#He would be really strict about training and taught it a lot of commands and refused to let it ok the furniture

[ssaseaprince]

Thinking about how if Will had died before Hannibal and Hannibal had attempted to live without him, he would have eventually rescued a stray dog.

[griffintail]

hey, i love your storys and i was wondering is we could get a part 2 to Dad!Sam X Child!Reader. thanks.

Thank you!

In Training

Pairings: Parental! Awesamdude x Teenager! GN! Reader

Warnings: Mild Violence, Non-Descriptive Wound Mention, Past Manipulation by the Egg, Mentions of Kidnapping

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/N) whirled around as their sword struck the training dummy, Fran barking in excitement. (Y/N) chuckled at the dog’s excitement before continuing their own imposed strict training.

Sam had been at the prison for days recently but, (Y/N) while sad, didn’t falter. They tried to improve! Sam said he’d around more if he had help but trust was a hard thing to get in the SMP, and Sam had to really trust someone to help guard the SMP’s only prisoner. It was taking longer than Sam and (Y/N) would have liked but Sam had to be sure and (Y/N) understood.

Striking hard against the dummy, (Y/N) paused when instead of excited barks they heard Fran growl. Looking around as they carefully lowered their sword. Fran smelled something foreign to their area.

“Fran, protect.” (Y/N) muttered and started to move forward as casually as they could, Fran on their heels.

Trying not to alert the foreign intruders, (Y/N) tried to be casual as they picked up their shield and went towards the house. Fran was still softly growling as she followed orders from the teen while looking around. Halfway to the house was when Fran started to bark furiously. (Y/N) followed Fran’s locked gaze at the two figures approaching entering their clearing. One in white and black robes and the other a hybrid with startling red eyes.

“Hello!” The one in white robes spread their arms. “You must be Sam’s child, right?”

“Yeah.” (Y/N) said slowly. “You seem to know me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you gentlemen, and my father has taught me not to talk to strangers.”

Fran was still barking and (Y/N) made no move to calm the dog.

“Sam hasn’t talked about us? We’re good friends of his! I’m Bad and this is my friend Ant!” Bad introduced themselves. “And now we’re not strangers!”

“Afraid that’s also not how it works. If you’re looking for dad, he’s currently feeling a bit under the weather and not taking visitors. So, if you don’t mind…” (Y/N) said going to move to the house again.

“We actually wanted to meet you!” Ant quickly said. “Sam talks about you so much.”

(Y/N) stopped, gripping onto their sword. “What does he say about me?”

“Oh, a lot of wonderful things! Like how much he loves you and cares about you, how good you are at sword fighting, how well you can build, and how much he trusts you to be home alone.”

“Damn.” (Y/N) whispered as they looked at Bad.

“Language,” Bad said but grinned.

They’d caught (Y/N)’s lie but (Y/N) also could hear the underlying threat.

“What do you want?” They growled quietly.

“We wanted to talk about the Egg!”

“Don’t care. Good day.” (Y/N) huffed.

“Now!” Ant stepped forward, making (Y/N) take a step back as Fran stepped in front of them. “The Egg has a lot to offer you. And Sam! We can talk about it if you can just calm down the dog and we just sit.”

“What makes you think I want anything? I’m pretty happy.”

“Even with Sam gone so much?” Bad threw out, making (Y/N) frown. “You must be alone so often.”

“You think that’s going to help convince me? That just makes me want to get farther from you.” (Y/N) laughed.

“Come now, let’s just try and talk.” Bad spread his arms.

“No. Now, get off my property.” (Y/N) held gripped their sword tightly to make a point.

Bad sighed. “We tried to do it calmly.”

Quick as a flash, Ant pulled a bow and shot at the teen. (Y/N) was luckily just as quick to block with their shield, growling.

“Fran, attack.” (Y/N) ordered before getting low to the ground as they raced behind the dog bolting for the two intruders.

Bad pulled a sword as Ant fired at Fran first, the dog managing to change direction out of the way. Bad yelped as (Y/N)’s sword rang against his with the strong force before his face went hard and he started to fight against (Y/N). The teen could pretty easily hold their own though, they had been training. Swords scrapped against each other and (Y/N)’s shield as not far away, Fran was taking bolder and bolder snaps at the cat hybrid, keeping him occupied.

(Y/N) doubled down against Bad before managing to disarm him and knock him over before putting a point of the sword to his neck.

“Fran! Heel!” (Y/N) commanded and Fran growled at Ant but moved no further as Ant watched the teen. “I suggest…you put that down.”

Ant looked at Bad then (Y/N) going to put the bow down before smirking as (Y/N) felt a hit on the back of their head. They fell to the ground, trying to get the world to stop spinning as they heard Fran give a pained yelp but then they felt another hit and they blacked out.

“Thank you.” Bad took Hannah’s hand. “Let’s get them to the Egg. Sam can’t deny us if the Egg shows his child the path.”

…

Sam struggled slightly as he ran with his little creeper in his arms to Church Prime with his wounded side as potions did so but damn it, he’d make it there. Fran ran beside him as they made their journey. Sam hated himself for all of this. It was all his fault.

He had been guard duty for weeks. He had no one to take over for him. Ender knew how long (Y/N) was with the Egg! If he had been there instead of only finding out from Tommy!!

He’d fix it now though and he wouldn’t screw up again.

“We’re almost there Fran and (Y/N),” Sam muttered as his side, burned but he saw the tower of the church and he’d make it.

Sam looked over (Y/N) again as he sprinted down the prime path. Their usual clothes were now a deep red but the vine-like lines that had been around their eyes were now gone. He’d reverse the damage.

He stood on the edge of the holy ground a few minutes later and went over, (Y/N) finally giving their first sight of movement as they winced as they went over the line. But it was good, (Y/N) was on the grounds. Rushing inside the church, Sam put them on the edge of the pool before using an empty potion bottle to scoop up the water.

“Alright. (Y/N). (Y/N), wake up for me little creeper.” Sam muttered as he shook the teen.

It took a bit of trying as (Y/N) had passed out earlier but he managed and (Y/N) blinked awake slowly.

“D-Dad?” They muttered, disoriented.

“Yeah, here, drink this quickly.” Sam quickly propped them up.

(Y/N) couldn’t think straight yet and took the bottle without question and took a drink before wincing. Holding their head, Sam quickly hugged them.

“It’s ok, you’re ok. It’s just trying to fight against the cleanse.”

“C-Cleanse?” (Y/N) questioned as they winced at the pain.

“Drink, just drink.”

(Y/N) looked at the blurry room around them as they didn’t want to drink. They didn’t want to feel more pain.

“Come on, drink kiddo.” Sam pleaded.

(Y/N) whimpered before chugging the drink to get it over with. Dropping the bottle when it was gone, they held their head with both of their hands. Sam hugged them tightly, whispering comforting words with Fran’s head in their lap, as he waited for the Egg to leave his child. Slowly, the deep red on their clothes disappeared, and ever so slowly, the pain subsided.

When the pain was gone, (Y/N) waited a few moments before looking at Sam, who smiled so happily as he held their face.

“There’s my little creeper.” He said.

“What-What happened?” (Y/N) muttered as they looked around at the church around them.

“What…do you remember?” Sam asked carefully.

“I…There…Those men!” (Y/N) sat up straight. “They-They attacked Fran and I!”

“Who were they?” Sam clenched a hand.

“I-Bad and Ant. And—” They put a hand on the back of their head, wincing. “There was a third. They hit me from behind.”

“I-I don’t know what happened after that,” Sam admitted. “But, you’re alright now. Let’s get you home and we’ll figure this out later.”

Sam stood up and took their hand, helping them up and letting them lean on him as they started the slow walk back home.

“I…I fought them off for as long as I could.” (Y/N) told him.

“You fought them?” Sam looked at them surprised.

“Yeah, but not well…I didn’t even know there was someone else and Fran helped me.” They muttered, the dog wagging her tail.

“Still. That’s really good, Bad and Ant aren’t weak fighters.” Sam mumbled, planning a long “chat” with the Eggpire.

“Not good enough to be a guard.” (Y/N) said under their breath but Sam caught it.

“What? A guard?”

(Y/N) flushed as they looked away from the father, Sam stopping their walk.

“(Y/N), I…I know haven’t been around a lot, what’s going on?”

“That was kind of the point.” (Y/N) shrugged. “I-I know you have a lot of work to do on your own with the prison and you don’t have help! So…I’ve been training to try and help you at the prison and then we can also be together more.”

Sam’s heart melted as he gently hugged his child. “(Y/N)…Ender, you have such a big heart. I love that you tried to get better so you can help me and we can be together more often, but I don’t want you in the prison. It’s a bad and dangerous place but I promise, I’ll get guards to help me.”

(Y/N) hugged Sam back tightly, tearing up slightly. “I just…I miss you so much and I just want to help.”

“And I’m so happy to hear that you want to help and I’m so, so, so sorry I’m not home more often, but I will be. I’ll find guards and I’ll be home. I love you so much little creeper and I’ve missed you too.”

He wouldn’t let something like this happen again. He wouldn’t screw up again…

[vladdocs]

Dracula's Life from 7 to 14 - Part 1 By Lyzhina Svetlana Sergeevna (Лыжина Светлана Сергеевна) Original in Russian: http://samlib.ru/l/lyzhina_s_s/dracula_7_14_1.shtml Annotation: Dracula's life from age 7 to 14 is the darkest period in his biography. Most authors do not even try to look into this darkness, but jump straight from childhood in Transylvania to the Turkish captivity, mentioning growing up as far as it goes. I will not, however, do so... The period from age 7 to 14 is important primarily because this is when Dracula began to realize himself as a Romanian. Before the age of 7, the world is pretty narrow for a person: mom, dad, grandparents and other relatives. Before the age of 7, a child does not really care about his own nationality, because he does not yet fully understand what it is. But after the age of 7, the horizons widen, and such notions as "small motherland" and "big motherland" appear. Dracula saw his Romanian homeland for the first time when he was about 7 years old, and, apparently, this first meeting made a strong impression on him. First time in his homeland In the summer of 1436, Dracula's father took over the Romanian throne and moved his family from Sighisoara to Tirgoviste, the Romanian capital of that time, no later than the fall of the same year. As a result, the life of the 7-year-old Dracula changed abruptly: 1) he now heard Romanian speech not only from his household, but also from everyone around him. 2) Home services were replaced by visits to the temple, rich and beautiful, and the services there were conducted to the highest standard, as a well staged theatrical performance. 3) The attitude of those around him changed. Everybody bowed to little Dracula like to the king's son, and even his peers, 7-year old boys like him, were obliged to bow. 4) the way of life changed - many new servants appeared, and the dwelling became much more spacious. _ _ _ _ Historical note: The house in Sighisoara was relatively small - 25x11 m in length and width, if we do not count the inner courtyard and the side passageway. At the same time the palace in Targoviste in the mid 1430s was 32x29 meters in length and width. It is not difficult to calculate that in terms of area it was almost twice as big as the house in Sigishoara. And that again without taking into account the adjoining territory enclosed by a fortress wall of 250x20 m. On this territory there was a temple built specially for the prince and his courtiers, as well as household premises. In addition there were extensive gardens and vegetable gardens, as well as ponds for trout breeding. They were necessary because the palace regularly hosted feasts at which enormous quantities of all kinds of food were eaten. _ _ _ _ We cannot say whether Dracula accepted his new life with delight or was embarrassed, but the boy saw the mood of his parents, who were clearly happy about what was happening. This should have led the child to believe that he, too, should be happy. Intensified Learning The only thing that definitely did not make little Dracula happy was his studies, because after he moved to Targoviste, his education was taken seriously. In textbooks on the history of pedagogy, you can read that all countries that have adopted the culture of the Byzantine Empire, along with Orthodoxy, adopted the system of teaching children. Romania is no exception in this sense. As in all other Orthodox countries, teaching followed the principles formulated by John Chrysostom: 1) simplicity of life, without excesses (so that the child would not fall into a dependence on comfort); 2) education with an emphasis on spiritual values (and contempt for material things); 3) strict control (parents watch where the child goes, what he/she does, what he/she says) 4) possibility of corporal punishment in case of disobedience (Chrysostom suggests "flogging"). Education had three levels: primary, secondary, and higher. They began to study (I repeat) at the age of 6-7 years old. Primary education was completed before the age of 12. Secondary education was

completed at the age of 17. It turns out that Dracula never received a higher education, because he was sent to the Turks at the age of about 14. No one in Turkey followed the Byzantine system of education. Dracula's higher education was replaced by lessons in the Turkish language and Turkish customs... But back to Dracula's elementary education. Elementary School Elementary education included four subjects: - arithmetic (counting on fingers, on pebbles, and in mind), - grammar (in this case Slavonic), - rhetoric, - philosophy (philosophy in the Middle Ages was perceived as the first step toward the study of "higher philosophy" - theology). The process of teaching itself was a little different from today - the children sat together, but each student was taught separately by the teacher. The grammar was taught on the basis of the texts of the Holy Scriptures and the lives of the saints. Rhetoric was modeled on the works of the same John Chrysostom. In the beginning, during the lessons of rhetoric children were supposed to retell the contents of texts and tell them by heart, and when children accumulated enough knowledge, the teacher arranged eloquence contests between pupils, where they were supposed to support their words with appropriate quotations. It is difficult to say whether Dracula competed with his elder brother, because the practice of competitions existed only in Byzantium, but, for example, in Russia such competitions did not exist. In addition, all forms of rivalry between Dracula and his older brother should have been opposed by the tutors, because in the family of Dracula on the paternal line practiced a special system of state management - the king had a co-helper in the person of the younger brother. About this writes researcher M.Kazaku. Dracula's grandfather Mircea the Old was at one time co-ruler of his elder brother Dan, and when his brother died, Mircea ruled alone. Dracula's father, Dracul Sr. was at one time co-ruler of his older brother Mihai, and when Mihai died, Dracul Sr. ruled alone. Dracula himself must also have been indoctrinated from a young age to be his brother's helper. An assistant, not a rival! All training and education of Dracula should be subordinated to this idea - Dracula should be prepared to help his brother and carry out all his orders, and in case of his brother's death he should continue his work. That is to say, he should continue it, and not do anything on his own! Dracula could think of no other fate, for he had before him the example of his father and grandfather, and in the Middle Ages the power of tradition was unusually strong. Apparently, when Dracula was sent as a hostage to the Sultan, he was encouraged by the same words about the need to help the elders: "Living with the Sultan, you will help your father and older brother a lot. And Dracula must have believed it, but later, when his father and older brother died suddenly, Dracula could not immediately get his bearings. He found himself in a role as an older man for which he was not at all prepared. He had no time to be instructed what to do and how to do it, so he had to decide everything on his own, to break his usual worldview and generally learn to be a leader... But here we are, once again, off-topic. Middle School According to the Byzantine system, the secondary level of education included the study of three new subjects: geometry, music, astronomy. Geometry, Dracula and his brother, of course, studied. In addition, it is known that as early as the 11th or 12th century, a collection of quotations from Aristotle about mathematics appeared in Slavic. These quotations together formed a coherent system, so that children in Slavic countries studied from this collection as from a textbook. Music in those days meant learning church singing, but it is unlikely that Dracula and his brother had time for that, because the Byzantine educational system in the Middle Ages did NOT include physical training, and sovereign's children needed this training. The physical training in the case of Dracula and his

brother was military training, where the pupil had to master 3 skills: 1) the ability to fight on foot; 2) the ability to fight on horseback; 3) the ability to command an army so as to lead it to victory. Perhaps the list of disciplines Dracula had to study after the age of 12 also included history and politics. Perhaps, the list also included Latin, but here we can not say anything for sure, because according to the Byzantine system of education all this (Latin, history, politics) belonged to the higher level of education, which, as we know, due to a number of tragic circumstances Dracula did not reach. Practical results of "Byzantine" education In a number of articles about Dracula one can read that he was supposedly a savage and ignorant - a kind of Neanderthal, but not with a club, but with a stake, who got an idea of culture only thanks to the years spent in "enlightened" Turkey. However, all this is nonsense! Dracula was educated before Turkey, and everything I've said here about the Byzantine system of education used in Romania for the education of the sovereign's children - not just a guesswork. All of this is confirmed in historical documents. From the texts that have survived from the time of Dracula, we can see that the Romanian rulers were literate people, read spiritual literature and were able to speak beautifully. For example, the beginning of the charter from May 20, 1388, which was dictated by the grandfather of Dracula, Mircea the Old. This charter is a gift to the monastery, but before going on to enumerate what will be given to the monastery, the prince reasons about God as well as a theologian: "Whom the Spirit of God guides, they are the sons of God, says the holy apostle, and to him echoes every one who values truth and does good works, desiring to receive eternal life - to leave earthly things on earth for the reward in heaven. Blessed are those who have heard the good voice, for they hear it always: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. In the same way, I, believing in Christ God and Christ-loving and autocratic voivode and lord of all the land of Ugrovlakh, <...> as much as I can, want to follow this voice and glorify God, who glorified me and in glory enthroned me on the throne of my parents". That's how he bent it! Here are the results of the rhetoric lessons, which were part of the first level of education according to the Byzantine system! No wonder that everyone liked these words of Mircea. It is no coincidence that in his letter of December 12, 1424, uncle of Dracula, Prince Dan II, reproduces them, and then another relative of Dracula, Prince Alexander Aldea, does the same in his letter of June 25, 1436. Dracula himself quotes this statement in his charter of April 16, 1457. And here is how Dracula's father weaves verbal lace in his letter of August 2, 1439: "And who dares <... > violate my approval and command, such let the Lord God strike with his terrible and just judgment, and let the Holy Lady of the Theotokos speak against this man, and let him be damned on behalf of the seven holy ecumenical councils, and let him be counted among those who, like Judas and Arius, denied the Lord, and all those who betrayed the Lord to death". Of course, many edicts in those days ended with a standard curse on possible violators, but Dracula's father added to this curse, which most modern readers can appreciate only after they look in an encyclopedia. Can you tell at a glance what "ecumenical councils" and "Arian heresy" are? But Dracula's father could! And, apparently, he knew church history. That is, he was highly educated. As for Dracula himself, we can judge the level of his education by his statements, which, of course, distorted by numerous retellings, but the essence remains. For example, the episode with the Turkish ambassadors who did not remove their headdresses under the pretext that the "law" forbade. "And I want to follow your law," says Dracula, "so that you may hold fast to it. In doing so, he almost quotes

the Gospel, which says, "I have not come to break the law, but to fulfill it." And think of the burned beggars: "...I delivered them, so that they would not suffer in this world from poverty or from disease. The very course of Dracula's reasoning leads us to believe that this ruler in his time studied both the Holy Scriptures and rhetoric. Travels around the country In addition to "book sciences" and "warfare" in Dracula's education was one more component, and a very important one - study tours around the country, i.e. in Romania. However, Dracula had to perceive these trips in a different way than his older brother, because the older brother was prepared for the role of a ruler, and Dracula - for the role of an assistant to the ruler. Dracula's older brother perceived cities, villages, fields and forests as his future property. Dracula, seeing all the same, perceived it as his brother's property to be protected. If Dracula's older brother thought, "All this exists for me - for my needs and my pleasure," then Dracula thought, "I must take care of the preservation of it all. This is why in Dracula's behavior when he reached adulthood we find a motive not at all characteristic of the rulers of that time - the motive of service to one's country. Dracula was not brought up as a ruler, so even when he became a ruler, he did not get rid of the attitude that was hammered into his head throughout his childhood and adolescence - you were born to serve and help. He did all those things he did - eradicating crime, winning favourable trade conditions for Romanian merchants, waging war against the Turks - not for himself and not even for specific people. He did it all for Romania, which he called his "patrimony," not in the sense of his ownership of the land, but in the sense of his concern for it. This is how Dracula's notion of homeland was formed, which was Romania, although his early childhood took place in Transylvania.

[saffronwritings]

C L U M S Y | S H I N S O U - P.2

S H I N S O U | P A R T  T W O 

[Part One]

C L U M Y  M A S T E R L I S T

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: As of 4/22/21 I have updated the first part of this series for Shinsou, I made some adjustments as I noticed some bigger plot holes. Please go give that a read if you read the first part already before. 

Shinsou had severely underestimated how hard Aizawa was going to be training him. Everyday it seemed like his body found new places to hurt and joints he didn’t know existed ached. After being pinned to the training mat once again, Shinsou let out a defeated sigh. “Get up.” Aizawa commanded him after releasing the hold he had on him, moving away from the defeated student. “You are never going to get better if you don’t train yourself at your fullest potential.” Aizawa spat at him harshly. “You won’t be able to protect citizens, colleagues, or even your loved ones if you just take the brunt force and never get back up.” 

Shinsou laid there a moment more, thinking over his words. Shinsou didn’t really have friends, all besides that annoying blonde buzzing idiot in class 1A. They were mere acquaintances and Shinsou barely paid him any mind, however, the boy was surely convinced he was friends with Shinsou. That, and Shinsou didn’t really mind his presence all that much. After the sports festival, it seemed that Kaminari was determined to befriend Shinsou. Sitting with him during lunch period, finding him and bothering him while walking back to Heights Alliance after school. Eventually Shinsou caved and gave the energetic boy his number and he practically texted him every day. Being stupid memes or asking for help when mid-terms had come around.  

When it came to family, he didn’t really rely on much from his deadbeat father and his emotionally distant mother. Even though he wanted nothing more to become a hero, did he even have the drive to save people he didn’t care about? That’s when his one and only motivator popped into his head. You. Through every hardship, every bully that had taunted him for his quirk, when he was put into the general studies class, even when he lost at the sports festival. You had always been there for him, and he would be damned to let you down. 

Aizawa felt the shift in energy when Shinsou had risen from the matt. The boy looked beaten to hell and probably felt even worse. However, he got in the stance that Aizawa had taught him and readied himself for impact. “Are you sure you want to continue?” Aizawa asked with squinted eyes. It had only been a week, but Aizawa could tell the boy was getting worn down. He was not used to this kind of training, being a part of the general studies course. The boy had been done wrong when he had not been put in either Hero course, however, with his lack of drive up until recently, the boy had not put in any extra training himself. 

“I’m more than sure.” He rasped out, his breathing uneasy but for once, his eyes filled with determination. “Let’s continue then.”

. . .

Aizawa had been summoned to this staff meeting by principal Nezu, along with a few of the other teachers that made up the staff of UA. He had sat himself next to Present Mic, even though he knew the repercussions of potentially sitting next to him. “How’s it hanging, Eraser Head?” The loud blonde shouted, gaining the attention of the rest of the faculty in the room. “Shut up, Mic.” He answered, rubbing his temples from the oncoming headache he felt building. Though, he really picked the only seat that wouldn’t drive him absolutely mad. There was an empty seat next to Midnight, and one next to Almight. He had to choose his battle of whether to be annoyed by Almight or Mic and the choice was easy.

Finally after what felt like a dragging twenty minutes, Principal Nezu had entered the room and the staff had quieted down. “Good afternoon, I am glad that all of you have joined me today. This meeting is about the potential moving of students from their current classes to either one of the hero courses.” Nezu stated, making Aizawa sigh in defeat. Great, another student for him to have to look after potentially. Didn’t he have to deal with enough with the troublesome class he already had? From villain attacks, to one of his students being kidnapped, it felt like Aizawa could not catch a break.

If he were lucky enough, the students would be advised to join Sekijiro’s class and leave Aizawa to just tend to the students he had. “However, as we know, most of the general studies students usually don’t get the hero training they need. So we need volunteers to mentor these select students and if their training proves their abilities to join one of the hero courses, we will place them in either class.” Nezu continued. There was no way that Aizawa was going to take on a mentor. He was already swamped with teaching his own class, having to watch over 1-A’s dorms over in Heights Alliance. Just the thought of taking on more work made Aizawa yawn. 

Thankfully, throughout the slideshow that was presented on a projector, most of the students were taken on by other staff members. None had really caught Aizawa’s attention or really stood out to him. That is, until Shinsou Hitoshi had appeared on the screen. “The boy with the brain-washing quirk?” He overheard the other teachers whispering. He remembered him going against Midoriya in the sport festival and how much he had improved after. He trained minimally with his other classmates in the general studies class. Aizawa had kept his eye out for the boy. Not just from seeing him fight his own students in the sports festival, but also because if he was right, this was the boy that his own daughter was dating.

Aizawa quickly took out his phone and scrolled through him and his daughter’s messages. After scrolling through their many messages, he found the picture he was looking for. A picture of her and the boy sitting together in a grassy field, her smiling and him with a blank expression and a peace sign. He looked back and forth from the picture and the one on the overhead projector. That was definitely the boy that was seeing his dear daughter. Aizawa didn’t hear a word that Nezu was saying about the student. However, when Nezu asked if there were any available teachers willing to train the boy, the room was quiet. 

That was, until Aizawa pushed his chair out with a dejected sigh and stood up with his hand raised. This made the other teachers stop talking and turn towards him. “I’ll take him on.” Aizawa said in a very even monotone. This was definitely a conflict of interest and if Nezu ever found out, then he would definitely be in a lot of trouble. However, if there was going to be anyone to train the boy who was seeing his daughter, it was going to be him. Making sure he was strong enough to always defend her. 

“Are you sure, Mr. Aizawa? I know you are already preoccupied with your teachings of class 1A and watching over their dorms.” Nezu asked with an eyebrow quirked at him. “I’ve seen his potential. He needs a strict teacher to help him really use his quirk to its best extent. Plus, I could use a good mentoring session after having to deal with all the brats in 1-A.” Aizawa yawned, before sitting back down. Principal Nezu nodded his head in agreement. “Alright then! Mr. Aizawa will be mentoring young Shinsou Hitoshi. We have one more student left I’d like the remaining staff to take into consideration.” Nezu continued on.

Although, he knew that the staff room was still in shock that Aizawa had taken on a mentoring position. It had been a long time since Aizawa had taken on a mentor if he had at all. He couldn’t remember if he had. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Shouta Aizawa?” Present Mic whispered to him. “What are you babbling on about?” Aizawa asked in an annoyed tone. “I don’t think you have ever taken on a mentor. You always deny taking on any student since you see it as a waste of time.” Hizashi pushed, raising his eyebrow at the tired Aizawa. “Maybe it’s time to shake things up.” Aizawa said with a tone of sarcasm in his voice.

Except he was anything but joking. Hizashi wasn’t as dumb as he let on, and he knew Aizawa better than anyone in the room. He would later confront the tired teacher about the risks of taking on Shinsou as his mentor. However, Aizawa already knew these repercussions and even though his decision was hasty, he was set on his decision. The easiest part about hiding the fact that he was mentoring his daughter’s boyfriend, was the fact that he and his daughter did not share the same last name. 

That and his daughter seemed to avoid telling people about him. It didn’t hurt him, he almost preferred it to be that way. Being a well-known Pro-Hero he always worried about the safety of his daughter. He was afraid of people using her to get close enough to hurt not only her, but him as well. He never wanted his fame to sway his daughter’s friendships or future relationships. He had joked about meeting this boyfriend of hers but at the same time, he was glad that she was taking her time with it. 

Hizashi had once again warned Shota about how it could not only interfere with his teaching, but his relationship with his daughter. He knew his daughter would understand if he told her he was only training him to make him stronger for her. To have him be able to protect her in a way that Aizawa couldn’t. If it had ever become a subject of debate for them later, he would explain himself to her. He knew his relationship with his daughter was strong. However, he too worried that maybe this would eventually affect his relationship with her. 

…

It had been a few weeks since the last time you had seen Hitoshi in person. You were happily cheering for him on the sidelines, but you were also missing him. The both of you knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy process for either of you. It felt like the relationship was growing very one sided to you, with the very little interaction he was giving you. The few texts that you received from the tired boy were good morning and good night texts, and occasionally asking you how school was going. You also didn’t want to be overly clingy and blow his phone up when you knew he was working hard. He had offhandedly mentioned how his training had been very intense and that he felt pain in joints he didn’t know existed.

You always encouraged him to take baths to help ease the pain he was feeling, or to make sure he was stretching properly. He made sure to let you know that he was doing everything properly, it was just a lot more work than he was used to. “I have a complete disadvantage of being so behind on both hero courses. My teacher is doing his best to make sure I’m prepared for when I get tested to potentially join one of the hero classes. It’s just tiring is all, but I promise you, I’m doing my best for both of us.” He had told you during one of your now rare video calls after his training. 

Shinsou had known that he wasn’t being very active in chatting with you, and it tore him up inside, but he had to keep his focus on what he wanted. He wanted nothing more than to become a hero. The two of you had scheduled to see each other after school when you were both free. You sat patiently at the park you two had always met at. Swinging your feet anxiously on the bench, almost bouncing in excitement to see Hitoshi. You checked your phone for the time, noting that it was 3:15 p.m. and that you had been a bit early. 

[3:15 p.m.] y/n: Hey Toshi! I’m in our usual meeting spot! I can’t wait to see you today :)

You quickly shot him the text, smiling like a dork to yourself. However, when a half an hour had passed and you hadn’t even heard from Hitoshi, you began to worry. A frown settled itself onto your face as you pulled up his contact information. You hit the call button and you were quickly sent to voicemail. You left a quick voicemail, saying you were just worried since he hadn’t texted you. You also decided to shoot him a text.

[3:45 p.m.] y/n: is everything okay?

You felt anxious with him leaving you by yourself at the park like this. He had always made sure to go straight from the UA campus to the park nearby to meet you. He hated leaving you by yourself with so much villainous activities going on as of lately, especially with the league of villains.

[4:05 p.m.] y/n: Toshi?

[4:30 p.m.] y/n: I’m heading to the train station, I don’t want to get stuck out in the dark. 

You stared at your phone in disbelief that your boyfriend had stood you up as you tried one more time to reach Hitoshi, but once again you were sent to his voicemail. You didn’t bother leaving a voicemail this time and headed towards the train station. On the ride home from the park you couldn’t help but let a few tears escape, because you were extremely disappointed that even though the two of you had made plans, he had wound up standing you up.

When you arrived home, you went straight up to your room, not saying anything to your mother. You flopped on the bed and let the tears you were holding in out. This was a lot harder than you had originally anticipated, but you never thought he would ever stand you up. You sobbed into your pillow, feeling the hurt in your chest from being so let down by the boy you loved. Even though you know he would never do it on purpose, it didn’t make the sting hurt less. 

You had fallen asleep shortly after letting your emotions out, skipping out on dinner. You were woken up by the sound of your phone vibrating loudly. Snapping out of your sleep-like state, you had hoped that it was Hitoshi, but a frown spread across your lips when you saw it was your dad. Sighing, you sat up and declined the call. 

[9:03 p.m.] Y/N: sorry dad, i’m not feeling good. I'll video call you tomorrow after school?

[9:05 p.m.] Dad: hey kiddo, just checking in on you. I will call you when I’m done with my meeting after school, sound good?

[9:07 p.m.] Y/N: sure thing :) love you!

[9:10 p.m.] Dad: love you too kid

You flopped back onto your bed with a sigh, feeling more tired than usual. You had assumed it had been from you crying earlier. However, before you could lull yourself back to sleep, you felt your phone vibrating again. 

[Incoming call: Hitoshi Shinsou]

You quickly hit the accept button and held the phone up to your ear. “Are you not in the mood to video chat?” Was the first thing out of Hitoshi’s mouth when you answered the phone. “I could do better without the attitude, Hitoshi.” You snapped back at him, anger forming in your chest. “I was calling to say goodnight, but if you’re going to yell at me then I guess I’ll just hang up.” His reply left you in shock. “What on earth is going on with you, ‘Toshi? First you completely blow me off today, you didn’t answer my calls or text messages, but when you call, it’s all attitude?” You finally snap, letting all the bottled up emotions you had been feeling today go.

“I got held up with my training-” Hitoshi started to say before you cut him off with a scoff. “Why am I not surprised.” You bitterly stated, trying to not let yourself cry again. You had been blatantly ignored for almost a whole month because of his training. “I’m trying my best here, Y/N.” He had said with what sounded like a frustrated tone. “Are you really? Because to me it feels completely one sided. I want to support you Hitoshi, and I’m trying so hard to keep it together!” You yelled, but before you could even continue he cut you off. “This doesn’t sound like you supporting me!” He yelled back. “You don’t know what it’s like to be pushed to your absolute limits day in and day out!” 

