#which is why losing her the way he did scarred him so brutally. that trauma follows him wayyy into his civilian life post-canon

[quixot1sm]

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight.  This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.”  he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[shifuaang]

I’ve censored names because I don’t want anyone to be sent hate, but this post and the amount of likes it got enraged me so much that I had to say something about it. This truly might be the worst take I’ve ever seen about both Katara and Aang.

Let’s address how this is harmful to Katara first. The original poster seems to want Katara to keep her scars for the aesthetic™, which is already a really gross concept, but I cannot stress enough how disgusting it is to want a female character to bear permanent, painful markings in order to give a male character ‘more development.’

We are shown routinely throughout ATLA that scars are not just physical indications of trauma but emotional ones as well. 

The only person we see who has scars for “cool” character design reasons is Jeong Jeong, but even then we can assume he received them while he was fighting in the war or because he became a deserter. 

All of these characters have these scars to serve as a constant reminder of the Fire Nation’s brutality and ruthlessness. Katara doesn’t need a physical reminder of this. She already deals with the tremendous, traumatizing loss of her mother on a daily basis. How could you possibly think that it would be good to scar Katara just to ‘punish’ Aang while completely disregarding how it will affect her emotionally?

Katara should not have to bear the emotional and physical weight of Aang’s mistakes in order to teach him a lesson. 

It also completely undermines her moment when she learns she’s a healer. She gets this incredible gift that is so special to her because it means she is able to be both a fighter and a healer. These two sides of her are crucial in her fight for justice and compassion, and the healing aspect is a beautiful addition to a character who is so ‘down in the trenches’ in her approach to achieve these things.

This revelation is not only important to Katara as a character but also integral to so many pieces of the plot. If she hadn’t realized she could heal scars, she wouldn’t have offered to try healing Zuko’s in The Crossroads of Destiny. The chess pieces are constantly being set up in Book 1 in strategic and deliberate ways. I’m all for headcanons and fan concepts, but not when they dismantle the plot and characters for, frankly, sexist reasons.

Onto Aang. 

There is absolutely zero indication that Aang did not suffer the consequences from burning Katara. He is immediately remorseful. He is so incredibly guilty that he swears off firebending for good. He is attacked by Sokka, and is probably reeling over the idea that his best friends and the only people he has in this world might never forgive him for his mistake.

But Katara does forgive him, way faster than he forgives himself, as we see him struggle with memory of hurting her well into Book 3. 

Zuko burns Toph accidentally, but absolutely no one chastises him for this or holds him to the standards they hold Aang. And sure, you could argue Zuko makes his mistake as an act of self-defense while Aang is just goofing around, but Aang is literally twelve when this happened. Don’t tell me that you never unintentionally hurt yourself or others when you were messing around as a preteen. Sokka lists an array of injuries he’s sustained at the end of The Deserter, and while I’m sure most of them were self-inflicted, I can’t imagine that Katara wasn’t involved in any of those instances. They’re kids - all of them, and Aang is the youngest of the bunch, so of course he still has lessons to learn. That doesn’t mean he should have to suffer the ramifications of his adolescent mistakes forever.

His impatience to learn firebending also stems from the fact that he only has until summer’s end to do so. It’s not an excuse for him not taking Jeong Jeong’s warnings seriously, but it is an explanation. And he learns from it. The way we see him handle fire and the responsibility of bending fire in The Firebending Masters proves that he’s matured. 

Aang, Book 1: Jeong Jeong tried to tell me that I wasn't ready. I wouldn't listen.

Aang, Book 3:  All this time, I thought firebending was destruction. Since I hurt Katara, I've been too afraid and hesitant. But now I know what it really is ... it's energy, and life.

The audacity, the gall, the absolute nerve that it takes to say that Aang, a survivor of genocide who lost all of his family and friends and entire culture, “gets let off easy too much” is appalling to me. I’m not sure how many times I have to say that Aang honoring his culture and people and going against the tide - fighting back against the notion that he can’t preserve the traditions and beliefs of his people while being the Avatar at the same time - is not, by any stretch of the imagination, easy.

I don’t know how many times have to say that a child does not deserve to live with the trauma of killing someone, but I’m going to say it again. A CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE TO LIVE WITH THE TRAUMA OF KILLING SOMEONE.

If you truly still believe that the lion turtle/energybending is an easy fix, just read this meta because they explain perfectly why it is not.

And to the last point about Aang ‘getting to be with Katara’ as some kind of “reward” for winning the war, Aang never views Katara as a prize. Need I remind you that he completely drops any type of romantic expression towards her after she rejects his advances in The Ember Island Players? He lets her make the decision as to whether or not she wants to be with him. They get together because the timing is finally right for them - there is no more confusion or violence to prevent them from being together, and Katara no longer has to worry about losing someone she loves. 

[macgyvertape]

Trials of Osiris has been corrupting Guardians with Darkness

meta joke: trials is just as toxic in universe as it is to play

spoilers for Lore through season of the Chosen

So this has been ongoing since season of the Worthy, that the Lighthouses on Mercury are actually sinister, and that darkness has been influencing guardians enough that the Praxic order has had to step in when they torture or kill others.  Theres a layer of irony that as rightfully concerned Aunor and the Praxic Order were about Drifter telling us to “embrace the darkness” in Gambit, here it is in trials this spreading corruption, and even guardians who were killed by those corrupted grow to become corrupted themselves.

More under cut because it’s a long summary of events

The first Guardian incident, is in season of the Worthy, where an unknown class Guardian, loses it and after emptying his clip in a Hunter, tries to kill the Hunter’s ghost. Thankfully the Hunter rezzes in time and is able to save his ghost. (Chapter 5 – [Ambition])

The next incident is listed in item lore for Tomorrow's Answer and The Scholar.  A warlock, Sola Scath, exhibits brutality when killing another warlock named Trestin, and then tortures Trestin’s fireteam member warlock Yara Croy.  

“Trestin knelt a few paces away, beaten. [Sola] bent her glowing hand into Trestin's chest plate, lodging a vortex grenade into her armor. … Yara shook the shock-hold on her mind and pulled her Sidearm. She snap-fired a round into the Warlock's shoulder. The Warlock recoiled from the force and whipped an open palm of malformed Void at Yara, releasing unstable energy that shattered the pistol's frame into ragged scraps. "No more of that."”

From Sola’s POV:

“Sola could feel the Light twisting from her prey's core. She jerked her hand, which dripped with hungering power, and plucked at something deeper. Sola worked her power between her prey's ribs and felt them give way. She dug in, in spite of the pleas, feeling for a grip to hoist their Light to the surface and find what hid underneath.”

Saint then shows up and rightfully kicks Sola from Trials, but it’s interesting that she says “"Isn't Guardian-on-Guardian violence the point? Strength through death." Which is the basics of the Hive’s Sword Logic, and the philosphy of the Darkness.

Next time we see Sola is in the Lore for Temptation's Hook, where she is being taken into custody by Praxic order member Aunor Mahal, after taking someone to a outer-system Pyramid, but returning alone. Aunor mentions this is the first time Ghosts seem to be corrupted as well, and Sola numbers the 5th corrupted Guardian.

Next time we hear about Trestin, she has been apprehended by Aunor for toturing civilian Eliksni fleeing house Salvation and then torturing her own fireteam when they intervene, and is now hearing Darkness whispers. (source: Sola's Scar & The Messenger)

“She had betrayed them, or so Sadhij had screamed: "We're supposed to be the thin line drawn before the Darkness, you traitor!"

|| Thin indeed. So why not step over it? ||Because they didn't have it in them. She checked. Cracked them both open and dug deep, just to be extra sure. But it wasn't there.”

Pointing out the similarities to what Sola did, torturing someone and digging into the light. Trestin sees the pyramid, and describes it as “pulse in time with her heart. Attuning to the desire churning within.”

Even when playing on a simulated version of the Lighthouse on Mercury there are still problems.

During the time of the Festival of the Lost, (so before Beyond Light and on og Mercury) Shayura, yet another Warlock,  starts by repeatedly killing killing a hunter named Leitka with a sword, (Pyrrhic Ascent Vest) and when stopped by her fireteam and called on it, she says that she was caught in a flashback of them fighting the hive lightless like during the Red War, and where she was on titan and fighting a Knight (Pyrrhic Ascent Gloves, Pyrrhic Ascent Gauntlets, Pyrrhic Ascent Vestment)

Her fireteam member, Titan Reed-7, while witnessing her do this has flashbacks himself of the Darkness whispering to him

“Reed is outside of his own body, remembering faces frozen in stone, recalling the whispered plea of his Ghost's tortured voice on Io. || Don't you see? ||” (Pyrrhic Ascent Plate)

Shayura interprets the moment of the Traveler reassembling itself as justification to hunt down Guardians who use powers of the darkness.  Thinking of being lightless in the Red War:

“She remembers those feelings of desperation and abandonment and how she would have accepted any opportunity if it meant living. Her desperate moment did not end in such darkness, but she cannot help but wonder about other Guardians. That when faced with the choice between annihilation and salvation, they might make the wrong choice.” …. She does not need to witness the Traveler's grandiose power to know what is being asked of her, and she does not need time to set herself to work.

Shayura's path is clear.” (Pyrrhic Ascent Boots)

The word choice here is interesting and debatable. “Salvation” has long been associated with the Pyramids and Darkness. A few examples: Eramis and House Salvation, Garden of Salvation, with the Darkness lady statue inside it, “The cutting word is a doorway—the first syllable of hated salvation” (IV: Whispers). That she uses Salvation in this context, it could be argued that as much as she thinks she is serving the light she is unkowningly serving the Darkness.

After what is implied to be more than one kill “Fragments of Ghost shells are scattered atop the console, each glittering with a faint sheen of ice” (Pyrrhic Ascent Bond), Shayura seeks out to permakill an awoken Warlock in Trials who she knows is using stasis. I’d like to point out that her ghost knew what she was up to, went along with it, and did not report it; it could be argued it is corrupted like Sola’s ghost. Shayura justifies her actions to her opponent in Trials:

“I am not here on behalf of the Vanguard," Shayura says with imperious certainty. Flames begin to spread down the length of her Sword. "I am here on behalf of the Light.” and attacks her fireteam when Reed-7 tries to stop her, and the other member Aisha uses stasis to stop her. (Pyrrhic Ascent Bond)

There are definitely comparisons that can be made between Shayura and Shin Malpur, and one could argue that the cause is trauma from the Red War, but it’s sure a coincidence that once again the pattern of brutal killings and trying permakill a guardian is connected to Trials.

Based on the previous pattern of events it will be interesting to see how things play out for Shayura’s fireteam and her opponent. There is a second essay about how the Lighthouses have a connection with the Pyramids, and Brother Vance infact set up Trials to study that, and could hear a correlation between the music of the lighhouses and the Guardians being more ruthless

“the frame's vibrant description of Guardians spinning deeper into ruthlessness. He could feel a crescendo hanging just moments ahead. He noted the resonant murmur undulating through his skin and into his bones” (Chapter 5 – [Ambition])

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X13

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Oh my gosh! Wow! There’s so much to say about this episode. I'm so glad that Meredith woke up and appears to be on the mend. As much as I loved the beach, I am ready for Meredith to rejoin society and the land of the living and get back to doing what she does best! I'm glad that Meredith got closure and that we as fans got closure too not just with Derek but with George as well. The beach wedding scene was perfect and the dialogue throughout was great.

I laughed out loud multiple times and Meredith and Derek’s scenes were both funny and bittersweet. I particularly liked Meredith and Derek's lines about how Meredith hates weddings, but Ellis hates the Post It Note story and wishes they had a big wedding. That she would give her that big wedding if she could. I felt like she was also saying she would give Derek that big wedding if she could. I also loved their conversation about Amelia. Derek told her what she needed to hear. Sometimes losing someone close to you at a young age makes you stronger and sometimes it turns you into Amelia.

Amelia has grown so much, but she spent most of her life a mentally unstable drug and alcohol addicted mess spiralling out of control in large part because she witnessed the brutal murder of her father at the age of five. And that’s not to say that Derek wasn’t just as screwed up by what happened to their Dad. He like Amelia became a neurosurgeon always chasing the high. He stayed in a loveless marriage he hated and when Addison cheated on him with Mark he moved to Seattle where he pretended to be single and pursued a relationship with Meredith.

Even after he and Meredith got together, he lied and cheated and repeated that pattern over and over again. First with Nurse Rose and then with Renee his research fellow in D.C. Derek could be selfish, cruel, hypocritical, and jealous. While Amelia’s scars and trauma were more obvious and blatant Derek was just as affected as she was it just showed up differently. Derek makes it clear he does not want that for Zola, Bailey, and Ellis and after talking to him Meredith realizes that she doesn’t either.

I loved seeing Meredith talk about how well Amelia is doing and Derek saying, “I know!” From the moment Derek on the beach I had a feeling they were going to talk about Amelia and the kids and all of that and I’m glad they did. One of my favourite moments of the episode was when Meredith told Derek that Ellis hates the Post It Note story and wishes they had a big wedding and Derek said, "She gets that from my mother!" I loved that they showed Ellis’ drawing on the fridge when Maggie is talking to Winston on the phone.

I love that Meredith and Derek got their beach wedding like Derek talked about in Season 5 when he made Meredith a bed in front of the fireplace. She went from never wanting to get married to marrying Derek on a Post It Note, getting legally married at the court house so that they could adopt Zola, and then marrying him on the beach in her COVID dream and giving Derek and Ellis the big wedding he always wanted and the one Ellis dreams of. So beautiful. I’m glad that they got closure and that Meredith decided to go back and that she knows Derek will be waiting for her when she’s ready, when it’s her time. When she’s old and senile and smelly just like they promised.

But now is not that time. She has kids to raise. Patients to treat. Sisters, friends, and family that need her. And a certain Irish doctor who would very much like to take her for a drink once she’s feeling better. I loved that Meredith realized through talking to Derek that even though her body was tired her soul was still fighting and that she needed to go back to her life. I loved her scene with Zola when she woke up and said, "We love you so much," meaning both her and Derek. That Mommy and Daddy love her so much and that’s why Meredith came back. She gave up on an afterlife with Derek to be with her children, friends, and family in the real world. That was so beautiful.

I loved Maggie's talk with Zola. I love that she took what Catherine gave her about screaming out your feelings and used it to help Zola who has been through so much express her emotions in a healthy way. I really felt Zola's heartbreak and how much she missed her Mom and Dad. I'm glad that Maggie decided to take Zola to visit Meredith. It was risky, but it paid off. The set department did a great job with Zola’s room. When she’s sitting on her bed crying you can see the photo of Meredith and Derek holding her at her first birthday party. You can also see a sock monkey that she had at the dream house.

The slop of the roof indicates that her room is in the attic. At last we saw it Lexie was living in there and Mark was visiting her while they were sneaking around, and it was an unfinished space with wood panelling. It appears that since that time as her family expanded Meredith had the attic finished and turned into a proper bedroom for Zola. We don’t know how big the attic is so it’s possible that there are more rooms up there or that there are more rooms upstairs than what we’ve seen.

I'm glad that Derek was there for Meredith in her time of need and helped her find the will to fight even though she was exhausted. I'm interested to see what's next for Meredith. If we'll see her being discharged in the coming weeks or if they will do a time jump. Will we see her at home with the kids first or back at work? Will her and Hayes finally have that drink? If so, how soon? I want to know more! I’m excited to see Maggie tell her about her engagement to Winston and see her meet Winston properly and get to know him. I’m also excited for what I’m sure will be an emotional scene when she thanks Amelia and Link for taking care of her kids while she’s been sick.

I’m also expecting some very emotional scenes with Richard and Bailey. I’m interested to see how they will address DeLuca’s death. I’d also like to see Jackson’s reaction when he returns from his most recent quest and finds out that Meredith has woken up and is doing better. I’d also like to see someone notify Cristina, Alex, Arizona, Callie, and April that Meredith is doing better. I can’t wait to see Hayes’ reaction to finding out that Meredith is on the mend! My heart!

Now let us turn our attention to the other shenanigans that were going on at Grey Sloan Memorial this week while Meredith was busying getting closure with Derek and waking up. We saw Teddy back at work trying her best to move forward. I was glad to see that she found a therapist that works for her even though it has to be virtual due to the pandemic. I'm glad that Owen was there for her. She really needs a friend right now and as Owen said previously, he's well placed to be that person. I like that he backed her up, but also pointed out that she would be destroyed if something went wrong with Meredith. That lead to her paging Winston to scrub in with her which I think was the right call.  

I think Owen did the right thing by rejecting her kiss but choosing to stay with her and let her cry and breakdown. She needs the support right now and while I’m not usually an Owen fan I think he did a good job supporting her this episode. I also really felt for him when he lost a patient he thought they were going to be able to discharge and struggled to tell the family. As he says to Teddy, they did this all the time during the way, but this is different. They are losing patients on a level that they’ve never experienced before, and they can’t even take a moment to catch their breath because they have more patients to treat and pronounce.

My heart breaks for the real life doctors and nurses who are dealing with stuff on a daily basis. It’s so hard. On a lighter note, I really loved Amelia and Link's patient storyline this week. It was funny and interesting, and it was great to see Amelia back in the OR. While it was wrong of Amelia to steal Link’s patient and I think she did overstep I understand why she was so eager to get back into the OR and she was right about what was wrong with the guy.

I understood Link’s anger and frustration, but I also appreciated that he understood Amelia and was there to support her and build her up. I like that he brought in Tom and had him on standby, but also showed complete confidence in Amelia. His line about how Amelia always likes to raise the stakes was hilarious and accurate. Another scene I loved was when Amelia and Link were leaving the hospital and Link thought she was using sexual innuendo and then she clarified that she needed to get home because her boobs felt like they were going to burst, and she needed to either pump or breastfeed. That one cracked me up!

We also saw some amazing acting by Caterina Scorsone when upon arriving home and finding Link’s parents looking after Bailey and Ellis, they rushed to the hospital thinking something was wrong with Meredith. Amelia was riding high from the surgery that day and when she thought Meredith had gotten worse, she panicked only to realize that Meredith’s condition hadn’t changed. Her sobbing and desperation as she said over and over again that she really needed Meredith to live were gut wrenching. Caterina did an amazing job.

I also really liked Bailey and Levi’s patient storyline. The peanut butter brittle woman who took up roller skating was the best! She was funny and helped Bailey see that you need to rest and also follow your joy. The scenes where the woman gave Levi the brittle and then he was smelling it made me laugh! As a result of treating that patient Bailey decided to reverse her earlier decision and let Jo switch specialities. While I’m not on board with that storyline I'm glad that Bailey decided to support Jo in following her joy. Making someone stay in a role they don't like will only make them resent you and make everyone involved unhappy.

That being said, I hate this career switching storyline. It’s so dumb. I've realized with this episode that my opinion on this storyline isn't ever going to change. If they use it as a segue for Jo adopting Luna that could be interesting, but watching Jo leave general surgery behind and re-specialize in OBGYN so she can stand on the sidelines while all the other characters do ground breaking work and cool procedures just seems dumb to me. I am not invested in this storyline at all.

Levi and Jo have great comedic timing which was on full display in this episode. Jackson was MIA this episode because he went roaring off on another one of his quests leaving the person he’s dating in the lurch and telling them about it after the fact. He took a leave of absence from work and then left Maggie a voicemail back in Season 15 telling her he needed some time to think and then went camping in the woods to look at trees which lead to him talking to April and texting a woman he met on this trip behind Maggie’s back. He then left her in the fog on a dark road in an area with bears at the end of Season 15.

Now he’s left Jo to go on an unknown quest that’s 11 hours away. When did Jackson become the guy that just vanishes at random to go do whatever the heck he wants? I was surprised that Nico asked Levi to move in with him at the end of the episode. That was not at all the answer that Levi was expecting so I understand why he ran off and said he promised Jo he'd do a movie night with her. Levi wanted to move in with Nico last season and Nico didn't want that, but instead of just saying that outright he dodged the topic and was a real jerk about it. That resulted in them breaking up and Levi moving in with Jo.

They only got back together because of the pandemic and in the intervening time Levi has grown as a person and no longer wants that kind of a relationship with Nico. When he told him that him leaving his bathroom bag at his place didn't mean he was going to move in with him he was being sincere. He just didn't want to have to keep carting his toothbrush back and forth all the time. In response Nico realized he's always running away from what scares him and pushing people away when they get too close and he wants to fix that, so he asked Levi to move in with him.

Therein lies their problem. They're never on the same page. When Levi wanted to move forward and take that next step Nico didn't want to. Now that Nico wants to move forward and take the next step Levi is no longer interested. What a dilemma. I also noticed that Jo and Levi had very similar outfits at the beginning of this episode. You know you’re becoming good friends with someone when you start unconsciously matching outfits.

Onto the next episode’s promo! We see Jackson driving in the rain, showing up on someone’s doorstep talking to himself about how his appearance might seem impulsive, but he has thought it through. The door opens to reveal April who is holding Harriet in between clips of his and April’s relationship. I have a few theories about this. First off, I think they are faking us out. If there was trouble in paradise and things weren’t going well with April and Matthew, they wouldn’t have had Jackson make a comment in the first half of the season about how Matthew is spending more time with Harriet then he and April are because they are taking more COVID shifts.

April is a deeply religious Christian woman whose faith is really important to her. She was vehemently opposed to getting a divorce even though her relationship with Jackson was clearly over because of her faith. Marriage is not something she takes lightly so I have a hard time seeing her divorce Matthew out of the blue because Jackson shows back up and is in crisis when her and Matthew have been together for the past three seasons and have been married for two.

Also, they are raising two children together and co-parenting one of those kids with Jackson. A lot of court services were shut down in the first few months of the pandemic for safety reasons which made it difficult to get a divorce and this episode takes place in June of 2020. So even if April and Matthew split up they couldn’t legally get a divorce very easily at this time and if April and Jackson got back together they would still have to interact with Matthew on a regular basis because they are co-parenting kids together and there’s no way that April would walk away from Ruby.

The only way I could see April and Jackson getting back together is if Matthew has died or fallen ill somehow. Otherwise I just don’t see it. I think they’re faking us out. I think the clips in the promo are there to entice japril fans and play into that because logistically I don’t see how a storyline in which April and Matthew suddenly divorce and April and Jackson get back together in one episode is possible.

Until next time!

[octerminal]

I’ve talked before about how Nadia being Earthborn is the central reason she’s renegade leaning, but I really want to get into it again because I’ve been listening to Hadestown a lot recently and that always makes me think of Nadia because the musical touches on how traumatizing poverty is. And also just because, well, I always want to talk about Nadia.

But before I can do that, I have to talk about a few other things first.

(This is going to be niche and also super self-indulgent, but it’s my blog, so who cares. Note that because of what both Hadestown and the Earthborn background entail, this is going to get slightly political. But again, it’s my blog, so who cares.)

Generally speaking, Mass Effect has an issue with downplaying trauma. Ashley, Tali, Garrus, and James all go through the traumatic experience of being sole (or almost sole) survivors. Tali goes through this twice, because the comics show that before she even met Shepard she lost the team she’d been traveling with. (And that’s not even counting the fact she also loses a chunk of her team on Freedom’s Progress. They use this trope with her a lot.) Liara loses her mother in the first game and she has almost no reaction. Shepard dies in the beginning of the second game and spends the rest joking about it, with very few opportunities to express anything but humor over the situation.

People respond to trauma differently, and the game is also told primarily from Shepard’s point of view, so consequently we only see what Shepard sees. All of these characters likely grieved in private, and they definitely do carry scars (literal and figurative) from what they’ve gone through. But I also think that Mass Effect likes making characters go through objectively traumatic things without fully considering how someone might act coming out of it. In fairness, that’s the fun of fanfic, and I also do think everyone on the Normandy has some degree of experience in compartmentalizing because they simply don’t have the time to sit down with their feelings. (A lot of them are also just averse to doing this.)

But exploring that trauma is what I’m interested in the most, and that’s how I approached Nadia. Earthborn is my favorite background for that reason. It’s not a single event that’s shaped their life thereafter, but a sustained stressful environment they endure for years and only escape once they sign up with the Alliance. And in that regard, Nadia rather sees it as trading one cage for another, but that’s neither here nor there.

