#HES TRYING SO HARD FOR REDEMPTION ALREADY AND ITS BEING DONE IN THE MOST PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE

[symbioticsimplicity]

@taddy-cat

You asked for the essay, you get the essay.

First and foremost, the premise of the show is that anyone, no matter how awful, can be redeemed. Based on that alone, there's already room for Alastor to make the cut. He would absolutely take the longest and I believe he'd be the last of the original cast to have done so, but I think its not only possible but plausible. From a writing perspective it would be brilliant should they carry it off.

But that's the Doylist answer, we're interested in the Watsonian one.

The first thing that makes me think so, is that we've already seen him change, in small ways, but its change nonetheless.

Turning away Mimzy, which while was most likely because he was trying to make Lucifer swallow the narrative that he was constructing, still showed him prioritizing the hotel.

Lending Charlie his Mic. THAT was a trust exercise. It didn't take place during one of the scheduled times, but make no mistake he placed a SHITTON of trust in Charlie then, he just didn't tell her. It was on his own terms, but like I said SMALL changes.

Threatening Husk. That sounds contradictory because how could threatening someone indicate a GOOD change? Because we very much have heard about Alastor being the type of person you don't fuck around with. People do everything they can to avoid him so much as NOTICING them. He's absolutely the type to kill without warning but he DIDN'T. He threatened because he LIKES Husk.

And of course him mentioning "One could become accustomed" to the rest of the Hazbin cast. First of all, that was right before a major battle, he could very well lose any of these people the next day. That's such a fond thing to say under those circumstances, especially for someone like him. (This is pure speculation, but remember what Mimzy said about him becoming a kitten after a drink or two?? What better time to drink than the eve before a major battle??? Alcohol loosens the tongue, ergo Alastor is an affectionate drunk. Honestly??? That would be fucking hilarious, and would explain why hes not visibly drunk around any of them despite liking alcohol)

Also!!! Rosie!!!! The fact that he DOES have the capacity for genuine friendship, however twisted, shows that he has the potential to cultivate even more relationships like those, perhaps in a healthier manner even.

That said, it will be HARD.

He will fight TOOTH AND NAIL. He is the embodiment of it gets worse before it gets better. He's gonna fuck up SO MUCH MORE before that even becomes a possibility. Because in order to get him to actually consciously make the decision to become better, he has to have remorse to work with. Right now Alastor feels none guilt about just about anything hes done up until this point. He's a monster and he knows and loves that about himself. He DOES have a moral code in there somewhere, its just wildly different than anyobody else's and he hasn't broken THAT once. He needs to be put in a position where he DOES.

Because for someone like him, redemption can't be an accident the way it was with Pentious. It needs to be an intentional goal that he has to work towards with the same kind of intensity he's put toward evil. And given the set up they have for him to betray the Hotel, I genuinely hope that's the catalyst. I hope its right after Charlie goes out of her way to do something genuinely meaningful for him (Like passing him a message from his Mother, because she sought her out while she was in Heaven. She knows how much he cares about her at that point, and made the effort to make contact and see if she could get smuggle a letter down for him. Maybe it even causes her some trouble too just to add fuel to the fire.)

But if that remorse were to begin, I think it would eat him alive. In the same way pain feels magnified when its not a frequent thing, Alastor has never felt guilt before so its crushing to him.

Alastor is also not the type of person to sit around and mope so after figuring out what the fuck is happening to him, he would be the type to force himself through whatever he thought necessary to deal with it. And the way to deal with it is to put himself through Charlie’s program.

He has to see his Mom, and he has to make things right.

And that fucker is driven.

[yanderes-galore]

Can we get a yandere concept for Pig/Amanda Young? I just realized that you haven't done one yet.

I can try, never watched the SAW movies so I hope I can keep her personality right. Not really using her Tome personality but I'll sprinkle it in here and there to keep it unique.

Yandere! The Pig/Amanda Young Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Slight sadism, Delusional behavior, Mentioned past drug addiction, Mentioned past self-destructive behavior, Death/Murder, Violence, Poor mental health, Dubious but forced companionship.

Supposedly according to her original lore Amanda entered the fog after her death.

By this point her mentor is dead too and she's left to serve The Entity as "The Pig" once again.

She says in her lore no one in the fog can be redeemed.

To her they're simply meat to slaughter.

However, for the sake of this concept, maybe she sees you in a different light.

Maybe she sees your fear and nervous behavior and sees herself.

You're scared... easily manipulated... similar to her.

While she learned she herself could not be redeemed... perhaps you're different.

Maybe you don't deserve to be here... a poor soul unable to escape.

How unfortunate, for now you will be prey.

Yet later that may change.

Amanda is depicted as nervous and scared to fail while being attached to her "savior" in SAW from what I've seen.

While DBD makes her more sadistic in nature.

So I have a feeling how I'd depict her is somewhat understanding of the survivor she's close to but also be sadistic towards others around you.

In her delusional mindset she may begin to think her darling could do no wrong while those around you could tempt you.

Her sadism could be explained by her time in the fog.

My personal HC is The Entity corrupts those in its realm, which would change how Amanda behaves as she's used to all the murder now.

I think this would be a good way to incorporate both versions of her personality (The movies and DBD).

Her obsession starts like most killers, she just sees you as prey.

However over time she'd begin to see the similarities between you and her.

Soon you notice you're no longer shoved into traps or put on a hook much.

Sometimes you're ignored and spared.

Sometimes the pig just likes to stare.

Watching her crouched and just staring at you gives an illusion of innocence, she looks like she's in the same situation as you.

But by now you know that's a lie.

Amanda has a tendency to cling to those she feels she can't live without.

Maybe, like some killers, you provide her with a sense of humanity/normalcy.

As a result she finds herself being attached to you.

The Entity can sense the changes you stir in Amanda, so you become obsession every trial for her.

The Entity likes how Amanda goes almost feral like an animal when she sees other survivors than you.

She feels they will corrupt you like she was in the past.

Amanda hates that she could never be redeemed, even by John.

Don't worry, she'll prevent such corruption.

No doubt by brutal sacrifice....

As a result she wants to prevent your corruption... unknowingly corrupting you in the process.

She already knows she's long gone in terms of redemption, she doesn't expect you to "fix" her.

It's hard to tell what Amanda feels for you.

Does she want to be a guardian to you?

Did she feel something precious with you?

She may, however, think you'll ease her pain.

Amanda's mental state is certainly fragile.

She used drugs long ago and even gave into self-destructive behaviors yet again before she died.

She may feel like she has to cling to you to feel normal in a way.

It scares you when she pounces on you in matches.

By this time the others are gone, you feel the remnants of them seep into your clothes.

Then the pig doesn't let go.

She doesn't put a trap, just clings to you.

There's no sound but the breathing of both of you.

In her mind she wonders if she can just trap you with her.

She wonders if her new "mentor" will allow her to keep this survivor as a reward.

She'll treat the others like the meat they are... but not you.

Amanda doesn't want to let you go.

The most she can do is give you the gate or give you the hatch.

But she doesn't want that.

So, as she picks you up and carries you to escape, she buries herself in her thoughts.

She wonders if she can sacrifice something to The Entity to keep you.

Even if it's just for a few minutes...

She'd do anything to keep you with her in private, just to relate to someone.

[rorynne]

Me: not everyone needs a redemption arc! Let bad guys be bad! Let them be evil! The war crimes are cute!

My brain: yeah, sure, whatever you say. Now heres 15 ideas for redemption fics for you to write, I'm not giving you ideas for anything else.

[onecanonlife]

Tommy is dead. The server reacts.

(word count: 1,732)

---------------

“What have you done?”

His voice is a reedy whisper, thin with horror and the realization that he is too little, too late. He doesn’t expect the sound to carry over the lava, but a response comes soon enough.

“He wouldn’t stop talking. And he killed the cat.”

Dream’s voice is even, calm, almost a bit defensive, as if he truly believes that he is justified in his actions. Sam swallows down his mounting nausea, places his trident against the floor to steady himself. The lava crackles, hisses, bubbles, orange and glowing, and he can’t cross it. Not now. Not when the security threat remains unresolved. Not when any wrong move on his part could very well mean Dream’s escape.

But he’s already made the wrong move, hasn’t he? Made the wrong move, and Tommy has paid for it. Has been paying for it, this whole last week. He kept him in there, kept him locked in a box with Dream even though he knows very well how it would effect him, kept him locked in with the reasoning that it was temporary, that he would let him out as soon as he could, that he couldn’t risk Dream’s release for anyone, even for Tommy.

But it’s not temporary.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed when Sam last saw him, when he said that this would be the last time, that he was going to put his past behind him and look to a new start. Tommy will always be sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed, and locked in a box. There will be no new start. No seventeenth birthday. No triumphant return, no shining hotel. No tricks, no scams, no pranks.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed. Tommy is dead.

He can’t even get his body.

He can’t even get his body.

Sam stands on the edge of a curtain of lava, staring into the orange glow that hides a monster in a room that is now a child’s pre-made coffin, and he wonders if he is a monster himself.

***

“He’s fine.”

It’s the only thing to say. The only truth. The only possibility. Sure, the message is there, glaring up from his communicator in bright yellow letters, but it’s not real. It’s a joke of some kind, a trick. Something to fake everyone out. Maybe Sam’s in on it, too. Tommy must be going crazy in there, to think that this would actually be funny, but it sounds like something he would do.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo says, and then stops. Nothing else. His face is pale, though things like that are hard to tell, with him, considering that half his face is always pale. But he’s gone an ashy-grey sort of color, and it doesn’t look great.

“He’s not dead,” he says, and laughs a bit. “Tommy wouldn’t just die like that. That’d be ridiculous.”

Tommy’s death would never be so meek. Tommy’s death, when it happens, will be a spectacle, a dramatic showing with speeches and explosions and the sun rising at just the right time and haloing his hair, because TommyInnit deserves nothing less than the best death scene. Women wailing and the like. So Tommy is not dead, because if Tommy were dead, that would mean that he died alone, in the company of no one but his murderer, that he died scared, trapped in a small space with no way out, that he died without Tubbo by his side.

“Right,” Ranboo says, and his voice is doing a peculiar thing that Tubbo can’t quite work out. “Yeah, of course. Do you wanna—do you think we should go check it out? Go stop by the prison?”

“What for?” he asks. “Sam’s not going to let us in. He didn’t even when I built a dick on top of it.”

And here is another thing: Tommy can’t be dead because it was never supposed to be Tommy first. Tubbo has tried to live without him, and he found it very hard. So Tommy is not allowed to die before Tubbo does. That is the rule that he keeps locked up in his heart, because Tommy would be upset if he knew about it. But it’s a rule that Tubbo intends to follow, so Tommy can’t be dead.

That would be against the rules.

“Just to see?” Ranboo tries. Tubbo’s not sure why he’s being so insistent about this.

“Nah, we’ve got a hotel to build,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ranboo follows along behind him. His feet drag, like he’s reluctant. But Tubbo has long since given up on understanding why Ranboo does the things that he does.

***

He’s dead.

She should be glad about it. This is what she wanted. Tommy dead, punished for all the pain and suffering he’s caused everyone else. No longer able to start wars, to cause harm, to blaze his way through the server and leave a path of destruction in his wake.

Tommy is dead. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

There is a message from Jack. She doesn’t check it.

Tommy is dead, that blue-eyed, wide-grinned boy who followed along on his brother’s coattails. Tommy is dead, that fiery spirit crushed and his overbearing, fast-talking voice silent. Tommy is dead, that loyal friend, the protector and defender of all that he called his, the fighter, the scammer, the boy who loved with all of his heart and then some.

Tommy is dead. Dead, dead, dead. There is no coming back from dead. Dead is final. Dead is an ending. Dead means it’s all over. Tommy is over. Tommy is gone. Tommy will never grow old.

It’s what she wanted. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

Niki brings her hand to her mouth to check. It’s a smile. A smile, for sure.

Her fingers come away from her face wet.

***

It was an empty castle already, but it feels emptier now. The different between a possibility and its lack, they suppose.

Tommy was never supposed to die. They can’t fathom it, somehow. Can’t fathom that it’s real, that Tommy will never grace these halls again. They’d finally begun to fix things, begun to work toward redemption, well and truly. And now Tommy is gone.

Eret grips their communicator tightly in their hand.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur to no one at all.

It was never meant to be echoes in their head, over and over and over again, an apology that means nothing but so much scattered dust.

***

He closes his eyes. Breathes. In and out.

This happens. People die. They die, and they leave, and he’s left behind. That’s his life. That’s how it is.

It still hurts, when it happens. He’s still learning how to make it not hurt. Still learning how not to be angry, that people find it so easy to abandon him. That people find it so easy to go where he can’t follow. Wilbur first, now Tommy, and he doesn’t have anyone left, really.

But it’s fine. It’s alright. He can manage on his own. He always has.

Fundy decides to go to bed early.

***

He takes a moment to breathe. To process. To absorb.

To regret, for what might have been.

The voices in his head call for blood, as they always do, but he will not give them the satisfaction. Not this time. The blood he wants most is not readily accessible, and he will not put himself in the position of confronting the favor owed. Not now. Not like this. Not ever, if he can help it, though he knows that these sorts of things always take their due, always steal their pound of flesh.

“I know, chat,” he says. “You can all shut up, I know.”

It doesn’t appease them. He wasn’t expecting it to.

Tommy is dead. Tommy is dead, and their relationship with it. Any tentative attempts toward repairs have been left to rot, to burn on the funeral pyre. Theseus, fallen from the cliff at long last.

The story was always going to end this way. No one can stop the Fates from severing the string.

He stands with a groan. He is not built for this weather, for this cold, and it is a wonder that he keeps being drawn to it, time and time again. It is a balm, he thinks, but for what, he doesn’t know. For nothing, at the moment, as the voices threaten to crowd out all the rest. But he can’t deal with them right now.

Phil has his own house, now, and a bridge to connect the two. A bridge over still water, such that Tommy will never cross. He should not feel the way he does. Tommy betrayed him. Tommy used him. Tommy discarded him, so he tossed him aside in turn.

But once they were called brothers. Does it mean anything, in the end?

Phil is standing in the middle of the floor, ruined wings on full display. His face is blank, his communicator held loosely in one hand.

“Phil,” he says.

“I failed him,” Phil says. “I should’ve been there for him, and I wasn’t.”

Technoblade has no comfort for the truth.

But he has comfort for his friend, for his friend who is perhaps his father but is definitely family, so he stretches out his arms and catches Phil as he falls, falls and falls and screams, and it is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, because Daedalus tried to catch his son and failed. It is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, so he cannot try again and ruin the rest of himself, too.

***

He nudges the body with his foot.

“You shouldn’t have killed that cat,” he murmurs. The body does not reply, and he sighs.

Tommy’s face is beyond recognition. The blood coats his knuckles. He hopes that there’s enough water in the sink to wash it out before it sets. He hates it when the blood sets.

He didn’t mean to go as far as he did. That doesn’t mean much, in the end. This will work just as well.

He is a god, after all. He is a god, and he will have what he deserves, and more besides.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” he says. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet.”

[obae-me]

Hi I love your blog and your writing. I don't know if your doing request or not, so if you aren't just ignore me. But could you possibly have a hc where MC breaks a body part and had to be in a cast how would the brothers (+undateables if you have time) would react?

Oh but this is soft tho, I love writing fluff, thank you so much for the request! 💜

Lucifer

MC had been with him when it happened, and it’s something he’ll never forgive himself for. He forgets how fragile humans are and how anything can hurt them. Anything! He had prepared for monsters, demons, curses, spells, poisons, but he never thought he needed to protect them from stairs!

He was walking beside them as they both started to walk home from RAD, talking to them about an upcoming project. It was dark and rainy, and it bothered him none as he started to descend the slick stone steps. He was just about to warn them about their step when they stumbled down the stairs, hands extended to try to catch themselves, hitting each step with an awful sound before resting on even flooring with a groan.

He freaked out so badly, he called MC by five different wrong names before he finally got it right just as he reached their side. They were alive. Great. They were breathing. Fantastic. They...they had their right wrist bent in the wrong direction.

MC was fairly certain he didn’t even breathe or blink at all as he flew them towards the Devildom’s version of a hospital. He kicked the doors open, demanding MC got looked at, ignoring all of MC’s pleas to wait like everyone else. The poor doctor was not prepared for all of Lucifer’s commands and questions.

MC is not allowed to walk, not allowed to go to class, not even allowed to leave their room for a while. He’s so worried something will happen. He doesn’t even want them to sleep without him there first. His brothers are only allowed to come see MC one by one, following a strict schedule he posted outside MC’s door. Anyone found breaking the schedule will be severely punished. 

Is he overreacting severely? Yes. But does MC appreciate his affection? Yes. He’ll hold them close whenever their wrist hurts, petting their head and shushing them if they ever cry. He’ll do all his work for Diavolo in their bedroom, making sure to glance up in frequent intervals and check how they’re doing. He’ll watch over them so intently he’ll end up accidentally falling asleep in the chair by their bed, head resting on his folded arms.

Even after it’s healed, he insists on holding MC’s hand whenever they walk to make sure it won’t happen again. He’ll also pick them up now whenever it rains. He can’t afford anymore unnecessary risks. 

Mammon

He brought MC along on another one of his poor-planned money making schemes. He wanted to show off and impress them, and MC only agreed to go along to try to make sure he didn’t get himself in too much trouble. Try being the key word here. 

It ended up being super sketchy, causing both MC and Mammon to run away from angry demons. Since Mammon is impossibly fast, he held onto MC’s hand to try to keep them together. However, even if MC ended up being an Olympic runner, they still wouldn’t have been able to keep up with his speed. So, they lost their footing and fell hard against the ground. There was a rough popping noise, but Mammon got them right back on their feet. It wasn’t until they finally got home before Mammon realized that not only were they scratched up, but their shoulder...didn’t look right.

He thought maybe he could fix it himself, which was the opposite of what he should’ve done. Now, not only did it look even worse, but MC’s expression of pain caused Mammon to panic like he never had before. He held onto them tight, much too tight, and MC was almost certain he’d end up passing out before they did.

He got a doctor right away, and while they were getting checked, Lucifer and Mammon were fighting worse than they had in a long time. Mammon had hardly fought this much for anything-or anyone-before. The only reason why Lucifer let him off the hook for something this severe is because it’s been too long since he’s seen Mammon so serious.

Mammon won't leave their side, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be near them either, so he’ll spend time pacing by their door for hours before MC tells him to quit. They tell him he doesn’t need to feel so guilty, it was an accident, stupid stuff like this happens to humans all the time. He’ll kneel on the floor by their bed, head against their leg, looking like a scolded puppy. It’s the first time they’ve seen him cry.

It’s not everyday Mammon will do whatever they want. Even if it’s not perfect, even if he messes up, he wants to get MC whatever they want or need.

After they’re fully healed, Mammon will still check their shoulder every day, and Lucifer doesn’t complain when Mammon tones down some of his schemes for the sake of MC’s safety.

Levi

He signed both himself and MC up for this awesome parkour class. He had seen an ad for it and wanted to go, only because he wanted to learn some cool moves that he had seen in an anime. Of course, this was a demon class, so already they had the students doing crazy things like jumping roof to roof and doing flips that would take years for MC to do properly. Unfortunately, they tried it out anyway, not wanting to wimp out of it.

Next thing they knew, they heard Levi scream as one of their legs gave out on them, unable to support their landing. He was by their side, already in tears, shouting incomprehensible words as he called for help on his D.D.D. Not only did one of the brothers have to carry MC home, they had to carry out Levi as well, his brain fried at the sight of their broken leg.

He blames himself hard, having to catch his breath anytime he sees MC in their cast. He had no idea human’s bodies were so brittle, they never seemed so weak in anime. They were always fighting, overcoming impossible feats. He was so lost in the world of fantasy he didn’t know real life was so...frightening. It was a reality check he really needed, he appears to treat MC more authentically now.

He’ll make sure MC is fully entertained while they’re on the mend, it's the least he can do. Most of his setup is now in their room so they can play games with him and watch shows together. He’ll talk their ear off about his favorite plots, and promise to MC that they’d get better and he would protect them, just like his precious characters. 

MC now has little drawings on their cast thanks to him, to liven it up a bit. Covered in chibis and little hearts.

He’s used to not getting much sleep, so he’ll watch MC as they rest, watching their chest rise and fall, making sure he keeps an eye on their leg. They’re not allowed to move it much, so he keeps tabs on how much they toss and turn, sometimes holding MC in his arms while they sleep to make sure they don’t move.

Even when they’re better he is always wary about them leaving the house. He should’ve never broken his rule, home is always safe, and now he can’t relax until he knows MC is safely home.

Satan

He was always afraid of hurting MC due to his wrath, but he never knew that they could so easily be broken. He hadn’t even intended to hurt them, he didn’t! He just...he was angry, he didn’t want them to come into his room, but they insisted, they wouldn’t listen! Now look what he had done to them...

He had slammed the door on them while their finger still lingered in the door-frame, he had no idea...he didn’t know something as simple as shutting a door would hurt them so. They both heard a sharp crack, Satan originally believed it had been part of the door, the wood breaking. Until he heard MC’s shriek of pain. He opened the door back up to see their finger bent backwards where the door had shut on it.

After he had tore the door off its hinges and resolved it to splinters, he ushered MC quickly out of the house to get their finger checked. His other brothers had to quickly come at MC’s request to keep Satan from harming the medical staff when told they had to wait to get checked. It took him far too long to calm down, having to be physically restrained by Lucifer and Mammon until he cooled off. 

MC’s broken finger had been on their dominant hand, so Satan did all the writing for them. MC never asked him to, he did it anyway. He felt like it was the bare minimum of redemption. He made sure to read up more on the skeletal structure humans possessed, and MC is pleased to find that they had never seen Satan be so gentle with them. He softly strokes their hand, has a hard time now raising his voice above a whisper around them, and MC swears he now has painkillers in his pocket at all times for whenever they need it. 

Satan takes after Lucifer in being much too prideful for simple apologies, he’s hardly wrong in the first place, but he said it to them once they drifted off to sleep, head in his lap. He didn’t move from his spot all night.

Healed wounds meant nothing, Satan refused to treat MC any differently from his delicate and precious books.

Asmo

Trust him, he would have never given MC those ridiculously high heeled shoes had he known that humans were so clumsy and fragile. The heel of the shoe was so tall, whoever wore them might as well be walking on the very tips of their toes. They were a new fashion, and since he adored his adorable MC so much, he got them a pair.