“I get that this is hard for you Hitoshi-” “No! You obviously don’t. I had a feeling this was going to happen and that you weren’t going to support me the whole way through. I need to do this, and if I have to do it alone, then so be it.” Shinsou had snapped, making you freeze in your thoughts. “You don’t mean that.” You whispered, letting the tears fall down your face. “I can’t be hung up on making you happy when I have goals to achieve. We’re done.” Were the last words you heard him speak before he hung up on you. You sat there, completely and utterly in shock with what happened. You clenched your chest, feeling as if someone was ripping your heart out. 

[9:15 p.m.] Y/N: You are such a selfish jerk, Shinsou.

[9:18 p.m.] Toshi: The destination number you are trying to reach is blocked from receiving this message. ## Error - 30004

…

Aizawa was already on high alert when you hadn’t answered his call the night before. You had always made time to chat with him, even on your worst days. For you to claim that you weren’t feeling good was an obvious lie that was making him feel on edge. His students could feel the difference in his attitude, as he was being much more stingy and strict than usual. His advice and criticism for his students was more harsh and louder. He tried to not let his personal life affect his work life, however, there was something that was bothering him about the whole situation. 

He had managed to trudge through the whole day, but was determined to call you before he went to train with Shinsou. He dismissed his students and they left the classroom rather quickly, making comments on their teacher’s odd behavior today. Aizawa had pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a few deep breaths before reaching for his cellphone. He had looked to see he had a missed call from you and immediately dialed your number back. 

“Hey kiddo, everything alright?” Aizawa asked as soon as you picked up the phone. “No.” You croaked out and immediately, Aizawa was on the defense. “Do I need to come pick you up from school?” He asked, ready to beat up any kid who had made you upset. “No. I’m just going through a lot of emotions today.” You told him, sniffling on your end of the phone. “Do you think we can do something together this weekend, if you aren’t working?” You asked sadly and he wanted nothing more than to drop everything he was doing to come to your aid. 

However, he knew if he had abandoned his post at the Heights Alliance dorms he would never hear the end of it from Nezu. “Of course, we can go see a movie if you’d like.” He offered to you, and even though he couldn’t see you, he knew you were nodding. “What’s going on kid, talk to me.” He tried to push you into telling him what was wrong. “You don’t have to, I just want you to know I’m here for you.” He continued, trying to make you feel more comfortable. 

Before you had responded to his question, Hizashi had opened his classroom door and was quickly met with a glare from Shota. “Your daughter?” Hizashi mouthed, nodding to the cellphone in his colleagues hand. Shota had nodded his head and turned his attention back to you. “Hitoshi and I got into a fight.” You started, making Shota stop breathing. “And I’m pretty sure he broke up with me last night over the phone.” You continued, sobbing into what he assumed was your hand. Hizashi had noticed the entire energy in the room shift. 

“Dad, I need you to promise me you won’t do anything. I’m sure he’s just stressed.” You spoke up when you noticed your father had gone silent. “Okay. I promise. Look I have to get to my meeting, but I promise to call you after, okay?” He asked, gritting his teeth. “Okay, I love you.” You choked out, making his heart hurt hearing you so upset. “I love you too, get home safe.” He said before hanging up the phone. Aizawa took a deep breath before storming past Hizashi and headed towards the gym he was training Shinsou at. “Shota, I think you need to take a breather.” Hizashi had tried to say, warning him about what he was about might have consequences. Aizawa was seeing red and there was nothing that was going to stop him from reaching his target.

He whipped the door open to the gym and startled Shinsou greatly. He turned around and saw Aizawa, but noticed immediately the fowl mood that his teacher was in. “Uh, is everything okay, Aizawa-sensei?” Shinsou spoke up, but from the look on his teacher’s face he was going to regret asking. “No. Everything is not okay, but that is no longer your concern. I am revoking your transfer offer and cancelling your entrance exam for the chance to join the hero course.” Aizawa spoke quickly and furiously. The color had drained from Shinsou’s face, his eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what? But I’ve been working so hard!” Shinsou spoke up, obviously confused from the sudden remark his teacher made.

Aizawa had stalked over to Shinsou and backed him into a corner. “It doesn’t matter how hard you worked! If you think you can go and break my daughter’s heart without consequences then you are sorely mistaken. You are not the hero I thought you could be, especially for Y/N’s sake.” He yelled, making Shinsou stop breathing. Before Shinsou could make any plea to his teacher, Aizawa had walked out of the gym, leaving Shinsou completely shell-shocked. 

“What have I done…” 

(To be continued)

[Part Three]

[orsuliya]

Alright! Time for part 3 of married!Awu/XQ headcanons. This time? It’s all about the children!

There is nothing unplanned about Awu’s second pregnancy. The subject of children comes up again not long after Awu reunites with Xiao Qi after the so-called death of the latter. Their days in Ningshuo may be filled with the hustle and bustle of preparing for the upcoming march on the capital, but evenings and nights? Those are for holding each other close in search of comfort and reassurance. If not for that, Awu would scarcely have the strength to let Xiao Qi out of her eyesight during those first days and weeks.

During one of those quiet Ningshuo evenings Awu finally breaks. She has had to be strong for so long, all the while half-believing she would never be allowed the luxury of being weak in her husband’s arms again, that even now it takes time for her to let go and simply cry. When tears finally do come out, so do all of Awu’s past fears, leaving her one by one in an unstoppable torrent. Fear for those reliant on her, for the orphaned country and for her own fate; all of those are carefully listened to and soothed with words, silent affection and sense of complete togetherness.

One of those fears? Had you died, had you truly left me alone, what would I have of you for all the years to come? she asks, her voice muffled, her face pressed into her husband’s neck. There is a good reason why she was prepared to die after exacting her revenge. Far too many sleepless nights in Hulan had been spent imagining the long, dreary years of her widowhood. Ten, twenty, thirty years of loneliness, seeing her nephews and nieces being born and then growing up, with nothing, not even her husband’s sword to put in that bloody chapel; would that have been her fate?

She hits him – not too hard, but hard enough for it to be more than a playful tap – when he says that, in time, she would remarry and find happiness again. Would you?! she demands angrily, then softens, once she reads the answer in his eyes. A man should take responsibility from the beginning to the end. Not even a bloody sword to be mounted on the family altar, she laughs tiredly. You owe me, my Prince Yuzhang, you owe me and I shall be your most merciless creditor. Give me a child with your smile, one with your hands and eyes, she demands, pressing insistent kisses to that smile, to those hands and eyes, and then and only then will I consider myself satisfied.

He would, you know, he would have given her a dozen children if that were only possible, but surely she must know that it is not, it can never be in this lifetime. Awu can have anything else for the payment of his debt; he knows he owes her and will give her all that she may wish for that she does not already own. She wants children? Fine, she may have all the orphans in Ningshuo for the raising, if that will bring her joy. But he doesn’t, can never regret putting her health above all else and would give her five more miracle flowers if he had to…

Yes, Awu finally shuts her husband up, unable to take any more of this lethal sincerity. How? Well, the exact method I shall leave to your imagination, but the gist of it is as follows: Xiao Qi is not getting off that easily. They can and will have that child. How? Well, Awu might have plotted with Doctor Shen towards that goal and it will work this time. Maybe not now, maybe it will take another few months or years of fiery needles, but it’s not like they are in hurry. There is no way Awu will agree to have a child in the middle of a civil war, so her husband should really get on with restoring peace in all Cheng. Not right now! In the morning should be soon enough.

____________________________________

It does take some time, first to restore peace and then for Awu to actually get pregnant. In the meantime, she does take all the orphans in Ningshuo as an advance on that debt, not to mention their first son and daughter, Xiaohe and Qinzhi.

Doctor Shen, who – struck with a sudden premonition – had moved to Ningshuo among much grumbling and trembling over the contents of his priceless apothecary, is rewarded with the dubious honour of playing witness to Xiao Qi’s complete meltdown. The first thing our brave general does upon hearing of his wife’s pregnancy is to hug her and refuse to let go for a good while, not that she protests. The second thing? He panics like he’s never panicked before. Doctor Shen comes upon his noble patron, well, not hyperventilating, we’re talking about Xiao Qi here, remember. But certainly in throes of a good old anxiety attack. It’s… an experience for the good doctor, that’s for sure.

Thankfully Doctor Shen manages to talk Xiao Qi out of his wildest ideas. Like, for example, shutting Awu in her rooms in the middle of Ningshuo Fortress and standing guard over her until the baby is born. Yeah, that was not Xiao Qi’s proudest moment. Doctor Shen promises not to tell anyone of this sudden bout of unreasonable behaviour and keeps his word… for about three days, when he gladly throws Xiao Qi under the bus in order to ensure Awu’s full compliance with his own, medically justified safety measures.

Mind you, even Doctor Shen cannot work miracles, which he comes to bitterly regret in those next few months. Panicked Xiao Qi and worried Turnip Wang make for a truly hellish duo and Ningshuo soon experiences a steady trickle of accomplished doctors from the capital. Some of them have clearly been dragged out of their comfortable practices under duress, for others it’s quite an adventure. The latter soon find themselves put to work; no use in simply standing around and deliberating over a stunningly healthy woman when there are actual patients in need to be seen to!

____________________________________

Awu considers Xiao Qi’s debt fully repaid the moment she sees her son smile for the first time. Xiao Qi, an overachiever that he is, doesn’t quite agree… and a few years later they try for another child; this time it’s a daughter. One - as Xiao Qi likes to brag - as beautiful as her mother and isn’t it lucky that he has an army fit to guard the greatest treasures in all Cheng? Awu thinks that it would serve him right should Treasure the Younger marry an officer of that very army in the future. She doesn’t, by the way, but that is an entirely different story.

The children are named Yunshuo and Yunning, which is a reason of much good-natured teasing. Even among the children themselves. Yunning, once she grows to an age when she starts to assert her dominance, insists that really, her brother should listen to her in all things. He may be older in years, that much is true, but Ning always comes before Shuo, everybody knows that!

Jinruo’s words come true after all: Xiao Yunning is Awu’s tiny copy, only, according to Awu herself, twice as bossy and confident. Xiao Qi never questions this claim, at least not out loud, but Uncle Asu has no such qualms and immediately provides a good half-dozen stories to that effect. Now, Yunning has every chance to grow up spoiled with a mother who applauds her strong character, a father who might seem strict, yet folds like wet paper at the first sight of a trembling lip and a whole bunch of playmates only too easily coaxed into following her commands. And she very well might have... if not for one Hu Yao (who is alive and you won’t convince me otherwise, ha!). The younger Hu, a true Ningshuo legend, enjoys great authority among recruits and veterans both; she proves a match for a head-strong girl like Yunning, although only barely. No, Hu Yao’s pupil doesn’t become a general in her own right, choosing another path instead… but she keeps up with her training in the years to come.

Xiao Yunshuo, affectionately called Xiao Xiao, is no warrior in the making, being of a rather gentle disposition, something that he never grows out of, for all that this gentle disposition later turns out to hide a character of pure steel. Oh, make no mistake, Yunshuo is perfectly competent with weapons and on horseback, but it is not something that comes naturally to him, nor does he find much joy in fighting. This becomes blatantly obvious once he starts advanced training. Every child under Awu’s care is taught enough to be able to defend themselves or know when to run away, but nobody is forced to persist with military training, should they not wish to. Yunshuo persists all the same, making continuous progress. It’s only natural that he does: he’s rather frighteningly smart, that boy, and he works hard.

A bit too hard, as it turns out. Xiao Qi becomes suspicious of his son’s behaviour and makes sure to ‘accidentally’ come upon one of Yunshuo’s solitary and completely unsanctioned training sessions. Why, he asks and becomes rather angry once the truth starts coming out. No, not with Yunshuo. With himself, for not preventing this whole issue from existing in the first place. See, Yunshuo thinks it shameful that he, the firstborn and only son of Prince Yuzhang, the greatest general and warrior Cheng has had for generations, will never be able to become a worthy successor to his famous father. No, nobody has said anything, but Yunshuo is not stupid, he knows what he is and is not capable of!

Xiao Qi takes a minute to consider his next words carefully. In the end, he tells the truth: when he was a bit older that Yunshuo is now, he had no valuable skills, no education, no family and no real hope for the future. Signing up for an army was pretty much the easiest choice to make for somebody who didn’t really have all that much to live for. Killing people? Is not that difficult. All it takes is a good sharpened sword and some basic training. Learning to protect people, well, that was a bit harder; took Xiao Qi some years and a lot grief and pain to master that. Everything else – building a true home, making peace for yourself and everybody else, and creating a lasting, better future? That’s Awu’s forte and her work. There is no shame in having different skills, explains Xiao Qi. Find what you do best and make sure that it is of use to somebody. That’s it. Whatever Yunshuo’s skills, as long as at the end of the day he is be ready to use them to protect what is dear to him, he will be a warrior in his father’s eyes.

Xiao Yunshuo takes his father’s words to heart and, when the time comes, relays them to his own children. He never becomes a one man army, for all that he takes care not to let his skill with weapons go to rust. He does, however, become a great lord and statesman, and a startlingly brilliant strategist to boot; his advice is greatly appreciated by his older brother, the brave General Xiao Xiaohe… as well as by his brother-in-law, the Emperor of Cheng himself.

In Ningshuo, despite all his merits and great dignity, Xiao Yunshuo stays Xiao Xiao long, long after becoming a father himself.

____________________________________

Xiao Yunning is widely held by the ministers of Cheng to be the cause for at least a quarter of their grey hair. And all because of one rather tiny, if rather infamous deed. Okay, maybe not that tiny… But it is not Yunning’s fault that Xiao Qi had made such an impression on a bunch of delicate noblemen over twenty years earlier!

Once His Imperial Majesty, one Ma Jing, successfully negotiates puberty, it becomes a matter of national importance to supply him with a wife of appropriate station, character, beauty and fertility, the first and the last being the most important, of course. The true war over who will become the Empress of Cheng does not start until His Imperial Majesty becomes a fully-grown man; that is not until the Prime Minister’s eldest daughter comes of age. Having another Wang Empress is seen as inevitable by many; others are rather eager to see the streak of Wang Empresses die a final death. The idea of courting a foreign princess gets briefly thrown around and then soundly rejected. It’s a pity that all of His Majesty’s marriageable cousins with even a drop of Ma blood have the same family name, says somebody who sounds suspiciously like a true Classist Wei. For a moment there is complete silence as the thoughts of everyone present turn to the one cousin who is neither a Ma or a Wang.

See, Xiao Qi and Awu could easily make their daughter an Empress… if they thought that it would make her happy. They have nothing against Jing’er, why, he’s a beloved nephew to them both and they have taken a good measure of his character during the time he spent in Ningshuo, which amounts to a good couple of years. If they were to be honest, Yunning could use a husband this good-natured and conciliatory, and Jing’er would do well with an Empress of Yunning’s strength of character. There is also the matter of a rather touching childhood crush… but since Yunning herself has nothing but derogatory words for this whole imperial marriage mart mess, there is nothing to be done. Nothing to be done at all, as Xiao Qi quite readily assures his brother-in-law, adding that being an Empress is not an easy fate and one that he would not wish on anybody. Asu, long-used to not truly understanding Xiao Qi’s ambitions or rather the lack thereof, takes this assurance on its merits and goes back to planning his own daughter’s imperial wedding.

Rather surprisingly it’s Jing’er who becomes the greatest obstacle to Asu’s dynastic plans. Somehow he never really says no… but no mercenary father can ever pin him long enough to force him to say yes to any of the myriad of candidates. This stand-off lasts for some time, to Xiao Qi’s quiet amusement and Turnip’s frustration. Awu, on the other hand, becomes rather pensive, although she refuses to share her suspicions with anybody. It’s not like she has any proof…

...until her daughter provides her with all the proof she could have ever wished for.

The day another group of potential candidates is to be presented at court, Xiao Yunning pulls a Xiao Qi, causing many a minister to relieve their old trauma. Yes, she marches into the throne room accompanied by six of her companions, most of which do rather poorly at concealing weapons under their dresses. Yes, she climbs the stairs without as much as a by-your-leave. Yes, she does all of that while wearing clothing in a colour appropriate for the occasion. In this case? Wedding red. The main difference is that Ma Jing is a much wiser Emperor than Ma Zitan and grants Yunning’s petition immediately and with good grace.

The reason why Yunning did what she did, leaving Jing’er with no choice but to accept her suit? Well, that childhood crush might have been rather more than a crush. Really, Yunning would have had it in the bag the day of her coming-of-age ceremony, were His Imperial Majesty not such a noble bore. I cannot condemn you to carry this burden with me before you really know what you want, he said, every word disgustingly noble and self-sacrificial. You are not somebody who can be caged, so go and spread your wings and I shall wait for you for as long as it takes, he offered in a rather suspiciously bland tone of voice. Really, one could almost believe that Jing’er actually bought into that silly rumour that Xiao Qi requires every prospective son-in-law to fight him with live steel. Which, by the way, is not true. He only ever fought two rather persistent young lordlings who couldn’t understand that Qinzhi’s no means no.

Everything ends rather well for all interested parties, although Turnip keeps grumbling about having an unfairly deceitful brother-in-law. Awu quickly shuts him down, if only to get in her own portion of shameless teasing. See, if Xiao Qi wanted to avoid such situations, then he should have given his children a better example. This quickly devolves into a round of Yuzhang-style teasing, which prompts a stark realization from Xiao Yunning. She might be the Empress-to-be now, but even being thrice an Empress would still give her no power to stop her parents from being a pair of embarrassing old people in love. Jing’er, ever the conciliator, shows his diplomatic skill by proposing that she might have her revenge… by being one half of a pair of embarrassing young people in love.

The Wang Princess of that generation, a rather lovely and wise young woman by the name of Wang Xu, is not all that sad about losing a chance at the throne. Why, her tastes were always rather specific and in general ran more to generals than delicate young nobles. Now, this Xiao Xiaohe looks like an interesting specimen and certainly worthy of taking a closer look, should one be in-market for a pet general of one’s own...

[butterflies-dragons]

Hey! There was a giant lemon cake with phallic image in alayne chapter. Do you think it some coincidence or it means something? Especially it's presented by petyr. Also Sansa and her enemies giving her lemoncakes give same vibes as Hansel&gretel story.

And best of all, Lord Nestor’s cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar.

For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more.

��The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

Petyr Baelish is grooming Sansa, that’s the awful truth. And he has studied Sansa, he knows what she likes/wants and he will use that knowledge in his favor.

He knows she had a distant relationship with Ned, so he becomes Alayne’s father.

He knows that Ned neglected her and that she always craved for her father’s validation, so he gives her that, he praised her wits for example, and called her clever and smart. 

If Sansa says something like “I can’t” or “I don’t know”, he is there to encourage and support and tell her “you can do it” & “you know it”.  

He knows she loves knights and tourneys, so he allows her to organize a tournament, whose winners will belong to a kind of “Kingsguard” for Sweetrobin, based on the child’s favorite hero of the legends: The Winged Knight, Ser Artys Arryn.

He knows she loves lemon cakes, so he gives her a giant lemon cake.    

The Tyrells has used the same strategy:

"Sansa," Lady Alerie broke in, "you must be very hungry. Shall we have a bite of boar together, and some lemon cakes?"

"Lemon cakes are my favorite," Sansa admitted.

"So we have been told," declared Lady Olenna, who obviously had no intention of being hushed. "That Varys creature seemed to think we should be grateful for the information. I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems to me they're only men with the useful bits cut off. Alerie, will you have them bring the food, or do you mean to starve me to death? Here, Sansa, sit here next to me, I'm much less boring than these others. I hope that you're fond of fools."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

We all know how much Sansa loves her lemon cakes, but the Tyrells and Littlefinger really treat her as if she were a child like Sweetrobin:

"Will they be lemon cakes?" Lord Robert loved lemon cakes, perhaps because Alayne did.

"Lemony lemony lemon cakes," she assured him, "and you can have as many as you like."

"A hundred?" he wanted to know. "Could I have a hundred?"

"If it please you." She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair. Lady Lysa had brushed it herself every night, and cut it when it wanted cutting. After she had fallen Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so Petyr had commanded that his hair be allowed to grow. Alayne wound a lock around her finger, and said, "Now, will you get out of bed and let us dress you?"

"I want a hundred lemon cakes and five tales!"

I'd like to give you a hundred spankings and five slaps. You would not dare behave like this if Petyr were here. The little lord had a good healthy fear of his stepfather. Alayne forced a smile. "As my lord desires. But nothing till you're washed and dressed and on your way. Come, before the morning's gone." She took him firmly by the hand, and drew him out of bed.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

The lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance

The Giant's Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon within the Vale of Arryn, extending three and a half miles above the the valley below.

The great-grandfather of Petyr Baelish was a Braavosi sellsword that came into the Vale of Arryn at the service of Lord Corbray. His line was continued by his son, who became a hedge knight and took the head of the Titan of Braavos as his sigil.

As I mentioned in this post, a sword, Ice in particular, works as a phallic symbol in Sansa’s chapters. 

So, we can also make this association:

The Titan of Braavos = A Giant

The Giant’s Lance = Tallest Peak

Lance & Peak = phallic symbols 

Lemon cake in the shape of the Giant’s Lance = I don’t want to write it 

We can also say that Petyr Baelish is “compensating” his “shortfalls”, after all he is a short man called Littlefinger.  

Yes, I think this giant lemon cake could be seen as a phallic symbol and it makes sense with Littlefinger grooming her... yikes

¡¡¡SOMEONE SAVE HER PLEASE!!!   

My friend @lostlittlesatellites has already wrote about these subjects, giant lemon cake as phallic symbol and Hansel and Gretel story: 

I argued that lemon cakes in Sansa’s arc actually spell people trying to exploit Sansa’s weakness in an almost Hansel & Gretel way and a betrayal that follows.

“Interestingly Sansa’s first chapter in AGOT poses questions that will drive majority of her arc. Her desire for a courtly life in the South will not only prove to be hollow but worse a dream that turns into nightmare. Sansa asks two questions: “What could you want to see? It’s just fields and farms and holdfasts” and “Why would you want to ride a smelly old horse and get all sore and sweaty when you could recline on feather pillows and eat cakes with the queen?”

The world is larger than Sansa has been taught to believe, reclining more inward into her dreams with the strict regime that she taught to look away from the window. She doesn’t think she is prepared enough and that she needs more training. Yes, she doesn’t know enough but neither does Arya or Bran or Jon. Having Sansa finally leave her cage after completing her tutelage under Littlefinger is continuing that student-teacher dynamic she has had since Septa Mordane. People come to love the security of the cage they live in too long. This is why it takes so long to take out the fear of the outside from Sansa because the fact that she has barely any experience keeps her thinking she needs someone to rely on.

[…]

The “Feather pillows and cakes with the queen” part represents the glamour that attracts little boys and girls like Sansa. However, it is hollow as Sansa comes to realise about many things. In fact, people offering Sansa lemon cakes in Sansa’s storyline often forebodes a betrayal from the person offering it. Cersei offers her lemon cakes and a few chapters later she has Lady executed and even later, she has Ned arrested. Olenna offers Sansa lemon cakes, which Varys offers as valuable information to bring her guard down in order to lure her into her trap of marrying her to Wilas and getting hold of Winterfell and the North. They have her wear the murder weapon, which could implicate her for Joffrey’s murder even if their target is Tyrion. Littlefinger is offering her a 12 foot phallic shaped lemon cake in Sansa’s TWOW chapter. Given how happy Sansa is in this chapter that she is almost forgetting that she isn’t Alayne, the food is way too lavish when Winter is coming and along with this trend with lemon cakes, the clock is going to strike 12 and the illusion is going to break very soon. Soon Sansa will prefer riding those “smelly horses” and getting sweaty and sore in order to escape over those lemon cakes and feather beds offered by untrustworthy people. For Sansa’s arc to be fulfilling she has to experience the lives of small folk up close before she helps them. As a character whose view range is often myopic, she has to be put in the middle of the lives of the small folk to truly understand them.”

I highly recommend you to check @lostlittlesatellites blog, she’s a great ASOIAF meta writer, you can read more about these subjects here and here. She covered a lot of themes and symbolisms around Sansa in the Vale, some of them very disturbing regarding Littlefinger’s present and future actions against Sansa...   

But despite all that, since GRRM is a writer that likes to give different meanings to a same thing, there are also some very interesting details that are worthy to mention about the real Giant’s Lance:

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well. 

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King.  

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

I can see strong dragon imagery here... 

I already wrote about how Sansa wishing falcon wings could be foreshadowing of her getting dragon wings.  

Here I also listed all the similarities between Jon and Sweetrobin.

But the most interesting detail is that the real Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow. 

Sansa’s Vale arc has a lot of connections with Jon Snow, like this parallel that I called “Children of the Mountains”.

There is also the names of the waycastles Stone (Alayne) and Snow (Jon).

And one of my favorite Jon Snow reference in Sansa’s chapters, the ghost wolf, big as mountains:

All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

So, 

The Giant’s Lance is the tallest peak of the Mountains of the Moon.

The Giant’s Lance is Stone covered by Ice/Snow.

Sansa compared those mountains with a giant Ghost Wolf.  

I’m sorry Littlefinger, you can’t touch this girl!

Thanks for your message.

[ramblingguy54]

Escape From The Impossibin!: An Exercise Of Trust & Hope.

So, I was predicting for this episode to have Della & Louie bonding time together, which there were cool moments with them to be sure. However, what I really liked about today’s story was how it focused on the aftermath of FOWL’s reveal to still be very much alive to Scrooge’s horror and Beakly’s greatly underlying concern. A couple of days ago before Impossibin premiered today, I chatted with some others on Discord about what this episode’s story would explore for its overall message, which the more I thought about, the more I leaned on the idea it would be centered around the notion of trust. Let’s Get Dangerous had a consistent theme of deceitful liars being revealed who weren’t whom they appeared to be, as seen with Taurus Bulba vs Drake Mallard & Bradford’s true nature being known to Scrooge at that hour special’s ending. 

Escape From The Impossibin is all about confronting the growing tension that’s become a threat to a content family lineage of adventurers, who now have to defend everything they stand for in their legacy, once again. That’s something I’ve always appreciated about DuckTales is even when it doesn’t entirely match my predictions, it finds other new ways to surprise me for what it can do. Della & Louie didn’t necessarily get the bonding time I had hoped for, which did admittedly disappoint me, but they did a serve a purpose in their own right that I’ll get to later. Anyways, the spotlight is on the older mentor figures, Scrooge McDuck and Bentina Beakly, who are all too familiar in dealing with FOWL’s antagonism before in Season 1′s episode, The Confidential Case Files Of Agent 22, that especially applies to Beakly’s past in fighting them as an agent of SHUSH for very much longer compared to Scrooge. With how much is at stake you’d very much expect there to be old feelings being drudged up, regarding Scrooge’s trust and respect for Bradford, as well as Beakly’s strict over protective nature with Webby to keep her safe from losing that optimism that makes her stand out as a beacon of hope to inspire others, which they do. FOWL isn’t like Magica or Lunaris who want to make themselves known flat out to the world with their egos. They’re very cunning and cold blooded with going about executing their plans for control of the Earth. Particularly, Bradford is the serious threat most of all because he’s the brains of this outfit giving precision in each order to those under his command. Combine Bradford’s knowledge with the muscle of Steelbeak, Rockerduck’s underhanded scheming, Gandra Dee’s scientific intellect, Black Heron’s lust for more power, and Phantom Blot’s ability to absorb all kinds of magic that gives the McDucks’ a severe scenario they’ve never faced. FOWL is the right combination to put an end to Scrooge’s adventuring because Bradford has kept a close eye on him for so many years. Bradford has seen plenty of Scrooge at his total best and worst most of all. He’s studied upon every detail of Scrooge’s life, for who knows how many years, and is finally putting all of it to use against him, where we get to see the extent of just how well Bradford can read every one of his moves. Lunaris’ intellect was simply a figurative puddle compared to what Bradford managed to accomplish with his high IQ.

The scary thing is Scrooge knows this reality himself, too. 

That’s one of my favorite elements of Impossibin’s purpose. We get to see Scrooge seriously doubt his abilities. In episodes, like The Most Dangerous Game Night and The 87 Cents Solution, Scrooge has always prided himself in being a very sharp individual who could see every angle and any detail that others couldn’t. Bradford, on the other hand, rivals Scrooge’s thinking that puts an eerie perspective on things for the old man. Scrooge always thought to be one step ahead of the game, but then realizes that someone who’s been by his side for so very long played him like a fiddle all those years. Who’s to say Scrooge isn’t probably thinking back on stuff such as Bradford shutting down his rescue operation for Della, controlling his money usage, letting Louie hang around Bradford in The Richest Duck In The World, finalizing Gyro’s inventions, etc? Scrooge realizes he’s had a dangerous character around the family manor all those years, which makes him doubt his ability to trust himself in protecting everything that he holds importantly in life. Scrooge isn’t just thinking he’s been fooled, he’s doubting every aspect of what made him competent to begin with. Doesn’t help among this moment of self reflection Bradford is there to further rub in that harsh reality of how much he knows about Scrooge.

This moment gave me chills because it completely put a spin upon the story’s concept. I figured that FOWL would hack Scrooge’s security system, with help from Gandra Dee’s abilities, and I’m glad it went this route, since it shows how dangerous things are this time. They’re not even safe within the confines of their own manor anymore, considering Bradford knows every nook and cranny of it. Scrooge thought only he knew the security system’s password, given its based on the amount of all money in his money bin, but Bradford covered that crucial detail, too. Bradford isn’t leaving any loose ends toward Scrooge in how he’ll go about using any little thing against him for future reference. That’s what makes the stakes higher here than compared to Lunaris’ invasion. This is a much more personal story between a clash of ideals with Adventuring vs Control. Lunaris lacked that emotional connection here Bradford is making Scrooge have to face that adds another layer of tension to this situation. Bradford wants Scrooge to know, “I have control over you. There is nothing you know that I’ve already figured out about yourself.”, and going about hacking the robotic version of himself is the best way to send home that message to him. It can also be interpreted as symbolism for Scrooge fighting his own insecurities when Bradford takes control of the robot to start attacking.

I need you, the two most cunning individuals I know, to spot any weaknesses.

Now, Della & Louie did serve a big purpose, despite the Plot A point focusing greatly on Scrooge’s existential dilemma, for they were there to remind Scrooge of just how much of an impact his life style has had on them. Della & Louie’s teamwork together throughout the episode is a perfect way to give Scrooge a reality check reminder for how skilled they are as adventurous fighters against unknown dangers. After all, Scrooge passed on his skills to Della, who’d later pass down her intellectual skills to him, too. Again, tying into the whole theme of legacy and what not about how much family can bring out the best in each other. If it wasn’t for what Scrooge had taught them, then he wouldn’t have been saved by Louie’s defining act of being a badass, by willingly diving into the pile of money, which got hit by a gravity changing rosa rune from the robot and ended up crushing it. I wanted to see more mature Louie, so him lifting Scrooge up about how much pride he has in the family lineage was a great nod to it. That in turn, allowed Scrooge to remember why he and their family are strong together. You know, after recent events that have happened in my life, seeing legacy be explored in DuckTales Season 3 means a lot to me now more than ever.

As for Beakly’s B Plot, in terms of how it ties into a neat bow with Scrooge’s story, shows how intense she’s getting at the notion of eventually facing FOWL again. Honestly, I’m not surprised if she’s getting flashbacks of whatever painful or traumatic events happened to her in those Agent 22 days. I mean, for God’s sake, she tells Webby to straight up incapacitate Huey, who was already so scared. Something Webby refuses to agree with as the best course of training methods to better prepare against the greater threat. Beakly’s characterization has always fascinated me with how well she guards her vulnerability, kind of like Goldie in a way, but the difference here is outta great concern for others rather than herself. My mind can’t stop thinking about this scene, as there could most likely be underlying context for why Beakly is getting so worked up over this training. It seems Beakly is carrying a tremendous weight on her shoulders, probably some heavy angst, that it looks like she wants to say, but can’t because of bigger story reasons we’ll find out later in Season 3′s final batch of episodes. Special mention to Donald Duck putting his foot down on Beakly’s very intense training session. Donald knows the trials and errors of what it means to be a parent. He was once very overly protective of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, but learned to let them experience the world for what it is and not hold them back, so I liked how it ties into Beakly’s dilemma of trying to protect Webby from FOWL’s heartless nature.

