, do they? They’d probably sign their entire companies over to you and not think twice about it.”

“Just doing my part to save the Amazon,” you shrug. “Like you’re doing with the Bachelor Auction.” 

“‘Bout that,” he begins as he straightens his jacket and tie— all black. You trace his jaw, sharp and angular, when he glances away for just a second. “How long d’you think it’ll take Stark to put me out of my misery when nobody bids on me?”

“I wouldn’t be so negative. I know of one person who’ll definitely bid on you.”

His lips quirk up on one end, eyes dreamy as his head tilts in indulgence. “Yeah? Who’s that?” 

“Your heiress.” 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice Sam jabbing his elbow into your ribs and cocks an eyebrow in confusion. “My what?” 

Though you weren’t planning on replying, Tony’s voice over the speakers doesn’t allow Bucky to question you further and you heave a sigh of relief. He calls all the bachelors to the stage and Sam pulls his arm from yours, bumping your shoulders together before he departs just as Tony begins telling a story of his first bachelor auction and how much he went for. 

Bucky remains still, however. Leant against the bar, eyes on you. 

“Bachelor number 4,” you say, pointing at the button he wears. You smile softly. “You’re needed on stage.” 

That seems to jolt him out of whatever stupor he was lost in and he stands straight. He takes a step forward and pauses, so close you can feel the heat radiating from him and smell his subtle cologne. “Bid on me if no one else does.” 

“I won’t need to.” 

Natasha finds you just as the bidding begins and orders herself a drink. She doesn’t say much, simply looking at you as you stare at Bucky standing next to Steve and Sam, and nods to herself. She remains a quiet, comfortable presence until Steve is brought to centerstage and nearly every paddle in the room shoots up. “You tell him yet?” 

“Nope.” 

“Thought so.” She nods her head to her left and you follow the movement to where Maris sits, back straight as she, too, looks at Bucky— but she’s grinning, paddle poised to be raised. “Scheufele being a cock block?” 

You’re visibly surprised when you turn back to Natasha, her ginger hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. “How did you— How the hell could you possibly know that?” 

With the crooked curve of blood red lips, she smiles. “I’m just that good. And Sam texted me about it ten minutes ago.”

She continues to watch you as the excited winner of a date with Steve rises from his seat. “He’s next.” 

“I know that.” 

“You gonna bid on him?” 

You snort, though unconvincingly, and shake your head. “And go against an heiress? I’ll save myself the embarrassment.” 

“Stark pays us buckets,” she tells you with a frown, picking a stray piece of lint off her silver dress. “You could afford to go against an heiress.”

Bucky’s eyes are narrowed as he looks over the crowd of people seated at their tables. The light bounces off diamonds and sequins, gold and shiny leather shoes. It stings his eyes, it makes him scowl. 

“And next, ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on Bachelor Number 4,” Tony announces, turning a bit to glance at Bucky as he trudges over, not bothering to look a bit more appealing. “James Buchanan Barnes, truly the human equivalent of a cat.” 

Bucky openly glares at Tony now.

“James enjoys silence, brooding, eating like a fuckin’ horse, and telling the same story more than once,” Tony continues, ignoring the roll of Bucky’s eyes. “Cute, cuddly, and a little dangerous, we’ll start the bidding at one-thousand.” 

Three paddles shoot up. One from Maris, and two toward the center of the room. Your shoulders tense, Bucky’s relax.

“Okay, do I see eleven hundred?” 

Two paddles remain lifted until Maris shouts from her seat in a lilting voice, “Three thousand.” 

Your jaw clenches, Bucky grins. 

Tony set his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright, three thousand going once—” 

“Thirty-one hundred!” 

It feels as if the entire room turns in their seats to gape at you, but you try to pay them no mind. You, wearing your jealousy and determination like armor, stand at the bar with an empty glass in your hand, waiting for Tony to call your bid. But before he can— 

“Thirty-two!”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at Maris. “Thirty-three!” 