Like, to go back to Hadestown (I swear I’m not going to write Hadestown meta on this blog), “When the Chips are Down” is one of my favorite numbers because it so accurately describes Nadia’s response to poverty. “How can you expect me to care about another person and put their wellbeing above my own, when doing that will result in my own death? How can you expect me to trust another person, when that could result in my own death? How are you going to lecture me on having no morals when if I had prioritized morality, I never would have survived?” (This is something I love bouncing off Kaidan, but I’ll get to that later.)

In other words, and this is an incredibly obvious thing to say, poverty is traumatizing and violent. It is an incredibly violent thing to put another human being through, to make them worry for their basic safety, to live their day to day in a constant limbo of uncertainty that permeates every facet of their life. Will you be able to eat today? Will you be able to sleep in a safe environment? Can you trust this person you’ve never met? Will trusting them endanger what little safety you’ve managed to achieve? How much money do you have? How long can you make that money last? Where will you be tomorrow? How about the day after?

This is something that leaves its mark on anyone it touches. It’s hard enough for an adult to plan for the future when they don’t have the luxury of knowing how they’ll even survive the week; when you’re a child, and that sort of stress is all that you’ve known, how do you even imagine a better life when you’ve known nothing different?

Before I get any further, I want to pause for a moment. Something that’s always been curious to me are the codex entries for Earth. Here’s a portion of ME1′s codex:

Here’s a portion of ME3′s codex:

(Written transcripts of the complete codex entries at the links.)

In both of them, they talk about how humanity is in a new golden age. A lot of pollution and common diseases have been eliminated. The colonies have brought in more resources. There's even been some correction to the damage early climate change caused. Then the Fire Nation—I mean, Reapers, attacked and ruined all of this. Except, take a closer look at ME1′s codex:

“While every human enjoys longer and better life than ever, the gap between rich and poor widens daily. [...] Less fortunate regions have not progressed beyond 20th century technology, and are often smog-choked, overpopulated slums.”

This seems incompatible with the idea of Earth being in a golden age. How can Earth be thriving if the class disparity is growing, not narrowing? How can Earth be thriving if entire swaths are still "smog-choked” and using centuries old outdated technology?

It’s not incompatible if the idea is that Earth has entered a golden age only for the ones who can afford it. And this is the reality Earthborn Shepards were raised in: the idea that their suffering is an unimportant, insignificant underbelly to an otherwise “prospering” homeworld.

So, resuming with that in mind: the way Nadia sees it is that to allow poverty to exist is an inherent societal failure that reflects on the government. This is why Nadia has no loyalty to the Alliance, and why she doesn’t trust them. This is why she subsequently has no loyalty to the Council, and why she doesn’t trust them, either. It doesn’t matter that the Alliance and the Council weren’t personally responsible for her childhood, because they’re still governments. She knows that governments will lie and exploit and allow for people like her to fall through the cracks if it will benefit them. She knows they will broadcast only the best of what they have to offer while conveniently pretending people like her don’t exist.

Like, personal politics aside, as shown above with the codex entries, this is just...canon. And Thane’s loyalty highlights poverty on the Citadel through Mouse and the concept of “duct rats,” so we know that it exists there, too. How the Council presumably feels about poverty on their station is outlined if you speak to Avina on the Citadel in the second game:

AVINA: Asari futurists believe poverty cannot be eliminated without “cornucopia” technology, which will create anything the user desires. Such technology is unknown outside science fiction.

Essentially: yeah, unfortunately, poverty exists on the station, but what can you do? Believing poverty is avoidable is actually utopian and therefore unrealistic, sorry! 

But when you meet Anoleis on Noveria as Earthborn, he can literally tell you poverty doesn’t exist on Sur’Kesh. (And sure, he could be lying, and we have no proof either way. It doesn’t erase the fact that, at the very least, the existence of widespread poverty is something that even a corrupt and money embezzling salarian thinks is an easy jab.)

ANOLEIS: My homeworld is clean. Poverty is non-existent. If you take some perverse pride in that overheated, acid-washed slum, that is your business.

There’s nothing about the Alliance and poverty that I know of¹, which makes sense considering the main branch of the Alliance we see throughout the games is its military branch. There are still plenty of instances in the trilogy where the Alliance does exploit the vulnerable, or attempts to cover up their self-inflicted shortcomings. An obvious one is with Kaidan and Conatix; Kaidan literally tells you the Alliance is the one who “made mistakes.” That in their haste, they allowed a man to brutalize children for the sake of research. And when it backfired, they sealed the documents and pretended it never happened.

UNC: The Negotiation is one of my favorite ME1 missions for this reason, too—it highlights a part of the Alliance the series doesn’t really focus on otherwise. Darius tells you that the entire reason he’s operating in the region at all is because the Alliance is the one who set him up there. 

DARIUS: You see this gun? This is your gun. Your military set me up here, and now it wants to pretend it doesn’t know me! But I know the truth. The Alliance needed me here! So treat me with the respect I deserve!

SHEPARD: You said we set you up. Did the Alliance give you weapons?

DARIUS: After the batarians were driven out of the Verge, the Alliance wanted to stabilize the region. I had the strongest syndicate in the area. They gave me the weapons and money I needed to take over.

After the mission, Hackett implies the entire reason he sent renegade Shepard to cover a diplomatic negotiation is because he expected and wanted them to kill Darius, because he was now more trouble than he was worth.

HACKETT: I’m sorry that you were unable to negotiate with Darius peacefully. His death is regrettable. Nevertheless, the resulting chaos will create a power vacuum that makes future raids upon our miners unlikely.

SHEPARD: You didn’t think I’d negotiate with him. You wanted me to kill him.

HACKETT: Sometimes extreme measures must be taken to ensure humanity’s safety. Or did you think you were the only one willing to break the rules to get the job done?

(Link, so you can watch the mission yourself.)

None of this is me saying the Council and the Alliance have no redeemable features whatsoever, or that they have never contributed positively to galactic wellbeing. It’s just me citing instances in canon that support why Nadia has the opinion she does of them, and why she’s not exactly incorrect in having them. 

So, to loop this back around to Kaidan? As I said, he’s not a stranger to government-level negligence. But Kaidan had a much different reaction than Nadia did, and this is something that absolutely fascinates her once she finds out.

Before that, though: the two of them don’t really hit it off in the beginning—though they’re both still professional—and this is mainly due to Nadia being, well, Nadia. She is not a people person and she never tries to be, which consequently makes her off-putting to most people. On her end, she’s generally unimpressed and uninterested in the people around her. She sees a lot of them as puzzles to be solved and then to move on from, or threats to assess.² The rare times someone does pique her interest enough to act on it, she still prefers to not linger around for long. So, you know, just general unhealthy behavior.

So, Eden Prime is illuminating for them both. Like, on Kaidan’s end: Nadia comes off as callous. She doesn’t care about the colonists, she doesn’t care about Jenkins’ death. On Nadia’s end: Kaidan comes off as naive. How has he been a marine for this long and she has to tell him to suck it up after someone dies? (This is one of the reasons why she didn’t want to work with regular marines again; in my canon, Anderson had to needle her³ into accepting the Normandy position.)

But the truth of it is that the reason Nadia comes off as callous is because she’s thoroughly desensitized. Like, when you grow up poor, on the streets, and in a gang? You’re both witnessing and being put through a lot of traumatizing situations. Akuze, of course, only adds onto this. There’s this one dialogue option in the beginning of the second game when Miranda and Jacob are assessing Shepard’s memory, and while Nadia doesn’t take this option in canon, it is how she feels:

JACOB: You enlisted, and you survived a thresher maw attack that wiped out the rest of your team. Do you remember that?

SHEPARD: Yeah, I remember it. Everyone screaming, gunfire, blood everywhere. I was the only one focused on survival.

Paragon Shepard focuses entirely on the other marines: how they were their friends, how something like that can destroy you if you let it.

Renegade Shepard barely thinks of anyone else at all. There were fifty other marines on Akuze, and renegade Shepard thinks they survived simply because they were the only one focused on it. For Nadia, that’s because that’s what her entire life has already been until that point.

Look, there are a lot of different ways to play renegade; it runs a much larger gamut than paragon, in my opinion. Nadia is more of a neutral renegade. She’s not particularly bigoted, just dispassionate and apathetic⁴. She resorts to violence and intimidation because it’s the easiest way to control her surroundings, not because she thinks what she’s doing is particularly righteous⁵. This can get brought up in Samara’s loyalty when talking with Morinth:

MORINTH: Violence is the surest expression of power.

SHEPARD: Violence is a means to an end. Power is that end.

Like, Nadia is a person who’s had to live a life surrounded by violence, not because it’s what she initially chose, but because it was repeatedly inflicted on her. She didn’t have the luxury of nursing her compassion and generosity, or of prioritizing morality. Those things would’ve gotten her killed. What she focused on instead was survival: the best way to survive, the easiest way to survive, the way that consistently ensured her own safety. This meant violence, and in order to survive, she became very good at inflicting violence.

That’s what I meant when I said Nadia thinks she traded one cage for another: the Alliance wasn’t freedom in the truest sense; she’s still doing what she ultimately would’ve done if she had remained with the Reds⁶. She’s just doing it with government approval and a steadier paycheck. She knows she’s still being used, and it’s only who’s using her that’s changed. All that’s to say, she isn’t an N7 ranked infiltrator because she feels strongly about protecting Alliance space and dirtying her hands to do it. She’s an N7 ranked infiltrator because it’s simply what she’s good at.

One of my favorite renegade lines in the entire trilogy is during Thane’s loyalty because it perfectly highlights Nadia’s philosophy on her situation:

SHEPARD: Your father and I have killed a lot of people. You haven’t. There’s no reason you should start.

To Nadia, her life is what it is because of the circumstances she was raised in and the decisions she made in response to that. She doesn’t deflect blame for the sort of person she’s become; she holds herself the correct amount of responsible.

She kills people for the Alliance, she kills people for the Council, she kills people for Cerberus. Other Shepards might dress it up differently when death is unavoidable: “it’s a shame, but it was necessary,” said along with the appropriate amount of guilt. Or: they were a terrorist, they were a mercenary, they forced my hand. To Nadia, it’s all death, and there’s no inherent difference between killing someone “to protect humanity” (read: protect the Alliance’s interests) or killing someone “to protect the galaxy” (read: protect the Council’s interests) and simply killing someone in a situation paragon Shepards would deem unnecessary. And to Nadia, if you haven’t had to live a life like this—why start? You still have other options. Use them.

One thing I love about Hadestown is how it discusses the simple accessibility of being able to live your life, let alone live it virtuously. Like whether or not I agree with that, it’s an interesting thing to explore, and it gets brought up multiple times:

“When you’re hungry and there ain’t enough to go round / ain’t no length to which a girl won’t go / [...] and sometimes you think / you would do anything / just to fill your belly full of food” 

“See how the vipers and vultures surround you / and they’ll take you down, they’ll pick you clean / if you stick around such a desperate scene / see, people get mean when the chips are down” 

“Aim for the heart / shoot to kill / if you don’t do it, then the other one will / [...] nobody’s righteous / nobody’s proud / nobody’s innocent / now that the chips are down” 

“Go ahead and lay the blame / talk of virtue / talk of sin / wouldn’t you have done the same? / in her shoes / in her skin / you can have your principles when you’ve got a belly full” 

“I did what I had to do / that’s what they did too” 

“Some flowers bloom / where the green grass grows / our praise is not for them / but the ones who bloom in the bitter snow” 

Again, I’m not going to meta about Hadestown⁷ and the precise context for these verses are different in that canon (for starters, Eurydice never kills anyone), but the concept is similar: when you’re poor, you’re often driven to desperate measures to survive. Sometimes that means stepping over other people, or otherwise ignoring how your actions will affect them. Often, this is to your own detriment. And it’s really, really easy to cast judgment on the poor people driven to these decisions when you were never in their position. It’s really easy to just live when you’re not in a situation where you had to worry about your survival on a day-by-day basis.

I bring up Hadestown because it’s a nice conduit to explain Nadia’s issues. She’s not renegade because she thinks she’s on a crusade and anyone who gets in her way is acceptable collateral damage. She’s renegade because her survival depended on it, and as Sha’ira points out, it’s what has allowed her continual survival:

“I see your skin, tough as the scales of any turian. Unyielding. A wall between you and everyone else. But it protects you, makes you strong. That strength is what kept you alive when everyone else around you was dying. You alone survived. You will continue to survive.”

For her to survive her childhood, she had to step over other people and put herself first. This meant not allowing herself to get close to other people, and to not care about them beyond what they can give her to ensure her own survival.

And this is why Kaidan interests her. Kaidan’s response to brain camp wasn’t to minimize the importance of his morality, it was to double down on it. (Yes, partially to his own detriment, but that’s a different post.) His response wasn’t to distrust others, because after all, one of his defining characteristics is his compassion. It’s just that Kaidan’s inclined to troubleshoot everything, even his interactions with other people. He might be “once burned, twice shy” but he’s not going to be “once burned, byedon’tfollowmeI’mgoingtorelyonlyonmyselfforever.”

Like, he still wants to help...

SHEPARD: So why are you telling me this? Are you saying I’m cutting corners somewhere?

KAIDAN: I’m saying...it’s probably inevitable that we’ll have to. And when that happens, I want to help you. When someone important to you is up on a ledge, you help them. Keep them from mistakes better made by a kid.

SHEPARD: I’m a big girl, Alenko. I don’t need your help.

KAIDAN: I didn’t say you needed it, I said I’m offering it.⁸

...even though his desire to help (because he cares, because he thinks it’s the right thing to do) is precisely what led to the culmination of his trauma.

KAIDAN: He hurt Rahna. Broke her arm. She reached for a glass of water instead of pulling it biotically. She just wanted a drink without getting a nosebleed, you know? Like an idiot, I stood up. Didn’t know what I was gonna do...just, something.

He figures out what went wrong and tries to avoid repeating that mistake. He doesn’t just stop trying at all. He doesn’t lose his faith in having faith.

It’s antithetical to how Nadia responded to her own circumstances, and she can’t quite process the logic behind...why you would be this way. It’s not that she expects everyone to be like her. She’s seen a lot of different people traumatized, and consequently a lot of different ways people have reacted to trauma. It’s more like: “fool me once” is enough for Nadia. There are no second chances after that. She sees no point in ruminating over why something went wrong. Just accept that it did. (Or don’t, but never think about it, anyway.) She thinks living any other way is akin to, I don’t know, laying down in a snake pit right after one just bit you. Stupid, in other words.

(I should also clarify: this is mainly when it concerns people. She will troubleshoot when it comes to things like tech.)

Like, I’ve joked about this to a friend, but when Nadia first reads Kaidan’s file⁹ her impression is: alright, boy scout. Then she actually meets him and she thinks her assessment was more or less spot on, and she loses whatever vestiges of interest his file did manage to leave despite its otherwise boy-scouty-ness. 

But the thing is, Kaidan isn’t naive. He chooses to have the faith he has in the Alliance despite what they’ve put him through. He’s acutely aware that the Alliance is capable of mistakes, because he’s been on the receiving end of it—yet he still wants to help and feels that as a biotic, the Alliance is his best avenue to do that:

KAIDAN: I’m not looking for “the dream.” I just want to do some good. See what’s out here. 

KAIDAN: Commander, I thought real hard about how to use my talents. When I swore the oath to defend the Alliance, it wasn’t on a whim.

Like, Nadia thinks Kaidan giving his loyalty to the Alliance is a stupid reaction, yes (in fairness, Nadia thinks loyalty to organizations in general is stupid), but it still fascinates her precisely because Kaidan has some semblance of an idea of what the Alliance’s negligence can and has caused, and yet he still continues to put his faith in them. Kaidan hasn’t had the easiest life¹⁰, but instead of closing himself off, his reaction was to give the Alliance a second chance, to still place his faith in others, all because he still wanted to do some good.

It’s not what Nadia has done, and she can’t say she understands it, but realizing that Kaidan isn’t the ignorant boy scout she pegged him as goes a long way when it comes to the development of their relationship. (For instance: it allows the relationship to develop at all, lmao.) And the development of their relationship is one of the early domino pieces in a long line of dominoes that sets Nadia down a much healthier path.¹¹

~

¹ We do know, however, that the Alliance does offer to pay college/university tuition in exchange for serving with them in some capacity, thanks to conversations with Traynor and Ashley.

² You know that one Iron Bull banter with Cole where he talks about how one of the first things he does when he meets a new person is to figure out the best way to kill them? Yeah, that’s Nadia.

³ This is because Anderson’s brain is huge, and he understood no one can forever live life the way Nadia was living hers unless they’re a death seeker.

⁴ One of the most in character renegade lines in the trilogy is, once again, during Thane’s loyalty (a big reason why it’s one of my favorites: it’s really, really good Nadia content) when you choose the first renegade check during the interrogation. Shepard sounds so bored, so matter-of-fact. That’s the kind of renegade Nadia is.

⁵ This is probably worse to some people compared to “hard” renegade, since at least “hard” renegade can genuinely believe in what they’re doing, even if others consider it evil. Fortunately, I don’t care.

⁶ I don’t really think she killed anyone during her time with the Reds. (Or, if she did, it was only one person and it would’ve been near the end of her time with them.) I think they primarily used her for cybercrime. She still would’ve witnessed and been expected to participate in a lot of beatings, etc. And, as previously said, had she stayed with the Reds I do think this would’ve ultimately progressed into her killing for them, too.

⁷ Though if you enjoy criticisms of capitalism, an exploration into the traumatizing effects of poverty, and an ultimately hopeful message that meaningful change is possible even when everyone is conditioned to believe it’s not, I recommend giving it a listen. It’s easy to follow along through audio alone, but you can find a low quality bootleg pretty easily, too. (Be warned that some of the songs will differ from the official album recording, though.)

⁸ If the remaster brings better lighting to Kaidan’s little hub area and doesn’t hideously whitewash him like in ME3, this is absolutely one of the first things I’m going to gif because it’s one of my favorite moments in the entire romance.

⁹ Nadia reads the files of everyone she’s going to work with, not because she’s particularly interested in them, but because she wants to know what level of incompetency to expect.

¹⁰ Unrelatedly: ask me about my headcanon about how disgustingly rich Kaidan’s family is, and how much Nadia wants to kill him when she finds this out.

¹¹ This is absolutely not saying love, romantic or otherwise, cures her lifetime worth of unpacked trauma.

[amelialincoln]

Beautiful and Brutal

Amelia’s mind was flying a mile a minute. There was some sort of provincial high school football tournament going on at a field near by which had meant about a dozen concussions had entered the ER throughout the week. Now normally Amelia would not be paged for a concussion; however, all of these football parents seemed absolutely adamant that their child had some sort of spinal injury that required an immediate neuro consult. She was definitely a supporter of the better safe than sorry expression, however at this point it was getting a little out of hand.

“Hey,” Link’s voice filled her ears as she was swiftly pulled into a quiet trauma room.

“Hi,” Amelia sighed, allowing his arms to wrap around her waist.

“You look exhausted,” he smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Probably because I feel it.” She smirked, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I should go.”

Link pouted. “Meet in the attending’s lounge at five and then a long back massage tonight?”

“Sounds perfect. You’re off then too?”

“You got it,” he replied before holding the door open for her and watching her disappear into the crowded emergency room.

She was guiltily praying for emergent head injuries as the announced that yet another football player had, surprise, a concussion. Her eyes scanned the room as another player entered through the ER’s sliding doors. She quickly made her way to the elevator and pressed the button for the OR floor. As the doors opened she was supposed to find Koracick wheeling a patient into an operating room.

“Tom!” She rushed over.

“What’s up Shep?”

“Please let me take this off your hands. I literally haven’t stepped into an OR in hours. You’ve already had three surgeries today. Please, I’ll owe you one.”

“Yeah, no,” he laughed. “I’m not getting anywhere near that ER until Monday.”

“Tom, please. I’m begging. I’m super cute when I beg, you can’t resist this.”

“Watch me.”

“Doctor Shepherd,” Jo Karev appeared beside them.

“Not right now Karev, I’m really close to talking Koracick into giving me this surgery.”

“Definitely not close—” Tom shook his head giving Wilson a wink.

“It’s Jake,” Jo interrupted. “He’s in the ER. Alex is checking—”

“What?” Amelia’s eyes widened in shock before mumbling that she’d see them both later and racing down the hallway.

She found Jake and Karev immediately. Her heart pounding she made her way to the bed trying not to look frantic.

“Mommy,” Jake called out. Amelia winced at the pain in his voice.

“Hi baby,” Amelia replied. “Did you page Link?” She asked Karev. He shook his head and she tried to cover the shakiness of her hands as she paged him. “What’s going on?” She moved to kiss her son’s sweaty forehead.

“My stomach hurts,” Jake wailed.

“We’re thinking appendicitis,” Karev nodded. “We need to get him up to CT to make sure. The daycare brought him down right away.”

“Okay,” Amelia bit her lip as Jake wrapped his pudgy fingers around her arm, his eyes, a startling replication of Link’s piercing blue ones, staring into hers. “I’m scared, Mommy. It hurted.”

“I know, baby,” she said wrapping her arms around her son and climbing onto the patient bed. “But uncle Karev is going to take really good care of you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Jake asked. Amelia told him he was coming soon as Alex did a quick exam, confirming what he thought to be his diagnosis. “Uncle Alex?”

“Yeah bud?”

“I think I’m gonna throw up now.”

“Oh, Jakey,” Amelia gasped, shoving a kidney dish under him as he heaved. “It’s okay sweetheart.”

“Amelia!” A familiar voice rang through the ER. Link rushed over, hurriedly and knelt down before his son. “Hey, big guy,” he grinned. “You not feeling well?” Amelia was shocked to see his composure as he ruffled Jake’s hair.

“Daddy I throwed up.” He winced as Alex pressed on the right side of his abdomen. “Do I have to have surgery?” Amelia was impressed by the four year old’s vocabulary despite it being such a commonly used word in their house. Link looked to Alex, who nodded. “Zola taughted me that,” he explained as his parents looked at him with surprise. “She said when you get hurt to have surgery and Auntie Mer has to do it.”

“Well not every time you get hurt. But you might have to,” Link answered, Jake’s eyes widened with fear. “Don’t worry Jake, it’s not that scary. I had lots of surgeries when I was a kid.”

“Really?”

“He did.” Amelia nodded. “And you know auntie Mer?”

“Yes, I know her,” he responded.

“She had the exact same surgery that you might have today.”

“She had an appandaxs?”

“Well not anymore, but she used to have an appendix.”

“Cause they took it out?” Amelia nodded. “Oh. Like mine?”

“Like yours,” Link assured him, taking Amelia’s shaking hand in his and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I think your Mommy is more worried about your surgery than you are,” he joked.

“Why, Mommy?” he asked, placing a chubby hand over Link’s. “Surgeries aren’t scary. You do them all the time.”

“You’re right, baby,” Amelia bit the inside of her lip and swallowed, trying to soothe her tight throat. “You’re going to be absolutely fine.

Originally Alex had said he didn’t want either of them, especially Amelia, in the gallery. However, this idea was not popular among the parents and finally he’d caved. Amelia sat in Link’s lap. She’d started in her own chair but had lasted about as long as Alex’s attempt to have them wait in the waiting room. Link had his arms around her and she breathed in the faint smell of his cologne, not taking her eyes off the surgical table for a second. Alex had warned them that with Jake’s age there was a bigger chance of rupture, as if they didn’t already know.

“He’s going to be fine, babe,” Link breathed, as if reading her thoughts.

“I know,” Amelia sighed, relaxing into his chest. “This kind of this just terrifies me. He’s just all we have and I never want to lose him.” Link winced at the indirect mention of the trouble they’d been having getting pregnant again. They tried IVF for about a year before Amelia’s mental health had taken a bit of a turn. In the meantime they deciding on casually continuing to try naturally. However, he knew that Amelia was being anything but casual about it and had been obsessively tracking every fertile window and period she had. He tried to ignore the little sobs coming from their bathroom every month after she would hide the test in the groceries. Hoping he hadn’t noticed, which he did.

“You never know, Mia,” he tried.

“Can we not right now?” She uncomfortably shifted in his lap. Peering down at Alex who gave them both a two thumbs up before letting his resident close. Amelia breathed a sigh of relief, bounding over to the intercom. “Just a reminder that you’ve got Jake Derek Lincoln on your table, not the kid you want to leave a big scar on,” she joked to the resident who looked up in fear before tightening his sutures. Link chuckled lifting her chin so that their lips could collide and pulling her in to a tight embrace.

