#join a terrorist group that might kill him. like. i don’t think they were against it bc beliefs but they weren’t pushing him to join.

[miscomm]

nothing makes less sense to me than walburga and/or orion forcing regulus to become a death eater

[fantastic-rambles]

Random BSD Thoughts: “The Untold Origins” and The Decay of Angels

WARNING: Spoilers for “The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency” LN (Brief spoiler for Chapter 91 near the end.)

So I’m still plodding my way through the light novels and making notes on the various things that catch my interest. For those who have read the third novel, saying that I’m going to discuss the Decay of Angels in relation to it might seem odd, but there’s a method to my madness (in my own head, at least).

Right now, we’ve been introduced to the five members of the Decay of Angels in the manga, which seems to have rounded out the group. And the light novel, as the title suggests, refers to events that happen a long time before the events of the manga. But I think that the novel could be hinting toward the existence of the Decay of Angels even back then, with Ranpo and Fukuzawa briefly catching its tail.

(My thoughts/reasonings are pretty tenuous, so there’s a very good chance that I’m wrong/will be proved wrong since I’m no Ranpo who can solve a mystery by looking at it, but this is just where my brain went and I felt like sharing. xD) 

“V” and the Decay of Angels?

(I’ve learned how to use headers instead of having enormous walls of text, go me!)

The lines that caught my attention and sent me spiraling down this rabbit hole are these, which appear near the end of the light novel:

Behind it all was a domestic underground syndicate known as “V,” whose goal was to rid the country of skill users.

And the battle against them was only beginning.

Of course, it doesn’t name the Decay of Angels explicitly, but there are a few things just in the first line that caught my attention:

They are a domestic syndicate. Of course, the Decay of Angels (currently) has skill-users from several different countries, but their leader is very much Japanese. And maybe back then, they were primarily Japanese, with Fukuchi recruiting the others in the years since (more on this later).

“V”: the Roman numeral for 5, which could refer to the five “signs” of the impending death of an angel (one of which is the “lack of delight in their heavenly seat” or something along those lines that the ADA fulfilled--I think I’m mixing up the Mouryou no Hako description with the BSD description, but you get the point). It could also refer to the number of members, but I find that unlikely given that “V” does seem to have more than five people at this point in time.

Their goal, to rid the country of all skill users: isn’t that literally what Fyodor wants to do? Though on a slightly larger scale, as he apparently wants to rid the world of them altogether. But again, if he were recruited later, that would have provided him a strong incentive to lend his support to the DoA.

We also learn that this organization is willing to use any methods in order to achieve their goals, which is rather reminiscent of the methods of the DoA, especially Fukuchi orchestrating an enormous terrorist plot in order to gain control of an international, non-affiliated army and destroy all of the countries.

Plus, the member of the organization who is caught by Fukuzawa and Ranpo is a police officer, Jun Mitamura. Was he an early member of the DoA or the Hunting Dogs under Fukuchi? Yes, he doesn’t seem to be a skill user, as is the case with both organizations now, but it’s also established that back then, the knowledge of skill users wasn’t well-known, and the government seemed to be trying to collect them. So I don’t think it’s unreasonable that some of the earlier iterations of the groups might have had non-skill user members, and it would make most sense to recruit them from law enforcement and/or the army.

To prevent him from talking after he was captured, Mitamura was stabbed by a blade that disappeared (as was Kurahashi); I don’t know when Fukuchi obtained Amenogozen, but it certainly seems like something he could have done if he did have it then. Especially since he was also affiliated with the military (and maybe was starting to get a reputation?) and could probably walk around a police station/jail without raising suspicion.

Angels in the Light Novel (an aside, mostly)

Another interesting tidbit is that “angels” feature prominently in the story, most particularly in the play that is performed early on that has a minor mystery for Ranpo to solve, including the death threat that is received:

An angel shall bring death, in the truest sense of the word, to the performer. - V.

Although this is part of the plan to fake Murakami’s death, it seems clear that “V” and Murakami and/or Kurahashi were in contact in order for this note to be written. After all, it would be a wild coincidence for them to have randomly chosen “V” to be the anonymous sender of the letter and then for this organization “V” to show up later in the novel.

Of course, the “angels” in the play don’t actually have great bearing on the story (as far as I can tell), and the depictions of skill-users in the play are considered inaccurate/dramatized in general (again, since they’re not well-known about at this point), but it is noted that it’s very unusual to include them since they’re generally considered some sort of urban legend. But if “V” had a hand in writing the play through Kurahashi, they could have provided information about skill-users (possibly to pique Natsumi’s interest and get him to show up?) as well as influenced the theme of the angels.

Overall Timeline of Events

So with this information, I’ve organized a rough (theoretical) timeline of events for the development of the Decay of Angels. Starting from three facts:

14 years ago (prior to the present shown in the manga), Fukuchi joins the army and comes to hate war.

12 years ago, the ADA is founded.

8 years ago, Fukuchi defeats Bram Stoker and forces him to join the DoA.

Presumably, around those 14 years ago, that’s when Fukuzawa left the army/being a government assassin and found employment as a bodyguard instead. But Fukuchi did join the army and was caught up by the horrors of war, which led him to start forming plans to destroy all of the countries and establish world domination. So by the time Ranpo meets Fukuzawa two years later, possibly Fukuchi has formed a proto-Hunting Dogs/DoA organization that is called “V” with his charisma and growing fame.

Then, in the following years, he goes on being the world’s hero, fighting against highly skilled and dangerous skill-users. With his reputation and image of reliability, trust in him grows and he’s able to freely go almost anywhere, which would give him opportunities to meet and recruit people like Fyodor and Gogol. Gogol seems to be close friends with Fyodor, so they probably came as a package, while Fyodor may have agreed to the cooperative relationship so that he could get the Book and erase skill-users, while Fukuchi would be able to benefit from Fyodor’s malicious and thorough ability to devise complex plots to achieve their goals. Also:

MANGA CHAPTER 91 SPOILER: “One Order” is apparently an ability that “frees soldiers [people] from the yoke of sin”/takes away their guilt (over committing murder). Sound familiar??? This might just be a coincidence, though. But if Fyodor is also interested in this, it could further explain why he joined up with the DoA.

But not all of the collaborators are working with Fukuchi willingly, as is seen by Bram Stoker. But when he defeated Stoker, Fukuchi clearly thought that he would be useful (either his own idea, or possibly Fyodor’s if they’re working together by that point) and kept him secretly for 8 years. So this is a plan that’s been in the works for a very long time and only coming to a head now, since the ADA has grown enough to be able to realistically pin the terrorism accusation on them.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

How does Fukuzawa get his ability of “All Men Are Created Equal”? If he does have this ability, at the very least, he doesn’t recognize it at this point of his life. Possibly it’s again due to the dearth of knowledge/interactions with skill-users (especially any that would be under his leadership since he’s very much a lone wolf), but is it actually possible to develop a skill later in life as is mentioned in the play, and which Fukuzawa uses to convince Ranpo that he’s a skill-user? (I’m inclined to think not, and that it just becomes applicable after he establishes the ADA and skill-users join, but still curious.)

Little Oda! When the assassin with two pistols showed up, I hoped he was Oda, and he was! Which means that Ranpo and Oda met (ish) before Oda decided to stop killing, and again when Oda decided to start killing again. And Little Oda still likes curry. D:

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch9: Lebanon, Lebagone  

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary:  A few months post their reconciliation, Jake and Stella run a mission with the rest of the team…

 Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8k ish.

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

A/N: So the mission detailed here was highly inspired by the second book in the Grey Man series. Locations and a few major details are changed, and the names are completely made up.  The Terrorist/Political party- The Lebanese Freedom Party, does not to our knowledge actually exist.

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8 

 “Alright, let’s get in position before daylight hits.” Clay looked around as they walked down the narrow alleyway.

“Roger that.” Stella nodded as Cougar replied with a tip of his hat to show he had heard, Pooch also inclining his head.

The four of them stopped by a door to their right, Stella pulling the tool from her utility belt which was fastened around the waistband of her camo pants. She picked the lock in under thirty seconds, a simple job that required a little bit of jiggling, twisting and a good jerk with the torque wrench Cougar was holding to defeat.

“Not particularly high security considering this was a bank.” She mumbled as behind her Cougar chuckled.

Inside it was pitch black, dust rose in clouds, shimmering in the moonlight, which was streaking through the dirty arched windows. Both of them flipped out their flashlights, quickly scanning the room for any sign that someone had been here recently, but there was none. 

They crossed quietly and quickly through the main atrium of the old building, taking care to keep to the shadows. The old bank was completely deserted bar a few desks and old telephones which sported thick layers of dust as they moved through, heading for the spiral staircase at the far side.

“We’re clear.” Pooch said as he looked up to the top of the staircase. “This place hasn’t been accessed for years.”

“Lima Six, anything to report?” Clay spoke into his radio and a moment later Jensen replied.

“Nothing on the comms, they’re talking about moving Kilo One out at the time we suspected but it could be a rouse to make sure…but Lima Two knows the code-word should they decide to go early.”

“Okay, as soon as you get movement let me know.”

“Ten-four, One.”

“Okay, let’s get set up.” Clay instructed and the team nodded in agreement as they all set about, placing various pieces of equipment around the place exactly where it needed to be for when their target and his security detail, in which Roque had embedded himself undercover, came storming into the pre-designated building, seeking refuge from an attack outside.

It took them roughly an hour to set up completely, things having to be precisely as Pooch directed. Eventually, when he was happy, they climbed the staircase at the back of the room. Four sets of eyes swept the square below. It was deserted, as was to be expected at such an early hour in the morning.

Stella scanned the buildings, nevertheless, her eyes sharp, looking for any sign of movement around the whitewashed and pebble-dashed sandstone that they had grown accustomed to seeing over the last three weeks or so they’d been in Nabatieh, Lebanon.

“So Khalil should be coming from there.” Pooch raised his arm and pointed to a small road to the right. “The plan is we lay down some fire by his bodyguards as he approaches the podium, and force them to take shelter in the bank, as led nicely by Roque.”

“Why do we want this guy alive so badly, anyway?” Stella mumbled to herself. “If he’s such a bastard, why don’t we just kill him? He’s a terrorist leader.”

“The Lebanese Freedom Party ain’t deemed terrorists all over the world.” Pooch grinned and Stella snorted. “Russia views them as a legitimate socio-political force.”

“Russia basically executes people for being gay” She scoffed. “Forgive me for not taking their viewpoint here as the one to set my moral compass against.” She sighed. “Cougs could take one shot, straight in the head. Boom. Job done.”

Cougar chuckled as he unloaded his rifle and stand, looking up at Clay. “She’s not wrong, Boss.”

“Whilst wiping that particular shit stain off the face of the earth might be appealing, they ain’t our orders. We apprehend alive.” Clay spoke, matter of factly and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Whatever helps us sleep at night, huh?”

****

Stella had to hand it to their Intel department. The start of the hit went like clockwork. At bang on the designated time, Jensen radioed in to say that they were moving out and sure enough, twenty minutes or so later he accounted the SUVs and jeeps had left the compound. He joined the rest of the team little over half an hour later, leaving the dirty van he had been driving hidden down a dark alleyway at the back of the bank, behind the one the rest of the team had arrived in and headed into the dank building, wrinkling his nose at the musty air as he walked in. 

“Hey.” He greeted Stella, his hand falling to her shoulder as she sat in the back, her attention focussed through the window, a pair of binoculars raised to her eyes.

“Hey.” She whispered back, her gaze flicking to him quickly, flashing him a smile as she turned back to her spotting.

“So I picked up on their coms that they think Khalil’s personal security have done a sweep of the area.” Jensen looked at them. “Roques done his job nicely. They should be entering the square from the South West corner.”

 “ETA?” Clay turned to him.

“Less than five minutes.”

“Excellent.” Clay nodded. “So far so good.”

The next five minutes or so passed in silence, all five of the Officers in the room observing the roads leading to the square just in case. Even though their intel was solid, it was drilled into them that they should never rely on it completely.

“Boss,” Cougar spoke suddenly, his shoulders squaring back, “target approaching. Roughly two miles out.”

“Fuck, I got something coming too from the North East.” Pooch groaned.

“What?” Clay demanded.

“I dunno but it looks suspiciously like an ARV.”

“An ARV?” Clay frowned.

“Yup. They’ve stopped. Six hundred yards out.”

“What do you mean they’ve stopped?” Jensen demanded, snatching the binoculars off him.

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” Pooch replied. “They’re not moving.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Stella growled and Clay took the binoculars off Jensen. She watched as Clay took a look before he sighed heavily and dropped his head.

“It’s the Lebanese Special Service. I recognise one of them from a mission a while back.”

“What the hell are they doing here?”

 “I should have seen this coming.” Clay bit his lip. “They’re going to hit him at the rally. The false trail we leaked to them means they think we’re moving on him as he makes his way out of town and up to Beirut. They’re going to get in first.”

“It’s a double cross.” Stella looked at Jake and Pooch as she spoke, the pair of them exchanging a look before all eyes bar Cougar’s, which remained firmly fixed on his target, turned to Clay. “Why?”

“Death to the West and all that.” Clay sniffed. “They’re gonna take him out and try and use USA involvement as cover.”

“Don’t they realise that won’t work?” Stella shook her head. “We’re Black Ops, the thick fuckers. As soon as there’s so much of a sniff that shit is going west, the CIA will leave us high and dry, denying they had anything to do with it.”

“So what’s Plan B?” Pooch turned to look Clay. “I’m hoping you got a Plan B, because Plan A is going to shit.”

“Kilo one still approaching.” Cougar stated.

“You got anything special in your arsenal?” Clay turned to Pooch. “As in blow up an ARV special?”

Pooch blinked. “Yeah, the RPG but…”

“Go get it.” Clay instructed.

Pooch didn’t hesitate, he shot off down the stairs and Stella watched him go before she turned her attention back to the large square, which was roughly the size of two football pitches, busy with people bustling about their everyday business.

“If we get this wrong, the whole square is gonna be caught up in a fucking gun fight,” Stella spoke, her eyes falling on a group of kids in the middle.

There was a pause before Clay spoke again. “Khalil is our main objective; we just need to keep collateral to a minimum.”

Collateral. Stella hated that fucking word. She swallowed and looked at Jensen who gave her a small smile, which she returned before she glanced back at the square.

“One mile out.” Cougar informed.

“Okay,” Clay spoke, clapping his hands together. “Pooch, as soon as the LSS move, you shoot that RPG straight at the fuckers.”

“Gladly.” He nodded, “But, chances are if they’ve got an ARV out there then they’ll already have agents on the ground.”

“It doesn’t matter, all we gotta do is get a shot off first.  Once that initial gun crack is heard, Khalil’s security outfit are gonna herd him in here anyway. And hopefully, when the LSS get note their vehicle has gone bang it’ll draw them into blowing cover somehow.” Clay nodded. “At least then we’ll be able to spot where they are.” He took a deep breath. “Cougar, keep watch on Khalil. As soon as you get a viable opportunity to lay down the fire, take it.”

Cougs, who hadn’t taken his eye away from the target sight of his gun simply tipped the brim of his hat again with his finger to show he had understood and Clay turned to the other three of them as they waited instructions.

 “What about Roque?” Stella asked. “He doesn’t know about the LSS.”

“He’ll roll with the punches.” Clay rubbed his hand over his chin. “Everyone clear?”

“Clear as, boss, it’s a shoot-out.” Jensen snorted, nodding his head as he gave a chuckle. “Good times.”

“If this is your idea of a good time then I’d hate to see a bad one.” Pooch grumbled and Stella gave a chuckle.

“Hey, Poochy, I just like to see the positive in all aspects of life.” Jensen grinned, holding his hands out to the side, palms up. “You’re just grumpy because Jolene’s finally managed to…ouch!” Jensen gave a yelp as Stella punched him hard on the arm. “What was that for, babe?”

Stella shot him a look which instantly shut him up. Pooch had confided in her, Cougar and Jensen no less than two days ago that Jolene was four months pregnant, but he didn’t want to tell Clay or Roque for reasons that he was keeping to himself, as per his prerogative, she supposed. It had made her and Jensen snort a little, as when Aubrey had found out she was pregnant roughly five months or so ago, the entire world had known pretty much before the pee was dry on the test stick. Jensen’s eyes widened as he realised exactly what he’d been about to say and he grimaced, before turning to Pooch, giving him an apologetic look.

“Kilo One is approaching the square.” Cougar spoke, and they all turned their attention to him, stepping forward to the window, Clay observing their surroundings with the binoculars. 

“Okay, focus up Losers.” Clay hushed them all, gesturing to Pooch. “Get ready with that RPG”

Pooch shot Jensen one final filthy glare before he stepped forward, resting the grenade launcher on his shoulder.

“Arty, Jensen, in position.” Clay instructed. “Coms on, code names only.”

They both nodded, Stel picking up a device that had been in Pooch’s big bag of tricks, and made their way back to the spiral staircase.

And then, it all happened at once. Clay gave the order to fire and both Pooch and Cougar took their shots at the same time. The popping of guns, sounds of screaming and yelling and a rather large explosion followed by Pooch’s loud chuckles of glee hit their ears and Jensen looked at Stella as they waited at the top of the stairs.

“I really shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I should.” He grinned, and Stella snorted as suddenly the room below them was full of voices, once of which the recognised instantly as Roque. From their extensive planning, Sella knew that they would likely hustle into the room in a tight cordon, with Khalil in the middle and head to the most secure part of the building, the vault. They had no idea how many of the guard had made it into the building with Khalid, but essentially it didn’t matter. The Losers were one step ahead.

As soon as the group made their way towards the main part of the atrium, through the open double doors which led through the cashier area, Jensen grinned at Stella.

“Hit it, babe!” 

Stella smirked as she pushed the button on the device she held in her hand. The large electromagnets that had been placed on the locks snapped into place, firing the four inch thick steel bolts into their slots, securing them tightly, ensuring no one could get out, and no one else could get in. Yells of warnings rang out about the place as the guards instantly wheeled round, their guns raised and Roque’s eyes flickered upwards to where they were hidden on the veranda above. Jensen raised his right hand, his index and middle finger extended and he waved them across his face, indicating that their next move was about to go down. Roque made no sign he’d seen them, bar a quick double-blink.

“I’m sorry, pal.” Jensen grimaced a little as he ducked down and lifted a heavy square box off the floor, flipping the plastic cover up, jamming his thumb onto the red button. “Lima Two is about to deploy, please return to your seats and cover your ears.” He spoke into his coms, giving the rest of the team a warning. As soon as the device beeped to say it was charged, Jensen launched it over the side of the railing where it fell onto the floor below. As soon as it left his hands, he and Stella ducked down, their fingers jammed in their ears, eyes scrunched shut as the device activated.

Referred to merely by Pooch as the S-Fud- ‘Sensory Fuck-Up Device’, the item had been developed by the boffins in the CIA lab to create complete optical and aural disorientation by using ultra violet and bright white lights and a loud, high pitched sound and sonic wave. Even with his eyes screwed shut, the flash of light still bounced off all the surfaces surrounding Jensen, and the hands which were clamped over his ears might have dimmed the majority of the loud wailing siren, which lasted no more than two seconds, but the combination was still enough to leave him feeling slightly woozy as he stood to his feet, blinking furiously, his eyes feeling like he’d stared straight at the sun, his eardrums ringing as if he’d spent hours in a nightclub with music thumping in his ears. Besides him, Stella staggered to her feet and shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes. But they had no time to waste. Jake gently shook her shoulder and she nodded to show him she was okay. Together they made their way down the stairs as quickly as they could. 

The S-Fud had done its job, all the men were incapacitated to some extent. As Stella’s eyes glanced around she quickly counted six men in total. Three, one of whom was Khalil, were completely unconscious, face down on the floor. Two more, including Roque, were writhing in pain, hand clutched over their ears, and one was attempting to stagger to his feet. In a flash, Stella had nailed him with a kick to the face, and he fell backwards with a thud, his nose shattering as her heel smashed straight into the bridge.

“Did you see that?” Jensen turned to the other three men who had joined them, all looking around the room. “My girl, she’s a bad ass chick.”

“Can you concentrate on the mission in hand for once and not your dick?” Pooch shook his head as Cougar hit the moving guard with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out.

“Your momma concentrated on my dick last night.” Jensen shot back and Pooch groaned.

“Seriously? Momma jokes, now?”

“Shut up.” Stella nudged Jake harshly with her elbow as she walked past, following Clay as they stepped over the unconscious guards, heading towards Roque as he groaned and lay curled up in the foetal position. Clay knelt down and reached out, loosening his tie and the top button of his dress shirt before patting him on the shoulder, as Stella did the same to their target.

“Okay, lets move.” Clay looked up. “Jensen, Pooch, you take Roque. I’ll get Khalil. Cougs, Arty, give us cover to the vehicle.”

The team all nodded, Jensen and Pooch stepping forward, each seizing Roque under his arms. They managed to get him to his feet, each supporting him, their arms round his back as his arms slumped over their shoulders. His feet staggered on the floor as he made an attempt to talk.

“We got you, buddy.” Jensen said softly. “You’ll be alright, just feel like you’ve got one hell of a hangover for a few hours.”

Meanwhile Clay had managed to hoist Khalil to his feet with Cougar’s help, the man a complete dead weight, which he allowed to slump against his right shoulder. With an almighty heave he ducked and then stood, using his legs to rise up fully, Khalil slung over him in a fireman’s lift, his arms dangling freely down Clay’s back.

Without another word, the team moved as quickly as they could to the dead-bolted doors where Stella reached into her pocket with one hand, whipping her pistol out with the other. She clicked the device, which unlocked the glass doors and they made their way across the atrium, the chaotic noises from outside growing louder as they approached the back door to the bank they’d used to enter. Stella flattened herself against one side of the wall to the right of the door as Cougar took aim with his rifle. He looked at her and nodded, and in a flash she reached out and yanked it open, Cougar darting through, rifle held in front of him. 

“Clear.” He spoke and Stella moved to allow the rest of the team to step out into the alleyway, taking up the rear. 

She spotted the man hiding in a doorway two down before Cougs even had chance to shout a warning. In a flash she fired pistol twice. The first shot hit the guy in the arm, causing him to drop his gun, the second in the knee and he fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Then came another, and another. As Stella and Cougar continued, Jensen, Pooch and Clay heaved their charges to the side of the van, ducking as shots rained down on them. Pooch wrenched open the door, and Jensen hopped into the back, hoisting Roque in as gently as he could, a sharp contrast to the way Clay simply slung Khalil unceremoniously into the back. As Pooch ran to the front and hopped into the driver side, Stella and Cougar both sprinted towards the van, flinging themselves in as the engine started. With a sharp tug, Clay pulled he door shut as Pooch started the engine. 

Seconds later, the van roared back off up the alley, the crackle of gunfire from the square growing quieter and quieter as they put more distance between them and the danger.  Pooch drove them out onto the main road, towards the point, some six miles or so away, where they would ditch the van and hop into two separate SUVs and make their way to the agreed Ex-fil point at Saida Port roughly a half an hour or so drive away.

Stella closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal of the van, watching as Pooch and Jensen  hoisted Khalil into a sitting position, securing his wrists with flexi-restraints behind his back. Cougar was busy offering Roque some water, Stella pleased to see their teammate was finally starting to come round. She smiled as Jensen flopped down next to her, his arm looping round her shoulders as he pulled her to him for a soft kiss.

“I love working with you,” he grinned and she snorted, shaking her head as she chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re a regular nine-to-five couple, aint we?”

****

“Stel?” Jake called through the door of the bathroom of their temporary lodgings before he opened it and to be greeted by Stella led back in the bath, eyes closed. She turned her head to look at him. “I was gonna ask if you wanted head out with the guys for a beer and food but you look pretty comfortable.”

She pulled a face. “I’m feeling anti-social.” Jake laughed at her frank answer and smiled as she gave a small shrug. “Sorry, not sorry, but we spent four weeks in a hell hole motel and I’m extremely grateful Clay’s managed to get us holed up in a nice place and not the Officers’ Quarters on base so I intend to make the most of it.”

“Babes, we were both in the army.” He snorted. “Rocks for pillows and all that.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a while since I did that. What can I say? I’ve grown used to the finer things again.”

“Fair enough, I’ll let Clay know you hate them all and don’t want to socialise.” He teased.

“Jakey, we’re gonna be here for by my guess a week at least, plenty of time to go out sampling the finest bars the UK has to offer.” She shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by his teasing. “If you wanna go meet them, feel free. I’ll grab a take out. There were some leaflets pinned to the board in the kitchen.”

“Or…” Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I stay here, because frankly, that bed looks really comfy and I kinda wanna test it. See how grossed out we can make Pooch.”

“Jerk.” Stella snorted.

“Well, he’s done nothing but complain since we got here about how he has to share this house with us and can’t go in with the others, so I wanna give him something to really complain about.”

“You’re such a little shit.” She laughed and Jake groaned. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Laugh?”

“Yeah, it’s making your boobs wobble under the water, and that’s making me horny.”

“You’re always horny.”

“Hornier than usual.”

“Well, I can solve that problem.” She grinned and Jake smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, turn around and shut the door on your way out.”

“Ouch, Stells.” Jake slapped his hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”

“Hmmm,” She muttered, laying her head back and closing her eyes again. “If you’re getting in here you better hurry, or the water will be cold too.”

Jake grinned and in a flash, reached back to grab a fist full of his t-shirt behind the collar and pulled it over his head. As his hands flew to the button on his jeans Stella nodded to the door.

“You better lock that, I know you said you wanted to gross Pooch out but if he walks in on us he’ll be scared for life.”

“And?”

Stella merely arched her brow, “No locky, no fucky.”

With that Jake spun on his heel and flicked the lock, before he turned round and shoved his pants and boxers down in one full swoop and swung his leg over the side of the tub. Stella moved forward so he could settle behind her, his legs laying either side of hers. It was a tight squeeze, the tub in the two bedroomed terraced house wasn’t built to accommodate two but neither paid it any mind. 

Stella took a deep breath, closed her eyes and leaned back, her head laying against Jake’s chest as his hands softly rubbed up and down her forearms, his lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

They were silent for a while, the pair of them simply contented to stay there for a moment, relishing the peace after a long and tedious mission and the chance to relax for an evening before the debriefs and analysis started the next day in the War Rooms of the RAF Base in Suffolk, England. Often, the aftermath of a mission was more hard-going than the action itself. They’d hash over the events, listen to the CIA operative justify some of the more morally ambiguous decisions made, no doubt the ramifications and political fall-outs, be informed about how the CIA were going to play it and then they’d have to submit written reports, which would be Classified at the highest levels and stored in the top secret vaults in Virginia. 

It was part and parcel of being in a black-ops team. They knew the script, having read and played it many a times before. But it was draining and exhausting, one of the many reasons Stella was glad that the actual missions they ran, whilst they could last months at a time, were on the large few and far between.

“You okay?” Jake broke the silence and pressed his lips once more to the back of her shoulder and Stella nodded, tilting her head round so she could look at him.

“I spoke to Rey before.”

“Yeah, how is she?”

“She said she felt the baby move for the first time.” Stella beamed.

“Oh, that’s awesome.” Jake grinned back, “are they gonna find out what they’re having?”

Stella snorted, “dur. You know what she’s like. She’ll want to decorate and buy it blue or pink clothes, plus if it’s a boy she’s got time to mentally prepare seeing as all she wants is a little girl to treat like a doll.”

Jake laughed. “Is it wrong I kinda hope it is a boy?”

Stella grinned. “Nope, I was thinking the same. She’s asked me to be with her when it’s born.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jake wrinkled his nose. “Dick’s gonna be about as much use as a knife in a gun fight.”

“Knives can be very useful in a gun fight, if you know how to use them.”

“Oooh I love it when you talk dirty, babe.” Jensen smirked and dropped his head to kiss her softly. His right hand moved from its spot on her arm to stroking her hip, tracing a path down the outside of her thigh. His fingers softly traced shapes on her warm, wet skin just to the side of her knee before he moved his touch up her leg again then across to her abdomen. Stella sighed against his mouth, as her head lolled to the right. Jensen’s mouth moved, trailing a line down her neck, nipping at the hinge of her jaw. 

He was growing hard against her, Stella could feel it, and the way his fingers were ghosting over her made her skin tingle and her body shiver. "Jake," she whimpered. "Yeah, baby?" His fingers found the tuft of curls and then her nub. "You gonna sing for me, Stells?" He encircled her clit with his fingertip and drew back up. "Let me play that pussy?" “Fuck...” she groaned, leaning further back into him, her body sagging into his. She loved his dirty talk, being so in control for most of the time, she enjoyed letting herself go when it came to this. “Feels good, Jakey.” "Yeah? You like it when I touch you, feel my fingers inside? Stretching you for my dick?" He dipped two fingers inside, his thumb able to press into her sensitive clit. "Jesus, fuck," Stella gasped as he moved into her. The thickness of his fingers felt like she was on fire and had her silently begging his foreplay wasn't long. "So fucking wet already, babe." Jake was enjoying the feel of her on his fingers. It'd been a long while since he'd felt all of her and he hid his desperation well behind dirty words and filthy ministrations. His mouth moved down her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin as he went, lips curling into a smirk as he listened to her softly groaning. Her hips moving in time with his hand as his fingers curled inside her.  Water began to just teeter over the tubs edge but neither paid any mind. Stella's breathy pants bounced off of Jake's cheek as he watched himself finger fuck her. "I love it when you fuck my fingers, baby." "Oh God," Stella squeaked, for she was going to hit that edge and fall right over. The time between, the angst of their mission and Jake's mouth were nearing too much. "Jakey, please," she moaned. "Cum on my fingers, Stells, then I'm gonna fuck you, really...really... good." With each 'really' Jake barely rutted against Stella, just enough to tease her at what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to slide in, slow and deep, her body seated on top his, while he feasted on her nipples and neck. He wanted to be buried into her to the hilt and paint her walls with his seed. Stella came undone as her body quaked against his chest. With a breathy squeak she went rigid and her hand flew from the side of the tub, wrapping around is wrist as she came, her walls clamping around his fingers "Fuck, Stella, turn around baby, sit on my lap." She was as languid as the water around them, her body drowning in ecstasy as Jake helped her turn in the small space. His fully erect and throbbing cock stood at attention, his head just above the water’s surface. He guided Stella just where he wanted her and slowly dipped inside her still trembling walls. The sensation was more than Stella had bargained for and she moaned out loudly as she sank into him. "That's it baby, let them hear you" Jake bucked a bit into her, closing the gap that Stella was slowly shortening, his cock fully inside her and he moaned himself. She felt so good, so tight. Like there was no one else made for him but her. The thought gave him a flutter deep in his belly. She was his, and would be forever, if she'd have him. Stella rolled her hips against his, grinding down the pressure on her sensitive clit while Jake's lips moved over her skin, nearing her pert nipples. His hands wove around her back, fingers pressing into her spine as he bobbed his hips up and down to meet with her rolls. It was a dirty grind, water sloshing out of the tub like waves licking the shore. When Jake found a nipple and rolled it between his lips, his tongue tasting her flesh and his teeth nipping at it, Stella tugged at the little bits of longer hair atop Jake's head as she squeaked out a pleasurable sound. One of Jake's large hands palmed down her back and over the curve of her ass, squeezing her cheek as she rocked all whilst he played with her breasts. The same hand soon found its way between their bodies and pressed hard into her clit before smoothing upward over her tummy and grasping her left breast, kneading it gently. The more he gave, the more she took and before long she was grinding down against him, her breathing ragged as he thrust up, hard, his hands dropping to her hips.  “Come on baby,” he groaned as her head fell back, his lips nipping against her collar bone, “fuck, I love you.” “Love you.” She groaned as he thrust up, her hands curling over his shoulders, nails biting his skin. “Shit, Jakey, I’m gonna...” “Cum baby, come on.” His jaw clenched as her body trembled and her eyes fluttered closed, as she let out a broken, whispered groan. As she clenched around him, Jake gave a soft growl of his own, his hips moving slightly faster as he rutted up, pulling her down onto him. The coil in his abdomen that had been tightening and tightening snapped and his entire body surrendered, a surge of warmth spreading from his belly outwards and he stilled, his cock twitching as he came. A few sloppy thrusts later and he stilled with a satisfied him, his hands moving to smooth Stella’s damp hair back off her face as hers cupped his cheeks. She simply looked at him for a moment and he gave her a grin causing her to chuckle as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.  “Jesus Christ, that was amazing.” Jensen mumbled and Stella grinned, her lips meeting his once more. They stayed still for a moment, soft kisses being shared until Stella shivered a little and Jake helped her move off him so he could get out of the tub and leave her to finish off. He grabbed a towel and his glasses from the basin unit before he dried off, gathered his discarded clothes and headed onto the small landing of the accommodation. Pooch, who was just emerging from the other bedroom shot him a look. “You better clean that damned bathroom before I use it.” He arched his eyebrow and Jensen grinned. “You’re like the best disgusting person I know.” Pooch continued with a snort before he nodded his head to the stairs. “Take it you’re two ain’t coming?” “Already came, Poochy.” Jensen grinned as he walked to their bedroom, laughing as the sounds of Pooch’s groans of disgust hit his ears.

