#i mean hes already making fake birth certificates for himself

[oifaaa]

16/17 year old Jason trying to raised a traumatized 9 year old sounded much easier in his head.

I think Jason will be at least 18 when the waynes die which really doesn't make things easier for him but he's got that false sense of confidence that he thinks raising 1 small traumatised child can't be that hard I mean of Bruce can do it

[lbxbx]

Cockpit 10 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood, unprotected sex.

taglist: @wecanpretendit | @whoisbts | @yoonjinsrkive | @my-current-mood-is | @joonzseoulmate | @parkinglot-nights | @missbangtangirl | @m00njinnie | @mantaecrolss | @busanbby-jjk | @bangtanxmegan | @nochelunaxx

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“Come on in.” Namjoon opened the door for Hoseok when he showed up with a stack of papers in his hands to your place. “Y/N is changing, she’ll be out in no time.”

Hoseok makes himself home before he heads to the mini fridge and grabs out a bottle of water. “Take a seat, I’m a little surprised you just found out that I was your lawyer.”

Namjoon laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head. “My previous lawyer called you mister Jung, I had no idea you were Jung Hoseok, Y/N always called you Hobi, which led to me actually.. calling you.. Hobi too.”

Hoseok laughs and takes a seat in front of the TV before putting the file down. “It’s alright, I’m glad I’m able to help you, and I guess I’m partially helping Y/N too.”

“Helping me with what?” You walk towards your living room while rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie, you walk towards Hoseok and lean down to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. “With the divorce.”

“I really didn’t want Y/N to be a part of it or get involved in the smallest thing ever, I don’t know how to thank you two, really.” Namjoon smiles.

“She actually didn’t want to be a part of it voluntarily, she was kind of… forced.” Hoseok starts. You and Namjoon sit next to Hoseok on each side as he finally opens the stack of papers clipped into the file.

Reports, marriage contract, birth certificates, pictures, bank account balances, you can’t help but peak through and find Namjoon’s name and check out the balance, aircraft pilots seem to be making a lot of money.

You’re a little shocked that going through a divorce requires all these documents, you look at Hoseok who despite this is his day off, he chose to come over and speak everything through with Namjoon, it’s the last day of August and September is starting tomorrow, meaning that his hearing is going to be in two weeks. He needs to be prepared.

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asks you. “Did someone reach out to you?”

“Yes.” Hoseok answers for you, “Your in laws are claiming that their daughter is a victim of abuse, and they asked Y/N for a fake medical report.”

Namjoon’s facial expressions show the denial he’s in, he shakes his head left and right. “I don’t remember the last time I touched her. I can’t stand the woman.”

“She came over with her father and I had to give them a report.” You shrug and Hoseok continues. “Don’t worry Joon, Y/N would never fake a medical report, let alone faking it to hurt you, of course she wouldn’t.”

A sigh of relief escapes his nose before he looks you in the eyes. “I never touched her like that, I promise. I don’t know if she told you anything but I swear I never did.”

Your heart melts at the man, you reach your hand from behind Hoseok and rub Namjoon’s shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“Hobi, something happened and I think you should know about it.” Namjoon starts and you kind of wished he never mentioned it to Hoseok, but the man has to know. “A little over a week ago. A package was delivered to my place by a woman, this woman tried touching me and said weird things to me.”

Hoseok straightens his back as he seems alarmed. “And?”

“I don’t know, I was supposed to get the mail at a certain time but I got it earlier.” Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t know who she is and why she did that.”

“Do you have the package number?” Hoseok asks and Namjoon shakes his head. “I have the receipt online.”

“We can call Yoongi and he can help us get the package number even when it’s out of date or already delivered.” Hoseok takes his phone out. Of course Yoongi can help you, he’s been so dedicated and good at his banking job since he got promoted to manage the branch he currently works at, he can help you with anything. Hoseok calls Yoongi and puts him on speaker, as Yoongi guides him on how to get the package number from the online bank account. “Thank you hyung.”

“Say hi to Y/N. Bye.” Yoongi hangs up, Hoseok and Namjoon spend a couple minutes trying to find the package number before they finally track it to realize.

The mail was delivered the day before Namjoon got it to his house.

Meaning that someone received the mail, and gave it to someone else to deliver it to try and lure Namjoon into something and catch it on the CCTV.

You immediately feel guilty for not listening to Namjoon since the very beginning, and you realize that if he wanted to cheat on his wife, he would’ve cheated long time ago with someone else. This exact thing finally proves that the man has been honest with you the whole time. What you saw was in fact not true.

You look up from the phone at Namjoon’s eyes and he looks back, it kills you that he smiles at you even when you never believed him, he’s extremely glad that he’s finally proved to be right.

“Can you excuse us for a second Hobi?” You get up on your feet, Hoseok is a little confused before he looks at you two and nods. “Sure, take your time.”

“Namjoon?” He gets up and follows you to the kitchen, you lean against the counter and clear your throat. “I apologize.”

He doesn’t cut you off or anything, he deserves an apology. “I should’ve listened, I’m truly sorry. I only behaved that way because I thought you and I could actually have something, I don’t know what got over me.”

He takes a couple steps towards you and rubs your shoulder, printing the softest kiss to your forehead and pulling you closer into a hug.

You knew the man was emotionally mature since the very beginning, other men would’ve gas lit you into still feeling guilty and would’ve made the problem worse, but Namjoon had a big heart and he was mature enough to go through this entire problem and even his entire divorce like a grown sane man

Well except for the part where he cheated on his wife, but to be fair it was going to happen sooner or later whether you showed up or not.

“I accept your apology.” He rubs your back and squeezes you in tighter. “I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.”

“Thank you.” You pull back from the hug and look up at him, he presses his lips against yours softly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry too for getting you involved in this, I never wanted it to happen but apparently they found their way to you.”

“Actually… I think they suspect something.”

“What do you mean?” He pulls back.

“The night they showed up, Seokjin was laying in the bed next to hers, and he kind of overheard them talking.” You shrug one shoulder. “One of her relatives saw us at the wine cellar and—“

“I knew it.” He shakes his head. “The guy who flashed his phone was actually trying to take a picture.”

You suddenly recall that exact moment before you try to deny it. “Maybe he really wanted to take a picture of the cellar.”

“I don’t know, maybe he was, but I’m sure he was trying to take a picture or something.” Namjoon bites anxiously on his nails.

“That’s not the only reason she suspects something.” You hold his hand down to stop him, he’s on the verge of an anxiety attack. “Apparently you and I smelled very similar.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I had the same perfume on the night she came over for the report, and she smelled it on your clothes the day after or something, I don’t know.” You explain as you hold onto his hand tighter. “Don’t worry, we figured something out regarding that incident. Seokjin and I.”

He throws his head back and sighs in frustration. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure you know it already, but I’m totally on your side.” You smile and cup his cheek before you speak again trying to make him relax and shrug it off. “Although I judged your taste in women a little when I saw her again.” You scrunch your nose, a laugh barely escapes his lips as he leans his forehead against yours. “But I’m working on it, trying to make it better.”

You giggle and grab onto his hand, pulling him back into the living room, Hoseok informed Namjoon everything he needed to know, and told him about how they tried to bribe him.

Everything seemed so clear to Namjoon now, he’s more determined to get the divorce than ever, and if they wanted to play dirty, then he’s going to play dirtier.

“What’s the hearing like?” You’re curious to find out if it was actually like the movies or not. “I saw a pilot in real life, I kinda wanna see a court in real life.”

“Actually there’s not going to be a court. A hearing usually consists of just both lawyers and the couple getting the divorce.” Hoseok explains. “She’s going to lay out her conditions and so are you, and if anyone disagrees or in your case, brings up reports of abuse or tapes of having a third party, you’ll be transferred to court for trial.”

“Joonie do you have any conditions?” You curiously ask Namjoon before he shakes his head immediately. “I just want her out of my life.”

“Some people want the easy way out like you do.” Hoseok looks at him. “This makes her benefit out of it, she could easily ask for things that you may not be able to provide. So I suggest you think this through, we still have some time.”

“How far can I go?”

You and Hoseok snap your heads towards the man who’s clenching on his fists, “I want her to regret everything she’s doing.”

-

The hearing is only a couple days later and time has passed by so quick. The first week of September was really wet in Seoul but still hot, at this point you’d wear your sweatshirt at night and a pair of shorts during the day time, everyone was confused by this weather, typical Seoul climate.

That night you went to sleep in a sweatshirt but you were sweating the entire night, still not cold enough for a heavy clothing item like this. You don’t bother getting up to change when it’s past midnight even when you can literally feel your sweat down your neck and back, you were in deep sleep, so you just kick off your blanket and cuddle into your bed.

“Shit, please don’t stop.” Your legs are spread against your chest, Namjoon is pounding deep inside you while throwing his head back, sweat is dripping down his chest and stomach, and his long hair is bouncing off of his face with each thrust.

“Come on baby, show her how good I can fuck you.” His lazy eyes meets yours before an evil grin sits on his face while he bites his bottom lip.

Show her? Show who?

Pleasure radiates all over your glistening bodies and you feel yourself near your edge, it’s so overwhelming that you feel your heartbeat through your back, you throw your head back over the edge of the bed and your eyes roll to the back of your head, you struggle to fill your lungs back with air and your vision is back for a quick second.

Holy fuck she’s right here.

And she’s watching you two with a face that you’re not able to describe, is it disappointment? Is it jealousy?

This isn’t your bedroom, you look around, you haven’t been here before this place is new to you.

Namjoon interrupts your train of thoughts as he leans over to lick all the way from your collarbone to your jaw and prints a loud kiss before looking up at her with the same evil look on his face. “Tell her how good this feels, show her what she’s missing on.”

“N-namjoon please.” You gasp, feeling the angle change as he pulls your hips closer to meet his, he presses his thumb over your clit and he proceeds to rub in circular motion, you hold onto his other hand that’s leaning behind your head and bite onto his wrist. “I’m close.”

“Cum for me baby, cum for me.”

“I can’t.” You whisper and look him in the eyes, he looks back at you, this time he’s frowning, he proper grabs your face in his hand and turns it towards her, “Look at her when I make you cum.”

Your gaze meets hers, and it hurts, it physically hurts.

She’s right there watching you high key stealing her man and right on her bed. Is this what you really are?

Of course in a snap of a finger you’re no longer close, the pleasure has been completely robbed out of you and it completely washed away. You regret everything going on when you see the pain in her eyes, she looks lonely and hurt and empty, but most importantly

Betrayed.

You look back at Namjoon to see him, your eyes speak so loud when you frown back at him but he’s completely heartless when he forces you to look back at her. “Come on baby, cum for me and let her know how good it feels to be fucked like that.”

Of course dreams don’t make sense, you open your eyes and it’s the morning already, what kind of a twisted dream was that?

Dream? No this is a nightmare.

Vivid dreams were hunting you the entire night, hell even the entire week. You’re not the one getting the divorce but it’s pressuring you mentally more than you would’ve thought.

You feel yourself shivering even when it’s still hot outside. Even when what you saw earlier wasn’t true, but still you feel exposed. You feel like she really did see you two in bed.

You gaze at your ceiling when you think that she probably knows everything already, you don’t know the way she thinks and you don’t know what she has to prove. But you’re positive she knows that her husband already met someone else, women know everything.

You’re stressing about this way too much, you try and regulate your breathing pattern but it takes you some time. You flinch in your bed when you hear your door pass code being clicked. Only Hoseok knows the pass code and this is usually the time he takes his break.

The door finally opens and you hear him talking and laughing with someone, you sit up and start scratching your head trying to loosen your hair that’s been sticking to your scalp. “Hobi?” Your sleepy voice guides him to your bedroom. “Y/N? You’re still in bed?”

“Yeah, I just woke up.” You look up at him entering your bedroom followed by Jungkook who’s in his track suit. “What brings you two here?”

“I got us breakfast and I saw these two near the gym.” Hoseok plops down on your bed and you immediately try to kick him off. “Not with your working clothes on that’s disgusting.”

“Do you still have my gray pants?” He gets up and starts unbuttoning his top. You lazily nod and lay back into your bed. “Yeah, if you don’t find them just take Namjoon’s.”

“Of course he’s not borrowing any of my pants.” Namjoon walks into your bedroom with a bottle of water in his hands, which explains the voices you heard earlier, he’s in his gym attire which reminds you that him and Jungkook now go on gym dates. “They’re too long for you.” He walks to your side of the bed and pecks your cheek. “Good morning.”

“Fuck you Joon, I know you’re tall you don’t need to brag about it.” Hoseok flips him off.

“Good morning.” You ruffle his hair and hug the blanket closer to your chest, the three of them get into an argument which you surprisingly fall asleep to. You needed the not so white noise.

“You got a divorce because of her?” With her arms crossed she looks at you, eyeing you from head to toe with a cringe on her face. “Do you really think she’s worth it?”

“Of course not.” Namjoon speaks when he shows up from behind you to stand next to her. “She was just an excuse for me to get the divorce, I don’t need her anymore.”

You open your mouth to speak but your voice isn’t coming out for some reason, you start to panic, trying hard to scream just so they can hear you. He continues. “I used her, that’s all. And she was an incredible waste of time—“

“Y/N?”

You’re fuming and your tears are already streaming down your face, you try and move forward but you can’t, you feel yourself pinned to the floor and physically incapable of moving.

“She wasn’t even worth it.” She scoffs. “I don’t think she was worth wasting your time with her.”

“It was only you since the beginning.” He pulls her even closer, this doesn’t make sense. Aren’t they divorced?

“Y/N?” Namjoon nudges your shoulder and you finally open your eyes, he’s laying beside you and looking at you worriedly. “Are you okay?”

It takes you a second to clear your throat and rub your eyes, you even look around you trying to locate her. Your dreams seem so true that it’s starting to frighten you, twice in one day?

“Were you having a nightmare?” He asks, running his fingers through your hair. “Yeah.” You sit up and rub your eyes. You still can’t look at him in the eyes, as if you’re worried that you’d see the same mean look on his face.

“It’s alright.” He rubs your back and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hobi and Jungkook had breakfast and took off, there are a couple croissants left for you do you want me to reheat them?”

You look at your full body mirror to see his reflection, a little relieved that it was just a nightmare, you nod with your eyes closed and yawn. “Yes please, I just need to shower.”

Namjoon gladly gets up on his feet and heads to the kitchen while you take your shower. He’s been wanting to ask you something for the past couple of days but he’s a little hesitant. And of course he can’t ask you over the phone. This needs to be done in person.

And since the hearing is only a couple days away, today is the right time.

He puts the croissants into the microwave and washes your favorite mug that you used last night and makes you some coffee.

He’s a little nervous, the thing he wants to ask you is a little sensitive, and he’s anxious wondering how you may react, or if you’d even say yes or no.

He wants to think about this further more before actually asking you, but luckily today you got off of the shower really quick.

“Did you get breakfast?” You ask as you walk into the kitchen, the smell wafting is already making you drool. “Yeah, we passed by this bakery that opened a couple blocks away and decided to give it a try.”

“It smells good.” You pull back a chair and take a seat, he puts your plate in front of you and hands you your coffee. You need to take a few sips first to be able to function better.

“Did you sleep well?” He pulls the chair in front of you to take a seat and you nod. “Yeah, other than the nightmares.”

He laughs quietly and watches you dig into your food, but in his head contemplating whether he really should ask you or not. Fuck it.

“Does it taste good?” He tugs your wet hair behind your ear and you immediately answer. “Mhm.” With your mouth full.

He clears his throat and finally spits out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you for a favor, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Of course you won’t hesitate, you care about the man and you really wouldn’t mind helping him no matter what, regardless how you two feel about each other, but he feels like a close friend now, perhaps even more.

“I want you to come with me to Ilsan.” He looks at his own hands under the table. “It’s just for one night, we’ll fly back here the day after.”

You a sip of your coffee and ask him. “When?” Before taking another bite.

“Tomorrow.” He unsurely answers, his eyes looking up at you to study the way you react to what he’s about to spit out. “But uhm.. Jay’s.. Coming with us.”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry and you can barely swallow the food that you chewed on. You have so many questions you don’t even know where to start.

You grab your mug closer to your lips and take a sip to be able to swallow the bite before asking. “Why?”

Namjoon can clearly tell that you’re not really accepting the whole idea and he’s about to take it back, but he needs to explain before he does. “The hearing is happening in Seoul, I need to take him to Ilsan to stay at my parents’.”

“Hey, Joon don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think this is a good idea.” You push your plate away from you, your appetite is long gone. “It’s a little terrifying to be with him, no offense though.”

“None taken, but hey, he’s just a kid you don’t have to worry.” He leans forward onto the table. “I promise he’s the nicest kid you’ll ever meet.”

“I know he’s nice, but who am I to you? Don’t you think he’d ask that?”

He inhales through his nose before nodding his head. “I can’t send him away with his mother, that’s all.”

“And I’m not much better of a choice.” You shrug your shoulders.

“I’m scheduled to fly to Ilsan that day, I figured you’d just accompany him during the flight.” He smiles. “But it’s alright I’ll take a day off and send him there myself.”

You lean your back against the chair and cross your arms. “Now you’re making me feel guilty.”

He laughs and gets up onto his feet before walking towards you and leaning against the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, you have the right to say no and I totally respect your decision.” Although he means it, you still roll your eyes. “Let me think about it before you take your day off.”

“Thank you.” He leans in closer to press a soft kiss onto your cheek, “Finish your food, I’ll do the dishes before I leave.”

-

It took you so much to think this through, and with the short period of time you have, you had to make a quick decision whether you’d do it for him or not. It’s not like you’d mind doing him any favor, but this was a little too hard for you to accept.

You know his son is still young and may never remember the interaction you two may have, but no matter how much you tried to prepare yourself, you weren’t half ready.

Your job forced you to try and be good with kids, but even if you tried your best they still don’t like you first, funny enough you don’t like them too, they probably sense that from the beginning that’s why they don’t like you back.

You wanted to give Namjoon a hand so you decided on saying yes and packing your carry on to take with you. Your stomach was tingling and you barely got any sleep the night before, you threw on one of your caps to cover your tired bare face and made yourself some coffee before Namjoon gets to your place.

You’re seconds away from meeting the little one and you waking up grumpy didn’t help at all, so you made the effort to buy him a bag full of snacks for you two to have on board and a stuffed pilot teddy bear. He may not like you but he sure will love the excessive amount of candies you bought him, and you secretly bought the candies and the toy to bribe him to like you.

Not long after Namjoon calls you and you immediately answer and let him know that you’ll be right down, before you check your stove and lights and turn everything off, and locking your place to go downstairs.

Your stomach drops when you see the silhouette of his son in his car seat with an iPad in his little hand, it’s about to happen and you have no idea how to make it easier, you laugh at yourself, are you really panicking because of a young kid?

Namjoon gets out of the car when he spots you and walks closer to you to help you with your carry on, giving you a hug that you barely get to reciprocate and a kiss on your cheek. “Jesus Namjoon, not in front of your son.”

He drags your luggage to the trunk of his car and you’re a little terrified to get in the car when he’s not in it, your eyes sneak to the back seat to gaze at the kid, your heart shatters at the fact that he’s going to go through his parents’ divorce when he’s too young.

Your gaze wanders all over his face, he looks a little like his father, he has his eyes, and their noses are a little similar. Namjoon snaps the train of your thoughts when he tells you to get inside. You open the car door and get in. You made sure to keep the gift you got him in your hand so you can give it to him on your way there.

“Aren’t you cold?” You try and divert your attention just to relax a little, Namjoon seems to understand what you’re trying to do, a little grin creeps on his face before he looks in the rear mirror. “Jay aren’t you going to say hi?”

You look at Namjoon when you hear him squeal at the little one. Of course you know he’s a father long time ago, but you never saw him… Fathering.

The little one hums, totally used to be talked to like that by his father, still too occupied with the tablet in his hand, Namjoon speaks again. “Jay?”

“Yeah?” You finally hear his soft voice, you gather the will to turn and look at him. “Hi.” You wave your hand, gosh this is getting too awkward for you.

Your eyes meet and he blinks a couple of times before his hand travels to his mouth, he looks at his father who has his eyes on the road and of course he doesn’t answer you, it’s quite normal for a child his age to have and feel stranger danger.  “What’s your name?”

His face is still alarmed as he studies your features, his eyes turning to his father every now and then, you cross your arms and shrug your shoulder before you tease him. “I got you a little gift, but you have to tell me your name first.”

Namjoon gasps and looks at his son in the rear mirror. “She got you a gift, do you wanna tell her your name?”

The little one mumbles his name, rubbing his eyes and looking at you through his fingers, “I love your name, mine is Y/N.” You reach out your hand to shake his, he puts his hand out slowly to shake yours and you force out a shaky laugh, you’re still nervous. “Do you want to have your gift now?”

He nods and you take out the little teddy to show it to him, Namjoon sneaks a look at the teddy and finds it adorable when you move its arms. “Doesn’t this teddy look like daddy?”

Jay laughs which overwhelms you and you feel your chest full, you relax a little and laugh with him while nodding your head. “It does, right?” You ask.

“Are you calling me daddy?” Namjoon whispers with a smirk on his face, you roll your eyes and hit his arm playfully. “That’s gross.”

“Can I have it please?” Jay asks, reaching his hand to grab the teddy and you gladly hand it to him, “What do you say?” Namjoon asks his son and Jay mumbles. “Thank you.”

“I also got us a bag of snacks and lots of candies for us to have when we’re in the sky.” You show him the bag. “Only you and I, we’re not giving daddy any of them.”

“No, I’ll give daddy my candies.” Namjoon would squeeze Jay into his arms and kiss his face endlessly if he wasn’t driving.