Beakly’s plot may have not gotten much focus, but it did a very good job setting up more angst to come between her and Webby’s relationship. Things are gonna get very complicated between them when more things come to light. I’m keeping an eye on Huey’s line specifically. When he said, “The one thing we know for sure is that we trust each other, right?”, Beakly did want to bring herself to apologize of course, but I also think she was close to wanting to confess something else to Webby, too. I’m expecting this moment to be called back to when stuff hits the fan with Beakly’s past and whatever Webby’s origins are.

Escape From the Impossibin may have unsettling stuff lurking around the corner with how FOWL managed to distract them with the security system, so they could steal away every missing mystery the family has found so far, but there’s a glimmer of light in all of that darkness. A light that is a reminder of what makes the McDuck family an unstoppable force of trust, hope, and most importantly love. Frank said that things were gonna start going into overdrive with FOWL’s battle against McDuck and he wasn’t kidding around. I’m so overjoyed were getting more episodes in November after this episode finished because that would’ve been a painful wait. Season 3 is gonna start giving things it built up a big pay off and I’m totally here for that!

[moon-in-daylight]

Night Watch / Davos x reader

Summary: Waking up in the middle of the night, you notice that Davos is gone.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut implied

A/N: So, I’ve been rewatching Davos’ scenes and I felt the need to write something for him even though it’s garbage lol  because he deserves to be loved and accepted and also because we need more Davos’ fics

Still half asleep, you rolled on your side just to find that the other half of the bed was empty.

It took more than a few seconds for you to be startled by it, though. It wasn’t a strange thing after all, you were far more than accustomed to sleeping alone in that enormous and lonely bed night after night… But as your numbed brain tried to remember the circumstances in which you had fallen asleep, you found that something - or rather someone - was missing.

Davos.

Thinking about him immediately made you open your eyes and sit up to inspect the room with worry. Even though it was still dark you had to blink a few times to adjust your eyes, squinting them involuntarily when you tried to look at the blinding screen of your phone. It was 3:24 am and there was no sign of another person being there with you, at least none that your barely conscious state could perceive.

Your first reaction was to think that you had dreamt it all. It was the most logical, plausible explanation. It wouldn’t have been the first time that your subconscious made you think of Davos like that.

You didn’t feel proud of it, but from time to time you couldn’t help but fantasize about him.

Sometimes, when you two were together and he was telling you some anecdote about K’un-Lun and his early life, your mind involuntarily focused on the movement of his mouth instead of on whatever story he was sharing with you. And while contemplating his lips, you usually found yourself daydreaming about kissing them, feeling them against your skin as you pictured the way his hands would roam through your body. Imagining how he would eagerly remove every piece of clothing and the way his skin would feel against yours, how sweet his moans would sound in your ears as he thrusted slowly but deeply into you…

You were usually quick to snap out of those fantasies, but even if you had only been distracted for a few seconds, you weren’t able to quiet the embarrassment that took over you after imagining him that way. You barely could look at him in the eye after having your attention drifted away by those thoughts.

The friendship you shared was vital for the both of you and you didn’t want to ruin it with unrequited feelings.

You had met after he had escaped prison and, since the first moment after he had rescued you from being mugged, you felt safe with him. The tranquility you felt while being with him was such that you even offered him to stay at your place when he casually mentioned he was running away from justice. It was a risky decision to let a stranger into your apartment that easily, especially when he was a convicted criminal that chattered all kinds of nonsense about dragons and rightfulness, but you could see his intentions were good. There was something in you that trusted him blindly, even when you were convinced that the things he talked about didn’t exist.

It wasn’t until you observed with your very own eyes the way he made his fist glow a bright red during one of his training sessions that you realized that everything he talked about was real.

Hearing his story and how his home had been destroyed, you were quick to position yourself by his side. You knew he had done some bad things, but he was good at heart and you tried to help him see where he had gotten wrong. Surprisingly, he seemed to listen to you and care about what you had to say. It was clear he cared about you too, worrying whenever he saw you weren’t feeling good or taking care of you when you were ill.

It was heartwarming the way you supported one another despite your radically different backgrounds, the way you helped each other improve and see the world from another point of view. It didn’t take long for Davos to become one of the most important people in your life.

Finding out about each other issues and going through them together had been extremely helpful for you both. To talk about them and listen to each other’s advice when you didn’t know what to do. Davos had been through a lot of abuse during his life, and you liked to think that he had finally found in you someone to rely on, just as you had in him.

As he taught you to meditate and control your anxiety, you tried to make him see that he was a person worthy of dignity and affection, not ‘the second best’ as he had been told after losing the Iron Fist to Danny Rand back in K’un-Lun…

It wasn’t easy to erase the toll that years of constant abuse had left, but you had made so much progress while being together… You feared that you would be throwing it all away if he ever found out about your little fantasies. You didn’t want him to know what you felt for him because the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable, especially because you knew how he had been raised and what he thought of sex. And, of course, he had told you how violent his only ‘sexual experience’ had been like…

But the images of him being all over you still creeped into your dreams from time to time, and your half-awaken, dazed-self supposed that was exactly what was happening that night.

Yet, as you slowly roused, you found that the sensations that your mind recreated were too intense to be fictional this time. In fact, you almost could feel as if his touch still lingered on your skin, the phantom feeling of hot, gentle kisses remaining on your neck and collarbone. That was when your mind finally cleared up and you realized it had actually happened.

You had slept with Davos.

Your mind slowly went through the events of that late evening, remembering that you had had dinner together and that you had watched a film in your couch afterwards.

It was normal that he didn’t get most of the inside jokes and implications of American culture in movies considering he had been living in a monastery most of his life, so you always enjoyed sitting in front of the TV with him and explaining every cultural reference that confused him. But that night he hadn’t asked you a single question, nor showed any of his usual discomfort towards the disgraceful and reproachable way in which the characters acted.

Not giving his silence a second thought, you quietly watched the movie until a sex scene appeared.

Looking at your friend from the corner of your eye, you watched him squirm uncomfortably on his sit, the images probably taking him back to the humiliating moment of his ‘sacrifice’, as he usually referred to that unfortunate event.

“We can fast forward this part.” You were quick to grab the remote and skip the frames until a different scene appeared on the screen.

“Have you been practicing lately?” He asked, unprompted. It took you a moment to realize he was actually talking about the Kung Fu lessons he had been imparting you.

As soon as you shook your head, he encouraged you to leave the movie half way through and go over some of the movements he had already taught you in previous training sessions. Truth was you weren’t really into what you were watching anyway, and you supposed it was too awkward for him to keep watching it. Since you had been the one to ask him to teach you how to fight, you willingly got up from the couch and started to show him the little progress you had made.

He didn’t let you finish showing him, though, as he immediately started to point out the flaws in your inexperienced technique, correcting your posture and reminding you to breathe properly to channel your Chi into your every move.

Davos was a harsh professor and he wouldn’t forgive a single mistake from you, telling you that you couldn’t afford to commit any error in battle, as your enemy wouldn’t miss a chance of exploiting your weaknesses. As demanding as he was, you knew that he was being especially tender and easy going with you, at least by his standards. It broke your heart to think about the strict way he had been trained and raised, how severe they had been with him when he was only a child.

Following his instructions, you started to throw punches and kicks at him, attacks that he easily blocked without breaking a sweat. You were definitely glad that you didn’t have to actually fight against him, being well aware that he would be able to end you in the span of ten seconds, maybe even less.

“You have to hit stronger.” His voice commanded you. “Faster.”

You did as you were told and increased the effort put in the fight, but immediately stopped the second he didn’t avoid your punch and your fist impacted against his chest.

“Don’t stand still.” He grabbed your hand and pushed it away. “Now you got it, come on.”

Without saying a single word, you resumed your offensive with the same intensity of that last punch. Unluckily for you, Davos seemed to be more alert now, anticipating each and every one of your movements before you even knew you were going to make them. With a few swift motions, he easily overpowered you, immobilized both of your arms and pinned you against the wall.

You tried to steady your breathing as you did your best to ignore what his proximity was arousing inside of you. Waiting for him to release you for another round, you found yourself growing more and more tense when he simply stared at you in silence, uncomfortably swallowing the lump in your throat when his grip on you didn’t loosen up.

The images of every time you had dreamt about him clouded your mind without you being able to do anything to ignore them, the growing heat between your legs becoming more unbearable with every second his deep brown eyes kept fixed on you. You closed your eyes in hopes that you could distract yourself, think of anything other than the man standing in front of you. But every attempt at doing so immediately failed when you felt the warmth of his lips pressing against yours.

Getting out of your thoughts, you rubbed your eyes as you recalled everything that had happened from that moment. The last thing you remembered the feeling of utter peace and tranquility that invaded you as you fell asleep in his arms.

That calm was completely erased from you now that you realized that he had left in the middle of the night, without saying goodbye or at least leaving a note.

Your heart raced as you mentally slapped yourself for having allowed that to happen.

How could you be so stupid? It was true that it had been him the one to take the first step by kissing you, but you should have known better. You should have figured that he would only disobey his moral code like that in a moment of weakness, a weakness that you had unconsciously taken advantage of. Now he probably had regretted everything and had ran away not wanting to see you or hear from you again.

You feared that your friendship was ruined beyond repair.

Maybe if you called Davos in the morning and talked about what had happened you could still sort it all out. You didn’t want to lose him, to have him walk out of your life just because you had gotten carried away in a moment of lust…

Deep down you knew what you felt for him extended far beyond simple lust, but you were willing to ignore those feelings, to act as if they weren’t there for the sake of keeping him by your side.

You buried your head in the pillow in an attempt to hold back the tears that already started to form inside your eyes, an intense ache inside your chest forming at the thought of having messed up so badly with Davos. He was the person you cared for the most and thinking that you may have caused him any wrong made you feel a profound disappointment on yourself.

It wasn’t until you felt an arm surrounding your waist and a slight shifting on the other side of the bed that you lifted your head, finding Davos laying down next to you again.

“Where were you?” Your voice was a bit husky from having just waken up a few minutes ago. You wanted to lay your head on his chest, but didn’t in case it would make him uncomfortable.

“I was checking the perimeter.” He said, as if it was the most natural thing to do at 3:00 am. “Did I wake you?”

You carefully shook your head as you avoided looking into his eyes.

Judging by the calm tone in which he spoke, you could tell that he wasn’t angry and you felt slightly stupid for having panicked and jumped into the conclusion that he had abandoned you so fast. Still, things weren’t solved up yet. As you finally looked up at him, you wondered in which state was your relationship at.

Davos had been taught that a living weapon should not get involved sexually or emotionally with anyone. And, even if you always tried to convince him that he was a person before a warrior, you weren’t sure he actually believed your words. You weren’t even sure he had ever even considered having a romantic relationship before that evening, but looking at the way he lovingly stared at you, it almost seemed as if he wanted you too.

“What would you check the perimeter for?” You asked in confusion. Was he in danger? Had Danny found him and wanted to bring him to justice? You started to become preoccupied as you thought of all the worse scenarios.

“I do it every night. This neighborhood is full of thugs and criminals, like the one trying to mug you when we first met.” He clarified, gaining a frown from you that silently asked him to explain further. You only hoped he hadn’t gone back to being a ‘vigilante’, it had taken you a lot of effort to talk him out of it. “By making guard I can make sure you’re safe.”

Instantly after hearing his words you felt your heart warming up, moved by the fact that he cared about you to the point of watching over you every night. Hesitantly, you got closer to him and taking the fact that he didn’t pulled back as a silent sign of consent, you placed a tender kiss on his lips.

“Thank you for taking care of me, but you don’t need to make guard every night.” You gently brushed your fingers against his stubble, your eyes on his as you spoke softly. “You need to take care of yourself and get a full night of sleep. Would you do that for me?”

The second he slowly nodded his head a gentle smile formed on your face. You pressed your lips against his once more before cuddling beside him, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

The calming sound of his breathing was enough to quickly made you sleepy again.

“Davos,” You mumbled his name with your eyes closed, feeling consciousness slowly fading from you. “I love you.”

You were too numbed to notice, but Davos’ body clenched at your words. You didn’t know, but it was the first time someone ever dedicated those words to him. He had fought all his life to get approval, travelled to the other side of the world to make the ones he loved proud, hoping they would show him the affection he had always craved for. When K’un-Lun was destroyed, he lost all hope of having someone say those words to him, of gaining someone’s love. And yet, there you were, right between his arms.

You were already asleep when he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too.”

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Always & Forever: Part 3

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Summary: Being forced into an arranged marriage by your father doesn't go quite to plan when your soon to be husband tries to take the only freedom you have ever known. Little does he know someone else was listening in. Go on a journey to discover that Lucifer may not be as bad as he appears. He did save your life after all.

Warnings: talks of acts of violence, talks of possession, age gap, cursing, fluff, some angst, mentions of blood and injury, talk of mature topics, 18+ only.

Word Count: 2,384

A/N: I try to stay as true to the time period as I am comfortable with. This an 18+ only series. You have been warned. There is a lot of talk about mature topics. You have been warned. All thoughts in italics.

Enjoy!

The guard chuckled, “I see. Well, if she does come down here then looking for an escape, then you’ll let us know, right?”

“If that’s what you wish, then yes.”

“Good. I’ll come check on you in a little bit then, or till you call me to come grab her.”

“Fine by me.”

I hear the guard walk up the stairs very slowly, then he shuts the door. I sit there for a good couple minutes.

“I’ll go see if he’s truly gone. I don’t trust those new guards.” Maddox says coming out of the shadows and going to the stairs, “he’s gone.”

“Good. Now get Lucifer out of his cell please.”

“Fine. fine.”

Maddox goes and grabs the keys and unlocks Lucifer’s cell. I walk in and hug him tight, but I suddenly feel something warm and wet against my abdomen. I pull away after hearing Lucifer groan and notice he is covered in wounds, blood all over him.

“Wh-what did they do to you?”

“Don’t worry about me princess. Let’s just get out of here. Next question is how.”

“Leave that to me. How do you think I was able to get here without anyone seeing me in the first place?” Suddenly, Maddox reveals a door that leads to a dark corridor. “I’ll help Lucifer. You go ahead princess. This tunnel shouldn’t be blocked. It should lead straight to my tower. From there we have a straight shot out to the stables.”

“I can walk on my own. I won’t take the chance with her. I want to stay by her side.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll stay here till I know you guys are far enough in before I shut the door.”

Lucifer nods, and stands up. He slowly walks over to me and takes my hand. He grabs a burnt out torch and relights it, starting to walk down. I keep close to his side gripping his hand, not wanting to let go.

“I promised to protect you, and I will stick to my word princess.”

“I know...I’m scared of what might happen. I just want this sick nightmare to be over.”

“I know princess. I know.”

We get down to what feels half way when we see that the door closes and we hear running.

“Don’t turn around. Just keep walking,” Maddox whispers as he slowly creeps behind us.

I got closer to Lucifer scared that guards were coming down the stairs back to the dungeon.

We finally get to Maddox’s tower after what seems like hours. Time moves so much slower when you are waiting for something bad to happen. We wait for Maddox to make his way to us before we slowly open the door. Maddox goes in first just in case there are guards waiting for him to return.

“It’s all clear for now. We have to move quickly. I will go grab the horses and you two stay in this tunnel. I don’t want to risk guards being at the stables, or them coming in here and discover you two in my tower together.”

“I think that’s a good plan.” Lucifer says, sitting on the ground against the wall. 

“I’ll be back soon then. Stay in here.” Maddox then shuts the door, and leaves.

“I’m sorry I worried you princess. I should have known that me needing to head home under my father’s orders was a lie.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you are safe. I also had a feeling that you were still in the castle. I don’t know how, but I did.”

“When I kissed your forehead, I made sure you would be able to sense me wherever you were. No matter how far apart we were, and if I were in trouble, you would be able to find me easily. I guess that explains why you showed up in the dungeon. I just figured you would have been under strict watch by the guards.”

“Maybe Michael trusted me enough to be afraid of his threat, that he didn’t feel he needed to place guards.”

“He threatened you?”

“He said that I would regret it if I left my room without permission, but I had to get away somehow. I didn’t think that the wedding would have been tonight.”

“Tonight? No wonder he is trying to find you.”

“Yeah, it’s also why I’m wearing this ridiculous dress.”

Lucifer looks at me and his face goes red, “I-I didn’t even notice, and I got blood all over you...I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t really like how this looks on me anyways. It’s not my style of dress.”

“I think it looks beautiful on you.”

“Y-you think so?”

“I know so.” He smiles at me, and I return it.

I don’t know why, but I always feel so happy when I’m with him. Like I feel like I can be myself around him. It’s a feeling I’ve never felt before. “Why did you save me? All the others seemed so awestruck by me, yet you respected me and kept at attention. Not once do you look me up and down like you had other plans for me.”

“Because I respect you. Your reputation in our kingdom is one I have never heard before. I mean it makes sense with you being the only child of King Nova, but I don’t know any princess of your age who has as much freedom and knowledge of politics as you do.”

“Guess I never thought about that before. I always took that for granted. Always took for granted that I was the lone child . That my mother never bore a son for my father to train in politics and sword fighting. Yet, he taught me all those things. I never realised that other princesses weren’t given that luxury. That they were always taught to be prim and proper. All they were good for was bearing sons for their husbands.” 

“Exactly. They all seem so afraid of us. Every marriage interview I have had, they all just sat and wanted me to, well, talk about me. That’s okay and everything, but I want my future wife to feel like she can talk about herself as well.”

“I’m not afraid to speak my mind. It’s really the only true freedom I have had. Father gave me more than most princesses, but I still had to do whatever he ordered. I was always allowed to give my opinion on the matter without punishment as long as I still went and obeyed him.”

“You just answered your own question. I love that you speak your mind. You aren’t a force to be reckoned with. That’s what has me so attracted to you.”

I smile and blush. No one has ever said that to me before. Usually they just say that I’m annoying and I just need to shut my mouth.

“I mean every word I say to you. I would never ever lie to you.”

“I trust you Lucifer.”

“Good. I’m glad I have your trust, as much as you have mine.”

I smile at him, but my eyes are drawn to his lips. I knew I had to resist my urge to just kiss him then and there, but it certainly wasn’t the proper time, nor the proper place.

The door opens to the corridor and Lucifer stands between me, and the possible assailant. 

“Calm Lucifer it’s me,” Maddox said fully opening the door, “hurry, I can hear guards making their way here.”

Lucifer grabs my arm, and we rush outside. He helps me onto a horse and gets on behind me, taking the reins. Maddox hops on his and takes the lead starting his horse in a gallop. Lucifer does the same, heading for the main gates.

“There they are! Stop them!” A guard yells out as we take off.

The guards at the main gate start to close the gate. Maddox makes it over the bridge quickly before they start to lift it, but Lucifer and I weren’t so lucky. I was convinced we wouldn’t make it, and we would be stuck here to be tortured for all eternity, but Lucifer made the horse go faster. I close my eyes ready for us to come to a halt, but the opposite occurs. The horse jumps over the mote, and lands on the other side safely. Lucifer keeps the horse galloping in case the guards decide to follow us.

After hours of traveling through dense forest, we finally make it to the village of Taekya. It was honestly very beautiful. I had never seen it before, but there was something not right about it. The people all stared in rage, and fear at us as we walked through the square.

“How dare you show your face her princess. After what your father has done to us.” A village person yelled at us.

“I came here to right the wrong that has happened. What has happened, is completely unfair to you. It wasn’t my father’s orders to declare war on you, but in fact an invader who just wants power. I came to look at this so-called declaration of war against the Taekya people.”

“Why do you care? You only care about what you have lost because of this, your precious fish.”

“That isn’t even the least bit true. I know the impact it has on everyone. Shipments will stop coming in once other kingdoms gain word of this. You will lose everything because of this war. Textiles, food, wood, coal, rare ores. Everything a village needs to thrive. My father and I would never declare war on a Kingdom that could quickly die off in such a horrific way.”

The village people begin to talk amongst themselves before someone speaks up.

“Then who is this man that came with an entire army declaring war in the Great King Nova’s name?”

“His name is Michael, the first Prince of Oslcuatish.”

The chatter gets a little louder. Looks like Michael isn’t very welcomed in many places.

“Why would the future king want to declare war in the present king's name?”

“Because I refused to marry him.”

The village irrupts in conversation. I can hear horrible rumors about me being spat every so often.

“Silence!” Lucifer speaks over the chatter, “I have accompanied the princess to right the wrongs my brother has brought to our family’s name. My name is Prince Lucifer, the second Prince of Oslucatish.”

Everyone just stares at him in awe before they start to whisper amongst themselves.

“The great commander has accompanied the princess, so this must be so.”

“I will take you to see the declaration of war.” A voice spoke up from the crowd.

He was a knight, with what seemed to also be a high ranking.

“The name is Captain Salathiel. I was present during the reading, and the signing of the document.”

“Thank you captain.”

“My pleasure to assist such a knight as yourself Commander.” Salathiel bows in respect to Lucifer.

“Pleasure’s all mine captain.”

Lucifer gets off our horse and helps me down before we follow the captain to a cathedral looking building.

“My apologies to your rude welcome. We usually are so much more welcoming to our visitors. We don’t get very many.”

“It’s understandable captain. The people welcomed someone who just declared war against them. No motive whatsoever.”

“You’re sure understanding princess.”

“I try my best. It is my duty to understand the different cultures and backgrounds of the different kingdoms we ally with.”

“Well, that makes you an amazing ruler. Not many rulers care for their people let alone their allies.”

“I was taught well.”

“It seems so,” the knight grabs a piece of paper and hands it to me, “I knew that King Nova’s signature didn’t look right. It was because it was a fake. Take this back, and keep our kingdom in mind whenever you need anything.”

“Of course we will Captain.”

“We should head back now that the sun is rising, princess, and hope nothing terrible has happened in our absence.”

“I agree. Thank you again captain for all your help.”

“My pleasure, your highness.”

Lucifer grabs my wrist and walks outside helping back on our horse before hopping up himself, and letting Maddox lead the way back.

It took till midmorning to arrive back at the castle.

“Open the gates! They have returned!”

The bridge and the main gates open, and we are greeted by my father. Thank goodness it wasn’t Michael waiting for us.

“Where have you been!?”

“Taekya.” I bluntly state.

“Why Taekya? We aren’t expecting anything from them.”

“I know sir. This is sadly my brother Michael’s doing.”

“And we wouldn’t ever again had I not gone there.” I hand my father the declaration of war.

“Wh-what is this? Why is my signature there? That isn’t my signature.”

“Why would Michael do such a thing?”

“Yes sir!” They salute and run off to find Michael.

“Because sir, he wants you and your daughter dead so he can rule every last kingdom in the province.” Maddox speaks up, which he normally never does.

“I-I see. Guards, find Michael immediately, and arrest him. Send him back to his kingdom, and explain to his father what has happened.”

“You two head inside, and clean up. I will deal with your situation later.”

“Yes sir.” Lucifer agrees and walks inside.

I start to slowly walk inside before slightly turning my head over my shoulder, “I don’t care what you decide, just know that I will continue to fight for Prince Lucifer despite what you want.”

“We’ll have this discussion later. Just go inside.”

I do as he says and head to my chambers, hoping I open the door to see Lucifer, but alas, he isn’t there. I shut my door and lay on my bed, now remembering I was in my wedding dress that was now stained with Lucifer’s blood. I just wish he was by my side.

I wish you were here Luc. What I would give to crawl into your arms, and feel safe again. But who am I kidding? Father will never let this marriage happen now. Not after everything that has happened.

“I hope I get to see you again Lucifer...that this wasn’t the end to what could be a beautiful story.”

[flashthescalesian-art]

Flash’s masterlist of clone OCs

Because your girl is bad at remembering things and will most definitely forget about at least one of my less-used boys, which would be sad, so here’s a list of them so I don’t forget anybody. More will be added as needed. 

Volt CT-6890 (212th battalion head medic)

He’s a spazzy boy off-duty, but on-duty he’s a strict, but also sweet medic. He survives off caffeine and sarcasm on long missions because Obi-Wan is so bad at staying in the kriffing medbay. He’s so done with Kenobi’s antics. Patch is his bestie despite the fact that they don’t see each other in person very often ever since they left Kamino. Mess with Volt’s patients and you will die. 

Patch CT-6545 (342nd battalion head medic) 

Really dark brown hair instead of black. Absolute sweetheart, but also anxious. Needs hugs. Blind in right eye due to a training accident as a cadet. Despite being sweet, he will beat you up if you deserve it. Thinks he’s not good enough to be a medic. He’s actually great, especially since his commander is a dumbbutt who gets captured and beat up a lot.  Jax CC-3421 (342nd battalion commander) 

Love cracking jokes to boost morale. Great strategist and cares about everyone, but also kind of a reckless idiot. He gets captured a lot. And tortured for information since he’s a commander. He’s got the scars to prove it too. Loves pissing off his interrogators, which never helps the situation, he just thinks it’s funny to make the Separatists mad. His General has to go rescue him a lot. Despite being reckless himself, he never takes unnecessary risks with his men. 

Ticker CT-5421 (212th battalion trooper) (new to my group so not a lot of info yet)

First deployment was the Ryloth mission, where he lost his left foot in the gutkurr attack. Also has a big bite scar on his right shoulder from the same attack. He’s kinda quiet, but great at fixing stuff since he’s got a new appreciation for mechanical things after he got his cybernetic foot. Talk to him about mechanical stuff and he’ll be your best friend.  Sej CT-3625 (212th battalion medic) 

A little older than Volt and Nexus, but was originally a standard trooper with just extra first-aid training. A severe injury permanently hindered his ability to run, so he’s mostly just in the medbay rather than out in the field. Volt and Nexus taught him more medical stuff while he was healing, so he’s now a medic despite not receiving official training. Has a slight limp, but he can run if necessary, it just hurts to do so. Absolutely refuses to set foot on Kamino since he doesn’t trust the Kaminoans not to do something to him for being kinda crippled. He’s terrified of being pulled from duty due to his injury, but everyone covers for him, including Cody and Obi-Wan. 

Nexus CT-6753 (212th battalion medic) 

Went through medic training with Volt and Patch (and a few other I mention below). A bit of a dork, but he means well. Finds alternate meanings to random words, which actually helps troopers find names for themselves. Gets lost in thought when he’s bored or doing a menial task like cleaning. 

Ollie CT-6391 (342nd battalion medic) 

Went through medic training as part Volt and Patch’s group. Has slight hearing loss, so can be a bit loud by accident when he’s excited. He talks in a really low voice while in the medbay to avoid scaring any of the injured troopers. He’s oddly good at understanding slurred/mumbled speech, but he’s really not sure why since his hearing isn’t great. Practice, maybe? Dek is his bestie and they are morons together. 

Dek CT-6637 (342nd battalion medic) 

Part of the “medic gang” (the same group as Volt, Patch, Ollie, and Nexus). Never far from Ollie unless absolutely necessary. He’s not anxious or anything, he just likes Ollie’s company. It’s normal for someone to overhear “hi, ugly” or “hello, moof-milker” when Dek and Ollie greet each other. 

Jumpstart CT-4733 (501st sergeant) 

Befriended cadet Patch after being crashed into in a hallway on Kamino. Older than Patch by quite a bit in clone standards. Got promoted to sergeant during the war. Honestly a sweet guy, and is super supportive of all his brothers. Doesn’t see Patch again until the rescue crew, which happens to consist of a portion of the 342nd battalion, finds him on Umbara. He was badly injured and left for dead by Krell. Definitely has PTSD from being left behind. Was super excited to see Patch again though.  Sunny CT-7246 (212th battalion trooper) 

Naturally blond baby. Absolute sweetheart of a clone who was a shiny during the invasion of Umbara. He lost his while squad during the invasion, and was so upset that he hid in a storage closet to cry until Volt found him. Sunny has become super close to Volt and is usually near him whenever he’s not busy. He’s a huge cuddle bug and is a little needy when it comes to physical affection, but no one really minds since he’s not annoying about it. He’s super sweet and pretty optimistic, which makes him come off as naive, but he’s not. Usually cries when he gets mad, but he doesn’t get mad often anyway. Has basically become an honorary member of the medic squad since he hangs around the medbay so much. 

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (5/?)

Chapter Title: Perspective

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob

Pairing: Miranda/Samara very slow burn, friends to lovers

Story Rating: R

Warnings: References to past childhood abuse/trauma, and people being shitty about it.

Chapter Summary: In 2186, Miranda spearheads the search and rescue operation she helped organise. In 2185, Samara gets Miranda to see an incident from someone else’s perspective.

Author’s Note: Miranda is still bad at people, but she’s trying. Shout out to self-isolation for giving me time to work on this.

*    *     *

“You’re sure this will work?” Miranda asked, examining her forged identity documents. A passport. A driver's licence. Even a birth certificate.

“Can’t be any surer than I am,” Niket answered with a slight shrug. “It’s not like I could test it, but I have nothing but assurances from everyone I’ve spoken to that these counterfeits are the highest quality. They never fail.”

“What if they do?” Miranda had imagined a hundred different ways her father might deal with them if they got caught. She still wasn't sure which one was the worst, or that he couldn't exceed her expectations of his cruelty.

“Relax.” Niket placed his hands on her shoulders. “Even if they do pull you up, I've spent months creating an online identity for you. The only thing left is to set up an account and wire some money into it. Enough to keep you on your feet for a while. We've thought of everything, Miri. You won't trigger any red flags. As far as anyone would be concerned, 'Jessica McMahon' is a real person.”

Miranda sighed uneasily. She’d been working on this escape for so long that it was making her paranoid. No matter how careful she was, it was simply impossible for her father not to notice what was going on, given enough time. For all his faults, he was a smart man. He had to sense something was awry, at some point. It always felt like she was moments away from her plot being uncovered.

“Are you forgetting something?” Niket remarked, expectantly waiting for her to say her thanks. To her credit, Miranda realised her oversight.

“You’ve done a lot for me, Niket. When I’m out of here, I won’t forget that,” she said sincerely. Niket was the closest thing to a friend she'd ever had. She was grateful towards him. She really was. She just wasn’t fantastic at expressing it. Her upbringing might have played a role in that.

“You’ve already helped, in a way,” Niket admitted, taking out another passport. “Got one of these for myself with your money. Figured I’d involved myself enough that I’m going to have to get out of dodge once you make your escape, or else your father’s going to find my fingerprints all over this.”

“Good idea.” Miranda nodded, signalling her approval, glad he’d protected himself. Besides, she didn’t give a damn about her father’s money. He had plenty.

Being the daughter of an extremely rich man did have its benefits. As part of her preparations, Miranda had been able to casually drop a few thousand dollars at a time here and there without raising suspicion.

There was no mistake about it, though - the money he gave Miranda to spend was a symbol of his own vanity, not a kindness. She was his daughter. That meant she had to fit a certain image, or it would reflect poorly on him. She had to indulge in expensive tastes, dress well, buy and read rare books, play music on the most expensive piano, or else people might not be impressed by how inordinately wealthy he was.

He framed it like a reward for living up to his impossible standards, but really it was another means of controlling her. Miranda had no freedom in what she spent money on. It was a test. He’d only given her access to her own money so that he could see for himself how well he’d trained her - to prove that his little experiment would continue acting in accordance with his designs and his preferences even when he wasn’t watching her over her shoulder.

But he’d underestimated her. Her father always had. As long as she remembered to keep her stories consistent with the fake transactions on the bills, he would never suspect anything, even if he was secretly going through her spending with a fine tooth-comb, which he did, of course. Provided that she appeared to be spending money on purchases he approved of, he wouldn't question it. And Niket had taught her how to manipulate that data.

“You know, don’t take this the wrong way, but not everyone would resent your fate as much as you do,” Niket spoke frankly. “You have a nice house. Nice room. Nice clothes. Fucking...palatial gardens. Provided you don't piss him off, your Dad usually gives you enough money to buy anything you want, within his rules.”