****

Stella woke the next morning to a burning deep in her core and Jake’s face between her legs. Her orgasm roused her much better than any alarm or cup of coffee ever could and as Jake stuffed himself insider her, his mouth nipping softly at her neck, she smiled softly to herself as she realised he’d done this very thing the first morning they’d moved up to college together.

After pulling on her Army Uniform cargo pants, Stella tucked her khaki green tee into the waist and adjusted the belt before she sat down and laced up her heavy boots as Jake fiddled with the collar of his, complaining that it felt tight. When Stella pointed out he was slightly more built than he had been last time he wore it a good few months ago, he grinned and flexed his arms to give her the ‘gun show’ making her snort and shake her head.

They headed out of the house and walked the half a mile to the main gate of the base, flashing their ID and making their way to the Mess for breakfast where they met with the rest of the team, Pooch giving them another filthy look as their antics had continued beyond the bathroom and much later into the night. Once they’d finished eating, they each grabbed a coffee to go and headed down to the War Rooms - a network of conference rooms and IT facilities nestled in a bunker along the runway of the RAF Base - and settled down in the leather seats around the large, polished mahogany table ready for whoever it was from the CIA that would be arriving to give the debrief.

They’d been there for roughly half an hour or so and Jensen was already bored. He was messing around, twirling his pen in-between his fingers, the other tapping against the disposable coffee cup. After a pause, he took his pen and began to draw a face on the white plastic lid.

“What are you doing?” Stella looked at him, having caught his fiddling in the corner of her eye.

“I’m bored, Stelly,” his voice was a childish whine, “where is this guy anyway? We’ve been waiting here for like thirty minutes!”

“Just take the fucking pen off him, Arty.” Roque groaned. Stella reached over for it and snatched it away”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Jensen, shut up!” Roque shot back and Jensen turned to him.

“Why? It’s not like anyone is talking anyway.”

“You, you’re talking. As usual. Put a sock in it.” Roque turned to Stell as Clay stood up and walked to the door to see if anyone was coming. “How the fuck do you put up with this?”

“He has his mouth busy most of the time.” Stella quipped as she leaned back in the chair and Jensen gave her a dopey grin.

Both Roque and Pooch let out noises of disgust, Cougar’s chuckle just audible from the other side of the table where he lounged with his feet on the table and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Yeah, laugh all you want but next time it’s you sharing the digs with them.” Pooch looked at him. “I’m done.”

“Chill out.” Cougar replied and Pooch blinked.

“Did you just tell me to chill?”

Cougar smirked in response, tipping his hat up slightly to flash Pooch a wink.

“The Pooch is perfectly chilled.”

“The Pooch refers to himself in the third person,” Jensen shook his head, “that’s so not chill.”

“Oh…this just got even better.” Clay’s remark had them all turning towards him, the teasing banter dying off as Roque sat up.

“What?”

Clay simply walked into the room, rolling his eyes. Less than five seconds later, in walked a very familiar face.

“Oh great.” Jake mumbled as Stella blinked, coming face to face with her ex for the first time since he’d stormed out of her apartment all those months ago.

“Good Morning.” Evan greeted them all before he nodded to Stella, a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Evan, hi... what are you... what are you doing here?” She asked and Evan took a deep breath.

“It was my intel you guys were running down so I’m here for debrief.”

“That was your intel?” Pooch spoke and Evan nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve been tracking Khalil for a while and reached out to him a while ago to offer him a deal. He declined so we needed to bring him in.” Evan nodded. “His activities were giving us cause for concern, not to mention with the Russians behind him. We needed to make the grab before he got even more power behind his cause.”

Jake sensed Stella tensing slightly besides him and slid his hand over her thigh. Her fingers gently locked over his as she kept her gaze on Evan, who had spotted the subtle movement of Jake’s hand. He didn’t say anything, instead the man’s eyes flicked to Jake’s who simply stared back before Roque chipped in.

“So, we got the guy. Did he give you what you needed?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Evan replied, apologetically. “It’s classified, need to know basis.”

“In that case I don’t wanna know.” Pooch mumbled.

Stella’s mind was whirling. Truth be told, she’d started to think about exactly why they’d been dispatched to capture this particular guy alive, when his type were ten-a-penny all over the place. There was a lot more to it than the fact this guy’s ideologies didn’t fit with those of the Western World.  And then, the final little piece dropped into place in her analytical brain and she turned her head to see Clay watching her.

“Did you know?” She asked.

Clay shook his head. “Suspected but…”

“Suspected what?” Jensen looked at Clay then Stella. “Babe?”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a reason why we were on a capture not kill mission. At first I assumed it was to do with not making him a martyr but then throwing him in prison would cause just as much unrest. But that unrest will die down when he’s released in a few months in exchange for his cooperation for details on his Russian backers and arms suppliers.”

The rest of the team looked at her, then to Evan who blinked, his face remaining stoic as Stella shook her head and continued.

“He then lets his supporters know that he and his friends in Russia had a disagreement and he was traded away. He retires to some island somewhere, under the careful watch of the UN and fades away into non-existence.”

There was silence and Evan took a deep breath, “it’s not quite as simple as that, Stel…Stevenson, but yeah, that’s pretty much the basics.”

“God, this is so fucking bent.” Stella shook her head. “It’s no wonder the entire world hates us.”

“You know, considering you technically work for the CIA and the Armed Forces, you kinda signed up for this.” Clay raised his eyebrow as Stella rolled her eyes.

“We tried to negotiate terms with him. He turned them down.” Evan replied, matter-of-factly. “So we sent you in to enforce them. The rest, as I stated a minute or so ago, you really don’t need to know.”

“Yeah, classified, we heard.” Clay replied, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you suspect the Lebanese Special Service would try a double cross?” Roque looked at Evan and the man shot him an apologetic look.

“It was always possible, yeah. But you know how it goes…”

Roque scoffed and Cougar shifted in his seat, Evan’s eyes flicking to him before he took a deep breath and shrugged.

“If it helps, think of the bigger picture. We remove their leader, cut off the Russian support, and suddenly the LFP is nothing more than an overhyped street gang...”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help.” Jensen wrinkled his nose and Evan shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Well, that’s your opinion. Not ours.” He cleared his throat, “anyway, it’s done. The mission is over. For now, you guys need to lay low. We’ve cleared it with the RAF for you to stay in the area for a while until all the fuss about Khalil going missing has died down. We’ll be monitoring all the usual lines and channels of communication, making sure no one has your descriptions and doing what we can to keep your faces out of the public eye.” Evan paused. “But, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if we can’t.”

At that The Losers simply looked at one another. Evan was right, they didn’t need reminding. That was the whole point of the CIA running the number of Black-Ops teams it did. It gave them a way to do the slightly grey area dirty jobs and remain at arm’s length, denying all responsibility if required.

“Any idea on how long that’s gonna be?” Pooch asked. 

“Probably be a week, maybe two. But once we’re confident we’re clear, we’ll send word and get you back to the US.” Evan replied.

“So what you’re saying is we got two weeks off?” Cougar spoke and Evan looked at him, giving a shrug.

Pooch grinned and fist bumped Cougar.

“Are you staying here too?” Jensen looked at Evan and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m flying back to Virginia tonight”

“I’m not really worried…” Jake shrugged. There was a moment where both men simply stared at each other until Clay coughed.

“Right, is there anything else?”

“Mission reports due as usual, next forty eight hours.” Evan turned his head away from Jensen and looked around the team. “I’ve arranged access into the Red Network from the hub on the base. Your liaison officer, Wing Commander Levinson, says he can set you guys up with time on the range or the phys- ops courses too, have you join their drills if you want. Might be an idea to keep yourselves sharp.”

Cougar, Pooch and Jake all groaned at the suggestion of the physical training whilst Roque and Stella looked at one another, nodding.

“Yeah, I can go for that.” Roque agreed.

“And that’s it, other than on behalf of the CIA I wanted to thank you, it was a slick operation. We’re really pleased with how this one turned out.”

The team exchanged looks and soft smiles, before Clay stood up.

“Okay, Losers. Let’s grab some more coffee and then we can regroup. Figure out what we do for the next two weeks.

Movement filled the room as they all stood to leave, and just as Stella had picked up her empty coffee cup, Evan cleared his throat.

“Stella, can I have a word?”

She hesitated and Jake turned to look at her. He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “Jakey, it’s fine. Go, I’ll catch you up.”

He blinked, before he turned to Evan, the glare he gave him positively filthy before he turned and left the room. Evan and Stella stood still watching him go, before Stella turned to Evan, the man giving her a soft smile.

“You look well. Being happy suits you.” His tone carried no anger, and Stella found herself returning his smile before she sighed and shook her head.

“Listen Evan, I...”

“It’s okay Stella,” he spoke, holding his hand up, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to apologize. I was an asshole when you broke up with me.” Stella took a deep breath as he continued. “The way I acted and the things I said were horrible. My mother would be ashamed and I just ...” he shrugged. “I wanted to let you know I was sorry, that’s all.”

Slightly surprised at his outwardly contrite tone, Stella simply shook her head. “It’s okay. You were hurt. I hurt you.”

“Yeah you did but that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted. So, like I said, I’m sorry.” He smiled, gesturing with his hand to the door. “And I’m glad that you and Jake are, you know, making it work.”

As he spoke the final like, that tell-tale nerve in his jaw twitched a little and Stella knew that he wasn’t happy, at all. But, given that the rest of his apology had been genuine, she accepted the gesture for what it was.

“Thank you.” She gave a soft smile. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I did like you Ev, it just…”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that now. And hey, no hard feelings. If we hadn’t broken up I’d never have met Talia so…”

“Oh, you’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah.” Evan nodded. “It’s early days, we’ve had a few dates and been away for a weekend. She’s nice, I like her.”

“Good, well I hope it works out.” Stella smiled. There was a pause before she took a breath. “I better…” she jerked her hand towards the door and Evan nodded.

“Of course…”

“I’ll, erm, see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, take care, Stella.”

“You too, Evan.”

With a final smile at one another, Stella left the room and headed back up the corridor. Jake was waiting outside for her, leaning against the wall of the building.

“All okay?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“To apologise for the way he acted when we broke up.” Stella shrugged. “That was it, oh, and he’s seeing someone else. Which is nice. I hope it works for him. He’s a good guy.”

Jensen made a non-committal noise in his throat and Stella looked at him. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Stella rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just, well, I don’t know what it is but I still don’t trust him, never have. He’s shady.”

“He’s an intel officer for the CIA.” Stella scoffed, taking Jake’s hand. “We’re a Black-Ops team. Far more shady than he is.”

“Suppose.” Jensen sniffed, as the two of them walked down the side of the building. As they went, Jensen suddenly had a sense of unease. Almost as if they were being watched. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, but found no one. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous. They were on a secure Military Base, probably the safest place they could be given the circumstances.

“You okay?” Stella asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he assured her, “so, the rest of The Losers are in the coffee shop. Pooch is already on his phone checking out local bars, fancy hitting a few tonight?”

“Why not?” Stell grinned up at him, leaning up to place a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Jake smiled, and pulled her closer as they headed off to join up with the rest of the team, casting a final glance over his shoulder, once more seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

**** Chapter 10

[korpuskat]

Start Game [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader] - Part 4

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,817 Summary:  Things don't always go as planned in new relationships... and finding out that he's a murder and leader of a terrorist group certainly isn't the plan. Contains DFAB but gender neutral reader; handjob, blowjob, vaginal sex

So, I had a really bad night so instead of doing Kinktober 8, here’s the final chapter of Start Game that I was sitting on. pls hmu if you see errors, I’m really tired dkjfddhgdgkjs

===== [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] =====

In the end, you knew nothing about him.

Memories sit like a rock in your stomach. It felt so obvious now- plain as day. Half your screen lit up with your chat log- days worth of conversations laid bare, the words making your chest ache. How could you be so stupid? He’d warned you about it. That he was a stranger. Just some guy you'd hang out with, play games with- the center of your little innocent, stupid daydreams. That's all it was supposed to be.

The other half of your screen is covered with a still image, a photo grabbed from a news cast pasted onto a tips wanted hotline. Every cell in your body has gone cold as ice, frozen as the image. In the chat window, tiny text appears below the log: dust2dust is typing...

It was true. You knew nothing about him after all.

You didn’t reply to him, fully aware you’d left him on read.

You’ve never done that before. Always, always you’d reply as soon as you saw his message, all too eager to talk with him, spend time with him. But then, he’d never been quite so forward. It was always about gaming, about hanging out- to be so transparent about it now…

dust2dust: are u free tonite

Your stomach churns, sickness rising in your throat- tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. They bubble over, blur your vision and wipe away the image of a man standing on a rooftop, his hair whipping around his face. Maybe you could believe it was someone else, the strange mask he wore obscured Tomura’s recognizable skin and scars, the image too far out of focus to tell his eye color, even the darkness had left his hair more gray-colored than anything. But beneath the long black shirt sleeves, bandages peaked out, uneven. His right hand, his left wrist.

The tip hotline poster sealed it all together. Shigaraki. The man in connection to the Hosu City incident and the attack on U.A. prior and, oh. The bandages. Shigaraki had been shot, hadn’t he? That’s what the article you’d dug up before said.

A villain. He’s a villain! You’ve been hanging out with him- he could’ve killed you!

You curl up on your bed, tug your blanket tight around your shoulders. Your phone is solid under your fingers- the number pad staring back at you. You could get him caught. You could stop him from hurting anyone else…. It would be so easy! All you had to do was dial the number, to just... push the buttons. That's all.

You squeeze your phone in your hand- and your thumb is stiff, aching- just push the button, just tap the screen- that's all it would take. Why is it so hard? You could prevent the next attack, could make the world a little safer, to be a hero-

So why can't you do it?

Ding! You flinch, close your eyes- will yourself to look away from the screen. You don't need to see the chatbox flashing, don't need to see the new message sitting on the screen-- but with the client open, he'll get the read notification just the same. You just... walked away from the computer is all. It's just that innocent, that easy- to pretend you aren't aching to talk to him. That it's an honest mistake and not your desperate attempt to keep your head together.

The notification rolls in on your phone- a banner dropping down over the screen: New message from dust2dust.

Finally, your thumb moves. A single tap- and the mobile app opens up, your chat log spreading out.

dust2dust: u there

All you want in the entire world is to say yes, to ask what game he had planned tonight. To lose yourself in whatever colorful world was his interest tonight- maybe he'd want to visit your Animal Crossing island again. But that is wrong… isn’t it?

Between a rock and a hard place- you can't turn him in and you can't go back. There's no good answer to this, no way to pretend you didn't know why he wore those gloves now. No way to pretend he hadn't put those hands on you- in you. And... you can't avoid him forever.

You fingers shake as they touch the screen, tap on the keyboard where they could not meet the number pad. I know.

The response is immediate.

dust2dust: Know what?

You sniffle, wipe your face. You're over the precipice, there's no going back.

Shigaraki.

The cursor blinks in the text box. dust2dust is typing... appears and is gone within seconds. Nothingness. The green circle beside his icon remains lit, his status online.

You rub at your face and struggle to type out:

I won’t tell anyone. I promise.

The words sound true; you couldn’t even work up the nerve to call the hotline. Turning him in… somehow feels scarier than messaging him. Talking to him.

You watch, wait for the typing notification, but it doesn’t come. All that changes is the green circle beside his name turns gray, the status below his username updates: offline. last seen one second ago.

A coldness lances through your chest, a pain far worse than before.

You spend the next day waiting. Maybe for death, maybe for Steam to give you a friendly little pop-up, dust2dust is playing… and maybe you’d join him. Like nothing had changed, you’d join his party, he’d admonish you for being late, give you that quiet, warm praise when you solo a monster.

But it doesn’t. When desperation for fresh air drives you out the door, you expect a man in a black hoodie waiting for you. Maybe to talk, maybe to so easily lay his hand on you, just to be sure you won’t speak of him.

He isn’t there. He doesn’t lurk around every corner, doesn’t come online- you check. Every time your phone buzzes your heart swells, and every time it’s not him. The status on his profile ticks upwards without fail, no matter how often you open the chat and want to find the right words.

It’s worse than you imagined, the loneliness. Your once real friend and oh, of course! Of course you’d have the sense to befriend Japan’s Most Wanted. No matter how much you remind yourself, it doesn’t change the icy pit in your stomach. It’s not dread, it’s not fear.

Because as much as you think about him appearing and exacting his vengeance for you knowing too much- he could’ve done it before. He took you to his home, touched you, let you sleep beside him- he could’ve killed you through any of that. Instead he was careful, wore gloves. Opened up, just the tiniest bit. He could’ve killed you and he didn’t. Could’ve shown up at your door— could’ve destroyed the whole building.

He didn’t.

And that makes the pain sharper, more acute. A horrible ache has taken root in your chest and won’t go away.

.

.

.

.

.

It’s a terrible makeshift metric for goodness: that he didn’t harm you when he could have. But that has to mean something, doesn it? All the time he’s spent with you… that can’t be nothing. He risked exposure to be near you- and thus far has not left you in the dust.

Offline. last seen one day ago.

It has to mean something, it has to. That’s what you tell yourself as you slip through your apps. In your internet tabs there’s one that catches your eye. A map, a google search for restaurants near me with a bright red pin stuck into a satellite image.

It has to mean something.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You repeat that mantra over and over, even as you step off an unfamiliar metro line. It can’t be for nothing, can it? You walk, follow the directions back to your pinned location. The weeks spent talking and gaming even before he’d laid hands on you, when you still looked at him with star-struck eyes and a naivety that must’ve lasted longer than you thought.

He has to be busy. Can’t spend all his time in the arcade, being prickly and antisocial to everyone but you. That has to mean something.

You stumble through darkened streets- your journey having taken much longer than expected with your shaking legs and three separate breakdowns to consider if you were completely batshit.

The tiny distance calculator counts down as you walk and that might be the only thing keeping you sane. A nice little number to watch tick by as you approach a run-down section of the city. Sure enough, you end up outside a characterless building. It doesn't look right- where you had been was certainly somewhere lived-in, his possessions covering the shelves. But then, wouldn't a more nondescript building be more suitable?

You bite your lip, stand before the building in question. Your hand shakes as you approach- a broken BAR sign flickers once in the window. This is such a terrible idea, your worst, really. Bad enough to befriend a villain, but to go back? Maybe you should take a fourth break to debate if you've really lost it. There’s no turning back.

You reach out, fingertips brush against the door- it’s ripped open.

“Whatever, I’m-“ A man’s silhouette blocks most of the doorway, his face cast in shadow, backlit by the soft yellow of the would-be bar’s interior. He stops, looks down at you- and your bravery plummets to your toes. He glares at you with narrowed eyes ringed by heavy scars and facial piercings. “Who’re you?”

Your voice dries up- the reality of it all setting in too fast. “Oi, what’s-” Your attention snaps from the scarred man’s face to just over his right shoulder.

He looks just like he did in the press release: a terrible white hand grabbing his face, obscuring everything except one bright red eye. An eye staring you down, opened impossibly wide, pupil blown full, eclipsing the red of his iris till only a sliver remains. But it's him and the relief that washes over you makes it feels like years since you last saw him, not simply a day and a half.

The scarred man looks over his shoulder towards Tomura, raises one eyebrow- but Tomura doesn't even see him. Doesn't acknowledge him at all, doesn't see anything except your face.

"Oh, so this is your problem." The man huffs, shoulders past you.

And with him gone, all that is left is an unobstructed view into the bar, of Tomura Shigaraki, wanted villain, easing himself off a bar stool. He moves slow, but you watch his fists clench and release over and over, long, slender fingers drawing invisible lines in the air in a motion you've become all too familiar with.

Your hands shake, but you step through the threshold just the same. The door closing behind you is only faintly alarming, but with every sense attuned to the man before you, you don't have much thought to spare. He steps towards you, just one foot the first time- a test, a measurement- and though you cower, you don’t run.

That’s all he needs to know.

He’s on you- you hadn’t even seen him move. No more than a blur of black and the gray of the bloodless hand- and you’d think by now having him pressed up on you wouldn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. It does, though. But this time, this time you know the danger of his touch- of three fingers and a thumb curled over your throat.

“How did you get here?” He hisses, the threat of his hand has spread to his throat, the one eye now only half-visible under the misplaced fluff of his hair.

His hand eases off your windpipe just enough for your voice to eke by. “Phone saved the location.”

It feels wrong to speak of your almost normal date with the violence in his eyes. "Why are you here? Playing bait for the heroes?"

"No," You shake your head, your chin rubbing along the inside line of his hand. "No, I swear. I didn't tell anyone."

"Then why?" His eye narrows down to a slit, the damaged skin there folding in tight.

Your tongue wets your lips, your mouth parted as though that would make the words come easier. "I don't know." It's true; you knew coming here was crazy. "I... I missed you."

Even from behind the hand, you hear the hitch in his breathing. His eyelid lifts, rage giving way to something else. He stares at you, hardly moves but the gears turn in his head, "You're lying."

Tomura's wrist is cool under your fingertips- his pulse jumps as you touch him. It's not a plea for him to get off you, your hand not tight around his wrist- it's hardly more than a brush of your skin against his. "I..." Shame makes you look down to his feet, the same red sneakers you've come to love on his feet. "I didn't know what to say when... when I figured it out. I was scared." His grip shifts, as though confirming that you should be- "But... then I kept checking my phone. Waiting for you to message me. But I... I knew you wouldn't and... I couldn't find the right words. I thought maybe being here would be easier..."

"Is it?"

It's so disarming, so honest, you struggle to catch your breath. "Can I see you? I mean, could you...?"

Tomura waits a moment, but he does it nonetheless. His right hand never leaves your throat as he grasps the preserved palm with three fingers, drawing it away from his face. Your heart races- and from the twitch of his thumb over your jugular, you think he notices too. It's still him, of course- brow creased even more than usual, eyes tightened around the corners as he judges you.

"Tomura," You breathe, more sure. His face twitches, something just beneath the surface dying to break free. Still smothered beneath his suspicion. "I missed you. You're... the only person I really have and when I thought of never being able to talk with you again or- or touch you," You feel your cheeks heat, shame driving your gaze back down. "I couldn't stand it."

His breath shakes, his eyes like blood dart across your face, searching for something there. You're trembling so hard- anxiety and adrenaline rushing together in one awful slurry- you hardly even recognize that his hand is trembling too, his last finger twitching to come down and end it. It's not his finger that touches you.

All at once you think back to him standing beside you in the arcade, laying next to you in his bed: his hand on your skin, his breath warm across your face- he lingers there, eyes spread wide in something you dare not name. Not until he decides- and surges forward, presses himself to you completely, angling himself to find every inch of your body he can against his; his long legs set just inside yours, his thin torso leaves you hardly any room to breathe, his free hand raising to grab the side of your face- and with a burning need, he devours you. With lips and teeth and the tips of his fingers digging deep into your flesh, leaving eight bruises behind- and when his mouth drifts from yours, down onto your neck more bruises follow.

His tongue is hot and wet, laves a humid streak up from collar bone to jaw, leaves you shuddering and digging your fingers into his hair with a plea of "Tomura,"

"I knew it." He says, half laughs against your throat. The skin there tingles with the latent pressure of his hand, the threat that never came to fruition- then sparks as he kisses, messy and too wet, nipping freely, littering your skin with marks until you're panting. "I knew you meant it, that you're mine."

The word makes your knees weak, an airy moan escaping from your lips- which only fuels him to keep going. "You- you want to touch me?" The giddiness is back, an ecstatic trill in his voice, a shiver wracking down his body- all the way to the tips of his fingers that catch your wrists. "Then go on, touch me." He doesn't actually give you a choice, he shoves your hands against him, forces your palms up against the firm bulge in his pants.

Shock makes you tug against his hands for a moment- and for one agonizing second, Tomura's face falls. His too-wide grin- the one that puts you right back against the wall in that dim hallway- slips from its upturned joy. And then you touch him. Even with his demanding control, it's different when you actually do it: your fingers curving around the shape of him, feel his weight through the cloth. His breath catches and though you're sure it feels good, the twitch of his brow into something almost like surprise- just a flash of emotion before dissolving back into that thrilling, dangerous smile- has you thinking it's something else.

You palm at him and his hands loosen, lets you explore. A squeeze makes him grunt, and you take that as a good sign. Your best attempt to stroke him through his pants has his hips pushing into your hands. Though you need to bite your lip to keep yourself grounded, the loose, stuttering jerks of his hips give you enough courage to do more. Tomura stares at you, point-blank, inches from your face as your fingers quiver but dip below the waist of his pants.

The grin widens and nervousness makes your breaths come in quick- but when have you been able to say no to him? You push his pants down- and his cock bobs free, just as you had imagined how it looked when he was grinding on you: long and pale, the head a blushing pink, half-exposed, peeking out from under his foreskin. It's practically radiating warmth and throbs as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around him properly for the first time.

You just hold him for a moment, stumbling over what you should do- and his hand finds your wrist again. You welcome the help; he's not shy about what he wants you to do. He curls your fingers in tighter, tighter- until you'd be worried you were hurting him if he wasn't currently fucking your hand, half the motion coming from his grasp on your wrist, half from his hips. It's rough, the skin of your palm dragging against his cock, your strokes unlubricated except for the sweat of your palms and the first drips of precum that squeezes out each time your thumb and index finger squeeze up around the head. On the downstroke, the thin hood of skin slides back, fully reveals the pink skin beneath.

"You're doing so good," Tomura's voice is husky, rasping next to your ear. His gaze flits between your hands on his cock and your face, watching as your expression evolves- lingering when you lick your lips.

"Wait," You work against his grip to still your hand. Tomura whines, ruts once against your palm, fingers twitching as he tries to control himself. There's a question in his eyes, one you soothe with your free hand touching his side, then with words. "I want to... try something." His brow twists, one eye narrowing- until you're bending your knees. In the meager space he's left between himself and the wall, you slide down. His breathing hitches and something wild passes over his face.

You touch his legs, still covered in his dark pants. Beneath, his thighs are slender, but solid. One hand slides into your hair, bitten-short nails scratching at your scalp- spark a shudder that jumps down each vertebra, prompts you to look up at him. With his hand in your hair, you follow the long, thin line of his arm to his face. From below, he's menacing, face completely cast in shadow, his hair now framing the damaged and ruined skin of his features instead of obscuring them. Just like this, you're one finger away from a death too many people have seen. Maybe you should be concerned on why, exactly, that makes your mouth water.

His fingers- all except the littlest- press down at the top of your head, bring your mind back to the matter at hand. What you had wanted to try.

It's different being level with his cock. Before it was intimidating, something new and unfamiliar- but at least you had Tomura's hand to guide you... or really hold you still so he could use your hand. And that was good, amazing, even- to hear his panting up close and feel him, really feel him as he throbbed in your palm. But you worked up the courage to come here, you made some kind of horrible realization about your own desires in this world and you want to follow that thrilling conclusion to its end before common sense can catch up to the adrenaline.

Down here, with your thumbs sliding up beyond the hem of his pants, stroking at the expanse of pale, smooth skin of his thighs- barely dusted with hair so thin and pale it looks white, it's different. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, foreskin eased back into half-covering the head, a shiny bead of precum glistens at the slit. You touch him, squeeze just how he showed you- and feel the thick vein on the underside pulse hard beneath the pad of your thumb. You resist the urge to swallow, instead opening your mouth and easing out your tongue.

The first lick makes his cock twitch, though you think it's more the sight of you on your knees than the actual sensation. The taste is not quite what you expect; a single bead of precum and that which has smeared is not the bitterness you expected. It's mostly watery, a faint tinge of sweetness that settles in the middle of your tongue, soaks in deep. The next lick is less timid, more adventurous. You press the meat of your tongue up against the underside and stroke upwards, feel his pulse quicken. As you reach the tip, his hips twitch.

This time, you ease him into your mouth- and a wonderful little muttering of "Fuck." that goes straight to your clit. His fingers slide back from the top of your head, down to curl around the back of your skull. He gives you another guiding push, urges you to slide down his length a little more. It's something you can do- it's easy when he's the one talking you into it. And the praise that follows- "That's it, that's right,"- makes you shiver, makes you shift impatiently and try to swallow him down.

You bob easily, your hand covering what your mouth can't, each stroke smooth and slick with the saliva that slips from your lips. Each sound he makes is a badge of honor and you chase them without shame- Tomura's half lidded eyes and lopsided smile is all the sign you need to know he's thrilled with your attempts. Like building a catalog, a reference- trying anything you can think of and waiting for his noises, measuring your success with impatient thrusts and broken-off sighs, choked-down whines.

You sink down on him until your lips meet the sides of your fingers and you have to lay your hand against him, fingers pushing into the mess of pale hair along the base. Your jaw aches, but you want to try- want to swallow him down, to make him lose himself to your mouth just as you'd done to him. His cock touches the back of your tongue and saliva wells up around him- half an inch further and he brushes the back of your throat; you choke.