“Four thousand!” She’s smiling. A perfectly manicured eyebrow is raised in challenge. 

You see red. “Forty-three hundred.” 

“Six thousand!” 

“Sixty-five hundred!” 

“Seventy-five hundred!”

When you look at the stage in a bit of a panic, Tony grins expectantly at you and Bucky— Well, you don’t think Bucky’s ever looked so shocked in all the time you’ve known him. But when his eyes go from Maris to meet yours, you find yourself yelling, “Ten thousand!” 

The room goes silent, or maybe you’ve just tuned it all out, and Tony is shaking his head in amusement. “Ten thousand going once.” 

You turn toward Maris as she sits and tosses her paddle onto the table. “Ten thousand going twice.”

You face the stage again. Bucky’s expression is unreadable. “Sold to our beautiful teammate in blue.” 

A bright spotlight shines on you and you fight the urge to run from the room, from the Tower, from New York, and give your best smile. 

— 

It’s four in the morning, all the lights on the residential floors of the Tower have been turned off, and the world is peaceful. But your mind continues to race. 

You sit at the kitchen counter, container of Sam’s leftover cheesecake from your lunch out with him open before you. You twirl a fork between your fingers and stare at nothing in particular, your soft breaths the only sound in the room. 

You’d changed out of your dress hours ago, washed off your makeup and taken the pins out of your hair. You could barely meet the eyes of your reflection out of fear of judgement and you didn’t ask FRIDAY to dim the lights or lock your door just in case she laughed at you. 

Tony had yet to talk to you about paying the ten grand you bid on Bucky and you left the ballroom before anyone could so much as snicker. You knew you couldn’t hide forever, you just needed the night to come to terms with your own stupidity. 

Yet as you prop your chin upon your palm and sigh, you think you might need a day or two, too. 

Quiet steps down the hall are made purposefully louder as they grow closer so as to not startle you, the lights dim as bulbs flicker on to about ten-percent of their full brightness. You fear your heartbeat might be audible to everyone in a ten mile radius at the sight of his blue eyes, messy brown hair, and wrinkled black t-shirt, and take a deep breath through parted lips in a futile attempt to calm it down.

He offers you a small smile and walks to the fridge. “You want some water?” 

You shake your head— even though he can’t see you. “No, I’m fine.” 

There’s a beat of silence and you take a breath to steady yourself. “Buck, I think we should talk.” 

He takes out a glass bottle of water for himself and shuts the fridge, leaning against the sink. He’s still smiling. “I know.” 

“I—” 

“I’m not gonna hold you to this thing,” he interjects, rolling the bottle between his hands. He watches as you sit up straight and set your fork down. “I know you made the bid just to donate the money and save me from that married heiress—” 

“Married?” you repeat to yourself. 

“And you’ve made it clear you just want to be friends,” he continues, undeterred. “So it’s okay. Hell, I’ll pay for half of it so I’ll feel like I’ve actually done somethin’ to save the sea turtles.” 

“The Amazon.” 

“Right, the Amazon,” he amends with a quiet laugh. He takes a sip of the water and sets the botte aside. “So whaddya say, huh? We’ll go half and half, help this cause out a little, and you don’t have to go on a date with me.” 

“Bucky, you don’t understand—” 

“No, no, I get it,” he says, walking around the narrow strip of granite separating you to sit on the stool beside yours. Features soft but a little sad, he shrugs as warmth rolls off him in waves. “I told you to bid on me in case no one else did and you saw how much more Steve went for. You tried to raise the bids on me and got stuck since those billionaires didn’t want to shell out more than ten grand on the Winter Soldier. I get it!” 

“That’s not why I did it, Bucky. Not at all.” 

He lowers his eyes to his hands, staring at mismatched palms, and says nothing. 

“Honestly, I—” You stop yourself when it feels as if your heart’s lodged itself in your throat and struggle to swallow over it. “When I saw that Chopard heiress talking to you and laughing with you, and when she bid on you and almost won that date, I— Something happened.” 

