#extremely bad. hurts to watch. I always forget that its worse than i remember

[isatswap]

(full in stars and time game spoilers. huge ones. very.)

(also death, dehumanization, suicide and extreme self hatred cw)

(also sorry for the stanky drawings, i really needed them but i have neither skill nor energy to make them good)

giving up

TTOS version of the MAL DU PAYS fight from ISAT

(...?)

(Where are you...?)

(Where is The Scary Lady?)

(Where is everyone?)

(!)

(There is someone there...)

<BATTLE START!>

(Two figures stand before you.)

(One of them resembles Siffrin.)

(And the other....)

(...)

(You strike.)

<IMMUNE>

(MAL DU PAYS is silent.)

(HAINE DE SOI is covering its mouth.)

(Your attacks have no effect...)

(But all you can do is keep attacking.)

<Mindless attacking.>

(...)

(Why aren't they saying anything?)

(MAL DU PAYS watches your movements.)

(HAINE DE SOI mimics a Scissors sign.)

Loop: (...) "Hey..."

(...)

(MAL DU PAYS does not blink.)

(HAINE DE SOI smiles.)

Loop: (...) "Hey."

(...)

(MAL DU PAYS stares at you.)

(HAINE DE SOI shows its teeth.)

Loop: "HEY!!!" Loop: "DON'T JUST STAND HERE SILENTLY, JUDGING ME!" Loop: "TALK TO ME! DON'T IGNORE ME! SAY SOMETHING!!!"

(The figure on the left whispers something to the figure on the right.)

(The figure on the right opens its mouth...)

(and speaks.)

Odile: Loop... Odile: Loop. Odile: Loop!

(Dile...?)

Odile: Loop, why.... Odile: Why did you protect me, all of those times? Odile: ...You should have let me die, Loop. Odile: You know I was miserable, back then.

(No, no, you couldn't have, you--)

Odile: Instead, I live. Having to suffer seeing you in pain. Odile: ....It's not like I haven't died though, right?

(!!!)

Odile: You have let me die before. Odile: Worse, you are the reason I've died. Odile: It hurt a lot, Loop! I could still feel all of it. Odile: .... Odile: It hurt worse than if I've never knew anyone. Odile: If I have never known you. Odile: If you wanted to protect me so badly... Odile: Why didn't you just die, Loop? Die instead of me? Odile: But instead of protecting me.... you decided to try to "make me stronger". As if I needed it. Odile: As if I needed your help. Odile: As if I needed you. Odile: ....But no one does.

Odile: NO ONE NEEDS YOU!!!

(!!!)

(No, that can't--)

(Odile would never say something like this.)

(ODILE WOULD NEVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!!)

(MAL DU PAYS breathes in, and out.)

(HAINE DE SOI puts on a grin.)

(The left figure points at its hat.)

(The right figure nods, and opens its mouth...)

Bonnie: Loop...

(Bonbon's voice...?)

Bonnie: Loop. Bonnie: I've trusted you, Loop. Bonnie: I thought we could accept you into our group. Bonnie: ...But alas, the truth always comes out. Bonnie: You are nothing else than a bad apple. Bonnie: Rotten to the core. Bonnie: And I know that we have never been friends. Bonnie: After all... Bonnie: Aren't we just puppets to you? To toy with? Bonnie: To play your perfect drama with? Bonnie: You can't even imagine us having our own lives, outside of your scope. Bonnie: ...I have a sister back in Bambouche, remember? Probably not. You forget everything about us. Bonnie: I can't believe I've ever wanted to show her a monster like you. Bonnie: A monster who does all these things and then prays to a deity for forgiveness. Bonnie: A deity of a forgotten country. Bonnie: ...I hope we forget you just like we did that land.

(!!!)

(No, no, no, you don't want that)

(You don't want to be forgotten)

(You want to stay with them)

(No!!!)

(Bonnie is kind, they would understand, they would never try to forget you, this is just--)

(THIS ISN'T REAL!!!)

(MAL DU PAYS cries silently.)

(HAINE DE SOI smiles wide.)

(The left figure steps closer to the right figure and hugs its arm.)

(The right figure opens its mouth...)

Mirabelle: Loopie... Mirabelle: Loopie!

(Mira!)

Mirabelle: Oh, Loopie, I'm so glad I found you. Mirabelle: I can finally say all I meant to say all those times before. Mirabelle: Okay. Here it comes. Mirabelle: I... Mirabelle: I don't understand you, Loop. Mirabelle: I don't understand why are you so attached to me. Mirabelle: Such a creature can't know attachment, can it? Mirabelle: Yes, that is right. A creature. A child of the sky. Mirabelle: Did you think no one noticed? That you are not human? Mirabelle: And that everyone despises you? Your very existence? Mirabelle: You would think someone Changed would be more willing to try to pivot their life around, but no. Mirabelle: You luxuriate in things staying the same with you. You are a mere mockery of this country's beliefs. Mirabelle: You are not even willing to show us your true nature. Too weak to open up to your "friends." Mirabelle: Too afraid to be seen. Mirabelle: And under this little shell, there lies an even worse person. Mirabelle: The person that uses time loops for their own advantage. Mirabelle: And even while trying to change their fate they stay the same. Pathetic. Mirabelle: Haha, I bet you were a foreigner even in your own country! Never able to be friends or even colleagues with anyone! Mirabelle: The only reason we were still able to have those trips to the House with you were because you were useful. As a tool. Mirabelle: We never truly liked you, even if the loops made it seem so. Mirabelle: Because you are--

(disgusting, disgusting, disgusting--)

(of course that's what she thinks, that is what you are)

(callous aimless manipulative)

(ah)

(your head hurts)

(you can't breathe)

(MAL DU PAYS yells silently.)

(HAINE DE SOI laughs with no sound.)

(both figures open their mouths)

(no please, please, please, no more)

Isabeau: ... Isabeau: Loop...

(isabeau)

Isabeau: Loop.... Isabeau: Oh, Loop.... Isabeau: I can't wait to never see you again.

(aaahhhhh--)

(The figures open their mouths but you strike!!!)

<IMMUNE>

(stop it, stop it, stop it!!!)

(it's not real, it's not real, it's not real)

(none of this is real)

(you just need to wake up!!!)

(wake up)

(wake up)

(wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up)

(wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not real wake up it's not re

SOMETHING: (BUT IT IS.)

(AH!--)

SOMETHING: (THEY DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN.)

(No!)

SOMETHING: (THEY WANT TO FORGET YOU.)

(no)

SOMETHING: (THEY HATE YOU)

(NO!!!)

SOMETHING: (THEY'LL GO BACK TO THEIR HOMES, WITHOUT YOU)

(NO...)

SOMETHING: (THEY WILL LEAVE YOU BEHIND)

(no no no no no no)

SOMETHING: (THIS JOURNEY WAS ONLY MEANINGFUL TO YOU)

(no)

SOMETHING: (YOU CAN WISH AND WISH ALL YOU WANT, BUT IT'S INEVITABLE)

SOMETHING: (THEY WILL LEAVE)

SOMETHING: (AND SOON THEY'LL FORGET YOU)

(no)

SOMETHING: (THEY'LL FORGET YOU)

(n o)

SOMETHING: (THEY'LL FORGET YOU)

( )

SOMETHING: (so make it easier for them and die)

( )

(it's right)

(these s adnes ses of y our s and h i s ar e r ight)

(your family hates you)

(they will all go home)

(leave you behind)

(forget you)

(you should just give up)

(you should just die)

(die for good)

(you can't feel your body anymore)

(nothing will ever hurt anymore)

(you'll forget it all)

(and you'll finally rest)

(you)

(let)

(go)

[voltronisanobsession]

I know this has already been done but I want YOUR take on this…can I pretty plz get headcanons of the paladins (or just Keith Pidge and Lance) accidentally hurting their s/o bad enough to send them to the healing pods…? How would they spend their time while waiting for them to wake up? Angsty with a fluffy ending…? THANK YOU ILYSM 🥹❤️‍🔥

Paladins Accidentally Injuring Reader

STOP CUZ IM A SUCKER FOR ANGSTY STUFF LIKE THIS💀💀💀 I decided to do ALL of them cuz why not💯💯 also sorry for taking so long to answer, this was sitting in my drafts for awhile, procrastination is not fun😔🙏💔💔 another also, I didn’t proofread this yet but I promise I will💔

Keith

It all happened so quickly Keith had no idea what had happened

He remembered he was fighting one of Zarkon’s men, relentlessly attacking him with his sword when all of a sudden you came into the picture

While he was on overdrive, the Galra general had taken ahold of you when you tried attacking him from his side, swinging you in front of him

In front of Keith’s brutal attacks…

Using you as a human shield, Keith had no time to stop his sword from swinging down on you

While you did try to stop his attack with your dagger, his force was too strong, resulting in his sword slicing into your shoulder all the way down to your stomach

Keith could never forget the piercing scream you let out

Frozen is shock and horror, he was kicked backwards by the Galra, hearing his footsteps quickly fading from both of you

“Y/N!”

He is a MESS when he gets to you

His hands shake as he tries to apply pressure to your wound, but it’s just too large

His vision just zeros on your face as tears stain your cheeks. Despite whimpering in pain, you want to reassure him that you’re fine, but he doesn’t let you move an inch

By the time the rest of the group gets to him, Keith is too frantic and a bit unstable for him to think correctly

“GET AWAY!”

The group has no idea how to handle this situation as they watch him cradle your now passed-out body, his body shaking from the adrenaline of needing to protect you from anything else

“Keith, listen to me. We need to take Y/N to the castle now if we want them to survive. We can’t do that if you won’t let us help you.”

Shiro is literally the only person who can bring Keith back to earth, words hitting him like a train as he looks down at your body, watching as you take shallow breathes

Keith does not let anyone near you, not in your fragile state. He carries you all the to the castle, whispering apologies as your face twists in pain from every move

Once getting you to the pod room, he only allows Allura and Pidge in the room to help him set up your body and change you into a bodysuit

While you’re in the healing pod, he’s always sitting nearby, waiting in silence for you, hating himself for hurting you so badly

Despite you being out of commission, Voltron still needed to continue its mission

During this time, Keith pushes himself to the absolute MAX

Purposely puts himself in danger, not caring how hurt he gets because nothing can compare to what you had to go through

In a way, this is his own way of punishing himself for hurting the person he cared for

Keith won’t even listen to Shiro, brushing him off whenever the man offered to help patch him up after a more brutal mission

The team definitely gets worried when he begins straying from missions entirely, almost purposely trying to find danger at every corner

So once he finds out you’re out of the healing pod, he is extremely hesitant to see you

But he practically runs to you when Allura tells him you wanted to see him

Seeing him all bruised up upsets you once you find out what he’s been doing

He doesn’t care though, he’s immediately groveling at your feet, apologizing as his eyes slowly filled with unshed tears

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry, I hurt you, worse than anyone else I-“

You pull him into a crushing hug, feeling him tense up but slowly relax in your embrace

“None of this was your fault, ok Keith? You may not forgive yourself but I never blamed you for anything.”

You need to comfort Keith so much because this boy almost lost the last familiar person he loved

It takes some time for him to feel secure with you again but the progress you make is enough to set him back in motion

Lots of physical contact occurs now since Keith needs to know that you’re actually with him

He is 100% more protective over you now, always keeping an eye on you when out on missions and protectively standing in front of you during battles

Lance

Lance felt like he was going to throw up

He watched as you quickly were thrown down to the ground, breath caught in his lungs as you laid there unmoving

He was trying to aim for one of the guards that was originally standing in your place, but they had moved last second once they saw him aiming at them

He had no idea that you were right behind the guard, so all he could do was watch in horror as his blast hit your chest, knocking you out in one swift moment

Oh,how he hoped it only knocked you out

Shiro had quickly ran over to your body, checking your neck for a pulse before he abruptly got up, attacking one of the sentries who was aiming at you

Lance was already running to you, sliding over and immediately clutching onto your body

His eyes watered, not able to focus on anything else except your short, shallow breaths

“LANCE YOU NEED TO TAKE THEM BACK TO THE CASTLE! QUICK, I’LL COVER YOU!”

Shiro’s voice brought him back to reality as he picked your body up bridal style and made a dash for his lion

Lance would be so worried over you once they put you in one of the healing pods

He would distance himself from the group immediately afterwards, almost running to his room to just let out the emotions

Oh god, he almost killed you

Lance would be inconsolable during all this, he wouldn’t eat any of Hunk’s food, ignore Keith’s comments that would normally set him over the end, and just not focus on Shiro’s attempts in comforting him

He would spend the days you spend in the pod wandering and moping around the halls of the castle, feeling absolutely terrible for what he did to you

He would sit quietly as your pod door opened, watching from afar as Pidge helped you from falling over

You would notice how everyone around you seemed relieve you see but the one person you really wanted to see stood by the entrance of the room

Lance would not be able to look you in the eyes

“Lance…”

Now he’s a crying mess💔💔

“Y/N! I’m-I’m sorry! If you had actually-“

He just feels awful for what he had done, accident or not

You would stumble over to him, hugging him and feeling as he clutched onto you

His sobs sound throughout the room, the group looking with remorseful eyes, seeing how much this had actually affected him

“You didn’t know Lance. No one could have known that would happen.”

Lance would not be able to leave your side for a few days afterwards

He would still be quiet, but he would slowly begin going back to his usual self

Though during the night, he would get nightmares on the event, only your sweet whisperings could lull him back to a peaceful sleep

After the near death experience, he feels much more aware of his surroundings and how he used his gun

He just cares so much for you, he doesn’t know what he would do if you got hurt like that again

Pidge

Things were going rough for the paladins during their mission, they were slowly losing control on the battle

Seeing an opportunity in front of her, Pidge noticed an electric column near her, already devising a plan

She would wrap her bayards cord around the column, making it an electric extension and have it thrown to their large enemy

It was perfect, until it wasn’t

Not getting the timing right, Pidge quickly threw her bayard to the column, watching the electricity travel through the cord and flying straight to the beast

Except you had jump in front of the beast, hoping to get a hit in, not even realizing the electric cord heading your way

All Pidge could do was yell out your name in horror

“Y/N NO!”

You quickly turned around, eyes wide when you saw what was heading towards you and unable to dodge the electrified weapon

The group could only watch with shocked faces as you screamed out in pain, watching the electricity course through your body

Being the one near a control panel, Keith slashed the entire system, hoping that would at least turn off the electricity

“TEAM FALL BACK!”

Shiro ran towards you, picking up your limp body from the ground and pushing Pidge to run out of the room and into their lions

Her hands shook with fear

She didn’t mean for this to happen. She thought she would be helping everyone. But all she could envision was your body twitching from the last of the electricity leaving your body

Tears formed in her eyes as she let out sobs, ignoring everything else around her, even the concerned words of her paladins

She would be the first one out of her lion, watching with puffy eyes as Shiro quickly took you to the healing pods, not bothering in changing you into a body suit

She would do anything Allura and him asked her to do regarding you

She would ask if there’s anything she can do

She just feels awful like this poor girl :(

Once hearing how long you’d have to stay in the healing pod, she definitely shuts down

It’s almost like she’s a robot, choosing to lock herself away in her room not wanting to see anyone

To distract herself from her guilt and remorse, she buries herself in any new and old projects

Despite clicking away at her laptop, she wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.

Sits out of your pod staring off into space

No matter how many times the group asks, she never tells them how she truly feels

No, they shouldn’t be asking her if she was ok

This was her fault. It was her fault that you had to stay in there, hopefully no longer in pain

Pidge would be the first to know that you’re out since she’s been waiting this entire time

Doesn’t speak a word to you as she helps you out and settles you on one of the stairs

Both of you would sit in silence before you decide to take her hand

“That wasn’t your fault Pidge. It was a smart idea, I was just there at the wrong time.”

Tears would down her face as she would lean her body against yours

“I’m sorry…”

Pidge would lose some confidence in herself, needing your help in building it back up

She would linger behind you now, not wanting to make the same mistakes

Would hold your hand to help her calm down, to know that you’re ok now

Give her lots of hugs man, she needs the support cuz her brain is not the best place to be when she still blames herself for hurting you :((((

Hunk

The Galra took the entire team by surprise while they were busy helping the residents of the planet they were on

Chaos fell throughout the area, the paladins rushing towards the lions to protect the innocent civilians

Despite you being sent to help shelter civilians, Hunk couldn’t help but worry over your safety

Normally you two would be hip to hip next to each other, so not having you near him really put him on edge

While attacking Galra fleets, the yellow paladin wouldn’t be conscious of the small figure running by a cliff nearby

It would be too late for Hunk to react to the rocks that were blasted by his lions beams as they came crashing down on you

His eyes widen in horror as he saw the pieces of rock fall around, watching as you held your shield up in a pathetic way of protecting yourself, only to lose sight of you when a particularly large rock fell over you

“NO!”

His panic would be through the roof as he would leave the rest of the paladins to fight off the galra

Shaky breaths from him are louder than the voices he hears from the comms of his helmet

“Hunk where are you going?!”

“Hunk we need you here now!”

“Guys I need some backup!”

This poor boy would be so overwhelmed with the others voices and trying to find you under all the rubble he unknowingly blasted on you

Yanking his helmet off and tossing it, he would instead focus on digging you out, sighing in relief once he finds you battered up, yet still breathing

Silent tears would travel his face as the yellow lion gently takes you in its mouth, making the difficult decision to leave behind his friends

He could only hope they would forgive him as he hears the panicked and furious yells coming from his helmet

Once at the castle, he would run through the halls to the healing pods, being careful to not hurt you any further

Hunk would fully blame himself

He just feels awful about the condition you’re in, babbling out what had happened as Coran propped you in a pod

“There was nothing you could have done, Hunk.” Coran’s reassuring hand on his shoulder wouldn’t help with his inner turmoil, especially once the rest of the team barges in

“Hunk! You just totally left us out there!” Lance hadn’t a clue what had happened

Overwhelmed, the team could only watch as tears and sniffles came from Hunk

After the event, Hunk would definitely be distant from the team

While the others would try to cheer him up, nothing could really bring him out of his head

The team would notice how he almost resembled a zombie during meetings and missions, on autopilot since that fateful day

In order to distract himself from his own feelings, Hunk would spend most of his free time cooking and baking

Though no matter how much dishes he cooks, everyone notices how each meal seems to be a bit off, never really tasting or looking right

He would also spend a lot of his time sitting in front of you, kinda having mini conversations with you (even though you can’t respond💔)

Hunk can’t sleep at night either since he gets waken up by his nightmares, constantly seeing your fragile body hiding underneath all the rubble in his dreams

I feel so bad for him because literally no one could have expected you to be caught in the crossfire of the battle

Shiro would try to talk to him, but his words would go in one ear and out the other, resulting in Hunk staring off into the distance with a reminiscent look im his eyes

One particular night though, his nightmare would scare him too much, not allowing him to go to sleep anymore

Rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, Hunk walks to the kitchen in the dead of night, needing to snack on something to distract himself from his pounding heart

Hearing footsteps, he would look over his shoulder from the fridge to see who else needed something to eat only to widen his eyes

“Y/N?”

Leaning on the entrance, your tired eyes met with his tired ones, and you would stumble towards him

Hunk puts down his food to quickly run over to you, helping you to a seat as his eyes shined with unshed tears

“What’s wrong Hunk? Did something happen?”

The way your hands rubbed under his eyes did not stop even when he closed his eyes, allowing his tears to finally fall

The room, lit only by the open fridge, filled with the sounds of Hunks sniffling as you drew him into a hug from your seat

“I thought that I had k-killed-“

“Hey. Don’t say that. I’m here, I’m alive, and that’s all that should matter.”

Taking a shaky breath, Hunk would pull away, bringing your hands back to his face as his head leaned into them

“I know. I’m just really, really sorry. I should have payed more attention.”

“It’s ok Hunk. If anything, I should be sorry, I shouldn’t have run into a clear danger zone.”

Hunk preps you a quick meal before taking you to bed, insisting you need as much rest as possible

He sleeps peacefully at last once he has you in his arms💔💔💔

Expect lots of hand-holding and hugs from this dude

He needs a lot of reassurance from you to remind him that you’re actually there next to him

Cooks you so much food, putting so much effort into each meals and making everything beyond your standards

(The team is definitely happy over this, now that they don’t have to eat any more space goo💀)

Would be protective of you the first few days since you’ve woken up, he’s just really paranoid of you getting injured like that again :(

Since that event, Hunk would be extremely cautious of his surroundings, making sure to avoid any more preventable injuries to those around him

Shiro

He has no idea what had happened

One minute he’s fighting alongside you against the sentries shooting at the two of you and the next he’s slammed you against a wall

He tries fighting himself from hurting you any further but the loud whisperings in his head seem to take control of his body

In that moment, you don’t recognize the man standing in front of you

Ducking and stumbling away, you quickly evade Shiro’s glowing hand, watching in horror as it goes through the wall

“SHIRO WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

His crazed eyes makes contact with yours, once again rushing towards you

In the corner of your eye you see a figure vanishing in thin air, realizing it might have been the witch Allura had told you all about

Distracted, Shiro manages to land a blow on your side causing you to grunt in pain and go tumbling towards the ground

You barely roll away before his fist meets the spot you once were at

“SHIRO PLEASE! THIS ISN’T YOU!”

You’re words don’t seem to have any affect on him as he’s up once again and heading straight towards you

As much as you hate the thought, you know you have to protect yourself from him as he’s too dangerous in the state he’s in

You’re dagger clashes against his metal arm, his strength slowly over powering you because of your injured arm

Kicking your side, Shiro’s narrowed eyes meet yours before he’s picking you up the ground

You grip his metal hand as it tightens around your neck, your breathing becoming shallow as he cuts off your airway

“Shiro… I forgive you…” You knew this wasn’t you’re Shiro, the man you knew coming out for a moment when you saw his eyes widen in surprise before going straight back to the dull black ones that stared straight through you

It was only when Lance began shooting at him out of no where did he throw you against a wall, officially knocking you out

Keith slammed his body against Shiro’s causing the two of them to crash on the ground, trying to over power the other

Then that’s when his head was finally able to clear up and stop fighting against Keith

“What’s going on? Why are we fighting?”

Everyone would stare in disbelief before quickly explaining what happened, Hunk already carrying your body towards the group, shielding you from the eyes of Shiro

He would stare in shock at the state of your body though, flashes of what might’ve happened going through his mind

Heading back to the castle, everyone would still be on edge around him

Seeing what he had done to you, this man does some serious evaluations on himself

How could he possibly hurt you, someone he cared for, this much?

Seeing the bruises forming on your neck scares him

If he did this to you, Shiro can’t imagine how far he would’ve gone if he wasn’t stopped in time

During your time in the healing pod, Shiro would distance himself from the team as he doesn’t fully trust himself enough around them, fearing he might hurt them all as well

He visits you daily, but once one of the other paladins enters the room he’s quickly excusing himself and walking away

He feels EXTREMELY guilty over what he did, going through many sleepless nights

He had almost killed you

He is harsher on the team during missions as well since he doesn’t want a repeat of what had happened with you

He is way harsher on himself too

Spends his time in the training room, tiring himself out with the gladiator, pushing his body past its limit

Still remembers what you said to him, so while you said you forgave him, I don’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself for hurting you

The team would notice the strain on them when Shiro began distancing himself from them

He was the one who put them all together so it really hurt them to see him struggle with the recent event

Once you finally awake from the pods, Shiro is the last one to greet you

You notice how he stands at a distance which causes you to narrow your eyes

“What’s wrong Shiro?”