The last thing he expected was to have them fall so dramatically after a single step. At first he planned on giving them props for their fall, it was like a movie scene, but then he saw how their ankle looked. Twisted and limp, MC started to hyperventilate.

He had seen some pretty disgusting positions the human body could get into, but this was wrong, it shouldn’t be like that. He had never been so serious or flown so fast before. He didn’t even say a word until they were in bed, getting some medication for the pain. He grasped onto MC’s hand and apologized repeatedly until MC was convinced he had lost his voice.

After they’ve been taken care of, he refuses to let go of them, cuddling them pampering them. He didn’t know just a simple misstep in the wrong shoes and they could just hurt themselves like that! He thought himself a master of the body, but he still had much to learn about humans, it seemed.

He calls himself Nurse Asmo for weeks, not leaving MC’s side, carting them around in a wheelchair even if they insist on using crutches or moving around themselves. He’ll have none of it. He feels responsible and so MC is under his constant care until their body is just as beautiful and whole as he remembers. He’ll want to make sure he takes care of them so well, their body will have no choice but to heal faster.

He’ll not forgive himself for allowing MC’s perfect body to get like that again. He’ll never let MC even look at high heel shoes, he knows plenty of adorable flats that would look great on them.

Beel

He’s always extra careful around MC, he knows they’re fragile, he’s well aware of the difference between strengths. Anytime he’s around them, he does whatever is necessary to make sure they’re safe at all times. Unfortunately, no matter how protective he is, sometimes accidents happen, especially when humans and demons mix.

He and Mammon were fighting over food, special food, limited edition flavor chips, and Mammon had stolen it. He didn’t even eat it, he sold it. It was an insult. They both were in demon form, battling it out, Lucifer trying to stop it, by force it would seem. They were all so consumed in combat, power flinging, furniture flying, they had no idea MC had walked in the room to check on the chaos, only to get caught up in it. A large cabinet headed in their direction, and if they hadn’t stepped back, they might have gotten fully crushed. Unfortunately, their foot ended up being crushed in their place.

Beel felt sick to his stomach, hearing the sound of the bone crack made his insides feel all twisted in a way he and his iron stomach hadn’t felt in centuries. The fighting immediately came to a close, the food they were fighting over seemed worthless to him now, for once he couldn’t care less. He refused to let any of his other brothers touch MC. In fact he almost didn’t want to touch them himself. He had such a hard time holding them, he ended up physically shaking, worried that he’d hurt MC even further. He doesn’t want to let them go, though, he holds onto them for an entire day, acting like MC’s personal shield. 

Beel skips classes, workouts, even his team practices to be with MC. MC is absolutely not allowed to move by themselves, he’s going to carry them wherever they need to go if they must go somewhere. Until they’re fully healed, all the meals are going to be MC’s favorite foods. None of the brothers get a say otherwise, but no one is going to defy Beel over this anyway.

MC never sees him fight with any of his brothers again, not with them around anyway, and if they thought Beel was already super protective, they weren’t ready for their new unofficial bodyguard.

Belphie

Honestly, he was bewildered how MC hadn’t died yet--well, other than that--in the Devildom. Lilith had loved humans, and, he in the past, had loved them too, so he knew how weak they could be. However, MC had just...tripped...on their own feet, falling right onto their own face. He laughed at first, he will admit, he had no idea how hurt MC was. When they stumbled back onto their own feet, their face and chest was covered in blood.

He was frozen for a good few minutes, his mind buzzing, his heart pounding out of his chest. He kept getting flashbacks of that terrible moment in the attic, and it was only until MC grabbed his arm, disoriented and in pain, that he was able to move again. They gasped his name to snap him out of it. They weren’t flinching away from him, they didn’t look afraid of him, in fact they were leaning into him, looking for his comfort. 

He got them home as quick as he could, making sure MC didn’t have any more fumbles on the way. Obviously once they saw the state MC was in, all the other brothers were freaking out as well. Mammon accused Belphie of doing something to them again--it was taking Mammon the longest to forgive him-- which didn’t make Belphie feel better about it. Normally he would’ve just fought Mammon then and there for such an accusation, after all the things his older brother had dragged MC into, but he didn’t have the energy. MC needed to be taken care of now. 

He did feel guilty, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Once the doctor came, he left the room, getting some air. He would wait until after MC was asleep to come check on them and make sure they were okay. He would make sure that MC’s pillow was fluffed, that they were comfortable, and then he’d fall asleep at MC’s feet at the end of their bed. He’d wake up at the slightest movement, checking over their body and face for who knows how many times now. 

While they were deep in a dream, he took a permanent marker and drew little cow spots on their bandage. It was a silly gesture, he was well aware, but even having a small piece of matching patterns made his heart happy. 

He won’t say it but he’s so glad when they’re finally healed. MC notices a sharp increase in his energy levels as he asks them to do plenty of activities together. He hardly ever wants to do something with them besides nap. 

He’ll be prepared to catch MC if they ever trip again. He won’t let them be hurt ever again. Period. 

Diavolo

He wasn’t there when it happened to MC, but Lucifer relayed the information to him as soon as possible. He didn’t freak out, at least, not in the way people would expect. It is rather unlike the Lord of the Devildom, however, to drop all his work, cancel all his meetings, and quickly make his way over to the House of Lamentation.

He excuses MC from classes immediately, making sure staying safe and healthy was their first and only priority. Not just for the sake of the program, but something in him stirred violently at the sight of seeing them pale, in pain, their forearm in a cast. He asked Lucifer for details. 

Upon hearing that it was due to some lesser demon, he laughed, but it was a terrible laugh. He calmly stated that he would handle it, but every member of the household could feel the house rumble. Not even Diavolo could stay completely tranquil, it seemed.

He knew the consequences of having a human in the Devildom, he knew the risks. He knew about the dirt in his kingdom that called themselves demons. He just didn’t realize how it would make him feel . Not only did MC have classes off, he allowed all the brothers to stay home for a while as well to make sure they were well taken care of. He had Lucifer give him daily updates on their progress.

MC is now curious why there are new changes to not only RAD but the House of Lamentation, Purgatory Hall, and even Diavolo’s castle. Simple things like ramps, elevators, railings, anything as a means of injury prevention. None of the demons need to use it, it’s all for MC, but everyone acts like it’s completely normal. All due to Diavolo’s ‘modern design’.

None of the brothers dare say anything about the Demon Lord’s frequent visits to their home, or to MC’s room. Not even Lucifer had him come over this often.

MC is thankful they never have to see the demon that resulted in their arm breaking again, but they didn’t know where they possibly could've gone. 

Barbatos

It’s safe to assume he knew about this. Except, there were plenty of timelines where something like this had happened, so he didn’t know the details of which unfortunate accident would come about. Whatever the case, he was prepared to assist and serve MC in whatever way he could.

He always thinks he’s seen everything and is well prepared for it, but it still doesn’t prevent him from having his chest hurt and his nerves shudder at seeing MC like this. On the outside, he’ll always appear neutral, so no one knows just how much he’s feeling for this human. He’s so much softer with them than anyone else.

MC doesn’t know how this demon keeps getting into their room without coming through the door, it freaks them out a bit, to be honest. They don’t complain about their room being so pristine you could brush over it with a white glove, though. 

MC thought that maybe, maybe, just once they could get away with getting up and doing things on their own. The brothers kept on fussing over them non-stop, but at one point they got called away to a meeting, leaving MC alone at home.

They got up out of bed, ready to stretch their legs and get some fresh air, trying to get some sort of normalcy back. They did all this not knowing that Barbatos was keeping a close eye on them from the shadows the entire time. 

Whether it was by Diavolo’s orders or Barbatos’ own volition, MC will never know, but they did find their little excursion to the outside quickly brought to a halt by some form of magic that transported them back to their room. Barbatos had them back in bed before MC could even reach the front gates. 

No matter how they tried, they were forced to stay safe, now even unable to get out from their bed. No matter how much they struggled, their own sheets betrayed them. The silent butler only showed up once MC gave up. He strutted over putting a soft but surprisingly stern hand over their shoulder as he went about taking care of them. Any words of protest fell on deaf ears. It was his duty to protect him, and not even MC could stop him. 

Simeon

He had no idea till he noticed that MC hadn’t been to school for a few days now. When he brought it up to the brothers, they explained how MC had staggered back home one night, hand completely busted, and they wouldn’t tell anyone why. For MC’s safety, and just for the brother’s peace of mind, MC was to stay home until further notice.

Simeon’s an angel, so peaceful, anger isn’t something he fully understands, but he felt a burning pain in his chest. Why didn’t anyone tell him immediately? Was he just supposed to figure this out himself? It had been quite a long time since Lucifer had seen Simeon frown so deeply before, eyes cloudy with distress.

Simeon had never missed classes ever. He was always much too early, much too eager to stick to regulations. So when he ended up skipping class, it shocked Luke to his core and caused Diavolo to make a note that an angel had broken the rules to go check on a human. This program was turning up all sorts of surprises.

MC was pleasantly surprised to hear the soft knocks on their door, vastly different than any of the ways the demons announced themselves. Simeon strode in, radiating warmth, carefully grasping their hand in his, and gave it a gentle kiss. The pain MC had felt no longer existed. Simeon explained that it was still best if they heal on their own, but at the very least, they wouldn’t feel pain. He would be there to make it all go away. 

He’s around MC now much more frequently, guarding them, keeping them from harm. From that point on he urges MC to let him know when things happen.

Solomon

He had been teaching MC more about magic. Not only did he think it would be beneficial for his human companion, but it would sate some of his curiosity. He wanted to learn more about MC, about their capabilities, testing to see in what ways their previous angel ancestor had changed them.

He knew they had a hard time driving out their power, so he tried different methods to assist them, methods they could use on their own. Magic rings, chants, wands. Unfortunately, once something worked, all their built up power flooded out of them at once, their temporary wand exploding into shards, and the bones in their hand following suit.

He used some of his magic to heal up what he could, being careful not to go too far or he’d overwhelm MC’s already weakened body. MC couldn't tell what was running through his head as he had them supported and cradled with one of his arms, the other one hovered over their hand. Magical circles and sigils running over their skin as it rushed to heal them. While his face seemed calm, his eyes looked a bit darker, missing the mischievous glint in them. They were tighter, laser focused, serious.

After he did what he could, both of them promised not to mention it to anyone, for fear both of them would never hear the end of it, or worse. While MC walked themselves home, Simeon used magic to keep an eye on them from his room, taking note what happened with him today. His mouth tight, arms folded across his chest, watching as the remnants from MC’s faulty makeshift wand burned rapidly in the fireplace. 

Luke

He has absolutely no idea how humans work or how weak they are. So when he heard MC had a broken bone, he didn’t even fully understand what that meant. Broke...a bone? He knew the word broke didn’t sound pleasant, and when he finally went to go see MC, his little head almost exploded.

Their body broke?? Human’s bodies could break like that?? And they couldn't just have it healed immediately??

He blamed the demons most definitely, but MC had never ever been so entertained when the little angel pointed at each and every one of the brothers--Lucifer included--and chewed them out. Each of them had different expressions. Belphie looked exhausted, Beel looked downtrodden, Asmo didn’t even seem to be paying attention. Satan looked like he was only focusing on not destroying Luke right then and there, Levi looked mortified, Mammon was the only one arguing back, and Lucifer was stunned speechless that a creature barely higher than his waist was giving him a lecture.

Until MC is fully healed, Luke makes sure to bring plenty of freshly baked sweets right to their door, not noticing seven pairs of glowing glares while he lingers in the house of demons.

[mhevarujta]

Zoya and the Darkling [Rule of Wolves Spoilers]

It’s a pity that fandoms mostly focus on romantic/sexual relationships, because The Darkling and Zoya have one of the most epic dynamics in the Grishaverse. The way they affect each other is so complex.

Zoya did not go to the Little Palace after being tested in the usual manner of Grisha travelling across Ravka to recruit children with powers. She was a young girl, a child really, living with a bitter and broken mother, in a home where her Suli inheritance was not appreciated, in a country that would condemn her both because of the power she let her demonstrated AND because of who she would have been without it. She was basically sold as a child-bride and her mother deluded herself into thinking that her daughter would not be raped by the old man she was marrying so that she’d feel better about herself, not to mention that she poisoned Zoya with her fears and made her afraid of her own heart. At the wedding her power broke loose and her aunt took her to a hard journey to the Little Palace so that Zoya would be tested and have a chance at a better life.

Zoya was taken in and she was separated from her family, but her aunt was ALWAYS in her heart. She started training and she was stronger than most, she was also driven and resilient. She arrived at the Little Palace when she was 8-9. When she was 13, she was the youngest one to be chosen as part of a group that would travel with the Darkling to Tsibeya to find the white tigers of Ilmisk because one of them was supposed to be an amplifier. By that age, Zoya was half in love with him already and she lived for his rare appearances at the school. She was the best, she had fought to be so, and he wanted him to see it. The Grisha were focused on hunting the female tiger, but the amplifier was a male one. He tried to kill the female’s cubs and Zoya gave them the protection of her body, she got scars that she never had tailored and she almost died, and killed the tiger to defend the cubs; not for the sake of power.

It wasn’t HER turn to get the amplifier, but since she killed the tiger only she could claim it. And THIS brilliant scene happens:

Some part of me always feared that he would send me away, banish me forever from the Little Palace. I told him I was sorry.

“But the Darkling saw me clearly even then. ‘Is that really what you wish to say?’ he asked.”

Zoya pushed a dark strand of her hair behind her ear. “So I told him the truth. I put my chin up and said, ‘They can all hang. It was my blood in the snow.’”

Nikolai stifled a laugh and a smile played over Zoya’s lips. It dwindled almost instantly, replaced by a troubled frown. “That pleased him. He told me it was a job well done. And then he said … ‘Beware of power, Zoya. There is no amount of it that can make them love you.’”

The weight of the words settled over Nikolai. Is that what we’re all searching for? Was that what he’d hunted in all those library books? In his restless travels? In his endless pursuit to seize and then keep the throne? “Was it love you wanted, Zoya?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. I wanted … strength. Safety. I never wanted to feel helpless again.”

  “Like calls to like” fits the Darkling and Alina, but it also fits Zoya and the Darkling… in fact it fits Zoya and Aleksander even more so. Both were powerful and KNEW it. Both eventually learned to be unapologetic about it and saw it as their safety net. Both were taught that power would give them safety, survival, fulfillment in some ways, but not love. And yet, as much as they denied it and hid their hearts they DID want to be loved more than anything.

Zoya only rises thereafter. She gets her rank, she is one of the most valued Grisha in the Little Palace, she is admired for her strength and beauty, she armors herself with arrogance, and ruthlessness. But she has not friends. Both her and the Darkling are surrounded by people, they are admired, but they don’t have people close to their heart. The Darkling always cared about Baghra as much as he could still manage and Zoya cared only bout Liliyana and Lada (an orphan girl that her aunt had taken in).

The Darkling SAW her. He saw how she tried like no other, he saw her pain, her anger and he considered these to be things that he could use to control her and to push her towards the direction he desired. And despite not being appreciative of her devotion when he had it, he missed it when it was gone.

When Alina got in the picture everything changed for Zoya. Yes, Zoya had feelings for the Darkling and I DO believe that her feelings and vanity would have been hurt to some extent by the intimacy in the way he approached Alina, but the primary problem was Zoya’s sense of injustice. Zoya had tried for YEARS, had trained hard, had sacrificed to be where she is. Alina never asked for any of it, but from Zoya’s perspective Alina would have been an untrained Grisha who got all the status, power and recognition that SHE had fought for without even trying. Until then, Zoya had been praised for wanting power, but when her anger is not convenient anymore, the Darkling punishes her for it and does not have a second thought about her.

And yet she remained loyal as always.

Even more so than rank, the Darkling and Liliyana were Zoya’s safety-net. And in ONE MOMENT, by genociding Novokribirsk, Zoya’s own mentor, the one who gave her safety and who was meant to create a haven for the Grisha, a person who KNEW her and who KNEW that she had family there, showed that he had no care for her, not care for human life and she wiped out the last people that Zoya loved.

He left her broken inside. In Siege and Storm, Zoya was at her lowest. She has to plead to Alina to have a position in the second army and she has to reveal a part of her heart; not just her loss of Liliyana. Her voice BREAKS when she says that the Darkling could have warned her of his plan; her pain at the idea that he did not give a crap about taking EVERYTHING from her is raw and cutting.

But she is not a quitter. She adjusts, she pulls her pieces together fast, she is a warrior and she stays on the right side without a question.

Then the Darkling attacked the very Grisha he was supposedly fighting for and killed half the people that Zoya had EVER KNOWN. And she still keeps fighting.

 Enter Rule of Wolves. There is SUCH DEEP IRONY in this book and the way Zoya and the Darkling’s arcs interconnect is a prime example of Leigh’s amazing writing.

The Darkling had told Zoya that they would change the world and he completely stopped paying attention to her the moment the potential of Alina’s power blinded him to anything else. And yet, when he returns Zoya has gained the kind of power that could eventually rival his own. But he STILL thinks that he should be the one to rule Ravka. He still thinks that he is the best option for the country. And once more, he criminally underestimates Zoya and overestimates himself.

Who else is vengeful and afraid of his own heart, I wonder…

Aleksander considered Zoya weak for the very same things that were his own fatal flaws.

But unlike him, Zoya SAW her flaws. The Darkling shut himself off more and more in order to save himself from pain. Zoya eventually opened up her heart to grief and pain to become the person her country needed and to embrace her power. She opened the door, when the Darkling did not manage to do so. She showed more courage than he did… and he SAW it.

Aleksander hoped to become the savior during the battle, he wished to demonstrate how only HE could save Ravka. But seeing Nikolai and Zoya defending the country is the first time it registers that there are others who are up to the task and who may be better suited than he is.

And he becomes essential in Zoya being accepted as a saint and in her rise to power partly because he wants to gain her favor but also because he finally sees all her potential, all she can achieve, how a Grisha queen of such power might give the Grisha the haven they need, when he clearly can’t.

And what is left for him to do? What does he want? He wants to serve the country he loves in a way that will affirm his sense of self-importance (he wants to offer something that no one else can) and he wants to be loved. So his new objective is to stop the blight.

The blight was created because of his own power. This man who hunted down and ruined the life of a young girl (Alina) in order to force her to be his balance, so that he could freely use his power in a very imbalanced way, finally realizes that HE is responsible for his power and that HE can be the only one to balance it and himself. So there is a new path he sees ahead of him: he can sacrifice himself to stop the blight and in the process Ravka might finally see that he always wanted to protect the country… and it might love him back. He KNOWS that he has committed crimes, he does not seek redemption, but he desired for all he has done to matter. And it can’t matter if he is not at all responsible for its country’s well-being and if everyone hates him. He has lived so many lifetimes without happiness or fulfillment and they would all have been wasted.

But he can’t achieve this by himself. This man who always thought that he could do things alone, and who took away everything Zoya had fought for, NEEDS her allowance for his centuries-long life to gain a scrap of meaning. He needs her allowance to be appreciated and loved.

I can’t be the only one who sees what a beautiful twist of fate this is.

At the same time Zoya herself understands the Darkling. She understands how anger and using power as a coping mechanism can corrupt. Knowing herself and seeing how he turned out are essential in her becoming a good ruler. He is the cautionary tale of what she could but will never allow herself to become.

When he explains his plan, she KNOWS that he’ll be in eternal pain and she has does not mind that his will be his fate. But when she sees the aftermath of his sacrifice and when she feels the kind of pain he’ll be experiencing for eternity, it leaves her shaken. She feels that pain in her own heart and this is not a fate that she wishes even on him. Genya and Alina are very much willing to let him rot but Zoya, who also believed that she could forgive him, feels that she has to.The Darkling has not redeem himself. He is doing penance. But as Genya mentions, there’s a fine line when one has to do the math of how much a person has to pay and of how much pain they have to feel before their punishment stops being just and they become victims instead. Zoya, being afraid of becoming him, knows that learning to show forgiveness is the only way forward, it’s the way for her to keep her heart open and not become the avalanche.

Zoya Nazyalensky has become everything that Aleksander Morozova, the lost boy, wished to be. Poweful, eternal, with friends, with a true partner, holding the best position a Grisha could imagine without forcing her rule and finally giving their people a true chance without comprominsing them. 

The Darkling was hoping that Alina would have been his balance. We are told how she might make him a better man and she might make him a monster.

But at the end of the day it’s Zoya who allows the Darkling to become the closest thing to decent that he can be at this point.

It’s the Darkling’s life that allows Zoya to see the lines that she will not cross and how to not become a monster.

And it’s Zoya’s ability to forgive him and her willingness to save him that becomes the backbone for the next phase of the Grishaverse, whenever Leigh decides to write it.

The way their paths entangle will always be at the core of the story.

_______________________

@myfriendscallmeraba​ I’m tagging you because you asked for it. It’s very encouraging to have someone interested in my ramblings.

[theonceandfutureking6481]

BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 6: A Remedy to Cure All Ills Analysis

Spoilers for the show

This episode is interestingly about Gaius, it is his arc we see here, not Merlin's or Arthur's and so this is a very interesting episode to watch because it is a vision of the world of Uther, and a vision of Gaius' own flaws. It is a world Merlin and Arthur will one day change and redeem, but as of yet this is a story more about the past then the present.

Gaius

This is something I believe I will come back to later, I'm pretty sure there's another episode later on that also addresses this idea and that is Gaius' deeply flawed nature. We as an audience love Gaius, he's a good character and Merlin loves him like a father, so we can't really help but love him too. But Gaius is flawed in perhaps one of the most dangerous ways, he is not cruel or even a bad person in any real way, but he is a coward. He is the person who in the face of injustice stands by and does nothing. His flaw is in some ways the most understandable, at least for me, its hard to be brave and to oppose power is not easy. Gaius has been a coward and has been complicit in the pain and deaths of so many in his silence, although arguably there wasn't really anything he could of done to stop it. This is revealed most of all in an exchange he has with Kilgharrah (though the 'blind eye' is also mentioned with Edwin).

Gaius: I will not choose between them (Uther and Merlin)

Kilgharrah: Then turn a blind eye. That is, after all, your talent

This is one of the first times we've seen Kilgharrah openly express emotion aside from telling Merlin about his destiny, its perhaps the first hint that he is more personally invested than he lets on. And its in an interactions with Gaius, and you can hear the disdain in his voice. This dragon has been a mouthpiece for destiny, for everything that's going to happen, he's a mouthpiece for the future and in this you realise that he and Gaius have a past, that there is more darkness in the past then we've previously understood. In this you realise that Gaius has failed to be the person he should've been, he's been a coward, and he has betrayed an entire people in his silence.

