#i did give them both a fun new trauma to unpack though! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellocchia · 4 years ago

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Okay, holy crap did we get an interesting stream yesterday! Time for an analysis of it!

So, there is a lot of confusion surrounding the stream and, more importantly, c!Wilbur himself. So I wanted to try and interpret this whole thing at the best of my abilities for my own sanity.

Before that though there are a few things we have to keep in mind:

For something to be manipulation there needs to be intent on the side of the manipulator, which can be quite hard to establish in some cases

A lot of c!Wilbur’s confusing thoughts and constantly fluctuating opinions come from a general lack of knowledge, his own faulty worldview and his incredible overestimation of his own impact in the world, which I’ll talk about more later, more so then what actually would appear to be an intentionally manipulative behaviour

One more thing to point out is that Wilbur sees his life as a spectacle. To him reaching his “desired conclusion” the first time was a victory and he seems to have started on a sort of scripted “redemption arc”, and I mean scripted within the narrative not meta wise, (in which he’s trying to drag Tommy into as well) after he had his self-proclaimed “villain arc” in Pogtopia, however this view is faulty at best...

We also have to keep in mind that c!Wilbur is truly a relict from the past at this point. He places an incredible amount of value on “factions” and “leadership” and has a very black and white world view, but things have changed a lot since he was around and they’re much more complicated then that now which leaves him with a complete lack of understanding for the world around him and possibly with no tools to correct that lack of understanding

And for last, let’s keep in mind that Wilbur is an INCREDIBLY UNRELIABLE narrator. We cannot trust everything that comes out of his mouth so let’s not take everything blindly as fact

Also, while all I’ve just said is true Tommy is still 100% entitled to not trust him at all and to not be sympathetic towards him, even without considering this stream (and trust me: I’ll get to that one) because their history together is not great. Keep in mind that they were basically alone during Pogtopia and that Wilbur always sorta grouped himself and Tommy together (as in Wilbur considered BOTH of them to be “the bad guys” and BOTH of them to be bad for the server and better off dead) and he was always extremely manipulative in the ways that he used to try and get Tommy to believe his world view as well (and he seemed to adopt a similar behaviour in the stream, but I’ll get to that one later). Sadly that also means that Tommy isn’t a reliable narrator at all for what concerns Wilbur...

Okay, now with all the introduction out of the way the proper analisys will be under the cut! Be advised that it’ll treat some very heavy topics (like abuse, manipulation etc) so, you know, keep that in mind.

The stream I’ll be using for this one is: Meet the latest resurrected gentleman of L'manburg, though I may take some things from: Wilbur Is Revived.

The stream starts with Tommy and Wilbur meating up on the glass covering the L’Manburg crater. Right after we have a bit of banter with Wilbur openly mocking Ghostbur, ignoring Tommy’s discomfort at the subject, like always. I wanna say it right now that the dismissal of whatever Tommy is feeling and whatever he says that does not align with Wilbur’s idea of Tommy is not something new. It’s a behaviour Wilbur developed all throughout the Pogtopia times. He may look like he listens to Tommy a bit more during this stream, but he never takes into account anything he says and constantly dismisses anything he feels, so we know that’s not true. Of course, Wilbur is not the only person who exibited this behaviour (Tommy often gets dismissed when he speaks and if re-watching exile taught me anything is that Dream was also very keen on dismissing all of his emotions).

Also one of the first things Wilbur asks about is his Chekhov's gun, which Tommy moves on from quickly without answering (propably because it got destroyed by Dream while Tommy had it).

“Hey pu- Hey! Put Friend down!” “Wh-why? He’s gonna come with us!” “I don’t want you... no he could die!” “And? It’s a sheep Tommy, who cares about-” “Calm down man! I know- I know that you have the power of eternity over him, but just put him down!” “No! I’m just saying: who cares about a sheep man? It’s just a sheep. Just come...” “Oh I fucking...” “What?! It’s just a sheep my man!”

Once again dismissal of Tommy’s emotions, but also an introduction to the theme of attachments that seems like will be important once again. This time the conflict that’s introduced surrounding attachments is not about their intrinsic value (like it was in season 2) but it seems to be that of attachments vs ideals. In this case what we’re presented with is seemingly a detachment from Wilbur (though we can’t say if it’s volountary, like in Dream’s case, or just an effect of his depression yet).

“Tommy... I’m sorry” “Wait what are you- are you gonna kill me?” “No no sorry” “You’re gonna wack me?” “Ignore the Lore Sword, I’m- I don’t- I’m not good at this man. I need to make some apologies. I told you I needed to have a think and I don’t think an apology would ever sum up... uh... what I did here. I mean look at this mess!” *looking at the crater of L’Manburg* “You did this! Well, not all of it, you did a little bit” “Yeah... I didn’t do the glass. But like I think- I think that I do need to, I need to apologize to some people! You know, I’m gonna- I’m gonna make amends!”

Okay, there are a lot of things to unpack here:

1) Tommy’s immediate reaction to Wilbur apparently softening up while holding a sword is to expect to be hit, probably because of residual trauma from exile where Dream would act in a similar manner

2) Wilbur seems to recognise that he needs to apologize to people, but he doesn’t actually seem to regret anything or doesn’t understand WHAT he needs to apologize for (which is the reason why he only apologizes to people he hasn’t hurt, didn’t know or doesn’t particularly care about). He doesn’t apologize to Tommy for example, his “I’m sorry” at the beginning isn’t directed at Tommy as much as it’s a general statement (this could have something to do with him lumping himself and Tommy together as the bad guys of course). Also, remember that idea about Wilbur seeing his life as a show? Well, he did the villain arc so the only 2 possible ways to go after that are a repeat or a redemtion arc... this is him starting in on the second, while not actually believing in it

3) We already see Wilbur giving himself more importance then he actually did have. Tommy explains that he’s only resposible for a small part of the crater, but Wilbur doesn’t know that Techno, Phil and Dream did exactly what he did but bigger later on and assumes that all of it was done by him (probably making him think that he’s had a decidedly bigger impact then he actually did)

“Well I’m in my forties now Tommy, I counted the years man... how old are you now? You must be what, like, 20? 30?” (Wilbur does not seem to be aware of the time dilatation that occurs in Limbo)

It’s also interesting that Wilbur asks Tommy of all people to give him a tour. I mean, the two were close before and Tommy is the only one who stayed by his side through everything, but Tommy already expressed multiple times a dislike for Wilbur even directly stating to his face in the revival stream that Wilbur should have stayed dead. My best guess is that what brought him to ask Tommy specifically despite that was a mix of being still in a similar mindset to Pogtopia where it was the two of them vs everyone else, Wilbur’s paranoia not having disappeared meaning he doesn’t trust anyone else and a sort of dependency Wilbur has developed on Tommy to avoid loneliness.

“No no! Will, you didn’t get a grave. This is just what you left behind” (destruction and a betrayal of trust are the only remains of who Wilbur used to be it seems)

“Here’s the thing Tommy: I know I was bad and I know I can- I know I can redeem myself but you know there’s- there’s a little bit of fun in being bad, you know, I mean, we’ve spoken about this” (callback to “let’s be the bad guys” and further confirmation that Wilbur isn’t truly interested in redemption as he still sees himself in the role of the villain)

The first person that Wilbur apologizes to is Skeppy who fits the category of “person he more or less knew, but never actually wronged”, meaning that one is a useless apology (and Wilbur seems to recognize that when he asks Skeppy to say one thing he did to him). (Also rip Friend Skeppy doesn’t deserve rights anymore).

“He was Ghostbur’s man! And I wish you’d stop disrespecting him” (technically about Friend but more broadly about Ghostbur as well)

“You see I’ve always seen myself as a bit of an iconoclast so I don’t think I’ll be getting involved in the whoel deity section” (Wilbur is canonically an atheist)

The second person Wilbur apologizes to is Jack Manifold, which is also when Wilbur starts excluding Tommy any time there is someone else there as well. Jack honestly fits in the category of people “Wilbur knew but didn’t really care about”, which is why his apology ends up being quite generic and not very accurate to the historical happenings. He apologized for leaving him behind when he got exiled but, once again, that never actually happened. Jack stayed back of his own volition there. He apologized for not granting Manifold Land independence, which would have been up to Dream. He apologizes for leading him into war which he simply never did, because Jack joined after. All this apologies are what Jack wants to hear, but none of them are true to what happened.

Either way, Tommy brings Wilbur to the roof of the hotel and they have quite the important conversation there. Tommy tries to tell Wilbur about when he decided to go see Dream for the last time, but Wilbur entirely dismisses him.

“I know you’ve had your little strife man” “But I died!” “But I don’t- I don’t care” (full dismissal)

They then end up talking about exile (Wilbur specifically is the one to bring it up).

“Tommy, I’ll tell you what, if I was there and it wasn’t that stupid shell of a ghost instead of me I would have struck down Dream right where he stood. We would have disemboweled him. We would have disemboweled him” “You would have killed Dream?” “Together” “Well Tubbo is the one who sent me off... You would have killed Dream?” “Tommy- Tommy! I wasn’t blind, I saw what he was doing to you Tommy... I saw. I saw what he was doing to Tubbo” “I don’t like thinking about it” “I saw what he did to me”

So talks about Tommy’s exile are always something... Tommy still shows clear hesitance in blaming Dream even after all this time and even more hesitance at the idea of someone killing Dream at the time (probably because he still subconciously bleieves that he was his only friend back then).

Then there is Wilbur who has admitted to know about Dream’s abuse of Tommy and his manipulation of Tubbo and himself (though to which extent for any of these is unclear) and he seems of the idea that: 1) if he was alive he would have been allowed to go with Tommy, which he wouldn’t have and 2) that if he was there they’d have killed Dream. Though he changes his narrative on the second point right after it’s intersting that he thinks he would have been allowed with Tommy because if he was as aware of the situation as he seems to think he is he’d know that Dream “exiled” Tommy specifically to have him alone and vulnerable where he could mold him as he pleased. It wasn’t a political stance like their previous exile, it was a glorified kidnapping.

“After seeing Ghostbur interact with Dream I realized that, no, Dream is not the enemy, Dream is not the enemy” “He-” “This world was not supposed to be inhabited by people of this caliber. Dream is the hero! Dream needs to be let out of here. Dream’s not in prison because he’s a horrible person, Dream’s in there because he dared to try and stop you all. He dared to try and stop you all from gaining all this power because the minute I was gone there was a vacuum, there was opening and everyone just slicked to get in there and Dream was the only one who stood up to them and told them not to. Dream is the one that held my seat for me”

Again, a few things to unpack here:

1) Wilbur somehow fails to see the contraddiction in his own reasoning. “I know Dream abused you, but he is not being imprison because he is a bad person, he was only doing what is necessary” was what his speach boiled down to which is just bullshit plain and simple. But why does Wilbur get to this conclusion? Well because he has faulty information at best to fill in the blanks from the time he was dead and he has a very simplistic worldview where everything must fit neatly into a small little narrative and where people are either “villains” or “heroes” and since Wilbur thinks of himself as a villain and thinks he corrupted anything he came in contact with it makes sense that he would see Dream, someone who opposed everything and everyone previously associated with Wilbur, as the “hero”.

2) We have Wilbur, once again, giving himself more importance then he did have. Wilbur didn’t leave a power vacuum, L’Manburg was rebuilt pretty quickly and all Wilbur left behind was a bit more trauma and, even then, people have done worse since. Wilbur was, in fact, pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Once his story was over people moved on one way or the other and Wilbur simply cannot accept that because he sees himself as a protagonist, but he simply wasn’t around for a long time.

(Also I really wanna punch him in the face for this one because f*ck him for calling Tommy’s abuser a “hero” to his face, that’s a HUGE d*ck move)

“If Dream died instead of me, I would be in there right now” (again, fundamental misunderstanding of why Dream’s in prison in the first place)

“I didn’t actually really care about L’Manburg, I just cared about, you know, sticking it to the man. Actually I cared about L’Manburg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man! You ever sticked it to the man Tommy?” “That’s not true” “L’Manburg was a tool, it was a great tool, it worked! You know? It divided so many people man”

Listen, we can debate all day wether Wilbur actually cared about L’Manburg beyond seeing as a tool to achieve his ends or not, but that’s not really important. The important thing to take away from this is that Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Fundy, Eret and Quackity believed in L’Manburg. They believed in it enough to fight for it. Others as well. So whatever the answer to “did Wilbur care?” is, their experiences are not invalidated because of it. The other thing is that the whole conversation about L’Manburg fully establishes the theme of ideals vs attachment that may be explored more in the future.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things but, Tommy that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try again” (and here it is. Wilbur shows Tommy the most awful side of him that hasn’t changed all the while pretending to be a completely new man in front of others so they won’t believe Tommy if he tells them. This one is full on manipulation)

“I did care about L’Manburg. I did, I did, but if L’Manburg- a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, L’Manburg would have still been as loved by me if it was called Bim Bum and it was in the middle of the desert” (once again reiterating that it wasn’t about material attchment, but more so about the purpouse of L’Manburg)

“Stick it to the man Tommy! High five” “No! You just said that you loved 'The Man'” (Tommy pointing out the contraddioctions in Wilbur’s reasoning)

“It was like we were a family, you can’t just say that!” “We were a family Tommy. We were. And you know what I guess you just didn’t- I guess you just didn’t have the balls to follow along with me. When I pressed the button you were always against it-” “You blew up our fucking home!” “We’re leaving it behind Tommy, it’s in the past. We’re friends now, we’re friends”

So, two things here: Wilbur seems to resent Tommy partially for not enabling his destructive tendencies seeing Tommy opposing him destroying L’Manburg as him leaving Wilbur behind. And also Wilbur is, once again, dismissing Tommy’s rightful anger, this time in a way that is very reminiscent of Dream (reinforcing the idea of them being “friends” despite having done something that hurt Tommy a lot).

“You’re following me for quite a while for someone who doesn’t care” “*deep sigh* Where are we going next?” (while Tommy is aware that being with Wilbur is not good for him he also seems to not want to leave him either)

“You know I often give him a lot of shit and pretend I don’t like him, because he has a peculiar relationship with Tubbo, but he is a very good man and I stuck up for him because I see potential in him, alright?” “Yeah? What is he, a strong fighter?” “Yeah, well he is- he is a very strong fighter, he stuck by my side, he visited me in exile, he is a good man and he’s helped me”

It’s interesting to see how their opinions diverge. To Wilbur “strenght” is physical strenght and strong ideals. He respects Tommy to a degree because Tommy is not afraid to stand up for what he believes in for example. For Tommy “strenght” is compassion and loyalty. Tommy considers Ranboo strong because he has the strenght to remain kind in a world like theirs where kindness usually doesn’t take you far. And this is the main reason why Wilbur and Ranboo clash, why they are narrative foils: because Ranboo is extremely well loved and secured himself a relatively peaceful life by going against everything that Wilbur believes in. Ranboo is respected and loved where someone like Dream who, to Wilbur, embodies the ideal of strenght is widely hated and he doesn’t understand why because he’s missing so much information.

Third and final person Wilbur apologizes to is Ranboo who falls into the category of “Wilbur didn’t know him”, meaning the apology is, once again, just performative so that Wilbur can move along his perceived “redemtion arc”. During the whole chat with Ranboo Wilbur, once again, mostly pushes Tommy’s presence to the side in favour of the new person, though Ranboo does actually notice Tommy’s constant worry and tension and reassures him multiple times that everything’s fine.

“Everyone I seem to meet seems to have this deep intrinsic feeling of disgust towards me” (no one actually does, this is just Wilbur’s self deprecation talking. Like, Tommy is the only one who has expressed anger towards him so far and he’s still sticking to Wilbur and trying to talk to him)

“Tommy is very suspicious of me because of who I WAS” (this is, once again, manipulation. Trivializing Tommy’s fear and suspicions in front of others while reinforcing them when they’re alone is a way to isolate him from an eventual support system)

“It was big, it was big effects though right? I mean... let’s be honest here” (Wilbur once again overestimating his impact. He did have a lasting effect on people, but nowhere near as he seems to think)

“Tommy I don’t know who you’re tryng to protect here, me or Ranboo” “Ranboo” (yes yes, Allium Duo moment, but also Wilbur seems sort of jealous of the relationship Ranboo and Tommy have and how obvious it is where Tommy’s loyalty lies now)

“You get into people’s heads Wilbur, alright? You’re like a little caterpillar, you go in through their ear, then you hatch a butterfly, before you know it your brain is all colors and flying...” (Tommy lacking proper terminology to describe Wilbur’s manipulation, but still doing a wonderful job at it)

Wilbur spends quite a while interrogating Ranboo on his beliefs and getting progressively more confused about why people (and Tommy especially as he specifies later) love him so much as Ranboo explains his “pick people not sides” philosophy. He seems particularly annoyed by Ranboo soley defining Dream as “bad”, possibly because in the world view he crafted for himself everyone is so extremely divided and he can’t imagine the existence of someone who tries to actively defy that by trying to side with everyone who hasn’t directly harmed his loved ones or himself. At first Wilbur thinks Ranboo must have some ulterior motive for being kind to everyone and is even more shocked at finding out that that’s not the case.

“There’s been more wars while I’ve been dead then when I was alive Ranboo, that’s- that’s a-” “There’s actually been only one and ever since you died and Dream’s been put in prison the server’s actually been peaceful” “So you’re saying that you don’t like me? In the same way you don’t like Dream you’re against me then?” “I- no! No no no, I don’t not like you Wilbur, I don’t like the person that you were. I’m willing- I’m willing to like you now, if you’ve changed”

And here we have Ranboo standing against Wilbur quite directly. Wilbur seems convinced that, because Ranboo doesn’t dislike most people he stands for nothing which, admittedly, Ranboo is quite hypocritical and weak willed, but he is showing the sort of strenght Tommy admires him for here. Ranboo dislikes who Wilbur used to be because he hurt his family, but he is willing to give him a second chance, which is more then even Wilbur ever did for himself. Also, to be fair, once Dream was locked up the server did become more peaceful and there were less wars. Ranboo was right when pointing that one out and the fact that Wilbur doesn’t seem to know it points to his lack of knowledge that he doesn’t seem willing to fix.

It’s also interesting that Wilbur seems to conclude all this meetings in a hurry by asking Tommy to go on with the tour and basically pulling him along... even if it’s pretty clear by now that Tommy isn’t really needed there. Wilbur remembers how to navigate the server without Tommy thanks to Ghostbur’s memories and he ignores Tommy’s presence whenever someone else is near. The only reason why he is pulling him along is because he can and because he uses him to vent and say all the things he lies to others about... so much for his “no lying” oath...

“He’s a follower Tommy! You’re not a follower man! You stand up for yourself, you fight for what you believe in” (reiteration of Wilbur’s idea of strenght which alsoseems connected to worth for him. For him being a “follower” is inherently negative)

“Tommy he felt like the polar opposite of me” (in case we needed more reasons to consider them foils)

Wilbur and Tommy have a fight right after because Tommy’s upset at Wilbur being an ass to Ranboo and completely ignoring him and about his presence just in general. Wilbur is the one insisting for the fight to be physical in a scene that mirrors the Pogtopia pit scene quite a lot while Tommy would have been contented (and would have actually preferred) with Wilbur admitting to his faults. But so far Wilbur hasn’t apologized for his more grave faults even once and he has yet to apologize to Tommy for anything at all and I honestly doubt he intends to at the moment or that he even feel remorseful for anything... they fight and Tommy wins and takes Wilbur’s sword to avoid a repeat of the situation.

“Look at me. No matter what happens, no matter what goes down, today, tomorrow, next week, the week after, the week after next, the fact that I’m alive means that anything that happens along this line I’ve won. I’ve already won. I won when I pressed that button. You can spar me however many times you want for your own personal victories, but, in the grand scheme of things, I’ve already won. And I think, from your silence, you know that”

This brings us back to Wilbur seeing his life as a show and himself as both the protagonist of the story and the villain. The button scene was the ending of his story and he managed to complete it with what he considers his own victory. Of course it’s also a way to put down Tommy in a similar way to how the “you’re never gonna be president” speach worked. Tommy didn’t want to spar with Wilbur in the first place, but he did win. Tommy didn’t want to be president either because, despite Wilbur being convinced that he has his same idea of power, Tommy is quite content to live a simple life with none of the responsabilities that come from having power. In both cases though, Wilbur takes the chance to use the aspiration of the image of Tommy he’s painted in his mind against the real one, by saying thet it’ll be impossible for him to accomplish what he thinks he wants. Doesn’t work anymore though, Tommy immediately called him out on his bullshit even if he was ignored again. Also what’s with Wilbur and constantly asking Tommy to look at him? Is he afraid to disappear if Tommy’s not looking or something?

“You just stick with me man, stick with me. Stick with the winning side. Stick with the side that stands for something, stick with the side that believes in something” (it’s also interesting to note that Wilbur seems to constantly see his life as a conflict adn, right now, he appears to think that it’s him and Tommy vs the world, similarly to how Dream started thinking in prison)

“I thought he had infinite canon lives” (Wilbur seems to have held at least some of Ghostburs naivete it seems)

“Honestly I wasn’t expecting you to have your shit together like this man, I thought you just came on to kill me” (once again Wilbur thinking he’s the center of the world apparently)

“Thank you for that [killing him] by the way. No no seriously, thank you for that! Because if you hadn’t done that I’d ended up living- I would have been exiled with Tommyinnit and then I would have gotten angry at Dream because Dream can’t go around hurting Tommy like that. I would’ve been angry at Dream. I would have tried to fight Dream, which now I see would’ve been a silly move because Dream’s my hero! Dream’s amazing! So I would’ve ended up fighting Dream and then I would’ve been the one in prison and not Dream”

I was kinda surprised that he said all of this to Phil, but I guess he may remember Phil siding with Dream for Doomsday perhaps, so he thinks he can get understanding on all the Dream stuff. He also prefaced this by bringing up something that Phil still feels immensely guilty about meaning he was more prone to listen. Also, again he seems to have a fundamental misunderstanding of what exile was about or why Dream is in prison in the first place but, aside from that, his opinion on Dream just seems to genuinely fluctuate between despising him for hurting Tommy and considering him a hero because he brought him back to life and because he covers the role of the misunderstood underdog who’s trying to do what’s right in the version of the story that he created in his mind.

“Well yes, but I wouldn’t have stood for Dream’s shit while Tubbo, well Tubbo did stand for it” (see what I mean? Fluctuating opinions. Pretty sure not even he himself is entirely sure of what he feels or think in this regard)

“Oh, Will?” “Yeah?” “I forgot to mention by the way. I, at one point, griefed George’s house with Ranboo and that caused to a chian of events that lead- that- that was kind of why I got exiled more so...” “Okay and Ranboo managed to not get exiled with you?” “Oh no, it was just me” “That’s pretty uh-” “But I stood up for Ranboo. I made sure he didn’t because he was so new and he was, you know, he was-” “Ah, so you got thrown under the bus. Did he not stand up for you? Did he not offer to go with you?” “No he did stand up for me but to, like, to an extent because he didn’t wanna get exiled and that’s fair” “okay... I’m Sure I’ll Get On With Him!”

Wilbur’s obvious distaste for Ranboo shining through again. Also he was pocking in the right direction, but, sadly, Tommy is not the right person to ask this questions to because he fully believes that he deserved what happened to him still, so he won’t be able to explain that the reson why Ranboo wasn’t exiled was because Dream didn’t care about him and the exile was just about gettng him alone. I don’t think anyone aside from Dream has clocked that in quite yet as a matter of fact. Also this conversation has just proven further to Wilbur that Ranboo is the pushover he though he was after all.

After that Wilbur explains to Phil that the reason he lied was because he didn’t want to let him down. He also tries to convince Phil that he doesn’t lie anymore and that he didn’t lie much in the first place, only to address Tommy and go:

“Old Wilbur did a lot of lying Tommy, old Wilbur did a lot of lying”

“Wait did you say there was a counselor on this server that we could talk to?” (Tommy yet again being the only f*cker in the server that genuinely wants to go to therapy)

Also Phil trusts people way too easily. He just confronted Wilbur about lying in his letters for a long time only to turn around and immediately trust him that he is a changed man, even after Wilbur said straight to his face that Dream is his hero. Like... he is supposed to have lived a long ass time, how did he stay this naive?

Will also mentions that he has plans and intends to have both Phil and Tommy in on them as soon as they’re ready. He also proceeds to make it sound like the only reason why Tommy is upset with him and doesn’t trust him is because he was a bit mean to Ranboo which is him, once again, trivializing Tommy’s fears in front of others so that they are less likely to take him seriously in the future. He then asks for a bed and shower which Phil provides. One other thing to note is that Wilbur seems extremely reluctant any time that it comes to going underground, probably due to trauma from living in a ravine in Pogtopia.