The way you immediately notice his coldness causes his fake smile to strain

It never ceased to amaze him how you could see past him

He would explain his concerned to you once everyone decided to give you both privacy, how he was afraid of losing control again, how he had almost killed you

What had happened made him uncomfortable, knowing the power he held with his arm

You smile sadly as him reaching for his metal hand, faltering when he slightly moved it away from you

Sadness filled his eyes as he glanced to his arm before letting you take his hand

“I don’t blame you for anything Shiro. I know that wasn’t you, I know the real you. You would rather sacrifice your own life to save one of us, so please don’t be so harsh on yourself. You couldn’t control what happened.”

“Exactly. I couldn’t control what happened, I couldn’t control my own body.”

Your reunion was bittersweet to say the least

He is much more cautious around you

Keeps his distance for a few days before ultimately choosing to stay by your side

He wants to do anything to make up for your injuries

Much more softer around you and the others now that he knows you’re ok💔

Allura

“Allura what are you doing?!”

The mission the team was on was extremely crucial since, if successful, they would be able to retrieve valuable intel on Zarkons plans (ooo so original)

And it involved taking down his witch, Haggar

Allura was all for the plan and took it very serious

She believed this was one of their most important missions yet

So while it did surprise the group on how brutal the princess was in fighting her way to Haggar, no one really tried to stop her, knowing just how much it meant for them to get this information

Yet you could see the danger her aggressive behavior was dragging her in

You’d jump in front of her, trying to stop her from pushing herself too far

“Y/N what are you doing?! We must stop that witch from getting away!”

Allura was on a one track kind, take down Haggar and get any useful info from her, but you were making it extremely difficult to do so

Blinded by her own needs, she didn’t take into account of how hard she had thrown you to the ground away from her when she managed to wrap her bayard around you

Running from your injured self to Haggard, she was yanked to the ground

“Allura watch out!”

She could only watch in shock as you dashed in front of her from the ground to protect her from the blast Haggard sent

Her hands shook as she watched your body hit the ground

Haggar was getting ready to blast you both again, forcing Allura to attempt to drag you away before a searing pain filled her body, causing her to crumble down to the ground beside you

Tears filled her eyes as she watched in pain as your breathing became ragged

You both were in this situation because of her

Allura was forced to watch as the witch made her escape, the mission resulting in a failure

After getting help from the paladins and returning to the house of lions, Allura would immediately distance herself from everyone

She’s not only disappointed in herself for costing the team their mission, but she feels terrible for putting your life at such a high risk, all because she didn’t know when to stop

She would mostly lock herself up in her room while you spend your time in the healing pods

Whenever someone tried to approach her door, they would only be met with the sound of her soft sobs

When she isn’t in her room though, Allura is extremely harsh and temperamental with the others

She doesn’t know how to properly release her emotions which causes her to lash out often to those around her

She would be too afraid to visit you in the healing bay

She feels too ashamed to face you, even if you aren’t really conscious

I also think she would brush aside any concern the team may show for her, instead, trying to keep up her image as a strong leader

(Which isn’t working out, everyone can see she’s basically a ticking time bomb)

Allura pushes herself even harder now during missions and battles, which is lowkey kinda hypocritical of her since that’s what got her in that position in the first place

After briefly talking with Keith, Allura would find herself in the training deck, hoping to relieve some of her pent up emotions with the gladiator

Maxing out to the highest possible level, the princess managed to tire herself out, not having enough energy to beat the machine

Grunting in pain, she waited for the gladiator to land a hit on her before she heard the voice of the person she was dreading to see

“End training sequence!”

You would run to her and cradle her body, concern written all over your face

Despite putting you in danger and managing to hurt you in the process, you still cared for her well-being

Tears well up in the princesses eyes before she gave you a crushing hug

Feeling her body shake against yours, you gently wrap your arms around her, whispering soothing words

“I almost got you killed…”

“I’m still here, are’t I?”

Allura would definitely learn a lot through that experience

She would stop pushing herself so hard and begin relying on her team to assist her during missions

She would also linger around you more often than not

She still feels incredibly guilty for what she put you through, but doesn’t tell you (you know though💔)

I also think that she MIGHT be more open to physical affection in front of the others since she needs to confirm that you’re still alive and popping

Holding your hand is something that she does a lot now since it soothes her heart knowing you’re still with her

Expect her to be a little more protective of you though, she does not want you to be in such a critical state again

She doesn’t want to lose you too :(

[writing-in-lesbian]

Salvation in Disguise

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff / Female reader (platonic) Tags: angst, cursing words, minor assumed violence, mentions of homophobia, legal age gap. Translations: pozhaluysta = please. Synopsis: When Wanda is leaving Westview, all its habitants felt relieved, left to their own devices to rebuild their old lives and to never heard from Wanda again. Except for you. You were left with an important decision. Her spell and control over your family gave you an escape from their control and mistreats towards you. So when she's driving away, you had a few minutes to save your life.

You were at the park having a rare time for yourself. Your parents allowed you to go and walk around before you have to go back for lunch. A rare occasion indeed, since you were 99% of your time with your parents and siblings, despite being legally out of age and with a well-paid job. 

For some reason, that seems normal to all your neighbors, living at your parent's house feels normal, but to you, there’s something else. You can’t explain it but you feel something is not quite right, but since you have so much fun when you’re with them you don’t question the nagging feeling in the back of your head.

With the day off, you decided to take on Agnes' advice and try that coffee shop in front of the park. Has it always been here? You can’t remember seeing it before, but with so many things happening lately and your constant daydreaming you think it might have been renovated and you never noticed.

You ordered the special of the day a “dirty chai” (which is just a chai latte with an espresso shot) and an integral muffin (balance) before going back to the park to do your favorite activity: people watching. 

Choosing your favorite bench in front of the fountain, you enjoy your small snack hoping to see at least from afar your favorite person in the whole town. Wanda Maximoff. 

You don’t remember when they moved here, maybe you never paid any attention to the people around your hood, but when it came to her? It was unavoidable not to. You formed a good relationship after the twins were born, helping her babysit for a few days after Monica went back to her hometown. The boys grew so fast (almost in the blink of an eye) but they were your favorite ones to watch. You even like Vision (was it an odd name? Sure) despite he being the one married to your crush. 

You were so engrossed and lost in your thoughts you don’t notice Wanda running into the park. It’s not until you heard a loud crash you turn your eyes to the sky and see it.

Agnes. 

Floating up there in the sky and throwing what it seems flashes of lights.

And Wanda. Beautiful and innocent Wanda.

Floating as well.

You see a purple light go straight to her.

You drop your muffin and get up from the bench so fast. “WANDA WATCH OUT!”

You’re not sure if she heard you but before you can yell at her again that same light hits you square on the chest, sending you a few meters away and impacting your body against a lamp post. Everything goes black.

… … …

”I’m not a witch. I don’t cast spells. No one taught me magic”

“Your powers exceed that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It’s your destiny to destroy the world” … … …

You hear a lot of commotion, you grunt and try to open your eyes. Everything is dark, a red mist covering the sky. You desperately look around for Wanda. You have a horrible headache, it’s as if something trapped in your mind is trying to get free. You try to get up but your body refuses, managing only to sit up.

You hear Agnes's voice up above you and when you look up at the sky, Wanda is there, surrounded by the red mist. It looks as if it's coming out of her. Her previous red hoodie is now a red top, on her forehead, there’s a tiara.

Standing there open-mouthed you can’t help but appreciate her beauty and strength. Even Agnes (did she call her Agatha?) Is it a weird kind of purple robe? You hear the twins and Monica around you, you even saw a flash of something red and white flaying on the other side of the park but you don’t have eyes for anyone else but Wanda.

A big explosion surrounds you and the park. And then everything goes black again, but you’re conscious this time. You know you should go back home, you’re not sure what’s happening but you’ll probably be safer at home.

There’s this nagging feeling again inside your head. At this point, it might explode from the pain. Migraines are nothing compared to this, but you can’t move. You are glued to your spot. You can’t stop outlook out for Wanda.

Suddenly, the sun comes out again (did it ever went down) and everything is bright. You see Monica in a black and white uniform in front of the twins, Vision s there as well but he’s….red? (You. Might have hit your head harder than you expect it. Westview was known for weird shit happening but this is extreme). 

When you see Wanda again, you see her talking to Agnes, and right before your eyes, her clothes change, her angry and scared voice goes back to being the overly sweet lady you once knew. You stand up and run back home despite your mind screaming not to.

// // //

It’s past midnight when you feel it. You were awakened by this flash of light bringing you back from dreamland gasping for air. 

Your mind is racing 3000 miles a second. Memories of your life coming up to you. 

Being yelled at, hit and slapped, punished by the person’s that should love you no matter what just for loving another girl. 

Been kept against your own will at the house.

The constant verbal and physical abuse. 

The loneliness of being taken far away from your friends and your ex-girlfriend and going to live in the middle of nowhere town when you were 16. A town so small no one would even think about looking out for you here. 

The hopelessness of not being able to run away because your father was a retired high-rank government officer. 

You check your thighs and wrists. The fading scars are there. The ones where you cut to numb the paint make you forget and maybe the final one that takes you out of this realm. 

You remember one day being up in your room crying yourself to sleep when your headaches started. You were no stranger to migraines, but this was worse, so bad you wanted to vomit. 

You ran to your bathroom. Next thing you know, you were having family dinners and going on Sunday family trips. 

And you knew everything was related to Wanda. Things changed when she came to town.

Wanda, the park, Agnes (guess is Agatha know). You suddenly put 2 and 2 together.

Wanda.

You need to see her.

You know you need to run to her. She might be your salvation.

You think you probably have a few hours before everyone is starting to get up and getting their memories, but the noise coming from your parent's rooms tells you it’s not that much.

Throwing a few changes of clothes, the few money you had saved from your babysitting days, you take your bag and slowly and quietly make your way downstairs. If the clock is right is almost 3 am.

You reach the main floor when the door of your parent's rooms cracks. You hold your breath, praying to someone they don’t notice you. The bathroom door closes a few seconds later. You make your way to the living room, only noticing the one picture is there. You stand there, behind your parents and where they used to be your siblings, you see there’s nothing there. It was just part of whatever Wanda created for you.

You take the opportunity and open the living room window and jump through it. The main and back doors are locked at night and only your father has the key. One night when he left you outside all night after getting late 3 minutes after your curfew, you made sure to break the lock on the leaving room window in case of an emergency. They never opened it so never noticed it.

You see the bathroom light is still on. You count to ten before sprinting toward the driveway and towards Wanda’s house, hoping to find her. At this point, you’ll be happy to find Agatha or even Monica.

Before you arrive at her house you stop. You don’t even know if your theory is correct but at this point of your life, you’re ready to risk it. 

You get there and look for her house. All you see is an empty lot.

No house, no construction, not even the reminiscent of anything. You start to panic.

“No, no, no, no”

Your breath gets shallow and your eyes are burning from your tears. You look frantically trying so desperately to find a sign of her. Anything but there’s nothing.

“You shouldn’t be here… Y/N”

Her thick accent makes you turn so fast your neck hurts.

“Wanda” you say with relief in your voice. She’s taken aback, clearly not expecting it. Her eyes are swollen and her red outfit is nowhere to be seen. Instead, she’s wearing a black hoodie.

You take a step towards her but she takes one back. You stop. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I…”

You don’t know. You just wanted to see her. The night air is colder or maybe is just your nerves. You hug yourself in order to get some warmth into your body. Your pj’s aren’t exactly the warmest ones.

She sees this and conjures a thick jacket around you. When you say nothing she continues putting some bags into her car. A black and heavy-looking bag pack at her shoulders. 

“You’re leaving?”

“I don’t think I’m welcoming here anymore Y/N. You should go home”

It’s the panic of not seeing her again, of her leaving you that has you getting closer to her and taking her wrist, stopping whatever task she was doing.

“Take me with you”

“What?” Her voice is barely a whisper but in the silence of the night is so loud she might be well yelling at you.

“Take me whit you Wanda… please”

You don’t beg. Never. Not after learning at a young age it only brought more problems, your father never stopped if you begged, it just enraged him more, so you learn to never beg, for anything.

She sees your hand on her wrist and feels the emotions swilling around you. She dares not to look at your mind but your thoughts are so loud she can’t help to see half of the abuse you have suffered. 

A small gasp leaves her lips.

“Why do you want to go with me? I’m a monster. You saw it yourself”

“You’re not a monster. Not to me”

She’s still watching your hand. Your voice is just a whisper.

“I trapped you here”

“You freed me”

“I controlled your mind!”

“You saved me!”

“You... I… what?” She’s speechless, her nose scrunched in this little way you always thought cute.

“I don’t know the extend of what happened or how it happened, All I know is that my life was hell, literal hell and then you came into Westview and…”

“I should never have done what I did Y/N. You should be afraid of me”

“I’m not”

“Well you should”

You can tell she’s getting exasperated. Her eyes flashing red.

“Wanda… pozhaluysta”

It’s that little world in her native langue that has her seeing you for the first time this night. She sees your eyes and sees all the pain and anguish you have. She sees the same reflected in her eyes.

A plea in your eyes. You don’t see her as a monster or the Scarlet Witch. When you see her, she can see hope in your eyes.

She joined the Avengers and fought at their side to save people. The recent events after Thanos sidetracked her and blinded her. She was grieving and in pain… and did things she never thought of doing. Was she really what Hydra, Ultron, Agatha, and a lot of people said she was? Someone to be afraid of?

But you were here and as much as she just wants to grieve and is suffering, she has the chance again of being a hero. To make the effort and fight for once she once fought, to be worthy again, to make Vision sacrifice worth, to fight for the love she once felt.

“Okey”

The smile you give her is prof enough she can start again.

When Wanda left Westview and all its habitants, they felt relieved, left to their own devices to rebuild their old lives and to never heard from her again. Except for you. 

You were leaving with her, escaping from the real prison you lived before she came into your life and offered you your salvation in disguise.

[ruby-whistler]

Srry but i noticed in one of ur dream posts u Referred to tommy's cat as hope. I must correct u, that cat was born pussbou and died pussboi. /lh Also tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile btw just wanna say Also for ur posts about dreams trauma or wilbur manipulating him can u provide links to vods or other proof? Srry if i seem rude i mean that in a "genuinely curious way"

Aaa sorry if my ask came off as rude im just genuinely curious :(((

hi! dw, you don't seem rude at all, and i'm extremely happy someone with a different perspective has found my blog! i really appreciate that sort of attitude and am happy to answer :]

/dsmp /rp

the cat was called pussboy by tommy, but dream only called it "the cat" and then said that "it was hope", which is why it sort of became a symbol (his hope is dead, basically) - that's why i kind of made its name capitalized, because it was more of a metaphor than anything.

most c!dream fans call the cat hope because it's just really nice and really symbolic, and also really sad when you think about it. that's why the name was used in the essay, just to clear up the confusion!

tommy killing that cat was nothing compared to dream killing mushroom henry in exile

i don't really think so? mooshroom henry was entertainment more than anything, and even if it was bad, when watching the stream i don't remember seeing him mourn that much - on the other hand, dream was very quickly and very obviously attached to the cat, with it being his only companion in months of isolation, along with the hope that even when tommy left it would keep him company.

keep in mind c!dream has been deprived of stimuli and human contact for so long it's officially classified as psychological torture at that point.

i don't mean to compare trauma or even compare deaths - because honestly, what c!dream and c!tommy have gone through individually is incomparable and i think neither should be diminished in favor of the other since they're both terrible situations.

that's why i disagree that it "was nothing compared to" - it had an obvious effect on c!dream, and was still c!tommy killing an animal specifically to hurt him, no matter what reasons he had.

when i'm talking about effects people's actions have had on c!dream, i'm not talking about those people. i'm talking about him. :) /lh

as for the trauma, a lot of people agree that a lot of the things he says or does are trauma responses, and hence it's very possible that he's had trauma before he went into prison!

this includes being repeatedly called a tyrant via propaganda by about half of your friends who decided to betray you, trying to keep peace and being pushed deeper into villainy instead, repeatedly being put in between a rock and a hard place in order to make sure the people you care about don't start killing each other, then being betrayed by your closest friends after merely trying to keep peace (sapnap & george) and just in general having no control over your life or image and grasping at straws to gain it back.

i know a lot of people with trauma who heavily relate to certain trauma responses, which aren't always just shaky breaths and flashbacks, but trauma often also manifests itself in extremely ugly and destructive ways, both inwardly and outwardly.

trying to control the people around you is also very often a response to going through trauma, as well as emotional repression which is... rather evident on c!dream during season two. it only seems to get worse with repeated abandonment.

in the end, during the vault scene, the way he acts really just isn't at all the way a healthy person would act, and a lot of his really bad mindsets come from the way he was taught by the world around him.

the character is very reserved however, and since we don't have his pov we can't really say for certain - a lot of people claim it in good faith because they have a lot of evidence for it, and i think they're certainly valid in that.

that is just before the prison, however. from what happened during the prison arc? there is no denying he's traumatized at this point.

he's been emotionally and physically abused by c!sam since the very beginning of being imprisoned, and being in solitary confinement for over two weeks is generally considered psychological (and maybe also physical?) torture. that alone shows up in a lot of symptoms of his mental deterioration while in pandora's during people's visits, and quackity's "sessions" just absolutely drove the point home.

what he's gone through during this arc is absolutely incomparable to anything others charactes have faced before, and it's just plain suffering being endured by someone who is, despite everything, still a human being.

as for the wilbur manipulation thing!! it's talking about the whole vassal scene (though even beforehand a lot of their interactions are pretty iffy), and here's a post about that :]

I also have a small question about the analysis u last reblogged cus it says "why dream needed lmanburg gone rightfully" and like. The house analogy is poor because for one cus the land is infinite. And 2 cus punz's yard was literally larger then lmanburg. And also stuff about dream being a mediator? Can u provide examples?

i wouldn't say it was poor. dream's said a lot of times that he didn't care in the slightest about the land - a lot of his problems with l'manberg arose with the fact that wilbur basically built it on lies and tried to disallow half of the server to come there. c!dream was mad about the division and the fact that wilbur wanted "freedom" to have authority in his lands - over others, as can be seen in this post also.

the table analogy was fitting not because dream was some overlord, but because these were literally friends he invited to hang out and live in a place he wanted to call home. claiming a part of it for yourself and saying people of a certain nationality can't come in is directly opposing those goals.

in the early days of the smp, dream's always been a mediator between his friends - sapnap and george, who would often get into fights and go around killing each other! he would always do his best to stop the conflict, which continued after tommy joined when he took him to court and then later tried to mediate conflicts he was a part of, which resulted in tommy killing him unprovoked, stealing his gear, and starting the disc wars when dream was trying to get his stuff back. later, during pogtopia, he is also most concerned with peace over everything, and this seems to continue indefinitely after.

Today i was thinking about how messed up the final control room was. Like. Dream arranged the betrayal and punz and sapnap killed tommy and tubbo who like. Were literal children and their pals (because the author, wilbur soot, is dead/j but srsly if u take the streamers words tommy said he was 9 during the revolution sooo)

Sorry im gonna ramble about how dumb canon ages are for a second cus like. Streamers can say the characters are one way or another (wilbur saying he is mentally 30-something, etc.) But in the end the characters act like they(or at least their streaming personas) do.

i... honestly don't find it that bad? they were in a war, and the final control room was basically just supposed to end it quicker. the l'manbergians made it clear they were going to fight to the death, so they really left c!dream no other choice. and it's not like he didn't give them chances to give up.

also yeah the 9 year old thing was retconned, because in that case c!dream would've been 14 and i don't think that's true.

c!tommy and c!dream were both young and once again, in a war. the final control room was an attempt to assure victory, which both sides would've taken if possible, but only c!dream saw he had the option.

i do agree the whole child soldier thing was bad but... complain about that to c!wilbur, methinks. he talked naive kids into fighting for his personal power. however, the age argument isn't really valid either way. they had enough agency to sign up for it, and whether or not c!wilbur pushing the intense nationalism onto them had something to do with that is another debate entirely.

Bacl to final control room cus like??? Also fun fact punz took 2 of wilbur's canon lives. And like that probably is what started wilbur's paranoia which later lead to his spiral and i. Many thoughts full of lmanburg today.

i'm pretty sure cc!wilbur said what lead to c!wilbur's spiral was a "dark, twister view of possessions" and "disregard for his fellow citizen whom he claimed to love so much", but i really wouldn't say it was the control room; if anything the sudden loss of power after the elections seems to me like the trigger for his spiral.

I watched the exile arc live and. I feel dirty almost for feeling little to no sympathy for c!dream (srry ive been forgetting to add that aa) because of his actions toward c!tommy and like. The whole probation was so humiliating and unfair and c!dream was planning to frame him for the crimes he and puffy did under the the guise of "pranks" and c!quackity was planning to seize the vice president role.

i mean... to be fair, if you didn't watch the prison arc much yet or only watch tommy's perspective i understand not feeling that sympathetic - however, i encourage you to maybe watch a few prison visits, since they could help you see the whole picture better!

i also watched it live, and i also thought it was terrible, but i share very much the same sentiment for the prison arc because. absolutely no one should have to go through either of those things, you know?

i don't think probation was that humiliating? he was just. being asked to not start conflict with the other factions for two weeks. of course, what happened as a result is in no way justified, but i don't think probation itself would've been bad at all. either way yeah the framing and c!quackity's behaviour was. very yikes, i agree.

Also c!tommy antis are dumb because they say "he deserved exile angry emoji" i dont see u saying that about ranboo. Just say you hate cc!tommy and go. Also people say c!tommy was just as toxic to c!dream and i??? No. One is the victim and one is the abuser and like. :/// man. This part is rambly srry

i wouldn't say they hate cc!tommy? cc!tommy has a persona who people think is annoying at first ( but then they subscribe because he is super entertaining big man! ) but a lot of c!tommy's actions are straight up toxic to certain characters, such as c!funndy and c!jack. he has a very dismissive attitude towards others and their trauma and it does affect the people around them very negatively.

examples; his repeated bullying and behavior towards fundy:

Tommy: “Fundy, I’m just here to kinda let you know that I – if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manburg, alright? Just remember – you need to keep that relationship with your father. I saw how asshole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night. You need to pull your shit together young man.”

......

Fundy: “I’m wearing glasses…are you making fun of my eyesight?!”

Tommy: “Yes.”

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Wh – disappointed for wearing glasses?!”

Tommy: “You got glasses, like what are you wearing…”

Fundy: “What do you mean?”

Tommy: “Sapnap, Sapnap, over here. Fundy, Fundy, Fundy, I’m really sorry to say this – I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “…What?”

( credit for transcript: @/findingjoynweirdstuff )

he's also responsible for a big chunk of c!jack's trauma, both with actions and words, and that's why i think certain people might dislike the character, and i don't think that's wrong of them. anyone can dislike any character they want if they don't attack people for liking them, in my opinion.

also c!tommy was most definitely toxic against c!dream in the cell. it's of course understandable but that doesn't change the fact he was constantly hitting and insulting him (without dream doing anything back for a long while until he snapped) which is toxic behaviour.

i wouldn't say he was "just as" though, so i agree with you on that. they're different and they behave differently.

i made a dream blob keychain today. Is it possible to send images if u wanna see? Idk cus i havent used tumblr before. I think that's all for now. Thx for letting me talk :D peepoShy -curious anon (but fr a connoreatspants c!dream redemption arc would be cool)

yooo that's cool! i don't really,,, know if it's possible to send images? try it out and if it isn't i'll try find a way to turn it on.

also, no problem! just please remember this is a c!dream sympathetic blog, and me as well as my followers are uhh,, oftentimes emotionally attached / personally relate to the character, so if you could avoid sending hate on the character (not that you have or that i expect you to, just a friendly reminder) in the asks that would be great! we already see a lot of it unwillingly so, i'd rather not see more, but as long as the discussion is civil i'm absolutely ok with you asking more and with me answering more questions if you'd want to! :)

if anyone else would like to reblog this and add some things i might've missed with my answers, feel free to, just go easy on her (she uses she/her pronouns!) and keep it factual.

i hope u had a good or at least ok time at school today :D

thanks! i gtg now because exam tomorrow but i'm going to try write the redemption essay tomorrow as well because ohhh boy i have a lot of ideas about what all i could write around the concept.

also sorry this was long, i can't keep my tongue on the leash :[

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

After Your Love | Sam Winchester

✦ pairing — Sam Winchester x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 1k

✦ summary — Sam and you come to a silent understanding.