Your throat spasms, a wet noise escaping from your lips- you struggle to cough around his cock, feel shame rise in your cheeks as you try to pull away- and are stopped by Tomura's hands at the back of your neck, by his voice.

"Oh, fuck yes." He's staring down at you, blood of his iris completely lost to the black of his pupil. He pushes at your head, urges you back down. "Do that again."

Embarrassment washes away, leaves you wide-eyed, something like pride welling up instead. The head of his cock still on your tongue, you play with it for a moment. Breathes even and slow through your nose as you lick at his foreskin, slip your tongue in between. That earns you a sharp intake, so you swirl your tongue around the head, let the almost sweet taste of his precum coat your mouth until you're finally ready to try again.

He touches the back of your tongue and again your mouth floods in response, spit leaking from your lips to cling to his cock and drip over your chin. A deep breath and you do your best to flatten out of your tongue, let him slide in- it's not so severe this time. Like the itch in your throat before a cough, trying to suppress that urge makes your eyes water, so you squeeze them closed. You take him a little deeper- and Tomura moans as your throat constricts around him again; his hands keep you still as you instinctively struggle.

Your nails bite into his thighs, but the warning goes unheeded, utterly ignored as his hips rock, forcing his cock further into your throat. Protests muffled in your throat, but from the way Tomura's eyes roll back, you're not sure he even understands.

"Here, here," He says, one hand catching your chin with three fingers. He draws your chin up, tilting your head back- and the pressure in your throat eases. Breathing through your nose, catching your breath, you again find yourself staring up at him. With careful fingers, he brushes a loose hair from your face- and ghosts his thumb just below your eye where the gaging has made them water. He hesitates there, can't find the words for what he wants to ask. He doesn't have to. It's awkward to nod with his cock still in your mouth, halfway down your throat, but you do your best anyway.

With his hands returning to their place at the base of your skull, you resume. With the new angle, it's easier to take him in. Even if you do have to pause to choke, your own will keeps your hands at the backs of his thighs, keeping him from pulling away from you. Tomura loves every second of it, watches you from above with rapt eyes, keeps your hair out of the way so he can watch his cock disappear further and further into your body. You're doing so well, you look so good, he wants to tell you, but every real word has left his head, leaving him drooling and panting and he wants more

The tightening of his fingers into your hair is the only real warning you get. First, an easy stuttering of his hips, the same little motion that he's tried to suppress before- it makes you choke again, but you know he likes it- and perhaps you do too, feeling wetness well up in your eyes at the pressure in your throat, how your head feels light and empty as you struggle to breathe around him. But usually he gives you a moment to compose yourself- not this time. He whines and through tear-blurred eyes his face contorts in pleasure- his hips thrust again. You sputter, relax your jaw, and let him.

Each stroke makes your throat ache, itch as you fight the coughing fits that build up in your chest, but his next thrust has your nose brushing that tangled mess of hair. His scent, the musk of sweat and arousal fills your nose- and while Tomura greedily fucks your throat, one of your hands falls between your legs, rubs hard against your clit. The long-needed pressure makes you moan- and the vibration of your voice has him rambling, words too half-formed, too broken up by high-pitched, heady noises, too buried under the slick noise of his cock in your mouth for you to piece anything together except:

"Cum- ah!- gon' cum- I- oh," He breaks off again- his teeth sinking into his lower lip. You hold onto the back of his thigh- let him use your mouth until he's gasping, fingers twisting hard into your hair. His cock throbs on your tongue- and with his next thrust, sharp bitterness fills your mouth. With how Tomura moans above you, his brow drawn in high and tight, mouth hanging open, his cracked lips burning bright pink with his teeth's abuse, you couldn't begin to imagine not loving it.

He pulls you in close and you gag again, closer, closer until your nose is buried in those short hairs. Tomura's head falls backwards and all you can see past the black of his shirt is the long column of his neck and red, scratched skin there. This deep you struggle to breathe, to pull in enough oxygen around his cock, but the little dying whimpers of him riding out his orgasm is all that matters in the world right now. He pulls back before blackness can eat at your vision-

and for a moment, Tomura stares at you with such wonder in his eyes. His hands leaving your hair to grab the sides of your face, tilting your head so he can look at you. You can't imagine you look good, covered in tears and spit from gagging, but he runs his thumb along your lip all the same. He pulls you up by your jaw and you have to claw your way up his clothes to keep pace, near falling with your legs half-asleep- his mouth crashes onto yours. His kiss makes you lightheaded in a way even his dick could not, leaves your head spinning as you hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

His legs move, stepping backwards, but his arms give you no choice but to stumble along with him, half-dragging you as he goes. "Good, so good, perfect," He praises between kisses, "My perfect little pet," Another barrage of kisses, so fast and haphazard you can't begin to reciprocate before he's breaking away again. "You'd like that, right? To stay here and be mine." You try to say yes, yes but he's back on you, drawing your lip into his mouth and sucking too hard; all that comes out instead is a high-pitched whimper. You don't even realize where he's taking you until he's pushing backwards through the purple curtains into that dark hallway beyond. He fumbles behind him with one hand until he finds the doorknob.

The lighting is no better than before, a paused game screen lighting up the room in harsh blue light. He doesn't give you long enough to take it in. The room spins as he moves you like a doll, turning you around and shoving you back against his bed. Your knees catch on it and you fall back- and Tomura is back on you in seconds.

This time, he bypasses your mouth, lips latching onto your neck while his hands shove your shirt up and up until he can grope at your chest. Pain shoots from your neck at the harshness of his bite, his teeth sawing into your flesh in desperation to mark you, to force more noises from your mouth- while he catches your nipples between thumb and finger. Whatever had been holding him back before is gone now- he's rough, unhinged, twisting and tweaking at your chest, pulling on your nipples until your chest has to arch with him to assuage the pain. His mouth pops off your throat, breath ghosting over the wet, aching spot he's left behind before he finds another spot closer to your collarbone.

This hands, too, move along. The minimal patience he had for your shirt is lost on your pants; his fingers twist into the fabric and you're gasping for a reason other than his ruinous mouth. Cool air greets your heated skin- and his fingertips push between your outer lips. Tomura immediately detaches from your neck, a long trail of saliva hanging between his lips and your skin as he rears back at his fingers. You already know what he sees; the warmth has been building between your legs for far too long, the ecstasy of letting him use your throat, of listening to him lose himself in you- it hasn't been without effect on you. A single huff of laughter and he's back over you, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he taunts you. "This wet already? You're so dirty," He kisses over the still stinging mark he left, "I knew you liked things that were wrong."

His fingers slip through your slick, dragging it up to your clit. He swirls the pads of his fingers around it, fans the flames in your belly until you're squirming, begging into the darkened room, "Please, please,"

"That's right," He sighs, giddiness still making his voice light and airy, "You want me, don't you? Need me?" You can only whimper and nod, chase his fingers with your hips. "That's alright, I'll take care of you."

He shifts just enough to shove his own pants off his thighs and kick them off- and his left hand holds your thighs open as he settles between them. With his right, he grabs the base of his shaft- and you can't suppress a whimper as the head of his cock slots between your plump lips. He nudges against your entrance, teases your tight hole- before letting it slide through your arousal, coating the underside and rubbing against your clit. The head, fully revealed, peaks up between your legs as you look down- and it dawns on you that yes, this is really going to happen. He's going to be inside you-

And Tomura grins, leans in close to your face until you could trace every scar, even line across his face. As elated as he looks, his voice holds a dark sincerity. "I'm going to destroy you."

It's a promise and he delivers. He pushes into you- wetness eases his way, but he hadn't even stretched you. The head makes you pussy ache, sting around his girth, but he doesn't stop there. He breaks you open, cleaves his way deeper, forces your tight cunt to bend to his will and you do. Your body flutters, strains to accommodate his desires until he's buried inside you completely. Your thighs shake, tremble with the desire to latch around his waist and keep him still- but his hands are already settling just behind the bend of your knee.

"I told you," He says, pushing on your legs until you're bending in half, knees nearly meeting your shoulders. Above you, he consumes your vision, your world. Everything you've ever known fading away in favor of Tomura's scarred face and the way his hair sways when he moves. "You'd like it like this."

And Tomura plants his feet and thrusts. One stroke and your hands are scrambling over his sheets. He drives into you with reckless abandon- any finesse he might've had lost in your soft, pliant, heat. It doesn't matter. The extreme angle has his cock pushing in deep, touching all those new, sensitive places you've never found before. Every motion has him filling you up to bursting, the stretch making your body sing around him until unintelligible noises fall from your lips.

It's too much all at once; his cock is redefining your life, stroking each nerve into a new awareness while he's so close you can nearly kiss him, yet just inches too far, leaving you only able to stare at Tomura's features in rapt wonder. His gaze has long since become lust-hazed, his teeth sinking once more into his lower lip in a feeble attempt to stay quiet- but in reality it does nothing to stop the feral grunts that come in time with his cock pounding at your cervix. Worst of all is the arrhythmic stroking against one sensitive patch of your front wall that makes your entire pussy tingle and spark to life, driven so close to the peak you can't quite reach.

"Tomura," You can barely breathe, each punctuation of his hips knocking the air from your lungs. He doesn't respond, doesn't acknowledge you at all, opting to lower his head and pant against your chest. The heat makes sweat gather, your skin prickle- your arms waver, weak and near lifeless as you reach for his wrists.

"Tomura," repetition makes awareness filter back into his eyes. He stares at you from under the undulating wave of his hair, stray, sweaty strands sticking to his forehead in a wild fringe. "Please," The word barely makes it past your lips as another brutal punch of his hips has your eyes rolling.

"Tell me." His grasp on your legs tightens, digs in until you know bruises color your skin.

"Touch me."

Tomura's breath catches, his hips stutter as that dangerous spark returns to his eyes. He doesn't look away, holds your gaze as his right hand slides from your leg to your belly. With the rest of his fingers curled into a tight fist, the side of his thumb finds your clit. He doesn't even have to move it; each thrust makes your body sway with him, rubbing in time with his cock.

It's immediate- the tightly-wound arousal that's been aching in your belly flares, sparks finally catching in ignition. He keep fucking you, driving your high up and up until you can't stand it, hands grabbing at his arms just to have something to hold on to, something too desperate to be human escaping from your lips- until your mouth falls open and everything comes crashing down. The dam breaks; pleasure flooding out your need, cascading through your body, whiting out everything that isn't his touch, his voice, his cock- and you're arching, twitching, your cunt clenching around him as your clit throbs with his never-ending thrusts.

It's too much, watching you cum, feeling your walls contract around him until you're so tight he can't move and it hurts, your cunt milking him for everything he has and he drives into you until he can't anymore just to see how your legs and fingers twitch in overstimulation. He gives no thought to the way he's drooling mindlessly, how tightly he's gripping your leg- he cares only for the hot, wet sleeve of your pussy and the way your eyes have rolled back because of him.

Tomura cums so hard he shakes, sees stars- his cock kisses your cervix as he fills you, forever marks your pussy as his. His injured arms don't last much longer, but even with how his world goes fuzzy, he's careful with his hands, pulls each finger into cautious fists. Your legs ache from being bent for too long, falling down to rest on either side of his slender hips. Sweat dampens your chest, but he doesn't mind, rests the side of his face there, breathes hot air into the divot of your breastbone.

Your arms fight you, want to lay boneless where they landed, but with several movements that make you feel more like a loose marionette than a human, you find Tomura's back. One hand slides under the wide, loose collar to find the bandages there, the other cups the base of his skull where sweat has dampened the short hairs there that curl wildly.

The stale, unmoving air takes too long to help you cool down- fluids drying on your skin making you itch, feel disgusting-- but the weight of Tomura's head on your chest and his slow, even breaths keeps you anchored in place. But even Tomura must feel uncomfortable because he soon stirs, tipping his head to lay lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your chest. Another movement has you hissing- his hips shifting as his softened cock slips free- and so does the gush of fluids that run over the curve of your ass, pool onto the sheets.

Tomura doesn't even notice, lifting his head to meet your eyes again. In the blue light of his screens, you can make out how his pupils have released their stranglehold over his irises- which in the lighting look purple. Muscles feeling a little more human, you touch the side of his face- and speak the words you've been dreading. "What now?"

He blinks, slow and easy, catlike. When his lips part to speak, they stick together. "We never did play another game of Cloud Seven." And his mouth spreads into a grin- just soft enough, just rounded enough to perhaps be happiness.

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Welcome Home - Legacy (Tony Stark x daughter!reader)

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Previous --

Y/n Stark was a secret. She had been one since before she could remember and she loved it. It made her feel special, like it was a privilege for people to know her. She had close relationships with the few people who knew her and she treasured them deeply. She liked pretending to be a spy, sneaking around the house and avoiding being seen by anyone she didn’t know. It was fun, almost like a game.

Of course there were some downsides of being a secret too. She had to stay on the property, which meant no public school and no outings with her father, although Happy and Pepper would sometimes sneak her out for supper. She also didn’t have many friends her age, but she didn’t mind that as she didn’t play as much as other kids, preferring to learn or build stuff with her dad.

The worst part was that Tony often had to travel for work, visiting army bases and attending galas around the world, meaning Y/n would be alone. When Tony would travel overseas, Happy would stay behind and watch Y/n. Other times, when he was traveling within the US, Pepper would stay with Y/n. Every now and then, Y/n would get lonely, but her dad never missed her calls and he always told her when he would be back. At least, until now.

It had been three months since Tony was supposed to return to the United States. Three months since he was supposed to be home. Three months of his daughter not knowing how her father was.

Pepper had got the call that morning. It was her week at the Stark mansion but Happy and her had decided to take Y/n out for breakfast, so he was already there. They were just waiting for Y/n to put her shoes on when Pepper’s phone rang.

“Pepper Potts,” Pepper said as she picked up the phone.

--

Y/n waited patiently in the car. She was lucky that she had even been allowed to come; she never got to go to public places. This was too important. They had found Tony Stark. No one could tell her to stay home. That would have been heartless. So, after a brief talk with Pepper about staying in the car, Y/n hurriedly followed Happy to the vehicle with Pepper trailing behind.

When they got to the army base, Happy and Pepper stood outside the car. Y/n was thankful to be left alone. She didn’t like being anxious, especially around other people, and her nerves were definitely getting the best of her. She chewed on her lip as she scanned the skies for the plane that was carrying her dad.

When the plane finally arrived, Y/n felt the butterflies in her stomach lift to her throat. Her hands clutched into tiny fists as the plane’s ramp slowly opened. As soon as she could see him, her eyes filled with tears. He was home. He was safe.

Tony knew she wouldn’t be there—she wasn’t supposed to leave their home—but all he wanted to do was see his daughter. He smiled at Pepper as Rhodey helped him off the plane, pausing to shoo away a medical team with a gurney.

“Your eyes are red.” He stopped in front of Pepper. “A few tears for your long lost boss?”

“Tears of joy,” Pepper replied, trying to keep her happiness at seeing him out of her voice. “I hate job hunting.”

“Yeah, vacation’s over.” His smile faded from his face. “How’s Y/n?”

Pepper was quick to direct him to the car, climbing in after him.

As soon as he saw her, Tony grabbed Y/n and placed her on his lap in a tight hug. Her face was red and she was crying, but she gladly accepted his hug and tried to return it with as much force as she could muster.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Y/n cried into Tony’s suit.

Tony pulled back so he could look at his daughter’s face. He pushed some hair away from her face, but she refused to meet his eyes. He sniffled as he spoke. “Why are you apologizing, Pumpkin? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Y/n mumbled her response. “I wanted to run and see you as soon as you came out  of the plane, but I didn’t want all the people to see me. I missed you so much!” She collapsed back into his chest, holding tightly.

He smiled slightly at the little girl. He didn’t want her to apologize for her feelings. If anything, he was the one at fault. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. So sorry. I’m not leaving you for a long time.”

When the crying had calmed slightly, and everyone was in their seats (except Y/n who was still sitting on her father’s lap), Happy spoke up.

“Where to, sir?”

Pepper was quick to direct him to the hospital, but Tony interrupted. “No.”

"No? Tony, you have to-"

"No is a complete answer."

"-go to the hospital. The doctor has to look at you."

"I don't have to do anything." Tony's voice rang out loud and clear. He turned to face Pepper. "I've been in captivity for three months. There are three things I want to do. I want to spend some time with my daughter," he glanced down at Y/n. "I want an American cheeseburger, and the other..."

"That's enough of that," Pepper interrupted.

"...is not what you think. I want you to call for a press conference now."

"Call for a press conference?"

"Yeah."

"What on earth for?"

He ignored the question, instructing Happy to drive. "Hogan, drive. Cheeseburger first."

Pepper let out a sigh, before picking up her phone and calling to arrange the conference.

Tony leaned down to whisper to his daughter, "Tonight, Pumpkin, it's just you, me, and Frodo Baggins."

Y/n smiled as she cuddled further into her father’s chest.

--

After the press conference, Tony and Y/n went to the Stark Industries Arc Reactor. He had needed to think for a bit and he was certain that that building would be empty and he could bring Y/n in with him.

Y/n was very excited to visit the arc reactor. Her eyes quickly widened as they took in the size of the energy source. “It’s so big, Daddy.”

He chuckled lightly as he leaned against the safety railing. Y/n joined him in staring at the machine.

After a few minutes of silence, Y/n asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Tony wasn’t a sugar-coat type of parent. He told Y/n the straight-up answer to everything she wanted to know, even if it wasn’t kid appropriate to some people. Still, despite his usual attitude towards her questions, he wasn’t quite sure how to answer this one.

“What did they tell you about what happened to me?”

Y/n tilted her head in thought as she recalled the research she did as she tried to figure out what had happened. “Happy and Pepper told me you were missing, Uncle Rhodey said you were taken, and Uncle Obadiah said he didn’t know what happened.” Tony nodded at her response, knowing that he would have to tell her the details he would rather forget in order for her to get an accurate response. “But, I did my own research. The news had many different theories, but I thought the most likely one was that you were captured by a terrorist group that wanted your money. But, I think they took you because they knew how smart you are and they wanted you on their side. I knew you wouldn’t agree to that, so I thought then they might kill you. But you escaped and now you’re here.” She paused. “At least, that’s what I thought.”

Tony smirked as he stared at the arc reactor. He was proud of his daughter for figuring out the truth for herself and not accepting the first response she got. She was quite accurate.

“That’s my girl.” Y/n smiled to herself, returning her gaze to the machine. “You’ve got it almost all right.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “They’re called the Ten Rings. And you’re right, they did want me on their side. They wanted me to build weapons for them, and when I told them no, they tortured me. I almost died when they took me; a bomb went off just a little bit away from me and I got a lot of shrapnel in my chest. Another prisoner, his name was Yinsen, saved me, and when I got better, I helped him build a little version of this,” he gestured to the arc reactor, “and we put it in my chest,” he tapped his chest,” to prevent the shrapnel that he couldn’t get from killing me.”

Y/n glanced at her dad. “Wow. That must be scary.” She paused. “What happened to Yinsen?”

Tony sighed. “He died, so that I could get free and come home to you.”

“I hope he knows I am very grateful for him.” She leaned her head against Tony. “He gave me my Daddy back.”

Tony rested his hand on her head, rubbing it playfully. “He knows, Pumpkin. His last words were ‘don’t waste it. Don’t waste your life.’ I’m just trying to figure out what I should do next. I can’t be responsible for killing innocent people.”

Y/n’s head jerked up. “You haven’t killed anyone!”

He smiled down at her. “Not directly. But Stark Industries weapons were used to capture me. They’re being used to kill the people I wanted to protect.”

Y/n thought about his words. “So you’re thinking about how you can protect people without hurting them?”

“Yeah, pumpkin.”

A few minutes of silence later, Obadiah came in to talk with Tony.

-- Next

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 9

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, violence. Rated M

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

I reappeared, storming towards the door.

“I’m gonna kill her”, I said, every inch of my body tense and in attack mode. Rick rushed towards me, grabbing a hold of my arm, holding me in place.

“Stop, Y/N”, he hushed me. “Just stop!”.

Katana was drawing her blade, and stepping towards me. Rick held up his hand, stopping her. “Step back, Katana. I’ve got this”. The woman stayed back, still on high alert.

I was shaking from rage. “How long, Rick?”, I growled. “How long have you known about me? How long have you been watching me?”.

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “The night we caught you, was the first time I saw you in person. I’ve known about you for about a month before that”. “Wayne Tower?”, I asked. “Yes”, he answered. “She had me searching leads, given to her by someone… I don’t know who”.

I had a strange feeling I did.

“She’s just been waiting for a reason to flush me out, and use me”, I raged. “I don’t think it’s like that”. “Then, what is it like?”, I asked. I relaxed my body; apparently making him feel it was safe enough to release his hold on me. I sat on the edge of the conference table. He crossed his arms, and began speaking.

“She’s been up to something for a while. Sending the Force on bullshit missions, taking care of small-time crime lords the police could have easily handled”. He looked at me, and I gestured at him to continue. “This last one you joined us on… I think it was your test run. And I think you played into her game. She hoped you’d do whatever you needed to, to prove yourself to the team. Or me. I don’t know”.

“I wasn’t trying to prove myself to anyone”, I said. Maybe myself, I thought. And maybe – just a little bit – to you, I added.

“Either way, she needed to know whether you’d be rash enough to act against your own interest, to get results”. He met my eyes. “And you did”. I shook my head, cursing under my breath. He continued.

“This mission she’s sending you on”, he said, “she’s been planning for a long time. I haven’t been able to get anything out of her; but whoever the target is, I don’t think it’s a terrorist group; not in the way you might think. I think it’s one of the big players in the Gotham underground. Someone who she desperately needs gone”.

He walked up to the old-fashioned slideshow projector Waller had left behind. “Whoever it is, they’re more than just a little dangerous”. “Hatter?”, I muttered, a little worried. “Worse”, he answered.

Katana said something in Japanese; I guessed it was. “I already told her”, he answered her. “After this; I’m done”. His words made me uneasy.

He grabbed the case of slides, picking up one, looking at it; then throwing the whole thing into the wall. “Shit!”, he yelled.

“What did she mean; we’ve been here before?”, I half whispered.

He froze. Katana said a few words, then sent me a sympathetic look, and left the room.

“Rick?”, I demanded.

His face was expressionless. “Waller and I met when she needed me to track down another meta-human. This was before the X Force was officially approved by the higher ups”, he said, sitting down in the chair Waller had formerly occupied. I moved to stand closer to him, but changed my mind when I saw his eyes. They were pained; remembering.

He sighed. “Her name was June Moone. She was possessed by the spirit of an ancient witch she called Enchantress”. He ran his hand down his face, scratching the stubbles on his cheek. “I was put in charge of her protection. But it became more than that”.

“You loved her”, I said quietly.

“I did. I fell for her the moment I saw her, and it wasn’t long before we became more than what we were supposed to be”. He looked at me, face hardening. “Waller had planned it all along. She wanted me locked down; unable to say no to her demands”. I held my breath.

“June was struggling with the spirit. It kept taking control of her, against her will; and one day, she lost her ability to fight it”, he said. “It gave Waller the leverage she needed to get her way on having the Force approved”. He was fidgeting in his seat. “Enchantress built an army of creatures that caused havoc in Midway City; and the squad took her out”, he said. “I crushed her heart myself”.

“You killed her?”, I asked.

“June survived”, he answered. “We were able to move on with our lives, together”.

I looked down. His words were a punch to the guts.

“It was good. For a while”, he continued. “June made tenure at Gotham U, teaching ancient Mayan… something. I never really could figure it out”, he chuckled. “We got an apartment. A dog. Everything was headed in one direction”.

I could see it. Rick and some beautiful, intelligent career-driven woman on his arm, wearing a tasteful diamond ring on her left hand, walking their perfect little mut; or cooking in their stupid kitchen, while drinking expensive wine from expensive glasses. I felt like throwing up.

“She wanted to move on; and forget what happened in Midway City. She wanted to make it so it never happened; and she wanted me to leave the Force. Become a civilian”, he said. “But I couldn’t do that. This team; the job… it was to important to just quit. And I knew no one else would be willing to take on those weirdos out there”.

“So, you left her for the squad”, I said, smiling ironically. “That’s so sweet. And sad for June”, I added.

“She… left me”, he admitted. “I didn’t fit in to her idea of how her life was supposed to be. She wanted a life away from all this, and I couldn’t give her that”.

He walked to stand in front of me. We stood there for a long time, not saying anything.

“It’s over”, he finally said, meeting my eyes. “June is… was… very important to me. But it wasn’t meant to be. I want her to be happy and safe, and get everything that she wants. But I don’t need to be a part of that picture. Not anymore”, he finished, and put his hand on my check.

I pushed it away.

“Don’t”, I said. “I know a rebound when I see it”.

“Y/N”, Rick pleaded. “You’re not a rebound. Everything I said last night was true”. He placed his hands on either side of my face. “This is real!”.

“Is it?”, I asked. “Or is it a way for you to deal with the fact that you lost the perfect woman over a job that you don’t even want?”.

He leant in and kissed my lips softly. I put my hands on his chest; part of me wanting to push him away – the other part wanting to melt into his arms. The angry side of me won.

“Please stop”, I said, and turned away from him, leaving his grasp. “They’re waiting for us”.

He moved towards me again, but I put my hands up in front of me, staring him down.

“This”, I said, pointing back and forth between us, “Whatever it is… was… it can wait. At least until we’ve finished this bullshit mission”.

He looked at me incredulously.

“We’re going back out there, and you’re gonna tell them, Flag!”. He winced at me using his last name. “Tell them everything!”.

I stormed towards the door, but he stopped me in my tracks, grabbing a hold of my waist, pushing me up against the wall.

“I’m not losing you, Y/N”, he said, putting his forehead to mine. “I want us. This. And I know you do too”.

I grabbed his wrist, and with an angry look at him, I pressed the button on it. My disc turned red.

I pushed him away.

“Let’s go”, I said.

---

He did as I asked. The squad reacted as expected.

“I thought you was done lying to us, man”, Diablo said hoarsely, clenching his fists; flames rising from each of them.

“I never lied”, Rick answered. Floyd scoffed.

“Not since June”, Rick reiterated. I looked at the ground in front of me, trying to seem unmoved by his mention of her.

Croc roared at him, grabbed my wheelchair, and threw it at the wall; making it break into a thousand pieces. He looked at me apologetically. “Sorry”. “Don’t worry about it”, I half smiled. “People seem to be throwing all kinds of things around these days”. Rick looked at me from the corner of his eye.

“Look, this is a shit situation, but it’s no different than what we’ve been through before”, he said. “You finish this, and you all get another 10 years of your sentences”.

“Yeah, but we’re also going up against someone we know nothing about”, Digger said from his seat on his favorite napping bench. “And that cunt, Waller, obviously doesn’t give a shit about any of us”. He stood up, kicking the bench, flipping it over. “I’ll show her disposable, when I dispose of her fucking body in a river!”, he yelled.

Floyd walked up to Rick, and looked at him pointedly. “Flag, you need to tell us right now; whose side of the fence you on?”.

“You know I’m with you, Deadshot”, Rick answered.

Floyd looked at him for a second, searching his eyes for deceit. “Zoe’s got a dance recital coming up next month”, he said. “I’ll get you there”, Rick said. Floyd stepped back and nodded.

“Why you want us to do this so bad?”, Diablo asked, voice calmer.

The only part of the conversation with Waller Rick hadn’t mentioned to the team, was the part about him leaving. I would let him keep his secret. For now.

“It’s an order, Santana. I can’t fight it. That’s… beyond my paygrade”, Rick answered, and sighed.

“Quinn”, Digger called. “You hearing this?”.

Harley was in her ropes; effortlessly contorting her body into sensual positions – her eyes in a faraway place.

“Yo, Harlz!”, Floyd yelled. Harley looked at him, ripped out of her daydream. “You paying attention?”.

She slid down the ropes, and looked at him calmly.

“Yeah. We’re supposed to go to Gotham; and take down some bigshot, who’s been stepping on Wallers toes. What are we waiting for?”. She tightened her pigtails, and smiled brightly at us.

Rick shook his head at her, eyes worried. “You with us, Quinn?”, he asked.

She tilted her head, and smiled sweetly. “Always, boss!”.

The door began opening, and we all got into line, legs spread, hands on our heads. Waller came in flanked by a newly showered Griggs.

“I trust the colonel has filled you in with the information you need to finish this mission satisfactorily”, she said. She apparently also expected Rick to have taken care of making up a continued cover story for her. “You will be transported to Gotham first thing tomorrow”.

“What are we, cattle?”, Diablo mumbled next to me.

“Take them back to their cells”, she said to Rick, and stepped aside.

---

Once back at my cell, Rick went inside with me, and shed me of my harness. His closeness to my body stirred me in ways I didn’t want it to. Sending the guards away, he closed the door behind us, and put a hand on my shoulder, turning me around to face him.

“Are you ok?”, he asked. “What do you think?”, I answered.

He exhaled and put his arms around me. I wanted to push him away; but my body was aching for his touch. He leant in and kissed me; and I couldn’t help but respond. Stroking my back, his touch reminded me of the night before.

Laying on my stomach, his hand moved from my lower back, up between my shoulder blades; as he pushed in to me from behind, slowly and deliberately. He kissed my neck; groaning as I tightened around him, drawing him closer to the edge. He moved a hand under me, searching for, and finding, my sweet spot; stroking it. He pulled my hair, making my head turn, and caught my mouth in a passionate kiss; continuously moving in and out of me; stroking me, getting us both closer to our joint climax…

“Y/N”, he breathed; deepening his kiss. My body responded, and I struggled to keep my senses.

“N-no”, I stammered. He stepped back immediately.

“I’m sorry”, he said. “It’s too soon”.

“That’s not it”, I said, and looked into his confused eyes. “I know you think this is real. And maybe I do too. But…”, I paused, and took a step back. “I’m not gonna be your prisoner/guard fantasy. I’m worth more than that!”.

“You’re angry about June”, he said.

“I’m not angry because you have an ex. I’m angry because I’m just another one in the line of your workplace romances gone wrong. You fall for your… wards, left and right”.

“That’s not it”. He leant against the wall, crossing his arms. “This about you being afraid to get close to me, because you don’t trust anyone”, he growled. “I never lied to you, or kept anything secret. I went out of my way to make sure you’d find out what kind of person Waller really is”.

“I don’t want you to buy my affections with little favors”, I yelled. “Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life in this place, waiting for you to show up in my cell with flowers and candy, whenever you need to get your dick wet?”.

He frowned at me. “I don’t want that either. I want you to get out of here. I want us together, without having to hide what I feel for you!”, he answered, frustrated.

I walked up to him, caressed his check, and kissed him softly. “I need time”, I said quietly. “To think”.

He sighed, and his expression softened. “I understand. And I’m not going to pressure you. Take whatever time you need”. He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll wait”.

He went out the door, and I heard it lock.

I was alone again.

---

I had a restless night. My head was spinning from the events of the day. I felt strangely empty.

From somewhere down the hall, Harleys voice was broke the silence, singing an old showtune I remembered from a movie I’d once seen.