He looks at you now, eyebrows pulled together. “What happened?” 

“I— I don’t know. I guess I was a little jealous,” you say with a laugh only to shake your head. There’s a subtle sting behind your eyes, at the tip of your nose, and you pray to every deity you can think of to stop any tears. “No, I was very, very jealous. You two looked so happy and perfect and I wanted to scream, and cry, and— Fuck, all I could think about is how much time, and energy, and emotion I’ve wasted pushing you away so neither one of us ends up heartbroken when I already am.” 

You sigh, unable to meet his gaze as he gapes at you, his mouth hanging open as you laugh mirthlessly. “It probably seems so stupid to you and I know you’ve moved on, but, holy hell, I wish you still had some kind of crush on me because I’m dying here, Buck. I mean I just spent ten thousand dollars to make you go on a date with me.” 

“You did,” he agrees. He’s smiling when you manage to look at him, “You spent ten thousand dollars on me when you could’ve just had me for free this entire time.” 

He grasps your chin between his flesh index finger and thumb and jostles you a little, gaze so adoring. “And what punk ass told you I moved on from you? Huh? That same goof who said it’s just a crush?” 

He leans forward and pauses just before his lips meet yours, as if waiting for you to pull away only for you to close the distance first. 

What starts off as just a light brush of your lips against his quickly turns into a deep, hungry kiss that quiets your mind and forces your heart into overdrive. The warmth of it reaches your toes and every hair follicle, especially as both his hands cup your face while your fingers tangle through his hair, the rasp of his stubbly beard against your soft, sensitive skin stealing your breath even more.

You pull away first and your voice is small, a bit hoarse as you ask, “So you still like me?” 

He sets his forehead against yours and his lips pull into a smile. “I’d say it’s a li’l more than that, sweetheart.” 

It’s hours later when the sun is up, the cheesecake slice is long forgotten, and Bucky’s pulled you onto his stool to straddle his lap, your lips swollen and a little painful, that you groan in embarrassment. 

He immediately leans away from your neck and looks up at you in concern, lips full and cherry red. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I have to pay Tony ten thousand dollars.” 

Chuckling, he rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your chin. “I’ll pay it.” 

“Then I’ll owe you ten thousand dollars.” You withhold a moan when he nips at a part of your neck that has your hips rolling into his, the hitching of his breath felt more than heard. “That— that just transfers the problem.”

You feel him smile, arm tightening around you. “I think I know of a way you can pay me back.”

“Sounds like you just discovered the world’s oldest profession.” 

A punishing nip under your jaw and you gasp as he laughs. “I’m still all for going half and half to save the sea turtles.” 

“The Amazon.” 

He sighs and leans back. “Fuckin’ Christ. Someone needs to save the fuckin’ turtles already, then.”

[shreddedleopard]

Levi and Historia’s Miscalculation: A Manga Tale featuring the Jaeger Bros. Pt. 2

Ahh ... I’m so glad you’re still here. There’s a lot to get through. Theory continued under the cut.

So let’s go back to Levi’s and Historia’s developing feelings for one another.

I’m going to jump now to one year prior to Historia giving birth, which of course is ground zero of the cataclysmic event that is the climax of this manga.

Here we have our gang, minus insanely happy Hisu (if the last set of panels we saw of her a year before is anything to go by) working on the railway.

Yams is so helpful because he marks out the season as well as the year, so we know pretty well the characters ages. Historia is definitely 18 by this point. He also takes time to have Levi himself point out how the 104th have suddenly gone from ‘those brats’ to towering adults in his eyes. Interesting. (Also, Historia is tiny. If Levi has been spending time with her and the kids at the orphanage, it would naturally be weird to see these giants who were once just the kids on his squad too.)

What’s got Eren so antsy? What urgent news is he expecting? 🤔 actually no idea. But it’s weird. Maybe he hasn’t seen them for a while.

Anyway, we find out there’s bad news from Hizuru, which leads to this panel:

Levi is a BIG FAT LIAR.