Gaius elects to turn a blind eye again by leaving, in some ways he's choosing Merlin but in leaving he's making it so he's not really making that choice, he's leaving whatever will happen in other hands. And Gwen says one of the most powerful lines in the show when he tells her that he has no choice.

"In life we always have a choice sometimes its easier to think that you don't."

Cause we do, Gwen's right. It's dangerous and easy to think that you don't have any choice but one, and everyone in this show makes that mistake at some point. Uther probably thinks that he has no choice but to persecute magic users because they're are evil. Everyone seeking revenge on Uther thinks they have no choice but to do so, and in doing no choice but to let collateral damage happen. Because if you accept that there is a choice then you accept responsibility for your actions, you accept that you are responsible for any damage you cause. You may still make the choice, but you are accepting that it is a choice you choose and the results are one's you have chosen to be acceptable. But I also love Gwen's response when Gaius tells her that he is choosing to leave, its a non-choice and also in Gwen's view its the wrong choice, but she doesn't judge him at all for it. She just says "then I'll miss you." She doesn't expect him to be brave, and she continues to care about him even as he doesn't do the right thing.

There is another note here that will be of more relevance later on. Gaius is and has been a coward, but Merlin is his redemption. Merlin is the redemption for everything Gaius has done (or hasn't done) that has helped facilitate Uther's regime. Obviously in sheltering Merlin, Gaius is already rebelling in a more meaningful way then he has in years but later in the show he will make choices to support Merlin and his destiny that will redeem him, and like so much of the show it is for the love of Merlin that he makes them, emphasising the importance of love once again.

Edwin

In many ways this is an uncomfortable episode for someone who is both not a kid and has already watched the whole show. Out of every villain in the show, Edwin is in some ways set up as the least villainous. He takes no collateral damage, he risks Morgana's life yes but ultimately he gets Gaius fired and tries to kill Uther. He doesn't even try to kill Gaius until the end, his revenge is so proportional, so seemingly justified, he hates Gaius but he doesn't try to kill him. Ultimately the show (in this episode at least) doesn't really address that complexity, they have some last minute making Edwin more evil ( he tells Merlin that they could be all-powerful together, the trying to kill Gaius and Merlin (though that was an under danger from them situation), and his parents having practiced dark magic). This ultimately succeeds, and we can go away happy in the knowledge that good triumphed over evil. This works this early in the show, this early on and we are not really sure how to feel about magic, how to feel about the great purge, how to feel about Uther, so we can accept the shows presentations of Merlin protecting Uther with little questions.

Ultimately I'm not opposed to Merlin protecting Uther, but that's largely due to how the show questions it later, because the show does address it. It does address whether or not Uther should be protected when honestly most of those seeking revenge are at least justified in the killing Uther part of their revenge.

But this has not been addressed yet, so we're left with a villain who ultimately did not seem that evil being killed and then Uther being saved.

This is also paired with this episode being perhaps the first one to truly address the horror of the great purge. Edwin's backstory is chilling, the scars on his face are there because he tried to run into the fire to save his parents when they were being burnt at the stake by Uther. There's also this sense of a barely spoken history between all the older characters, Geoffrey and Gaius don't want to remember that time, Kilgharrah reminds Gaius of how he turns a blind eye, and even in Uther and Gaius right at the end.

Uther: Do you remember them, his parents?

Gaius: I remember them all, sire

This happens, even after everything that has happened in the episode, so the episode itself doesn't even entirely erase the confusion regarding Edwin, and we don't really know who was really right. It's also an interesting moment for Uther, a moment where we see his resolve about magic slightly shift, and there is a hint of unacknowledged guilt there.

The fact that immediately after this Uther apologises to Gaius really cements this, Uther rarely admits he's wrong and he only does so when his own sense of his rightness has been questioned. He doesn't admit he was wrong with magic (and he never will), but that feeling perhaps prompts him to be able to admit he was wrong to Gaius.

Why Gaius serves Uther

Now this is a question that's hard to answer, because ultimately Gaius does serve Uther loyally for much of the show, rarely opposing him and it goes somewhat beyond just not being able to do anything else because Uther's the king, and Gaius both can't do anything but also just isn't a very brave person (though that is certainly part of it). We do find out later that Gaius ultimately doesn't think Uther's a bad king, he believes that Uther on the whole is fair to most of his people (except magic users), he's not great but he's better than a lot would be. And you see the hint of that in:

Gaius: You have always done what you believed to be right

Gaius perhaps sees in Uther a king who isn't purely driven by selfishness, a king who does genuinely seek to act in the interests of the people, and I guess that's probably better than most kings.

I also think there's a warning in that, a warning about doing purely what you believe to be right. And by that I mean acting purely in accordance with your own feelings without reference to the possibility of being wrong. Doing what you feel to be right is not always the right choice, and its something Merlin does often consider, not only because consequences are often far beyond what one person can consider, but because you may be wrong. Every person is blinded by their own experiences, Uther's blinded by his anger and hate and he mistakes that for righteousness.

Also, ultimately I might note, Gaius is physician. Most of the time serving Uther does not ask too much of him, he saves lives, he helps people, he doesn't usually have to participate in the bad. However, that doesn't take away from the fact that he still does occasionally, and he is reasonably loyal.

I enjoyed this episode, but its never been one of my favourites and it's hard to go away from this one entirely satisfied that all right ends have been achieved. The show chooses not to fully address the moral complexity at the heart of it yet, and that's fine this is after all a children's show and we are still so early in it but that does mean that in setting up complexity and not going through with it there is a level of dissatisfaction, as we struggle really to know if right really won here.

[ignitification]

It’s me the Shigaraki survivalist again lol

It’s cool you don’t agree I guess I just want to get my thoughts out

You said it’s unrealistic for Deku to save Shigaraki and them to work together—but the way I see it is that’s exactly what the story has been building up to. In a world where nothing is really “unrealistic” I really truly think it’s very in the realm of where the story is going. Shigaraki does look tired, because he has never been given a break. The thing is, BNHA isn’t a tragedy! (I think Hawks’s arc will be a tragedy but that’s a whole different discussion)

I just cannot see how Deku will be crowned “the greatest hero who ever lived” meanwhile the one person who needed him most is lying there dead. It just doesn’t feel convincing, especially in a shonen story. As far as the story is concerned, Shigaraki is still a child and never had a chance to grow up (it’s a coming of age story for Deku and Shigaraki). And you can’t celebrate being the greatest hero who ever lived while a “child” is dead. And I 100% expect Shigaraki and Touya to be very difficult to save (kinda like Kota from the training camp arc, but Deku saved him didn’t he?)—they’re gonna decline the help at first obviously. They have no reason to trust heroes, which is why I think Deku and Shoto are going to have to prove that they mean it—and they will, because they do.

I just feel like Shigaraki dying completely cancels out Deku’s main goal of “saving everybody”—which has been his thing since the beginning. Shigaraki was, in the eyes of the narrative, All Might’s responsibility to save, and he failed. Not only is Deku going to have to clean up the OFA/AFO mess, he’s gonna have to clean up the mess that All Might could have prevented (I’m not blaming All Might completely but as far as the story is concerned, and All Might is concerned—he definitely bares some responsibility for Tenko’s fate).

It’s as you said we don’t know what Horikoshi is going to do, but a girl can hope lol

I just don’t feel like the story is going to end with the message of “not everybody can be saved”. I just feel that there is so much more hope in this story than people give it credit for! Shonen typically reeks of hope and optimism, and even now BNHA still has that hopeful, optimistic energy, not grimdark realism. I think Horikoshi will pull this off and it’s gonna be awesome. And if you are right and Shigaraki does die, I honestly will consider it a huge waste of a character who could have and should have been saved, just like Touya, who I also think is 100% going to make it out alive.

Hey, Shigaraki Survivalist!

Glad you’re putting you opinion out here. 

Getting onto matters, I would like to maybe clarify my statement: I do not think it is unrealistic for Shigaraki and Deku to work together (I think rather that it would be absolutely fair, and maybe cathartic) and I do agree that is what is likely to happen, sooner or later. 

As for BNHA not being a tragedy, I think that it already is. Look at how Touya, Shigaraki and the same Izuku grew up: discriminated against, bullied, neglected and abused. If this is not a tragedy, I do not know what is. But if by that you meant that the general mood of the story is supposed to be one of instilling hope and instead letting people know that there is always a way one, and that there is still some possibility of saving if there is a will. I fully agree on that. The themes in BNHA are the real tragedy, but you are absolutely right when you say that the message is ‘People make mistakes. But that’s not the end. They can change and correct those mistakes, apologise, amend. Things can change.’ and not ‘Not everyone can be saved’ (even if, here, I would like to argue that Twice’s death message is exactly that but I don’t want to digress).

Also, not going to lie, I really like the positivity I feel from your message. It puts a smile on my face thinking that there is someone out there fully believing that salvation will come because there is someone who wants it to come. It’s a good thing. It’s a thing I, for one, do not have so thank you for doing that, this really brightened my evening. 

Now, onto a more heavy part of the post. I wanted to talk about All Might, and how he did fail, even if not entirely by himself, to save Shigaraki. First of all, I would like to notice the particular panel which tells us that ‘You can save only those you can reach’. 

This panel is telling in more ways than one. All Might specifically addresses Izuku in saying this, while not literally meaning it (or at least not expecting Izuku to understand it so literally). All Might ( and I talked about it here) is a character which sets up the bar high for Hero standards (and is seen as an idol so far gone, that no one could ever possibly reach him) - and that is exactly why Izuku bears this 'lesson' stoically and tries to save everyone ever more than before. Because if All Might could do it, Izuku feels like he should be able as well (while not considering the disproportion in between them, and I mean in experience and just relatively emotionally).

I mean Izuku feels a high burden with OfA, and to deal with AfO, and sometimes he can get very much extreme - but exactly for that, as you said, he would never feel as if he succeeded if he does not manage to save Shigaraki. Because if All Might is capable of brushing this aside, justifying himself by saying that he couldn't have done anything to prevent it and that it is impossible after all to save everyone, Izuku is not. Izuku feel so deeply that he cries for others, he rages for others, he longs for others with a great smile on his face because that is what it's expected of him.

And he likes to fulfil those expectation, whether that kills him, injuries him or anything else (as we saw him being all bandaged up in 299 and with no sign to recover any soon). 

However, this what I mean when I say that Tomura looks tired: 

He fails to understand how him not being saved is not actually a fault of someone (heroes/society, you name it - even if he does realise much later), but his first instinct as a kid is to blame himself and to tell that this, is is his punishment. He deserved it. And he does deserve to a degree what has happened to him since, because he is guilty of something he will never be able to forgive himself for and that is why he is they he is now.

I do think, that Touya, even being more self-destructive than Shigaraki, is an easier subject to save. I am not saying this because I think Dabi’s trauma or problems are easier to solve, but because Shouto understood him (to some extent) and with the sentence ‘I am him? referring to Touya and his intentions he is unwillingly showing us that Touya’s path to redemption (summed with Endeavour’s arc) are all pointing at Touya being saved, no matter how bad the situation gets. He, still scarred and lonely, does have a family out there caring for him. Or at least wanting to get to the bottom of things and not leave him to burn to death, alone. Again.

Shigaraki, on the other hand, does not have such a thing. Kurogiri has been captured, AfO is using him and the only guy who thought of Tomura as a human being, other than a bad villain, is Deku. I do not want say that this is not enough, but with all the burden that Izuku is already carrying at the moment, can he also bear on himself the weight of saving Shigaraki? I really hope he does, but as anyway as it will be, I think that Deku will try. He will try to get that hand reaching out to Tomura and even if skeptical about it, I hope Shigaraki takes the chance and takes it. He does deserve a break. He deserves a blanket, a cup of steaming tea and a hot long nap in a warm bed. A hug is optional. 

One of the themes I never touched upon is also, the found family of the League and Hawks. I really am waiting for more insight into the League’s members feeling for Twice, and maybe holding a funeral. I am also waiting for them to discuss Hawks. 

On which, my last point for this post: Hawks’ story, serves as a parallel to Dabi’s. We see how the abuse can bring to two extremes: one becoming a villain and focusing on hate, and the other focusing on idolising and becoming a hero (and in the meantime trying to forget everything else). I want Hawks to face consequences for his actions, and I want him to understand that he, too, is a victim and that atoning for his father’s crimes is not the way to go. He also needs to break free of the past and let go. I really hope that instead of clinging into past ideals and Endeavour, he realises that there is something highly wrong with the society he is fundamental part of and that he break free. If he doesn’t, as has been already put out there by some amazing posts I read, it will after all end in tragedy. Once a friend told me how Hawks was a tragic hero, and I might disagree but I do think that the name is fitting. But it’s not like that will change things. Only we can - and I hope everyone realises that.

-

p.s. Look at this panel, during the last moments of fight between Shigaraki and Deku.

And after that the realization of Izuku, that Shigaraki, who he does want to save is not only suffering internally, but as well externally, because of AfO and whatever is going on. Exhausted beyong recognition.

Look at Shigaraki's form. He looks like he is right about to collapse. There is a hand stretched out, in help, in resignation, in sadness, in pain. But his other hand is almost clenching, hard, noy wanting to let go. Tomura is after all trying to fight the entity within him, while also trying not to lose himself and look out for everything that might come in its way outside.

And finally, there is someone who looks through the hand on his hand, through the cracks of his identity, through every wall Tomura has put in between himself and others in order to protect them, and himself, from the absolute monster he thinks he is.

And it's, at the same time both ironic and daunting how these same words are also the works Deku speaks to Kacchan while saving him from the Sludge Villains. There is a direct parallel between Katsuki, who had hated Deku while being afraid of being inferior to him and that did not want his helo because he would feel too weak, and Shigaraki, who has no will of getting himself saved by anyone, but especially by the kid that denied him the objective of gaining OfA and defeating everything and the same kid who seems to feel something other than disgust for him. Both Katsuki and Shigaraki are opposites to Izuku.

So, if Izuku saved Kacchan, who in return saved Deku after accepting the fact that he and Izuku, are, after all, hero AND friends who care about each other, it would be nice to see where this is going to go with Tomura. And see if, maybe, just maybe, it is possible for Shigaraki to stop being Shigaraki and be Shimura Tenko instead.

[qqueenofhades]

Having just sent you a message the other day about how much I love your historical asks, I realized I have a question myself that you might know the answer to. I’m a Christian and I have never been able to figure out why Christianity has historically viewed non-procreative sex for pleasure as bad. (And none of my family, including my clergy father, have figured it out either. I think my dad has a bone to pick with Augustine? And I feel like Aquinas also has something to do with this.) But given that Jesus had a body and gives a speech about “the Son of Man came eating and drinking” as though he enjoyed it, how did this whole “the body is sinful especially the sex part” thing happen? I have been thinking about this a lot recently for Old Guard reasons, which should surprise no one.

Oof. So, a short and simple question, then. (Sidenote: did they expand ask limits? Because I’ve definitely gotten a couple asks today, including this one, that are longer than usual, rather than forced to space out and hope that Tumblr doesn’t eat them.)

The entire history of sexuality in the West and its relationship with Christianity throughout the centuries is obviously a topic that far, far exceeds anything I could possibly cram into this ask, but let’s see if I can hit on some of the highlights. First off, one could remark that some aspects of Jesus’s teaching managed to disappear from the official doctrine of Christianity almost immediately, and for a variety of theological, cultural, and social reasons. As anyone who has a passing knowledge of the late Roman Empire is aware, they were known for being sexually liberate (at least if you were a nobleman, as the freedom certainly did NOT apply to women), and the notorious run of emperors who were having orgies and sleeping with boys and their sisters and hosting nonstop sex parties did a lot to sour early Christianity’s relationship with it. Because pre-Constantine/Theodosian Code Rome was Christianity’s enemy (since Christians refused to perform the traditional civic sacrifices to the Roman gods, which was all that Rome required alongside permitting its citizens to practice whatever other religion they wanted), and because the emperors were such a high-profile example of sexual excess, that became an easy point of critique. Obviously, the Roman polemicists, like every other historian, should not be trusted on EVERYTHING they say about the emperors, but the general pattern is there and well-established. So Christianity, trying to establish its religious and moral bona fides, can easily go, “Well, Caligula/Nero obviously sucks, come join us and live a purer and more moral life!”

Constantine converted in the early fourth century and the Theodosian Code was issued at the end of the fourth century, which made Rome officially Catholic and represented a huge reversal of fortune for fledgling Christianity, helping it expand like crazy now that it was officially sanctioned. However, the Roman Empire was splitting into two halves, west and east, and the development of Greek Christianity in the eastern empire was strongly influenced by ascetic and austere traditions (if you’ve heard of the Stylites, i.e. the guys who liked to sit atop poles out in the Syrian desert to prove how holy they were, those are them). The cultural context of denial of the flesh and the renouncing of bodily pleasures also played intensely into the third/fourth/fifth century debates over heresy and orthodoxy. Some of the most vicious arguments came over whether Jesus Christ could have actually had an embodied (and therefore possibly inherently sinful) human body, or it was just a complicated illusion, the “shell” of a body that his entirely divine nature then inhabited without actually being part of. This involved huge theological arguments over the redemptive nature of the Eucharist and even Christ’s sacrifice: was it real/effective/genuine if he didn’t REALLY die and suffer the pain of being crucified, and was just assured that he’d be fine ahead of time? So yeah, the question of whether Christ had a real body (because then that might be sinful) was the knock-down, drag-out theological disagreement of the early centuries C.E., and left a lot of hard feelings and entrenched positions in its wake.

Likewise, your dad is correct in having a bone to pick with Augustine, at least in terms of his impact on views of sexuality in the late antique and early medieval Christian church. Augustine is obviously famous for agonizing endlessly over his sexuality/sexual urges in Confessions, his time as a Manichaean, his relationship with a woman and the birth of his son out of wedlock (and if you want a lot of repressed homoeroticism: well, Augustine’s got that too) and how his conversion to Christianity was intensely tied with his renunciation of himself as a sexual being. Augustine also pioneered the nature of the inheritance of Original Sin: therefore, every human who was born was sinful by virtue of sharing in humanity’s legacy from Eve’s transgression in the Garden of Eden. (And yes, obviously, this led to the beginnings of the embedding of clerical and social misogyny. Oh Augustine, I kind of hate you anyway because I had to read the entire goddamn 1000-page City of God during my master’s degree, but bro, you got a lot to answer for.) This involved EVEN MORE obscure speculations about whether original sin was passed down in male semen, and therefore Jesus was free of it because he was supposedly born divinely to a woman without a male father, but yeah, the idea that sexuality itself was already a suspect thing was fairly well correlated and then cemented by Augustine’s HUGE influence over the early church. Everything post-Augustine incorporated his ideas somehow, and so the idea of bodily pleasures as separating you from divine purpose got even more established.

Then we had the Carolingians in the eighth and ninth centuries, who were the first “empire” per se in Western Europe post-Rome, and who were also intensely concerned with legislating moral purity, policing the sexual behavior especially of its queens, and correlating moments of political or military defeat with insufficiently virtuous private behavior. The Carolingians likewise passed these ideas onto their successor kingdoms, especially the medieval kingdom of France (which would eventually become the pre-eminent secular power in Western Europe). Then the eleventh century arrived with the Cluniac and Gregorian Reforms (which were interrelated). One of their big goals was for a celibate and unmarried clergy on all levels of holy orders, from humble village priests to bishops and archbishops. Prior to this, clergymen had often been married, and there wasn’t a definite sense that it was bad. But because of this, and the idea that a married clergyman wasn’t pure enough to provide the Eucharist and would be distracted from his commitment to the church by a wife and family, the Cluniac and papal reformers intensely attacked sex and sexuality as evil. Priests didn’t (or rather, were not supposed to) do it, and if you weren’t in a heterosexual church-performed marriage and didn’t want children, you shouldn’t be doing it either. (Did this stop people, and priests, from doing it? Absolutely not, but that was the rhetoric.) This was about when celibacy began to be constructed as the top of the heap in terms of holy lifestyles, for men and women alike and laypeople as well as those in holy orders. NOT having sex was the most virtuous choice for anyone, even if sex was a necessary evil for having heirs and the next generation and so on. (Which is interesting considering that our hypersexualized present attaches so much value to having sex of one sort or another, and the asexual-exclusion types, but yeah, that’s a different topic for now.)

Of course, when the Cathars (a schismatic Catholic heresy in France and Italy) in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries began attacking ALL materiality and sexuality as irredeemably evil, the Catholic church went a bit like “whoa whoa that’s a little too far, hold on now, SOME sex is good, sex can be nice, we’re not actually like those guys” (even though they had been about a hundred years before). Because Cathar spirituality taught that any kind of attention or indulgence to the body was sinful, that included any kind of sex at all, even married heterosexual intercourse. (Of course, the Cathars themselves didn’t always live up to it either; see Beatrice de Planissoles and her Cathar priest lover.) The Catholic church obviously didn’t want to go THAT far, so they began rowing back some of their earlier blanket statements about the evilness of sexuality and taught that husband and wife both had a responsibility to offer each other sexual pleasure and fulfillment. I’ve answered many asks about sexual behavior and unions in the medieval era, the arguments over the definition of marriage, and how that changed over time in response to social needs and pressures, so yes. We know what the IDEALS were, and what people were legally supposed to do, but the fact that church writers were complaining about bad behavior, sexual and otherwise, literally the whole time means that, obviously, this did not always match up with reality.

The theories of the Roman physician Galen, which prescribed that female orgasm was necessary to conceive, were also well known and prevalent in the medieval world, which meant that ordinary married couples trying to have children would have had some awareness that female pleasure was supposedly necessary to do it. (This ties into my “it wasn’t an unrestrained extravaganza of violent painful rape for women all the time YOU GODDAMN MORONS JESUS CHRIST” rant, but we will recognize that I have Many Rants. So yes.) Obviously, we can’t know what the sex life of individual married couples behind closed doors was actually like, but there were a variety of teachings and official stances on sex and how it was supposed to be done, and as noted in other posts, just because the church thought it is zero guarantee that ordinary people thought that way too. People are people. They (usually) like having sex. They had sex, both gay and straight, married and unmarried, so on and so forth, even if the church had Opinions. Circle of life, etcetera.