“Oh, whats the use of wondrin’, if hes good or if hes bad? He’s your fella and you love him. Thats all there is to that”.

“Shut up Quinn. Some of us are trying to sleep!”, Diggers voice boomed.

It went quiet again. Sleep started to take me over, when Harleys thin voice began again.

“Common sense may tell you, that the ending will be sad, and now’s the time to break and run away. But whats the use of wondrin’, if the ending will be sad? He’s your fella and you love him. There’s nothing more to say”.

A loud crash, from what I guess was a small table hitting Diggers cell door; and Harley went quiet again.

There wasn’t another sound the rest of the night.

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​​

@hyp-oh-critical​​

[notalwaysthevillian]

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.2k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 9: Rescue Wrap Up

“A villain has completed another large-scale attack.”

“Everyone!” Midoriya addressed us. “This is part of the exam!”

I gasped as Gang Orca walked out of the destroyed wall, smoke trailing from the explosion. He was not an opponent I would ever want to face.

“Tell me, wannabe heroes.” He looked at us, his red eyes focused. “Can you rescue people and fight at the same time?”

“The terrorists have appeared and are beginning to sweep the area. Hero candidates at the scene should continue their rescue efforts while also suppressing the newly-arrived villains.”

“Now,” Gang Orca started moving into the arena. “How will you react? Will you fight? Or protect? Help or run away? What would a hero do?”

As the villain crew ran towards us, Shindo took off toward them. “Get everyone to safety! Get them as far away from the villains as possible!”

“On it!” I called back, looking towards those that were injured. “If you can run, follow me! If you can’t, find the closest hero!”

I gently moved water underneath the most injured people, keeping them as flat as possible. I ran, moving towards a new area of the arena. “Someone get ahead and clear out a spot!”

A high pitched noise rang out from behind me, but I didn’t dare look back. I had to trust that Shindo knew what he was doing, or that someone else would step in. The people we’d rescued were now my number one priority.

Mina and Ojiro came running up with a few people. I heard them talking to Midoriya behind me and waved Mina over, still moving.

“Can you give me an update?” My legs kept pumping and Mina was gasping as she tried to keep up.

“We found a few more injured people at the opposite end of the river. Todoroki jumped in to help out with Gang Orca.”

“Okay, good. He’s strong, he can hold him off until more people can help.”

I felt the air around us start to whip around and knew that Yoarashi must’ve joined in the fight. With two powerful heroes at our back, I was a lot more relaxed.

The people who had run ahead were still clearing out an area for the first aid station. I gently swept those I’d grabbed with my waves to the flat area, before using those same waves to shove debris out of the way. The others caught up fairly quickly, able to rest once more.

“Apologies for those of you who had to run on your own.” I said as we started to get everyone settled again. “A villain attack is no joke, and we needed to get you out of there as soon as possible. Those of you who still need injuries tended to, please flag down the nearest hero.”

I looked up just in time to see Yoarashi fall out of the air. He was able to control his descent, but I had no idea what happened.

The urge to help was strong, but I knew Midoriya had stayed behind. Our powerhouses would have to pull it off. If they couldn’t, at least I’d be here as another line of defense.

“Miss?” A little boy tugged at my pant leg, eyes full of tears. “Are we going to be attacked again?”

“If we are, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

The kid reminded me so much of Izumi. I held my arms out for a hug and he jumped into them.

“How old are you?” I asked, trying to keep him occupied as I walked around, handing out bandages when necessary.

He clung to my leg like a koala. “Six.”

“My brother is just about your age.” I gave him a smile. “He used to hate heroes.”

“How can you hate heroes?!”

“My parents were heroes.” I explained, sitting him down with some other kids. “Have you heard of Water Hose?”

“No.” Chorused most of the kids.

“They were great heroes. But there was a villain that was too strong for them.” The memories of them in the morgue flooded my brain again, but I kept much better control over my quirk. “That’s why heroes need to work together.”

A burst of flame and air whooshed up from where the fight was taking place. The kids all gasped.

“Like that! When heroes work together, we can do incredible things.”

“Woah!”

“So cool!”

The kids stared in awe, and I couldn’t help but smile at their faces.

“Dew Drop!”

Kaminari waved as his group crested over a hill, two people in tow.

I ran over, eyes on the two with them. “How injured are you? Can you walk?”

“Very mild injuries.” The woman said, giving me a smile. “Thank you, Dew Drop.”

I started giggling. “Oh, that’s not - um. I haven’t picked a hero name yet, that’s just a nickname.”

“Oh! Apologies.”

“It’s alright!” I made a water slide down to the first aid station. “Let’s get you down there.”

As soon as the two of them reached the others, a buzzer sounded.

“Um, yeah, so at this time, all of the HUC members who were deployed have been rescued from the disaster zone.”

“We were the last ones?”

“It may seem anticlimactic, but with this, the provisional licensing exam has officially been completed. After we tally the scores, we will announce the results here in the arena. Anyone injured should go to the infirmary. The rest of you are free to change clothes and wait wherever you like.”

I could see a few kids tugging on Yao-Momo too. She brought them over to the group in front of me.

“I know they’re HUC members, but they’re still kids.” She gave them a pretty smile. “It’s strange.”

“It is.” The kids started to get gathered up. “Let’s get out of these outfits.”

“But I like this outfit on you!” Kaminari frowned, trapping me in his arms again. “And you said Hatsume made it comfy.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was a smile on my face. “Yeah, but I’m still more comfy in my regular clothes. Tight is not my thing.”

“Tell me about it!” Uraraka pinched at her outfit.

Giving Kami a quick peck on the cheek, I untangled myself from his arms. “I’ll be right back. You should change too.”

He flexed his arms. “Come on, you know you like me like this.”

“Exactly! I don’t want to share.”

He blushed as I walked off with the girls. Uraraka stared at me with wide eyes.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Just…flirt like that?” She pressed her fists against her cheeks and shook her head. “I can’t do that, I get so flustered.”

“I mean it helps that I know he’s just as into me.” I pointed out. “And my ex had been my best friend, so we just got close without realizing it.”

“So I should be friends with him first?”

A teasing grin spread across my face. “With who exactly?”

Her face turned bright red. “Absolutely no one!”

“I think being friends with absolutely no one would help, yeah.” I gave her a wink and her face got even redder.

Momo was smiling too, but she was doing a much better job of hiding it.

We quickly changed out of our costumes and back into our street clothes.

Everyone gathered up around the stage, the classes sticking with each other. I nodded to Shindo, who gave me a nod back. The two of us had gained mutual respect for each other over the rescue portion. I wouldn’t mind working with him in the future as a pro.

“Okay everyone.” The announcer spoke up, getting our attention. “Thanks for your hard work in today’s exam. Now before I announce the results, I should probably explain the way we evaluated you.”

I started tuning him out again, catching the basics. We were docked points if we made mistakes. Once the list of names went up, I was more than a little happy to see my name.

“I did it!”

More cries of victory came from my classmates. Kaminari spun me around, laughing. “We killed it!”

Bakugo steamed close by and I looked to see that neither him nor Todoroki had made it.

“Should’ve been more careful with what you said.” Kaminari said to Bakugo. “Words are important, you know.”

I let go of him, hiding behind Mina as I waited for the explosion. Kaminari might’ve been my boyfriend, but I didn’t have a death wish like he apparently did.

“Shut your mouth before I murder you.”

A squeal from the microphone got our attention again. “So, next we’ll give you the printouts of your results. They include a breakdown of your scores, so you’ll know exactly what areas you need to improve going forward.”

“Here you go.” A man in a suit handed me a piece of paper.

Most of it was blank, except for the 100 at the top.

“We had one participant exceed in the rescue portion, losing no points.” The announcer waved his hand and names disappeared. Mine flashed up, filling the screen. “Congratulations to Nima Kota for reaching a first for this test.”

The entire class turned to look at me, which meant the other classes did too. My face felt hot as I waved to everyone.

“I hate all this attention.” I whispered to Kaminari and Mina, who were the closest.

I was saved by the announcer moving on, talking about how those of us who made it could use our quirks out in the field, but only during an emergency. He also told us that we’d be watched now, as they needed as many pros in the field as possible now that All Might was no longer available.

We also heard that those who failed would get a chance to get their licenses as well, once they passed a new test.

“Isn’t that great, Todoroki?” I heard Midoriya ask.

He nodded, and I saw Mineta start saying something, but he was cut off as Iida grabbed his face.

“If you want help, let us know.” I chimed in. “You’ve been so nice to help me train, I’d love to return the favor.”

“Since you lost no points in the rescue mission, it would be wise to learn from you.”

“Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the lobby. We will be taking your pictures and giving you your licenses there.”

As we walked to the lobby, Shindo pulled me aside. Kaminari followed, fingers sparking a little.

“Bug, relax.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you that if you can become a better fighter, you’re definitely going to be in the top ten.” He cracked his knuckles. “At the very least, you’ll be the best rescue hero out there.”

“Thanks. But I was just following my training.”

“Whoever trained you did well.”

He walked off, joining up with his class. Kaminari put an arm around my shoulders, and I could hear him mumbling. I put an arm around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

“Bug, you don’t have to worry about me.” My words were muffled as I nuzzled into his chest. “You’re the only one for me. I’d choose you over everyone else, every time.”

“Was that a Pokemon joke?”

Giggling, I pinched his cheek. “My very own Pikachu.”

“God, do not call me that.” He groaned. We started walking to catch up with our class. “If Bakugo hears that, it’ll be my nickname forever.”

“I mean, it’s better than Dunce Face.”

“HURRY UP!”

Speak of the devil.

Bakugo glared over at the two of us. “Move it. I want to leave.”

“Okay, okay.”

We got in one of the four lines for photos. It moved pretty quickly. Kaminari gave me a wet kiss on the forehead just before my turn.

“You look so cute when you’re blushing.” He said as he joined me.

Our cards got processed, and we headed to the table to grab them.

One of the ladies at the table looked up at me. “You don’t have a hero name registered. We need one for your license. Of course you can change it at any time, but it will take at least a week for the new license to get to you.”

A memory popped into my head.

“You know, once we’re heroes, we’ll need hero names.” I said, poking my boyfriend. “You’ve gotta have a good one. Like All Might, or Midnight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you come up with mine?”

“Fine. But you have to come up with mine.”

“Riptide.”

The lady at the table nodded, typing it into the computer. A few minutes later, I was holding my license. I had a huge smile on my face, and my cheeks were only slightly pink.

“Why Riptide?” Kaminari asked as we headed back to the bus.

“My ex gave me the name. He said it was because people underestimated me, but I could be deadly, given the chance.” I shrugged. “It’s a good name, and he has a point.”

“I can’t wait to see that deadly side of yours.”

“Everyone get on the bus.” Aizawa said, leaning against the side of it. “We’re leaving.”

“Yes sir!”

[lilytakeharryandgo]

STOP ROMANTICISING SEVERUS SNAPE - A MANIFESTO

“Albus Severus Potter, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a great strategist, the other one was a racist, hateful, bitter, scary bastard. Voldemort must have damaged some brain cells when killing the Horcrux inside of me.”

Now that I have Snape fans raging and screaming for blood, here’s my show of evidence:

If the boring, same argument brought up by Marauders stans is Snape being a Death Eater, I know it’s basic, but it’s basic for a reason: it’s true. Supporting Voldemort doesn’t mean you support his ideas? I’m sorry, what did he support? The Dark Lord’s contouring skills? It is a truth universally acknowledged that joining a group of racists and following them in perpetrating crimes does make you a racist and a criminal.

JK Rowling herself said that Death Eaters are an analogy to Nazis, Marauders stans are not making this up. Are you questioning what JK ROWLING said? Because you know, she is JK ROWLING.

We know it was Snivellus that created the Levicorpus. He must have used it against the Marauders in order for them to learn it. And let’s just remember that “Snape’s worst memory” takes place after the Shrieking Shack’s incident, when dear, lovely Severus tried to unmask Remus so that he could be expelled for being a Werewolf. He went down to the Whomping Willow of his own free will, no one forced him, and he supposedly knew what was happening there: he risked his own life only to get Remus expelled. Yes, it was Sirius who thought it would have been funny to lure him to the Shrieking Shack where Lupin was due for his transformation, and that was wrong. However, why did he do that? Because Snape was constantly spying on them. Was it wrong? Definitely, no one is trying to get Sirius out of this one. Still, James saved Snape in time. Did James do that just because he wanted to protect Remus? Most likely: James gave them all a family and he loved his friends and would have done everything for them, and he did. But also, he wouldn’t have let an “innocent” (if we want to call him that) die. So James saved Snape’s life, which dear Half Blood Price seemed deeply ungrateful for later, and yet, Snape constantly tried to get the Marauders expelled from Hogwarts time and time again while using Dark Magic and creating his own dark spells (see the irony?). Stop saying that the Marauders’ actions pushed him to become a Death Eater. As if “Snape never missed an opportunity to curse James” was a lie. As if Snape wasn’t on his way to being a buddying Death Eater by his 5th year. As if Snape hadn’t came up with a curse that slices your body open by his 6th year. As if the Marauders had nothing to do but ruthlessly bully Snape all day and all night, when they actually are described as the brightest as some of the brightest students of their year despite being engaged in loads of other things like the creation of the Marauders Map, becoming Animagus, dealing with Remus’ monthly transformations (because those demonic guys didn’t leave him alone and didn’t report him to get him expelled as someone else was willing to do), James and Remus being responsible enough to be Head Boy and Prefect. Oh, and training for a war and joining the Order once they graduated. Minor things, right? Things they were busy doing in their personal lives such as surviving, living and being happy? Nah, that never happened, their entire life consisted of bullying innocent, poor service teenagers, that was their goal. Snape experienced one side of the Marauders (and we read that from his own pov, so it’s a little biased too): that is not a deciding factor of whether or not they (and especially James) are good people. He was so fascinated with the Dark Arts, even after Lily’s death and hence his presumed redemption, that Dumbledore did not appoint him as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Snape’s apologetics make it sound like the Marauders made Snape’s life hell every minute of everyday and he was the poor victim who was not capable of standing up to himself against those horrible demonic creatures, but he was the one inventing the Sectumsempra and using it against James, against George. Only a truly tormented person could have invented such a bloody spell. 

So now let’s talk about Remus. Remus, a hero who fought against Voldemort and joined an anti-terrorist resistance organisation when he was just 18 years old, who fought alongside Frank and Alice Longbottom in the Order, is about to start his first class with the third years. Neville is there, of course, Remus knows his parents’ fate, how they were tortured into madness, and probably guessed that Neville’s biggest fear would be similar to what he guessed Harry’s would be. He’s probably planning on stepping in before Bellatrix Lestrange shows up, but then it’s not her, it’s Snape. Snape who insults him in front of his class, Snape who tries to shame him. Can you imagine how he must have felt? Yes, they bullied him, but his best friend James grew up, and what did he get in return? Death. Instead, Snape hasn’t gotten over himself a little and most importantly he does not realise that being a teacher also means being responsible for those children. Snape never changes: he is the same petty, angry, bitter child that he had been in school, except now he’s bullying children half his age instead of yelling racial slurs at his classmates. While Snape is one of his students’ greatest fear, Remus starts off the year by letting his pupils confront their biggest fears. Remus truly, deeply cared about his students, and wait… what did Snape do? He got him fired! But even most achingly than that, just imagine… it’s 1993, Remus is coming back after a rough full moon. He’s feeling down, he’s weak, both physically and emotionally, he’s one more time without his friends by his side, one more time alone as he was before the Marauders became Animaguses to be alongside him to support him during the roughest times (horrible people, isn’t it?). So Remus is coming back to his class of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and his best friend’s son is writing an essay on how to kill him. But Snape didn’t stop there, no, he told the whole Wizarding World that a man who had struggled to keep his condition secret all his life was a Werewolf. He had to withdraw from his position as a professor because of that, and straight after that the Ministry issued a law against Werewolves which made it impossible for Remus to have a job. So, to sum it up, not only he exposed him as a Werewolf, he also condemned him to live in poverty and be persecuted for that reason. Also, quoting, when Remus was trying to explain things in PoA he attacked him and said “I’ll drag the Werewolf, perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too.” James and Sirius were the kind of persons, the kind of friends and brothers, who risked their own life every month for one of his best friends. Think about this: they found out about Remus’ situation when they were just boys in their first years of school, and they didn’t leave him, they decided to help him embarking in something much bigger than themselves. Whereas dear lovely 33 year old Necrophilus told everyone about Remus’ secret and basically had him fired. Sounds angelic, why haven’t I thought about doing something like that before? That would most certainly secure me a spot in heaven!

Do we want to talk about an abusive person? Well, Snape was not just abusive as a person, he abused and took advantage of his position as a teacher (and Head of House too, to reward extra points from the other Houses) to bully his own students (even after his presumed “redemption”). He told Neville he would have given his failed potion to his toad, Trevor, so that the fatal effects of the potion would teach him a lesson. He bullied Neville to the point that he was literally his greatest fear - Neville’s parents were tortured to the point of insanity by Bellatrix, yet Snape was his greatest fear. He also condoned and took part in bullying when Draco cursed Hermione’s teeth to grow. He said he didn’t see any difference, then watched as she ran off crying. From the very start he starts bullying Harry: he perfectly knew he was raised by muggles, he knew how Petunia was and still went on to ask questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer. And after calling Neville and idiot for a mistake that anyone could have made he took points from Gryffindor because Harry didn’t tell him how to do it right - great teaching strategy, let’s nominate him for Most Valuable Teacher. Harry had nothing to do with what went on during Snape’s school years, but he physically resembled James and he was his son, so let’s bully him from the very first second! And honestly, asking an 11 years old Muggle-raised kid the difference between monskshood and wolfsbane in front of everyone on the first day? There is no difference! They are colloquial terms for the same plant. He just wanted the intellectual upper hand over a goddamn little kid. But he didn’t stop there: that resentful git always tried to blame Harry for something even without proof (as most of the time), and he physically abused Harry because he was angry (“Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard onto the dungeon floor.”). He knew how important it was for Harry to learn Occlumency and he stopped giving him classes and later ignored when Lupin asked him to start them again even when he knew how poorly Harry’s progressed. And he was cruel: he knew Harry was sad about Sirius’ death, and gave him a detention in which he was going to see his and his father’s names multiple times while copying out old detention records. Yes, Harry’s deeds should have called for expulsion, as McGonagall states, but Snape chose something more painful than that. Not only he punished Harry (don’t get me wrong, he almost killed Draco, he deserved detention if not expulsion), but he chose to inflict him more pain and at the same time tried to ruin the memory of Harry’s father figures. Ordinarily, copying out old detention records wouldn’t be worse than writing lines, but Snape vindictively tailored that detention to inflict pain.  In addition to this, he could have been an awesome teacher if he wasn’t a disgusting waste of a human being. He knew from his teen years that the instructions that the textbooks were giving were not as goos as they could be so he improved the potions and recorded his own methods at 16. Harry himself states what an amazing teacher “the Prince” is. If Snape were not such a horrible person, he could have either written the entire textbooks himself, or taught his students his own alternate methods. Instead he spent his time bullying children. He could have been great and become everything a Slytherin should have been

Snape also saw his friends perform Dark Magic on Mary Macdonald and when confronted by Lily, literally didn’t see any problem with it and compared it with the Marauders’ pranks.

He called Lily, his supposed best friend, a Mudblood. Then he tried to get away with it by saying he didn’t mean it and that she (and only she) was different from the other Muggleborns. And Lily tried, she tried to tell him he was not on the right path, she tried, and she got called a racial slur from the person she trusted the most at the time. And, for the extremist Snape apologetics in the back, who even hate Lily (how can they hate on Lily I don’t know, but apparently these people exist too): Lily Evans did not owe anyone anything. She had the right to cut ties with her friends for any reason she pleased, whatever that’s because she was sick of them or because they were hanging out with a group of terrorists wannabe. She did not owe anyone her love, loyalty or energy. She tried to be Snape’s friend despite his other group of friends (“but Mulciber’s and Avery’s idea of humor is just evil. Evil, Sev. I don’t understand how you can be friends with them”), but there’s canon evidence that Snape chose his Death Eaters friends over Lily’s friendship and safety. It was her choice to cut ties with him after what he and his friends had done (and the racial slur of course, truly a touch of class), and it’s not like he was a good friend to begin with: he called all other Muggleborns “Mudblood” and was canon friends with the people who wanted Lily and other Muggleborns killed, and he even still wanted to be a Death Eater while being her friend. Like, wait here while I go out and slaughter your people, Lils! And if Snape stans are still arguing that he was suffering because he got dumped, that’s another no: he did not get dumped, she just didn’t have romantic feelings for him but was trying so hard to be his friend and he was just a whiny baby about it. Is that a crime? No, it isn’t. Is not getting over it and taking it out on countless kids who weren’t even born instead a crime? Yes, it is.

Also, from the get-go we see him drop a tree branch on Petunia. That shows that he didn’t see a problem in hurting the people Lily loved (seen later in a larger proportion, that’s his tag line). Lily loved her sister, but Petunia was an obstacle between her and Snape, hence, Snape hurt her. And no, that was not accidental underage magic, just as Lily performs magic on the flower, Snape uses magic to cause a tree branch to fall on Petunia. Even as a child he had no qualms about hurting someone Lily loved, this really serves to underscore the idea that Snape, with his so called love for Lily, was not invested in her happiness or wellbeing because he didn’t care about the people she loved. As a child he didn’t care about hurting her sister and at 20 he didn’t care about the imminent deaths of her husband and son. If he truly loved and cared for her, he would have wanted to see her happy. Not even considering how crushed she would have been if her husband and only child were dead, and she was left alone and pregnant in the middle of a war.

Okay so now let’s talk about James. Yes, James was a spoiled brat, and Lily hated him for that, then guess what? He matured, he started protecting the weaker ones and joined the Order along with Sirius, Remus and Lily to fight for a better world. He didn’t hold it against her nor did he sulk for days, he grew up and matured because he was a well adjusted human, unlike some. James Potter was many things other than an “arrogant bullying toerag” (hey, also, well done for trying to destroy a 15-year-old orphan’s memory of his heroic father): he was a friend who risked his life every month for Remus’s safety and comfort. A brother who took Sirius in and was “the best friend he ever had.” An adored friend of half-giant Hagrid, in an age when all “half-breeds” were looked upon with suspicion during the war. An all time “favourite student” of Minerva McGonagall, so much that she waited all day at his son’s future home and wept at his death. A savior of his enemies even when they were trying to expose his friends’ secrets. An activist protecting the right of existence for Muggles, Muggleborns and hybrids right out of school. A soldier who faced Voldemort three times and lived to tell about it. A caring father who went into hiding to protect his son. A loving husband who sacrificed his life for his family. A faded trace of magic still trying to guide his son when the man that killed him returned to life. A young man that inspired so much loyalty in his friends that Remus Lupin, who so feared the idea of harming people because of his condition, was 100% willing to abandon those morals to avenge his death, and would have done so, had Harry not reminded him and Sirius that James would not have wanted them to murder anyone for him. A Patronus helping Harry through his darkest moments until the very end.  James had a friend facing bigotry and he became an illegal animagus to help make that friend’s life better. Snape had a friend facing bigotry and he joined up with the bigots. No one is trying to pretend that James was an angel, but he got better and better until his last breath. And again, that spoiled brat and the love of his life joined the resistance and were martyrs. James, Lily, Sirius and Remus all died for Harry. Are you trying to blame James and Lily for sacrificing their own lives to save their infant son? What terrible parents they were! Their sacrifice was an act of love and wait… actually ended up saving the Wizarding World. The only thing James and Snape had in common was that they would have both sacrificed James’s life in order to save Lily’s. James was the hero, he was the one who faced Voldemort without his wand (pretty dumb thing but he was a Gryffindor, hence no surprise) in order to give his wife and son more time to flee. When he opened that door on Halloween, he thought he was sacrificing his life so that they could live. He literally died wandless perfectly knowing he wouldn’t survive, but facing death for those he loved, hoping he would be able to stall enough time so they could escape. He was never more dedicated in anything in his short life than he was to the loves of his life: he died for Lily and Harry, and would have happily died for Sirius, Remus and Peter. And this is absolutely canon, of course it is: we might not have some explicit description of him but all we know comes from the lives he touched, how they talked / not talked about him, the pain they felt - the seven books are a testament of James and Lily’s love. James Potter was the kind of person that would have been happy to die for love, he would have taken pride in that. How do we know that? Are we making this up? No, we are not: all we have are the words of people who knew him, from his best friends to McGonagall, and who remembered him as a hero. This, albeit indirectly, speaks volume about the kind of person he was. He might have been obnoxious and arrogant as a teenager, but at 21 he died a hero - wandless, alone, betrayed, hopeless, but also bravely and out of love - and nothing can change either of those. Yes, he bullied Snape (let’s be clear here even though I highly doubt Snape did not retaliate) and that is a disgusting attitude. But how can you forgive a 31 year old man for bullying his kids and not a 15 year old boy who bullied one of his definitely not innocent classmates? Who matured and who later died, at the young age of 21, for his wife and son? How can you hate James Potter when as soon as he graduated, he was ready to fight a war against the most powerful wizard of his age? Yes, he had a big head and I am fairly certain he did actually strut - and let’s just take a moment to remember why Harry doesn’t know anything about him… oh, right, Snape went to Voldemort and told him about the prophecy - but he was a caring person, who stood up to what he thought and stood up for his friends and his family. The spoilt boy Snape’s apologetics hate, who grew up to be a great man, who died fighting and protecting, not some emo with a crush and an ego the size of the Great Lake!  Wait, I hear somebody trying to bring up the “we have no real evidence of him becoming a better person” thing. Let me get this straight: James was mentioned to have jinxed other students, not to have bullied them. He did not pick out targets, it was implied to be done at random as it is explicitly stated that he jinxed random people in the corridors. Fred and George pranked other students in the same way, and they would have often have more disastrous effects, but no one calls them bullies. We know that on one known occasion attacks Snape with Sirius at his side and almost pantsed him with a spell of Snape’s own invention. James and Snape had a rivalry, and it was two-sided. It wasn’t James relentlessly hexing poor, innocent Snape, so if you still want to call James Potter a bully, okay, do it, he was a bully bullying a bully. The evidence speaks for itself: he was Head Boy in 7th year (hence I don’t think Dumbledore despised him that much), he was unapologetically a blood traitor, he dated Lily Evans (who hated him for how he was and would have never fallen in love with such a brat, so it’s pretty evident he did actually change), he joined the Order of the Phoenix (an anti-terrorist organisation, at the peak of the war, as a teenager, whereas someone else joins a racist dark cult), he died protecting his wife and child! And if we really, really want to bring the ‘evidence’ thing up… well, we have no evidence he bullied Snape, except for one little incident - I’m fairly certain he did, but let’s play it literally now. And since we are there, we may not have been blessed with more about the Marauders, but Sirius and Remus both tell Harry Lily changed his mind about James because he became a better person, why don’t Snape stans consider that an evidence pro James but “Snape’s worst memory” is their pro Snape pamphlet? That chapter showed us an incident where both Sirius and James were assholes but everyone that was there supported it but Lily. All the other Students supported it because of what the fandom conveniently forgets that Snape loved Dark Arts, disparagingly called Lily a Muggle twice, tried to expose Remus and run around with a group of Death Eater wannabes tormenting Muggleborns all through his school years (he literally says that torturing Mary Macdonald was funny - “That was nothing, it was a laugh, that’s all”), to the point where Lily’s friends and herself questioned their friendship: “none of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. I’ve made excuses for you for years.” And eventually, when questioned by Lily if he wanted to join Voldemort, he couldn’t find any way to lie to her: “you and your precious little Death Eater friends— you see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You Know Who can you?”. He literally didn’t find anything wrong with Voldemort’s political position (only the fact that he wanted to kill his obsession, he only had that so called change of heart when it personally affected him as his beloved Dark Lord wanted to kill the object of his lust). So yes, he did join the Death Eaters because he wanted to and was everything he’d always desired. Does this make him a bad person? HELL YES.  

And wait, can somebody remind me why the Potters were forced to hide? Wow, it must have been because Snivellus dearest spilled the tea to his master. So basically it went like this: “Hey Dark Lord! Our adorable group of racists kills Mudbloods for fun, but there’s this filthy Muggle born I fancy, can you please kill her husband and baby so that I can have her?” How the hell could he think Lily could have ever forgiven him? He was totally fine with Dumbledore saving Lily but not her husband and infant son (see how deeply he cared about Lily’s happiness?) and only cared for him being the rebound. James and Harry were totally expendable but hey, bravest man ever known!  

So yes, he protected Harry (in his very own and questionable way, he did), but I’m sorry, that’s not enough. However, before someone says “in the end he cared about Harry” let me say a big, important fact: NAH HE DIDN’T. And not only he didn’t, but he also openly states that: in the Deathly Hallows chapter with the Pensieve, Snape describes Harry as selfish, self-important and arrogant - does it matter than all the other teachers like him and see none of those things? Of course not. And he’s not talking about sassy 4th-6th year Harry (who I really thank for that “there's no need to call me "sir" Professor” gem): Snape is tasing about an 11 year old who was picked on his whole life, who never had a family of his own and who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He’s a child, an orphan (now tell me what’s that heroic about tormenting an orphan). However, Snape had decided that Harry must be bad news from the start, so he reasonably spends six years making his life as difficult as possible. That’s a great way to honour Lily’s memory, right? Do Snape stans remember what their hero answered when Dumbledore asked if he had grown to care for the boy, after all? He literally shouted “for him?” before casting a Patronus (a little over obsessive too). He felt he owed it to Lily to make sure Harry survives, and for Merlin’s sake, he did! He went to Voldemort and basically condemned the Potters. I’m not saying he is THE reason why they died, that honour goes to the lurid latrine rat, but he is one of them. Protecting Harry was the least he could do. Switching allegiances doesn’t cancel the awful actions before Lily’s death, as much as taking advantage of his position can’t be justified by his loyalty to Dumbledore. And most importantly, he cannot be redeemed by his stalkerish obsession for Lily (or by the creepy ‘look at me I want to die looking into your mother’s eyes,’ ew). All he did was made out of selfishness, even in his quest to redeem himself. Snape had a chance to honour Lily's memory, and disregarded it every single day. He claimed to regret his past, yet his cruelty to Harry was persistent and immature. Plus, loving someone doesn’t redeem terrible deeds. He aligned himself with a terrorist organisation who murdered for sport entirely of his own volition, endorsed the torture of Muggleborns, but of course, what a hero! I will never understand how people continue to use Snape’s obsession with Lily and ‘protecting’ Harry thing as an excuse for all the pain and terror that he inflicted upon small children. Does that mean you’ll excuse a father who continuously hit and emotionally abused his child and made their life a living hell if his excuse was “well I was still protecting them they had their dead mother’s eyes”? This is SICK.