He doesn’t and won’t turn Historia into a titan. You don’t do that to someone you care about deeply. He’s trying so hard to convince us otherwise, but in hindsight, it’s obvious.

He never looks someone in the eye when he lies. You’ll see him do it again concerning Historia too, where he played his squad and the majority of the fandom and said he was going to go make her eat Zeke after she delivered her child. At a completely wrong due date. He got me too, don’t worry. Zeke’s right, he is a good actor. Or we’re dense 🤔

So anyway, Hange is all like, let’s go on a trip then!

Levi does not look impressed. Last thing he wants to do while the situation is so volatile is leave Historia. He wants to be around to protect her. And it’s got nothing to do with those supposedly clingy Ackergenes. Zeke will tell us that himself later.

Keeps popping up in this plot line, doesn’t t he? Could be important.

Right. Here’s where it gets a bit tricky. Chronologically, the next scene we have involving these two is all broken up in (what I think are) Eren’s memories. I’m going to try and seperate them out because they’re mixed in with another important event, but this one comes much later, and I’m trying to keep some sort of order. But the later event is a direct result of what Eren learns here.

Note the translation error in this - it should say when Zeke reaches the island. Because we know he’s coming at some point.

What are Historia’s lines to Eren? She blatantly tells us that TENDING TO CATTLE, ie, FARMING IS A LIE; what she’s really been doing is realising there’s no need to fight or run anymore. Hmm ... where have we heard those iconic lines before!?

LEVI BLOODY ACKERMAN.

She doesn’t need to be scared of anyone trying to harm her, because Levi is there by her side. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe. To be fair, we’ve seen it in his eyes already. Man. What a guy.

Okay so next we have Historia being like, if I have to start a family, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Why?? Because she’s found someone she actually wouldn’t mind it happening with. AND ITS SOME RANDOM FARM GUY MY GOD PEOPLE. Although ... farmer is kind of accurate ... more on that deceit and how’s its actually not a deceit at all later.

And BOOM. Here we have two opposing ideologies coming head to head. And, I’m not saying everyone did, but most of us completely missed the ball with this one. Eren was never going to be the one to get her pregnant. Because Eren will not choose family at the crucial moments of this manga. Someone else will.

Ah, screw it, let me do one little jump to show you what I mean:

Look at their eyes. It really is a ‘that scenery’ moment. Levi deceives us through the entirety of his scene here, but he can’t deceive us when we get that tiny glimpse into his mind’s eye. LOOK AT HER. She really does look like a goddess in this moment 🥺 Levi is going to break the cycle of his family history and actually have one - he’s not going to abandon Historia and his child. But anyway, look! This is what happens. This is why I don’t jump. I get distracted.

Back to the other scene.

Cue Eren revealing his plan to her for the rumbling. Historia is naturally horrified - of course she is! This is Historia we’re talking about. How could you all doubt her!? She’s the goodest girl. Anyways. Eren couldn’t give two shits, because guess what?

He says this to her. What’s this a throw back to? Chapter 65. Literally half way back in the story. And in that chapter, Historia did save Eren ... from being turned into a Titan.

I know there’s still people out there who will hate me for this, but it’s not me - it’s Isayama. But yeah, right here, Eren just reminded Historia how she ‘shouldn’t cross the fence.’ It’s a threat. Don’t follow me.

Now up to this point, in contrast with my gushing, I do think it’s possible that Historia was considering Eren as someone she might want to have a family with, despite her closesness with Levi. But if this is the case at all, this moment completely obliterates that for her - it shatters any illusions she has about Eren’s nature, and effectively pushes her right into the arms of Levi. And so, when she tells Eren she’s pregnant in the next panels, it’s Levi’s child she’s carrying. We can gather there might be a small time-gap between them as they change positions.

This is after the railroad banquet, I believe. Where Levi takes his eye off the ball with Eren for a moment to comfort an upset Historia, which then turns into something else, and Eren, Floch and Yelena seize their window of opportunity.