✦ request — Could I request a canon universe Sam Winchester, with F12, F14, F49, and F50?

✶ F12 - “I love you more than coffee.” distant gasps

✶ F14 - “I’m tired and my bed feels so empty without you here.”

✶ F49 - “That night you kissed me and I thought I might melt.”

✶ F50 - “From the moment I saw you, I knew I was in love.”

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of alcohol, fluff.

════════════════════════

You were dreading the moment you would reach your street. Tiredness wasn’t enough yet to motivate you to arrive at an empty home.

Ironically, it really was your home and you would never dare to say you didn’t consider it as such.

Well-lit streets weren’t a norm around your block. You were extremely lucky that yours was the exception. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that there were a lot of children around.

Children made you feel less lonely when they ran across the street, laughing and squealing. You didn’t get to watch them or hear them often, only on the weekends, and even then your work kept its grip on you.

The place welcomed you in all of its coldness. The day had been nice, not too hot but not too cold, yet the living room was freezing.

It was in moments like this that you missed your small one-bedroom apartment. It didn’t feel lonely even though you were always by yourself.

This wasn’t that different, you still lived on your own. But Sam visited often, there was no better way to spend alone time than at your place.

Everywhere you looked at, a piece of him reigned. A stack of books, his favorite mug, that warm jacket...

You missed him. Something you were also used to. You would never complain about his line of work, he had been honest to you about it even before dating. You just missed him when he was out of town, plain and simple.

Sam put a lot of effort into the relationship, you felt comfortable with him because of that.

He would call soon, he always did. So in the meantime, you took a shower and got ready for bed.

You were barely finished with your nightly routine when your cellphone rang. Sam’s photograph lit up the screen.

Giddy, you accepted the call and greeted him, “Hi.”

“Hey, you.” He sounded tired.

“How’s it going?”

He sighed heavily. “It’s going.”

You made a face. That meant he would take longer than usual.

“How was your day?”

“Long,” you admitted. “The weekend will be a nightmare.” You got under the covers as you continued speaking, “I think I’ll visit my mom on Sunday after work.”

Sam sounded like he liked the idea as he said, “Say hi to her from me. And have fun with her.”

“I’ll try.”

His excitement faded. “What’s wrong?”

Inwardly cursing yourself for letting him know how you were feeling without even saying it, you shuffled on the bed. “I’m tired and my bed feels so empty without you here.”

He huffed a small and sad laugh. “I know, babe. I miss you too.”

“You’ll make it up to me.” Or at least you hoped.

“I will, but I gotta go now. I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, trying your hardest to hide your disappointment. “Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you more than coffee.”

You heard Dean distantly gasp in the background before the line clicked.

════════════════════════

It was raining, therefore children were out with their parents, having fun with the puddles. Their glee, while endearing, wasn’t the reason why you were at peace. Not entirely.

You finally felt safe. After almost two excruciatingly long weeks without him, you had him back.

A free day, rain, hot coffee, a movie, and Sam. What else could you need?

The bliss of being in Sam’s arms could never be compared. He had a natural warmth to it that had little to nothing to do with his body.

You were sat with your back against his chest, with your hands on top of his as his breath tickled your skin.

“Wanna know something?” The question vibrated around the room, mixed with the tapping of the rain on the ceiling.

“Anything.” You would never deny him. Sam’s opinions were treasured by you, just like his random comments and his bad jokes.

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I was in love.” He let out a small laugh. “I sound like a teenager, but it’s true.”

You smiled, leaning the side of your head against his shoulder. “Yeah?”

He hummed. “Remember when we celebrated Dean’s birthday next town?” It was your time to hum. “That night you kissed me and I thought I might melt.”

“I’m surprised you remember that. You were so drunk...”

Alcohol had helped you to get bold that night, and although at the moment the tiniest part of your brain told you you would regret it, by the next morning you were happy you had gone for it.

But Sam had been in a worse state than you. He had told you it was okay to kiss him, but he hadn’t really acknowledged that night when he officially asked you out.

“How could I forget?”

“Drunk me tends to forget some stuff,” you playfully teased him, giving him a light kiss on the jaw.

Sam tightened his grip around you, forcing you to shift so you wouldn’t hurt your neck.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I’ve never felt so loved before.” As though he had realized something, he added, “Not romantically, at least.”

“I’m glad,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. It was an odd position, but you didn’t really care. “I have lots of love to give you still.”

“You better,” he said breathily, “I don’t want to know how life would be after your love.”

“Oh, Sam,” you sighed. He was more romantic than you, definitely. And you only loved him more for it. “I don’t want you to know that either.”

You couldn’t promise things would be perfect or that you would make it until the end, but you were aware that Sam knew that so you discarded the idea of ruining the moment stating the obvious.

So instead you peppered his profile with kisses and relaxed against his warmth, feeling him relax as you came to a silent understanding.

[revengeoftheantichrist]

What Kind of Man

Warnings: recovering from injury, possessive behaviour    AO3  <<<Previous

Chapter 6: Haze

You woke to the sensation of someone running their fingers through your hair. Slowly opening your eyes; it must have been the afternoon. You don’t remember going to bed. You started to whimper; your leg hurt so much. Why did it hurt? What happened while you wandered the halls? “Shh shh my love, it’s alright, you’ll be better soon,” cooed the voice. You looked up, confused, why was Michael here? “M- Michael, why are you here a day early? Did something happen?” you questioned. As you tried to get up, the pain in your leg shot through you, bringing tears to your eyes. He gently pushed you back down, wiping the tears. “It’s Friday my dear,” he stated. “What do you mean its Friday? I went for a walk on Monday. And why does my leg hurt?” the questions just spilled out of you. Michael lay next to you, holding your hand in his, stroking it with his thumb. Just feeling the warmth again calmed you down a little. “I arrived on Wednesday,” he started. “Mrs Mead found you in the servants’ hallway on Monday night. You had collapsed from your fever and set fire to your night gown in the process. The fire was put out, but …” he hesitated. “your leg has been burnt a little.” A wave of nausea hit you. You finally looked down to your leg, it was wrapped in gauze. As you looked you felt the pain get worse, finally acknowledging your injury. “The shock and the fever combined had you out cold for a few days. You did wake occasionally, albeit you were a little delirious.” “H-How bad is it?” you asked. “second degree nearer to your foot, first up to your thigh. Mrs Mead had put you out very quickly. The physician is due to visit today to check the progress, to see if it’ll scar or not,” he explained. You started to cry. From the pain, from the fever, from the turn your fate seemed to have taken since you married this man. Why had the universe been so cruel to you? Who had you wronged? Had you done something in your past life and was this your punishment? He pulled you into his chest, warm arms enveloping you. He stroked his fingers through your forehead, letting you sob into him wholeheartedly. “I want to se my m-mother,” you cried. “Oh little dove, I was already on my way back before any letters could reach me. You know I would have brought her with me if I could, I’d give you the moon if u asked.” You cried until you tired out, but the pain was still unbearable. You just wanted to be held and to sleep. “No sleeping for you Mrs Langdon, you need to eat something before you put your head down again,” Michael stated. As if on que, Mrs Mead came in with a tray of food. A hearty soup and some bread, the same as before. “Dinner time seems to be the crying hour for you,” she joked. You pressed you face further into Michaels chest, embarrassed at her observation. She set the tray down and left, leaving just you and your husband. He rearranged the pillows so you could sit up comfortably and brought you meal over. As you reached for your soup, he slapped your hand away. “You’re sick, I’ll help you.” “Michael, my leg is burnt, not my hands,” you stated. “That is of no concern to me, now say ‘ahh’,” he replied, holding the spoon up to you. You hesitated and looked away before opening your mouth. You knew he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. He fed you the rest of the meal; time flew as you asked about his trip, wanting to take your mind off the pain. //// You had fallen asleep again by the time the doctor had arrived. Woken by a cold press on your forehead, your fever had returned. “Good afternoon Lady Langdon, its nice to see you finally awake. I’m Dr Montgomery and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he introduced. You could only nod in reply, the pain making you unable to speak. “I’ve already checked your leg; Medina has changed the dressing. I suggest bed rest until next week. The wound will take a few weeks to fully heal; you’re extremely lucky, the wound isn’t too deep so scarring will be minimal,” he finished. “Will it still hurt?” you asked. “Your pain should reduce in a few days, however your fever is making it feel worse, so I have prescribed some Laudanum. All I can suggest for your illness is rest, and that too shall pass.” “Why am I sick?” you asked again. Dr Montgomery sighed, “It isn’t uncommon in new brides. Especially moving from the south to the north. It’s a sort of homesickness. The faster you get accustomed to the temperature and new surroundings, the better.” Something deep in your gut told you that he was lying, your sickness was caused by something else. And what about your nightmares? What could explain those? A simple fever could not be the culprit. But you kept your mouth shut, this man was not to be trusted. He left you alone with Medina, and you drifted off again. //// The laudanum was helping with the pain, but the constant daze it kept you in frustrated you. Michael had moved his office into your room for now to keep an eye on you; you had tried to leave the room far too many times to leave you unattended. The rustling of paper and the scratch of the pen remined you that you were being watched. Despite that, you still tried to get out of bed. “How many times do you have to be put back in bed?” you heard from the other side of the room. His tone was stern. “I’m getting sick of staying in bed all day,” you slurred out. Michael sighed and walked over to you. He lifted you and carried you over to his desk, sitting down and placing you in his lap. “There, now you’re not in bed.” You couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed. He adjusted you so the pair of you were comfortable. The scratching of the pen starting again. “what are you doing,” you asked. “I’m finalising plans for a trip.” “You’re leaving again?” “I’m taking you with me. Once your leg is healed enough, we’ll be going to Paris,” he smiled at you. Paris. How you hated the sound of that city. Your brother’s stories echoing through your head, the anger breaking through the haze of the medication. “I don’t want to go.” “Why not, it’ll be our honeymoon and it truly is a beautiful city, quite romantic at night.” You answered before you could stop yourself, “of course you’d know all about the city at night.” Michael stopped writing, putting his pen down and inhaling. “And what do you mean by that hmm?” “Nothing,” you replied, you could feel the rage building inside him. He grabbed your face, making you look up at him. “Answer me properly. What are you talking about?” “My brother spoke about your grand tour,” you mumbled. His nostrils flared and his grip on your jaw tightened enough to bruise. The drugs only allowed you the feel the pressure and not the pain that would have come with such a tight grip. You winced anyway. “Gabriel needs his tongue cut out it seems.” “Sho itsh all true then?” you tried to get out, he was still squishing your cheeks. He finally let go of your face. Pushing your hair from your face and stroking your jaw instead. “I am a changed man Y/N. I was a different person two years ago. I was young and unmarried. I’d be a fool to betray you in such a way,” he sighed. “I’d kill you if your ever did,” you smiled at him, the Laudanum seemed to have removed all filters, making you say what was on your mind. You lightly pecked his lips, settling into his chest for another nap. //// You had been given the clear for your bandages to come off, and your fever had gone. You decided to have a bath while you were alone for the first time in almost two weeks. The water was a little cooler than you would have liked it to be, but you didn’t want to agitate your burns. You tried to relax, thinking about the past few weeks of your life. You had been married almost a month now. There was a sense of foreboding before you walked down the aisle that day; every single event since has just made it worse. The nightmares, Michael’s volatile attitude, the painting and now being scarred for life; it all weighed heavy on you. You think that you might be driven insane, or maybe even killed. You didn’t know. would you even last the year? The painting. You had forgotten about it in all the commotion. It had scared you enough to almost die. Why was Michael’s mothers face painted over? Did he want to forget her? Your thoughts stopped in their tracks as the feeling of being watched overwhelmed you. Just like the first night you were here. You got out of the tub, carefully drying yourself off before heading to the dressing room. //// The dressing room was cold as usual, making goose bumps rise all over your skin. You caught a glimpse of your scar in the mirror, moving your robe aside to get a closer look. It started just above your ankle, all the way up to your outer hip. You let your robe hang loosely around your shoulders, as you untied it to inspect the top of the scar. The skin there was sensitive, it felt different to the healthy skin around it. It made you a little self-conscious. No one would ever see it, but you would always know it was there, a reminder of the fear you let overcome you, of your fragile state of mind. You felt weak, so far from the girl you used to be. Your reputation in the local area of your home was one of an intelligent and brave girl, a tongue so sharp that even the priest had banned you from attending church on occasions. But here you were now, pathetic, letting your dreams out of all things, control your actions. “it seems that Aphrodite herself has blessed me with her presence today.” You quickly went to retie your robe and cover your leg, but Michael stopped you before you could. He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. His hair was damp, and he donned a robe; he must have had a bath too. His pulled your robe aside, exposing you leg to him. You wished he would never see it. “Don’t you see what I see? Does the mirror not show you the form that occupies my mind?” he asked, as he trailed his fingers over your scar, you almost wept at the tenderness of his touch. He let go of your waist, moving in front of you before he knelt down. “Michael! What are you doing? Get up from there please!” you cried out. This man, who many saw as a god, had knelt before you. He looked at you with a hunger and devotion seen in the faces of the worshippers in temples of the ancient world. He paid no mind to your distress. Instead moving to kiss your scar. He started at your ankle, looking up at you as he made his way up, leaving no part untouched. He stopped briefly to pull the stool behind you, making you sit down. Without a word, he started working his way up to the inside of your thighs, alternating between kisses and little bites. His actions ignited a fire in your belly. Making you shift around to alleviate some of the tension you were feeling. He stopped and rested his cheek on your thigh, you ran your fingers through his now dry hair. “There’s a hunger in me that only you can satiate,” he whispered. He pried your thighs apart, looking directly at your wet folds. “You wouldn’t be cruel enough to let me starve, now would you?” He ran his fingers through your wetness, making you moan and grip his hair. He hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you towards his face. You had to hold the edge of the stool to stop yourself from falling back. He licked a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. The sensation was so foreign to you, but you wanted more. He licked and sucked on your lips and clit, like a man truly starved. You felt his groans vibrating through you, bringing you closer to the edge. “M- Michael, that feels so good,” you moaned out. You could feel him smirk as you gripped his hair tighter, lightly scratching his scalp in appreciation. He dove in further, his nose pressed against you as he fucked you with his tongue. He felt you begin to tighten around him and moved up to suck on your clit, he looked you in the eyes as he brought you over the edge, licking you through your aftershocks. Both of you were breathing heavily as he finally pulled away, looking up at you with your juices covering the bottom half of his face. He got up and pulled you into a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on him. “You taste divine.” You could see his hardness through his robe. You averted your gaze, “can I return the favour? “My my, my little dove has gotten bolder hmm?” moving to make eye contact with you. “Some other time, I do not want to agitate the burn and I need to be inside you.” He pulled you from the stool, sitting down, before seating you on his lap to face the mirror. “I need you to see what I see,” he said, as he untied his robe, bringing out his dick and running it over the wetness of your folds. You mewled and tried not to look in the mirror. “Look at us as I push into you,” he ordered, “look at your greedy pussy swallowing me whole.” He pushed into you, making you watch as he did so, the sight making you wetter than before. He bottomed out with a groan and sat still. He brought your hand over your stomach, pressing it down. “Can you feel me inside you? I’m so deep.” You pressed further and made him hiss. He gripped your hips, lifting you up and down, you matched your pace with his. The pair of you mesmerised by the sight of the image in the mirror, the sight of him splitting you in half. You turned to kiss him, your tongues dancing as you picked up the pace. Neither of you lasted long, you were already sensitive from before; he was (you hoped) pent up from all those days away. The coil finally snapped, you squeezed around him with cries of his name. He followed behind, painting your insides with his seed. He pulled out and you both watched as your mixed fluids seeped out of you. “Look at yourself, you must be a goddess,” Michael stated. You looked at your fucked-out form in the mirror, lips swollen from kisses, hair mussed, and skin covered in a sheen of sweat from the exertion. In the haze of pleasure, you could almost mistake yourself for a carnal version of Botticelli’s ‘Venus’. You smiled at the thought. “We’ll need to bathe again,” you pointed out, making you and Michael laugh. //// You had your second bath of the day together. Getting ready for the evening; dinner would be served in your room as you needed to sleep early; you left for Paris tomorrow. Michael had brushed and braided your hair, and you had done the same for him. As you waited for MRs Mead to bring your meal, Michael had brought out a box, one that you had recognised. “Your mother sent this for you, your embroidery seems to be quite well known in the area and she was surprised you forgot to pack your materials.” Michael handed you the box. It was your grandmothers, then your mothers, and now it was yours. How had you forgotten your most prized possession? “Thank you so much Michael,” you hugged him. “It’s a family heirloom,” you explained, opening the compartments. You floss and needles were just as you left them. Michael reclined next to you, watching you inspect the item. “I’m sure it’ll continue to be passed down generations of Langdons,” he said. You blushed at the thought of children, you hadn’t given it much thought before. “I’ll take you to the finest cloth merchants Paris has to offer to get more materials for your liking,” he smiled at you. “I’m sure Mrs Venebale will know some locally?” “Nonsense. Why go to Paris if not to take full advantage of what the city has to offer? We can also see what the new seasons fashions are.” You raised your eyebrow, “I see, this tip is for you to dress yourself isn’t it?” “Well my love, the wardrobe does not curate itself. Personal shopping trips are must in high society,” he winked at you. You laughed and shook your head, thinking about your next project, trying to calm your nerves for the trip.

Next>>>

[thoseofgreatambition]

Ascent || FTB 7

description: George loves you to bits and pieces. He tries to mold himself to fit into your world even as he sees how much it’s changed the people he loves. You, and a few others warn him away. George wonders how much worse could it be than a couple of bribes. 

request by nonnie: how about a slightly jealous georgie 👀 nothing too extreme or threatening to your relationship, just him being a tad cautious. plenty of showing you how much he cares and that he fears losing you. maybe a little possessive? “you’re mine.” ugh i’m melting

for the birds

LIAR {PT 1} | 1.9 K

ROSE COLORED {PT 2} | 2.6K

LIAR LIAR {PT 3} | 3.3K

DUTY {PT 4} | 5.3K

FAMILY MATTERS {PT 5} 2.4K

TWO SIDED {PT 6} 3K

BONUS CHAPTER 1

BONUS CHAPTER 2

BONUS CHAPTER 3

taglist: @fainting-fancy @geeksareunique @insearchofnewdreams @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @lumos-barnes @stillwater20-blog @thatfuckingliardavidtennant @slytherinqween @xinyourdreamsx @skiving-snackboxess @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem @diary-of-an-onliner @answer-the-sirens @woakiees @black-widow-fangirl @theheirofnightandday @summerstardust @whysoseriouspadfoot @chocok22 @myhopesareanchoredinyou @siriusblackisme @illusivedaydreamer @zeeneee @writingwitchly @wolfpotter12 @obsessedwithrandomthings @carolinesbookworld @shadowsinger11 @pit-and-the-pen @summer-writes @peachesandpinks @ickle-ronniekins @gweaslvy @alpinewinchester 

George kept looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you were the one who kissed the sun to keep it alight. It was puzzling really. It put a dizzying pace in your pulse to see how adored you were, even after he found out about what you’d been doing.

You sat cross legged on your bed, silk pajamas cool against your skin as you stared at him while he dozed on and off next to you. A lazy smile on his face. “You’re amazing, you know.”

He chuckles a bit. “That’s nice to hear. Buttering me up?”

There’s a tight shake of your head, and you feel the same threat of tears you’d felt when you’d first made love to him. That being so happy was so dangerous. Feeling your feelings too much always got you in trouble as a child. “Next time there’s an event why don’t you hang back? It’s a nasty crowd George.”

You can see the seeds of self doubt being spread across his face, as tight together as his freckles. His voice is quiet, and full of hurt. “Don’t think I’ll do well enough for you?”

Something hot and wet was falling down your face. “Not that. You’re perfect and lovely. I’m not proud of myself at those. I want you to be proud of me. I don’t want you to see me and stop being proud.”

His large hand gently reached for you, tugging on your lapel until you were tucked in next to him on the bed, his arms holding you close. He felt so warm.

“I’ll always be proud of you, Y/N. You’re my girl. Can’t do anything to make me less proud of you. This all ends in a month or two right? When it’s all over you’ll feel better. Just need to make it through for a few more weeks, yeah?”

Doing your best not to cry further, you nodded your head.

Though you were sure he meant what he said, you doubted that George would keep that opinion after he’d been there for a while.

                               ___________________________________________

You felt a pair of curious eyes following you as you got ready for the day. As you put on makeup to get rid of your dark puffy eye circles. As you charmed your suit so it would be wrinkle free. As you worked on your hair to be perfectly done. 

“What’s so interesting about me today, Georgie?” Your feelings still were a little tender from the crying bout earlier in the day. 

“I didn’t know you did all this when you got ready for the day.” 

There was a dubious look shot his way, “You’ve watched me get ready before.”

He did look rather amazing in his suit. It set your heart in a series of little flutters. “Not for work, darling. This looks like a lot of work, do you ever get tired of it?” 

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment. “Not really. I take my time with it, get to drink my coffee. I like getting ready for casual days in England more, but this isn’t bad.” Holding George’s arm as you slipped into your heels, you gave him a bright smile. “Ready to go?” 

There was a nervous smile on George’s face, he’d be meeting your Aunt Alexandra for the first time in many years. She wanted him to be there to see the ‘family business’. You told him that it was okay to sit out on this, that you would stay behind with him but he’d insisted. There was a bit of damaged pride from him as well, the same thing that made him try so hard when it came to making his shop succeed. He wanted to prove himself. 

“Ready, darling.” 

Like that you apparated the pair of you to Aunt Alexandra’s home. Immediately a pair of tiny dachshunds began barking and yapping at two of you. Just like that your aunt swooped in from the wings and gave you a tight hug, quickly moving on to George. 

“Georgie! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You’ve gotten so much more tall. How are you doing darling? I heard you and Freddie got hurt in the war. Are you both doing better now?” 

Immediately he felt swept back to his childhood when she would breeze into the burrow and bring so much kindness into the home. 

It was easy to forget for a little bit that she didn’t approve of him dating you. 

“We’re doing a lot better. I lost my ear but Freddie got hit by a wall. He went through the worst of it, so I’m just glad he’s up and able to walk around.” 

As more pleasantries were exchanged you walked over to your father in the living room and gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting on the loveseat and beckoning George over. He made his way over slowly, taking in his surroundings. 

Everything was so light and bright. With marble floors and gilded chandeliers. The loveseat you so casually sat on was clearly made from a dark blue dragonskin leather. He sat down next to you, and wondered how you were so easily able to relax in this setting. 

The answer was clear enough, you’d grown up in it. 

Your hand rested on his knee, and you ran your thumb back and forth across him. Immediately his pulse seemed to slow down. 

He’d expected that you all would get into business, but your siblings Marie and Alexander ran the show chatting about this or that. George felt himself relaxing more and more as time went on. Sipping on the coffee that your aunt brewed for him. 

He felt back in his element, making people laugh. 

That was until you sighed and leant back into the loveseat and looked at Aunt Alexandra with a wry smile. “So what’s the business today?” 

Your aunt immediately shot you a glowing smile. Her legs crossed as she leaned back in her armchair. George was reminded of an illustration he saw as a child of a king on a throne. 

“Well, we’re doing wonderfully! The fundraiser went great because of you, Y/N. And thank you George, I heard you did wonderfully with all of your stories.” George felt immediately relieved though for some reason you looked less than impressed. 