You face forward and anxiety creeps back on you, things went great a second ago because Namjoon is sitting with you two, but once you fly you’re going to be alone with the kid and that’s what’s frightening you right now.

Your face sits in your palm and you feel your heart racing. Gosh what if he throws a tantrum? What if he needs to pee? Oh no, you’re panicking.

Your behavior became too familiar to Namjoon and he knows exactly what’s going on through your head, he doesn’t even need to ask, he leans his elbow on the center console between you too and leans a little closer to whisper. “Don’t over think anything, it’ll be okay I promise.”

You can’t even force a smile out when you look at him, you just nod your head unsurely and look back on the road.

You regret saying yes to the whole thing when you look at the time on your wrist, it’s still early in the afternoon, you could be working out now or planning your day with your friends or simply just plopping down on your couch until your ass prints on it.

-

Not too long after you get to the airport, it takes you a couple seconds to pick up the courage and walk next to Namjoon who’s holding his son’s hand and walking towards the check in counter, the workers seem to be familiar with Namjoon and some are even his friends, so they check you two in within a few seconds.

The three of you head to sit in one of the coffee shops near your gate and get yourselves coffee. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know if I am.” You hug your own stomach. “What if he needs something that I can’t help him with? What if he needs the bathroom?”

He simply shrugs. “He can go to the bathroom on his own.”

“What if he cries?”

“Why would he cry?” He blinks twice, “He has everything he needs, his tablet and snacks and toys. He’ll be okay.”

“I rarely travel with anyone, let alone travel with a kid.” You sip your coffee and turn your head to look at the young boy who’s in the play area with another kid.

“It’s fine, the flight is less than an hour, we’ll be there before you know it.” He rests his elbows down on the table and leans in closer to you. “I’m worried over you more than I’m worried over him.” He laughs.

You playfully hit his arm before crossing your arms. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him and he’s pretty cute, I’m just not used to being close with kids.”

Of course Namjoon was anxious himself, he was genuinely worried that you can’t handle his son or that his son may actually find it hard to be around you, you’re still a stranger to him after all. But Namjoon tries to convince himself, that so far everything seems surprisingly okay.

The thing that’s worrying him the most is what’s worrying you too, he has to leave you two alone during the flight and he doesn’t know how that’s going to go.

Every minute felt like an hour and you finally check in and board the plane, Namjoon was kind enough to put your luggage in the overhead bin, he made sure you two got seated before he leans down and buckles up Jay. “Daddy will be back before you know it, are you going to be okay with Y/N?”

You roll your eyes on the inside, as if there’s another option.

Little Jay looks at you once before blinking back at his father, he looks back at you and bobs his head into a slight faint nod, before rubbing his eyes and looking back at his dad.

Things don’t look okay to you, your chest feels heavy and your heart even skips a beat, you feel your breath quickening and your palms are getting sweatier each second. You wish you could call everything off and get off the plane, but it’s a little too late.

Namjoon looks at you, and again with him being too familiar with your attitude and behavior, he knows what’s going on inside your head and he can easily tell you’re more anxious and nervous than the kid, his hand sits on top of yours, he squeezes it softly before whispering. “I’ll see you in an hour, don’t worry.”  Then said goodbye to his child and went into the cockpit.

You clear your throat repeatedly and look through the window, you feel a pair of eyes piercing through the side of your face, slowly but surely you turn your head and see the little kid’s eyes on you, he’s a little startled at the fact he was caught staring so he turns his face away fast, pretending to be occupied with the teddy in his hand.

It hurts, it physically hurts you.

You gulp and look back through your window and you could swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears and through your back, you even shift in your sweat to avoid feeling your heartbeat, you feel suffocated by the weird aura and you find it hard to catch a breath, you never saw this coming, you should’ve said no from the beginning to avoid being put in this kind of situation.

Your hand sits over your chest and you purse your lips and release a forced long breath. Jay’s eyes burn through the side of your face again and you snap your head quickly back at him this time. He thinks it’s some type of a joke or he might be enjoying the stress he puts you in, hence that little smile that creeps on his face.

Is that his father’s dimples?

“Do you want a snack?” You barely speak, he shakes his head left and right while looking at the bag of snacks. “Are you daddy’s friend?”

A little startled by the question, but you immediately nod. “Yeah.”

“How did you meet?”

In a club, we flirted back and forth, we slept together without your mother knowing.

“Oh, daddy and I met in the library, him and I grabbed the same book.” What an excellent liar you are. “Do you have any friends?”

“Yes, I have friends in Seoul and I have friends in Ilsan.” He nods. “But I love my friends in Seoul more.”

You’re a little relieved that the conversation is ongoing and it doesn’t feel as awkward as before, you reach for the bag of snacks and take out the little yellow pack of M&Ms and open it, you were a little hesitant to feed him sweets and chocolates because it may backfire on you. But the hell with it, you were craving something sweet.

“You’re lucky you have friends in both cities, I only have friends in Seoul.”

You know kids say the first thing that comes up to their mind, so the little kid suddenly spits out. “Mommy said I shouldn’t go with daddy anywhere, but she let me go to Ilsan with him.”

“Why wouldn’t she let you go with daddy?”

“She doesn’t like daddy and she says he’s a bad person.” He laughs, the kid fucking laughs and you just watch him. It takes you a moment to ask him. “And do you think daddy’s a bad person?”

Clearly Namjoon’s screwed up relationship with his wife reflects on his son, how come a three year old can talk about such things?

“No, he’s fun and I love him.”

The seatbelt sign lights up and you hear Namjoon talk through the speakers, you nudge Jay and whisper. “Listen, that’s daddy’s voice.”

The little one gets excited when he hears his father that he jumps slightly in his seat, you find it adorable but you still feel bad for him.

“Cabin crew please be seated for takeoff.” Namjoon finally speaks and shuts the speaker, you flinch when Jay lifts up the arm rest that’s between you two and sits closer to you. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t like when the plane moves fast.” He whines, he’s even on the verge of crying and you can see tears accumulating in his eyes. You panic and hesitate a little before wrapping an arm around him, his face sits on your chest and you feel your body stiffening. You were never hugged like that.

Never have you ever thought about kids throughout your life, you never even thought how many kids you wanted or what would you name them because they were completely off the table, but Jay’s closeness made you feel weird, it’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, and to be honest, it’s not bad at all.

You find yourself hugging him closer and this time you’re rubbing his back softly and repeatedly reassuring him that it’s okay.

The plane finally takes off and since the weather was windy outside, the turbulence was awful even you were terrified for a second, but you had to mask it all away for the sake of the child in your arms.

Almost 20 minutes into the flight and you feel your eyelids getting heavier, you didn’t sleep well the night before so you just decide on napping during what’s left of the flight, since Jay is already snoring on your lap.

Namjoon feels a little relieved since he doesn’t hear any children crying in the cabin, he even sent a few flight attendants to your seats and he was informed that you two were sleeping and they didn’t want to disturb.

You and Namjoon still cannot be seen in public, and Ilsan wasn’t that big as well, and his parents live in a small part of the city that everyone is familiar with each other, so you being there and shown in public of course can’t be good to him since her family also lives there.

You two decided it was a better if he drove you to the hotel and then took Jay to his family house, and that’s what he did, his family did insist that he should go inside so they could see their son one last time before the hearing but he did make up an excuse to go back to you.

“Y/N?” You hear his voice when the key card clicks and the door closes seconds after, you walk out of the bathroom with the toothbrush still inside your mouth. “Hmm?”

He takes a couple steps closer to kiss you on the cheek. “How was your flight?”

“It was okay.” You walk back into the bathroom to rinse your mouth and dry your hair, he’s shifting in his spot and leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed, you turn towards him and your eyes meet. “I’m truly sorry.”

“What for?” You find his apology unexpected and you don’t recall what would make him apologize. “For the whole Jay thing, and for making you stay at the hotel when I’m supposed to show you around the city.”

You walk towards him and help him loosen his tie before taking it off of him. “I know I was scared first, and he totally scared me when you first left us, but he was cute, although I can’t lie I’m a little thankful that he fell asleep.” You put the tie over your shoulder and walk back towards the bathroom mirror. “And we can consider this a little staycation, we’re alone and away, just like you always wanted.”

 “Alone and away.” He smiles while crossing his arms, you smile back at his reflection when you dry your hair with your towel, he’s standing behind you as his eyes burn through the entire back of your body, even when you were covered with your bathrobe, he could easily draw a picture of you naked in his head and he already is.

His eyes travel through the back of your neck that he’s been wanting to kiss the entire time and bruise it with hickeys, down to your shoulders and back, that he so desperately wants to lick it all the way down to your ass, his body automatically moves closer behind you, you stifle your grin at his reflection and continue drying your hair, totally acting clueless on what he’s doing or trying to do. His hands sit on your hips and he hugs your ass closer towards his clothed boner.

“I miss you.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes a long inhale, filling his lungs with the arousing scent of yours, even when you just came out of the shower smelling like your body lotion, he can still smell your natural body odor when it’s layers away, he’s drugged by it.

His mouth hovers over your pulse and he presses a soft kiss over it to feel your quickening heartbeat over his lips, “You seem so tense baby.”

You giggle and put the towel down. “It’s because I am, my neck feels sore thanks to the nap I took earlier.” You grab your hand cream and rub some onto your hand.

“Let me give you a massage.” He suggests and pulls back, clearly swallowing since he’s salivating just by the idea, you innocently nod your head at his reflection and watch him disappear out of the bathroom, you follow him out to see him standing near the window to close the curtains. “Lay down.”

His face is already glistening with sweat as his body is pumping blood everywhere, including his throbbing dick that’s jailed in his pants that are slowly getting tighter, your stomach drops in excitement when you know what’s about to happen, and honestly you felt like this only when you’re with him. You feel the need to savor every moment with him.

You walk towards the bed and plop into it face down, positioning yourself comfortably in the middle of it and hugging the pillow under your head. His footsteps towards the bed is an experience you’ve never felt before, your face is suddenly flushed red and you feel your heart skipping a beat when nothing even happened yet, your hormones are most certainly making an impact on you, and this is something you’ve never had before.

The mattress sinks under his knee and he throws his other leg to the other side of your body, straddling your covered ass and gently putting his body weight down. This is exactly what he imagined in his heat, only this feels better now that it’s real.

“Are you comfortable?” His voice tone so soft and sweet, yet still deep enough for you to press your thighs against each other. “Mhm.” You answer, nodding into the pillow, his hands run all the way from your wrists up to your shoulders before he collects your hair into his hand and pushes it to the side, following with a single wet kiss onto your ear. He rubs your shoulders and slowly loosens the robe from around them just to expose enough for him to be able to massage you.

His warm hands sit over your shoulders and kneads your skin and muscles softly, making you relax your body and bite onto your lip, a little too shy to make any sound even when you’re enjoying it, he can’t see you biting your own lip but he can feel your breathing pattern change immediately, a smirk slowly creeps on his face as he whispers. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, it sounded way more like a moan than a regular answer. “Clearly you’re enjoying this more than I thought you would.”

You bury your face into the pillow to laugh, reaching your hand behind to playfully hit his big thigh. “Stop it.”

He moves further down to your back and continues kneading your muscles, it feels both so good and so arousing, you can feel his hot fingers through the thick fabric of your robe and they feel so good on your body.

“Mmm.” Escapes your closed lips, you don’t even regret it because you know that he’s enjoying it too, you can’t ignore the hardness that’s pressed against your ass after all.

He crawls down to straddle your lower thighs, his hands now moving to your ass, squeezing onto both your ass cheeks with both his hands, his poor bottom lip sits between his teeth and he can’t but lift your robe up to expose your lovely ass that he’s been dreaming about.

His hands move to your wet cunt to rub your clit with his thumb, your body shudders immediately and fully tenses into his hands, your fist gripping tighter onto the pillow, he spits on his other hand and moves his fingers down to your entrance, rubbing it with two digits and slowly pushing one inside followed by the other one, your jaw slowly drops down when you feel his long fingers rub against your wall, his thumb still rubbing your clit in the same slow pattern.

You can feel the way your walls stretch around his fingers and so can he, the second you move your ass up to grind against his fingers he pulls them out of you to insert them back in again, which makes him smirk and ask, his voice coming out in a whisper. “How does it feel?”

“Good.” You whisper back, your cunt takes him so well when he curls his fingers against your spot which makes you arch your back and gasp, the pressure he’s putting onto your clit increases at the same time and you feel yourself getting close.

“So good.” You add and hug the pillow tighter, he takes his fingers out which makes you nearly about to whine, you feel the bed sinking near your calves and feet when he crawls down, his lips land on the curve of your ass for a soft kiss and he spreads both butt cheeks to bury his face in there, his tongue tracing all the way from your clit to your puckered hole and it drives him feral when your juices sit on his tongue, you taste so sweet to him and he can never get enough of you.

He moves his face left and right to add friction to your clit with his tongue which makes you gasp and lean onto your elbows, turning your head to glance at him, your hand reaches the back of his head and you tug onto his hair while he’s still eating you out like it’s his last day alive.

He pulls back and grabs you by your hips to turn you on your back, his eyes aim on your lips and he immediately devours into them, and you reciprocate right away, your lips melt together in a deep kiss, his tongue slowly invading your mouth as his hand sits on the side of your face and yours sits on his shoulder and you shamelessly move it down to grope his big buff covered chest, your hand working to unbutton the rest of his shirt and pull it off of one shoulder.

He pulls back and looks down at your fingers working to take it off, your eyes land on his plump lips when he licks them once and bite onto his lower one gently when you scratch your nails onto his hot skin, his gaze meets yours and he leans back in to kiss you again, this time moving further down to your neck and chest, licking and sucking small spots to bruise them like he imagined it in his head.

He unties your robe and finally throws it off of you, leaving you entirely naked under him, your hard nipples are the first thing his eyes lands on and without a second thought he dives in, licking your hard nipple once and putting it between his lips, sucking on it with his eyes locked onto yours.

You throw your head back when your face flushes even more, you find it hard to keep the eye contact and for some reason your heart beats faster when you try and lock eyes with him.

He teases your nipple with soft bites, earning a look from you even when you barely can, the look on your face makes him go insane, your eyebrows formed into a frown and your mouth slightly open, your plump glistening lips that he can’t get enough of. He cannot wait to feel them around his angry cock.

He sucks onto your nipple while squeezing your other breast hard, his mouth moving to your under boob to suck on your skin hard enough for it to mark a dark purple color, everything feels good and overwhelming to you, your hands move to his hair to comb it with your fingers, your eyes focused on his mouth that’s moving on your skin.

Moving further down he kisses all the way to your belly button, before spreading your legs apart to press a kiss onto your clit again, you’re embarrassingly wet that you feel the need to close your legs but you can’t with his face in there.

He uses two fingers to spread open your pussy and again devours it like he hadn’t a few minutes ago, this time his tongue pushing further into your entrance which makes your eyelids feel heavy and your chest rise dramatically. “Mmm.”

And he’s more than satisfied to hear you enjoying this which doesn’t stop him, your throbbing bud sits into his mouth as he sucks the life out of you and you feel yourself so close to cumming, your entrance clenching repeatedly at the pleasure and your stomach tightening. “Don’t stop.”

Of course he doesn’t. He holds onto your hips tighter with one arm and reaches his other hand to shove his middle finger inside you, you let out a sharp gasp at the immense amount of pleasure that you missed so much, you sit up on your elbows and start rolling your hips against his face, his eyes are locked onto yours the entire time and he’s enjoying it more than you thought he would, he’s a couple strokes away from cumming it he would touch his dick.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you drop back against the mattress when you feel yourself finally cumming, your legs close around his head which ends up pulling closer to your cunt. “Holy fuck.” You take a few seconds to breathe again as your entire body finally relaxes.

And of course he doesn’t waste the chance to lick you clean, every single drop that sits on his tongue tastes like absolute honey to him, he prints a soft kiss onto your clit and climbs back up to you, kissing you softly on the lips and cupping your cheeks, “Do you want me to keep going?”

And it confuses you for a second, why would he think you want to stop?

“Mhm.” You nod your head, even when you could need a minute, but fuck it you were greedy for him.

He moves down to your neck to kiss it, his hot breath against your skin sends shivers through your entire body, he grabs your hand into his and leads it down to his pants, positioning it right on top of his covered bulge, your hand moves automatically and you rub it through the fabric, creathing small strokes that seem to be not enough for him, he starts thrusting his hips against your hands, his breathing slowly changing with each thrust. “I’m gonna cum.”

You pull your hand back which makes him subtly laugh even when seems fucked, his eyes half open and his tongue loose. He sits up onto his knees and unbuckles his pants to pull it down with his boxers, leaving him naked and sitting between your legs, he leans back in to kiss your neck and whisper. “Grab it again.”

You hesitate a little since you know he’s already close, but he whispers again. “It’s okay.”

And you grab his cock into your hand again, his precum already escaping his angry dick, you so innocently wrap your fingers around his shaft even when they barely close, and stroke the head slowly, making sure to smear the precum to make the pumping easier for both of you.

His jaw drops and he again rolls his hips to fuck your hand, one hand supporting him to not fully land on you and the other grabbing onto your breast, “Fuck your hand feels so good baby.” He hardly speaks between his short breaths, he bites softly onto your neck and hums again, his thrusts moving faster into your hand and he shoots his heavy load onto your hips and stomach. “Ah.. Shit-“

His thrusts halt down slowly as his cock still shoots out the last few ribbons of seed onto your skin, it felt good to make him cum using just your hand but at the same time you were a little disappointed that he’s done.

He grabs your face into his hands and delivers a couple soft pecks onto your lips as he leans his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to keep going now?”

Of course he knew you were a little sore before, so he gave you some time to calm down which led to him cumming, but of course he’s not nearly done yet until he finishes what you two need. “Yes.” You answer.

And he gets up onto his feet to walk towards his carry on, unzipping it and digging through it to grab out a condom, he gets back on the bed and positions himself between your legs and hands you the condom, you rip the foil package with your teeth and take it out, then toss the package carelessly on the floor.

The view was arousing to Namjoon, not only the fact that he’s seconds away to pounding you, but the view of you carefully handling his cock and helping him with the condom could easily make him bust a nut again, his boner won’t go down when he didn’t have enough, he’s still starving for you.

You unroll the condom along his shaft and hug your legs closer to your chest to give him the space, he leans forward to give you one single kiss before he positions the tip to your entrance.

 even when you’re right there in front him doing something truly unholy, he finds you so fucking adorable when you look at his cock in anticipation, your eyes blinking innocently, you were already fucked up, your hair was sticking to your neck as you got sweaty throughout the night.

He bucks his hips forward to insert the tip in which makes you hold your breath at the sudden stretch, your hand presses onto his lower stomach before you grab his cock and pull it out, still keeping it pointed to your entrance. “Slow please.” You whisper as he pushes in slower than before, your folds take him so well and your clenching cunt welcomes him in, even when it’s only the head still it feels magnificent.

You gulp and throw your head back to exhale, “Are you okay?” He tugs your hair behind your ear and runs his thumb on your bottom lip, you nod your head and look back at his cock inside you, fuck it’s only the head and you feel yourself you can barely take it, it’s been so long since you felt him inside you.

He pushes his cock further inside ever so slowly still giving you some time to adjust to his girth, “Rub that pussy for me.” And you move your hand right away to your mouth to lick your fingers and reach for your clit to rub it slowly, you relax a little and he’s able to push inside until he’s balls deep, which makes you cover your mouth with the back of your other hand. “Mmm.”

The constant clenching around his cock is driving him crazy, your walls are getting much tighter around him repeatedly and if you can’t control your muscles to stop it, he can’t promise that he’ll last longer than a couple minutes.

“Fuck.” He whispers and leans his forehead against yours, “That’s it.” He’s pressing hard on his teeth as he finds it hard to control himself and not slam into you hard. He pulls back, leaving the head still inside before pushing back in slowly. “Is that good for you?”

“Mhm.” You hug your legs tighter towards your chest and nod your head to him, signaling him to keep going, he pulls back again to start thrusting his cock ever so slowly but repeatedly inside you, the pressure builds inside your stomach and it feels so good, but it’s not driving you to your edge like you anticipated, you thought it was just a matter of time.

The speed of his thrusts gradually takes up, still careful enough to not hurt you or feel any discomfort, a little do you know, Namjoon himself can’t feel you well with the barrier, but at least you’re enjoying it he thinks.

“Shit.” You gasp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting your spot and rubbing against it with each thrust, he takes it as a sign to go faster and he does, slamming inside you repeatedly, the tightness around his cock feels so good but it’s still missing something.

“Namjoon.” You breathlessly call out his name while pushing your hair off of your face, he looks at you worriedly thinking that you’re hurting so he slows down and looks into your eyes.

“Lose the condom.”

“Wh.. What?”

“Take it, please just take it off.” You run your fingers through your own hair. “I can’t feel anything.”

“Are you sure?” He leans his palm behind you on the mattress and leans forward to kiss your jaw. “Yes please.”

He sits back up and pulls out of you, unrolling the condom off of his shaft and throwing it down on the bed beside you, before he leans back in to hover his lips over your jaw, positioning the tip to your entrance and pushing back in slowly.

Both of you release a sigh of relief, it finally feels as good as it should be. “Fuck.” You feel the tip hit your spot again and your nails dig into his skin, and in a snap of a finger you feel yourself so close to your edge just by the feeling of his bare skin inside you.

Pleasure washes through your entire bodies, you hold your breath when he starts moving inside you with a not so slow pace, his teeth nibbling on your jaw as he whispers. “Good girl, you’re taking it so well.”

You hold onto his hair in one hand and still dig your nails into his skin deeper, slowly scratching your way down his back. The stretch inside you feel insanely good and the constant rubbing against your spot makes the knot inside your stomach so close to snapping.