[4aloysius-porteu]

Tear In My Heart

pairing: kirishima eijirou x vigilante reader

wc: 1908

genre: songfic, angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries

tear in my heart - twenty one pilots

Kirishima

It was nighttime when I was ordered to guard in Hosu City, in patrol of villains making crimes around. Yes, I'm a certified hero now and I just finished taking down a criminal with a laser quirk, and I'm on the way to my agency to turn over him.

"That's Red Riot for you!" Tetsutetsu greeted me while the police restrained the criminal. We did their usual brofist, "You alright, bro?"

"Why woudn't I be? I'll stay here for the whole night to catch and drive the villains away."

"Anyway, Fourth Kind said you can go home now. The others and I will take over here. Get a rest, man! See you tomorrow!"

"Oh, yeah, see you!" He patted my shoulder as I left to change clothes.

Sometimes you gotta bleed to know That you're alive and have a soul

I finished changing, then I got outside and saw my friends.

"Hey, Kirishimaaaa!" Ashido and Kaminari loudly greeted.

"Hey guys! You finished in your shift? Where's Sero and Bakugou?" I asked.

"Yep! They're on the morning shift now so we won't we seeing them in this month," Ashido replied.

"Dude, your Hero name is so famous around these areas! You sure are close with people after you rescue them, I'm envious!" Kaminari said.

"Don't be, Kaminari. Maybe someday you'll get known too."

"I hope so."

But it takes someone to come around, To show you how

After a litte chitchat they bid a goodbye and I got inside my car and drove it in a moderate speed. When I stopped in the red light, I remembered something important. I haven't texted hy girlfriend for the whole time!

She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

Crap, I hope she's not mad at me!

I grabbed my phone and my fingers typed quickly, apologizing for not talking with her. She didn't reply, which made me more worried. I sighed and continued driving.

She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher, than I've ever been

Few minutes later, I still didn't get a reply. Maybe she's really angry, so I made my way to her apartment. While driving, I smiled when I suddenly remembered the first time we met. It was a year ago, in my first hero job.

A car accidentally crashed on her while she was crossing a road, severely injuring her leg. I was on the patrol so I rushed to rescue her. I took her to the hospital and visited her everyday till she gained conciousness. And when she did, God knows how I was caught in her beauty.

The songs on the radio are okay But my taste in music is your face

Since her parents were already gone and her older brother was working overseas, I was the one who took care of her, other than the hospital nurse. We soon got closer and talked with deeper topics, like our chilhood, families, and random experiences. It was really fun to be with her.

When she got better and was able to get out of the hospital, we exchanged numbers, and texted almost every hour.

But it takes a song to come around, To show you how

I also took her on a lot of dates, before we admitted our feelings to each other and her and I became 'we'.

I was taken back to the reality by my phone beeping. At last, she replied! Although, her text is just composed of a location that was 2 blocks away from me. I decided to go since I trust her and I think she's already there.

She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive

I drove on the way but all I found was a dark alley. It was very quiet and shady, why would my girlfriend lead me here? I walked inside, but I came up with my fighting stance in case something bad happens.

"Hello? (Y/N)? Are you here?" I called.

She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

No response. I continued to walked, until a figure showed up above me. I fought to restrain it, but I feel like its fighting back so desperately, so I decided to back off a bit and let it pin me on the ground.

She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher, than I've ever been

It was panting hard, but still managed to restrain my wrists. I looked at its face, and when the light of the moon showed up, I instantly recognized her face.

Than I've ever been...

"K-Kirishima?" She weakly said.

"(Y/N)!" She let go of my wrists as I got up and held her in my arms, "Are you okay? Hey!"

Than I've ever been...

"I think I'm alright... but I'm glad you came."

"What happened?"

Than I've ever been...

"K-Kirishima... I'm tired. I-I can tell you when we get to your place..."