“I don’t know how my parents did it,” he sighed. “I hope we never have to go through that with him.” His expression darkened a bit.

“We won’t,” Amelia promised. “Now let’s get out of here so we can be there when our baby wakes up.”

“Our baby is four years old,” Link teased.

“He could be twenty for all I care. Doesn’t mean he isn’t still going to be my baby,” she added stubbornly. Link shook his head laughing, eyeing his wife and knowing that their child was going to have a long adolescence ahead of him.

Plz like and reblog if you enjoyed! And don’t forget to send me prompts.

[decadesofpain]

Flashback - The Beginning of the Most Unfortunate Family

Andromache Katz and Stone Oakland head off on Stone’s Victory Tour and a conversation ensues in the dining car of the train.

( @stoneoakland​ )

His eye hurt. Which was a ridiculous statement of it's own, provided there was absolutely no eye there. His stylist had insisted that Stone should keep an eye patch on, even if his new fake eye was already in, yet he argued relentlessly, refusing to do just that. So, soon enough, he was left int he train's carriage all by himself, surrounded by food, yet annoyed by the whole situation. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to travel around the Districts and tell everyone just how amazing the Capitol was for letting him slaughter so many innocent kids.

It hurt. Being back in the Capitol, in the Tower, remembering being here just a year ago with her other half, now being on the train to begin Stone’s Victory Tour, thinking about how close she had come to bring her love home, and then Electra, Electra snuffing out the flame of the only person in the world Andy cared about, and in turn Andy’s flame as well. Andy looked up realizing she was now in the dining car and not remembering the walk from her room. Grief did that to you, put your mind and body on autopilot just to get you through each passing day. She knew she should be happy for Stone. She was, it just was bitter sweet.

Sitting down at the head of the table she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him. A silence fell, interrupted only by Andy pouring herself a glass of water. “How’s your eye feeling?” She asked softly, still not looking at him.

At first, Stone didn't even hear when the door to the carriage opened up, allowing his mentor in. he could count the amount of times he had genuinely interacted with her since his Games on his single hand, but it wasn't something that he was regretting. After his own victory, his time was spent recovering, and, once it was possible, at home, with his parents and his sister. Yet even the new home didn't feel like actual home; his father continuously complained that it was too far away from everything else, and that his morning walk to work took him way too long. Granted, he didn't have to work, with his son now being a Victor, but it was something that Flint still liked to do. There were times when he still took Stone to the forest, and the two of them worked, in silence and peace, understanding one another without a single word. Stone didn't jump when Andy spoke up, instead looking over. He could've complained to her, told her that it hurt, that it was weird to have something foreign stuck in his head. But he saw the way she was acting, and suddenly, complaining was the last thing on his mind. "It's taking to get used to it." He brushed it off, trying to act simple, casual, as if they weren't discussing an outcome of something brutal. "Although, I'll probably have to go and find our Stylist and apologize to them." Stone added, picking up one of the intricate treats that were provided to them. "It's weird being on this train and not feeling like I'm travelling into my death."

Andy glanced at Stone out the corner of her eye but looked away when she saw he was already looking at her. When Andy had won she was a sad and scared little girl. She had with drawn into herself for two years following her Games before compartmentalizing everything, only letting her guard down when she was with her other half. Now she felt like a scared and sad little girl all over again.

She nodded “I’m sure it will take some time.” She acknowledged. She couldn’t imagine what Stone must have felt like, ever if the Capitol had ‘replaced’ his eye, it wasn’t the same and it didn’t undo the trauma done to him. She looked over at him at the mention of their Stylist “What? Why? What did you do?” She asked, concern bringing to build. Andy didn’t feel like eating, yet again, so she instead just sipped her water. She wanted to make a comment that Stone didn’t know he wasn’t heading to his death but she didn’t make it. “It never gets less weird.” She muttered. “Have you read over your speech notes for Twelve yet?”

She was very obviously avoiding looking at him, and in a way, Stone wasn't surprised. He wouldn't be surprised if she was still recovering after her own Games- being pushed into this horror at such a young age never help. Hell, he was getting close to 16, and he still couldn't sleep without the fear of nightmares. "I hope so. I can sorta see with it." It was the most bizarre thing, to see just through one eye when he first woke up. To be told that it was gone for good, and that he should be proud; that he should wear a scar of his victory with joy and pride. That day was the first time he had cussed out the Capitol's doctors. "It's alright, I'll apologize." He paused, taking a bite of the treat. "I snapped at them when they suggested to wear an eye patch as a fashion statement." He hated it, and it made him look weird. It was an even more constant reminder that he was half blind. Picking up an empty plate, he placed a couple appetizers onto it and moved the plate in front of Andy. She might have been just drinking water, but he wanted her to eat. "I have. What a joy it's going to be to praise the Capitol for letting me murder kids in exchange for a house." Stone couldn't help but reply sarcastically.

She managed an attempt at a smile but there was clear pain and sadness in her dulled eyes. “That’s really great, Stone. I’m glad you’re starting to be able to see with it.” She tried to make it clear that was hearing him and paying attention but her mind kept trying to go places she didn’t want to go. Andy scoffed, “No, apologize. Fuck them, I’ll handle them if they try to give you any more grief.” Her smile slowly deflated, Andy chewed her bottom lip as she looked at the plate of food Stone had placed in front of her. She couldn’t look at him, her knee bounced. Drawing in a slow deep breath through her nose she swallowed and reached for what looked to be some kind of spinach puff and took a small bite before chewing and swallowing. A clawing panic in her chest began building as Stone made a sarcastic but dangerous remark. Her eyes darted around as she leaned in towards the male “You can’t talk like that. We’re never alone.”

"It's best they can offer." Stone merely shrugged. Obviously, it could have been better to keep both eyes. But the right one had been damaged so badly, there was no point in even trying to restore it. Waking up and seeing only half of the world was a terrifying experience; yet not as terrifying as the nightmares that soon followed. So Stone continued to observe his mentor- someone who'd be his colleague soon- and simply wondered, whether the nightmares she had endured were the same, or whether they were worse. "It's fine. I can't blame them for thinking it's all down to fashion. But picturing people ripping their eyes out for the sake of fashion is terrifying." He added, picking up another appetizer and eating. She was eating too, and that was a good start. Although, it all soon came to a halt at his words, and he couldn't help but raise his brows. "So what? I'm not telling lies. I murdered those who were trying to protect themselves and survive, and got a house in return." To say it was a brutal way to explain the situation would have been an understatement. "Or do you want me to go around, praising Capitol for destroying lives?"

Andy gave a small nod as she push her fingers back through her blonde hair, pushing her butt length hair off to one side. "They owe you that much." She said simply but knowing the Capitol could never replace or pay off the things it took from Victors. Nothing they did or said would bring back the only thing that ever mattered to her. She could feel the intensity of Stone's gaze but didn't ask what he thinking about despite wanting to. Andy grimaced at the mental image of Capitolites gouging their own eyes out for fashion. "They'd probably be the first ones to do it too." Setting the spinach puff back down on the plate she looked at him, trying to convey to him the seriousness of the situation and what she was saying. "If it keeps them from hurting you or your family, yes. You have to do what you need to to protect those you love." Andy had never believed that it was by accident that her love had been Reaped. She thought it had been a message sent to her 'Don't get too comfortable, you aren't untouchable.' Something to reminder her that the Capitol now owned her, that they had always owned her.

Stone laughed, then, as she mentioned the Capitol owing him anything. It was a silly thought on its own; even he knew he had gotten away fairly lightly. "Why don't you tell that to them?" He asked, a little annoyed. He wasn't annoyed at her, however; it was the odd pain that was making him a little more temperamental than he typically was. "Then they should do it. It's quite the experience." Stone added sarcastically. To feel the hit, to lose the sight was overwhelming; granted, none of those Capitolites would experience it the very same way that he did. Still, it was oddly pleasing to know that they'd be stupid enough to do it. But then, his appetite was gone, and he frowned, his jaw clenching. It was terrifying to think that his family would suffer because of him. But they were safe, they were living in his house in the Victors' village, and he would rather listen to their complaints of how further away they were from everyone else, than see anything else happen. "But they'll do that no matter what I say, won't they?"

Andy frowned at Stone laughing and his suggestion. She looked down at her plate and didn't say anything in response to his comment about telling the Capitol what they owed Stone. She knew she shouldn't take it personally but it was hard not to currently. "I can't even imagine..." She told him softly. Andy had nearly drowned in the finale of her Games but for the most part, she got out rather unscathed physically besides being weak from lack of food and dehydrated. She knew how lucky she had been all things considered. Watching Stone's eye be destroyed had been hard to watch but Andy hadn't looked away. Stone deserved to have someone watch what he was put through and not just turn a blind eye and let him deal with it on his own. Andy stared at the plate of food before her in silence before nodding her head yes. She wasn't going to lie to Stone about it. "But the more trouble they think you are, the more negative attention you bring to those you love."

"You don't have to. You went through your own horrors." Stone insisted. Despite his own trauma still so fresh in his head, he knew that no Victor got out of their arena without any injuries. And if they weren't physical, then they were definitely psychological. Nevertheless, without really thinking, his hand went up to his right eye socket, around which the small scars still remained. Most were gone, all taken care of by the doctors after he was brought out of the Arena; that, along with the rest of the injuries, seemed to be almost too easy to take care of.  "Then it's up to them no matter what I say, isn't it? The next argument's going to be that every Victor can be trouble. No matter what I say, I can be trouble. I'm sure you've seen that come true before." He insisted.

Andy chewed her bottom lip at Stone's words. She had been a mere child when she had gone in the Arena but when she came out, though she was a child by years, her soul was aged and scarred. She shrugged her shoulders. "Everyone's experience isn't comparable." She watched as he brought a hand to his eye socket. She wondered if it hurt more than he admitted, she had to imagine it did. She stayed quiet after his question and statement, mind drifting back to her love. "Yes...I have." She admitted softly.

"Yeah." Stone merely nodded. It had been months, but he still wasn't ready to talk about any of it, even with someone who had gone through similar horrors. He couldn't think about the kids he killed, and the kids he had seen die, not when he was still out and about, alive, even if missing pieces of himself. "So we're doomed either way." He responded, his tone still dark as the signs of the first approaching district began to show. "We're almost there. Best I go and find the stylist to fix me up, right? So everyone thinks I'm loving this." And yet, he couldn't help but let sarcasm be painfully evident in his tone as he rose from his chair.

[yang-did-everything-right]

Episode Eleven

I’m a bit late on this but I didn’t sleep amazingly so it had to wait, still really that title is all we really need right? No one who watches RWBY right now, not even the antis, not even they can say this was a bad episode. Because if you strip out the shipping, it was still an amazing episode. It had a new medley for the mecha fight with parts from every character’s theme, unified themes and it was a very technically sound portion. But that’s not what you’re here for, lets be honest. I know what you’re here for, so lets get right to it.

Adam vs Blake, was poetry in motion. It was a story being told before our eyes. It was a snapshot that was once black and white, but given color and life before our eyes. We knew and assumed many things about how a fight between Adam and Blake might go were she not paralyzed by fear and this was pretty much it. She was scared, to be sure. but Adam felt the need to verbalize it because she dared to resist against the death she so plainly deserved in his eyes. A good half of the fight was her running away, because she certainly did not want to be there. If she could get away from him instead of fight him, she’d prefer that. However he denied her that option and so she fought and boy did she.  Her finesse, clever counter attacks and sharp use of her semblance allowed her to keep up with Adam for a time. She even managed to get his sword away from him which was amazing. However, Adam trained her and is still able to get into her head even now. More importantly however, he is physically stronger than her and allowing him to grapple her again is what sealed her fate in their fight. Had she been able to keep him from his sword the battle might well have gone in her favor. Still for being the underdog in their fight she had a resounding showing and I for one am extremely proud of Blake. However the fight that came next, made it clear that he was drastically holding back against her, likely due to the fact that he knew her and her combat style so well that he could afford to. Though when she took his blade away, that stopped. It was only afterwards that he started using his semblance and broke one half of gambol shroud. Though it was what followed that led to what is up to now, the best fight in this volume if not the series. Yang vs Adam. She came in with a Yang and Bumblebee was sacrificed to give Bumbleby life. Adam also took the full brunt of that motorcycle to the aura and there was no indication he blocked any of it, so it was easily the single biggest hit he’s taken so far and surely played into the later fight. Some people have wondered how Yang could be so apparently fearless during her fight when she plainly still suffered from ptsd in a big way. It might not be immediately obvious to people without/lacking understanding of ptsd, but as someone that suffers it I am in a unique position to elaborate. The thing about ptsd is, while you will always have it, it is not always ‘on’ and it can be completely overridden by a greater mental stimuli. For Yang, her emotional trauma was first and foremost, the loss of Blake and secondly, the loss of her arm. This can be seen in how she is able to easily joke about her arm and condition, with her father and later with her team and JNR. However she cannot do the same when it comes to Blake. Every single time Blake was brought up prior to them meeting again, it was met with anger, sadness and depression. This was absolutely intentional, as Blake is wound up tight within the mental condition of ptsd for Yang. So, Yang was presented with an absolute reason to be fearless. The Absolute Loss of Blake.Blake’s death would be an inconsolable weight on Yang, something I am very sure she would be unable to recover from. Moreso if it happened due to her own inaction, thus the exact opposite happened and her action revved into overdrive. Adding to this however, comes all the way from volume 4. The song Armed and Ready. Songs in this series are intrinsically tied to characters and the very theme of the show, music and art and colors were once outlawed in the world of remnant and an entire war was fought to bring those things back into the light. Whole generations of people named after colors and music and art as a form of rebellion. This is not an accident. Yang has been pumping herself up for this fight for three whole volumes, anyone who has similar experiences can verify that more than anything else, it is a battle of the mind.  So that takes us to the fight itself and it was insane. Adam shows the audience immediately that his showing in v5 was a fluke from being outsmarted, outplotted and goaded into action by his victim. He did not just want to finish Yang, he wanted to humiliate her, dominate her and break her. That, is what he wanted to do. Key word, Wanted. He threw the book at Yang. His attack echos were particularly interesting, where his semblance was used to create ‘echos’ of his attacks that followed up with his attacks briefly. He also used a number of shockwaves, blast waves, blade beams and the like but it was effective at only one thing, knocking Yang away. Because once she got into his guard? She absolutely pummeled him the likes of which I’d never expected. But lets take this piece by piece, when Adam began fighting Yang he rushed her aggressively and seemingly put her on the defensive. But this was not him putting her on the defensive, this was Yang doing her homework on the spot. We need to remember something, Yang has -never- seen Adam fight before. Never. Her only experience with Adam, was losing an arm to a single slash too fast to even follow. So the only thing she knew was, “If I can see him, I have a chance.” The most important part of any duel, is if both opponents even have the means of challenging eachother. If not, then it isn’t a duel, it is a one sided slaughter. The first test then, was seeing if she could follow his attacks at all. Spoiler alert: boy could she. She used his heavy opening aggression as a way to feel out his speed and strength, she discovered pretty early that she was stronger than him. She also learned that his energy blasts multiplied his strength enough to send her skidding backwards. Most importantly however, she learned that she was no longer too slow to keep up with him and in fact, reacted faster than he did. She evaded his actual attacks and blocked his echos and energy, he did not land a single attack on her that was not blocked. This is extremely important.  Once the opening salvo was done, she turned on the offense and Adam absolutely had no answer for it. She pounded him really hard and you could hear the sounds of pain from him, if you pause the video at choice parts to boot, you can see his face twisted in anguish. She hurt him. She forced him into the defensive which is a problem for her. Why? Because his core style isn’t an offensive one as most seem to believe. His core style is defend and counter, that is what his semblance is built around. Defending enough to build a meter and unleash brutal counters. Yang’s brutal offensive forced him to return to his basics, blocking as many of her attacks as he could with his sword, so that he could attempt to speed blitz and blast wave her to death. However this was also blocked which put her in position for Blake to give her a quick lesson on his semblance which changed everything. The parallel of her having to feel the pain of the damage she took verses him being able to get away with feeling nothing was extremely powerful, as it outlined a sociopath compared to one who self sacrifices. Once Yang understood, Adam failed to block her attacks with her sword again for a fair portion because she no longer went for his sword as a strike target, she even used the very move she used in v3 to come at him, just to juke and school him in a beautiful combo. However this was when Adam actually used his sword to block an incoming strike rather than making his sword a target, because he couldn’t get away with that anymore. The resulting blast and very heavy fighting left Yang tired even though she had not really taken any damage.  Importantly however, Adam was also left panting and looking weary. He certainly had not expected the blond that he’d one shot a year ago to be giving him a genuine run for his money, yet here we are. More than that though, he also saw the look that Yang and Blake were giving eachother and it was a stark reminder of that moment in v3. That moment when he considered Yang someone worth killing to torment Blake, someone that Blake loved. At that moment, it was a bit more likely that he considered them close friends rather than intimate. But even love between dear friends can be powerful, just look at how devastated Yang was after the fact. They certainly had not been dating then, they certainly had not confessed any feelings then. At that point in their lives, they were just very very good friends. Yet now Adam saw more, Adam saw something in their eyes that enraged him to the point where he empowered himself for an attack so powerful that Blake cried out Yang’s name in such fear like we’ve never seen in this show before. Truly, it was a bad ass looking attack. It was mighty, powerful and awe inspiring. Notably however, Yang blocked it with her mechanical arm and this is important. She did not use her real arm and aura to block it, she did not spend aura to block this attack likely because she couldn’t have. I fully believe that this attack was a kill move, it would have cut through her aura and dealt a truly terrible wound. The fact that it was able to so deeply scar her mechanical arm, something that up to now had not even taken a scratch? Something that Ironwood had personally developed for her? Something that was cutting edge the year it was made? Instead, she tanked that attack like it was nothing and gave Adam a look that left no room for misinterpretation. She was done. Yet despite that, she still gave him a chance. “Leave US alone.” Not just Yang, not just Blake. He was both of their nightmare, but now he was not an invincible dream. Now he could bleed, now he could hurt and now he was standing in front of her. Her high tension however began leading to her shakes, shakes that stemmed from the fight, memories, the ptsd struggling to break through and his taunting when he noticed it certainly didn’t help.

However, Blake was there. Yang was not alone either, just like Blake had not been. Blake learned from the shed, Yang learned from the waterways. Stronger Together. “We’re Protecting Eachother.” They held hands in what might well be the most iconic moment of the series, right in front of Adam. The man struggling so hard to break and kill them. The stage is set, the audience is ready. The final act of this play will commence soon and soon we will see the passing of a great villain, who absolutely deserves everything that is coming to him. Remember his short, remember it well.  Phew, my longest post yet. I hope you folks enjoy it. If you have any asks, questions, comments or critiques, please feel free to send them my way. 

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael In the Mainstream - Avengers: Endgame

Endgame is a film that is really more than a film. This is a cultural milestone. This is the culmination of a decade’s worth of stories told by all sorts of different creative minds, a set of stories that all managed to have consistent character growth and development, a grand finale to ten years with all sorts of beloved and iconic characters. This film is the twilight of the age of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and the dawn of a new era of fresh heroes, heroes whose stories we’ve only begun to experience. This is something that has never been done before, a massive storyline told throughout twenty plus films coming together in a big shared universe to deliver an awesome, climactic final confrontation between characters we know and love and a villain we love to hate. There’s never really been a film of this magnitude before.

I have loved the MCU since it began when I was a teenager. I had just started high school when Iron Man first came out, and it just amazed me how good it was. Unlike the year’s other superhero film, which was based on one of the Big Three of Marvel’s Distinguished Competition, I didn’t really have any sort of huge expectations for Iron Man. Like sure, I was aware of who he was, I knew he was a classic Marvel comic character, but he wasn’t Spider-Man or the X-Men, the characters I grew up watching in cartoons and who I was intimately familiar with. Hell, I even knew the Hulk better than Iron Man. But boy, did that change fast; Robert Downey Jr.’s incredible performance, the fun writing, the gripping character study, and the solid action all got me interested in this washed up B-list hero who had spent the most recent arc of his comics becoming the superhero version of Hitler.

And that was a running theme for the MCU. I ever cared too much about characters like Captain America, Thor, Ant-Man, or Black Panther when I was younger, and I didn’t even know characters like the Guardians of the Galaxy were a thing. All of this was just beyond my knowledge. And yet, these films made me care about these characters, got me invested in them. It’s something that with a few rare exceptions the X-Men films completely failed to do. I honestly can say after all is said and done I love Iron Man, Captain America, and the Guardians way more than I do Cyclops, Jean Grey, and Storm, which is not something I would have ever guessed I’d say a decade ago. And growing up with all these characters and seeing them go through these films, going into this one I knew there had to be some big dramatic payoff, some sense of finality. You can pull of stuff like massive retcons and everyone coming back from the dead in comics, but in movies? That’s how you lose viewers. I knew they’d really have to blow our minds with this, especially after the brutal gut punch that was Infinity War.

And for the most part, they truly delivered.

Endgame is a satisfying conclusion to the epic first decade of the MCU, closing the doors on some stories but opening up a world of possibilities on others. And while there are some problems here and there, the overall product is just so good that it’s easy to forgive the flaws, though it is easy to see why some would be a bit less forgiving. Still, even more critical folk than me admit that regardless of problems this is still a good movie.

This movie has three acts, and I will be going over each individually. There are going to be SPOILERS here, because there is just so much to unpack with this film, so consider this your warning. Again, SPOILERS BELOW.

The first act picks up where the Avengers were left at the end of Infinity War: broken, defeated, and desperate. Despite Carol saving Tony and Nebula from deep space, things seem pretty hopeless, until an energy signature is picked up revealing the whereabouts of Thanos. The Avengers rush to confront him, eager to steal back the Stones and right what went wrong… but upon arriving, they find Thanos broken, scarred, and worst of all, utterly without the Stones. He destroyed them all so his work could not be undone. He has completely, irreversibly won. And so when Thor brings Stormbreaker down and cuts off his head only a short while into the film, it does not feel triumphant or thrilling. It feel sad, miserable, and bitter.

I think this is probably one of the better twists in the first act. The pace at the beginning is rather slow until they confront Thanos, and it ultimately works in the movie’s favor as it makes the horrific revelation hurt all the more, and then following it up with a time skip of five years later is just rubbing salt in the wound. It also helps cement the original Thanos as a truly unique villain. He not only won, but he died knowing he won. He was victorious in death for five years, and there was nothing any of the heroes could do about it. It seems a bit anti-climactic when you first think about it, but really this end to the original Thanos is a rather fitting conclusion of his character arc from Infinity War. He won, he watched the sun rise on the universe… what more could this Thanos really do?

The time skip shows what all the heroes have been up to in the interim: Steve is running support groups  for survivors, Tony has married Pepper and has a daughter, Natasha has been in contact with the remaining heroes, Clint has been out brutally murdering criminals as Ronin, Banner has managed to keep his intellect as Hulk and become a relatively famous figure, and Thor has basically become an obese drunkard wallowing in his failure. Our heroes are at their absolute lowest point… until one little rat walks over a control panel on a van in a storage unit and frees Scott “Ant-Man” Lang from the Quantum Realm.

I will say that a lot of the latter half of the first act, the part that sets up the “Time Heist” of the second act, drags on a bit, and this is really the portion of the film that will make or break it for you. You need to really be invested in these characters, you need to be ready to handle the ways they’ve dealt with the knowledge that they have lost. Thor’s fate especially has been contentious, with people crying foul that throughout the movie the Russos did nothing but “undo” all the development Taika Waititi gave him, which is quite frankly such a stupid argument it’s not worth addressing. What IS worth addressing is how Thor’s trauma, unlike most of the other Avengers, is played for laughs. For some, seeing Thor as a fat, slovenly drunkard is going to be a bit upsetting and tasteless; for others, the black comedy will cross the line twice and make it rather funny. That aspect is definitely going to help or hinder your enjoyment of this segment.

Even that aside, it does really feel like it takes a while to get to the real fun part of the movie, though it’s not as if anything in the first act is truly bad, per se; it’s just very character-driven as opposed to exciting and thrilling. If you’re into character-driven drama, then you’ll really dig this, since all of the performances here are excellent, with Paul Rudd in particular really showing off some impressive range and Scarlett Johansson actually managing to impress me with her emotional performance. Seeing Hawkeye become a complete and total badass who slaughters his way through thugs is also a refreshing change from the absolute joke he has been in previous films, and his winning streak in act one is happily carried throughout the film, completely redeeming Hawkeye. There’s also a lot of good comedy here as it builds up into the time heist, particularly Rhodey’s suggestion of what to do with baby Thanos or the ill-fated test run of the time machine.