“The Graves want to bribe you.” 

“And I won’t be accepting that.” 

Ears around the room seemed to perk up. Still you seemed doubting. “You’ve had me blackmailing people throughout this. Other’s are finding out. Jack’s uncle was talking about what I said to Morris the other day.” 

“I need you to be more discreet then sweetie.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as the family meeting went on. Another rally. Another speech. Another fundraising gala for just your extended family this time. The tapestry of your family’s crest that hung on the wall seemed to weigh on your with its presence. 

Your brother piped up next, “Who’s in charge of gathering the family?” 

Aunt Alexandra smiled at him, “I’ll need you to do that Alex. Since you don’t want to head up the family, you’ll be perfect for this. It’ll seem more casual. We’ll have a cookout or something, a little bit less formal. Y/N, how about we borrow your cabin and call it a vacation home or say we rented it? Then no one will know you live there.” 

“No.” you stood firm in your statement. “Absolutely not. There’s a reason I don’t let people over there. I want my privacy. And I think you’ll remember that you agreed to that after me needing to step back from working at the hospital.” 

Your aunt’s smile faltered for a moment. You weren’t usually this combative about it all. Her eyes flickered to a bewildered George and reckoned he had something to do with it. Before she could say anything your father chimed in. “Alexandra, we’ll do it at my house. We have a big enough yard.” 

A wave of relief came over you. You would forever be grateful for your father. 

                              ___________________________________________

It was after the meeting where you collapsed in on yourself a bit. You took George to a nice muggle restaurant, and gave a bland smile and nod when the hostess said the both of you look like CEO’s. 

You hadn’t the foggiest of what that meant, but it didn’t matter at the moment. 

He seemed just as tired as you did, though his curious eyes were on yours again. “Is it something I’m doing again?” 

“What else is she having you do?” 

“Huh?” 

“Your aunt. You said you’ve been blackmailing people. What else are you doing?” 

The cold feeling returned to your fingertips. You wondered if this was the part where he stopped being so proud of you. 

Your heart, selfish as always willed you to lie. Your brain told you he was smart enough to puzzle together the truth even if you did lie. 

“Morris is the man my aunt almost killed in the duel. She was the challenger, she is against anti-dueling now but he needs to be quiet about it all for her to win. I have a good amount of pull with the politicians.” you didn’t mention it was because you’d dated some of their children, “So I told him if he talked about it I’d see to it he lost his job.” 

“Is he a bad man?” 

A confused look was shot George’s way. Where would that idea come from? “No. He’s not great. He’s about as dirty as I am I suppose. So I can’t say much about him there.” 

You could see George staring at you in a whole new light. Your hands began to go numb. “I’ve bribed a few people. Nothing terribly expensive. Some nice clothes, a broomstick or two, mentioning a promotion... I think I gave someone a car but I can’t remember who.” 

George wondered in what world a car wasn’t ‘terribly expensive’. 

“I just... Aunt Alexandra gave me a lot of fresh starts when I was younger. You remember my temper. I got into plenty of duels myself-- and I lost every one of them. I think if that weren’t the case I wouldn’t have a future, or a shot at being a healer.” Again, you chewed the side of your cheek. “I love her to bits. Dad’s family is alright, but I don’t see them much. She stepped in a lot after Mum died... I want to help her.” 

“Helping her makes you feel bad though, doesn’t it?” 

You shot an odd look George’s way. “Of course. I’ve never been politically minded. I’m not good with the speeches or anything. I would have sat it all out if Marie hadn’t needed the help. But there’s only about six weeks left I believe until the voting starts. After that I’ll head back to England and hide away again. I’m just trying to remember that.” 

“You could go back to England now.” 

“No, I have things to do here.” 

George seemed to be saying quite a few silly things at the moment. You weren’t sure why. 

Your food came, though your appetite had left you. Quietly, as your confidence seemed to have left you, you spoke to George. “It’s alright if you want to leave you know. I’ll keep you out of things, but I know this goes against a lot of what you stand for.” 

“I missed you. And I’m staying. My flight back isn’t for another week.” 

He seemed to have misinterpreted you. “No, I mean leave me. I get it.” George was far too innocent for you, and you were quite aware of it. 

Now he looked at you like you were the foolish one. “I’m not leaving you. I love you.” His hands grasped your cold ones from across the table. “This will be over soon, you’ll come back to England, and I’ll hide you away with me. How does that sound? No more worrying about these things. You’ll get a job as a healer, do all the research you want, this will all be behind you.” 

Once again your eyes began to water, he seemed to have a way of doing that to you. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this for me.” 

He kissed the palm of your hand. Smiling into it. “Because I love you. And there’s not going to be a change in that. So stop your crying Y/N. Eat some food, you’ll feel a bit better.” 

                              ___________________________________________

George had always had a bit of a jealous streak in him. He had six siblings after all, and a twin to compete with to get any attention. Prior to dating you, he thought he’d outgrown that. Turned out he hadn’t. 

Now he’d learned the ways to calm himself down. Remind himself that he was a good man in his own right. Of his own accomplishments and how people loved him for himself. It helped a good bit. Until he found himself in the midst of your crowd of old friends in a bar, and had met a couple of your old lovers. 

You were very considerate really. The conversation was light, you held his hand and gave him kisses when no one was looking. It helped to soothe whatever ache he felt. Truly he’d expected that at least one of them would be a prat, based on what he’d read in those gossip magazines his mother loved so much, but all of them treated him rather kindly. 

One, Taylor, the quadpot player was especially kind. “It’s nice to meet you. She always talked about you growing up.” he’d approached when you’d stepped away to grab another round of drinks for the group. “I don’t want to make it awkward, I know it might be. I just wanted to let you know I’m happy for you. And I know it can be strange reading so much about your personal life in the gossip rags, but if you keep your head down and enjoy what you can it’ll all turn out alright.” 

It was like the wind had been taken out of his sails. He’d worked himself so much thinking that he’d need to prove himself he hadn’t thought about someone speaking to him with so much kindness. “Thank you, Taylor.” 

There was a grin from the other man, “Of course! It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Anyways, the only bad thing you’ve got going for you is the whole ‘Quidditch is better than quadpot” thing. That won’t fly in America.” Your friends who’d been listening in burst out into laughter and you chuckled as you walked over with your bottles of whisky and scotch for the table. 

“Be careful there Taylor, I think that’s one of the only fights he may pick with you about that. Quidditch is popular everywhere else but here.” 

As Taylor sat back down and began to regale the table with another story about his games you wrapped your arms around George’s waist and squeezed him tight. “Feeling okay Georgie?” 

His hand squeezed your hip tightly. For some reason, as kind as everyone else was he still felt the jealousy stir inside him. He let out a noncommittal hum. He placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. “As long as you’re mine.” 

There was a giggle from you. What a silly thing for him to say. “As long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.” 

[haberdashing]

did it hurt (when you fell from heaven)? (1/?)

The world is changing now, and many of its inhabitants are changing with it.

They are calling it a Transangelic Epidemic: the sudden and monstrous transformation of hundreds of good citizens.

Sasha James doesn’t think it’s anything she should be concerned about until, after spending the night with a coworker who’s more than just a coworker, her back begins to ache...

Inspired by Transangelic Exodus; should be readable without having read that first, but they are very much set within the same verse.

on AO3

Sasha woke up in Tim’s bed after a night which she hasn’t quite decided whether she regrets or not with twin pains just below her shoulder blades.

It took her a moment to realize that the pain in her back was unconnected to the dull roar in her head, that the headache was an anticipated (albeit still begrudged) consequence of the night she’d just had while the backache must be something else entirely. Calling it a backache was downplaying it, really; the pain was sharper than that, like she was laying on a row of thumbtacks instead of a soft if disheveled bed.

Sasha stretched her arms out above her head, which managed both to make her backache worse, somehow, and to plant her elbow squarely in Tim’s face, without actually helping her feel more awake in the process.

“Shit, Tim, I’m so sorry-”

“‘s fine, ‘s fine.” His voice sounded slightly muffled, even after Sasha moved her arm so that it was well out of his way. “I’ll live.”

Sasha pushed the blanket on top of her further down until it was a crumpled mess near the foot of the bed. “Is that your standard? Either you don’t live or it’s fine?”

“Pretty much. Especially when there’s someone cute involved.” Tim looked Sasha dead in the eye and shot her a dramatic, exaggerated wink, adding in finger guns after a moment when her expression didn’t change.

“Aww, you think I’m cute, how sweet of you.”

“You do remember what happened last night, right?”

Sasha seriously considered beaning Tim with the nearest pillow before thinking better of it, instead replying only with an overly-chipper, “Trying not to!”

“Ah. Got it.”

Sasha sat up gingerly, trying her best to notice which movements made her back twinge with additional pain as she did so.

"You alright, Sash?”

Sasha looked over at Tim. The levity in his voice was gone, and now he was watching her closely, eyes focused on her every move.

“I am... somewhere in between fine and not alive, personally.”

Tim snorted softly with amusement. “Hangover that bad?”

“Well, there’s that, yes, but... I didn’t slam my back into something last night and then forget all about it, did I? Because it’s been aching something awful.”

Tim paused, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again as he began to speak. “No, I don’t remember anything like that happening, and I think I would remember, last night was pret-ty memorable...”

Sasha had to fight back the urge to bean Tim with a pillow again.

“Anything I can do to help? Grab some paracetamol, give you a massage, call 999...”

Sasha rolled her eyes in response to Tim’s final suggestion. “It’s just a backache, Tim.” A bad one, true, and with no clear cause to boot, but then, such things happen. Sasha knew enough that bodies didn’t always cooperate the way you wanted them to. “Maybe the paracetamol, but a massage would probably just make it worse.”

“Even from a master masseuse like me?” Somehow the smirk on Tim’s face just kept growing, and somehow Sasha could swear just the sight of it made her headache worse.

“You take one massage class-”

“More than anyone else in the office has done, I bet.” The smirk faded away again as Sasha leaned forward in the hopes that it would help with at least one of the pains currently plaguing her, though it just made her head swim until she pressed her chest up against the bed, her head leaning against the mess she made of the sheets. “Where does it hurt?”

“Er...” Sasha tried to indicate the areas in question as best she could, though it was hard to reach behind her back and harder still to try to point out a specific part of it. “There’s two spots, right about there I think--next to the shoulder blades, on both sides. Nothing looks weird back there, does it?”

Tim didn’t respond for a long moment, and Sasha’s mind immediately turned to the worst.

“Sasha, you... have you been following the news lately?”

Sasha let out a soft laugh, more out of relief than any actual humor. “What kind of a question is that? I guess so, yeah, why?”

“You know the whole... angel transformation thing they’ve been talking about lately? People growing wings and stuff?”

Sasha had already started to eke out a nonchalant “Yes” by the time she put the pieces together.

“No.” she said instead, her voice coming out more like a scandalized teenager than she would have liked instead of that of a grown woman who was just realizing that she was standing on the edge of a cliff, trying futilely to deny the danger she was in even as she inched closer to the precipice.

“Maybe.” The levity was gone from Tim’s voice, and--Sasha reached over with one hand, scrabbled about until her hand hit her glasses and she could shove them unceremoniously onto her face--it’s gone from his eyes as well. He seemed deadly serious now, something she wasn’t used to seeing from Tim.

Sasha would have liked to think that her blood ran cold at the thought of office jokester Tim finally turning so serious, but really, her blood ran hot and it was everything else that was cold; Sasha shivered a little, and part of her wondered if she could just bury herself under the blankets she had so hastily abandoned and stay there while the rest of the world kept on moving.

“Can I, uh--I remember them mentioning one way to test, but it might be awkward--well, it will be awkward, it might be worse than awkward-”

Sasha tilted her head slightly so that she was facing one of the blankets, so she didn’t have to look at Tim as she said, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric, “Go for it.”

She heard rather than saw Tim get up, head into another room, return with something he seemed very careful about not dropping, but she didn’t look back up at him until-

It burned.

No, strike that. Whatever it was that had just hit her side wasn’t hot, wasn’t literally burning. It was the opposite, a cold so vivid and biting that it might as well have been burning, the extremes of the temperature scale seeming to somehow blend together.

Sasha heard a soft hissing sound as she tried to wipe off whatever had caused the not-burning, but only succeeded in getting it on her hand as well, though thankfully the pain was rapidly dulling.

“What was that?”

“Just water. Just cold water.” Tim demonstrated by flicking a few droplets onto himself and then, after a moment of hesitation, pouring the rest of the cup he was holding onto his head. Despite everything, Sasha couldn’t help but snicker at the sight of Tim’s wet hair, water droplets meandering their way down his face and onto the floor.

Sasha remembered, dimly, having heard something about angels running unnaturally hot, about how rain would evaporate when it hit their skin.

It had been unusually dry in the past month or two, especially for London. Sasha couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten caught out in the rain.

“...shit.”

“Yeah.” Tim hesitated briefly before adding, “‘m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Sasha leaned onto her side, her head still aching. “Not unless you make it your fault, anyway.”

“...I’m not going to report you, if that’s what you mean. God, no.”

Sasha wanted to scream out of an open window. Sasha wanted to bury her face in a pillow. Sasha’s head was still swimming and she wasn’t as sure as she had been that it was just because of a fleeting hangover.

“Might as well. Somebody will.”

“I won’t let that happen. We won’t let that happen.”

“What are we going to do, then? What can we do?”

They made it sound like a good thing, somehow, in all the news bits and public service announcements, that the whole government was against these angels. Just report it to the authorities and the problem would go away. They couldn’t explain it, not yet, but they could contain it until they learned enough to solve the problem at its source, and they would do everything in their power to protect good human citizens from being corrupted by these new angelic monstrosities.

Sasha could swear she’d always been a little skeptical of that framing, even before she herself became one of those monstrosities.

But the point remained: there were two of them, and many, many more of the authorities looking for people just like her, people on the verge of becoming angels.

Fighting would just get them killed. Running would just delay the inevitable. What else was there?

Sasha was on the verge of tears now, but Tim had a wry smile on his face as he spoke.

“What d’you think of us moving in together?”

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 12

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit/18+ warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark 

Peter had been waiting at the door to the lab when Penny and Tony got off the elevator, bouncing in place just beyond the threshold. Penny assumed he'd been told not to leave the room because even as they walked closer and he got more energized, he only toed the edge without going over. As soon as his sister was in reach, he snatched her up into his arms and squeezed the breath out of her. 

“She’s fine, baby, don’t make her eyes pop out,” the tone of affection in Tony’s voice was heavy and Peter felt himself preen slightly; it was nice when Tony sounded like that. 

“JARVIS just said you weren’t okay and that Tony needed to go get you right away,” he said quietly against the side of Penny’s head, “I didn’t know what happened.” 

Tony stepped up close to the pair, one hand going to the small of Peter’s back and the other curling into Penny’s hair. The two were precious, especially together. Honestly, Tony didn’t like having them separated the way they were. They couldn’t conspire, which was useful in making sure they stayed where he wanted them, but God they were so sad. Peter asked a million times a day to see Penny and according to JARVIS she did the same, settling for updates on his status every once in a while to calm her. 

If it hadn’t been for Steve and Bucky, he would’ve taken them to his cabin upstate. The isolation would’ve been so good for them. Peter would’ve loved the lab setups and Penny could’ve had a garden outside in the fresh air, they would’ve been together and with JARVIS monitoring closely they could’ve negated any escape attempts even if it was just Tony out there physically. In the back of his mind, he wondered how long he would attempt to let the soldiers care for her before taking over. 

“It’s all taken care of,” he stated quietly, rubbing Peter’s back gently, “now I’ve got some work to do, baby why don’t you show Penny what you’ve been working on?” 

He watched the pair walk away to a work table before heading to his own, determined to get started on a blood testing device that wouldn’t use needles. Or, at least wouldn’t use any visible needles that Penny would be able to identify or feel. He knew Bruce wouldn't let her off without one and if he could circumvent the fit she was going to throw it would be great.

When JARVIS had announced that Penny was in extreme distress, a level of irritation had risen in his chest that he didn’t really expect. Peter was his primary concern in every aspect, but Penny was a very close second. He’d literally just had a conversation with the soldiers about figuring their shit out but within the next two hours he’d been alerted she was losing it once again. It was testing his patience, but he reminded himself there wasn't a presidence to their relationship like there was between him and Peter. 

In the beginning it had been easy; Peter craved adult approval. All Tony had to do was compliment his intelligence and the teenager was on a high. They'd talked about science, Tony told him how smart he was, how impressed he was. Graduating to careful touches had been simple, new compliments on his appearance and his growth over time slid under the radar. 

About four months in, he could tell Peter was antsy. The text messages he sent got shorter, less enthusiastic. He made excuses to not meet up for coffee and joined a new club at school that kept him tied up on weekends, tried to reject gifts and invitations. Something had spooked his boy, now he wondered if it had something to do with Penny. The reticence had gotten worse and worse until he'd followed him home from decathlon practice and she'd seen them. 

He still hadn't pressed, hadn't asked what caused Peter to pull away. If it was his own conscious or if someone had influenced him. In the grand scheme of things it didn't really matter but he was curious. They had a relationship before the kidnapping, a basis to build upon. Penny and the soldiers didn't have that, everything between them had to be built from scratch and the guys had to demolish some massive barriers before the building could even begin. 

He kept an eye on the pair through the many reflective surfaces in the room, smiling softly to himself while he worked; they were adorable. Penny was smart, but had no idea what she was doing in a lab setting. She kept touching things, moving them and then waiting for Peter to react. He played into her hands, whining every time he noticed something was out of place, freaking out when she picked up a blowtorch. They also seemed to have some weird dissociation with their bodies, but only in relation to each other: Peter acted like he was smaller than she was, where she seemed to forget he'd outgrown her. He would shift and settle his weight against her, only for the pair to almost go tumbling; she would reach out to muss his hair, but couldn't reach the top of his head anymore without getting on her tip toes. 

It was easy to get lost in his work; despite his reputation as a weapons designer, he was a fair touch at medical equipment. He only got distracted by the sound of a soft snore and his heart melted when he glanced into the reflective wall to see Penny curled up on a stool. She'd fallen asleep somehow perched with both feet on the seat, tucked into a ball and leaning precariously against the wall, head on her knees. Peter was obviously keeping a close eye on her, turned to face her at his work table while he messed with the parts Tony had given him for a robot. 

"J, order a daybed for the lab," he quietly addressed the AI, watching Peter very carefully set a screwdriver on his sister's shoulder, adding to a collection of tools he was balancing on her sleeping form.

"Perhaps an oversized bean bag chair, sir? Ms. Parker has them saved on her pinterest under the board 'if I was rich'."

Peter's head snapped up when he heard JARVIS speak, nervously glancing at his still sleeping sister. When he decided she was peacefully asleep and not about to sit up and kill him for the calculations he’d scribbled onto her arm, he turned to look at Tony in confusion. 

"Come here baby," Tony kept his tone quiet, motioning him over, "I want you to look at something." 

Peter went without hesitation, reminding Tony once again how lucky he was that the younger Parker sibling was so different than his sister. He tried so hard not to question Tony's orders, to just obey. Penny would’ve tried to stab him with a fork. 

"What is it?"

Tony flung several holograms up, all with different schematics, “I’m trying to design a new method of drawing blood, one without visible needles. Bruce won’t let her get out of a blood test and I don’t want it to send her into hysterics again. Now, this one is what I’m leaning towards— its got needles, but they’re so small she won’t be able to see them. Shouldn’t even be that uncomfortable, like suction.” 

“Uh,” Peter tilted his head to the side, trying to catch up with Tony’s thought process and also examine the schematics, “what about this one?” 

He listened intently as the older man explained all of the ideas he’d come up with, one of which required technology that didn’t currently exist but Tony promised he would invent it within a few days if Peter thought it was the best option. The whole time the teenager tried to pretend his affection for the man wasn’t steadily growing. He was so conflicted— Tony Stark had groomed him like a pedophile to be receptive to his advances over time, had kidnapped and ‘punished’ him, took his sister and gave her to his friends. But Tony also provided him with nearly anything he asked for, showered him with affection and always told him how much he loved him, how much he wanted Peter to be happy. And it was hard to remember the bad stuff because Peter wanted that affection so much. 

He wasn’t starved for affection really, Penny hugged him whenever she could, smacked more kisses to his forehead a day than exchanged words with him. She worked so much that she wasn’t always around the apartment when he was, but she texted him as much as she could. Peter never had to wonder how much his sister loved him; there was no question that he was the most important person in her world. 

But it was different coming from Tony. The affection, the touches, the words, they made Peter burn up with happiness. Yes, Tony had spanked him until it hurt to sit for several days but he also held him all the time, kept him cuddled close. He stole him away from his friends but he was providing him with a home, the highest tech laboratories in the world— literally anything Peter wanted could be provided, as frivolously as possible in most cases. Tony kidnapped his sister, yeah, but he also adored Penny almost as much as Peter did; he’d stated multiple times that he just wanted Peter and Penny to be happy. 

It was messed up and backwards but Peter wanted everything Tony had to offer. The wrongness of it flipped his stomach every time he thought about leaning into the man’s touch, when Tony kissed him and he forced himself to turn his head even though he really, really wanted that kiss. Penny would be devastated, she’d think that she failed him somehow. 

“I’m not sure, either the first one you mentioned or the third, probably,” Peter crossed his arms over his chest, forcing himself to put a barrier between them, “the second doesn’t really sound plausible and the fourth has too big of a needle, she’d notice.” 

“Anything is plausible when you’re me, baby,” Tony smirked slightly, but gave a shrug nonetheless and turned his attention to where Penny was still asleep against the wall, "how does she sleep like that?"

"Penny can sleep anywhere," Peter shrugged and took a stylus off the table, walking back to his sister to balance it on top of her head, "she doesn't move at all. I'm not sure if it's really, like, restful because she stays so tensed up? But I've seen her sleep balanced on the arm of a couch before without a wall holding her up. It's kind of cool." 

"Multiple bean bag chairs, J," Tony couldn't decide if he was impressed or kind of sad that Penny was really good at making herself sleep in uncomfortable situations, but he could absolutely make sure she didn't need to ever again, "labs, living rooms—" 

"You're buying Penny bean bag chairs for the lab?" Peter butted in, and Tony Did Not Roll His Eyes at his interruption but he did give the teenager a quick, painless pop on the cheek.

“Manners, baby,” his tone was stern, but he raised an eyebrow when Peter hardly reacted to him, the boy’s head instead turned to stare at the still sleeping Penny. 

“You shouldn’t do that where Penny could see,” the teenager responded in a hushed tone, stepping forward just a bit, “she’ll get super pissed.” 

To be fair, the thought hadn't really occurred to Tony before. Discipline was important considering the nature of their relationship, just as it was between the soldiers and Penny, and doling out punishment wasn't something he'd ever even thought he would consider hiding. But considering how fraught her relationship was with literally every inhabitant of the tower, he couldn't help but wonder how far would be too far to push Penny. She was a powder keg begging for fire, any excuse to explode. 

Tony knew for a fact that there was a line drawn in the sand, the one that stood between actual life and death, between Penny and everyone else; he just didn't know exactly where it was. Would seeing a quick pop to Peter's cheek be the straw that broke the camel's back? Or would it be the evidence of a spanking in the way he sat? And what would the explosion look like? She'd already proven to be unpredictable and prone to pretty significant violence, including using improvised weapons to cause (what she'd hoped was) lasting damage. 

Even worse, he realized he didn't know where his line was. How far would he let Penny go in her attempts to escape and take Peter with her? When would he draw the line, cite a failure to thrive and put her out of her misery? It could come to that; he didn't want to imagine it, that Penny could loathe them all so much she'd never stop trying steal Peter away. 