“That makes up for being an experiment?” Miranda shot back instinctively.

“For some people, it would, yeah,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, Miri. I’m not saying it’s great to be raised by a loveless jackass or that you’re wrong for hating him and wanting out, but there are plenty of people who would trade their life for yours in an instant. I mean, you’ve told me how he treats you. And, sure, he’s strict, but not to where you’d say he’s violent or he beats you. Some people aren’t that lucky.”

Wow. Miranda was hardly a sensitive person, but that comment was a dagger in her heart. She’d confided in Niket about her father’s cruelty because she trusted him. Nobody else knew, who wasn't an accomplice to it. To hear him downplay what she went through only twisted the knife her father had put there long ago.

“If those people want my life so much, they can have it,” said Miranda, trying not to show how deeply it hurt to hear Niket undermining everything she endured under her father's toxic influence. “It’s not my fault they don’t.”

“It's not about fault. It's about reality. Some people not only have shit fathers, but they get to be dirt poor too. I should know. It was my reality,” Niket countered, his words chastening Miranda into silence. She didn't know enough about the outside world to compare experiences. She barely knew anything about the outside world that she hadn't read in books, or learned about from a screen.

Maybe Niket was right. Maybe other people did have it worse than her. Far worse. Maybe she was selfish, ungrateful and privileged. Then again, she’d never told him her very real fear that her father might…murder her one day.

Niket could probably only imagine her father throwing her out on the street if she displeased him, or if he decided it was time to replace her. At worst, he probably expected her father might sell her off to some stranger to be their “daughter” instead of his. Killing her, though? That wasn’t something Niket would have predicted, unless she brought it up as a possibility. And Miranda hadn’t.

She didn’t want Niket to know of that risk. If he did, Miranda could picture him acting rashly to protect her, dismantling their carefully crafted escape plan.

Niket wasn't like her. He was more passionate than she was. More emotional. Normal, presumably. Miranda may not have understood normal people very well at all, but she did have feelings. And she knew well enough that getting emotional could cause a loss of control. Bad judgement. So what did that mean for someone who lacked her restraint? Someone who didn't have years of practice at suppressing their instincts? At suffocating those feelings?

Miranda couldn't trust what Niket might do if he had a reason to hate her father as much as she did. That was why it wasn’t worth telling him the truth. But, even so, he was the last person she would have expected to second-guess her desire to escape this gilded cage.

“I’ve never claimed to have the worst life in the world. I know I don’t,” Miranda continued, her voice quieter, defending herself as calmly as she could.

“No. Don’t worry about that,” Niket assured her, regretting his poor choice of words. “I’m not saying I…Look, when it comes to getting you out of here, I’m with you all the way. Don’t ever think I’m not. That’s not an issue with me.”

“Good,” said Miranda, still offended by the fact he’d even brought it up. He’d explicitly confirmed that all the things she’d told him about her father didn’t qualify him as a cruel man in his eyes, and that Miranda's problems weren't real problems. What more was there to say? “Then let’s not discuss it.”

“Miri…” He reached out to her apologetically, but she brushed him off.

“We don’t need to talk about this,” she stated firmly, smothering her own emotions, putting up her defences. “Just get it done.”

*    *     *

“Come on. Where are they?” Miranda complained, growing tired of waiting for the bulk of her team to catch up. Honestly, she was faster hobbling on a crutch than these grunts were at full fitness. With tanks. “Ox team, report. I need an ETA on those bulldozers. We're in search grid V-44A. What's taking you so bloody long to reach us?” Miranda asked, impatience starting to get the better of her.

She'd used up her last political favour to organise this effort. This was the last big chance they would have to find anyone alive. If this failed, there would be no do-overs. No second chances. As far as they ventured in the next three days would be as far as they would go for a while. It might be months before they expanded the habitable zone of London any further again.

Every second counted. They had to make the most of what little time they had.

“Apologies, Director Lawson,” the comms crackled in her ear. “We picked up some readings of instability in the area. Almost like seismic activity. Our crew is checking it out. We're waiting on an all clear from them before the vehicles advance. Don't want to open up a sinkhole by accident.”

“A warning would have been nice. Run a scan,” Miranda commanded the soldier on her right. She would have used her own omni-tool to do the job, but her arm was busy supporting her weight, and she didn't have a spare. The soldier dutifully obeyed. “We'll continue searching the area on foot ahead of you. Keep me updated on your progress. Time is short, and this debris won't clear itself. Find another path to us if you have to.”

“Roger that. Ox out.”

“Useless,” Miranda muttered under her breath. This was why she preferred to work alone. At least she knew she could rely on herself to get things done. But this was the kind of operation that required a lot of bodies on the ground. Hers was just one of several teams conducting their wide-scale push across the city. Jacob was leading one. Wrex another.

The efforts to coordinate between the Council races had also paid off. The human, asari and turian military forces on the ground had all organised their own teams as well. Miranda's team was even partially comprised of Alliance soldiers, but mostly those who had already been working in close concert with Bailey. Nobody really seemed to care that they were taking their orders from him. What mattered was that, in total, their search and rescue must have consisted of at least a thousand people, if not more. It was a start.

“I'm not reading anything. Then again, their scanners are stronger than mine,” the soldier on her right remarked. Miranda rolled her eye, deciding to make use of the people already with her, and do the rest herself.

Bailey wouldn't like her doing any heavy lifting. Miranda was useful to him, after all. If she got hurt, he lost a valuable asset. But screw it. He could sanction her if he had a problem with it.

“You, do a full sweep of that building. You, over there,” she commanded, gesturing with her crutch, splitting the relief crew off into groups to search the street for survivors, supplies and paths through the wreckage. That way, the demolition, clearance and salvage teams could plough through without wasting any more valuable time when they finally did arrive. “You two, come with me,” she instructed impatiently, heading into a dilapidated ruin of a building personally, not bothering to wait for the bulldozers.

“Yes, Director Lawson.” Everyone followed her orders without question, including the two Alliance soldiers who began to follow her.

It was the middle of the day, but the skies were still dark from the dust. Miranda hadn't forgotten how difficult it was to tell time in the wasteland. Even the brightest hours of the day felt like dusk. And it was cold. It was always cold now.

Miranda approached the only building that hadn't half-collapsed. An office block, with a lobby and reception area on the ground floor. Its exterior was still largely intact, bar the windows, which were all gone, shattered during the battle. Parts of the outer walls had come down, exposing the insides, as if a Reaper had blasted a hole in one side of the building.

“Get a light in there, would you?” Miranda instructed. One of the soldiers complied, the other continuing to run scans as he had before. The flashlight washed over the inside of the building. It was a mess. Some of the upper floors had fallen down into the lobby. Broken desks, computers, wires and lights hung from a half-broken ceiling. The sad thing was, that was a vast improvement over most places they'd come across. At least this one was still standing.

“Director Lawson, my scan couldn't penetrate too deep, but I'm detecting a possible source of the instability,” the male soldier, Alexei Resnikov, told her. “There are cavernous openings right below us.”

“Cavernous openings?” his squadmate echoed, a woman named Keiko Yoshizawa. “You mean the London underground? Or a car park? Here on Earth, we don't all travel by skycar, space cowboy. It's not like a space station. In case you haven't noticed, some of us still use roads and rails to get around.”

“How rustic,” Resnikov remarked with a snort.

“Knock it off,” Miranda ordered, bringing their pointless chatter to a swift and sudden end. “You mentioned the underground. We haven't been able to access it this far out. But if there is a station near here, that would be a likely place to find survivors. It's safe, it may still have leftover food and water, and the tunnels provide an easy path across the city. Until you hit the cave-ins, anyway.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Yoshizawa nodded, bringing up a holographic map. “We're heading in the right direction. The nearest one isn’t far from here. Cutting through this place is probably the easiest way, since the streets are blocked.”

“Why are you standing around like you're waiting for a taxi, then? Get moving,” Miranda spoke curtly, prompting the two soldiers to go on ahead of her. They didn't hesitate to comply.

She followed them into the lobby. It was even darker than outside, the air filled with a heavy cloud of particles. Miranda paused long enough to lift up her scarf, covering her nose and mouth. Ceiling panels and broken light fixtures were dangling down from the floor above, like vines in a thick jungle. Thankfully, there was no electricity to worry about. But it still required a little caution not to get tangled up in the wires as they moved through.

Resnikov and Yoshizawa's torches were the only light source, beams flashing through the shadow as they examined the scene. They made it maybe halfway across the floor before their path hit a dead end.

“This could be a problem,” said Resnikov, torchlight finding no longer finding any promising gaps they could manoeuvre through. “The upper floors have completely caved in ahead of us. We're blocked.”

“There's an elevator shaft,” Yoshizawa pointed out, nudging her beam of light towards it. “Given this building has underground parking, there should be a ramp or a stairwell to take us out the other side.”

“Should be?” Resnikov emphasised, clearly sceptical. “Look, I already saw an entrance ramp near where we came in, and that was totally clogged. If there is another exit, we can't guarantee it won't be blocked by rubble too.”

“So let's check,” Yoshizawa insisted.

“Pry the lift open,” Miranda ordered, willing to chance it. Yoshizawa set to work.

A slight tremor passed through the building. Dust sprinkled down from above.

“Did you feel that?” asked Resnikov.

“Nothing to worry about,” Miranda assured him, shaking her head, clearing the dirt from her hair, blinking it out of her eye. “We're not going to be in here for long.” Even as she spoke, the strange ripple coursed through the foundations once again. She furrowed her brow. “...Wait a moment. That isn't coming from above us,” she observed, concentrating on the subtle disturbance.

It happened again, shaking the ground beneath her feet. These tremors were happening in steady intervals, their tempo too precise to be something random. It almost sounded like a slow, low-pitched drumbeat.

“It feels like there's something underneath us,” said Resnikov.

“Whatever it is, it's sending out a pulse of some kind,” Miranda murmured, thinking aloud. “A signal, maybe.” If she was right about this, that would suggest there really were survivors in the tunnels. Perhaps these vibrations were somebody's way of trying to get the attention of anyone on the surface.

“Alright. We're clear.” Yoshizawa backed away from the doors after wrenching them apart as far as they would go, gesturing for the two of them to go ahead.

Miranda took a quick look inside. The fortunate thing about this building being largely intact was that the lift didn't seem to have been destroyed, meaning there were no obstructions at the bottom of the shaft. By sheer luck, the steel cables were still in one piece, supporting the weight of the elevator, which must have been hanging somewhere above her, frozen due to lack of power.

It was odd to still see an elevator with this design. Miranda had forgotten how low-tech parts of Earth could be, especially in old cities like London, where past architecture often survived through retrofitting, or, as in the case of the underground, a sense of tradition. 

This building may have stood largely unchanged for a hundred years, for all Miranda knew. Maybe longer.

“Hold this,” Miranda stated. It wasn’t a request, giving her crutch to Yoshizawa before the soldier could ask what she intended. Miranda biotic-pulled the cables towards her, rappelling down the shaft and swinging out onto the level below. The landing wasn't particularly gentle on her knee, which was nowhere near healing from the shuttle accident, but she could live with the discomfort. It was dark down there. Pitch black, almost. But she saw sunlight ahead.

“You were right. There is a way out,” she told them, lowering her scarf long enough to be heard, leaning against the wall to take the weight off her leg while she waited for them to follow her lead. Part of the wall on the far side of the building had collapsed, leaving a hole and a pile of rubble that led back up to the surface. Probably where an emergency stairwell used to be.

“What would you have done if there wasn't?” Yoshizawa asked on her way down.

“Climb,” Miranda answered bluntly. She was one-armed and wounded, but she wasn't useless, for heaven's sake.

She felt the tremor again. It seemed louder than before.

It was oddly familiar to her, but far too faint to place. What was it? It was like a word on the tip of her tongue. If she could just put her finger on it...

Soon enough, the three of them made it back to the surface, manoeuvring around debris on their way to the station, which wasn’t far ahead. If someone was using the tunnels to get around, Miranda admired their cleverness. It would have saved her a lot of trouble if she could have done the same, but alas she hadn't found an intact tube station during those five days she spent crawling through the wasteland. Intellectually, she was sure she would have passed more than one, but they must have been buried under debris, or otherwise inaccessible.

On the other hand, if she'd gotten stuck down there, Samara never would have found her. Given the state of her injuries, even if there had been one nearby with any food and water left, it probably wouldn't have kept Miranda alive. She would have succumbed to her wounds eventually, and died alone of sepsis. Her bad luck had been good fortune, as it turned out.

“That's it right there,” Resnikov pointed out, approaching the steps that led to the underground. They were partially obstructed – debris from the very building they'd just left, most likely.

“Stand back,” Miranda said, using her biotics to clear a path into the station, blasting away the pile of loose rubble that blocked the entrance. It was then that something clicked in her mind.

Of course. Miranda knew what the sound she'd heard before was. That was why it seemed so familiar.

Detonations. Someone was causing biotic detonations down there.

But for what purpose?

“Still plenty to scavenge here,” said Resnikov, his flashlight moving over to a small, abandoned kiosk. The security grating had already been bent by looters, probably months ago. But they hadn't taken everything. “Hey, Tupari. Love this stuff.”

“I only drink Paragade,” Yoshizawa remarked.

“Your loss.” Resnikov bent down beneath the warped security shutter and picked up a can, stowing it away for later.

“There's that sound again,” Yoshizawa commented as they passed through the ticketing gates, heading down the stairs and towards the station platforms, following the sound. She activated her omni-tool, analysing the noise. “There. It's coming from that tunnel. North of here.”

Yoshizawa jumped down onto the tracks, quickly followed by Resnikov. Miranda ignored Resnikov's unspoken offer of assistance, easing herself down unaided.

This wasn't the first time Miranda had explored the underground since getting back on her feet. Her first search and rescue operation under Bailey's command had taken her through the carcass of a train, not far from Paddington station. Their hopes of finding anyone holed up inside the carriage had quickly dwindled when they realised the train had been swarmed by Reaper forces long before the final battle. There were no survivors.

“Hello?” Resnikov called out, his voice reverberating off the walls. “Is anybody there?” Squeaking rats scurried through the darkness. Miranda hid her growing physical discomfort as she limped behind her troops.

Yoshizawa went on ahead, leaving Resnikov to help light Miranda's way. Miranda watched her silhouette head further into the hollow, claustrophobic chamber, the small circle of light hitting the walls ahead. Abruptly, the sound happened again. This time, it shook the ground they were standing on.

“Director! That was right ahead of us!” Yoshizawa instinctively rushed towards the noise, disappearing around a bend in the tunnel. Miranda hastened after her, listening to the young soldier speak with whoever it was that was causing these detonations. “Hello? Can you hear me?” Yoshizawa paused. “It's alright; I'm a rescuer. I'm with two others right now, but there's more above us.”

That confirmed it then. There were survivors down here.

She came around the corner to see Yoshizawa at a thick blockage in the tunnel. It looked like part of the road above had collapsed, leaving an impassable obstacle of concrete, metal and earth. Probably the footprint of a Reaper.

“Please! You have to help us,” a muffled voice pleaded from behind the debris. Miranda could barely make it out, even as she got closer. But she sounded young. Younger than Oriana. “We're stuck back here!”

“Keep them calm; I'll call it in,” Miranda ordered. “Sweep team, we have survivors trapped in a collapsed metro tunnel in grid V-44A. We need a drill to get them out.”

“You're going to be fine,” Yoshizawa answered back to the anxious voice. “Just hold tight. We'll dig you out of here.”

“Teach, they're telling us to stop,” another voice spoke, a male this time. “Maybe you should cool it with the detonations? You've been at this for way too long. You're going to wear yourself out at this rate.”

“No. Screw that,” a third voice sharply replied. Older than the others, but no less impetuous. “Seanne needs help now, Prangley. Not later. I'm sure as hell not sitting here in the dark counting on a bunch of assholes who can't do a damn thing to help us to be our only way out. We're doing this my way!”

The entire tunnel shook as a brutal burst of biotic force smashed into the wall.

Miranda whirled around, startled by the shockwave that rocked the ground underfoot. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you trying to get us all killed?!” she shouted through the obstruction, livid at the woman’s recklessness.

“If I stop, Seanne dies!” the obscured voice answered back, followed by another biotic combination. Chips of concrete and dust sprayed everywhere. With so little time to react, Miranda didn't know whether she should prioritise keeping her balance or shielding her eye from the fallout. Instinctively, she ended up choosing the latter when a second strike occurred.

A small shard of concrete grazed her cheek, opening a cut. With one last roar, the rogue biotic slammed into the obstruction, finally blowing open a gap in the debris. Miranda saw her shadow fall forwards, onto her outstretched palms, panting for breath, visibly worn out.

The woman arose from the ground, onto her knees, holding up a hand and squinting against the blindingly bright beams of light that Yoshizawa and Resnikov were pointing at her, both soldiers staring at her, too stunned to move.

Miranda's breath caught.

It couldn't be.

This wasn't possible.

“Ow. Hey, cool it with the damn flashlights, will you?” the figure groaned in discomfort, turning away to let her eyes adjust after living in darkness for so long.

“Jack?” Miranda said in disbelief, astonished to see that all too familiar face.

Judging by the silence that followed, Jack recognised Miranda's voice immediately, now that there was no wall blocking the sound. “Oh, fu—crying out loud...” Jack reluctantly swallowed the urge to curse in front of her kids. Of all the people she could have run into...

Miranda quickly recovered from the shock.

“What were you thinking?!” Miranda scolded, marching right up to Jack, despite her impairment. Not the consummate professionalism her soldiers expected from her, but her anger was warranted. “Do you have any idea how unstable the buildings are above us? This whole area is on the verge of collapsing in on itself! While you were blasting away like a lunatic, this entire tunnel could have caved in on top of you, and taken me and my people with it.”

“So? It didn't. I didn't know you were up there, anyway.” Jack shrugged as she stood up, doing her best to block out the headache-inducing onslaught of those torches shining directly into her face, barely even able to make out Miranda's silhouette, despite standing right in front of her. “Hey you, point those fucking things somewhere else,” she grumbled at Miranda's team, clearly a threat.

“Language, teach,” one of Jack's group spoke up.

“Ah, ffff...” Jack trailed off into a groan.

“You'd been doing so well, too,” another student joked.

“Hey, laugh it up later. We aren't out of here yet. And we still need to get Seanne to a doctor,” Jack said, her tone stern but fair, calmer now that they'd made contact with someone she knew, even if it wasn't someone she liked. She turned back to Miranda, her eyes still adjusting to the light. “Isn't that the part where you come in? What's the hold up, cheerleader?” she asked, gesturing at her to hurry it up.

Miranda shook her head and sighed with exasperation, activating her earpiece once more. “Ox, this is Lawson. Belay that order on the machinery. It's no longer necessary,” she informed them. “We're extracting the survivors on foot.”

“Roger,” the earpiece crackled in reply. “We'll meet you back at the square.”

Miranda closed the channel, glancing at her old squadmate. “I'll get you and your students the help you need. You're welcome, by the way,” Miranda muttered.

She heard Jack snort. “I never thanked you.”

“I noticed,” Miranda curtly replied.

“Yo, you two know each other?” one of Jack's students asked, the entire group of them beginning to emerge through the hole behind her one after the other. There weren't that many. Probably ten all up.

“We're acquainted,” Miranda answered dryly.

Jack uttered a sardonic snort, evidently having more choice words in mind to describe her history with Miranda. To her credit, she refrained from sharing them. This wasn't the time. Not with her kids depending on her. That didn't escape Miranda's attention. It was a far cry from what the old Jack would have done.

In that moment, in the torchlight, Miranda saw Jack wiping beads of sweat from her brow. It was no secret that using biotics consumed a lot of energy. Biotics who actively used their powers might have to eat three times more than a normal person just to function, if not more. Jack was holding herself together admirably, but she looked drained. Miranda softened, reminded of how she'd battled with exhaustion during her own struggle to survive.

“Resnikov, give her that Tupari of yours,” Miranda said, thinking that might help Jack recover some blood sugar.

“Sure thing, Ms. Lawson,” Resnikov responded, handing Jack the can.

“...I could use a boost,” Jack reluctantly murmured, which was about the closest she could get to an admission of gratitude, at least where Miranda was concerned. She cracked open the drink, and started chugging it.

“We should get moving,” said Miranda, shifting focus to what mattered. This place didn't exactly scream stability. “I don't want to stay in this tunnel longer than we need to. Resnikov, Yoshizawa, give Jack's students a hand, would you?”

“Will do,” Yoshizawa responded, nodding her head, she and her comrade heading over towards the small gap in the debris, where the students were awkwardly squeezing their way through the hole one by one.

Jack's eyes widened when the two passing torches suddenly washed over Miranda's form. She nearly choked on her drink, taken aback when she finally saw her old squadmate illuminated as more than a dark silhouette hidden in shadow.

“Whoa. Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?” Jack coughed to clear the mis-swallowed drink from her throat, startled at the sight of Miranda's extensive injuries. She hadn't been expecting that.

“Looks worse than it is.” Miranda turned away, not sure she wanted to hear Jack's take on her condition. Not that she was bothered by how she looked. She just knew Jack would have a bloody field day with it.

“Yeah, no shit. 'Cause you look like you should be dead. I mean, seriously, what the fuck? Did you get in a fist fight with a thresher maw?” Jack questioned, in what sounded like a snicker, shock quickly giving way to twisted humour.

“Something like that,” Miranda drawled offhandedly, only half-listening to Jack's comments, concentrating on counting heads as Resnikov and Yoshizawa tended to the students. Jack's mockery didn't really matter to her. She had other priorities.

“Hey, if you ask me, having half your face blown off is a huge improvement.” Jack shrugged casually. “For you, anyway. Garrus would say it gives you character.”

“Right,” Miranda distractedly replied, scarcely paying attention.

“How bad's the scar?” Jack asked, trying to glimpse beneath the bandages.

“Don't know. Hasn't healed yet,” Miranda answered, gradually losing patience.

“From the looks of things, I bet it's real fuckin' ugly,” Jack said, smirking.

“Are you done?” Miranda ignored the comment, already bored with this.

“Not even close. I haven't even started making fun of your arm yet.” Jack grinned mischievously, enjoying this way too much to quit anytime soon. “Want me to shut up? Clap once for yes, zero times for no.”

Miranda just stared at her expressionlessly, not offended but not amused.

“Instructor?” a young woman called out. Miranda glanced up to see several of the students huddled over one of their own, the last one to be brought through the gap Jack had created. All appeared desperately worried. Their friend looked faint. Pale. Almost green. “Seanne's getting worse again. She's burning up.”

“I know, Rodriguez. You did good, taking care of her. But these jerks will handle it from here,” Jack spoke, calm and confident. “Drink your juice, and let them carry her. Except you, Reiley. You can stay by her side. Miranda will make sure she gets all the help she needs. Or, if she doesn't, I'll punch a hole in her stomach,” Jack assured them, and Miranda knew that threat was a guarantee. 

In Jack's mind, anyway.

“No need for that,” Miranda said, having no intention of impeding the girl's treatment. “Let's get moving. The sweep team will meet us on the surface. They'll take your friend to a hospital.”

“Okay.” Rodriguez nodded, comforted by that promise. The boy they’d identified as Reiley gave Seanne's hand a gentle squeeze, staying by her side as Resnikov and Yoshizawa picked her up, draping her arms over their shoulders. The poor girl could barely walk. She probably didn't even know where she was.

“The station's not far,” Miranda said, limping alongside Jack, ahead of the others. It was good that they were getting an opportunity to speak before meeting the rest of the team. Despite their strained history, there were details she wanted to know from her, and she was sure Jack could say the same.

Over a month had passed since the war ended. Jack didn't know a damn thing about what had happened in that time. About Shepard, and the Normandy...

“These are all your students?” Miranda asked, aware of Jack's role as a mentor to gifted biotics in the Ascension Program. She'd learned about that long ago, having kept tabs on her former squadmates while she was on the run from Cerberus, to the extent that it was possible to do so. Jack had spoken fondly about her 'tykes’ back at Shepard's apartment on the Citadel. That makeshift reunion seemed like a world away. It was strange to think how recent it was.

Shepard had invited them all to that party, gathering the whole gang together on a whim, knowing it would be the last opportunity to do something like that before they took on Cerberus and the Reapers. Back then, Miranda had wondered how many of those faces would never see the light of day again. Now, she knew at least part of that answer, but the fates of all but a handful of their group were a mystery.

“Yeah. These are my kids. All the ones who lived.” Jack instantly dropped what remained of her joking demeanour, an uncomfortable hint of stark seriousness crossing her face. Miranda recognised the shift in her expression – it betrayed the presence of a deep sense of responsibility.

She blamed herself for everyone she'd lost, a burden Miranda knew too well. The difference was, Jack actually cared about the people under her command. She loved those kids. And she'd had to watch some of them die.

“What happened?” Miranda encouraged, urging her to share her story.

“We were stationed a ways south of here during the fighting, managed to escape north when the big wave hit. There was an outpost near us. Emphasis on was. Went there first, but no survivors. We holed up there for a while because it had some food and water. We figured, if anyone else had survived, somebody would fly over and spot us eventually, but nobody ever did. Once there was nothing left above, I came down to the tunnels; I figured the train lines were our best chance of crossing the city,” she explained.

“You were probably right. Much of the surface is impassable, and our search and rescue teams would have had no chance of reaching you. This is the first time we've gone so far northeast,” Miranda commented. “You would have been stranded out there. Staying above ground would have meant certain death. It nearly was for me.”

“Not sure this was much better,” Jack mumbled to herself, crushing the empty Tupari can and throwing it aside, her frustration becoming evident. “I thought it was a good deal. I mean, we found shit to eat and drink, they were safe places to sleep in, and there's not as many dead things as there are in the streets. But we'd always hit blocks in the tunnels. We'd either find another station nearby, or dig our way through. Eventually, I figured we'd be better off staying in one place for a while. Hunker down. Try to radio out or something.” Jack drew a deep breath, releasing it in a heavy sigh. “But I fucked up. I got too comfortable, and I stayed put when I should have been making ground.”

“How do you mean?” Miranda pressed.

“A few days ago, Seanne started throwing up,” Jack told her. “For a while, I thought it was best to keep her in one place and hope it would pass. But it's gotten worse. Her fever is out of control. I know she's dehydrated, but any fluid we give her won't stay down. She just vomits it up again. Her brother has to sit there and watch her waste away. I don't know if it was dirty water or if the rats got to her...”

“Don't worry. A drip in her arm will do her a world of good,” Miranda assured her. Jack looked down at her feet, visibly troubled to think she'd caused this – that she might lose another student, through nothing but her own poor judgement.

Jack shook her head, hating how powerless she felt. “Shit, it's my fault. I should have moved faster,” she said, wishing she'd had the sense to realise that something like this might happen. “I could have gotten her to you days ago.”

“Don't blame yourself. You didn't even know we were there,” Miranda reminded her. It was in Miranda's nature to be critical of others, thanks to her father's influence. But she knew how hard it was to navigate the wastes. How desolate they were. How easy it was to get lost, or think you were the last person alive. “You did the best you could for her, and now you've found us. I'll pull whatever strings I can to ensure she gets the best care possible.”

Jack slowly nodded, swallowing as she absorbed that reassurance, setting her mind to the thought that Seanne was going to be okay. For as many issues as she'd had with Miranda, she knew she wouldn't have said any of those things just to be nice to her. Far from it. If she thought Jack was at fault, she would have been the first person to tell her everything she did wrong. Miranda wouldn't have told her things were okay unless she meant it. She took some comfort from that. Everything really was under control now. They were over the worst bit.

“...Yeah. Yeah,” was all Jack said, lost in her own thoughts.

Miranda's expression softened, well aware that this was the most genuine moment she and Jack had ever shared. Not that there was any competition. The loss of so many friends, and the near-destruction of an entire galaxy could put a lot of things into perspective like that.

“Jack?” Miranda spoke again, prompting her to look up. “I'm glad you're okay,” she admitted, willing to be the bigger person in this situation, and to extend the olive branch. And, oddly enough, she actually meant it.

Jack uttered a quiet but authentic laugh, letting her head fall back for a moment. “Yeah, you too,” Jack conceded. Strange, but true. “You're still a cunt, though.”

“Well, we can't change everything,” Miranda remarked, choosing to take that as a term of endearment rather than an insult. Judging from the light chuckle she gave, Jack probably intended it to be both.

For as irreconcilable as their differences had once seemed, they had parted on comparatively good terms the last time they met. Certainly, their brief interactions at Shepard's apartment hadn't magically transformed them into friends or anything like that, but it seemed to have quelled the bulk of the animosity between them, resulting in something perhaps not far removed from mutual respect and tolerance. They appeared to have reached the point where they could mostly co-exist, without lingering feelings of hostility. Miranda could live with that.

“Found anyone else of ours?” Jack asked, breaking Miranda's train of thought.

“No. Well, yes, but...What I mean is, before you, I was the most recent find,” Miranda clarified. “Samara brought me out of ground zero. Saved my life. That was four weeks ago. Jacob was already at the camp. Wrex is there, too. They're both fine. Physically, at least. Since I woke up, Samara's...disappeared, for unknown reasons. We think she's still alive. Everyone else? Not so fortunate. They're all unaccounted for.”

“Ah, shit.” Jack scuffed the ground with her boot. Miranda paused, wondering if she should share the news about Shepard's demise, but she thought better of it. This wasn't the right time. It would only upset her.

Honestly, Miranda didn't like to dwell on it, either. As far as she knew, the four of them were all that remained of the Normandy SR-2.

Her morose ruminations were swiftly silenced. A vicious crack echoed throughout the tunnel, as loud as thunder. She whirled around instinctively, as did Jack, unable to tell where it was coming from. Yoshizawa and Resnikov shone their lights back down the tracks. In the glow, Miranda saw dust trickle from the ceiling, from the same direction where Jack had demolished the blockage.

Oh, bloody hell.

“The tunnel's falling apart. This whole area could cave in at any moment,” Miranda spoke, her firm tone punctuated with an undercurrent of creeping urgency.

“Fuck,” she heard Jack curse beside her, realising she may have triggered this in her reckless haste to get Seanne into the hands of someone who could cure her sickness. “Come on! Double time it!”

Even if they weren't directly under the most precarious point, none of them wanted to take that risk, nor be trapped down there if anything should happen. All it would take was a building being tilted too far to one side, and then countless tonnes of collapsing concrete, glass and metal could leave them trapped inside. If they were lucky enough to survive.

They couldn't afford to let that happen.

“Move, move, move!” Jack pushed the students to run past her. Miranda also made sure Yoshizawa and Resnikov carried Seanne ahead of them, not about to leave anyone behind. Not again. Suddenly, Miranda felt a sharp pain in her injured shoulder. “You too, you crippled motherfucker,” Jack said.

“Hey!” Miranda instinctively protested through gritted teeth when she saw Jack draping her bandaged stump of an arm over her shoulder, all but carrying her out of there. God, it hurt. “Let me go.”

“Fuck that. Joker moves faster than you do,” Jack pointed out.

Miranda couldn't really argue with that. She couldn't run with her left knee practically demolished on the inside.

Miranda swallowed a gasp of pain, trying not to show how much her body was killing her. It felt like Jack was going to tear what little was left of her arm clear out of the socket, or snap her already wounded leg clear in two. Still, she could see the platform getting closer by the second. They'd made it back to the station in one piece, not far behind the others.

Jack jumped up first, extending her hand to pull Miranda up onto the platform behind her, the two of them ascending the stairs to the upper level. They'd made it about halfway through the concourse before Miranda heard the sound from the tunnels below. The very place where they'd been standing a minute ago was no doubt now completely buried under a mountain of earth, bitumen, concrete and twisted metal. It was a good thing they'd left when they did.

“I think we're in the clear for now,” Miranda said, wincing as she gingerly made her way out of the underground and into the ash-clouded sunlight.

“Director Lawson?” Miranda heard a voice over her earpiece. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

“We're fine here, Ox. One of the train tunnels collapsed. Fortunately, we weren't in it,” she informed them, taking her last few steps back out onto the street, easing herself back against a nearby skybus shelter, keeping the weight off her throbbing knee, her body reminding her just how injured she still was. “We've located eleven survivors. One critically ill. Can you get through to us at the station?”