Your juices were already leaking onto his cock making it glide so easily in and out of you, “Your tight pussy is taking it so well baby girl isn’t it?” He leans his nose against your ear and you can hear every single breath that escapes his lips with each thrusts. “You look so beautiful when you’re being fucked like that.”

His dirty mouth and hot breath against your sensitive ear sends shivers throughout your entire body, your eyelids feel heavy and they even close, you’re seconds away from reaching your end when you hear the sinful sounds resonate through the entire hotel room, his sweaty skin slamming against yours that’s damp, his breaths and little moans and whimpers he lets out as he feels the same immense pleasure that you’re experiencing.

“I’m gonna cum.” You announce which makes him pull out and grab you by your hips, turning you to land on your hands and knees. He spits on his own hand and rubs your entrance, before pushing his cock back inside you, this time fucking you fearless knowing that you feel good with the stretch.

And off of the top of your lungs you moan his name and arch his back, you could swear you can see stars and your ears even buzz, “Fuck, Namjoon, please—“

He wholeheartedly spanks your ass and grabs onto your ass cheek to dig his fingers into your flesh, he even throws his head back and a grunt escapes his lips when you keep clenching around him. “You’re gonna make me cum baby.”

“Please don’t stop.” You twist the bed sheets into your fists and your toes even curl, he grabs your hair into his hand and pulls you closer so your back meets his chest, he devours into your ear and whispers. “Aren’t you a little too greedy huh?” You can hear a smirk in his words, he reaches his other hand to rub your clit while still pounding inside you, his torso continuously slamming against your ass, at this point you’re positive someone may have heard you through these thin walls.

Your knot finally snaps and you feel your stomach relax as you release down his cock, his name escapes your mouth and it’s barely heard but it makes him even fuck you faster through your orgasm, your clenching gets worse around his dick as you’re creaming on him, he’s only a split second after you as he starts shooting out his load inside you, your chest heaves up and down as it feels so fucking good to be filled to the brim by Namjoon.

“Fuck—“ There’s no time to panic and think about what he just did, he’s releasing harder than ever inside you, this is something he secretly wanted to do long time ago but he thought that there may be certain outcomes that might make him regret his decision now.

A little laugh escapes your mouth as you turn on your back with his cock still inside you, he mirrors your laugh and looks down to see the mess before pulling out of you, both of your eyes watch your stretched cunt release Namjoon’s juices mixed with yours in awe, you can’t believe this just happened and you can’t believe that you actually enjoyed it.

He leans down to clean you with his own mouth, licking the juices off of you which makes you flinch and whimper, you’re too sore for anything more. He climbs up to share it with you and it tastes heavenly, your lips melt together in a soft kiss as he presses his body against yours.

His eyes travel between yours and he feels himself so close to saying it, he’s not sure if it’s the sex that just happened or what, but it’s so close to escape his mouth and he holds it back.

There will be a right time to say it, and he can’t wait.

[munsons-maiden]

The Bros said:

"In a way, we saw Eddie as a bit of a doomed character," Matt Duffer said on the Happy Sad Confused podcast. "Even imagining the flip side of that where he does survive the battle is not a great life awaiting Eddie back in the right side up either. He was always really designed from the get-go as a doomed character."

Ross Duffer added: "There was never any other arc for him and there was no 'how do you survive this?'"

"At the very end, you see people still drawing devil horns on his head -- no one in Hawkins is going to accept a supernatural explanation for this. He would have wound up in jail and this fantasy that he would have been able to walk and graduate sadly was not ever a realistic outcome for him."

Not a realistic outcome? There is a place underground full of monsters, people with superpowers and all unrealistic stuff but a character graduating is too much for them?

But ok, Eddie graduating is a bit too much. Fine. But I don't buy this bs that death was the only option for him. He could go to jail or flee the city and become someone else. This is realistic too.

I agree with everything you said.

The Duffers are telling me that in a world where there's a parallel dimension, monsters, superpowers - and the military and government KNOW about it, KNOW that Eddie didn't commit these murders and already proved that they were able to fake El's birth certificate and relocate a whole family...that there was no way to get Eddie out of this mess? That they didn't have any ideas?

And they made itbso obvious. They love to subvert expectations yet they kept telling us that he'd die from the first episode, to the point where 99% of the fandom were absolutely certain he wouldn't make it out alive. That's very cheap, very bad, very lazy writing and such a horrible waste of the BEST character and one of the best actors in all seasons.

Stranger Things isn't Stranger Things anymore without Eddie.

And that's why I'm holding firmly onto hope that it wasn't the end of Eddie's story and that they needed to let him die this beautifully heroic yet utterly pointless death because they'll bring him back. I don't even care if they planned to bring him back all along or if they're doing it for the fans or the money, I just want and need him back alive and as himself, not some flashback or nightmare or possessed corpse but Eddie. Flay him, let him be saved like Will was saved, just give him back and give him the happy ending he deserves.

And clear his fucking name because Hawkins doesn't even deserve a single second of this man's presence.

And if they don't bring him back, that's such a cruel, horrible message for all of us who found a part of themselves in Eddie, on top of that.

But in a way, everything they said in that interview was ture if they already planned to bring him back but he needed to die before they could do that. If they, for example, planned for Dustin and the others to leave his body in the UD for Vecna to resurrect and flay him (like I hope/believe will happen), of course he needed to find his tragic end in ST5. Of course he needed to die for this storyline to happen. They could say these things and mean them and they'd be true in a way because it's still only the first half of the story. And that's the hope I'm clinging to.

As long as ST5 hasn't aired, the Duffers are basically reverse fairies: all they can do is lie at this point. They couldn't tell us if Eddie returned, and they could hardly keep their mouths shut about the death of the number one fan fave without it being suspicious so they would have to make it believable that he won't return even if he did.

I don't trust them. I mean, I believe them that Eddie won't graduate and that, even if he returns, ST5 will probably end with him leaving Hawkins behind after everything they did to him. But...not graduating isn't exactly the end of the world. It's not like not graduating equals a gruesome death at 19-21 years of age...

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: pick a name, (pick two)

Summary: The first time around, it had taken Shinichi six months of careful consideration to pick a name. He’d made more lists than he could count, made his father utilize all the naming skills of a world-renowned author, and had his mother pronounce each choice with careful consideration.

Six months of hard work had gone into Kudo Shinichi.

Edogawa Conan takes six seconds.

It helped, probably, that Ran didn’t have many memories of pre-teen Shinichi in pants that didn’t belong to a soccer uniform. It was another thing that differentiated Conan from Shinichi, the little boy so secure in his identity from the teenager that stumbled through labels and truths, not knowing what to think or believe. Shinishi’s parents had always been far from average or normal, had never forced Shinichi to care for one thing or dress a certain way. Frankly speaking, he liked the skirts and dresses he’d worn as a kid. They’d been soft and comfortable and certainly prettier than what you could find in the boy’s section of the clothing stores. Additionally, they gave him more freedom to run around and were much more comfortable during summer.

Shinichi had only really stopped wearing them when they had changed his nameplates at school and the teasing and name-calling wouldn’t stop. He’d gone out of his way to craft himself into a young man in the image of Sherlock Holmes, the detectives of his father’s novels. The newspapers spoke of Kudo Shinichi as a brilliant detective, Heisei Holmes. His old name hadn’t been mentioned in any newspaper but one and his parents’ lawyers had torn that newspaper to shreds and it hadn’t happened again.

Shinichi hadn’t even disliked his old name. Were he a girl, it would have fit him just fine and he never would have thought of changing his name.

However, in this world, Shinichi had required a new name and a new outfit so the bullies would shit up.

Conan dressed as Shinichi might have in a different life, one where he’d never had to learn the art of hiding and drawing attention away from his curves and chest. Not that Conan had much of either right now, as young as he was.

So, yes, it probably helped that Shinichi had looked like a little girl at Conan’s age and that Conan did not.

Not that it changed too much about his current situation.

“You’re not looking too hot there, Meitantei.”

Sighing, Conan turned to the catalyst of today’s introspection.

He’d honestly expected KID to have already gotten away. The thief had danced on Nakamori’s nose, and had Kogoro not gotten distracted before the heist, Conan would have arrived on time to properly chase after KID.

“And you’re still here,” Conan returned. “So eager to be put behind bars after all?”

KID faked an outrageous gasp, clutching his chest in imaginary distress. “Never, my dear detective. I just noticed that you don’t look quite comfortable.”

KID’s grin was strained, worried, seemed almost a little guilty���

Ah, right. He was a master of disguise and research and had posed as Shinichi before. There’d always been something little off about his performance as Kudo Shinichi. Conan knew they looked alike and he supposed were he not assigned female at birth, their likeness would have been even closer. Kaito KID was just a bit taller than Shinichi had been. Not enough for it to be noticeable if they didn’t stand right next to each other, but it was enough for Shinichi, who’d spent hours hoping he’d grow just a bit taller still, to recognize.

“I’m fine,” Conan said, wiping imaginary dust off the light blue dress KID had picked out for him. The entire police force had been decked into delicate gowns, fitting the ballroom theme of the heist. Conan’s, however, seemed to be the only one of relatively high quality. KID had put thought into this one. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” KID asked. “I didn’t mean to bring up any, ah, bad memories, I’d honestly… forgotten.”

That, Conan supposed, was the point of transitioning. “Like I said, it’s fine. Just haven’t worn one of these in a while.”

The thief looked guiltier about that than he’d ever looked about a single stolen gem as if the thought that he might have hurt Conan unintentionally was unforgivable.

“Tantei-kun.”

“KID.” Conan stressed his name, forced the thief to look him in the eyes. “It is fine. I would have already stripped if that weren’t the case.”

It wasn’t like KID had made it particularly difficult to pull off the dresses if you knew where to look. Conan simply hadn’t had the time. Every second counted when chasing after KID.

“If you say so.” KID still didn’t look comfortable and not for the first time Conan wondered how somebody so intelligent and caring ended up on the other side of the law. He knew that KID was after something that forced him into this position. He wasn’t a bad guy after all and could be quite reliable as well, and someone with such a big heart had to have a good reason to put on such a show.

“It took me six months to come up with Shinichi, you know,” Conan said. They were alone on the rooftop; nobody would overhear. KID straightened, a sign that he was clearly paying attention. Six months of careful consideration, writing more lists than he could count, making his father utilize all the naming skills of a world-renowned author and asking his mother to pronounce each choice.

Six months of hard work had gone into Kudo Shinichi.

“Edogawa Conan took six seconds,” Conan continued. “Is it unsettling to be back in this young body? Yes. But Shinichi never had to be a boy at this age”.

The Detective Boys knew that Conan’s body didn’t entirely fit, but most of the other people, who didn’t know him, were unaware. It was almost a positive experience to see what the world was like through these eyes. As much as Conan wanted back to his old life, carry the name he’d put so much work into, this aspect of Conan he didn’t hate. “I didn’t even care much about gender until I turned fourteen. I’m perfectly fine wearing a dress, it’s just a piece of fabric. And it isn’t like there aren’t enough men walking around wearing dresses.”

Conan sent KID a pointed look, which, surprisingly, didn’t end with KID grinning, but the magician staring at him with an unreadable expression until he finally, slowly, began to speak. “I’m not.”

Conan blinked.

“A man, I mean,” KID said. “Sometimes I am, my birth certificate certainly says so, but usually I just exist and sometimes I’m a girl. I mean, I don’t mind with my disguises because they’re just that, another part of the show, but I’m picky in my civilian life. Sometimes I’m fine with it, but I have to wear enough masks. I like to be true to myself just in this one aspect. Does that make any sense?”

And then KID looked at him as if he needed Conan to confirm that yes, this was alright, that it was fine. For a moment, Conan was tempted to simply banter with the thief again as they did so very often, but tonight had already been exceptional.

“Of course,” Conan replied seriously. “You can be whoever you need to be.”

No wonder KID worried so much about it when this, what had never bothered Shinichi, bothered him so much.

“Should I call you something else?”

With a slight smile, KID shook his head. “I’m fine,” KID said. “Here, as thanks for listening to me.”

KID opened his closed hand, revealing the stolen diamond. “For your effort, Meitantei. And you do look cute in blue. I was thinking of you when I picked out that dress!”

KID threw the diamond almost carelessly and Conan caught it easily. “Don’t be stupid, thief.”

“Yes, yes.” With another wide grin, just moments before the police tossed open the door to the rooftop, KID threw himself over the edge of the building.

Six seconds for Edogawa Conan.

Shinichi wondered how much time had gone into Kaito KID.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Congratulations! You’ve won a free “ramble about an oc of your choice” coupon! This means you can talk about whatever you want about an oc of your choice! Maybe a fact you’ve never shared? Maybe an oc we don’t know about yet? Go wild!

To redeem this coupon, ramble about an oc and then send this to three people! Guarantee they’ll love it!

Okay. Well. Uh,,,, I want to yell everything about this one character from my spy whump story, but some of it is spoiler, so I’m going to have to leave some details vague or out of it altogether.

CW: child abuse, parents being manipulative, mentions of murder, evil government, propaganda, rebellions, prisoners of war, torturing and killing prisoners of war,

So! My spy whump story is technically an AU of a novel but this character would still theoretically exist in the story, but novel-wise, he’d probably come into play in a sequel.

His name is Andy Diaz, although that isn’t the name he was given at birth. He’s not trans, but when he was 15 he found out that his mother’s dying wish was for him to be named Andy. He also found out that she didn’t die in child birth but actually a few days after he was born. She was killed by assassins who were supposed to kill his dad for being an asshole who wants the world to be run by a oligarchy dictatorship of the rich and elite. And his dad never told him any of this because his dad wanted him to be “perfect” and feared that if Andy knew the truth, he wouldn’t reach his full potential (read: blindly believe and follow everything his father says)

So basically Andy sees the name of his birth certificate as his deadname and does not like it when people use it. He also ends of changing his last name to Diaz, which was his mom’s maiden name.

So then he tries to run away from home but his dad stops him and forces Andy to do everything he says, which also includes being referred to by his deadname. Andy has to give speeches on how great their civilization is, how Allens inc. will solve all their problems, and how the rebels want to control and brainwash people into living in poverty and not questioning orders instead of “making their own destiny”

Andy’s former best friends, who already started to grow distant from him because they were scared of his dad, completely stopped talking to him. They thought he actually believed all the things he was saying and couldn’t stand to be around him anymore.

Andy gets super sad and lives the next two years trying to ignore how much everything sucks. He even tries to convince himself that his dad is right and that Allens inc. will better society.

One day, he sees his two best friends, both wearing the rebel uniforms. One of them is holding the flag.

When he is 17, his dad takes him down to a cell where a rebel is being held. They already interrogated and tortured this prisoner for information (Andy knows, his dad made him watch as they waterboarded them) but the results were scraps, if anything.

Andy asks his father why they are here. His father tells him that Andy has to kill the prisoner.

He obviously refuses and after much yelling and Andy getting punched by his dad, the dad kills the prisoner.

“What did I do to deserve such a useless son?”

That night, Andy leaves. He takes nothing with him, just climbs out his window around 2 or 3 am and slips into the forest. He doesn’t stop running until sunrise.

He spends the next year traveling and working odd jobs in the country side. Lots of villagers from the places he visits invite him to stay, but he refuses. Can’t stay in one place for too long. Can’t be found. Can’t go back.

Meanwhile, rebels and Allens supporters alike are searching for the boy who killed a rebel and, supposedly, ran off to try and find their bases. They say he’s planning on killing every last rebel, including children.

When Andy hears that they’re searching for him, he dyes his hair a fake brown and assumes a fake accent. It’s a stupid disguise but he’s homeless right now and also stupid, so we can’t except a lot from him.

One day, about a year after he left, an old, beat-up truck comes along. There’s some rebels in it and they invite the older teens and young adults to join. Andy thinks, oh why not. There’s tons of bases. It’s not like anyone who used to know me will ever see me. I’ll just work in one of their stores or something, instead of a rebel soldier. That way I won’t have to interact with rebels outside the base.

It’s been a year, no one is looking for me anymore. It’ll be fine.

He gets there and the driver of the truck says that the head of the base and some other higher-ups will want meet the new recruits.

He gets there just to be greeted by the head of the base, Friend #1’s adoptive parent, the head of the army, Friend #1, and the head of finances, Friend #2.

Also, the search, while is considered not an immediate concern or issue, is still very much underway and high priority.

“[Deadname] ? What are you doing here?! …and what the fuck did you do to your hair? It looks like shit. I mean that literally. You look like you dyed your hair poop-brown.”

“Nice to see you too, Friend #1.”

So then he’s kind of just shoved in a cell while they decide what to do, convinced that he must be here to murder. (He also tells them he changed his name, which they respect but kind of assume he’s not that serious and it’s just another layer of his disguise) Friend #2 is the only one who’s like,

“Hey, just a thought, but this man literally refused to punch a guy who physically bullied him. Also, he’s built like a stick. No offense, Andy, but I don’t think you have it in you to murder, either mentally or physically.”

A few weeks go by and a lot of fear from Andy’s side (he honestly believes that they might consider keeping him locked up forever or maybe kill him to neutralize the threat. And honestly, if it was anyone but their childhood best friend, Friend #1 would consider both options) Eventually, though, they come to the conclusion that if he really wanted to murder, he would’ve done so by now instead of waiting a year and then signing up for recruitment.

So Andy’s allowed to stay under very close watch. But also, this is a fairly big community that the base is around and so a lot of residents think he’s just some shy kid that the base is watching over to make sure he stays safe. And Andy encourages this, fearing that they’ll all demand him to be returned to the cell if they knew his past.

Citizen: “Why is that soldier following you? Aren’t they pretty high rank? Do they have nothing better to do?”

Andy: “uhhhhh I have medical issues. Yeah. I could fall over and die any second. It’s for safety.”

Citizen: “…oh, okay… sorry………. Do you want buy some food or are you just going to stand there?”

Andy: “Oh! Yeah, sorry, I’ll buy something.”

Anyway, I’ve been typing for a while now but he makes friends at the base! He joins a construction crew and they’re all very nice. There’s this one spy who has been infiltrating Allens high society and one day, when he’s supposed to go to a fancy party, this random guy with dirt smudged on his face stops him and, with a rural country area accent so thick it sounds fake, tells him that his tie is tied all wrong and his hairstyle isn’t good enough.

Spy: “What? What do you mean?”

Andy: “I mean, everyone will think you’re crazy. The invitation specifically says that the theme is golden chic Allens era 5 with a 1920s twist, and you look like you’re going to an metallic mashup between Allens era 3 and era 5 with a hint of early UK Great Depression. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

Spy: “…in English, please.”

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 5/?

-

They meet at city hall just after midday.

Lila worked a half day shift and Diego had already been out of the flat when she got up. She doesn’t know where he’d gone, but now he’s strolling down the pavement to where she’s waiting for him outside the building with a thick folder under his arm.

“Shit, how many documents did you bring? I thought all they needed was a passport and birth certificate? Did I forget something?” Lila asks hurriedly, already rummaging through her tote bag, half hoping she’ll unearth some missing documents that she accidentally packed in without realising it.

“Huh?” asks Diego as he stops in front of her, “Oh no, I brought some work, I kinda assume we’re going to be in there a while.”

Lila looks up at him in annoyance but the angry complaint about how he didn’t warn her and therefore she didn’t bring anything to keep herself busy dies on her tongue as she realises, she’s never really seen Diego out and about before. But here he is, looking confident and like he belongs, in a way she doesn’t really, with his brown skin, dark hair, mahogany coloured bomber jacket, and black pants all warm and earthy, creating a complete contrast to the gray cityscape and sky.

Taken aback by how quickly her anger melts away, and not quite sure why, Lila just turns towards the steps of the building in a huff of mild embarrassment for how irrational she’s being.

Inside, Diego takes a number and sits down on one of the uncomfortable looking wooden benches at the back of the waiting area, and after giving the space and the smattering of people in it a cursory look, Lila decides that there clearly isn’t a better alternative, so she settles in next to him.

For a little while, she tries not to let the boredom get to her, but it’s quite hard, especially considering that she also doesn’t want to let her mind wander to what she and Diego are about to do. It’s not like Lila’s trying to repress the idea that she’s taking the necessary steps to get married to him very soon, it’s just that she’s very strenuously avoiding actually thinking about it too hard. She’s not too sure why this is the balance she has decided to strike and can apparently live with, but knowing her and Diego will be married, in those words, that’s okay. Thinking about what that entails and what it means, instantly makes her heart rate spike in so many different and indescribable ways, that she’d rather not touch that thought.

So she starts nibbling on her nails. But very quickly she has a niggling memory of her mother chastising her, grabbing her wrist firmly and saying, Stop that, you’ll end up looking like some trailer park hussie!

Irritated she pulls her finger out from between her teeth and folds her hands in her lap and starts bouncing her knee instead.

After a little while she notices that Diego who, she registered out of the corner of her eyes, was leafing through his file, has gone still beside her. She turns to look at what's up and is startled by the way he’s watching her intently. For a moment his eyes bore into hers and they are so close that shadows of memories of Diego leaning in to kiss her lips, her neck, and all the way down her body right after looking at her like that play out before her mind's eye, but then he says something and Lila feels completely foolish when she has to say, “Sorry?” in a small voice to get him to repeat what he said.

“I asked if you’re nervous,” Diego says in a very gentle voice, one, she presumes, he would probably use if he were dealing with a skittish animal.

Lila feels like this situation can’t get any worse, but just as she’s pulled herself together and is about to scoff at him, Diego goes on in a very serious tone, “Lila, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to! And if you’re worried about taking back the money, don’t be! I’m not cashing that cheque till you get your visa, okay? You don’t owe me anything.”