I quickly carried her to my car and laid her down for her to rest. Now, I noticed that she has wounds and bruises on her arms, and her stomach has a blood stain. I have a hunch on what happened, but I'll ask it to her later.

You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time But that's okay I'll just avoid the holes So you'll sleep fine

I started to drive, but the road holes makes it hard to drive properly. (Y/N) might wake up because of my recklessness, so I decided to drive slowly.

I'm driving here I sit, Cursing my government For not using my taxes To fill the holes with more cement

I observed her sleeping figure at peace before taking my focus on the road. There's a lot of road holes, I wondered where it came from, since its still fine when I passed here. Maybe its the villians' or hero's battle fault.

You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time But that's okay I'll just avoid the holes So you'll sleep fine

I'm driving here I sit, Cursing my government For not using my taxes To fill the holes with more cement

When I reached my house, I parked my car in my garage and carried her out of the car then inside. I laid her on the bed and get a medical kit to treat her wounds. It wasn't too deep or serious, but its many. I raised her shirt, but first I promised not to do inappropriate things, and proceeded on treating on a medium sized cut on her stomach.

Sometimes you gotta need to know That you're alive and have a soul

I covered her wounds and cuts with a clean gauze and band aids, and that's when she woke up.

"Oh, sorry to wake you up, (Y/N). You can go to sleep now. I treated your wounds now, don't worry."

I was about to stand up and get her a blanket, but she pulled me back and hugged me from behind.

But it takes someone to come around, To show you how

"(Y/N)? Is there something wrong?"

She muttered, "Stay..."

I did what she said and sat beside the bed. I sighed and asked her again.

"You're still continuing your vigilante activities, aren't you?"

She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive She's the tear in my heart, I'm on fire

"Yes."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes."

She's the tear in my heart, Take me higher, than I've ever been

"I'm sorry for not texting you for the whole day, but (Y/N), I told you to stay out of danger! We've been through a lot of arguments here! First off, there are strong villains scattered everywhere, and second, you don't have a Hero License, so the authorities can arrest you when they caught you! You're between the two parties, and when you mess up, none of those sides will help and rescue you!"

A sound of a slap echoed through the room.

My heart, is my armor She's the tear in my heart

She replied, sobbing, "So are you underestimating me? Do you not believe and trust my abilities? And what do you mean that none of those two sides will help? You are on the heroes' side aren't you? Won't you come and rescue me if I'm about to get killed? Will you forget me for your commitment in the Heroes' society? God damn it, Eijirou! I'm being a hero in my own way because the society rejected my ideology and ability!"

She let go of me and cried. I felt bad for making her cry, but I just had to tell those things.

"I thought you understand me, Eijirou, but now I felt that you're just the same as the others! I hate you, Eijirou! I really hate you!"

She's a carver, She's a butcher with a smile

I moved to reach her but she slapped my hand away. That didn't stop me though, I still hugged her, even if she's struggling against my grip.

"Let go of me, Eijirou! I'm leaving now!"

Cut me farther, Than I've ever been

She beat my chest multiple times, but I refused to loosen my embrace. I held her tight and forced her against my chest, trying to stop her from moving.

"I'll never let go of you, (Y/N). You know that well."

Than I've ever been...

She ceased, but she gripped the sleeves of my shirt, tugging it and continued crying in it. I patted her hair and back.

"I just said those things because... I was worried. I don't want you getting hurt. I'm sorry for being hard on your feelings, (Y/N). I'm really sorry."

Than I've ever been...

"I-I was worried too. You didn't message me for the whole day. That wasn't your habit, so I went out to find you but I messed with some villains who was breaking in the bank in my way." She managed to say between sobs.

Oh, than I've ever been...

I kissed her forehead, "I'm glad you're safe."

"But Eijirou... about earlier. Aren't you going to come to me when you're stuck in your hero work and I'm in terrible danger? Please, answer me honestly."

My heart, is my armor She's the tear in my heart

"Of course not. I promise with all my heart that you'll be my first priority. I know I'm the only one, and once I'm not around you anymore, promise me to take care of yourself, okay?"