“Do you trust me? Do you believe that I’m turning a new leaf Tommy?” (this is not the first time this stream that Wilbur seems to seek out Tommy’s approval and it’s interesting that he doesn’t seem to do it with anyone else)

Once again Wilbur interrupts the visit in a hurry as soon as Tommy tries to explain his side of the story to Phil telling Tommy repedly to go with him. This really seems to be a pattern since it happened every single time, and I’m guessing that the reason is that, once he has given his pieace, leaving Tommy to speak may be detrimental to the manipulation in the long run.

“Be nice Tommy, okay? Be nice” “Phil, you murdered him” (Lmao)

“Tommy you’re missing the sunrise! You’re missing the sunrise” (for the sun as a symbol enthusiasts)

The two of them then have a very weird argument about stone that it’s literally just textbook manipulation in action right there. At first Wilbur asks for stone then, after Tommy complains a bit, he concedes and switches to cobblestone just to then comment on the fact that stone looks better, but he’s graciously letting Tommy having a say in it. He then expresses that his request is for Tommy to get “all the stone” but making sure that he doesn’t believe that Tommy will be able to do that. Multiple times in fact. He then tells him to get it with Phil because Phil would be able to do so, unlike him. And all of this is just to split up from him in a way that’ll have Tommy still be too busy to explain to anyone about Wilbur.

“He’s a good kid, he’s a good kid. I’ll be back on the saddle soon... I mean it’s only a matter of times I’ve done it once I’ll do it again” (I do think that Wilbur does care for Tommy a bit, I’m fairly sure about that, but their relationship really sin’t healthy. Also we’re back with Wilbur immediately assuming the role of “protagonist” in his “story” once more)

“Why does everyone like that Ranboo guy? I don’t understand...” (once again, incapacity to understand someone who is so diametrically opposed to him)

“I’m done apologizing” (he didn’t even start. Not in a way that mattered and not to the people who needed it most)

“I don’t know how I was revived” (Wilbur canonically does not know about the revive book)

Wilbur’s stream ends with him checking out Quackity’s book and Wilbur making a whole speach confirming that his idea of power is tied to physical strenght and feeling self assured in the fact that he was “right all along”. Tommy’s stream however was not over yet.

“I don’t want to try and save the server, I don’t have that in me”

“We need to get the stone... and then we need to stop Will and he hopefully won’t destroy the server” (Tommy being dragged back in the role of the hero kicking and screaming)

“When we did L’Manburg I was a strong guy, a character that could go around and now it feels different. I feel thinner. I feel... don’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice” (once more he lacks the proper words to describe trauma, but he still does a great job of it. He also feels once again like this role was put on him and he has no choice but to oblige)

Tommy later talks about how he won't let anyone put him "through that shit" (manipulation) but that he’ll still get the stone because it would be nice to have Wiilbur be impressed with him. Which is just a great way to let us know that Wilbur's tactic has indeed worked.

And this is pretty much it!

#tommyinnit #wilbur soot #ranboo #dream smp #tw manipulation #tw abuse mention #character analysis #relationship analysis #long post #my post #pretty sure that this is the longest post I've ever written...#the whole thing was just so utterly confusing #this did clear up my thought though so that's nice!#also shoutout to wilbur dying inside at tommy's tinder joke and visibly having to force himself to stay in character for it

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shimmershae · 3 years ago

Text

Okay. So I did one of these wish lists last season and got gifted way more than I ever could have anticipated so I thought why not do it again?

Shae’s wish list for Season 11.

Putting it under a cut because it’s long and rambling. And it will probably be revised and/or added to whenever the mood strikes me.

Things I want to see in Season 11:

The actual episode. Why the hell does everything have to be so dark in the literal sense?

Carol and Daryl to have an epic reunion that will totally blow the reunion in the woods outside of Terminus out of the water. C’mon. It really feels like the stage is being set for it and you know Angela loves her callbacks. What better moment to revisit than this one? The one where we all just knew these two were embarking on something new (only they didn’t, not in the way we’d hoped)? Like, it’s a seemingly insurmountable task but I know Norman and Melissa have it in them again. The real question is: do the writers?

Judith and RJ bonding with Aunt Carol and her telling them stories of the old days and all the people they didn’t get to meet. What better way to foster our nostalgia and make us remember why we fell in love with this show and its characters in the first place?

More Carol and Dog because those scenes in Diverged were the epitome of precious.

More Princess. Princess’s “meet and greets” with all our community members, yes. But Princess’s first meeting and assessment of Carol and Daryl. Methinks she’d have something mighty interesting and enlightening to say.

All this angst for Daryl and Carol eventually building to a head and Kang finally delivering on that “heart to heart” she mentioned what feels like a million and one years ago.

Aaron and Gracie scenes because Aaron is such a good daddy, ya’ll.

Rosita continuing to have significant screen time and not having to step back into the shadows just because Maggie is back.

Speaking of, I’m glad Maggie is back. I really am. For the simple fact that Baby Hershel is the cutest alone. But I’m not happy that everybody so far seems so ready to just defer to her when they’ve been perfectly fine making it without her. That is not okay and that shit needs to stop soon-ish.

Hershel making fast friends with Judith and RJ and Gracie and all the Jabila kids. They’re the next generation, ya’ll. I just really need this.

More Jerry and Nabila, please. Because I have a special soft spot for my Jabila.

Jerry and Ezekiel scenes. Because Jerry is Ezekiel’s person and the truest bond he has on the show.

Kelly and Lydia striking up a friendship because Kelly’s a sweet cinnamon roll and Lydia is in desperate need of friends.

More scenes of Lydia, period, and not just her seeking out Negan because they both feel like outcasts. Lydia was raised in Hell. Negan wreaked Hell. It’s different and I don’t appreciate the heavy-handedness of Angela trying to make Negan into something he has no right to be. Leave him at an antihero if you must persist but stop trying to convince us he’s earned his place as a good guy because he hasn’t. JDM may have risen to the challenge of making him a much more compelling, shades of gray character these past two seasons, but Negan is still the guy that gleefully bashed Glenn’s head in with a barb-wire wrapped baseball bat and if he’s not going to show remorse about it? The least he can do is show the common sense not to go out of his way to antagonize Maggie.

Kelly reuniting with Connie and Carol getting to have a hand in doing in. Some acknowledgment from Connie that she chose to go back into the cave with Magna would be nice but ultimately not necessary because I don’t think Connie blames Carol at all.

Dog surviving the season unscathed and getting all the cuddles he deserves.

The not-so-rosy truth about Leah being exposed and Daryl making his choice clear once and for all. Spoiler alert? Leah doesn’t even rank.

I’d love the fake dating/fake marriage trope to be trotted out at the good old Commonwealth with Carol and Daryl because I think it would be so much freaking fun and hey. If Kang is going to continue to give us fanfic (unknown child, a la Rick and Michonne), why not try out a true blue?

Some freaking clue as to why/how Rosita and Father Gabe hooked up. Like I just don’t get it, especially when you consider Siddiq was RIGHT THERE. The amount of distrust Rosita and the rest of Team Family had in him back in the early days of their arriving in Alexandria. I just find it hard to wrap my mind around this relationship when it wasn’t even on the radar pre-time jump.

That said, Father Gabe did have a great scene with Judith in (what was then) the Season Finale where he gave her a message for Rosita and I did find it touching. So I dunno, ya’ll. I could be persuaded. But not all that easily.

Some resolution to the whole Virgil thing. Talk about your random characters in the right place at the right/wrong time. Him promising his wife flowers every day touched me but come the fuck on.

More Carol and Lydia scenes and more Carol and Kelly scenes because Carol with these young ladies gives me life. You know what? Carol getting to interact with and have friendship with any and all of the ladies gives me life and should be a regular thing. Like TPTB missed the opportunity of a lifetime having Carol and Michonne sharing all kinds of bonding scenes. It would have been so poignant to watch them relate to each other over their lost children.

Can we please get some Commonwealth scenes where the kids of Alexandria learn how to be actual kids? I mean, not that they aren’t already, but I’d love to see them have the chance to be carefree and have fun. You know, though, that Jude is definitely going to be a tough little nut to crack, and she’s always going to be keeping one eye open for trouble.

Speaking of Commonwealth, I’d love to see all our faves dolled up, lol. Yes, it’s a rather shallow wish, but can you imagine Carol in a simple but beautiful dress and Daryl utterly tongue-tied to the point that the kids--Lydia, Judith, and RJ--just start giggling uncontrollably and Carol and Daryl both blush? Because I can and it is glorious.

Let the villains villain. Not everyone needs to be redeemed. Some people are just too far gone.

You know what? It’s past time to let Carol in particular unpack some of her trauma and cast it aside so she can move on that future Daryl keeps reminding her they have. She and Daryl are way overdue for a heart to heart where she just opens up a vein and lets it all flow. It’s the only way she’s going to be able to heal and move on, IMHO.

Some indication that Rick and Michonne and the Grimes babies and the rest of their family (Carol, Daryl, etc.) are going to be reunited.

The promise of at least a chance of a happy ending for everyone we’ve watched and loved these last 10+ years.

There’s more. There’s always more, lol. But that’s enough for now. As I think of things I just really, really need to see? I’ll come back to this list. Because hey. Like I said. I did one of these for Season 10 and I got way more of them than I ever could have anticipated so.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 hopes and wishes and dreams #Caryl #Carol x Daryl #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #really all of our faves #I want this season to be so emotionally satisfying #not devastating #sometimes those two things can be one and the same #sometimes nah #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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whetstonefires · 3 years ago

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tim drake for the character ask thing?

How I feel about this character

I'm attached as fuck to him. He's so annoying. All his fans are annoying especially me.

He's really great and has been Wronged by DC, not so much in being dropped from prominence as in having everything he brought to redefining Robin carved up and redistributed by retcon so now you get people saying he 'has nothing distinctive about him.'

YEAH BECAUSE HE WAS SO GOOD DC MADE ALL HIS DISTINCTIVE TRAITS GENERIC. SHUT UP.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Huh. No one, kinda, he has such a habit of getting into romances and then just--having no idea what the next step is, emotionally speaking.

I don't know if we should call this an orientation thing or a mental health thing or a work/life balance thing or even just a maturity thing, but all available evidence suggests that Tim either lacks basic capability or subconsciously self-sabotages, when it comes to his love life.

Like even by comic book lead standards he stands out here because he hasn't lost many of his relationships to supervillainy or drama, he just kind of...drifts apart. He and Steph weren't a thing at the point of her 'death,' and that's the closest he's come to the usual fridge shenanigans re: girlfriend.

I've slowly gone off him and Steph, actually, since it started appearing in canon again. They were designed to character-foil one another; she has every Robin trait that was dialed down in Tim to pacify the Jason-haters, turned up to eleven. If you (writer) aren't willing to harness that collision energy and its spark to drive the relationship, you're going to get something that's either tepid and impersonal or their contrasts actively driving them apart and creating conflict.

Which they always did, of course, because you gotta sell comics and Steph in Tim's title was technically a weapon in the writers' hands, but I thought they had more potential to get their shit sorted and be something meaningful to each other back then than I do now.

Tim/Kon is fine? It's fine. I like them together in general so they're a fine romance, abstractly. 80%+ of shipfic in general is grossly mischaracterized in ways that cause me varying anxiety depending on the character so I've developed aversions to certain narrative frameworks for that ship, but I think it's the cutest and most natural canon-grounded one he has.

Honestly though I feel that Tim would have to change enough as a person before he would actually benefit from trying to hold up one end of a romance, that when I try to picture him in a stable romantic situation I always kinda feel he'd need it to be with a new person he doesn't have history with, to hold him answerable to who he's been all this time. So Tim/OC????

That said, the recent issue giving us Overtones Of Timber has me on the ground. Like hell yeah, sure, why not Bernard.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Kon I guess? Honestly I like him best with his Young Justice squad, in its various forms. Tim Kon and Bart are reliably great, I still think their Young Justice reboot lost a lot by fucking all of them up right out the gate.

My unpopular opinion about this character

In a fun reversal from the previous two asks for this meme, I do know which opinions are unpopular about Tim, but in fact it's basically all of them. There are no positions on the subject of Tim Drake that won't piss someone off.

I am not gonna go seeking out the most inflammatory and/or bizarre thing I could say about this character egad.

I guess the one that's gotten me into the most conflict is that it is not and was not Tim's responsibility to make the relationship with Damian 'work.' And that the startlingly common attitude in both the comics and the fandom that Damian's behavior toward him those first years somehow couldn't be considered abusive and that Tim should have been able to either take it like a man or single-handedly deescalate it, simply because of their age difference, is fucked up.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

ONE.

...some unpacking of how he's internalized a really twisted definition of 'responsibility' and of how his parents and in particular his dad genuinely wronged him over an extended period, and he's allowed to have been harmed by it.

Like Tim has a whole thing about how he's not allowed to be traumatized by shit because worse things have always happened to other people (even though 'how objectively bad a thing was' isn't the primary factor controlling how bad the psychological damage is) and in Red Robin part of how his character was going so weird was he was finally giving himself permission to be damaged, and that could have developed in either a bad way (continuing that pattern of trauma validation through passive self-harm) or a good one (getting better at giving himself space to hurt and thus to heal).

But we never got to see the eventual outcome because Barry Allen destroyed the universe. Which, hey, DC sucks, it probably would have been a bad outcome anyway. But. Let the man grow up, huh?

#i actually almost went off in the shipping question about like #'maybe he could handle himself better in a triad relationship?'#'not exactly because the other two could do all the heavy emotional lifting because tim is perfectly willing to do that kind of work'#'just not on his own behalf so if there was a way for his own romance to consist of meddling with other people's--'#and then i realized i had intersected homestuck and did not write that paragraph #tim drake #ask meme #ask #character breakdown #hoc est meum #a nonny mouse

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bowithoutadaemon · 2 years ago

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Had a shitty nightmare/stress dream...

Relevant context: For work we are currently booking a few workshops and stuff for a multi-day event. And the planning is stressful.

In the dream I was taking part in one of those workshops. It was some sort of communal writing workshop about imagining queer future or utopia. (Not a workshop we have planned rn for real)

And the person giving the workshop was... just super dismissive and aggressive towards me and made me feel like an idiot. Like they gave the instruction to write a short writing prompt down, one prompt per piece of paper and then hand the papers to different people. Then when I did that they first assumed I didn't come up with anything at all, kinda mocking me for being so unimaginative, because I didn't have my prompts anymore since I already handed them to others. Then they yelled at me for having multiple prompts, now saying that their instruction was totally different to what they said before. "Can't you idiot even follow simple instructions?"

Same thing happened again with the next tast. They gave instructions, even wrote them down on a flip chart. I followed them. Then they yelled at me for having done something wrong like an idiot. And when I pointed to the flip chart they just went over to it, ripped the page off, balled it up and told me they never wrote the instructions down and that I need to listen better to what they were saying and need to stop being an idiot.

Then I left to go cry in the garden and they said they were glad about that because I was disrupting the workshop anyway with all my backtalk and stupidity.

Not a single other person said anything. But each time when I was getting berated the rest would be quietly change what they had written/done to fit the new instructions.

.........

So much to unpack here.

Guess I need to still deal with the trauma left by the two years of school with the two docents who constantly gaslight us and yelled as us. (Who would have thunk that just pushing it down and never thinking about it again isn't a good way to cope with trauma? /sarcasm ) A lot of days back there in school where similar to my dream. One set of instructions written down then a 30 minute yelling session about how we are too stupid because we didn't do the simple thing she asked us to do which now was something different. One thing that was fundamentally different though was that we four students backed each other up, tried to shield each other as best we could, tried to evenly distribute the vitriol so no single person had to bear it all, always ALWAYS checked in with each other confirming the truth with each other so no one would go home thinking "what if she actually gave the instructions like that and I really didn't listen right? What if I am in the wrong here?" Because no.

And that's the next trauma to unpack I guess. Feeling like others at work aren't gonna back me up like that and instead will follow along with the abusive person. Which honestly is bullshit. I know that at least both the other people on the board would speak up and check in. Actually I think both of them would tear the workshop giver a new one for calling anyone stupid.

And the final thing to unpack is my anxiety about the event ending up shitty. It's kinda the last thing I'm doing at work. In some way it'll be the goodbye event for me and other board members. I want it to be a fun few days. And I am dreading getting emotional there, but also don't because I trust the other enough to be comfortable being emotional and vulnerable around them.

Ugh... anyway shit dream brought on my stress, anxiety and past trauma. And now I'll eat my breakfast at around 8pm because what is a timezone appropriate sleeping schedule and then I'll pirate the new Monkey Island game. It should be available in the public pirate shop any minute now.

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reynie-muldoons · 3 years ago

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'The Art of Conveyance and Round-Trippery' Liveblog!

Sorry this is a few days late!! I moved across the country this weekend, we drove like 13 hours within 2 days and we did a lot of heavy lifting. I'm exhausted, but the boxes are slowly emptying and I've been wanting to watch this episode so gd bad, so LESGO

Over halfway through the season!!!! That's absolutely surreal

1:11 oooh they're getting their royal fitting

1:22 LMAOO WTF 😂😂 Princess Diaries vibes

1:42 ✨CONFIDENCE✨

1:52 Alfonse is a perfect name for that guy HAHA

2:05 Nathaniel, my guy, you've made some points

2:11 "do you feel your power?" POWER RANGERS, GO

2:24 no no hesitation just prolly thinkin bout how he was caught cheatin

2:39 "can you not allow yourselves luxury?" okay fr I feel that I get Nice Things Guilt(tm) too easily

2:52 dayummmm let's talk about Sticky being a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, mans is brave as fuck under extreme pressure and loyal to the point of putting himself on the line

3:15 bro Sticky getting some recognition. Love to see it, he deserves it

3:19 "is that a coincidence? Or written in the stars?" IS DR. CURTAIN CATCHING ON THAT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER BEFORE OR LIKEEEE

3:49 WHAT WORD AROUND CAMPUS 😭😭😭 MY BOYS ARE NOT A MISTAKE HOW DARE YOU

4:09 why doess the action of Dr. Curtain putting the sash on them seem so nefarious

4:36 I dont really understand the whole pastel yellow, blue, and pink palette of the school but the boys both look pretty okay in their vest-sash getup

4:42 THE OPENINGGGGG. This shit slaps.

5:41 Kate and Constance look so fucking cute in that shot, dont ask me why but hnnggggg

5:54 sash rope 😂😭 kate, honey, that's a reach

6:09 it might feel buttery, but, my guy, it also looks buttery. It's literally the color of butter. Get yourself some crisco

6:24 I find it kinda interesting that they made up new riddles for the show, I'm almost positive that that one wasn't in the book. Correct me if I'm wrong though

7:03 "I'm not gonna apologize for knowing things" the sass. the ✨confidence✨. living for it

7:03 If they build on that it sets Sticky up really nicely for the arc in the second book where he starts to show off a little

7:15 tiny Constance who is constantly dressed in pink with cute little braids is the perfect medium for the most morbid comments 😂😂

7:55 Martina's hot in her uniform. Can't prove me wrong.

8:15 why does that make me sad 🥺 eat with your friendssss. iirc they only talked about eating at the Messenger table in the books

8:26 dipshits forgot their lunches. Seems Constance is holding the communal braincell atm

8:50 anyone have Guiness on speed dial? Reynie and Sticky have a submission for them

9:25 oh hello this was alluded to in the preview!!! Morse code is compromised, rip

10:05 so are Jackson and Jillson stuck with night guard duty all the time?? They've been outside at night a lot

10:18 ahhhhhh the little blinkie light, stopppp

10:25 MILLIGANNNNN!!!

10:25 so is this the point where he starts staying on the island with them????

10:39 so are they just like "fuck it we'll do it right before sundown" ???? Like Jackson and Jillson are still gonna be on the lookout, they aren't gonna chill just because it's not fully dark

10:50 did the kids.....just not tell them that Mr. Bloom was on the island 😂 nice oversight guys

11:05 MADGE TIME MADGE TIME

11:05 remind me to tell you guys a story about Madge, I may or may not have done something irl a few years ago that would make y'all proud 😂😂😂

11:16 idk why but it makes me so happy that they kept Madge as a peregrine falcon

11:37 Rhonda, my love, you have my heart in your hands

11:46 roll credits

12:05 THE HEAD SHAKE HAHAHAH

12:06 Awww man, I was so excited for Milligan to be on the island .-. He must have been scoping out the inlet

12:07 "they're quite regal" A. I read the subtitles as "legal" the first time and that's somehow really in character for him, and B. IS MILLIGAN GOING TO NAME HER???!? HER MAJESTY???? PLEASE I WOULD LOVE THAT SO MUCH

12:15 his grimace KILLS ME

12:17 the hard cut from Nicholas in a brown setting and brown suit to Nathaniel in a blue setting and blue suit was lowkey striking

12:36 are they looking up Morse code 😳 can you imagine if they wrote down the message and are now decoding it

12:41 omfg all that for a HAT 🙃 I feel stupid

12:51 two things: 1. Those walls are atrocious, and 2. Yeah, talk about Morse code in a louder voice Connie girl, you're just in a public hallway

13:03 I'm sorry but those orange pillar things are not the vibe

13:03 the golden gate bridge called, they want their arches back

13:10 please let Kate climb the tower before the end of season 1. please.

13:22 y'all are about to be flying something else 😎

13:33 cleansing breaths

13:47 OH HELLO MESSENGER DUTY ALREADY??

14:06 what the heck is that teal pole for 😭😭

14:12 blindfold timeeee

I'm so sorry but I'm exhausted, it's 11:30 pm on Sunday night right now, I'll finish this episode tomorrow morning after I get some sleepies

Good morningggg lesgetatit

14:50 "vomit of metal" ashhdjdjd

15:16 a wild Martina appears!

15:36 and if you folks look to your left, you'll see a wild Constance being the voice of reason once again

15:57 "lose the bucket" "I'm not gonna do that" HELL YEAH KATE

16:07 I get not having the bucket on the court lolol, I thought Martina was telling Kate to lose the bucket in general. Like, yeah, good luck convincing her to so that

16:35 show!Kate is much angrier than book!Kate and I'm still deciding how I feel about that. The Kate we've known from the books is a sunshine baby with looots of repressed trauma.

17:03 ......what is that. why is that.

17:11 WAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE REYNIE AHEHDJDJD

17:15 HI MADGE

17:41 the grand swell in the music makes me think it's going to go comically wrong

17:51 she's majestic because she's a queen 🥺

18:03 LMAO CALLED IT

18:14 Rhonda and Number Two getting at each other is such a sisterly thing to do 😂😂😂

18:37 ohhhhh? Someone's approaching? Miss Perumal perhaps????

18:45 YEAHHHHH BABY

18:50 PROTECTIVE MOM COMIN IN HOT!!!

19:22 THEYRE SO PRECIOUS 😭😭😭😭 I feel like I've been subconsciously starved for her and Mr. Benedict's interactions

19:36 died at that line in the one trailer

20:00 so Miss Perumal pulled a Sherlock Holmes. Love that for her

20:20 Cheri Tupintown??? Of all the aliases they could pick, Cheri Tupintown???

20:33 "Power in Truth Inc" that HAS to be something Rhonda came up with

21:01 you can literally watch Mr. Benedict realize that this is a woman not to be fucked with and he is CORRECT

21:23 "he's fine. Perfectly fine." At this, Mr. Benedict's pants caught aflame.

21:52 something about Constance sitting in on practice!!! It scratches an itch!!!!

22:19 "incorporate the helix. Live in the helix." Lord Helix is pleased with this offering.

22:26 so what I'm hearing is Kate is going to blow up on Constance for messing with the bucket

23:13 unrelated but Jillson'a shoes are cute

23:29 why does this room give off Johnny Depp's willy wonka vibes

24:13 that looks like a chair from a doctor's office waiting room 😭

25:29 they do be egg heads tho

26:02 baby girl, I have no idea why you're crying at weird art but let me dry your tears 🥺🥺

26:50 SHE FOUND ITTTT

27:27 okay Indiana Jones, go off

27:46 why did that kinda sound like Miss Perumal

28:43 the return of everyone's favorite, "enjoyable"

29:05 not that I'm not loving the ice breaker questions and the one-sided conversation, but I'm not loving it

29:22 oh so we're getting right into it aren't we

29:54 his eyes being open again makes this infinitely creepier

30:36 "where's your proof?" Miss Perumal doesnt fuck around!!!

31:29 you're telling me Constance has been there all day?? And Kate went to find her???? 🥺

31:58 oh so we're getting right to it then?? Kate addressing her independence and trust issues arc????

33:29 NEWS!!!!

33:49 CONSTANCE RIDING PIGGYBACK!!!!!!

34:04 okay, so they opened the murder hole, what are they gonna do now

34:59 Italian? 🤨 m'sir that is so fancy

34:59 fun story I learned Italian diction in college, so I know a little bit

35:16 "take your time" the whisperer says, immediately repeating the prompt to get the answer sooner

35:31 theeeeere it is

35:46 SOMETHING ABOUT THE WHISPERER SAYING "YOU ARE HOME" 😭😭😭 the show really played up the cult shit!!