And if you can still argue that “he had a terrible childhood,” that is inarguable, however, it just cannot justify him. Remus was bitten when he was 4, he had no friends until he was 11, lived in constant fear that he was going to be outed as a Werewolf, was forced to turn into a monster every month, lost everyone he loved and lived in poverty for 14 years and still managed to be a decent person. Luna watched her mother die, was picked on by almost everyone, was treated as a freak and only had one friend until she was 14 and still managed to be a decent person. Ginny was literally possessed by Voldemort himself for almost a year, guess what? Decent person too. Neville was constantly told how worthless he was, lived knowing his parents were tortured to insanity and was bullied and belittled by everyone. Decent person? Yes, right again. And do we want to talk about THE lonely kid who was abused his entire life? Sirius was raised and abused by blood supremacists, was disowned by his family, framed for murder (of his best friends, for Merlin’s sake!) and literally lost almost everyone he loved and still managed to be a decent person. He couldn't help the way he was? The environment around him conditioned him to be that way? If I remember correctly, Harry was raised by neglectful relatives, wore ill-fitting clothes, felt inadequate among his peers… Harry is proof that a terrible childhood doesn’t excuse despicable behaviour.

So, Snape hated Neville because he could have been the Chosen One instead of Harry (but it’s definitely on him for going to Voldemort and condemning the Potters), he hated Harry because he was James’s copy and he hated Hermione because she was a Mudblood and brilliant as Lily was. Makes sense, again, and again, it stresses how much of a beautiful person and teacher he was, don’t you think so? Also, had Voldemort picked Neville to kill instead of Harry, Snape would still be a Death Eater. It’s not like he thought being part of a group of supremacists and terrorists was wrong. It wasn’t until something directly affected him that he turned his back to his master - so brave, right? Snape may have done some good for the Wizarding World when he joined the Order, but while he was alive, he was horrible. He wasn't fighting the good fight because he couldn't possibly imagine a world where Voldemort was in charge (honestly, he couldn't have cared less), he was doing it to spare Lily’s life and get her for himself. James and Lily fought for the light because they believed in the light. Snape fought against the dark because the dark had offended him. Had Voldemort gone after the Longbottoms instead, Snape would have lived and died as the most loyal Death Eater in history.

Wait, I hear a “there’s no evidence that Snape voluntarily murdered anyone in his entire life” over there! He joined a group whose aim was genocide and was actually one of the few members which were part of the inner circle of Death Eaters, he didn’t get there by throwing kisses and rose petals around. It is explicitly said that not all Death Eaters actually bore the mark. Only selected wizards can be part of Voldemort’s circle, and not only Snape was part of that circle during the First Wizarding War, but it is also heavily implied that he passed messages from Voldemort more than once. Plus, he was also able to speak directly to Voldemort and even ask him to spare Lily’s life. Voldemort actually told Lily to move over three times before killing her, and he didn’t do that because he had such a kind heart and wanted to spare a Muggleborn’s life, he did that because Snape begged him. And maybe we haven’t read the same books, but it’s not like Voldemort strolled along Diagon Alley offering favours to random people. In addition to this, Snape did most certainly kill someone since Dumbledore compares Draco’s soul to his, meaning he has done remorseless acts of great evil before, hence his soul was already damaged, unlike Draco’s. So please, stop saying Snape was somehow influenced into joining the Death Eaters and never committed any crime: he fully believed in what they pledged and actually longed about being one of them for years (according to Lily). No one manipulated him into joining said group nor into perpetrating crimes. And no one manipulated him into being a horrible person even after he “switched sides.” He’s the one who willingly decides to be a terrorist, he’s the one who willingly decides to abuse children half his age, and he’s the one having the nerve to be awful to Harry when he’s the reason why Harry doesn’t have any parents.

And he was so childish and cruel! He threw a tantrum after discovered he was getting an Order of Merlin and wasn’t going to see Remus and Sirius in jail (even though he knew they were innocent).

There we go: HE KNEW SIRIUS WAS INNOCENT (don’t try to deny it, he was part of the inner circle of Death Eaters, he perfectly knew Sirius was not the one selling the Potters to Voldemort)! Did this matter for him? Of course not! And was Snape cruel and abusive to Harry because he blamed himself for Lily’s death and Harry was a constant reminder of his guilt? Yes, he was. But you know who else blamed himself for the Potters’ deaths and also was constantly reminded of them by Harry, and yet, did not abuse him because of his guilt? That’s right, Sirius. Sirius whose death was indirectly caused by Snape who kept making fun of him for being locked in Grimmauld Place. Sirius who had no problems breaking out of Azkaban, all he had to do was turn into a dog and leave. He could have left anytime he wanted to over those twelve years but he didn’t. You know why? Because he thought he deserved to be there. It was his fault his friends were dead. Everyone could blame him all they wanted with false accusations and it didn’t matter, since to him, changing Peter to the Secret Keeper, he was guilty for his friends’ death and deserved to be in Azkaban. He only broke out when he knew Harry was in danger after seeing that filthy rat on the newspaper. And when he broke into Hogwarts? Do people remember those lines: Hermione said “It’s very lucky he picked tonight, you know,” to which Ron responded “I reckon he’s lost track of time, being on the run. Didn’t realise it was Halloween.” Please, of course he realised it was Halloween, he perfectly knew that. He went after Peter on the anniversary of James and Lily’s death to revenge them and to save his godson. Sirius might have strut as much as James during his teens but again, he turned out to be a decent person.

And think about Harry, a 17-year-old grown up in an abused “family” (and still managed to be a decent person too): he has no memories of his parents, the only thing remained is a photograph. A photograph of a happy little family, showing James and Lily in love with the fruit of their love. Snape found it and ripped off and stole the half with Lily smiling so he could pretend her happiness and love were directed at him and not at her husband and son (yes, people, that disgusting moment actually existed, and it was so creepy Yates couldn’t put it in the movies). He stole Lily’s picture and Lily’s last words from Sirius, a friend she loved, the Potters’ best man, James’ brother. How nasty. What can I say, at least he waited until after Sirius’ death to go to Grimmauld Place and raid his bedroom?

Lovely Snivellus, such a cupcake, also laughed and mocked Tonks when her Patronus changed when she fell in love with Remus (let’s also remember that Tonks’s one was not the same as Remus’s, as stated by Rowling, before Snape stans can accuse me of applying double standards: Remus’s Patronus was a regular wolf, and okay Harry is oblivious at times, but he would have recognised a regular wolf) despite the fact that his own changed to match Lily’s - let’s just remember that THIS is obsessive behaviour, whilst James and Lily’s Patroni represent them being soulmates. Snape’s Patronus does not honour Lily, stop considering this the greatest romantic moment of all times, it does not show virtue nor morality, it’s just the representation of his creepy fascination with necrophilia. It’s disgusting, not noble. His so called love for Lily is creepy. She found happiness with another man, yet Snape was possessive, manipulative, and inarguably obsessive. And let’s remember that J.K. Rowling said that “he thought Lily would find him impressive if he became a real Death Eater”… was he really her best friend or was he just completely blinded by his attraction to the dark side? This is not a redemptive love, this is problematic, toxic, abusive, emotionally-stunted, obsessive.

This is because there was never a love triangle and that’s why there is simply NO Team Snape! Not winning at the genetic lottery doesn’t justify being such an awful person! Also, THIS is why the tag line should be changed from “always” to “Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll hold him off!” or to “until the very end” because a father’s eternal love for his son is much more important than a racist’s obsession of a dead woman (dead because he contributed to her death, to be precise). His always and doe patrons can’t get him out of this one. Eventually, let’s remember J.K. Rowling’s dedication in Deathly Hallows: “[…] to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end.” Not “always” nor creepy moaning, just the pure words of a hero, of a loving father who died protecting the ones he loved most. 

Now, I don’t get why we should celebrate Snivellus as the hero of Slytherin and an example of the “not all Slytherins are evil” when Regulus Black died in a cave, drowned by reanimated corpses to bring about the downfall of Voldemort, and Narcissa Black straight up lied to Voldemort because she’s first and foremost a mother, ruthless in doing whatever it took to save her beloved son. Regulus and Narcissa were brave: despite their flaws they knew what mattered the most and they were two big key factor in Harry’s survival and Voldemort’s demise. Sure, Snape was among the three that deceived the Dark Lord, but whilst Regulus did it because he realised what was right and what wasn’t, and Narcissa did it because of love, putting her family first (plus, she wasn’t even a Death Eater, and this tells a lot about her, as her loyalties solely lie with her family), Snape did it because resentfulness. Sure, Regulus joined the Dark Eaters of his own free will and Narcissa did what she did only after having her family threatened, but since one of Snape stans’ major point in his defence is his family being abused, let’s take their family into consideration too. The Blacks were pureblood supremacist, they grew up within that establishment and yes, some members of the family rejected those arguable ‘values’ but not everyone has the courage to do that (also, every Black family member is indisputably a badass, don’t get me started on that). On the contrary, Snape was a half-blood, and still, ended up hating muggleborns - yes, don’t try to say he didn’t, he joined the Death Eaters because he believed in Voldemort’s cause. He disparages mud bloods, he joins in on their massacre as a Death Eater after having idolised them for years in school before actually joining them. Read this again: he idolised a group of pureblood supremacist, he actively helps orchestrate genocide against the muggleborns. And what is his Freudian excuse? He believed that, in so far as Halfblood, he had to ‘prove’ that he was magical and capable enough (does this remind you of somebody else who hated muggles albeit being a half-blood and eradicates his whole Muggle family?), you can see that in how he strived to highlight his maternal Prince lineage in his stupid nickname. And no, now don’t try to blame the Marauders’ behaviour for this: Severus Snape, the man you glorify, hated muggleborns and went out of his way to commit genocide against them. So, in the end, if you still deny that, despite it being clear in the books, you are being dishonest. If, on the contrary, you fully realise it and still glamorise Snape despite how horrible of a person he was, well Snape stans, you have sunk to a new low. I’m not trying to justify anyone who supported said supremacist beliefs, but at least Regulus and Narcissa were born and bred within one of the Sacred 28, those beliefs were instilled in them from the very beginning, Snape reached them all on his own (well done for embracing your nazi self Snivellus). Regulus turned his back on Voldemort as soon as he realised how wrong he had been: at age 18, he literally sacrificed himself to try and stop his master. Narcissa, on the other hand, never sworn loyalty to Voldemort: she was a pureblood elitist, yes, she was guided by pride, but she was also calm, rational and restrained where her sister was crazed and her husband was reckless. So… Regulus faced death in the hope that when when the time had come, Voldemort would have met his match and would have been mortal once more, and Cissy only wanted best for her family and did everything she could to protect her son. She perfectly knew that Voldemort could have easily killed her in a second, but she wanted to find Draco, kept a straight face as the strong woman she was and fooled the Dark Lord. And why did Snape deceive Voldemort? Oh, right, he told him the prophecy that eventually led to the killing of the woman he was obsessed with (and no, again, he did not care at all about her husband and baby), this, of course after asking him to spare her life so that he could have had her (so this is, once again, classic Snivellus holding grudges). Regulus and Narcissa are pretty much the epitome of Slytherin, and still, let’s celebrate Snape! As a Slytherin myself, I am utterly disgusted by Snape’s behaviour. He could have been an amazing teacher, he had the talent to be one of the greatest Potions masters ever, and he willingly chose to throw it away in favour of being awful for the sake of bullying his own pupils. If we have to pick characters who proved that not all Slytherins are evil, let’s look at Regulus, let’s look at Narcissa, let’s look at Slughorn and Andromeda. Slughorn fought against Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts and refused to become a Death Eater, Andromeda married a Muggleborn. And guess what? None of them bullied children for 15 years.

Then, for the “I sometimes think we Sort too soon” thing… no, just no. Before you can start yelling at me, I am not, I repeat, I am absolutely not saying this because I endorse the whole Gryffindor being saints thing. I am a Slytherin, and a proud one. I just don’t agree that Snape was brave. Is being a resentful, childish and abusive man being brave? Wow, I’ll have to refresh my vocabulary!  It is not brave to bully your pupils for years because you lost your loved one, it is not brave to refuse to accept a woman loves somebody else and moves on, it is not brave to keep a childhood grudge against that someone because they ‘stole’ the so called love of your life, it is not brave to try to destroy an orphan’s image of their heroic father. Snape was burned Lily had chosen James over him, so burned that, fuelled by jealousy and envy (and by his pretty questionable ideals too, because it’s too convenient to forget he is 100% a Death Eater and hence a supporter of Voldemort’s lovely view for the Wizarding World), he struck out and ended up getting Lily killed. I don’t consider playing the martyr by “teaching” (if we really want to call that teaching instead of child abuse) and being an occasional spy being brave. I call it feeling guilty, I call it ‘I deserve to suffer for hurting Lily but I still choose to bully her own son instead of honouring her,’ I call it ‘I keep on tormenting an orphan because I hated his father and he looks too much like him, plus, he has his mother’s eyes so I’m constantly remembered of 1) Lily choosing James over me and 2) Lily dying because of me telling my beloved Dark Lord the prophecy.’ Any protection Snape offered Harry, he did it because of his penance, not because protecting him (and hence stopping Voldemort) was the right choice. Wow, how brave of him. I don’t think Snape could have been a Gryffindor at all, and I hated how David Yates (again, very conveniently for his martyr business) placed the Gryffindor scarf hanging up in the background in Snape’s death scene as a nod to his supposed bravery. Like, really?! Even if you really want to call him brave, he’s still an awful person who shouldn’t have been allowed to teach because of how abusive he was, an awful person who was a member and supporter of a supremacist, racist and violent sect, an awful person who caused the death of innocent people - and I could go on and on. You can’t let a few good deeds outweigh all the bad! It’s not like some potion or Imperius Curse made him join the Death Eaters, spill the tea about the prophecy and terrorise those children. He willingly chooses to do that because he was an awful person until the very end. And still, Snape apologists be like “the conclusion of his arc is that abusing your position of power over children is forgivable if you stalked one of their parents when you were a teen.” Again, sick.

Snape’s portrayal in the movies is entirely fan-service throughout the whole series of films, but especially in DH part 2: they never showed Sirius arriving at the Potters the night Lily and James died, they never showed the moment his whole world collapsed when he saw the corpses of his best friends, the moment he blamed himself for what had happened. No, we got an entirely made-up (and creepy) scene of Snape getting there, holding Lily’s body and crying when that never happened! We also never got a scene with Sirius and Remus evidently struggling to hold it together while they tell Harry about James, how he changed and how Lily fell in love with him. Their pain would have shown how much James had an impact on their lives, for the better, but of course, we only got a partial rendition of Snape’s worst memory, with careful cuts of course, they couldn’t say he didn’t find anything wrong with the torture of Muggleborns, right?

You can like Snape, sure, he’s a flawed character with an interesting past, but he’s not a hero, stop portraying him as such instead of what he really was: an abusive, creepy, racist man. You are allowed to like villains (who doesn’t?) but stop praising him! You don’t have to justify his actions because you like him: he was awful, recognise it.

Do we (still) need to talk about double standards? Well, there we go: people hate Lavender Brown and Cho Chang. Fair enough, pretty annoying girls if you want to hear me, but why do they get hate? They get hate for how they handle their feelings: Lavender gets hate for how she handles her unrequited romantic feelings, and Cho gets hate for crying and grieving over the death of her boyfriend. Does this sound like a thread to you? With the sole difference that they get more hate than Snape and this is disturbing and honestly just sick. He is a terrorist, he literally moans the entire series and abuses and terrorises children because he couldn’t have Lily but hey, misunderstood hero!

Stop romanticising Snape: the only reason why people love him is Alan Rickman, and all of this hatred is just a pathetic way of trying to cover up that James grew up while Snape didn’t. How can people glorify and stand up for a man who canonically is a vindictive bully? To be honest, I’m genuinely concerned for people who over romanticise such a man. Correct me if I’m wrong: do you see anyone sticking up for the Dursley’s or Umbridge, when they do basically the same stuff to Harry as Snape? How is Necrophilus any different? I will never regard him as a hero for as long as I am alive, however, the movies conveniently cut those parts where Snivellus was the half princey of baddies, right? Also, I really wish Sirius could have found out about this lovely nickname Snape gave himself as a teenager, that alone would have cured his depression, post traumatic stress disorder and alcoholism, this is a real tragedy.

Severus Snape did not die for love. He died because Voldemort thought hew was the true Elder Wand owner. I repeat: he did not die for love. Period.

He raised a wand to McGonagall!

Avada

Kedavra

[magneticmage]

Unwritten Fic Excerpts

Tooootally not procrastinating on properly writing.

Under cut for length

Ransley Trevelyan stared at the map of Skyhold in front of him. This fortress was....huge. and well-built to have lasted through so many Ages and hands. He had the faintest feeling that the Inquisition would only be one of the many rulers to stay here for a time, not the last.

Still, there was still much work to be done.

"The gardens would be lovely for a Chantry chapel," He remarked, fingers skimming that section of the map.

"Don't we have enough Chantry idolatry everywhere?" Paeriel Lavellan remarked. Her temper was rather sour towards him on the best of days it seemed, and the various discussions of how to rebuild the fortress were quickly proving to be drawing towards yet another face-off between them.

Lucky for them, Armashok Adaar and Naranka Cadash held more level heads.

Naranka set her tankard of dwarven ale down, "Look, we need to get something done today. It's been four hours of the two of you bickering back and forth. I'm tired of it."

Armashok sighed and scratched the chipped base of his right horn. The scars along his neck and face made his already towering physique even more intimidating. His voice was calm and collected, "Paeriel has a point though. Not all follow the Chantry's teachings nor that if their Maker and his Bride, Andraste. The Dalish have their Creators, the Avvar their gods, the Dwarves their Stone, and my people have the Qun."

"The Qun that brainwashed people." Ransley scowled, "That attacked Kirkwall and Ostwick not too long ago."

"How long ago was the last time the elves were killed by humans?" Paeriel's green eyes flashed towards the human noble faster than her arrows, "Oh, wait, it hasn't even been a year."

Naranka sighed and let her chin slump into her hand, "Can we get past the whole 'your people killed my people in whatever conflict in whatever year slash event', please? The Inquisition is supposed to be a show of unity against Cory-piss-pants and if we can't all pretend to agree agree get along, how are we going to expect our people to? Haven taught us to expect disaster. Skyhold is a chance to show that preparation and strength. Let's not squander it."

The human and elf fell silent and looked away from each other, appropriately chagrined. Damn Carta thug had a point. Ex-Carta, Ransley tried to remind himself. She was right. Theda was falling apart because of old grudges and they would need to put their own aside in order to do what was needed for the good of everyone.

He scrubbed at his face, trying to scrape off the frown that has etched itself into his brow the past few days, "Okay. What do you suggest?"

"We expand the eastern gardens and their greenhouses a bit to allow a greater number of plants. In addition to the amount we all keep in our rooms and have hanging around the halls, it should be enough for whatever we need. It might cut into our supplies for the kitchen but I'm fairly sure we can make the revenue up in some other way," Naranka remarked. Her dark eyes turned to Paeriel, "That satisfies your garden request, yes?"

"I suppose." She remarked, "It's smaller than the western area, but it is closer to my rooms so that should be enough."

"As for Ransley wanting a Chantry chapel, I can't say I'm enthused about it either." Naranka paused and took a long draught of her drink and wiped her mouth on her sleeve, "But it does pacify quite a few complaints we've already had, I suppose."

"And raises others." Ransley rolled his eyes to the stack of letters to the left. All demands for equal representation. It wasn't that he didn't approve of all the changes. It was just...so very different from what he was used to that it made him uncomfortable. Perhaps...that was why the others acted the way they did? They all missed home as much as he did and wanted to bring a piece of it with them. He would need to think harder on this. Perhaps Naranka's initial assessment that he was used to the world making way for him had some merit.

"We could make it a multi-faith chapel of sorts. A place for religious debate and ethics and philosophy. We could put a lyrium-infused statue of a Paragon or two in the garden main path, alongside the statue of Andraste that I saw someone bringing in the other day. We could have some trees and wayshrines and such for the Qunari and Dalish. It might take some work getting everything to fit and flow together but I'm sure Josephine could find a group of people to handle it. She's not failed us yet. " Armashok pressed his thumb into the soft center of his palm and rubbed small circles. The Anchor on their hands flared irritably under the abrupt pressure before it settled. "Will that do?"

"Yes." Ransley combed his fingers through his hair, "So, what say we take a lunch break and then move on to the next section? The outer walls, right?"

"No. No more breaks." Naranka slammed her hands down on the war table. Armashok's drink fell of the table and shattered, scattering glass across the floor. Luckily Ransley managed to save both the Dwarf and his own drinks from ruining the maps and papers with their contents. A quick glance across saw Paeriel setting down her tea on a nearby seat.

"Bit much, don't you think?"He quipped.

That earned him a frustrated glare, "I'm sorry, Lord Trevelyan, but don't you think running off to smooch Cassandra every four hours is a 'bit much'?"

He felt heat fold across his cheeks and stammered out a protest that sounded weak even to his own ears. Armashok rubbed his temple, "We can break after we get this last section done for today. Now the outer walls or the aqueducts? What do we repair first?"

"The aqueducts will provide fresh water for us through its use of fire runes and the ice run off from melting the snow banks. I'm not sure if the indoor plumbing has held up all these years, though," Naranka said, pulling out the relevant files.

"It has in most places. We'll still need to bring in either a dwarven or Tevinter architect to double check the quality though," Ransley said. He gestured at one of the areas marked in red, "It'll be more costly to repair and it will delay us fixing the outer walls on time if we are attacked during then, though."

Paeriel grimaced, her own hand reaching for the Anchor as another minor pulse raced through them, "Honestly, I would much rather have clean drinking water with working plumbing than working outer walls at the moment."

"Even after what happened at Haven?" Naranka's brow rose, "You have to be kidding me, Pae! You don't let the spawn in through a crackand the wonder why you have an ogre breathing down your neck!"

Armashok scratched at his horns again, "Safety is more important right now. We can fix the water issue once we get more established. For now, we need to make sure our people feel safe after Haven's destruction."

Paeriel sighed and leaned forward on her hands, "If I can call in a few favors and have someone work on it so long as they get food and shelter, it should be fine, right?"

Ransley arched a brow, "What kind of contacts do you have, Lavellan?"

"Not exactly my favorite people," She looked away as if ashamed. One more mystery to this woman. No wonder her and Solas got along so well. The two of them seemed wrapped up in their own world of ancient secrets and old ties. How someone so young managed to have so many secrets was beyond him.

"These people...any rules for hiring them? What's the catch?" Naranka folded her arms.

Paeriel tossed her head back and laughed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

She sighed and spread her hands to either side, "I ran with a group of vengeance hunters called the Knives of Plenty for a time."

"Isn't that the group of former city elves that used the sewers and alleys and other dark places to attack and kill human nobles for abusing their servants?" Armashok asked, "Their services could be bought, but only if you could prove that they were hurting their people. Really worth the coin for some info they could get, though. If memory serves me right."

Paeriel nodded, "Yes. They were primarily city elves, but there were disillusioned Dalish and elven mages seeking Refuge. They even took in elf-blooded humans who shared their cause, as they as as much elven as they are human."

Ransley held up his hands, "Wait a second here! You want us to enlist terrorists to fix our plumbing? And you were one of them? They killed people like us!"

The three of nonhumans exchanged a look between themselves, as if silently daring each other. Naranka cleared her throat, "I should point out, they only targeted human people like you. But you haven't harmed any elves, have you, Ransley?"

"Of course not!" He frowned at them, "This still doesn't explain how they are going to fix the pipes, though."

Paeriel rolled her eyes, "Many of them used to have regular jobs before they were pushed too far. More than half of them worked in tight quarters and bad conditions. This will be a lot safer than their old jobs, they get food and shelter, and a place to feel accepted. We get our pipes and our walls fixed. It's a win-win."

"Plus, we get some good PR for 'reforming crimminals'," Armashok chuckled with his hands making gestures of sarcasm, "How does this go bad?"

"Let's just say I had a rough break with their leader when I left and they will need a lot of convincing to join up." Paeriel leaned forward into her knuckles and looked at the table.

Naranka scratched her head, but nodded her agreement, "Who here doesn't have a dark history of some kind?"

Ransley sighed and looked over at the Dalish. Perhaps, it was time to put grudges aside and try and open up the sheltered walls he had lived in. These three could help him move past the echo chamber he had grown up in. He cleared his throat and set the cups in his hands down, "Tell us about it."

[sciencespies]

The True History Behind 'Judas and the Black Messiah'

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-true-history-behind-judas-and-the-black-messiah/

The True History Behind 'Judas and the Black Messiah'

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Feb. 11, 2021, 3:15 p.m.

When Chicago lawyer Jeffrey Haas first met Fred Hampton, chairman of the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party, he was struck by the 20-year-old activist’s “tremendous amount of energy” and charisma. It was August 1969, and Haas, 26 years old at the time, and his fellow attorneys at the People’s Law Office had just secured Hampton’s release from prison on trumped-up charges of stealing $71 worth of ice cream bars. To mark the occasion, Hampton delivered a speech at a local church, calling on the crowd to raise their right hand and repeat his words: “I am a revolutionary.”

“I couldn’t quite say that, because I thought I was a lawyer for the movement, but not necessarily of the movement,” recalls Haas, who is white. “But as Fred continued saying that, by the third or fourth time, I was shouting ‘I am a revolutionary’ like everyone else.”

Judas and the Black Messiah, a new film directed by Shaka King and co-produced by Black Panther director Ryan Coogler, deftly dramatizes this moment, capturing both Hampton’s oratorical prowess and the mounting injustices that led him and his audience to declare themselves revolutionaries. Starring Daniel Kaluuya of Get Out fame as the chairman, the movie chronicles the months preceding Hampton’s assassination in a December 1969 police raid, detailing his contributions to the Chicago community and dedication to the fight for social justice. Central to the narrative is the activist’s relationship with—and subsequent betrayal by—FBI informant William O’Neal (LaKeith Stanfield), who is cast as the Judas to Hampton’s “black messiah.”

“The Black Panthers are the single greatest threat to our national security,” says a fictionalized J. Edgar Hoover (Martin Sheen), echoing an actual assertion made by the FBI director, in the film. “Our counterintelligence program must prevent the rise of a black messiah.”

Here’s what you need to know to separate fact from fiction ahead of Judas and the Black Messiah’s debut in theaters and on HBO Max this Friday, February 12.

Is Judas and the Black Messiah based on a true story?

In short: yes, but with extensive dramatic license, particularly regarding O’Neal. As King tells the Atlantic, he worked with screenwriter Will Berson and comedians Kenny and Keith Lucas to pen a biopic of Hampton in the guise of a psychological thriller. Rather than focusing solely on the chairman, they opted to examine O’Neal—an enigmatic figure who rarely discussed his time as an informant—and his role in the FBI’s broader counterintelligence program, COINTELPRO.

“Fred Hampton came into this world fully realized. He knew what he was doing at a very young age,” says King. “Whereas William O’Neal is in a conflict; he’s confused. And that’s always going to make for a more interesting protagonist.”

Daniel Kaluuya (center) as Fred Hampton

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

Speaking with Deadline, the filmmaker adds that the crew wanted to move beyond Hampton’s politics into his personal life, including his romance with fellow activist Deborah Johnson (Dominique Fishback), who now goes by the name Akua Njeri.

“[A] lot of times when we think about these freedom fighters and revolutionaries, we don’t think about them having families … and plans for the future—it was really important to focus on that on the Fred side of things,” King tells Deadline. “On the side of O’Neal, [we wanted] to humanize him as well so that viewers of the film could leave the movie wondering, ‘Is there any of that in me?’”

Who are the film’s two central figures?

Born in a suburb of Chicago in 1948, Hampton demonstrated an appetite for activism at an early age. As Haas, who interviewed members of the Hampton family while researching his book, The Assassination of Fred Hampton: How the FBI and the Chicago Police Murdered a Black Panther, explains, “Fred just couldn’t accept injustice anywhere.” At 10 years old, he started hosting weekend breakfasts for other children from the neighborhood, cooking the meals himself in what Haas describes as a precursor to the Panthers’ free breakfast program. And in high school, he led walkouts protesting the exclusion of black students from the race for homecoming queen and calling on officials to hire more black teachers and administrators.

According to William Pretzer, a supervisory curator at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC), the young Hampton was keenly aware of racial injustice in his community. His mother babysat for Emmett Till prior to the 14-year-old’s murder in Mississippi in 1955; ten years after Till’s death, he witnessed white mobs attacking Martin Luther King Jr.’s Chicago crusade firsthand.

“Hampton is really influenced by the desire of the NAACP and King to make change, and the kind of resistance that they encounter,” says Pretzer. “So it’s as early as 1966 that Hampton starts to gravitate toward Malcolm X … [and his] philosophy of self-defense rather than nonviolent direct action.”

Fred Hampton speaks at a rally in Chicago’s Grant Park in September 1969

(Chicago Tribune file photo / Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

William O’Neal in a 1973 mugshot

(Fair use via Wikimedia Commons)

After graduating from high school in 1966, Hampton, as president of the local NAACP Youth Chapter, advocated for the establishment of an integrated community pool and recruited upward of 500 new members. In large part due to his proven track record of successful activism, leaders of the burgeoning Black Panther Party recruited Hampton to help launch the movement in Chicago in November 1968. By the time of his death just over a year later, he’d risen to the rank of Illinois chapter chairman and national deputy chairman.

O’Neal, on the other hand, was a habitual criminal with little interest in activism before he infiltrated the Panthers at the behest of FBI agent Roy Mitchell (portrayed in the film by Jesse Plemons). As O’Neal recalled in a 1989 interview, Mitchell offered to overlook the-then teenager’s involvement in a multi-state car theft in exchange for intel on Hampton.

“[A] fast-talking, conniving West Side black kid who thought he knew all the angles,” O’Neal, according to the Chicago Tribune, joined the party and quickly won members’ admiration with his bravado, mechanical and carpentry skills, and willingness to place himself in the thick of the action. By the time of the police raid that killed Hampton, he’d been appointed the Panthers’ chief of security.

“Unlike what we might think of an informer being a quiet person who would appear to be a listener, O’Neal was out there all the time spouting stuff,” says Haas. “People were impressed by that. … He was a ‘go do it’ guy. ‘I can fix this. I can get you money. I can do these kinds of things. And … that had an appeal for a while.”

Why did the FBI target Hampton?

Toward the beginning of Judas and the Black Messiah, Hoover identifies Hampton as a leader “with the potential to unite the Communist, the anti-war, and the New Left movements.” Later, the FBI director tells Mitchell that the black power movement’s success will translate to the loss of “[o]ur entire way of life. Rape, pillage, conquer, do you follow me?”

Once O’Neal is truly embedded within the Panthers, he discovers that the activists are not, in fact, “terrorists.” Instead, the informer finds himself dropped in the midst of a revolution that, in the words of co-founder Bobby Seale, was dedicated to “trying to make change in day-to-day lives” while simultaneously advocating for sweeping legislation aimed at achieving equality.