This is just too much, so Lila shakes her head, mostly so she can close her eyes and doesn’t have to look at how sincere he’s being, or at the deep, brown softness of his eyes, and says, “I’m not nervous, Diego, I’m just fucking bored!”

“Oh… uh… right,” Diego answers a bit sheepishly and now Lila feels guilty for apparently making him feel awkward. So again she’s just about to speak, tell him, she appreciates his concern all the same, when Diego gets there faster than her once more and flips open his file again while saying, “Uh... if you want... but you really don’t have to, just it might keep you occupied—” he cuts himself off when she levels a raised eyebrow at him, expectantly, “You can help me look through these files,” he finally finishes, holding roughly half the stack of papers that he was going through out to her.

They are searching for a name. It’s barely any less boring than sitting around doing nothing. It’s just a seemingly endless list of unalphabetised names with addresses, a copy of a magazine subscriber list from the 60s. Diego’s apparently helping some genealogist with a project and though he agrees with her that it’s a bit tedious, he also argues that he is apparently being paid very good money.

For a long while they just sit in bored, if oddly comfortable silence, while searching through the names until Lila breaks the stillness, “I got him!”

She’s weirdly excited as she leans over to Diego with her page, finger just under the name Carl Cooper written in slightly faded typewriter letters.

“Show me?” Diego says reaching for the page but not pulling it out of Lila’s grip, they’re hands brushing as he tries to take a closer look at the corresponding address and Lila is suddenly very aware of the warmth radiating off of his body as he leans in so very close to her. She thinks she can even smell his soap.

“That’s our guy!” Diego says delightedly, picking up the biro he’d clipped to his folder and circling the name before taking the piece of paper gently out of her hand and smiling at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling distractingly. “Thanks!” he says with genuine gratitude.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lila grumbles, but she’s not able to hide the smile in her own voice, so to gloss over it, she asks instead, “Is your work always this boring?”

She almost regrets asking him instantly, because only the other night she got to see what it’s like when it’s less boring, but Diego leans his head back against the wall and his expression turns contemplative.

“Well, no… I mean, I guess, some parts are this boring. A lot of looking through files or going on stakeouts in my car. This one, yeah, this was tedious, but usually this kind of work is all part of the bigger puzzle I’m trying to solve. And then, when I get to find the people I’m looking for, it makes it all worth it, you know? Sometimes that’s loved ones who got separated somehow. Totally worth a couple of hours slogging through some files.”

He’s looking down at her, head still tilted against the wall behind them and Lila finds she can’t look away but also hasn’t got anything to say about what he’s telling her. She never took any interest in what a detective does, wasn’t even really ever into cop or detective shows, but somehow, the way Diego tells it, it’s quite fascinating.

“I’ve got a knack for finding asshole dads who are trying to get out of paying alimony as well. Definitely less noble work, but also necessary, if you ask me. And those often end up being the least boring of my cases,” Diego goes on and Lila wonders whether he’s just trying to keep her entertained now that they have no more files to search through. “ ‘s how I got this,” he says, pointing a finger up towards the scar in his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” Lila asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible about it.

She’s been massively intrigued by all of his scars, but at no point has she felt in a position to ask. Afterall, what if there’s a really traumatic story behind them. But he has a bunch of them. There’s the one in his brow and another behind his left ear. One on the top of his left arm, and one more on his right hip. Lila quickly stops thinking about that one and why she could trace it exactly on a piece of paper if she were given something to draw with, and also doesn’t think too hard about the long scar that reaches from his cheek all the way along the side of his head above his ear. Lila is genuinely a bit wary of what the story might be behind that one.

But she quickly draws her thoughts back to the present and the fact that Diego seems happy to tell her about the scar in his brow and so she asks, “What happened?”

“Asshole father who didn’t want to pay his alimony,” Diego offers with a light chuckle and a shrug, “Fucker faked his own death and then when I found him, I’d barely said a word before he smashed a bottle in my face. Apparently I was lucky I didn’t lose an eye.”

Lila hisses in sympathy at the image.

“Guess we’ll have to talk a bit more about shit like that before our interview with immigration,” Diego says casually and Lila looks at him quizzically as she’s not quite sure what he’s talking about. “Interview?” she asks.

“Yeah, we’ll have to do an interview to prove that this is not just a sham wedding,” he starts explaining, brows drawn together, then his eyes drift off to the side, “Lila, did you not know that they’re gonna want to see proof we’re, like, actually married? … Shit! Our numbers up! Come on, let's go!”

Diego touches her elbow gently and Lila follows him in a bit of a daze, not to one of the windows that are situated all along the long hall that they walk down, but to a small office that they are ushered into by an equally small man, who asks them to sit in the two chairs opposite his desk.

The next fifteen minutes during which they go through all of the proceedings of applying for a marriage license do nothing to settle her nerves, because again she’s getting to see another completely new side to Diego. She guesses this is what he’s like when he’s really on the job and considering how good he is, she misses half a minute of conversation wondering why his business is failing.

He’s commanding, not letting anything slide, but he’s endlessly cool and charming all the same. And for a second Lila is concerned it’s just the fact that she’s slept with him and maybe in this moment would like to sleep with him again that’s making her see him in this way, but she notices that the clerk they’re dealing with seems at least as flustered and is hanging off every word Diego says as much as Lila.

At one point she almost jumps when he confidently takes her hand out of her lap, laces their fingers together, and says, “We were planning on getting married next year but circumstances have changed and my girlfriend can’t continue her degree, so now her visa’s running out and we discussed it and decided to pull the wedding forward, we didn’t want to end up getting separated by this!”

The clerk nods understandingly and Lila could kick herself for not having put even a fraction of the amount of thought into their plan as Diego seems to have. It’s brilliant. This explanation for why they need a license now is believable but also contains enough of the truth that they have very little to prove at this point, except for the fact that they are, indeed, in a relationship.

At that thought, Lila’s heart skips a beat and her focus zeros in on their joined hands for a moment.

When they are walking down the steps after all the application forms have been sorted, Diego offers to give her a lift home, but Lila makes up an engagement with a friend on the spot and quickly heads away in the direction of the bus stop. She needs some time to clear her head after that whole experience.

-

Diego gets into his car, lets out a very long breath, and then tips forward, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel in frustrated exhaustion.

How can hanging out with one person be both something that is so enjoyable and so painful at the same time?

Lila was fun and sparkly as ever, but she also helped him out, took an interest in his job. And even if that was mostly out of politeness, she asked all the right questions and listened so attentively. And, god, her beautiful, lively face is so distracting, he hardly knew where to look.

Diego’s certain now that he is royally screwed. He’s done a lot of dumb shit in his life, but this takes the cake. Spending time with Lila is so fucking close to the real deal and within the next couple of weeks they will be married, and he thinks, maybe a bit overdramatically, this’ll probably be the death of him.

He sits back up straight, turns the key in the ignition, and moves his car into traffic.

But he can’t back out now, they’ve actually put their plan in motion, and Lila is relying on him to get it together, so the very last thing he wants to do is let her down. Even if it kills him, he mentally adds with a wry smile.

[phantomphangphucker]

Legless On Maim Chap. 9: Gifts Of Time, Science, And Space

ClockWork is surprisingly helpful. Danny’s surprisingly not. Jack and Maddie are surprisingly good at ethical(ish) human(ish) medicine(ish). Lewis is surprisingly not and accidentally makes a ghost. And the duo that is Venom are surprisingly... surprising.

ClockWork smiles fondly, leans over, and pats Danny’s head, “I’m perfectly sound of mind and Core, child”. Danny only groans loudly in response.

But this is enough to get Maddie and Jack to their feet and drawing weapons, though not pointing them because something’s going on here. Jazz practically bolting into the kitchen and looking like she’s ten seconds away from blocking their line of fire and screaming ‘NO!’, only encourages them to hold off more. They knew Danny was close to her, trusted her, maybe told her things they didn’t know?

The ghost turns to the pair of hunters, them floating over the table, and actually bows exaggeratedly with a cheeky smirk, “greetings, Madeline and Jackson”. Jack blinks, having not been called that since he was basically born and they had to tell the nurse what to put on his birth certificate. While the ghost looks to Lewis, “as for the who, Lewis-”, making Lewis quirk an eyebrow over them following Danny in using his last name, “-you’d be right in assuming I’m ClockWork”, looking back to the hunters, “the ghost of time, or spirit, as you’ve chosen to dub the created dead”, grinning, “we prefer neverborn ghost of course. Born ghosts prefer unlived ghost”.

Danny lifts his head off the table to the sight of his parents' open mouth gaping at ClockWork, groans and bangs his head on the table again. ClockWork patting his head with their tail before Danny lifts his head up, returns his chin to his palm and sighs, “ClockWork, there are days I really wonder if you just like making me suffer”, sighing again while his parents give him really weird looks. Danny glances from his folks worriedly to ClockWork, looking mildly unimpressed and exasperated, “you’re gonna make me explain all this, aren’t you?”.

Jack raises an eyebrow at Danny, “Danny-boy? Do you... know them?”.

Danny slips his head off his palm and lets his face bang into the table yet again, “ugh. Yes”, lifting a hand limply and gesturing at ClockWork, his face still on the table, “Clocky. Timepants. Pocket-watch. Timedaddy. Kronos, when they’re being a real old-timer stickler”, sighing, “they’re kinda my-”, he’s probably going to regret deciding that lying wasn’t worth the effort here, “-ghost parent?”.

ClockWork shifts to their elderly form, “you say that as if it is a question”.

Danny lifts up his head purely to scowl at them, “oh my Ancients”.

“Yes?”.

Danny’s scowl deepens but he doesn’t get to say anything as Maddie cuts in, managing to sound only slightly accusing, “what does he mean, ghost”, glancing at Danny and softening her expression a little, clearly silently asking him the same question but nicer.

Jack nodding stiffly, “uh, yeah”.

ClockWork says precisely nothing, instead shifting to a child and sitting on Danny’s shoulder. Danny turns his head to gape at them, “seriously?”.

Lewis chuckles, “well I certainly see where Danny gets his mischievous side now”. ClockWork was absolutely a trouble maker and prankster. And fine, if prankster god wasn’t slightly horrifying.

Resulting in Danny screwing up his face and giving Lewis the most overacted ‘you did not just say that’ face ever, that effectively conveyed ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ in about sixty-nine different languages. ClockWork just pats Danny’s head.

Danny looks back to his folks at his mom clearing her throat. Him chuckling awkwardly, “uh”, deciding screw it, it’s way too bloody late for this to not be awkwarder than a snow bunny trying to relax in someone's venti cup filled with espresso shots. Gesturing with both hands from ClockWork to his parents, “ClockWork, my parents; not that you didn’t already know that”, gesturing from his parents back to ClockWork, “mom and dad, ClockWork; my ghostly guardian because I am a child and ghostly enough to qualify for this shit and my life is bullshit and the universe has a horrible sense of humour and yeah okay I’m exactly the kind of mess to have a technical god watching over me more literally and this probably makes, like, zero sense and I’d rather you not shoot them and I have no idea why they’re here now and I'm just going to shut up now”, clacking his teeth shut and leaning back against his chair with his arms crossed. ClockWork, now an adult, repositioning to appear to be sitting on the top of the chair back (obviously they are actually floating though).

Jack and Maddie blink, exchange a Look, and go back to eyeing ClockWork -who’s suddenly a child again- warily; though they look less like they’re trying to restrain hostility and more simply cautious. Maddie sitting down slowly and stiffly, effectively pulling Jack to sit down as well, “explain”, her then glaring/squinting at the ghost, “why are you here”. Both of those were technically supposed to be questions but that didn’t sound even slightly like questions.

Danny seriously resists saying ‘I kinda just did’ both because that wouldn’t do him any good here and because she’s asking to explain the explanation. Jazz gives him an encouraging nudge as she relaxes and sits down herself; now sure her parents aren’t going to attempt to attack.

Danny swallows, “um, like I said. Ghostly parent. Guardian. Mentor. Teacher. Guide”, oh he is so never going to hear the end of this. Of him having a Guardian and being taught ghost things, and not telling his ghost crazed ectologist/hunter parents. Never. But his parents, or his mom at least, seemed to understand him not being super open with his ghostly shit. With him hiding it. So maybe. Just maybe. They’ll get him hiding this too. Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not. Big difference between ‘my body does weird ghost shit’ and ‘I hang out with literal ghosts’. Massive fucking difference. Huge. And ClockWork’s over here being their typical calm collected self. Jerk. Though that was probably a way of saying ‘this is fine and will be fine’; not gonna stop Danny from being a paranoid little bitch. Danny breaks the silence by reopening his mouth, looking to his mom, “um. They’re who I meant by that wise ‘friend’ I mentioned”.

Maddie squints at him a little before nodding and glancing back to the ghost. So this ghost -spirit or ‘neverborn’?- loved the living? That was... arguably good... okay. But she’s still not sure what’s even going on here. How can he ‘have a ghost parent’? That makes no sense. And pointing that out just effectively made Danny repeat himself, so obviously this didn’t cross his mind as ‘not normal’. She’s pretty damn certain a ghost wasn’t present when she gave birth to him, and carried him, and literally everything else. And he wasn’t born like this, born with a Core and ectoplasm. She would have noticed something like that. So what really is this ClockWork to him? Or how do they have the familial relationship Danny’s saying they do. Again Danny didn’t find this odd, so do ghosts just... get assigned a mentor ghost? That makes zero sense. Ghosts knew how to be ghosts from the get-go... right? But also, what the heck was some ghost -maybe ‘needed’ or not- teaching her son?

Jack tilts his head, watching the currently child-like ghost give Danny a little head pat. His son glancing up with the typical scowl he gave to the two of them for doing that or ruffling his hair, even looking a bit fond? And that wasn’t something that could really be faked. So close for sure. His boy was close with a ghost! What does he even do with this? Is it good? Bad? Kinda cool? If ghostie really was friendly -huh, friendly ghost, who would have thought? Danny apparently- then it was cool. The things he could learn! But how? “How are you related?”, Jack shakes his head, “wait no, they said created so no relatives at all”. Then squinting and becoming just a little giddy. Wait! They confirmed a theory! Or more so Dan’s theory. Blurting out, “you’re needed!”, pausing, right no assumptions anymore, “or are you?”.

ClockWork grins, “ghost of time. The time stream would quite effectively collapse without me”. A truly unfortunate truth. ClockWork lets them sit on that for a beat before adding, “of course I am an unfade so that hardly matters”.

Jack and Maddie blink, “an ’unfade’”, attempting to take this in stride.

“Indestructible. Immortal. I am an endless thing. I have always been and will always be”.

Jazz decides now would be a good point to interject, before her parents start building a questionnaire, “alright, I’m sure you didn’t show up to answer questions. So why are you here and could it have waited till after everyone had slept?”, Danny especially needed all the sleep he could muster.

ClockWork grins, “they asked to meet a good ghost, so I decided to let them. Though I can be more of a neutral when it comes to the universe or existence itself”. Ultimately, seeking to extend the existence of the universe and maintain the stability of time, were ‘good’ goals and jobs.

Lewis can’t help but chuckle, that was so painfully mundane but with complete chaos as a result. Which gets Maddie’s attention on him, “you are... very calm”. Maddie officially feels like Dan might have a better disposition for her job than she does.

Danny grumbles, “tell me about it”, because seriously, come on! Looking to ClockWork, “for the love of everything, tell me you had more reason than that?”.

Jazz butting in again, “no. No more questions. You all need to go to bed. And I need to go back to it”. Earning some neck rubbing from Danny. Maddie and Jack just gesture -with both hands- at ClockWork like that is reason enough for them not to. Jazz stands up, hands on her hips, “no. Bed. Now”.

ClockWork smirks and closes their eyes slightly, “I’ll make sure to tuck Daniel in then”. Making both parents immediately exclaim, “no! You’re a stranger to us! And a ghost!”. Which Danny glares at them over a little.

Jazz throws up her hands, “why do I try”, and attempts to smack ClockWork over the head, “you’re as bad as Danny”, blinking at her hand, which of course had just phased through ClockWork.

Danny snorts, “why did you think that would work? They see the future”.

Jazz points at him, “proof we need sleep”.

Jack lifts up a finger and opens his mouth, though closing his mouth at getting a harsh glare from his daughter. ClockWork answer his question anyway, no clue how the ghost knew what it was though, “the time stream flows trough my Core, to be without me would be rather similar to brewing coffee without the filter and picking your beans blindly”.

Lewis mutters, “the horror”, sarcastically. While ClockWork continues, “the universe would get nothing short of a mess and would likely throw out the end result with haste. And Madeline? I have in fact been watching over him since before you had been born yourself”, looking with an almost mean smirk to Jazz, “preventing your parents from speaking will not alter the fact that they did speak in another time”.

Jack is almost smiling over the new info and Maddie just looks incredibly confused. While Jazz sighs and rubs her temples, “at the very least Danny should sleep. If you’re a ‘parent’ then shouldn’t you be focused on his heath?”.

ClockWork smirks more, “and I am. After all, there are some timely issues. What better to empower timing mechanisms than-”, shifting to an elder, “-old man time, the being that empowers time itself”. Danny puts a hand over his mouth and chuckles; not even attempting to figure out what ClockWork means.

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, “you’re referring to the timer I’m guessing? I find it interesting that a ghost would be offering to help ghost hunters with their tech. Which is usually used for ghost hunting”. This gets literally everyone else to raise their eyebrows.

ClockWork shrugs very subtly, “they could hardly do me harm, and ghost hunting is far from the purpose here”, grinning and side-eyeing Danny, “put that tail to good use, people do tend to keep around that which is useful”.

Danny’s pretty sure he’s the only one who got that. ClockWork absolutely was enjoying his effectively full-time tail. Cheeky bastard. Rolling his eyes a little bit with a small smile at ClockWork poking his tail with theirs; letting his tail uncoil from the chair and effectively wind around and fiddle with ClockWork’s a little. Then scowling at Jazz for giggling at him.

Jack is struggling not to grin, only even trying not to due to this being a ghosts that deserves suspicion. Maddie furrows her eyebrows, “‘help with the timer’?”, then sounding very suspicious, “how?”, then glancing at Danny’s tail basically wrapped around the base of ClockWork’s, whose tail tip is patting his. The ghost seemed to imply It-they wanted him to keep the tail; not that there was another option. But why? Though come to think of it, she hadn’t seen them with legs at all, “is your tail constant?”.

Danny honestly feels quite pleased with himself and proud of his mom over her being kinda freindlyish. Danny deciding to be forthcoming to at least attempt to make up for never telling his folks about his Guardian; leaning forward, “yup”. ClockWork adding, “it is a common theme for Neverborn’s, yes”. Which Danny nods over. Nocturne, UnderGrowth, Vortex, the Observants, Remi, Silver; none of them had legs. Pandora and FrightKnight were two exceptions he knew of though.

ClockWork nods to themselves when Maddie hums acceptingly and thoughtfully, rightfully coming to the conclusion that they liked Daniel being similar to them; though she blames at least some of Daniel’s tolerance of his tail on them, which wasn't wholly wrong. “And Lewis’s guess is once again, correct. As is your guess that creating a stronger timer is simply beyond your capabilities”.

Maddie can’t help scowling at that while Jack pipes up, “I’m sure we could with enough resources”, managing to keep his tone down.

Jazz leans her head on the table and sighs. She’s staying awake at this point to keep an eye on her parents.

ClockWork chuckles faintly, “for what you seek to achieve, you would need-”, digging in their pocket, “-one of these”, and holds up the time medallion. ClockWork wastes no time in explaining away the twos confusion, “this is a time medallion. Only I can create them. They can allow the wearer exclusion from time or the manipulation of it. To travel to points in time or alter the flow of time, if settings are right. Only I can alter their settings. Though I can also grant another the ability to. If fused to a being they could even give a slight awareness of the future”, grinning almost meanly, “something that can entirely stop the flow of time around a being can certainly keep up with your creation”. ClockWork pockets the medallion while the three adults all gape slightly, ClockWork pulling out their own little timer device -that effectively looked like a silver time medallion with clock hands for adjustment nobs in the centre, all inside a dark gray circle- and holds it out to Jack; the more likely one take it. Unsurprised at Maddie instantly snatching it right out of Jack's hands, curious and mistrustful.

Maddie flips it over, noting that it was already completely compatible and based on the alignments was designed for waist placement; slightly to the right though. Glancing back at the ghost and noting their cloak clasp was a fair bit on the right, they were setting up the CyberSteps to copy them; and she’s gonna bet her and Jack can’t modify this. But no way in Hell were they sticking something that was a near unknown on their boy, especially if it was designed by a ghost; trying out Danny’s ghost-friendly approach or not. But if this was genuine and this ghost right, then they effectively gave Danny back functioning ‘legs’. She should probably thank them, giving a very very very awkward, “thank...you?”.

Danny blinks, goes slack-jawed, and leans back against his chair, mumbling, “my folks just thanked a ghost". Sure it was ClockWork but still. He’s made way more headway than he thought or his folks were trying really hard to chill the ghost hate. Sharing a surprised look with Jazz, also gives him a little wide-eyed encouraging smile.

ClockWork smirks and leans towards Danny’s ear, “I also have something of a job for you”.

Danny muttering while side-eyeing them, “uh, does it involve shooting you”, because seriously ClockWork. Thanks but, fuck.

“You’re welcome to try, Daniel”. Making Danny rolls his eyes, while ClockWork gives him another head pat before simply disappearing; leaving slightly awkward silence in their wake.

Jazz, surprisingly, is the one to break it. Pushing herself to stand up and asking in a way that sounds more like a command, “so can we go to bed now?”.