Anyway, then the Renaissance arrived (and we just had the “why the Renaissance sucked for women” ask the other day), which prescribed a reversal of all the comparative sexual and political and social latitude that women had gradually acquired over the medieval era. It very much wanted to see women returned to their silent, domestic, maternal, objet d’arte roles that they had occupied in antiquity, and attacked the actions of women in their public and private lives as one of the major causes of the crises of the late medieval era. (Because you know, misogyny is always a useful scapegoat rather than blaming the powerful men who have fucked everything up, as we’re seeing again right now.) Because the Renaissance is regarded, fairly or unfairly, as the start of the early modern Western world, it’s where a lot of modern gender attitudes and views of sexuality became more explicitly codified and distributed faster than at any point in history before, to a more extensive audience, thanks to the invention of the printing press. We’ve obviously had moves toward sexual liberation and agency in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and the emergence of the modern feminist and gay rights movements, but now in some ways, we’re back in oddly Puritan attitudes in the twenty-first century. And since America was founded by Puritans, their social attitudes are still embedded in the culture, fanned today by hyper-conservative Protestant evangelicalism. Even though Puritans themselves ALSO, shock surprise, didn’t always live up to the stringent standards they preached.

...whoof. I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but hopefully that gives you the broad-strokes development.

[rainbuckets8]

Why you should watch RWBY

TL;DR:

Summary: RWBY is an epic fantasy with themes like found family, the struggle to remain hopeful, the younger generation growing up, villain redemption, and systemic evils.

Strengths: RWBY has unique and memorable characters. The show is smart. It has excellent cinematography and animation. It has representation. It tackles hard topics. It’s got incredible music and it’s free on RT’s website.

Weaknesses: RWBY has some early growing pains, specifically volume 2’s finale, as well as budget and polish. Later on, volume 4 is weaker than the rest. Volume 8's finale is extremely distressing for a lot of viewers (and we haven't seen the follow up to those events yet). The fandom can be bad at times.

Misinformation: The early volumes being bad, the racism plot line, and the animation (not the same as “budget and polish”) are not as bad as you may have heard from YouTube.

Suggested viewing order

Red Trailer, White Trailer, Black Trailer, Yellow Trailer

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Volume 4 Character Short

Volume 4

Volume 5 Weiss Character Short, Volume 5 Blake Character Short, Volume 5 Yang Character Short

Volume 5

Volume 6 Adam Character Short

Volume 6

Volume 7

Volume 8

(I did my best to make this spoiler-free. When there are spoilers, they’re worded ambiguously enough that someone new to the show would never guess what’s going to happen just by reading this.)

What to expect

The world of Remnant is filled with monsters called the creatures of Grimm. Warriors called Huntsmen and Huntresses defend humanity. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang go to school to become the next generation of heroes. Together they make Team RWBY (pronounced, “Ruby”)! Joining them is team JNPR (“Juniper”), made up of Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren. But evils even more dangerous than the Grimm are ready to make their move, and school quickly becomes an afterthought…

(I mention these next two topics specifically bc they can immediately turn someone away based on bad expectations.) There is a fantasy school setting, but RWBY is not a show about school. School topics are not a dominant idea: it seems to resemble a setting like Harry Potter, but the actual focus of the show rarely touches on things like classes or homework or tests, and we quickly move on. There is romance and it has a role in the plot, but RWBY is not a romance show. On the scale of romance in FMAB to She-Ra, RWBY falls somewhere in the middle.

What is RWBY about, then? RWBY is like an epic fantasy or high fantasy, despite first appearances. Perhaps not every genre convention is followed, but at its core, RWBY is about an epic struggle of good and evil.

RWBY contains themes such as found family, the struggle to remain hopeful, the younger generation growing up, villain redemption, and systemic evils.

Strengths of the show

The characters are unique and memorable. One of the cool things is that they all draw inspiration from a real life fairy tale, myth, or something else. They designs are all top notch. One character who died with extremely little screen time even got so much fandom love, they included the character in a mid-hiatus short later. The characters have unique weapons, too; in the world of Remnant, a weapon is an extension of ones’ soul, and they reflect the variety of their owners. They’re also just plain cool; Monty was famous for following the “Rule of Cool.” And their individual stories are all compelling and interesting.

The show is smart. As a fandom, we generally pick up on the narrative hints the creators are dropping. And our predictions usually come true, but not in a way that makes the show predictable and boring. We very rarely guess exactly what will happen, but we have some similar idea of it. It’s just excellent foreshadowing.

RWBY also likes to play with tropes, as an extension of this. Often it will challenge them, or subvert expectations. In other cases, RWBY uses tropes to avoid showing us what we already know will happen. This occurs in both characters and plot. For example…

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR VOLUME ONE FOR THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH: Jaune’s entire character arc is about trying to be the anime protagonist, and learning that he doesn’t have to do things alone, and it’s ok to be a support main. The show sets up the narrative in a way that looks like, oh of course the direction it will go is him becoming the main character, but then it destroys toxic masculinity instead.

Our characters are smart, too. Plot-induced stupidity generally doesn’t happen. (A few big mistakes or errors in this regard aren’t actually the fault of the narrative, either, but animation and miscommunication and failure to execute. And those aren’t common.) It goes beyond just “not being dumb,” however. The villains’ plans are incredibly clever, and our heroes sometimes even guess at the usual “plot twists.”

The cinematography is just incredible. There are numerous freeze frames with extreme attention to detail that reveal character motivations or arcs or foreshadowing, there are many effective cuts and moving parts, there are soooo many parallels and callbacks, and visual cues such as lighting and color all are used appropriately to convey emotion and assist the narrative. It is one of the biggest overlooked strengths of the show, imo, simply because a lot of people in the fandom don’t notice these things as much for whatever reason, or else don’t give as much praise about them.

The animation is extremely good as well. Budget issues and technology issues aside (which means a lack of polish), the actual animation? The fight choreography, and all the other parts of animation that aren’t just “expensive CGI” are all wonderful. You can have very shiny, polished turds after all, and RWBY is like the opposite: not very polished, especially early on, but very well animated. All the trailers, volume 1 episode 8, the volume 1 finale, the volume 2 penultimate episode, and basically everything else hold up extremely well even today. If anything, the worst fight animation was in volumes 4 and 5 because of Maya growing pains, and those are an example of being more polished, but not necessarily better animated. Animation of faces has always been good, animation of characters has always felt lively. Aside from a few small actual hiccups (that one person running across rooftops for instance), it’s well done.

There are LGBTQ+ characters. The treatment of one of the recent trans characters, in volume 8, was nothing short of amazing. They worked with a VA who was trans. The moment of canon confirmation was important to the character for backstory, because of course that affects the character’s life, but not the only important thing about the character. The representation is not in-your-face or pandering. And there is a split of representation among the main cast and the minor characters, with promises of more to come (notably they’ve said they’re working on more mlm for future volumes, too).

RWBY is not afraid to tackle hard topics. It deals with things like mental illness, systematic racism, and cycles of abuse. It’s not because the show is trying to earn “gritty and dark” points, it’s because those are some of the topics that real people have to struggle with as well. And the show handles most or all of them very well, in a way that shows respect and an honest attempt to depict these things as best they can. (NOTE ABOUT VOLUME 8: THERE IS A VERY DIFFUCLT CONVERSATION CURRENTLY HAPPENING. I am on the side of, let’s wait and see what happens next because the story isn’t over, so we haven’t really seen the fall out. But I understand why this paragraph feels really difficult to agree with if you've seen the volume 8 finale. I trust the track record of the rest of the show, personally.)

As an example, the show has a theme that villains are rarely evil just because. A lot of villains choose to do bad things because they were hurt in some way. Some lived in poverty; some were hurt by racism; many of them are victims of abuse. But the show doesn’t make excuses for them. It’s possible to be both sympathetic and still choose evil over and over again (that’s called tragic). The ones who eventually do try to do good again are not always forgiven, either.

The music is amazing. I can probably count on my hands the number of times I’ve heard someone say otherwise, which is astonishing when you consider this fandom.

It’s also free on RT’s website. (A paid, “FIRST” subscription removes ads and lets you see new episodes one week early, but they all eventually release for free.)

Weaknesses of the show

Early volumes’ growing pains exist, much like most or all other shows. (Even some of the greatest were not immune to this, like ATLA.) In this case, however, it’s a little bit rougher. A large reason why is that this was kind of the first big thing from RT to ever come out. If you remember back almost a decade ago, their only other big thing at the time was RvB, which was machinima. They pretty much started from scratch with everything, from assets to VAs to animation to writing. Imagine if a random twitch streamer, like Ninja (idk who’s popular these days) said one day, “OK let me just direct something that’s intended to be the next great movie series of all time, like Star Wars, with a $4 bill and an iPhone camera.” Then went out and actually made something. Of course it would be rough…but then it turns out the movie is actually really good. And then you get to watch over the next several years as everything gets better and better until it’s honest-to-god comparable to the MCU. That’s kind of what happened with RWBY.

One specific growing pain was the volume 2 finale. Pretty much everything else up until that point, I love about the show. But the finale just fails to deliver on the build up of tension from other episodes. Some of it is because of later plot developments that we didn’t know at the time; some of it is because of just not great writing; some of it is because of just not great animation; and yes, some of it is budget. Regardless, it’s a low point for the show.

Speaking of, the budget for the early volumes is super small. The infamous volume one shadow people, the infamous person jumping across the rooftops in volume two, and just production quality isn’t high compared to a major release from some established studio. These are real weaknesses of the show that for some people, make it unwatchable, and if that’s you, that’s ok.

One last weakness of the show, the screen time per episode, especially early on, is NOT a full 20 minutes like you may expect of an anime (or anime-inspired-western-media, for those of you who will die on the “RWBY is not an anime” hill). This is a trend that has stuck with the show, a shorter run time per episode, for generally the entire lifetime. On one hand, it means it’s a little less daunting to catch up or rewatch than the number of episodes might imply. On the other, early on, some episodes have a little weird pacing. It also means the writing had to adjust for this, so while RWBY got really good at telling a story within a shorter amount of time, there’s also challenges with that too. Perhaps one of the notable ones is the pacing, with slower moments sometimes feeling like it takes up too much screen time, or not enough. Volume 4 was a particular struggle for the crew, both because they switched animation engines and also for the story.

Common complaints that I don’t agree with

I don’t agree that the early volumes were actually bad overall. Growing pains, yes, but not bad. I attribute that complaint to overly focusing on one character’s storyline, back when it wasn’t clear there was so much more to come and before people realized the show would challenge the tropes instead of falling into them. It’s pretty much just volume 1 when people say this anyway, most of them I’ve heard admit that volume 2 was a lot better (except the finale) and almost everyone loves volume 3. And looking back on it, I do think volume 1 holds up.

Tying into this, the racism plot line is another common complaint. I don’t think it’s actually executed quite that badly. I think it makes sense for there to be regional differences in the amount of racism we see, it just so happened that we only saw a very small and isolated environment, Beacon, for much of the early volumes. (Incidentally, that’s actually similar the environment I myself grew up in.) It’s not perfect, though. But there’s no doubt that the later volumes do a better job portraying this. Again, I attribute it mostly to people not knowing how long the show would run for at the time, so of course if that’s all we saw, it would’ve been bad. But it’s not. I have a lot of respect for Miles and Kerry for even attempting to handle the racism topic in the first place. And for the faults that DO exist in this plot line, I credit them for learning and growing past that too, and doing better in later volumes.

The animation is not bad. I’ve already touched on that earlier, but people confuse “budget and polish” with “animation.” Give me RWBY any day over Michael Bay’s Transformers: no matter how much polish those robots have, they’re still a confusing mess to try and follow. And the polish isn’t even an issue once we get past the growing pains of Maya and get a bigger budget, because wow does this show look good now.

Between these three complaints I hear about often, I think those are the biggest ones. And they’re all generally done in bad faith, based not on just those but on other more provocative statements people also make with them. That’s part of my issue with the fandom, specifically the vocal but small parts of the fandom, because they’re just repeating these things from early days that aren’t true. But YouTubers gotta get those rage and hate clicks somehow, right? Unfortunately it discredits the show a lot and influences other people’s opinions into not giving it a fair chance, because it’s become a narrative of “RWBY IS BAD” when they all won’t shut up about it. So yeah, fandom can be bad, join at your own discretion. (Of course, all fandoms have annoying parts, and my interactions with the fandom have been good overall, otherwise.)

Onto other complaints, some say the cast is bloated. I don’t agree, but I don’t think this one is in bad faith. I think we get the important characters as much screen time as we can, and the minor characters don’t actually detract from that; one of the differences between good minor characters and bad ones, is that bad ones take up too much time. RWBY has a ton of characters but many of the minor ones don’t actually take up too much time. So it appears bloated, but actually I don’t think it is.

Finally, a small word on the no-no topics. Adam, and Monty. Adam is like the champion of the Monty topic. Which essentially boils down to “Miles and Kerry are ruining Monty’s vision for the show.” Toxic fandom is truly awful and I have no respect for anyone who says anything like that. Shame on all of you. This isn’t really anything negative about the show, but the fandom, and tbf all fandoms have toxic parts. But toxic fandom can be a real and valid reason to not watch a show. Thankfully they seem fewer in number these days, but I think they’ve evolved into hiding behind other characters or topics, so you know. Beware. Again, it's not too hard to avoid them or block them, and my interactions otherwise with most fans have been good.

[justfandomwritings]

She’s Got A Friend (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Fluff, Angst and nongraphic “off page” minor character deaths 

Summary: Happy endings are a matter of perspective. At some point in every story, there will always be some glorious, shining moment of hope, love, redemption, success. No good story is complete without it.

And if you end the story then, if you end it on a high, you can almost forget that anything came after that.

Notes: Hospital AU for @captainscanadian​ 1k follower writing challenge! I have taken the “Hospital” in hospital AU rather liberally to mean a field hospital in WW2. I thought I’d try a bit of a different writing style for this. Let me know what you think.

The condolences came in the mail only a few days after the official notification arrived on her doorstep from the mouth of some general or another.

She didn’t bother to remember the man’s name, and why should she? He wouldn’t remember her brother’s, let alone hers.

It was hard to stem the tide of her anger in the face of a man so visibly faking his sympathy for her pain. It was harder still to unleash her anger on him; she pitied him almost as much as he faked pitying her. It was just before sunset, and she was his sixteenth stop of the day, with a further 5 to go before he got off that night.

She imagined that, at some point, months ago, he had cared. He had sympathized and cried with grieving widows and orphaned children. No doubt, he had written them letters and checked on their wellbeing, asked after their emotions and made sure they were well. No more. He’d grown numb to the pain his presence inflicted, and with it less sympathetic to the plight of those around him.

By the time he reached her door, by the time he said “Ma’am, we have received word that your brother’s plane was shot down over Occupied France last week. His body has been recovered from the wreckage and will be on route home at the earliest possible date,” to her, he didn’t mean the “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this news. Your brother died a hero, and if there is anything I can do to ease your pain, it would be my honor to do so in his memory,” that followed.

The nameless general had never met her brother. He called every soldier a hero when he met their families, whether it was true or not. If they asked him about how their loved one died, or if they began to cry on his shoulder, he had a practiced speech about how their son or brother or husband had died fighting, died bravely, died to save the lives of millions, died to protect them all.

(Y/n) knew all of that because, even though she didn’t remember his name, she remembered his face. They’d met before. It wasn’t the first time he’d knocked on her door. He was the same general who had come to inform her of her father’s tragic end a few months prior. The general hadn’t remembered her father’s name either, nor hers.

She didn’t bother to point out their association to the man. She thanked him for his service and left him standing on her front step as a door closed in his face.

It was easier for both of them that way.

The letter that came from her brother’s commanding officer was more heartfelt, (Y/n) assumed, but she didn’t read it.

“Ms. (Y/n), By now you have no doubt received word of your brother’s tragic end. Selfishly, I am glad that I was not the one who had to inform you. Your brother was a flying ace in my squadron and a good friend. Retrieving his body brought me to tears for far longer than my commanding officers would like me to admit…”

That was as far as she read. Her brother was dead. They had his body. She was numb to everything else, as numb as the general who showed up at her door, as numb as her brother’s corpse in the grave.

She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

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(Y/n) walked into the hospital the next day and handed in her resignation. She was just the next in a long line.

Dorothy had resigned the week before. Her husband had been killed in North Africa. She could no longer afford to live in New York, not that cost of living was at the front of her mind. She was moving back South with her two children, both under 5 years old, to live with her aging parents.

Vera had gotten married to a hotshot factory owner and resigned to plan her wedding. The rest of the ward had scorned her as she trotted out with her chin held high and a smirk on her face. She’d never done the work because she loved it like the rest of them, and she had no qualms about letting them all know it.

Ruth was on her way out the door in a week. She was following her husband to England where he’d be training pilots at an RAF airfield. Normally, that sort of thing wouldn’t be allowed, wives being stationed with their husbands. Ruth, however, was a pretty good mechanic and often worked on her husbands planes in her free time, and without any children to worry about, the Army was really getting two for the price of one.

Juanita’s departure had no doubt hit the hardest. With so many men dying overseas, crime on the home front had been virtually forgotten. Juanita’s son brought it back to life. Too weak to be enlisted in the army, her son had taken up work at the docks that he never would’ve been physically qualified for if not for all the men being drafted. Three weeks on the job, he was mugged by a group of drunken sailors out for their last night of freedom. He died in the hospital with his mother only a few doors down in a different wing.

The most senior nurse on staff, Juanita used to run the ward, but after her son died in the building, she couldn’t even look at the hospital anymore.

“(Y/n),” Mary sighed and scrubbed the heel of her palm into her eyes to try to wipe away the sleep. “We’re short staffed already.”

There was a begging to her tone, and any other day the pain etched across her face would’ve been enough to convince (Y/n) to stay. Mary was her friend, by some accounts her best friend.

“I know Mary, and I’m sorry. I just can’t stay here anymore. I can’t walk past my brother’s room. I can’t ride down the streets my brother and I used to play in. I can’t go in the shop he used to own. I just can’t.”

Mary swallowed hard; when she spoke the lump in her throat became more apparent with each word. “I understand that you’re in pain, but this hospital…”

“That’s just it,” (Y/n) cut her off, slipping into the seat across the desk from her friend. She’d refused to sit when she first came to see Mary, hoping to be in and out quickly, but not now. “I don’t feel anything, Mary. I can’t look at his room because I know I should be heartbroken. I can’t travel down the street because I know I should be in pain. I can’t go in his shop because I know I should be crying. But I’m not. I don’t feel hurt or worried or upset. I don’t feel anything; I’m just numb.”

“Numb?” Mary furrowed her brow. “You’re leaving because you think you should be in more pain?”

“I’m leaving because I loved my brother, because I should be feeling something, but I’m not. I feel nothing, and that scares me even more.”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere I will feel something.”

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Her brother had been Air Force, but her father had been Army.

She couldn’t bring herself to go to one of the Air Force’s recruiting offices. Part of her was worried she would have an emotional breakdown speaking to the men in charge. A larger part of her was worried she would feel nothing at all, a sign she was heading in the wrong direction.

The Army felt safer. She hadn’t been numb to her father’s death. She’d cried and mourned, and though the thought still overwhelmed her with sadness, she knew she would one day move on. About her brother, (Y/n) didn’t know what to think.

“What experience do you have?”

(Y/n) found herself sat in front of some captain or another responsible for organizing the Army Nursing Corps. He looked bored with her; she doubted managing a bunch of women was what he’d had in mind when he joined the war.

“I’ve worked at Wyckoff Heights Hospital on St. Nicholas in Brooklyn for eight years. I have copies of all of my reviews that show exemplary performance and no reprimands on record.”

The man took the stack of papers from her hand and began flipping through them. He stared at each of them for a long time, occasionally giving a ‘hm’ or ‘huh’ to show that he was thinking.

(Y/n) noticed after two pages that he wasn’t actually reading. His eyes weren’t moving from where they looked thoughtfully at the center of the page, and the noises of contemplation came randomly, even on pages that wouldn’t require much consideration.

(Y/n) turned away from the show to glance around the room. To the left was a door to the waiting rooms. Occasionally, when it swung open she could see the rows of shirtless men waiting for their number to be called up for evaluation. There didn’t appear to be many seats open.

She wondered, to herself, how many of them would be accepted, how many of those would make it back alive.

There were family members milling around the hall. A young woman was already weeping near the exit, and she hadn’t even been rejoined by the man she was waiting for. One of the doctors, (Y/n) assumed the portly, greying man was not one of the recruits, was trying his best to comfort her, but he didn’t seem to be having much success.

For the overwhelming number of men waiting to be evaluated and find a place in this war, there were a surprisingly few number of nurses. (Y/n) hadn’t been shown to any waiting room. There was a bench in the half she’d first entered with half a dozen or so women occupying it when she arrived. By the time her name was finally called only two more had come in behind her. The recruiters desk was in a notch in the hallway, not even its own room. The women were forced to state their credentials and make their case with no privacy to his judgments.

At least a dozen of the people milling around, including the old man and young woman by the door, could hear what was being said to her.

The man snapped her file closed with sharp flip of his wrist. “On your application, you’ve marked that you’d like to be assigned to a field hospital. I’m assuming you know nothing about the war. Field Hospitals are on the frontlines, girl.”

“I’m aware.” (Y/n) smoothly replied.

He raised an eyebrow, but none of his other features changed. (Y/n) couldn’t tell if it was condescension or confusion. “Are you now? The nurses in Field Hospitals are shot at almost as much as the soldiers. You think the Germans will spare you because you have a pretty face?”

“I don’t expect to be spared by anyone.”

His grilling was catching eyes from those milling around.

“And why would a girl like you want to find herself on the front lines?”

“I just want this war to end with as little bloodshed as possible. Helping where the men need it most seems like a good start.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

German.

(Y/n)’s eyes whipped around, as did many others in the hallway. There was a German here.

“My name is Dr. Erskine,” He proclaimed, more quietly this time, “I may have a job for you.”

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Erskine didn’t try to replace her father.

He offered a guiding hand out of the goodness of his heart. He offered a shoulder to cry on because he could see she hadn’t yet grieved. He offered insight, advice, from the wisdom of his own experience.

Erskine wasn’t trying to replace her father, and yet he did so many things she wished her father was there to do.

He offered her a job because he could see she wanted to find her purpose. He put her up in the barracks because he knew she needed space from her past. He accompanied her on walks at night to keep her nightmares at bay. He filled her waking hours with work when she needed distraction and took the load away when it became too much.

Erskine didn’t try to replace her father. No one could ever replace her father. He was a good substitute though. In times as dark as those, family was what she needed.

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He reminded her of her brother.

That was the first thought that came to (Y/n)’s mind when she met Steve Rogers.