The Panthers’ ten-point program, penned by Seale and Huey P. Newton in 1966, outlined goals that resonate deeply today (“We want an immediate end to POLICE BRUTALITY and MURDER of Black people”) and others that were certain to court controversy (“We want all Black men to be exempt from military service” and “We want freedom for all Black men held in federal, state, county and city prisons and jails”). As Jeff Greenwald wrote for Smithsonian magazine in 2016, members “didn’t limit themselves to talk.” Taking advantage of California’s open-carry laws, for instance, beret-wearing Panthers responded to the killings of unarmed black Americans by patrolling the streets with rifles—an image that quickly attracted the condemnation of both the FBI and upper-class white Americans.

Fred Hampton (far left) attends an October 1969 rally against the trial of eight people accused of conspiracy to start a riot at the Democratic National Convention.

(Don Casper / Chicago Tribune / Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

According to Pretzer, law enforcement viewed the Panthers and similar groups as a threat to the status quo. “They are focused on police harassment, … challenging the authority figures,” he says, “focusing on social activities that everybody thinks the government should be doing something about” but isn’t, like providing health care and ensuring impoverished Americans had enough to eat.

The FBI established COINTELPRO—short for counterintelligence program—in 1956 to investigate, infiltrate and discredit dissident groups ranging from the Communist Party of the United States to the Ku Klux Klan, the Nation of Islam and the Panthers. Of particular interest to Hoover and other top officials were figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and Hampton, many of whom endured illegal surveillance, explicit threats and police harassment. Details of the covert program only came to light came to light in 1971, when activists stole confidential files from an FBI office in Pennsylvania and released them to the public.

Though Hampton stated that the Panthers would only resort to violence in self-defense, Hoover interpreted his words as a declaration of militant intentions.

“Because of COINTELPRO, because of the exacerbation, the harassment, the infiltration of these and agent provocateurs that they establish within these organizations, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy from the FBI’s point of view,” Pretzer explains, “[in that] they get the violence they were expecting.”

As Haas and law partner Flint Taylor wrote for Truthout in January, newly released documents obtained through a Freedom of Information Act request confirm the lawyers’ long-held suspicion that Hoover himself was involved in the plan to assassinate Hampton.

LaKeith Stanfield (left) as William O’Neal and Jesse Plemons (right) as FBI agent Roy Mitchell

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

What events does Judas and the Black Messiah dramatize?

Set between 1968 and 1969, King’s film spotlights Hampton’s accomplishments during his brief tenure as chapter chairman before delving into the betrayals that resulted in his death. Key to Hampton’s legacy were the Panthers’ survival programs, which sought to provide access to “fundamental elements of life,” per Pretzer. Among other offerings, the organization opened free health clinics, provided free breakfasts for children, and hosted political education classes that emphasized black history and self-sufficiency. (As Hampton said in 1969, “[R]eading is so important for us that a person has to go through six weeks of our political education before we can consider [them] a member.”)

On an average day, Hampton arrived at the Panthers’ headquarters with “a staccato of orders [that] gave energy to everyone around him,” says Haas. “But it wasn’t just what he asked people to do. He was there at 6:30 in the morning, making breakfast, serving the kids, talking to their parents.”

In addition to supporting these community initiatives—one of which, the free breakfast program, paved the way for modern food welfare policies—Hampton spearheaded the Rainbow Coalition, a boundary-crossing alliance between the Panthers, the Latino Young Lords, and the Young Patriots, a group of working-class white Southerners. He also brokered peace between rival Chicago gangs, encouraging them “to focus instead on the true enemy—the government and the police,” whom the Panthers referred to as “pigs,” according to the Village Free Press.

Fred Hampton raises his right hand at an October 11, 1969, rally in Chicago.

(Photo by David Fenton / Getty Images)

Speaking with Craig Phillips of PBS’ “Independent Lens” last year, historian Lilia Fernandez, author of Brown in the Windy City: Mexicans and Puerto Ricans in Postwar Chicago, explained, “The Rainbow Coalition presented a possibility. It gave us a vision for what could be in terms of interracial politics among the urban poor.”

Meanwhile, O’Neal was balancing his duties as an informant with his rising stature within the party. Prone to dramatic tendencies, he once built a fake electric chair intended, ironically, to scare informers. He also pushed the Panthers to take increasingly aggressive steps against the establishment—actions that led “more people, and Fred in particular, [to become] dubious of him,” says Haas.

The months leading up to the December 1969 raid found Hampton embroiled in legal troubles as tensions mounted between police and the Panthers. Falsely accused of theft and assault for the July 1968 ice cream truck robbery, he was denied bail until the People’s Law Office intervened, securing his release in August 1969. Between July and November of that year, authorities repeatedly clashed with the Panthers, engaging in shootouts that resulted in the deaths of multiple party members and police officers.

Daniel Kaluuya as Fred Hampton (far left) and LaKeith Stanfield as William O’Neal (far right)

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

By late November, the FBI, working off O’Neal’s intel, had convinced Cook County State’s Attorney Edward Hanrahan and the Chicago Police Department to raid Hampton’s home as he and his fiancée Johnson, who was nine months pregnant, slept. Around 4:30 a.m. on December 4, a heavily armed, 14-person raiding party burst into the apartment, firing upward of 90 bullets at the nine Panthers inside. One of the rounds struck and killed Mark Clark, a 22-year-old Panther stationed just past the front door. Though law enforcement later claimed otherwise, the physical evidence suggests that just one shot originated within the apartment.

Johnson and two other men tried to rouse the unconscious 21-year-old Hampton, who’d allegedly been drugged earlier that night—possibly by O’Neal, according to Haas. (O’Neal had also provided the cops with a detailed blueprint of the apartment.) Forced out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, Johnson heard a cop say, “He’s barely alive. He’ll barely make it.” Two shots rang out before she heard another officer declare, “He’s good and dead now.”

What happened after Hampton’s assassination?

Judas and the Black Messiah draws to a close shortly after the raid. In the film’s final scene, a conflicted O’Neal accepts an envelope filled with cash and agrees to continue informing on the Panthers. Superimposed text states that O’Neal remained with the party until the early 1970s, ultimately earning more than $200,000 when adjusted for inflation. After he was identified as the Illinois chapter’s mole in 1973, O’Neal received a new identity through the federal witness protection program. In January 1990, the 40-year-old, who’d by then secretly returned to Chicago, ran into traffic and was struck by a car. Investigators deemed his death a suicide.

“I think he was sorry he did what he did,” O’Neal’s uncle, Ben Heard, told the Chicago Reader after his nephew’s death. “He thought the FBI was only going to raid the house. But the FBI gave [the operation] over to the state’s attorney and that was all Hanrahan wanted. They shot Fred Hampton and made sure he was dead.”

The attempt to uncover the truth about Hampton and Clark’s deaths began on the morning of December 4 and continues to this day. While one of Haas’ law partners went to the morgue to identify Hampton’s body, another took stock of the apartment, which the police had left unsecured. Haas, meanwhile, went to interview the seven survivors, four of whom had been seriously injured.

A floor plan of Fred Hampton’s apartment provided to the FBI by William O’Neal

(People’s Law Office)

Hanrahan claimed that the Panthers had opened fire on the police. But survivor testimony and physical evidence contradicted this version of events. “Bullet holes” ostensibly left by the Panthers’ shots were later identified as nail heads; blood stains found in the apartment suggested that Hampton was dragged out into the hallway after being shot in his bed at point-blank range.

Public outrage over the killings, particularly within the black community, grew as evidence discounting the authorities’ narrative mounted. As one elderly woman who stopped by the apartment to see the crime scene for herself observed, the attack “was nothing but a Northern lynching.”

Following the raid, Hanrahan charged the survivors with attempted murder. Haas and his colleagues secured Johnson’s release early enough to ensure she didn’t give birth to her son, Fred Hampton Jr., in jail, and the criminal charges were eventually dropped. But the attorneys, “not content with getting people off, decided we needed to file a civil suit” alleging a conspiracy to not only murder Hampton, but cover up the circumstances of his death, says Haas.

Over the next 12 years, Haas and his colleagues navigated challenges ranging from racist judges to defendants’ stonewalling, backroom deals between the FBI and local authorities, and even contempt charges brought against the attorneys themselves. Working from limited information, including leaked COINTELPRO documents, the team slowly pieced together the events surrounding the raid, presenting compelling evidence of the FBI’s involvement in the conspiracy.

Hampton’s fiancée, Deborah Johnson (sitting in middle, as portrayed by Dominique Fishback), gave birth to their son, Fred Hampton Jr., 25 days after the raid.

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

Though a judge dismissed the original case in 1977 following an 18-month trial, Haas and the rest of the team successfully appealed for a new hearing. In 1982, after more than a decade of protracted litigation, the defendants agreed to pay a settlement of $1.85 million to the nine plaintiffs, including Clark’s mother and Hampton’s mother, Iberia.

“I used to describe being in court like going to a dog fight every day,” says Haas. “Everything we would say would be challenged. The [defendants’ lawyers] would tell the jury everything the Panthers had ever been accused of in Chicago and elsewhere, and [the judge] would let them do that, but he wouldn’t let us really cross examine the defendants.”

Hampton’s death dealt a significant blow to the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party, frightening members with its demonstration of law enforcement’s reach and depriving the movement of a natural leader.

According to Pretzer, “What comes out is that the the assassination of Hampton is a classic example of law enforcement’s malfeasance and overreach and … provoking of violence.”

Today, says Haas, Hampton “stands as a symbol of young energy, struggle and revolution.”

The chairman, for his part, was keenly aware of how his life would likely end.

As he once predicted in a speech, “I don’t believe I’m going to die slipping on a piece of ice; I don’t believe I’m going to die because I got a bad heart; I don’t believe I’m going to die because of lung cancer. I believe that I’m going to be able to die doing the things I was born for. … I believe that I will be able to die as a revolutionary in the international revolutionary proletarian struggle.”

#History

[holdin-out-for-a-hero]

Creep- FFVII Biggs X Reader Chapter 5/?

Summary: you get on the bad side of a one of Corneo’s men and now have a target on your back

Warnings: sexual harassment, death mentions

A/N: More romantic stuff coming in the next chapter! It’s already halfway written.

Afternoon drinking was not something you were really known for, but after all that had happened in the last 24 hours, you let yourself indulge. No, it wasn't a good coping mechanism, but you needed a little relief from the constant and paralyzing fear of someone hunting you down. It helped a bit with the guilt, too. There were a lot of things you felt guilty about...

These were supposed to be celebration drinks, you remembered. Because every time a mission was approved, you and your teammates would guzzle down beers in excitement. But that was not the same energy the bar held today. Everyone was drinking, but no one was happy.

Jessie tried to lighten the mood, tried to bring energy to the group, but aside from her bubbly disposition, her eyes told another story. She was worried, just like everyone else, for the same reasons as everyone else. She was worried for you, for Barrett, and for the mission tomorrow.

Even Wedge was silent. You hurt his feelings by not telling him about what happened. And no matter how many times you tried to explain to him that it wasn't personal, you didn't want to tell anyone about it, he still knew what that meant deep down. You didn't trust him. Or anybody on the team, really. He hoped that through kindness he would've gained your trust, but he was wrong. You couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, because every time you would, he'd give you the same hurt look...

You had screwed up. Not just in the sense that you instigated the man on the train (though he completely deserved the fist in the face, that much you were sure of), but that you didn't tell anyone on the team. And why? Because you were embarrassed? These were the people you were supposed to trust. You trusted them with your life during missions, so why didn't you trust them with your thoughts, feelings, and experiences?

Biggs was there when it happened, so you couldn't hide it from him if you tried, and you only told Tifa after she saw through your bs excuse. But Jessie, Barrett, and Wedge didn't get to know until they had to. Jessie had cooled down from her outburst earlier and was treating you as if nothing had happened, but deep down you knew she was still a little pissed. Barrett, on the other hand, was real pissed at you for keeping it to yourself, but he still held his tongue and you didn't know why...

Jessie took another sip of her drink, looking up at the clock on the wall. In just a few hours, she and the merc were going to hit up the Shinra warehouse. She remembered inviting you and Biggs, hoping that if she kept you near, she could somehow keep you safe. The business quarters were probably much safer than the slums, because whoever those guys were, it didn't look like the spent much time above the plate. If they did, they'd have Shinra troops called on them immediately.

She never told you what the mission was about, though; she hoped to keep a few secrets in tact tonight. Like stealing from her own, comatose father, that was something she wasn't proud to do.

So you, Biggs, and Cloud would be joining her. She looked over at Wedge though, he was definitely hurt that you hadn't told him. He'd probably be just as hurt if Jessie didn't invite him on this mission, too. So she decided she would let him in on it. So much for a nice, romantic evening with the local Merc...

——————

Jessie filled you, Biggs, and Wedge in on her secret mission to break into a Shinra warehouse and surprise trip to her parent's place. But something was missing from her story; you knew she was keeping something from you and the others. And just hours ago she was yelling at you for doing the same... whatever. You knew not to push it.

She told you to meet up at the train station, something you dreaded. Not only because it was where you met the creep, but also because it would be defying Barrett's orders, and you didn't think he would hold anything back if you screwed up this time. 

The three of you arrived at the station, but weren't met with the usual chatter and smiling faces. In fact, there was no one there at all. The entire station was empty, and so, so quiet; you had never seen it like this in your life. It looked wrong. A sign plastered on the bulletin board explained that the trains were on an adjusted schedule due to threats from the "eco-terrorist group" Avalanche. You couldn't help but find it ironic.

So the three of you had to improvise. Biggs knew a guy who rented motorbikes, and was willing to lend a few of his own for free.

The sun was setting now, and you walked your bike back to the train station.  Biggs and Wedge were on either side of you walking with their own bikes, they insisted it be that way so no creep would spot you. How lucky you were to have them, to have a team that cared about you so much they'd risk their own safety for your sake.

Wedge had forgiven you to some extent. He was now talking to you more freely, and you were so relieved. He was such a sweet guy, it hurt to have him upset at you.

Jessie and the Merc were already at the platform waiting. She had her signature smile plastered on her face, but he looked... uncomfortable? She slung her arm around the man's neck and he flinched under her touch. Then you realized why he was so uncomfortable.

"Hey guys!" She greeted with a wave.

"Tough break. They changed the times. Last train's already left," Biggs said, "Which is why we borrowed these bikes."

"Only 3? Looks like we're gonna have to share." Jessie glanced at cloud, who looked away from her and crossed his arms.

"So, who's riding with who?" Biggs asked.

"Me and SOLDIER-boy can share one," Jessie said with a smirk, cloud just sighed.

"So there's two bikes left and three of us," you added.

"Rock paper scissors?" Wedge suggested. You laughed and Biggs shook his head at the guy, but the both of you agreed. So the three of you got ready: hands in position.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!"

A grin formed on you lips when you won; you would get a bike all to yourself.

"C'mon, two out of three!" Biggs asked, a hopeful look in his eye. Did he really want to ride alone that badly? Unless he wanted to ride with you... No, that couldn't be it.

"No. I won fair and square."

Biggs' eyes lingered on yours a second longer, before he smiled and put a hand on Wedge's shoulder, "Guess I'm stuck with this guy."

"Hey! Don't say it like it's a bad thing!" Wedge said. Everybody laughed. Well, except Cloud.

——————

Your heart began to race as your bike picked up speed, and you couldn't help but smile. The rush, the wind through you hair, the freedom: it was intoxicating. You pushed the throttle harder, speeding up and and bumping over the train tracks. This was what it felt like to be truly liberated. In this moment, the creep and his goons couldn't get to you. They couldn't even try. You were going too fast, leaving your fear and guilt in the dust. You felt alive.

Something in you wanted to go faster, farther, but you couldn't just ditch your team. That wasn't how teams worked. So you reluctantly stayed in between both Wedge and Biggs and Jessie and Cloud as the five of you came to your first ID scan. Thanks to Jessie, your new ID's were impeccable. There was nothing to worry about.

The first ID scan was a success, just as all of you expected. The second and third scans yielded similar results. Then came the fourth ID scan. It was very uncommon to have a fourth scan, but they must have implemented it because of the bombing. This one wasn't so successful. And as soon as you had passed the threshold, security had sent in people after you.

"We've got company!" Jessie said, and just like that another bike flew past your own. A Shinra troop manned the vehicle, blaster in hand.

The mercenary made quick work of the troop, but security wouldn't let up that easily. More bikes joined you on the tracks, aiming to kill.

Cloud was somehow fighting multiple troops at a time. But there was one more behind you, speeding up so he could take you out. Pulling out your gun, you aimed at the troop's tire and pulled the trigger.

You were always a good shot, but not now, not when you needed it the most. Instead of piercing the tire and ejecting the man from his vehicle, you missed. It must have been the driving, you thought.

Your eyes widened; he was lining up his shot now. On pure instinct, you ducked your head and swerved. Another gunshot rang out, but it never whistled past your head. In fact, it wasn't in your direction at all.

You turned around, watching the man's slumped body and fallen bike become smaller in the growing distance. Just behind you and to the  right was Wedge and Biggs. Wedge couldn't have done it, his hands were steady against the handles. But Biggs still had his pistol in his hand. Your eyes met his.

"Thanks," you shouted to him. He just nodded back at you. And though you just narrowly escaped death, your mind was on the man who saved you instead. You could always count on him to have your back. That stupid little crush wanted to make its comeback, but you pushed those thoughts away. Now was not the time. In fact, there would never be a right time. Not when you were risking your life everyday.

Working with avalanche, you had quite a few near-death experiences. They happened often enough that it didn't really affect you anymore. It was just a hazard of the job, something that you had to accept in order to do the work you were passionate about. But if you were so used to defying death, then why were the creep and his men so scary?

You came upon the realization that death might be the endgame, but what that man wanted to do to you was much worse than death. You had prepared for death, but you never prepared for that. And you only prepared to die on certain terms: if it was necessary for the survival of another team member or the mission itself, not because of some stupid thing you did on a train.

You shook those thoughts away, too, instead,  focusing on the moment. The wind in your hair, the freedom of the tracks, and... more troops? What else did you expect?

Cloud worked to get rid of those men. And you, determined to help, quickly got the hang of shooting while on a moving vehicle. One by one, the troops fell from their bikes. Surely this would be on the news tomorrow morning: Gunfight on the tracks. Or if you weren't so lucky, the headline might read: Shinra takes down eco-terrorists on the tracks.

From behind, reinforcements were moving in on you. Based on the red of their helmets, they were not basic troops. Security was sending in bigger dogs now...

"A-Team's here," Cloud shouted.

"We're not screwed, are we?" Wedge asked. Cloud didn't answer him, instead focusing on knocking the troops off of their bikes. And as soon as they were down, two new troops replaced them.

This new pair's strategy was to surround and attack. They went to both sides of Cloud and Jessie, believing it put them at an advantage.

But cloud, being a former soldier, wouldn't be bested that easily. He held his sword out directly in front of him, confusing both troops, before spinning the bike and knocking them both out in one fluid motion.

For a little while the ride was free of unwanted guests, but only a little while. These next guests didn't come on wheels, instead the flew past your heads and all around your vehicles.

"Drones!" Jessie yelled.

These were harder to shoot, you realized, since they were so much smaller and quicker than troops on bikes. But cloud was taking care of most of them. Thank God he was here.

And then there were drones and troops. Both enemies were aiming to kill, and you didn't know which ones were of bigger concern. Biggs and Cloud seemed to be taking care of the drones, so you turned around and shot out some more tires. This got rid of a few of them. But then the rest just... stopped? They had skidded to a halt behind you, retreating back to wherever they came from.

Turning around, you helped cloud and Biggs take down the rest of the drones. Looking around one last time, there was nothing trailing you. Something about that didn't seem right. Shinra never played like that.

The true night sky was coming into view, something you never saw very often. Finally, you made it topside. You looked up at the sparkling stars above, their light swirling through the night and blending into different shades of blue with the night sky. And for a moment, you forgot about it all. Avalanche, mako, the reactors, the creep; they were all just distant memories. Right now you were safe.

Too bad that peace didn't last...

[cartoonfangirl1218]

3 times Bette was afraid to touch Barry and the one time she wasn’t

Obvious AU where Bette is still alive. I felt that there was some potential with her so here it is.

Their was a loud crash bang, but Bette didn't even look up. Probably another brawl between the new recruits. No one wanted to use the tazer less they accidentally shock themselves when she tried to head butt them.

It had been days since she been in the normal world, and she was slowly accepting this was what her life was going to be like until she died or until she gave in.

She had been dead for precisely a day before returning back to life. According to Eiling, she had been shot and blown up. But with the help of a man named Savage, they connected to a group called the Time Masters and hired the Pilgrim.

The Pilgrim was a woman able to stop time, another meta-human of some sort, and she went to the split second after Flash had run off and she blew up. Retrieved her body and with some extensive bomb-detonations, DNA analysts, and other stuff that Eiling didn't comprehend well enough to explain to her, she was alive.

Bette couldn't really wrap her mind around the whole Time Masters thing, and Savage or the Pilgrim but she chose not to dwell on it. After all she could make explosives with everything she touched who was she to judge.

The one thing Eiling made sure to keep were her powers. Unpredictable as ever. She had been too dazed and confused to really fight back when they brought her into the room.

The room was large, probably ten feet wide, ten feet in length. All white with padded grey walls and a large see-through window spanning the front next to the door.

They put her in the middle of the room. Strapped her to two chains hanging from ceiling into a elevated T or crucification-position. It prevented her from being able to move her hands around to touch the chains on her wrists or touch anyone/thing else.

She was hanging with no firm grip on the ground and she teetered on the toes of her boots. Preventing her from getting enough leverage to make a proper kick or at least that would make an impact.

She stayed in this position for hours on end, her back straining and arms aching from being stretched as her body longed to touch the ground. They wouldn't even let her eat with her hands, they spoon-fed her and gave her water. She was only unstrapped to go to the bathroom.

Which was a toilet and sink located at the upper right corner of the room. She was thankful that no perved had decided to look but it was still degrading. Treated like a wild animal, and going without the privacy of a stall.

Eiling was determined as ever to make her into a weapon, and he hadn't let up his threat that he would force her. Every day she would be tazered, hit, kicked, and water boarded.

This wasn't new for her, she had dealt with this while she had been serving on the Gulf Cost. Interrogation techniques and pain and she had become immune to most of them. She took comfort with the fact that they wanted her alive to be their living weapon so as she gasped and panicked for breath as the water bag placed over her head, suffocating her. She remembered they wouldn't go that far.

Although sometimes she wanted to give in, such as the nights they tried the sleep deprivation tactic, brights lights, loud noises, cold water splashed over her every time she was about to nod off. What would happen if she said yes?

Maybe they would finally unstrapped her? Maybe they would let her go into a regular room and sleep for once and maybe get a home and call me and special missions? Finally know what the date is?

Those thoughts were quickly pushed out when she reminded herself that as a living weapon, they wouldn't see her as a person.

Only a fighting machine. They wouldn't let her go back to her old life nor help her control her powers. It wasn't worth losing her humanity and independence to fight enemies if she didn't get a say in it.

She had joined the army to fight for the American way, but fighting for the government. She had a feeling fighting solely for the government might be killing more than terrorists but more anyone who tried to fight against it's precious leaders. Her stubbornness kicked in and she used all her will and tactics she learned at training to refuse.

"One thing different in this scenario," Bette snorted to herself, "There's no army to come looking for me. No one even knows I'm alive."

The crash sounded again, along with Eiling shouting and Bette curiously looked up.

She saw a red blur rush through the facility and Bette gasped. The familiar red blur, who had tried to help her all those days, possibly months ago.

He had honestly tried to help her with her powers, and one of the only ones who didn't look at her with absolute fear when he found out about her powers.

Flash looked through the window at her. He knocked Eiling's head against the glass and kicked open the door.

"Flash" she whispered, horsely. She jingled the chains uselessly and cringed as her torso recoiled in pain.

"Bette you're alive!?" Flash asked incredulous.

"Clearly," Bette snapped, Flash unsnapped the chain and she fell to the ground.

"Let me help.." Flash reached for her hand.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, scorching away from him, "I can handle myself."

She gripped her hands tightly, making sure not touch the floor, and pulled herself up by her elbows. Then promptly felt a searing pain in her ribs and buckled to the floor.

"Bette, we need you to get you out of here. You can't walk." Flash insisted as she crawled on her elbows and knees to the door.

"I don't have gloves on. I don't want to hurt you." Bette hissed.

"I can handle this, come on" he tried to reached under arm and attempted to get her to standing position but she kept squirming out of his grasp.

"Trust me." The speedster said with urgency. Bette looked at him, and relaxed her muscles. If anyone would get her out of this. He would.

She offered him her wrist. He took it and took her to the outside world in a woosh of air.

She found out it was 2016, she had spent two years in that place and has sustained from 7 cracked ribs, a severe concussion, a slight fear of water, broken ankle and dislocated knee cap.

There had been other people kept captive at the place, but she had been the only one to stick around with Team Flash.

Caitlin offered her a new set of gloves and although she couldn't participate in missions until she was healed, she helped out the Labs with random jobs and surveillance.

It had been quite dull, but once she was fully healed from her injuries, Cisco suggested as a professional trained solider, that she could teach them to fight better.

She had been training them but Caitlin and Cisco soon ducked out after the first session, claiming that their expertise lied behind the computer screen and they rather be able to sit on their chairs without sore butts.

Barry, she learned his name was, continue to train with her since he was the one doing most of the fighting. She had to admit, despite some posture and technique problems since he depended on his speed, but he had the basic skills down and the superspeed reflexes helped him a lot.

"Okay Bette, stop I'm woah" he ducked her roundhouse kick "I'm done."

"It's only been 20 minutes," Bette protested, taking another head-butt at him. It felt so good to be exercising again.

"Can you let it up a little?" Barry asked.

"Do you think Zoom would let it up a little?" She elbowed him in the shoulder.

"Fine," He panted, and aimed another upper cut at her. It would have been an easy block, but she hesitated and he sent flat on the ground.

"What happened there, bombshell?" Barry asked as she got up. She smirked, Cisco had started to nickname her Bombshell after she explained that one of her best talents in the army was as a bomb detonator.

"Nothing. I mean.. I would have blocked it, but you know...hands. I'm so used to touching myself." She cringed, "Sorry that sounded so wrong."

"Well you have your gloves now. So come on throw something at me. Punch.” "I'm okay, really." Bette wiped her pants.

"Oh come on punch me. You've got to get use to touching things again, so try to hit me." Barry insisted.

"It's fine, I'll stick to kicking."

"Bette," Barry whined, exaggeratedly "Punch me. It's not hard. I won't even defend myself. See" he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Even more of a reason not to," Bette protested with the image of his head exploding into a thousand little pieces.

"But I'm use to it. It'll be fine. People punched me lots of times" He grabbed her wrist, and attempted to squash it against his face.

"Then have them do it. I'm not going to," She pulled her hands back. "You can't fight without punching people" Barry chided, shoving her backwards.

"Really? Because I was beating your ass two seconds ago." Bette snorted, dogging another swipe at her. She tried to flip his legs with her own when he grabbed hers midway and threw her over.

"Oh look who's beating your ass now," Barry taunted, as she tried to up kick him again, once more with the same results and again.

"Damn Bette, keep fighting like this and we'll have your butt imprint on the floor." Bette growled in frustration.

He kept knocking her over and circling around her with his damn superspeed until she finally snapped and sent a smooth undercut to his jaw.

He fell to the floor with a thud, Bette bend down to his side,

"Oh my god, Barry I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it so hard!"

"You did it" he cheered with such a happy grin that Bette had to laugh "Great job," He reached for a high five.

"'Another time" Bette glanced wearily at his hand and cracked her knuckles -

Eight weeks later, Barry had taken to what he called Operation Touchy and Bette sincerely wished he would choose a new name.

Ever since the punching incident he felt that she had to get acquainted with physical contact again and every week, after training he would "introduce" her to a new sense of touch. After punching, it had been slapping, after that it had been handshakes. It was sort of ridiculous and unneeded if you asked her but he kept trying.

There was another factor too.

The more time she spent with him, the more she came to admire him. She didn't want to admit it, but she was starting to get a small crush. At first she had tried to convince herself it was a misplaced feeling and that she only was grateful for helping her, no love whatsoever.

Besides he was dating Patti, she was not that kind of girl to ruin someone's relationship. He would be better off with Patti, she was as normal and awkward as he was. They were perfect together.

But then they started to get to know each other. That was one way not to get over someone. He started to tell her about his mother and how he had come to live with the Wests. He talked about his bio-engineer dreams, and school and how he used to get bullied when he was younger.

He also introduced her to some of his favorite shows, and after he found out she had no idea who Dan and Phil where they spent the entire afternoon looking up videos. He would send an occasional but very energetic email, saying "THEY POSTED A NEW ONE? IT'S HILARIOUS GO LOOK? LOL FUNNY!"

She admired his optimism very much, she never met anyone so happy, and it brightened her day to hear him crack a joke in midst pressure. One time he had sent a Dubsmash of him dancing to Gangam Style/Harlem Shake/Whip n Nae Nae and she almost collapsed on the floor, laughing.

She had never seen anything like a grown male attempting whip Gangam style then do the worm and trip over a bowl of popcorn.

Today he "introduced" her to poking. Which she was pretty sure just an excuse for him to annoy her.

Afterwards he invited her to watch Mean Girls at the Lab because Patti was working a night shift.

"Isn't this a chick flick?" Bette asked as he placed a bowl of popcorn on the desktop.

"Well, yeah but it's written by Tina Fey!" She looked at him blankly "And stars Lindsey Lohan" he added like those two names would be an obvious answer to why a PG-13 move from the early 200s would be so awesome.

"Watch and you'll understand," He sat on the rolling chair beside her and accidentally knocked his knee against hers. An act that shouldn't have been so electrifying for her but it was. She blushed and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

Bette felt a little disappointed that he didn't seem to have noticed their knees touching but she hissed at herself, "Patti Patti Patti Patti.” "What was that?" He asked her.

"Nothing" Bette chirped, and blushed again.

Eventually she fell asleep at some part about a Halloween party and she thrashed restlessly. She had been having nightmares ever since she got her powers, usually world-about-to-end-all-thanks-to-her-types but sometimes she had general ones of fallen friends as their body parts were sent flying fifty feet in the air or when they were beheaded and militated by the Taliban.

Currently it was a flashback to being water boarded, over but this time Eiling wasn't letting up. She felt the burn of his bullet going into her chest.

"Wake up!" A disembodied voice called and she woke up. Barry was holding her by the shoulders and shaking her awake. "Are you okay? You were about to fall off your chair."

"Uh yeah, a nightmare. Regular PTSD stuff, ignore me." Bette waved him off and tried to settle herself back into a comfortable position.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

"No. I'd rather not, I, Eiling that..um. Death hurts nothing much you can say about that.”

"Right, I get it" Barry nodded sagely. He reached his arms around her and she stiffened, unsure what to do.

"Now this is called hugging" Barry said, soothingly, stroking her hair. She felt her heart flutter a bit as his warm chest rested against hers, with his soft even breathing.

Slowly she put her hands around his back and rested her chin in the crook of his neck. He was so warm and so soft.