I think it is important to note that unlike most films that deal with the subject, the movie actually gives clear, definitive rules on time travel: you can’t go back to the past and alter your present, any changes you make only succeed in creating a split timeline resulting in an alternate universe. This does not allow them to go back and kill Thanos before the Snap, but it DOES allow them to go back to times when they could reasonably steal the Infinity Stones and use them to undo the damage done. This is actually a pretty solid take on time travel and an easy take to grasp at that, though as I will mention later, this simple and clearly explained version of time travel has somehow left people confused. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Act two is where the movie really picks up steam, as the remaining heroes split into groups and head back to points in time where they get to experience moments from beloved Marvel films (and Thor: The Dark World) as they retrieve the Stones. Cap, Tony, and Ant-Man go after Loki’s scepter and the Tesserect following the battle of New York as seen in The Avengers, which leads to a lot of hilarity including Cap fighting his past self and an elevator scene that not only calls back to the one from The Winter Soldier but also features the redemption of one of the most awful moments in modern comics with one of the single funniest lines in the entire film; Hulk wanders over to the Sanctum Sanctorum and argues with the Ancient One for the Stone in the Eye of Agamotto; Rocket and Thor go back to the period of time where Jane Foster was at Asgard to steal the Reality Stone from inside her, which leads to Thor getting a touching reunion with his mother as well as an opportunity to snag Mjolnir; Nebula and Rhodey get to go to the opening of Guardians of the Galaxy and witness Peter Quill dancing and singing to himself like a moron before knocking him out and stealing the Stone; and Black Widow and Hawkeye go to Vormir to confront the Red Skull for the Soul Stone. I’m sure you can imagine how that one goes.

This part of the movie is a lot more fun with how varied it gets. There’s plenty of comedy, action, and character moments, and it just feels a lot more fun than the first act. Seeing how characters that rarely interacted or even never interacted in the past bounce off each other is really delightful, particularly Rhodey and Nebula. Of course, there is also great moments of development, such as when Steve and Tony botch their initial Stone theft and have to go back even further in time, which leads to Tony getting a heartwarming moment with his father while Steve is reminded of Peggy. And then, of course, there is Black Widow and her character arc coming to a close, as she heroically mirrors Gamora’s tragic fate.

There has, of course, been a lot of argument over Black Widow’s fate here. Here’s my take on it: Black Widow’s character arc throughtout the films has always been a desire to scrub the red from her ledger and find some meaning to her life. Age of Ultron, for all its flaws, shows she thinks of herself as a monster, and truly just wants to make a connection, find a group she has something in common with. With the Avengers, she found just that, she found the family she never had, she found something worth living for, fighting for, and ultimately dying for. Her sacrifice wasn’t some sad attempt at shock, it wasn’t her being stuffed in the fridge to further the character arcs of her male costars, it was her character arc becoming fully realized, it was her understanding that to save those she loved she had to make a choice, and it is the most utterly selfless and heroic act in the entire movie, and maybe even the entire franchise. Everyone would have lost if not for Natasha. She is probably the most heroic character in the movie… well, with one exception, but we’ll get to him shortly. The point is, her sacrifice carried more dramatic and thematic weight than if Clint had sacrificed himself; Clint is very much an underrealized and underutilized character, and while this movie improved him, it was still not enough to make his sacrifice as painful as Black Widow’s.

Act two comes to a close with heroes grieving Black Widow and preparing the Stones for a Snap to bring everyone back… unfortunately, they don’t realize there is a traitor in their midst: Nebula. Not out Nebula, but Nebula from 2014, prior to her character development. You see, Thanos could still access the future Nebula’s video recording eye since her software is still on the same server even in the future (it’s a bit weird but it still makes a bit of sense). 2014 Thanos finds out about his future self’s victory and becomes furious that any would try and undo his “mercy.” And so he enacts a plan to get him to this future and kill the Avengers once and for all. The evil Nebula bringing her father and his fleet to the future right after the second snap kicks off the third act, as Thanos obliterates the Avenger’s mansion with his ship.

The third act, the entire third act, is just peak MCU. The entire act from start to finish is the absolute best the franchise has to offer. It all begins with the heroes struggling to regroup and find each other in the wreckage, with Hawkeye having to run from aliens in a dark basement, Hulk having to hold up rubble to help save Rhodey and Rocket, Nebula helping sway 2014 Gamora to her side and then in the ultimate act of “God I really hate how I used to be” shooting her past self to death, Ant-Man rushing to save his friends after escaping the blast, and Cap, Thor, and Iron Man going to fight Thanos. This is the beginning of the end.

It is interesting to note that here, Thanos is a lot closer to the megalomaniac tyrant he was in the comics while still staying in line with his movie version from the previous film. It does go to show how fragile his ego is and how his talk of his work being merciful and good is just a delusion he has bought into; he freely admits here that he should not have been so kind, he blames everyone else for his failure, and he promises to remake the universe in his image, perfectly balanced and unaware of all they lost. Despite being almost an entire reversal of his previous characterization, it actually functions quite while as a weird way of continuing his arc while at the same time addressing the criticisms many leveled at the anti-villainous Thanos of Infinity War. It definitely looks like the Russos were well aware of how Thanos would be perceived, and did a really great job at having the best of both worlds in regards to his characterization. And even here, where he is fully embracing his villainy and saying how he will enjoy crushing his foes, one still gets the sense that he still sees himself as the hero in his mind and is absolutely furious that anyone would wish to undo what he considers a kindness.

Of course, the battle with these three fighting Thanos is quite enjoyable, and showcases even without his Gauntlet Thanos is a force to be reckoned with, as he trounces the three Avengers, though not without great effort… especially after Steve Rogers does something we’ve all been waiting a long time to see him do: pick up Mjolnir and wield it in battle. I think it’s safe to say that Thor’s jubilant shout of “I KNEW IT!” is one that was echoed in the minds of every single viewer of the scene. And just when you think the movie couldn’t get even more epic, just when it seems that Thanos will win as a bruised and bettered Steve stands alone against Thanos and his entire army… Steve gets a call.

“On your left.”

Hundreds of magic portals open, and the resurrected heroes all come through, along with any sort of crew they could bring. For the record, this is: Black Panther, Shuri, Okoye, M’Baku, the armies of Wakanda, Doctor Strange, Wong, all of the wizards, Spider-Man, Star-Lord, Drax, Mantis, Groot, Falcon, Bucky, Scarlet Witch, Valkyrie, Korg, Miek, the remaining Asgardians, Wasp, Pepper Potts in her Rescue armor, Kraglin, his Ravager crew, and even Howard the Duck. And if that’s not enough for you, the Avengers who were still alive before the attack all come in for the battle. And they said Super Smash Bros. Ultimate was the most ambitious crossover of all time. Was Howard the Duck in Smash? I think not.

And as the heroes gather for the inevitable charge, do you know what Steve says? He says two little words that fans have been waiting for such a long time to hear him say, something a less talented writer and director teased us with several films ago:

“AVENGERS… ASSEMBLE!”

Hurry quick and wipe those tears from your eyes so you don’t miss the awesome final battle, which is just filled to the brim with moments where every single hero gets to shine. Highlights include Spidey and Tony reuniting, Spidey activating the “Instant Kill” function of his suit, Gamora kicking Star-Lord in the balls, Tony and Pepper fighting back to back, Scarlet Witch confronting Thanos, and the awesomely cheesy “GIRL POWER” moment that is far more empowering than the entirety of Captain Marvel. Everything about this battle is fantastic, everything about it is peak MCU, everything is the epitome of why people love superhero movies… and it all culminates with the conclusion of Tony Stark’s decade-long character arc, as he steals the Stones from Thanos and snaps his fingers, erasing Thanos and his army at the cost of his life.

This moment is depressing on two fronts. On one, there is Tony. He is the hero we have spent the most time with, the one we know the best. And after all these films, he finally proved Steve Rogers wrong: he was able to lay his life on the line for the greater good, sacrificing himself fully for his wife, his daughter, his friends, and the entire universe. Tony went from a self-absorbed egomaniac arms dealer to a truly great, heroic figure who did what he had to do to protect everyone he cared about.

But on the other is Thanos. Most villains, upon seeing their plans come to ruin and their armies laid to waste, would break down, rant, offer some sort of last taunt… but not Thanos. Thanos accepts his death, however much it pains him to. The look of exhaustion, anguish, and utter hopelessness on his face as he sits down in a dark mirror of the ending of Infinity War truly cements him as a great and worthy foe. For all his faults, for all his insanity, Thanos was still a man utterly deluded by his pain and past tragedies into believing his cause was noble and just, and here he sits in his final moments perhaps wondering as his future self did if it was really all worth it. His crumbling to dust as he so cruelly did to so many others I well-deserved and a fitting end for one such as him, but there’s no denying that there is an element of tragedy to it too. It’s the exact sort of emotional ending I would have hoped for from Marvel’s greatest villain.

The finale wraps things up with Tony’s funeral, as well as Cap going back in time to return the Stones and Mjolnir to the moments they were stolen so that the alternate timelines can handle themselves. But Steve decides to create his own alternate timeline before coming home, and lives out an entire lifetime with an alternate Peggy Carter before returning to his own time and passing his shield and title on to Falcon. Many were confused as to if this meant Steve changed the canon of the MCU, but… they explain what happens in the movie. Quite a few times in fact. If you paid attention at all, you would know it is not possible for him to alter the canon. He created an alternate timeline where he presumably lived a full, happy life and ensured things would go well for everyone. No Hydra infiltration of SHIELD, no Winter Soldier, no Stark assassination, none of that. Just a long, happy life with the woman he loved, his best friend, and a well-deserved retirement from the fields of battle in the end. While the conclusion to Cap’s arc is not quite as good as Tony’s, it’s still heartfelt and touching, and it’s hard to say he didn’t deserve a happy life after everything he went through.

And so ends the Infinity Saga, and the first ten years of the MCU. This movie changed a hell of a lot, to the point where even though only two main heroes died over the course of the film, things still will never be the same going forward, and I like that a lot. Unlike every other cinematic universe that has sprung up in the wake of the MCU, I fully feel like any stories told after this one will continue to build off the foundations that this film and its predecessors laid out. There won’t be the need for soft rebooting like with the DCEU, or with actual rebooting like Dark Universe, or just constant messy and confusing timelines like with the X-Men Series. The MCU has managed to remain remarkably consistent throughout, and there’s no reason to doubt they’d continue that into the future. There’s no stinger here, but the moments after the final battle with the Guardians and Thor certainly set up interesting possibilities, as does the now teenaged Cassie Lang, who may well take up the superhero role she has in the comics. It’s hard to predict where the future of the MCU will be going right now, but all things considered it certainly looks bright.

Ultimately, this movie is a love letter. It’s a slow build that starts by examining the characters we know and love at their lowest, builds into a nostalgic and hilarious trip down memory lane, and culminates in the most beautiful sort of fanservice imaginable that then brings a touching conclusion to two of the greatest heroes in all of cinema. Of course, as I’ve mentioned, that first act is going to be what makes or breaks this for some people, and the part does drag a bit, but ultimately this movie is more what it ends up as than what it starts out as. That finale is the single greatest work of art the MCU has produced thus far, and I’m not sure that even with another ten years they’ll ever be able to top it.

The amazing thing is, this movie is pretty accessible even if you aren’t a hardcore fan, though it’s definitely only going to have full emotional impact if you’ve been watching these characters for years. This is a movie for the fans first and foremost, and that’s really not a bad thing; why wouldn’t you make an epic finale to so many arcs that appeals to the people who invested so much time in it? As someone who grew up with the MCU, who has watched it grow and blossom into everything I ever dreamed of seeing as a kid, I only have this to say to all of the directors, writers, actors, stunt people, just everyone who made this and all the other films possible, and to the dearly departed Stan Lee who created so many of these people I’ve spent the past decade watching come to life on screen:

I love you three thousand.

Here’s to another ten years of cinematic superhero excellence.

[bthump]

This is the essay I wrote for @berserk-zine Memory Fragments, which can be ordered in hardcopy or digital here. If you have the means it’s well worth checking out.

Like Lightning

In the Golden Age, Guts and Griffith’s narratives centre around the conflicts between their respective dreams and their relationship with each other. Their dreams are self-destructive ways of coping with deep-seated issues while their relationship is shown to have the potential to heal and emotionally strengthen them. The Golden Age is a tragedy entirely because neither man recognizes the significance of their relationship until it’s too late - they turn to their dreams instead of each other, which leads them directly to the Eclipse.

Guts’ issues stem from his abusive childhood. Gambino’s neglect and emotional abuse left Guts craving attention, affection, and respect.

“But wandering the battlefields made me realize... that wouldn’t do me any good in tryin’ to survive. It was just somethin’ of a childish complaint. Even so... incidentally... I found someone I really wanted... to have look at me.”

That person is Griffith, a boy who delivers a thoughtful personality analysis after observing one fight, who specifically tells Guts that he wants him, and who risks his life for him after knowing him for only one week.

Three years after they meet, they encounter Zodd together. Gambino selling Guts to Donovan left him with trust issues, and killing Gambino in self-defence added guilt and self-loathing to his collection of emotional scars. This scene with Zodd is a powerful reminder of these aspects of Guts’ childhood, with a much more positive outcome which solidifies Griffith’s place in Guts’ life. Griffith is someone who can fulfill his emotional needs in ways his last family, Gambino, never did.

Miura uses strong, consistent imagery to illustrate fear: bright eyes in an indistinct, towering form, and huge, grasping hands. These images recur constantly in Guts’ nightmares and flashbacks, during apostle fights, several times during the first Zodd encounter in particular, and chronologically we first saw these images when Donovan entered Guts’ tent, and again when Gambino told Guts that he sold him.

Donovan was the first monster Guts killed, and the impression Zodd makes on Guts is deliberately reminiscent of him for the purpose of drawing a life-changing contrast: while Gambino sold him to a monster, Griffith risks his own life to save him from the monster.

When Guts asks him why, Griffith’s answer is that he did it for Guts. “Do I need a reason each time I put myself in harm’s way for your sake?” Now that Griffith has proven that he values Guts as a person over and above even his dream by very nearly dying for him, Guts feels the respect and love which he has craved since childhood. With someone at his side who will face the monsters with him, he is finally ready to replace one family with another and begin to heal from his trauma and guilt.

This is the purpose of the scene on the rooftop, when Guts reflects on the night he killed Gambino, contemplates that the same bright full moon is shining down on him now, and dedicates his sword to Griffith as an answer to the question he asked back when he was eleven: “where am I going?” He finally feels like he may have found the place where he belongs.

And then he accidentally kills a kid and overhears a speech and it all goes to hell.

After the assassination Guts hits his head, falls unconscious, and has a dream: as a child he watches a monstrous figure kill Gambino, and then run Guts through with a sword. The figure represents both Donovan and Zodd, as it’s essentially the Donovan-esque monster from Guts’ nightmare in chapter 13 with some additional Zodd detailing, and its face is revealed to be Guts’ own.

Flooded with reminders of his traumatic childhood and feeling like a monster after killing Adonis, Guts seeks Griffith out, presumably in the hope that Griffith can provide the same feeling of being valued and respected that he felt after Zodd, to counter his self-loathing. Instead he hears a pretentious monologue about a dream which just nails that self-loathing into place and, primed by years of neglect and abuse, he’s readily convinced that Griffith looks down on him after all, the same way Gambino always had. So, taking Griffith’s speech to heart, Guts decides he needs his own dream.

And the dream he eventually lands on is to swing his sword as much as possible.

Guts’ sword is his method of emotional repression and his original defense mechanism.

We see this same sentiment when he jumps to Casca’s defence after brooding on Griffith’s speech: “Anyone will do… I just feel like swinging this with all my might… until I can’t think about anything else.” We see him swing his sword as a distraction from his feelings during the hundred man fight, in his rage after the Eclipse, and eventually the notion of his sword as an escape from emotion becomes very literal with the berserker armour, which wipes away every feeling except bloodlust.

Guts falls back on his dream of challenging himself by “crossin’ swords with stronger and stronger enemies” when he loses trust in his relationship with Griffith and departs the Hawks, and again when he loses Griffith entirely in the Eclipse, as Griffith essentially sells him out to a hoard of monsters in a reversal of the affirming Zodd encounter and repeat of his childhood trauma.

The way Guts describes his dream neatly applies to the Black Swordsman arc, and to hammer that point home the Promrose Hall speech that inspired his dream flashes to his mind when he makes his war declaration after the Eclipse. This ties Guts’ dream to his emerging inner monster, the Beast of Darkness, and we see the attitude of emotional repression that brings it out in statements like, “I’ll take my urge to kill… and black everything else out.”

When Griffith risked his life to save him from Zodd, Guts chose to wield his sword “for his sake.” After overhearing the Promrose speech, Guts chooses to wield his sword “for no one else���s sake.” This is the difference between finding comfort and strength in mutual trust and companionship with Griffith and the Hawks, and roaming the countryside as the lone Black Swordsman, swinging his sword and feeding his own inner beast. Griffith’s dream is associated with becoming a monster in as blatant a way as possible, but Guts’ dream also has that same self-destructive association, and both are a result of throwing away relationships to pursue those dreams.

Now, whereas Guts began with a positive relationship and replaced it with his dream, Griffith’s narrative has the opposite trajectory: he begins with a dream and Guts becomes a potential positive replacement for it.

We learn everything we need to know to understand Griffith’s dream when Casca tells Guts about her past. Griffith scratches his own arms bloody while claiming he feels no responsibility for the deaths of his followers, after prostituting himself to a sexual predator to prevent as many of those deaths as possible. This contradiction between words and actions tells us loud and clear that Griffith is driven by immense guilt and self-loathing - which we see when he asks Casca if he is dirty, and when he insists that he has to win “for the sake of the dead.”

Casca tries to comfort him but he turns around with a reassuring smile and says “I’m all right... It’s nothing,” blood dripping down his arms.

This tells us that Griffith constantly buries that guilt and self-loathing behind the image of a perfect leader. He can’t admit his true feelings even to himself, except in extremely rare moments of vulnerability, because it is absolutely necessary to maintain this image for the sake of his dream.

When Griffith achieves that dream, everyone who died will posthumously attain what they died for and every act that makes him feel dirty or cruel will be proven to have been worth it. To Griffith, the dream represents absolution. Success will absolve him of his guilt, assuage his self-loathing, and even justify his very existence, as implied in his words: “to be born and then to simply live for no better reason… I can’t abide such a lifestyle.”

After a second night of assassinations, Griffith asks if Guts thinks he’s cruel. This is an echo of asking Casca if he’s dirty, and it’s another chance to see himself anew through the eyes of someone else, someone aware of the harsh reality behind his image - the assassinations, Gennon, the intrinsic brutality of war - and who still sees him as “dazzling.”

Griffith clings to his dream as a defence against his self-loathing, but in this moment the dream is forgotten and he turns to Guts for the affirmation he needs instead. But Guts fails to reassure him, having already been taken in by the image Griffith projected during his Promrose Hall monologue. He reminds Griffith that cruelty is “part of the path to [his] dream,” implicitly and unintentionally confirming that he is cruel, and voicing Griffith’s own guilt-fueled justification for him - the same justification Griffith gave when he self-harmed in the river.

This is the moment the Godhand uses to finally convince Griffith to make the sacrifice, bury his heart, and become the monster he thinks Guts - of all people - knew him to be already.

The cruel irony of the Golden Age is that Guts and Griffith both respect, admire, and love each other, but they fail to realize that those feelings are returned, so they retreat to the emotional safety of their dreams. Guts pursues a dream of sword swinging because he believes that Griffith looks down on him, but, the very chapter after Guts waxes poetic about his dream to Casca, we learn that this is how Griffith really feels about him:

Conversely, Griffith believes that Guts sees him as cruel and that he wants to escape from him, when we know this is the real reason that Guts left the Hawks:

If Guts and Griffith had realized that their feelings for each other were mutual, they might have been able to heal from their inner demons by finding support and reassurance in each other - by having someone they trust and respect in their life who knows them and believes them to be worthy of love and respect in turn. They each try to reach out for emotional support from the other in moments of self-loathing, but both times dreams stand in the way.

So instead they return to those dreams, which help them bury their feelings and bring out the worst in them: Femto and the Beast of Darkness.

[tsarethan]

More Ghost stuff

random questions i answered sorry this is terrible

 What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about?

Pup/dog from Ramsey, Ghost in team rainbow and Wolf in the SAS

 What is the colour of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin?

Blue/green eyes, blonde hair and white skin

 How tall is your OC?

5’4

What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC?

He’s still pretty pale from the drugs and the track marks on his arms again from the drugs. He has a few tattoos as well mostly of animals

What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night?

Well he’s in the army so his normal combat gear or a pair of joggers and an oversized t-shirt/hoodie. Ethan’s not one for formal wear he’s very casual, owns multiple pairs of black skinny jeans that are a little big on him and plaid shirts with a t-shirt underneath are his go too

What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances?

Ordinary (assuming this means the way he dresses)

Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar?

He has a couple of scars from bullet wounds and knife scars but the most notable is the ‘Ramsey’s attack dog’ that is carved into the left side of his torso. He has a tattoo on his left forearm of a big black wolf holding a union jack flag and a spitfire plane tattooed on his other forearm, he has a bunch of other tattoos just dotted round but those two are the most notable ones

How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?

He’s from Liverpool but isn’t conventional, he doesn’t have the typical scouse accent, but other brits can still tell where he’s from  

What does your OC’s bedroom look like?  His/her living area?

On base his room isn’t overly decorated, a few posters and books. In Thatcher’s house is like a normal bedroom, posters, figures, Xbox, pained a dark blue. It’s a loft room so the ceiling is slanted with the roof but there’s a window on the slanted roof which he enjoys because he can smoke in his room and it leaves nice colours in his room at sunset. He’s got a double bed and nice tv to go along with the Xbox and he’s eternally grateful to his dad.

What does your OC keep in a special drawer?

Weed box and knife collection

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her mother?

His mum was murdered brutally on Ramsey’s orders, they weren’t that close

What is your OC’s relationship with his/her father?

His birth dad is the same as his mum, was later adopted by Thatcher, they have a great relationship even if they bicker a lot

How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them?

Birth family he had one sister named Laura they have never had a good relationship and it was only made worse with their parents’ deaths

Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life?

Thatcher

What was your OC’s childhood like?

Until he was 11 Ethan had a pretty normal childhood that’s when everything went to shit with (unknowingly) joining the syndicate

What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how as that impacted him/her?

With it saying childhood I’m gonna say from before aged 11, Ethan’s not sure if it’s a memory or something his brain came up with after being told the story but when he was 4 he nearly fell down the gap between the train and the platform edge. He was dangling in that gap for a good few seconds as his mum ha a hold of his hand, but she was also holding a bunch of bags and couldn’t pull him completely out. A stranger grabbed Ethan and lifted him out, ever since then he’s been terrified of the gap between trains and platforms and makes sure people stay far away from the yellow line at the station. If people don’t it can send him into a full blown panic attack

What is your OC’s imagination like?

Hes a bit of a daydreamer but most of what he thinks is his revenge against Ramsey. With his drawings they are mostly vent art or drawings of the other ops

How many times did your OC move as a child?  Which area was his/her favourite?

Never moved, his family lived in a poor as shit area and couldn’t afford to move

What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

He loves the kids in his adoptive family but has never thought about having kids of his own, when he thinks of family he thinks of the people already around him rather than settling own and having his own

What kind of mother/father would your OC be?

Idk he’s still really young and going through a lot with the trauma he’s experienced so I don’t think he would put too much thought on being a parent

Who is your OC’s closest relatives?

His dad (Thatcher), Sledge, Mute, Smoke (like brothers to him)

Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)?

Bandit, Mute, Rook, Twitch, Glaz, kapkan

Who are the people your OC surrounds him/herself with?

People who can have a laugh but he’s generally on okay terms with the whole team besides lion

Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

Ignorant hateful people, those who have a problem with his family, people who look down on him for his age, sexuality and background. Greed driven people and people who think they’re better than everyone else thinking they are gods gift to the world

If your OC has a soulmate, who is it?