36:02 Kate being protective of Constance 🥺

36:20 ohhh shit is it time for Connie girl to have double Reynie? Double Sticky?

36:36 STICKY

36:52 "what kind of nonsense?" HAVE THEY NOT ASKED THAT BEFORE THIS?????

37:14 "and your tiny brain can somehow pick it up!!" KATE STOP 😂😂😂

37:16 "I knew you had to be special in some way." WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

37:51 she's right, this is disregard for their safety. The show made Mr. Benedict and his team a lot more back-alley and dishonest, and Miss Perumal has every reason to be pissed

38:30 oh good they finally remembered he has narcolepsy

39:38 and the best mom award goes to:

40:38 I was gonna say that this hallway is how I imagined the KEEP in riddle of ages but then I remembered that (spoilers) the Institute is the KEEP

40:46 oh, hello propoganda

41:10 that's the other person Rhonda couldn't contact, along with Mr. Bloom. This has to be the brainsweeping process

41:22 yeppppp

41:44 this dark doctor's office theme gives me horror movie vibes

42:22 ohhhh, so that's how they replaced that scene where the four of them jump in a crate to hide and Sticky drops his glasses in the open

42:47 and so we've come to the part of the story where Sticky and Reynie become infinitely more conflicted

42:47 and since we've reached that point..... can we have the white knight scene? Pretty please? Please Disney I'm begging you-

43:12 so Reynie just figured that out without Constance? :/

44:03 love the manipulation

44:31 I'm sorry, the farm?

44:35 farm and forest????

45:16 "the Emergency has served its purpose" 😳 well okay then murder man

45:39 "one thought, one purpose" the hive mind rises once more

45:48 LOVE THE MANIPULATION

46:07 "what have you done to earn anyone's trust?" VALID

46:26 "please do!" WHY AM I EMOTIONAL

47:06 "we still have the falcon" that you do 😂

47:19 AYYY HERE WE GO!!! Time for Milligan to stay on the island??

47:49 ohhhh Constance, casual telepath strikes again

48:16 "stop it, Kate!" OOOOHHHHH

48:53 that line ("it would be nice to be unburdened") would be funny as shit if not for the fact that Constance is a telepath unbeknownst to herself and can both subconsciously perceive people's thoughts and hear the subliminal messages

49:20 HI MRS. PERUMAL!!!

49:25 wow, she's really going through with it 😳 not that I doubted her, but still, that's dedication

49:39 OH SHIT

50:17 oh, so he's an asshole to SQ too. Got it. Torches and pitchforks? Ready to kick his ass?

50:40 "for the moment, anyway" FUCKIN WHAT

This episode was really good!!! They covered a LOT. I hope Miss Perumal comes back to the group and talks about her findings, I hope Milligan goes to get the kids and they tell him no, and I hope they get that classic 4-person Society brainstorming and binding time that hits that sweet spot

#mbs disney+#mbs liveblog #the art of conveyance and round trippery #the mysterious benedict society #charity's talkies

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anextraordinarymuse · 4 years ago

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Hi ...it’s me again, with another WCTH meta

And since I am incapable of making these short and to the point, buckle up and thank you in advance if you stay for the whole rambling thing. This one deals with 8x05 (obviously). Let’s gooooo!

I loved seeing Nathan tease Bill about his uniform. It’s a great moment of levity in an otherwise serious set of storylines for Nathan so far, and I am so glad they included it. ALSO though, I appreciate that this is a side of Nathan that we get to see here and there because it ties right in to Allie’s assertion that Nathan was a lot more fun before the events that took place at Fort Clay. They’re establishing that even though we don’t always see them (or it might take some time to come out) there are these really fun and playful sides to Nathan’s personality. I love them no matter what, but I really appreciate them for how special these moments feel. And I feel like Nathan has kind of an understated humor rather than an outright goofy, in your face humor (unless kids are involved, in which case he’s just outright silly with his funny faces and dad jokes).

I have mixed feelings about the scene with Elizabeth and Lucas on the bridge. I like that they showed Lucas’s considerate side by having him choose not to attend the graduation ceremony in order to not make it uncomfortable for Nathan (and I hope they become friends eventually because they have a funny dynamic); I didn’t like that it felt like they were showing Lucas’s considerate side at the expense of Elizabeth’s. Having her play it like she didn’t even consider that it might be uncomfortable for Nathan felt disingenuous. Elizabeth has always been a thoughtful and considerate character and she has said many times that she doesn’t want to hurt Nathan or Lucas. To have her suddenly blind to the fact that having Lucas there would make it difficult for Nathan just felt wrong - especially after the scene they gave us with Nathan riding by on the horse. It made Elizabeth seem inconsiderate - which leads me into the next bullet point

They have really humanized Elizabeth this season. Is it comfortable? No. Is it my favorite? Not exactly. BUT it is good storytelling. In previous seasons Elizabeth has always been a little hard to relate to because she can come across as sanctimonious and too perfect. She’s always thoughtful, and chastises people for their mistakes but also super quick to face and fix her own. And that’s just not realistic. This season, we get to see an Elizabeth that is clearly doing things we may not agree with, and being selfish, and not realizing she’s making mistakes - or realizing it and making them anyway. When she rides away from Nathan after he tells her he loves her that’s clearly a moment of giving in to cowardice. Not only does she literally run away, we then see and learn that she’s just been flat out avoiding Nathan. (Note that I am not ragging on her character here or how she chose to handle it. Whether you want her with Lucas or Nathan, that was a moment of cowardice. She straight up runs away from her problems/an uncomfortable situation and then just ... pretends it’ll go away if she doesn’t address it). Elizabeth is also being rigid, selfish, and what sometimes feels like mean. These are normal things - everyone is like this in some way, at some time or another. Elizabeth has dismissed Nathan’s love almost out of hand simply because of his profession (and because she’s terrified); she chastises Nathan for being jealous of her being with Lucas when Nathan himself won’t just ask her out, but when he does she hesitates and then backs out ON THE WAY TO DINNER and still asks Nathan and Allie to walk her home (I am not lying when I say that this is probably the only scene in the entire show that I absolutely despise and I will not watch it); she has apparently forgotten that she doesn’t want to hurt Nathan and shows little consideration for his comfort. Now, I don’t hate Elizabeth for these things, I’m just noting that this is what we’re seeing. This is also one of the main reasons that I consider her relationship with Lucas to be an act of selfishness. She even mentioned in 8x05 that when she’s with Lucas there’s nothing weighing on her - she doesn’t have to grade papers, or be a mom first, or deal with the very real trauma and fear that come with loving Nathan. Lucas and their relationship is an escape for Elizabeth, and we’re all a little escapist at times.

On this point, I have mixed feelings: Nathan and Elizabeth’s scene in her house. There’s a lot going on here, and I have questions. When did Elizabeth leave a note for Nathan? Was it during the day and he didn’t get it until later because he and Allie were out all day? Was it in the evening, or after her date with Lucas? Because there’s a lot to unpack there if the answer is anything except she left it during the day and he didn’t get it until later. That conversation could have waited until they were on neutral ground, in the daylight. Instead, it happens in a very intimate setting. It’s night time and the lights are turned down low (and Nathan Grant looks like a whole ass snack with his unbuttoned shirt and rolled up sleeves and forget Elizabeth, that man is MINE) and everything about this scene is personal. There’s a clear undercurrent of unease and awkwardness between them and they’re clearly not on the same page, but there is a vulnerability to them and this scene that is hard to miss. Also, this scene is lit very warmly: lots of yellow and gold tones in the lighting which is mostly provided by low lamps and candles, and soft shadows. Again, it’s intimate and personal. But the real takeaway from this scene for me is the caliber of Nathan’s character. The fact that the woman he loves has just chastised him for basically doing the same thing she’s doing and not facing his problems, and then bringing up Fort Clay again, and he not only accepts that with grace but then owns up to the hurt his actions have caused with real humility and chagrin ... seriously, I’m in love with him. And I think that it’s clear that in this moment, Nathan is showing that not only is he a stellar role model for Allie, but also Elizabeth. Whether she wants it to be or not, whether she wants to admit it or not, I think Nathan is the measure of the quality that Elizabeth is looking for in a partner as well. I think that will have a hand in the undoing of Lucas and Elizabeth’s relationship.

The dinner date with Lucas and Elizabeth is also interesting. It feels very different from her scenes with Nathan. There is little vulnerability there. They’re shy and a little nervous with each other, which is natural for a new relationship, but there’s not a lot of depth. The whole date is very romantic and reminiscent of Jack’s grand gestures - all of the candles and the fancy dinner (which we’ve seen is typical of Lucas) - but it’s almost the exact opposite of the scene she shares with Nathan. The lighting is colder, the shadows are sharper, and even their clothes are flashy. The whole thing feels very formal and easy, and their conversations are only surface deep.

The way that Elizabeth looks at Nathan after he walks away from the graduation ceremony ... no it’s cool, she’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine

This isn’t necessarily an observation from this episode, but more a general observation from the last few and what we know of the next few: I don’t think Elizabeth knows what she wants, or is ready for what’s happening. I think things will end with Lucas and she’ll spend a few episodes alone and trying to figure things out. My guess is that the kiss that’s teased in 8x06 won’t happen, but it will scare Elizabeth or make her realize that she’s not ready/confused/not all in. We’ll go back to the status quo - awkwardness between Elizabeth and both Nathan and Lucas as they all try to navigate each other and the situation - and then Elizabeth realizing what she wants and gathering her courage in the last three or four episodes

That’s all for now (until I realize I forgot to add things)! Overall it wasn’t my favorite episode, but it wasn’t the worst. It had great moments between other characters, some of which made me actually giggle. I am tired of this triangle, but I’m still convinced Nathan is endgame.

#Jess' thoughts #wcth #when calls the heart #nathan grant #Jess's thoughts #honest to god though I just love and appreciate Nathan more and more with every episode #independent of what is going on with him and Elizabeth

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thepermanentrainpress · 4 years ago

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THE PERMANENT RAIN PRESS INTERVIEW WITH MADELEINE SIMS-FEWER AND DUSTY MANCINELLI

Violation is one of the most stirring films we’ve seen over the past year. Since making its world premiere at Toronto International Film Festival last year, the Canadian flick has been busy on the film festival circuit; now available through digital-cinema on TIFF Bell Lightbox, with Vancouver International Film Festival (VIFF) Connect to follow beginning March 26th.

What inspired the story behind Violation?

We were both dealing with our own personal experiences of trauma at the time, and wanted to make an anti-revenge film that deals with female rage, and emotional and psychological unravelling that trauma gives rise to.

We really wanted to make a revenge film that pushed the boundaries of the genre, challenging the tropes of the scantily clad woman becoming empowered by violent revenge against a menacing stranger, and that revenge is the cathartic climax we are all seeking at the end of the movie. Yes, it is a film about seeking retribution, but also about the cost of that retribution. It is a film about violation, but also about lack of empathy and selfishness, and how both can erode your morality and the relationships around you.

It’s been described as “twisted,” “feminist-minded,” and a “hypnotic horror.” At its core, how would you describe the film’s genre(s)?

Those three descriptors fit perfectly, actually! We weren’t thinking too much about genre when we wrote the script, mostly about the story and about how we portrayed Miriam’s journey. We were inspired by films that don’t sit comfortably in a genre box, like Caché, Fat Girl, Don’t Look Now. Films that are dramas with elements of horror.

When you were writing the script, can you elaborate on the dynamics between the two couples that you wanted to portray – Miriam and Caleb, and Greta and Dylan?

Miriam and Caleb are very much at an impasse in their relationship. The spark has gone out and they don’t know how to reignite it. Instead of doing the work it might take to get through a rough patch Miriam is very much running away. There is a real transience to modern relationships that we wanted to capture in their dynamic - this idea that when the romance is gone the relationship has run its course. Miriam wants to fix it, but doesn’t know how - she clumsily tries to fix it with sex (on her sister’s advice), and this echoes how she tries to fix her trauma too.

Greta and Dylan have a seemingly healthy relationship. But when you look a little deeper their outward affection and codependence masks a deep distrust. Dylan is having his ‘grass is greener’ moment, and he’s totally selfish to the impact this has on those around him. Greta can sense this, but she’s too enamoured by him to risk rocking the boat. It’s all a recipe for tragedy really.

Miriam and Greta have a complex relationship, to say the least. It’s natural to have distance between siblings as they grow older, did you always intend to have a sibling relationship be a centre of your story?

Yes, we always wanted to make a film about a person who suffers sexual assault and is not believed by their sibling. That was one of the first parts of the story that came together. There is so much to unpack in a sibling relationship like theirs. A rich history of mutual failures and resentments as well as so much camaraderie and love. The more painful betrayal in the story comes from Greta, not Dylan.

We wanted to explore the idea of trauma within families, and how abuse and violence affects everyone in the family, not just the person who suffers it. Everything else orbits around these two sisters — Miriam and Greta — as Violation mines the little resentments, commonalities, shared joys and sorrows that weave together a truthful portrait of these women.

A lot of the horror and dread in Violation comes from the way the sisters interact, and in the ways they react to each other from a place of fear. There is no filter in these close sibling relationships (we know this as we both come from big families!) which can be wonderful, but can also lead you to hurt and be hurt in ways that leave permanent emotional scars.

The non-linear editing engages viewers into the story, as do the jarring intercuts with imagery of nature, animals and insects. Tell us about the editing and post-production phase, and what you hoped to accomplish with the progression and symbolism.

The way we have edited Violation is very deliberate. We are forcing you to experience things you might not want to in a very specific way, guiding you through this post traumatic landscape where the past and present are constantly speaking to each other.

We chose to weave two timelines together — the 48 hours leading up to the betrayal and the 48 hours surrounding the act of revenge. This forces the audience to re-contextualize what they have seen, challenging their own opinions of the characters based on what information we choose to reveal and when.

Violation is told completely from Miriam’s perspective — we watch her emotional and psychological unravelling as she struggles desperately to do the right thing. There is a sequence in the middle of the film where we see this act of revenge. There is no dialogue for a long time, we just follow Miriam as she goes through these meticulous actions. And what we realize is that her plan, though well thought-out, is unbelievably emotionally and physically taxing. She’s not prepared, and we watch the real horror of her actions play out through her visceral emotional responses. It was important for us to really force the audience to experience things as Miriam does. The editing is focused and relentless; never letting you stray from her experiences and emotions.

Madeleine, for you, getting to play Miriam and connect with her pain and turbulent emotions through the course of the film, can you share your thoughts on that experience. How did committing to this character challenge you as an actor?

It was the most challenging role I have ever played, and in many ways was absolutely terrifying. I wanted to push myself as far as I could go as an actor and challenge myself to really find the truth of who this woman is, and reveal that to the audience. There are so many quiet moments where Miriam’s journey is so internal, so the challenge there was in truly living each moment as if I was her — getting lost in the role — so that I was not indicating what she was feeling, but living it.

What was it like having Anna, Jesse and Obi as screen partners?

Very liberating. They are all extremely dedicated, layered, engaging performers. They elevated me and challenged me every step of the way. Jesse and I have worked together before, and we have an ease that makes scenes with him very fun. The comfort level we share allows us to really experiment. It was my first time working with Anna and Obi, but it won’t be the last. They are both so open and sensitive that I felt our work was incredibly nuanced.

An overarching question is whether revenge is ever justified. Tell me about Miriam’s mindset, and the struggle between morals, motives and her actions. For you as individuals, is this something that you have had conflict with in your own lives?

In a way we wanted to make a sort of revenge fairy-tale. Fairy tales provide ways for children to think through moral problems, and to wrestle with life’s complexities. They aren’t depictions of reality, but reflect ideas about morality and humanity. We wanted the audience to think about consent, the rippling effects of trauma, how we judge women vs how we judge men, and perhaps consider those things more deeply.

In the end Miriam’s desire to punish those who have wronged her hopefully leaves the audience with a compelling ambiguity to be unpacked as they scrutinize her actions.

Tell us about the trust built between the cast and crew on-set, especially during the more intimate and grim scenes and tense conversations. How do you build that comfort level?

It’s really just about having open, honest conversations. We spent a lot of time with the actors during prep and rehearsals just talking, and building friendships. We are dedicated to creating a comfort level where actors can be completely transparent and open with us, so that when we ask them to go somewhere they know we are there guiding the process and aren’t afraid to take big risks.

To survivors of trauma, what do you hope this movie provides in its story?

We hope to provide a new take on the revenge genre - one that explores rape from a different angle and context - with the focus of the narrative much more on the psychological ramifications of trauma. We aren’t looking to tell anyone what to take away from the film, and we made Violation as much for people with no experience with trauma as for people who understand these murky waters. Really we hope the film sparks thought, discussion, and empathy.

You met at the 2015 TIFF Talent Lab; what drew you together as a filmmaking team? What advice do you have for artists/filmmakers looking for their own collaborators?

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what drew us together - it’s sort of an intangible thing. We developed a very candid friendship that we thought might translate well to a working relationship. Luckily it did!

Shortly after the Talent Lab we decided to work together on two short films, Slap Happy and Woman in Stall. Until directing these shorts neither of us had really had ‘fun ’making a film. Filmmaking was a drive, but it wasn’t a joy. These shorts gave us a totally new perspective, where we actually had a good time workshopping the script, creating a visual style, and just challenging each other. By the time we were making our third short, Chubby, we had decided to officially form a creative partnership.

We definitely approach filmmaking from different perspectives and with complementary strengths, but we don’t say ‘this is your thing and this is mine.’ We work collaboratively on every part of the process, and we built this unique way of working through our shorts, so that when we got the funding to make Violation (through Telefilm’s Talent to Watch program) we already had a solid method that works for us.

In terms of advice it really helps to know how you like to work before looking for a collaborator. Then it’s just about experimenting. It is very much trial and error. Don’t try to force a collaboration that isn’t working for you. There is no shame in a creative relationship not working out. But also it is important to be flexible and open to compromise - that’s how ideas flourish and grow. If you are too rigid then maybe collaboration is not right for you.

Going from short films to your debut feature with Violation, what new challenges did you face and how did you overcome them?

The endurance required to make a feature was something we weren’t prepared for. At about day 3 we turned to each other, totally exhausted, and were like: “there’s 30 more days of this.” It was brutally draining. Honestly every day brought its own unique challenges and problems to overcome, but we had such a strong, supportive team that it made each mountain a little easier to climb.

Aside from yourselves, who are some other up and coming Canadian filmmakers viewers should keep their eyes on?

Grace Glowicki and Ben Petrie are both doing really interesting work. Grace’s film Tito is a disturbingly good character study that builds a terrifying sense of dread. Ben’s short Her Friend Adam is one of our favourites, and he’s about to make his first feature.

Is there anything further you’d like to add or share, perhaps what you are currently working on?

Right now we are writing a slow burning mystery thriller and a twisted dark comedy. That’s about all we can reveal at the moment!

Thank you to Madeleine Sims-Fewer and Dusty Mancinelli for providing us with further insight into Violation! Visit their official website for more information on their projects.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 years ago

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The Girl Next Door (Part 2) - The New Normal

Summary: Dean’s starting to realize he needs some help when it comes to taking care of both Sam and he and the reader make plans to spend a little one on one time with each other...

The Girl Next Door Masterlist

Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: language, mention of injury, sad Sammy

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

Dean’s POV

An hour later, Dean stumbled downstairs and sent Y/N home, feeling better than he had all week. He quietly cleaned some, the house covered in a thin layer of dust. He did laundry and got fresh sheets on all of the beds, unpacking a few belongings and hanging up his clothes in the guest room closet. His wardrobe wasn’t extensive and he wasn’t planning on getting a lot of quiet time for just him, at least not for a while.

Dean grabbed a notepad and sat down at the counter when he got downstairs again, writing up his chicken scratch into easy to read notes on what to take and when, simple enough that even Avy could understand with some help. He measured everything out for Sam and labeled it, tucking the medicine away in an upper cabinet with a note taped on the front that everything was in there. Dean got Sam’s freshly washed beanie’s up in his room and on his nightstand and cleared the path from the bed to the bathroom on anything he could trip on.

Dean hummed softly when he went to the fridge and started to take out ingredients for dinner. The last time he’d had a home cooked meal was probably two weeks, the night of Sam’s accident. The leftover ravioli meant for Sam to dig into was still sitting inside the fridge. Dean threw the container away and returned to putting together a mess of cheese, pasta, veggies and meat in a pan, one of Sam’s favorite dishes growing up.

After a few hours, Sam woke up from the couch, stretching out as he caught Dean working away in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” said Dean with a smile. “Or should I say, evenin’ sunshine.”

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“Eh, three hours give or take,” said Dean. “You need the rest. How’s the head feeling?”

“Uh, warmer,” said Sam, reaching his hand up, feeling a hat on there. “Thanks.”

“I figured you’re used to that flop on your head, might as well keep you warm,” said Dean, clapping his hands together. “So, I am making Sammy casserole tonight to celebrate you being back home. It should be done just in time for Avy to get home.”

“Thanks,” said Sam as he sat up. “You look a little better yourself.”

“Y/N stayed over for a while, let me get in a nap. Nice neighbor you got there,” said Dean. Sam hummed, glancing over to the kitchen. Dean set down the knife he was using and walked over to Sam, helping him up to his feet. They paused for a moment until Sam was walking forward on his own, Dean with a hand on his arm until Sam sat up on one of the counter stools.

“Yeah, Y/N’s cool. Keeps to herself mostly. I think she got out of some bad relationship or something before she moved in. She never really gave a straight answer on that,” said Sam.

“Surprised you haven’t made a move on the cute girl next door,” said Dean, wiping off his hands.

“The only cute girl I need in my life right now is about four feet tall,” said Sam. “So you can totally go for the cute girl next door yourself, Dean.”

“I’m not relationship material, Sammy,” said Dean with a smile, back to working on making up dinner. “You know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we were teenagers,” said Sam, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want mom and dad’s relationship,” he said. Sam scoffed and lightly shook his head. “Sam.”

“Not every relationship is full of arguments and it has been years, years Dean, since they went at it. They don’t do what they used to,” said Sam. “They love each other. I think it’s time you stop being afraid of commitment.”

“Says the guy who ends it after every first date he’s been on the past three years,” mumbled Dean.

“Jess died,” said Sam dryly. Dean stilled, looking over to Sam who had his brow furrowed. “I miss her. I fucking do. Every day. I wish Avy had her mom still. But she would want me to be happy. It took me time to be ready for that again and yeah, it’s hard to date when you’re a single dad that works too much. I know that. I got way more excuses than you not to try but I don’t use them, not all the time at least. I know what I want and not stringing the girl along doesn’t mean I’m afraid of commitment. There’s a connection you have with a person Dean when they’re the one. I haven’t had it happen since Jess so I keep trying, like she would want, like you want for me. Now, I’m out of the dating game for a while so why don’t you go put yourself out there for a change,” said Sam.

“Alright, alright,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “Don’t give yourself a stroke.”

“That’s not funny,” said Sam.

“It’s a little funny,” teased Dean. “But I’m sorry for teasing you wimp.”

“Jerk,” said Sam.

“Bitch,” said Dean. Sam smiled a little, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. “Okay, you want it with the breadsticks too?”

“Yes please,” asked Sam quietly, Dean taken back for a moment to when they were kids and he made him Sammy casserole for the first time.

“Alright. We’ll make up the breadsticks too, Sammy.”

“Hi Avy,” said Sam, holding out his arms when their parents came by that night. She looked nervous though, staying by the front door and looking around the room at everyone. “Can I have a hug, honey?”

“Just be careful like we talked about, sweetie,” said Mary. Avy nodded and climbed up on the couch, shifting over slowly, Sam wrapping his arms around her.

“I missed you so much, baby. You have fun at grandma and grandpa’s? You got to tell me all about what happened at school,” said Sam. She nodded and threw her arms around Sam tight. Their parents gave them a smile as they followed Dean over to the kitchen.

“You guys want to stay for dinner?” asked Dean. “There’s plenty of food here.”

“Sure,” said John, glancing back at Sam. “You know, Dean...Mom and I were talking...we should really be the ones to move in here with Sam while he recovers.”

“I’m pretty sure Sammy’s going to put his foot down on that. Besides, you guys are both still working, you live farther away...I got this,” said Dean. “Really.”

“It’s not just taking care of Sam, Dean. You got Avy around here too,” said John. Dean blinked at him. “It’s a lot of responsibility is all I’m saying.”

“She’s my niece. I know how to take care of her,” said Dean. “Hell I take care of her all the freaking time.”

“Yeah but you can’t be fun Uncle Dean now. You’re gonna have to-”

“Excuse me but I took care of her the night her mother died and Sam was a mess and he had every right to be. I took care of her the night Sam almost died,” Dean whispered, scowling at his father. “I had to be the one that made medical decisions for Sam that night and the night after and the night after. I had to do those things because Sam trusts me. If he wants me gone, I’ll go. But I’m not leaving because you two don’t think I’m responsible enough,” said Dean.