You turned away, "Don't say that. It scares me."

"Just do it."

"I promise not to make a fuss and take care of myself when Kirishima Eijirou is not around anymore."

She's the tear in my heart, She's a carver

"I hope that time won't come." She mumbled.

I held a stray strand of her hair and tucked it beside her ear, then placed my hand on her cheek, "You're so beautiful, (Y/N). I can never think of losing you."

She's a butcher with a smile, Cut me farther,

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Eijirou."

Than I've ever been.

I leaned in and gave her the most passionate kiss I can give, and at that time, I feel very happy and secured with her. I could tell she feels the same because tears stopped flowing from her eyes.

Loving makes you feel alive, after all.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Truth (1x05)

Well, okay then.

Cons:

I've complained about the uneven time given to Sam and Bucky, and while I appreciate where this episode went with everything, it did shine a further light on how little Sam has had to do all season. How his growth has been happening in the background to other things. I wish the balance could have been changed a little.

I also continue to be less interested in the Flag Smashers than I am in anything else in the show. Not the ideology or how they function politically in this world, but the actual individual characters. Spending time getting to know them makes sense, it humanizes their struggles and what they're willing to sacrifice for their cause. But I just don't find Karli to be a particularly compelling individual, so it makes those scenes a slough to get through.

The opening fight scene between Sam, Bucky, and John Walker was good, but it wasn't great. The whole time I was watching it I kept thinking about the Tony/Steve/Bucky fight at the end of Civil War, three men fighting, the shield pinging between them. So much angst and desperation and history and weight to the whole thing. This fight should have been like that, but instead it felt a little more measured. Sam and Bucky are fighting to take the shield away from a dangerous man who has clearly lost control. It almost felt like they were just doing a job. Their connection to the shield was muted during the fight itself, which made that final beat, when Bucky throws the shield down at Sam's side and walks off, hit a little less hard.

And that's one other thing - I loved the Sam and Bucky talk, of course I did. Bucky needed to apologize and it was great to see. But what changed Bucky's mind? We see Sam's journey, but Bucky starts the episode still in that mindset of blaming Sam, and then he comes and helps with the boat, and then he apologizes. What made him realize that he needed to adjust his perspective? I wish I could have understood that a bit more. The only scene we get of him on his own is with Zemo, and that bit of closure seems wholly disconnected to the stuff with the shield.

Pros:

This is a small thing, but I've gotta bring it up: when Bucky is apologizing to Sam, he says "when Steve told me what he was planning"... and when I tell you I screamed... this is literally so important to me. I hate the end of Endgame for Steve. I truly do. The one thing that makes it bearable is the head-canon that he cleared it with Bucky first, that Bucky knew, before Steve left to go return the stones, what he was going to do. And now we have actual canon confirmation that that was the case! I am so incredibly moved by that, I can't even tell you.

But let's talk about that whole scene, shall we? I feel like I could ramble on about it for quite some time, but I'll just say that seeing them throw the shield around like a damn football was so... funny? But also sweet? There's something here about men and how they communicate and how hard it can be to break down the walls and be vulnerable. They manage it because they frame it around a physical activity, with the shared symbol of complicated national loyalties bouncing around between them. Also, the shared symbol of their dead friend Steve. It opens up something between them, allowing Sam to give his "tough love" advice. Allowing Bucky to give a heartfelt apology. It's the stuff they never would have said to each other in that therapy session, but they can say it now, and that's beautiful. The best moment for me, and it was really subtle, was Bucky handing the shield to Sam, saying sorry. Then Sam continues to throw it against the trees and let it bounce back, and he does it specifically so Bucky can catch it again. So there's this almost ceremonial hand-off, and then Sam, magnanimous, lets Bucky know it's still a part of him too.