Bandit

Why does your OC and his/her soulmate work so well together?

They have suffered in similar ways and have seen similar horrors. At the start of rainbow they were both outcasted by other CTU’s (not the SAS and GSG9) they learned to survive through this together and grew into an infamous team in rainbow. They both learn to heal together

What are some things your OC admires about his/her soulmate?

His ability to control his anger, Ethan knows what effect the things they have both experienced can damage the control of anger and violence. Bandits restraint is a great thing and how he can turn it into harmless pranks

How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet?

The first gathering of team rainbow in Hereford base

What is your OC’s level of education?

He got up to A-Levels

Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they?

Nope

What is your OC’s opinion of school?  What kind of student was s/he?

He was very fond of school it gave him a chance to be normal for a few hours of the day even if he was getting into fights quite a bit

What subjects did your OC excel at?

History, science, art and mechanics

What subjects interested your OC?

History and art

What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession?

Well he’s serving a military service but if he had a choice he would have liked to work in a museum

How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession?

He’s not working towards it as he can’t, and he got this job through a plea deal

What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession?

He’s good at what he does and has found a family so he’s happy where he is, it’s certainly better than a prison cell

What is your OC’s biggest dream?

Keep the team alive longer than himself

How does your OC react to and handle stress?

Sleeps, drinks, smokes, fights either other ops or a punching bag

How does your OC handle anger?

Anger is what he handles the worst he can have severe violent breakdowns but he’s learned how to control it for the most part but that will only last so long

How does your OC handle grief?

He shuts down, you won’t get a response from him at all, it then turns destructive and after that he grieves normally, cries and tries his very best to move on from it. The most grief he’s experienced so far was from the murder of his parents and the only thing that could make him go through that extreme sort of grief again would be the death of one of the SAS or Bandit

What is your OC’s greatest fear?

Losing the people, he loves and falling back into Ramsey’s grasp again

What makes your OC happy?

His family and friends, having a day off at the same time as bandit so they can chill together

What kind of sense of humour does your OC have?

Very dark humour along with the typical millennial humour

What are some things that greatly upset your OC?

Being unable to help those on his team, he would lay down his life for them and he was taught any failure to save those ‘more important’ than himself was met with severe punishment (torture)

What are some things that annoy your OC?

People not understanding when he says he wants to be alone for a bit. People making fun of him for being 24 and being as close as he is with his dad

If your OC has them, what are some regrets s/he has?

Everything he’s done between the ages of 11-18

How easily does your OC forgive?

Petty bitch very rarely forgives

If your OC experienced trauma, what was it?

Torture, dehumanisation, body mutilation, he was in a brutal crime syndicate he’s seen so much at a very young age

What secrets does your OC have?

While he feels guilty for everything he done he doesn’t really feel bad for the victims, they were rivals and other criminals and he thinks what he done was mostly justified in his very black and white view on innocent and guilty. Also, he knows a lot more than what he told the police when he negotiated

What are some of your OC’s morals?

If you’re innocent you’re innocent, if you’re guilty it doesn’t matter what happens to you as long as you’re dealt with. However, his view of his is guilty is towards the real scum bags not just like people caught with drugs or imprisoned for petty stuff

What are some of your OC’s motivations?

His ingrained nature to protect an seeing how easy it is for situations to go south, very much a ‘if I don’t save them then who will’ along with obviously the supportive people he has around him

What is the health of your OC?

He’s not exactly a health freak, he enjoys drinking just a little bit too much and enjoys smoking weed, he did smoke cigarettes but with advice from sledge he got an electric cigarette instead. He eats pretty much whatever he wants not thinking too much about it (until he gets food poisoning or some shit) so not in the best of shape but he’s not out of shape either with his profession it’s hard to be out of shape and still meet expectations

Does your OC think with his/her head or heart?

A bit of both, outside of missions/training he thinks with his heart

What are your OC’s thoughts on death?

His own death doesn’t phase him, he’s come close more than once and he knows its gonna happen one day, so he accepts it

What are some of your OC’s strengths?

His situational awareness and skill with knives, anger management, never give up attitude

What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?

How much he cares for others, it can be too much and lead to him making impulsive choices, his trouble with forgiving people like the whole lion situation on a good day he’ll be civil with Olivier but on others not so much so he just tries to avoid Oli as much as possible, he’s also still weary about the other GIGN ops after the whole incident even though he loves the others he hasn’t forgotten the looks on their faces during the stand off and the choice words that were exchanged

How does your OC take criticism?

Not well he finds it a bit degrading and will struggle to see where he went wrong because he’s usually pretty good at pointing out his own flaws and failures

What does your OC think of him/herself?

He struggles with having an identity like he’s not really sure who he is, what type of person he is, but even still he has a very negative viewpoint of himself with how little he actually understands

What is the general impression your OC gives other people?

Snarky little kid who needs to cheer up a bit

How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people?

Not very unless they become close, the people who he’s vulnerable with the most is thatcher followed closely by bandit, but they are working on that

How does your OC display love?

Not a big fan of pda but loves cuddling on the couch with his quilt  

What is your OC’s favourite drink?

Non-alcoholic: probably original Lucozade

Alcoholic: Heineken or Becks

What is your OC’s favourite food?

Probably tuna pasta or chicken ceaser wrap

What is your OC’s favourite sweet?

Skittles, when he’s in the mood to be a little shit he will down a bag of them with a red bull

What is your OC’s favourite season?

Autumn/winter

What is your OC’s favourite kind of weather?

Where it’s a little chilly but not cold, like the sky is grey but you can still walk around only needing a hoodie/light jacket

What is your OC’s favourite book?

Game of Thrones

What is your OC’s favourite movie and/or TV show?

Movie: Guy Ritchie’s sherlock Holmes films (with RDJ and Jude Law)

TV show: line of duty or game of thrones or Luther although air crash investigation is something he will happily both binge watch and leave as background music

What is your OC’s favourite kind music (and song if there is one)?

He loves most types of music, focuses more on good songs than a good genre, his favourite song would probably either ‘I was just a kid’ or ‘Amsterdam’ both by nothing but thieves

What is your OC’s favourite form of entertainment?

Video games

What is your OC’s favourite colour?

Dark blue

What is your OC’s favourite animal?

Wolf

What is your OC’s favourite sound?

Thunderstorms

What is your OC’s favourite time of day?

late nights/early morning when everything is calm

What is your OC’s favourite kind of ice cream?

Mint chocolate

What is your OC’s favourite dinosaur?

carnotaurus

[opheliawillowbrook]

Let the Record Show

A/N: So as stated, this fic has been written to provide closure to the infamous arc brought about in Nightwing #93 in which (if you are unaware-so spoilers!) Nightwing is raped by Tarantula (Catalina) after the death of Blockbuster because, (if you think like Devin Grayson) why the fuck not, right? Thankfully for those of you reading this, I don't. But in any case, my friend (Embrlee Frith) and I have discussed this arc in-depth and thought it (aside from most untactful) very poorly handled. Which is a shame since there really were some good bones to discuss, not just about rape, but also male rape victims in our society and the aftermath that all victims of sexual assault and rape survivors go through. However, as most of you are probably aware, DC and Devin Grayson sorta dropped that ball and refused to pic it back up. Though, to be fair, Ms. Grayson, being, well-Ms. Grayson, did try and clarify the scene by referring to it as "non-consensual sex" which is probably the most accurate example of an oxymoron one can bring to fruition, but that's a subject for another time. But given the sort of "mishandling" of the canon, I was commissioned by our lovely Ms. Frith to cover this subject matter and try and bring some closure to this event for both the reader and the character.

I'd also like to apologize to anyone offended by my words of Ms. Grayson. I'm clearly not a fan of her work (as I'm sure I've made it very clear) I just think as a writer this subject matter deserved far more respect than it got and this is my attempt at providing that.

I Also recently re-edited this story and hope the changes help make it feel finished. Please let me know what you think :) I also found a great song to go along with this fic. It's called "They're Not Horses, They're Dead Unicorns" by Bayside. So if you like a little music with you reading, you might enjoy it!

So if you're still reading this, I'd like to thank you. Let me know what you think and let's see if we can put this ghost to rest now, shall we?

As Always, With Love

-Ophelia

“She was a termite, Eating away at my roots. I was just a lost soul, who needed a home, I was filling, a void, with you.” --Bayside

He sat in a dark corner of the crowded bar at a small table by the foggy window. This was far from how he'd normally spend an evening, but tonight was far from a normal night. It had begun to rain over Gotham, the air thick with its dewy metallic scent. It almost smelled like blood—like her . He looked down at his half empty beer bottle, a little distressed that he was three drinks in, and the edge still wasn't off.

Drinking was always something he'd avoided, something he looked at as unnecessary and otiose, but in the wake of the past year, he'd built something of a tolerance to it. It was all he could do to cope at times. He didn't consider himself an alcoholic; he mostly only had a drink or two, but he still wasn't proud of the fact it was something he required now, that it was the only thing that came close to washing away that bitter taste.

It had been a year since he'd lost everything he'd worked so hard for. A year since he'd lost friends, his city, and the thousands of innocent lives within it. But worst of all, he'd lost a significant piece of himself, and he blamed himself for all of it. All because of one night, one choice and her.

The thought of her was nearly enough to make him sick as he downed a sip of beer to try and flush her foul taste from his mouth. However, the cheap beer and whisky was not enough to drown out the bitterness—that rotten taste he could just never get off his tongue. It was like he'd unknowingly bitten into a spoiled piece of fruit, only to find its sweetness was replaced with decay and maggots. He could still feel the invasive parasites crawl beneath his skin every now and then. At just the right moment, with just the right touch, or the right set of words. The feeling always left him feeling dirty, and no matter how hard he scrubbed or scratched, her touch would never wash off him. He'd wear her mark for the rest of his life.

What was worse was that he'd never told anyone about what had happened to him; he himself had a hard time believing its validity. In his mind, he tried to tell himself that what he thought happened was nothing of the sort. That the trauma of watching a man die was the reason for his physical and mental discord. Or at least that's what she'd told him.

Still, it never mattered how many times he tried to talk himself down, or how many times he tried to tell himself that what happened, hadn't happened at all. He could still never get that bloody taste out his mouth. He could even taste it on the air.

"I would have never pegged you as the drinking alone type," he heard a familiar voice say.

He looked up to find a single blue eye staring down at him, her lily-white hair draped around her black leather jacket.

"Rose," he said in a genuine shock, "what are you doing here? Why aren't you with the Titans ?"

"Yeah, about that," she said, taking a seat next to him, "that wasn't exactly hooking up. So I'm currently between jobs right now."

"Okay," Dick replied perplexed, "then what are you doing here?" he asked, entertaining some guilt that she'd gone out on her own. He was after all her mentor.

She shrugged somberly. "Well, I just found out that the closest thing I had to a best friend died…"

"Eddie…" he said ruefully, recalling that Tim recounted the incident, but he hadn't mentioned that Rose left the team. "I'm sorry."

She gave him a weak smile and stole a sip of his beer. "Don't be. Eddie died a hero, and in my book, he couldn't have gone out like more of a badass." She paused a moment, clearly remembering her friend. If anything, she was sad for herself, but refused to admit it. A lot like him.

"But with that being said," she added, "I'm here to drink my feelings and have a meaningless hook-up… Care to help a girl out, Grayson?"

She smiled at him coyly. He'd like to have thought she was joking, but he knew she wasn't. If Rose Wilson was anything, she was brutally honest, and he respected that.

"I can help you with the first half of your missions of self-destruction, but you're on your own with the latter."

"Eh, it was worth a shot," she shrugged, "but it's your loss."

"Somehow I'll live."

Sadly enough, part of him wanted to take her up on her offer. The idea of losing himself in another for a few hours was a tempting way to momentarily ease him of his current torment. However, he knew once the sheets were dirtied and the sweat was dried, he'd be right back where he began. Rose was also a little too young for him, and he didn't feel like adding statutory to his already stained morality. Though it seemed to be the least of her worries. But if nothing else, she'd make good company for his misery.

He ordered her a drink, mostly because he knew that if he didn't, she'd find someone else who would. And he'd have much rather been the man feeding her alcohol than one of the many seedy low-lives who'd jump at the chance to hinder the autonomy of a pretty 17-year-old girl. Not that Dick worried about Rose's ability to take care of herself. He knew she was more than capable, but if breaking one rule prevented her from making a horrible mistake, then he didn't see the harm in it.

The two sipped their beers and talked about their losses and gains. Though somehow they felt their losses were what made them who they were.

Dick took notice at how much Rose had matured, she'd oddly grown up a lot in the past year. She was still very much the same: Hot-headed and unpredictable, but she'd begun to understand how to use those things to her advantage. Dick couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. At least he'd done something right.

They both finished their drinks, and when Dick glanced up to the bar to get a second round, he froze.

It's never gonna stop...

Rose noticed his sudden shift, his face paused, his eyes staring blankly ahead.

"You okay?"

He snapped out of it and looked at her. "I have to go."

He took out his wallet and threw a couple bills down on the table, hurrying himself to leave. But it was too late, she saw him.

She stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to fix her drink. She looked like she were dressed for a funeral, as though she were burying her third husband. Her black dress was low, showing off the prominent curves of her breasts, her lips painted red, like they were stained with his blood. But it didn't matter how pretty she looked. For beneath that low black dress and behind that lipstick smile she flashed at him, he could see just how ugly she truly was.

Suddenly it was like the world stopped turning and the ground fell from beneath his feet. He was back in that moment again, like the scar had been ripped open with a dull knife, the blade delving deep into his dignity.

It's never gonna stop...

"Dick?" He could hear Rose's voice, distant, like she were 100 miles away. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know..."

He took off, practically running out the door, pushing past the crowd of people until he was out in the pouring rain. It was as though he couldn't breathe, like his lungs had filled with a toxic smoke, smothering him in with past he just couldn't shake. He could feel the rain hitting his face, a sensation he'd once found clean and refreshing, only now it felt like an affliction, like a cancer burning into his skin. Convicting him with the sins he'd committed, and the ones committed against him.

Rose had immediately run after him, knowing something was deeply wrong.

"Dick! Dick, wait!" Rose called, her platinum hair looking grey beneath the foggy rain. "Are you okay—what happened?"

He didn't stop, he just kept moving, not sure what to say. "I just need to go home, Rose."

It was a terrible excuse, but it was the best he could come up with. Plus, what could he really say? He couldn't even admit the truth to himself, never mind a teenage girl who held him in such high standing.

"It's okay, you can tell me," she urged, but he still wouldn't stop. "It was that girl, wasn't it?"

He stopped. The rain beating down on him like it had in that very night a your ago.

"She did something to you, didn't she?"

He turned, at a loss, not even sure what to say, but before he could speak, he saw her again.

She'd stepped out of the bar, just under the overhang, looking out at him through falling sky. He stared at her for a minute, part of him wanting to show her how badly he hurt. How deeply that scar through his heart ran. But another part of him was still too afraid to even look her in the eye. For a moment he thought she'd try and approach him, but she didn't, and at first, he couldn't understand why. Then it hit him. And no, it had nothing to do with melting Wicked Witch of the West style.

Rose...

She had now locked her eyes on the woman beneath the overhang, keeping herself from the damp air.

Dick wasn't sure what would come next. Part of him wondered if Rose would, well, pull a Rose and throw a right hook across Catalina's face. Or if Catalina would say something in an attempt to dismiss the younger girl. Something he knew wouldn't go over well.

However, Rose surprised him. She turned her scowling face away from the woman in black and walked toward Dick.

"Come on," she said over the percussion of rain. "This place will let anyone in, we're better off at your place."

The whole speech was a jab at Catalina. She didn't need her mentor to tell her anything, she already knew. Like she could smell that primal fear radiating off him, or possibly even something about the way that woman looked at him. Her smile gilded with something predatory, hungry for self-satisfaction and the taste of blood on her tongue.

Rose took him by the arm and led him away, the rain still pouring down around them. It's humid smell rising from the flooded pavement beneath his feet. Dick could still feel her eyes on him, a feeling of shame ricocheting down his spine as he was whisked away by his own protégé, the old one merely watching as she did so. He'd faced murderous mad men, violent Metahumans, and bloodthirsty demons, but somehow, a simple human woman was the greatest monster he'd ever faced. A woman he could have easily overpowered, yet somehow couldn't. The thought left a deep wound in his masculinity, like he failed as a man, like maybe he'd let it happen. These poisonous thoughts were something he'd become accustomed to ever since Catalina had taken matters into her own hands.

By the time they made it back to Dick's apartment, they were both soaked to the bone. He could feel the filthy rain collecting along his jaw and dripping heavily from his chin as he unlocked the door. Rose noticed his hands were shaking and he cursed at himself as he struggled to steady them. He finally got the key into the lock and turned it, looking around before entering the safety of his home. They entered the reasonably sized studio apartment, and Dick flicked on the light. He closed the door behind them, locking the knob, deadbolt, and key chain. Rose, of course, thought it was a bit overkill, but given his reaction to the woman at the bar, she'd have done the same thing.

"She's really got you on edge," Rose said, pulling off her soggy coat. "Who is she?"

"No one."

"Well, then she's a whole lot of no one ." Rose grimaced. "I'm sensing "They're Not Horses, They're dead Unicorns," vibe?"

"Something like that…" he sighed, wiping the rain from his brow, "only in the darkest context possible."

"What do you think she wants?"

He looked up at her. He hadn't really thought of that. It had been a year since he'd seen her last, since he just walked away and never looked back. She got what she wanted, why would she come back now?

"Fuck," he huffed blankly and sat down. His mind digging up an old thought he'd once had, one he prayed wouldn't come to fruition.

Rose could see the lost look in his eyes and the disparity quaking in the space where his heart used to be. This was nothing new to her. Whatever he lost, he'd lost it before they'd met. Only now she was beginning to understand what that was. She could now see just where that jaded and cynical nature came from, exactly what cracks left him shattered. Unlike many, she was actually about to see exactly what slipped through those cracks, exactly what had been taken away from him.

"I take it whatever she did to you, you're not over it?"

He looked at her with an ill expression and ran his hand through the fringe of his damp hair. "I don't know if I'll ever be over it," he said ruefully. That was the closest he'd ever come to admitting it, to saying it aloud.

Rose looked down, that was all she needed to hear. He didn't need to say more.

"I'm sorry that happened to you."

He glanced up at her and smiled at a loss, but also for the fact that she didn't laugh at him, that she didn't seem to judge him for it. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," he admitted. "Some days I can live it, then come days like this, where I can barely get my shit together."

She could understand that feeling, knowing how it felt to want to shed the scars that bind you, only you can't help but be who they've made you.

"You can talk about it if you want."

"Thanks," he said, and smiled falsely, "but talking about it is something I'm still not quite able to do." He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, like it were they that had betrayed him. "I just don't understand it completely. And honestly, I just wanna forget it ever happened."

"But your body won't let you."

He nodded painfully, almost feeling like he had to vomit. He had to change the subject. "Sorry I ruined your night."

Rose smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. "No big deal, you probably saved me from making a poor life choice."

"That's probably true," he conceded with a nod.

"Yeah, seriously. Once my brain tastes alcohol it's like it's go time! Let's make some fucking mistakes! And see how quickly you can ruin the life you work so hard for..." she broke into a slight giggle. Rose was often amused with her on sense of humor.

Dick shook his head, well aware that Rose Wilson and alcohol were not meant to be in good company with each other. That girl could do a whole lot of damage and end up with one hell of a hangover. But he laughed anyway.

"But hey, now I can technically say I went home with Nightwing. I got braggin' rights now."

He shook his head at her shit-eating grin, realizing she'd probably use that to piss off daddy . It would also do little for either of their dwindling reputations, but he had bigger problems to worry about.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it, but I get the feeling you think she found you," Rose said. "Is she capable of that?"

Unfortunately enough, she was. She was an ex-FBI agent, after all. She probably knew exactly where he was this entire time and he never even thought to look behind him. But truth be told, he didn't want to know. It was easier if he didn't go looking for her in every shadow that haunted every corner.

"Yeah."

"Do you think she's been following you?"

He didn't want to think of that either, but he wouldn't put it past her. "Yeah, and it wouldn't be the first time."

"Jesus." Rose scowled. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"A year ago."

"So what's she doing, slinking up from Hell for some fresh air, thinking she'd just drop by, say hello?"

Dick grimaced. "I'm honestly really afraid to find out…" The look on his face hardened, consequence tying his tongue.

"Oh…" She paused a minute, thinking about how devastating that would be. To have something so heavy thrust upon you; forever tied to the person who'd already taken so much. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, and I really hate to say this, but there's no way she'd look like that if she'd dropped a fucking kid like three months ago."

Dick looked up at her. Only Rose would say something like that.

"I mean her tits would be like on the floor," she added crassly. "She could take a fucking eye out with those puppies, and I should know."

He glared at her, not sure whether to scowl or laugh. On one hand, her banter was oddly amusing, and on the other, he had a really hard time accepting humor in that moment. But maybe that was his problem.

"Rose, I know you're just trying to help, but if you could stop talking about how hot Catalina is, that would be great."

"Hey, I never said that walking gash was hot, I just said her fucking boobs could have their own gravitational pull," she corrected. "Life's not fucking fair, man," she added referring to her own humble cup size.

"Yeah, it's not," Dick accorded coldly, and he couldn't have agreed more.

His life had literally become one horrible montage of one bad thing after the next, and it all started the second she showed up. In the beginning, he actually felt guilty for feeling that way, like it was somehow unfair of him to blame her for things that came of his own volition. But with time, it simply just became part of his coping mechanism. Catalina equaled death, devastation and rape, and he just couldn't see past that. He liked to think if he'd just never met her, or if he'd just thrown her ass in jail when he had the chance, that everything would be different. Maybe nobody would have died, and that Blüdhaven would still be standing today.

What was worse, and the thing that ate at him the most, was that he'd willingly invited her into his life. He'd delivered himself like some naive lamb to slaughter because he'd actually once felt sorry for her. That's what it had always come down to. She had a shitty life, it wasn't her fault. If he had just been a better man, or a better mentor , she wouldn't have turned out like that. It didn't seem to matter that she was a grown woman and should have known better, he still made excuses for her. But now, he couldn't excuse that she was stained in his blood and the blood of others, and he couldn't do shit about it. Catalina was literally like a flesh-eating bacteria to him. A termite eating away at his body and soul.

"You've never actually confronted her, have you?" Rose asked, once again pulling him into the now.

He sighed and shook his head. "Not really—no. There was so much going on after it happened and I was still kinda in shock. She told me I wasn't thinking straight and that the trauma I'd experienced made me look at it that way. I believed her because I wanted to, but as the shock wore off and I began to see how far she'd burrowed into my life… I knew I was right."

He seethed a moment, that foul metallic taste overcoming his mouth.

"She was literally taking over my life, acting like she'd done nothing wrong—acting like she belonged with me. I couldn't take it, so I left."

"That's when you started mentoring me…" Rose said, having a rough idea of the timeline.

Dick looked up, it really was ironic. He'd been so badly burned by one protégé, and the other was the only thing keeping him from crawling out of skin.

"Yeah, you turned out fine, though."

"Yeah, because of you," Rose urged. She owed him everything. Without Dick Grayson, who knew where she'd be. "Without you, I could never be a hero."

He looked at her fondly, but he knew she didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like one either.

"Y'know," Rose began, "sometimes you gotta take your pound of flesh and just walk away."

"I'm really not one for revenge, Rose."

"I saw the way you looked at her, Dick," she said, sitting next to him, "like if you could kill her and get away with it, you would."

He didn't say anything, but that was exactly how he felt, only he knew it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't fix him.

He rose from the couch and walked to a drawer, he opened it and took out an old shirt, throwing it over to Rose.

"You should change out of those wet clothes. There's a laundry room downstairs if you wanna throw your stuff in the drier."

She caught the shirt and nodded. "Yeah, there's no way in Hell I'm leaving you alone tonight. Not with Psycho Bitch on the prowl."

He smiled. "Wanna order a pizza?"

"You paying?"

After that, the two talked about why Rose left the Titans, and why she felt she didn't really fit there. They talked about Eddie, and how Rose had asked him to leave with her. That was a little painful.