“It’s a lot of work Dean,” said his mom, putting a hand on his arm. “No one is saying...we’re saying we’ll help is all.”

“Well ask Sam what he wants,” said Dean. “And guess what? He wanted me to be the one that moved in so I’m here. I will take the help but we don’t need you two living here.”

“Was living with us really that horrible for you?” asked John. “Really?”

“Sam and I both remember what it was like so yeah, excuse me for wanting him to recover in a place that’s calm and unstressful for him,” said Dean, narrowing his eyes.

“Alright. Don’t fight,” said Mary. “Alright. We’ll help out as much as we can but Dean can stay with Sam, alright? Boys?”

“Alright,” said John, holding up his hands.

“Casserole should be done in five. Watch Sam for me for a minute,” said Dean. He sighed and went out the front door, taking a seat on the front porch swing. He rested his hands on his head, taking a few deep breaths. He barely lifted his head when he heard the stairs creak, smiling when he saw a container be set down on the top step. Y/N just smiled and walked back over to her house, giving Dean a small wave as she went inside.

Dean picked up the container, laughing when he realized it was a pie. He flipped open the note on top, a warmth filling him up.

It’s my grandma’s recipe. Called it ‘feel good pie’. Always seems to do the trick for me. You guys seemed like you could use some after everything.

-Y/N

“Thank you, sweetheart. I needed this.”

Reader’s POV

“Morning,” you heard while you headed outside to wash your car the next day. Sam was sat on the front step of his porch, Avy playing with some chalk in their driveway. “Thanks for the pie last night. It was great.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, wandering over across the grass. “The prison warden giving you some parole time?”

“Oh no. He’s just changing into some clothes to work on his car some. I’m allowed to be alone for a few minutes when Avy’s keeping an eye on me. Small victories,” said Sam. “A little more time everyday.”

“They worried about…” you trailed off, Avy not seeming to take notice of the conversation.

“A lot can go wrong after a brain trauma. Time is the best cure unfortunately for my situation. Slow and steady. I’m not even allowed to watch TV or read right now so it doesn’t give me a seizure. I’m bored out of my mind,” he said.

“You could bake,” you said.

“Bake?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I mean, Dean might want to be the one that handles the oven right now but yeah, you could bake.”

“That’s...actually a really good idea,” said Sam. You saw Dean duck out of the garage, smiling when he saw you. “Hey, Dean, did you pick up any baking stuff at the store yesterday?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t, Martha Stewart,” said Dean.

“You know what? I didn’t feel like washing my car this morning anyways. Why don’t I take Sam here over to my place, let him do a bit of baking so he doesn’t go crazy today,” you said.

“Yes, please,” said Sam. Dean held up his hands, giving you a stare. You gave it right back but he sighed and relented, his gaze going to Avy.

“Fine but come get me if something goes wrong,” he said. “Now what to do with you little missy.”

“Hey, Avy. You want to come bake with me and your dad?” you asked. She carefully looked at Sam and shook her head, Sam’s face falling a little when he turned away. Dean squatted down next to her, giving her a soft smile.

“Avy, sweetie. I know we told you a lot of rules about playing with your daddy for now but you can still hang out with him. It’d make him really happy,” said Dean.

“Sorry, daddy,” she said, hopping up and giving Sam’s leg a hug.

“No, no, it’s okay, Avy. I wish I could run around with you,” said Sam. “Daddy’s still getting better.”

“I wish you’d get better faster,” she said.

“Me too,” said Sam with a laugh.

“Is your hair gonna come back?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’ll take a while though,” he said, holding out a hand to you. “Help me up? I get dizzy sometimes.”

You grabbed him with both hands, Dean keeping an eye on you both as Sam threw an arm over your shoulders.

“Come on Avy. Let’s go bake something with, Y/N,” said Sam. You led them over to your house and inside, Sam chuckling to himself. “It smells so good in here.”

“Well I am a baker, it always smells good in here...except when I burn a batch,” you said. You led them both over to the kitchen, Sam’s jaw practically dropping.

“I thought I had the fancy kitchen over here,” he said, taking a seat at the counter, Avy climbing up on one beside him.

“You got no idea what I do for a living, do you, Winchester?” you teased.

“Not a clue,” said Sam.

“Why don’t you spin around,” you said, nodding to the wall behind him. He turned in his seat, leaning back some when he saw the giant chalkboard. “That’s this week’s orders.”

“You’re a baker,” he smiled, turning back around. “For a living.”

“Yup. Need a good kitchen if I’m going to keep up with it,” you said. “So I got a order of chocolate chips I got to whip up today if you guys are interested in making some of those?”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

“Avy, you got those cookies okay?” you asked, Avy holding a pink box in front of her a few hours later. She hummed, that classic smile back on her face you were much more used to seeing. You couldn’t help but notice the layer of grime that’d been on your car was gone and the driveway was wet as you went past. You walked back over with Sam, a quiet chuckle coming from you both when you saw Dean passed out on the front porch chair with a baseball cap over his face. “Does he ever sleep?”

“He’ll get back to normal soon. I hope,” said Sam quietly. You helped him up the steps, Dean stirring at the noise, sleepily smiling at the three of you. “Turns out we live next to a professional baker.”

“How many different kinds of pie do you make?” asked Dean with a smirk.

“All of ‘em. Apple cinnamon, pecan, cherry, chocolate are my most popular probably,” you said. “Give me advance notice, I can make any kind you come up with.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” said Dean, stretching out. “I’ll so take you up on that.”

“Trust us, he will,” said Sam.

“Alright, Sammy. Why don’t you go on inside, eat your lunch and take a nap. Medicine is on the counter for you,” said Dean.

“Oh. Yay,” said Sam with a sigh. Dean held open the door for him and Avy, watching them go off to the kitchen, Sam holding out his sandwich from around the fridge door. “You can leave me alone now!”

“Dork,” said Dean, leaving the front door open, shutting the screened in one. “Thanks for keeping him occupied this morning. He’s getting a little stir crazy there not being able to use his head.”

“I think he liked it,” you said. “Thanks for washing my car.”

“I did no such thing. Must have been those car washing gremlins you hear about,” teased Dean.

“Must have,” you said, tilting your head up at him. “Thank them for me if you see ‘em around.”

“Will do,” he said.

“Dean? I’m sure Sam has good insurance being a lawyer and all. Maybe getting someone in to help watch him so you aren’t passing out on the front porch would be a good thing,” you said.

“I know. He’s in this limbo the next few weeks...my buddy at the garage, Benny, he’ll give me all the time off in the world for Sammy but I know…” said Dean, pursing his lips. “I do need help.”

“I got a friend that works as an in home nurse, deals with younger people most of the time. I can give you guys her name and the company she’s with if you’re interested,” you said. “I’m sure his insurance will cover it.”

“How much did he complain while he was over there?” asked Dean, trying to hide his laugh.

“Just a smidge,” you teased.

“Text me her name. We’ll look into it,” said Dean.

“Good,” you said with a smile, swapping phones for a moment. “So is pie your favorite kind of dessert?”

“Pie’s my favorite kind of everything,” he said, handing your phone back. You waited for him to make a joke but realized he was being serious.

“Alright. I got myself a pie expert. I may put your tastebuds to the test around these parts then, Winchester,” you said.

“Please do,” he said, licking his lips. “Last night’s pie was delicious. Blueberry and raspberry with a citrus flavored cream on top most people probably think is orange but is actually a lemon and grapefruit combo.”

“Dude, that’s scary good. No one ever picks up on that,” you said. “Like...no one. No joke, you want to come over next time I whip up some experimental stuff?”

“If I can arrange a babysitter for Sammy boy, sure,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll never turn down free dessert.”

“Awesome,” you said.

“Maybe we can get that pizza afterwards too,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “That sounds good. You ever have a bacon meat lover’s from Ricky’s? You have that with some bourbon and a slice of red velvet, it’ll give you a taste of what heaven must be like.”

“I bet it does,” said Dean, biting down on his smile. “I uh, I better get back in there and annoy the shit out of him. Big brother and all.”

“Wouldn’t want to keep you from that,” you said, Dean smiling as he threw his baseball hat on your head. “What’s this for?”

“It gives me an excuse to come talk to you tomorrow obviously,” he teased, heading back inside. “See you around, Y/N.”

“You are something, Dean Winchester,” you said, hopping down the steps, smiling under your new hat.

Dean’s POV

“I heard you flirting up a storm with Y/N earlier,” teased Sam late that night in his bathroom. Dean hummed, watching Sam take off his clothes in the shower until he got to his boxers. “Dude, you can go for the rest. I can shower on my own.”

“Sammy,” said Dean. “As scarring as this is for the both of us, just take off your damn underwear. I used to change you as a baby. Ain’t nothing I never seen.”

“Dean,” growled Sam.

“Here,” said Dean, handing Sam a washcloth from the towel rack.

“Really?” deadpanned Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and went to the closet, grabbing a hand towel and tossing it over. “Thank you.”

“You sit on the shower bench with that thing on your lap and use the spray thing to get clean, alright?” said Dean

“What, you ain’t gonna sponge bathe me?” mocked Sam.

“This is revolting enough without that,” said Dean, grabbing his phone and sitting up on the counter. Sam took a careful seat, a few grunts coming from him as he pulled off his boxers. “You good?”

“Why can’t I stand?” asked Sam as he tossed his underwear into this pile of clothes. “Or you know, have privacy?”

“Cause if you slip and fall or get dizzy and fall...basically you fall down, odds are you’re dead so deal with it,” said Dean, glancing over to Sam.

“Can you turn on the water,” he mumbled, glancing over to Dean. Dean nodded and walked over, turning it on warm for him, handing him the nozzle attachment. Dean kept his head down, Sam complaining often enough to know he was still conscious over there. “I’m done.”

“Alright,” said Dean, up again and turning off the water. He handed Sam a large towel and watched him dry off his top half, Dean throwing an arm under Sam’s shoulders. “I’m going to sit you down on the floor. Please have a towel over yourself by the time I open my eyes.”

“I got it, Dean,” said Sam. Dean sighed and shut his eyes, helping Sam until he heard what sounded like a slip. They flew open in an instant. Dean wasn’t positive what he did but he stopped Sam from going face first at the very least. He felt his own knees hit the ground hard, but his arms were around Sam’s torso tight, keeping him from going anywhere. Sam was down to his knees now, staring at Dean with a pant.

“Screw modesty?” said Dean.

“Screw modesty,” said Sam with a nod. Dean got his breath back and helped Sam out of the shower and sat on the floor. He handed Sam his towel, settling it over his lap.

“You’re okay,” said Dean, scooting back with a groan. He looked down, his knees a deep angry red. He gave them a rub, frowning when he saw Sam’s face. “Hey. I’m fine. Better my knees than your head.”

“What if you weren’t here to catch me?” he said.

“I am here,” said Dean, sliding over to Sam. “Shower time from now on, we’ll do it better so there’s no chance of anything happening. In a few weeks, your head will be a lot better and you can do things by yourself again and I won’t need to be here with you all the time. You’ll get your independence back real soon, Sammy.”

“I can’t drive still. Can’t work. I’m stuck doing nothing,” said Sam. “Avy’s more independent than I am.”

“Sammy,” said Dean, cupping his brother’s cheek, Sam squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re okay. Calm down for me. You were working too much and we both know it. Let’s take this as an opportunity for you to spend time with Avy, for you to enjoy life a little more, okay? Think of it as you got your own summer vacation coming up real soon.”

“You always take care of me,” said Sam quietly after a moment. Dean looked away, spotting the goosebumps on Sam’s arms.

“You need to get off this cold floor and in some warm clothes. Come on, Sammy,” said Dean. “Let’s finish getting you ready for bed.”

Reader’s POV

“Morning Winchesters,” you said the next day coming back from your jog. Sam and Avy were playing in the front yard and gave you a wave, Dean doing some planting in the pot by the end of the driveway. He smiled at you in your new hat but you spotted the bruises on his knees, Dean smirking at them.

“Oh I got these the fun way,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“I hope he bought you dinner first,” you said, Dean chuckling and shaking his head.

“Little mishap last night with bath time,” said Dean, nodding back at Sam. “Okay now though. Sammy called up that place, they said a nurse is going to start stopping by for a few hours during the day. It’ll give me a chance to work part time, get some chores done that need getting done. Avy’s out of school starting this week so I’ll need the help.”

“That’s great! You need to take care of you too if you’re taking care of them,” you said. He tilted his head, lip tugging up.

“I’ve never heard that before,” he said.

“Well if you’re not doing good, how do you expect to be able to take care of the people around you?” you asked.

“I never thought of it like that,” he said.

“Well make sure to take a little ‘me’ time too,” you said.

“Yeah, I will,” he said with a smile, glancing up at your hat.

“You want your hat back?” you asked, reaching a hand up to it.

“Nah. Looks better on you,” he said.

“Are you sure you’re not flirting with me?” you asked.

“Am I flirting with you?” he said, flashing you another wink.

“Alright, Winchester,” you laughed. “I gotta run. Lot’s of orders to get through today.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he said when you started to run back towards your house. “What’s your bakery called?”

“Sinful Sweets,” you said. “I got one of them websites and everything. Check it out sometime.”

“Will do, sweetheart.”

You were exhausted. Twelve straight hours of baking had wiped you out. Tomorrow you needed to go on a supply run but after that, you decided you were going home, sitting outside and doing absolutely nothing.

You almost groaned when you saw a new order pop up in your email. You knew better than to click on it at that time of night but it was for one of your adult dessert food types, one of your special bourbon red velvet cakes. It was a rarer order than normal but the need date on Saturday night made you chuckle along with the note from the customer.

I’m requesting the excellent baker over at Sinful Sweets make for me one of these awesome cakes I heard about. I’ll bring the bacon lover’s pizza at eight?

“Silly boy,” you giggled, grabbing your phone and giving him a phone call.

“Howdy neighbor,” he said.

“Did you order a cake just to ask me on a date?” you asked.

“Pft. No,” he said. “It’s so not a date by the way. Just two friends hanging out.”

“Uh huh,” you hummed, Dean giggling for a second as the phone moved away.

“But you know, you want to hang out on Saturday night?” he asked.

“Sure. I am going to reject your order though,” you said.

“But I want cake!” he said.

“I’m not charging you for a cake we’ll both be eating. You get the pizza, I’ll make the cake, deal?” you said.

“Alright, alright,” he said, quiet for a moment. “You sound tired.”

“Long day,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “Looking forward to the weekend.”

“Owning your own business must be hard,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “I don’t have half the problems other people do so I ain’t complaining.”

“You know, my new friend, this really cool chick, you’d love her,” he said with a smile, “She told me this thing about taking care of yourself takes care of other people you know.”

“Really? Never heard of it,” you said, shaking your head, smiling at the empty room.

“Wow. I mean, she’s a pretty smart cookie so it might be some good advice to take,” he said.

“You’re like, so not as cool as you think you are,” you said.

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back. You hummed, moving over to the couch, hearing Dean move somewhere else in the house. “Sammy and the kiddo are down for bed. S’kinda of quiet here.”

“S’always quiet here,” you said.

“You ever get scared?” he asked.

“Thank you for asking me that, at night,” you said.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I’m just messing with you,” you teased. “I got an alarm system and self-defense training and a bat. I’m good, Dean.”

“Alright. You ever...you know...change your mind...or want some company...give me a call,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, resting your head against the cushion. “Things going okay with Sam today?”

“Yeah, yeah. Today’s shower went much better than yesterday. Avy’s less nervous around him too which is good. It’s just slow going. They’re both used to a faster paced lifestyle. This kid does like five hundred activities, I swear,” said Dean.

“Maybe Sam will reconsider working so much when he’s ready to go back,” you said.

“Yeah. I hope so. He kind of threw himself into it all after his wife died,” he said.

“I only moved in a year or so ago. I never wanted to ask,” you said.

“No, I get that. This whole situation is bringing up a lot of stuff for him again. I can’t just go tell him it’s alright anymore and that fixes it, you know?” he said.

“Adulting sucks,” you said.

“Yeah it does,” he said. “It’s got it’s perks though.”

“I like talking to you,” you said after a beat. You heard him pause, your own head looking at your phone as if it wasn’t you that just said that. You hadn’t meant to, it slipped out was all. You felt the heat in your cheeks rise up, Dean quiet on the other end before you heard him breathe out.

“I like talking to you too,” he said quietly.

“Cool,” you said.

“Cool,” he said.

“Dean,” you hummed.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around before then but Saturday, your place at eight. It’s a date,” he said.

“Told you it was a date, Dean.”

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #neighbor!Dean #mechanic!dean #au!dean x reader #dean x #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert

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damienthepious · 4 years ago

Note

also. also because. i am a gremlin. and i shall die of Emotions and take you with me apparently. ["From yourself?" Amaryllis says, her brow furrowed with worry. "Look, I- I know this is uncomfortable, Arum, but- but I know that you've tried to get Damien to- to-"] to ["If you had managed to convince Damien to do it, it'd be cruel, first of all. He doesn't deserve that kind of guilt weighing on him. And second, again, you would be dead, Arum.] please thank i am lov u

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet]

you’re not a gremlin you are valid and i love you. that is a LONG PASSAGE THO, so BUCKLE UP. Also cw for discussion of depression, suicide, and suicidal thoughts below the cut. fun times with soft fic! or somethingggg

fun fact before we begin! Originally, this conversation was supposed to happen... before the i-love-you confessions. This was supposed to be broken down before they admitted that they cared for each other romantically, but i was having a shitton of trouble working out the trajectory and the ending of the scene, like, what the actual resolution was, and I couldn’t figure out how to make it work in time when all the other stuff in the chapter was good to go. And THEN it was supposed to happen right after the i-love-yous, but that felt SO busy and SO sloppy, so it kept getting shifted backward-

which wound up being kind of a blessing, i think? because here’s the thing- this scene is TENSE, here, and Rilla pushes pretty hard- but the older version was... kind of a FIGHT. Arum was much more aggressive about it, and there was a line in there for a long time- something like You will be gone this time tomorrow ANYWAY, Amaryllis. What does it matter? And then Rilla had this fucking heartbreaking- Missing you and MOURNING you are not the SAME THING, are you even LISTENING to yourself? and there was just... a lot more harshness to the whole thing. I’m glad it got to settle out, and I’m glad they were in a place to be softer with each other for this. It was too important to me that they addressed this, and i didn’t want it to get waysided.

obviously depression and suicidality aren’t things that have easy fixes, and love is not a Cure for mental illness, but i wanted it to be clear that a) rilla and damien are aware of arum’s non-physical hurts and care about them, too, and b) they are an expansion of Arum’s support network, which is SUPER important when coping with mental illness!

The Keep did the best it could, I think, but when it was just the two of them it was harder for the Keep to know what to do when Arum was deep in a depressive episode, and... well, they have a mental link, right? so I kind of assumed... they might share at least shades of this as well. Arum’s depression gets bad, the Keep is probably not having a good time just then either. Harder to take care of each other while you don’t even know how to take care of yourself. But! the initial point! expanding their collective support system is SO important to learning how to better cope with Arum’s mental illness, which has been running him pretty ragged while his physical injuries had him in traction.

Anyway. ANYWAY. the actual section you requested.

["From yourself?" Amaryllis says, her brow furrowed with worry. "Look, I- I know this is uncomfortable, Arum, but- but I know that you've tried to get Damien to- to-"] The reason why Rilla is leading this conversation is partially because Damien hasn’t fully discussed this with her, mostly out of a concern for... like... not betraying Arum’s trust? What happened between Damien and Arum was between them, and Damien wasn’t comfortable outright blurting that to Rilla. This was one of the ones that doesn’t get told. Not directly at least. Another reason why Damien takes a verbal backseat here is that... well.. he’s already said his piece to Arum on this front. The waters brought you here to live is a pretty definitive statement, yeah?

["What? Wh-what did you tell her?" Arum says, turning towards Damien, and he means to snap but his tone sounds more hurt than furious. Damien only sits, his hands clasped in his lap, his lips pressed tight together. "What did you say, knight?"] And, clearly, Damien’s instincts on that front were right. Arum is mortified by the idea that Damien would have aired his (as Arum thinks of it) weakness, and hopelessness. He’s hurt, that Damien might tell on him when it doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen, and he doesn’t feel that way now so clearly it doesn’t matter-

["He didn't tell me anything, Arum." She shakes her head, angling her body a bit more between them, leaning closer.] Rilla knows him too well by now. Tries to head off that hurt/anger and get them on track.

["Nothing specific, at least, but I'm not stupid. I heard you goading him plenty of times, and he said you told him about your- your work before we left, and he said that if he killed you then, it wouldn't have been a slaying and really there's only one way to interpret that evidence-" she pauses, cringes, bites her lip. "You tried to get Damien to kill you."] “it wouldn’t have been a slaying” was always a particular... phrasing that hurt me, i guess you could say.

[Arum freezes, his mouth going dry.] Arum does not like being confronted with his own weaknesses, as he sees them. He especially doesn’t want Amaryllis of all people to know about this- bad enough that Damien had to know.

["I don't know if it was because of guilt or- or depression or panic about the trip or what, but- but I already told you, Arum. I didn't put in all this hard work just for you to die. Just for you to throw all of it away-"] It was, in all honestly, a combination of these factors. Which is part of why Arum continues to panic. he’s still not really used to being seen, especially not in such a vulnerable way.

["I am home, Amaryllis," he manages in a whisper. "You brought me home. There will certainly be no reason for me to- to endanger myself now."] When you’re suicidal, it’s kind of hard to imagine what it’s like to not be suicidal. When you’re out of one of those valleys, it’s kind of hard to remember how deep they can feel. he doesn’t want to think about it. he’s happy right now. he has more than he could have ever dreamed possible, so it’s really hard for him to conceptualize that moment, right now. It’s hard, and it hurts.

["No?" she says weakly. "There wasn't any reason for you to try to goad Damien into killing you back in the hut, either, Arum, but you did it anyway."] no reasons that make sense outside of Depression Brain, at least.

["I-" Arum glances away again, his hand flexing, but she reaches out and takes one of his hands, squeezing tight. His eyes flick to Sir Damien, sitting quiet though his worried eyes are fixed on the pair of them. "I- that was- different-"] He has SUCH a hard time articulating this. Combine that with the fact that he really HATES talking about it. Lizard is having a panic.

["Different how, Arum?"] Rilla is pushing really hard, here, for good reason. She’s terrified that he might pull something after they leave. she hasn’t been away from him barely at ALL in MONTHS, and now she knows he’s suicidal, which is compounding the terror she already has about leaving him. She wants to protect him, from other monsters, from knights, from himself if she needs to. She loves him and she wants him to be safe and happy and if she needs to gently bully him through an uncomfortable conversation then by the fucking saints-

["I did not want you to endanger yourself for me, Amaryllis," he hisses, turning towards her with his tail thrashing. "You- you make the world less cruel, by your actions, your choices, your existence. The both of you. You try, if nothing else, and for you to leap to action and danger for my sake is- was-"] And he breaks. That was the real kicker of it, y’know? She found out that he needed to go home for his Keep and she buckled down, for him, after he had just been confronted with evidence of his former work and the ways it had directly harmed a human he loves. How could he possibly feel like he deserved that sort of care, that sort of consideration? How could he allow her to risk her own safety to get him home? He failed the Keep, he failed her, he failed himself-

in that moment, he was utterly certain that it was better for him to simply set them ALL back in their places. Amaryllis might be unhappy that he was gone, but it would be precisely the same hurt that she would have when she left him at home anyway, wouldn’t it? (pro-tip: No It Wouldn’t) Damien would simply return to being the knight he was always meant to be, and the Keep could grow a new familiar, unburdened by his distant, useless weight (pro-tip: No They Wouldn’t). And there would be no more risk to any of them for his sake.

[She stares up into his eyes, her hand clasped tight around his wrist, and he clenches his teeth and pretends that his throat is not aching.] It is so hard to explain this to her. Especially while he is... currently fairly distant from the feeling. He’s keyed up, emotionally, because of his renewed proximity to the keep, and because of the giddiness of newly-admitted love. Literally everything feels like A Lot, right now. but this? next level distress.

["If helping me destroyed you, it would be the worst of cruelties I have inflicted upon this world. And I, Amaryllis, have inflicted more than my share of cruelties already."] ouch. I feel like i’ve already unpacked this so just. ouch.

["So you try to take yourself out of the picture instead? Arum-"] She’s horrified. She understands the particularities of Damien’s anxiety by now, how bad that can get, but Arum’s been pretty internal with his own mental health stuff and whatever hints she’s been catching have been somewhat obscured as possibly just... responses to the physical trauma? Him being actively suicidal when he was basically out of the woods physically is... hard for her to cope with.