Her brother was younger than her by two years, and as a child he’d always been the smaller of the pair. For most of their childhood, her brother could barely reach her shoulder. Stretching his arms as wide as he could, he’d be lucky if his reach went from (Y/n)’s wrist to wrist. Short and scrawny, he’d not caught up to his sister’s size until he was a teen, but once he’d caught up, there was no looking back.

Steve reminded her of him. The size, for one thing, was an unmistakable similarity, but there was an air to Steve, an air of familiarity that made her feel at home. Every time she looked at him, she saw her baby brother. Not the strong, handsome man he was when he died, but the fearless, young boy she wished he would’ve stayed forever.

She monitored the health of all of Erskine’s candidates in the Strategic Scientific Reserve, but she couldn’t deny she paid special attention to Steve.

They all paid special attention to Steve.

Erskine liked his sense of justice. His conscience oozed out of his every pore. No one had ever argued with Steve and been right about it. They were talking about making a superhero here, and yet there was a very real sense amongst them that Steve already had a superpower: always doing the right thing.

Peggy had an immediate fondness for him. He was determined, beyond belief, and she admired that spark in him that refused to be snuffed out. He knew, in his heart, what he believed, and he was more than willing to die for it. Peggy was too.

Only the Colonel, Chester Phillips, doubted Erskine’s decision. He paid special attention to Steve, but he did so only as a foil. He liked to compare Steve to other men in the camp, men he’d chosen for the project, rather than the one Erskine had brought on. “Brown is stronger,” or  “Donalds is faster,” were common phrases in his office.

In truth, they were all stronger. They were all faster. On paper, any one of them would’ve made a better super soldier than Stever Rogers.

“That’s what Phillps does not understand,” Erskine told her one day while they worked in his lab. “It isn’t about what’s on paper. It’s about what’s in his heart.”

“So it’s going to be Steve?” (Y/n) asked.

Erskine nodded. “Do you agree?”

(Y/n) hesitated. She didn’t want to blindly agree with the accolade simply because he reminded her of her brother. She also didn’t want to naively dismiss it to save him the risk because he reminded her of her brother.

She knew Steve Rogers; she would like to think she knew him well. They were friends. Yet the more she got to know him the more she saw her brother in him. That chest cold that wouldn’t go away when her brother was eight, the fight he lost with a boy who’d made a lewd joke about her skirt, the way he’d adamantly stood up for their father’s memory as a soldier; their kind hearted mother teaching him to temper his words.

She knew Steve Rogers well, and the more she knew him the more she saw him as her brother. The more she saw him as her brother, the more she knew he had to do this. He needed to do this.

“I agree.”

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“Steve, you may as well ask her out. If you’re going to spend this much time ogling her, she at least deserves dinner out of it.”

Steve’s face turned as red as the apple she was chewing, and (Y/n) couldn’t hold in her smirk.

“I-I wasn’t…” Steve glanced over his shoulder, checking that Peggy wasn’t within earshot of (Y/n)’s ribbing.

“It’s all right, Steve. I won’t tell her, but you really should.”

Steve shook his head, definitively turning his back to Peggy. “Please, my entire life girls like that have passed me by.”

(Y/n) rested a hand on Steve’ shoulder. “Your entire life girls who look like that have passed you by, but Peggy isn’t like those girls. If you don’t ask her out, you’ll never give her a chance to prove it.”

Steve chuckled and looked off into the sky. “My friend said something like that to me about this girl, Maria, not long before he left for the front.”

“And did you listen to him?”

“No,” Steve admitted. “He was the one the girls always passed me by for.”

“Well, did he ask them out?” (Y/n) chuckled.

Steve hesitated a second before saying, “Yes.”

“Then that’s why they passed you by. Your friend sounds like he has a good head on his shoulders. You should listen to him.”

Steve gave (Y/n) a fond smile. “You remind me a lot of him. It’s easier, having you here.”

“It’s easier having you here too.”

(Y/n) didn’t know if that was true, but she was starting to think it might be. She was starting to feel something. Steve was helping her remember the good times with her brother, before the Army and the War. Back when they were just two kids in Brooklyn.

She missed him.

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Erskine. Gone.

Would this war take everyone from her?

(Y/n) kneeled in a pool of his blood, his body splayed out in front of her.

She’d dedicated years of her life to Erskine’s work. She’d dedicated time, money, opportunities. She’d dedicated everything she had and more. Gone.

His work was gone. Erskine was gone.

He was her friend, her family; and he was gone.

She summoned a tear, more than one.

They came slowly at first and then spiralled uncontrollably. Sobs racked her body as she gripped at his hand.

Someone tried to help her up, but she didn’t want up.

Vaguely, she recognized Stark’s voice. He was calling out to her.

“(Y/n), he’s gone.”

Yes, she already knew he was gone. What good was all of his genius when he could only state the obvious.

What good was all of her years in a hospital, all of her years of training, if she couldn’t save a life when it mattered, the one life that mattered.

It felt like hearing her father was gone again.

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They were taking Steve too, as if she had anything left to give.

“Phillips would just as soon send me home. I’m just a lab rat to him.” Steve spat the word out in disgust. “That’s all I am, an experiment, Erskine’s experiment. They wanted an army, but they got me.”

“That’s all you are to him.” (Y/n) quietly corrected.

“And what am I to everyone else?” Steve turned on her, his eyes as red as hers were. “What am I to you?”

“His legacy,” she answered immediately.

She’d been thinking about it a lot. Erskine had been dead for two days, and all she’d been thinking about was him and Steve and the little family she’d made for herself at Lehigh. Erskine the father, Steve her brother, Peggy her sister, even Phillips, the grumpy uncle who didn’t want to be in the picture.

What did it all mean?

“You are his legacy. If you were any other soldier you’d be just another experiment, but you’re not. You’re Steve Rogers. Erskine chose you. You carry on his legacy; you carry on his work.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Steve asked in a desperate tone. He slumped onto the bench and let his head fall into his hands.

“I don’t know Steve,” (Y/n) sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s for you to figure out. You don’t have to know now. No one’s expecting you to know now, but when you do piece it together, I’ll be waiting.”

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“Stark says you’re going to have your pick.”

Steve was lying on his back next to (Y/n), tossing a ball in the air and catching it repeatedly with a satisfying thunk as it hit his palm.

A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been able to catch it once. He had all of the coordination of a newborn foal and would’ve whacked himself, or her, in the face the first time he tried to throw it.

It reminded her, again, of her brother. After his growth spurt, when he finally caught up to her, passed her, when he got tall and filled out. The girls started to notice him; the guys started to respect him.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Any Allied hospital in Europe…” Steve stopped tossing the ball and glanced over at her, “Know where you’re going to go?”

(Y/n) didn’t meet his gaze. She kept her eyes on a cloud floating by overhead. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” She confessed. “When I applied, when Erskine took me in, I was planning on going to the frontlines.”

“You don’t have to now.” Steve rolled onto his stomach and watched her expressions carefully. “You could go to the evacuation hospitals or England…”

“Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you go to the frontlines? If they let you?” (Y/n) asked. She already knew the answer, but she needed to ask.

“You know I would,” Steve admitted.

“Then that’s where I’ll go.” She’d joked, when Erskine was still alive, that Steve’s real superpower was always doing the right thing. If he’d go to the front, then that’s where she’d be, waiting for him to find his way.

(Y/n) met Steve’s eye finally. “You said your friend was in the 107th?”

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It was only about a month before (Y/n) was running the field hospital attached to the 107th.

They sent mostly inexperienced girls out to the frontline. Supposedly, it was an easy job. They didn’t have time for complex treatment or procedures, so in theory, it was all triage and wound treatment. They claimed anyone with a little bit of training could handle it.

Early on when the fighting had just begun she imagined there might have been some truth to that claim, but as the war slogged on, it wasn’t so simple anymore. Every soldier had some kind of injury. The Army couldn’t afford to send everyone with more than a bump or bruise back from the frontline to an evacuation hospital. There wasn’t the time, manpower, money.

The field hospitals were overflowing with infected wounds, illness, bullet holes, broken bones, and there weren’t enough experienced nurses to go around. Not only did they lack the know-how, many of the inexperienced nurses were just young woman, some girls even, who didn’t properly know what they’d signed up for. They were shaken by the crack of every bullet, the boom of every grenade, the scream of every dying man.

(Y/n) had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason the Nurses Corps didn’t send out any of their trained nurses was that they want to risk their better nurses dying on the frontlines.

(Y/n) had watched a stray bullet tear through the chest of a young girl named Lydia only a week into her time with the 107th. She’d been reliably told by another nurse that Lydia was the fifth to die so far that year.

The second most experienced girl in (Y/n)’s unit had been a midwife for a few years before she shipped out, not exactly a skill that was necessary in an army full of men, but it came with some transferable knowledge. Her name was Maria, and it only took a few weeks before she was happily handing over the reins.

“They’re bringing in a batch of men from the front,” Maria reported to (Y/n). “Nothing serious, a couple broken bones. They took a fall to avoid a grenade; I’m told.”

(Y/n) motioned for Beverly and Viola at the other end of the tent. “We need to clean down some beds.” (Y/n) turned to Maria, “Did they say how many?”

“Not exactly, but I think it was only a few.”

(Y/n) only had a few beds to spare anyhow. There were a dozen cots set up in the field hospital, and six of them were currently occupied by men waiting for transport to the nearest evacuation hospital back West, another two by men with leg fractures. When she’d arrived, the beds were first come first serve, but (Y/n) had quickly started a process of dismissing anyone who could walk back to their own tents to come in to the hospital for regular checks on whatever ailed them.

“They’ve already reached camp; they’ll be here any moment.”

“If the bones aren’t through skin, then I don’t want them hanging around here. We’ll set them and send them on their way. We haven’t had free beds in a week, and I don’t want to take them up with something trivial.”

“Trivial? Glad to know you care about my leg, nurse.”

The tent flap was being held open by two soldiers, a sergeant and a private, around the girth of a much larger man propped up between them.

(Y/n) ignored the jab, “Get him on the bed.”

The two men helped their friend onto the nearest cot, and (Y/n), Beverly, and Maria quickly descended on him.

(Y/n) was the most experienced one there, but she’d made a point of having Beverly watch every bone she set. When things got busy, she might be needed elsewhere, and it was good to know that Beverly knew her way around things well enough to take a few bones off her plate.

“What happened?”

“Bit of an ambush, ma’am.” She recognized Gabe Jones immediately. She’d treated a broken finger of his on the first day she’d got here, followed by a number of bumps and bruises that probably wouldn’t have required her attention if Gabe weren’t such a flirt. “We had to jump into a ravine. Sergeant, here, did a number on his knee, and I got grazed by a bullet.”

“Maria, will you clean Private Jones’ wound?” (Y/n) began inspected the Sergeant’s knee.

“Of course,” Maria motioned Jones away to another open bed.

The third man took a step back towards the tent flap, but before he could get more than a few paces, he crumbled.

“Barnes!” The sergeant in the bed bolted upright. Beverly held him still, as (Y/n) rushed to his side.

“Are you alright, Sergeant?” (Y/n) slipped her arm around the man’s back and helped him stumble back to the nearest bed.

“I guess I’m not,” The man winced as he slumped back against the metal bed frame. “My side is killing me.”

(Y/n) nodded at the other sergeant, “Relocate his knee, while I do this, Bev. Maria can help when she’s done cleaning Jones’s wound.”

With deft fingers, (Y/n) unhooked the buttons down his uniform to check his complaint.

“I’d normally take you to dinner first, Doll.” These men hadn’t seen a woman in a long time, and usually they acted like it. She’d heard every bad joke in the book from the soldiers around camp and a couple from Jones in the bed next to them, but his tone was far more lighthearted, less learing than the others. He was teasing, trying to lighten the mood of how much pain was written across his face.

“Well, the rations around here aren’t very appealing, so you’ll have to settle for…” She found what she was looking for. A bruise spanning his entire right side. “You carried him back like this?” Her fingers probed gently at the edges of the dark blue stain.

“Someone had to; not like Dugan carries his own weight around here.” He winced as she touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Broken ribs,” (Y/n) told the other girls over her shoulder, “three from the looks of it. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“That’s alright, Doll. I’ll just get to see more of your smiling face.”

(Y/n) wasn’t smiling. She hadn’t smiled in quite a while.

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“You’re healing well,” (Y/n) observed Barnes’s side, peeking out of the sheets, a few days later. “Right on schedule. You won’t need to be on the next train to the evacuation hospital.”

“Of course not,” Barnes scoffed, “How could I ever leave your lovely company?”

(Y/n) cocked an eyebrow. “That work on the girls back home?”

“Depends on the girl really,” Barnes confessed. “Most of the time a smile and a dance does the trick, but I like the ones that make me work for it.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and went back to inventorying the supplies she’d spread out on the cot next to his.

“Where is home for you, (Y/n)?”

It was the first time he’d called her by her name, also the first time he’d asked her a genuine question. “Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn!” He exclaimed, “I knew there was a reason I liked you. I’m from Brooklyn myself.”

“Really?” She glanced back at him, pausing cataloging the rolls of gauze. She had to remember to put in for that. They desperately needed more gauze.

“Born and raised,” With a wince, he adjusted pushed himself higher in the bed. “My whole family and my best friend still live there. I’ll go back there too, if I make it out of your care in one piece.”

(Y/n) snorted; she couldn’t help it. Her care? They were in a war, and he wanted to joke that he wouldn’t make it out of her hospital. “I’ll have you know my care is perfectly fine. I served 8 years in ambulatory at Wyckoff.”

Barnes’s brow furrowed. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to Wyckoff, but I was a frequent guest at Beth Moses Hospital.”

“You break ribs running from Nazis often in New York?” She jabbed.

“No, but my friend may as well have. He picked a lot of fights. Didn’t win many, but that never stopped Steve.”

(Y/n)’s head jerked around and she dropped the papers in her hands. “Steve? Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Barnes had her attention now, and she had his, “you know him?”

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“I swear, Bucky, next time you come in here you better be losing an arm. You’re wasting my time with these little scrapes.”

Bucky rose to his feet in front of her.

She came face to chest with his shirtless torso, and her ego absolutely refused to allow her to turn her head away or take a step back. Even as she felt her cheeks coloring from his state of undress, she adamantly met his smirking eyes.

“It’s okay to admit you’d miss me, Doll. Around here, I’m like a little slice of home, a breath of fresh air, a…”

“The smell of maneur wafting out of the stables,” She cut off.

Bucky chuckled and began buttoning back his uniform. “One day, Doll, one day.”

Bucky always said things like that. ‘One day, when we’re both back in Brooklyn’, ‘When I finally get the chance to take you dancing’, ‘Me, you, Steve, and a friend’.

(Y/n) never took any of it to heart. Bucky had popped in and out of the medical tent on many occasions since he’d broken his ribs, and he flirted with all of the girls who treated him. She never let it get to her heart, and she tried not to let it go to her head that his flirtations were infinitely more personal with her. He’d teasingly compliment the other girls’ uniforms, make observations about how nice they looked that day, wink suggestively as he ducked out of the tent. She was the only one he made plans for: Brooklyn, Steve, Coney Island, dinner, dancing.

The thought was nice, but she left it all there, just a thought.

“Don’t be a stranger, Doll,” Bucky called as he made his way to the door. “I’m sick of faking injury just to see you.”

He gave her his signature wink before he turned and left the tent.

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The SSR had moved in. She saw Phillips riding in from a mile away.

She stood side by side with the commanding officers; everyone over the rank of Sergeant filled in a pseudo welcome party for the reinforcements as they rode in.

None of the men could figure out why she was there, at the front, out ranking them. She wasn’t even properly in the Army. She was just a nurse, a field medic, nothing more or less.(Y/n) couldn’t say she was expecting any sort of comraderie from the Colonel. She’d expected a firm handshake, an acknowledgement of their acquaintance, and a swift dismissal back to her duties.

When Colonel Phillips jumped out, the men behind her became painfully aware of who she was, and she became painfully aware how things had changed.

“(Y/n),” Phillips ignored the officers in charge and marched straight for her. “Good, you’re here. I need someone with a head on their shoulders.” He clapped her on the back and led her towards the truck.

From the back, they came filing out, the men she and Erskine had rejected for the supersoldier program. Each of them a hand picked reminder of her lost companion. All of them could’ve been the poster boy for a ‘join the army’ campaign if things had gone a different way.

She had to remind herself that these men were Phillips choosing, that, even if Erskine lived, none of them would have ever been Steve. These were good soldiers, but that didn’t make them good men. There may well have been a few good ones in the bunch, but being strong, being able, didn’t make them so. She preferred the men behind her, the 107th.

“There’s someone else I know you’ll be happy to see.”

It took a moment more of men filing out of the truck bed before Phillips’ surprise came to face her. She felt her heart building up hope, anticipation, excitement.

Peggy. It was Peggy.

She hid her disappointment well as she smiled and hugged the Englishwoman.

She loved Peggy, but she was no Steve.

Where was Steve? It had been so long since she heard news. She was worried.

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“So you’re a hotshot then?”

Bucky had swaggered up to her the moment she stepped outside of the hospital tent.

“You must be if you have the Colonel’s ear. Everyone’s been talking about it. My little Brooklyn in league with the bigwigs.”

“Your?” (Y/n) chose to ignore the rest of the sentence. She stopped midstep and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think you’ll find me ‘your’ anything, let alone all of Brooklyn.”

Bucky smiled mischievously and matched her stance. “Of course you’re not mine, but who do you think’s been keeping the rest of these scoundrels off your back?”

“Oh?” Her lips quirked up instictively in response to his smile. She really couldn’t help it. Steve had told her once that Bucky had that affect on women, that they couldn’t help themselves arounf him. “You’re protecting me from the wandering eyes of your fellow soldiers in hopes that someone will kindly cave into your flirtations.”

“No,” Bucky drawled, taking a step closer. “I’m protecting all of our dear nurses from the wandering eyes of my fellow soldiers because you have more important things to do like treat the broken ribs of a cocky sniper trying desperately to keep from crying like a child in front of his men.”

“Well your service is greatly appreciated.” (Y/n) chuckled, turning back to her walk, “If you must know, I’m not a bigwig at all.”

“Really?” Bucky fell into step by her side. “Didn’t look that way to me.”

“My mentor was a bigwig,” She confessed, her smile turning stale on her lips, “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

Bucky looped his arm through hers and dragged her to a stop, rounding her to face him. “That can’t be true.”

“It is.”

“If your mentor was that important, then you must’ve been pretty great to catch their eye.” Bucky gave her an encouraging smile.

She saw it in his eyes then. She hadn’t seen it before, not even when he was making her laugh with his flirting. She could see the kind heart, the trusting nature, all the things she admired about Steve. They were there, just buried deep beneath a layer of bravado and natural charisma.

She finally understood why Steve would be his friend.

“Have you heard of the Strategic Scientific Reserve?” The question slipped her mouth before she could stop it.

“No,” Bucky’s expression furrowed. “Why?”

It was top secret. She really shouldn’t be mentioning it. She’d already lied to him about how she knew Steve. She should just lie about the SSR, forget she said anything. She should…

She didn’t. “It’s a program my mentor and I founded…”

She told him everything. Everything about the SSR, about Steve, about Peggy, about Phillips, about Erskine.

He led her off to the edge of camp, away from stray ears and wandering eyes. He sat with her under a tree.

She told him about signing up for the war, about the general who delivered the news about her brother and before that her father. She told him about her mother leaving. She told him about her childhood.

She couldn’t help it. Once she started, she just couldn’t stop.

She understood why Steve would be his friend. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d inadvertently trusted him with everything.

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“(Y/n),” Maria came running through the tent flap, not even bothering to push it aside as it draped her shoulder. “Come quick. It’s Bucky.”

(Y/n) was in the middle of handing out rations. She dropped the box on the cot in front of her and bolted for the door.

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“What happened?”

She found Peggy first.

“The regiment was ambushed by Schmidt.” Peggy liked to talk as she walked. In that moment, (Y/n) appreciated that about her. “Only a third of them made it back. We’re doing rolls now, but the men in the yard are all that’s left.”

(Y/n) burst into the square field that functioned as the town center of camp.

There were men, dusty, beaten, bloodied men everywhere. Her small staff of nurses would be overwhelmed by the numbers, but that wasn’t what was on her mind now.

“Where is he?” She left the question and Peggy in her wake, running through the clusters of soldiers. Some supported their injured friends, others laid groaning side by side, a few stood in the center, completely fine. They looked the most lost of them all, as if they were asking God why he had chosen to spare them.

Hodge was there, in the center, one of the men surveying the damage around him. He was fine, completely fine.

“Hodge,” She marched up to him with a fury, “Where is Barnes?”

“Barnes? That kid that’s always following you around?”

Hodge had come in with the other Super Soldier Candidates. He hadn’t had the time to learn everyone’s names, not that he ever would have anyway. He was Hodge; Hodge thought he was too good for that sort of thing.

“Where is he?” She demanded again, not intending to repeat herself a third time.

“He was in the flank with his buddies. They’re gone. All of them, gone.”

Hodge had the decency to look sorry that he was giving her the news.

(Y/n) imagined it was the first decent thing he’d done in his life.

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Was she cursed?

She felt like she was. She felt like a ghost walking through life, doomed to haunt everyone she touched.

Her mother left her. Her father was dead. Her brother followed not long after. Erskine died just as she’d come to think of him as family. Steve was forced to tour around the country like some kind of sideshow because of what she’d helped do to him. Lydia was dead almost as soon as (Y/n) arrived. Now, Bucky.

She hadn’t confided in anyone in a long time until she met Bucky. She’d chatted with Lydia, Maria, her fellow nurses, made nice with them. She’d only told Peggy things she was sure the woman had already read in her file; she told Phillips even less. She told Steve bits and pieces, but she tried not to burden his plate more than it already was. She hadn’t needed to tell Erskine anything; the old man could read it for himself in her eyes.

She’d told it all to Bucky.

Whether it was the heat of war, the charm that came to him so effortlessly, that kind smile or those trustworthy eyes, it didn’t matter. She’d told him everything there was to tell, and as quickly as he knew he was gone.

Caring about her. It felt like the kiss of death.

She was a nurse, and her father bled to death on the battlefield. She was a nurse, and her brother died of injuries from a plane crash. She was a nurse, and Erskine died of a gunshot in her arms. She was a nurse. She was supposed to save people; she hadn’t saved them.  And now, she couldn’t save Bucky either.

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Steve. She knew those eyes anywhere. Even behind that stupid mask, she knew it was Steve.