“Negative, Director. With that tunnel caving in beneath you, this whole street is one giant catastrophe waiting to happen. Protocols prevent us from moving the dozers in your direction right now, which means we can't get to you. It's simply too dangerous,” the Ox team commander answered back.

Miranda hesitated. Objectively speaking, she understood their decision, and they were only obeying her earlier commands by keeping those priorities in order. But that left them stranded in a precarious position. If the ground shifted again, any one of these buildings could come crashing down on top of them.

“Is there another way around?” Miranda asked over the communicator.

“Another way? We don't have time for another way!” Jack pressed, as if that should have been obvious. “Our best bet is to cut through one of these buildings right now and meet them wherever they are.”

“Jack, please.” Miranda silenced her, focused on her conversation. She couldn't rush this decision. She needed to think. Exasperated, Jack threw her hands up in the air and began to pace back and forth impatiently, Seanne's health weighing heavily on her mind.

“I suppose we could circumvent the area, or try to meet you somewhere else, but honestly there's no telling how long that might take, or if those other paths to you are any safer,” the Ox team coordinator told her straightforwardly. “Besides, that still leaves you in a danger zone. Even if we hurry, it's risky.”

“Look, listen to me,” Jack began, coming back to her once more, trying to present as calm and rational of a demeanour as she could manage. “These structures are already unstable. The longer we sit here and wait, the shakier they're gonna get.” Miranda could hear the undercurrent of emotion in her voice. Jack was doing a good job of staying composed, no doubt knowing Miranda might disregard her advice otherwise. She did tend to be more amenable to a plan presented without yelling or swearing. “So why wait? Let's just punch through here nice and quick. Get out now, while this block still stands.”

Miranda paused, considering her words. A few months ago, she wouldn't have given her input much if any consideration. But that was a different time. Jack really had changed since then.

She wasn't the selfish, violent psychopath Miranda had met last year. Far from it. Instead, Jack had helped her without a second thought, making damn sure everyone got out of that tunnel in one piece. Hell, maybe the person Miranda once thought Jack was never existed. Maybe she'd always been wrong about her.

Plus, it wasn’t lost on Miranda that Jack had managed to do something she hadn’t during the war. She’d kept people alive.

Miranda’s breath shallowed, remembering the faces that haunted her nightmares. The team she’d led to Earth. The Alliance soldiers she’d fought beside at the barricade. The shuttle crew that had come to her rescue. One by one, they’d followed Miranda to their end, like lemmings off the edge of a cliff. Weren’t there enough deaths on her hands?

In that silent moment of reflection and regret, Miranda did something she’d never done before. She second-guessed herself.

“Alright,” Miranda agreed, making the decision to trust Jack's judgement over her own. “There's a car park underneath that building. That's how we reached you. The ramp is obstructed on the other side, but we can climb up through the elevator shaft. Once we're out, the rest of my team should be waiting for us there.”

Jack seemed relieved, though Miranda had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't have mattered whether she supported her idea or not. Knowing Jack, she would have disregarded any order to stay put.

“Remain where you are, Ox. We're going to try and reach you. Better that a few of us move through this area on foot than risk the bulldozers triggering a reaction that threatens us all,” Miranda informed them, straightening up once again. “When I return, we'll resume our operations on a different route.”

“Copy that. We'll keep our heavy machinery at a distance just to be safe, but a few of us can head your way to help get the survivors to safety.”

“One survivor is in critical condition. She needs an urgent evac,” Miranda relayed, not sure Seanne would be able to survive the journey back without medical attention. She didn't fail to notice Jack watching her as she spoke to her team, an unreadable expression on her face. Miranda turned away, electing to ignore her.

“Noted. We've already radioed for an emergency medical shuttle. Should be here soon, so just get her to us and we'll load her on. In any event, we'll make sure some medics are there to meet you.”

Miranda breathed a small sigh. That was all they could do. “Alright. Lawson out.”

“Let's go,” Jack didn't hesitate to instruct her kids, eager to get Seanne into proper care. Resnikov carried her through the street and down the loose slope of rubble into the car park unassisted, Yoshizawa focusing on lighting the way once they made it inside.

“Resnikov, you should take Seanne up first,” Miranda advised, recognising that getting the poor girl into the hands of a medic could make a huge difference to her odds of survival. “Get her to the rest of the team and have them bring her to a hospital. Letting her wait here for the rest of us is only an unnecessary delay.”

“I'll need someone else to help me get her up the shaft,” Resnikov answered.

“Reiley should go with her,” Jack spoke up, gesturing to him. “He's her brother.”

“Fair enough.” Miranda nodded. That was as good a reason as any. Without delay, Reiley went into the shaft, scaling the tight space with the aid of the cables. Seanne was still aware enough that she could extend her hands under her own power, letting her brother pull her up, while Resnikov pushed from below.

“We're up,” Resnikov called down. “I'll come back in a few minutes.”

“Hopefully we'll be out by then,” Yoshizawa answered. “Alright. Who's next?”

Two more students went up the cables. Miranda had a good internal clock, which was normally a blessing, but in this case made her uneasy as she took note of how long this evacuation would take. Six more students had to go, followed by herself, Jack and Yoshizawa. She knew why this space made her so tense. If something went wrong, this basement car park was not the place they wanted to be.

“Jack,” Miranda spoke in hushed tones, subtly pulling her aside in the darkness. “Now that Seanne is in good hands, the rest of us should consider taking the long way around,” she suggested. None of them had any pressing need to hurry.

“Why?” Jack shrugged. “We're, what, ten minutes away from getting out?”

“Maybe, but it does occur to me that we're right above that tunnel you inadvertently destroyed,” Miranda pointed out. “Call me overcautious, but that knowledge doesn't exactly make me comfortable about standing here for any prolonged period of time.”

“Don't be a pussy,” Jack said with a snort.

“Better than being dead,” Miranda retorted. Jack blew her off, moving to be with her students. So much for that conversation.

“Okay, you're next.” Yoshizawa gestured for the girl named Rodriguez to come forward. Miranda approached them, standing among the remnants of the group, contemplating running a structural scan on the building, if only to disprove her own doubts. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

Rodriguez reached out for the cables, a little unsteady on her feet. She caught one, but seemed reluctant to go into the dark space alone. Miranda had noticed consistent signs of anxiety in the girl. She reminded herself to have all these kids scheduled to meet with a crisis counsellor later for a mental health assessment, overburdened though those services were. Post-traumatic stress disorder certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility for any of—

Suddenly her non-deaf ear pricked up, her thoughts snapping into silence.

Rodriguez flinched and glanced up. “What was that?” she gasped.

Miranda heard it too.

“What was wh—?”

“Get back!” Miranda darted past Yoshizawa, hastily pulling Rodriguez away from the doors, sending them both tumbling to the floor. They escaped the impact by mere moments, Miranda shielding the girl with her body as best she could.

Metal crashed into concrete with crushing force. A concussive blast resonated through the cold, dark space in a deafening echo. Miranda didn't need to guess what had happened. One of the elevator cables had snapped, and the lift had slammed into the ground. From a long way up, it seemed.

“Holy shit,” Jack's voice broke the silence, stunned with shock.

Miranda released a sigh of relief. Wounded though she was, her reflexes were still as fast as ever. She groaned as she picked herself up, resting back on her good knee. “You okay?” Miranda asked with a grimace, checking on Rodriguez.

“Yeah. Thanks,” the girl answered, shell-shocked, but unharmed. “What about you?” she asked in return, not so sure she could say the same about her saviour.

Miranda stifled a wince, trying not to let it show just how badly her body hurt after doing that. “I'll be fine. Just give me a minute.” She waved her off, not quite sure her leg wouldn't just buckle underneath her if she tried to stand.

Rodriguez didn't question her, silently handing Miranda her crutch for whenever she was ready to use it. She got back to her feet, giving Miranda her space.

Jack watched on. Miranda could feel her scrutiny, feel those eyes assessing her. She was painfully conscious of it, in fact.

Jack was the only one among them who knew what Miranda was capable of before the war. She'd seen her at her strongest. To everyone else, the fact that Miranda could do anything at all must have made her seem like a superwoman, which wasn't entirely inaccurate to be fair. But not Jack. Jack could recognise just how badly Miranda was struggling. How much pain she would have to be in to be unable to stand. How much weaker she truly was.

From her silence, Miranda knew it was already too late. Jack had seen through her efforts to keep it hidden as soon as her mask had slipped. The only saving grace was that Miranda was quietly confident that Jack wouldn't give a shit.

“Well, I guess we're not climbing out,” Yoshizawa broke the silence, shining her torch in the shaft. Sure enough, the cables were broken now.

Suddenly, Miranda heard a shrill, high-pitched scream. Followed by another, and another. The sound crescendoed, like the swell of a rising wave, voices yelling out in horror, but their cries were drowned out by sickening cracks from above. Yoshizawa pointed her flashlight upwards. What Miranda saw there made her blood turn cold, and the rest of her freeze in place.

The floor above them was crumbling. The entire building was breaking apart. And it was coming down on top of them.

People often said stupid things about how time slowed when death was imminent. Miranda could attest otherwise. It happened incredibly fast. Too fast for even her to possibly react, even with her heightened reflexes. She heard the upper levels cascading down on top of each other, entire storeys sliding loose and falling into the streets below, the levels of the building collapsing in on themselves one by one. Dust and debris rained down from above, filling up the elevator shaft. Deep gashes burst open in the ceiling as the immense mass bore down upon them.

Miranda instinctively raised her hand and looked away, realising it was too late. But nothing happened. Seconds passed, and she was still alive.

A faint blue glow washed across her face, prompting her to glance up and scan the area. All she could hear was the thunderous pounding of her own heartbeat, her thoughts racing to assess the situation.

Then she saw it. Miranda was awestruck.

Jack was single-handedly holding up the building, using only her biotics.

“What in the...How are you doing that...?” Yoshizawa gasped in awe.

Jack grimaced, her body shaking as blue biotic light dimly illuminated the darkness around her. “Whatever you're going to do, do it fast. I don't know how long I can hold this.”

Miranda knew that was no exaggeration. Frankly, it was a miracle she was doing this at all. Anyone else would have been flattened instantly. Anyone else but the most powerful human biotic ever to live.

A quick glance at their surroundings revealed that the way they'd just come in was sealed shut, too much debris having fallen behind Jack. That meant the other exit was their best hope – the only chance they had. But they wouldn't get anywhere unless Ox team could help dig them out from the other side.

“Over there!” Miranda pointed to their best way out, pushing herself up to her feet, leaning heavily on her crutch. “Everybody move as fast as you can. We'll need to dig our way out,” she urged, and Yoshizawa didn't hesitate to follow her direction.

“Come with me!” the soldier commanded, leading Jack's students towards the debris blocking the ramp. They quickly began pulling at every loose bit of rubble they could find, grabbing nearby bits of steel to help wedge fallen chunks of concrete out of place.

Miranda activated her earpiece. “Resnikov, do you read me?”

“Yeah. We're all okay over here. The top part of the building just collapsed and fell off, but it looks like it stabilised somehow,” Resnikov replied back.

“From where I'm standing, it's not looking very stable. We're still trapped in the car park underneath. And now the way we came in is blocked,” Miranda replied, keeping her tone as calm as she could, given the circumstances. Panicking would help nobody.

“What? Shit...” Resnikov swore on the other end of the line.

“Listen to me, I need you to gather everyone you can to start digging us out from your side. Everything. Bulldozers. Machines. People. There's still nine of us trapped down here, with no other way out,” Miranda instructed, tension running high.

“But...Director! I...The protocol—!” a different voice came over the channel.

“Override the fucking protocol!” Miranda snapped into her communicator, momentarily losing her cool. It was warranted. This situation was hanging on a knife's edge. If they didn't act immediately, they would die. They would all die.

Emergencies didn't come more urgent than this.

“...We'll do everything we can. Hold on,” Resnikov replied.

Then the channel went quiet.

Miranda swallowed, adrenaline coursing through her system. She didn't do fear. She didn't get scared. But the stakes of the situation were not lost on her. They should have already been dead. The only reason they weren't was...

She glanced back at Jack. Standing alone. Shaking under the strain. Burning with biotic light. Carrying the weight of an entire building on her back.

She was damn near tearing herself apart to try and save them. But she was a long, long way from that blocked exit ramp. Even if they opened up a gap, how the fuck were they supposed to get Jack out without the building falling down on top of them?

No. That wasn't an option. Past grievances between them meant nothing anymore. Jack was part of her crew. And Miranda wasn't about to let someone who'd fought at her side for the future of all organic life die if she could possibly help it. She would think of something. She had to.

With that in mind, she headed back for her. Miranda may have been crippled, but she still had her biotics. If she could just take the pressure off Jack for a little while, maybe she could buy them all enough time.

Jack eyed Miranda like she'd lost her mind, watching her hobble across the distance between them. “The fuck are you doing?” Jack asked, teeth clenched, barely able to move her lips given how hard she was concentrating.

“Saving your life,” Miranda coolly answered, raising her one good arm, adding her strength to Jack’s, beginning to feel just how tenuous the structure actually was through the 'fingers' of her biotic field. She couldn’t do much, but that dim blue glow grew a little bigger, and a little brighter.

“More like dooming us all,” said Jack, visibly wincing. Miranda didn't want to think about how badly it must have been hurting her, holding this building up by herself.

From Miranda's meagre contributions, she could tell that Jack was using her biotics in two different ways. First, to make the building lighter, to the extent that she could. Second, exerting force – a barrier to hold it up. Miranda was carrying only a fraction of the weight that Jack was, not from lack of trying. Even that was enough to give her a sense of just how monumental this feat truly was. How was it even possible to have this much power, let alone this much control?

“We don't have time for this. Get them out of here,” Jack said, jerking her head towards the ramp, the students and the soldier trying in vain to dig their way out. “I'd do it myself, but...” A tremor running through the building above them cut off whatever Jack intended to say. She looked like she was about to either throw up or pass out, but she endured. Somehow.

“We have a fleet of rescuers converging on our position as we speak,” Miranda assured her, not worried that the machines could dig out an opening. That's what they were there for.

“Yeah, good for you, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda busy keeping us from getting flattened. If I move, we're toast,” Jack pointed out, managing a roguish laugh despite the stress her body was under. “Much as I'd like to bring this building down on top of you and take you down with me...” She trailed off, briefly meeting Miranda's gaze. She couldn't even pretend she was considering that anymore, much as the old Jack would have. “Well, that would set a bad example for the tykes. And I wouldn't want to do you the favour.”

“That's not going to happen. To either of us,” said Miranda, glancing over her shoulder to see a sliver of light as the team outside began clearing the ramp. A hiss escaped her as the weight of the building shifted again. “If we can just brace the ceiling long enough, they can get in a crane to hold this up for us, or knock the upper floors down away from us—”

“Are you serious?” Jack all but snapped. If her hands weren't otherwise occupied, she would have slapped Miranda on the mangled side of her face. “This building's coming down no matter what we do. I'll hold it as long as I can. But you need to get your stupid ass out of here.”

“Damn it, Jack. You stubborn—” Miranda cut herself off from unleashing any insults. As motivating as her mutual animosity towards Jack had been at times, now was not the time to bicker. “Just hold on.”

“What do you think I'm trying to do?!” Jack shot back, pushed beyond her limits, both mentally and physically. She was giving Miranda an out – giving her former enemy a chance at life by sacrificing her own – and she wasn't taking it. Miranda wouldn’t let her do it. It must have been driving her crazy. “This is fucking bullshit...” Jack commented under her breath, glancing down, as if the burden of her thoughts surpassed the weight of the building.

Miranda couldn’t argue with that assessment.

After a moment, Jack collected herself, and cast a sideways glance at Miranda. “Look, I'm stuck here, but you don't have to be,” Jack said, speaking with the kind of even, straightforward tone Miranda would normally have associated with Shepard. “I don't care about surviving. You just get these kids somewhere safe. Now clear the ramp and get them out before this building comes down on top of us,” she calmly instructed, looking her dead in the eye, though it went against every fibre of her nature to be so composed. Jack would talk to Miranda any damn way it took to get her to do what she told her.

Miranda stared at her. The selfish psychopath she'd met a year ago was nowhere to be seen. Either that, or she'd grossly misjudged her this whole time. Suffice it to say, Miranda was stunned by the depth of the change in Jack. She'd grown more than any of them. It wasn't even close.

Suddenly, Miranda felt a lot more riding on getting Jack out alive than mere duty to an old shipmate. These fleeting moments they'd shared since they'd reunited down in the tunnels, they'd forced Miranda to see Jack as a real person, a three-dimensional person, a complex person, a person who deserved better than the cruel hand life had dealt her. And, if the genuine concern and emotional connection those teenagers had for her was any indication, that person had a lot left to live for.

“Did I stutter or did you lose your ears too?” Jack challenged when Miranda didn’t move. “I'm not making a polite request. I'm giving you a fucking order.”

“I don't take orders from you,” Miranda persisted, refusing to abandon her.

“Get moving. Do it. Get the fuck out,” Jack said, her stance momentarily wavering under the burden of the half-broken building.

For once in her life, Miranda didn't know what to say. No perfect, prepared answers or replies. She was torn. Intellectually, she knew that the smartest thing to do was focus her efforts on clearing the ramp. Get the most people out. Save herself. But the other part of her knew that would mean leaving Jack to die. And she couldn't do that. She couldn't add another name to the list of people she'd lost. She couldn't add another face to the ghosts that haunted her dreams. The people she'd failed to save in this war. The team she'd led to their deaths in London. The friends and crewmates she'd never see again.

The old Miranda would have made the pragmatic decision in a heartbeat. Without hesitation. But Jack wasn't the only person who'd changed. Maybe Miranda's change hadn't been as drastic. But the person who could make that cold, calculated choice didn't exist anymore. Somewhere down the line, she'd learned to care. Sometimes she wished she hadn't. Because, even though she was terrible at it, it couldn't be unlearned.

What was she supposed to choose?

“Jack—”

“Do it or I swear to every fucking god what happened to your fucking face in life will be a fucking cakewalk compared to what I'll do to you in death if you don't get my kids the fuck out of here!” Jack finally snapped, her patience frayed to breaking point, and her meaning deadly serious.

A steely look came over Miranda. Like it or not, Jack was right. Miranda knew what to do; what she had to do. But she would be damned if she was just going to accept it that easily.

“I'm coming back for you, Jack,” Miranda vowed, reluctantly stepping away, much to Jack's relief. She moved as quickly as she could towards the others, adding her biotics to the effort to clear the ramp. The students had made progress, with help from the soldiers on the other side. Miranda could hear machinery through the wall of debris – it sounded like handheld drills. They were starting to cut through.

Pretty soon, they started to see light. Small holes. Each one felt like it was worth its dimensions in gold. Every ray of light was a beacon of hope. They worked frantically on both sides to try and wedge the holes open, digging wherever their hands and their tools found purchase.

“Come on. A little more and we can probably start squeezing through,” Yoshizawa encouraged the students, doing an admirable job of keeping them focused. She wasn't wrong, either. The holes were widening inch by inch. Miranda could hear her team on the other side barking directions to each other, working as hard as they could to get them out.

Just as Miranda tried to peer through the gaps to see what was going on outside, she heard a pylon not far behind her crack, everyone ducking instinctively, most of them certain they just saw the ceiling get about a foot lower. Miranda clenched her teeth, glancing back to Jack. Jack was struggling, the weight gradually pushing her closer to the ground. She was bending, bowing under the pressure. But she didn't buckle. Somehow, she was still enduring. But every passing second must have felt like an eternity.

“Where the bloody hell are those bulldozers?!” Miranda called out through the holes in the debris, slamming her fist into the concrete in frustration.

“They're coming as fast as they can. But I don't know if they can make it in time. The roads aren't clear,” Resnikov told her, from his position just beyond the rubble. Miranda growled, cursing internally. He was right. The street was blocked by too much debris, mostly from all the other buildings that had crashed into the ground during the war.

“Then we keep doing it the hard way,” said Miranda, grabbing her crutch and wielding it like a battering ram, bashing her way through the wall of rubble, even if her one-armed efforts were basically useless.

Eventually, their combined efforts managed to push through the debris, forming a gap just wide enough to get people through. About six different pairs of feet kicked at the hole, knocking away anything that someone could potentially get stuck on. It would have to do.

“Alright, let's move,” Miranda ordered, all but pushing one of Jack's students towards daylight, waiting for them to worm their way through the narrow crack before doing the same with another. It took time for each person to squirm through. It wasn't easy.

“Go, go, go!” Resnikov ordered, still working on wedging the crack open from the other side, stretching the gap further apart, knocking away loose bits of rubble, finding it easier now that they had a little more leverage.

“What about Jack?” asked one of the students, a young man. Miranda hadn't caught his name. “We're not leaving without her!”

“I've got her. Don't worry,” Miranda assured them, heading back for her, limping out across the floor to where Jack stood alone. “Come on, Jack,” she spurred her on, gesturing for her to make a dash for it now that they had a way out. The hole was getting bigger. The light was getting brighter. “There's enough space for us to get through. It's now or never.”

“What part of 'this building will collapse if I'm not standing under it' do you not understand?” Jack shot back, furious with Miranda for endangering herself despite her repeated efforts to get her to leave.

“Is sprinting intellectually beyond you?” Miranda sarcastically countered.

“I'll be dead before I take my first step,” Jack replied, knowing that if she moved for even a second the roof would immediately cave in right above her head. She could feel the crumbling structure like an extension of herself.

Miranda wasn't a fool; she'd felt what Jack was going through. And she knew she was right. But Miranda didn't care anymore. She'd lost too much already. Surviving the war had come at such a cost. She hadn't even begun to fully count the price. If this was going to kill her, then so be it. But she wasn't about to let the universe take one more god damn thing from her. Not without a fight.

“Well, I'm not leaving you behind,” Miranda vowed, a surge of power flaring through her wounded body. Without even thinking, she used her biotics to pull a largely intact column out of the debris pile that had been blocking the exit ramp, slowly prying open a massive, person-sized hole. She didn't even care that moving something so big and dense took a lot out of her, or that she was pushing herself beyond her limits. At a time like this, she couldn't afford to have limits. She strained with effort as she began to tear it free.

“What—?” If Jack had intended to ask what she was doing, she didn't need to. Yoshizawa and the remaining students had to quickly duck and dodge out of the way as Miranda abruptly pulled the column loose and dragged it across the floor. Her biotics were running on sheer determination alone, moving the column into position beside Jack, forcing it to prop up the ceiling beside her. Jack snorted. “Don't be stupid. You know that's not going to hold the building.”

“It doesn't have to. It just needs to last long enough for you to make it out,” Miranda answered her, steadfastly refusing to budge, even as she could feel the effort ripping at the muscles in her arm, and sending piercing jolts of pain through the implant in her brain. Miranda could take it; it was nothing compared to what Jack was suffering.

Jack uttered a hollow laugh. “You're a real fucking cunt, you know that?” she said. Yet again, coming from her that sounded almost like a term of endearment. As much of one as Miranda would ever get from her anyway.

Miranda tasted blood, her teeth grinding together from the exertion. She looked back over her shoulder, leaning heavily on her crutch for support. The person-sized hole she'd torn in the wall meant the last of the students had gotten out easily, together with Yoshizawa. Distant faces watched on from the other side, too sensible to risk going in after them. There was no one left to rescue. Just Jack.

Miranda's gaze narrowed to a glare when she turned back to find Jack still hadn't moved so much as an inch towards her. Both women stood their ground, as if fused to it in a game of self-sacrificial chicken.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Miranda, feeling her pulse quicken as time grew shorter. “Alright, Jack, you wanted to prove something to me? To show how much you've grown, and how much of a better person you are than I am? Well you have. You were right about Cerberus, and I was wrong about you. You're a better person than I am, and you've overcome things that I never could have,” she admitted, willing to acknowledge that Jack's ability to pull herself together and get her life on track had far exceeded anybody's expectations. She'd come the furthest out of all of them, which was a fucking miracle given where she'd started. Was that what she wanted to hear? “You don't have to kill yourself to spite me.”

“Spite you? Man, fuck you. You would win the gold fucking medal in self-centredness. But, news flash: everything isn't always about you,” Jack remarked, giving something between a sneer and a hiss.

“Then why won't you go?” Miranda challenged, her biotics beginning to falter from overuse. She wasn't alone in that. The strain of maintaining her biotic field for so long made bulging veins visible beneath Jack's skin, like her blood vessels were threatening to burst, or pop clean out of her flesh. She wouldn't hold out long, especially given how tired she'd been to begin with.

The more Miranda looked, the more she realised Jack was beyond exhausted. Even the last remnants of her energy reserves were long gone. She was running on empty. She should have been dead by now. Maybe she already was, and they just didn't know it.

“Look. Here's the thing. If I sprinted, I might make it out,” Jack conceded, breathing more heavily by the second, perspiration falling from her dehydrated brow like torrential rain, soaking the ground beneath her quivering feet. “Probably got about a one in twenty shot of making it. Not likely, but it could work. But what about you? You can't even walk, let alone run.”

“I can try,” Miranda replied, not concerned. She could handle herself.

“Or you'll just kill both of us,” Jack pointed out. She'd been watching Miranda, noticing the signs that belied her façade of strength. She knew exactly how sick and injured Miranda still was. She wouldn't make it two steps before being buried beneath the wreckage.

“I'm prepared to take that risk,” Miranda insisted, unwavering. It was worth it, if it gave Jack a chance. Miranda may have survived the war against all odds, but she'd made peace with death a long time ago. Besides, she'd led enough people to their untimely ends. Maybe she deserved to join them.

“Then where the fuck does that leave the tykes?” said Jack, her tone increasingly dark. “Those are my kids. They're mine.” Her stance kept getting lower, like there was someone pressing their hands into her shoulders, pushing her down with all their might. Her strength was slowly wavering. Her arms were shaking like they were about to break off. “Ugh. You know, you really do suck for making me go through this,” she grumbled, but if it was intended to sound resentful, it didn't. More like resigned.

Miranda didn't plan on giving up on her just yet.

“Is the building clear or not?” the voice of Ox team's commanding officer came over her earpiece. Miranda hadn't even been paying attention to the comms, too focused on herself and Jack.

“Ms. Lawson's still in there with a survivor,” Resnikov said. “Should we go back in?”

“No. It's too unstable. I can't send anyone else in after them,” the commander replied. Cold, but sensible. Exactly what Miranda would have instructed in any normal situation. “We can't afford casualties.”

Hearing that motivated Miranda to move closer. “Come on, Jack. Go,” she ordered, prepared to drag Jack kicking and screaming to safety if she had to. If she weren't one-armed and limping, she would have done that already. “I'll hold on to the pylon as long as I can.”

“That won't do shit and you know it,” Jack responded. For all her gifts, Miranda's biotics couldn't hold a candle to Jack's. Especially not now.

“Then what do you suggest?” Miranda snapped. Even when she was trying to save her life, Jack still managed to vex her to no end. Bloody nutcase. “Run for it now and you have a chance. The building is coming down whether you move or not—”

“Damn it, would you shut up and listen to me for five fucking seconds!?” Jack cut her off, sick of Miranda making everything about herself, and her guilt. At that, a spark of recognition flashed across Jack's bloodshot eyes. Maybe there was still away to appeal to Miranda – to talk her out of this senseless self-sacrifice.

“Hey. If you really do regret the way things went down between us, or if you feel the slightest bit of shame about working for Cerberus, then do this for me – you look after those kids,” Jack said, giving her one-time nemesis a long, unwavering look, as if staring into her soul, to see if any part of her deserved to be imbued with that amount of faith. Jack had long doubted that Miranda had any genuine redeeming qualities, but, if there was ever a time for her to show them, this would be it. Maybe saving her life would bring it out of her. “I need you to make sure they land on their feet, okay? They haven't got anyone else.”

“They've got you,” Miranda persisted, continuing to walk forward with her arm outstretched to hold up the pylon, her crutch long abandoned, her knee screaming in pain.

Jack gave a sardonic laugh. Of all the people she would have pictured entrusting her found family to, Miranda wasn't anywhere on that list. Hell, a year ago, Jack would never have pictured there being anyone she cared about, let alone a bunch of kids she considered her own, and protected as fiercely as a lioness defending her cubs. But things changed. She'd grown enough to gain a new perspective.

“Hey, cheerleader,” she began, channelling the Commander who'd given her a chance what seemed like a lifetime ago, “I'm going to be straight with you: part of me still wants to kill you, especially knowing that I'm already dead. Yeah, I admit, you're not as bad as I thought you were. We shared a few drinks, and we had a few laughs back on the Citadel. But I don't trust you for shit. Can't help that. What can I say? You're a fucking snake, alright?

“But, when we took down the Collectors, you showed me something, and that one thing is the reason why I think saving your life right now is worth it. And that's how much you love your sister. How much you gave up to keep her safe, without her even knowing you existed. I didn't understand it before. But I get it now. And that's why I know I can trust you to give my students a good life – a normal life,” Jack said, and she meant it. “Promise me. Promise me you'll take care of my students,” she implored her, blinking back tears that got lost in the sweat pouring down her face. “Treat them the way you'd treat your own sister. Do that, and we're cool.”

“Damn it, Jack,” Miranda didn't know what she hated more, Jack's foolhardy determination to be a bloody hero or the fact that, had she not been injured, she would already have marched over there, bashed her in the back of her head and forcibly dragged her out of the building. If she had just been in a better condition, Jack would already be safe. They wouldn't be having this conversation.

“Promise me, damn it!” Jack demanded, feeling her control beginning to slip.

“You can look after them yourself! Come on. On the count of three, we both let go. And you take my hand and run,” Miranda pleaded with her, in spite of the searing sting that shot through every nerve as she moved closer, biotics firing on overdrive as she reached out, extending her hand to Jack. She was within arm's reach. Fingertips away. “Just do it. Please,” she begged her, not sure how much longer her biotics could hold out. “We're getting out of this together. I won't leave you.”

For a second, it looked like Jack was considering doing exactly that, even if it meant risking them both. Miranda dared to feel hopeful that she'd succeeded in convincing her that she wouldn't take no for an answer. They would thrive together or perish together, just like the old days.

Who would have thought it would be just the two of them?

Suddenly, Miranda heard a sound above her, and felt a sheet of dust rain down onto her shoulders. Jack saw it too. The cracks in the ceiling were rapidly getting worse, spreading across the concrete, threatening to break like glass under the pressure. The roof was about to cave in directly on top of them. Jack's biotics were waning. She'd run out of time.

“Look out!” Jack yelled. Miranda threw up her arm and unleashed what little remained of her biotic reserves to brace the ceiling just a few seconds longer. She heard the roaring wave of destruction advancing towards her from the highest floors of the building. Gravity was about to catch up with them. Fast.

All of a sudden, a sonic boom cut the air. A beam of light shot into the darkness, and abruptly stopped. A hand grabbed Miranda about the waist. Green skin.

Her eye shot wide open with recognition. Shiala. And she was preparing a biotic charge straight back the way she came. Without Jack.

“Wait!” With her last burst of strength, Miranda lunged forward, just barely managing to seize the lapel of Jack's jacket and pull her forward. Reluctantly, Jack gave in, offering no resistance, letting herself be grabbed and dragged towards Shiala. She was still holding up a biotic field, although now it was serving more as a shield against the debris rapidly pelting down around them than a brace, doing little prop up the collapsing building.

Shiala took Jack in her other arm once she got within reach, securing them both as best she could amid the downpour of falling masonry. She crackled with energy, preparing for another charge.

“As soon as we stop, run,” Shiala warned them, her voice nearly drowned out by the cracks that tore through the foundations of the building.

At the last possible moment, she charged back towards the ramp. Less than a split-second later, the very place where they once stood was buried, engulfed in a tidal wave of rubble.

They came to an abrupt stop, a few yards short of the entrance ramp.

“Go!” Shiala pushed Jack ahead, almost throwing her. There were people waiting for them, countless hands reaching, frantically grabbing Jack and pulling her to safety as they all hastened to retreat and take shelter from the impending collapse.