["The little knight did not bite when provoked regardless, so I hardly see how it matters," Arum growls, and in his periphery he sees Damien flinch, his head ducking.] oh poor Damien. Thinking about how close he actually did come, to ‘biting’

[Amaryllis' grip on his wrist tightens. "You do know that's not comforting, right?] It’s really not. Putting the onus on Damien like that- god, fuck. [It matters because I- because we love you, and because if you die, Arum, you'll be dead. Even if you were trying to protect us in some roundabout way-"] back when this scene was placed before the i-love-yous, that line was “It matters because I- because I care about you,” for... obvious reasons. Rilla, unsurprisingly, is about as bad as Damien is, at hiding her feelings once she admits to them the first time.

[Arum flinches, and she pauses, pressing her lips together for a moment as she visibly chooses a different phrasing.] She knows him well enough by now to understand that he’s flinching because saying that it was altruistic to want to protect him... she knows she shouldn’t push against that.

["If you had managed to convince Damien to do it, it'd be cruel, first of all. He doesn't deserve that kind of guilt weighing on him. And second, again, you would be dead, Arum.] It would be cruel. I think about Rilla’s assessment of Damien from Treacherous Heart sometimes, about the potential deadliness of real guilt for Damien... if he really broke in that moment and loosed that arrow- it would have destroyed him. Especially at that point, when he cared about Arum, even if he didn’t have any proper context to fit that care into, and when he knows how much this creature means to Rilla- RILLA’S heartbreak if she had to come back to that- to that? when she thinks she’s coming back to pack him up for home? when she knows that she loves Arum but is forcing herself to ignore it and push it down and away? Arum killing himself by Damien’s hand in that moment would have destroyed all of them, in a way. but! hey, that’s not the kind of fic i write, yeah? oof. I just think about what-if’s a lot and make myself sad.

Rilla’s emphasis on the kind of hyper-obvious here is... deliberate, also. if you died you’d be dead is something of a redundant statement, duh, but also like... the permanent consequences of a temporary state of mind are fucking important, and Rilla needs to make sure that he understands what he nearly did, and why it matters, and why she’s SCARED for him.

anyway this was a whole fuck of a lot. i hope any of this is interesting or enjoyable and not just. heavy. whoops.

#elle's fanfic meta #scattered meta #suicidal ideation cw #suicide discussion #depression cw #i dont' know if i need more tags argh #shorter-than-her-tbr-pile #asks

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badgersprite · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Desiderata (6/?)

Chapter Title: Cycles

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

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

Story Rating: R

Warnings: References to past childhood abuse/trauma.

Chapter Summary: In 2186, Miranda takes in Jack’s students. In 2185, Miranda suffers a minor injury on a mission. At both different points in time, Miranda worries she’s acting too much like her father.

Author’s Note: The chapter in which Kelly Chambers knows all and sees all. Also you know that thing that happens where the characters don’t know they’re on a date except they’re totally on a date. That’s also in this chapter.

* * *

“I still can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” Jacob broke the silence.

Miranda sighed heavily, watching from a distance as Jack’s students approached, looking up at the building that would be their home for the foreseeable future. “Neither can I.”

It wasn’t that Miranda was completely devoid of human compassion for these kids (even despite her...deficiencies in the empathy department). If she was that cold and heartless, she wouldn’t have volunteered to take them on in the first place. But, with all of that being said, part of her had secretly been hoping Jack wouldn’t be able to convince them to say yes to this offer.

Few people knew it about her, but Miranda did have a small soft spot for kids. Little kids. Very little kids. That had come from being a big sister, even a distant one. But teenagers? That was a different story. At no point in her life had Miranda ever been able to understand adolescents. Not even when she was one. Especially not when she was one.

Living with her father meant she never got to be a teenager, much less have any friends her own age. Even when she’d escaped him at the age of sixteen, she’d propelled herself straight into adulthood as best she could, working for Cerberus to ensure her own survival, and that of her sister. Any attempts she’d made to ‘fit in’ with people her own age once she got out from under her father’s thumb had backfired horribly. She always got along better with adults, particularly in strictly professional contexts. That had never changed.

But, reservations aside, a promise was a promise. And it would shatter what little trust Miranda had managed to earn from Jack if she went back on her word now.

“This is going to be fun…” Miranda dryly remarked under her breath.

“You’re the one who signed up for this,” Jacob pointed out, not exactly sympathetic to her self-made situation.

“I know. But I reserve the right to be a massive hypocrite and complain about it anyway,” Miranda murmured.

“What’s new?” Jacob quipped, evidently well-aware that he would be roped into listening to Miranda talk about those problems whenever they arose, by virtue of being her only available friend.

It wasn’t long before one of the students recognised Miranda from their meeting only a few days ago, and the group began to make its way towards her. There were eight of them, most of them carrying small bags of belongings - most likely a combination of rationed personal care items handed out by Bailey’s people, and spare clothes given to them by the Zhu’s Hope colonists.

Seanne wasn’t with them, of course, given that she was still in the hospital. Her brother Reiley must have been with her, or paying a visit to Jack.

Well, Miranda thought, if this was happening then it was time to take charge.

“Alright, I see you’re all here. Everybody come forward,” Miranda commanded, her voice firm. Her instruction was met with some confused stares, but the students did form a loose bunch in front of her. “You do know how to line up, don’t you?” she questioned them, not impressed with the disarray.

On second thought, of course they didn’t know the first thing about order and discipline. They’d been taught by Jack, after all. But that was going to change. If Miranda was used to one thing, it was efficiency. Perhaps she could instill some of those virtues in them.

Despite their visible hesitancy, the eight students did follow her instruction to form a line. It wasn’t even remotely close to straight. Miranda elected to let that slide.

“I’m Miranda Lawson. This is Jacob Taylor. He won’t be living with us, but he’s generously volunteered his time to help get you all settled in,” said Miranda.

Jacob raised his hand in a small wave, which some of the students returned.

“Jack’s given me all your names. I see that Reiley and Seanne aren’t here,” Miranda noted.

Jason Prangley cleared his throat. “We, uh...brought some of their things for them,” he said, indicating the heavy suitcase at his side.

“Good.” Miranda nodded. “We’re in apartment 502. The elevator isn’t functioning yet, so you’ll have to take the stairs. I arranged delivery of bedding and other essentials. You’ll find them in your rooms. The beds still need to be unpacked and assembled. I trust you can handle that.”

“Sure thing. No worries, Miss,” Rodriguez spoke up. “We, um...We just wanted to say we really appreciate what you’re doing for us. It’s...real cool of you.”

“You’re welcome. However, let me make one thing clear before you all move in,” Miranda began, her tone firm. “This is not a halfway house. This is not a charity shelter. This is not Saint Miranda Lawson’s Sisters of the College of Mercy Boarding School. I am not your staff, I am not your tutor, I am not your housekeeper, and I am not your mother. My work in the reconstruction takes priority. I am extremely busy. I do not have time to clean up after you, and you are all closer to being adults than you are to being children. So I expect you to be self-sufficient and look after yourselves, and that includes taking care of the apartment in a manner that meets my standards. If you cannot do that, then this arrangement will not work, and I will end it,” Miranda stated sternly.

As much as Miranda owed a debt to Jack for saving her life from that building collapse, her sense of obligation only extended so far. If these kids had any misconceptions that they could abuse the privileges Miranda had gone out of her way to secure for them, then they needed to be dispelled. Ideally, these new living arrangements would take effect with minimal disruption to her life.

One of the students, Leah Brooks, raised her hand. “Um, are there any...specific house rules?” she asked.

“What part wasn’t clear to you?” Miranda bluntly replied, no inflections in her voice. Jacob silently facepalmed at her side. “Cook your own meals. Wash your own clothes. Keep the place tidy. Don’t damage anything. Don’t disturb me when I’m working. Do you have any objections?” Miranda asked rhetorically. Nothing she required of them was in any way unfair or unreasonable.

For a moment, she was met only with blank stares. “...No, ma’am. No objections,” Prangley answered, taking a second to exchange veiled looks with some of his comrades. “If it’s alright with you, we’ll, uh...head up to the room and get ourselves settled in.”

Miranda held out the keys. “You have three copies between you. Don’t lose them.”

“Right.” Jason took responsibility for the keys, continuing to establish himself as the unofficial leader of the group in Jack’s absence. When Miranda didn’t say anything further, he took that as their cue that they had been dismissed, signalling for his classmates to take their things and head on up. He shouldered his own bag, and moved to pick up the spare suitcase for Seanne and Reiley.

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll take that up for you,” Jacob assured Jason, gesturing for him to leave the heavy-looking suitcase behind. “You can just call me Jacob, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending his hand to the kid, who shook it.

“Thanks, man,” said Jason, appreciating his help. With that, Jason headed off and the rest of the students followed, ready to get acquainted with their new home.

Once the students were out of sight, Jacob stared at Miranda, visibly not approving of her approach. “Were you trying to make the worst possible first impression, or does this just come naturally to you?”

“It’s important to set ground rules,” Miranda replied, intent on making it clear she wasn’t someone whose kindness could be taken advantage of. “I’ve led numerous teams before. You don’t get anywhere with people if they think they can just walk all over you.”

Jacob pulled a face. “You’re their caregiver, not their boss.”

“Caregiver is a strong word,” Miranda objected to his classification. “I’m giving them a roof over their head and making sure they’re safe and their needs are provided for. Nothing more.”

Jacob sighed and shook his head, realising that reasoning with Miranda about this was pointless. “Jack’s going to kick your ass…” he muttered under his breath, picking up the heavy suitcase and making his way towards the building, following the students.

Miranda limped along behind him, eventually catching up to the students in the stairwell. The one named Rodriguez lagged back, as though she’d been waiting for her, falling into step at Miranda’s side as the other students went on ahead.

“Um, pardon me, Miss,” Rodriguez began, climbing one stair at a time to match Miranda’s stride. Miranda really hoped the students didn’t plan on calling her that. It made her skin crawl for some reason. “I don’t mean to bother you, but...you know the city really well, so...I figured you’d probably be the best person to ask.”

“Ask away,” said Miranda, having no qualms with reasonable questions.

“We, um...I don’t know if you know, but we...Not everyone we came to Earth with survived,” Rodriguez uncomfortably admitted. Miranda was aware of that - Jack had indicated as much. “As if Cerberus didn’t take enough from us, we lost three more to the Reapers.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Miranda. It may not have sounded sincere coming from her, but it was. She’d lost people to this war too. “What do you need?”

“Well, some of us have been talking and...we were wondering if...are you...is there going to be a service? You know, to remember them?” Rodriguez asked, still wrestling with her grief over the friends she hadn’t had a chance to mourn.

Miranda hadn’t expected that question. She, along with everyone else, had been so busy combing through the ruins that she hadn’t even thought about grieving the dead. It wasn’t as though she had much experience with it, either. Not knowing what else to say, she figured the best course of action was to be honest.

“With the state the city is in, those kinds of sentimental displays aren’t a priority. We’re still trying to count the dead, and to put names to any faces we can. It’s a near impossible task, given so many of the fallen left nothing behind. Even if we could lay them all to rest, I’m not sure there’d be enough time in the world for everyone to grieve,” Miranda pointed out.

Rodriguez was visibly crushed by her response, her gaze falling to her feet. “...Oh. I...I understand.”

Miranda sensed from the girl’s reaction that she’d said something wrong. But how? She’d just been honest. Tried to be nice and word it gently, even.

She tried to imagine what Samara would have counselled her to do in this situation, or what she would have done if it was Oriana standing there beside her. Those inner voices told her that reality and facts meant nothing in the face of Rodriguez’s pain. She wasn’t asking the question so she could receive a yes or no answer. She was asking because she needed to mourn her friends.

“...You’re right, though. There should be a public service. For everyone we’ve lost. For those who are still missing. I’ll speak to Bailey about arranging it,” Miranda told her, seeing the potential benefit in giving everyone in London a chance to remember those who had passed, and to unite in their solace. “As for your friends, I don’t know what you would want, exactly. But there’s nothing stopping you from holding a private service for them. You don’t need my permission. You should speak to Jack about it. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

Rodriguez appeared at least a little bit comforted by that, raising her sleeve to wipe away a stray tear. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, Miss.” Rodriguez picked up her pace and left her behind before Miranda could tell her not to call her that.

Miranda exhaled heavily, realising she was quite possibly the least equipped person in the galaxy to deal with the needs of emotionally vulnerable teenagers.

What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

Although every single squad member recruited to fight against the Collectors had seen their fair share of action since joining the Normandy, Miranda was far and away Shepard’s most common companion on field missions. It was common sense, really. In Miranda’s opinion, anyway. She was the leader of the Lazarus cell, and Shepard’s second-in-command. Further, due to her prowess with both tech and biotics, she was essentially the perfect choice to go into any situation. She could deal with any threat that arose, no matter how unexpected.

Miranda wasn’t surprised by the confidence Andrea showed in her by selecting her so often. It was exactly what she would have advised her to do. On the other hand, there were days when being Shepard’s right-hand woman felt like a curse.

Getting swarmed by Collectors on Horizon had not been fun. Neither had it been an ideal day at the office when Miranda had to fight her way off of the Collector Ship. Now, Shepard’s leadership had brought Miranda aboard a derelict Reaper.

Given that Miranda was good at identifying patterns, things were going about as well as expected.

“Look out!”

Miranda ducked behind cover, reloading as the scion’s shockwave thundered past her. The Reaper IFF they needed was just beyond that door, and past that was the mass effect core. Unfortunately, two scions and a seemingly endless tide of husks stood between them and their destination.

Samara knocked back a husk with her biotics before it got too close. Miranda took aim and fired her pistol around cover, blowing off another one’s leg at the knee. Slow and lumbering though they were, those scions were getting closer. If they couldn’t take them out now, they would need to withdraw back to a safe distance. Otherwise, if a scion got close, it was lights out. Goodnight nurse.

Noticing an opportunity, Miranda overloaded an explosive crate near one of the scions, concentrating fire on it while its armour burned. She was so focused on trying to take it down that she was completely unaware of the husks crawling out from underneath the platform, converging on either side of her, nor did she spot the one concealed from her sight by her own cover, charging towards her.

“Miranda!” Shepard called out, firing off her shotgun at some nearby husks, seeing her ally about to get swarmed.

Shepard’s call alerted her to turn and fire on the approaching husk, but it had already closed in and grabbed her. Miranda fought it off and was ready to shoot it in the head, but then a second one jumped on her from behind, causing her gunshot to fire off harmlessly into the air. She pushed as hard as she could at the creature bearing down on her shoulder, trying to keep its jaw away from her face and head. Its arms ripped and tore at her flesh, bypassing her shields, knocking the pistol from her grip, effectively pinning her in place as the third husk closed in.

All of a sudden, a wave of biotic energy cut through the twisted creatures, flinging them away from Miranda like ragdolls. Samara biotically pulled all three towards her with such raw force that their limbs detached in midair, killing them even before they tumbled off the edge of the platform into the abyss below.

“Fall back!” Shepard commanded, sensing they were outnumbered, and well aware that the scions were far too close to Miranda for comfort.

Miranda couldn’t argue with that order. She was very isolated in that corner.

She waited for the shockwaves to pass, then dove out of cover and across the divide to pick up her pistol, firing a warp at the approaching scions as she got back to her feet, joining Samara at her position near the back of the platform.

“Thank you for that,” said Miranda, grateful for Samara getting those husks off of her a moment ago. She winced, favouring her right shoulder and her side while she waited for her shields to regenerate behind cover. They were still forward of Shepard, who was concentrating fire from around the corner, already off the platform entirely. They needed to retreat. They had to get out from that position before the scions reached them.

“You are wounded,” Samara observed, keeping her eyes fixed on the scions.

Miranda blinked and looked down at her ribs on her right side, where it hurt most. Huh. There was a tear in her suit. And she was bleeding. Funny that.

“I’m fine,” Miranda assured her. She didn’t have time to bleed. “Ready?”

Samara nodded. She stepped out of cover, firing off a reave, catching several husks in her biotic field. Miranda followed suit, overloading another container, joining Samara in shooting off the knees of the deformed monstrosities. The scions were mere feet away. But neither of them let that be intimidating. They both got out of the way just in time to avoid the blast radius from the lumbering creatures.

Shepard charged one scion, distracting its attention from her squadmates, colliding with it in a blue biotic streak. She fired her shotgun directly into its face to keep it pinned down, backing away as it let off another area-of-effect wave. Shepard stumbled when the blast brought down her biotic barrier.

“Move!” Shepard barked, sprinting back towards the next viable cover, not willing to be caught by a shockwave with her defences down. Samara and Miranda followed suit, escaping the scions before they closed in. They only fired back over their shoulders to pick off the final few husks, until they were able to find cover in a secure enough position to take aim at the scions from a distance.

Warps from Miranda and reaves from Samara took down the scions’ armour amid the hail of incendiary bullets from Shepard’s submachine gun. Eventually, both scions fell into a burning heap of ash, and it went quiet again at last. Too quiet, given the chaos of mere moments ago.

Miranda sighed. She hoped that was the last of them, but somehow she knew it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll take point,” Miranda insisted, clutching at her side as she moved to go and claim the Reaper IFF. An arm blocked her way before she could take a step.

“Not with that wound, you won’t,” said Shepard. Miranda glanced down. Her white catsuit was stained with crimson beneath her palm. “Here. Use this medi-gel. I’ll take point.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. Honestly, it didn’t even hurt. Besides, it wasn’t like she could stop and wave a white flag. There was no point in worrying about her injury until they made it off this ship. Nevertheless, the medi-gel would stop the bleeding. That was what it was for. So she applied it.

“Are you alright?” Samara asked her, staying at her side while she tended to her wound.

“Both of you should be focusing on the mission instead of worrying about me,” Miranda curtly replied, the medi-gel congealing around the gash in her side. She wasn’t weak. She didn’t need to be treated like a child.

“Do not take my query as an indication that I am doing otherwise,” said Samara, unfazed by Miranda’s stern response.

Miranda uttered a disgruntled huff. She was only stating facts. Nevertheless, she put that all aside as they moved to claim the Reaper IFF. Her wound didn’t stand in the way of taking out the husks that swarmed them in the mass effect core.

After that, they returned to The Normandy, along with the geth they’d found.

“Ugh. Ridiculous,” Miranda muttered to herself as she marched into her office, having switched to her black attire following the damage to her white catsuit.

She’d just met with Shepard and Jacob to discuss their new passenger. Instead of listening to her and sending the geth to Cerberus to be researched, Shepard had not only decided to keep the geth on board, but had set it up in the AI Core. Was there a worse possible place to put a potentially hostile machine?

Miranda sat behind her desk and opened up her laptop, intent on reporting all this to The Illusive Man. The door to her office opened. She glanced up.

“Hello, Samara,” said Miranda, going back to typing. “Can this wait? I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“I will not disturb you. I only wished to see how you were,” said Samara.

This again? Seriously? “I heal fast,” Miranda assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Very well.” Samara gave a nod at Miranda’s blunt response. Then, somewhat surprisingly, she turned to leave without another word.

“Wait,” Miranda spoke up, raising her hand and closing her laptop computer. Samara stopped and looked back. “You don’t have to go, Samara,” she said, regretting her sharp tone.

“I do not wish to impose,” said Samara, content to wait until Miranda came and visited her on her own terms.

“You’re not,” Miranda replied. She was the only person on this whole crew whose presence was never an imposition. With that in mind, Miranda got up from her desk and gestured towards the viewport beside her bed. After all, she was always sharing Samara’s view. Why not the reverse for once?

Samara accepted her unspoken invitation and followed Miranda inside, standing by the doorway with her hands clasped behind her back. Miranda was slightly ginger in her movements as she sat down on the small window seat.

“...I appreciate that you showed concern for me,” Miranda began. “I know it may not have seemed like it at the time. But genuinely, I do. I’m just not used to it.”

“Is this something I should refrain from, or be more cautious about?” Samara inquired, willing to change her behaviour without argument, particularly if it was causing Miranda any offence or discomfort.

“No. No, definitely not.” Miranda shook her head. “It’s my problem, not yours. I know that, when you’re asking me if I’m alright, you’re doing it because you care. But, unconsciously, I reacted to it like it was a criticism - like you and Shepard were pointing out my weaknesses. Of course you weren’t doing that. I know you well enough to know that. But…”

“Your father would not have seen it that way,” Samara suggested on her behalf, understanding where this was coming from.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Miranda acknowledged. She didn’t like that everything always came back to him. But it so often did. “If I was ever hurt or in pain as a child, I had to hide it. I had to endure whatever he threw at me without reacting to it. If I didn’t, if I so much as flinched, he would punish me for it.”

It was no wonder why she came across as emotionless and insensitive to others, Miranda thought. She’d effectively been conditioned to be both of those things - trained by her father’s cruelty to not respond to anything the way a normal person would, no matter what he did. To suppress her fear when he raised his voice, or raised a hand to her. Never to laugh or smile. Not to cry out when she felt pain. Being raised in that environment had made those things second nature, until she couldn’t remember a different way of being.

“I, um...” Miranda paused and averted her gaze, uncharacteristically hesitant. She swallowed, curling her hand into a fist in her lap, relaxing her fingers only once she’d chased those thoughts from her mind - things she’d never revealed to anyone before, and wasn’t fully ready to open up about now. “I don’t like to dwell on it, but I have a lot of unpleasant memories from that age.”

Samara didn’t interrupt, letting Miranda talk at her own pace.

“The Illusive Man isn’t like my father, but even he has high standards. Cerberus will be critical of how I handled this mission. Believe me, it’s going to be marked down in my file that I made a mistake and got hurt.” Miranda sighed and turned towards the window, idly resting her chin on curled fingers while distant stars reflected in her eyes. “I hate that. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Cerberus for it; they’re just doing what they need to do. But I hate knowing that every time I slip up, no matter how small it is, it’s going to be noted in my record, and follow me around forever.”

“I see…” said Samara, quietly. She paused a moment, giving thought to the words on her mind. “I find it interesting that it disturbs you when people know of your mistakes. I know that one of your duties is to report to The Illusive Man on every mission, and on all of us. Professor Solus once advised me to check my quarters, noting that he had located several bugging devices you had placed in his lab.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Miranda replied as she glanced back. Part of that job was to be distrustful of her squadmates and the crew, and to find any faults in their conduct, and to make sure it was duly noted in her reports.

“So were the people in your father’s employ, who were complicit in his cruelty towards you,” Samara calmly countered, elucidating her point.

“I…” Any words Miranda might have said to defend herself were quickly struck silent in her mind. Her gaze dropped. She hadn’t thought of it that way before.

All those hours she’d spent monitoring her squadmates suddenly took on a new complexion in her mind. Reading their private emails without their knowledge. Watching them through hidden devices in the ship. Analysing and criticising every aspect of their conduct, down to the most minute detail. Highlighting every single mistake and weakness. Those were all things her father had done to her.

“...I know I can be a control freak, but I’m not like him,” Miranda quietly professed, with a slight tremor in her voice, as if imploring Samara to see that she was better than that. “I swear to you, I’m not.”

Except she totally was. Much as she tried to deny it.

Without even realising it, she’d been replicating what she’d learned from him. Hell, when they’d first met face-to-face, she’d even told Shepard that she would have implanted a control chip in her brain if The Illusive Man had let her. Miranda hadn’t been lying about that. She’d seriously advocated for the idea. On more than one occasion.

For all the cruel things Miranda’s father had done to her, he’d never done that. Much as he probably would have if the thought had occurred to him.

She was not only like her father, but...in some ways, she was on the path to becoming far worse than he ever was. Even more of a tyrant, despite knowing how it felt to suffer at the hands of one. And she hadn’t even thought about it.

That realisation made Miranda feel queasy. In retrospect, perhaps she needed to formally apologise to Shepard for the way she’d acted when they first met. She made a mental note to attend to that the next time Shepard dropped by.

“You do not need to defend yourself to me,” Samara assured her. This wasn’t an attack, or an argument. Just an observation. “I do not begrudge you for doing as The Illusive Man requires. It is merely something you may wish to consider in your own time, so that you may come to your own answer.”

“Ah. So, this is part of that whole ‘self-reflection’ thing we’ve been discussing,” Miranda intuited, letting her lip curl into a lopsided sort of smile. In light of the thoughts going through her head, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was entirely joyless. “I’ll...take it on board. But how am I doing so far? I’m new to this.”

Samara’s expression betrayed her amusement at Miranda’s search for approval. “Self-improvement is a long and multi-faceted journey. I cannot promise it will ever end, but it is a worthy pursuit. At times, it will be confronting and difficult. But you will find great meaning and fulfilment by taking that journey. In time, hopefully you will come to understand the burdens you carry, and make peace with them.”

“You really think so?” Miranda asked. Samara had been subtly guiding her in this direction for a while. The more she did, the more Miranda was seriously beginning to consider that Samara was right, and that there really was something to be said for mindfulness and meditation.

“I do,” Samara confirmed.