She watched the show with blank eyes and a blanker expression. Steve didn’t look much better.

Back in Brooklyn, (Y/n) had been rather a catch. Boys had taken her out many times, and often times, when they wanted to seem smarter and more cultured than they actually were, they would take her to a show. (Y/n) had watched more plays than she could count, and none of them had been nearly as bad as this.

Steve couldn’t fake excitement if he tried, and he was clearly trying.

(Y/n) didn’t care about the show though, bad acting or not. She cared about Steve, and she cared about what he could do.

“Steve,” She barged into the dressing rooms backstage.

The girls, the dancers, squealed and made to hide or cover themselves, but they quickly regained composure when they saw it was another girl.

“Steve!”

Steve looked up from where he was sat in a corner doodling.

“(Y/n)?” He dropped the paper aside and got to his feet, hesitantly, disbelieving that it could really be her.

“Steve,” (Y/n) threw herself at him, hugging him close. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He held her close. “Sorry? What for?”

“Steve, you have to help,” She pulled back and looked him dead in the eye. “It’s Bucky.”

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(Y/n) didn’t join them on the plane. How could she? Every time one buzzed overhead her brother came rushing back to mind.

She still hadn’t buried him; his body was waiting for her back at home. She was going to bury him beside her father, beside an empty plot she’d reserved for herself, just in case something happened on the front.

She wondered, to herself because Bucky was not there to wonder out loud to like last time, if she couldn’t mourn because he had not been laid to rest. She wondered if she needed the confirmation of seeing his body for herself or the resignation of a coffin and a deep grave.

That hadn’t been true of her father. She’d mourned him the moment the general knocked on her door; she’d wept for losing him. Perhaps, she’d been able to weep because she had more to lose. Perhaps, she wept for her father because with her brother alive she still had a reason to feel. Perhaps, she wept for Erskine because, by the time he left her, she’d found other reasons, a new family.

She wondered if she would ever cry for her brother the way she had her father or Erskine. She wondered, if she started crying for him, if she would ever stop.

Maybe she was just full of it.

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“He should’ve radioed by now.”

She was in the hospital tent, pacing nervously in front of the only cot void of soldiers. Peggy and Maria had sat cross-legged on the flimsy mattress and were watching her with anxious expressions.

Howard Stark stood angrily tapping his foot near the bit of canvas at the head of the bed.

He was the only one who seemed to share (Y/n)’s nerves.

How Peggy was holding it together, (Y/n) had no idea. It wasn’t like she didn’t care. A blind man could see how much she cared about Steve. She had a composure to her though.

(Y/n) envied her that; she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. She wished she were as composed.

“That’s no guarantee that anything happened,” Maria’s voice was a calm guiding hand in the storm. She cared about the missing men, about Steve, but no more than every other soldier. She cared deeply for everyone under her care; it was part of her nature. Their absence didn’t sway her.

“No guarantee,” (Y/n) conceded,”but one hell of a coincidence.”

“Well what can we do?” Howard asked. “Ride into Occupied territory and offer our assistance?”

(Y/n) haulted midstep and looked up at Howard.

“No!” He immediately shot out.

“Yes.”

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She packed a bag of all the essentials: bandages, needle and thread, alcohol, small bottles of antibiotics and medicines she could sneak out of the tent.

The bag was heavy, bulky, but it would fit snugly on the back of one of the motorcycles that that night's messenger had left near the edge of camp.

He wasn’t scheduled to make his next delivery run for three days. She had every intention of being back by then. Either she’d be back or dead.

With all hope, and a little help from Maria, she’d be entirely unnoticed until she rode back into camp. Maria had managed well enough on her own before (Y/n) got there. She could handle a few days.

“Do you even know how to ride one of those things?”

(Y/n) froze. She knew the voice, but she didn’t turn. If she didn’t turn, maybe she could pretend he wasn���t there.

Phillips stepped up to her side. “Is this what Erskine would want for you? A suicide mission?”

“It’s not a suicide mission. What Steve did, that was a suicide mission. I’m just trying to help the odds.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“He’s trying to free hundreds of your men from a Hydra base where they’re being held prisoner. At best, he succeeded, and they’re headed back this way.”

“Unlikely,” Phillips butted in.

“At worst, he failed.” She continued without acknowledging his interruption. “There are a lot of scenarios in between worst and best that involve your men out there, injured and dying.”

“And you think one nurse is going to help?”

“I’m not going to hurt!”

Phillips snorted, “Is this about that boy?”

“What boy?” (Y/n) turned back to securing her bag to the motorcycle. It was a tell. Phillips wasn’t stupid. He knew that. She knew that.

“The one Rogers is friends with. The one you sent him on this fool’s errand after. I thought it was just because they were friends, but the men told me you two were close.”

(Y/n)’s hands clenched around the strap of her bag.

“Is that why you want to go? You’re chasing after some lowly soldier.”

“I want to help!” (Y/n) spat, turning on Phillips with a vengeance. “Who cares if it’s because I’m feeling guilty or because I care about him! They are my friends, and I want to help them.”

Phillips watched with a cool, calculating eye for a long moment as (Y/n)’s chest heaved with anger. She looked as angry as he’d ever seen her, and he’d seen her angry many times at Lehigh.

She cared about Steve. There was no denying that, but whoever this sergeant was he was something else, something special.

Reluctantly, he sighed out in defeat. “Your bag’s going to go flying off the back if you tie it down like that.” He turned and started knotting the ropes for her.

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She was seven miles out when she heard it. Something big and loud and powerful barrelling down on her.

(Y/n) stopped her motorcycle in the street and went silent, listening.

Tanks.

She rolled the bike off the road, muscling it behind some trees. It was clunky, weighty, and she didn’t have the strength to get it properly hidden back in the woods. Still, she found a patch of dirt flat enough to roll the bike off the road and made due with laying it on its side behind a bush.

Whoever it was was coming closer. She found the thickest tree there was and stood straight and tall behind it, sucking herself in to be as narrow a target as possible.

She could hear shouting now, though she couldn’t make out the voices. There was a melody to their tone even though the words were indistinct. They were singing something.

It went on for a verse or two, judging by the pauses, before whoever they were were finally close enough to make out words.

English words. American accents.

“The Star Spangled Man! With a plan!” Horribly out of tune male voices echoed through the tree tops without a care in the world for who heard.

“Steve!” (Y/n) rushed out of the trees.

They were at the end of the road, making their way around a bend a few hundred yards ahead, but she’d recognize that God awful costume from a mile away. It stood out plain as day against the swath of brown and green forest and the drab, colorless look of the men at his side.

“Steve!” (Y/n) raced for him.

Steve realized who it was almost instantly. “(Y/n)!” He jogged forward and met her halfway.

“I thought you were dead!” She choked out.

“Come on, little Brooklyn, you have to know we’re made of tougher stuff than that.”

(Y/n) pulled away, positively beaming to hear that drawl of her nickname. “Bucky!”

Bucky tipped a nonexistent cap her direction. “At your service, Doll.”

He dropped the hat charade just in time to catch her as she flung her arms around his neck.

“One day, Doll,” He mumbled into her ear.

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Frenchie was in the bottom of the tank with a seriously mangled stint strapped to his arm.

“I did the best I could,” Bucky was hunched over (Y/n) as she treated his fallen companion. “I’ve watched you enough times, you think I’d have it down by now.”

“Maybe if you were actually watching her hands you would have,” Jones jabbed an elbow into Barnes ribs.

“Hey now,” Barnes chuckled. “I watched her hands.”

“Sure you did.” (Y/n) bit back a grin. “The stint isn’t pretty, but neither is the break. This will take a while to heal.”

Jones prattled off in French, alarming (Y/n) to no end.

Bucky knelt down next to her and explained. “Frenchie doesn’t speak English. We make Jones translate to earn his keep. Only way he’s been useful so far.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) went back to the arm in question.

“I promise I was watching your hands,” He murmured to her with his usual heart-stopping smile.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, “And I promise you were too busy flirting with my staff to notice what my hands were doing.”

“Not your staff, just you.” He corrected her. They both knew that wasn’t technically true. Bucky Barnes was nothing if not a flirt. That didn’t mean he meant it though. They both knew he meant it with her, and they both knew he didn’t mean it with anyone else.

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“Rogers, I’ve been with these guys on the field for months,” Bucky smacked him on the shoulder and pointed to the table in questions. “They’re all utter morons. Of course they’ll say yes.”

Steve gave his friend a worried look but let Bucky’s smile reassure with enough to take the next step. “Wish my luck,” he patted his friend on the back and marched over to the group of men getting drunker by the moment.

Bucky chuckled to himself and circled around to the far side of the bar to order himself a drink and find a quieter table. He wanted a beer, and he wanted as much distance between himself and that piano as possible. It was giving him such a headache. The beer would help with that.

He wasn’t actually sure that was true. He wasn’t a doctor or a nurse to know, but he was going to tell himself it would. Mostly he just wanted the beer. He’d earned it after the last couple months he’d had, after the last year honestly.

He heard the booming voice of Sergeant Dugan over everything else in the bar and couldn’t help a chuckle. They’d all earned a round.

They’d earn a couple more if they said yes, and as Bucky watched them from over the rim of his glass, he knew they would. They were fighters, like Steve, and like Steve, they wouldn’t back down from that.

Bucky kept his eyes on the men as they all considered Steve’s offer. He could tell the moment the words left Steve’s mouth, the moment they all froze at the proposition. He could tell, one by one, as they all agreed, like he knew they would.

It was written on their faces. It was written on Steve’s face.

He tried not to sound too cocky when Steve came back around to him. “See, told you; they’re all idiots.”

“How ‘bout you?” Steve took up the chair next to Bucky.

Bucky didn’t meet his eye. He knew the question was coming, and he already had his answer.

“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell no,” Bucky sighed with a smile. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight, I’m following him.”

Steve smiled, relief washing over his features as he took the drink in front of him.

“You’re keeping the outfit right?” Bucky couldn’t help but tease.

“You know what,” Steve looked back at the poster, “It’s kinda growing on me.”

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The singing at the front of the room fell quiet, to almost a murmur.

Bucky and Steve turned to the door, to the woman in the vivid red dress.

“Captain,” she greeted with a formal note to her voice.

She was beautiful. Bucky would’ve been blind not to see it, especially in that shade of red. She looked like one of the girls Bucky used to go dancing with, tight dress hugging her curves, matching lipstick and perfectly styled hair. She was a woman on a mission, and he had a sneaking suspicion that mission was a man, specifically a man named Steve Rogers.

Bucky’s eyes wandered over assessingly. She was way out of Steve’s league, or at least the league he used to be in. He hadn’t been out with Steve since this new transformation; he had no idea what Steve’s league even was anymore. He was taller, stronger; he was famous apparently. But he was still an absolute dork, clueless around women.

It was written all over his darting, nervous eyes.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty,” she observed.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky smiled.

“I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” Peggy didn’t bother to look in Bucky’s direction for even a moment.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He asked her.

“The right partner,” Her tone was suggestive; her eyes watching Steve expectantly. For the first time in his life, Bucky wasn’t in on the joke.

“0800 Captain,” She said as she whisked herself away.

“I’m invisible,” Bucky turned back to Steve, “I’m turning into you,” he scoffed, “this is a horrible dream.”

Steve smirked as he turned to walk off, “Don’t take it so hard. I hear she has a friend.” Steve motioned over Bucky’s shoulder towards the doorway Peggy had just left.

Steve took up his old seat as Bucky turned away.

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What had possessed her to come here, (Y/n) couldn’t be sure.

She knew what she’d told herself. That Captain America was assembling a team of his own, that his team was leaving for deployment, that she wanted to be on the ship when it did.

She could’ve asked him all of that before he left for the bar, or when he came back. It’s not like he’d be drunk; she knew that couldn’t happen.

Hell, she could’ve asked him the next morning. Steve would’ve made it happen.

But when Peggy told her she was going down to the bar to check on the men, something had possessed her to follow.

Maybe she wanted a drink. Maybe she too wanted to check on the boys. More likely, it was how clearly Peggy’s excuse was a rouse to get dolled up and see Steve, and there (Y/n) was, right by her side getting dolled up too.

Jones had cornered her the moment she’d walked in. Gabe kissed the back of her hand like an old-school gentleman and asked her to dance. She politely declined.

“That’s all right,” Gabe smiled knowingly and pointed in the direction of the room Peggy was leaving. “Sergeant’s right in there.”

(Y/n) followed, anxiously, in Peggy’s retreating footsteps with only an encouraging nod from her friend to bolster her courage.

She’d chosen the purple dress, a more understated shade than Peggy’s red but a far more modern cut. She wasn’t there to grab the attention of the entire bar like Peggy was, but she hoped at least to keep one pair of eyes on her.

Steve spotted her first and immediately smiled. He waved a hand in her direction and retreated back to the tables.

Bucky’s back was to her, but whatever Steve said made him turn.

His face went slack, and a little space opened between his lips, as if his mind had formed words his tongue couldn’t speak.

“Well, now I know what Peggy meant,” He mumbled as she approached him.

“About what?”

“The Right Partner.” Bucky offered her his arm, “Would you like to dance?”

“I’m not very good,” she confessed smoothly.

Bucky smiled. Not his usual cocky grin that swept girls off their feet, or the warm, reassuring smile she’d come to trust. It was gentle, somewhere between kind and loving. “I’ll teach you.”

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Taglist

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse /  @geeksareunique / @deathbyarabbit​ / @spilltheearlgrey / @ryanbarnesrogers / @bloodorangemoonlight​

Marvel Taglist:

@the-high-queen / @iamverity / @darktownairspeed / @radicalstars​ / @hermione-is-my-queen 

[acephysicskarkat]

I don't want to start fights, but don't you think you may be going way too far with the salt? It's one thing to not be happy with the way a show ended(and so many people think S5 was great, so you are in a huge minority already), but to insult the showrunner because *one* ship didn't become canon is going too far, mate. Catradora was there from the start, and Catra had an amazing redemption arc. Then again, I am just one person, so idk. Anyway, thanks. -Callum.

I actually respect Noelle Stevenson a lot: bringing a show like She-Ra all the way to its conclusion, producing seasons 1-4 (which are in fact really good), working hard for BLM, all while being out and proud in an industry that still has plenty of bigots around - these are legitimate achievements that are worthy of respect.

However.

1) I don’t give a shit how many people liked S5. I am allowed my own opinions on my own blog. If you don’t like my opinions the block button is right there. Telling me that a lot of fans like the season is an irrelevant data point because my opinions are not subject to majority vote.

2) Catradora was part of the disappointment that was S5, but it was far from the only thing. The strong ensemble cast, one of the best things about the show, is underused; every redemption arc is utterly weightless (Catra’s isn’t the worst but it’s still badly undercooked, of which more later), Glimmer and Bow are barely relevant despite the BFS being the show’s actual beating heart (I know Noelle says Catradora was supposed to be the heart but it’s never felt like that to me), everything related to Catra and Adora’s relationship feels forced, out-of-character and clumsy, the resolution is tied to a bullshit save-the-world button with unclear results, long-running elements like Adora’s family or the Catra/Shadow Weaver parallels are ditched in favour of coming up with dumb answers about what Greyskull means, and the writing is just kind of bad.

It has good elements - I loved the Star Siblings, I liked having Entrapta actually deal with the consequences of her actions, Melog and Wrong Hordak were good additions, and “Peril of Peekablue” was excellent, on par with something like “Mer-Mysteries” - but the season was considerably worse than all the others.

Like, I actually went into S5 going “The most likely outcome here is Catradora canon, but hey, maybe this will be the season that sells me on it” and it wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t.

3) Catradora was there from the start, but it was also badly done from the start and S5 did not meaningfully improve it. It’s actually my go-to on how not to tell an enemies-to-lovers arc because the “enemies” part is really prolonged, heavily emphasised, toxic, unpleasant, emotionally wearing and vicious and the “to” is super rushed and clumsy (of which more in the next bullet point). From "The Promise” to the end of season 4, there are no moments where Catra and Adora’s emotional connection does anything to soften the hostility; if anything, it makes Catra worse because it adds a really cruel and personal note to the whole thing.

Then S5 executes on it badly because it relies heavily on papering over inconvenient events and character development instead of trying to build organically on what has happened before. Catra telling Adora, “You never gave up on anything, not even me,” is my go-to example of this, because she did. It was the S3 climax and a huge moment for Adora’s personal arc! And then the show even reinforced it by having Adora throw a robot directly at Catra’s face with pretty unambiguous intent to kill, or at least severely wound, in "Flutterina”. But it’s not dealt with; instead, we get one questionable line of dialogue about pretending it never happened. Having Adora admit she was wrong to give up on Catra and swearing never to do so again could have been a really powerful moment, but instead of trying to do anything with the thing we saw happen onscreen, it’s just shoved under the rug. It’s bad writing and a huge waste of interesting potential. (It’s also bad planting and payoff; we get the setup in S3, the reminder in S4, and then it’s outright retconned away.)

4) Catra’s redemption arc is actually kind of bad. It’s not as bad as Hordak’s, which I only barely consider a redemption arc because it’s super truncated and he never admits to even doing anything wrong, but it’s bad.

First, it’s super fucking rushed. Literal years of seething, constantly building resentment disappear offscreen; there’s never a point where she meaningfully grapples with it or comes to realise that being “Shadow Weaver’s favourite” was also a hellish experience just in different ways. She does her one big redemptive act, gets forgiven instantly by everyone (including Adora, for whom it feels badly out of character given the aforementioned giving-up, her suspicion in “Princess Prom” before Catra had even tried to ruin her life once let alone six times, etc.), and her resentment just...vanishes in one hand-hold. It was her defining personality trait and the underlying cause for most of her time as an antagonist; it really should have been, you know, dealt with, instead of just forgotten. It does try to deal with her anger issues and problems expressing vulnerability, but that’s like saying that now that Azula has agreed not to torture small animals everything is fine; it’s far from the deepest issue here and pretending otherwise does the character and the show a disservice.

Worse than that, nothing she actually did feels like it means anything because the show just shoves it all under the rug. I’m not asking that she spend an episode personally making it up to each person she’s harmed a la Zuko, not least because after her participation in the sack of Salineas that’s more episodes than a long-running daytime soap opera, but at the very least using her actions in seasons 1-4 for something could have led to some really interesting scenes and good character moments and all that potential is instead just wasted. Angella’s death is just plum forgotten despite how important it was last season; the parallels between Catra’s actions in “White Out” and Horde Prime’s chips are never explored; the Shadow Weaver parallels the show’s been building for four seasons and explicitly stated in the graphic novel tie-in are just ditched and nothing ever comes of them; everyone who might not forgive Catra in under five minutes is mind-controlled until the season is almost over, contributing to the sidelining of the strong ensemble cast. It just feels like they didn’t know how to square Catra’s actions in seasons 2-4 with how they wanted her arc to end, so they just opted to pretend those actions never happened, and as a direct result the whole mess lacks texture and weight and doesn’t feel like a satisfying development for her story. It never feels like she’s dealing with the consequences for her actions, because her actions don’t have consequences.

Noelle once said that the driving question for Catra was “what happens when you’re the toxic friend”, and now we have the answer: nothing. Catra faces no long-term consequences for being the toxic friend. Perfuma’s one minute of being angry is the longest gap between Catra seeming sad and Catra getting forgiven. Nothing she did matters in the long run except in the sense that she’s kind of sad about them in aggregate. None of her bridges are burned so badly they can’t be fixed. And that’s a bad answer, because in real life when you’re the toxic friend people do refuse to forgive you instantly when you say sorry. Relationships do get trashed so badly they never recover. The pain you cause matters, and the traits that made you the toxic friend take work to overcome...unless you’re Catra, in which case the pain you cause suddenly stops mattering and your issues can be dealt with in under an hour offscreen.

Or at least, that’s my attitude. Like, if you liked the season, I’m not saying you’re an idiot or have bad taste. But I hated it. It could maybe have been good if it had been two seasons, actually allow Catra’s arc to breathe instead of speedrunning the whole thing, done more with the ensemble cast etc., but what we got was a rushed mess and telling me that “lots of people liked the rushed mess actually” is not relevant to that assessment.

(Just as a side note, if you really don’t want to start a fight, I’m not sure sending passive-aggressive asks to the tune of “have you considered that your opinions are Wrong actually and mine are Right” is the best way to go about it.)

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N Picking up directly after Drake's visit and fallout. This will lead into the Christmas season, with Ethan inviting Olivia to spend the holidays with him and his father.

@jooous ​ ​ @krsnlove ​ @nomadics-stuff ​   @twinkleallnight ​ @motorcitymademadame ​

Masterlist

Part 5

Ethan knew something was wrong. Even without his highly attuned ability to detect the slightest tics and movements people made when dealing with pain, he still would have known that Olivia was upset.

What bothered him was that she felt the need to keep it hidden.

He thought they were well past the stage of not being completely honest. It had been one of the most difficult yet rewarding part of their ever developing relationship. It was terrifying and freeing to be able to tell her anything.

Ethan knew he needed her. He had made it a point to never allow himself to need anyone. He once believed that it was a weakness, something that any sane person should be able to do without. One should be able to stand and face whatever life threw at them without having someone there to help you through it.

Or so he thought until Naveen nearly died.

Then seeing Bryce's reaction when Casey was poisoned.

Those two situations had opened his eyes and made him come to some uncomfortable conclusions about himself.

He was human. And what did all humans share? The ability and need to love...to have someone all their own to be there during life's brightest and darkest moments.

As he finished prepping the turkey breast for tomorrow's dinner, his eyes drifted over to the one he believed was his someone.

He hoped that he had become Olivia's.

"How was your day?"

Olivia shrugged. "Fine for the most part."

Ethan washed his hands then reached for a bottle of wine. Setting two glasses out, he filled them while studying her.

Olivia muttered her thanks when he handed hers to her. She absentmindedly swirled her wine while a slight frown formed.

Ethan reached out and caressed her cheek. When her eyes met his, he allowed her to see his concern.

"Drake came to my apartment earlier." She blurted out.

"He did?" Ethan gestured for them to move into his living room. After settling comfortably on his sofa, he patiently waited for her to continue.

"Yes." She bit out. "He supposedly came on his way to his family's ranch to show me pictures of the progress on the hospital. Her frown eased at that memory. "I can't wait until you see it. It is turning out just like we hoped."

A hint of a smile formed on his lips over this shared dream of theirs coming about. "I can't wait either."

Hearing Ethan say that caused the gnawing worry to grow even more. Was it the beginning of the end for them? Drake's parting words kept repeating over and over her mind. Somehow they seemed more prophetic than insulting the longer she dwelled on them.