But like all things it had to end, and Bette wanted to slow the rapid flutterings in her stomach. "It meant nothing, just friend hugging a friend. He has a lovely girlfriend of his own who deserves him" she thought to herself.

But "I think I like hugging the best so far" she added shyly Barry grinned, "Me too, it's a lot less painful than slapping." ————

She had been about to leave S.T.A.R. Labs after Barry had returned from saving the subway when she spotted him, sitting melancholy on the patient table.

"Hey Barry, are you okay?" She asked him softly He sat silent.

"Did someone die? Do you want to talk about it?" She asked. "Patti," he sighed deeply.

It had been a month since Patti broke up with him, but he still had hurt feelings. She couldn't blame him, he had been over the moon with her but all the secret keeping and lies took a toll. Despite her feelings she hadn't want them to break up because of it. She actually encouraged him to tell her but it all came too late.

"Sometimes I feel like, I won't be enough for anyone. I'm too secretive. My intelligence scares them off. I'm too much like one of the girls. I've always been friend-zoned." Bette frowned, he must not only be talking about Patti,Iris was in this too.

"And then, I always make such lame excuses and jokes." This was more than the break-up, this was his whole self-esteem in the balance.

"Every time I try to find someone, I do but I end up losing them or endangering all the rest of the female population finds me utterly disgusting!"

Bette couldn't stand to see him like this. He resembled a symbol of hope and life to almost everyone in Central City, and although he couldn't save everyone he tried. He cared and he should know this.

"Barry, I want you to listen to me. Although it feels like it. You can't hold all the faults of the relationship on your shoulders. It's a relationship, a bond between TWO people. So for every mistake you made she made one too, it's not entirely one. Furthermore you're an amazing person Barry Allen.

You have more sense of fairness and justice in you than most people have in their pinkie. You want a fair trial, and you always put 110% in what you do. Believe me, people appreciate that. And in terms of people you care about. Barry you are the sweetest being in the universe. You cheer people up, you reason and sympathize with their troubles. What woman wouldn't love that about you. Know what else they would love about you, let's review" she started counting off her fingers.

"Singing voice is angelic, body 12 out of a scale of ten, your intelligence is outstanding and there is nothing cuter than when you start talking about what you love, you put your friends before your self and that's always very admirable, and most importantly you never stop being you. Which is what every girl looks for. That's true honesty."

Barry looked at her, mouth agape. "You're talking about me?" "Of course I am.” And for once, Bette didn't think about her hands or touching or anything else in the world. She only saw him and all the traits she had described. The incredibly smart, geeky man who saved the world on a daily basis. The man who had helped her in the darkest time and always looked at her with a smile.

She pulled his head closer to hers, gently caressing his cheek as she stared into his piercing brown eyes, and kissed him.

She pulled back, looking at his face for his reaction. "Thanks for what you said" Barry said, looking away.

Bette felt her heart dropped down to the floor, he didn't feel the same way, this was so embarrassing. Even if she had been gone for two years she doubted that people suddenly kissed to cheer friends up. She moved to leave.

"Now may introduce you to French kissing?" he asked. Bette turned back to him, and saw his eyes shining. "Yes" She pulled him closer, and fell into a tight, comforting embrace.

[there-is-a-hero-in-all-of-us]

Edelgard von Hrasvelg

Uhhhh hello

Welcome to my extended opinions on a fictional character that I don’t know if you heard of. Or if you expected to see this random person talk about. Months after release.

So Edelgard is my favorite character in Fire Emblem Three Houses, for months now she’s been called a tyrant, murder, some version of Hitler, etc.

This is something I have basically been going around asking about in great detail about because I do not get it.

But I remember this and maybe I can catch more disagreements here. 

So takes of various temperatures coming right up.

My biggest pitfall when I have this conversation is I often find myself thinking of the opposition as “Anti-War/Violence” which can be reductive.

So let’s start with context see where we land and how much bias can be input in the simple set up for a thing.

The land is Fodlan, split into three territories Addrestia, Faerghus, and Leciester Alliance. Some of that is probably misspelled. The House Leaders are all heirs to thrones of the regions. They attend school at Garreg Mach which is run by the Church of Seiros which is set up to be the real power in the land. There is a system of nobility which prioritizes Crest. Crest are something you are born with based on bloodlines.

Uhh spoilers I guess?

So there is this Flame Emperor working with some people they seem to hate that do the equivalent of committing terrorist attacks on Garreg Mach while you’re there. Down with the Church and all that. Oh and the only other group to ever do that was like this old guy Lonato who seems to believe it was a false goddess and you got sent to put him down.

No blasphemy here.

Oh your protag is mercenary that works with your Dad, you both get roped into jobs at Garreg Mach and during one of the Flame Emperor attacks your Dad gets murdered by one of those people the Flame Emperor seems to have this weird “I hate my staff” relationships with.

(Yo imagine if I had clips and shit as evidence for this, no this is low budget just take my word for it fam)

So yeah terrorist attacks on the church, dead dad Flame Emperor guy no bueno.

Oh god oh no, they’re a student of yours. It’s Edelgard.

Bet you didn’t see that coming.

Edelgard is here to take down the false goddess and end the system of Crest!

Now if you’re a good egg who loves your students and you recruited them all and listened to a bulk of their supports you might come out more like me.

If you were like the fuck is a support I am here for gameplay not chit chat back to murder. You might be like what the fuck Edelgard you (your people) killed my Dad.

There is a third group that is like this Church is too down with this whole murder thing and I’m not with it, so I’ll go with Edelgard.

Oh and I guess all the people who are playing Blue Lions and Golden Deer count too. But like pffft a route with no choices is barely worth discussing. (Jk Azure Moon is second best written route)

Let’s take a step back, I previously mentioned being persuaded by supports.

So let’s talk about what we can learn about crest in the early game! So you’ve got Mercedes, sweet girl, she’s a healer, devout too. She and her mother were taken in by nobles and then kicked to the curb when her mother gave birth to a son born with a crest.

Well that feels slimy.

It has to get better though, let’s move on to Bernadetta.

She’s... anywhere from adorable and must be protected to oh my god you are the most annoying character ever what is wrong with you.

She doesn’t like interacting with people much, she mostly stays in her room. Why you ask? Why would anyone? Trauma friends. You see she has a crest and she made friends with one of those good for nothing crestless losers and her Dad was like “no talking to filth” and then uhhh proceeded to physically assault her only friend. And now she’s afraid to have them.

That didn’t feel better...

Everyone’s favorite flirt must be cool with crest? Sylvain! Instant joins your class if you play as the female protag because like why wouldn’t he, he’s a flirt, but what’s this? He is deeply insecure and flirts because he feels that all the relationships in his life are superficial because the people only care about his crest?

Marianne is such a sweet girl why does she seem down? Oh she has a crest, but she keeps it a secret? I thought this were the way to the high life? Oh people discriminate against her based on her crest being that of the “beast”.

I could keep going, but I think that covers a decent variety of examples

Oh wait! Let’s talk about the the main squeeze!

Edelgard! 

She has a story too, oh she and 10 siblings were taken by the nobility against her fathers wishes where they were experimented on. Only she survived. Just so she could have another crest. And the people who did this? It was those guys she had that “I hate my staff” relationship with.

So at this point this student of mine is here standing against the biggest power in the country trying to destroy these crest and uproot the current nobility that at this point has proven to be... well, less than stellar.

But doing this starts a war...

This is about where things get pretty contentious.

Her actions will lead to change regardless of her victory or loss, people will most certainly die, is she wrong?

Well I guess that’s up to you.

But regardless of that I think it’s interesting how she is perceived. Like as a tyrant? Some variation of Hitler? Well her stated goal is to liberate Fodlan from the influence of the Church and allow humans to be in control of their fate. A land where the leaders are based on merit and who does and doesn’t have a crest.

Now if Fodlan superpower is the Church and they unite the others against Addrestia how can she be a tyrant when she doesn’t have full control...? I mean it seems like she”s more of a revolutionary if you will? A radical one at that.

And most times at this point people have made a few concessions. I understand why she did what she did, I just don’t agree with it.This is where I get a little on edge. You understand, but you disagree. Well, as you can see, herself and others are victims of the current system. When people have spoken out against it, they have been put down.You can argue the earlier group was violent and ready to fight, but there was no attempt to deescalate the situation. It was go and kill them from the jump.

You see wit the dependency on crest a system propped up and given weight by the church which is the core of power in the country there is no check.They have no reason to care or change the system that has put these people in the situations they are in.

Her direct challenge of that is the only way any change is able to begin.

I understand that violence is unsavory for a lot of people, that the death the war brings is a high price, but people were already dying because of the crest, it was just under the cover of the status quo. If we can create a future where people aren’t suffering because of something that they have no control over I think it’s worth fighting for instead of letting those in power, corrupt as they are continue to control the system that we seek relief from.

You can probably apply a modern lens at that last paragraph too if you think about it hard enough.

But yeah how does a character like this become the Hitler/Tyrant?

Goodness I haven’t even mentioned that the power of the Church is so great that she has to enlist the help of the people that she was tortured and experimented on by, the people that are the direct cause of the death of her siblings. That she openly hates them as much as the system she’s fighting to bring down but is powerless on her own. She states that once the war is done she will handle them next and find a person to rule over Fodlan in her place. 

Which like giving up power once you’ve obtained isn’t very tyrannical.  

[osleyakomwonkru]

5+1 Character Classes in The 100 and Why They Matter

So I’m spinning off a bit from @loganmarshallrps‘ excellent post “Why Killing Octavia Could Kill The 100″ because I really started thinking on all of the character roles and this is the result of that.

I’ve identified five character classes (classes being a term from Dungeons & Dragons, referring to a character’s key capabilities, strengths and weaknesses) that are elemental to The 100 universe. I use the term “class” instead of archetype, because this is more about their jobs in the narrative rather than their particular personalities, because sometimes they do have to function outside of their best class, and when that happens, the narrative usually suffers.

So these five character classes are: The Diplomat, The Leader, The Fixer, The Scientist and The Soldier. Then our +1 is the rarer Multi-Class Master - characters who are masters in two or more of the aforementioned classes (in contrast to the cases I mention in the previous paragraph where characters have to function outside of their best class, and therefore aren’t masters). The Diplomat, Leader and Fixer roles are the most vital to the narrative (and the ones that our main trio belong to), while the Scientist and Soldier are by their nature supporting roles. 

I’ve classified our living members of Earthkru into these categories, with special mentions to some deceased characters as well.

The Diplomat

The Diplomat is a role that people may often pin as The Leader, but as you’ll see below in that section, they have different jobs. The Diplomat is also a leader of sorts, but their role is focused externally - they are the ones who represent their people to the other groups that are encountered throughout the narrative, who engage with them, and make deals for the benefit of their people. How successful they are at this is always up for debate, but they try.

As we’d expect, this is the category where we find our ambassadors Clarke and Kane. Back on Earth, the Commanders, like Lexa, would also fit this role, since they have to keep all of the clans somewhat happy. Had he survived past the first three episodes, Wells would have probably also been a Diplomat.

The Leader

While the Diplomat focuses outward into the wider world, the Leader is the one tasked with keeping order at home. Their primary concern is the well-being of their people in the here and now, rather than worrying about what might happen in the future (that’s the job of the Diplomat). This means they’re more involved in the day to day activities and storylines of the secondary characters, since out of the three lead roles (Diplomat, Leader, Fixer) they will be the ones who are around them more, since the narrative requires the Diplomat and the Fixer to be more mobile.

This is the most important narrative role for Bellamy, as well as Madi. While past Commanders would have been Diplomats, representing for all clans, since now we’ve just got Earthkru, the Commander moves more into a Leader role (assuming the adults don’t keep restricting her). This was also generally the main narrative role for Jaha, even with the City of Light plotline, because as Kane and Abby played Grounder politics games in season 2 and 3, Jaha was still focused on Skaikru (until he was chipped, and even then, he returned to Skaikru first). Roan would be another leader, though he did also try his hand at diplomacy to mixed success.

The Fixer

The Fixer is perhaps the most vital role in a narrative such as The 100 - they’re the ones who make first contact with new people, places and ideas; they connect different and sometimes conflicting parts of the narrative together, and so on.

They are the most mobile pieces on the narrative chessboard, since they’re often characterized by weak and/or divided loyalties to the different groups in play, thus outsiders either by circumstance or by choice, and that means they’re able to move between them as needed (though often still with some sort of personal sacrifices). This also means that they spend a large amount of each season away from the rest of Adventure Squad, bringing the pieces together in the final act of the season.

Fixers can also be categorized into three different types - Active (they seek out these connections on purpose), Reactive (they make connections based on moves others have made and provide course correction) and Passive (these connections happen upon them by accident).

Of our three living Fixers, we’ve got one of each type -

Octavia is the Active type of Fixer, and you can read @loganmarshallrps‘ linked post above to see more details on her vital role in the narrative.

Niylah is the Reactive type of Fixer. Some examples: She puts a human face on Farm Station’s grounder army massacre, setting Bellamy back on the right path; gives Jaha the knowledge he needs to find the Second Dawn bunker; releases Clarke from Wonkru custody so she can try to stop the ascension; wakes Octavia from cryosleep against Abby’s orders.

Murphy is the Passive type of Fixer. Generally speaking, his entire character arc has been about trying to avoid the narrative entirely, but he always keeps getting pulled back in, and this is why - he always happens across some sort of information that ends up being vital. This starts in season 1, when he’s cast out but then returns to the delinquent camp with the sickness, but is most apparent in season 3, when he figures out the Becca/Polaris connection to the Commanders before anyone else does, as well as the information about ALIE. In season 6, he seems to be back in this role again as Josephine taps him to be her way into Earthkru’s secrets.

As to our dead Fixers, there are two main ones - Lincoln and Finn.

The Scientist

The Scientist is the character (or characters, rather, since there’s quite a few of them) that is the keeper of knowledge. While the Diplomat and Leader are ideas-oriented, the Scientist is results-oriented. Their role in the main narrative is to take the pieces of information fed to them by the Fixer and turn it into something that the Leader and the Diplomat can put to use, as well as keep people alive through whatever day-to-day shenanigans are going on.

This is the class where we of course see our tech master Raven, but also the medical professionals Abby and Jackson, as well as Flamekeeper Gaia. Our list of deceased Scientists is long, but Sinclair and Monty are the biggest names.

The Soldier

As the name implies, the Soldier is the one who carries out the orders of the Leader and/or Diplomat. They may sometimes take on some minor Fixer roles, if the person they answer to is the Leader or if the main Fixers aren’t around at the time, but they don’t generally have the same connections or narrative reach. If the person in charge that they answer to is a Diplomat, however, they may also take on some minor Leader roles.

We don’t have many remaining living named characters who fall into this class, since they’re generally the most disposable of the five and would be the default classification for all minor characters. But with us still we do have Miller (who has worked as a Fixer under both Bellamy and Octavia when they’re Leaders), Indra (who has worked as a Leader under Diplomat Lexa) and Brell. Then we can take a moment for all of our deceased Soldiers, chief among them Harper, David Miller, Jasper, Monroe and the rest of the Delinquents.

Multi-Class Master

This is a special category, with three special ladies and (perhaps) one special guy.

Diyoza is the master Jack of All Trades, as it were - as long as she’s not trying to do everything all at once. Trying to do that is when she ends up failing at all of them. But we’ve seen her excel at both Diplomat and Leader, she’s been a Soldier in the past, and it wouldn’t be surprising if she also had some Scientist skills from her time as a terrorist leader. And now in season 6, she’s joined Octavia on the Fixer journey that she’s usually off on by herself.

Echo, as a trained spy, specializes in both the Fixer and Soldier classes. She has the Fixer skillset, but only utilizes it as a Soldier due to the intense loyalty she exhibits to her Leader, and thus doesn’t have the same mobility or flexibility that a regular Fixer would have.

Emori started out in the Fixer category, but her six years on the Ring have also given her a complementary Scientist skillset, and she uses this one more often now than she does her Fixer skills.

Jordan is still something of a question mark - his parents were a Scientist and a Soldier, and while Jordan certainly does have a Scientist skillset, since he’s been in Sanctum he’s been playing both Diplomat and Fixer roles instead. As the story progresses, we’ll see if he fits one category better than the others.

Now, for the story to flow well and for our protagonists to “win” (however winning is defined in the story arc), three things are necessary:

The three leads - Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia - must play the narrative roles they’re best at - Diplomat, Leader, Fixer, respectively

They must all be on the same side

They must be communicating with each other as much as possible

The first half of season 3 is the first time we have discord here - while the three of them are in their best narrative roles, they’re not communicating effectively, and not on the same side after Bellamy sides with Pike. The Pike problem is dealt with in Clarke’s absence by Kane stepping into the primary Diplomat role in Clarke’s stead, and then Clarke returns and the narrative goes on as it should for the rest of the season.

Season 5 is when everything is turned on its head. The trio had all switched roles, and this is why they end up having to flee Earth. Well, McCreary is the reason they had to flee Earth, but really the success or failure of our protagonists generally rests on the the Fixer, and in this case the Fixer was Clarke. Who shouldn’t fix anything, ever. Octavia was tied down by her Leader role, and Bellamy failed at being the Diplomat. Result? Earth go boom.

Thankfully, in season 6 everyone has returned to their usual roles, but we’re back in the same problem as at the beginning of season 3 - while Clarke is the Diplomat, Bellamy is the Leader and Octavia is the Fixer, they’re separated by distance, enmity and brain occupation, meaning that unless the three of them can unite again, we’re currently headed into the shitstorm that was the middle of season 3.

Will they be able to solve their inner discord to be able to tackle the greater storyline? Which we may not even know yet? Will one of the supporting characters have to step into one or more of the roles that usually belong to the leading trio? Could they do so successfully?

I guess we’ll see.

[thecorteztwins]

Well, these are some headcanons that I have for some of my favorite minor Marvel characters that I don’t have a blog for-- Aireo, Aqueduct, Catsye, Darkstar, Fantasma, and Skein. Under the cut in alphabetical order!

AIREO AKA SKYBREAKER - Aireo was originally imprisoned in Attilan for rebelling against Black Bolt’s rule. And after he had been exiled into the human world and became a criminal there, he was imprisoned in a superhuman jail, where he said that it was even more regressive than his fellow Inhumans. Based on this, I think he probably had a lot of problems with the shittier aspects of how Attilan was run, like the arranged/forced marriages and control of who could reproduce with who. He clearly thinks Inhumans are still superior though, as evident by remarks he makes to Firestar. - He’s frequently sick due to the pollution of the human world. This is also why he has to only eat organic. - He’s a vegetarian, since Attilan doesn’t have animals that’s what he’s used to. He finds the idea of eating meat to be barbaric. - His skinniness might be unhealthy on someone else, but it’s how he’s SUPPOSED to be, to facilitate flight easier on the winds he summons. - His brother is HELIO, another villainous minor Inhuman with long hair and wind powers. - He connects with his teammate Terraformer over their respective lack of humanity (in the sense of literally not being human), with Firewall over their mutual anger at regressive systems, and yet it’s Aqueduct, who has the LEAST in common with, that he’s ended up being best buds with...even though he won’t ADMIT that he’s FRIENDS with a HUMAN. - After being exiled from Attilan, I think he just kind of fell into human crime because it was all he could do? He has no human identity, citizenship, or documentation, he has no job skills or degrees, he wouldn't even understand human culture or money when he first started. I imagine he was probably manipulated and exploited a lot for his powers at first, which didn’t help his opinion of humanity. - It pisses him off EXTREMELY how his former boss Maximus gets all the second chances just because he’s Black Bolt’s brother. AQUEDUCT aka Peter Van Zante! - There are SO MANY Peters in Marvel already that I always refer to him by his codename, so I would write him as strictly going by Aqueduct, Aque, Van Zante, Van, or Zante  because calling him Peter just makes even ME think of other characters...and after typing that I nearly called him Peter instead of Aque during every point of this list. - He fought in Vietnam so of course he’d be much older if he aged in real-time, but this being comics he gets to eternally be 30 to 40. I picture him as like....33. Maybe 36 max. - He just seems to be a real loser in canon no matter what he’s doing and who he’s fighting, and I like that. Being an aquekinetic should theoretically be an INCREDIBLE power, especially when he gained the ability to instantly dehydrate someone to death, but the poor guy has just never managed to be anything above a D-list threat. He doesn’t seem very smart or imaginative in how to use his powers, and he also just has terrible luck in terms of the heroes he winds up going against (who often end up being immune to water powers in some way) All of this makes him super endearing to me because of course it does. - Heterosexual. He’s had three steady girlfriends in his life, none of which worked out, and he’s not great with women. He’s visited strip clubs and even paid for sex before but he’s not proud of this, he’s just lonely. -His self-esteem seems very easily influenced by external events. For instance, when he's suffered a setback or defeat, he becomes insecure, pessimistic, and dumps on himself terribly. All the insecurity vanishes, however, the moment he has the upper hand. He becomes a gloating megalomanic, drunk on his own sudden rush of self-esteem, certain of his unbeatable supremacy. - I think he feels much better when he's working with a group; he hasn’t left Force of Nature since he joined up. I think it’s because he can enjoy the mental high of success, but escape the lows of defeat by deferring the responsibility for it on to whoever is in charge. But I also think he genuinely enjoys having friends and comrades. -We never see or hear anything about his family so I headcanon they’re estranged from him due to his being a loser, like he probably has borrowed a lot of money from his parents over and over that he never paid back, that kind of thing.

- He's moody, and not very bright. He's not bad socially, definitely the sort you could have a beer with, but he's also not the most sensitive or astute. He’s probably the nicest person on the Force of Nature squad, though of course he’s shown to hesitate to kill at all during his job as a merc for exco-terrorists. - While I see the rest of Force of Nature as genuinely having some degree of personal investment in Project Earth (the eco-terrorists who hired them) I don’t think Aque does. He doesn’t hate nature or anything, just the usual limit of his “environmentalism” is that he’ll put his beer can in the recycling bin if one is around. - He’s listed as rather overweight for his height. That’s probably meant to be muscle mass, especially given how he’s drawn...but his teammate Aireo/Skybreaker is listed as drastically underweight and drawn the same way, suggesting more to me that the artists just can only draw one body type for men. Because muscles or not, there’s a 100 pound difference between these dudes, they should NOT look this close in size. So my headcanon instead is that AIreo is super skinny and Aqueduct is kinda hefty, and I draw them that way. While there can be many reasons a person is fat or chubby, I admit I do go the common cliche route with Aque---he just doesn’t have a great diet, I picture him as mostly eating at greasy cheap diners and fast food and probably having one too many beers at times. - He’s pretty much trapped in villainy at this point, he can’t really get any kind of legitimate job anymore, so he’s just go to keep doing what he’s doing. He’s not opposed to it, he doesn’t have a moral issue or anything, but he doesn’t like not having a CHOICE, or the knowledge that he put himself here. - He doesn’t seem to have any issues from being in Vietnam, but his encounter with the Ghost Rider and the effects of his whole hellfire-stare thing messed him up so badly he had a mental breakdown and spent time in an asylum, and loses his shit whenever the Ghost Rider is near or even mentioned. So I don’t think it’s even a headcanon to say he’s traumatized by that, it’s just canon. All of Force of Nature also gets a little unhinged from the weeks they’re trapped fighting in a Trans-Sabal war zone, and I imagine there were effects of that afterwards for Aqueduct too. - He’s introduced with SHORT HAIR when he’s the solo Water Wizard, but gets a LONG HAIRSTYLE when he joins Force of Nature that later changes to a MOHAWK STYLE...I draw him with the original short hair, I like it best on him and I think it suits the personality that I read into him. - We never see him in civilian-wear, but I picture him as in just like...very basic working-class guy stuff? Like flannels over t-shirts with jeans and work boots, that kind of thing. Probably leans towards blues and greens with brown neutrals. CATSEYE aka Sharon Smith! - Fanart often depicts her with collar-style necklaces and chokers, but I headcanon her as hating these, since a lot of real cats actually can’t stand them. - She had to be taught to wear clothes, of course, and that was a battle for Emma, but now that she does, she picks her own out. She has a preference for things that are comfy and allow for a lot of movement, without being too restrictive or too loose. A lot of her stuff is therefore athletic-wear, and she always has a swimsuit-like garment underneath that is made of unstable molecules so she can transform without being naked when she resumes her human state. She’s developed a surprisingly good eye for what colors look best on her, such as yellow, orange, pink, and teal. She even knows to limit the purple she wears, and to not wear it close to her face lest it clash with her purple hair, despite purple being her FAVORITE color because that’s what color she is! -  According to Emma’s files, Catseye could detect lies and hated them, but it’s never explained HOW she knew that someone was lying. My headcanon is she could smell them, or more specifically, smell the subtle physiological changes that accompany someone lying. So if someone is lying and THEY KNOW IT, she’d smell it. If someone thinks they are telling the truth, these changes wouldn’t take place, and thus she’d believe them. Likewise, these scents won’t accompany things like billboards or commercials, so she would believe those, hence one issue where Jetstream explains to her that television is a bunch of lies. - Emma’s theory is that she was abandoned at birth for her mutation and adopted in a feral cat colony, but my theory is she was actually abandoned at an older age, around five, at which point she’d have already learned how to speak English. She just forgot it, along with her formal life, after years with the cats as a cat herself. So it’s not that she LEARNED English after never having known it, she REGAINED it. This is much more realistic for a feral child; if a child isn’t exposed to language by a certain age, it is pretty much impossible for them to learn to talk at a later age like Catseye did. I looked up a bunch of real feral child cases, and age five is the youngest at which they could be abandoned and still regain speech later. Obviously, telepathy from Emma would help too, along with Sharon’s own ferocious intelligence, which is probably how she managed to do it so quickly instead of it taking years and years! -  Catseye was a lesbian. She only ever remarks on the appearance of girls (Amara, Angelica, Rahne) and if she finds them pretty or not. I just think it would take a long time for her to come around to it, not because they are girls (she doesn't care about THAT, she never absorbed any homophobia to internalize from CATS) but because they're HUMAN, which she does not see herself as being, so feeling attraction to humans is super weird for her. -  I think that Jetstream really looked out for Catseye. He does things in canon like stopping her from jumping on Magma when she's in flame mode, or explaining to her that she can't trust what the television tells her. I think they were total bros and he was always making sure she didn't hurt herself or get in trouble as best he could. And while Catseye didn’t think she needed the help, I think she was affectionate to him right back, there’s a panel where she rubs against his hand in feline form, which we never saw her do with anyone else to my memory. - Sharon same allergies and dietary limits as a cat (such as lilies making her very sick), and is vulnerable to feline diseases along with human ones. But she also has the feline resistance needed to do things like eat raw meat without fear of illness or parasites. - We know animals have their own languages in Marvel (see: Squirrel Girl talking to squirrels) so I headcanon she can communicate with cats, they just don’t give a shit what she says because they’re CATS, they’re not going to do what she says the way dogs or squirrels do. So what if she’s another cat? People don’t do what another person tells them just because they’re both human! - She’s not afraid of water, nor does catnip make her go crazy, but the laser pointer does! She also has a big collection of things like milk bottle rings, hair bands, and other things pet cats love to play with. DARKSTAR aka Laynia Petrovna! - At the board I write her at, I write her as a lesbian. There is admittedly NO canon evidence for this, but there’s also very little against it? She’s only had ONE boyfriend, when she first showed up, and none since. There could be a LOT of other reasons for this, of course, but I also think it’s totally beieviable that a teenage lesbian (I estimate she was like 19 at that point) who was in the employ of the SOVIET UNION (which was not nice to gays) to have a beard (and probably believe herself she was straight) and to stay closeted as an adult since because Russia is still...not great, to the say the least. I think she’d be cute with Monet, so based on that I’m going to say her type is good-but-dangerous women with shoulder-length-or-longer hair who have toned arms/biceps and are moderately-to-high femme like her. - I estimate her age as around 33 now? Like probably close in age to the O5 X-Men. - Based on a remark she made to Iron Man in one issue, I see her as viewing anyone she fights beside as automatically being her friend, even if they don’t feel the same way. - We rarely see her in civilian clothes, I think only once, so my fashion headcanons are all based mostly on her costumes. I think she bases her outfits around a dark, cool color scheme, like black or blue, then adds bright accents/accessories. Due to coming from cold Russia, short bottoms aren’t in her wardrobe and most of her sleeves are long. She favors high-necked blousy belted tops with sleek pants and functional but pretty boots. Her long blonde is eternally pushed back. by some sort of headband. Cloth, plastic, wood, plain, pearls, bejeweled, patterned, she has them in near every variety possible and they are her most common accessory. She also owns a large assortment of stylish winter coats, scarves, gloves, and hats. Because, again, Russian. She's not much one for bracelets, preferring brooches and pendants more, typically in oval or starburst shapes. She has a love for black velvet, and it will show up for dressy events in forms such as a rhinestone-dotted envelope handbag or round-toed pumps with ankle straps. - Laynia collects small antique music boxes and crystal glass figurines of pretty things like ballerinas and swans. She likes black velvet jewel pillows, gemstones (clear, black, or yellow) all sorts of museums (but especially art, astronomy, and natural history) and the sight of pure white snow under the street lamps at night before people can ruin it into dirty slush the next day. Laynia likes sweet delicate desserts like rock candy, powder candy, jujubes, marzipan, and bliny or oladyi with varenya style fruit preserves. She likes classical, romantic, disco, pop, and synth music. Her favorite animals are white weasels/minks (because they're so pretty and cute) and wolves (because they're beautiful too, but also such social animals with strong family dynamics) Laynia likes “slice of life” fictional media, such as domestic drama novels or family-centered sitcom shows. These are fantasies for her, these are escapes from what’s “normal” in her life. For the same reason, she avoids spy thrillers and similar genres, no matter how unrealistic they are in their depictions. She delights in mundane tasks. Likes working in small groups, dislikes working alone or large groups. Black flowers and butterflies