Lewis chuckles into his hand, “do you really think they will with that”, and points at the CW timer. The parents looking to it, Maddie biting her lip while Jack just looks excited; clearly tired though.

Jazz puts her hands on her hips and levels them with a glare, “that is a complete unknown to you. Do you seriously think you should be messing with that without sleeping?”, them inventing/working on sleep deprivation lead to either really weird inventions or a lot of destruction. And that was a gift (technically) from ClockWork, in two years she only knows of one thing ClockWork’s gifted Danny; a necklace with a stylised ‘CW’ in silver. Danny absolutely will be possessive and territorial -he’d honestly probably try snatching it from them if he wasn’t sleep-deprived himself- of it. So no way he’d sleep if they stayed up tinkering with it.

Jazz decides to take the initiative when her parents nod. Her pulling Lewis to stand up and pointing at his face, “you, make sure Danny sleeps. Then sleep yourself”. Danny throws a pouty look at her so she glares are him before making shooing motions at Lewis.

Lewis shakes his head with a chuckle and waves for Danny to follow, “I guess the sister hath spoken”, earning a round of weak laughs. Danny does actually float after him though, glancing over his shoulder at his folks and eyeballing the CW timer.

Lewis speaking up again at Danny’s door, “working legs, no revealing your legs, ghost bonding; guess your life’s glass is looking pretty half full”.

Danny pauses and blinks at him, before smirking weakly, “I’m pretty sure the entire bloody glass got ground into my fucking eyeballs when I fucking died”. Lewis doesn’t really have a response for that other than a chuckle, because yeah Danny’s luck was pretty bad.

Jazz nods curtly at the stairs before rounding on her parents, pointing at the CW timer, “no taking that apart, I don’t even want to know what might happen”, sighing, “and that’s a gift from ClockWork. I think it’s obvious Danny’s close with them, so think how hurt he would probably be if you wrecked it”. She decides she made the right call at both grimacing a little.

Maddie gets up, cradling the contraption cautiously, and nods, “right, thanks Jazz honey. I’m... going to put it in containment though”. Jack scurrying after her as she heads down to the lab. Jazz standing in the lab doorway, arms crossed, and making it very clear she will try to physically drag them to bed.

Maddie, unsurprisingly, doesn’t sleep very long; waking around nine. She spends about half an hour making coffee and sipping it at the table, getting a little surprised when Lewis comes down the stairs and pours himself a cup.

Lewis answers her question before she even asks it, “I’m used to working late shifts and morning shifts back to back. The occasional emergency call”. One needed to be bendable with their sleep schedule to be in the medical field. Another reason Danny was well suited. Sitting, “I take it you don’t sleep well on an active mind?”.

Maddie sighs and shakes her head, “no. Especially with a ghost being able to get into the house without any warnings or defences going off. Things put in place purely to prevent that”.

Lewis chuckles, yeah he could understand why she might have a few issues with that. “That ghost seemed more akin to a god. So I doubt defences really matter”.

Maddie sighs again, that in itself was an issue. She had managed to scan the ecto-signature ClockWork left behind, twenty-eight. Twenty-eight. Pariah had been a twenty-five. This ghost was the strongest they’d ever encountered, almost the strongest possible. And had some kind of positive relation with her son. “ClockWork scans at twenty-eight, so you’re not wrong”.

Lewis quirks an inquisitive eyebrow, “Danny might have mentioned the ecto-scale but I can’t say I know what each level means”. Twenty-eight was obviously incredibly strong though.

Maddie nods, “it doesn't mean much, but it tells us how a ghost compares to others. It goes up in increments. Basically, a two is as strong as a one and a half. A three is as strong as two twos. A four is as strong as two threes and a half. And so on. So the higher the numbers the bigger the gap. So a twenty-eight would be fourteen and a half times as strong as a twenty-seven”, sighing, “a thirty though doesn’t follow the algorithm, a thirty is twenty times as strong as a twenty-nine. I’m not sure why Danny changed it for that level, but he’s got a good sense about more tech or biological ghost things”. Which just makes her wonder why the Hell they never listened to him before on the things that didn’t line up with their theories. But then again, Danny’s theory on power levels had been proven in the field. They hadn’t believed him at first because the algorithm he made was frankly terrifying. Sure the fact that Danny’s scale accounted for things like general ectoplasm (one), ghost plants (two), and whisps (three); helped but still. Technus was a seven and he could be tricky to beat when he didn’t sabotage himself. (Trying to use ‘proper pronouns’ for ghosts, which Danny always seemed to preach, was... strange). And this ClockWork was effectively six-hundred-and-twenty-two-thousand times stronger. Course ectoplasmic power only meant so much, Technus was generally easy to defeat; very easy.

Maddie speaks back up at Lewis’s impressed whistle, “what really matters is the class of a ghost. Class takes into account powers, enhancements, and restrictions. One through six. A six could effectively end the world easily”, furrowing her eyebrows, “ClockWork’s a five, which seems strange”, that kind of power, time control and omniscience, seemed practically like ultimate power. What was holding them back? Or maybe they lacked powers other ghosts had?

Lewis chuckles, nods, and sips at his cup. That kind of power was pretty nuts, and man was he glad Eddie just dealt with regular ol’ humans. No gods, no alternate dimensions, no royalty, no symbiote hunters. Danny was in a whole nother league. But at least Danny’s enemies kinda respected him or straight up seemingly liked him. And he had powerful allies. Anne was right though, Eddie will be so severely out of his depth, Danny very much being a teen will help with that though.

Maddie speaks up again, breaking the slightly comfortable silence, “I wonder if Danny knows any other ghosts personally”, it would seem logical that he did. Wouldn’t make sense to just be friends, family?, with one powerful one. People don’t start out befriending the top dogs, they start at the bottom. And she’ll admit to being suspicious that Danny might have befriended some of the local ghosts. Had worried his ‘too friendly’ attitude about ghosts had extended to actually being friendly. That worry was apparently founded, but... it really was seeming like Danny was right which meant that this wasn’t exactly bad. Just... concerning. And Danny hiding his friend(s), family?, from her, from Jack, was honestly more upsetting at this point. Even if she understands his reasoning. She had hid her relationship with Jack from her parents for somewhat similar reasons after all.

Lewis pointedly looks around and covers his mouth with the cup, he’s not saying shit. Though there’s really no point in saying ‘no’.

Maddie glances at him a couple of times and squints, catching him clearly trying to restrain a small smile, “he does, doesn’t he”, that was definitely not a question.

Lewis makes eye contact and smirks in genuine, “well, at least one other has checked up on him to my knowledge. And that Skulker one has approached me about his legs; Danny did say he makes good pie too”. Sure, it was for ‘his pelt’ but he’d bet money that ghost was really fond of Danny.

The first thing that goes through Maddie’s head is that one is a known threat, a ‘villain’ ghost, why and how had Danny made ‘friends’ with It- him? The second thing is... wait he bakes? And it’s edible? But ghosts don’t eat, right?

Lewis keeps going, “Skulker also seems to like the idea of Danny having my job, though that might have encouraged him to teach Danny knife skills or something. And the other ghost, Johnny I’m pretty sure, threatened me because he thought I might be hurting him”, might as well hammer home that ghosts at least kinda cared about Danny. Would help with the whole ‘getting them to not hate ghosts or think they’re evil post-human manifestations’ thing.

Maddie blinks and stares at Lewis a bit, what? “That... doesn’t make sense”. The biker was another ‘villain’ ghost. Less ‘villain’ more ‘delinquent’, but tried to use her little girl so he was pure evil to Maddie. And didn’t Danny punch It-him? They’re not friends, that wouldn’t make sense. So why would he be attempting to protect Danny? And she still couldn’t picture that metal ghost baking anything. Unless... going a little wide-eyed, “teaching. Feeding. Protecting”, shaking her head a little and sounding almost awed, “they view him as one of them... but weak... and small”, blinking and muttering down at the table, “like a cat taking in a baby squirrel”. Or like Tarzan or a human raised by wolves. Her awe getting an edge of horror because just what were these ghosts teaching her baby boy?

Lewis decides against saying anything, because Danny got the shit kicked out of him by these ghosts. He can’t point that out without being seriously suspicious. And it would be pretty pointless.

Danny sticks his head in the kitchen at that very moment, likely having heard Maddie’s entire comment. Okay, Lewis is sure he did based off of looking like he’s trying to force his smile to not look completely and utterly nervous; the little ‘shut the fuck up, what were you thinking’ look he throws Lewis’s way really emphasises that. Maddie looking to him still wide-eyed probably doesn’t help the kids nerves.

Danny gives a little stiff wave, which he’s hoping is blamed on the restrictive braces, as he goes to start up (much stronger)coffee for himself. Part of him is glad she gets up to try and help after a beat -trying to pick up cups with finger braces was not easy okay?- but also, he can do it himself thank you very much. “I’m fine”.

Maddie pulls her hands back, holding them to her chest, “right right”, that ghostly pride thing. Instead awkwardly watching him fiddle with the machine. Danny almost wants to beg her to stop hovering.

Danny clutches his cup like it’ll give him life as he sits down, tail curling up and tip flicking in the air, “so... dad still sleeping?”.

Maddie nodding and giving an awkward, “yup”. As silence descends, only broken up by the occasional sipping sound from Danny.

Danny practically launches himself out of his seat when Tucker effectively kicks in the door, “dude, weekend time so you know I ain’t leaving your as... butt alone”, and waves innocently at Maddie; while Danny reacquaints himself with his chair.

Danny chuckles faintly, “no Sam?”, he knew Valerie was working this weekend.

Tucker quirks an eyebrow at him as he plants himself at the table, totally obvious to Mrs. Fenton’s tension, “I’m surprised you don’t know? Her mom dragged her off to a gala”. Danny pulls out his phone and cringes at the wall of ranting all caps in the chat.

Maddie sighs and shakes her head, using this a conversational life raft, “I’ll make her cookies”, why baking never came to life but cooking usually did, she’s not sure she’ll ever know. Well there was that one time with muffins, but that was intentional.

Danny goes wide-eyed and pokes Lewis with his tail, “you. You owe Tuck food. Bake shit”. Lewis raises disbelieving eyebrows at him so Danny explains, “well technically I owe him your baking. Tomato potato”.

Lewis chuckles with a head shake and gets up, “I guess I’ll see what there is to work with here”. Maddie getting up to show him were everything was; still feeling stiff and a little freaked.

Tucker grins, free food! “Sweet!”, turning to Danny, “so hurry up and get leggy again. Vampire Dad two is coming out, like, now”.

Danny rolls his eyes and rubs at his neck, “eh, that might happen sooner rather than later”, glancing at his moms back as she stiffens a little and pulls out a square pan rather jerkily, “CW showed up and lent a hand”.

Tucker’s eyebrows shoot up, he glances at Maddie quickly, “shit seriously?”. Danny nods and nods again when Tucker side-eyes his mom, clearly asking if she saw them. Tucker shakes his head, “they’re as nuts and reckless as you. If that even applies to them”. Danny can’t help chuckling at that ’cause it wasn't really either when you knew the outcome beforehand.

Lewis mutters, “yeah sure fine, I got this”, as he looks over ingredients while Maddie turns to face the boys.

“About that... how do you know them? And the... family thing?”.

Just as Danny’s opening his mouth to answer Jack barges in, looking drastically more awake than everyone else, “without me, Mads?”. Making her blush.

Tucker pats Danny on the shoulder supportively, that just gets Mrs. Fenton’s attention on him though, “you know don’t you?”.

Tucker shrugs with very intentional nonchalance, “I doubt there’s anything me and Sam don’t know about Danny-dude”.

Maddie nods, resisting sighing. She’s not exactly surprised. A little bothered? Yes. But not surprised. Those three were close, closer than she thought friends could be. She hadn’t noticed until Danny seemingly knew Sam’s bra size like it wasn’t odd for him to know that. And she’s sure she’s overheard that Sam pays for Tucker’s replacement glances; she’s not sure how they get broken so much. Shaking her head, not important right now, “well I guess I’m glad you’re close then”, looking to Danny, “so?”. While Jack sits down looking a little over-eager.

Danny gives Tucker a nearly pleading ‘help?’ look, so he gives him another pat, “all you man, your parents”, shrugging, “and it’s not like anyone other than you knows much about them. In fact-”, getting up, “-I think I’ll go help Lewis”. Danny whips Tucker’s ankle with his tail for that, nearly making the boy face-plant. Tucker mumbling sarcastically, “you'll regret that one day when I’m mayor”.

Danny whispers in ghosts with a smirk, “p͘͡ri͝n̡̛c̢͘e͜͝”, knowing Tucker knows exactly what he said; regardless of not knowing the language. Then clearing his throat and looking to his folks, “heh”, shaking his head, “uh, anyways. I, uh, meet them when they kinda savedallourlives”, chuckling awkwardly and shaking off the unpleasant memories, he is not getting into that with his folks, “But they, well, broke the law? in the way they helped, so that pretty much made me their responsibility. And they’re, uh, how I knew the impurity in Vlad’s ecto-acne. So kinda saved him too”.

Maddie cuts in before he can continue, “so this ‘ghost parent’ thing wasn’t really intentional or... willing?”. Making Jack frown.

Danny grimaces, “not really? ClockWork knew what would happen, explicitly. So willing and wanted there. They could have helped in a different way. So, uh, also technically intentional. And for me?”, shrugging, “I didn’t know Guardians were a thing so really couldn’t be intentional. I guess technically not willing either but-”, smiling sheepishly, “-who the Hell gets to pick their family?”, shrugging, “and I like them”.

Jack can’t help but chuckle at that. Danny-boy did have a point there. He’s fairly sure almost no one would willingly chose them as parents. And wow, he effectively had ghost family! How weird was that?! ‘Cause Danny’s family meant Jack’s family. Period. And any ghost who saved his boy -and apparently his entire family and Vladdie!- certainly couldn’t be evil and deserved some trust. Though he can’t help worrying that this ghost wanted to be Danny’s ‘guardian’ intentionally for bad reasons. He’s sure Mads is worried about that too. “But son, there’s something I don’t get? Why? Why would they want this? Want you? Heck! Why and how is ghost adoption even a thing?”.

Maddie nods at Jack before looking to Danny and frowning a little, “you’re human; even if slightly ghostly. The child of ghost hunters; even if you’re probably not going to be one yourself. And they’re, well, ridiculously strong; wouldn’t it make more sense to want a, how do I put this? strong kid?”, furrowing her brows and knowing Danny’s probably not going to take this well, “it’s not because of us being hunters is it? Because sweetie, I very well could see a ghost trying to get to us through you and Jazz”.

Tucker, next to Lewis, having just nodded that ‘yes, adding fudge is a good idea’, very heavily cringes. Even him and Sam knew better than to question ClockWork’s motives especially regarding their fondness for Danny. That was a good way to get a pissed off Danny. Or in Tucker’s case, shot in the face -or the crotch, that one notable time- with an ecto-beam. He does not recommend.

Danny, surprising no one, scowls and actually snaps with a bit of a snarl and power behind it, “no”, making everyone jerk a little. Maddie and Jack going a little wide-eyed, and Tucker cringing more. While Danny continues, tail actively lashing at the air aggressively and occasionally constricting around the chair legs hard enough to make creaking sounds, “you have nothing to do with it. Nothing. So don’t go there”, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose and grumbling angrily in ghost, “sh̶͡ơ̶u̸̢͡l̴d̡͝ h҉͞av͢͠e ̷f̨įgu̢r̷͜͝ęd.̴͜ ̴̶O͠f̶͢ ̸͢fuc͘k̨̧i͞n̷̛͢g̸̕͠ c͏o̸u͢r҉se͞.̧̡ ̨G̶̢hos̷t̨s̸͞ ͟͡s̕t͢ill ̢̢c͘͟͝a̢͘n’̷͡t ͘͟b͡e ̛tru̷̧̧st̴ed̶̕ ̢͝hų̧h̴.̨ ̴F̕͜u͜҉c͝ķ͟i͡n̷̕g̴ ͘͞͞A͟͠n͝c̕͝i̸̵e҉͞n̨͜҉t͘s̕”.

ClockWork picks that very moment to appear out of thin air, smacking Danny (somewhat gently)on the head with their staff, “they mean nothing by it. One can hardly expect the uninformed to understand. So explain”, and promptly disappears... again; leaving everyone (but Danny) gaping.

Danny makes some kind of whiney noise, puts both his hands over his head, and turns to exaggeratedly pout at the air where ClockWork had been.

Tucker wheezes and slowly crumples to the floor, “you’ve been told! Ha!”.

Danny turns to scowl at him, hands still on his head, “shut it, Tuck”. Dropping his hands and looking to his still gaping parents, “so... that just happened”.

Lewis chuckles faintly at that, “kid, that was worse than the time a friend of mine literally got shot, just took a sip of some fruity drink and asked the guy how the weather was”.

“Well if there was a tornado, that would be logical”.

Lewis actually turns around and points the batter spoon at him, “no. No it was not. Now stop being a little shit and talk to your parents before they blow a gasket”.

Danny rubs his neck awkwardly and looks to his folks, “um... sorry for going a bit... ballistic there. But, uh, I don’t take well to that. So just don't, okay? Their intentions are good, let’s just leave it at that”.

Jack and Maddie make a few unusual faces before nodding a bit. Jack clearing his throat, “alright, son. Does... that happen a lot?”, and nocks on his head for emphasis.

Tucker lays on the ground laughing, making Danny roll his eyes but losing a fair bit of tension. Danny grumbling petulantly, “only when I’m being stupid...”, smirking slightly, “or trying to use them for a prank”.

Lewis smirks himself and speaks while spreading batter, “so all the time?”. Danny turns his head and gives the back of Lewis’s head an overacted scowl. Lewis only smirks more over that.

Maddie clears her throat, recapturing Danny’s attention. Danny chuckles awkwardly, “right, explaining”, furrowing his eyebrows and sounding sheepish, “what were the questions again?”.

Jack chuckles a little at that while Maddie smiles and answers, “just why would a ghost adopt, adopt you specifically. Would want to”.

Danny nods, “right. I guess that might be confusing”, seeing as they didn’t know he was a ghost. And huh, the whole concept of Guardians was probably foreign to them. Probably should have realised that sooner.

Lewis snorts, “‘might’?”.

Danny turns to him, “you’re Mr. Snark today, huh?”.

Lewis shrugs, “eh, friends didn’t react to the fact that I’m making brownies”, turning and pointing at Danny, “that’s concerning”, before turning back around to slide the pan into the oven.

Danny blinks, right Vee was chocolate crazy. Really chocolate crazy. “Fair”, Far be it for him to harp on someone for being paranoid and worried over someone’s safety. Then smirking a little, “though if they’re hungry they can just get a bowl of Symbi-oats”, he can read a tired sigh/groan in Lewis’s body language.

“They’re not huge fans of cereal. They eat a lot of Chinese though”.

Danny snorts, “everyone already knows they love rawmen, Lewis”, successfully getting the guy to choke.

Danny promptly looks back to his folks and rubs his neck, “it would be easier to just, well, explain Guardianship in general?”, continuing when they both nod acceptingly, “cool, um okay. Well, so like, when ghosts form they form all their ectoplasm and Core yeah? But, like, there are adult ghosts and child ghosts. Dead ghosts always start out as child ghosts whether they died a child or not. Ditto for born ghosts”, shrugging awkwardly, “created’s are a toss-up”, shaking his head, “anyway. Child ghosts have... immature I guess? Cores. They’re weaker, less powers, less stable, more unruly and reckless; lots of things. Usually kinda sucky at being a ghost and look more like when they were alive. Adult ghosts are just instinctively or naturally a bit protective or teachery towards child ghosts”, shrugging, “kinda like humans and babies really“.

Jack and Maddie blink, Maddie opens and closes her mouth a few times so Danny pauses to let her think. Her eventually speaking up, “so ghosts.... collectively care for younger ones”, and blinks in shock a bit more because that is so far out of alignment with what they thought of ghosts.

Danny wiggles his hand in the air, “ehhhhhh, I wouldn’t go that far. Child ghosts are the most likely to get, well, murdered”.

“Oh”.

Danny nods, “yeah”, clearing his throat, “most child ghosts will get taken in or under the wing of or whatever; by an adult they impress or that likes them or is just similar to them or maybe related in life”, shrugging, “eh, it varies”.

Jack butts in at that, “what one’s ClockWork?”.

Danny shrugs and rubs his neck, “the, uh, situation with us is a little, different”, straightening up, “they literally broke time and temporal laws for me. That’s kinda super serious. Though they did that because they like me and I impressed them. Some other things”.

Maddie and Jack decide against pressing him, since he didn’t exactly react well to Maddie questioning ClockWork’s motives before. Instead Maddie asks, “okay, but generally, why would a ghost do this? It just- I guess it just doesn’t make sense to us, sweetie”.

Danny bites back muttering about how that’s because of their bigoted opinions on ghosts, thinking they’re unfeeling uncaring evil chaos-loving monsters. Though the chaos-loving part was true. Monster was debatable. “Because they want an apprentice, or heir, or are lonely, or just genuinely care. Though I guess it does benefit the adult ghost some”, shrugging, “makes both adult and child stronger. If the child accomplishes lots, it makes them look good, y’ know like it does with human parents”.

Maddie nods, “for power I can understand”, making Danny roll his eyes a little. Which really just confirms that he still thought they were overly anti-ghost.

“Yeah well, it’s not much so it would be stupid to become someone’s Guardian purely for power. Stupid”.

Jack scratches his head, ignoring the banging of Lewis and Tucker cleaning up, “couldn't they just drop the... child ghost?”.

Maddie nods at him before looking back to Danny, “like with human adoption?”.