"You really think this Ramsey is what you need?" Drake taunted. "One day you'll leave here and he will see the real you in Cordonia. This Boston bubble you're living under is going to pop. What will he do when he sees you as a duchess, mingling amongst the court?"

"You think he'll adore you then? Just wait until he hears all the tales of your years of temper tantrums and cruelty."

"Liv?" Ethan pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

She didn't want to tell him. She hated this fear Drake had caused in the one area she had come to love. The simple happiness she had found in Boston was now tainted with doubt. He had made her once again hate herself.

Was her act of redemption going to never end? Was she to pay for every word and action she had done for the rest of her life?

Does nothing I do matter?

She closed her eyes tight when Ethan brushed a tender kiss to her furrowed forehead.

I don't deserve someone like him.

His hand rubbed her back in soothing circles while he waited.

Olivia felt tears prick her eyes. He was the only person she had ever known to give her physical comfort. The way he held her as if she was precious to him without trying to turn it into something sexual made her want cry.

She couldn't lose this. Lose him.

But she also couldn't deceive him.

"Ethan," her voice trembled making her hate herself even more for needing him, "You know about my past with Drake."

She felt him tense yet he continued to try and soothe her.

"I do."

She looked up at him and saw his own face etched in worry.

"He...we got into an argument about that and..." It was too hard. She couldn't stand the thought of destroying the way Ethan looked at her. The way he cared for her...

"Olivia," he tried not to let his fear take over of losing her to her former lover, "are you trying to tell me that you..." He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to how his life was before she became a central part of it.

His mind stuttered at that. Medicine had once been his central part. Everything in his adult life had revolved around it. And while it still was a big part of who he was, Olivia had somehow created a niche all her own in that center. Somewhat entwined in it, yet on a personal level, he found that every decision he had made from the moment they met were made about her. From choosing a restaurant she might like to moving to her country to work at her proposed hospital, she had become his life.

Had Drake unknowingly destroyed his life in one brief visit?

"That I what?" She asked.

His blue eyes held her green. "That you want to get back together with Drake?"

Her eyes widened. "Good Lord, no." Her nose wrinkled. "That is the last thing I want."

She felt his arms relax as they cuddled her closer. His forehead dropped against hers as he dealt with the heady relief that her admittance brought.

Realizing he had been scared she was ending things caused a need to reassure him. Her lips met his in a tender kiss. She could feel the deep longing he had for her in his response. He still held her gently as their kiss came to an end.

"What did he say?" Ethan asked.

"He was angry that I don't see the need to keep discussing why our barely a relationship had to end." She bit her lip. "Then he brought up you."

Ethan arched an eyebrow. He had not been around the man enough to form an unbiased opinion. He knew the flare of jealousy was from what he assumed was going to be an attack on his own character in the hopes of stealing Olivia from him.

"What about me?" He didn't bother to hide the annoyance tempering his tone.

"How you'll be when you see me in Cordonia." Olivia averted her eyes. "And how what we have here will be completely destroyed."

His eyes narrowed at such a choice of words. "Why would it be destroyed?"

"Ethan, you," she lowered her head into her hands for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she forced the words out. "You know some of my past already. You've witnessed my temper. But I...I used to be cruel. I've changed these last few years, and it has helped heal relationships I have with some members of the court." She looked up at him to see how he was reacting. "But Drake believes once you hear their stories and see me as the prideful duchess that you will not want to be with me."

"First off," Ethan snapped, "he doesn't know a damn thing about me or how I feel about you. From what I know of you, you deserve to walk into every ballroom with your head held high." He snorted in irritation. "They should be begging for your attention."

Olivia briefly smiled at that. Only he could turn one of her faults into a compliment.

"Secondly, I haven't been known to be the kindest doctor to work with."

"Your patients would disagree."

He huffed. "That's because I work to help them." He pulled her closer within his arms. "Jerk might be the nicest word interns and other medical staff have referred to me." Ethan pressed another kiss to the top of her head. "And my quick temper might give yours a run for its money ." He grinned when he heard her muffled laugh. "And I've never been known for being a forgiving man."

She wrapped her arms around him as she settled her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. "If anyone tells you about me, then--"

"I know who you are, Olivia." Ethan stressed. "I will never hold your past up as a standard to measure your actions by."

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Don't thank me." He grumbled. "And don't believe what Drake said." He grimaced as a thought struck. "Though I can imagine why he acted like he did."

She swiped at her stray tears. "You can?"

He nodded before resting his cheek against her head. "Who knows how I would react if this was reversed? I might have lashed out at you in frustration if you refused to give me a second chance."

She lifted her head to see his face.

He met her gaze and softly smiled again. "Especially since I am in love with you."

"You--" her lips parted in surprise, "You are in love with me?

"I am."

Olivia knew in that moment what was truly in her heart. All the questions she had asked herself that morning finally had an answer. And all because Ethan had done the one thing that no man had ever done before.

He did not judge her for her past, her name, anything. He accepted her, faults and all, and loved her for every single part.

"I love you too." She smiled against his lips. "I have never loved anyone like I do you."

Their kiss held a new edge to the usual passion. Having expressed their feelings, the need to show just how much they loved one another took over.

While clothes were beginning to be hastily tossed around the living room, Olivia's phone vibrated softly in her purse.

***************

Hearing the beep, Drake cleared his throat. "I know I am probably the last person you want to talk to but I need to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said. I wish..."

He took a deep breath. "I wish you would give me a second chance to show you that I do care the way you wanted me to. I know you're with Ramsey now, but I want to try what you asked me all those months ago. I want to be with you, out in the open."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling of his hotel room in Kentucky. "I won't keep bothering you. I'll give you time to think it over and wait until the New Year's Eve Ball to hear your answer." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hana said you told her you'd be back by then. I hope I didn't...didn't ruin what chance I could have."

Pausing once more, he dropped his head in his hand.

"Take care, Libby." He said softly before ending the call.

******************

That night, Oliva felt once more at peace. In the darkness of Ethan's bedroom, she smiled at how he was spooned around her. His slow deep breaths of sleep lulled her even more into the addictive security his presence gave her.

She kept replaying his words of love in her mind. In many ways it surprised her, and yet deep down she thought she must have already known. Every action, every kind word, every kiss had revealed that he had given her his heart. And she in turn had given him hers without even realizing it.

As hard as it was to find some type of silver lining to Drake's hurtful words, she supposed she should be grateful for them. Her sharing it had possibly prompted Ethan to tell her how he felt about her.

She yawned while snuggling back against her doctor. His arms pulled her even closer as he slept.

She felt both exhausted and wired. The day had been filled with one extreme emotion after another. And yet, the words both men had said kept her awake.

Olivia didn't know if she had it in her to forgive Drake. To have someone that you actually trust bring up the worst pieces of yourself as a threat to ruin the one good thing you have...how could he do that to her? She had been hurt when he didn't return her feelings, but this fight today had damaged them to the point that she wasn't sure if she even wanted him as a friend.

I would never say something like that to him if he managed to find happiness with someone else, she thought to herself.

Ethan had been much more understanding of Drake's actions than she could ever be.

She knew it wasn't necessarily a good thing that she never gave people second chances. Why would she after all the betrayals she had suffered in life? She barely needed both hands to count the number of people she had over the years that had never betrayed her.

Had Drake entered into the category she kept for her parents, Lucretia, Constantine, and numerous nobles at court?"

I don't know, she thought. I don't know how I feel over what he did.

She thought about his voicemail. It didn't matter how sincere Drake sounded or that he now wanted to try. His apology seemed hollow. Perhaps it was because he truly didn't know her now. These months in Boston had changed her, possibly even more than she realized.

She wasn't the same proud duchess that had once sworn vengeance to anyone who opposed her. She had learned the difficult art of give and take. She made herself listen and think through everything before losing her temper or forming a hard decision. It had been an ongoing battle, but she felt that she had a somewhat better control than she once had. Today's fight with Drake had proved that she wasn't the same quick tempered, plan to skewer a person on the edge of her dagger she had once been. She had stepped out of her comfort zone and lived for the most part as a normal person, proving to herself that she truly could survive on her own in any situation.

This venture had shown her that she was more than what her ancestors had stressed a Nevarkis should be. The people in Cordonia would most likely still see her as her old self, but she knew and it seemed that Ethan did also who she truly was. Her strength, her refusal to back down from a fight, her very heart had been used for good.

Drake didn't see it. He never saw the potential she had to do something meaningful and right. Maybe it was because she hadn't allowed him to do so. Maybe they really never had a chance to see the best in one another.

Could we have found a way to happiness if we had not spent years torturing each other with our spiteful words?

Deciding that that was a thought that would probably never be answered, she closed her eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

********************

Weeks went by too quickly for some and not nearly fast enough for others. Edenbrook had closed its doors leaving many with bittersweet emotions. Ethan, Naveen, and Olivia had spent what free time they had packing and shipping their personal belongings to Cordonia. Decisions were made for the two doctors to stay with her in Lythikos while they searched for homes of their own.

While rushing about, Amanda and Thomas came to help a week before Christmas.

On their second night together, the ladies sent Ethan and Thomas to get dinner, giving them a moment to talk alone.

"Did you come for me or for the snow?" Olivia teased when Amanda insisted the two of them take a break from packing and go for a walk.

"Since you have always had the best snow," Amanda replied with a twinkle of mischief, "I always come for you."

She laughed when Olivia snorted.

"Are you excited?" She prodded as their boots crunched in the snow.

"About finally seeing the new hospital?" Olivia linked her arm through Amanda's when they entered a nearby park. "Of course."

"I am too." Amanda took a deep breath and cut her eyes toward her friend. "And I am very excited to see you and a certain doctor together at the New Year Eve's ball."

Olivia didn't bother to mask how happy she was. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Ethan, he...on Thanksgiving, he admitted he is in love with me."

"About time." Amanda grumbled playfully. "Each time I visit, I see just how much he does love you."

Olivia stopped their progress through a path of lighted trees. "You knew all this time? Why didn't you tell me?"

Amanda's laughter at the death glint in Olivia's eyes echoed across the park. "Because you would have dismissed it like you always have whenever I brought up heartfelt emotions."

She placed a hand on her hip and somehow did a convincing impression of Olivia. "Please. No man can truly capture a Nevarkis heart, much less make me willing to be his," Amanda managed to twist her lips in disgust like Olivia's as she flicked her hand in a very recognizable gesture, "love slave."

Olivia rolled her eyes while struggling with her laughter. "I don't sound like that."

"Not now that you're in looovvve." Amanda responded playfully.

"Why do I share things with you?" Olivia muttered.

"Because you love me." Amanda wrapped her arm around her. "Not as much as you love Ethan, but I can live with that."

Olivia snorted again as she tried to brush it off. As hard as she tried, a soft smile formed on her lips. "You're right."

"I am happy you both know how you feel about one another." Amanda's teasing turned serious. "It would have driven you crazy with trying to guess."

"I suppose it would have irritated me." Olivia admitted. 

“I know it would have driven me insane watching you both tiptoe around the issue.” Amanda grumbled.

“It surprised me.” Olivia admitted. 

“It did? Why?”

“I--I suppose I didn’t expect it to happen.” She felt embarrassed just saying it. “I don’t think I ever thought I would meet someone to feel like that... I never thought of any of it happening to me.”

Amanda's heart ached at realizing just how damaged Olivia still was over her parents. Nothing hurt her more than seeing her friend still believe that she was unworthy of love. To be this surprised over a man falling in love with her proved how much she doubted herself. Perhaps it was why Olivia continuously pushed herself to serve Cordonia in any way possible. It might be why she never backed away from danger.

Compliments and recognition had been the closest she had to receiving love in her life

Amanda felt herself adoring Ethan even more for showing Olivia that she herself was loveable. She wasn't the prickly cactus that she had given Liam at his coronation. She had a tender heart, one that any person would be lucky to earn.

"I love him." Olivia broke into Amanda's musings. "It's different from what I once felt for Liam."

Amanda squeezed her in a side hug. "One sided love usually is different. Having someone give their heart to you and work in the hopes of you giving them theirs, I can't think of a greater gift than that."

Olivia nodded. "Ethan does that. I thought that maybe after we admitted our feelings that he would slack off trying to," her brow furrowed at trying to find the words.

"Sweep you off your feet?"

"Yes." Olivia's nose wrinkled out of habit over something so sappy. "He now seems to work even harder to not only keep my love but to make me love him even more."

"Good." Amanda linked her arm through hers again. "He better or he will have me to deal with."

Olivia burst into laughter. "And what will you do if he doesn't?"

Amanda's smile grew. "Don't worry. I've been trained by the best on how to torture a man." She winked at her friend. "You always did give the most interesting lessons."

*****************

Christmas was approaching and with it, Ethan invited Olivia to drive to Providence to spend Christmas with him and his father.

She was both excited and extremely nervous to meet his one family member he had a relationship with.

She was completely out of her depth in this situation. She had never had a man invite her to, "meet the parents,". She knew though how big this was for Ethan to include her in his family's Christmas tradition.

He seemed so happy, so proud, to introduce her to his father.

The drive over had been filled with his sharing some of his childhood memories. Her hand had remained in his as she watched the play of emotions on his face. He was opening up to her again, showing how much he trusted her with these bits of himself.

The modest, in need of a new coat of paint home had surprised her. She didn't know why she expected Ethan to have had a childhood a tad more luxurious than this. He seemed so cultured at times, that it impressed her even more that he had learned all of it on his own.

Ethan's father, Alan, had come outside to welcome her while helping with their luggage.

The genuine delight in the elder's face at meeting the woman his son had brought home made her feel slightly giddy. He teased Ethan with saying he had not done nearly enough in describing how pretty she was.

"I did." Ethan teased back. "You just didn't pay attention."

The three shared a meal with Olivia watching in fascination at their closeness. So many of her friends either had parents dead or were not close to them at all. This was something entirely new.

Alan had charmed her into sharing a little about herself. His understanding smile and deep laugh had made her relax. After dinner he pulled her away from the table while ordering Ethan to do the dishes.

"You're taking her to the mantle aren't you?" Ethan grumbled while fighting a smile.

"Don't worry what we're doing." Alan reciprocated. "Just make sure to soak that pan before putting it in the dishwasher."

Olivia allowed herself to be ushered into the small den. A Christmas tree stood with slightly old ornaments next to a warm crackling fire. Her gaze lifted to the different sized picture frames on the mantle.

Picking up one that seemed to be the oldest, Alan handed it to her. "This was a few weeks after Ethan was born."

Olivia's lips curved at seeing what looked like any other baby. She studied each picture he handed her, giving her glimpses into Ethan's life. Her smile grew at a photo of a ten year old Ethan smiling while puppies crawled all over him.

She then noticed the woman in the background.

"That's his mom." Alan's joy seemed to dim some. "She had been the one to decide we go to a nearby farm to let Ethan choose a puppy for his birthday."

Olivia studied the image of the woman who had so easily left her husband and son.

How could she do that to him?

The sound of Ethan returning caused Alan to quickly switch the picture for another one.

"Here he is with his first car."

"Dad." Ethan grumbled good naturedly. "I'm sure Olivia doesn't want to go down through every mundane event in my life."

"I do." Olivia blurted out. Heat flooded her cheeks. "I like seeing your childhood."

Alan beamed at her. "Here's one of my favorites. He was around five years old and had opened a clinic for stuffed animals."

"Did he?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow at Ethan.

"I'll have you know that I save many from losing their limbs." Ethan smiled at her laughter. "I had to since most of the injuries my toys suffered were from my rigorous playing."

The three sat down and began to talk about Ethan moving to Cordonia.

"You will have to visit." Olivia insisted. "You will always be welcome in Lythikos."

"I plan to." Alan stood and stretched. "I think I'll leave you two to get some sleep." He patted Ethan's shoulder then squeezed Olivia's hand. "I'm so happy you're both here."

Ethan settled his arm again around Olivia once they were left alone in companionship silence.

"Your father is very kind."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. Nothing like me."

She smirked at him. "Don't sell yourself short. You have your moments."

"I do, huh?"

"I think so." She snuggled closer within his arms.

Smiling to himself, Ethan reached into his pocket.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

He held a box out to her.

She sat up with a start when her eyes fell upon the little velvet box.

"I think you know what I'm about to ask." Ethan said softly as he opened it for her.

Carefully lifting the diamond ring that sparkled in the firelight, he paused right at the tip of her finger.

"You know how much I love you." His vulnerability was once more on display. "You make my life better than I thought possible. I need you, your passion, your heart." He glanced down at her hand trembling in his grasp. “I can’t imagine a life without you by my side.”

His bright blue eyes lifted once more to her green ones shimmering with unshed tears.

"Olivia, will you marry me?"

[hogwartsfirebolt]

Hi again! This is part two (out of three!) of my 2019 drarry fic recs. In the first part I recommended ten of my absolute favorite stories I read this year, and here I am today with ten more that I also love dearly and hope you’ll enjoy too. The banner art is by one of my FAVORITE ARTISTS, @aceveria-art who was kind enough to let me use their art for this and just LOOK AT THAT STUNNING PIECE (here’s the link for you to reblog if you want cause omg). Now, in no particular order, here’s some of my

FAVORITE FICS I READ IN 2019 PART TWO

1. Of Wands and Trees - Omi_Ohmy - 45k - All Draco wants to do is be a wandmaker, but to do so he needs to understand the soul of trees. Of course, the only man who might be able to help him is the one man who is more of a mystery to him than any tree.

We’re starting out this list with this absolute gemstone of a fic. It’s got everything: adventure, redemption, cabins in the middle of nowhere, a spin on the kind of magic we’re used to in this fandom, ancient trees, passion, wandlore, Draco being forced to work for his own food, Harry bathing naked in streams (my mouth’s watering as we speak), and it’s so, so good, the writing, the characterizations, the setting so vibrant I felt like I was standing right there. Just, a gem all around.

2. Take Into the Air (My Quiet Breath) - guardianmira - 11k - Draco is dying of Hanahaki Disease. Serves him right, Harry thinks.

This fic felt, to me, like something completely different from the eighth year fics I usually read, and, having found it by accident, it absolutely blew my mind! I did not expect to love it as much as I did, and I definitely did not expect to feel it as deeply as I did. Just the right amount of angst to give us that sweet, sweet relief at the end. Very lovely.

3. We have a Problem - @xx-thedarklord-xx - 3k - Weddings tend to have a variety of things happening at one time. With a groom as meticulous as Draco, Ron expected nothing to go wrong. When shenanigans, walkouts, disasters, no-shows, and a lack of food strike, it’s up to Ron to save the day.

SO SWEET. Just so, so freaking sweet and funny and different. Ron’s POV was fresh and lovely and so clever, and the plot is hilarious and engaging. It reads so quickly that you will barely feel time passing, and I am 10000% sure that everyone’s bound to adore this. It’s just one of those fics. I cannot recommend it enough. It will be the absolute best 15-20 minutes of your day.

4. Foreplay - @lqtraintracks - 6k - Getting a raging hard-on on the duelling room floor, pinned under Harry Potter’s sweaty body, is not how Draco saw his day going, but… Well, here he is.

Mmfffff. Can barely think about this without having to fan myself, because it’s probably the hottest fic I read all year. Aurors sparring, a Harry who is unbelievably hot, a Draco who tries but simply can’t resist him, showers, a bit of semi-public sex, and the very literal definition of “not safe for work” can be found in here. Just, goodness, it should’ve taken me half an hour to read it and it took about one because I KEPT STOPPING TO BREATHE. Lqt never fails to deliver powerful, incredibly sexy stories and you should all go see for yourselves what I’m talking about.

5. Safe Words - felix_atticus - 26k - Draco discovers his husband has been keeping a secret from him. At first he’s amused. Then he’s curious. The problem? Harry’s always had a hard time saying no.

Speaking of powerful, this one here stabbed me right in the chest and twisted the knife, but in the absolute best way possible. It’s FANTASTIC. The writing is beautiful, the characterizations astounding, and I felt every single emotion so deep inside me. It paints how difficult it is to navigate trust, how impossible it feels to put our own wants and needs over what’s expected of us, explores consent in so many different aspects of life and just presents a beautiful relationship at its core. It really is gorgeous.

6. Upstaged - @lettersbyelise - 3k - West End actor Drake O'Malley starts receiving fanmail from a (not so mysterious) stranger.

The epistolary format already makes this stand apart from our usual fic, but the plot itself is also something I hadn’t ever read before. It’s written so smoothly that it reads like a dream, and I loved every second of it and how it allowed me to build up an entire picture of what was happening with each letter. I’ve gone back to it two or three times just to experience it all over again, and I always have a great time when I do. This is so lovely, witty and just different.

7. Pure Imagination - @aibidil - 14k - An eighth-year tale of depressed happiness, reluctant imagination, and conflicted hope. And skateboarding.

My god is this fic lovely. I spent about three quarters of it clutching my chest because I loved it so much, I love these kids so much and it hit me right in the feels to see everything they go through after the dust of the war settles and they have to figure out their place in life. This is hope in a jar, it’s that light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel story that becomes a metaphor for life itself. A beautiful, beautiful ride.

8. Poor Unfortunate Souls - @doubleappled - 19k - Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there’s an octopus in the lobby.

Chaotic, unique, HOT!!! The whole set up is brilliant, Draco’s work is very interesting, the scenes where we get to see with Harry and Ginny are so incredibly well done that my jaw fell to the floor a little, and what can I even say about the entire buildup we get for Draco and Harry’s relationship, it was MASTERFUL. This fic is absolutely amazing and the ending is so good I can still savor it when I remember it. Go check it out, right now!!!

9. Weather With You - @quicksilvermaid - 29k - Flood. Heatwave. Cyclone. Epic storm ready to rip London apart? Something strange is happening to the weather inside the Ministry of Magic…–Featuring magical creatures, Harry wearing minimal clothes, a snarky snake, and Draco Malfoy who is definitely Up To Something.

This story is such a fun ride that can, at times, be absolutely freaking hilarious (the whole “He Is Up To Something” narrative never fails to crack me up), and at times become sweet and tender. There is nothing more relatable to me than a Draco who wants Harry so much he doesn’t even know what to do with himself, and it was a joy to read him here, and actually, both of their characterizations are so fantastic that they definitely feel like an extension of what we know about them to begin with, and I just had the best of times watching them work their way out of this mess. Sprinkle in a bit of parseltongue, witty snakes and shirtless Harry, and you’ve found yourself the best way to spend the evening.