Rose asked how things with Barbara were going (they were supposed to get married, after all.) However, the answer was nowhere. Apparently Dick was having a hard time functioning in the relationship, specifically because Barbara was always so micro-focused on everything he did. From what she understood, that was nothing new. Barbara had a reputation for being a little unforgiving, especially when it came to Dick. And Rose could totally understand why he didn't feel comfortable opening up to her about what he'd been through. He wanted her to see him as strong and competent. He'd probably feared she'd think he were exaggerating, or scold him for being too trusting with Catalina in the first place. And though his fears weren't necessarily warranted, she understood why he felt that way. Nobody wants the love of their life to see them as damaged.

He apparently tried his hand at a few other relationships, but nothing really seemed to fit. Everything just seemed uncomfortable, and in some cases, much like with Barb, they just didn't have the patience for his newfound affliction. It's like everything just felt so disconnected.

His concept of touch was altered, and not the violent sort, the intimate kind. Little gestures made his stomach sink, especially if he wasn't expecting them. There were times when a woman he was deathly attracted to would lean in, and he'd pull away without a second thought. It had just become instinct. Even something as simple and comforting as a hug had become a perversion of itself. He hated how things of such simple kindness now held such rue and disdain. Things that once breathed of love and strength were now among the things he feared most. It was like the ties to his humanity were cut clean from his bones.

Dick looked at the time to find the hour was far beyond late, and he was beginning to feel it as well.

"I think I'm gonna turn in," he said. "You can take the bed."

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm good with the couch. Unless, you wanna share the bed with me," she said with a sly grin.

"No offense," Dick said, and smiled, "but I'd rather take the couch. Nice try, though."

"What can I say, I'm not a quitter."

"And I admire that, but you're off-limits."

She smirked at him, as if his comment gave her some vague validation. "Yeah, but if you change your mind, the offer's still on the table," she added mischievously. "But for real, I'll take the couch. You're much taller than me, it's not really fair to make you sleep on it."

"You're not making me, I'm offering."

"And much like my offer, I'm not taking yours."

"Okay, then," Dick said, picking up a pillow. "Oh, and Rose…"

She turned and looked over at him questionably.

"If you pull that shit you pulled on Tim, I'm gonna kick your ass."

He threw the pillow at her and she smiled, actually looking a little embarrassed.

"Um, I plead the fifth," she replied, catching it. "But, I will say that I was absolutely shit-canned that night and my crowning achievement of the evening was that I didn't die."

"Sounds like you made some fucking mistakes."

"Oh, you know it."

"Night, Rose," he said, crawling into bed.

"Night, Deathwing."

He rolled his eyes. "I hate that name."

"I know."

He didn't get much sleep that night. For even in the still silence, his brain would not shut off. His body desperately ached to shut itself off, but this primal force would not allow it. He lay in bed, just staring at the ceiling, shuffling through the thoughts and fears. Counting the losses, wondering if there was anything gained through any of it, but he just couldn't seem to find anything.

Rose was fast asleep, curled up in a ball on the couch. He took a deep breath, both out of loss and boredom.

He couldn't help but wonder where she was then, where'd she'd been. If she'd been there this entire time, and he just hadn't seen her until now. What did that say if she had?

He finally found the word that he'd been searching for. The word that best described the vile taste in his mouth. The one that brought validation to the feeling he'd been struck with when he'd noticed her dressed all in black.

"Violated," he whispered into the darkness. That's how he felt—how he'd felt ever since the moment she'd touched him. Everything she'd done after that, and even before, was a violation of his life, his morality, his body and above all—his sanity.

He wondered if she'd even seen it that way. If there was one thing wrong with Catalina, it was her moral compass, but he couldn't see that as an excuse any longer. He couldn't accept that she just didn't know any better. If anything, that made it worse.

When the morning finally came, Dick had managed to snag a few meager hours of sleep, but it was better than nothing. He got up, showered, and made some coffee, the smell rousing Rose from what he could only describe as a near coma.

Lucky little bitch.

She stretched out on the couch like a lazy house cat who wanted her belly rubbed, but she wasn't so lucky.

"It lives," Dick said, bringing her a cup of much-needed coffee.

She smiled tiredly, sleep fresh in her eye. "Yeah, there were a few hours there where my soul was like, I should probably go …"

"Well, then consider this coffee the rejection notice to your DNR."

She took the mug and thanked him, taking a generous sip.

"So where you off to from here?" he asked, heading back behind the counter.

She shrugged. "Not sure yet. I'll probably just wander around until something sticks."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll revise the game plan," she replied flatly. "Or maybe retire to Florida and die."

"You're kinda young for that," he laughed.

"When has age ever stopped me?"

He raised a brow. "Good point."

"What about you?" she asked. "What's next for Nightwing? "

"Breakfast." He took a carton of eggs from the fridge and a package of bacon. "You like bacon, right?"

"Uh, yeah," she replied, stretching again. "Anyone who doesn't can't be trusted."

"That's what I like to hear. Eggs scrambled?"

"Sure," she laughed, rising from the couch and leaning against the counter.

He noticed the shit eating grin on her face, he had to ask. "What's so funny?"

"Um, I'm wearing your T-shirt and you're making me breakfast, and the best part is, I didn't even have to blow you."

God, she has no filter, he thought. If that was her way of flirting, then at least one would always know where they stood with her.

"Well, I hate to ruin your little school girl fantasy, but would you mind beating the eggs?" he said, handing her a bowl and a whisk.

She smirked and opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off at the pass. "And do not say what I know you're about to say."

"Oh you're no fun—I'm only kidding."

He laughed. "Rose, we both know you're not kidding."

She smiled coyly. "Guilty, but what do you want from me? At least I'm fun—unlike Kara. Now that girl's got a serious problem. You should see her Pinterest page. It's fucking creepy, and so is Cassie's…"

"I don't even understand what Pinterest is."

"Keep it that way, I wish I had. Girls get uber creepy on Pinterest." Rose paused a moment. "Speaking of creepy. I can only imagine what Cuntberry's Pinterest page looks like."

"Now I'm really happy I don't know what Pinterest is."

They went on to make breakfast and eat, continuing their banter, going on about old teammates and who was where. Dick offered to clean up while Rose took a shower, not that she needed an excuse to skip out on the cleanup. When she was done, she got dressed and ready to head out.

"You need anything," he asked, walking her out of the building, "like money or—"

"Thanks," she said, cutting him off, "but I'm good. Plus with a face like this, free alcohol won't be in short supply."

"I meant like... for food and a place to stay." He scowled playfully.

"I'm fine, my mom left me some money. So I'll be good until I figure out what the hell I'm doing."

"Well, I think you should go back to school."

"I have my GED, that's fine."

"A degree would better," he replied, pushing the door open. "You're a smart girl, it would be a shame to waste that."

"That coming from the boy who dropped out of Hudson University ... and became a cop."

"Hey, I got great benefits with that job."

"Yeah, 'cause being a trust fund brat doesn't pay, right?"

He pushed her playfully, and she punched his arm. "Ah," he whimpered, forgetting how strong she was. "So violent."

"Like you can't take it," she said, stepping out on the sidewalk. "So I guess this is me…"

He shrugged looking back at her and stepped out the door. "So where you staying?"

"Shitty motel, other side of town."

"Sounds swanky."

"It's kinda charming… if you like crime scene tape, the smell of burnt cigarette ash and a gratuitous amount of prostitution."

"Sounds a lot like your childhood."

She burst out laughing as if she didn't laugh she'd cry. "Sadly true. Lord only knows the damage I've suffered at the hands of my parents."

He smiled, reaching into his pocket, and took something out. "Here," he said, holding a pre-pay phone. "My number's already programmed in it. If you need anything, let me know."

She smiled gratefully and took the device. "Does that also include—" she began mischievously, until Dick stopped her.

"3am booty calls—no."

"Damn," she sighed. "Worth a shot though. And thank you… for putting up with me and my nonsense."

"Well, your nonsense actually helped me get through a pretty tough night so… thank you."

"Well, if you need anything, I'll probably be around later."

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiled.

She began to turn, but stopped and turned back to him. "Y'know how you're always telling me to not be so hard on myself and that I shouldn't be dwelling on the past because I can't change it and all that shit?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, vaguely."

"You should do the same," she replied. "You can't change what happened, but you can be stronger for it."

He looked at her a moment. She may not have been without her faults, but she really did possess a heart of gold. And he couldn't have been prouder of her.

He pulled her into a hug, slightly taking the girl by surprise, but she quickly relaxed into it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "It's nice to know I did something right."

She smiled against his shoulder. "You saw the good in me when I couldn't, I thought you deserved the same," she said, then finally pulled away. "Well this has officially gotten far too sappy for my liking. I'm off like a prom dress, Grayson."

"Bye, Rose!" He waved. "And be good!"

A smug expression fixed on her face. "I can make no such promise," she droned, "but for you, I'll try…"

He watched her leave, hoping she too, would find her place in the world. It would be a shame if she didn't. When she was gone, he turned to go back upstairs when a thought crossed his mind. A thought that raised the hair on the back of his neck. He looked around, it was like he could feel her , like he knew she was there, but he just couldn't see her.

I'm just being paranoid, he thought. I need to stop thinking about this.

He grudgingly shook off the feeling and headed back into his building. When he reached his apartment, he dug into his pocket, and his heart dropped.

"Damn it," he hissed, realizing he'd misplaced his key.

It wasn't really that big of a deal, he was more than capable of breaking into his own apartment. He just didn't really feel like doing it. He looked around, and noticed an old bobby pin lying on the floor, not far from where he stood.

"Perfect."

He picked up the pin and bent it back, he'd have the lock picked in no time. He placed his hand on the knob and inserted the pin, but before he could go to work on the lock, he realized the door was unlocked.

He froze. "No, it can't be…"

He turned the knob with an unsteady hand and slowly pushed the door open. He peeked his head in, looking around to see if anyone was there. He finally found the nerve to step inside. Part of him actually contemplating calling Rose and asking her to come back.

Fucking man up, Grayson , he thought, silently scolding himself, especially since a year prior this would have been nothing to him.

He looked around, nothing seemed to have been touched or out of place, everything was just the way he'd left it… except for one thing.

His eyes fell on his pillow; there was something lying there, something that just didn't belong. He approached his bed, slowly, readying himself for anything that came his way in that moment. Deep down, he hoped he was just over-exaggerating, that maybe Rose had left it there for him. But any hope of that was dashed when he peered down at the envelope and saw her handwriting, scratched across the white paper in red.

Mi Amor, it read as he picked it up, a vile mix of anger, fear, disgust and bitterness pressing into his flesh as he held it.

She was here…

His knees buckled and he collapsed, too overcome by the thought that she'd been in his home. That she could, and did, actually take that security away from him. How could she? Did she actually think this tactic was romantic? Or was this simply just a power play? How long had she been waiting for him to leave? She had to have been watching him.

He felt sick and threw the letter down, scrambling for the waste basket, his body violently purging the contents of his stomach. He dry heaved a few times, his breath tight, his heart pounding in his throat. His face was hot, everything was hot.

He tried to focus, and pull himself out his current state of duress. "Think of something else…"

But he couldn't. And the truth was, that was what she wanted. She didn't want any other thought to cross his mind, she wanted that space for herself. She wanted to consume him.

He sat there a while, forgetting about time, his mind just completely racing until it finally grew numb. Everything went numb.

He resented it—feeling like a victim, but he was one, and he hated her for it. He hated how weak he'd become and how easily he crumbled at the mere thought of her. He hated that she'd infiltrated him and festered in his mind. That she was the source of such rotten memories, each one decaying as he slept, the infection spreading through his consciousness and destroying his sanity cell by cell.

He looked down at his hands, flashing back to an image that had burned itself in his mind, one that made him recoil. He could see her face through the billowing shadows and the silver flecks of rain, her eyes cast down on him. Through the still frames, his quaking hand reached up to stop her, but failed to do so, his objection falling on not a deaf ear, but an ignorant one. He felt empty, like he'd died, his heart ceasing to beat, but somehow, left watching from his empty shell. Like a cage with a dead bird inside.

Now, in that very hand, he held the letter, nearly forgetting it was there. He didn't want to open it, he didn't care what she had to say, or how she felt, or how fucking crazy she was. None of that mattered, she'd already taken too much. She could kill him for all he cared, at least then it would be over.

He pulled himself together and tore the envelope open. He took out the piece of fine paper, a faint scent hitting him like a ghost he was far too familiar with. It was her perfume, an odious blend of mahogany and teakwood. It was slightly musky and wreaked of her cruel brand of femininity. The smell was enough to force his flesh to crawl, his hand aching as his eyes flashed with the loathsome image of her shadow in the rain.

He took a heavy breath and unfolded the note, the same red ink staining the purity of the pale page, his stony blue eyes growing grey as the storm rolled in.

To my dearest Amor, Mi Tesoro,

(And if that wasn't enough to induce vomiting...)

It's been far too long, I know. My time away from you has been nothing but agonizing. I tried—I really did—to stay away like you asked of me, but… I just couldn't. And to be honest, if I could find a way to tie you to me so that you'd never leave me again—I would. No one could ever love you the way I do, or as much as I do, Mi Amor.

As for the last time we saw each other, I forgive you. I know you were in a dark place then, and I'm hoping you'll let me help to ease that pain. I would die for you, I hope you know that.

I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I cannot stand the thought of you rejecting me in person—not again. I want to start over with you, I want things to be different between us. Please meet me tonight at the bar. After seeing you last night, I can't wait any longer. I don't know what I'll do if you don't show… Please just give me this one thing.

If for whatever reason you decide not to show, just know I love you with my dying breath, and know I always will…

Todo Mi Amor, Catalina

Her words read like sugar laced with cyanide, delusional and so far removed from the suffering she'd caused. Like she'd come back to rip what was left from his half-empty chest. The letter still hung in his hands, the red ink somehow disturbing to him. Granted, the whole gesture was disturbing to him. She'd violated his privacy, his home, his body, and written down every word of it as though it were love. And maybe it was-the deadly kind .

He looked again at that last line, those deathly sweet words bring him back to one moment.

It's never gonna stop…

And, indeed, it was never going to stop.

He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, trapped in grief. He just didn't know what to do. He tried running off, he tried sending her away. He'd literally had her locked up and thrown away the key, and still, she somehow managed to slither her way out of that. What could he do now?

He finally removed himself from the floor and made sure every window and door was locked up tight. He immediately ripped off all his clothes and took another shower in a feverish, angry fashion, the water so hot it nearly blistered his skin, and remained that way until it finally ran numbingly cold. But he still felt dirty.

He got out of the shower and looked at his worn face in the mirror. He felt as though he'd aged about a thousand years, yet he was trapped in the body of a twenty-something year-old man. A shell of who he used to be. That foul taste still sour in his mouth, mixing with the sick taste of bile. If only she were like old gum to him, momentarily sweet, but tasteless, something he could spit out and forget. He did his best to brush away the putrid flavor, but like so many nights he'd endured, he just couldn't rid himself of her aftertaste.

He didn't bother getting dressed, he just crawled into bed and lay there, wishing he could sleep, but such a mercy was not granted to him. As the hours passed, he thought about the yesterdays: The long sleepless nights, the following days after Blockbuster's death and what came of it. Each frame passed by him like a fog, like ghosts without names, aimlessly moving through him. Their cold hands removing pieces of him and burying them beneath wilting flowers where they'd lie forgotten, rotting away into nothing.

After a few hours of silently wasting away, he looked at the time. It was a little after 5pm. He was hungry, but he didn't really care, mostly because it didn't matter what he ate, he'd still taste her.

His phone rang, startling him. He missed the days when he wasn't so jumpy. Now if someone so much as touched him, his skin would crawl. He didn't want to bother getting it, but knew if he didn't, it might raise some concerns on the other end. He just hoped it wasn't anything important. Or better yet, he hoped it wasn't her.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he heard Rose say, "whatcha up to?"

Lying in bed contemplating killing myself. "Nothing, thinking about making dinner. You?"

"Eating dinner, and binge-watching Dexter. "

"That sounds… like a weird combo…"

"Yeah, this show makes me hungry, as do most things, really."

Dick shook his head. She really did take after her uncle Wade.

"So did you just call to tell me about how watching a serial killer dismember other serial killers makes you wanna polish off a second plate of ribs, or did you actually need something?"

She giggled a moment, but then got back to the matter at hand. "No, I was calling to see how you were. Y'know, that whole song and dance…"

He smiled vaguely, but felt guilty. He didn't want to lie to her, but that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I'm fine, Rose. You don't need to worry about me," You have enough to worry about…

"You sound a little…" She paused, trying to find a delicate way to put it. "Y'know, like you're thinking of going down the street instead of across it." Well… delicate for her.

He sighed. "It's not like that."

It kind of was.

"Anything I missed?"

He looked down at the letter. "Nope, just still a little shaken from last night, that's all."

"Y'know, if you want me to, I can come over…"

Part of him really wanted the company, but the other part of him didn't want to drag her in any deeper than she was. "I'm fine, Rose. I'm still trying to figure shit out."

"I know," she replied. "I just know how hard it is when the very thing that emptied you is out there and you know it."

She may have been young, but she knew a lot about betrayal, abuse, and heartbreak. Though in Dick's case, heartbreak wasn't at all the right term. It was more like having his heart cut out.

"Do you think if I confronted her," Dick asked cautiously, "it would be a bad idea?"

There was a pause from Rose's end, and he could hear her breath hitch slightly. "No," she finally began, "I think if that's what you need to do, then you should do it." There was conviction in her voice. She understood all too well. "But Dick…"

"Yeah."

"If you do, just know that it will probably end badly. You never really know what you're capable of when someone who's hurt you that deeply is standing right there in front of you… You might not even know what she's capable of."

She wasn't wrong. Dick could think of one particular moment where he'd come dangerously close to bludgeoning Catalina to death. His outburst frightened him. He'd never before been that angry or volatile, and the fact was, in that moment, he wanted kill her.

Maybe I shouldn't go…

"But I understand that maybe you need to face her, let her see what she did to you. Let her know what will happen if she ever tries to do that to you again…"

He took a deep breath, he'd never really gotten the closure he needed. He was too wrapped up in everything else. Not to mention, part of him was still in denial, trying forget it ever happened. But it didn't matter how many times he told himself it was a simple "misunderstanding," or how many times he tried to chalk it up to guilt, it still happened, and it happened to him.

"So what do you have on the agenda tonight?"

He could hear Rose click her tongue, and she replied, "I was gonna polish off a third plate of ribs," she joked, "but if you have a suggestion, I might be down…"

"I was thinking of getting a drink… "

A few more hours had passed. Dick had gotten dressed and finally left his apartment, which took more effort than he liked to admit. However, it helped to know that he wasn't going into this situation blindly or alone.

The rain from the night before had dissipated, the air cool as the wind blew over his shoulder. The street was unusually quiet for once. It was peaceful, but unnerving, much like the past year. Hopefully that meant something—something good.

Each step took a little more persuasion than the last, each muscle recalling the touch of her cold hands, the stink of the rain and emptiness that followed all of it. The only thing that drove him was the notion that this might lead to the end. That whatever followed tonight was for the better. He just hoped, silently prayed it was true.

He finally approached the bar, and that uncomfortable feeling grew tighter in chest. It reminded him of how he felt after he'd lost his parents. The loss and uncertainty colliding together like the harsh winds and rains of a hurricane, leaving a lifetime of devastation in its wake.

He paused when he got to the door. Part of him wanted to turn away and just forget about the whole thing. However, he wasn't sure what would happen in the fallout if he did. He took another deep breath, and pulled the door open. The bar wasn't overly crowded, unlike the night before. The table by the window was open, and he sat himself down like he'd never left. He looked around, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings. Rose was already sitting in the back corner, polishing off what looked like a Mai Ti, the poor guy next to her probably striking out. She glanced over at Dick with a sly grin, and bit into the cherry left in the boozy remnants of her drink.

Yeah, the poor bastard's not getting very far with her.

Dick looked around. Catalina was nowhere to be found, and part of him hoped it would stay that way. But he knew he wouldn't be so lucky, she'd show eventually, and if she didn't, he didn't even want know what would happen then.

A period of ten, then twenty minutes went by. Rose was already finishing her second drink and chewing through her second guy, while Dick hadn't even taken a sip of his beer. He heard the door open and he looked up, a cold wash of fear running straight through his veins. She looked over at him and smiled, disturbingly, as if nothing were amiss. Like she couldn't even see that he was practically crawling out of his skin.

She went straight to the bar, happily flirting with the bartender who remembered her. He fixed her a glass of red wine and poured a few fingers of whisky. The whole time Dick glared at her, noticing her lip color was the same, her frame now covered in a form fitted black coat. He heard his phone vibrate, and quickly checked it.

Rose: Something tells me Tits has your whole funeral planned out on Pinterest.

He shook his head and replied: Seriously, she looks like she's dressed for the occasion too!

"What's so funny?" he heard, and looked up. There she was.

She set down her wine and pulled out her chair, placing the whisky in front of Dick.

"I thought you could use this," she said, pulling off her coat and sitting down.

"I think I'm good," Dick replied, pushing it away. "I remember the last time I accepted a drink from you."

She was still wearing black, this dress being a little different from the last, but cut just as low and shamefully short. Once again, she looked like some rich trophy wife burying the husband she killed.

"So you do blame me for that ?"

"You got me shit-faced and tried to make me marry you," Dick scowled, "how is that not your fault?"

Catalina smiled as if nothing were wrong. "I didn't come here to argue, Mi Amor, I—"

"DON'T, call me that ," Dick snapped angrily.

She glared at him, nearly speechless. "I've always called you that—"

"Well, I don't want you to," Dick growled. "I never did."

"Like I said," Catalina continued cautiously, "I didn't come here to argue, I came here to talk."

"You have five minutes and that's all you're getting from me."

She lifted her wine and fraughtly sipped it. "So I see you're still upset with me."

"You could call it that, yeah."

"I thought giving you time would help, I guess I was wrong." She peered down at the drink she'd bought him, still untouched. "You're really not gonna drink that?"

"No," Dick replied coldly, "I don't want anything from you."

She looked back at him, insulted. "I didn't know what I was doing then, okay? I was just as lost as you were."

"Really, because it felt like you were leading the way. Leading me right off a damn cliff."

"Because you let me," she asserted. "You did the moment you got out of my way."

His stare hardened, and for a moment, he almost saw red. "You bitch," he hissed. "You still want me to believe that it was my fault . You still want me to feel guilty for what you did."

"I did what needed to be done." She lifted her glass again. "I did what you couldn't."

"Because it was wrong. "

"Sometimes a little wrong can serve a great right." She smiled at him, like she didn't feel anything. "I know you have a hard time seeing that, it's why I did what I did. So you didn't have to."

"So what, you want me to thank you?" Dick asked bitterly. "That's what you want, isn't it? Because if I thank you, then I own it, right?"

"No," she replied with a chill, and placed her glass on the table. "I wanna know it was worth it."

"I've given you enough, I'm not giving you that too."

"You really believe that?" she asked, wounded. "You haven't given me nearly what I've given you."

Dick laughed patronizingly. "You're a liar. The only thing you have ever done is take, Catalina. And I don't know what else you want from me, but I have nothing left for you to take."

Her face softened, but he wasn't sure why. "I don't know what you mean… but heartbreak can bring out the ugliness in all of us."

He thought he was going to lose it.

"Heartbreak?" he questioned. "Fucking heartbreak!"

"Keep your voice down, people can hear yo—"

"No, Cat," he declared, leering at her, "you didn't break my heart, you ATE it. That way I could never get it back!"

She grimaced. "I don't understand where this is coming from, Mi Amor. I would never intentionally hurt you like tha—"

His hand fell on the table with a slamming percussion. "Then why did you fucking rape me, Cat?" Dick hissed, so that only Catalina could hear him.

Her brow creased as she leaned in. "What the hell…" She was speechless, a little taken back. "What are you even talking about? I would never do such a thing to you..."

"The rooftop, Cat! What, you don't remember? Was me telling you not to touch me just a minor inconvenient detail to you?"

"We went over this," she reasoned, hushed, "you were in shock, you didn't know what you were saying—"

"Then why the hell would you think it'd be a good idea to fuck me then?"

"There is no need to be vulgar. I—"

"Vulgar," Dick laughed. "I'm sorry my choice of words is making you uncomfortable—I mean you raped me, so I guess I owe you some sense of decency, right?"

"Stop saying that—it didn't happen like that."