There was no good way to show Penny how much better it was for her and Peter in the tower without the passage of time. Until she began to notice changes. When it settled in that all of Peter's clothes were new and perfectly fitted. When she noticed her brother looked so much healthier, well fed and vibrant. When the stress of living stopped pressing on her shoulders, when she began to gain weight and stop pulling at her own hair, biting her nails. 

There was so much that could go wrong where Penny was concerned but there was also so much that could go right. She could finally thrive, be her own person, live for herself and her own happiness. 

A rush swam through Tony’s veins and he stood, kissing Peter’s cheek gently where he’d just smacked him before walking over to where Penny was curled on the stool and removed all of the odds and ends Peter had managed to balance on her. She was in such a tight ball that picking her up was easy; there were no flailing limbs to corral or sudden shifts in weight distribution to compensate for. Tony understood what Peter meant— the sleep she got couldn’t be very restful when her muscles were tight like iron bands. 

“Let’s take Penny upstairs so she can sleep,” he directed the quiet comment to the teenager who had followed him across the lab and was standing at his elbow, “J, is anyone in the living room?” 

He was conflicted on whether or not he wanted Penny on the floor he shared with Peter beyond the kitchen. There was too much for her to get upset over; the obvious lack of a separate room for her brother, the cushion on the floor next to the couch for when he wanted Peter to kneel for him, Penny would probably go insane and the poor thing didn’t need the added stress. Peter was his baby boy, his to do with as he pleased, but he loved the boy too and Penny wouldn’t be able to fathom it. All she would see was mistreatment and pedophilia and imprisonment. 

“The living room is currently empty sir, most of the tower’s occupants are currently out.”

“Take us up, then,” Penny weighed much less in his arms than he really cared for, it was almost too easy to carry her to the elevator and hold her the entire trip. 

Even when he put her on the couch, she didn’t release the tension from her muscles. She remained in the same tight curl where her body had been so precariously balancing. Tony started to comment, but Peter had slipped around him already and began tugging at Penny’s arms and legs until she was stretched out across the length of the couch. 

“Sometimes she does this at home,” Peter stated quietly, “the only thing that’ll really make her wake up is a loud noise, so I can usually get her shifted so she’s more comfortable without bothering her.” 

“Did you have to do this often?” Tony responded in the same tone, sitting on the couch near Penny’s feet and motioning for Peter to come to him once he’d finished rearranging his sister. 

“No, not really,” the teenager allowed himself to be pulled into Tony’s lap, tangling his feet with his sisters, “Penny tried to always be awake if we were gonna be home at the same time. It was usually only if I woke up in the middle of the night, after she got home from her overnight shift. I think she was too stressed out when she got back and couldn’t relax enough, so she’d just fall asleep however she was sitting.” 

A slight shudder ran through him as he remembered the few nights that he’d woken up and gotten up to get a snack or something to drink, only to find Penny sleeping like a statue on the edge of the couch. She’d fall asleep hunched over, elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. The first time he thought she was crying and his heart had broken, but it actually felt worse when he realized she was so exhausted she’d fallen asleep like that. She was working herself so hard to provide for him that she could fall asleep like that. 

Tony tugged Peter’s head against his chest, running a hand through his hair gently. It was amazing how much he’d hated Penny just days ago. Penelope fucking Parker. Once upon a time he thought she was a cruel, neglectful monster. The power of ignorance was astounding. 

“It’s gonna be so much better now, baby boy,” he murmured quietly into Peter’s ear, lips brushing his temple gently, “I promise, for you and Penny both. No more stress or worrying—”

Peter’s mouth opened, as if to interrupt, but he snapped it shut with an audible click of his teeth. Tony couldn’t help but grin to himself; he really did hit the jackpot with his obedient boy. 

“Yes Peter?” 

The prompt made the teenager melt against Tony’s chest slightly and he turned his face to press against the oil stained shirt, “Penny likes cats. They’re supposed to be good for stress, right? Like, an emotional support cat?” 

“Cats huh?” 

“And weed,” Peter continued, still not looking up at the man holding him, “when she could spare the cash and I didn’t need anything, she would buy a little bit. You could get her weed, right?” 

Peter said you could get her weed right like Tony was the most powerful person in New York (which he was) and Tony preened, “cats and weed, the soldiers will love it.” 

The way Peter tensed against him was sudden and almost shocking in the way it mimicked Penny gearing up for a fight. Tony imagined he could smell his boy’s outrage, the discontent welling up inside of him and pouring from his pores. It was the first time Peter had given any indication he possessed the same amount of rage as his sister and Tony had to hide his shock. 

“Why does she have to be with them?” The words were ground through Peter’s teeth, his forehead pressing more firmly to Tony’s chest so he wouldn’t accidentally glare at the man. What Peter wanted to say was why would you give my sister to them? If you loved me you wouldn’t give my sister away like a fucking animal. If you loved me you wouldn’t make her stay with them. If you loved me you’d kill them both for touching her. 

“They love her, baby, like how I love you,” Tony kept his tone light, knowing that Peter was doing his best to reign in his fury despite not knowing how deep it went and the direction it was aimed, “they want to take care of her and make her happy, why shouldn’t they have the chance to?” 

The teenager didn’t respond but Tony felt the tremble that ran through his muscles and wondered if Peter was about to lash out. He’d been so good over the last few days with only small slip ups in his manners. 

“Penny should get to choose.” 

Tony Did Not Roll His Eyes, carefully running Peter’s hair through his fingers, “Choice is overrated, baby boy. Having a choice means having the opportunity to choose wrong and get hurt. You and Penny don’t need those kinds of choices. They’re stressful, all that’ll do is make you sad.” 

“But—” 

“End of discussion, baby,” Tony made sure his tone was stern but not mean as he tugged Peter’s head back by his hair, forcing the teenager to look into his eyes, “Penny will be staying with the soldiers unless I decide otherwise. Make your peace with it, Pete.” 

It was impressive, honestly, how carefully Peter maintained his expression. Intelligence and cunning flashed through his eyes, a chaos leashed by logic. He probably could’ve gotten past Tony taking him, with time. Life was easier in the tower; no school, no bullies, no worries over money or Penny’s health. He could’ve gotten used to it, made his peace with it, so to speak. 

If Tony hadn't taken Penny, he could’ve moved on with his new life. If Tony hadn’t given her away, he might’ve pushed through the emotional upheaval. If Tony wasn’t allowing those guys to do whatever they wanted with his sister, Peter might’ve been willing to go along with everything. 

But he did and had and was and Peter wasn’t raised to be the forgiving sort. He’d been raised by fire and fury and women who were angry. Aunt May and Penny, despite not being blood related, had the same fuel burning through their veins. The same indignation that came from the world trying to beat them down. 

The stolen circuit board tucked into his pocket burned against the fabric, ready to be added to the slowly growing stash of parts and pieces hidden around Tony’s apartment. 

Make your peace with it. Oh, he’d be making something.

[raz-b-rose]

Huey Duck has Anxiety.

As I’ve watched DT2017, I find myself relating deeply with Huey. (despite Louie being my favorite). I decided to write this quick little story, about how I experience anxiety best I can. 

Now anyone who also has anxiety, (especially social) please remember it does not control you, your brain will trick you but at the end of the day, you decide how to react to what you’re feeling and how you handle it. I still have bad days, and neutral days, and probably always will, but I’ve made the effort not let it influence my decisions. 

No without a further delay, enjoy!

_____________________________________________________________

Huey was a lot of things. He was smart, maybe not always street smarts like Louie, but definitely had extensive knowledge of many recorded facts. He worked hard for himself and his brothers. He was responsible, taking extra care to ensure everything was always taken care of. He was logical and thorough. However a part of his brain worked against him constantly. He could argue with it using logic all day long, and it would never see reason. It was as though it ran on emotion alone. Fear and insecurity being its main drive. 

Now while Huey had been fighting this for a few years now, he wouldn’t let it control him. While his logic never worked well during this time when his brain fought with him, deep down he knew he was still in control. He didn't have to be afraid, or tense. He didn’t have to focus on what his body was feeling. By focusing on the bad, it only got worse. So when he got attacks, it may take a moment, but he was ignoring it before long. Clearly some days were worse than others, and those were the days when it came out of nowhere.

He hated those days, because it felt even more unwarranted. Why would his brain, he dubbed it Willard, attack him for no good reason. He hated Willard. It wasn’t like the times when he felt he said or did something to feel panicked about. That made sense to him in a weird way. No, some days Willard just came at him with its grotesque hands and awful lies. 

Louie and Dewy didn’t understand the first time he tried to explain to them what these attacks felt like, because he never really outwardly showed it. He appeared as though he was completely calm. He was good at not letting anyone know that his stomach had tied itself into many, many sheet bend knots. They couldn’t understand the heavy pressure that would settle itself upon his chest or how that pressure rose to his throat. However some days it felt as though someone, Willard, was wrapping its hands around his throat. Not in like a truly choking way, but his lungs would labor to push out air, the lump in his throat feeling in the way. 

He knew that his stomach wasn’t truly tied in sheet knots, or that his breathing had changed at all. He knew that there wasn’t a shadowy presence choking him out. He knew there was nothing to fear in the moment, not even life threatening (he had been in plenty of those situations and not once had Willard made itself known). And despite all those reminders, he could still feel the stinging behind his eyes, tears threatening to fall. 

When that happened, it's like everything else went into overdrive. He felt sick to his stomach, it was so tied up. He took deep breaths to alleviate the tightening, focusing heavily on how the air traveled from his chest and out his nose and mouth. And then Willard would start to taunt him. 

Why would you say that? 

That was stupid. 

Wow, they are really good at pretending to like you. 

It would be best if you never spoke again, you only ever make a fool of yourself anyway. 

Why would you say that!?! You really offended them, if they didn’t hate you before, they do now. 

You’re so self-focused, do you ever stop talking about yourself? 

No one cares about what you have to say. 

Why did you wave your hand like that? 

That was stupid. 

They are thinking about how weird you are.

About how much they can’t wait for you to leave. 

You really are an idiot. 

“I am not an idiot” Huey would hiss back at the voice. He was smarter than most, he knew a lot of things, and knew how to help people. His knowledge was a good thing. 

No one likes a know-it-all. 

You’re really condescending, always acting better than others. 

“I am not better, just smart,” Huey would protest weakly, as he would start to crack his knuckles, rubbing his hands together with far too much force, pulling against his feathers painfully. “I didn’t even do anything” Huey could feel the pressure building behind his eyes. He looked over to Louie who was laughing with Webby. 

Look at them laugh at you.

That’s embarrassing. 

They can’t believe they have to pretend to like you. 

You really made a fool of yourself this time. 

“I didn’t do anything” Huey combats again, walking over to his brother and friend. Webby bounced on her toes when he approached, Louie giving his usual lazy smile. 

“Huey! Louie had this great idea to train an octopus to be a butler, doesn’t that sound amazing!” 

“Well Octopi are one of the most intelligent species on planet Earth. However because of that, I feel like they are too intelligent to be obedient to any commands” Huey speaks before thinking, the dread at his words already loaded as more ammo for Willard. 

“Well phooey” Louie pouts, “That was a good idea too.” He shrugs before striking up another conversation with Webby, brainstorming other ideas for a butler. 

Look at them. They are so angry with you shooting down that idea. 

Louie is annoyed with you. Why do you always ruin his fun? 

Annoying know-it-all, acting like you’re smarter and better than Louie. 

Louie is angry that you think he’s stupid. 

“Hey Huey, are you ok?” Webby tilts her head at him. He can’t tell if she’s actually worried or if she wants him to leave her and Louie alone. Louie glances at him, eyes narrowing when they meet his own. 

“Yup. Couldn’t be better.” He smiles at Webby, avoiding Louie’s gaze. He quickly makes his exit, continuing to smile at them until he’s out of sight. 

Wow, nice job, idiot. 

You’re so stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid. 

He takes a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out. I’m in charge, not Willard. It doesn’t control how I am feeling. I do. And yet, today, he struggled to regain control of his head. Huey jumps, following the hand on his shoulder, finding a deep green sleeve covering the wrist. He looks into Louie’s eyes, searching for anything decipherable emotion. Even if doing so is next to impossible with Willard in his head right now. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong Huey.”

“But you’re idea-”

“Was stupid, I was only joking around” Louie tightens his grip on his shoulder. 

“But-”

“No. Now what is it saying this time?” Louie continues to insist, winning out against Huey’s weak protest. 

“I’m stupid”

“A lie”

“I’m a know-it-all.”

“That’s ok.”

“That I think I’m better than everyone”

“No you don’t. If anyone does, it’s me. You care about everyone.” 

“I should stop talking”

“Why? You never say anything wrong”

“But I’m awkward and say stupid annoying things and have trouble reading social cues, and-”

“Huey stop.” He quickly shuts up, pulling his fists clothes to his chest. When did he start rubbing his hands together again? He rubs harder, against the grain of his feathers, wincing at the pull, but not stopping. 

Louie throws his arm around him, poking his cheek with one finger. “Repeat after me, I’m going to be telling you some facts you forgot, so don’t go forgetting them again.” Huey nods, hunching his shoulders further. The prickling behind his eyes was growing stronger, but he hadn’t started crying. Yet. 

“You’re not stupid.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“We love to hear all your facts and woodchuck recitations”

Huey looks at him in doubt, he only returns the pointed look at waves at him to continue, “You love to hear my facts and woodchuck recitations.”

“You’re not stupid”

“I already said that.”

“Say it again,”

“I’m not stupid.”

“You are great as you are. Everyone loves you.”

“I am gr-” He struggles to say the word great. Louie is patient, giving him time to win this battle. 

Louie always hated when Huey would get stuck in his head like this. He was one of the most reasonable ducks he knew, so it was always upsetting to see his brother struggle against believing anything positive about himself. 

“I am great as I am.” Huey finally says, his words trembling from his beak, “Everyone loves me.”

Huey could feel the weight slowly lifting from himself, he took a few deep breaths at Louie’s encouragement, closing his eyes to focus on mentally repeating the words once again. Afterwards he always felt stupid, letting Willard lie to him like that. Believe Willard for even a moment. He knew his worth, why did he forget it every few months? 

Huey opened his eyes at the feeling of another arm coming around him from his other side. Dewey smiled at him, giving a thumbs up. 

“I need help if you’re up for it Hues.” Dewey tightens his side hug, reaching over with his other hand to disentangle his hands. 

“Oooh are we having a hugging party? I want in!” Webby’s joyous voice sounds next to his ear as she body slams into him from the front, laughing as Huey hugs her back. 

Yes Huey Duck was a lot of things, but alone was not one of them. He smiles at Dewey and Louie and Webby, laughing in relief. Just another battle won. Unfortunately, a few tears were shed this time. 

“I’m sorry Huey, did I hurt you!?” 

“No Webby, I’m just happy” He gives her another quick hug, along with a pat on the back. “What did you need help with Dewey?” 

Then there were the days that Huey couldn’t bring himself to really love or hate. In all honesty they were preferable to the other end of the spectrum when his emotions would go haywire and to the extreme. However these days had their own drawbacks and were exhausting in a different sense. 

He had woken up feeling ready for the day, his teeth were brushed, his shirt clean and hat comfortably on his head. Breakfast was a simple affair, however, and he’s still not sure what set it off, but he could feel the beginning tingles of anxiety creeping up his arms, his hands seizing up. 

He glared at them, irritation building up at the idea of a perfectly good day going to waste with Willard in his head. Unfortunately, the first side effect of these types of attacks are the irrational irritable anger that came before. He would feel annoyed at the smallest of things, and he was not pleasant to be around when that happened. 

He separated himself from his brothers, finding solace in the library. And slowly but surely, the anger diminished, but then so did his joy. He was now completely numb. Well not completely. He got up to join everyone for lunch, knowing he would be better company now. 

He sat between his brothers, content to just eat. He listened to Dewey and Webby excitedly chat about that afternoon's adventure, discussing everything they would attempt and what they hoped to find. Louie would chip in with his desire to add to his growing collection of valuables. If his brothers noticed his mood, they didn’t say anything. 

He would feel small bursts of joy from one of Dewey’s jokes, a spark of excitement alongside Webby or slight irritation at Louie's schemes. But the emotions wouldn’t last long. He didn’t feel any particular emotion strongly and over all felt content. He was quieter than usual, and just felt the need to observe. 

He felt as though he should be concerned at the lack of emotion on these days, but again preferred this to in insenant taunting with Willard on his bad days. So he called these his content days. Nothing overly negative, but also no positives either. However some days this state would be overridden if he started to talk incessantly, then Willard would make an appearance. So it was in his best interest to just be a neutral party, silently observing and enjoying everyone's company. 

When he took his seat on the plane, Louie was once again the first one to initiate contact. He didn’t say anything, clearly enjoying the silence. He sat close to Huey, shoulders pushed together and he didn’t initiate any conversation. He appreciated this, because he did not feel like being a conversationalist today. 

Dewey was next, quick to lean his back against his other arm, continuing to chat wildly with Webby, however being more controlled and still in his action compared to other days. He could tell Webby noticed, but enjoyed his brother's silent support nonetheless. She only turned her head in confusion. 

Webby loved her friends, the triplets. They were all so different but so similar at the same time. They were also a complex puzzle with new pieces of information being revealed with time. Like now for instance. Something was wrong with Huey, maybe, the others didn’t act like there was. He was quieter than normal. He was uniquely the middle one when it came to volume. Dewey was the loudest, always having something to say. Huey was a step down, always offering information. And Louie was a sweet talker, only using his voice when necessary. 

Watching them sit so closely together, and she would have to say she was amazed at Dewey’s ability to sit still for this long, in what was clearly a quiet call for support for their older brother, was sweet to witness. 

She loved her friends, but was also a little jealous she would never truly understand the bond they held for one another. She had only had Granny for a majority of his life. They had always had one another, a silent language being perfected between them for the last twelve years. A secret triplet language that was almost spoken telepathically from their eyes and body language. 

She watched as Huey sighed loudly. Not with malice, or annoyance, almost like he had been holding his breath and hadn’t realized it. She watched as Dewey pushed himself further against Huey and Louie threw a foot into Huey’s lap. She didn’t understand, and was afraid to ask. Huey gave her a small smile before returning to the emotionless state he had been in for the majority of the afternoon. 

“Don’t worry Webby, I’m ok” Huey spoke suddenly, starting the other ducklings. “Just one of those days.”

The boys nodded in understanding, Dewey giving her a thumbs up. “Heubert here should be fine by tomorrow, if not the end of the day.” Huey rolled his eyes at him, before relaxing further in his seat, hands limp in his lap. 

“Ok, I don’t understand, but clearly Dewey and Louie do” They boys exchange glances, having another one of those silent conversations that she would never be a part of. Louie gestured his head towards her, and Huey looked deep in though for a moment before nodding. 

“Well Webby what is going on is-” Louie started to explain everything to her, the rest of the plane ride filled with new knowledge, and questions mostly answered by everyone but the duck in question. 

Heubert Duck was a lot of things. He was smart, and had extensive knowledge of many recorded facts. He worked hard for himself and his family. He was responsible, taking extra care to ensure everything was always taken care of. He was logical and thorough. His brain worked against him some days, but at the end of it all he was ok. He was in control, and would always have help when he had trouble remembering he was in control. Huey Duck was not alone and that was wonderful.

[acraftedmistake]

A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 7

SEVENTH CHAPTER YAY

This was a lot of fun to write! Hope you guys enjoy! ;<;b

“I’m sorry--What?” Jesse fumbled with his words. How do you react to a statement like that?

Aiden saw his friends--and Olivia’s--thrown off expressions. A few had mouths hanging open while others’ faces practically begged for him to elaborate. Stella being the more extreme of the bunch with widened eyes.

“Think about it!” He said to the bewildered crowd “Jesse’s been way too cooperative, he’s described events that don’t match up with ours--heck--he doesn’t know what we’re talking about! And since the portals weren’t made for entering different worlds, the next logical idea would be they came from another universe.”

Maya raised her head up, “That… Makes sense.” She joined Aiden’s side.

“No, hold on, how did ANY part of your conclusion sound ‘logical’?” Stella sputtered.

“Yeah, You can’t say somethin’ makes sense ‘n… Expect it to.” Gill raised a brow.

Olivia hopped off the stairs and went to Jesse as quickly as she could, ducking down to avoid attention. Not like she would care if everyone was watching her right now. She found her mind too wrapped up around the mere IDEA of entering a different universe being possible. ‘Hearing it out loud, it’s so obvious! Why didn’t I think of it before?’ She questioned. Maybe she was too shaken up on being surrounded by enemies and their bizarre behaviors to consider it a possibility. She clutched her small book tightly and slid to Jesse’s side.

“It’d explain why everything’s felt unnatural.” Maya shifted towards Jesse and Olivia. “You said it yourself back at the library, Stella. It was weird around Olivia.”

“Yes. I did.” Stella admitted, “But it was specifically about Olivia. I didn’t say anything about Jesse.”

“Yeah, I gotta agree with Stella here.” Spoke Gill, “No offense t’you Aiden, it’s just… Your idea feels really extreme.”

Gill looked back to the neat pile of books on the table “ ‘N these books are super old, so if we go offa them, they could be outdated or wrong.”

Stella sighed with relief and placed her hand on Gill’s shoulder, “Thank you, Gill. Glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks this situation is crazy--Wait a second. Cassie!”

The red head jumped up.

“What are your thoughts on this whole universe… Jesse… Portal situation?” Stella waved her hands about.

“Maybe… There’s an in-between?” Cassie received an array of weird looks from everyone. She pushed up her glasses, “Like you said, we don’t know anything about portals. Maybe Jesse snatched Olivia from another universe and something… Happened?”

Cassie began tugging on a strand of her red hair, “Maybe messed up memories is a side effect of going through portals--I don’t know! If I knew more about portals, I could come up with a better idea.”

Gill blinked a couple of times.

“So… You’re in the middle?” he tilted his head.

“Yeah. Guess I am.” Cassie shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

Gill nodded. Stella decided not to comment on her friend’s statement.

“Adding onto what Gill said,” Stella started, “I don’t recall any books about successful portals.”

“Do you have a better theory?” Maya folded her arms.

Stella straightened her posture and adjusted her top, “Yes, I believe I do.”

Stella spun around and faced Aiden. She pushed her hair behind her ear and started,

“I’m sure we all remember Cavern City…”

Everyone listened in on Stella’s potential answer to this whole mess. Olivia was invested too despite knowing whatever Stella would say is false. Jesse became curious himself.

However, as Stella continued her explanation, something in Jesse’s mind was preventing him from concentrating.

‘All this talk about some city I’ve never heard of. If they’re so certain I’ve been there before, wouldn’t they find it weird I don’t remember it?’

Then Jesse remembered; this wasn’t some random city he’s never heard of, a place stowed away or hidden from history, this was a city in a different universe.

This thought ignited a flame which fueled his train of thought. Its tempo was getting faster and faster by the second.

He and Olivia had not entered a world. They’ve entered a place far more distant. They were in an entire  different universe. Away from their home, their loved ones, and by the sounds of it, no known way to get back. They’re stuck. Stuck with Aiden and Maya and Cassie and Stella and all these people who hate him.

Aiden’s group didn’t seem too caught up about this “universe” situation. Their lack of attention made Jesse feel worse. A different panic took over him. Not the type of panic you’d feel where your life could’ve been ended, or when lightning would flash. This panic made him want to escape. Like a fly that had been trapped in a bowl, crashing about, desperately wanting a way out but no way of knowing how.

“Olivia,” Jesse muttered, his voice shaky and hands clammy. His words mixed with his breathing. He didn’t want to interrupt Stella or have the others hearing them. This was a conversation between the two of them.

“Yeah?” Olivia said back with a voice as quiet.

“We’re… We’re in another universe.” They both knew. Everyone did. But the new weight of the situation gave those words a new kind of impact.