Miranda sighed. “Well, then there must be some truth to it. You wouldn’t say it if there wasn’t,” she conceded. After all, Samara must have gotten her insight and wisdom from somewhere. If this was the key to it, then Miranda would have been a fool not to heed her advice.

At times like this, it felt like Samara knew Miranda better than Miranda knew herself, much as it was difficult to hear the truth sometimes.

“Do you wish to join me in meditation?” Samara offered.

Miranda pulled an apologetic face. “I really do need to get this report to The Illusive Man,” she said. She’d made an exception to talk to Samara, but only because she’d felt bad about her poor behaviour earlier. She couldn’t get distracted or set aside her work longer than she already had. “But, after I’m finished with this, I think I’m free this evening. I can join you then.”

Samara allowed herself a small smile. “I look forward to it. Until then, I shall not take up anymore of your time.”

“Samara…” Miranda stopped her before she could turn to leave. “...I don’t tell him everything, you know,” Miranda admitted, hoping Samara understood that. The conversations they’d had with each other in their private moments were just that - private. “I’m more than just The Illusive Man’s spy. I’m part of The Normandy too, and I’m loyal to this team. As much as anyone here.”

Samara held her gaze for a long moment, giving Miranda a silent nod of acceptance before taking her leave.

Miranda swallowed in the wake of Samara’s silence, oddly shaken by it. Miranda had been telling the truth about her loyalties lying as much with this ship and this crew as it did with Cerberus, but nothing had made her doubt herself more than the thought that Samara didn’t believe her when she said that.

If everyone else aboard the ship thought Miranda was nothing more than a snitch, she could have lived with it. But if her actions had caused her to lose Samara’s trust, then maybe she really did need to question her level of independence from Cerberus.

* * *

They told Jack. About Shepard. And about the Normandy.

She took it about as well as expected.

Jack’s eyes had burned with unshed tears as she’d screamed and shouted and swore at both Jacob and Miranda. She’d fought through the pain in her muscles to throw a glass of water at them, demanding that they get the fuck away from her.

Neither of them blamed her for her reaction. Shepard meant a lot to her. She meant a lot to all of them.

Miranda dragged her weary limbs up the stairs back to her apartment, the rest of that day’s events passing like a blur behind her. All the days were starting to bleed together lately. It didn’t help that she was averaging less than two hours of sleep a night because her fucking ear wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Hey, Miss,” Reiley was the first to greet her when she opened the door. He and his sister had finally moved out of the field hospital, her condition having recovered.

“I have a name, you know,” Miranda replied, taking off her jacket. Her snarky comment fell on deaf ears, it seemed. Music emanated from the living room. Not too loud. Some of the students were gathered, playing cards.

The students had mostly been very well behaved, from what she could tell. They hadn’t quite adjusted to living with Miranda yet. Honestly, they barely interacted. That was largely because her role in the reconstruction kept her so busy that they hardly saw her. She was still little more than a stranger to them. That was probably for the best.

That being said, some of them had already proven more willing to test the limits of her kindness than others. Reiley wasn’t one of them, though. She had helped save his sister’s life, after all. That had evidently earned her the benefit of the doubt with him.

“Rough day at work?” Reiley asked her, innocently.

Miranda wondered if she looked as tired as she felt. “No rougher than usual,” she answered. He was a child. Her burdens weren’t his to worry about.

“Nitin’s cooking dinner tonight. You want him to fix you up a plate?” he went on.

“I’ll make something for myself later,” Miranda replied, wanting nothing more than a moment alone to decompress, especially after breaking the bad news to Jack.

“Okay. Sure thing. But you’re welcome to join us, you know?” Reiley offered again, almost insisting.

“I know.” Miranda stopped herself as she turned to leave, having developed enough self-awareness over the past year to realise that response may have sounded harsher than she intended. “Thank you for asking,” she said, working on being better with people, and setting an example for her wards.

“No problem.”

With that, Miranda headed to her room. It was the smallest bedroom in the apartment, but she had it all to herself, which was a worthwhile trade. And it was big enough to serve as a makeshift home office. She sighed once she closed the door behind her, enjoying a moment of privacy.

The silence was undercut by the ringing in her ear. It always was.

Miranda leaned her cane against her bedside drawer, running her hand through her hair as she slumped down onto the bed.

Her datapad made a noise. She almost didn’t hear the ding beneath that constant, high-pitched tone. She looked over. And, for the first time that day, she had something to smile about.

One new message from Oriana.

Honestly, if Miranda had been a more emotional person, she could have cried from sheer relief. Who else but Oriana could transform a shitty day to an amazing one in an instant? This was exactly what she needed.

She lay down in the bed, propping up her datapad, content to let Oriana take her cares away for a while.

“Hey, sis,” her message began, the camera facing towards her as she walked, the scenery of Horizon passing behind her. “I know it hasn’t been that long since my last message. But every day I spend about...ten, fifteen minutes walking home from work. And I figured, that’s fifteen minutes I could be spending talking to you.”

Words couldn’t even begin to describe how much Miranda appreciated that. How much it meant to her. They were both in each other’s thoughts, all the time.

“With any luck, it won’t be long before we’re able to talk in real time. I mean, in galactic terms, we’re not all that far away. They have to fix the comm buoys eventually, right?”

They were making progress. It was one of many things Miranda was keeping tabs on. It was why there was so much less of a delay between sending and receiving messages now. Where once they’d taken weeks to get low-priority messages through the Extranet, Oriana had probably only sent this message yesterday. The gap was closing faster than ever.

“Not much has changed since the last time I spoke to you,” Oriana continued, freely voicing whatever thoughts came into her mind, in a way Miranda never could have. “I’ve kind of been thrown into the deep end as far as my career in local planning and colony development is concerned. Nobody has time to teach me, so I’m learning a lot on the fly. I’m enjoying it, though. Is it wrong of me to say that?”

Miranda smirked. No, it wasn’t wrong of her at all. Thriving in challenging environments was a trait they shared. One that they didn’t share, and one that Miranda greatly admired about her sister, was that Oriana always had a way of making the best of any situation. Putting a positive spin on things. Miranda tended toward the opposite. She wasn’t a catastrophist by any means, but it was fair to say she was a lot better at finding faults than appreciating the good that was already there. That didn’t apply to Oriana.

Oriana had lost as much as anyone to this war. Her home. Her friends. Her parents. Any of those things could have destroyed a person, and nobody would have blamed her if it had. But Oriana just...got on with life. She didn’t let loss harden her heart. She was still the same warm, loving, empathetic person she was before, and still by far the single most well-adjusted person Miranda had ever met. Although, in fairness, Miranda had few good points of comparison.

She didn’t know how her sister did it. She wished she had her strength, sometimes.

“You’ll love it here,” Oriana assured her, looking forward to the day they were reunited at last. “I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to, but you will.”

Of course she would. Miranda would love any place Oriana was.

“I already have my eye on a couple of places. I’ve had some ideas, design-wise. I won’t tell you what they are, because that would ruin the surprise. But you don’t need to worry about it. Everything will be all set up by the time you get here,” Oriana went on, afternoon sunlight following her as she made her way through the colony, which was about the size of a small country town.

Miranda made a mental note to remind Oriana that she didn’t have to spend a cent on any of this. Or on anything. Miranda had been extremely well-compensated working for Cerberus for the past twenty years, and she’d made some wise investments. She had enough credits squirrelled away in encrypted accounts that the two of them didn't need to worry about finances. Not for a long while, anyway.

“Stop and look both ways so I don’t get hit by a truck. Right. Good. See? No problems walking and talking at the same time. Not a distracted pedestrian,” Oriana lightheartedly remarked, continuing her walk home. “Welp, since I haven’t gotten any desperate messages from you begging me to stop yet, I’m assuming that means you want me to keep trying out my worst jokes on you. I’ve come up with a few more. They’re absolute garbage. So, here goes…”

It was no mystery why Oriana was so intent on telling these bad jokes.

“How do cakes handle break-ups? They ask if they can just be friands.”

Miranda had sent emails and texts since, but the last time Oriana had received a video message from her, it had been the one she’d sent from the field hospital. She’d been in tears, then, admitting how much she needed to hear Oriana’s voice to bolster her spirits. And Oriana had answered her prayers.

“I’d make a joke about how to use a knife in a black-out, but it would just be a stab in the dark.”

Ever since then, it was as if Oriana had set herself the personal mission of being Miranda’s ray of sunshine - a light to brighten up her darkest days. That wasn’t difficult for her to pull off, because that was exactly what Oriana had been for her ever since she was born.

“I invited a meterologist to a bar but he told me he couldn’t handle the pressure.”

Miranda couldn’t fathom why Oriana was the way she was. Funny. Kind. She certainly hadn’t gotten it from Miranda. Every time they spoke, every message Oriana sent, it was like discovering all over again what an amazing person she was, in every conceivable way.

“Everyone cries at weddings. Even the cakes are in tiers.” Oriana looked down at the camera. “See? Two cake jokes. I’ve got a theme going. Either that or I was really hungry this afternoon.”

Miranda had devoted twenty years of her life to protecting Oriana, and making sure her upbringing was safe and happy. But, right now, Oriana was the one checking in on her - making sure Miranda was okay, and cheering her up when she needed it. These messages were Oriana’s way of taking care of her.

“You know why batteries never come included with electronics? Because if they did, they’d be free of charge.”

None of the jokes ever made Miranda laugh. Oriana was no doubt well aware that they wouldn’t. But that didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point. Just listening to her voice and seeing her there on the screen was enough to bring a contented smile to Miranda’s face, no matter what Oriana was saying.

A knock at the door caught Miranda’s attention. She paused the video, straightening up. “What is it?”

Jason Prangley opened the door a crack. “Excuse me, Miss. I don’t mean to disturb you, but Mr. Taylor is here to see you.”

Much as she wanted to hear the rest of Oriana’s message, Miranda knew it would still be waiting for her later. “Send him in,” said Miranda, feeling far more relaxed than she had a few minutes ago. Jason didn’t appear to notice.

A few moments later, Jacob stepped through her door, joining her in her room. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes, but it’s okay; I can go back to it,” said Miranda, not bothered. She still had about five more minutes of video to look forward to. She intended to savour them all.

“It’s your sister, isn’t it? You’re only like this when it’s her,” Jacob pointed out, hardly oblivious to the change in Miranda’s demeanour since they parted at the field hospital. “She must be special.”

“She is,” Miranda confirmed. What more could she say? She adored absolutely everything about her sister, without qualification. She was the only person in the galaxy Miranda could say that about. The only person she truly, unconditionally loved. There was no indication that would ever change. “She’s quite literally the best person I know.”

“I can see that. I mean, she’s like you, but nice,” Jacob joked.

Miranda chuckled, electing not to correct him on that. They may have shared some traits, but Oriana was nothing like Miranda. That was the point.

“I’m assuming this is more than just a social call,” Miranda intuited.

“Actually, that’s exactly what this is,” Jacob corrected her, pulling up the chair by Miranda’s small desk, taking a seat. “I wanted to catch up with you, after what happened with Jack this morning.”

Miranda sighed. “We were on speaking terms for a grand total of six days. I’m guessing that’s no longer the case. Not that it’s unexpected,” she remarked. Ultimately, it had been too much to think Jack wouldn’t revert back to hating her again the first time something went awry.

“Nah, you give her too little credit.” Jacob dismissed the thought. “She’s mad. And she’s hurt. But just because she lashed out doesn’t mean she blames you, or me. There was nothing any of us could have done to change things.”

“I don’t agree with that,” Miranda spoke plainly. “There are always things we could have done differently. Those answers will materialise in time. We can’t change what happened. All we can do is learn from it. Try not to lose anyone else.”

Jacob regarded her with a sympathetic expression, recognising that Miranda’s calm, collected voice likely didn’t reveal the truth of her thoughts.

“I know what you’re like, so I know it may be pointless to ask you this, but...how are you doing with all of this? Not just losing Shepard, but...everything?” Jacob asked, leaning forward in his chair. “I mean really. Not what you tell the kids, or Bailey.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Miranda replied, keeping a rigid posture. “Like I said, I can’t go back and change the past, so there’s no sense dwelling on it.”

That was exactly what she tried to tell herself every time her mind stirred with thoughts of how she potentially could have saved the people who’d died under her command. How she could have avoided the shuttle crash entirely. Anything more she could have said to Shepard, when they spoke over that link.

“So...you reacting the way you did after we spoke to Jack had nothing to do with how you feel about losing Shepard?” Jacob sceptically surmised.

Miranda arched her eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that I reacted a particular way,” she said, not certain whether Jacob was perhaps just projecting his own feelings into her, or whether he was waiting for her to feel things that simply didn’t mesh with who Miranda was as a person. “How did I react, exactly?”

“There’s no need to get defensive with me, Miranda. I’m checking in on you, like friends do,” Jacob pointed out, not appreciating her tone. “If you’re telling me you’re fine, then you’re fine. I’ll be happy for you. So, let’s have that conversation, then. Are you?”

“Am I what? Am I okay with the fact that I lost one of my closest friends?” Miranda rephrased his question, uttering a snort.

“You turned my genuine concern into a loaded question, but...yeah.” Jacob shrugged.

“Well, since it apparently interests you so much…” Miranda shifted her posture, leaning back slightly as she spoke, rhythmically rapping her fingers against the mattress by her side. “One the one hand, yes. I accept what happened, and there’s nothing I can do about it. On the other hand, and if I still had my other hand, no. Of course I’m not ‘okay with it’. I’m never going to be ‘okay with it’ because I didn’t bloody want Shepard to die.”

“At least you’re being honest,” Jacob acknowledged. Miranda had been pretty staunchly committed to denial since she woke up from her coma, like she was trying to outrun that dark shadow before it could catch up with her and make her confront that she wasn’t anywhere near as fine as she claimed. “At least you’re not pretending you don’t care this time, or that you don’t feel anything at all.”

“I’ve never been devoid of emotions, Jacob. They’re just...not constructive,” said Miranda, somewhat uncomfortable with the subject. She wasn’t heartless. She had feelings, she just wasn’t good at processing them. They were messy, and hard to control, and she’d never learned how to navigate them in socially appropriate ways. That was why she tried to move past things like this and get on with her life.

“They don’t have to be constructive,” Jacob told her. “Feelings are feelings. They just are. You don’t have to do anything with them.”

“Then what more do you want from me?” Miranda countered, a hint of frustration and confusion creeping into her tone. “Yes, I’m upset. Of course I am. Shepard’s one of the only people I’ve ever considered a friend. What am I supposed to do? Break down and cry? That’s not who I am. That’s not how I feel things.”

It wasn’t as if Miranda had chosen to be this way. Hell, if it wasn’t for Oriana having the unique power to bring them out of her, Miranda might well have gone her whole life believing she was physically incapable of shedding tears at all.

“No, I know. And, look, I’m not…”Jacob trailed off, realising he wasn’t expressing himself well if Miranda was reacting like this - like he was judging her. Of course he wasn’t. After a moment, he considered taking a different approach. A direct approach. “Honestly, I just wanted the two of us to be able to talk,” he admitted. “You’re the closest thing I have to a best friend right now.”

Miranda softened, beginning to understand where he was coming from. “I could say the same about you.”

Jacob’s foot bounced against the floor, his fingers tented together. “This is going to be easier for me, so why don’t I start?” he suggested.

Miranda gestured for him to go ahead. She wasn’t the best person to confide in, but she was happy to be there for him if he needed to get any thoughts off his chest. She couldn’t promise that she would be able to help, or offer any advice. But she wasn’t a bad listener, actually. She paid attention to things, when she wanted to. It was why she’d never forgotten what Jacob had told her about his father, long after he’d forgotten telling her about it.

“It hit me today that Jack is the first one of us we’ve seen since Samara pulled you out of the rubble,” Jacob began, staring ahead at nothing in particular. “Out of how many people we served with on The Normandy? Four. We’ve found four of us.”

“The number four feels a lot...smaller now than it would have a few weeks ago,” Miranda acknowledged, her voice quiet. It hadn’t been lost on her just how fast the light of hope was fading.

The uncomfortable truth was, it had been well over a month since the war ended. And there hadn’t been a single word from anyone about the fate of the Normandy, or any of its missing crew, past or present. Nothing from Zaeed. Nothing from Grunt. Nothing from Kasumi, even. If they hadn’t heard from them by now, then that was a fair indication that they were right to fear the worst.

Maybe there were no other survivors from the SR-2 or SR-3.

“As if we didn’t already know things were bad. Legion, Mordin and Thane are already gone. By all accounts, Kelly Chambers was probably still on the Citadel when the Reapers attacked. The Normandy has vanished without a trace. And we know Shepard didn’t make it,” Jacob recounted. They’d found Jack, but...other than that, nothing had really changed. Maybe they really had been in denial from the outset, believing there was a chance of finding more than a small handful of their friends alive.

“...It could be worse,” Miranda broke the silence, deviating towards a stable medium. “Wrex is the sole confirmed survivor of the original Normandy. He has none of his crew. Although, he is a krogan. Outliving people might be something he’s more accustomed to coping with than humans like us. I imagine he’s taking everything better than we are.”

“What about Samara?” Jacob asked. From a human perspective, she was practically the same age as Wrex. In reality, she was several centuries younger, of course. But, still, she’d been alive long before Gutenberg invented the printing press. By Miranda’s best estimate, she was younger than Magna Carta, but older than Tenochtitlan. She’d never specifically asked. It had seemed impolite.

“I suppose that applies to her, too. But I don’t know…” Miranda brushed her hair back behind her ear on her non-scarred side, contemplating the friend she’d been longing to speak to again more than any other. She knew Samara on a far deeper level than Jacob ever had. With that in mind, the comparison just seemed...wrong somehow. “Samara’s not like Wrex. She grieves for the people she’s lost. Deeply. But I understand why you might think she doesn’t. She carries it with such tranquility, because she’s a spiritual person. But she’s far from unfeeling. It takes a lot of strength for her to bear the things she does. I admire that about her.”

“If you admire that about Samara, why not learn from her example?” Jacob offered.

“I’ve tried to. Extremely hard, actually. And with...varying degrees of success,” Miranda replied, frankly. “But I’m not Samara. Would that I were, but...No. On second thought, I wouldn’t wish for that. I know the things she’s gone through. She’s felt pain and sorrow I could never imagine, let alone withstand. I’d be too much of a coward to endure what she has. My father made sure of that.”

“Wow. There you go. That’s...probably the realest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Jacob quietly but sincerely enthused. If nothing else, he took it as a good sign that Miranda was willing to open up to him like that, even if only a little bit at a time. “One of these days, all of this stuff you think is a waste of energy is going to translate into you actually being in touch with your feelings for once.”

“I’m only just growing accustomed to having someone in my life who makes me genuinely happy, thanks to my sister. Maybe we could not put the cart before the horse and settle for taking this one step a time,” said Miranda, silently asking Jacob not to push her too far out of her comfort zone too quickly. The more he expected her to start having the emotional reactions of a normal person, the more painfully obvious it would continue to be to both of them that she wasn’t one, and probably never would function the same way as everyone else.

“I thought that’s what I was doing.” Jacob scratched his head, confused. He was being extremely patient and gentle with her, not to mention supportive. “How long are you expecting to take between steps exactly?”

“If we’re assuming regular intervals, that would make it thirty-six years,” Miranda answered plainly. Jacob stared at her, unimpressed. “...I’m going to live longer than any other human, so I could work my way up to...six emotions that I can process healthily. Seven is probably pushing the limits of my lifespan.”

“Is this you trying to be funny?” Jacob remarked, arching an eyebrow.

“No. Not on purpose, anyway. I don’t possess that ability,” said Miranda. Samara was the only person she’d ever met who’d disagreed with her on that.

“Clearly there’s a reason for that. I mean, who the hell still says ‘put the cart before the horse’ anyway?” Jacob joked, pulling a puzzled face.

“I do,” Miranda answered, unfazed.

Jacob smirked. His expression faded, though, faltering as his thoughts returned to the subject of their absent friends.

“Miranda…” Jacob tentatively broke the silence. “I hate to bring this up, but...with Shepard gone and everything…”

“I’ve been looking, Jacob,” Miranda quietly assured him, knowing exactly what he was asking of her. He didn’t see how hard she was searching for the missing, or their closest of kin. How many people she’d contacted. How many inroads she’d made. She didn’t want to trouble him with it until she’d found some answers. Even just a trace of someone they knew. But there were thousands of bodies to count. Tens of thousands. Not to mention all those that had been vaporised into dust. Maybe they would never know.

He could tell from one look at her face exactly how dedicated she was to finding answers. The silence wasn’t from lack of trying. Miranda was just...tired.

“Have you written to the families yet?” Jacob asked.

“And tell them what?” Miranda responded, feeling woefully inadequate to address those poor people when everything was still so...uncertain. “I was hoping I’d have something more to tell them by now. We don’t know anything more than we did a month ago.”

“Miranda…” Jacob hesitantly began, not wanting to come across as critical, but....

“No, I know,” Miranda cut him off. This was her responsibility. She wasn’t going to shirk it. “I’m going to start sending letters out. It’s the least I can do for them. At least for those who have anyone left to contact. It’s just...not my strength.”

“Hey, just do your best,” Jacob encouraged, certain Miranda’s efforts would prove far better than she was giving herself credit for. Miranda wished she could share his confidence.

“I’ve sent one message,” she told him, thinking he should at least be aware she hadn’t done nothing. “I tracked down contact details for Falere - Samara’s daughter. She deserved to know that her mother is alive.”

“What did she say?”

“‘Thank you,’” Miranda quoted. “Literally, that’s all she said was ‘thank you’.” Jacob gave a snort. Miranda glanced down. “Shepard doesn’t even have any family I can notify.”

“Her family already knows,” Jacob thought aloud. Miranda looked up. It was clear from his eyes that he was talking about the two of them. Plus Jack, Samara and Wrex. Everyone confirmed to still be alive who Shepard cared about.

Miranda managed a small, sad smile at the thought.

“While we’re being honest, how’s this whole thing working out with the kids?” Jacob asked.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Miranda answered. Jacob just gave her a look. “...Oh. So it’s that bad,” Miranda realised aloud. “Wait, how would you know?”

“Some of the kids came up and talked to me,” Jacob explained. “They wondered if they’d done something wrong, because you were acting like you hated them.”

Miranda squinted. “I’ve never done that.”

“You have a tone, Miranda. You come off very harsh. Hell, if I didn’t know you so well, I’d swear you hated me right now,” Jacob pointed out.

Miranda thought about making a sarcastic quip but, ultimately, she lacked the energy. She sighed. “Great. So it turns out this was a horrible idea and I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing,” Miranda mumbled in admission.

Jacob smiled, moving to sit beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her uninjured shoulder. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“No, I’m serious,” Miranda persisted. Much as she despised failure, she wasn’t too blind to acknowledge it. “...I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone else. Nobody except The Shadow Broker knows this about me, but...a few years ago, I tried to conceive a child. It’s how I discovered I can’t.”

“Wow.” Jacob blinked. That was a lot to take in. Miranda was nothing if not candid when she wanted to be. “With anyone specific, or…?”

“No. It wasn’t about a man. You know firsthand I don’t do relationships. It was entirely selfish. It was about...trying to feel something. To feel that same unconditional love I felt the day I found Oriana.” Miranda swallowed, her throat dry. “In hindsight, I’m glad I can’t conceive. I would be a terrible parent. This is just proving it.” She gestured towards the door, and the children beyond it.

“Don’t say that,” Jacob protested, refusing to hear Miranda beat herself up over making a few mistakes.

“It’s true.” Miranda shrugged. It wasn’t up for debate. “You know me. You know I don’t have those maternal instincts. I wasn’t nurtured by a loving family. I’ve made a lot of strides in trying to be a better person than I was back then, but...when it comes to this, I’m too much like my father.”

“No, you’re not,” Jacob insisted, shifting around and gently grabbing her by the arm to make sure Miranda looked him dead in his eyes. “The fact that you’re even worried about this proves you’re nothing like him. Besides, I’ve seen the way you treat your sister. You have a great relationship.”

“That’s because I gave her away, Jacob. By the time we met, she was already a normal, well-adjusted adult,” Miranda pointed out. “If I’d raised her, I would have messed her up the same way I’m messing things up with these kids. Probably worse,” Miranda trailed off at that. It wasn’t fun to acknowledge just how screwed up she was emotionally, and how it was affecting her interactions with Jack’s battle-scarred students. But facts were facts.

“Come on. You’re Miranda fucking Lawson,” Jacob encouraged. “It’s not like you to sit around and declare a problem unsolvable. Let’s focus on what you’ve been doing, and see if we can’t figure out a way to make things better,” he suggested, sensing that nothing would change unless he redirected Miranda’s focus away from criticising herself.

“I don’t know. I just...I was never like them. And you know I struggle with empathy,” Miranda began, at a loss. “I’ve tried to understand their frame of mind intellectually, based on what I know about them, but obviously that hasn’t worked. I can’t...put myself in their position the way a normal person could.”