"Yes, it did," he insisted. "You fucking raped me and you do it every time you sit there and act as if you're entitled to a part of me—to a part of my life . Or when you act like it's me—like I'm the one with the problem!"

"Because all I've ever done is love you and you've given me nothing!" she spat, her face beaming red.

"So you fucking took it, you bitch," he seethed, his voice poisonous.

"You never appreciated anything I did for you," she hissed. "I almost spent my entire life behind bars for you!"

"For what you did, in my name," Dick corrected. "How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?"

"Loved," she replied with a warning, like it was some end all-be all. "I did it because I love you, because I saw how much you needed me, how much you needed me to do that for you . And you let me. Tell me that isn't love ."

He was honestly frightened. He could see that deep in her eyes she believed what she was saying. That she thought by killing Blockbuster, it would make him love her, but it didn't. It only pushed him away, and she couldn't let go of that.

"You need help."

"I need you," she countered. "I love you more than anything, and I can't live without you ."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Dick asked. "Because I'm not falling for it, not this time."

"So what? Blockbuster's death is a stain on your conscience, but my life, what—not so much?"

Dick looked away from her, he knew she would probably play this card. The truth was, he would care if she did something to hurt herself, especially to spite him—it terrified him, in fact. But if he played into it, she'd win, and he'd never be free of her.

"No, of course I'd care, but if you really loved me, you wouldn't leave me with that guilt. That would destroy me, and you know that. How is that love?"

He could see her blood practically boiling. He had her cornered logically, she wasn't getting out of this one.

Lucky for her, she didn't have to. The bartender approached them, standing behind Cat and looking at Dick as if he were the bad guy.

"If there's a problem here, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," he said, obviously addressing Dick.

He looked over to the man, he was just doing what he thought was right, rescuing the damsel. Dick would have done the same if he didn't know any better. But still, it made him sick that everyone would assume she was the victim—that she actually thought and acted like the victim.

Dick pushed out his chair when Catalina turned and raised her hand.

"There's no problem here," she said calmly, "this is just a simple misunderstanding ."

She looked over at Dick, she wanted him to agree. Only he wasn't interested in doing what she wanted—not anymore.

"It's okay," he said, letting his eyes drift down to Catalina, "I was getting ready to leave, anyway."

The Bartender looked over at Dick as though he were one lucky son of a bitch, and smiled at the Catalina. "Well if you need anything, just let me know."

Yeah, wait till she bites your apple, hero, Dick thought a little bitterly as the man walked back over to the bar, his eyes still trained on Dick like a hawk.

Dick began to rise from the table, but the black widow protested. "We're not done here."

Dick looked back at her warningly. "I am."

She sneered from across the table and stood up as if to block his exit.

"Well I'm not."

Dick looked back at her, a little intimidated, not so much for the fact that she was standing in his way, but for the fact that if he even touched her he'd probably get his ass thrown in jail, and she knew that.

He peered over her shoulder to see Rose stand up, ready to kick "Tits" into next Tuesday if need be. Dick looked back at her, visually telling her to stand down. He couldn't allow her to take the fall for him—as much as she wanted to.

Catalina noticed his line of sight and looked behind her, a thick scowl casting over any beauty left on her face. She trained her sight back on Dick, the scowl taking on a mocking expression.

"What? Not man enough to face me without your little pet ? Nice, Dick."

Like she had any right to talk about pride or strength. She didn't know the first thing about being strong or brave. He needed to let her know that.

"You're the one who's jealous of a 17-year-old girl, but if you really must know, she replaced you, and she's ten times the hero you could ever dream of being, Catalina. You'll never be anything to anyone."

Out of anything he said, that seemed to hit her the hardest, but he wasn't sure why. Was it because he'd replaced her, or was it because he valued the replacement more than her? Or was it because he took away her validation as a hero?

She looked down bitterly, and made a fist. "Fine," she growled, "if that's how you feel, fine! But this isn't over…"

He didn't like the way she said that, but regardless, he let her continue.

"…Not by a long shot," she continued harshly. "So when you're done playing with little girls , I'll be waiting."

She leaned in as if she were going to kiss him, his lips hardened and cold, but she only smiled mockingly, hoping whatever stains she'd left on his soul would fester one last time. She placed her fist in his hand, her smirk deepening, feeling him writhe at the contact, but he still held his ground. He felt a small piece of paper fall into his palm and she closed his fist around it, holding her hands around his. He knew she was aware that he could do nothing, that's why she was doing it. He leered at her with a burning hatred, but that was all he could do. For now.

"Until then, Mi Amor."

He watched her walk out the door, the bartender still glaring at him. He wanted him out, and Dick was happy to oblige.

Rose finally moved from her corner, trying to mask the fact she was nervous for him, but covered it smugly.

"Ready to go?" she asked, and he nodded.

Within moments, the two were nearly out the door, but not before one last outburst.

"Wait," the frat boy who'd bought Rose a few drinks said, "you're going home with him? He didn't even buy you a drink!"

Rose looked back at the guy like he were wearing a helmet or something. "Yeah, last time I checked, buying a girl a few drinks was about as binding as a pinky swear. Stop acting like you bought me a lobster."

Dick shrugged at the guy, as did the bartender. Yeah, it sucked, but hey, home girl owed him nothing.

"Ready to go, Rose?"

"Like a prom dress."

And with a roll of the bartender's eye, they left.

They walked outside, the wind blowing a little harsher now. The sky above was clear, the stars managing to shine over the cityscape despite its dull radiance lifting into the air.

Dick admittedly felt a little freer, like some of the weight he'd been shouldering was alleviated, the space in his chest aching less. He'd said everything he needed to say to her, even if she wouldn't own up to any of it. He wasn't stupid, he knew she'd never acknowledge her wrongdoings, but it would have helped if she had. He may have even held some hope for her, but he knew now he should have never placed such a fragile thing in her hands to begin with.

"So was it worth it?" Rose finally asked, uncertainty bleeding from her eye.

Dick took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm not fixed, but I'm better. And that's a good start."

Rose smiled weakly at him, she knew what it was like to feel that way. Just always short of whole.

"Yeah, it gets better with time."

Dick shuddered at the thought. Time was something that had become unbearable to him, to think it could actually help mend his wounds, seemed a little deceptive.

"I hope you're right." He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder blade, guiding her down the street. "Thanks again. I don't know if I could have faced her without someone I trusted to back me up."

Rose smiled coyly. "You trust me?"

"Yeah," Dick said, and looked at her oddly. "I wouldn't have pushed for you to be a Titan if I didn't. What makes you think I don't?"

Her eyes fell on the ground. "Cause no one really does. Eddie did, but he's gone now. You just never really said it, so… I don't know—I guess I wouldn't have blamed you if you didn't…"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Trust is something that you shouldn't have to say out loud, Rose, it's just something you feel. I trust you because at the end of the day you wear your heart on your sleeve and you don't bullshit anyone. I know you think you're not a good person, but you are, and deep down, you just want people to see that. You're a hero because you want to be a better person, and when you help people, you do it because it's right, not because you're looking for a favor, or to be favored."

"That's because you haven't received my bill yet, Grayson. You've racked up quite the tab, too," she joked, trying to get the focus off of her. "I'm kidding, by the way."

"I know. Humor is how you deal with crazy shit, it's that or anger. I'm glad you're turning to the former."

"I learned that from you," she said softly. "I saw how much you were hurting, yet you still found a way to make light of everything. I thought I'd give it a try."

"I'm glad you did."

They reached her Harley and she turned to her mentor with a sentimental half-smile. "Well, it's been real, but like every great adventure, my time here has come to an end."

"Yeah, I'm really gonna miss you. I'm shocked you haven't made a sexual innuendo all night."

"Well, it didn't seem appropriate given the circumstances, but, I found out the age of consent is 16 in the state of New Jersey… So y'know, if you wanna make out with me before I ride off into the horizon, I'd be cool with that."

Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm aware what the legal age of consent is, and no, no offense."

"You and your morality, Grayson," she said, picking up her helmet. "Maybe I'll have more luck with your brother."

"My brother?"

"You know, the guy with the red helmet, what's his name?"

"Oh… Jason," Dick said, less than enthused, "he comes with a lot of baggage."

"And you don't?"

"Touché."

"Well, I'm gonna head off now," Rose laughed. "No more psycho stalkers, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he said with a smile. "No more letting creepy guys buy you drinks."

"I let you buy me drinks."

He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "Please take care of yourself, Rose."

She looked up at him and nodded. "I will, I promise… Deathwing."

"Okay, now get the hell out of my city and stop calling me that."

As he watched her go, he realized he finally understood. Understood why Catalina, a self-centered, ego-driven narcissist wanted to be a hero. It had nothing to do with helping humanity, or even making one life better. She had no need for that, it was all about power. Everything she did, every move she made was self-serving or a display of dominance. Killing Blockbuster, that was simply her playing God, forcing herself on Dick; that was taking what she wanted, but couldn't have, and she'd just reminded him of that. She couldn't leave him until she'd had the last word, till she'd sunk her fangs in him one last time to poison him. She just had to take away his power. Well, not anymore. If she wanted to act like an insect, he'd just have to crush her like one.

She waited, a glass of wine in her hand. She took as sip and looked down at her phone, recollecting the call she'd received. She was a bit shaken when she heard his voice, her heart teetering on its tipping point. He told her he was too rash, that he let his anger get the better of him, but he was ready to talk now. Ready to hear what she had to say. That he couldn't wait. She'd smiled at that, she knew he'd come around, he always did.

Without a second thought, she gave him her address and invited him over, telling him she would make it all better and left him with that.

She took another sip, her anticipation pumping through her veins, the heat of the wine mingling with her blood. She'd been waiting an hour, though it felt like a decade, but that hour was nothing compared to the lifetime she'd spent waiting for him.

A knock rapped at the door, and her heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched and she placed her glass down on the table and went to the door, taking a moment to check her makeup and fix her dress. She composed herself, taking a moment to quell her near giddiness. She finally opened the door, doing her best to display her most convincing bedroom eyes and found him in their fabled stare.

"Mi Tesoro," she said, sickeningly sweet, "I knew you'd come."

He smiled at her subtly. "You gonna invite me in?"

"Oh, of course, Mi Amor," she said huskily, "you're always welcome."

She shifted out of his way and he stepped inside. He took a quick look around. Her apartment wasn't big, but none of them were in that neighborhood. He should know—it was his neighborhood, after all.

"So tell me, darling," she began, closing the door, the faint click of the lock following, "why the sudden change of heart?"

He looked over at her and shrugged nonchalantly. "You were right, I was just upset. I wasn't being fair to you… I'm sorry ."

She smiled, flashing a hint of victory. "I forgive you," she said, walking toward her prize. "Now why don't you let me heal you, Mi Amor." She placed her hands on his chest, a sinful look in her eye. "I promise, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you now."

He brought his hands to her face and smiled, cradling it as she closed her eyes, leaning in to seal her prey's fate. Only Dick had other plans.

His hand slid to the back of her neck and his face hardened to stone. His grip on her became cold and tight as he suddenly conjured an unnecessary amount of strength. Channeling every ounce of hatred, every violation, and every last bit of fear he held for her. He threw her, face first, into the high table beside them. She collided with the object with a violent force, the tempered glass surface cracking, and her wine glass shattering as it hit the the tile. She collapsed to the floor, blood pouring from her nose and into her mouth. She lifted her head, her body still in shock, as a rough hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her motionless body around to face him.

He knelt down, hovering over her with an infuriated look in his eyes. She tried to look away from him, but he gripped her jaw and forced her to stare in his direction. She was going to hear this, whether she wanted to or not.

"If you so much as cast a shadow in my fucking direction, I will finish this job," he growled in a low voice. "As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to me, Catalina—and I never wanna see your fucking face again! Got it?!"

She whimpered a little and nodded, but refused to cry in front of him, as though she could keep some sense of dignity if she didn't.

"Bitch," he huffed in her face, a faint spray of saliva hitting her cheek with a hateful breath.

He released her heartlessly and got up, storming out of her apartment as quickly as he'd struck her. She heard the door slam shut, cutting the last tie left between them. She flinched at the sound, like it hurt, and began to cry. She was finally afraid of him; she didn't have any power left to play. She had lost him, for good this time.

Dick threw on his hood, stepping out onto the street and into the cool night air. The wind had subsided and for the first time in a year, he felt his stomach calm. He didn't feel the need to look over his shoulder anymore. The bleeding in his chest had finally quelled.

He couldn't change what had happened to him, and he couldn't change what happened in the wake of it all. But he could change who he became as a result of it all. He knew he wouldn't be cured overnight, but he knew, in time, he'd be fine again. He could move on now. He could finally breach the surface and breathe—he could live. And for that, he could find enough strength to embrace the tomorrows and move out of the yesterdays.

The air somehow smelled sweeter—cleaner, even. Like the smoke had lifted, and the fires burned out, no longer hindering his senses. He could see beyond the rubble to a path beyond the ruins. He took a deep breath, taking the cold air in like it was the first time he'd ever done so.

Clarity, he thought, feeling the ground beneath his feet again, the world indeed still there. He wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't waiting for some unspeakable thing to pull him into its undertaking. No. For the first time in so long, he was free of her. Free from her hold and presence, and more importantly, free of her memory.

He couldn't taste her anymore.

[madefate-a]

the big headspace meta. | shiro & trauma psychopathology. 

> the big character meta. 

> quick & dirty key points guide. 

okay ! after the better part of a year, it’s here: the Big Meta on what, exactly*, is going on in shiro’s head. asterisk on exactly for a few reasons, the largest being that psychology is not so black and white as to have a simple plug and play causality chain. there are certainly touchstones in terms of diagnoses, and it can be incredibly helpful to have these guideposts in terms of understanding why and how changes in the body and mind occur, but the way those diagnoses present are different in every single person, and no one label ( or multiple labels ) is a definitive way to understand or categorize someone. with comorbidity at play, there are multiple axes at work in the human response to any trauma. and, well, it’s a show about space magic. so we need a little wiggle room.

and, of course, I am in no way a professional. this meta is merely meant to more fully flesh out some of the whys and whats of shiro’s mental state, behavior, and reactions to things. some of these I do try to weave into my portrayal, for the sake of healing and realism, while many others might be true but not a facet of what we see under most circumstances. I will attempt to source my information wherever I can, but please know that psychology is not my area of academia and don’t have access to scholarly / peer reviewed sources, nor necessarily the ability to understand denser medical material. I will be avoiding the DSM, though, because fuck the DSM. 

time for some trigger warnings. below the cut, there’s going to be discussion of the arena, which includes captivity / enslavement, death, injury, medical experimentation, memory loss, loss of agency / consent, and everything that goes along with that setting and time period. I don’t intend to be gratuitous, extremely vivid, nor darker or more brutal than what we can reasonably extrapolate from the s1 / s2 show, with a few things cherry picked from seasons 3 & 6. ( where we cultivated a better understanding of haggar’s abilities and motivations. sort of. ) there will also be discussion of trauma psychology, including PTSD and CPTSD, sensory deprivation / isolation ( as in: the void ), body dysphoria, disordered self images, and mourning. what there will not be is condoning of using mental illness as a way of othering or dehumanizing people, or otherwise proving some kind of inability / incapability. 

ultimately, my goal is to simply better understand shiro -- not to create and in and out box of if this, then that, but simply to understand how circumstance and trauma inform behavior, and then how to use this knowledge for a character arc full of Healing and the reclamation of agency. 

so, here we go !! 

PTSD & CPTSD: a brief overview

the easiest place to start is the most salient: PTSD. it is not necessarily textual to the show canon* ( *which, of course, I always take very lightly ) as in, it is not said out loud. however, it is clearly portrayed in the visual narrative with some of the more recognizable symptoms: flashbacks, freezing ( ep o2 ) and frightening thoughts ( ep o9 ). tellingly, without the ability to avoid reminders of traumatic sites, these symptoms are often triggered under those conditions ( galra battleships, fights that mimic arena experiences ). 

newer then PTSD in the field of trauma psychology ( originating in 1992 ) is the idea of Complex PTSD, or CPTSD. CPTSD is a way to explore the changes that occur in individuals in situations of captivity, prolonged trauma ( as opposed to single-event ), or otherwise loss of agency. at the current time, CPTSD is diagnosed with a cluster of symptoms, and is often associated with abuse in childhood. still, there are some symptoms within these clusters that affect shiro, both on their own and as they overlap with PTSD. 

which we’ll get into, right after we figure out where this all starts ! so -- 

the traumas. 

it starts with the galra. 

sort of. but we’ll touch briefly on that later. for all intents and purposes, shiro’s trauma is courtesy of the galra. thanks, sendak. I’ve done some work fleshing out the arena between HCs and writing, so you can check out some of that: 

the arena, pt 1.  

gotta lose that arm.  

the champion.  

nightmares after the resurrection.  

aftermath of that arm. 

the black lion. 

body basics. 

as a fighter, and a leader, you bring hope. 

the big character meta 

the shorter character meta 

but we do need to run down a few of the things that are relevant to symptom presentation. during shiro’s time there, he experienced both single and repeated instances of trauma, and while they both contributed to the overall environment of that year, it’s important to understand that while some things were chronic, others were not. 

single-instance experiences 

separation from the holts 

loss of his arm 

chronic / repeated experiences 

loss of freedom of movement 

untreated injuries 

restraints 

physical / life threatening danger 

need for self protection 

forced performance ( both in the arena and as an act of self preservation around guards ) 

semi repeated experiences 

helplessness to touch ( haggar, most saliently ) 

interrogation ( initial, as well as a few sessions of haggar’s memory extraction ) 

killing ( many fights, but not all, end in victory or death ) 

nonconsensual anesthetization ( with the galra, and at the garrison upon his return ) 

medical experimentation & examination ( most of it for information gathering purposes ) 

conditioning to believe that he would become a weapon / attempts to sway him to the galra without brainwashing ( see fic linked above ) 

this is where the overlap between PTSD and CPTSD comes largely into play -- it would be impossible, and unnecessary, to try to draw direct lines between experiences and the consequences of those experiences. rather, it’s far better to look at how all of these contributed to a certain environment or mentality: 

everpresent danger / no one to trust 

loss of choice and agency 

conditioning to use power in a specific, and deadly, way 

we know that shiro did not lose himself entirely. from the flashbacks to his escape, we know that o1. ) shiro fought for his freedom until the very end, and was never swayed to compliance by haggar or any druid / galra, and o2. ) that he exhibited qualities that made him a symbol of hope. this cannot be accomplished if he behaved in accordance to haggar’s designs and lost himself to rage or following orders. this is important! because resistance and a desire to retain a sense of self and purpose are through lines that follow him long past the arena, and are what allowed him to keep as much clarity and focus as possible. this quality, in fact, is what allows him to hold any semblance of trust in others after he escapes -- trust that he gives to allura, keith, and the black lion. which brings us to the other major event that we need to consider -- 

let’s talk about death. briefly. 

here’s a perfect example of where the lines of mental health blur and overlap: some of the reactions he has are a result of the combination between putting his faith in the black lion and team voltron, and dying in the process. this is going to be a brief section -- mostly because there’s a more Descriptive and Creative and Prettily Worded fic coming dealing with the specifics of Life in V*ltron’s Void. but we do need to touch on the mental and physical trauma of losing his body and existing in the void and -- yes, yes it can spiral into a much larger, longer topic. I’ll try my best to compress! 

part one: the reckoning. 

there’s really no getting around how scarring it is to know that your body has been destroyed. that single instance, though, is processed much, much later than it occurs. that’s because in the void, he couldn’t physically react to the knowledge -- with no heart or nervous system, shiro could not properly process nor react to the loss of his body. it was more learned and known than felt, which in and of itself makes the process more difficult than it might be otherwise. ( might be -- we’ll never know for sure. ) the loss of his body will come into larger play down the line when he is dealing with issues of his body, as well as understanding and mourning kuron. 

part two: the physical. 

shiro spends the better part of the year with no physical body, and no sensations. none of this registers in the void, because that is the nature of the void, but as strange as time feels there, he absolutely feels this when he is brought back. this will get touched on in the latter half of the meta, but it’s important to know that everything is delayed, distorted, and simply not felt in the void. 

part three: the mental. 

as the forbidden season tells us, every moment in the void was a struggle to stay conscious. this fluctuated, depending on shiro’s mental strength, as well as what was happening around himself. he spent every conscious moment trying to reach any of the paladins -- keith or kuron particularly, as they were the ones piloting black and, thus, had a better chance of hearing or sensing him. his best opportunities for someone to hear him came when v*ltron was formed and all the paladins occupied the same physical and mental space. losing the connection he almost formed with lance informs much of shiro’s actions after he is restored. it was proof that his emotional isolation might have been the reason that he was unable to connect with the others, and spurs him to be more open down the road, lest the consequences turn deadly again. 

the smaller instances: fighting with haggar, his family, illness 

another important thing to note that there are other contributing factors at play. his fight with haggar after rescuing allura provides a visual motif that he cannot unsee: himself, irrevocably stained in the darkness of her magic, looking ruthless and deadly. it is a large contributing factor to the shape his self image issues take. 

also, let’s talk about the few things that began to shape his mental landscape before the galra: the loss of his parents at age 18 and the diagnosis of his illness at 19*. I go more in depth into the illness in the big character meta, so check it out if you like, and both of these are my own, personal headcanons since we received no ages on either from the Powers That Be. ( truth be told, I wasn’t expecting him to deal with so much shit -- I placed these timeline events when he was older to try to mitigate the angst. incredible. ) both of these contributed to being confronted with helplessness or loss of control over his life, as well as a heightened sense of responsibility that found an opportunity to fester when he began to blame himself for the holts’ capture, in any attempt to restore agency*. ( *but we’ll get to that. ) 

the symptoms. 

getting back to PTSD and CPTSD. 

oh yes, that good, good full circle-ness. so we’ve arrived back at the start, but knowing that all of this is less than a line of dominoes than it is a spiderweb, with different strands sometimes tugging the same things. let’s lay out the symptoms that shiro is dealing, all to different degrees and at different frequencies: 

PTSD 

Intrusive Memories, which include: 

Recurrent, unwanted distressing memories of the traumatic event

Reliving the traumatic event as if it were happening again (flashbacks)

Upsetting dreams or nightmares about the traumatic event

Severe emotional distress or physical reactions to something that reminds you of the traumatic event

Avoidance, which includes: 

Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event 

Negative Changes in Thinking and Mood, which includes: 

Negative thoughts about yourself 

Memory problems, including not remembering important aspects of the traumatic event 

Feeling detached from family and friends 

Changes in Physical and Emotional Reactions, which include: 

Always being on guard for danger

Trouble sleeping

Trouble concentrating

Irritability, angry outbursts or aggressive behavior

Overwhelming guilt or shame

Misc. / Specific 

Difficulty being physically vulnerable -- ie, without armor or unable to see where exits might be 

The trigger of being restrained / someone unexpectedly grabbing or holding his chin / face in place -- this is something haggar would do 

Symptom list courtesy of mayoclinic -- if you peruse, you’ll notice that he does not exhibit every symptom of PTSD. 

CPTSD 

CPTSD is less extensive than PTSD, and, in shiro’s case, secondary to PTSD, as many CPTSD symptoms are fostered in childhood, as the direct result of the violation of trust in guardians or authority figures. Shiro’s symptoms include clusters: 

alterations in attention or consciousness 

alterations in self-perception 

and specifics: 

Changes in emotional regulation, such as dysphoria, as well as changing expressions of anger ( inhibited, and explosive ) 

Episodes of depersonalization 

A sense of being different from all other human beings 

A sense of defilement or stigma ( irrevocably stained ) 

A belief that no one can understand ( “they don’t know what you know” ) 

A feeling of a non-human identity ( sometimes slips and thinks of himself as a robeast or weapon ) 

*** An inflated sense of responsibility. Shiro uses responsibility as a way to feel that he has some semblance of control over himself and the world around him. 

for this one, I did reference the wiki -- apologies, the more trustworthy sources are behind paywalls! 