Danny shakes his head immediately, “nope. A bond thing kinda forms that lasts as long as they both exist; whether the child ‘grows up’ or not”.

Both parents blink, Jack mouthing ‘wow’. Maddie bites her lip, “so you are... bound to ClockWork?”, she’s not sure what to do with this information.

Danny gives an awkward nod, he gets that there’s really no way for that not to bother them, “yeah”, tapping his chest brace over his Core, “my Core recognises them as Guardian and reacts, um, accordingly”.

Jack and Maddie share a Look, and Lewis glances over pointedly curious. Maddie’s the one to speak though, “and what’s ‘accordingly’?”.

Tucker snickers and speaks almost meanly, leaning over at Danny, “like a little kid”, snickering more, “Sam has a few embarrassing photos”.

Lewis looks to him, “I’m curious”.

Danny turns to point at him, “no, bad doctor”, and subtly flicks snow from his tail at the guy’s legs.

Lewis rolls his eyes, “can’t be any worse than Vee covered in marshmallows eating chicken with a coffee mug on their head. Or literally any photo of a heavily drunk Eddie; the most recent featuring him trying to eat a tv and covered in party hats”. Tucker wheezes, Danny and Jack joining in after a beat.

Jack glances at the oven and back to Maddie, “cookies?”. Making her sigh and nod. Lewis shrugging and literally undoes all his cleaning to get ingredients and supplies.

Jack grins at the cookie sheets before looking back to Danny, “so you act like a child around ClockWork, eh?”. Danny just blushes and looks around anywhere but his dad at that; which just makes him laugh heartily.

Jack grins widely to himself, he’d kinda like to see that. Danny-boy had been a darn cute, goofy, and dramatic kid. That did explain all the banging his head on the table dramatics yesterday, or this morning technically. And the tail coiling was kinda like a kid grabbing at their parents' hands. Well shit, that’s adorable and makes him grin like an idiot a little. Little Danny did used to get mesmerised by Jack’s hands, mostly ‘cause of size difference though! And there was that pouting act he did! Maybe more genuine childish pout? Less mischievous drama? Jack’s attention getting grabbed by Lewis pulling out the brownies, “wait, is there fudge in those!”, and practically going to pounce on them.

Maddie shoos Jack off, “wait a little, dear. How about you and Danny wait in the living room till the cookies are at least in the oven?”. Jack groans but nods. Maddie speaking to Danny before Jack has a chance to drag him off, “one thing I still don’t get though? Core and everything else or not, you’re still human”.

Danny shrugs, “it’s like you said before I came in -yes I heard that- I’m ghost enough to ghosts. ‘One of them’”. Maddie nods acceptingly, though she doubts someone who would defy time would care about something like species.

Jack immediately drags Danny off to the living room as soon as his wife looks satisfied, because he knows she won’t put in the cookies until he leaves. Gotta love a tricky lady. Though a third the joy in baked cookies was how damn good she looked in her frilly apron.

Danny elects to just float around lazily a bit, it was still kinda surreal floating around his parents. His dad chuckling, “it’s like you were born with It”.

Danny stilling and shrugging, “well, uh, thinking of it, ClockWork might have something to do with that. All they’ve got is tail”.

Jack chuckles and nods a little, made sense. What with the bond influence thing. Which, yeah, still not that cool with but Danny seem cool with it; so he’s kinda cool with it too. ClockWork did seem nice! For a ghost at least. Mads would take a bit more, but Danny-boy’s not a little kid so surely he understands! Though thinking of her and that, this whole ClockWork situation wasn’t all she was fretting over... “so Danny?”.

Danny pauses in the air, “why do I feel like this is more heavy stuff?”.

Jack gives an apologetic shrug, “sorry?”, Danny just waves him off so he asks away, “so Maddie had been wondering to me about more than ClockWork”.

Danny makes a point to not seem nervous, “oh?”.

Jack nods, “yeah. She was thinking that maybe you had an Obsession. You know, like a ghostly one. She wasn't sure ‘bout asking, if you’d be cool with that. Since we’ve always talked about those being unpleasant”, chuckling and rubbing his neck, “not that there’s anything wrong with that!”, moving to sit down on the couch, “though they don’t exactly seem positive. But! I’m sure you could make things work for you! Right?”, rubbing his neck again, “Dan thinks they’re like a hobby! So maybe you like it- or would like it! If you had or have one that is”, giving another weak chuckle, “though we’ve always thought of them as controlling and inclined towards bad behaviours. Violent”, waving his hands pacifyingly, “not that you’re ever violent or bad!”, muttering to the side, “other than ditching class and shirking chores anyway”, looking back to Danny, “so if you do or did, then it totally can’t be violent, so we must be at least somewhat wrong about that! We’re definitely learning a lot from you”, waving his hands again, “not that that’s why we ask or want to know!”.

Danny interrupts, floating to sit down himself. It was weird when his dad was the one needing comforting, he didn’t like it, “dad, you’re rambling, I know”, shrugging, “sure you’re curious for curiosities sake, and it being ghost-related of course. But I know it’s more because you want to know me, that I'm your son. Family”. Jack just nods and rubs his neck awkwardly, so Danny continues after adjusting a little; trying to not be weird about this, and running his hands over part of his tail, “as for the, er, Obsession, thing-”.

Jack pats him on the back gently and cuts in, “you don’t have to tell me, tell us, if you’d rather not”. He hopes his boy doesn’t take the out though, he’s curious! And they didn’t fully understand Obsessions beyond them being called ‘Obsession’ for a reason, was related to their death, and largely what kept them around; blocked them from moving on. What ghosts Obsessed about was important them, so if Danny had one then it’s got to be important to him! And he definitely wants to know the things important to his boy! But Danny was clearly a bit defensive of all these things he’s been hiding, the ghostly things and definitely ClockWork; boy could be scary if he wanted to be! And also the Core, he has a feeling Danny didn’t just recently find out about that. And Obsessions could, and have been, used to a hunters' advantage. To trap or discourage or harm. he’s never even heard of a ghost being open about their Obsession! Even if it was obvious! Like with that Box Ghost. And ClockWork’s was probably time-related; or just was time as a whole! So it would totally make sense for him to what to hide his, if he has one.

Danny blinks, well honesty has worked for him with all this so far. But he never would have willing outed his Core to them. Parents or not, they were still ghost hunters. And even if they weren't, well Lewis only knew because he saw It. And Lewis had caught him off guard when he told him about his Obsession and was being kinda like him. Asking what he had to for someone else’s health and safety. Oh, and the drugs; that was definitely a factor. Now his folks? The only reason they had was curiosity and maybe some misplaced worry/fear over the idea of him having one. And his Obsession was absolutely one that could be taken advantage of. Lewis and his ‘it would be helpful’ shit made that painfully obvious. And him giving him an Obsessive Crisis, while an accident, had still been partly caused by Lewis knowing. So no, not happening. And his dad would just ask questions on top of questions, likely becoming completely oblivious to sensitivity. That was kinda his dad’s thing. And his mom, well she would wonder how he satisfied it; and that would lead to the big Phantom secret.

Danny rubs his neck, glancing at his tail swishing around and vibrating a bit, “I mean? Don’t worry about it?”.

Jack nods a little, that was as good as a ‘yes’. To both an Obsession and to not wanting to talk about it. He has no idea if this is cool or not. He should probably confirm though? No assuming. “So... yes?”, and making a point to give him a sheepish look over the tail giving a little snapping thrash; he had noticed Danny’s tail seemed to give away his emotions a little. Which actually did support the possibility that ghosts were actually more emotionally sensitive.

Danny looks around awkwardly and nods a little, “um, yeah. Do you, like, need to know the, er, ‘what’ though?”, and staring at his dad a bit challengingly. As if daring him to make up some bullshit reason. If his dad, the much more curious and knowledge-hungry one, can let this go then he guesses he can trust them a bit more. Can much more genuinely believe they care more about family, about him, than ghost hunting. He already knew they loved him more than they hated ghosts, them accepting his ghostly crap was proof enough of that. And they hadn’t, like, banned him from seeing ClockWork. Not that that would be possible.

Jack’s pretty sure some might find his sons staring a bit ‘creepy’ but he’s seen it a few times, usually aimed at his friends though... and Vladdie. Who, come to think of it, was pretty good at the unnerving stare himself! As for his boy's question? He definitely wants to know! but no way he needed to. Mads would probably worry it would make him misbehave or something, but Danny-boy said not to worry and he’s gonna trust his boy! “Naw. If you don’t want to then you don’t want to. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with that!”, chuckling and smiling, Danny exhaling and smiling back after a bit. While Jack continues, “so long as it’s not making you sick or unhappy, anyway. And I’d be totally down with helping you with it! or maybe you need help figuring something out with it! Or even just wanna talk about it! I’m sure your mom would be cool with that too!”.

Danny cringes a little, “uh, sorry but no. I’d really rather not. It’s, uh, personal. Private I guess”, shrugging a little stiffly, “kinda like how I, uh, don’t want my Core being poked at”, clearing his throat, “but it’s fine. I’m fine. I keep it satisfied and in check. And it’s not something bad or anything”, shrugging and tacking on, “most generally aren’t”, partly to get away from his Obsession specifically.

Jack blinks and mutters to himself, “so Dan was right...”, making Danny cringe again as Jack shakes his head and speaks up again but at Danny, “good then. Well my offer still stands, always will!”.

Danny nods, “um, thanks”, and gives his tail a little, hopefully subtle, pat to encourage It to chill out. He’s gonna have to ask ClockWork for tail tips.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Tucker nudges Maddie, “when it comes to CW, take Danny’s warning and just don’t question their motives towards him. You know better now so he’ll be less... nice next time”.

Maddie blinks, stilling her mixing, “should I be worried?”.

(Lewis is firmly staying out of this)

Tucker chuckles and rolls his eyes, “nope, it’s a bond thing”, shaking his head, “and ClockWork saved all of us, so questioning their motive is like questioning whether all of us deserve to live to him”.

Maddie whispers, “oh”, okay that was pretty serious. She knows how protective Danny can be, especially of friends and family, so Danny’s extreme reaction made much more sense now.

Tucker nods, washing out a bowl while Lewis spoons the cookies. Maddie sits against the table as Tucker continues, “yup. And ClockWork is just as defensive of Danny”, snickering, “did you know the government of the Zone put out a hit on him once”.

Maddie chokes, whisper yelling, “what???”. Lewis just steps to the side slightly, Danny’s friends are as addicted to chaos as Danny is; he’d like to not be in the splash zone currently, the peanut gallery’s pretty appealing though.

Tucker nods, “yup. ClockWork pretty much told them to get lost. And nobody says no to ClockWork”, tilting his head, “except Danny”.

Maddie shakes her head in utter disbelief, “they're that respected or powerful?”.

Tucker shakes his head and purses his lips a little, nodding at Lewis, “it’s not just simple little humans that look at them and think ‘god’, ClockWork’s the stuff of myths and legends to the spookies”, adding purely to cover his own ass, “according to Danny anyway”.

Maddie nods, that was a bit out there. Ghosts had their own myths? That also meant culture. Were ghosts actually... highly complex and sophisticated? shaking her head a little, she would have brushed this off days ago, and puts the cookies in the oven. Frowning slightly at overhearing Jack, was he asking Danny about Obsessions? She advised him against that! Apparently, Tucker thought the same. Him sounding slightly worried, “oh, uh, wonder if I should jump in? Obsession’s kinda touchy”.

Maddie blinks, looking to Tucker, wait what? “So he... he has that”.

Tucker makes a cringe showing all his teeth and even scrunching up his neck, “I’m guessing you didn’t know that”. Making Maddie sigh.

Lewis shakes his head and chuckles, again amazed Danny has held on to any of his secrets when none of them could even keep track of what they were lying about and what they weren’t; combined with talking about shit out loud.

Maddie checks the cookies, “well I’m glad you’re close and protective of each other. Though I wish we had been told about all of this”. Tucker elects not to respond to that.

A bit later Jack and Danny turn their heads at Maddie calling that the cookies are ready. Jack promptly jumping up and dashing to the doorway; eager for brownie and cookie alike. Looking back to Danny from the entryway, “you coming?”.

Danny smiles, “yeah. Yeah I am dad”, and flicking his tail before floating over.

Tucker effectively shovels food in his mouth, looks excited and excitedly smacks Lewis arms, “fugh mun”. Then finger-gunning at Danny, “weh, I shoe gwe giong”. Making Danny laugh and finger-gun back, “you just wanted me for my food. What? Do I only have half enough physical appeal for you?”.

“Yo oh ur zezz”. Danny just wheezes at Tucker’s wink.

Lewis walks up behind him, another coffee in hand, “did he just call you sexy?”.

Danny rolls his eyes and takes the second cup from him, “Lewis, doc man, Tucker thinks everyone’s sexy. All the time. Dead. Alive. Furry. Don't matter. Everybody’s sexy af”.

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, “furry?”.

“His sona’s an otter”.

“Well alright then, all the power to him”, and lifts his cup in a little salute.

Danny scowls slightly and points at him, “no matter how chill you are, I will always remember breaking your mind via duplication”. Lewis shakes his head with a little smile.

Jack walks up and ruffles his hair, “so Danny-boy? What should we call the ClockWork fellow? ‘Cause no offence, but ‘parent’ is taken”.

Danny chuckles slightly, “uh, dad? Guardian is the actual proper term”.

Lewis points up at him, seeing as he was floating slightly above their heads, “but ‘guardian’ is synonymous with ‘parent’ for us human beings”.

Jack chuckles, “so something else for the ghost guardian of our kid's ghostliness”. Making Danny tilt his head, “uh, I’m not even sure there is a word for that. But maybe... godparent? Sure you didn’t choose them, but?”.

Lewis snorts, “of course that’s the term you’d go with for a technical god who’s also technically a parent”.

Jack laughs, “true!”, patting Danny, “and they -like Vladdie!- aren’t actually related to you! so it would make sense!”.

Danny rubs his neck and floats slightly lower down, “uh”, and looking around awkwardly.

Lewis raises his eyebrows, a bit genuinely surprised because how???? “Oh really?”.

This gets Maddie over, “did I hear that right? Are you saying you are related? To a ghost that was never alive?”.

Danny gives an awkward shrug, “bond thing. I’ve got a little bit of them. They've got a little bit of me”.

Maddie and Jack exchange a major Look over that before looking back at him. Jack grins wide and smacking a fist into his hand, “well that settles it, that ghosts a Fenton”, tilting his head, “which is not something I thought I’d ever say”.

Danny’s grin is practically beaming, “well I’m happy to hear it”.

Maddie just grins and passes around the cookies.

It doesn’t take long before the parents' minds are firmly back on the ‘make Danny legs goddamnit’ train. Maddie eyeballs his swishing tail as Lewis has him doing (unnecessary)laps and what can really only be described as tricks. Maddie walks over, following her son with he eyes; it was almost weird how normal him floating around felt now, “so, up for installing the clock timer?”.

Danny pauses and shrugs, still a little too awkward about this to just float upside down and chat or something, “I mean? Sure?”. All three of them watching Jack practically launch himself at the lab door.

Maddie and Lewis watching Danny’s eyes widen a little, before he zips towards the door; absolutely beating Jack down.

The three adults getting down to the sight of Danny flipping over and inspecting the little device; Maddie’s not even going to bother wondering how he got that out of containment.

Danny absolutely knows there were little sparkles of green flecks in his eyes as he checks the trinket over, running over the curves and edges. Eventually lifting up his head and pursing his entire face as he hits a tiny trigger and the devices shoots out confetti everywhere.

Jack almost immediately begins laughing, “oh wow! They’re a jokester!”. Like Danny!

Maddie walks up and shakes her head at the mess, “well that was rather funny though messy”.

Danny chuckles, “well if you had tried to install this before I accidentally set off the little prank then the confetti would have probably fried things. So joke, but also test slash failsafe”.

Jack tilts his head, “but they see the future right? They already know our actions before we take them”.

Danny shakes his head, “no. They just see all the possible futures. Sure they can tell what’s most likely but that doesn’t mean much”, smirking, “and even they say I’m notorious for taking the less likely paths. They, uh, actually make bets on that”.

Lewis blinks, “you mean people bet against the guy that sees all the future?”, shaking his head, “how stupid do you have to be”.

Danny shrugs, “more like egotistical, they usually bet against other future seers, ClockWork’s got a better view than them though. So...”. Lewis shakes his head more.

Jack runs over snatching up the fully repaired CyberSteps, while Maddie holds her hand out to Danny. Danny glances from the (apparently dubbed)clock timer to Maddie, “okay. Just... careful”.

Maddie nods and takes it from him gingerly, “we will be, don’t worry”. Lewis walks over to look over her shoulder at the device before she takes it over to one of the tables to examine; leaving Lewis standing next to Danny.

Lewis watches the parents for a bit before looking to Danny, who of course is practically staring at them. Lewis knows they’re far enough away from the hunter couple to go unheard; even with sound travelling a lot down here. “So obviously I know ClockWork is immortal, but I remember you implying you were practically immortal yourself. Neigh indestructible, I believe”.

Danny glances to the guy, giving him ‘seriously?’ eyebrows, before looking back to his parents. Speaking quietly, “geez doc”, shaking his head a little, “ghosts are super hard to destroy in general. Halfas are just even harder”.

Lewis nods, “so Vlad too then".

Danny snorts, "he's weaker than me”.

“Yeah I think that’s obvious”, Danny was obviously stupid strong. This gets Danny to curl up a bit and laugh. While Lewis continues, “speaking of that one, just how dangerous is he?”, considering he might just have pissed him off. Lewis could do without more ghostly drop-ins.

Danny digs out his phone from his brace and flips through his photos while speaking, “he’s a nine. Lots of reasons for the lower level. Made by weaker and less ecto; contaminated ecto too. My age is a factor too and being exposed to ecto for, like, my whole life”. Glancing at him, “his real danger is he’s stupid smart and has enough cash to go nuts with”, chuckling, “like the cloning thing. That’s one way to get a kid at fourteen though”.

Lewis raises his eyebrows at that, again this kid’s life was ridiculous, “not sure that counts as ‘kid’”.

Danny smirks, “Vlad fucked up. We’re not identical, just closely genetically related”, chuckling, “she’s a little three-foot-tall twelve-year-old travelling nomad. In London right now I think”, tilts his head and shrugs.

Lewis shakes his head with a sigh, “congrats, just like Eddie you have a kid without getting anyone pregnant”., shrugging, “though Eddie’s is technically in the works”.

Danny laughs, “least Elle’s not natural”, holding his phone out to the guy, “here’s a pic of her kicking Vlad in the face”.

Lewis leans over, huh, someone would have to be blind to not notice the family resemblance. White hair, green eyes, black and white jumpsuit, DP symbol, stupid cheeky grin; a Phantom through and through. The other guy though, looks like a knockoff bramstrocker; the vampire jokes officially make sense. “Well alright, cute kid; I can practically smell trouble maker on her”, tapping his nail on the screen, “why’s Vlad look so different though?”.

Danny shrugs, “adult thing or something. Spookies change their appearance sometimes”.

Jack actually comments on that, “we’re honestly not sure at this point if they do that for aesthetic or it just happens because they got stronger!”. Maddie coming over as well, clock timer in hand. Danny’s more than a little pleased that it doesn’t look like they took it apart at all. Good.

Maddie holds it up, “I think I’m willing to trust this and it’s definitely compatible”, looking to Danny, “it’ll only work around the waist though and won’t function as a conductor”.

Jack nods and gestures with his hands a little wildly, “so we’ll just rip out the timer stuff from our conductor! And leave the conductor where it is!”, nodding curtly with a grin before pausing, “if that’s cool with you, of course”.

Danny smiles, “that’s fine, apparently I’m flexible enough to reach”, stretching to make a point, “even with the braces”.

Lewis grumbles, “just don’t break them”. Danny has cost the hospital a lot of money at this point. Sure medicine wise and room wise he saved them money, but all the braces, having to recast his arm, the extremely expensive wheelchair that he can’t believe Mrs. Levi actually signed off on (sure all he had to do was show the insanely high and unusual injures Amity Parker’s tended to get -especially minors- and she gave her approval immediately), the patient file bug Tucker made that the tech guy said he’d have nightmares over, and the fact that they got investigated by a very shady section of the government (that not-rain stuff almost forced the entire hospital into quarantine).

Jack beams and rushes off to the CyberSteps, dragging Maddie along with. Danny’s pretty sure the legs look more defined, more finished, than when he last saw them; or this was just a finished version since basically everything but the timer conductor was likely as perfect as it could be.

Danny makes damn sure his folks are preoccupied with the legs before looking back to Lewis, snatching his phone away since the guy started flipping through his photos, “seriously doc? Rude”.

Lewis just shrugs, “you’re the one who gave me your phone. Besides, you’re interesting and I’m curious. Nice castle. Doesn’t seem your style though”.

Danny huffs and rolls his eyes, “excuse me for thinking you, a doctor married to a lawyer, had some manners”, crossing his arms and muttering down at them, “sure I would’ve done the same but still”, looking back to Lewis, “and I didn't design that, Pariah did. I’ll change it when I take the throne”, shrugging, “it’s an automatic thing. Lairs are weird like that. Ecto-construct and all that”.

Lewis nods, yeah lairs bent to the need, personality, and somewhat the will of its ghost; if he’s remembering that correctly. Smirking a little, “let me guess, it’ll reholposter itself black n’ white?”.

Danny smirks right back, “what can I say? I know my colours and I wear them proud. The white of life and the black of death”.

Lewis shakes his head and leans against the wall, “speaking of castles and thrones, still can’t say I understand how a crown and ring could make someone able to absorb and feed an entire dimension. And if you’re the sorta will of Zone then could you modify it like a lair? And what about the Zone needing a king eventually? Is that a sooner or later kind of thing?”, tilting his head, “and with that, if you got destroyed would the universe eventually just die?”.