Ignoring the pain in her still injured body, Miranda scrambled for the entrance, narrowly dodging the torrent of falling masonry. Her bad knee buckled, slowing her down. Shiala noticed that she was struggling. She reached back and physically pulled Miranda up the ramp by the scarf around her neck, the two of them dashing and diving out into daylight as the structure came crashing down behind them, barely escaping death.

Miranda didn't even utter a hiss at the blaring flashes of agony blazing through her body, too busy turning to look back at the disaster zone to care if she'd worsened her injuries.

A wall of dust all but exploded out from the collapsing building, swallowing everyone in the street. She raised her arm to protect her face as pieces of the broken building began to rain down onto the street. Shiala threw up a makeshift barrier, which diverted some of the shrapnel. Even so, a few stray projectiles hit Miranda in the side and in her good shoulder as everything that remained of the building fell down on top of itself, leaving only a pile of rubble. It sounded like a freight train driving straight into the ground.

It was all over in seconds. The silence set in, unrelentingly cold. The only thing Miranda could hear beneath the ringing of her ear was her own heavy breathing, and the thundering of her heart as she dared to look up through the dust cloud.

The building had been flattened. Everything had sunk into the basement levels.

A second slower, and that would have been her. A moment longer, and none of them would have survived.

As the dust settled, shock slowly giving way to a delayed sense of relief, Miranda glanced over to the familiar green face beside her, regarding her with silent recognition. She didn't know how or why, but Shiala had saved her life. And Jack's. And nearly killed herself trying to save people she barely knew.

Shiala looked back, as if sensing at least one of Miranda's wordless questions. “I heard you were in trouble,” she explained with a small shrug, somewhat awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. “I came as fast as I could.”

Miranda's head was still reeling, scarcely able to make sense of the fact that she was still alive. Incredulous though she was, she wouldn't forget what Shiala had done for her. At least this was one saviour Miranda would be able to thank.

Her thoughts were quickly shattered by a loud scream.

“Jack?” Miranda barely heard herself saying her name beneath the ringing in her ear. Her focus shifted. She grimaced as she pushed herself forward, past Shiala, trying to see what was going on.

“Teach? Teach?” One of Jack's students was leaning over her, visibly concerned.

“What's going on? What's wrong with her?” another of them asked the soldiers.

“Move aside,” Miranda instructed, wincing as she dragged herself over, pushing her way between bodies. She looked down and saw Jack writhing in agony, her muscles all tensed, her limbs rigid. She was wide awake, and conscious, even though every fibre of her body seemed to be seizing up in pain – so much that she couldn't speak.

Miranda had never seen anything like this before, but she understood immediately. She had felt a fraction of the weight Jack had carried on her back for so many minutes – the biotic energy she had to exert to keep that up. Her body had been pushed beyond its limits and, for lack of a better word, overloaded. It must have felt like being struck by lightning.

“Give her a sedative and a muscle relaxant, and get her back to camp,” Miranda quietly commanded, figuring the best thing she could do for Jack was help ease her pain, and knock her out for a bit while her body began to heal itself. A nearby medic didn't hesitate to follow her orders.

“Will she be okay?” the student Miranda recognised as Prangley asked.

“I can't make any promises, but for what it's worth, I don't think she's done any permanent damage,” Miranda replied, watching as the sedative began to take effect, and Jack slowly began to calm down, her muscles going limp as the tension gradually left her body. “If my best guess is correct, then the worst she'll have suffered is a torn ligament here or there.”

“We've got it from here, Director Lawson. We'll take her to the medical evac shuttle with the other critical patient,” one of the medics told her.

Miranda gave them a nod. “Make sure the rest of the kids are okay, too. They've been through a lot. We'll wait here while you do.”

“Sure thing.” They got to work carrying out her orders, loading Jack up on a stretcher, taking her back to where the bulk of the team was waiting. The medics began to evaluate the health of Jack's students. Everyone else within sight...needed a few minutes to recover. A building just came down in front of them.

That had been a close call. Too close.

With that, Miranda hobbled a few paces back from the wreckage, as if finding physical space would give her the room she needed to think. She ran her hand through her hair, releasing a long breath, processing what had just happened while the tinnitus blared in her ear. She let her forehead fall against the cold stone of a nearby building, her mind voicing a thousand different thoughts of how close she'd come to letting things go horribly wrong, and the words she and Jack had exchanged when it seemed like their lives were about to end.

It didn’t seem real. It had just happened, but it felt like waking up from a vivid dream. She couldn’t quite fathom the things that had gone through her mind (or hadn’t gone through her mind) in the intensity of the moment. 

No matter how much she and Jack clashed in the past, there was a special bond between shipmates, especially those of the Normandy. No matter how much they still disliked each other, they'd been part of something. Everyone on that ship had seen things no one else in the universe could appreciate or understand.

And Miranda had been given an opportunity to save her, one of those people who'd walked through the fire with her, and she had so very nearly failed. Hell, in a way, she had. By sheer luck, Shiala had been there to bail them out from a situation Miranda should have seen coming, and should have prevented. Her mistakes had nearly cost them all.

What was worse was knowing that, with so many others she had served beside, she wouldn't get that chance to even try. They were already gone.

How had she come so close to wasting not only her own life, but Jack's, and her students'? What had she been thinking? What was wrong with her? Why had she doubted herself when she knew going underground was the wrong call?

Not only that but...what if Shiala hadn’t shown up? Jack was right. There would have been no saving either of them, let alone both. Miranda would have thrown her life away pointlessly, all because she would have rather died than live with one more person getting killed on her watch - one more person she knew. Realising that about herself was...going to take some time to process.

“Director?” Yoshizawa's voice penetrated her thoughts. “Director Lawson, are you okay?”

Miranda blinked herself out of her strange stupor. It seemed like an eternity that she had been standing there in thought, but, when Miranda broke herself out of it, it had probably only been a minute at most.

“I'm alright. I'm unharmed,” she answered, gingerly shifting her body around. She'd lost her crutch in the building collapse. That was annoying. But the job always came before anything else. That was just how Miranda did things. She couldn't function any other way. “Make a report, will you?”

“Report?” Yoshizawa repeated vacantly, still dazed by the events that had just occurred.

“Yes, report to base. Eleven survivors rescued. Two in need of urgent medical attention.” Miranda hesitated, looking over at the students, and at Jack. They were all watching their teacher get carried off towards the same transport as Seanne was on, going to get the help they needed.

Yoshizawa followed her gaze. For a moment, Yoshizawa seemed to consider whether to extend some word of comfort to her after nearly losing someone she knew, as well as nearly losing her own life trying to rescue Jack, but she apparently thought better of it, carrying out the order without another question, leaving Miranda in peace, letting her dwell on her thoughts in private.

Miranda noticed a few sideways glances in her direction from her team, some quiet words being discussed about her. She wondered if they thought her heroic and brave for staying behind with Jack. If so, little did they realise there was nothing courageous about it. Her reasons had been entirely selfish.

Funnily enough, Jack was the only person who had seen that.

“Could somebody fetch me a bloody walking stick?” Miranda acerbically remarked in the general direction of some of the privates who were hanging around the scene. They all stiffened, visibly scared of her. One of them saluted and ran off to fulfil her request. Miranda rolled her eye as she shifted around to lean back against the wall behind her. “Incompetents,” she muttered, because it was easier to snap at them than kick herself for letting this disaster nearly happen.

“Are you sure you shouldn't go with them too?” Shiala asked, moving to Miranda's side, nodding her head towards the medics. Miranda hadn't even noticed that she'd followed her.

“I'm fine,” Miranda assured her. Shiala sent her a look, as if to make sure she was telling the truth. “Really,” she added, trying to sound sincere, not failing to remember that Shiala had seen the vulnerability beneath the mask before.

“Then I'm glad,” Shiala replied, taking up a position beside her, almost matching Miranda's stance against the wall. She sighed, admirably calm, but understandably a little shaken by her near-death experience. “You are a very impressive woman, Miranda Lawson, but it would be my preference if for once we could meet under less...dire circumstances,” she remarked, sensing a recurring theme.

Miranda uttered a chuckle at that, unconsciously rubbing at her injured shoulder, trying not to aggravate her amputation site. “If I bought you a drink later, would that count?” she asked. That was the least she could do to express her gratitude.

Shiala summoned a small smile, as if liking the sound of that. “It would be a start.”

Miranda looked out over at Jack's kids again. Some of them were crying, wiping tears from their eyes as the shuttle carrying Jack and Seanne departed, the aftershock of everything they'd gone through passing over. 

It was funny. In all honesty, Miranda couldn't say her heart hurt for any of them, or what they were going through. She understood it intellectually, but seeing people cry didn't elicit any emotion in her. She didn't possess that latent empathy. She didn't even know most of their names.

But, that being said, that didn't mean she didn't feel anything. It would have been extremely easy for her to choose not to care but, well...that Miranda had been left behind many months ago. She wasn’t that person anymore.

Her past self wouldn’t have, but Miranda did feel sorry for these kids, and what they'd gone through. As much as she could, at least. She knew what they'd endured. She understood their loss. She'd seen how much they cared about each other – how much they meant to Jack. She'd nearly watched them all die avoidable deaths, because she hadn't trusted her instincts to get them out of that building. Because Miranda had been indecisive and taken a fucking shortcut.

It wasn't right. It wasn't right to just...walk away from any responsibility she bore, like it had never happened. To wash her hands, and absolve herself. Not now.

It wasn't lost on her that they were all only a little younger than Oriana. She was twenty now. They were, what? Seventeen? Thinking of Ori was always the ticket to bringing out Miranda's softer side – a side she wouldn't have even had without her.

Miranda thought about the things Jack had said to her mere minutes ago, in the heat of the moment. About looking after her students, the same way she would look after her sister. Protecting them. Keeping them safe. Giving them normal lives.

Miranda wasn't good with other adults, let alone kids. She'd never really been one. Or had friends at that age. Giving Oriana a normal life had meant staying far away from her. But when Miranda set her mind to anything, she could do it. Already, she had begun to think about how she could pull strings. Make sure their needs were looked after. Make sure they landed on their feet.

There were nine of them. Ten, including Seanne. Ten teenagers. And Jack.

Eleven. Eleven people might be feasible. Temporarily, anyway. That was how many housemates Miranda already had, after all. It was worth trying, wasn't it? Worth seeing if it worked out. Worth trying to do the one thing Jack had asked of her.

Miranda had never made any promises to Jack, so, technically, she wouldn't have been doing anything wrong if she ignored that request. She didn't have any obligation to honour her wishes. And Jack was still alive to take care of her students herself. But, frankly, those technicalities Miranda might once have clung to in order to easily rationalise this all away and to absolve herself of any sense of duty didn't seem to matter anymore. She didn’t want to take a pass on this.

She was sure something could be arranged. Miranda had a lot of pull with Bailey. She was his best agent. Surely, if she spoke with him, he would be willing to make a few special accommodations for her. Anything to ensure she continued working for him for as long as possible.

Even if her plan worked, that would take a few days, at a minimum. Not to mention that Miranda's work out here in the wastes wasn't over yet. They needed somewhere to stay in the interim. Someone to look out for them while Jack was out of commission. Someone she could trust.

“Shiala, you've already done a lot for me, so I wouldn't want to impose by asking anything further,” Miranda began, trailing off momentarily. Shiala tiled her head, listening intently. “Those nine kids need a place to stay. I know you and the Zhu's Hope colonists probably don't have enough room, but you have connections in the green zone. You know it better than I do. If you could put them up somewhere, just for a couple of days, while I get their affairs in order...”

“That's not an imposition at all,” Shiala stated plainly, thinking nothing of it. “I can take them on my shuttle, get them there faster.”

Miranda had to admit, she was a little taken aback to hear Shiala so readily volunteer her assistance again. She was expecting she'd have to work harder to convince her, or trade her something of value. Not that she was complaining but...why did Shiala keep helping her? What was she getting out of this?

“I appreciate it. I'll make it up to you,” Miranda offered, since it only seemed fair. That and she didn’t like feeling at a deficit in terms of favours to call upon.

“You don't have to do anything for me.” Shiala shook her head, dismissing the thought. “You've already earned my help. And...well, if you'll have it...you’ve earned my friendship too,” Shiala added, a little more self-consciously, as if wondering if she was saying too much, or being too awkward.

Miranda blinked. Oh. Was that what this was? Was that what she wanted from this?

Honestly, she had never contemplated that. Miranda had a habit of viewing all her dealings with other people as inherently transactional, due to how she was raised. It was a mindset she was slowly learning to change, but it still caught her off guard every now and then to be reminded that sometimes people just did things for others, not because they were repaying a favour or because they expected something in return, but just because they cared and wanted to help.

That and, in her entire life, Miranda had met maybe five people who actually seemed to like her as a person and enjoy her company. One of them was her sister, and two of them were dead. Suffice it to say, she wasn't used to it.

“...Sure,” Miranda said, not sure how else to answer that. She didn't know Shiala particularly well, and in all honesty she saw her purely as a useful contact. But she saw no reason to reject her offer. That would just hurt her feelings, and more importantly sabotage the inroads Miranda had made with her as a reliable ally.

If this was all Shiala wanted in return for assisting her then Miranda could...try the friendship thing, she supposed. It was less effort than the blackmail she usually had to resort to when securing third party contacts. Presumably.

Shiala turned a more bashful shade of green. “Uh, well, that's great! I'm...glad. And I will...take you up on that drink,” she said in that awkward, stilted way of hers. It was like she was always torn between whether to speak with traditional asari formality, or whether to emulate the more casual ways of speaking the Zhu's Hope colonists would surely have taught her to use with humans by now. That and it always kind of seemed like she was talking through a headache.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Miranda replied. She wasn’t really, of course, but Shiala didn’t need to know that. In any event, she wasn’t averse to the idea. And lying to be polite was a skill she still needed more practice at, unless she wanted to continue alienating people with blunt honesty for the rest of her life.

Tempting, but no.

“Me too.” Shiala nervously cleared her throat. “I will, uh...see you around. Stay safe this time,” she said, taking her leave. Miranda gave her a parting nod.

Judging from her reaction, Miranda got the sense Shiala hadn't had that many friends before either, Zhu’s Hope not included. She wasn't sure whether that would make maintaining this proposed friendship extremely easy, since her standards would be low, or whether that made this a terrible idea, because neither of them brought anything of value to the friendship table. Maybe both.

Miranda watched Shiala approach Jack's students, introducing herself and offering them a place to say. It was funny. Despite how much she'd grown over the past year, Miranda was still at a distance from all but a select few – looking from the outside in at people who could form bonds so much more easily. People who could just naturally relate to others.

She would never be able to do that. She just couldn't.

At the end of the day, did it really matter? Did it matter that she didn't genuinely care about these kids as much as Jack did? Did it matter that she didn't honestly reciprocate Shiala's feelings of friendship? She was doing good by her actions, wasn't she? Doing what Jack had asked of her. Somehow, despite a complete lack of effort, managing to be someone whose companionship Shiala enjoyed. Those positive outcomes had to count for something, right?

Progress was progress. After all, who would have ever thought that Miranda fucking Lawson would become a person who risked her own life for Jack’s, a protector of lost teenagers, and a person who made friends? Jacob would have been proud of her, if not for the fact that he would never believe it.

It was also a hell of a lot easier to focus her attention on those things than to confront the fact that she still hadn’t dealt with the phantom faces that haunted her in her dreams, or the missing names from the Normandy, or the tinnitus that made trying to fall asleep at night into a marathon of audial torture, and how those things were affecting her even in her waking moments.

Miranda swallowed, not ready to face those problems. Not yet.

“Alright. Playtime’s over. Let’s get moving,” Miranda called out to her team assembled in the square. “We still have a city to clear.”

*    *     *

Miranda was definitely in a mood that day when she stormed into the Starboard Observation Deck, her arms folded across her chest. She sighed and went to the viewport, leaning with one arm against the transparent window. Samara continued to meditate, undisturbed. That earned a somewhat suspicious glance back over Miranda's shoulder.

“What?” said Miranda, eyeing her. “You're not going to ask me about the fight I had with Jack?”

“I was not,” Samara replied. “Although I did overhear it, as did everybody on this deck of the ship.”

“Great.” Miranda shook her head, flipping her hair back. “I know Shepard managed to talk her down, but she walked into my office and physically assaulted me. She's unstable.”

“She did. And that was wrong of her,” Samara acknowledged, pausing for a moment. “Did you do anything to provoke it?” she asked, sensing Miranda was perhaps...minimising her role in the argument.

“Provoke it?” Miranda echoed, offended at the insinuation.

“It is merely a question,” Samara said calmly. “Jack is a volatile character. However, she has been a member of this crew for a considerable time without incident.”

“So I must have caused it?” Miranda sarcastically shot back, rolling her eyes and shaking her head when Samara didn't respond. Typical for her to get blamed for everything.

Samara waited a few moments, perhaps considering that she had erred in taking the direct approach. “I am aware that she recently revisited a place of immense childhood trauma,” Samara began, choosing a different approach. “This must be a sensitive time for her.”

Miranda sighed and glanced down, her arms stiffly folded across her chest. She could acknowledge that. “I never said what Jack went through wasn't horrible. I know it was. I went to that facility. I saw it for myself. No child should ever have to endure that. All I said was that it couldn't have been Cerberus. Or, if it was a Cerberus affiliate, then someone clearly went rogue and made a terrible mistake.”

That had to be the case. Cerberus didn't play by the rules, but the organisation had just aims. It was the first place where Miranda had been praised instead of criticised – allowed to make her own choices and do things her way. The Illusive Man had been a better father to Miranda than Henry Lawson ever was. Sure, they walked a morally grey line and did things other people weren't courageous enough to do, but Cerberus wasn't malicious or cruel, merely pragmatic.

“Do you think that distinction was important to Jack?” Samara's question broke Miranda from her musings.

“What?” Miranda regarded Samara strangely, finding her difficult to read. Samara let the question hang, waiting for an answer. Miranda had to admit, this wasn't what she had expected, given their growing friendship. If anything, she was a little hurt. “I thought you'd be on my side.”

“You sought me out to speak about this. If you did so and did not desire my honest opinion on the matter, then you have grave misapprehensions about my character,” Samara remarked. She would never give counsel that contradicted her morals.

“So you agree with Jack?” asked Miranda. That was the last thing she would have expected from someone as rational as Samara.

“It is not a question of agreement. You are focused on 'black and white' instead of seeing things from her perspective. And, with the greatest of respect, you must be aware that you are in a superior position, because the subject of what Jack endured does not affect you. This was not your trauma. You are detached – you can think about your words and actions in this situation, in a way that Jack, for whom these events are intensely personal, cannot.”

Miranda snorted. “Are you saying I should lie to her?”

“As a Justicar, I could never advocate for dishonesty, merely mindfulness. Like you, I am a hard woman. I have many honest thoughts. In the past, I have often voiced them carelessly, with little regard for their effect on others. There is wisdom in appreciating when our opinions are best kept silent, lest our words do harm,” Samara thoughtfully replied.

“If she can't handle my words, that's her problem,” said Miranda, staunchly believing herself to be in the right. “We've all been through bad things. That doesn't excuse attacking people.”

“No, it does not, but your own experiences should enable you to understand her better than most,” Samara dispensed her sage advice, encouraging sympathy.

“Exactly my point, though; I'm not the way she is. We turned out completely differently. We couldn't be more polar opposites if one of us was made of anti-matter,” Miranda pointed out, extending her hand to emphasise that. “My father did horrible things to me too. I'm not saying that it was on the same scale as what was done to Jack, but you don't see me losing control of my emotions.”

“Do not compare her reaction to yours. This is not what is important,” said Samara, dismissing that distraction. “Instead, try to empathise with her perspective as to why your words were harmful. For example, imagine speaking to someone about what your father did to you.”

“You don't know what my father did to me,” Miranda interrupted her before she could get started on that subject. “Nobody does.”

“Yes, precisely. They do not know. However, you do,” Samara continued. “You lived through those experiences. You understand how they affected you. Now, instead of listening to you and acknowledging what you endured, imagine someone giving you their unsolicited opinions on your childhood or your father, even with regard to something that may technically be correct.”

“Like what?” Miranda asked, shrugging her shoulders. Why would she be bothered by something factual?

“For instance, your father created the genetic code that exists inside you and your sister. Clearly, he is a brilliant scientist,” Samara observed. “Here is a hypothetical scenario: you tell me about his abuse towards you in your youth, I acknowledge that what he did was wrong, but I keep repeating to you that he was a brilliant scientist. How would you feel?”

Miranda's lips pursed, and she released a slight exhale. God damn it. Leave it to Samara to express things in a way that actually made her see what she was talking about, and see things from someone else's perspective.

“I would think that you're diminishing what I went through and defending the people who did it to me,” Miranda acknowledged. “I would probably find that very frustrating. If you or Jacob were saying it, I might even feel betrayed for confiding in you only to have you speak up for him.”

She knew, because it had happened before. Niket. The man she'd trusted to help her escape. The one person she thought understood the effect of her father's abuse. Instead of taking her side, he had accused her of being wrong for sparing Oriana all of that suffering. He'd even implied that growing up wealthy was a fair trade for her father's callousness and cruelty.

Miranda sighed, dropping her guarded posture as she raised one hand to rub her forehead. “Okay, so you have a point. Maybe I did inadvertently provoke her just a little bit. Not that it takes much.”

“You made a mistake. You are learning from it,” said Samara, not judging her for her imperfections.

“I suppose I have to; I didn't exactly learn social skills growing up,” Miranda admitted, never particularly happy with it when she realised there was something she'd done wrong. Her father had made certain that she despised failure, as he always went out of his way to make her dread the consequences. “That's becoming more apparent, lately. Being in such close quarters here with so many non-Cerberus personnel on The Normandy has forced me to do more 'socialising' than I have in the entire last thirty-five years of my life. People can be so...”

“Alien?” Samara supplied, somewhat wryly.

“I was going to say 'complicated', but that works,” said Miranda, slumping down on the floor beside Samara, chastened by her lecture, no matter how kindly put and...astute it had been. “You're lucky I trust you that none of this is going to leave this room,” she commented, glancing over at her companion. “If anyone else heard me acknowledge that I have weaknesses, I'd never live it down.”

“Everyone has weaknesses. To demand otherwise is unattainable,” Samara reassured her.

Miranda bit her lower lip. She thought about how much she already knew concerning Samara's past, and how she had obtained that knowledge behind her back. She still felt something resembling guilt about it. It only seemed fair to open up about some of her own secrets, so they could be on more even terms.

“I wasn't allowed to have anything he deemed a weakness. My father, I mean,” Miranda confessed, finally broaching that subject that she had long kept to herself. “The problem was, his definition of 'weakness' was anything that didn't directly benefit him. That included making friends, or smiling, or having my own interests, or feeling pain, or crying. Everything you can imagine really. All I knew throughout my entire childhood was control. I had to do everything exactly the way he wanted when he wanted it, even if I had absolutely no way of knowing what that was, even if it changed from one moment to the next, which it often did. And that was what I had to do just to be tolerated. Never anything more than that. Not loved, or praised, or accepted. Just tolerated. Anything less than his version of perfection and I would be punished, in some form or another.”

As she spoke, she felt Samara's eyes on her. It made her slightly self-conscious. She didn't want Samara to think she was heaping her personal problems upon her, or throwing a big pity party. That wasn't her intent. She just thought...Samara might actually understand her a bit better, if she told her the truth.

“I'm not saying any of this for sympathy or as an excuse,” Miranda explained. She didn't want those things. She didn't need those things. “I think it's just starting to crystallise for me that maybe I never really stopped listening to his voice, or obeying his vision. Perhaps there are some things I need to...reassess.”

“Much as the trauma of her youth is the source of the anger you experienced from Jack, you too carry the scars of your past, as I do with mine,” Samara spoke up. “Jack may not yet be ready to move on from it, but I believe that you are, if you so choose. You have already come further than you may appreciate. You have the capacity to identify what you need to change within you, and you have the will to see it done. This may take time and self-reflection, but it is achievable.”

“That's what you were talking about before, with the meditation, wasn't it?” Miranda surmised.

“It was one reason I suggested it,” Samara acknowledged. “It is a means of pursuing this kind of clarity – identifying aspects of oneself that the rigours of life normally distract one from perceiving and analysing.”

Miranda paused and glanced down, swallowing. “...I suppose I should thank you,” she said. Samara's silent response indicated she didn't know what Miranda meant by that. “For seeing the best in me, instead of dismissing me for my faults.”

“Could I not say the same to you?” Samara replied.

That thought managed to bring a small smile to the corner of Miranda's lips. She had a point. Then again, it wasn't hard to see the best in Samara. It was quite touching to think that maybe Samara would have said the same thing about her.

Maybe that was just what it was like when you met someone you felt instantly connected to. Maybe that was just how someone knew a rapport like this was real.

*    *     *

It was a few days before Miranda was really able to get back to the green zone and get her affairs in order. The operation had been a moderate success. They had found outposts of survivors who had hunkered down during the war, found pretty much anything resembling usable supplies that was left in the covered area, and found some habitable buildings to start moving people into.

Nobody had seen Samara though. Miranda was trying very hard not to let that concern her. It helped that she had other priorities to focus on.

Shiala had kept her updated on the status of Jack and her students. Thankfully, Seanne was recovering quickly from her illness. She was still in care, but expected to be released in the next couple of days.

Jack was...well, doing a lot worse than Seanne. Her condition was stable but her biotics had damn near destroyed her body. Almost as bad as the shuttle crash had destroyed Miranda's. No permanent damage, most likely. But her muscles were in a lot of pain, still slowly repairing themselves. From the sounds of things, it would take a lot of time and rehab to get her back to where she was.

Miranda was able to confirm all that with her own eyes. It wasn't hard to find Jack, even among all the beds, and all the sick and injured. She didn't look great. There were clear bruises where capillaries had burst beneath her skin. It did look like she'd been in a crash.

Jack must have sensed someone watching her, obviously not coping much better with bed rest than Miranda had. Bleary eyes glanced over in Miranda's direction, immediately turning with irritation when she realised who was standing there.

“Who the fuck let you in?” Jack groaned. Miranda was the last person she wanted to deal with when she was like this.

“It's a field hospital, Jack. Not much in the way of security.” Miranda thought about reminding her that she was known around here and people let her go wherever she wanted, but she had the good sense to realise that Jack would probably want to kill her if she said that. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

“Fuckin' hurts,” Jack remarked, draping her arm over her eyes, hoping Miranda would just go away. “But I still look a damn sight better than you, fuckface.” 

That was debatable, honestly. “You're lucky you didn't tear yourself apart,” Miranda said quietly, moving closer. She was trying to be civil and understanding. “Not just limb from limb, but on a cellular level.”

Jack didn't respond, deliberately ignoring her in an effort to get Miranda to leave.

Miranda rolled her eye. So much for her efforts to be kind to her. Obviously her presence wasn't wanted. With that in mind, it was probably best to just cut straight to the point.

“Listen, I've spoken to Bailey. They're starting to house priority personnel in apartments in the city. That means Alliance officials, and people involved in the recovery effort. Civilians and non-essential personnel are the lowest priority. You'll be lucky to get a look-in on a place to live even a year from now, unless all of you are prepared to work for it. And, no offence, but you're not really in a condition to do that,” Miranda set out the facts.

“Why the fuck do you always talk like you're answering a question nobody fuckin' asked?” Jack grumbled. Despite her complaint, she reluctantly opened her eyes and shifted her head to listen to what she had to say.

Sensing she had her attention, Miranda continued. “I tried to convince Bailey to make an exception for you and your students, but he can't. Not unless someone who warrants high priority quarters chooses to take you in. Someone like me.”

“I'd sooner fucking drink bleach than live with you,” Jack shot that down.

Miranda had expected Jack to say that. “Okay. But what about your students? They don't have spare beds at this field hospital, Jack. There's barely enough room for them to breathe if they wind up in tent city. It's not safe for them out there by themselves. You don't know anyone else here. And, right now, you can't exactly look after them. Not without help,” Miranda explained. Much as she visibly hated it, Jack couldn't object to that. “I've already made the necessary arrangements. I can cancel them if you want, but I'm prepared to take them in, with or without you.”

“...Why are you doing this?” Jack asked suspiciously. It sounded like Miranda was being sincere, but it was hard to tell. Miranda never did anything for anyone without an agenda behind it. Unless it was for her sister. Or Jacob. Not for someone she didn't care about. Not for Jack.

Miranda pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed. “There are only four of us left, Jack. If not for Shiala, that number would only be two; neither of us would be here right now. You nearly died the other day. And it would have been my fault if you had,” Miranda stated frankly. Jack had held an entire building up to keep her alive, and broken her body doing it. “That was why I couldn't leave you.”

Contrary to popular belief, Miranda had never hated Jack. Disliked her, yes, but the hatred had been entirely one-sided. Truth be told, she'd never cared about Jack enough to hate her. She hadn't cared about her at all. Not back then. In a way, that was a lot worse than hate. Jack would probably take it that way, if she knew. And Miranda had the decency to feel a tinge of regret about that, in hindsight.

Most of her memories of Jack were of conflict, or mutual avoidance at best. But Miranda had never set out to antagonise Jack, deliberately or otherwise. She hadn't sought her ought for anything, good or bad or neutral. Not once. She was completely uninterested in her. Apathetic. She didn't give Jack any unprovoked attention at all. Not that it mattered one way or the other. The fact that she was a Cerberus Operator had been cause enough to make her enemy number one.

Miranda hadn't batted an eye, save when things got violent. To her, not getting to know Jack was fine, and her hostile attitude had said more than enough about how little she was worth anyone's time.

Jack had loathed her. And Miranda had found her a nuisance at best. An insignificant insect who would be brushed aside as soon as the mission ended.

But she'd been wrong about her, hadn't she? Jack had been right about Cerberus the entire time, and Miranda had been too blinded by loyalty to believe her. And, while Miranda had been on the run from The Illusive Man and his agents, Jack had turned her life around. She'd set out to give the kids in the Ascension Program a far better shot at life than she ever got herself.

Miranda had done some growing of her own as well. She'd been cold and callous back then. Not just towards Jack but towards everyone. Whether she'd realised it or not at the time, she'd still been living in her father's shadow, letting the way he'd raised her shape how she treated others.

But things had changed. They weren't the same people they once were. Maybe they were never the people they'd assumed each other to be. But they were both working on being better people. And they'd lost almost all of their other comrades along the way.

Maybe Jack still wanted to hold onto her grudge, and maybe she was justified in doing that. But Miranda was tired. She wanted no part in this anymore. She couldn't carry on pretending her past grievances with Jack meant a god damn thing to her anymore. She didn't have the energy. If there was ever a time to bury the hatchet and move on, this was it.

“You said if I wanted to make up for all the bad history between us, and all the atrocities Cerberus committed against you, the only way for me to do that is to look after these kids the way I would look after my own sister,” Miranda recalled, knowing how much the students meant to Jack. “So...Okay. This is my answer. I want to honour that. I can't promise I'll be any good at it, but I intend to fulfil that bargain. This is me trying to make things...better.”

Jack looked at her for a long moment, a cold, hard stare, studying her face for any signs of duplicity. She didn't find any. Miranda wasn't lying. Her motives may have been self-centred, but that was to be expected. Jack would have been suspicious if they weren't. At least that reasoning made sense as to why Miranda suddenly wanted to be a less shitty person. For her, this was progress.

“...I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually fucking right about something,” Jack admitted, willing to put personal feelings aside for the well-being of her kids. “Living in a real fucking apartment is better for them. Better than being out here in this depressing shithole. So I'm going to tell them about you and what you’re offering. But I'm not going to force them. It's their choice.”

“Okay.” Miranda nodded. That was it, then. This was really happening.

She didn't want Jack to sense it, but she had mixed feelings about what she was getting herself into. Looking after teenagers was not high on her list of things she wanted to do. And she knew she was taking on a lot of responsibility. But this had been the one thing Jack had asked of her when she thought she was going to die. Doing her best to deliver on that request was the least Miranda could do, especially since Jack had saved her life that day.

“What about you?” Miranda asked, not sure whether Jack would be joining them. “I know we don't exactly get along, but you're welcome to stay too. I'll just make sure to hide the bleach before you do.”

That remark elicited a snort. “Yeah, about that. I don't think I'm gonna be going anywhere for a while,” Jack glanced down at herself.