“I know.” She clasped her hands together. Her whole body was stiff, “I’ve been sorta… Freaking out about it. Internally. A bit of an existential crisis.”

Jesse nodded.

Olivia added on, “From what I know, I’m not supposed to be here. It’s been bothering me. A lot.”

She was gone in this world. She didn’t want to believe she was ‘dead’. Maybe the other Olivia went missing or ran away. Maybe she was kidnapped. Maybe she went through a portal and never came back. Anything, literally anything, would be better than knowing she was dead.

No matter how haunting the idea was, a dark peculiarity became apparent to her; not only did she want to hear about how she might’ve died, but if she had a grave. And if she could see it.

A weird internal battle was going on in her head. “Who would want to know how they died?” and “Who wouldn’t?”

“I have no idea how we’re going to prove we’re telling the truth.” Jesse said, keeping his voice low. “We have nothing physical on us--even if we did, I don’t think it’d help any. Anything we say could be shot down, unless-” Olivia had to nudge Jesse mid sentence and directed his attention towards Stella who, along with everyone else, was waiting for his reply.

His eyes darted about while he tried to recall what Stella was talking about. He could recall snippets of “Cavern City”. Were they expecting him to defend himself? An explanation?

Anything was better than remaining silent.

“Stella, you bring up a lot of solid points, I can’t deny that.” He tried sounding as assured as possible, having no idea what Stella had said. “There is one major issue: I have zero idea what Cavern City is. At all. I didn’t know it existed.”

Stella groaned loudly, “I wasn’t only talking about Cavern City! You can’t FORGET a major event from last week yet somehow remember how much you loathe us! It’s inconsistent!”

“Last week?” Olivia questioned, brushing the hair out of her eyes, “We were training with Radar in a forest last week. Nothing about a city.” Olivia said. She remembered showing Radar how to focus and to always be aware of his surroundings; he was quite jumpy but the fighting spirit was there. Radar lost his glasses at one point and continued charging towards a monster. It was actually a tree. She didn’t have the heart to tell him.

Stella must’ve had a whole speech debunking Jesse’s story. How everything was clearly fabricated and she had all the facts to prove otherwise; Olivia recalling--confirming--what Jesse had said must’ve blown down a great portion of her validity.

Stella sunk down into one of the couches with her mouth left open.

“You truly don’t remember Cavern City?” She asked.

“Doesn’t ring a bell. I’m Sorry.” Jesse shook his head.

“I am curious about this city. Could you elaborate?” Olivia asked the group.

Stella perked up from her seat.

Everyone looked like they were ready to share what they knew.

Stella started, “To make a long story short, it’s a city deep underground which can be accessed through a portal--”

Cassie Rose interrupted, “A portal Jesse went through hoping it’d lead to the location of his crazy, eyeless jerk!”

“And when he didn’t see any signs of him, he started ripping it apart--” Maya added on before getting cut off by Gill “Dunno why ya thought that would do somethin’.”

Gill’s comment was aimed towards Jesse.

Aiden stepped up, “We had to come over and--”

“Beat some sense into you!” Cassie said, glaring at Jesse and curling her hands to fists. She looked back at Aiden who wasn’t too happy with her addition.

“Sorry. Wasn’t needed.”

Aiden stayed quiet for a moment.

“Yeah, that’s the jist of it. We confronted you in the city’s palace, fought, a real bad quake happened and wrecked everything. You--I mean--our Jesse hit his head real hard and was out cold for a few days.”

Olivia started brainstorming. Jesse, on the other hand, had no idea where to START with this load of information.

He felt guilt building up inside him.

‘Why?’ Was the first question to pop into mind.

Why is he feeling guilty for a crime he’s never committed? Was it because his name was attached to the situation? Not only was Cassie Rose, Aiden, Maya, Gill, and Stella hurt by his actions, but an entire CITY filled with innocent people too.

He didn’t know how he could make things better.

“You know…” Olivia broke the silence, “The Cavern City situation sounds a lot like the time Aiden took over Sky City.” While it wasn’t an exact recreation, she found the similarities between the two events interesting.

The room was quiet. Aiden and his group were completely bewildered. No one knew what to say. It didn’t help Olivia made it sound like a call back everyone knew about and understood. Someone let out a chuckle in disbelief.

Jesse nearly choked on his own spit the moment those words left her mouth.

“Remember… When Aiden tried to...?” She slowly turned her head to Jesse. His eyes were wide.

“Did you… Not tell Aiden about this?” Olivia asked.

Jesse’s heart had stopped. Heck, everything stopped. The one thing he avoided mentioning and Olivia so happened to reach that comparison. Jesse saw Aiden out of the corner of his eyes, more shocked than him.

“I’m sorry--Sky city?” Aiden asked.

“I…” Jesse said slowly, “... Didn’t think it was relevant?” He shrugged uncertainly.

Probably not his strongest excuse. He originally didn’t want to share the story again in fear Aiden would get upset or they’d be reminiscing on the times they hated each other. The situation was bad enough already.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t think Sky City was relevant? In this situation? With Aiden?”

Jesse could only shrug again. There wasn’t any way to defend himself that wouldn’t make him look like an even BIGGER idiot.

“Jesse!” Olivia put her hands on her hips.

Jesse sputtered and immediately pointed at her “Did you tell Cassie Rose about the murders?!”

“The what.” Cassie said.

“Wait, what happened in Sky City?!” Aiden asked again, visibly freaking out.

“You tried to kill Jesse.” Olivia briefly explained before going back to Jesse “I don’t see how Cassie’s murders are related to you not telling Aiden about Sky City!”

“I thought he already KNEW!” Jesse exclaimed.

“We’re in a different UNIVERSE, Jesse!” Olivia shot back.

Jesse threw his arms into the air “We learned that not even an HOUR ago, how was I supposed to know?!”

“Hold it, hold it!” Stella stood between the two, putting their little freak out on hold. “I’m sorry, now I know you’re lying. Aiden? Hurting Jesse? He couldn’t hurt Jesse even if you paid him to!” She forced out a laugh.

Jesse pushed her away, “Well I hate to burst your bubble but he tried killing me TWICE.”

Aiden went white. His pupils shrunk.

His friends were equally as shocked. Stella was speechless.

Gill looked at Aiden then to Olivia and Jesse.

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Aiden?” He tilted his head.

Jesse stammered on his words. What type of question was that? What OTHER Aidens were there?!

“YEAH, I’m sure I remember the guy who attempted to kill me multiple times!”

Cassie stepped in, “Okay let’s stop talking about attempted murder and start talking about the successful ones! Explain!” she jabbed her finger into Jesse’s chest.

Jesse shoved the hand down, “We were in some big mansion with a bunch of other people! You killed 3 innocent people and then tried to add me and my friends to the list! You were-- You were insane!”

Cassie’s hand curled into a tight fist; she was doing everything in her power to not sock Jesse in the face right now. Maya saw the fire blazing in Cassie’s eyes and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, settling Cassie down.

“Big talk coming from you!” Gill shouted back, sizing up Jesse and cracking his knuckles. Aiden shouted something to Gill then the room bursted into a large argument. People were yelling over each other and exclaiming what one person did to another. Accusations were mixing up with MORE accusations. Fingers were being pointed, voices had started to merge together into complete nonsense. While Jesse couldn’t hear every curse, threat, and claim thrown at him, he could feel everyone’s resentment. Olivia was extremely overwhelmed with what was going on and couldn’t decipher who was saying what, or how to respond. Her head kept zipping around from person to person, trying to make sense of what was being said.

If it wasn’t someone shouting at Jesse, it was Aiden or Maya who were raising their voices trying to get everybody to settle down.

Jesse caught a small piece of someone’s rant, “... And you hurt anybody you don’t like…!”

“Hurt?!” Jesse repeated, “I did nothing wrong except stopping you people from hurting me and my friends!”

This was getting more and more upsetting. He couldn’t hear what they were accusing him of and wasn’t given a chance to share his side of the situation.

The shouting soon stopped and everyone had to catch their breaths.

Not knowing how long this silence would last, Jesse started talking.

“Do you guys only remember the bad experiences we’ve had? Do none of you recall the times we’ve saved the world? We stopped the Wither Storm, the--!”

“What in Sweet Hero is a Wither Storm?!” Stella asked, horrified.

Jesse froze. His mouth gaping open as he stared at Stella.  He tried making the shape of the wither storm with his hands, “It’s this giant, overpowered wither abomination Ivor created--”

“What’s an Ivor?!” Gill asked on the same level of horrification as Stella.

“Oh my gosh--” Jesse put his hands on his head and had to take a deep breath before continuing, “He was an ex member of The Order Of The Stone!”

Jesse was about to go on when he noticed an equal mixture of both confused and judgemental stares. Jesse returned a puzzled look back. Did they not…?

“You know? The Order Of The Stone? Gabriel the Warrior,” He started counting off the members with his fingers, “Ellegaard the Redstone Engineer, Magnus the--”

“Those sound fake.” Maya said.

Yes, she did believe Jesse, but at this point she had to admit this whole thing was starting to sound ridiculous.

Stella scoffed, “Yeah, if they’re such a big deal how come we’ve never heard of them?”

“IT--!” Jesse threw his arms into the air, “BECAUSE--!” He turned to Olivia with a look of desperation “Olivia please tell me The Order of the Stone is real. I didn’t hallucinate them, right?”

“No they’re totally real.” She reassured him.

Patting him on the back, she continued, “I still remember embarrassing myself in Red Stonia!” Could’ve picked anything else besides that one moment, but it was the first thing to come to mind.

“Hold on.” Maya cut in between Jesse and Olivia. She stared down at Jesse, “Have we been having this whole conversation without you knowing what entering a different universe means?”

Jesse sealed his lips. He didn’t want to answer.

“Jesse.” Maya said.

He stared at the floor as his face grew a light shade of red .

“Isn’t it like going to the Nether? Or a different world except…” He mumbled, still avoiding eye contact, “... Farther?”

Jesse caught a glance of Olivia being dumbfounded by his response.

Maya breathed in and folded her arms “Well, you got one thing right.”

“Like going to a different world?” Stella repeated Jesse’s words.

“Oh no, it is FAR more complicated.”

“Elaborate?” Jesse asked.

Gill immediately shot his arm into the air eagerly, “Oh! I know somethin’ bout it! Mevia ‘n Hadrian taught me!”

“Hm.” Stella stepped aside.

“Take it away.”

Gill smiled brightly, as if proud of himself, and shut his eyes tightly. Concentrating.

“Y’see, when you go to another universe, you might see people you recognize there.” He held up both of his hands, index fingers up. “But a lot of different events could’ve taken place in THEIR universe that didn’t happen in YOUR universe. This changes a whole bunch of things for the world and the people livin’ there.”

Jesse stood still and thought to himself. Trying to think of what Gill said in a way he could understand. “So it’s like… Entering a different room in a house?”

“No!” Stella huffed impatiently.“If you go from your bedroom to your bathroom, you’re still in the same house. Entering another universe is like entering a completely different house! A new layout, the people living there have a completely different history than you--you get the picture.”

Aiden cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket, “Alright, now that that’s out of the way… Our next plan should be figuring out how to get Jesse and Olivia ho-”

Stella shoved her hand in Aiden’s face, promptly shutting him up.

“I’m going to stop you right there.” She put her hand down. “Aiden, I know you want to do what’s right, bring Olivia back to her--hopefully real--universe, but we can’t blindly accept whatever Jesse’s a part of!”

Aiden frowned.

Stella clasped her hands together, “Listen, this could be an elaborate trap set up by The Awakening! We can’t take any chances or waltz into portal territory completely unprepared!”

Stella kept rambling on with her concerns. Gill kept nodding to every point Stella made, Jesse was listening to the one sided conversation with confusion, Cassie kept pulling on a strand of her hair while sitting on the arm of the couch, and Maya was watching Aiden trying to remain patient.

Then there was Olivia. She had been the quietest of them all. She had never been so amazed yet terrified at the same time. To be in the place where history had changed, a place where she lived and died in, it was mind blowing.

The concept of another universe--reality--made sense. However, people of the same name and faces she and Jesse knew leading different lives fascinated her. Aiden, Cassie, Maya, Gill, Stella, their stories--their entire lives--have been altered. They’ve experienced hardships she’s never had, they’ve formed different connections, bonds, the way they acted and thought… It’s all changed. Should she consider these people enemies anymore?

Are they the same people? Or were they strangers who wore the faces of the familiar.

Jesse faked a cough. Loudly. Olivia was brought back to reality and Stella stopped mid-lecture. Stella turned around to face Jesse with a glare.

Jesse gave her a small wave, “Yeah, uhm… What’s The Hero’s Awakening?”

The moment those words left his mouth all warmth and liveliness of the room had been sucked out and Jesse found himself surrounded by rigid people with hate-filled eyes. He felt their glares pierce through him.

It was too late to retract his question.

“I... Keep hearing that name and--”

“It’s a cult.” Maya answered coldly.

Jesse froze up. His throat tightened. His mind repeated those words over and over.

A cult.

A cult.

A cult.

He began breathing fast like he had awoken from a nightmare. That couldn’t be true. It’s a lie. It’s a lie. They wanted to scare him. This shouldn’t scare him.  Why did this scare him?

Jesse had to force his rigid body to look back up at Maya. He licked his lips, about to ask another question--

Suddenly, there was knocking at the door, causing everyone to jump. They all stared. Not saying a word.

“Come in.” Aiden said aloud with hesitation.

The door swiftly opened and in came Radar, whose face was hidden behind a clipboard and a pen held tightly in his other hand. At first glance his appearance could’ve been mistaken for the usual attire Jesse had always seen him in. Upon further inspection, he saw Radar wore a green, one buttoned suit which hid most of his light brown vest underneath it along with a blue tie that popped from the suit. He also wore dark, cool gray straight pants and polished, black oxford shoes. His hair was still the same. Thick, black, and swooped up. Maybe it was a little shorter?

He was far less… Lively. The energy that typically accompanied Radar was completely absent and instead there stood a man who spoke flatly and stood stiffly.

“Hello, sir. I thought I’d let you know the guards have searched the shrine thoroughly and have discovered a man made--” He lowered his clipboard for a split second before yelping and immediately covering his face again. His pen fell to the floor.

“Wh…” Radar trembled, “What is HE doing here?” He pointed at Jesse, his hands shaking. His flat tone became wobbly.

Aiden approached him carefully “Radar, I know this looks bad--”

“Terrible, sir.”

“But this might not be the real Jesse, or our Jesse. We were just talking about how he’s from another universe!”

“Possibly.” Cassie Rose added. She had shoved her hands back into her pockets and eyed Radar with a scowl on her face.

Aiden rolled his eyes and bobbed his head, “Possibly.”

Radar cautiously lowered his clipboard to get a better look at Jesse, who was smiling warmly, grateful to see a familiar friendly face.

Radar breathed in and adjusted his tie. He continued holding onto the board with a tight grip as his shaking eased. His quick breaths soon slowed and his once distressed face turned into curiosity. Then to fascination. He pushed up his glasses and squinted at the brunet as he slowly approached him. Once he was a foot away from Jesse he stopped to scan him.

Radar stuck his hand out and studied his hand, flipping it about like he was expecting something to happen.

“I do feel a sort of… Disconnection with him if.” He stroked his chin.

“He has all the qualities of Jesse--I mean--it IS Jesse, yet I don’t find myself… As petrified around him.”

Radar stared into Jesse’s eyes for a bit longer before his face scrunched up.

“However, I can’t continue looking at his face.” He separated the two of them with his board.

Jesse knew Radar must’ve had a good reason for saying what he did, but it still stung.

Cassie Rose grinded her shoe into the floor “I guess if we ever have another universe problem, we’ll get Mr. Know-it-all to help out next time.” she grumbled under her breath.

Radar turned around to talk back and jumped when he saw how many people were in the room. Gracious, was it crowded. He scanned the whole room; he spotted Maya, who flashed him a smile, and then he saw--

“Olivia?” He let out a small gasp. He hugged his board and let his mouth hang for a moment. “This is--This…”

Radar combed his hair with his hands. He started to pace “Oh Hero… You said they’re from another universe?”

“Yeah.” Maya nodded.

“These two--” He looked at Olivia and Jesse then back to Aiden “Were these the two ‘kids’ you brought to question from before?”

“Yeah,” Aiden said, “It’s a wild story--”

Everyone began talking to Radar about their eventful evening. All except for Olivia and Jesse, who were standing a distance away from the group, silent in a room full of conversation. Olivia couldn’t think of any way she could contribute. Aiden’s group was probably going to retell what they already knew.

Jesse found himself unable to stay still. He was tapping his foot faster and faster waiting for everyone to finish their seemingly never ending conversation. A minute had yet to pass before Jesse cupped his hands around his mouth and said “Hey, Radar reminded me of something!” Loud enough for them to hear.

The talking dwindled.

Jesse stepped up.

“You’ve heard bits and pieces about yourselves. What about us? What do you know about us?”

Olivia joined his side, “Yeah, I’m curious too.”  Her eyes instinctively landed on Cassie Rose who pressed her lips together.

“Right,” Cassie said looking away, “I did promise we’d talk.”

“Well, we can start. What do you know about me?” Jesse asked. He didn’t want anyone to change the subject, he didn’t care if people didn’t trust him, he wanted an answer. They were gonna talk about this right here. Right now.

All talking had ceased.

Jesse waited for somebody--anybody--to start talking. No one uttered a word. Were they afraid to? Or did they not know how to begin?

“You’re mental.” Gill said, breaking the silence.

Jesse flinched. Yes, he wanted to hear about himself, but the first bit of description he’s finally gotten and it was that?

Aiden was about to speak before Stella intervened, “The word ‘mental’ is rather vague. I think the words ‘A Two-timing lunatic’ paint a better picture.”

Jesse heard another name shot at him before several more came. No one was shouting over each other unlike last time, so he was able to make out a few words.

None of them were positive.

Jesse managed to hear Radar, in his quiet voice, describe him as ‘An absolute madman’.

Mixed in with their faces of disgust and anger made the spotlight on him more overwhelming.

Before the room could spiral out of control again Aiden raised his voice, “Alright, alright.”

Everyone quieted down.

“I think you all got your points across.” He eyed them all as he pushed through the group and went to Jesse and Olivia.

“Ignore them.” He told Jesse. “A lot has happened to us over the years and--” He closed his eyes and breathed in, “And it was too much for Jesse. He resorted to more… Unethical approaches. Things got out of hand.”

Aiden’s face lightened up and folded his arms “But Jesse’s still our friend. And we’re going to do everything we can to get him back.”

Aiden continued his speech in a confident tone. Jesse was drawn in. Olivia found herself drifting aside and looking past Aiden’s shoulder. She caught the expressions of his friends. They were uneasy. A few were shaking their heads. They didn’t look annoyed, but were visibly upset. Olivia studied their reactions for a moment longer before bringing her attention back to Aiden.

“And what do you mean by ‘a lot has happened’?” Olivia asked.

Aiden’s smile weakened.

He didn’t say anything at first. When he finally did, he started off slowly.

“We went through some big battles. Had to save the world from an enormous lava creature, we’re still dealing with The Hero’s Awakening...” His smile faded completely and he locked eyes with Olivia, “... Lost friends.”

Cassie joined Aiden’s side, “And Olivia, as you probably know, you were one of them.”

A pit formed in Olivia’s stomach along with a lump in her throat that refused to go down. She held her hands together and thought ‘Of course.’

Of course it ended up being the worst case scenario. Of course her dying ended up being true. It couldn’t have been anything else.

With the most steady voice she could muster up she asked “What happened?”

Aiden started biting on inside of his cheek, “You were out exploring an old, underground temple in the middle of the day. Then, out of nowhere, a horrible quake happened in the middle of the day. No one was expecting it to happen, we were all caught by surprise.”

He clenched his fists, “We were told a large crack opened up and... You fell in.”

He breathed in and stepped back. The story ended on an abrupt note, but Olivia believed she was told the perfect amount. Nothing severely graphic nor too vague to make her have to ask more questions. She had finally received her answer. There was finally relief. It was done. She wouldn’t have to worry about questions constantly eating her up. She had no reason to think about it any more.

“You know,” Maya said, leaning against the wall, “Jesse and Olivia being from a different universe is kinda nice. Our Olivia isn’t back from the dead, but this isn’t the Jesse we know.”  They murmured to one another. A few heads nodded.

Jesse folded his arms, “So exploring is out of the picture because people will think I’m some maniac and Olivia isn’t supposed to be here at all?” He sounded genuinely disappointed knowing he’d have to be confined into a single area with these people. He knows they aren’t technically his enemies but they still didn’t like him.

“That might not be the case.” Radar said. His body faced Olivia and Jesse while his face was hidden behind the clipboard again, “If you two would like, I wouldn’t mind giving a tour of Obsidian Town. I could show you around and tell you its history.”

“Really?” Jesse’s face lit up. Olivia was equally enthusiastic. She had caught quick glimpses of this area, so a tour would be a wonderful opportunity to learn more about this town! Maybe they’d learn about this universe too!

Plus Jesse wouldn’t be cooped up inside their whole time here. She couldn’t remember the last time Jesse stayed in one place without  busting out or exploring.

Maya and Aiden exchanged concerned looks.

“Are you sure?” Maya asked.

“One of us can go with you.” Aiden offered.

Radar shook his head, “No, I insist. I think having a tour would be beneficial for the three of us! We’d do it in the middle of the day when everyone’s sleeping to avoid any unwanted attention.”

He turned back to Jesse and Olivia, “As long as it’s okay with the two of you. I’m a bit of an early bird myself, but I can always find a different time--”

“No!” Jesse hopped up, unable to contain his smile and scaring Radar. “That’s perfect!”  

“If you say so.” Aiden said, he shifted back to Radar “But could it wait? They just got here.”

Olivia added on “Maybe we could do it tomorrow?” She looked at Jesse, “I think I’m speaking for the both of us when I say I am exhausted. This is a lot to take in at 3 AM.”

“It’s 4 AM now.” Gill stated.

“Jeez, no wonder I feel like garbage. A different universe on top of the fact it’s 4 in the morning? It’s a miracle I hadn’t passed out yet.” Jesse said.

Everyone, except for Olivia, was put off.

Aiden pushed aside the weird feeling, “Yeah, I can imagine how draining this whole situation must be for the two of you.”

He began making his way to the stairs and motioned for them to follow him.

“We have a guest room,” He looked back at the pair, “There’s only one bed though, hope that’s okay.”

Jesse stretched, “Yep! Don’t mind at all. Worst case, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Aiden opened the door to the guest room and it looked… Surprisingly nice.

Jesse wasn’t too sure what he was expecting from a guest room in Aiden’s house. He imagined it being cramped or dirty, but the room was rather spacious and tidy. The spruce floors and birch walls were bare, so the main features of this room was it’s single window, a neatly done, red bed with a light brown night stand beside it and a small lamp. Several boxes of various sizes surrounded a desk which was pushed far into the left corner of the room.

Jesse was delighted to see the bed was decently sized and could fit the two of them with no need to fight over the sheets. Olivia was glad Jesse wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground. However, she felt an uneasy emptiness accompany the room. The place was weirdly barren for how big it was and the boxes in the corner made her wonder if this used to be someone’s bedroom.

‘You’re overthinking about a guest room.’ Olivia told herself. She let out a yawn.

“Hope this’ll do.” Aiden said, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks, Aiden.” Olivia smiled. Aiden returned the smile and left the two alone. Her appreciation was genuine and… Odd. She never thought the day she was grateful for Aiden’s help would come. Their Aiden or not, it was weird nonetheless.

Jesse had flung off his shoes and flopped onto the bed, letting out a loud groan. He covered his face with his arm and laid still. He felt the blanket with his other hand. It was thick. You could suffocate a person with it if you were determined enough.