And Bucky talking about the shield as his family? Yes please. I love it so much. This scene really wrapped up Bucky's arc for me on this show, in a way I hadn't known to expect. Sam tells him that Steve is gone, and that it doesn't matter what Steve thought, or what he meant. Bucky needs to stop defining himself solely by other people. This doesn't mean the struggle is over. Bucky's got a long road ahead. But he understands that road now, and Sam helped him to find his way, which I think is just the loveliest thing.

Another thing about the way these men communicate, is that the apology was necessary, and it was good that it happened, but even before that apology, Bucky showed up and helped with the boat. He fished for an invite to stay, and Sam gave it without question. They joke about being "partners", no, "co-workers," "just two guys who had a mutual friend," but the fact is, they're a part of each other's lives, and they come through for each other. Even with lingering resentments.

I'll talk briefly about Zemo here before we get into the Sam stuff in this episode... I kind of love that he went gently with the Wakandans. It was so different from what I expected, and yet it also followed logically from everything we knew about him from Civil War. It felt like a natural button to his arc on this show. And him telling Bucky that there's no resentment on his end... I mean, on the one hand, I sure as fuck would hope not, given what Zemo tried to do to Bucky. But also that's the point, isn't it? Sam says as much during the tough love speech. Bucky needs to make amends by being of service, by giving closure to the people he hurt as the Winter Solider. Even if they were bad people. Even if they don't "deserve" it.

I still worry about the optics of Sam taking on the shield instead of retiring it permanently. But I was impressed by how far the show was willing to go in explaining the weight of that choice. Isaiah doesn't say some party line like "I love America but these were some bad people." He doesn't say "things were bad then but they're better now." No. He says the truth, which is that America did this to him. It wasn't one bad actor sneaking through an otherwise benevolent system. It was a corrosive, systemic issue that ruined his life, separated him from his loved ones, forced him to hide away and live as a dead man. And he's telling Sam that it's still like that. Oh, sure, things have changed. But not as much as they need to, and not in the ways that really count for a lot, a lot of people.

I respect that the show laid this out, didn't pull its punches in stating this reality. Sam is being positioned as perhaps naïve, overly optimistic, in still wanting to take that pain and make something good from it. Overly optimistic? Willing to jump into situations that are too big for any one man to manage, no matter what? Well, if there's a list of qualifiers for Captain America, I'd say Sam fits the bill just as much, if not more, than Steve did.

And we see that Sam has a community, a history, a deep connection to his sister and his nephews and all the people his parents knew back in the day. I'm a sucker for a good moment like the one we got with the boat, everyone turning up to help. And then Sarah saying that they can't sell it after all... it's just so moving. Sam's fighting the big fights and the small ones, and that makes him worthy of being an exemplar of human excellence. If he wants to fight that fight while holding the shield, I would trust him to try and turn the symbol into something worthy.

Briefly, I want to talk about Lemar. That scene where John went to his parents was really interesting, because it showed that opinions on these very serious issues are by no means shared universally. You've got Isaiah saying that no black man with any self respect would ever take up the shield. Then you've got Lemar's parents saying how proud their son was to be Captain America's partner. It's a lot more complicated than people want to make it. Things would be simpler if we all agreed that America sucks and its history and legacy is negative and racist and therefore let's burn the whole thing to the ground. But there are a lot of people, a lot of black Americans, who like being Americans, who are proud to serve their country. It's not an attitude I know how to understand, but pretending it doesn't exist isn't doing anyone any favors. I like that we saw this aspect of it, too.

A couple last tidbits, moments I really enjoyed.

- Bucky flirting with Sarah.

- Sam's nephews playing with the shield, Bucky waking up and smiling at the sight.

- The super relevant, super hard to hear scene at the end of all the government officials getting ready to round up refugees and march them back across borders... like, damn.

- Bucky forgetting he has a metal arm, but then later using it to save Sam some trouble on the boat.

This was a great episode. Do I have qualms about the arc of the series as a whole? Yes I do. I'll be very curious to see where everything lands in next week's finale. But in all, this one was a winner in my books.

9/10