Miranda gave a small, understanding smile. “I was in your position not long ago. I promise you, it will feel like an eternity. And your rehab will take time. But you'll be healthy enough to stay somewhere else sooner than you think. It doesn't have to be with me. Jacob is keeping my old bed free in case you'd prefer that.”

A conflicted look passed over Jack's face, a little bittersweet. “So I wouldn't be with the tykes?” she realised aloud.

Miranda suddenly recognised a possible flaw in her plan. “Jack, I'm not trying to separate you from them. I'm just offering them a place to stay. A roof over their heads. They're at liberty to see you whenever they want. And vice versa.”

“I know, dumbass,” Jack cut her off. “I'm just...I'm not sure they'll take it that way.”

Miranda softened. “You nearly gave your life to save them. If they don't know by now that you love them far too much to abandon them...well, I don't know, maybe tell them?” Miranda suggested. That's probably what Samara would have advised. “I don't know. I'm not good with people. Maybe don't listen to me on this subject.”

“I don't listen to you about anything,” Jack assured her, only half-joking. It hadn't escaped her notice that Miranda really was making an effort. Having some semblance of humility. Admitting that she sucked at something. The old Miranda never would have spoken to her like this. “...I'll think about it. I've got time. I've got some healing to do. I'll decide my living arrangements later.”

“Sure.” Miranda nodded, accepting that. “...Well, I'll start getting the apartment ready. There's still a lot to do, so...we'll talk another time.” Miranda elected to take her leave, getting up from her seat.

“Hey, Miranda.” Miranda paused, wondering if that was the first time Jack had actually called her by name. She turned and looked back. “We're not starting over at zero. It's too late for that. But I know you had nothing to do with what Cerberus did to me. And, if you're serious about trying to be straight with me, and you're not just going to throw my kids to the wayside the second you feel better about yourself, then...fuck it, I'll give you a shot.”

“This is you trying?” Miranda inferred. Jack didn't say anything, but nor did she protest. Miranda gave a nod, satisfied. She could live with that.

There was no chance they could ever become friends. But coexisting relatively peacefully would be good enough.

*    *     *

“Finally making use of the library, I see,” Miranda remarked, catching Samara in the act of reading.

Samara cracked a small smile as the doors closed behind Miranda. “I do reside on a human vessel. It would seem a terrible waste to remain ignorant of your arts and cultures when you have been so gracious in sharing these resources with me. That is if you do not object.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Miranda, not at all surprised that Samara appreciated what humanity had to offer based on their previous conversations, but glad for it nonetheless. Her long lifespan had not robbed her of her curiosity and adventurousness.

Despite their reputation for benevolence and co-operation with others, some asari Miranda had encountered could be incredibly patronising towards human cultures. Even if they welcomed other species into the fold, there were some who looked down on humans as effectively a novelty – like lost children taking their first steps on the galactic stage, whose beliefs and habits were cute, but would soon be a thing of the past once they were 'enlightened' by more ancient races. Thankfully, Samara wasn't like that. Her respect for other species was genuine and unfeigned.

“How many books have you read so far?” Miranda inquired, noticing that she was currently nearing the end of her copy of Moby Dick.

“Fewer than I would have liked,” said Samara, almost with a hint of self-deprecation.

At that point, EDI piped up. “Justicar Samara has requested my assistance in selecting texts from a diverse array of authors whose works were written in different cultural and linguistic contexts, as well as different genres and time periods.”

“This is correct. Thank you, EDI.” Samara nodded her head at EDI's holographic interface, which continued to operate silently. “I have heard that your species is far more diverse and varied than those who have come before. I did not wish to make the error of inadvertently and arbitrarily narrowing the scope of human literature available to me. This could lead me to draw false inferences, such as misconstruing humans as more homogeneous than you actually are.”

“Read anything by an Australian author yet?” Miranda asked, impressed by the care and consideration Samara had put into her decision to explore human literature for fun. That was thoughtful of her.

“Not at this time, no,” Samara confessed.

“You're not missing much.” Miranda shrugged nonchalantly as she joined her on the couch, not even sure there were any Australian texts in their small library. Out of curiosity, she brought up the database on her omni-tool. It contained a record of all available books aboard the ship and showed who had checked out what and when, so nobody could get away with not returning them.  Unsurprisingly, Samara was the most frequent user of the library, closely followed by Kasumi.

“I am sure that is not the case. I have yet to encounter a text that I have not enjoyed the experience of reading. Although I confess that, at times, certain details may have been lost on me,” Samara admitted as she closed her book and put it aside, acknowledging the effect that her own limited understanding of Earth and human history had on her comprehension of these stories.

Miranda tried not to smirk. “You had to ask EDI to explain to you what a whale is, didn't you?”

“She was very informative,” said Samara, which elicited a chuckle from Miranda. “Do you read?”

“When I have time, yes,” Miranda answered. It was also one of the few things her father had allowed her to do as a child, since he saw intellectual value in it.

“Are there any books you would recommend?” Samara asked, implicitly trusting her taste.

“Sure. I could send you a list, but I'm not sure that my preferences would be along the lines of what you're looking for,” Miranda acknowledged, earning a curious look from Samara. “For the most part, I don't read fiction anymore. There are some exceptions, but I rarely enjoy it.”

“I see.” Samara took a moment to contemplate that, choosing to seek elaboration. “Is there any particular reason why you tend to dislike it?”

“Well, on merit alone, ninety percent of all content produced is not worth consuming. As for the remaining ten percent, the vast majority of novels I've read are like being locked in a room listening to the inane thoughts and dialogue of annoying characters while the author either beats you over the head with their uninformed opinions or waffles on aimlessly while avoiding making anything that constitutes a worthwhile observation or statement,” Miranda explained, remembering how irritating she had found so many texts she was forced to study in her youth. “Even when the ideas and concepts are intriguing to me, I find it’s often ruined by the characters or the writing style getting in the way.”

“What makes a character annoying to you?” Samara pressed, curious about her comment.

“They make stupid decisions, they think things that I would never think, and everything is just a frustrating waste of time while you wait for them to cut the nonsense, realise the obvious and get to the point of the plot,” said Miranda. She hadn't anticipated an interrogation of her views on fiction. Fortunately, her frustrations were well-founded, and she never struggled to defend her positions.

Samara stared at her like she wasn't entirely certain whether or not Miranda was being facetious. “...Is that not, perhaps, the intent?” Samara considered aloud, prompting Miranda to glance up from the library database. “If the story reached its conclusion from the outset, bypassing all conflict and circumventing all faults and failings possessed by the characters, then would the author not have lost the opportunity to explore the – what is your term for it? – human condition?”

“It's not my bloody condition,” Miranda dryly remarked.

“You understood my meaning; do not be coy,” said Samara, mildly amused by her retort. “One of the benefits of literature over and above any other artform is that it allows you to experience life through the perspective of another, even down to their most private thoughts. It prospers empathy and understanding, even for those characters who are deeply flawed, as we all are. It is why I personally find that I have learned more about other species through reading their stories told in their own words than from any other source – certainly far more than I have gained from the detached academic writings of an asari anthropologist.”

Miranda shrugged, seeing her point. “I'm glad that you get so much out of it, but I never have,” she said honestly. “I can appreciate the themes of all these works on an intellectual level and the skills and techniques they've used in their writing, but I've never connected with a book or related to a character the way I've heard other people say they have. Fiction just doesn't resonate with me. Perhaps we're built differently like that.”

“Perhaps,” Samara replied, though if she had thoughts to the contrary she did not express them. “What is your preferred form of artistic expression?”

“Music,” Miranda answered without hesitation. “Not 'songs' per se, but I'm not as rigidly confined to the great composers as everyone seems to assume. I like my operas and my symphonies but I have a flair for the experimental as well. The theories and formulas that underpin music are there for a reason, but brilliant minds know how to break them in just the right ways.”

“Do you play?” asked Samara.

“Not since I was sixteen. But yes. I was classically trained in piano. I also did two years of violin before my father objected. Didn't like hearing me practice.” Miranda didn't feel the need to share that he'd ripped the violin out of her hands and thrown it across the room to break it in front of her because he'd decided she hadn't mastered it quickly enough and therefore wasn't taking it seriously. It wasn't relevant to the conversation and was more personal than Miranda cared to get.

“That is unfortunate,” Samara spoke sympathetically, evidently inferring why it was that Miranda had stopped playing nearly twenty years ago, given it held such a strong association with negative memories of her father. “One day, when the time is right, maybe you will play again.”

“I think you're the only one who wants to hear that,” Miranda commented, finding the thought of her other crewmates' reactions comical to ponder. “The rest of them out there would assume I was showing off and hate me for it.”

“Most likely. But you do not strike me as a woman who constrains herself based upon the opinions of others,” said Samara, with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Do I make it that obvious?” Miranda joked, unfazed by her unpopularity.

“Nevertheless, if the opportunity arises, perhaps you should consider it,” Samara quietly encouraged. “Your devotion to your work is admirable, but you should not squander the time you have by avoiding things that bring you joy. A day may come where you look back upon your years, and find them filled with regret for chances you did not take, and simple pleasures you let pass you by.”

“...I guess you'd know,” Miranda conceded, although in her heart she knew she had no intention of following through on playing again. Too close to home.

With that, Samara returned her attention to the book cradled in her hand, content to sit with Miranda in silence, as they often did. Miranda watched her for several seconds before speaking.

“Which one was your favourite?” she asked, prompting Samara to glance up at her in search of clarification. “Of the works you've read, I'm guessing either Don Quixote or Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” Miranda speculated. They seemed to her taste.

“Astute choices. But there was another I preferred. A poem, in fact,” she said. Miranda arched her brow, curious. “You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here. And, whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be and, whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul,” she recited.

Miranda's lip quirked in recognition. “That's Max Ehrmann, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, meeting her gaze. “There is much wisdom in those words. I would do well to remember them when I stray. So too would it benefit many others to hear them.”

“You may have a point,” Miranda agreed, appreciating that Samara found meaning in those words, even if they did not particularly strike a cord with her. “It sounds like the sort of thing you could reflect on in your meditation.”

“I have,” said Samara. “Every day.”

*    *     *

[missjosie27]

Year 1 Part 4- Gobstone Gauntlet

As it turned out, David was not the only one to run afoul of Merula Snyde during the first few weeks at Hogwarts. To be sure, he was the target most of the time, but it seemed that her bullying reached all across the four houses in one form or another.

Some were just rumblings. He had heard a few Ravenclaws complaining about her attempts to one up them in Defense Against the Arts (not that it mattered since apparently the professor barely did anything to begin with), but other incidents were plain as day to see. A Hufflepuff girl came in crying one day in Herbology because Merula had threatened to hex her if she didn’t get on her knees and apologize for accidentally bumping into her on the stairwell. And to no one’s surprise, she tended to prey on the unsuspecting muggleborns the most.

“You’re the only one who’s managed to stand toe to toe with her so far,” Ben Copper said to him at lunch one day. “Everyone else is just plain miserable.”

“Yeah, well don’t forget I didn’t exactly come out of potions unscathed,” David told him taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Seems she’s intent on hurting anyone who won’t acknowledge her as the greatest thing since Merlin himself.��

“She’s been harassing me since the day we were on the train,” Ben said, pushing away his pumpkin juice. “Every where I go, she’s there calling me ‘mudblood’ and worse.”

That brought several sharp glares from those within earshot. Even Jae had a shocked look on his face.

“Are you kidding?” Rowan said, nearly spitting out his drink. “That’s one of the worst things you can say to a muggle born wizard!”

“No kidding,” Charlie Weasley agreed. “One of the worst things you can say period. Ben, why didn’t you tell us she was doing this?”

“I didn’t think anyone cared to be honest,” he replied with a miserable shrug. “The past week or so I’ve been the one following her, so she can’t sneak up on me. At least I’d have the chance to run away.”

David felt a tremendous amount of sympathy for his deeply insecure friend. But just one week of experience with Merula had taught him that avoiding someone like her would only prolong the problem, not solve it.

“Mate, you gotta stick up for yourself. She’ll back down if stops thinking you’re a soft target.”

“You’re not a soft target and she goes after you all the time,” he pointed out.

“I’m a special case,” Dave joked. “But in all seriousness, she won’t go away unless you show her you can’t be pushed around.

“Exactly,” Rowan agreed. “Plus, we’re Gryffindors. It’s what we’re known for. Logically speaking, we should be the ones standing up to her.”

“I appreciate the help,” Ben said grabbing his bag. “But you were all meant to be in this house. There’s nothing about me that’s remotely brave. I think I’ll just go hide until flying class.”

They all watched as he left the Great Hall, some of the Slytherins jeering as he walked by. Some of the other Gryffindors shook their heads at the display, but David and company knew better. Their only wish was to give some semblance of confidence to their friend.

“Man, I’ve never seen someone so scared of…well everything,” Jae observed.

“You would be too if you came from a muggle family and someone started treating you like rubbish because you weren’t ‘pureblood’,” David countered. “Even so, I do have to admit he’s pretty shaky at the moment. There has to be something we can do.”

“Maybe flying will cheer him up,” Charlie offered. “We have our first lesson today. Personally, I can’t wait to hop on a broom. I’ve been practicing all summer and I’m going to be trying out for the house squad once I’m a second year. Who knows, maybe Ben will take to it?”

“Statistically, it’s impossible to be afraid of everything,” said Rowan, using his usual book smarts to try and solve a problem.

“Might actually be true in his case,” Jae said, not looking up as he tinkered with some device that looked like a fanged frisbee. “Anyone want this by the way? Half price.”

David gave a quick glance over to the Slytherin table where Merula was currently bragging about something in her usual exaggerated manner. He wasn’t sure what was going to help bring Ben out of his shell, but he did know that it was going to be a hell of a lot harder with the Slytherin girl becoming a walking menace.

Perhaps he could attempt to remedy that.

“Hey Rowan, can I ask a favor mate?”

“Sure, Dave! What do you need? Notes on the Gargoyle Strike of 1911? Some information on the kind of wood on the brooms we’ll be using today?”

“Better than that. See if you can’t dig up something on Merula and her family history. Something tells me she’s got a lot more to hide than she lets on.”

Rowan gave a mischievous smile.

“I like the way you think. I’ll head straight to the library after flying class today.”

David nodded his thanks. He could handle Merula’s barbs, but he would be damned to see anyone suffer needlessly under her yoke. He had written to his parents about the situation, and they had both encouraged him to keep his head down, stick to his studies and ignore her.

That’s their solution to everything, he thought, bitterness creeping into his mind.

They could be idle all they wanted. As for himself, David Grant had other ideas.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Welcome to your first flying lesson, everyone. My name is Madam Hooch.”

Indeed, the name seemed to suit her personality and her profession. Her hair was spiky and tufted to go along with a pair of piercing, yellow eyes.

“For those of you who have some experience with a broom, I assure you, this is not the class to show off or attempt any foolish maneuvers. For those who haven’t, I can also assure you there is nothing to fear. We are only lifting our brooms and hovering in the air.”

“That’s still something to fear,” David heard Ben mutter behind him.

It was a bright, sunny day, reasonably warm with a gentle breeze. Perfect conditions for flying. David himself had never actually ridden a broom before due to his parents’ strictness of no magic outside of the home. He was actually looking forward to it.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Madam Hooch said, ushering them forward. “Stand on the left side of your brooms and begin.”

David attempted to cheer Ben up as they walked over to the their cleansweeps.

“Come on, Ben, it isn’t so bad.”

“You come from a wizard family,” he said, quite hesitant to even go near the broom. “I’m from a muggle one, the idea of riding in the air on a broom is terrifying.”

David put his arm around Ben’s shoulder in a display of solidarity.

“You can do this, I know you can. I may come from a wizard family, but I’ve never ridden a broom either. We’re both starting fresh, okay?”

Swallowing, the nervous Gryffindor nodded and reluctantly joined the rest of the class.

“Now, in order to raise your broom,” Madam Hooch continued. “Hold out your hand and say ‘up’. You’ll want to be firm in your tone, or else it won’t respond.”

The class complied, some achieving mastery right away, others barely getting any kind of movement. David’s jumped a number of times, but it did not fully raise into the air. It was also quite difficult to concentrate over the sound of Merula’s incessant bragging.

“I really wish they had let me bring my broom from home instead of this rubbish. No wonder I can’t get it off the ground. Otherwise, I’d be flying circles around everyone just about now.”

“The reason you can’t get it off the ground, Snyde, is because you won’t shut up.”

The Ravenclaw section of the class began snickering.

“Zip it, Egwu! Just because you got it on your first try. I don’t see any of these other losers doing so great. Copper over there is hopeless.”

David looked over to Ben, who indeed was struggling to get any kind of response at all, his lack of desire to get off the ground quite clear in his voice. Merula’s constant insults weren’t helping. That brought an idea to his head.

“Ben,” he said nudging him. “Watch this. Hey Merula!”

“UP! What?!- OW!”

The rest of the class, even some of the Slytherins began howling with laughter as the lapse in attention had caused the broom to smack her straight in the nose.

“You’ll pay for that, Grant!” she said through her hands covering her face.

Ben was laughing too and in a rare moment of relative calm, David knew it was the perfect opportunity.

“Now, Ben. We’ll say it together.”

Nodding, they both spoke the command, causing their brooms to shoot straight into their hands.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Madam Hooch said, cutting off the laughter with her sharp tone though her eyes indicated a small degree of amusement herself. “Now the next step is quite simple. Swing your leg over the broom, raise yourself ever so slightly off the ground. Do not push off.”

The results, again, varied. Some students fell sideways as they tried to hover, others achieved success right away. Indeed, Charlie Weasley was having the time of his life, the spark alight in his amber eyes.

“Easy does it there, Ben,” David counseled as he swung his leg around. “Just lift up slightly. There you go.”

Both Gryffindors eased themselves no more than a couple feet and managed to stay there for a solid five seconds.

“Look, Dave! I’m actually doing it!”

“Indeed, you are,” Madam Hooch praised, a genuine smile on her face. “I have observed you both the whole time and I must say I am quite pleased. Mr. Grant, your conduct in helping one of your classmates has been exemplary. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Madam Hooch,” he said, a bright smile on his face, as she went off to assist other students.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Ben admitted, a sheepish grin on his face.

“You just need to get used to it. If you want, we can get some books from Rowan about flying. Might help us both.”

They turned to see Rowan struggling rather heavily on his broom, unable to keep his balance and falling to the ground.

“Seems like he needs to read a little more himself,” Charlie joked as the three boys laughed.

“Anyway, thanks for helping me again,” Ben said Dave.

“No problem, mate. I’m telling you, before this year is over, you’re going to wish you didn’t have to go back.”

He nodded at Charlie, who reciprocated the gesture. They had managed to overcome one of Ben’s fears for the time being. With any luck, they could continue to do so.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hogwarts proved to be a learning experience for pure blood and muggle born wizard alike over the course of the first month. Even those that came from old wizarding families like Charlie had adjustments to make- he ran afoul of the Bloody Baron one day while walking back from the library in the evening.

All of this ensured that Ben was not feeling left out in his struggles adapting to life as a wizard in a world very unfamiliar and sometimes dangerous. His fear may have been much higher than that of an ordinary first year, but it wasn’t completely irrational.

To the delight of his fellow Gryffindors, Ben managed to discover upon a few things he had natural talent in. The first was charms. Though Dave had summoned the best wand lighting charm, other spells were not quite so simple, and Ben constantly managed to finish at or near the top of the group in terms of performance. Though flying remained an uneasy task for him, he also happened upon wizard’s chess and took a liking to it. By the end of the month, he was the best player in the entire first year. Indeed, the only real issue was the consistency of confidence. In private moments with no threat of judgement, Ben was just as casual and outgoing as anyone else. But it could be shattered quite easily if someone said the wrong thing or worse yet, Merula came into play.

The Slytherin girl was relentless. So much so, there were rumors even Professor Snape had to intervene to corral her behavior. Despite almost being maimed by Devil’s Snare, David had more or less learned to counter her constant jabs and bullying. Ben and many others had not. One thing was nearly universally agreed upon, however, at least among the non-Slytherin houses. Merula Snyde was the worst thing that had come to Hogwarts in a long time.

On top of that, the workload was increasing as they entered into the meat of the school year. Though only first years, it still involved plenty of essays and practical application. Rowan was practically the only one enjoying it and many of the older students warned them it would only get harder from here on out.

So, on one crisp October day, David and Rowan agreed to unwind a little and relax with a game of gobstones in the courtyard. David wasn’t exactly keen at first, he much preferred Quidditch, but with the first game between Gryffindor and Slytherin still a month away, there was nothing better to do.

“I’m glad you agreed to at least try it out, Dave,” Rowan said excitedly. “I even brought my own set from home. I lend you the spare.”

“Sure thing,” he shrugged. “I just can’t wait for the Quidditch season to start.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never played Gobstones before,” he said as they walked down the stairs and into the courtyard.

“There’s a reason for that,” David quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, I used to play it back home on the farm all the time.”

Rowan liked to bring up his parents’ tree farm, sometimes to the annoyance of those around him.

“Mostly because I wasn’t strong enough to help with the actual farming. But it’ll be fun to play with an actual person for once.”

David raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t get out much, did you?”

“No. But then again neither did you.”

“True,” he admitted. “But it didn’t used to be like that. Mum’s strict, but we used to go out and do things all the time- go to France, shopping in Diagon Alley, etc. That is until…”

He didn’t have to explain further as he trailed off. He wasn’t the chatty sort when it came to talking about his past but Rowan knew enough. Once Jacob had disappeared, it had put a massive strain on the Grant family.

“Say no more,” he said. “We’re just here to play some Gobstones. I’ll show you everything, okay?”

“Thanks, Rowan.”

The young Gryffindor, despite his bookishness, was deeply empathetic and eager to help those who needed it. David didn’t say it openly often enough but he did appreciate it and it was one of the reasons Rowan was quickly becoming one of his best friends.

“Any time, mate. I know the first month has been pretty mental with Merula, Snape, and all the rest. Which is why Gobstones is the perfect remedy. It’s kind of like those marbles muggles use, except when you lose a point you get sprayed in the face.”

“With what exactly?”

“No one knows but it smells terrible,” Rowan said enthusiastically as though it were the greatest honor in the world.

“Fantastic.”

Rowan laughed as they sat down in a lone spot in the courtyard and began setting up the game.

As it turned out, Gobstones wasn’t as bad as Dave originally thought it would be. It certainly had a reputation for being ‘uncool’ for a reason but proved to be rather entertaining. Rowan explained the rules and though it took him awhile to fully grasp the rules he understood the basic gist- basically you had to capture all your opponent’s gobstones and when you lost a point, the stone that was captured squired a substance that smelled strongly of old socks and bad eggs, in which case it was best to keep your distance to avoid any lingering smell on your clothes. After playing four consecutive games in which Rowan won easily, David decided to play a little trick.

“Hey Rowan, I just remembered. I think Professor McGonagall said we had to write two extra rolls of parchment for the latest essay.”

His eyes widened in surprise. And gave David the in he was looking for.

“Really?”

With a small flick of his wand, he switched the places of two of the stones, causing the substance to spray over Rowan.

“Ack! No fair, Dave!”

David began roaring with laughter, hardly being able to feign innocence.

“Sorry, Rowan. Couldn’t help it, you’ve been kicking my arse all day.”

“I do get competitive when it comes to Gobstones,” he admitted with a laugh. “I know most people don’t think it’s all that cool, but I always say it’s the thinking wizard’s Quidditch.”

The good times couldn’t last, however, as a familiar feminine sneer entered their ears.

“Well isn’t this precious?”

Rowan and David leapt to their feet in reaction to Merula’s arrival. No wands had been drawn but the tension had already increased tenfold.

“Gobstones?” she scowled, noticing the set in front of them. “You two losers really were made for each other.”

“Something you want, Merula?” David asked, in no mood to deal with the Slytherin girl right now. “Or can I get back to my life? Which looks amazing without you in it.”

“You think you’re so clever with your little jokes and sarcasm,” Merula said, her face taking on vicious leer. “But while you’ve been playing around with losers and mudbloods, I’ve been doing a little research on your brother.”

“Fascinating. Now are you going to leave us alone?”

“Never, Grant. I told you this was just the beginning. You’re a stain on this school just like your brother and I’ll never stop until you’re gone just like him.”

Rowan just looked confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Grant’s brother didn’t just get expelled for endangering the school and chasing some imaginary vaults. He immediately went missing and the next time he was seen, he was working for Voldemort.”

Rowan cringed at the name, but for the first time at Hogwarts, David could feel his temper rising to a dangerous level. His brother was not a comfortable topic to begin with, to insinuate he became a Death Eater was beyond the pale.

“My brother didn’t join You Know Who,” he said to her with a little more aggression in his tone. “I suggest you shut your mouth about things you know nothing about.”

“I say what I want,” she shot back. “No wonder half the school thinks you’re mad, they probably think you’re going to join him at some point too.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Rowan stepped in, knowing David was not going to hold his anger much longer. “I did a little research on your family, Merula. Apparently, your parents are currently locked up in Azkaban for supporting You Know Who during the war.”

“And you think I’m the one at risk?” David added. “You’re practically a Death Eater in training.”

Merula’s leer turned into an ugly frown. He knew he had gotten to her.

“You don’t know anything about me!”

“Please, I don’t need to know anything except for the fact that you’re a spoiled brat who got whatever she wanted in life. Except Mummy and Daddy aren’t here anymore, so you take that anger out on everyone else.”

Merula draw her wand and pointed it directly at David’s chest.

“You take that back,” she said, her voice quivering in anger. “You take that back, or we duel right now, and I promise you’ll be sorry.”

“You aren’t worth the dirt underneath my shoes,” David mocked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do.”

He attempted to brush past her, but evidently, the Slytherin girl had far more moxy than he originally gave her credit for as he felt himself knocked back by a tremendous force and into the fountain, soaking him from head to toe.

“Knockback jinx,” Merula spoke quietly, but with her smirk returning. “Learn how to duel before you say things you can’t back up.”

Her triumph assured, she walked away without so much of a thought towards challenging Rowan, who immediately went over to assist his friend.

“Are you alright?”

“Been better,” David grunted as he took Rowan’s hand to lift himself back on his feet. “I suppose I should blame myself for being naïve. Every time I think she can’t get any worse, I’m proven wrong.”

He sighed, wishing the drying charm was part of the first year curriculum.

“Come on, let’s go to the common room and get you into some better clothes,” Rowan indicated back up the stairwell.

“I’m more concerned about this getting around,” David remarked as they began their trek back. Indeed, he hoped that whatever resulted of this, it wouldn’t result in anything other than a private humiliation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That hope also turned out to be naïve. Within the next couple days, the news spread like wildfire that Merula had bested him in a duel and though certain details had been exaggerated (no, his head had not been turned into a pumpkin), it caused him to endure a series of jeers and taunts in the hallways, mostly from Slytherins who looked for any excuse to take a Gryffindor down a peg.

David did his best to ignore such pettiness, but the problem was far outgrowing his ability to handle. Merula wouldn’t relent her ceaseless bullying until someone actually stopped her, but no one had the courage or ability seemingly to do so.

It was only when his prefect intervened one evening in the common room that the wheels of change began to be set in motion.

“Grant.”

David, who currently was hanging out in one of the armchairs with Rowan and Ben, trading chocolate frogs (a personal favorite of his), didn’t even bother to glance back to see who it was.

“I do have a first name, you know.”

This was followed by a heavy sigh from Angelica.

“David, please turn around and look at me.”

The resigned calm in her tone did finally cause him to acquiesce to her request (the hilarity of Rowan losing his frog notwithstanding).

“I heard about what happened with Merula.”

“You and everyone else. Luckily for you, no teachers were there so I didn’t lose any house points.”

“This isn’t about house points,” she said pointedly. “It’s far more important.”

“More important than house points?!” he mocked in fake outrage.

“Damn it, Grant! Will you cut the jokes for one second and listen?! I’m trying to help you.”

This got Ben and Rowan’s attention as well. Angelica was usually lecturing them not assisting.

“Help me?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job as a prefect if I didn’t help you defend yourself. This Snyde girl is a rotten little beast and I want to ensure you don’t lose to her again.”

David was now completely bewildered.

“You make it sound like I’m going to duel her again.”

“Aye, you are. People like her go looking for trouble and it will inevitably find you again. Except this time, she’ll be the one looking foolish.”

“And what were you proposing we do?” David asked, his undivided attention completely centered now. “Are you going to train me?”

“Technically, I can’t. Being a prefect, McGonagall would have my head if she found out I trained you to duel another student. But I know and have talked to someone who can.”

The last sentence took on a mischievous inflection. Oh, this was serious alright. If Angelica, ever a stickler for being by the book, was in on this he had to do something.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he replied in the affirmative.

“He’s on the training grounds,” she replied, giving him a scrap of parchment. “This is a pass giving you permission to be out after hours. He’s waiting for you there now.”

Taking the pass, David looked back at Rowan and Ben, who despite looking anxious also appeared excited.

“You have to do it, Dave,” Rowan encouraged.

Ben agreed whole heartedly.

“You’re the only one who’s been capable of standing up to her so far.”

“Then the training grounds are where I’ll go.”

But before he could leave, Angelica had some parting words for the first year under her charge.

“In a weeks’ time I want to hear about how you put that vicious little brute in her place.”

The understanding couldn’t have been clearer. David nodded, and as he walked out of the common room to head to the training grounds, he could feel a newfound respect increase for his prefect.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he finally arrived on the grounds, it was initially hard to make out just who it was that had volunteered to train him due to the setting of the sun, it’s light ever decreasing this time of year. But it didn’t take more than a few seconds to figure out as a tall red headed figure came into view.

“Bill?”

“Nice to see you again too, Dave,” the third year said with a laugh. “I’m sure Angelica told you the reason why I’m here.”

“To help me against Merula,” David answered affirmatively. “But are you sure? Angelica’s a prefect so she can’t get involved, but you could still get in trouble too.”

“As you’re probably aware, I know what happened between you and that Slytherin girl. After I heard the story, I took it upon myself to approach Angelica about it and of course, she agreed. I’m not an expert when it comes to dueling, but at the least I can show you a few spells that you can use to protect yourself.”

David knew that Bill was being modest. Though only a third year, he was already known for his top marks and natural talent in his spellwork. It was rumored he could go head on with any of the older students in a duel.

“That means a lot, Bill. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said warmly. “Seeing you best the Snyde girl will be thanks enough. Though you may not know it, plenty of the upperclassmen are getting sick of her too. Above all, you need to know how to defend yourself properly, something this year’s defense teacher hasn’t addressed.”

David gave his thanks once more and without wasting any time, the two boys began.

The first fifteen minutes were dedicated to form and technique. The eldest Weasley demonstrated a proper stance and the best situations to attack, defend, and breach someone else’s defense. Once David got the hang of that, it was time to learn a few curses.

“So what in particular did you have in mind?” the first year asked, curious as to what Bill might have in store.

“There’s a number of spells I could teach you,” he said, thinking to himself. “But to save you any odd questions from the professors, we’ll start out with some basic ones. The three I had in mind are the disarming spell, the leg locker curse, and the trip jinx.”

David nodded and so they got to work.

The first one they attempted was the disarm spell or ‘Expelliarmus’ as was the Latin incantation. It was quite simple and not so difficult to master, as it required a simple flick of the wrist and good aim.

The trip jinx was also quite simple and only took a matter of five minutes to master.

The leg locker curse was trickier. It required a little more raw power than the average first year had and a higher amount of concentration. David’s first dozen attempts to cast it on a dummy fell flat, but eventually his efforts paid off as he cast it successfully about an hour into their session.

“That’s it! I think you got it for sure, Dave,” Bill praised. “We’ll need to keep working of course. But for now, this is a good foundation to build on. We’ll meet twice a day this week, once in the library and once on the training grounds to fully prepare.”

David felt better than he had in days. Everything the populace had said about Bill was true, not only was he a talented wizard, but he was also a fantastic teacher and knew the ins and outs of when to push and when to withhold judgement.

“Thanks, Bill. Honestly, you could teach defense this year better than that other guy…I can’t even remember his name.”