“I love beds.” Jesse said with a muffled voice, “So much.”

Olivia chuckled and slipped into the bed, placing the small book she’s held onto the nightstand. Her legs were sore. When was the last time she sat down today? She ran into the jungle temple with Jesse, walked all the way to Obsidian town, walked to and from the library, not to mention all the standing around. Who cares?! She was in bed!

She was looking forward to the tour with Radar, imagining the different structures this universe had to offer; curious about what’s changed or remained the same, what features they add to their buildings and why. Maybe Radar would talk about the shrines!

‘I shouldn’t be getting this excited before going to sleep.’ She took a few deep breaths to collect herself.

Jesse got under the blanket, “G’night Olivia.”

Olivia smiled, “Night, Jesse.”

She tucked herself in and closed her eyes.

Five  minutes passed and Jesse was still awake. Five became tenl. Ten became thirty. He was still wide awake. Jesse found himself stuck. Stuck with his own thoughts and what he’s learned.

He scratched the idea of awakening Olivia to talk.

‘You already dragged her through a portal, entered another universe, discovered she died, and now you want to wake her up at the crack of dawn?’ Jesse hoped Olivia was sleeping soundly. She didn’t deserve to be kept up all night, plagued with horrid possibilities and regret.

Why’d he have to be so thoughtless when discovering the portal? Why did he go through it? Why did he have to take poor Olivia with him?

He’ll make it up to her. He’ll find a way back home as soon as possible.

‘I wonder…’ He shifted around. ‘How awful the ‘me’ in this universe is…’ Bad enough for people to reject the idea he and Olivia came from another universe and instead believing Jesse’s current actions and nature were a front. An act.

It was enough to make him wonder what he--his counterpart--did to Aiden and his friends to have them believe Jesse’s kindness towards Olivia and his cooperativeness was fake.

There was another him.

Another Jesse.

Another Jesse who had lived a completely different life than him, who had history with everyone in this house. A Jesse who had caused others to suffer.

He had entered a place where he already exists. It terrified him.

What happened to him?

Jesse snapped out of his thoughts and could hear a conversation going on downstairs. He wished he could decipher the muffles.

But he had to sleep.

Jesse wasn’t sure if he COULD sleep. The sun was already cracking the sky, slowly releasing hues of orange and pushing away the dark blues of the night.

His mind couldn’t settle down.

How could he sleep?

‘Try.’ He told himself. He should at least try. He’ll need the energy for tomorrow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Aiden took his time getting back downstairs to the others. He smiled to himself. He didn’t want to say it outloud, but Olivia’s “Thank you” made this stressful evening better.

He was trying to figure out how they would begin looking for a way to deal with this whole mess. None of them knew what activated the portal in the first place. Even if they did, finding the materials would be a difficult task. He could check out the journal Hadrian lent him for ideas or maybe ask Hadrian and Mevia themselves. If they taught Gill about universes, maybe they knew about the portals for them.

‘Petra has more… Interesting items. Could be worth stopping by her place.’ He reminded himself. As he approached the stairs, he could hear his friends--mainly Stella--talking.

“...This is why I have such a hard time believing Aiden’s theory.”

Aiden came to a stop and stood still, listening in on the conversation.

“I can take Jesse forgetting a majority of his life, I can take the idea of The Hero’s Awakening going the extra step and being able to pull off necromancy! I can’t believe a different universe. It feels like such a stretch!”

“Necromancy’s more logical than a universe with a good Jesse existing?” Maya asked.

Stella folded her arms, “We don’t have any concrete evidence! Come on, he said Aiden attempted to kill him. Twice. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

“It does.” Maya admitted, “But Jesse wasn’t talking about the Aiden we know.”

“Puh-lease!” Stella laughed, “How bad could the Aiden in ‘his universe’ be?”

Stella’s laughter died down and she stopped to think.

“I do find it interesting he mainly talked about Aiden and Cassie,” Stella said, “Makes me curious what the rest of us are like in his supposed ‘universe’.”

“He did recognize us...” Gill stroked his beard.

“Didn’t like us.” Maya added.

Aiden leaned against the wall as the conversation began fading. A sour feeling began to build up inside his stomach. He tried to ignore it and shift his focus back onto getting Jesse and Olivia home. Instead, he began thinking about Jesse himself. What he said earlier.

He didn’t know why his other-self went to Sky City nor what he did there. The most context he got was from Olivia saying what happened in Cavern City ‘reminded her of Sky City’ and he nearly killed Jesse twice. Aiden’s head became hot.

‘You would never do that.’ Aiden tried to reassure himself.

He saw Sky City was a warning. A peek into what he could become. Who’s to say he wouldn’t end up like the Aiden Jesse knew given enough time?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cassie Rose looked up and spotted Aiden sulking in the stairway. She slipped past Stella and Maya along with an extremely invested Gill. Radar went back to pick up the pen he dropped from earlier. Hopefully he wouldn’t comment on her sudden absence.

She approached Aiden.

“You doing okay?” Cassie asked and sat on the railings of the stairs.

“Thinking.” He answered.

“Thinking about what Jesse said?”

“Mm. I’m just--” He breathed in, “Why didn’t he tell us about the destruction of an entire city?”

“Maybe for the same reason none of us told him about Cavern City.” She suggested, resting her head back against the wall.

He hadn’t thought about it like that. Aiden wasn’t certain what Cassie’s--or his other friends--reasons for keeping quiet were, but he felt like he had to keep his mouth shut. When Rose first mentioned the possibility of amnesia, he wanted to brush the idea off and forget about it.

But he didn’t. In fact, the longer the night went on, the more he found himself believing Jesse lost chunks of his memory. Aiden didn’t want to bring up any reminders of the past; he was afraid it’d trigger Jesse’s memory and everything would spiral out of control again.

Of course, Aiden’s concerns did fade when Jesse shared his past experiences with him. No matter how strange Jesse’s stories sounded, a part of Aiden knew he was telling the truth.

He didn’t have to worry about Jesse regaining his memory anymore. Instead, he started worrying about their Jesse. The one who’s still out there.

“What about you?” Aiden asked Rose, “Aren’t you bothered by what he told you?” Hearing about how he almost killed Jesse felt like a punch in the gut. He couldn’t imagine how Rose must’ve felt when it was announced she murdered three people completely out of left field.

Cassie scrunched up her nose and shook her head, “Nope.”

Aiden blinked, “Really?”

She shrugged, “It caught me off guard. Jesse calling me insane was what got me the most. The whole ‘mansion murders’ sounded ridiculous. It doesn’t bother me.”

It bothered her.

It disturbed her.

She started off disgusted by Jesse’s words, but as she continued thinking about what he said more and more she felt disgusted with herself. Was it herself or this other Cassie Rose?

‘How could she?’ Cassie asked herself.

‘Could I do that?’ An uneasiness grew inside her. Cassie was still on the fence with Jesse coming from another universe. A part of her was hoping he wasn’t. She’d be eternally thankful if Jesse revealed everything he’s said today was a lie.

Curiosity clawed at her. Begging her to find out more.

A part of her mind knew it didn’t matter what she found out or what motivated the other Cassie. No matter the excuse, she took the lives of innocent people. The mere thought filled her with pure, unkempt rage. After what she’s witnessed, after what she’s been through, what would set her off to kill? Thinking about this made her frustratingly sick.

“Besides,” The two heard Stella say rather loudly, “I think you’re forgetting another important factor: None of the portals built before worked, so what makes The Shrine Of Eyes the exception?”

“She does bring up a valid point.” Radar said. He began jotting notes down onto the paper his clipboard held.

“Why it was successful doesn’t matter anymore.” Aiden announced, scaring the rest of the group. He stepped off the stairs, “What matters is knowing how we can reactivate it and getting those guys back home.”

Everyone nodded in unison.

Aiden saw Stella open her mouth. “Even if we don’t believe Jesse. I’m sure none of us like the idea of two Jesse’s running around.”

Stella closed her mouth and shuddered at the thought.

Radar raised hand.

“What’s up, Radar?” Aiden asked.

Radar pushed up his glasses and cleared his throat, “Yes--Uh, Sir--I was wondering if… I could be caught up on what’s happened.”

[withyounct]

What's wrong kid? (4)

Reader X Single dad!Jaehyun

Genre: Fluff

Words: 3.7k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Prev | Next

A/n: We’re all going to pretend like I didn't disappear for over a week. Enjoy!

To say you were on cloud nine would be an understatement. The next morning you were greeted with a ‘Good morning, beautiful’ text from Jaehyun. You skipped around happily while you got ready for class, even going as far as making breakfast for everyone. It was common knowledge that you weren’t a morning person, so Kun and Ten ate the food with caution. Throughout the day you found yourself smiling about the night before.

While you were having the time of your life, your friends were suffering greatly.

“She’s grossing me out.” Jaemin whispered to the group while you stared out the window of the café, a smile ever visible on your face.

“You’re telling me. Some guy spilled coffee on her notebook and she didn’t kill him. Shit was wild.” Yangyang informed.

“Let me punch her one good time.” Renjun rolled up his sleeves for added effect

“No.” Jeno interjected.

Laughing, you turned to your friends. You leaned your head on Renjun’s shoulder and giggled. Renjun’s death glare softened when he glanced at your smiley disposition. He patted your head and asked what’s got you acting like an idiot. Sitting upright, you glanced at the group and broke out another stupid smile.

“Remember that cute little girl I'm babysitting, well she has a very handsome, very funny, very sweet, ver-”

“Say ‘very’ one more time and I swear to god.” Haechan hissed.

“Really amazing dad, who I may or may not have kissed.” You paused. “Well in all technicality he kissed me, but I kissed back. He even sent me a good morning text, how sweet is that? That’s not important, what is important is that I really like him guys.” You leaned down and planted your face on the table. You glanced up at your friends to gauge their reaction and was met with concern expressions. You leaned back up and bit your lower lip at the silence. “Words would be nice.”

“Um.” Lucas was the first to speak. He glanced at the group. “An older guy with a kid? Y/n you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused for a second. That certainly wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for or even expecting. But you understood where they were coming from. You weren’t the type to date, casual make-outs here and there, but admitting you liked someone was completely left field. Admitting you liked someone with a kid was out of the solar system in their mind.

“I get it and I love you guys for worrying, but I need you to trust me on this.” You tried, but was still met with the same concern expressions. You tried to smile, but it quickly turned into a pout.

“Okay, but we’re killing him if he hurts you.” Mark was surprisingly the first to break.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You beamed.

The art department was hosting a free entrance gallery viewing on campus that evening. Renjun, being your group’s pride and joy Picasso, was being featured. Despite his pleads of ‘don’t come you’ll just embarrass me’, the collective unit showed up for support. Jaehyun texted you earlier that day that Taeil kidnapped Hyunjin and she was hanging out with him for the rest of the day, so you were free.

Ditching the rest of the group you and Jaemin, being the only civilized two, walked quietly around. Stopping at every painting, you started to feel a little self- conscious. There wasn’t anything outstanding that you were talented in and envied the liberal arts majors. Sulking, you expressed your sadness to Jaemin since he always did a wonderful job at cheering you up.

“Y/n, you’re the only person I know who can confidently tell me the stages of a star’s death with exact numbers and shit. If that’s not talent, then I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my valued party trick.” You joked bumping his side.

You walked further into the gallery and stared in awe at Renjun’s piece. It was a beautiful oil painting of what the sky would look like if the Milky Way and Andromeda collided. There was a quote under his name on the plaque ‘in about 4 billion years, but the sun would have turned into a red giant and swallow the earth whole– someone great’. You looked at Jaemin surprised and he just smiled.

“I guess it’s his way of saying he misses you. Which I can relate. I'm beyond happy that you have feelings for someone, but we miss having you around all the time. Just don’t forget us okay?”

You felt the tears prick your eyes and tried to wield them back. The fact that Renjun would take the time and effort to paint something this elaborate with you in mind when he could have just easily texted made your heart ache. That coupled with Jaemin’s words broke the seal and tears started to fall. To hide them you wrapped yourself around him and mumbled ‘I hate you’ into his chest. You felt the rumble of his laugh and a kiss on the crown of your head.

“You found it.” Renjun’s voice broke through. He and the rest made their way over to you. Jaemin gently transferred you onto Renjun.

“You made her cry.” Jaemin teased. You buried yourself in Renjun’s chest, a little embarrassed that your emotions got the better of you. You felt Jaemin’s hand stroke your hair and heard the rest of your friends’ coo, each lovingly teasing you for your tears.

“I'm sorry I suck.” You cried. They of course disagreed with the statement, but you felt bad for ditching them and only today telling them why. You were a chaotic bunch, but when it came down to it you were each other’s support system.

“You’re being such a Pisces right know.” Haechan laughed, effectively killing the moment. You pushed yourself off Renjun and tried to choke him out.

You walked through the lobby of the gallery ready to go when you spotted a poster with Jaehyun’s name on it. Completely ignoring the conversation you were having with Haechan, you walked up to it.

“This Jaehyun that you might or might not be dating isn’t Jung Jaehyun, right? The guy who’s designing the new art building. Like the millionaire.” Renjun appeared next to you.

“No, it is.” You answered simply. You heard Renjun calmly hum before he screamed for everyone to help. An uproar surfaced over the topic.

“So, in conclusion, Y/n is a sugar baby.” Jaemin proclaimed.

“No, I'm not.”

“How much are you getting paid to babysit his child?” Yangyang asked.

“Not telling… Man look at the time I have to go home and rethink my life choices. See you tomorrow!”

“I quit.” You said while you and Jaehyun were preparing dinner. The statement completely caught him off guard causing him to drop the spatula and resulted in a mess over the stove. You quickly apologized and handed him a rag.

“Why? Was there something I did? Its school isn’t it? Having to watch Hyunjin and be a full-time student is too much. God Y/n I'm sorry I-”

“No, you didn’t do anything. It’s nothing like that.” You smiled, grabbing his hand. “My friends unknowingly made a good point the other day. I enjoy being around both you and Hyunjin and it feels weird that you pay me to do that. So, I quit.”

Jaehyun looked at you for a second, clearly trying to find the right words to say.

“An allowance?”

“Oh my god that’s worse. I'm not a sugar baby Jaehyun!” You busted out laughing and he did the same.

“I know I just want to see if you'd say that.” He confessed laughing. “Okay, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take your letter of resignation.” He placed a kiss on your lips.

“I saw that!” Hyunjin yelled as she finished setting the table.

“No, you didn’t!” Jaehyun yelled back.

Dinner was slightly more chaotic than usual. Hyunjin was convinced she saw you two kissing and Jaehyun was jokingly convinced that she needed glasses. The two went back and forth and you tried not to die from laughing. The climax of the dinner peaked when Hyunjin walked over and kissed you on the cheek. She proudly stuck her tongue out at her father and declared that she could kiss you too. You were convinced that the two Jungs were going to be the death of you.

You were washing the dishes when you felt arms snake around your waist. A smile spread as you were being gently swayed left and right, light peppered kisses sprinkled the back of your neck.  You both stayed in silence as you finished your task.

“There’s a charity event tomorrow that I'm being forced, by Taeyong, to attend. I would be honored if you would accompany me?” He spun you around so you were facing him.

“Me? Are you sure? Plus, who’s going to take care of Hyunjin?” Insecurity was your immediate emotion. You were acutely aware of your different social classes as is, but going to a, mostly likely, high-end charity event wasn’t something you were comfortable with.

“She’s having a sleep over at her friend’s house. I only have to show my face for an hour an hour thirty tops, then the night is ours.” He said caressing your cheek. After giving it some thought, you reeled back your anxiety a bit.

“Okay.”

When you woke the next morning, you were hit with two panic thoughts. One, you were late, but decided fuck it you had enough absences left. Two, the most important one, you had nothing to wear that evening. You quickly grabbed your phone ready to cancel on Jaehyun when Ten opened your door. You both stared at each other for a second.

“Don’t tell Kun I'm skipping.” You pleaded.

“Got you. Also, there’s a tree in the living room that wants to see you.” He shrugged at your confused face and pointed to the living room.

“Johnny?” The surprised evident in your voice.

“Morning sunshine. I come bearing gifts.” He held up one large and small box. Hesitantly, you took them. “Jaehyun called me freaking out because his dumb ass asked you to the event tonight without making sure you had a dress ready. Lucky for you two, I exist.”

“Do you want me to try it on and mak-”

“Nah, it’ll fit. I'm late. See you tonight.” Before you could get anything else out, Johnny was out the door.

You glanced in the larger box to find a beautiful champagne lace off the shoulder dress. You stared in awe at how pretty it was. Turning it around you saw that the price tag was covered with a smile with its tongue out and a JS initial next to it. You laughed and found that the shoes and accessories shared the same mark.

“Wow.” Ten whistled picking up the shoes. “My baby is moving up in the world.” He carefully placed everything back in their boxes and ordered you to get ready for your next class.

The day flew by faster than you would have liked. At one point you demanded that Jeno acquire the power to slow time. Being the sweetest person ever, he tried.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t excited. Not knowing what to expect gave you anxiety, but the realization that you get to see Jaehyun in a three-piece suit made you want to scream. You looked down at your outfit and felt a little like a princess. It was nowhere near your usual attire and you had to give it to Johnny for picking out something this flattering for you. You did a little spin and chuckled.  

A few minutes later, Jaehyun showed up and you were whisked away. During the car ride you would steal glances at him and saw him do the same. You were at a red light when you caught each other in the act, which caused you to laugh at your silliness.

“So, if you plan on only being there for an hour, why bring me?” You asked curious.

“Honestly, I wasn’t going to ask you. But the guys made a good point, that it would be rude not to invite my girlfriend and have other girls ‘fight over me the whole evening’. They said they’re tired of seeing that.” Jaehyun confessed without a thought. There was silence from your end of the car. He pulled up to another red light and turned to you.

“Girlfriend?” You said wide-eyed. You saw his face shift into panic mode.

“Shit I meant to say that in a more romantic setting.”

A stupid smile broke across your face. “No actually that was perfect.”

“Pretend you didn’t hear that and let me try again later.” He pleaded.

“Absolutely not.” You had to stop yourself from dying of laughter. The two of you debated over the semantics of a perfect confession until you reached the venue. Looking up at the five-star hotel you felt your anxiety rise again. You started biting on your bottom lip when you felt Jaehyun bring your face near his.

“You know you have a very dangerous nervous twitch.” You shuddered as his breath fanned your face. He glanced down at your bottom lip and placed a kiss on it as if apologizing for your abuse. “You don’t need to worry; I’ll be right by you the whole time.” He said before leaning in for a real kiss. This one was different than the rest, it was softer and warmer. It had a magical effect of putting your heart to rest. You pulled away when the valet arrived. Jaehyun tossed over his keys and guided you into the building. You were immediately hit with the smell of expensive perfume and cologne. Everything looked obnoxiously wealthy and you inwardly cringed, but put your best smile foreword.

“You have such a wonderful fake smile.” Jaehyun softly commented as he nodded at some random guy.

“Thanks. I hate everything right now.” You smiled at him. He snickered as he introduced you to some older man and his wife. You were polite and commented on how beautiful she was, and she immediately took a liking to you. Jaehyun pulled you around meeting people while introducing you as his girlfriend. Every time he said it your smile turned less and less fake.

After a few minutes your face started to hurt, and you were looking for a way out of meeting another round of rich people. Looking around, you spotted Jaehyun’s friends talking amongst themselves over champagne. You pulled on Jaehyun’s sleeve and nodded in their direction.

“You go. I’ll be there in a minute.” He whispered. You nodded and excused yourself.

“Damn I did a good job.” Johnny praised when you walked up, resulting in a smack on the arm by Taeyong.

“You look beautiful Y/n.” Taeyong commented. You let them know just how much you hated being there and they related with the feeling. Sicheng got you a glass and Taeil laughed at your disgusted face after you drank some.

Jaehyun approached and eyed you and the glass of champagne.

“I don’t see the hype.” You handed him the glass. They began to talk business and you tuned out. Jaehyun’s arm snaked around your waist and you copied the action. You looked up and smiled at him and heard Doyoung cooed.

“You just missed the cutest smile.” He nagged while hitting Jaehyun’s free arm.

“Jaehyun is that you?” A whiny female voice entered. Everyone’s head turned to the noise. You saw everyone excluding Jaehyun roll their eyes and looked yourself. It was a woman about the same age as the rest who was by all accounts stunning, but was wearing too much makeup and not enough clothes. She walked up and pulled him into a hug. Jaehyun, being ever the gentleman, pulled his arm from around you and hugged her back.

“Kate. How are you?” He smiled.

“I'm doing wonderful, so sweet of you to ask.” You saw Yuta fake gag. They talked for a minute before you were introduced.

“This is my girlfriend Y/n. Y/n this is Kate; her company has worked with mine in the past.” You put back on your fake smile, holding out your hand. She shook it as if it was contaminated, but your smile didn’t waiver. You could tell she didn’t like you which was fine since the feeling was mutual. She very clearly flirted with Jaehyun a bit more until he and the others were called over by one of the older men you were talking to earlier.

Awkward wasn’t the right word for the situation, but it was the one that fit it best. The two of you stood in silence as her acrylic nails tapped on the table.

“You’re a bit young aren’t you.” She stated. You had to suppress an eye roll. You nodded and told her that you were a college student. She then spent the next few minutes lowkey insulting you while masking it as older sister advice.

“Listen love, because I like you, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Guys who go after younger girls like yourself only want one thing.” She twirled your hair between her fingers.

Thoroughly done with her basic jealous attitude, you pulled yourself away from her.

“God your insults are as bland as your dress.” You sighed. “That may be true for some people, but I doubt he would put in the effort of bring me here, would he?” You smirked. “Desperation isn’t a cute look on anyone, love.” You smiled as you walked away. You turned to find Jaehyun’s friends close by with surprise faces.

“We were ready to tear that bitch a new one, but you got it.” Yuta said in awe.

“That’s it. You’re officially my child.” Doyoung was almost in tears.

“Where’s Jaehyun? We’re reaching two hours and I want to go.” You groaned. Taeil and Sicheng volunteered to hunt him down while Doyoung and Taeyong gave you a speech on the perks of being their collective child.

The minute you entered Jaehyun’s place you threw off your heels.

“I'm really sorry about tonight.” Jaehyun said picking the shoes up and putting them on a rack.

“Don’t apologize. I got two cool dads out of it.” You laughed laying down on the couch. “While I adore this dress Johnny got me, I would love nothing more than to get out of it.” You confessed innocently. It took you a second to realize the weight of your word. Leaning up, you saw how red Jaehyun went and a blush worked its way across your face.

“I know what you meant. I’ll get you something to change into.” He said quickly before disappearing down the hall. You face planted into the cushions and screamed until he came back. He handed you an oversized hoodie with a pair of shorts and told you that you could use his room to change in.

Walking down the corridor you noticed how oddly quiet everything was. Not having Hyunjin screaming and laughing about was an empty feeling. It was as if the house lost a bit of it color. You shook off the feeling and entered Jaehyun’s room.

You instantly fell in love. It was a soft cream-colored room with huge glass windows spread across the furthest wall with a patio attached. You looked around at all the plants and hanging baskets that decorated the room. There were three large bookcases with books and photos on them. The bed was the size of three of yours put together and was paired with a white duvet. The room was exactly what you expected to be, but you couldn’t help but be amazed at how simply beautiful it was.

Deciding that you imposed enough, you changed into the clothes and was faced with a problem. The hoodie basically swallowed you whole and reached beyond the shorts. Shrugging, you went about finding Jaehyun in the living room.

“I look like a child.” You flapped the remaining length of the sleeves for emphasis and saw the tell-tale sign of red spread on Jaehyun’s ears. He bit back a smile and held his hand out, beckoning you to come. You traveled across the room and planted yourself on his lap.

“You did this on purpose.” You accused.