- Dislikes: Being asked about Putin or the Romanovs or things like that, just because she’s Russian. People not knowing the difference between Russian and Belarusian, zhurek and tukmachi (too fatty), any kind of preserved fish dish (fish should only be served fresh or not at all!) Getting her eyelashes in her eyeball when they fall out . - In one comic, she anthropomorphizes the Darkforce, calling it "she" and believing it has feelings or at the very least is capable of pain. My headcanon for what she actually feels when she feels the Darkforce in "pain" is due to simply her mental connection to her own Darkforce constructs that allows her to create, maintain, and manipulate them. When they are attacked, dissipated, or changed against her will, she feels that as pain, and interprets it as the Darkforce being in pain "herself" - Based on a comment she makes at one point, I think that though not religious aside from a vague conception of Heaven and its goodness/judgement, Laynia is a strong believer in the supernatural, in particular of ghosts. She is not, however, a fan of them, and would prefer to stay away from anywhere that is rumored to be haunted, had a tragedy occur there, or simply feels creepy to her (based on another comment she makes in another instance) - Because Laynia was brought up not to complain, she often won’t express that something is bothering her or that someone has offended her. She thinks she’s doing the right thing, but many people would in fact far prefer that she speak up if she’s got a problem. -Laynia lacks a lot of basic life skills because they simply weren’t taught to her in the “school” she was raised in. For instance, what outfits are appropriate where, car maintenance, budgeting, cleaning, and cooking. She was taught how to find and prepare food in the Siberian wilderness should she ever be stranded or stationed there, but not how to go to the supermarket and make a normal meal in a normal kitchen. She knows to turn to Google for most of this stuff, she's not stupid, but it can be surprising to some people what she doesn't know, and she often doesn't even know it's something she needs to know until it comes up. - Laynia is automatically inclined to trust and obey doctors, professors, and similar people, as well as military personnel. It doesn’t mean she’ll do or believe absolutely anything they say, that depends what it is, but she gives their opinion and approval more weight than she does other people. Laynia also takes criticism from her superiors very personally, but doesn't show it. Crying every time you get reprimanded of course wasn't something you're allowed to do when being trained by the State, so of course she'd never show it, but she would FEEL it because she was taught that her entire purpose was to serve said State, thus her self-worth hinges on it, and a failure hurts that self-worth. This need for approval from authorities means she’ll try to evade blame when something goes awry, and is loath to step out of line. This can make her a snitch, a suck up, and disliked by her peers for it. Laynia does her best to put up a kind and cordial demeanor to all, and retain a polite decorum even when it’s not returned. This is more to avoid making waves in the team than anything else. If there is discord in the ranks, she refuses to ever be the one to blame for it. It’s not that Laynia doesn’t question orders ever. She does. And she does sometimes find her moral conscience at odds with them. The problem is that she seldom acts on these thoughts, instead proceeding with her missions despite her misgivings. FANTASMA sometimes called Fantasia (all for her PRIOR to finding out she’s a Dire Wraith and resuming the evil ways of her kind) - Given the name Faina Neizvestny (Neizvestny meaning "unknown" rather than the usual patronymic Russian surname) and the codename Fantasma. She thought this was a reference to how she was essentially a ghost, someone with no past and no paper trail. In fact it was someone's idea of a joke---a phantasm is a ghost, and another word for ghost is wraith. She didn't know the implication, but she felt far more connected to her codename than her civilian name, perhaps because it wasn’t a human name at all. She quickly grew to only introduce herself as Fantasma whenever possible, and to only answer to such. What’s more, she leaned towards preferring codenames for her teammates well, finding it somehow infantile that they kept their human names when they had earned something grander. Nicknames: Fanny, Fanty, Fan, Tas (all disliked) - Likes elegant perfume bottles that are as much decoration as container, beluga caviar and raw squid, The Conet Project recordings (it's basically music to her) as well as Imogen Heap/Frou Frou, ethereal darkwave, and some trance music, the cold Dislikes confined spaces (we see this in canon) When one first meets Fantasma, she gives the impression of being cool and aloof. Despite her unfailing and prim politeness even in dire circumstances, her manner is cold, brusque, and impersonal, even among those she counts as allies and friends. The best way to describe Fantasma might be a sociopath who is trying not to be a sociopath. In fact, that’s exactly what she thinks she is. Fantasma does not have an internal sense of empathy or morals. She wants to, and she does her best to compensate for this lack, but it's not something she naturally has. Her bio-fields allow her to recognize the pain of others, to share in it, but she doesn't actually feel anything when she sees people hurt or danger. Not without the aid of tapping into her bio-field. And while she will do her best to save innocent people from being hurt, that's because she knows as an intellectual fact that it's what a "good person" would do, and she desires to act as a good person would. All her good actions are exactly that, an intellectual choice to be what she deduces from the norms of society is "good"; she has no internal guiding sense of goodness whatsoever. She wants one. But it's not there. So she just does her best, trying to learn what's "good" from outside sources---books, television, the actions and reactions of other people--and act accordingly. But her heart isn't in it; she knows logically that murder is worthy of greater punishment than jaywalking, but she doesn't feel greater ire at one or the other. She simply understands both are wrong by the standards of law and society, and one is considered more wrong, and should thus be treated as such by a "good" person. Fantasma often feels disconnected from the rest of humanity, like she's a monster or at least not normal. Partly, it's because of her aforementioned lack of "human" mental traits. But it's more than that. She has a constant, distinct sense of simply not belonging, like she's perpetually a stranger in a strange land no matter where she goes, no matter how long she's been there. She doesn't even feel comfortable in her own body, no matter which form she takes. When she's in her true form, she feels like a hideous monster, because that's what it is. But when she's in the beautiful human form that she's so painstakingly crafted to be perfect, she feels what almost might be called dysphoria. She hates both states, and also craves them equally, wanting to be herself and wanting to be a beautiful normal woman. It's torment. It's this feeling of alienation that drives her to try to be as "good" as she can. She feels that she can "fake it til she makes it" in terms of being a normal person, that if she just ACTS like a person with normal empathy and morals enough, she can eventually be one, or at least indistinguishable from one. She'll be like everyone else. And then she won't have the horrible feeling of NOT being like anyone else. Her feeling of not belonging has also made her desire acceptance, and she's learned that her natural personality doesn't win her any favors from most folks, she feels that she can instead be loved and accepted for heroic actions. This has the added bonus of letting her be loved and accepted from a DISTANCE, by society as a whole, rather than having to develop an actual relationship with another person. One can imagine how someone like her might have trouble with that. And she doesn't really want it anyway. She doesn't want to be close with anyone, not anyone she's ever met anyway. She just wants to feel she's one of them. She wants to feel comfortable in the world she lives in, like she belongs in it. Maybe once she does, she'll feel comfortable in her own skin too, or at least one of them. And...she really does want to be good, to be a person. She's aware she's missing something, she's aware she's probably little different than many of the evil individuals she's encountered. But she can be different in her deeds, at least if not her soul. And doesn't the DESIRE the be better than what she is, in itself make her better? While she has an intellectual understanding of how to be deceitful, and will do so in the service of the greater good (ex: lying to an enemy), she cannot understand how to be truly manipulative, as that requires understanding of the normal human thought process and emotions that she does not have, and Fantasma’s feelings are mainly loneliness, irritation, and resilient acceptance. She doesn’t feel affection and love but knows when she should and based her relationships on that. Her sense of pleasure is mainly physical, though she’s never found any food or drinks she actually LIKES, nor is she sexually attracted to humans. Might seem odd that someone essentially asexual dresses as she does, does so for approval, desire, to show off her body and be wanted and seen as beautiful. She's proud of what she's made, and wants it to be admired. She also of course perceives the negative emotions that her attire elicits---the scorn, the the scoffing, the catty comments, the raw animal lust and sexual presumption--but she has decided it's an acceptable cost for the right to display herself as her own living work of art. Her feelings seldom run hot even in the height of battle, and when she's angry, it's an icy cold anger. When not merely coldly polite and cordially distant, she'll often use her bio-field abilities to simply tap into the other person's mood and reflect it back at them. Fantasma prefers cold climates She innately respects female authorities more than male. She’ll obey a male commander because she’s supposed to follow who’s in charge, but dominant “alpha” females in positions of power give her an actual URGE to obey them and seek their favor (based on Dire Wraiths being matriarchal and serving a Queen Moher) Fantasma can be loyal if she chooses to be. And she does choose it. It's a deliberate choice, not a feeling. She selects what organization she will be loyal to (she has an easier time with these than with individual people) based on how ethical it is and the opportunity it will allow her to use her powers for the good of others. She knows that she herself may not be able to find these opportunities on her own, nor always make the right ethical decision on her own, and thus prefers being able to look to an official authority, such as the state, for instructions. She's savvy enough, of course, to realize that a government-sanctioned team will be given instructions with the government's benefit in mind, but so long as that also involves protecting and serving the people, she's willing to do as she's told either way. Thus, she chooses to be loyal by simply acting as a loyal person would, taking orders and carrying them out, and taking a bullet for her teammates even if she feels nothing for them personally. Fantasma knows when others dislike her, but never feels hurt or angry about it. She's the definition of not taking it personally, even when it's very personal. Because of this, she is never one to fuel a feud or participate in petty squabbles. She does feel vindictive when slighted, but since she believes good people don't seek vengeance over personal slights, only justice against real evil and wrongdoing, she does not act on these feelings. Not many things give her joy. But she sometimes feels an urge, something deeper and far more primal than a daydream, of pieces of herself spreading far and wide, taking over everything, overtaking all life like a fungus covering a forest. And that...feels so right. Overall, Fantasma is basically a humanitarian robot, going through all the motions of goodness and compassion as dictated by the norms of society, without any of the internal drive normally behind such actions. She essentially encapsulates the philosophical question---does one's motives for doing good matter, so long as one does it anyway? SKEIN aka Sybil Dvorak - Her backstory is that she was always a loner who kept to herself by choice, til she fell in love with an American movie star who took her back to Los Angeles with him. Because she was an illegal immigrant (and he wouldn’t marry her to make her legal) she ended up confined to the house, and she suspected he was having affairs. After she got her citizenship and he mysteriously died, leaving everything to her, she started a “cult” in which she provided drugs to junkies in exchange for them worshipping her and bringing her soft things. Now, the thing is, drugs are going to cost more than fabrics, feathers, and even some furs. If she JUST wanted soft stuff, she could have bought it directly herself. I think what she really wanted was the people. Despite how much she came to hate her late lover, she was lonely after his death, something she had never experienced before, having always previously been a loner by her own choice. She wanted people around for the first time. But this time, she wanted the control. Hence, the use of drugs to keep them wrapped around her finger as their provider. - She has a cold, haughty, almost emotionless affect when she first appears, and for awhile after, as well as speaking very formal English and wearing a very modest costume. In the 90s, when she takes the new codename “Skein” as opposed to G****y Moth, she also takes on a new thrill-seeking and hypersexual persona, a revealing costume, and a much more casual way of speaking. My theory is that as she became more exposed to wild and criminal lifestyles through the junkies and through the other supervillains she worked with later, she began to find that thrillseeking hedonism made her feel “alive” in a way she hadn’t previously been, hence her change from a cold personality to a very hot one. I feel like engaging in lots of sensual pleasures is all an extension of her sensory fascination with soft things. As she spent more time in America, her English also just naturally got more casual since that’s how most people around her would be speaking it. - Problematic representation though she is, I do indeed agree with the fanon opinion she’s hinted as bisexual. - She’s from Romania, but her surname (Dvorak) is Czech. As it happens, Czech Romanians are an ethnic minority there numbering about four thousand, so my headcanon is that’s what she is. - Her canon backstory is that she was “raised by Roma” (except of course Marvel uses the g-slur) which...implies she’s NOT Roma, and that they just raised her, which begs the question of what happened to her family? It reminds me of antiziganist myths about Roma stealing children, not to mention that given how Roma are stereotyped as thieves (and the women as hypersexual) I decided to minimize her connection to anything Romani in my headcanon, and say instead that she came from a Czech Romanian family and she just TOLD other kids she was “raised by Roma” because they seemed cool to her, being the little loner she was. - I headcanon that her love for softness extends to people, that she’s most attracted to people who are “soft” in some way, be in physically or in their personality. Case in point, I headcanon her with a crush on Haven, because like...curvy body, soft hair, soft clothes, soft-looking eyes, soft voice, gentle personality. Total package right there as far as Skein sees it...aside from not being sexual at all or at all into women. Drat! (I feel like Aqueduct is kinda sweet on Haven too, though I feel weird about making TWO characters attracted to her but I mean...shit, I would be, and she’s not even my typical type!) - I think being overtly flirtatious might be the only way she knows how to connect with people. I don’t mean to pathologize her sexuality, like women can just BE sexy and flirty without there being some deep reason, and I think that’s partly it here too, but also in the context of her larger personality I think this is partly it as well.

[jamlally]

Family Fineary

This was written for the 25 days of Christmas Challenge that is hosted by  @panicfob .  The Day 2 Challenge prompt was Decorating the Tree

Warnings: Fluff 

Pairing:  OFC x Tony Stark (platonic)

Summary: Belle Porter has settled into her role as a part of the Avengers, at least as far as her work goes but when it comes to dealing with the team off the clock it is a different story

Belle rubbed her hand over her eyes, which were feeling the strain of the many hours that she had spent looking at digital files, maps and video feed finishing the analysis the last of the teams missions.  She loved her job but there was no denying that it could be tiring even though she wasn’t out in the field with the others. When Tony Stark had offered her the position as a mission analyst for the Avengers she couldn’t believe her luck.  She had been sure that he was about to kick her out of the training program, but he and Steve Rogers had seen something in her and now here she was today

It was well into December and she was just coming up on the year anniversary of officially joining the team, Steve and Natasha had been been teasing her about it over the coms when they were heading back, asking if she had any special plans.  She had tried her best to avoid getting too drawn into the conversation, mentioning that she might go out to dinner.  When they had asked whether her family would be joining her she had told them that they were busy and couldn’t make it.  The truth was her family, well there was only her mother didn’t approve of her job and they wouldn’t want to be involved in any ‘celebrations’.  

She had called her Mother the evening that she signed the contract excited to share the news with her only surviving relative.  The sigh from her mother was not the reaction that she had expected

“Really Belle, I thought that you would grown out of the nonsense.  It is bad enough you picked all those courses to get into the SHIELD program but now you’re telling me not only are you staying there you will be working with those other people.  I mean really.  You can’t honestly expect me to be ok with you working with a group of people who, at any other time, would be called terrorists!”

“They aren’t terrorists Mum !.  They help people, they save lives.  You know that this is what I wanted to do.  I explained it all to you.  I’ve worked hard for this and I…I want you to be happy for me”. Her voice wavered as she struggled to try and make her mother see that thus was her dream

“They have killed people Belle!  Innocent people.  I don’t know why you can’t see what they truly are.  I want you to come home now and we will forget all about it.  I will talk with Mr Dickson in accounts at the office and see if he can’t find something for you to do here”

“I’m not coming home Mum.  This is where I want to be, it’s what I am going to do.  I .. I need for you to support me”

The dead line had been her answer and Belle hadn’t spoken to her Mother since then.  She had  tried writing but had only received radio silence. She had accepted that this was the way things would have to be, but with it coming up to Christmas she couldn’t help but feel a little maudlin and alone 

Tonight was movie night in the compound for the team, and as always an invitation have been extended to her, this time by Bucky.  The usually quiet super soldier had sought her out just as she was heading out to grab a coffee

“Hey Snowflake - wait up !”

Belle had rolled her eyes at the use of her callsign.  Tony had dubbed her Snowflake when he offered her the job and the name had stuck.  Mostly because every time he introduced her to someone he offered that as her name.  She had tried to object at first but had quickly realized that Tony did what he wanted so discretion became the better part of valor and she stopped correcting him

“Hey Bucky, is everything OK?” She couldn’t help but worry. It was unusual for Bucky to approach her for anything other than comment son the mission and how he felt that they could have adjusted the plan.  As much as she wanted the coffee she wouldn’t rush what ever Bucky had to tell her.  His thoughts had helped her learn and grow and he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.

“Wrong?  Nothings wrong Doll”. He gave her a soft smile “I just thought you might have forgotten than tonight’s movie night.  It’s Nat’s pick and she usually has something good.  The plan is to meet in the common room at 8.  There’s gonna be pizza and beer”

Belle felt her body relax a little.  She had plans for a quiet evening in her apartment and she was looking forward to it 

“Oh right yeah movie night….” Belle dropped her gaze looking at the floor “You know it’s been a long week and with the mission wrap up and post analysis I’m kinda shot.  I think I’m going to have to pass this time,  Sorry”

Her face was growing warm with embarrassment.  One of them always made sure that she was invited to group events, but she just didn’t feel that she belonged.  She didn’t know how to fit in with them on a social level.  Isolating herself to do well in school and college had a lot of benefits but it left her social skills a little lacking.

“You sure I can’t change your mind.  If you think you’ll need more time to get things wrapped up we can wait for you” Bucky pushed 

“No really Bucky.  I’m, well I’m probably going to be lousy company tonight.  I’ll be asleep 5 minutes in”. She saw his small smile fade as he stepped away.

“Sure thing” 

She watched as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away and she felt the guilt gnaw at her. It probably took a lot for him to come and extend the invitation.  She wasn’t even sure how many more times it would happen before they just gave up

“Hey Bucky” She waited for him to look back at her “Thank you - for the invite.  It means ….well it means a lot to me, you know ?” Her face was sure to be scarlet but she needed him to understand that she appreciated the way he had put himself out there.

Bucky’s warm smile let the guilt ease up a little “Sure thing Doll, Enjoy your evening”

When Bucky came into the rec area later that evening he was greeted with hopeful expressions that fell when they saw he was alone.

“Is Snowflake just on her way up?” Steve was the first to ask

Bucky shook his head “ She couldn’t make it tonight.  Said she was tired after the week and wanted a quiet evening”

“Thats like the 100th excuse that she had made to not come and join in.  I’m starting to think she doesn’t like us” Clint grumbled

“She seems fine over the coms and when we are on missions and when I’ve seen her getting coffee she seems happy to chat.  I don’t think she she feels badly about any of us” Wanda cut in 

“Maybe she’s got other things to plan.  You know like Christmas gifts for her family.  When is she heading home ?.  Tony!”

Tony glanced up as Sam called his name “Snowflake, when is she heading home for Christmas?”

“Oh ah I’m not sure.  Her request is somewhere in my inbox.  Look the pizza is getting cold, the beer is getting warm and non of us, including the two Old Men are getting any younger, so lets get the movie underway”. 

Tony waited until the lights when down and people were eating before pulling out his Stark Pad and looking through his messages.  He didn’t have a request for time off from Belle.  In fact other than the mission reports he didn’t have anything from her. He paid no attention to the movie as he ran though all the interactions that he had with her.  They were positive.  She was happy and open and always had the information that he needed to hand,  In fact the work that she had been doing had made the team more effective than he could ever have hoped.  

He remained lost in his thoughts, working through and rejecting ideas and possibilities and as soon as the lights came up he made his excuses and left the room a plan of action firmly in place in his head.

Steve hadn’t been expecting to be called down to the Lab at 6am two days after movie night.  He had been getting ready to go for a run but knew that his duty had to come first.  Being greeted by Tony wearing the same clothes as he had been on movie night was shocking and made him fear the worst.

‘What are we dealing with?”

“What do you know about Belle’s family?”

“Belle?”

“Yes Belle.  Agent Porter, Snowflake!  Jesus is it the ice or old age that has gotten to your brain?”

“I know who Belle is and there is nothing wrong with my brain.  I know exactly the same as you do.  Father deceased, her mother lives in the same town Belle grew up in”

“Well it turns out I know a bit more than that.  Sit down we need to have a conversation”

The rain lashed against the window and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.  Belle sat snuggled on her bed a fluffy blanket wrapped around her body and Nina Simone playing softly in the background.

The day had been easier than some, mostly analysis reviews of data sent on from SHIELD agents.  She was trying to work on a predictive model to see if that would help them.  She wondered wether she should ask some of the others and see if they had any input, but she really wanted to have something more concrete to take with her, not just a pipe dream.  

Slipping off her bed, holding the blanket close around her she shuffled through to the small kitchenette.  The apartment came with the job Tony had explained.  It made it easier for her to be available 24/7. She loved the fact that she was able to prepare her own food without having to go to the common floors and worry about having to try and make conversations with the others.  Lifting the lid off the pot she had on the stove she took a deep breath smiling at the warm spice , citrus and wine smells.  Mulled wine was one of her favorite treats of the season and she had this batch brewing since mid morning.  Filling her glass and tuning off the burner she turned to head back to her room and her book.

Settled in her cosy nook Belle took a sip of the warm drink sighing in pleasure.  She wondered whether she should go out and try and find a small tree for her room, maybe a few decorations to brighten the place up. She was just considering picking up her tablet to see if she could find something online  when the peace was broken 

“Apologies Agent Porter but Mr Stark is in need of your assistance”  F.R.I.D.A.Y’s gentle voice sounded  “He has asked that you meet him on the communal floor as a matter of urgency”

Why on earth did Tony need to see her there?  Usually she met him by her office or in the Lab.   Shrugging out of her blanket she pulled on some boots and a large sweater. She was grateful she hadn’t had more than one full glass of the wine.  If they had a mission then she needed to be on the ball.

“Sure thing F.R.I.D.A.Y. Please let Mr Stark know I’m on my way”

Tony sat in the the Rec area, lights dimmed enough to make it seem soothing but not so much that it would be hard to see. He cast his eyes to the corner looking at his surprise, that was for later -  but to get  there he needed to have a conversation and see if he couldn’t work things out.  He hated having to do this, it made him uncomfortable -the touchy feely stuff.  Normally he would have passed this off to one of the others, but tonight he knew that this was his responsibility and there would be no shirking.

F.R.I.D.A.Y pinged letting him know Belle was getting off the elevator and he turned to the doorway, hip resting against the back of the couch, whisky glass in hand, the only sign of his stress being the way he swirled the ice around.

“Tony?”

He could hear that her voice was timid, nervous, in a way she hadn’t been since she first joined

“Over here Snowflake” he called out pulling her attention his way 

“Do we have a mission?”

“Of sorts I supposed.  Come on in” he gestured her forward.  You know I’m not always good at seeing the bigger picture. That’s why we hired you.  You help us all see a little more.  You are one of those crystals we talked about, when you got the job remember ?  See the thing is, its hard for a man like me to admit that I have some gaps in my knowledge. It doesn’t happen very often, but I can admit that I have..flaws”. He paused taking a sip from his glass “

The other day I realized that you hadn’t requested holiday leave, so I made some calls, and had an informative talk with you mother.  She’s an interesting lady you know, She had all kinds of things to tell me”

Belle’s breath caught in her chest “My mother. I really wish you hadn’t, she can be a difficult person”

“I think the phase you are looking for is  raging hell bitch.  I mean at first she thought you were dead, and she asked if I would be paying for your funeral and then she got very angry when I asked about her holiday plans.  Why didn’t you tell us, tell me even -  about the fact she disowned you?”

Humiliation rose and Belle struggled to find the words to explain 

“Tell you the she hates the fact I have my dream job. Or that she hates who I work for, or that she found it easier than she should have to turn her back on me.  You’re my employer Tony.  You’re a busy man saving the world and doing what others can’t.  You don’t need to spend your time worrying about my screwed up family”

Tony moved to sit on the ottoman patting the sofa seat opposite. “Come and sit a minute I need to explain something”. He waited for her before he leant forward resting his arms on his knees.

“I get what it’s like to have a shitty parent, I do. My Father and I - we didn’t get on.  I think now I understand a little more about him, but I still can’t forgive him. The thing is, you can’t let let the way that your mother treated you affect whether or not you let anyone in.  Take it from someone who knows, that’s a lonely and unhealthy road.  It's taken me a long time to find my way off that path,  and I only did it with the support if the family I built.  The ice cubes, point break, widow, bird brain, big green, all of them help me be better.  They’re my family and we want to be yours”

Looking up at him tears running down her cheeks Belle couldn’t find the words

“I get that it’s hard.  It’s just been you for so long, but it’s time to let people in, to build your family.  You know when we invite you to the team stuff, we want you there.  We want to hang out and chat and have fun, but you have to take that step”

“I… I don’t know how:|” her voice broke “I don't have anything to bring to conversation, all I can tell you is about what I learn, the missions,  You don't get it but I didn’t  have friends.  Not at school or college. I don’t even know how to deal with it “

Tony’s heart broke a little.  He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen what  a hard time Belle was having.  She hid her concerns so well but really she was lost and he had failed her. Hand shaking slightly he reached out and clasped her shaking hands in his own “ Everyone feels like that sometimes, but you work it out.  The old men, well they like to talk about the 40’s, Nat and Clint like to talk about what ever they’re watching on TV,  Bruce will talk about science until you wish he would shut up.  You get there by learning a little about them, ask them what they’re reading, what they did on a day off and listen.  Just one step at a time Snowflake”

Belle nodded trying to process all the information could she really do it, take that step and let these people be her family?

“I’m going to help you with that first step Snowflake. F.R.I.D.A.Y Can you let Point Break know we’re ready”

Belle found herself blinking in surprise and wiping at her face wondering what the hell Tony was talking about now.

“Stark!”  A booming voice called out making Belle jump, “It is good to see you again my friend,  I thought I should like to enjoy some Midguard Winter festivities with you all !”

“Point Break, welcome back to earth. There is someone I would like you to meet, a new member of the team since you were last here”

Belle found herself face to face with the largest and possibly the loudest person she had ever met

“Belle, meet Thor, Thor is this Snowflake”

“My Lady Belle, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  Come tell me all about what you do here.  I am excited to spend time learning of your Winter customs”

Belle found herself swept along in conversation with the Asguardian King and when ever there was a lull in the conversation she tried to remember what Tony had told her and asked Thor questions about the customs on Asguard.

Tony poured himself another drink and watched.  He could see that Belle was getting more comfortable as she spent time with Thor.  It had been fortuitous that the Asguardian had come for one of his visits. He couldn’t think of a better person for Belle to have her first family interaction with, Thor could hold a conversation with himself in an empty room, but he had a good heart and loved to meet new people.

Keeping his voice low he decided it was time to implement phase 2 “F.R.I.D.A.Y  Let Capsicle know that we are good to go”

Belle found herself relaxing as Thor told her about the time that he managed to get both of the Super soldiers drunk “You should have seen them Lady Belle.  Neither could stand and Barnes was singing some song about putting rings on things that he had heard”.

Belle chuckled as he imagined the scene.  Neither Bucky or Steve were well known for letting their hair down so to speak.

“Ah speak of the devil, Rogers! Good to see you “ 

 Belle felt herself freeze up turning to see the other team members entering the room. Tony caught her eye and winked before heading over to the bar to pour drinks

“If you don’t mind we will stay off the Asguardian Mead for the moment this is a pre Christmas get together not a frat house party” he called out before opening a some bottle.  

“Hopefully you have  something festive there Tony” Nat called out

“Whisky is always festive Romanoff” 

Nat sighed “ Really ? Couldn’t the Catering company come up with something better?”

“Well this is more spur of the moment, so no you get what you get” Tony snarked back 

“Um actually … if you wanted.. I could maybe make some mulled wine” Belle didn’t raise her voice much but it was enough to catch Nat’s attention.  

“Mulled wine you say?  Well that certainly seems more occasion appropriate.  Move it Stark, at least Snowflake here knows how to create the right atmosphere”

“I’ll need to head back to my apartment, get the ingredients” Belle was feeling uncomfortable as all eyes seemed to focus on her

“Nah I bet you Tony as everything we need here in the rec room. Come on I’ll help you look” Clint threw his arm over her shoulder guiding her over to the pantry cupboards and fridges “Barnes why don’t you track down some red wine” he threw over his shoulder 

Belle gave a small smile as she sat between Bucky and Wanda on the sofa.  The others had bee telling stories about things they remembered or liked the most about Christmas.  They hadn’t gotten to her yet and she was worried about what she would say.  Would they laugh when she told them that it would be a toss up between this and last Christmas when she joined the team.

As the laughing quieted Tony stood and moved over to the side pulling out a large box.  “While I hate to call a halt to the festivities, I wanted to start our Christmas with a new tradition for us all “ He paused looking around the group.  “We may not always see eye to eye, or be in the same country, or  on the same planet” he inclined his head to Thor “But we are family, and this year, well I figured, while we are all still talking to each other, we should take note of that. So if you would all follow me”

Belle moved with the rest of the group to the far side of the Rec room where a large curtain had been hung “F.R.I.D.A.Y if you could “

The curtain dropped and behind it stood the largest and grandest tree that Belle had ever seen.  The green of its branches sparkled with white fairy lights and tinsel was strung around looking like a tasteful halter skelter .  Belle pulled her hand up to her mouth covering the gasp she let out.  

“The tree isn’t complete until we hang these” Tony moved stopping in front of Natasha “Widow” he extended his hand to her placing a delicate hand blow glass ballet slipper in her hand, before moving through the rest of the team. Each received an ornament special to them.   Clint got a golden bow, Bucky was gifted a glass bauble that showed a beautiful Christmas tree inside decorated as if it was 1940.  Steve got a book resting on a shield, Sam a peace dove suspended in glass, Wanda a bauble containing a picture of her brother, Bruce a glass hulk in a Santa hat, Thor a glass copy of his hammer and then finally he stopped in front of Belle and held out his hand 

Belle looked up at him , her cheeks pink from laughter and the effects of possibly too much wine and her eyes bright. “Last but by no means least - this is for the newest member of the family”

Tony’s smile was soft as he rested her ornament gently in her hand. Belle looked down and saw the most beautiful snowflake made out of a lightly tinted blue glass.  Belle looked back up smiling at him 

“Thank you Tony .  It is truly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen”

“Did you know that snow usually look blue when it is deepest?  Its a strange effect of the light” He winked at her gently squeezing her hand before clearing his throat

“Well what are you all waiting for - decorate the tree my Christmas minions” He clapped gesturing for the others to go forward.  

Having hung the ornaments Belle stood back and admired the way they sparkled on the tree, each stood out on the branches but there was something missing.  

Belle excused herself saying she needed the rest room before heading to her apartment “F.R.I.D.A.Y I need your help…..”

Belle was gone for a surprisingly long time, long enough that Tony was thinking of going to look for her when she bounced back into the room.  

“Everything good Snowflake?” 

“Oh yes, sorry I had something I had to deal with but its all good now” 

Her smile was slightly too bright but Tony didn’t want to push her in front of the others.  He would ask F.R.I.D.A.Y later.

Belle was enjoying listening to Bucky talk about Christmas with is family when he was a younger boy when F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted “Agent Porter your item is ready”

“Your Item?” Tony questioned. 

“Yes F.R.I.D.A.Y was helping with something, that’s ok right?” She worried for a moment that she had overstepped 

“Sure” Tony gestured “what’s mine is yours and all that - well other than the suits, cars and bank accounts but you know what I mean”

Belle smiled in relief before getting up “ Ok well I’ll be back in just a minute”

When she came back out of the lift she had her hands behind her back and her confidence seemed to have wavered as she went up to Tony 

“I just had to say thank you - to you all.  This, well this has been the best Christmas celebration that I have ever had and I promise that I’m going to try harder to spend time with you all.  The thing is “ they could hear her deep breath as she paused “when you gave us those beautiful ornaments, well there was one missing.  It’s not as beautiful as the ones you had made for us, but the family tree wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t on it”

Her hand shook as it extended and she pulled her lip between her teeth.  She knew he didn’t like to take things from people but perhaps he might make an exception.

Tony tilted his head looking at her questioningly before looking back down at her outstretched hand

“Belle how about I take….” Sam headed over before Tony waved him away 

“Back off Bird Brain this is my gift”. He held out his hand and Belle placed a small glass globe of his own into his hand. He looked closely, inside was a computer chip on one side it showed the Stark industries Logo and the other the Avengers Logo with the outline of his helmet resting below

His smile was gentle and warm as he turned it around letting it spin and catch the light before heading to the tree to hang it securely in its branches. Stepping back he placed his arm around Belles shoulders pulling her into his side before kissing her on the head.  

“Merry Christmas Snowflake”