Danny gives him a truly pained look, “you wrote this shit down, didn't you”, scowling at the doctor's small nod. Danny side-eyes his parents to make sure they’re still absorbed in their work, before answering, “alright, it works like this: the ring has a negative glow so it can pass as a regular ring, because it -unlike other ecto things- strictly absorbs ectoplasm instead of shedding ectoplasm. While the crown is the opposite, it only sheds and doesn’t absorb; hence why it practically blazes off ectoplasm. The ring absorbs the Zone’s ectoplasm, the Crown sheds off the wears ectoplasm plus whatever they absorbed in from the Zone. Kinda like the wearers a heart and the ring and crown are valves”.

Lewis smirks approvingly, “that’s a very doctorly comparison of you”.

Danny snorts, “it works and you’re a doctor. Anyway. Yeah having that much energy following through a little tiny body’s a lot but-”, shrugging, “-like I’ve said, I’m used to dealing with things that are a lot. And my consciousness, sorta, would be carried though all that ecto. So I’d pretty much have an awareness of the whole Zone and every ghost. Which yes, means I could modify it like a lair. Not quite the same though. The Zone would be part of me yeah, part of my ectoplasm and what my folks seemed to have called my ecto-circulatory system; but the Zone wouldn’t be my lair, just an extension of my being. And I can’t just modify my body willy nilly”, tilting his head, “well it’s base state anyway”. Danny forms an eye on his hair to wink at the guy just for emphasis.

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, at least he was pretty immune to body horror shit, “so you’re effectively a battery, heart, and food for the Zone, but also are -will be- literally the Zone. You’re gonna be a dimension”.

Danny actually laughs a little into his hand at that, giving Lewis a little shoulder pat with his tail, “that’s a great way to put it!”, shaking his head with a smile, “yeah I’ve got a crazy future existence. And for that one question, it’s a long time in the future. The Zone’s probably good to run off the stockpile of Pariah for a few hundred more years. Well, unless something happens anyway”. Which, with his luck, was probable. Heck, he’s pretty sure Sam and Tucker have a bet going on whether or not it’ll happen before or after they graduate, before or after his parents eventually... pass away, or before or after they do. Shaking his head and firmly pushing away thoughts of anyone dying, “and no man, currently my destruction won’t end the universe. The Zone will latch on to someone else... eventually. Now if I was king, that would be an issue since the Zone would decay right”, chuckling, “though in that case the throne would just be passed down to Elle”.

Lewis blinks, “oh, so it’s tied to your lineage? Instead of exclusive to you”.

“Yup, the typical royalty shtick”, tapping his chin, “though I think Sam and Tuck are classed as my brethren so they might kinda have a level of claim too. Dora, FrostBite, and Pandora are sorta family too. But they’re all complicated. And course, if I married then whoever would have their own claim”, and shrugs, “I wouldn’t put it past Vlad to try and wiggle his way in too”.

Lewis sighs, “nothing is ever simple with you is it? And you have more ghost family? Really?”.

Danny shrugs awkwardly at that, “kinda? It’s weird man and not to the level of Clocky. Not even close”, grinning a little, “Dora sees me as the good protective older brother she never got to have. Pandora sees me as like a nephew or sorta godchild, ever since I got her box back. FrostBite’s kinda a mentor in all things icy, kinda worships me as some kind of chosen one, and they’re my doctor too sometimes”.

Lewis blinks at that, “wait, you have a specialised doctor? Then why the Hell don’t you use them”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “of course that’s the part you care about mr. Doctor man. I can handle my own shit and I do go to him for serious shit I can’t just handle myself”. Making Lewis sigh and shake his head, completely unimpressed. The boy had access to medical care and just... didn’t use it. Thinking of the whole setting Danny’s arm after he literally crashed though the car. Or at least he didn’t take advantage of medical care unless it was literally within arms reach.

Maddie picks that moment to bolt over with a grin on her face, grabbing at Danny’s hand; Jack in the background looks to be throwing his fist up in a cheer.

Danny rolls his eyes with a smile and lets her drag him off; Lewis studiously following after. Lewis seriously hoping this time doesn’t result in yet another negative reaction.

Danny looks over the CyberSteps, floating around them quickly. Putting his hands on the waist and peering down, tapping the off-centre clock timer with his tail tip, “looks good”. The very tip coiling around one of the clock hands a little, he likes it; it kinda felt like ClockWork. Pointedly ignoring Lewis’s slight chuckle. Jerk.

Maddie and Jack both watch tensely but ridiculously excited all the while, as Danny grips the waist and slips his tail in, hopefully having to test out the ‘legs’ for the last time.

Danny glances over his shoulder brace as he activates the neuroreceptor strip, watching it all snap on over the back brace; which Lewis is probably still unimpressed about. Then tilting his head, the draining felt practically the same as before; and it didn’t seem to be making his ecto freak. So that’s a check on the conductor. Looking down at the legs and quirking an eyebrow at the little clock timers clock hands spinning around. His mom obviously noticing, “I’m pretty sure that’s what it does when it’s calibrating, sweetie”. Which Danny nods at and decides to wait, going to try moving the legs once the clock hands chill out. And the toes/boot tips successfully bend upwards.

And with that, one Danny Fenton was no longer legless on main

FIN.

JK JK JK

Lewis watches as Danny wiggles the toes and bounces up on said toes some, before actually taking a few steps around. The movements were definitely a little jerky and he wasn’t moving them quite right, it was very much like he was trying out limbs he hadn’t had before. If Lewis were to guess, he’d say that’s likely because these robotic leg prosthetics didn’t work exactly the same as natural legs; so logically he’d have to learn how to pilot them properly. Watching Jack and Maddie stand in-front of him and all three pretty well beaming at each other; Jack even doing a little jig or something (whatever it is, Danny clearly finds it embarrassing). It was obvious Danny was proud of what his folks made, even if he didn’t honestly need it. Frankly he’s pretty sure Danny’s proud of the things his parents make in general, he just hadn’t liked the anti-ghost foundation they were built upon. Sure seemed they had gotten better about that though. Which is good, since the universe -somewhat technically- depended on that.

Lewis nods once and walks closer -having given the family their little moment- and pats Danny’s arm brace, “well looks like you can walk upon this earth again. Though maybe practice”, pausing for a beat before adding, “no kicking people”.

Danny blinks at Lewis, “no kidding doc. Literal steel toes here”.

Lewis chuckles and gives his two (adult)friends pats, “congrats, you just made a breakthrough in probably a lot of fields, but most relevant to me, medical science. You’re officially scary smart. But-”, turning to Danny because the kid’s supposed to be injured and recovering. Gesturing at the neuroreceptor strip, “you. While this is great and all, you had back surgery. So I’m restricting use till your braces are good to come off and I check your spine out”. Honestly, he should outright ban it.

Danny sticks his hands to the side and pouts a little, “oh come on doc”.

Lewis crosses his arms, “most doctors wouldn’t have even let you test them or wear them at all”. Danny rubs his neck at that.

Maddie gives Lewis a sweet smile, “well thanks for letting us do this and I think we all understand”, looking to Danny, “right Danny?”. Danny grumbles incoherently but nods.

Jack taps at his chin, watching Danny walk around a bit more, “what I don’t get, is how you moved the ones that didn’t work at all smoothly but these ones are being a bit jerky or over-exaggerated? Even if you originally weren’t working them even close to smooth with the tail”.

Danny shrugs, “uh, well I’ve never had brain to mechanics connections like this before. My brain and ecto might just, like I don’t know, learn how these interpret stuff?”.

Lewis nods immediately because that was actually true really for learning how to work any prosthetic, “there’s a learning curve with any prosthetic, they never move the exact same as the originals”, tilting his head, “and if what you’re thinking of Danny’s ghost being somewhat active is right, then the tail wouldn’t be truly new; simply normally inaccessible. Which you’ve effectively already implied to be the case to explain his ease of adapting. So his fine motor skills with his tail should be quite good, which would allow for it to take very little time for him to figure out how to grasp or say, move things, with said tail”, and nods curtly to himself. Pretty content with his explanation.

Danny decidedly says nothing though Lewis just gave him a pretty damn good out. His parents' nods and smiles make that obvious.

Jack goes wide-eyed, coming upon an idea and blurting out, “ClockWork!”, then looking at his slightly confused looking son, “you said that ClockWork only has a tail! And that you’re basically related! Ghostly related!”. Everyone gives him slightly confused eyebrow quirks, so he explains himself, “so maybe your ghost took after them and just has a tail too!”.

Maddie blinks and grins, “that does make sense”, ruffling Danny’s hair, “so that explains that“. Danny just shrugs, ‘cause in their mind, there’s no way he should know what his ghost looks like. But also, yeah, him being so comfortable and good with this was totally ClockWork’s fault. And he totally loves them for it. Intentionally swishing his tail around in the legs, kinda weird that he could move his tail without moving his legs. How in the heck is his brain -or ectoplasm maybe, Core?- differentiating between tail and legs? He’s totally going to fidget with his tail during class. No one will ever know! “Well still too bad my walking skills have gotten a bit rusty”.

Lewis glances at his watch, pretty late; it would probably be the ‘responsible’ thing to encourage a normal -or as normal as possible for a teenage superhero whose enemies seem to prefer the night- sleep schedule.  “Alright, I know you probably want to celebrate all this but at the very least Danny should reestablish a proper sleep schedule. Sleep is vital for healing and health after all”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “all doctor, all the time, huh?”.

“Says mr. Helpful”. Danny scowls at that, because not the same. Not the fucking same. Though if the doc became a ghost his Obsession would probably be the same but maybe more curious ‘I wonder what will happen if’.

Danny looks around, “well first, can’t we at least have supper?”. Jack’s stomach growls as if being summoned, making everyone laugh.

While Maddie gets to work making food, Jack and Lewis basically talk each other’s ears off with how the legs even worked at all; ‘cause Lewis is just stunned but intrigued and Jack is utterly excited. Danny sneaks up the stairs, totally unused to how damn loud these feet were; he’s gonna have to work on that because he loves how easily he can even accidentally sneak up silently on people.

Danny stops in front of Jazz’s door and promptly kicks it in; the door simply opening loudly instead of being blown off its hinges purely because all the doors in the house were built to handle getting rammed and blasted.

“Zone! Danny! Why in the Zone are you kicking in doors!”. Jazz pauses, “wait, you kicked it in”, looking to his legs and leaping up, “holy shit Danny! You’ve got legs!”, rushing over and pinching the CyberSteps, “can you actually feel this?!?!”.

Danny grins stupidly, puts his hands on his hips, and poses ridiculously, “yup, totally can”, tilting his head, “not quite the same though”.

Jazz practically jumps on him and hugs him around the neck, “oh who cares! This is great Danny!”, letting go and brushing off his braces, “I bet mom and dad were just stoked”.

Danny nods almost sheepishly, “oh definitely”, cringing a little, “dad did a jig”, making her cringe as he continues, “Lewis also crushed their spirits a little by limiting my leg time. Though we are still baking eggies to celebrate my leggies”, and grins.

Jazz sighs with a head shake, “I was wondering if they forgot about supper again”.

“Oh they did”.

Jazz blinks, “of course they did”.

Lewis walks in, arms crossed and judgmental eyebrow raised, “there you are. You do realise I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on the kid who broke basically everything, should have died, is in braces and bandages, and is now trying out brand new experimental prosthetics that interact with his brain and the spine he broke”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “geez tell me what you really mean”.

Jazz pokes Danny, “he does have a point you know. You are supposed to be injured”. Danny scowls at her but rounds on Lewis, sticking his arms out to the side, “so when can I obliterate these things”.

“Never. They’re hospital property. Casts can’t be reused, braces can”.

Jazz immediately cringes at that, Danny’s the one to speak though, “you don’t want to do that. I bet you ten bucks these are all ecto-contaminated. And I doubt you want them coming to life, or death really, and trying to eat someone’s arm or something”.

Lewis blinks, “alright, you can destroy them”, that would be a lawsuit waiting to happen. A very strange lawsuit. ‘My arm brace came to life and ate my firstborn’, would certainly be a new one.

Danny grins wickedly and promptly bursts into blue flames, actually managing to make Lewis jump back and Jazz yelp.

Lewis watches the ashes of the braces flutter to the ground, before giving (the no longer on fire)Danny an exasperated look, “I didn’t mean now”, squinting, “and how did you not burn the CyberSteps?”.

Danny creates a flame over his fingers, “ecto-fire”, pointing the other hand at the CyberSteps, “anti-ecto”, then adding, “only a little though, otherwise it would be anti-me”.

Lewis shakes his head, “can’t have that now can we?”. Danny grins and points out the door, promptly walking off at Lewis saying, “so long as an adult who knows your ecto or tech is around you”.

Lewis looks to Jazz, “he certainly seems better for his ghostliness, doesn’t he”.

Jazz smiles soft and sweet, “I used to worry about him, even got the vice principal to force him to see a therapist. But once I found out, it made sense and I knew he was okay. That not only was he good mentally, or as good as he could be, but also just good as a person”, giggling a little, “now of course I still worry, that’s what sisters do after all. But he’s a day at a time mentally, there isn’t exactly a standard for a halfa, for being mentally two species that are really opposites; and Vlad’s not exactly a good example. He needs a therapist more than Danny does”.

Lewis chuckles at that and nods, “can’t say I disagree. Though I wouldn't say Danny particularly comes off as someone who needs therapy, he hides his traumas well. Which, well, hiding things from a therapist equals not getting effective therapy”.

Jazz gives him a smile that practically reads ‘you misunderstand’, “that’s because he’s at the stage of acceptance now”, Lewis quirks an eyebrow so she explains, “people grieve when someone dies, and I believe the dead grieve their death just as much if not more”, nodding a little to herself, “at first he tried to convince himself nothing had changed, the abilities would just wear off; he even went through an ‘I’m not dead!’ phase, that came later though”.

Lewis tips his head, “well to be fair, most people don’t expect to be dead but still walking around, and half-dead just sounds impossible. So thinking he’s not dead seems more like being logical than being in denial”.

Jass gives him an almost pitying look, “yeah but he was apparently pretty desperate and freaked about it. Less simple logic and having an issue with the impossible, more desperation to deny what they know is true”.

Lewis nods, ah okay Danny definitely had a harder time than he had thought. He’s kinda glad he didn’t meet Danny back then because again, he’s not good at dealing with freaking out breaking down emotional types.

Jazz nods and keeps going, “Sam and Tucker said they effectively had to convince him not to just tell his parents and beg them to fix him once he realised things weren’t going away. He hated the powers, the changes; that’s the point when I noticed something was up, that he seemed depressed. I pushed for the therapy when he started being just angry, all the time”.

Lewis nods, “ah, I guess that does sound like grieving. In that case, I’m glad he’s in the acceptance stage”.

Jazz grins, she certainly was, “same. His Obsession, his friends -especially the ghost ones-, the weird love/hate thing the town has for him; I think all that helped. Which is how I imagine it is typically for most ghosts; minus the last one”, pointing at him, “though I think you've helped with acceptance, he seems less affected by your name, and those blue flames he used there?”, grinning wider, “many times he’s refused to ever use that, so somethings happened there”.

Lewis blinks, ah the pyrokinesis was probably a power ‘Dan’ had and used liberally. “I may have effectively reasoned with his Obsession why he shouldn’t fear certain futures and that it would make him a shittier king. Used ClockWork too, or more so a quote Danny made of them”.

Jazz raises her eyebrows, “you must think pretty differently for that to have worked out”, frowning slightly, “I’d watch it, taking advantage of his Obsession too often will start coming off as malicious to the Obsession”.

Lewis shrugs, yeah he kinda figured that one. Like tempting Vee with chocolate. Eventually you’ll lose a few fingers. Literally. “I’m not one for social queues, living or dead ones. And he’d make a good surgeon, very helpful. And telling me things is helpful. And sure, I may have given him an Obsessive Crisis but my reasoning was sound”.

Jazz blinks, walks over, and smacks him over the head, “how has Danny not assaulted you yet?!?”.

Lewis takes it in stride, he had been smacked a great many times for insensitivity, and smirks, “might be that my whole career is helpful, I’m a helper all the same. Protecting people from the outcomes of their stupidity like shoving a cheese grater up their ass or eating nails”.

Jazz goes a little wide-eyed, “that actually makes sense. Obsession similarity is a major comradery thing for ghosts”, pausing, “also, is that really a common thing people do? Though the nails probably had something to do with pica”.

“We keep a white board of all the things people have shoved up their asses, one guy’s made it on the board multiple times; I admire the tenacity”, Lewis smirks as she gives him a strange look and just moves to head downstairs.

They come down to a slightly concerned-looking Danny sitting backwards on the couch but resting his chin over the back of the couch, watching his parents. Looking to Lewis when he notices them and making ‘psst’ noises at him; which makes Lewis wonder if he’s being hissed at for a bit, which considering the upstairs conversation would make some sense.

Jazz heads into the kitchen while Lewis walks over to Danny.

Danny scuttles over and hiss whispers, “so I wasn’t sure if me actually being braceless was, like, a good thing? ‘Cause, like, maybe you know otherwise and I, like an idiot, didn’t confirm things-”.

Lewis chooses to cut off what’s definitely going to be a ramble, “it’s fine, Danny. Honesty, I was considering removing them entirely pretty soon here. You’re fine”.

Danny grins and gives a little relieved sigh, before looking slightly freaked again and gesturing to his chest, his bare heavily scared toned chest, “also totally forgot about the bandaging. I mean what am I, a wire stripper?”.

Lewis is pretty sure most people would find how he goes from flesh straight to metal more eye-catching than the scarring; even if it was pretty major. Danny’s likely more worried about Jack and Maddie seeing though. And well, Danny being completely healed was very obvious this way. Which might be pushing it, “yeah, you look too healthy like this”.

Danny blinks, “I wasn’t actually thinking of that but point”. Lewis gestures up the stairs, so they head up to Danny’s (still uncleaned)room to redo bandaging.

Lewis shakes his head while unrolling bandaging, “you’d think you’d be encouraged to clean after your encounter”. Danny rolls his eyes and holds out his arms after disconnecting the CyberSteps. Lewis pauses and taps his chin, thinking of it, “actually, let’s just bandage where you had the most serious damage”.

So Lewis gets to work on the waist wrapping, again noting how strange Danny coming to a totally smooth flat end is. He’s going to have to pin the blame on Danny’s tail if his friends ask, because this is not only not medical standard but medically impossible. Not to mention physically impossible, so many half cut off organs and where the heck are his intestines? His poor digestive system; and that’s ignoring his lower excretory system being basically non-existent. He’d lose his license if he took credit here. Muttering mostly to himself, “how the Hell do you shit”.

Danny blinks before bursting out laughing, “did you seriously just ask that?!?!?”, shaking his head, “doc? Anyone ever tell you you’re weird?”.

Lewis smirks, “all the time”.

Danny smirks himself, “ghosts ‘excrete’ everything via shedding off ectoplasm, so what do you think”, and points at his tail, which is currently waving intangibly through Lewis. Danny, for kicks, makes It shed more noticeably; just to fuck with the guy a little.

Lewis pauses and side-eyes the tail, “is that... sanitary?”. Making Danny fall backwards on the bed cackling. Lewis has so many questions. Does his ectoplasm just burn it up? and it comes off kinda like smoke? Or does his ectoplasm digest it for fuel? Danny did imply he could get by on just ectoplasm (which a human can’t do) or just food (which a ghost can’t do).

Danny puts an arm over his eyes and wheezes, “nothing can survive the ecto, oh man. Haha. Does a better job than bleach”, and wheezes some more.

Lewis nods, moving to Danny’s chest -because honestly, what in there hadn’t been obliterated. Other than the Core and even that was hurt- and unrolling more, “well that’s good then”. Making quick work of the chest and grabbing Danny’s left hand up.

Danny chuckles, “yeah, I crushed, like, everything in that one”.

Lewis starts wrapping very quickly at the sound of an explosion outside and icy mist leaving Danny’s mouth. Ghosts and their timing. Managing to finish before Danny transforms and zips off through his window; leaving Lewis to stand up, put his hands on his hips, and shake his head.

Danny glances around, pretty sure he can smell something really strange that he’s never smelled before but ignores that at promptly spotting Red shooting at Boxy, Danny floats over, “I’m guessing you don’t really need or want my help here?”.

Red opens her visor purely to scowl at him and shoots the Box Ghost without even looking, “fuck off, Phantom”.

“YOUR DISTRACTION WILL BE YOUR DOOM!!!! AND MY BOXY REVENG-”. Getting cut off via a rocket to the mouth and both teens telling him to shut up. Red promptly capturing him and rounding on Danny.

Danny quirks an eyebrow because her just cutting off a Boxy beat down was weird. Red snaps at him, “obviously you've noticed shit’s up with the Fenton’s, so you better be leaving them alone, spook”.

Danny nods a little, “kinda easy to notice when those two are or aren’t out hunting”, continuing at it feeling like she’s squinting at him, “I ain’t pestering them, Red”. It’s true. Phantom wasn’t technically pestering his parents. Fenton was.

Red studies him for a bit before nodding and appears to sigh, “well the sons got a ghost tail now, like you guys”, Danny changes his legs to a tail for example, which she points at, “yeah, that. And you’re not too terribly evil and he slammed his face into a wall trying to use the thing”.

Danny gives a mock very offended, “hey”. Before blinking and going slightly wide-eyed at a realisation, “wait, are you asking me to teach him?”, how does he get himself into this kind of shit?