“Absolutely, you look adorable.” He confessed.

The night went along like your usual ones. It was your turn to pick a movie and of course you picked The Conjuring 2. About a quarter into the film, you felt Jaehyun pull you against him.

“Is this you distracting yourself from the movie like a scaredy cat?” You asked as he feathered kisses on your face.

“No.” He lied, pulling the blanket over your heads. Giving up on watching the movie, you turned to your boyfriend laughing that his boldness.

Now you had no intentions of staying the night. So, when you woke up warm with arms wrapped around you, you knew you fucked up. You looked up at Jaehyun sleeping figure and allowed yourself a few seconds the bask at how peaceful he looked. You gently brought his watch up and glanced at the time.

“Holy shit!” You screamed as you threw the covers off. Jaehyun’s eyes flew opened and he groaned. “It’s almost 9.” You shook him up. He stared at you for a solid minute before panicking as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed throwing the cover off himself. You were both incredibly late for your respective responsibilities. Which wouldn’t be a problem for you if you hadn’t skipped the day before. Fumbling around, you got ready in five minutes flat. On the car ride to campus you stole Jaehyun’s laptop and submitted a half-ass assignment that was due at the end of class while he called Johnny telling him that he’ll be late to their meeting. Breaking a few traffic laws, you made it to your lecture in time to sign the attendance roster.

“You look like shit.” Haechan and Lucas side eyed you as you slid into your seat.

“Shut up.”

After class was over Lucas offered to dive you back to your apartment to shower and change before your afternoon classes. You hugged the giant and told him how much you loved him.

“So…”

“I didn’t have sex.” You said bluntly as he followed you up the stairs. Kun, who was hanging out in the living room, looked you up and down. A look of skepticism painted on his face.

“Did you-” He began.

“No.” You walked past him and into the bathroom.

“Ten owns me $20.”

[beautifulweird0]

Forgiving Your Parents

I know too many people who’ve experienced some form of trauma from their parents. This isn’t a blog about bashing your folks- this is hopefully a post that will help salvage some strained parent and child relationships. Cause I been there, done that-and understanding your parent is only feasible if your parent is interested in understanding you. My disclaimer is this: The child isn’t responsible for mending the relationship...solely. I’mma tell you like this, if your parent doesn’t want anything to do with you...skip em’.     Because that’s backwards as hell and that takes away from loving yourself. Anyway you chop it, if you find yourself forcing yourself on a “parent”, the relationship isn’t going to go anywhere-AND THAT’S NOT YOUR FAULT OR CONCERN. YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL! YOU ARE EXTREMELY WORTHY. I’m so sorry your people ain’t solid; it’s a reflection of them-not you.

It’s my belief that something is wrong with a person if they want no parts of having a relationship with their child. Literally so messed up from their own unhealed traumas that they can’t find it within themselves to love someone they created… Ain’t no fixing on that unless you take they ass to a therapist.

Moving on.

I’ve always had such a strong feeling in my gut when I come across new people. It’s like they look at me and think I got it all. Truly looking at me and seeing a woman who doesn’t have insecurities or childhood traumas spotted along her path cause I’m kind and always make it a point to smile like Granny told me.      I’m usually a private person. But its always been that ‘pull’ on me-telling me��� “It’s another little girl that is going through the same stuff you went through. Say that shit anyway. And with your chest.” . Think about it... Can’t a soul embarrass you about some stuff you open about. That takes all the fun out of their miserable lives if folks know wassup already.

    So as a 22 year old woman that been through some mess with her people, let me share pieces of me. Cause the last thing you want on your conscience is one of your parents passing and ya’ll not being on the best of terms.  I was listening to Mad Bitches the other day and Mikhala Jene said something along the lines of, “Nobody living is perfect”.

That hit me a little different. Like damn...nobody walks this earth perfect so...why do we expect perfection (again, subconsciously).

THIS.

   This is why I say if your parent is trying, then work with them. If they sit down with you and tell you how life was for them coming up. The good parts, the ugly parts, and everything in-between. Trying their best to be authentic and build a bond, then meet em’ halfway (if they haven’t been on some stuff that’s just unforgivable).

And shit, our people ain’t have everything at their fingertips as we do. The apps that spread information quicker than you could sneeze, weren't available. They couldn’t go on a ‘self-care’ page to calm themselves down if triggered or go on YouTube and watch motivational videos. Not making excuses, just using a little perspective that helps me! Yet and still, let your parent(s) know if they did something to wrong you; you gotta’ have respect for yourself as a human. Period.    I didn’t find out who my biological father was until I was about 16 years old. Up until that point I believed another man was my father (which he is still and will always be!). Sooo...I already had abandonment issues from my parents and my dad lived in a way at that time, that all parties involved thought it was best my grandparents took us in. That’s all I know is Granny’s (& Grandpa’s) house since I was a baby.     It helped that when my mom told me who my biological dad was, she was in a much better state of mind and stable-but man...I didn’t know what to feel. My sister was more upset than me (cause we have the same dad hypothetically).      So many questions ran through my head that I couldn’t even cry or be mad. I was shocked. Everyone played their role so well…

There was a long road ahead of me. Not only did I have to forgive my mom and dad for lying to me for so long, but there was a father in the same city I had yet to know.

My first point is patience. If you aren’t going to be patient with an end goal for you and your parent, you’re wasting your time. Being prepared for them to fumble sometimes is mandatory if y’all going to get to a better place. You mess up on certain projects or what have you’s a few times before you get it right...right? Give your parent the same energy if you were in their shoes. Cause baby...ain’t nothing worse than admitting your wrongs and still getting beat down. I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at my mom in that moment where she was vulnerable and upset cause she knew she played a part in hurting me. What was it gone do but make me feel bad and her feel worse?       Blowing up wasn’t going to change what happened now 22 years ago.Yeah, there’s hella’ books on parenting but I’mma tell y’all like my Granny told me, “There’s no such thing as a book on how to be a parent.”.

Having a child of my own- I’ve been witness to this. Folks can be shown and folks can be told on how to do certain things but with each child being different in this world, you have to be intune with them specifically- no book on that.I was through hell and back with my mother and now we’re in an extremely better place because we both made the effort (more-so on her part 🌚). But it was my responsibility to go into it with pure intentions and my guard down a bit after she made the effort; disappointment is what I expected sometimes cause I went into it knowing it was going to be a process.Don’t get it confused,  my mom always knew how I was-that wasn’t the issue. The new end goal was getting to know each other again so I could understand her better so I could forgive her. That’s no sucka’ shit. Its real. Everybody in this life is going to disappoint you, one way or another. Better to know what you’re dealing with so you can assess the situation in order to better assess the person. Free game.

Another step to keep in mind is, boundaries. I just feel like it will make the whole exchange smoother-not easier- but smoother. The point of forgiving your parents and (if you chose) trying to build a relationship, is to have them know you for who you are NOW. Not when you were 5, not when you was 12...have them meet you at your level. They dropped the ball, not you. Sure...nobody asked to be here but that becomes invalid when you start having babies of your own. It’s a different ball game when you bring a life into this world. Your joys become the joy of your children but way too often we forget that our pain becomes theirs as well.

My father always tried too-the dad that I always knew as my dad. On weekends me and my sister would go to his house before he moved to Michigan. Man I was a daddies girl-still am. My grandparents had the house on lock, couldn't watch programs with cussing in it or too much violence. Life of having Southern Baptist grandparents I guess.    The weekends at pops house was always interesting. I could watch all the music videos I wanted and watch the movies that didn't have too much goin on in them. My dad would do different stuff with us like go to the library; he always knew I loved reading. Sometimes my dad would take us to the park or a friends house who had kids (how I met my husband), water parks, or even cooking dinner with me and my sister; plenty of quality time where I could talk to him about anything. However, at the time, pops lived a certain lifestyle and no matter how hard he tried to shield it from us younger kids, I still seen things and experienced things a child shouldn't have. Again, comes with the lifestyle I guess. My dad drunk...ALOT. And it was interesting to see the 'upsides' of alchoholism and the very big downsides. I'd never forget, I was maybe 8? Another weekend at my dads, just me and my sister (I have multiple brothers on that side too plus another sister), and I woke up one morning on the couch. My dad was goin through some things- all he had was a couch that he let me and my little sister sleep on. My 1st thought when I woke up was where was my dad sleeping? My sister was sleep, and it was still fairly early in the morning. I go back to the empty bedroom to find him sleep on the floor. No pillow. No cover. Just a beer in hand, laid out. That broke my heart. Just remember feeling sad all over. I took the beer, threw it away then grabbed the pillow I had and laid it under his head. While doing so, my dad woke up, halfway and kissed my hand. He told me straight up he loves me and he apologized. Didn't go into detail but he didn't have to. My dad never had his pops in his life, nor his mama until he was grown and was taking care of her though her illness. I knew even at 8 years old that, that gotta hurt. I'm not gone sit here and act like I always understood the motives of my father but I tried because he always tried to understand me and til' this day, he is one of the top 3 people that KNOWS me like the back of his hand.

I had to forgive my parents because they’ve come a long way. Holding all that anger and resentment wasn’t gone help me in the long run. And in a way I can say I've helped to heal them by loving them through their screw ups. We always talk about a parents love but what about a child's love? I don’t want to pass down my pain to my son, he don’t need that- the world will give its fair share. But everyday I pray that the world won’t hurt him bad. I want my son to be nothing less than strong mentally, emotionally, but most of all spiritually. He won’t have that unless I’m solid. So I ask myself… ‘hm, what’s still hurting me?’.

We all got a story to tell.

Love. Peace. Manifest.

       ~Monet’

[ohsweetflips]

“after all you’ve been through, all the pain, suffering, lies… how can you stand there; tall and unbroken?” with Carey and Killian? thank u :DD

@its-tarantula-time said: "i know it hurts, i'm sorry." with Carey and Killian? OwO

A/N: I’VE REALIZED I CAN COMBINE BOTH YOUR PROMPTS AND I GOT REALLY EXCITED!

--

Realistically, Killian knew that Carey would, eventually, be fine. The bruised ribs would take a while to heal, the ankle—sprained or broken, she couldn’t tell yet—would be a pain in the ass to deal with, and the blood soaking through from somewhere under Carey’s shirt- well... they could deal with that, yeah? It would all heal in due time and Killian, who prided herself on being a realist more often than not, knew this.

Though even she had her falls from grace on occasion, and that came in the form of Carey, hissing in pain, as she was jostled in Killian’s arms while they tried to trek their way back through the cave they came in through.

One of their seekers thought they got word of a relic in the caves a couple miles out from Rockport. They hadn’t been able to specifize what, but when word of a “powerful magical object” comes through the Director’s office, they can’t just... ignore that. It wasn’t enough to send out Magnus, Merle, and Taako yet—they couldn’t risk their sole reclaimers—but Carey and Killian had been the ones assigned to scope it out.

Turns out, no relic, just an obscenely powerful magical tome wielded by a sorcerer who- she didn’t fucking know, wanted to harness the power of the universe or some shit.

They had been able to dispatch (that was always the “nice” way of putting it) the sorcerer and whatever lackeys he brought with him; though, not before Carey had been blasted into—and almost through—the cave wall and dropped into the debris left behind.

After that, Killian didn’t quite remember much. Watching her girlfriend be flung across a cavern kinda sent her into a bit of a rage.

“I know it hurts,” Killian murmured, trying her hardest to carry Carey gently and praying that her voice didn’t betray the fact that her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I can walk, you know,” Carey mumbled, though everything about this situation pointed to the exact opposite. Despite her stubborness, her head tiredly lolled against Killian’s shoulder as she kept a tight arm around her torso.

Killian didn’t think she was bleeding too badly.

Fuck, she hoped she wasn’t. She could only move so fast while carrying Carey in the first place, not event taking into account the fact that she was injured, and then they would have to wait for one of the Bureau cannonballs to get to their location, and then getting to the Bureau and the infirmary and-

“It’s faster this way, babe.”

“I’m injured, Killian, not incapacitated.”

Killian didn’t say anything. They were both exhausted, Carey was in pain (and in a bad mood), and Killian didn’t feel like starting a fight over whether or not Carey could walk her bruised, bloodied, and sprained self out of a craggy cave.

Instead, she pushed forward. If she was correct, they weren’t too far from the-

“I’ve been through worse, you know,” Carey continued, that edge still in her voice. “And walked myself out of it.”

Killian kept walking forward. “I’m sure you have,” she said. “But right now I’m more worried about getting you out of here than testing your ability to walk.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve had to run with worse. I can handle this myself.”

She took the path to the right. “We just have to get out of-”

“Speed means shit, we’ll have to wait for-”

The lantern they passed fifteen minutes into the cave flickered as she walked by again. “Okay but we need to get out of here now and-”

“My wounds aren’t even that bad-”

She passed the rockslide blocking off another path. “You’re bleeding and-”

“If you would just let me-”

Her feet crunched the gravel beneath them. “Your ankle-”

“I can do this-”

She took a deep breath. “You need to rest and-”

“Why can’t you let me do this?!” Carey’s voice, suddenly loud and angry, reverberated through the cave. She glared up at Killian, who had stopped dead in her tracks to gape back down at Carey. “I can walk on my own, I can get through this on my own, I- I can take care of myself!”

Perhaps it was because Killian didn’t want the two of them to keep butting heads, or maybe it was the shock of hearing Carey get so angry, but, slowly, Killian found herself putting Carey down.

“Okay,” she said, exhausted. “Fine. Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Carey wasn’t looking up at her.

When Carey put her full weight on her injured ankle, she winced and shifted her weight again.

And then, she began to limp down the cave’s path. She had an arm drawn across her stomach and, with each breath, Killian heard her labored, hissing breathing through her teeth.

Killian trailed close behind her, caught somewhere in between frustration, exhaustion, and concern.

Carey limped, and hissed, and panted, and Killian followed behind, her heart cinching more and more with each step-

And then, Carey finally stopped and leaned against the cave wall. “Wait,” she gasped, letting her back collapse against the wall before actually whimpering in pain. “Just-” her voice was strained “-give me a sec. I need- I need to catch- catch-”

Her voice caught in her throat and broke, and she tucked her head down against her chest.

Okay, fuck frustration and exhaustion, Killian was fucking concerned.

“Carey, sweetheart,” Killian said quickly, kneeling down in front of Carey, who was now pressing her hands to her eyes. She tried not to think too much about the blood dripping off one of her arms. “What else hurts, Care? Come on, we need to-”

“It’s not that!” Carey forced out, loud yet shaking, as she vehemently shook her head. She choked out a sob that seemed to taper off with pain. “It’s not- not this!”

Killian carefully, carefully, reached up to take Carey’s hands, and Carey let her.

They needed to keep moving, but Killian just couldn’t let her girlfriend cry and not do anything about it.

“What is it, honey?” she asked softly.

Carey sucked through ragged breaths for a moment, seeming trapped between trying to compose herself and the waves of pain swarming her.

“I’ve never-” she finally began “-never needed this before! I’ve been doing this all- on my own! Forever! I don’t- I don’t get help! People never cared and people sucked and no one was ever there to patch me up and- and I had to do it all on my own and I need to be able to because no one’s ever been there and-”

She broke off again, shaking her head, and Killian believed that she could hear her own heart shattering.

But they really had to keep moving.

“Carey,” she whispered, and Carey, her eyes red-rimmed, glanced up at her. “We- we can talk about this, okay? But we have to keep moving. We need to get you help.”

Carey looked away and said, her voice wavering, “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Killian admitted. “And I want to. Understand this. Understand you. But I can’t sit here and watch you hurt. Please, just... let me help you for right now, and we can talk, okay?”

Carey looked back at her, new tears forming in her eyes and, finally, she nodded.

Gently, Killian took Carey up in her arms, and they continued forward.

They were almost out of the cave when Carey whispered, “It’s a pathetic story.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable, honey.”

“No, no, I... I should. Want to,” Carey continued, finally letting herself relax into Killian. Killian, patiently, waited for her to find her words. “I... growing up in Neverwinter, I was kinda... on my own. All the time. My parents didn’t wait for me to come back, and a lot of the time I was on my own at night. And... you have to learn how to fight when you’re like that. And a kid. And no one was ever there for me. No one there to unlock the doors and get me something to eat and patch me up so... after a while... I don’t know, I learned to do it myself, and move on when I couldn’t. And... I just... I’m not used to people... caring. Care has never been something I could just have before.”

In a matter of seconds, Killian’s mind passed over Carey forgoing recovery days to hone her skills, her extreme conservation of anything she could find, her stubborness and her want to keep pushing forward and avoiding the big hits and- everything.

And, for a second, Killian was stuck between her blood boiling and her heart breaking.

From the moment she met Carey, she wanted to give her entire being to her, and to know that there have been people to just push her aside... Killian couldn’t fathom it.

“Carey, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Carey wasn’t looking at her. “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“No, Carey,” Killian said. “Not at all! Just- shit, how can you do it? After all you’ve been through, all the pain, suffering, lies… how can you stand there, tall and unbroken?”

Carey laughed something that sounded sarcastic and pained. “If this right here, what you’ve got in your arms, is your idea of tall and unbroken, then we have a problem, babe.”

“No, I mean-” Killian sighed “-You went through so much, but you’re still here.”

“So?”

“Carey, that’s... I’m so happy you got through all of that, and that you’re here, because now I have the fortune of being able to love you every day, but...” She sighed again, trying to keep her own emotions at bay. “Listen, I know it’s not easy to just... forget years of pain and survival instincts, but the fact that you got this far on your own? It shows your resilience, yeah, but you don’t need to do that anymore. You have me in your corner, along with everyone else on the Bureau.”

As Killian turned the bend, she could see the light from the setting sun shining in the mouth of the cave. “But I... it’s always just been me,” Carey murmured.

“I know,” Killian said. “And I know that you can’t just get over that. Easier said than done, you know? But... but I want you to know that I want to be in this with you for the long run. We’re... we’re a team, Carey, in more ways than one. You’re my partner and my best friend and... and the love of my life, and I will always be there to pick you up when shit goes south.”

“Like when a sorcerer blasts me against a rock wall?”

“Exactly.”

“... It hurt like a bitch.”

“It looks like it did.”

Carey let her head rest against Killian’s shoulder as they finally exited the cave and Killian could summon one of the Bureau cannonballs.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Carey whispered.

Killian kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry for not listening to you.”

“It’s okay.” Carey released a shaky breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. Have for a very long time.”

“Such a fucking sap,” Carey mumbled.

Killian smirked. “For you? Always.”

When the Bureau cannonball finally landed at their location, Carey, still in Killian’s arms, looked up to her and said, “So, think you can help me over there? I’m kinda in... a fuckton of pain right now.”

“Don’t even have to ask,” Killian said with a smile, already walking over.

[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.”

*    *     *

[always-evergreen]

jasmine, primrose, gardenia, lions fairytale, lily of the valley, desert rose, creams and sky, tulip, daphne, wisteria, angels face, iris, caramel kisses, primula, queen anne's lace, forget me not, lunaria, sunflower, snowdrop, peonie, tea rose, sweet pea, love in the mist, crown imperial, cosmos, moon flower, lily, anemone, lotus, buttercup, calendula, blazing star, carnation, petunia, and morning glory 💐🌸💮🌹🌺🌻🌼🌷

whew this is a lot!! thanks for asking! ill put this under a read more so I dont clog up everyones dash

jasmine; what mythical creature do you wish actually existed? - my favourite was always griffins but I feel like theyd be kinda terrifying so im gonna go w mermaids!!

primrose; what book does everyone right now need to read? - not really a specific book but I think people just need to read more old timey books where literally nothing happens to calm us all down a little

gardenia; what’s a promise you’ve recently made to yourself? - I dont make promises to myself bc I know me too well and that bitch is a liar

lion’s fairytale; would you rather be the sky, the ocean or the forests? - this is actually a really cool question! I feel like the sky would be kinda lonely whereas the ocean and forests are full of life..... im gonna go forest just bc its a little less scary than the ocean lol

lily of the valley; did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? - cant say anyones ever actually hurt me that badly lol

desert rose; do you like yourself? - eh sure. could be improved upon but could be a whole lot worse!!

creams and sky; what’s the craziest/bravest thing you’ve done? - its not crazy but the bravest thing ive done is probably move away from home for university...and then drop out of two separate higher education courses lmfao

tulip; name 5 facts about yourself. - 1. im 5′6″. 2. ive dyed my hair 10 times. 3. im the middle of 3 siblings. 4. my biggest fear is someone breaking into my house. 5. my favourite animals are turtles!

daphne; do you believe in karma? - mmm not really... I dont not believe in it tho

wisteria; whom do you admire and why? - can I be honest w u guys? ive never had a role model in my life. never once have I looked at someone and been like ‘wow ur so cool and admirable I want to be like u’ like I just dont “admire” people idk:/

angel’s face; what was your favorite bedtime story as a child? - I really loved on Christmas eve when my dad would read us all the night before Christmas and the miracle of Jonathan Toomey... even when I got older and he was really just reading to my sister id still listen in lol

iris; do you believe in ghosts? - hell yeah!

caramel kisses; would you want to live forever? why/why not? - maybe so that I could really see the whole world and travel everywhere and experience everything these different places have to offer but probably not bc once all my friends and family died itd be really lonely... if there were other immortals then possibly

primula; what makes you sad? - my cats getting quite old so its really upsetting to think that in a few years hes gonna die

queen anne’s lace; who do you trust the most? - my bitch haide<3

forget me not; do you have any regrets looking back in your life? - yeah of course what kind of sociopath doesn't have regrets!!

lunaria; what’s your favorite fictional universe? - middle earth

sunflower; share a favorite quote. - “Don’t die wondering.” - The Way Way Back

snowdrop; what does your ideal day look like? - sleep till noon, lie in bed watching movies all day, walk the dog, large bowl of pasta for dinner, more movies

peony; share a small random book passage that means something to you. - “He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.” - The Book Thief, Markus Zuzak… that's always been one of my favourite books and rudys one of my all time favourite characters and this was the first time I had ever cried reading a book... fun fact ive actually only read this book twice bc I dont have the emotional strength to go through this scene again

tea rose; what’s something you always wanted to do but were too scared? - I honestly cant think of anything atm...

sweet pea; who means the world to you? why? - my friends, my pets, my dad, jesse pinkman

love in the mist; best books you’ve ever read? - gotta say the book thief lol uhh fahrenheit 451, pretty much anything by ray Bradbury actually, to kill a mockingbird, the secret life of bees, lotr, his dark materials, little women, dorian gray, the shadow of the wind series

crown imperial; would you rather be extremely rich or extremely loved? - id like to have money obviously but id rather be loved than super rich

cosmos; do you ever think about the galaxy? - cant say that I do

moonflower; what’s your favorite color? - pink! and blue and yellow

lilly; what’s something you love watching/reading but you are too embarrassed to admit you do? - I gave up being embarrassed about my interests years ago, theres no time for feeling bad about stuff u enjoy in life

anemone; describe yourself in 3 words. - baddest bitch alive. nah jk ummm quiet, curious, daydreamer

lotus; best memory as a child? - I have such a bad memory so I dont actually remember a lot of my childhood but ill say just in general the time spent at my grans during the summer holidays, especially if our cousins were also visiting. that was a lot of fun

buttercup; if you could change one thing in the world, what would it be? - redistribute the wealth of the super rich, thereby contributing to ending poverty, hunger and homelessness across the world

calendula; biggest pet peeve? - slow walkers, people who chew with their mouths open

blazing star; share a secret. - I dont really have secrets lmao nothing that interesting ever happens to me

carnation; would you rather live longer or happier? - happier

petunia; who’s story is your biggest inspiration in life? why? - again I dont look up to people and I am inspired by no one

morning glory; any special talent that you have? - I dont even have any normal talents let alone special ones lol

thanks for asking! hope this was interesting xx