“Is that why you’re avoiding them? Because you don’t know how to communicate with them? Or because you’re afraid that you can’t help them when you don’t understand how they feel?” he asked, getting to the nitty-gritty.

Reluctantly, Miranda nodded. “Both. When I’m around them, I start sounding like him - controlling, cold. So I’ve been keeping my distance, giving them space. And apparently they all want to leave no matter what I do.”

“Go easy on them, Miranda, and on yourself,” Jacob comforted her, recognising that she was genuinely making an effort, even if she didn’t know how to pull this off. “They aren’t good at expressing it because, well, teenagers aren’t, but they do seem to want you to like them. I think the problem is they don’t know that you already do care about them. I’m not sure you know that either.”

“Of course I care. As much as I can. I wouldn’t have taken them in at all if I didn’t,” Miranda answered. Low empathy didn’t mean no sympathy.

“So, why don’t you try to show it a little more?” Jacob suggested with a shrug.

Miranda sighed uncomfortably. “Jacob, this is literally the best I know how to do. I’ve just confessed to you that I’m aware I have the emotional intelligence of a dustbin most of the time. What more do you want from me?”

“In all seriousness, you’re a hell of a lot better now than you were. Even a year ago, it could be a struggle being around you sometimes,” Jacob admitted. Miranda couldn’t disagree with that. “I mean, back then, if I’d brought any of this up to you, you would have just said everyone who had a problem with you being forthright and direct was stupid and wrong and needed to get over it.”

Miranda managed a small smile. “I know. I know I’m improving, and that I’m slightly more tolerable to be around than I was before.”

“Slightly?” Jacob idly queried, pulling a face.

“But, when it comes to these students, that progress I’ve made doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have a loving parental figure to model myself on. I don’t really know how to…” Miranda gestured emptily instead of finishing that sentence, more than a little frustrated with herself, and at her lack of emotional competence.

“Well, in that case, why don’t you think back to when you were their age. Think about the things you needed from your Dad that you never got,” Jacob offered.

“That’s the thing - I never got them,” Miranda pointed out. “I can’t even say I know what it’s like to be their age. I wasn’t allowed to be a teenager. By their age, I was already a Cerberus operative, fighting batarian terrorism.”

“And they’re soldiers who just fought in a war,” Jacob countered. Miranda’s expression shifted. She’d never thought about it that way. She’d been so focused on what made them different, she’d completely overlooked potential points of commonality. “Sometimes, trying with people means a hell of a lot more than being good at talking to them. Seriously, make an effort, and they’ll see it. Even if you’re not a natural at doing the emotional stuff, at least they’ll get where you're coming from. And it’ll show that you’re not...unapproachable.”

Miranda frowned. This probably wasn’t going to work. But, damn it, the last thing she ever wanted to do was be as aloof as her father was. She knew how terrible it felt to be treated like less than a full person.

“I’m going to regret this,” she said, getting up from her bed and picking up her cane, intent on following through with this while Jacob was still there to give her support, or to intervene if things went terribly wrong.

Jack’s students had finished making dinner, gathered around the kitchen counter and table. Miranda cleared her throat to make her presence known, eliciting glances from all of them. Some of the kids moved to politely stand to attention on instinct, but Miranda raised her hand to stop them.

“No, no. Don’t get up. I just...wanted to check in with how you’re all getting on. Living here, I mean.” Miranda paused momentarily, leaning on her cane. “So...are you settling in okay? Is there anything you need?”

“We’re, uh...I think we’re good,” Seanne spoke up on behalf of the group, looking around to make sure that she was correct on that consensus.

“Yeah, your pad is pretty tight, Miss,” said Rodriguez.

“...Right.” Miranda elected not to object to her choice of words.

Jacob gave her a gentle nudge with his foot, urging her to keep going. It must have been obvious to him that this was painfully awkward for her. It ran counter to everything that had been programmed into her from birth. But fine; if he wanted her to keep trying, she would.

“I’m aware that you’ve been through a very difficult time lately. We all have, with the war. I know you’ve...lost people close to you.” Miranda swallowed, not finding it easy to let her guard down. “I’ve lost people too. People I fought beside. People I care about. And I know how it feels to be lightyears away from the ones who matter most to you. So, if any of you need someone to talk to about what you’re going through, you’re more than welcome to come to me,” she said honestly.

Suffice it to say, the students were surprised to hear her say that. Even Jacob was impressed. “We don’t want to impose,” Jason Prangley was the first to respond.

“It’s not an imposition.” Miranda shook her head. “I know I’m busy a lot. And I can’t guarantee I’ll always be available. But, if you really do need me for anything, I’ll make time,” she promised.

“Thank you, Miss,” said Prangley, seeming reassured by that offer of unconditional support. “That’s genuinely really nice of you.”

“No, it’s not. It’s...normal,” Miranda replied, recognising that she wasn’t owed any thanks for what was essentially the bare minimum of human decency that these kids deserved to be treated with, which she’d failed at so far.

Jacob smiled at her in approval, happy with her effort.

* * *

Miranda’s lips were pursed. She sat with her arms crossed, one leg folded over the other, her foot impatiently bobbing in the air.

“Shall we begin, Ms Lawson?” Kelly Chambers cheerfully asked her. “First—”

“I’ve been sleeping fine. My diet hasn’t changed. I haven’t experienced any sudden downturn in my mood. I don’t get tired. I don’t hear voices. I don’t feel anxious. I don’t experience mood swings. I have no problems concentrating on my work. I don’t experience intrusive thoughts. I don’t have nightmares. My sex drive is normal. I’m confident and well-adjusted. Are we done?” Miranda rattled everything off in a single breath, keen to get this waste of time over and done with.

Kelly Chambers tried to hide her amusement. “Um, well, it’s wonderful to hear that you’ve read the latest edition of the DSM. But the purpose of these sessions isn’t to diagnose you with a mental illness. I’m not actually qualified to do that.”

Miranda snorted, rolling her eyes. “That’s useful.” Honestly, she still didn’t understand the purpose Yeoman Chambers served aboard the ship, or why she couldn’t have been replaced with someone more qualified. “So why am I here?”

“Because you sustained an injury aboard the inactive Reaper. We’re talking about it. Besides, it was about time for me to check in with you anyway,” Kelly replied.

“Already?” Miranda snorted derisively. The last time they’d had a session was after she got hurt in the fight against the Shadow Broker. That had been, what, three weeks ago? “How often do you need to check in with someone?” Miranda dryly remarked, starting to feel singled out.

“As often as I can. It’s what I’m here for. Which is why I find it funny that you never talk to me about my work. Or ask me about people,” Kelly observed.

“What do you mean by that? I chase you up for your reports every single time you do one of these...therapy sessions.” Miranda dismissively waved her hand, feeling she was being generous by deigning to give them that moniker.

Kelly stifled a laugh, glancing down at her lap. “You are aware why The Illusive Man hired me, aren’t you? I was given a directive to report to two people. One of them is Shepard. The other was you. My explicit instructions were to assist both of you in gaining some insight into the people you would be working with, and to assist you in navigating their disparate personalities. Shepard asks me for my thoughts all the time. You...never have,” she noted, somehow not surprised by that.

“What’s there to know about the crew that I haven’t already gleaned?” Miranda shrugged, failing to see the utility.

“A lot, actually. Maybe you should talk to them sometime. Or ask me about them,” Kelly replied, far sharper on the comeback than Miranda gave her credit for. “To the extent that it doesn’t violate anything I’ve been told in confidence, it’s...literally my job to tell you what I know, and what I think. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure that’s precisely why The Illusive Man thought someone like me was needed here - to help you specifically.”

Miranda furrowed her brow. “To help me what?”

“You know...work with people, and understand them better,” Kelly stated frankly, shrugging her shoulders. “Don’t take offence to this, but you and I are both cognisant of the fact that Shepard doesn’t exactly need any assistance in that area. Whereas you, on the other hand...this is not your expertise, is it?”

Miranda resisted the unconscious urge to bristle at that. She never liked being confronted with the fact that she had weaknesses, even weaknesses she was self-aware enough to realise she had, and not too arrogant to deny.

“Yes, well, I suppose it’s too late for that, now, isn’t it?” said Miranda.

“I don’t agree with that.” Kelly gave a small shake of her head. “We may be a few months into our mission, but learning about people is a process that never stops. I can give you far better insight now than I could have when I first met everyone. So maybe things have worked out for the best. But I don’t mean to talk your ear off. All I wanted to say was that I’m here to help you get to know the crew a bit better, if you want me to.”

Miranda paused. It was funny. A few weeks ago, that opportunity would have triggered a very different feeling in her than it did now. A need to feel in control. A need for knowledge, because knowing things was power. It meant certainty. Security. Protection. Stability. Back then, she hadn’t hesitated to download files from the Shadow Broker, and had never thought twice about spying on her squadmates, reading all their messages.

And yet, a single conversation with Samara had suddenly changed all that.

In a way, Miranda knew that Kelly had a point. She hadn’t tried to get to know most of her squad. At all. She didn’t care to. She wasn’t there to make friends, after all. But...what was the line between learning about people and being like her father?

Now that Samara had brought that comparison to her attention, it was hard not to feel like a monumental fucking hypocrite for monitoring every single person on the ship and reporting on their every single fuck-up, the same way her father had monitored Miranda and scrutinised her every mistake. But, maybe if she went in with less adversarial intentions, maybe if she went about things the right way and for the right reasons for a change, that would be a good place to start.

“...Okay. I see what you’re saying. Perhaps I have been...distant from other people on the ship. And it couldn’t hurt to get a second opinion,” Miranda reasoned. She wasn’t sure she would agree with anything Kelly said. But would it hurt anyone for Miranda to know what Kelly thought about them?

“Ask away, within reason,” Kelly gave her an open invitation.

Don’t be controlling. Don’t be controlling. Don’t be controlling.

“...What do you think about Commander Shepard?” Miranda started with the most obvious name, since that was as good a place as any to begin.

“Andrea is remarkably well-adjusted for what she’s gone through,” Kelly answered upfront, without falsity. “She’s highly empathetic, and cares a lot about other people. It’s no wonder she’s such a remarkable leader, and why she’s such an expert at resolving situations through words rather than violence. She gets people. She understands them. But, even though I feel like I should know her so intimately by now, as I’m sure many of us feel we do, I also feel like I know so little about her. She’s always asking about us, never talking about herself.”

“Hmm.” Miranda had to admit, that was a rather astute assessment. She couldn’t fault it. “What about Jack?” she asked, not forgetting their recent clash in her quarters, and the discussion she’d had with Samara about it.

“Jack has grown up in an unfathomably traumatic environment. Her experiences have conditioned her to see others as hostile and to view her own survival as a zero sum game. But she’s young, and she’s never had the opportunity to seek treatment for post traumatic stress disorder, or even exist in a healthy environment,” Kelly acknowledged. “She has the potential to make a lot of progress. It’s just a matter of finding the right environment for her, and providing her with the support she needs.”

Miranda disagreed. It was hard to imagine Jack would ever become a well-adjusted member of society. Nevertheless, Kelly was entitled to her opinion.

“How about me?” Miranda inquired.

Kelly’s eyes widened in alarm at that. “...Honestly?”

“You must have thoughts. I’m curious to know what they are.” Miranda shifted her posture, casually flicking her hair back over her shoulder. She was trying to do this whole...self-reflection thing, at Samara’s recommendation. She needed to start somewhere. “There’s no reason to be nervous. Frankly, you couldn’t hurt my feelings if you tried. So don’t worry that I’m going to be offended.”

Kelly chose to take Miranda at her word. “Alright. Where to start?”

Miranda arched a brow. Oh, so it was like that? She glanced at the clock, wondering how long this would take, and whether she should have brought some coffee with her.

“You’re a brilliant woman, but...not when it comes to other people,” Kelly stated, electing to begin with the uncontroversial. “I don’t believe you have Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but you do show some narcissistic traits, such as a sense of superiority, an expectation for others to comply with unrealistic demands and a tendency to exploit other people without feeling guilt or shame. Honestly, though, that’s not surprising. By all accounts, it sounds like you were raised by a narcissistic sociopath. And it’s not uncommon for children raised in those situations to learn and replicate toxic patterns of behaviour.”

Miranda consciously said nothing, listening to Kelly’s opinions and letting her speak without interruption.

“You have difficulty reading other people and knowing how to react appropriately in social situations, beyond the extent to which you’ve developed social scripts to aid you in your professional life. To my knowledge, you’ve never formed meaningful, long-lasting connections, platonically or romantically. Perhaps this is partially out of a lack of interest on your part, but...if I had to hazard a guess, I also suspect it’s because you genuinely don’t know how,” Kelly speculated. “However, because you’re...stunningly attractive and extremely self-confident, people don’t recognise your social awkwardness for what it is. Instead, they interpret your behaviour towards them as deliberate rudeness and animosity.”

Miranda would have been lying if she said she didn’t recognise a grain of truth in Kelly’s words. It wasn’t exactly easy to just sit there and take it, but it was what she’d asked for. So she remained silent, allowing her to continue.

“I imagine that, when you were younger and first left your father, you most likely had several experiences where people reacted to you negatively for reasons you didn’t entirely understand. It makes sense. I mean, you had gone your entire childhood without developing normal social skills, and you would have had little to nothing in common with any of your peers, not that they had any way of knowing that. These negative responses would have further alienated you from other people, and reinforced your belief that you were superior to others, and that there was nothing to be gained from talking to them. That would go a long way to explaining why you seem to genuinely prefer being alone, and why you seem to lack any desire to socialise and interact with others,” Kelly reasoned.

Miranda shifted in her seat, the tip of her tongue tracing the top of her teeth, even as she kept her mouth shut. Okay, so, she had undergone a few unpleasant social experiences when she first joined Cerberus and met people her own age. But anyone could have guessed that. Getting lucky didn’t count as insight.

“You’re also frequently wrong in your predictions of how others will act or react in any given situation, because you don’t understand people well enough to read their motives,” Kelly continued. Miranda had to will herself not to impatiently roll her eyes, realising Kelly still wasn’t finished. “From what I understand of your mission two years ago, you thought you would have to blackmail or bribe Liara T’Soni into helping recover Shepard’s body. It never seemed to occur to you that bringing the woman she loved back to life would have been motivation enough.”

“Okay, in my defence, I didn’t know her then,” Miranda spoke up, raising a finger in objection, unable to remain silent on that.

She noticed Kelly studying her face a little nervously, searching for any signs of anger in her response. “...I didn’t just ruin this session, did I?”

“No,” Miranda nonchalantly replied, unperturbed. She didn’t care enough about Kelly Chambers of all people to be bothered by what she thought of her. But, that being said, she wasn’t so full of herself as to pretend Kelly hadn’t given her a few things that were worth thinking about. Just because she didn’t particularly care for her as a person didn’t mean she couldn’t learn something from her comments. “...I don’t agree with all of your assessments, but there was some legitimate criticism in there. And if that’s the case, I suppose I’m better off taking it on board than getting defensive about it,” Miranda admitted, somewhat humbled.

Being open to that level of criticism rather than taking it personally was certainly something new for her. The fact that Miranda hadn’t instantly rattled off a hundred different reasons why Kelly was wrong about her was definitely Samara’s influence. That and Miranda wasn’t stupid. She knew she didn’t relate well to others. And, if everyone was constantly giving her the same feedback about the way her demeanour came across, there was probably some truth to it. Maybe there was something to be gained from listening to them for once.

Kelly seemed relieved that Miranda had taken her comments constructively, even though she clearly wasn’t thrilled about them. “I’ve noticed some changes in your behaviour lately. I had my suspicions that you’d begun to realise some things about yourself. Maybe things you’ve known on a subconscious level for a long time. Either way, it’s been nice to see that happen. And it’s not just from reuniting with your sister, either, although that’s obviously made you a lot happier. Working so closely with others on the Normandy has been good for you, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Miranda conceded. “It’s funny. A few weeks ago, Shepard told me I have a tendency to interact with people like they’re objects, disregarding their thoughts and feelings, because I’m only concerned with my own goals. I disagreed with her at the time. But, in hindsight, I’ve realised she had a point. I do have a habit of only taking my own perspective into account, and treating others in ways I’d never want to be treated myself.”

Miranda neglected to mention that Samara had practically had to spell it out for her yesterday before she understood that, and that she’d felt...uneasy about her past behaviour ever since.

“This is all learned behaviour,” Kelly advised, believing that knowledge would both aid and comfort her. “Like I said before, you were raised by a narcissist, who possibly suffered from other personality disorders as well. As a direct result of being raised in that environment, knowing nothing except his treatment of you, you were taught not to empathise with others. You had no model to learn empathy from. In a way, becoming self-centred and emotionally closed-off was also necessary for your own survival. But this can all be unlearned, if you choose to.”

“Hmm.” Miranda paused to consider that, giving it some thought. It made sense that her problems relating to others were a result of nurture rather than nature, given that Oriana was her polar opposite when it came to those things. So why couldn’t those things be changed later in life, given enough time and effort?

Really, in a lot of ways, it wasn’t news to her that the way her father had raised her had affected her. She knew it had. She’d always known she didn’t fit in socially. The thing was, up until now, Miranda hadn’t cared. The prospect of working to improve those aspects of herself was one she would have scoffed at a few months ago - changing herself to appeal more to people she didn’t like, so that she could be better at faking conversations she found tedious.

Before the Normandy, Miranda hadn’t done friendships. She hadn’t done relationships. Jacob had been her only exception on both counts, and that had fizzled in a few short months. She didn’t go out for drinks with people after work. She didn’t want to, or care to. She’d seen how social other people were, and brushed it off as a massive waste of time. Something that didn’t interest her, or appeal to her in any way. So what had been the utility in working to become better at something she had no intention of doing anyway?

If the old Miranda had had her way, she would never have interacted with anyone unless there was a purpose behind it - getting something she wanted out of that person in return. Conversations were like transactions, or else what was the point of them? She valued others for their usefulness, just as her aptitude and her skills were what others always valued in her.

But none of that was true anymore.

On the Normandy, Miranda hadn’t been able to continue the same patterns of behaviour she had in the past. For as long as she’d been with Cerberus, nobody had ever really cared about her closed-off personality, as long as she’d gotten the job done. And her hypercompetence had quickly led her to rise through the ranks, into positions of authority.

She didn’t have to deal with people’s quirks. She was in charge, and she reported directly to The Illusive Man. So, when Miranda told people to do things, they did them, no matter how much they didn’t like her.

Miranda hadn’t been able to get away with that on the Normandy, not that she hadn’t tried. She’d issued commands and expected them to be followed, and it hadn’t worked the way it used to. Her squadmates weren’t Cerberus. Even the members of the crew weren’t really. They’d been recruited specifically for this mission. That made most of them fundamentally different from the diehard Cerberus agents Miranda had worked with in the past.

People didn’t respond to her the way she’d expected them to respond. They’d been difficult, and complex, and often baffling to her, like puzzles that had to be solved before they would heed her instructions and advice, which was something Miranda had no time for. Most of them would still begrudgingly do what she said, but it wasn’t lost on Miranda that she didn’t command anywhere near the same level of respect that Shepard did.

Being this close to so many different types of people had forced Miranda (however unwilling she was) to step out of her comfort zone. She still hadn’t learned how to talk to people, or figured out what wasn’t working with her regular approach. But, for almost the first time in her life, she’d formed actual bonds with people, made real friends. With a select few in particular, but, really, even the weaker social connections she’d formed on the Normandy were a huge leap compared to where she’d stood a few months ago - where she’d considered every single person under her command disposable. Shepard didn’t lead that way, for good reason.

For the first time in her life, Miranda had finally started to concede that she might have been wrong all those times before - that maybe she had actually been missing out on something for all those years that she’d dismissed the idea of pursuing friendships with people, or working to become more social.

Needless to say, there was one specific person who entered her mind when she thought about that. The one person who had been more responsible than any other for changing her perspective.

“Enough about me. What do you think of Samara?” Miranda prompted next, ready to change the subject.

“Samara…” Kelly trailed off, a slightly pained smile crossing her lips. “Samara is actually the person I’m most worried about on this ship.”

Miranda instantly straightened up, surprised to hear that. “Oh?” She shifted in her seat. She wasn’t sure if that might have been because Kelly had somehow accessed Samara’s old medical records too. Miranda still felt uncomfortable about having gone behind Samara’s back like that, and she knew she had to apologise for doing it, although it was a question of finding the right time to admit to her wrongdoing. “...Why, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Because I haven’t seen any signs of progress with her mental health, and I can’t foresee a path to recovery for her at this time,” Kelly conceded. “I mean, think about it. She’s been in pain for four hundred years. She’s taken the life of her own child. That’s unfathomable to either of us.”

Miranda’s brow creased. Kelly wasn’t wrong, exactly. She knew Samara still carried a lot of grief from her past. But ending Morinth’s killing spree had caused a fundamental change in her. Samara had been so quiet and reserved before that, so focused on the task that lay ahead of her. Since Morinth’s passing, she’d been so much more open, and conversational.

“You really don’t see any change in her after Morinth?” Miranda asked, unable to let that slide.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Kelly shook her head. “Killing her own daughter may have closed a chapter in her life, but it hasn’t healed her wounds. She’s a strong woman, but she still carries that shroud of sorrow with her everywhere. I don’t think she knows how to live without it. And I’m not certain she wants to.”

“It’s not always there,” Miranda spoke up, much to Kelly’s surprise. “Most of the time when I talk to her, she seems perfectly fine to me. Happy, even. I imagine Shepard would say the same.”

Kelly was visibly intrigued to hear that. “You talk to Samara a lot?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?” Miranda shrugged in reply, not sure why that warranted comment.

“No, no, not at all,” Kelly assured her, shaking her head and waving her hands to clear up any misunderstanding. “Samara did mention that you’ve been training together. Even meditating, which I admit I found difficult to believe at first. I just wasn’t aware you spent so much time with her. Do you...talk with her a lot?”

“Most days,” Miranda replied. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last day she hadn’t seen Samara. “I enjoy her company. She’s a very intelligent woman.”

“You have that in common,” Kelly acknowledged.

Miranda paused and glanced down, thinking about their connection over the past few months. “Samara’s...helped me a lot, actually. Sometimes it seems like she knows me better than I know myself. Those things you observed about me before, she’s the one who’s been...encouraging me to do more self-reflection, and reassess my perspective on things. And those changes you said you’ve seen in me, she’s a big part of the reason why I’ve taken those steps. Or tried to.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Kelly enthused, genuinely happy for her.

A small smile came to Miranda’s lips. “I’ve learned a lot from her. I’d say she’s been like a mentor, but it’s never once felt like she’s talking down to me. She’s never treated me as less than an equal. She’s simply offering her point of view, as I offer mine to her. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t benefited from her advice far more than she’s benefited from mine. But I suppose wisdom and insight come easily to someone nearing a thousand years old.”

“You like her a lot, huh?” Kelly mused, idly resting her head on her hand.

“Of course. For as different as we are, we share a lot in common. And I know I’m supposed to be neutral and unbiased but, let’s be honest, she was always going to be my favourite person on this ship,” Miranda remarked.

Kelly chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“I don’t know what I expected her to be like, but she’s so...non-judgemental, for someone whose role is to be judge, jury and executioner,” Miranda remarked, still trying to wrap her head around Samara the person and Samara the Justicar. The two were so intertwined that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began, but there were definitely distinctions. The interplay between her personal views and this rigid Code were fascinating to ponder, particularly for someone such as Miranda who had never been religious or spiritual.

“I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from, though,” Miranda continued, reflecting on Kelly’s earlier observation. “She does have a sorrow that she carries with her. I wish I could say that I fully understand it. I’ve tried to but I don’t. I think she’s used to dealing with it alone, not sharing it with anyone, which I respect. But the day after she killed Morinth, she even told me that she wouldn’t hold it against me if I didn’t want to be around her while she was grieving, and that she wouldn’t think any less of me for abandoning her at such a dark time. I was blown away. I virtually had to tell her, Samara, I’m not here out of a sense of obligation or a sense of pity. I’m here for you because I want to be.”

“But she accepted your help?” Kelly prompted.

“Yes, if you can call it that,” Miranda acknowledged. “I’m not a...sensitive person, by any means. I’ve never claimed to be. I couldn’t pretend that I know what to say or do when someone is going through something so...horrible. But I’ve tried my best to be there for her. Keep her company, when she’s needed it. I’d like to think that’s been of some comfort to her. I suppose it has, because she hasn’t kicked me out yet. I mean, there was one time where I said something that crossed a line, but I apologised for that and she accepted it.”

“What did you say?” Kelly asked.

“Ugh. I barely even remember,” Miranda lied. She remembered perfectly. “I made some flippant remark about Zaeed having a crush on her, and asked her if her Code allows for...dalliances. I realise now that was inappropriate, and she’s not comfortable with me joking about that. I certainly won’t do it again.”