10. A Sword Laid Aside - @korlaena - 128k - When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be. Draco has to navigate dealing with this Potter while being hunted by Dark wizards and wanted by extremists in the Ministry. When things take a turn for the worse, Draco has to decide whether he’s going to keep running or find a way to protect the world and the people he cares about most.

There are so many things I want to say about this one, so many little details that drove me wild and I want to mention but I just… I- this story is absolutely MIND BLOWING, it’s deep, it’s amazing and frankly extraordinary and I don’t even know how to tell you how much I adore every single word of it. This must be one of my absolute favorite versions of Harry that I’ve ever read, his immense power, his internal conflict, pain and sheer physicality made me weak in the knees; Draco’s characterization is also so heartbreakingly spot on that I could barely believe what I was reading. This story gripped me, squeezed me, spun me around a little and then put me upright again, and there is honestly nothing like it. I haven’t even told you anything about the plot, which… omg. There are no words to tell you how much you NEED to read this. Just typing this is making me want to embark on this adventure again. — I have no excuse for the amount of Harry thirst to be found on this list, I just- well. I really hope you like these little gems! Hahaha. If you do end up reading any of them and want to chat about them, or have questions about any tags or warnings that might worry you, my DMs are always open!!! Enjoy ❤️

[themysteriousgirl920]

A Chance to be Happy - Sonic IDW fanfic

Shadow wants to eliminate Eggman, but Sonic manages to calm him down with a more careful choice of words. (Alternate take on a scene from Sonic IDW Issue 6)

Enjoy. :-)

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Sonic the Hedgehog, known by many as the fastest thing alive, is up against the wall. Or, in this case, the tree. He made no attempt to break free from the firm grip of his ebony and crimson counterpart, Shadow the Hedgehog.

Shadow was known by many as the Ultimate Life Form, and he had sought to find and destroy the mad scientist responsible for the repetitive devastation of Sonic's world. Evil acts that consisted of blowing up 50% of the moon, literally splitting the world apart to release a nefarious monster and using a machine to steal the life force from the planet.

Another act to add to the list of evil deeds would be taking over the majority of the world within six months. Something that, by a miracle, took a short amount of time to undo.

The dark hedgehog had just been convinced of all the good deeds the man had performed to help the heroes, but those few good deeds were not enough to erase the evil deeds he had committed time and time again.

Earlier, Shadow learned that the man was no longer the evil Dr Eggman and, in his amnesiac state, is now a reformed citizen turned handyman known as Mr Tinker. However, speaking from personal experience, having amnesia doesn't make anyone any less dangerous.

Once Mr Tinker regains all his memories, he will – sooner or later – revert to the man he had once been: a scientist who had been constantly squandering his given gifts and skills for his own selfish desires. With one final attempt to dissuade his blue counterpart from making a huge mistake, Shadow was the first to speak.

"Have you forgotten that he made you suffer? That he's tried to destroy you - multiple times? How can you even suggest leniency for him after all that?"

The azure hedgehog pondered on Shadow's statement regarding the mad scientist's despicable deeds. On one hand, Eggman has continually and consistently made the inhabitants of the world quiver in fear upon witnessing his arrival. In spite of his constant failures, he would always return once again in an attempt to rule the world as he sees fit.

On the other hand, Eggman has helped the heroes save the day from time to time. Why would Eggman want to help the heroes, though? Is it because deep down he truly cares about the world? Or is it possible that Eggman is simply using the heroes' abilities to increase his own chances of conquering the world?

If anything, it would most certainly be the latter. This is Eggman, after all. Except… Eggman isn't Eggman anymore. In the current state he is in, he is now known as Mr Tinker, a kind-hearted man who would finally use his talents for the benefit of the people. Who are the heroes to deny him the chance to do so?

Sonic finally found the words he needed to say, needed the hedgehog standing before him to hear. "Because I choose to believe that Eggman, in spite of all the things he has done, isn't beyond saving."

The ebony hedgehog slightly raised his furrowed brow. Not beyond saving? How is this even possible? Why choose to forgive the very person who deserves to be punished? This is the man who had committed numerous crimes in the past and hadn't even attempted to atone for any of them!

This is the man who had taken over most of the world within six months! This is the man who had tortured Sonic non-stop for those six months! How is he not beyond saving?

"You weren't beyond saving either, Shadow," Sonic continued. "With all the crazy stuff that happened in the past, you made up for it rather than allowing your past mistakes to define you."

Shadow knew Sonic was right. The former had committed past crimes of his own: framing the latter for theft, trying to destroy the world to avenge a dear friend, teaming up with an alien invader to uncover the secrets of his past, trying to rid the world of anyone trying to protect it… he was no better than Eggman is.

Yet he eventually saw the errors of his ways and sought to prevent the destruction of the world. Twice. Since then, he had sworn to protect the denizens of the world in any way he can. Shadow had changed for the better. He loosened his grip, his face remaining unchanged as he continued glaring daggers at the blue hedgehog.

"So who's to say that Eggman won't change for the better this time?"

Eggman changing for the better? Shadow chuckled mentally at the mere thought. He would have been rich beyond his wildest dreams for every time he heard that same old story.

"He has done good so far, from what I've heard," Sonic spoke again. "It may not be enough to make up for all the things he has done to us and the world, but it's a small step to redemption."

Doubt and worry crept up on the stern hedgehog's face. Would it really be wise to let Eggman, now known as Mr Tinker, be after performing a few good deeds? Sooner or later, he would be bound to backslide into his old ways as soon as he retrieves all memories of his former life.

The cerulean hedgehog spoke once more. "If he does get all his memories back, though, then let's just hope for the best that he would use all his skills for good instead of using them for evil. So what do you say, Shadow?"

Shadow stared deeply into the eyes of his azure rival. They were filled to the brim with hope and understanding. Not a sign of malice had been evident within them, for he knew that his dark counterpart had atoned for his mistakes and sought to change for the better.

Sonic knew about his past and why he sought revenge on the planet; his mind had been 'perfected' by his creator to help him avenge his granddaughter who had been lost to a raid, which was why Shadow believed she wanted revenge.

Why would Sonic, of all people, choose to spare his long-term arch-nemesis after everything he has done? No one had forgotten nor will they forget what the mad scientist had put them through: endless pain, despair and misery. If Eggman was to change for the better, though, he would have to abandon his former persona and stick with his new life.

Perhaps it would be best to let him enjoy his new way of living for as long as he can. This could be his chance to make up for his past misdeeds and start anew, just like Shadow did. Casting his fears aside, the dark hero finally displayed the face of composure.

"OK, Sonic. I trust you on this one." With a simple turn of his back, he paused for a moment, before turning his head to face Sonic. "I just hope that nothing bad comes out of it."

"Yeah, I hear you. Especially the part where he mentioned Eggmanland."

Fear struck the Black Blur like a lightning bolt to the head. His thoughts of Eggman's true intentions, rushing right in like a tidal wave.

"Shadow, wait!" But it was too late. The dark hedgehog had already vanished in a flash of light. Having effortlessly made his way to his destination, he saw Mr Tinker peeping out of a legged barricade of wood. The poor man flinched as his would-be assassin approached him with a look that could turn anyone into stone.

"Mr Tinker." The voice was a calm baritone, coaxing the handyman to look into the eyes of its owner.

"Y-yes?" the man stammered, fearing for his life.

"Show me. Show me what this Eggmanland looks like."

-------------------------------Page Break-------------------------------

It wouldn't be long before Eggmanland was finally revealed. A war between two sides raged within the Ultimate Life Form: one side persuading him to wait and see; the other pressuring him into stopping the former mad scientist from showing him what he had in store.

Shadow decided to wait and see the outcome of the handyman's work while Mr Tinker approached the building, unlocked the padlock and pushed the wooden barrier forward. Chills ran down the dark hero's spine. His heart pounded like a drum. His body burned intensely as his throat tightened up on him.

It was nothing like he had ever seen. It was Eggmanland… as an amusement park? The still corpses of Eggman's machines were now being used for children's rides, ranging from a rollercoaster to spinning make-shift teacups.

"Tah-daaah?" Mr Tinker uttered unsurely.

Shadow was dumbfounded at the sight. This was nothing like the Eggmanland he knew about. A gentle feminine voice called out to him. "Shadow?" No response.

"Shadow? Are you OK?" The face of a snow-white female bat came into view, her made-up face wrinkled with worry.

"Rouge… I…"

The bat smiled at him reassuringly.

"It's OK, Shadow," Rouge whispered audibly, resting her hand on his shoulder. Shadow gave her a slight smile.

"There's something I have to do before I leave. Mr Tinker." Shadow left his partner's side, slowly approaching the man who turned to him with a nervous smile.

"Um, yes?"

The dark hero sharply drew in air through his nose. "Mr Tinker, I apologise for my actions towards you. Threatening the life of an innocent man was inexcusable."

The handyman waved his hands in a forgiving gesture. "No hard feelings. I really don't remember any of the stuff I did in the past, but maybe I can atone for my past misdeeds. Whatever they may be."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, speaking from experience." The two shared a heart-warming smile and formed a handshake, a symbol of a new start.

"Farewell, Mr Tinker. I wish you the best of luck in the future."

With a grateful nod from the reformed citizen, Shadow departed from Windmill Village, fully content with the new turn of events.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 132: The Lost Prophecy

The circular office was strewn with bits of broken odds and ends like glittering tears embedded in the carpet, Fawkes was watching them all steadily from the ashes and made a silly little squeaking noise from his baby beak, and the portraits were calling and yelling at them in surprise when reality finally settled back.

Regulus shook his head slowly like he was still trying to get water out of his ears rather than that noise. He couldn't believe it had come from Sirius of all people. It was the most humanizing moment he'd ever seen in his life from his big brother, no longer the confident adult akin to dad. Just a scared teenager who had no idea how to deal with all of this like him.

He still didn't particularly like Potter, he seemed as arrogant as Evans always said, but at least acknowledged it as a good thing he'd been replaced. He certainly hadn't known what to do to help his brother. He'd thought Sirius was helping himself by keeping his emotions at a distance, and he'd obviously been wrong about that.

Sitting up slowly and having to dig a bit of something from out of his fingers from the wreck of this office, he took in the rest of this place with even more unease. If someone had broken in to steal something of worth in the Headmaster's absence, they hadn't done a good job of it as the Sword of Gryffindor was still visible in its case next to the Hat, and the Pensieve was still in its cupboard, as Longbottom proved when he cracked it open and bathed them all in blue light. Clearly valuables hadn't been the goal then, but why just upend all of the headmaster's trinkets? It certainly hadn't been them to do it, nobody had landed close enough to be the source.

The girls opened a door and came out of Dumbledore's adjoining room. A grand bed with plum sheets looked rumpled from one of their landing, Evans was rubbing her head from whatever she'd hit in there.

"Can you imagine how much knowledge must be in that thing," Peter surprised him by saying right beside him, hand outstretched. He was looking from the Pensieve and back with a teasing smile, but Regulus had no desire to stick his head in that. He took the offer reluctantly, surprised he stayed on his feet for as shaky as he felt. "This whole room even, wonder if he's working on another use for dragon's blood somewhere."

Regulus couldn't think of anything to say to that, biting down hard on his cheek as he tried to figure out what to do now. He did want to talk to Sirius, but the image of his big brother in his head had been shattered as much as these items, what was he supposed to say?

"He'll be alright, honestly," Peter told him gently. "Prongs will keep him in order, he just needed to, you know, be serious for a moment," he smirked at his own joke.

Regulus gave a surprised smile, and Sirius full-blown laughed. It wasn't a small office after all.

"Who else would I be Wormy?" He shot back, still slouching comfortably against the door like he hadn't tried to leave, Potter beside him rolling his eyes and audibly grumbling at Peter encouraging that stupidity.

Lupin was failing to hide a smile at the exchange as he grabbed the book from Dumbledore's desk. "The Lost Prophecy," he read with such surprise he actually dropped the book again, making a crunch as it smashed something into even more pieces.

The room stayed frozen for several long moments before Lupin shook himself and grabbed the book back quickly with an uneasy look at Potter, who had frozen up as if another death had been announced all over again. Sirius moved instantly, rubbing at his arm and muttering something for their ears alone. He relaxed, just a touch, and jerked his head away from the book, glaring out the window with very forced obvious disinterest.

"What, no bets on how Harry magically managed to come across this thing again?" Sirius offered weakly, but when his best mate didn't react, Sirius just gave Lupin a weary look of preparation. "Go on then Moony, let's get it over with. I'm still more worried about Harry than that stupid thing anyways."

Lupin didn't seem to agree, but he took a breath and started.

Harry was in pain. The kind of pain nobody would ever ask for, the loss of his only connection to his parents he'd ever known, or ever would again apparently. Regulus didn't know why Lupin was reading this, as if to spotlight how he once again was absent in Harry's life when needed. He kept going though, as the explanation came readily that it was Harry who had destroyed all this stuff in a rage to Dumbledore. Lupin just kept going though, his tone apologetic and full of sorrow as he kept watching his two mates, but there was something in there Regulus didn't understand, he just didn't know the guy well enough.

Then he looked at Peter and saw how he was studying Lupin and alternately eyeing the surrounding office, and thought he may be able to guess. Dumbledore had let a werewolf into this school when many a headmaster wouldn't dare, and Lupin had been big on defending the Headmaster back when all this had started. That had waned out a bit with each passing book, now he may in fact be doing this as an act of contrition.

The Boy Who Lived wasn't getting much comfort from the old man either, the explanation now coming in droves about his own hand in this horrible scheme of Occlumency and secrets put in him the desire to walk out of this school and never return, it was a wonder Sirius wasn't following in his godson's footsteps and destroying everything in sight.

Potter was the one crying now though, his arm tight around Sirius who wouldn't dare move away as his best mate seemed to have all the energy drained out of him to never return for every dirty crime listed. That it was Kreacher's doing, and the wise leader of the Order told Sirius only had himself to blame for it.

Regulus wanted to be sick at the idea. He wanted to scream like Sirius had and hope that made him feel better but knew it wouldn't. If he could plug up his ears and forget this one thing he knew he would in a heartbeat, that it was his beloved house-elf to be the death of his brother. Sirius looked infuriated beyond belief, it was hard to believe he'd ever hide any emotion again as he bellowed at the top of his lungs for Kreacher to be here right now, but no such summons was acknowledged for the first time in his life.

"Sirius, that's not helping," Regulus pleaded. "You can't just, he didn't mean-"

"Don't you dare Regulus!" Sirius snapped. He didn't take one step away from Potter as he turned all that fury on him now. "He meant to do exactly what happened! Injuring Buckbeak, trying to get Harry killed because of me! He's a worthless piece of shit just like your parents always wanted!"

Regulus winced at every blow, especially the 'your.' Did he already consider himself so unlike him? "Just listen, please," he didn't have an attic to hide away from his brother shouting. If he stopped arguing and pretended he didn't care like Sirius had then maybe he might do something worse than just scream. He'd always learned from his brother's mistakes, and he didn't want to pretend this wasn't horrible to him. To his complete surprise, Sirius really looked at him for a moment, then Peter, and closed his mouth.

The expression was still terrifying, no one could glower like a Black, but Regulus deliriously whispered, "he doesn't know better Sirius! You hate him, I know that, but he's got good in him, just like everybody! Haven't you wondered why he wasn't at home, why the house-elves aren't here at Hogwarts! You can't just want him dead because he's like our parents anymore than-"

He stopped as a soul deep cold whispered in his ear maybe Sirius had changed his mind and didn't care if he died anymore.

"I'm not asking you to like him," he finished in a miserable whisper. "Just, don't, hate him without giving him a chance to try."

Sirius slowly dropped the glare and kept watching him. His eyes flickered around the destroyed office and to his three friends then back to him and Regulus counted silently in his head all the different ways Sirius could kill him in this place just to be rid of his commentary.

His brother slowly eased the tension out of him though, and went back to leaning against his best mate without taking his eyes off of him. His voice was rough, but he sounded like he was actually trying to joke, "am I allowed to hate anyone in this future without that being thrown in my face?"

"Voldemort," Potter said at once with his own glare still held upon the world beyond.

"Bellatrix," Longbottom and Alice spoke at once, a word beyond redemption needed for her.

"Umbridge," Peter and Lupin spoke together with looks of distaste.

"Those Dursleys," Evans finished quietly but calmly.

"I accept that," Sirius finally forced a grin. He didn't really look like he meant it, but the fact that he stopped at all to even hear Regulus out meant the world to him right now, he wasn't going to keep pushing. Kreacher could be better if he just had some other influence, he just knew it! Not everything with their name on it had to end in ruins, surely.

Lupin finally kept going and he watched Evans pace in stark contrast, clearly furious her son was trying to futilely blame all this on Severus when Dumbledore offered explanation for where he'd been, but nobody needed to tell her how flimsy it felt. That Snape had really spent the whole night just wandering around the Forbidden Forest, and hadn't come across the centaurs and Grawp himself to figure all this out, he was more accomplished than that and surely should have been able to join the Order rather than conveniently being left out of the whole instance and not forced to pick a side. It seemed cruel nobody around here was getting the answers they so desperately wanted while Dumbledore explained Harry's life in painful detail to him.

The Prophecy that had set Voldemort after the Potters was issued by one now very familiar Divination teacher to them all.

"It would be her!" Sirius said with such ferocity the woman should have been ducking for cover no matter when she was now. "Bloody her that ruined my life the first time, now we're at round two!"

"I know Padfoot," James agreed patiently, "we'll lock her in a closet for the rest of her life when this is over so she can't be making any more of them, but please-" his voice broke at the end, and Sirius needed no further prompting to keep his mouth shut, a feat only James Potter had ever accomplished. Sirius knew he'd go mad without help if he had to wait any longer to hear this.

James felt like his ears were still ringing long after Remus had stopped reading that prophecy. This one was somehow even more vague than the one that had apparently been Sirius's doom, the only factor that related it to Harry was his birthday, but nothing at all for him to work with, fix some way out of this except possibly being a little choosy when they had their firstborn if that even worked. For all he knew when the prophecy was spoken again it would just change to that month. If he'd had any hope left clinging to his and Lily's son it was gone now, he couldn't condemn a child to this future that had his name in that Hall of Prophecy with no foreseeable way out of it for him.

There was nothing else to do. He couldn't not defy Voldemort, he couldn't stop any of that.

Sirius didn't have to imagine what Harry looked like sitting in this office, his future in ruins, because he was seeing it live. He'd never seen James look so defeated, not about any problem in the world. It had been him to come up with the animagus plan, his brilliant idea to keep Remus and Peter around when Sirius hadn't even originally wanted anything to do with them. His persistent optimism Evans would say yes any day only rivaled his absolute assurances there was more laughter to be had around the next corner if they just followed him.

He would not just sit here and let the fight drain out of James.

"Hey Prongs, I've got a secret," Sirius said at the top of his lungs. "We figured out Voldemort's weapon before him!"

James tried to smile for him, but it didn't feel real, Dumbledore had known this in its entirety this whole time and it hadn't helped Harry a lick, what good was he?

He saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and he chanced a glance up in confusion what Fawkes would have swooped over here for, before his heart stuttered in surprise to see Evans staring down at him, hands on her hips. He couldn't guess at the look on her face, she'd never looked at him so directly with anything other than contempt.

"So, this thrice defined bit," she said airily, "you think it was three times each, or I did it twice more than you? I personally hope it's not something as silly a technicality as not joining Death Eaters, it should be something much more direct like actually hitting him with a curse or two."

Ironically, before, it was like he was trying to watch her without his glasses on, blurry and only the color easy to focus on. She'd always been such a constant fiery presence in his life. Now he really just sat here and looked at her, that this was like a new language to him, just seeing her speak as a normal girl.

"I'll take that as a challenge," he told her casually.

"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say," she nodded, already turning back away. "Wouldn't be any fun if you just gave up."

Sirius now looked like the one who was dumbstruck as she walked away, but James could only shrug without answer and smile.

Remus kept going gently, some ingrained part of him still hoping Dumbledore would have another answer than this obliqueness, and finally his wish seemed to come true as the headmaster magically gifted them with the smallest ray of hope.

"What does he mean it might not have been Harry? That one we saw at the Ministry, it had Harry's name on it," stringing words together seemed to be paining Prongs greatly, but he latched heavily onto this.

"There was that odd question mark on it though," Peter corrected. "The rest all makes sense now, those were Dumbledore's and Trelawney's initials, but this must mean someone didn't put that in there until after-"

He stopped with a wince, and they didn't need him to finish anyways.

It still didn't feel like much of an answer, especially with the news that Neville could have been the other child!

Alice turned gray and Frank let out such a yelp it was as if he'd dodged his own deadly curse.

Lily instantly began hugging her friend, she wanted to do the same to Frank but he was already moving. He walked almost calmly to Dumbledore's desk, not even looking twice at Lupin or the book until he found a quill to load up with ink and a bit of parchment, then offered his hand that only just slightly trembled if one were watching for it. "May I?"

Lupin wordlessly passed it along and they watched as he copied down the prophecy and stuck it very purposefully in his pocket before handing the book back, then going over and taking his girlfriend's hand. It didn't matter the words now felt seared into their brains, he was now determined every chance they got he'd look at them every day until he found some way to break out of this and stop any Dark Lord from ever darkening their lives again.

"Is that it then?" Alice asked into the ever growing silence.

"No," Lupin whispered, still holding the book and watching Sirius and Potter. "Just, not sure how much more of this I can take."

"That's okay Moony," Sirius still managed a grin, now of all times. "Voldemort's been tormenting people before and after these two boys, but now Harry's given us a way to fight back. That power the Dark Lord knows not, maybe it's his self-destruct button!"

Potter laughed, even Lupin and Peter managed quiet snickers for the idiot.

The two would-be mothers watched him with something close to disdain for trying to make light of this, like they'd be slapping him all the way out of Hogwarts grounds if they could, but there was something in watching the Marauders now holding them back from retaliating. Frank felt it too in the way Black spoke, this wasn't really a joke to him as he played off, he'd do whatever he had to protect his godson again while keeping their focus on how to keep going rather than just dwelling on these awful moments.

Regulus recognized the same, but he wasn't so sure he could live with the outcome. He already feared going back to the world where his parents would hate him, what would happen if then the world just took his only family left away.

Harry was living through the same, as Dumbledore finally ran out of explanations for now and his thoughts returned to his lost godfather. He couldn't imagine how to get through it. So Regulus finally said the only thing he could think of to him. "I don't want you to die."

Sirius flashed him that smile he'd missed so much. "Lookie there, we can agree on two things."