Sensory Issues 

The sensory issues largely come from his time in the void. I break it down a little more thoroughly >> here << so if you want to, check that out. Essentially, he has phases after his restoration to a body, immediate issues and lasting ones. 

immediate issues ( the roadtrip home timeline ) 

a lack of energy, which manifests as inability to participate in longer conversations / conversations with more than one or two other people, frequent naps, and listlessness that comes with feeling heavy in a physical body 

attention issues, which manifest in difficulty holding long conversations 

overstimulation, which manifests in shiro being very physically sensitive to all senses: touch, sight / light, sound, smell, and taste. 

lack of appetite, which is mostly due to the fact that he has to get used to eating again. 

lasting issues 

intermittent tiredness -- he naps much less frequently the stronger he gets, but he never quite gets to where he used to be in that regard. 

openness -- shiro gets a lot more emotionally open with people; terrified by being stuck in a realm with no exit and how he failed to connect with any of the paladins, he is less likely to be closed off entirely the way he was previously 

a fear of being lost / not being heard -- both in waking hours and in sleep, shiro gains a persistent fear of no one knowing where he is, or otherwise not being heard or seen 

dysphoria -- shiro struggles greatly with being in kuron’s body 

his nightmares change after the void -- they become a combination of scattered memories from kuron, as well as nightmares of drowning or not being heard when he yells. he also wakes up from them differently; before the void, he used to wake silently. now he might physically roll out of bed, choke, or touch himself in some way ( press a hand to his chest, or splay his hand around his throat ) 

What Doesn’t Change 

everything, basically. 

yes !! I just wrote up an embarrassingly long meta on shiro’s trauma and how it affects him. but at the end of the day, shiro is still shiro. he loses none of his ambition, drive, humor, optimism, hopefulness, compassion, or sense of fun and adventure. he is not afraid of space, the front lines, or giving his all to keep the earth safe. no matter the severity of his symptoms on any given day, he is still a decisive leader, empathetic and supportive, and still holds seeing the world, and the universe, as his dream. 

none of what he has gone through or deals with now defines him. it merely explains some of his behaviors and gives him a tangible place to start on his journey to healing. 

[roxy1294]

So I’ve been waiting for the situation to calm down before posting any more thoughts about chapter 13. The fandom just blew up with it and I really didn’t care to get involved like that. Now that everyone is slowly going back to their two months long slumber before next chapter comes out, I figured it would be a better time to adress the situation and voice MY opinion. I’m putting this under “keep reading” since it’s going to be a long rant. You have been warned.

Let’s cut to the chase and talk about the “controversial” scene at the end of the chapter. Some people say the way Zero acted is abusive; some say it’s completely out of love and that Yuki asked for it (which reminds me about the arguments people make to justify rape - she was wearing a short skirt therefore she was asking for it; Yuuki said to drink her blood so she was asking to be brutalized). I’ve implied it before, but I’m going to say it again: I honestly don’t mind the scene too much and I don’t want to wholeheartedly side with one opinion or the other. What I see when I look at those panels it’s none and both of those things at the same time. What I mean with it is that I truly believe the way Zero reacted in this chapter was not born from the desire to harm Yuuki like an abuser would, but rather it was prompted from the desperation and frustration he feels about their stagnant relationship. The scene clearly shows that Zeki has some issue they need to sort out, that’s for sure. It’s been more than 50 years and they are still dealing with the same problems. Even now, when there’s nothing stopping them exept for Yuuki’s reluctance and Zero’s continued belief on seeing purebloods as cursed creatures, they are unable to really move forward. It was a very emotional moment for both of them and I really can’t see Yuuki being happy with how violent the situation turned out. She didn’t ask him not to be gentle. There was no need for Zero to act so violently. Despite that though, I also understand how he was feeling to finally be pushed to explode like that. That’s why in my opinion this is not an not entirely a good scene and it’s not enitirely a bad one either.  

Now, since it was brought up so many times during these past few days, a special mention should be made about how stupid I find the way people are trying to compare Kaname’s biting scene in chapter 61 to justify Zero’s reaction in this chapter, to keep the spotlight away from the problems Zeki have in their relationship. Yet again by trying to undermine Yume, I may add. It’s  like making one scene look bad should excuse the other one. It’s not like that and we should look at the scenes separetely while trying to understand the different situations in each one. Exactly like I don’t find this chapter’s scene too disturbing upon trying to understand the reasons behind the characters’ actions, I don’t find Kaname’s behaviour in chapter 61 abusive either. Comparing Yuuki’s expression between the two is not a valid point to me. It simply isn’t when we consider how it was a completely different scenario and a different point in Yuuki’s life.

In chapter 61 Yuuki was a newly formed vampire that was struggling to come to terms with not being human anymore. She felt guilty about being a pureblood and she was unable to use her fangs until just a few chapters earlier. She may have been a grown up vampire in looks and age, but for all intents and purposes, she was like a child; like Ai or Ruka were when they needed to be confined because of the transition from vampire child to vampire adult. That’s just a necessary step to grow up in Vampire Knight’s universe and Yuuki struggled more than other vampires did, because she had no chioce but to experience it later than most. Around those chapters we see how frustrated Yuuki was at being basically a powerless child compared to all the other vampires she interacted with. She wanted to be of help, but she simply wasn’t strong enough to do so just yet. That drove her crazy and  when she goes out on her mission with strong purpose and gets smacked in the face with the reality of things, all that frustration makes itself apparent. When she comes back home injured with the proof of her failings and Kaname tells her, and I quote, “the feeling of powerlessness makes one feel mortifyingly angry at themselves, doesn’t it?”, she glares at him, at the predicament she found herself into. She experiences distress at herself and at how powerless she is in accomplishing things on her own. Kaname in the meantime was feeling what most purebloods, including Yuuki in VKM, experience: the fear of losing someone. He specifically tells us so in that scene (“Yuuki, it’s actually because I’m so dreadfully afraid that one day you might throw yourself into a lost cause and sacrifice your life in the attempt…I don’t want to live that a second time”) . That’s what drove him to bite her twice despite her being injured, the reason Hino gave us to explain his behaviour. Then, much like Zero embraces Yuuki after biting her several times, Kaname offers her as much of his blood and comfort as she wants (and his memories/ all of himself on top of that.)

That’s why comparing the two scenes and trying to make Kaname in chapter 61 look like an abuser to excuse Zero’s behaviour in the latest Zeki scene doesn’t make sense to me. We don’t need to compare every moment in the manga or overanalyze each and every panel to make sense of the story. We don’t need to try to blame Kaname for everything wrong in the series either (the frail state of Zeki’s relationship included, as much as it baffles me). Get over it!

 You can say whatever you want if you just look for bad things hard enough instead of noticing what has been clearly explained. And what Hino has been telling us all along is that neither Kaname nor Zero are Saints. They are not supposed to be perfect and that’s alright. I like them both for it.

Kaname in his fear of losing Yuuki and wanting to protect her bit her in chapter 61 while she was injured; Zero in his desperation bit her more forcefully than necessary in VKM 13; Kaname to ensure humans had a fighting chance against the purebloods sacrificed himself leaving Yuuki alone to grieve; Zero in his hate towards purebloods poined a gun at her face and made her feel guilty for being born as one, giving her personality issues for centuries. Hino gave us the reasons for all these actions they both committed: she told us they both come from good intentions despite the fact that some of their actions may seem extreme to some of us. If you don’t like those reasons, then that’s your problem, but it doesn’t mean either of them is evil. Not when the evidence to the contrary is plain to see. You are not entitled to blame Kaname for every possible unrelated thing. You don’t need to compare chapter 61 to justify Zero’s reaction in VKM. I for one much prefer to look at those two situations separately; to realise that they may not have been entirely right in  behaving like they did, but that they had reasons I can understand for doing it. If I didn’t try to understand I would feel like I’m looking at the situation the way it suits me the most. No matter if I’m talking about chapter 13 or 61.     

Whenever someone brings up the abuse argument in VK I only see people trying to read too deep into the story and leaving out all the positives and reasoning that have being presented to us all along. Yuuki herself understands both of their characters, where they come from, their reasons, and still loves them both for everything they are. That’s why I still don’t understand how some people feel the need to say she was abused by Kaname. I don’t understand how it’s Kaname’s fault the situation in VKM turned out like that or how some people  can completely denounce Yume scenes, but excuse Zero’s behaviour in some moments of the series. Kaname and Zero are not the type of abusive characters everyone wants to make them into. That, for me, is a fact!

Reading about how Yuuki is afraid of abandonment because of Kaname’s abuse literally makes me gag. Does Yuuki have issue she needs to sort out? Most definitely. Does it mean she was abused by Kaname? Not at all.  If Yuuki is still afraid to be left alone like basically every pureblood ever due to their immortal life, It’s not because Kaname wanted her to be miserable for all those years. She was devastaded by his death not because she had traumas of him abusing her. She was GRIEVING him because she LOVES him! Because even though she gave her all, Kaname chose to make it possible for humanity, for her, to have a fighting chance. And I dare anyone to blame him for it, because withouth him, Zero and every hunter would be useless against the purebloods. Everyone that has lost a  loved one will understand that it leaves scars behind, but it doesn’t make the relationship they had before they passed away toxic or abusive. It’s natural to grieve and to be scared of being left alone again. It’s no ones fault.

I guess what I’m trying to say and where my main issue with the entire situation comes from, is how absurd it is for some people to keep using the same old double standards while accusing others of doing the same thing. You can’t call Kaname an abuser, say that he raped Yuuki, that he’s only  a sperm donor, that he’s probably not even Ai’s father, mocking us with the “KanamexButterfly” edits and so many other things I’ve witnessed over these 9+ years following the series, and then expect not to be made fun of when you completely justify the events of VKM 13. If you can’t take those jokes especially made for making you feel what it’s like to be on the opposite side of irrationality, then that’s called being a hypocrite in my book. Both because you mocked us for years and because if you really feel like Kaname’s behaviour in chapter 61 is abusive then you can’t completely excuse the way Zero acted in VKM 13 either. Hino told us enough of Kaname and Zero’s character to try to understand how they feel and why the act in a certan way. We just need not to ignore the facts as it suits us.  

- Roxy1294

[fantasyninja26]

2003 VS Brotherhood

A user @theishvalanalchemist has commenced an 2003 VS Brotherhood debate in the style of an Old VS New from Nostalgia Critic. Now I thoroughly enjoy these videos and Nostalgia Critic is one of my favorite Youtubers so I’m pretty excited for this. I have been writing fanfictions for both Fullmetal Alchemist versions for years now, rewatching both versions constantly, looking at multiple arguments on both sides and I’ve been pretty neutral on this seemingly age old argument. So I’ll share my views, I will keep them fairly open as I personally have no stance on which side wins this. Though I have not thought of the two varying versions in these categories, I will actually be looking at this from an analytical stand point and then talk about which series I personally prefer. I will be excluding the movies and focusing solely on the episodic series. I will also ignore the manga as an argument because frankly I think the ‘2003 anime doesn’t follow the manga’ argument doesn’t benefit Brotherhood at all. So without further ado, here is the Old VS New for FMA.

1: Leads (Ed, Al, and Roy). I personally like both of them a lot, but the things I pay attention to the most is the personal struggles which Ed, Al, and Roy face. The reason being is that enjoy seeing how the events and hardships impact the characters in the long run. For Brotherhood’s case my favorite is how Roy handles Hughes’ death and the direction that specific event takes him. This event is such a long and arduous struggle for him and it impacts every single thing he has done from brutally killing Lust to torturing Envy. For Ed and Al they carry the guilt they feel for Nina with them for the whole story and it’s mentioned throughout. Examples being when Ed and Al were fighting Scar to lure out the Homunculi and past the conclusion. Now with 2003, beginning with Roy. 2003 mainly focuses on the Ishavalan (or Ishbalan) War and the long term effects it’s placed on Roy. The struggles he faces are beyond too real for any person who has fought in a war. He constantly shown in a place of guilt from killing Winry’s parents and aiding in a genocide and how it’s changed his life. For a while he became an alcoholic, tried to crack the code of Human Transmutation, and has talked about (and shown) thoughts of suicide. The things Roy is going through seems more natural andreal. For the Elric Brothers I will discuss their mother being the embodiment of Sloth. Ed has a natural big brother instinct to protect Al from being hurt by this and he tries to hide the topic every time Al brings it up. Al on the other hand wants to just talk with his brother about Sloth. The events surrounding Sloth really bring out some sides of Ed and Al that are really quite interesting when they go along with the other major plot points. For a couple of episodes there’s this hostility between Ed and Al which is partially caused by the issue with Sloth. Ed is rational and sees Sloth for what she really is, but Al is emotional and feels like there’s something more to this. The differing emotions are then put aside so that they can correct their mistakes. Both versions are very similar so I really have to pay attention to some details. But in order for Roy to be more believable he has to have that war trauma that just isn’t there in Brotherhood. And for Ed and Al they were more convincing as brothers, they actually argue more in 2003, Ed guilt towards what happened to Al is explored far more, and the conflict between Sloth and the two really proved that despite differences they can still work together like brothers. So my vote goes to 2003.

2: Villains (Dante VS Father). This time I’m gonna start with 2003’s, Dante. It took a while for her to be set at the major villain of the story and she was very interesting to watch in the early stages of her appearance. Her backstory with Hohenheim is actually very fascinating and seems like a very classic villain backstory. The conflicts she faces of going from body to body does make her efforts more crucial considering that her life is on the line. But what I really like is that the more she transfers the faster she rots, which actually parallels with her humanity washing away. So by the end of the series she’s taking form in a human body but she’s lost so much of what makes her human is that she also inhuman as well. It makes the encounter with Ed more creepy especially when Ed tells her that she’s still human but she just responds with ‘Not anymore.’ But now that I mention Ed, I must bring up a flaw that I do see (and this isn’t that Edward Elric fangirl side of me peering its head) which is why does she suddenly want to be loved by Ed? That is something I really don’t understand and it almost shows up out of nowhere. But for now let’s move on to Father. Again has a very nice background with Hohenheim that ties together very well with the story and he’s introduced at the right time and with the right atmosphere. The way he creates the Homunculi as parts of himself is really compelling. As each homunculus represents his sins it really shows how humans are really not born pure, that every living thing is sinned. All the sins are tied together, if you have one you have them all. This also shows that he is just like the thing he despises the most, human. However when you take the backstory and Homunculi you have a generic villain who just hates humans because he’s all powerful and mighty. It’s something that feels new but is somehow the same as every other villain we see now. For these two, they’re both enjoyable villains but the intrigue of Dante when you take away backstory and henchmen is still there. My second vote goes to 2003.

3: Leading Ladies (Winry and Riza). Starting with 2003 we really don’t have too much to work with these two, and that’s where the problem begins. I actually really don’t remember some of the stuff Riza does in 2003, other than take in Black Hayate. Winry on the other hand I really think about how she got Ed’s watch stolen because he cheated during an arm wrestling match. With having a childhood friend in the military, she would probably know that could get Ed into some serious trouble. Overall I feel like Riza and Winry are just there in 2003 and the most feminine power lies in other female characters. In Brotherhood, it’s more shown how they aspired one another early on in the series from the ear rings to the long hair. Also they both have moments where their hardships are shown without making them helpless characters. An example for Riza being when she’s telling Ed about the horrors of Ishval and how they have shaped her into the woman she is. She is shown as woman who wanted to help people but is forced to participate in genocide, but as a sniper she has to look at every life she takes and it’s something she lives with. With Winry the moment that resonates with me would have to be the small events after the first encounter with Scar. After learning the identity to her parents’ killer she gets a phone call from Rush Valley of her customers asking for her to return. As we have seen in both versions of FMA, losing limbs and replacing them with automail is not an easy feat. By helping these people she has become this beacon of hope for them, someone who has returned what they have lost and without her they wouldn’t have that. There is honestly a lot of great moments for these two but these are ones I feel like aren’t talked about enough and it’s gives them a nice look into their impact. This vote goes to Brotherhood.

4: Side Characters. For this I’m going to limit to only the characters who show up in both versions of FMA. These characters include Hughes, Lust, Envy, and Scar. First with Hughes, the lovable dad who is in love with his family. We do get more of Hughes in 2003, for about twenty episodes before he really kicks the bucket. After that he’s only mentioned when Sheska is looking into his murder. The death of Hughes in 2003 is more impactful for the audience than it is to the story. Hughes is around for 10 episodes in Brotherhood before he is killed which really doesn’t give the audience too much time to get attached even when he is put into almost every episode until then. But as I mentioned before, his death is the reason behind every move Roy makes. Also Hughes’ reason to die did end up playing a huge part in the story, showing that his death was more impactful for the story. Its a matter of what your cup of tea is. Moving onto Lust, once more she is around far longer in 2003 than in Brotherhood. In Brotherhood she’s the first homunculus to die by the hands of one of our heroes but that’s really about it. She just does what Father tells her to do and then she dies by Roy’s hands which furthers his goals. She’s a generic baddy in Brotherhood who does everything without question and then dies. But in 2003, Lust experiences and sees things that ends with her greatly questioning her own past and what’s in store for her. She vocalizes her desire to be human only to reveal during her death that she wanted to be human so she could die. Unlike Dante, Lust is inhuman while being human at the same time really. Naturally as humans we question what will happen after we die and we always want to know more, and Lust is a really good example of someone who has these very human thoughts while not being human herself. Now I’m not judging this based on her humanistic qualities but I’m judging this more on how her character is impacted by the story and how her character changes throughout. She remains on one note in Brotherhood but in 2003 she has many highs and lows that are brought into light as the story progresses. Now with Envy in 2003, he’s this ball of rage who constantly wants to make Ed feel horrible and always wants him in a rough spot. The reason being for a while is kinda unknown so the audience assumes that it’s just because he’s just a bad guy. But when it’s revealed he was Hohenheim of Light’s (or HoL for short) son and then was brought back with Human Transmutation when he died only to be abandoned by HoL. He feels this resentment and since he can’t find HoL he takes out on Ed specifically. If he really feels this resentment, why is he only taking it out on Ed? Shouldn’t he be trying to make Al miserable too? Also he keeps saying he doesn’t remember what his real form was until suddenly he just remembers it. How did he remember it? Did he forget where he came from too? And if he did why is that motive there? He keeps saying that he wants Ed to suffer for being Hohenheim’s son but why? These are just the questions that come up when his motive is really revealed along with his true form. Now with Brotherhood he doesn’t have that motive, he just doesn’t like humans. But it’s his last moment that really matters, when Ed exposes what he really feels, jealously and resentment towards humans. It kinda mirrors how Lust functioned in 2003, feeling these human emotions while not being human himself. When people get jealous there’s this natural anger and resentment and he shows this beautifully in Brotherhood while still being completely despicable. Now finally we talk about Scar. Scar is a vengeful character and rightfully so, his homeland was ravaged and destroyed and he did lose his brother in the heat of the war. In 2003 the moments between Al, Ed, and Scar are pretty nice and it helps them progress in the story they’re in. But outside of that I feel like Scar really doesn’t get much of that development by himself. He gets it around other characters but it’s never enough to make him question what he’s doing. I feel as if he’s a character who is just on one note the whole time and he doesn’t really grow from his experiences. Now with Brotherhood we do see his growth and how he sets his revenge aside to stop Father’s plans. But a moment I wanted to talk about in specific which would be when he’s fighting Bradley/Wrath. This moment alone is mirroring Scar’s inner struggles that are present throughout the story. That fight to either take revenge or work to make things right without shedding more blood. That’s what I see when he fight Wrath and that is huge. Unfortunately we don’t see that from Scar in 2003. So with Hughes going either way, Lust on 2003, and Envy and Scar on Brotherhood, I’m giving it to Brotherhood. The vote goes to Brotherhood

5: Action Scenes. Starting with Brotherhood you can feel this tension in some of the fights especially near the end where everything matters and any character can die. For example you feel some fear when Roy is brutally torturing Envy, you feel excitement when everyone is fighting against Father, etc. But this is all in the end of the series, it’s a big conclusion to a big series and you don’t get enough of those fights in the beginning. Also a lot of the fights just happen and they aren’t really brought up again and they leave little to no impact on the characters. Sure there’s some in Brotherhood but it’s not every fight when it’s all over both fighters come out different. A prime example of this is when Ed is fighting Greed in Dublith. In Brotherhood they fight and it’s to save Al but really Ed doesn’t leave as a different person and the only thing that changes with Greed is that he fights Wrath and dies at the end of the day. Meanwhile in 2003 the first part of the fight Greed says that Ed has to violate one of his strict policies in order to win against the Homunculi, which is not to kill; and when Greed dies by Ed’s hands, Ed comes out as a different person. His reaction, how he feels after it is absolutely heartbreaking. But he knows that he has to take that step in order to really put an end to all the chaos and his morals are further challenged. That’s what a fight in this world is all about. It challenges the characters and their morals, makes them sacrifice so much, it helps them grow both as a fighter and a human and it changes them for either the better or for the worst. This point goes to 2003.

6: Story. This one is really difficult to look at since both stories are mostly similar. Of course these two versions are different and that’s where the backlash comes from, 2003 doesn’t stick with the manga while Brotherhood does. But I want to keep that argument out of this discussion and focus on the story in the episodes alone. Both stories really hold up on their own and they’re nicely crafted. Brotherhood is more story based but it’s not well paced especially in the beginning. They pack in about the twenty episodes of material from 2003 onto 10 episodes because the creators assumed you’ve seen the 2003 first. This results in moments like Nina and Hughes to be less of an impact on the audience even though they both still cause a lot of pain. After that, the story is decently paced and it flows very nicely. It doesn’t focus entirely on the Elrics which gives other characters a moment to shine. Its overall a very coherent and easy to follow. For 2003, I can follow the story nicely and it’s paced beautifully, giving the audience a chance to take every moment in and gives a lot of room for the characters to grow. The events with Nina was two episodes long and you had the chance to know Hughes as being smart, witty, wise, and lovable all at the same time before he died. It gives the characters to grow and develop in the environment they’re placed in while only having ten less episodes than Brotherhood. I don’t think there are many flaws with the 2003 story until the very end which will be discussed in the ending category. The fillers that are given fall into the category of being funny or being helpful towards a character’s development. The filler with Roy’s group is an example of something funny going on in the middle of the story and brings some light after being a witness to some troubling events and it’s enjoyable to watch Roy’s team function and the adventures they endure. An episode with character development would have to be the episode with Lust and Lujion which kicks off some really stellar character development for her. Those qualities of Lust that I praised before begin to appear and they are a huge part of her character from that point on. There’s really nothing wrong with filler episodes as long as they have a purpose and they makes sense and in 2003’s case they do.  These two stories may be very different but the way they function is almost identical giving room for characters to grow, giving other characters the spotlight, all while still being coherent. This point goes to both 2003 and Brotherhood.

7: Ending. As we reach the conclusion of the series that’s when the final problems are resolved and the questions that the audience has is either answered or left for interpretation. As I mentioned before there are some problems within the ending of 2003 which is why I didn’t discuss them in the story section. But the ending though it may be darker really leaves some unanswered questions. Some of the questions related to Ed and Al isn’t answered until CoS and when you take away that movie those unanswered questions are undeniable and they are huge. The ending lacks satisfaction but it nicely leaves An overwhelming sense of hope that Ed and Al reunite in the end. The ending of Brotherhood is dragged out for a long while, it has been prepared for several episodes, and it didn’t disappoint. It gave us a very nice amount of fights, a nice resolve to Ed and Al’s conflict that makes sense during the first viewing, and gave us a satisfactory ending. It really didn't leave too many questions behind and it's a nice resolve to such a grand story. A lot of people feel such great excitement when the fight when Ed begins to beat Father with his bare hands, such happiness when Ed and Al leave the gate together, and feel relief when Ed is shown in one of the happiest moments when he proposes to Winry. It allows for the characters to have such a great ending that doesn't leave any loose ends and it assures that after the hardships the characters face they could still stand and live a fulfilling life. This final vote goes to Brotherhood.

So this Good VS New for me ended with a tie which may sound really lame, but I'm actually satisfied with the end result and I would like for you guys to hear me out. Both of these versions have some highs and some lows, what one show lacks the other makes up for. We shouldn't be arguing over which one is better and putting on a pedestal because one follows the manga. Individually both versions are great on their own, the stories are great, the characters are great, and both of them are classics. There's no need for a competition, these two are awesome by themselves and by avoiding one of these stories you're just missing out on a great adventure with the characters that we all enjoy to watch.

With that this concludes my analysis on the 2003 VS Brotherhood and I'm sorry it was so long but I really worked hard on this and I'm so proud of it even when it ended with a tie. At least I can say that I've written the equivalent of an essay over my favorite show. Thank you for reading this and that is all.