“Me neither,” Bill laughed. “And thank you, I’m flattered. Like I said, we’ll continue this tomorrow. We should probably get back to the common room, that pass isn’t going to be good for much longer.”

Indeed, it was almost fully dark and no professor who caught them outside of curfew would be able to escape giving them detention. But as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, David could feel himself being filled with determination and the drive to put an end to Merula’s tyranny once and for all.

The rules be damned, he would see to it.

[bisexualgendryas]

gendrya + jonsa au: bastard lords and hidden ladies (part 1)

so, this is very much not the whoooole concept as I practically just switch from Cat!Arya to Alayne!Sansa (this post is basically just Gendrya + Alayne!Sansa, sorry, not even written Jonsa, but I promise the full concept includes happy married!Jonsa (two versions, too, lol)), but I am tired af whilst simultaneously being really pumped that ppl wanted to see this idea so here’s (much of) the longass outline of the thing I posted about earlier:

au wip, a legitimized-boys, secret-identity-sisters canon divergence piece, where: Stannis becomes king (and keeps Gendry alive), Arya accepts Jaqen’s offer to work for a courtesan and Gendry finds her while on business for the Crown, Jon gets legitimized after taking Ramsay down, and Baelish makes a betrothal for Alayne to Gendry that she later basically manipulates Stannis into changing into one with Jon after Gendry and his true love ditched the whole ass crownlands. It’s got a lot of book plot overlap too but I have no true concept of the timeline in terms of when different canon events happened. If you want more of this or have ideas or anything, feel free to share them!

Instead of Gendry having to escape from Stannis, Shireen finds out that her father’s found a cousin of hers - a true one, not one of Cersei’s bastards but one of her uncle’s - and especially with pressure from both her and Davos, Stannis ultimately decides he’ll keep Gendry alive, have him taught to behave properly, how to manage lordly duties, and so on.

Jaqen realizes that Arya may not be perfectly cut out for being Faceless, and makes her an offer - that he could find her employment of a different sort. As he’s noted, she’s taken by the allure of the courtesans, whose jobs include far more than just the sexual duties shared by those who work in brothels.

At first, Arya insists she can get better, but then Mercy!Arya ends up becoming friends with a girl who works on one courtesan’s ship, and after hearing many stories about how the women play instruments and tell stories and sing songs, she decides that perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to try out. She talks to Jaqen, tucks Needle in a belt, and makes friends with Mercy’s friend with her own face, as Cat, and then the friend convinces the courtesan that Cat’s a charming young woman who should come work with them.

Stannis first loses at the Blackwater, but then with assistance from the Iron Bank and much of Westeros, as well as some more magic, he later manages to topple Tommen and take the Throne.

Needing to be sure of where the Crown stood with their Essosi allies, Stannis sends Gendry and Davos to Braavos to speak with the Iron Bank. As the Starks were always so keen to remind everyone, winter was coming.

And, ahem, the men sent with Gendry and Davos certainly intend to as well. And, only naturally, after a couple nights of well-enjoyed brothel trips, some of them decide they all ought to take advantage of their being in Essos and seek out some renowned courtesan as well - they had Westerosi lords and knights, after all, one of whom was in line for the bloody Iron Throne! Surely someone would love to host them!

Spoiler: yes, someone absolutely would. (Especially considering that Robert had quite the reputation - not as a particularly fun partner, but definitely as a man who’d finance the purchasing of a week’s worth of alcohol in two nights and come back to bed every pretty girl an establishment had afterwards.) How many Braavosi courtesans or whores can say they were bedded or courted in any manner by the son of a Westerosi king? Not many.

Contrary to expectations, Cat ends up being one of them, though not so much while they’re in Braavos. And as sweet and reassuring as it is that her friends, her companions in training, are certain that this lord immediately realizes how pretty she is, she knows the moment that Lord Baratheon meets her eyes he can see Arya, buried deep beneath Cat, and when she speaks in response to the courtesan he and his men are visiting, he hears her as well, though she’s glad to see he’s smart enough not to have his shock blatantly on display.

After a couple visits, his men return to the brothels, the enchantment of listening to old songs more lost on them than the enjoyment of fucking - but Gendry keeps coming to the barge, even though it’s only him and his uncle’s Hand at that point, and after a couple nights of only them, trading stories with the women and listening to songs in languages that have barely been heard since Westeros’ common became, well, common, he actually asks to have time with only Cat.

And of course, the parts of them that are closest to the Arya and Gendry they once were have an awkward but heartfelt reunion - but the parts of them that have grown up are acutely aware of how different they are, how different their places are. Still, he’s not surprised she became an assassin, and she’s not surprised he doesn’t enjoy the vast majority of what’s involved in being at court. They don’t share everything, but they share quite a bit, almost falling back into the sort of friendship they’d thrived off having. On following nights they talk more about things - about Shireen, about the Hound, about the Red Woman, even a bit about King’s Landing girls and Braavosi dockworkers.

It takes a couple more nights, but after a while she decides to remind him that, while it’s not something guaranteed simply by seeking out a courtesan, he is allowed to bed her. (With permission from her employer, of course, as payment and whatnot would be arranged, but…it’s him, her friend, grown and handsome, so Arya doesn’t mind giving the suggestion.)

He asks, though, what would be the cost just to kiss her. For all the time she’s spent learning people, especially men, it’s embarrassing to be caught off guard as she is, but she manages to gather herself and say that it would depend on who he intends to be telling. She doesn’t really let him consider that, though, not the first night, because she simply does kiss him.

They don’t explicitly tell people they’ve started kissing, but they’re terrible enough at hiding their affections that they’re quickly the talk of their respective social groups. Everyone among them, and probably others who view the barge consistently, knows that he keeps coming back, after all…until their few weeks in Braavos are coming to an end, at least, Iron Bank negotiations and all other necessary business of the Crown having been handled.

But then, before Arya’s really made to think about the fact that he found her on the other side of the world and inched closer and closer to becoming a lover only to have to leave her again, Gendry asks her to leave with him. He can’t give her back her home or her family, but if nothing else they can live safely, together - and more than that, he simply wants not to leave her, ever. From what he’s said of his own family, she doesn’t imagine she’ll get a warm welcome, but she can’t stand the idea of him leaving her either, so she packs up what few belongings Cat has and says farewell to her friends, and to Braavos.

Other than the scandal of her coming with, none of the men seem to think much of her taking a place in his cabin. It’s there that he ultimately decides he’s free enough to bed her for the first time. They’ve not yet made it to King’s Landing by the time he realizes he’s completely and irrevocably in love with her.

Arya’s mainly right to think she won’t get a warm welcome; both Stannis and Selyse almost immediately denigrate Gendry for following his father’s path, the path of foolish men, for what kind of lord openly brought a whore to their castle? She’s not actually a whore, he cares to remind them, even though it stokes the fire of the fury. He has his own to match Stannis, though, and it’s clear and it’s spectacular in its own way. So, too, does Shireen - lovely, kind Shireen who’s so happy for the prospect of a friend that she again begs her father on Gendry’s behalf, and reluctantly, Stannis allows Cat to remain, with some strict guidelines, many of which Arya has no complaints about meeting.

Up North, though, Jon has heard about Arya’s marriage to Ramsay, and decides to reach out to Stannis for help on the matter, help of some sort, any sort. It’s not immediately granted, especially as Jon is already asking for Other help, but ultimately, Stannis starts to consider it. Ramsay was only ruling in the North because of a series of betrayals against those who would rightfully rule it - if the last known living child of Ned Stark, a man who died for speaking the truth of Stannis’ claim and denouncing Cersei’s bastards, was asking for help, to save his family, was it not Stannis’ duty to give it?

He does decide that having Jon as an ally is his best move, and begrudgingly he sends some troops North with Davos and Melisandre, to assist Jon’s wildlings in taking back Winterfell. The Night’s Watch doesn’t all take kindly to the Lord Commander’s priorities, but by the time mutiny drags down Jon Snow, Melisandre is in residence at Castle Black and she brings him back, having seen him at battle at Winterfell in her flames, knowing it needs to follow.

He takes Stannis’ sent men and his wildlings and begins to march south, only for a broken Theon to bring to him Sansa’s friend Jeyne, whose identity Theon had hid so that she could be believed to be Arya. The battle is hard-won, but they win it still, and Stannis gives him his father’s name for the victory, but it’s hollow.

Hollow, too, is the love promised to sweet Alayne, whose false father seeks out his best excuses to wed her to the highest bidder, a title claimed all too soon by the king and queen, part of their plan to change the behavior of the king’s nephew and part of Petyr’s plan to return to power in King’s Landing. A bastard lord for a bastard lady - to Stannis that’s like to sound fair, but to Sansa, it’s everything but. She’s learned to pay attention to whispers and rumors, and with this…Petyr intends to mold her into Cersei, it nearly seems. A Baratheon with a temper and a love, and he’d have Alayne marry him, if only to return to seeking the power of the crown. She knows he’d been speaking with Lord Bolton, which still boils her blood even now that she knows it wasn’t her sister who had been made to be his poor wife - she’d doubted it always, especially with the recollection of how Arya had once raised her own sword even to Joffrey - but he still will drag her back to residence in King’s Landing rather than let her go home…unless she can work something out with her betrothed, and perhaps she can.

Not that he intends to give her the chance, though - the moment that Stannis informs him of the betrothal is a bigger, louder fight than they’ve ever had. Stannis might be king, but he owns Gendry no more than he ever could his brothers, and Cat even less, and he won’t be allowed to forget it. There’s a ship bound for Braavos in the bay, and soldiers intended to take her to it, soldiers who are meant to grab her from Gendry’s chambers while she’s alone there and escort her so that he doesn’t get a say.

Stannis, though, doesn’t know that only some parts of any woman are soft, and Gendry’s the only man with rights to ask for any of her softness. Even without real context she knows the soldiers are only obeying their king, so Arya focuses on injury and little more, rushing down underneath the castle, down where she’d ran when Syrio had told her to do so. And, as if by magic - perhaps, actually, by magic, for she wouldn’t know - Ser Davos finds her. He takes her to a dusty corner, hands her a wine skin and one of Cat’s other dresses, and tells her to wait for him to come back…and so she does.

She waits until the entire area is getting dark, only the trail of the sun and no lanterns or sconces to show her the possible way out, and holds tight to Needle until after the sun is set and he scurries back to her, Gendry at his side, rushing to her like never before. Davos has given him clothes that once had belonged to a son of his, and grabbed them some food.

They make it out of the city on a ship manned by one of Davos’ other sons, a trade ship headed for the Riverlands - straight for Hot Pie, as far as they’re concerned. Arya might cry, in part from feeling terribly anxious and in better part because he’s so terribly kind.

Alayne and her father arrive in their carriage a few days later, to a very apologetic royal party, and Alayne spends much of her first days back in the city thinking how horribly fed up she is with men for all their machinations. Princess Shireen, though, is very clear that while it’s a pity someone was hurt by it, her cousin is deeply in love, and in their private company she calls her father foolish for thinking he could ever sway him. It’s so very Sansa of her, that Sansa herself is easily swayed to their side, though she knows Petyr is having much more difficulty accepting the rejection.

It’s all very much a lovely love story to Sansa, though, as it is to Shireen, and Alayne bonds with the princess easily. She even enjoys Shireen’s stories about this woman Cat, and finds herself wanting to know more and more, especially as she realizes that in a way she has taken the other woman’s place, just in Shireen’s life as a friend as opposed to in her cousin’s. Stannis and Selyse, though, really do stew in their displeasure. Petyr does a better job of hiding his, but she knows that’s only because his intentions are about power and not family, let alone love.

Then, one day, about a fortnight after their arrival, Stannis mentions a part of the plan she’d been unaware of, one she might be able to use.

He wanted to secure the Vale support so that he could support Jon - Jon Stark, now, newly legitimized Lord Stark, warden of the north, the man who had beaten down House Bolton but needed more of his king’s support to fight a larger, more pressing battle, one against the dead, one for the living. As Petyr says, the details make it sound like madman’s words, but King Stannis has magic on his council and more importantly, this was Jon, and Jon was…Jon. Surely if he declared that the dead could be raised by some unnatural force and made to fight the living, he was speaking the truth of it.

She confronts Petyr in private - had the Vale not already been sworn to House Stark? He disagrees, cautiously - House Arryn had been truly bound by House Tully, and Jon had no Tully to speak of.

“Jon Arryn, my uncle, fostered my father, Jon’s father. He called his banners against House Targaryen in defense of Rickard Stark and his children, and Jon is as much Ned Stark’s son as Robb or Bran or Rickon, no matter where your loyalties lie.”

“Your cousin -”

“My cousin trusts his beloved stepfather not to mislead him,” she finishes, proud that she can see in his eyes how the remark wounds him, and then she takes a walk to the godswood to get her head around her situation.

She wounds Petyr again the next day, by bringing to court a proposal of a marriage between her and Jon - she prefaces by saying that she and her father had spoken of it, just gently enough that no one would doubt her, for Lord Baelish keeps his expression so very static, his surprise just barely visible to even an educated viewer. It’s a good offer, to Stannis, and on the surface it’s good for Petyr as well, though no one would say it’s better than putting his future grandchild in the line of succession for the Iron Throne.

Stannis, though, is perhaps realizing he’s glad to have removed a contender from his line, and he’s quick enough to agree to write to Lord Stark with little more than Petyr’s confirmation that the Vale would give its strength in this war of Jon’s.

Petyr makes his displeasure known, but Sansa is sure enough that Jon will side with her that he agrees not to raise a fuss. She knows she’s made the potential error of keeping either of them from an heir, but if it allowed her to go home with her brother, she’d manage what she had to manage.

Jon, too, agrees, surprised for an offer but happy for it all the same, writing back to Stannis days before he’s actually set to leave for Dragonstone to mine dragonglass on the island, another part of their deal. Jon would remain the ever-vigilant guard of the realm, and Stannis would provide him what he needed to hold such a position well - that was how Ser Davos had said it.

They could figure out heritage when this great war was won.

[celestialsoft]

⤻   *       GREETINGS AND HELLO !!!! :   IT IS I   ,   ADMIN EDIE !    HERE ONCE AGAIN HERE TO POST AN INTRO  :~))))  

this time i’m here to introduce you to my tenderhearted wee bab of an angel who clears my skin and grows by crops tBH, FRANK KANGDAE LONGBOTTOM, my lionhearted boi who deserves e v e r y t h i n g ( literally ; empty out your pockets and give EVERYTHING u have to frankleface longbooty—— he . deserves . it . all . !!!!! ) if you’d like to plot, please like this post or hmu in my im’s & without further ado —— here’s frank ! pls love him

⤻   *       APPLICATION   —— !

* ╰    ( KIM YOUNGKYUN )┋have you met ( FRANKLIN KANGDAE LONGBOTTOM ) ? ( he ) reminds me of ( deep loneliness and deep kindness grown in equal parts —— and he speaks, so overcome with love, that i forget we are at war. he grew up hanging lanterns on hilltops to make sure the moon could see at night ; and practiced catching droplets of rain with his lips —— because even the clouds deserved a little romance. ' i infinitesimal being, drunk with the great starry void ' —— tenderhearted boy , luminescent boy : boy frightened , boy destroyed. unravelled by kindness ; compassion consumed —— on the precipice of supernova , he burns brightest in the darkest hour. he looks to me as if he were a man forged entirely of tenderness and the sun ; yet he is the sweet nocturne that plays despite how the beginning of the end has begun ). a ( twenty-one ) year old ( tenth ) year ( gryffindor ), the ( paladin ) is known to be ( + tenderhearted & + clement ), yet ( — oversolicitous & — pensive ). that explains why they’re majoring in ( healing ). rumour has it, ( frank ) is siding with ( the order ) in the solemn war that blazes beyond the castle walls. ( edie, 22, aedt, she/her )

⤻   *       ABOUT FRANK  ——   !!

ahhhhh, frank longbottom —— where do i even start ????? if there’s just one thing that you should absolutely know about frank longbottom, it is that he is a gosh darn heckin’ angel. his heart is ??? so ??? genuinely pure ??? just thinking about it makes me want to tear up tbh

frank is the kind of boy who will charge straight into the carnage and chaos of the whomping willow to save a cat. he’s the kind of boy who hangs out by the edge of the black lake, worried that the giant squid is feeling lonely. he’s the kind of boy who sees the potential for good in everyone & everything, and is genuinely confused and appalled by acts of unkindness and malice when they occur. he chooses the path of benevolence, always, and he wants to keep everyone he loves safe so he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and feels like it is up to him, & him alone, to SAVE THE WORLD and make it a better place. i repeat for you my fronds : frank longbottom gosh darn heckin’ angel. but my god, is he a broken one.

⤻   *       BACKGROUND   ——   !!

frank was born into a sacred 28 pureblood family who cared very little for blood purity, but a whole lot for social justice & fighting for what is right. thomas and augusta longbottom first met at the ministry of magic, where their ‘ left-wing ’ progressive ideas about wizard / muggle / magical creature relations brought them together. their love brought frank longbottom into the world ; a child who was, from an early age, exposed to concepts of in/equality, systematic oppression, privilege, biased public policy, and injustice through his parents.

under the steady & tireless virtuous guidance of his mother and father, frank longbottom bloomed from infancy into childhood with a strong sense of egalitarianism & selflessness that most children only learned well into adolescence, and he had an awareness of the injustices of the world that many people did not gain even well into adulthood. yet despite his parent’s rather strict & heavy hand in discipline, there was always a remarkable air of benevolence and incorruptibility about frank that refused to be befouled.

nevertheless, frank was a terribly lonely child. he was homeschooled by a thoroughly screened, left-wing half-blood governess, and she was just about his only connection to the outside world. it goes without saying that sacred 28 pureblood socialising events & parties were off-limits and out of the question for frank, and since the longbottoms lived in suburban muggle england, frank was always too scared to socialise with many of the children in his neighbourhood, fearful that he would accidentally expose his magical lineage & incur terrible consequences for his folly. shut away in a house of absolute virtue and morality, frank longbottom was a victim of utter loneliness & never got to experience the world his parents adamantly taught and trained him to save … until his letter from hogwarts arrived, that is.

⤻   *       HOGWARTS   ——   !!

frank was a heckin’ confusing four-way house hat stall during his sorting. the hat sensed the resolute loyalty and benevolence of hufflepuff in him, the love and respect for knowledge and learning of ravenclaw in him & the tenacity and ambition to achieve his goals of slytherin in him, but ultimately, the sorting hat settled on “ GRYFFINDOR ! ”, declaring its choice with a booming roar. above all, the sorting hat sensed frank to be brave —— willing ( & desperate, even ) to fight for what is right. it’s a shame that frank, to this day, doesn’t seem to see this bravery in himself. but by the warm beacon of the gryffindor common room fireplace, under the twinkling candlelights of the great hall, and at the top of the astronomy tower ( the stars and galaxies at the reach of his very own fingertips ), frank, at hogwarts has grown to be exactly the kind of person his parents have always wanted him to be : stalwartly true ; combatting hate with kindness, and enveloping cruelty with warmth. he loves deeply and vastly, and he honestly radiates this other-worldy quality of brightness ??? he’s the light in the dark, and oh how he shines. 

however —— the fact that he’s already grown into someone that his parents are proud of doesn’t stop frank from still wanting to be better, and wanting to save the world. what frank doesn’t realise is that he can hardly save the world if he can’t first save himself. he’s constantly emotionally and physically exhausted ; spending every moment of his time helping those around him and making sure to change to the world one kind act at a time. slowly but surely, frank’s bleeding heart and compulsion for kindness is coming to the point of being harmful to his own health and wellbeing. 

so yeah … … . though frank is falling apart, he never lets this show & he really tries to never make this anyone else’s problem. through the haze of responsibility and moral duty that has always clouded frank’s life, there’s still a profound tenderness and warmth about him ; and among all his advocations and efforts towards justice & peacetime, it’s difficult to discern just how deeply scared, lost, and confused the boy is in a world that refuses to cease changing right before his very eyes ; an inevitable war upon the horizon. 

⤻   *       LITTLE HEADCANONS   ——   !!

frank has always been V MAGICALLY GIFTED. he showed his first signs of magic when he was just one and a half, when he had a terrible nightmare & woke up screaming in the middle of the night. instead of waiting for his parents to come and calm him down though, frank simply closed his eyes & focused on his breathing. when his parents stumbled into the room ; sleep hazy in their eyes, they could hardly believe what they saw : the entire room, covered in flowers and lush foliage —— something that frank had somehow conjured up to keep himself calm ( b/c untamed childhood magic be CRAZY ). frank is now able to command wandless magic, which is a GODSEND tbh b/c he’s such a sleep-deprived mess & he loses his wand c o n s t a n t l y istG

being a sacred 28 pureblood with quite advanced magical abilities, frank has always been in high demand for pureblood partnership through an arranged marriage. his parents, have always hastily shot down offers ( bc they aren’t all up in that pureblooded nonsense ! ), but that hasn’t stopped pureblooded parents from reaching out anyway :/ yIKEs :/// 

frank is part of the slug club ,,,,,,,,,,,,, and like ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, every single other club / extracurricular. baby longbottom is an OVERACHIEVER EXTRAORDINAIRE —— YA BOI DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO CHILL. it’s not that frank is driven by any sort of particular ambition and self-interest, though ?? rather, frank’s heavy involvement in every aspect of school life stems from the aforementioned incredible pressure of his parent’s expectations ; frank applying himself to every possible aspect of school life and extracurriculars in the hopes that he will make them proud

frank has so little chill that he’s actually started sleepwalking … yikes ????? it probably doesn’t help that frank is involved in almost every sport club tbH, & he is also gryffindor quidditch team’s seeker. the thing is that he could never give any sport up. sport is so cathartic for frankie my boi, because it helps him forget his worries & his responsibilities. while he’s playing sport he is just a body —— he is pulsing blood, deep breaths & he is free.

⤻   *       OTHER FUN FACTS / GENERAL SUMMARY DOT POINTS ABOUT FRANKLEFACE LONGBOOTY   ——   !!

THE MOST CLEAN CUT KID OF THE YEAR AWARD GOES TO : frank longbottom, OFC. innuendo is lost on the kid ( he is v v v lost every time someone uses the word ‘ wand ’ as double entendre ), and has only consumed alcohol once in his life —— and even then, it was by accident ( it was in a spiked cherry berry trifle at an end of year christmas party back in first year ). 

LATELY, THOUGH, frank has taken up smoking. he does it in secret ; one cigarette every night in the astronomy tower, or by the black lake. if anyone ever found out about this frank would be MORTIFIED & would legitimately probably DIE of shame, so ………….. *coughs* someone pls walk in on him smoking one day. 

it’s so strange, because frank is incredibly in touch with the real travesties and injustices of the world, but in many ways he’s completely naive and lacking in real life experience. he is such an experientially sheltered kiddo, someone pls take him out and get him RAGING DRUNK bc he needs to chill out tbH

#mumfriend

takes literally 15 minutes out of each of his days to have a few conversations with a few of hogwarts’ cats ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, what a loser ??

gets excited when people ask him for help with their homework ( hELP ME ???? )

excels at all his subjects, but has a particular soft-spot for astronomy, herbology and care of magical creatures :’)

LOVES KNITTING —— stress knits a lot . he’d like to just knit the entire world up into a snug lil blanket and keep it safe and warm 

wants to single handedly save the world

did i mention ????? babe is a gosh dark heckin’ angel

in the mirror of erised, frank would see all his friends and family happy and smiling —— but he wouldn’t even be in the frame. mY HEART BREAKS OVER THIS HEADCANON TBH

frank has a cat named alexis de tocqueville 

i’ve run out of things to dot point & this is probably WAY TOO LONG ALREADY ANYWAY ??? so i’ll stop :o :o :o but please come and interact with my son ?!!!!!!??!? i love yall peace out

[thefluffzone]

„You don't seem like yourself tonight.“

Character/Pairing: Zenyatta x Reader (gender neutral)

Fandom: Overwatch

Words: 1022

----

You were an agent of Overwatch, working at Watchpoint Gibraltar in the division of Tekharta Zenyatta. At first, you never thought he could be a good agent and commander, but this monk – this omnic monk – destroyed your prejudices immediately. He was gentle and friendly, but also strict and stern with his „pupils“, how he called his agents. He could be unforgiving with his enemies, but not for the people in Overwatch. And they often tried to make him happy and asked him to teach them the way of the Shambali. You were one of them. 

Not the first who asked him, but the most eager to learn. Unfortunately, you developed feelings for the omnic, more than just simple friendship. Well, more unfortunately, he still was your boss. But these emotions made you think. A lot. Could omnics feel? Or even be in love? One evening, you grew more and more restless, so you decided to release your stress. You sneaked to the training range and went to a lonely target, where Zenyattas 'main student', Genji Shimada, used to train. It was hidden from the others and a bit further away, so you had your peace to train with the shuriken Genji gave you once. After a good while, you felt like being watched, but you couldn't see anyone. Well, since you still couldn't get over this feeling for the next couple of minutes, so you spoke into the night: „Whoever is watching me, please don't hide. That's creepy.“ You heard a distant chuckle you knew way too well, then some engine noises came your way. „I taught you well about listening to your instincts, little one..“, Zenyatta said while hovering to where you stood. You made a surprised step backwards, the orbs floating around him immediately reacted with a chime you could only describe as confused. Just how 'alive' are those things exactly?He watched you for a second, then he said: „You don't seem like yourself tonight, agent. I can feel confusion, stress, even despair. Do you need someone to talk to?“ 

Tension washed over you like a wave and Zenyatta noticed that almost instantly. The sound his orbs made became quite soothing and one hand reached out, like an invitation. „Please, agent.. please Y/N, do not fear me. Did I do something wrong? If so, do not hesitate to tell me, its my wish to clear any mistakes I make in social interactions.“ That brought a soft smile to your lips, not being able to resist his gentleness. You never were, what was one more reason why you fell for him. „Master..“, you finally spoke. „If you promise to not dodge me as a student, I will tell you. But I need to sit down for this.“ He chuckled, nodded and led you to a rock for you to take a seat. The monk hovering in front of you maintained a proper distance, but looked at you curiously. The orbs made a sound and once more you felt like they were confused. You cleared your throat and started quietly: „You know, to be honest it's about my.. emotional state. Still wanna hear it?“ You smirked as he asked you to go on. „In my past I was rarely in love. I think, mostly because it always meant for me I'd have to give me to someone, like I'd have no true 'me' anymore. So I tried to not feeling anything more than friendship at all. It worked quite well, until..“ You sighted. „Until I met you and learned about your teachings. Learning from you, Master, really changed my mind.“ You played nervously with one of your shuriken so you didn't have to look at him.

„So, I assume you developed feelings for someone.“, he said. „May I ask why this confuses you?“ You flinched and cut your finger at the sharp edge of the object in your hands. But it didn't hurt, it even felt kind of warm. One of the orbs floated to your hand, descending until it touched your palm. The cut closed before your very eyes, but the orb stayed where it was and chimed to relax you. „Well, it's confusing and scares me because I don't know how this person feels about me. To be honest, I don't even know IF this person is feeling anything at all.“ The ball in your hand made a strange noise, like it was asking „What?“, but when you finally looked at its owner, he just chuckled again. „You are the most interesting person I met here, Y/N. I cannot imagine anyone not taking an interest in you. Maybe, you just need to talk to this lucky being, at least to lighten your burden.“Now you smiled. You couldn't help yourself, but it was simply cute how he acted. So you gathered all your courage and tried to make it obvious. „Master, can an omnic monk feel? And if yes, is he even allowed to?“ 

You could swear the little ball in your hand laughed, at least the chirping noise he made sounded like it as the simple hearted Zenyatta slowly realised what you were saying. Then, the environment suddenly seemed to getting brighter as golden light radiated from the monk. The orb in your hand started floating again, but before its warmth could also leave your palm, Zenyatta took your hand into his. The monk watched you a moment before he finally said: „Yes, we can feel. And technically, I'm under no Shambali rule anymore, so those do not matter to me.“ He chuckled and rubbed gently over the back of your hand. „Little one, I actually do feel for you, too. For a long time now. But I am inexperienced in this field and I cannot give you everything a human partner could.“ He carefully floated closer and pressed the lower part of his faceplate to your forehead, as if he would kiss you there. „But you would never have to give up yourself.“ You smiled happily at him and got up from the rock, still holding his hand. „I'd very much like that.“

want more? /ask for a Request

[meitonapalace]

1 - 5, 41, and 43 for: Teima! Oreisaka! Lakuna! Lanka!

(Sorry it took me so long!!)

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Teima - A couple of hours I guess? She might just nap or enjoy nature, she doesn’t need to be ‘busy’ all the time.Lakuna - About 5 seconds lol. Hiveakans are trained to be patient, but she’s a very busy lady so she’d rather not waste time.Oreisaka - With so many sisters, she’s never actually had the opportunity to find out lol. But she’s quite patient like Teima, so probably a couple of hours.Lanka - If she isn’t training she’s falling behind! No breaks unless absolutely necessary!  

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Teima - Very!Lakuna - She finds it relatively easy to laugh at the misfortune of others... but she doesn’t laugh out loud, it’s more of a snigger.Oreisaka - Very. Except for a couple of tragic events, her childhood was generally happy.Lanka - Anaka sometimes makes her laugh... Lanka doesn’t socialise much so she doesn’t get to laugh very often, but if she’s with people she doesn’t hate they can usually entertain her.

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Teima - Reading, or watching something. If Taka comes to bed with her she likes to fall asleep in his arms, but fairly often he leaves her to sleep alone.Lakuna - Usually she just goes to sleep when she’s too tired to stay awake, so she falls asleep pretty easily. Occasionally she struggles to sleep because she’s thinking about things, but generally she’s asleep within a few minutes.Oreisaka - Thinking about nice things.Lanka - Aside from compulsory social events, she still lives the Hive lifestyle of strict training regimes and pushing your body to the max, so she’s able to sleep on command, when she thinks it’s absolutely necessary.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust?

Teima - Very. Trust is her default state.Lakuna - Difficult-ish. She’s more likely to trust Outsiders because she doesn’t think they’re cunning enough to betray her, but she won’t trust anybody right away.Oreisaka - She trusts Outsiders easily, but is wary of Hiveakans. She trusts Mokoto though because he’s her baby brother and she hasn’t seen a bad side to him yet, and she’s a little too naive to think a new graduate would have one (despite being warned by her sisters...)Lanka - Doesn’t trust anybody. Even with people she likes and is close to, she’s always slightly cautious. Even if she does feel comfortable with someone and knows she can probably trust them, a small part of her just never lets her guard down.

 5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Teima - Quite difficult, because she believes in second chances and tries to see the good in people.Lakuna - Fairly easy. Once somebody betrays her, she knows they’re capable of betrayal and she tends to hold grudges. Even if she and the person resolve it and can learn to get along, she’ll always be wary of them after trust is broken.Oreisaka - Easier for Hiveakans, because she’s cautious about them to begin with. She’s quite naive though and would probably give a second chance to someone who doesn’t deserve it.Lanka - Mistrust is her default state.

 41. How do they feel about children?

Teima - Loves them.Lakuna - She’s fond of Gonta, Tomakoto and Lusi, but she doesn’t like other people’s children. She’s not very maternal and would find them annoying, or at the very least boring. Oreisaka - She hasn’t really had much experience with children so she’s a little awkward around them, but she thinks they’re cute and is fond of them when she sees them. She would like to see more of her younger cousin Nomizon.Lanka - Thinks they serve a purpose, as heirs. Beyond that she doesn’t really see the point of them, and she doesn’t think they are things to be loved. Protected and taught, yes. Loved or enjoyed, no.

 43.If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

Teima - She would say she’s straight, but she doesn’t think it matters what you are as long as you love each other :)Lakuna - Straight, fortunately. She needs to make heirs, and that would probably be a lot harder for her if she were gay.Oreisaka - She thinks she’s straight, but she’s never been in love, so... who knows?Lanka - “I’m bi, but it wouldn’t matter even if I was gay. I want to be queen. Queens need heirs. If I have to fuck a man, being a lesbian wouldn’t stop me. I’ve been through worse in the Hive.” (she does actually prefer women, but probably wouldn’t think to mention that right away)