“Good for you for owning that,” Kelly enthused, genuinely. That was progress.

“Yeah, well...” Miranda shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. She didn’t feel comfortable admitting to Kelly that there was another, much greater sin she still needed to apologise to Samara for which she hadn’t owned up to. She couldn’t tell Kelly that, because it involved secrets that weren’t hers to share.

“So, uh...is that all you think about Samara, or...?” Kelly idly probed, as if trying to keep an unreadable expression. Miranda glanced back at her, curious. “Hey, you asked me for my opinion. It only seems fair that I get to ask you for yours.”

Miranda couldn’t exactly argue with that. “I don’t know where you want me to start. There’s a lot I could say. And a lot that I’ve said already. I mean, she’s an incredible woman. She’s strong, and she’s kind, and selfless almost to a fault, although she’s far from being a doormat. She’s patient, and understanding. When you see her in battle, she’s so graceful and precise. She can literally float on air like a feather. I’ve never seen anyone use such powerful biotics so elegantly, and so effortlessly, like an extension of themselves,

“One thing that’s really amazing about her that I don’t think a lot of people know is that, even though she’s been travelling around the galaxy for centuries, she still has this...youthful sense of curiosity and adventure. Honestly, I think she was secretly more excited about getting to meet and travel with humans than I was the first time I went into space. You’d expect her to be jaded, but she’s not. She really isn’t. Despite everything she’s been through, and all the injustice she’s seen, she believes the universe is fundamentally full of good people,

“There’s so much that I admire about her. Her wisdom. Her humility. How principled she is. Her honesty. Her tact. I wasn’t expecting it at all, but...frankly, it’s been an honour and a privilege getting to know her, and to be able to call her a friend. Everyone could stand to learn something from someone like her. And I think the galaxy would be better off if there were more people like Samara in it.”

Miranda trailed off, not even really paying attention to what she was saying. It was a stream of consciousness, really. Thinking aloud. She only lifted her gaze after she realised several seconds of silence had passed with no response. She looked up to find Kelly grinning at her in a manner Miranda could only describe as disconcertingly cheerful.

“What?” Miranda asked, regarding her with an odd look.

“Nothing. It’s just...that was very sweet.” At that answer, Miranda tilted her head in confusion, not sure what that was supposed to mean. “You know, hearing you...say nice things about someone else,” said Kelly, waving her hand as if trying to downplay her reaction. Miranda wasn’t sure she was being entirely honest with her as to why she was so interested all of a sudden. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you self-conscious. You know what? Forget I said anything.”

“I do that every time you say anything,” Miranda dryly quipped, suddenly remembering precisely what it was about Kelly that she didn’t like. To her credit, Kelly only snickered at Miranda’s snarky comment, not taking it personally.

“You know, this is the sixth session we’ve had together, and this is the first time we’ve actually talked,” Kelly pointed out, very pleased with that.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll never make that mistake again. Am I free to leave?”

“Aw, I was really enjoying this…” Kelly playfully remarked, sensing that Miranda’s apparent disdain lacked most of the bite it once used to possess. “I swear, this stays between us. I won’t tell anyone you have a heart. I promise! It’s our secret!”

The door had already shut behind Miranda before Kelly finished calling out to her.

* * *

Living with tinnitus was straight up hell.

If Miranda managed to get to sleep before 2am, it was a fucking luxury. Some nights, she didn’t get to sleep at all. When she did, there was no rest waiting for her.

The sounds of bullets and biotic blasts and banshees shrieking in the dark echoed in her head, unpleasant dreams drowning out the ringing in her ear. Every night when she closed her eye, the battle began all over again. She was back at the barricade. Back in that shuttle. Back to hiding from people who would track her down and kill her if she put a foot wrong.

Every night she ran from Cerberus.

Every night she felt Kai Leng stab her in the stomach.

Every night she went to war, and led her whole team to their deaths.

Every night she watched husks, marauders and banshees tear her team apart.

Every night she woke up to the disemboweled corpse of the shuttle pilot dripping blood onto her face.

Every night the impaled soldier begged Miranda for help she couldn’t give him. Every night she left him to die.

Miranda rolled onto her back and pressed her hand to her forehead, not sure whether it was worse to lay awake with that piercing sound blaring like a siren in her soul, or to revisit the ghosts that were waiting for her in her nightmares, and that made her wake up in a cold sweat.

One way or another, it was a deafening cacophony. Louder than a hurricane. She couldn’t even remember the sound of silence anymore.

When was this going to stop? When was she going to be able to sleep again?

Sometimes, it was too much to face. So she just didn’t. She didn’t go through the torment of trying to block out the ringing in her ear long enough that she could go back to the harrowing memories that awaited her there.

Sometimes, she would slip out and climb up to the roof so she could breathe. Other nights, she would limp out onto the street and go somewhere near the water. The flow of the river was one of the only things that could drown out the ringing for a while. She would head back when the sun began to rise, before Jack’s students noticed she was missing.

Miranda had played Oriana’s messages on loop so many times in those restless nights, she knew them word for word. She would never get sick of listening to her talk about her day, and telling bad jokes to try and make her laugh. Miranda never did laugh. Not these days. But that didn’t matter. It was the thought that counted.

Miranda had taken the time to respond back, recording a message in the cold night air on the roof. She’d told her about the status of things on Earth. About finding Jack. About taking on responsibility for her students, at least until Jack recovered. Hopefully, she would get a response in the next few days.

She’d thought of Samara, and tried her hand at meditating. It hadn’t helped. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t meditate. Because that ringing her ear was so loud. And it wouldn’t. Fucking. Stop.

Other days, she just stayed up and worked. She had a list of names. Everyone aboard The Normandy. Past and present. All the missing. And the scant few who had lived.

It wasn’t easy to track down next of kin, with how long and how widespread the war against the Reapers had been. But it was her duty to do it. With Shepard gone, and The Normandy missing, Miranda was the only thing left resembling a commanding officer.

She had to write to them eventually. She knew she had to. But how could she when she had nothing to say?

Why hadn’t they heard from them yet?

Miranda sat up and grimaced, running her hand through her hair. She couldn’t keep thinking about The Normandy. She couldn’t. Because, if she did, she couldn’t keep living in denial.

She would have to acknowledge the fact that nothing could ever be changed or remedied or healed. She’d gotten a second chance with Jack. A chance to rectify past wrongs, and admit her faults. But what about Shepard? Tali. Garrus. Doctor Chakwas. Kelly Chambers, who’d most likely died on the Citadel. Zaeed. Grunt. Kasumi. Not to mention Mordin and Thane.

It was too late. No apologies could ever be given for her mistakes. She’d never be able to tell them that she’d changed from the person she was a year ago. That she understood now why they hadn’t liked her. That they’d been right about her. Things that never bothered her before now curdled in her throat with the bitter taste of impotent regret.

Miranda’s jaw clenched as her fingernails dragged against her skin, her hand tightening into a fist, that incessant ringing growing louder and louder.

No. She couldn’t lose her cool. She wouldn’t. Getting frustrated, getting emotional, it felt like admitting defeat - letting that damn ringing win. She could do this.

Miranda drew a deep breath, trying to will herself to let go of her thoughts, and to stop letting them eat away at her. Beating herself up wouldn’t change anything. It was pointless to stew on the fates of her crewmates, or the team she’d led to Earth, or the soldiers who’d died in the shuttle. So why couldn’t she chase those ghosts from her head?

She rubbed her palm across her eye, trying to compose herself.

Not for the first time, she wished Samara was there. She was the only person Miranda could have talked to about something like this - the only person whose advice ever helped her make sense of what she was feeling, and the only person who knew how to guide Miranda to put things into perspective. Never patronising. Never condescending. Honest, but fair. A confidant.

But this wasn’t like the old days. She couldn’t just walk into the Starboard Observation Deck when she needed Samara’s advice. Miranda had no way of contacting her now, wherever she was. No way of knowing if she was ever coming back. Whether she was still alive.

She had to deal with this alone.

And, despite being surrounded by people, she’d never felt more alone in her life.

A knock on the door disturbed her restlessness. For a moment, she thought it was a hallucination. But then it happened again. “Who is it?” Miranda grumbled. She felt sick. Her head was throbbing.

The door opened a crack. “Sorry, Miss. I didn’t want to wake you up,” Rodriguez’s recogniseable voice apologetically began.

“It’s alright,” Miranda murmured as she sat up, cradling her blaring forehead, concealing her grogginess. It wasn’t as though she’d been sleeping anyway. “What do you need?”

“Yeah, um. Reiley’s been coughing a lot. Think he might have caught something. I was wondering if you had something to give him for it,” Rodriguez asked, shifting back and forth between her feet.

“Check the middle cabinet above the sink. There should be a blue bottle with cough medicine,” said Miranda, fingers perched against her forehead in a futile effort to fight off the headache attacking her skull from the inside. She’d tried to use cold medicine as a sleep aid before, to little success.

“Right. Thanks, Miss,” said Rodriguez, turning to leave.

The door clicked shut. A bleary-eyed glance at the clock beside her bed told Miranda the time. Four o’clock in the morning. She hadn’t slept a wink. It didn’t look like that would change anytime soon.

With a heavy sigh, Miranda pushed herself up and headed to her desk. She had nothing but time. She might as well use it constructively, and address one of her problems. Something she had been putting off for too long.

She began to type.

To Admiral Shala’Raan vas Rannoch,

To Castis and Solana Vakarian,

To Feron,

To Abby, Lynn and Sarah Williams,

Regarding the status of

your husband

your daughter

your mother

your brother

I regret to inform you that the whereabouts of

Samantha Traynor

Steve Cortez

James Vega

Greg Adams

are still unknown.

I had the pleasure of serving with

Gabriella.

Ken.

Karin.

Jeff.

They were fine people. Among the finest.

Rest assured that I will do everything in my power

will personally see to it

will not abandon this cause until answers are found.

I will not stop until I can give

Ensign Copeland

Private Campbell

Private Westmoreland

Diana Allers

the justice of knowing what happened to them.

I will continue searching until I find out what happened to

Rupert Gardener

Sarah Patel

Zach Matthews

Jennifer Goldstein

Kelly Chambers

I understand this is a difficult time for you, as it is for all of us. I know that there is little that I can say that would ease your pain. But I hope it is of some comfort to you to know that not one soul who has ever served aboard the Normandy, past or present, has been overlooked.

That is my oath to you; that none of these names will ever slip through the cracks. If there are answers to be found, I will find them. No one will be left behind.

As long as I am alive, they will never be forgotten.

Yours sincerely,

Yours faithfully,

Regards,

Miranda Lawson.

* * *

“See, this is why I don’t understand Shepard’s obsession with collecting fish,” Miranda commented, taking another salmon nigiri in her chopsticks. “Every time I look at that tank, all I can think about is which one of them would taste best with wasabi. And, yes, I am aware that makes me sound like a krogan; they’re not right about many things, but we see eye to eye on fish being delicious.”

“Did you never have a pet?” Samara remarked, finding it very difficult to believe Miranda legitimately didn’t understand Shepard’s attachment to those fish.

In response, Miranda merely paused and stared at her.

“...That was an uninsightful question,” Samara acknowledged, shaking her head at her poorly judged query. Of course the answer was obvious. Miranda’s father had deprived her of anything resembling joy.

“No offence, but part of me is glad that you’re capable of making mistakes. I was starting to wonder for a while there. It’s nice to remember that you’re still human,” Miranda light-heartedly told her. She blinked, catching her own error. “...Figuratively speaking,” she added belatedly.

Miranda didn’t fail to notice the glimmer of amusement in Samara’s eyes at that comment.

It was a nice change of scenery, spending time with Samara on the Citadel. Shepard had granted everyone some shore leave while EDI was busy installing the Reaper IFF. Shepard was off somewhere in Zakera Ward, probably looking to purchase some more upgrades. Everyone else had been left to their own devices.

Samara had been curious to see how much the Citadel had changed since her last visit, which had been many centuries ago. Miranda had been only too glad to follow along at Samara’s invitation, watching as she wandered the Wards, listening to stories of what used to be there, and hints of the memories they held.

She’d pointed out a bank that used to be a nightclub. The mercenary group that Samara used to travel with frequented it. Apparently, they’d had some...interesting times there, in her youth. Samara hadn’t elaborated beyond that, but Miranda certainly wasn’t naive to the implication.

That clothing store in the corner used to go by a different name. It must have changed hands dozens of times in the intervening years. One of Samara’s sisters used to work there, and eventually became the owner of the store. Samara had wondered aloud what had ever become of her half-sister - if she ever did realise her dream of becoming a fashion designer.

Over by that fountain, Samara’s father had nearly gotten arrested there. All a big misunderstanding, of course. Evidently, she hadn’t realised the hanar would take the comment so personally. The young Samara had been mortified, and had apparently yelled at her father for a solid three hours for being so thoughtless, earning comparisons to her mother.

It had been a refreshing change, seeing Samara so relaxed and casual. It wasn’t lost on Miranda that this was probably the closest thing Samara had had to a ‘day off’ in four hundred years. She was clearly enjoying it, nostalgic for happier times.

Once it started to get late, Miranda had invited Samara to visit her favourite sushi joint. She hadn’t been keeping track of how long it had been since they got to the restaurant, but the time they’d spent there had just flown by. Tables that arrived after them had already finished their meals and left, but Miranda and Samara were in no hurry to join them. Not a moment went by where they didn’t find themselves comfortably drifting into some new and interesting conversation.

“If I may ask, how old were you when humanity first made contact with other species?” Samara asked her.

“Seven,” Miranda answered, cleansing her palette with ginger. “Why?”

“Being among the crowds and diversity of the Citadel reminds me that, however quickly humanity has adapted, this is still a novelty for your species,” Samara observed. “I have known many things, but I have never known a time when asari were alone in the galaxy.”

“Well, we knew there was other life in the galaxy because of the Prothean technology uncovered on Mars. That discovery wasn’t terribly long before I was born. We had already begun to colonise other planets by the time I was aware of the world. We just didn’t know how long it would be before we met you,” Miranda explained.

“I am not particularly familiar with human aging, but seven would be more than old enough to have distinct memories and some comprehension of The First Contact War, would it not?” Samara asked, curious. Miranda nodded. “What do you remember of that time?”

Miranda paused. “...It was the first and only time in my life I ever saw my father afraid of anything.”

“Intriguing. What did he fear?” Samara prompted her to elaborate, levitating a piece of sushi towards her with her biotics.

“That we had been foolish, delving out into space,” she answered. “That any aliens we made contact with would be hostile conquerers, and that the skirmish on Shanxi was just a prelude to a turian armada finding their way to Earth and wiping us all out.” Given his response, it had been no wonder why he had become a Cerberus supporter once The Illusive Man published his manifesto. “Your species helped calm things down pretty quickly, though. I respected that. My father didn’t.”

“It is not an unfounded response,” Samara acknowledged. “The Rachni Wars and the Krogan Rebellions were long before my time, but they are evidence of how contact with new species is not without danger.”

Miranda’s expression darkened at her response. “You agree with my father, then?”

“No.” Samara shook her head, at ease. “My experience of the galaxy, and that of my kind as a whole, is that meeting new species is most often a beneficial and positive experience, and rarely a negative one. We would all be lesser without the galactic community. However, it would be arrogance to simply dismiss alternative points of view. They are not entirely unwarranted.”

“I don’t really need you defending my father’s views on anything,” Miranda somewhat curtly replied. There was no anger in her words, just a frank statement of fact. Samara blinked, mildly taken aback. “I was exposed to them relentlessly. He tried to control me and make me think the same way. I was never allowed to disagree. So, suffice it to say, if I hold a different opinion, it’s not for lack of ‘seeing his side’,” she muttered, turning over a piece of sushi between her chopsticks before picking it up.

“...Forgive me.” Samara bowed her head slightly, in respectful deference. “I am aware you did not have a...pleasant relationship with your father. It should have occurred to me to be mindful of your history with him, especially after I have advised you to do the same for others in the past.”

Miranda sighed, realising how she’d come off. “No, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault. But a lot of things remind me of him. And it’s never in a good way.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise,” said Samara, unfazed.

Miranda frowned. If she was being entirely honest, the ‘father’ issue had been more of a raw nerve with her than usual ever since Miranda had been forced to confront just how much her own behaviour echoed that of the man she despised.

“Did you have a good relationship with your parents?” Miranda asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, although I was often unappreciative,” Samara told her, floating another piece of sushi towards herself.

“Again, very hard to imagine,” Miranda commented, accompanying that with a pointed finger from the hand that held her chopsticks. Young Samara really did sound completely unlike the Samara of today. Most of the time, anyway. The parts about lecturing people on the virtues of independence and self-sufficiency Miranda could totally believe.

“As you are aware, both my parents were asari. I was raised by both my mother and my father, though never at the same time,” Samara explained.

“Were they separated?” Miranda intuited.

“They were never bondmates. But yes. Their relationship was brief, and I was the only child of their union,” Samara answered. “I primarily lived with my mother. My father was adventurous, often absent-minded...”

“Prone to getting arrested in front of fountains,” Miranda added, dipping another piece of sushi into some soy sauce.

“Yes,” Samara acknowledged, which almost made Miranda snort. “She was by far the more permissive parent. She did not believe in structure or discipline. She was also, shall we say...very generous with her affections.”

“Is that why you have so many half-sisters you probably don’t even know about?” Miranda wryly remarked, remembering their prior conversation about that.

“It contributed,” Samara conceded, perhaps missing Miranda’s half-joking tone. From her demeanour, Samara clearly didn’t bear any negative feelings towards her father for that. Miranda wondered if she once felt differently, or if that kind of sexual freedom was so normalised for asari that it simply wasn’t an issue. “In contrast, my mother was stern and strong-willed, which meant we often fought. From an early age, I yearned to travel the galaxy. She...did not encourage that ambition, and wanted me to focus on my studies. It was only later in life that I realised her strictness had been born from love, and that her desire for me to remain close to her on Thessia was the only way she knew how to express it.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Miranda observed, regarding Samara with knowing eyes. Samara didn’t deny the similarity. She definitely took after her mother, even if she had inherited her father’s adventurousness. “I remember you mentioning before that you felt like you lost your opportunity to reconcile with her.”

Samara’s eyes glistened wistfully. “That is correct.”

“What happened?” Miranda asked, curious to know.

“The last time we spoke, we had a terrible argument. I was young, and fed up with her restrictions. I told her I was going to come here to live with my father. She insisted I was making a terrible mistake and that, if I left, I would not be welcome to return. I took her at her word,” Samara relayed.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Miranda commented, in an effort to be comforting.

“That is because I am skipping over the part where we each said some very hurtful things to one another,” Samara pointed out.

“Oh.” Miranda’s shoulders sank a little.

“Forgive me. This must sound trivial to you.”

“No. Not at all.” Miranda shook her head. That was the opposite of true. “Why didn’t you reconcile earlier?” Miranda asked, shifting the subject away from herself. Based on her mental timeline of Samara’s life, Samara and her mother could have gone as long as three hundred years without speaking before her death.

“We were both too proud to apologise. But I did love my mother, and I know she loved me, in her own way. I am fortunate that I have many happy memories with her,” said Samara, at peace with that aspect of her past.

“What about your father?” Miranda prompted, listening intently.

“I was not with her when she died, but we parted on good terms the last time I visited her. It pains me to say it, but...I honestly cannot remember what the last words I said to her were, nor her to me,” Samara confessed.

“If it’s any consolation, at least you know they were better than the last words my father said to me,” Miranda offered.

“What were they?” Samara queried.

“’Shoot to kill. Don’t let her escape’,” Miranda bluntly replied. Samara didn’t react, which helped Miranda feel a little less like a freak due to her abnormal childhood. “I suppose that was technically a command to his men, not to me.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable to hear others talk about their relationships with their parents?” Samara asked, well aware that she had enjoyed privileges Miranda had not in that regard.

“No,” Miranda answered honestly. “My childhood was what it was. I don’t begrudge anyone for having a better one than mine.”

“You are not envious?” said Samara, genuinely impressed if that was the case.

“Well, I didn’t say that, but it’s also hard to envy what I never had. My father was never a father to me. And I never even had a mother, or any kind of maternal figure. Just some altered genetic sequences taken from dozens of women I never met,” Miranda contemplated aloud.

“Do you wish that you had met them? Or that you had been raised by a mother figure?” Samara asked.

“That’s difficult to say. I might be a completely different person, if I had been. Unless she was exactly like my father. In that case, no - having one of him was bad enough,” Miranda muttered. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought about this, but there had never been a clear answer. “It’s complicated. Part of me obviously wishes I hadn’t had these experiences, and that I’d had a childhood more like yours instead. That’s why I made sure Oriana never had to go through what I did. But, at the same time, if I’d been raised differently, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I don’t know if I’d be better or worse. But I wouldn’t be me.”

“And I would not be who I am today had I not weathered great tragedy,” Samara replied. Miranda felt a sliver of guilt, well aware of the devastating events she had endured in her past. More so than Samara realised. “Would you tell me that I was wrong if I wished my life had been otherwise?”

“No. Of course not,” said Miranda. The agony Samara had suffered was...soul-crushing. Miranda wouldn’t wish that upon her worst enemy. “But I’d rather confront reality than dwell on things that could have been.”

“And you are right to. It is folly to deny that which cannot be changed. But that which befell you was not what created the woman I see before me today,” Samara assured her. “You do not owe your character to any aspect of your father’s mistreatment of you. That you have grown into a capable, determined and resilient woman in spite of his abuse can only be attributable to your own strength. And that cannot be accredited to him. Your response to those events came entirely from within you. That is what truly makes you exceptional.”

Miranda’s lip curled into a small, lopsided smile. “I don’t know whether I can believe that, but thank you for saying it. I appreciate it. And everything you’ve done for me,” Miranda added. This mission had been far less tolerable before Samara came along. So had Miranda herself.

“And I am also grateful that events transpired to allow the two of us to meet, just as I am content with the person I have become,” Samara concluded, her expression as peaceful as her voice.

They both sat in contented silence for a moment, each grateful for the rapport they shared in their own way. For Miranda, this was the first time she’d ever formed such a meaningful connection with another person. For Samara, she was savouring a genuine friendship for the first time in over four centuries.

“If I may...” Samara began. “I do not know why you chose to spend your limited shore leave listening to this foolish, tired old woman prattle on about the distant past, but...thank you, for accompanying me. I have enjoyed this a great deal.”

Miranda smirked. “First of all, there’s nothing tired or foolish about you. So jot that down,” she said, gesturing as she spoke.

“I am flattered. Although, you greatly misjudge me,” Samara replied.

“Secondly,” Miranda leaned forward conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve had a lot of fun today too,” she half-whispered, as if it was their little secret. “And I would gladly listen to you prattle on about the distant past again any time.”

Samara’s smile reached her eyes. “Now I know you are flattering me.”

Suddenly, Miranda’s communicator beeped, disturbing the moment.

“Operator Lawson,” EDI’s voice came out, “The Reaper IFF is nearly online. Commander Shepard has requested all crew return to The Normandy. We will disembark in approximately one hour.”

“Thank you, EDI. Samara and I are on our way,” said Miranda, ending the transmission. For as much fun as they had been having together, the mission always took priority, for both of them. “I still can’t believe we have a geth crewmate now,” she remarked, paying the tab remotely from her omni-tool, leaving behind a generous tip as she always did for this place. “If someone had told me that a few days ago, I would have sent them for a psychological evaluation.”

“You should speak to Legion, if you have the time,” Samara recommended, getting up from the table and following Miranda out of the restaurant. “I found him very enlightening, both as an…’individual’, and because he provides fascinating insights into a species we know little about.”

Miranda was sceptical, but she gave Samara’s opinion of Legion a hell of a lot more credence than she would have done for anyone else. “I’ll think about it.”

As they approached the cab terminal, a holographic advertising board lit up.

“Waiting for a cab, Miranda Lawson?” asked the digital projection of an asari. “An elegant woman like you with an education in -DATA UNAVAILABLE- and an income of -DATA UNAVAILABLE- should be taking charge of your own destiny. You could be showing Justicar Samara the sights of the Citadel in your very own luxury, hand-crafted skycar from Tennekont. Now, wouldn’t that be an impressive way to end a night out on the town?”

Miranda snorted and shook her head as the billboard rattled on through a series of commercials. “I hate these personalised ads,” she said, hailing a cab.

“Do not worry. If you ever did wish to impress me, I would not recommend you follow that advice,” Samara remarked. “Aside from the fact that Justicars eschew personal possessions, in my experience, Tennekont have never been able to manufacture skycars the way they used to four hundred years ago.”

Miranda smirked. Either she was just imagining things, or Samara was...actually funny for a second there. “Did you just make a joke?” she asked.

“I would never joke about something so important,” Samara assured her, a glint of humour in her eyes. That time, Miranda did crack up just a little bit.

* * *

#fic #mass effect #miranda lawson #samara #femslash

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