Red huffs, “you're supposed to be this town’s ‘protector’ and dealer with ghost shit, it’s supposedly your job”, then adding with bite and meaning, “unless you don’t actually care about people and just like fighting”, shrugging, “and even you wouldn’t be stupid or reckless enough to mess with the youngest child of ghost hunters”. Any ghost that did mess with Jazz or Danny probably saw Hell from the Fenton’s. And Phantom might be literally the only ghost Danny wouldn’t run away from. Maybe. And wasn’t there that time the house came to life or something and Danny and Phantom both helped with that?

Danny blinks, “yeah, I’m not stupid. Still remember Jack punching -yeah, punching, not shooting- Plasmius to a pulp for screwing with the Fenton family”. That was one of Danny’s favourite memories.

Red blinks, opening her visor again and just leaving it that way, “that really happened? Damn”, she’s never felt genuinely impressed by Jack before.

Danny nods, “yup, and Red? Our bodies, the floating, that shit comes naturally. It’s not taught”.

Red snaps, “but he’s not a ghost, Phantom”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “ghost body part. Same thing. And our bodies ain’t all the same you know”.

Red points at his tail, “well his and yours move similar, so there”.

Danny pointedly doesn’t look sheepish or anything at that, he should just agree -fuck his luck- before she starts pointing out other similarities, “geez fine”, pausing and floating a bit closer, “wait, you haven’t been just asking every ghost you see to play teacher, have you?”, for the love of the Ancients say no.

Red scowls at him and refuses to back up, “I’m not a moron either, Phantom. Just you”, squinting, “why?”.

Danny backs off a little and shrugs, “ghost social thing. It’s a few phrases shy of asking a ghost to adopt someone. Which would be kinda mean”, tilting his head, “if you asked Skulker that, you probably would never see Danny again”, if Danny Fenton was a regular human (with a ghost tail somehow) and couldn’t beat Skulker’s face in, anyways.

Red blinks, “what? You’re not ‘adopting’ him“.

Danny rolls his eyes, “well obviously. What you asked could just be taken that way. But I’m still a child so it don’t matter”.

Red shakes her head, “you ghosts are strange. Don’t adopt Danny, just give him tail tips or something”.

Danny snorts and chuckles, “just the tip?”, and pokes her board with his tail tip quickly before zipping away cackling. Red growls and shoots at him while shouting, “you disgust me!”.

Lewis had eventually wandered down into the kitchen, everyone raising the eyebrows at him, probably over Danny’s absence, “decided to take the chance to check up on Danny’s healing and wrapping. He’s stretching out his new bandaging and taking a break from the prosthetics”, nodding curtly, “the braces aren’t really needed anymore”. Jazz giggles quietly.

Maddie and Jack beam, Jack practically cheering, “awesome!”. Both of them super glad to hear that he genuinely as okay as he keeps insisting he is. His ecto likely being to blame, which is okay.

Just then Danny comes back, sticking his head through the kitchen doorway before pausing, “shit! Forgot my shirt”, and ducks his head before zipping back upstairs. Shouting down at everyone laughing or giggling or snorting, “its been a while since I’ve worn clothes alright! I’ve got hardware and software, but no underwear!”.

Lewis actually laughs at that, “pretty sure that’s one thing you don’t need!”, and speaks up again as Danny renters, “you know, a stripper that crushed both her knees said that to me once”. Making pretty much everyone choke.

Maddie steamrolls right over the adult implications of that and plates the eggs. Lewis raising an eyebrow, “eggs for supper? That’s weird”.

Danny coughs and gives Lewis an ‘I can’t believe you just said that’ look and promptly takes the opening, “that's not weird, your pants are weird”.

Lewis looks down, “they’re just sweat pants”, then pauses, wait that sounded familiar. Looking back up and shaking his head, “you really just quoted a commercial for eggs at me”.

Danny grins like he’s the cat that caught the canary, “you started it, doc”.

Maddie grins, digging into her food. Danny seemed more confident. She’s not sure if Lewis just had that effect on him or if it was because of him not utterly hiding his ghostliness around them anymore and them giving the good ghosts thing a real chance. Which made her think it’s all worth it. Trusting a ghost or too, being more neutral about ghosts, rethinking the science; and getting her son back more genuinely, knowing him better, was a great deal. Even if that meant her and Jack had practically been villains to Phantom and other maybe good ghosts; which was an uncomfortable thought. Because really? if ghosts could be good then Phantom being a hero was practically undeniable. And who shoots at a hero? Villains.

Seeing Danny in a loose long sleeve makes her unable to really feel bad though, he looked genuinely like himself again. His hand being bandaged up was a reminder of his injuries however; and she can see a bit peaking out of his collar. Glancing at his other hand, when had he gotten scars there? Though more importantly, how had she never noticed??? Or did his recent injuries scar over that fast. Both were a little concerning. Though she knows he’ll have scarring, Dan said as much.

Lewis’s phones goes off with a big fat ‘fuck you’ from Eddie for not saving any brownies and a pic of stew which was probably meant to be some kind of ‘well look what I made and you can’t have’. Lewis just sends back ‘who did the cooking? ‘Cause if it’s you Eddie, I think I’m good’ predictably getting swears in return. Lewis decides to take a photo of what he’s eating, answering Danny’s raised eyebrow, “Eddie made stew and is attempting to brag about that”.

“I hope there wasn’t any potatoes or baked beings”.

Jazz smacks him over the head while Lewis scrunches up his eyebrows, because that... that was actually something they would do. Getting a response from Vee reading ‘FRIED BABY BIRD NICE' didn’t help. Lewis shakes his head at Danny, muttering, “don’t give them ideas”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “well then I hope you don’t let Vee near your feet”, Lewis gives him some confused eyebrows so Danny smirks and continues very smugly, “they might want some men toes for their breath afterwards”. Lewis sighs. Jack and Maddie just look confused though.

While Danny finally wakes up the next morning, Maddie watches Lewis start breakfast. Jack is attempting to wake up himself with a cold shower. And Jazz has been up for a while sipping tea and reading in her room.

Danny stretches out a little, telekinetically dragging over the CyberSteps and slipping in; this was basically what he was going to be doing for however long in place of underwear. And fuck it, he’s not gonna bother with pants. Kinda pointless and he’s owning his metal. Might as well. Nabbing up his comfortable sweater, the one that never catches on bandaging. Twisting his upper body back and forth, didn’t seem like it would catch on the neuroreceptors either. Nice.

It was honestly still kinda strange walking again, using metal to do that was just a little bit weirder. Cool as shit too though.

Danny turns to the door at hearing a shout of: “IT’S NOT JUST US! YES!”. So he heads downstairs and thus walks into the sight of Lewis staring in confused curiosity at a pan he’s holding with three screaming grill-cheese sandwiches in it. One sprouts a little hand and tries to grab a fork, Lewis just bats it away like a misbehaving cat’s paw; a dirty look on his face all the while.

Danny walks in and looks down, “uh, congrats doc it’s a girl... I think”.

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, “you can tell?”.

Danny scowls, "no, I was making a fucking joke, doc".

Maddie puts her hands on her hips, "language Danny”. Catching Danny slightly off guard and making him blush, “oh um uh, sorry?”. Maddie just shakes her head.

Sam and Tucker barge in while Lewis lifts up the pan, “obviously this is inedible for us, but you?”. Danny gives him a serious ‘are you fucking me’ look.

Maddie immediately butts in, “why would-”, and cuts herself off, going wide-eyed. Looking to Danny, “actually, could you? Do you... want to try?”.

Jack practically bolts over, having just caught that, “oh that would be so cool! We wouldn’t have to scrap food so often!”.

Sam and Tucker come over grinning meanly at him. Tucker speaking up, “do it coward. Be a man”, Sam kicks him. Sam looks over the pan, unphased by the screaming and weird bubbling, but scowls at the cheese; or what once was cheese, “you already stole the poor cows milk, don’t insults them more by trashing it”.

Danny mutters at the floor, “I feel like I’m being ganged up on here”, though obviously not actually bothered. His mom makes him laugh though when she hands him a glass of ‘help you swallow it down’ milk. Danny takes it and looks to Sam with a smirk, “now I know you reject milk, but hopefully you’re not lack-toes-intolerant”.

The two teens look down at his feet, about to comment that he had those again, Tucker giving a little nod, “huh, no toes”.

Danny just chuckles, wiggles his ‘toes’, “hope you like roboots”, everyone sighs and the grill-cheeses scream a little more, which absolutely grabs Danny’s attention. Turning to the pan, “okay, now you are getting eaten. Feed my cyborgans”.

Sam mutters, “Ancients damnit, Danny”. While Danny grabs one of the sandwiches, smacks one of the other ones that tried to bite him, and cuts off the one he grabbed’s screaming by biting It with fake aggression.

Sam and Tucker both start laughing, while the adults all just kinda watch with bated breaths. Maddie’s pretty sure she can actually see him absorbing ectoplasm through his skin off the -what should they call It?- ecto-sandwich. Was certainly interesting that this was even technically safe for him. His Core would just eat all the ectoplasm before it could even possibly cause issues. And that ecto-immunity Jack considered him to have should mean all his human stuff can handle the ectoplasm; possibly even good for him. Feed his ghostly stuff, which probably only got anything from how contaminated the town and house were. Or maybe his Core could convert human food to ectoplasm, just like how food in general here could become ectoplasmic.

Jack sounds more than a little excited, “so! How’s it taste!?!”.

Danny rolls his eyes, slightly embarrassed, “spicy cream cheese”. Jack looking excitedly giddy just makes Danny genuinely blush, though a bit happy that he made him happy. And he was actually hungry so fuck it, he’s eating his sandwich; that much ecto making his eyes green be damned.

Maddie makes a point to not react to his eyes going green -like they had when his ectoplasm was overcharged she notes- as Danny finishes off the ecto-wich. Lewis laughs and just shoves the pan at him.

Danny grumbles, “anyone else would get burned you know”. Lewis just shrugs with a grin as he moves to make something else, but vegan suitable; which hopefully won’t come to life. Everyone else -except Sam who chooses to lean against the wall- sit around the table. Jack and Maddie making a point to ignore the oddness of Danny woofing down the other two plasumwiches -much better name- straight out of the pan; the cold of his skin contacting the pan making a little bit of steam. Lewis attempts to take a subtle photo but of course Danny notices, giving the most suspicious sounding, “what's up doc?”, Lewis thinks is even possible.

“Eddie will get a kick out of this. Thing’s cropped, curb your paranoia”. Danny’s only response is a huff. The response Lewis gets back from Eddie nearly makes him choke though: Vee’s face sandwiched between bread and Eddie biting it/them; Lewis isn’t going to ask why he’s not wearing a shirt, but is wearing a tacky necklace (and of course his brackets, but he never takes those off). Lewis decides screw it, Danny’s friends knew, were just as weird, and that chat thing Tucker set up was almost disturbingly secure -yet they still used codes like paranoid little fuckers, and they were at least kinda cool with aliens; so he tosses the photo into the group chat, with a password to view though ‘cause why not be paranoid too; though it’s an obvious one.

Tucker, not surprising the doctor in the least, is the first to check and chokes on his food.

PDAXpda: @everyone

PDAxpda: what

PDAxpda: pray tell

PDAxpda: the fuck is that

Tiethief: space monster

Tiethief: and reporter mouth

NightShade: you suck at names

NightShade: @DPain do yer job

Just a little later Danny checks his phone and wigs out. His hair fluffing up a little like some anime bullshit, the legs swinging around probably ‘cause his tail is wiggling or something a bunch, the ecto in his eyes making tiny little sparks; Jack and Maddie watching the reaction more so with awe and curiosity than unnerved worry.

DPain: hdieksnhrjsHHUDJjhhudikwdhjHhdnsjdkoajbdhuejzk

DPain: zhHhudjnshakbusfjkabjhUSJJNhdkakbsjbuijdh

DPain: TINY MURDER COBOOB IS BLOB

DPain: TINY MURDERY ALIEN BLOB

DPain: FUCK ME DADSY

DPain: anyway

DPain: cjsinsbdhaihujsmkfhdkajhdnfcjai

DPain: space mon fine

DPain: othera meat puppet

DPain: djiafdwih

DPain: best blob be nommed

PDAxpda: first look at murder goo

Lewis looks up at the ceiling as he pockets his phone before spooning out the stir fry. Less breakfasty, but more edible. Giving Sam Tucker’s veggies and throwing some real bacon bits into Tucker’s. Danny takes a small plate even though he ate three bloody sandwiches -maybe the ectoplasm went somewhere else and thus didn’t fill him up?- and munches still looking overly excited.

Sam points her fork at Danny’s feet kinda bouncing around. He shrugs and snickers, “looks like I've got a few new roboticks”.

Which makes Jazz groan as she comes in, “ignoring that, what smells so good?”, looking Danny over slightly and quirking any eyebrow over his green sparky eyes.

Sam rolls her eyes, biting a pepper, “your parents’ made ghost food again”.

Maddie immediately sits up straight, “Dan did actually”. Jack practically cheering, “so it’s not just us!”.

Jazz mutters, “that’s not actually comforting”, because that means it’s either the house's fault or the utensils/cookware.

Sam huffs, “more reason not to have animal products”.

Tucker laughs, “more like reason to!”, and jabs a thumb at Danny. Who throws a quiet, “prick”, Tucker’s way.  

Maddie shakes her head a little as the teens poke fun at each other. Yeah they knew and were used to it. Which was... probably good for Danny. Hurt a little to confirm though. She understands though; her and Jack will just have to continue to be better then.

Not too long later, Lewis is putting away leftovers, Jazz and Maddie are on clean-up duty, Danny’s eyes are back to fucking normal, and Jack’s giving the CyberSteps steps a once over.

Tucker nudges Danny, ignoring Jack doing the typical ‘can you feel this?’ thing, “so theatre’s open. Feel like taking your limbs for a test drive?”.

Maddie immediately pauses with her washcloth, making a point to sound stern, “only if Dan okay’s it, sweetie”.

All the teens look to Lewis, who smirks and fakes being unsure, “oh I don’t know”, relenting at the scowls, “so long as he’s not left alone I don’t see a problem with it”. Tucker immediately high fives Danny, before Jack steps back with a smile; letting Danny run only kinda coordinatedly up the stairs to grab pants.

Danny decides fuck it and opts out of shoes; the CyberSteps toes/boots look like, well, boots. Heading back down and the three friends walk to the door. Jack and Maddie smiling to themselves over the fact that Danny can actually walk around town with his friends.

Just as Danny’s reaching for the handle there’s a knock and Danny’s pretty sure he smells smoke... and that weird new smell from yesterday? Shrugging and opening the door to the sight of a guy who looked like hot garbage yet healthyish. His hair looked like a comb would get stuck in it yet smooth. One bloodshot eye, yet they were also totally clear. Clearly unbrushed teeth, though white. In a leather jacket with burn marks, off-white t-shirt, and torn-up jeans. And a cigarette in one had, dirt under literally every fingernail and in the nail-beds.

“Wow someone’s speed lightning”, the dude looks around, “your yard’s kinda not shit so I’mma just put this out in my pocket”, and shoves the cigarette into his pants. Danny watches the pocket smoke and slowly gain a new hole as the guy speaks, “so if it ain’t obvious, name’s Eddie. Eddie Brock”.

Danny blinks, gapes a little -which the guy smirks over, and laughs. Because yeah, this is exactly his luck.

[yikesharringrove]

what do you think about a crossdressing Steve? Maybe he started just liking the soft fabrics of his mom's clothes but then he started wearing them as a way to attempt to hold on to the feigned affection she gave him. Eventually he just got his own stuff because they helped him feel calmer, softer. He would only ever put them on when he believed he would be alone for a while to cook or do chores... And then one day Billy comes over. Do with it what you will.

So, maybe you wanted smut, but non-binary femme presenting Steve is a ridiculously big headcanon I have that I have talked about with several folks and will be included in the next big fic I roll out, so this is some Soft Shit bc I wanted an excuse to write Steve as non-binary femme presenting.

For some drag queen Steve, I got a little thing here.

This exact kinda character study of sorts has actually been in my drafts for like, a month, so I’ve incorporated some of it into this. It's modern, and there is some language that may be harmful, so PLEASE be careful with yourselves, no slurs or anything along those lines, just ignorant stuff. Also, this really went off the rails at the end, I’m Sorry.

Thank you for sending an ask!

Read on ao3!

When Steve was a little kid, he always preferred playing with the girls.

They would have clothes for dress-up, princess dresses, and pirate costumes, anything any child could want. They had wigs, makeup, crowns. Little girls also had babydolls, little pretend kitchens he would play in, plastic baby bouncing at his hip.

When his nanny would come to pick him up from Carol’s house, she would have wipes in the car, to clean off his face. Your father will be very disappointed if he sees you playing with girls’ things again, Steven. He learned very quickly that playing dress-up, wanting to be Mommy when playing house, those are not things little boys did.

He remembers fighting with his parents, when they found the little plastic case of goopy lipglosses Carol had let him keep. He was seven years old and was crying, had screamed as loud as he could that if little boys weren’t allowed to play with makeup, then maybe I don’t want to be a boy.

When his parents started leaving him more often, their absences growing longer the older he got, he began going into his mother’s things, trying on her clothes. He was twelve when he first learned that women’s clothes were made of finer materials, were softer, felt like butter against his skin. He was thirteen and would slip into designer dresses each night, learning makeup from YouTube tutorials, practicing with things left in his mother’s vanity and whatever he could discreetly put in his pockets at Meldvald’s.

He got pretty good. Good enough that at sixteen, he wanted more, would go to stores in Indianapolis, would spend his allowance on dresses, skirts, blouses, frilly little things that fit, that made him feel good, correct.

The first time he put on a pair of lacy panties, he almost cried. the material was soft, the cotton tight and nice against him, the delicate lace trimming the waist and legs was pretty. Steve realized, all he ever wants to be in his life is pretty.

He began thinking of himself as a girl, a young woman. He would tuck his dick back, make the space between his legs flat, let his hair grow out more, long enough to braid, to pin with floral clips.

He started dressing up, going out. Finding bars that would let him in if he batted his false eyelashes just so, would overlook his obviously fake I.D. so that he could go in, talk to men that were too old for him, too interested in his doe eyes, his soft cheeks, men that would buy him drinks, fuck him in the back seats of their cars, whisper about how pretty he looked, men that would touch his cock and coo that his pussy was so tight.

He found he didn’t like that but would grit his teeth, didn’t understand why wearing women’s clothes felt so right but the idea of having a women’s body felt wrong. He didn’t get why he felt the most himself, the most comfortable with his dick tucked up in lace panties, but the minute a man told him he was a good girl he felt sick. 

When he was seventeen, he stopped going out, stopped dressing up. He had Nancy now, a beautiful young woman who wanted a nice, regular young man. He almost told her, almost told her so many times, but then she was drunk, slurring in his face that he was bullshit, that he was fake, like he didn’t already know.

So he kept to himself, started dressing up again, putting on a full face, a delicate outfit the minute he got home. He would dance around while cooking diner, would float around the house in heels and sweeping dresses. They made him feel better, feel good. He would dress up on particularly bad days, would wear his most beautiful pieces when he got poor grades, when his father told him he was a disappointment over the phone. He had been informed today by his English teacher she had assigned him a tutor.

So he had blinked back tears while blending eyeshadow, had put on his prettiest dress, a pretty dark green number, the fabric light, delicate feminine. He was ready to wallow in self-pity and makeup when there was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of his something-like-a-friend Billy Hargrove, announcing with a laugh that you should REALLY start lockin’ your front door, Harrington. Wouldn’t want someone UNSAVORY comin’ in.

Steve was frozen in the kitchen, his best-kept secret all over his face, his body. Billy didn’t even blink twice when he saw Steve, asked what’s cookin’? while leaning over the stove. Steve’s eyes were screwed shut, breathing fast when Billy looked back, took Steve’s shoulder lightly in his hands said, you need to breathe, Sweet Thing, take it slow, match me. He rubbed gently down Steve’s arms, his eyes clear blue when Steve was able to open his own teary ones.

“Billy, you need to swear to me you won’t tell, you, I, people can’t know. They’ll, I mean, I know I’m a fucking freak but no one-”

“Whoa, who said you’re a freak?” Billy’s eyes were sharp.

“Look at me, Billy. I’m, I don’t know what I am. Sometimes, sometimes I wish that I was a girl, but, but something about that feels just, bad, but, but being a fucking boy feels like shit too, and I just,” he was sobbing, loudly and openly, knew his dark liner was no doubt streaming down his face.

“Hey, that’s okay, Honey, you don’t have to know. You just have to feel good.” He led Steve in a few more breaths. “It’s not black and white, you don’t have to be one or the other. You can just be you. Can be Steve, if you want.”

“What-I don’t understand.”

“Well, you don’t feel right as a boy, but you feel just as not right as a girl. There’s more than that. You have more options.” He turned off the stove, led Steve to his bag, whipping out a laptop covered in worn stickers. “So basically, there’re a whole bunch of genders.” He pulled up an infographic on his screen, a color-coded mess of columns and descriptions. “There’s way more than man and woman. There are people who are non-binary, don’t adhere to the idea of two genders. Sometimes non-binary people identify as another gender, a third gender, sometimes they identify as a mixture of identities. Agender people often identify as having no gender at all. genderfluid people tend to fluctuate between identities, can feel agender one day, the next feel like a man, it all depends on the person.” He looked at Steve, hand gentle on his arm. “And none of it’s wrong. There’s no correct way to be a human. And they each are up to interpretation. There are people who identify as agender but choose to present a certain way, there are people who identify as male but choose to present androgynous, there’s no one way to do it.”

“So if I, if I feel good like this,” Steve gestured to the dress, the smeared makeup. “I can still be, a guy, like I can just be a guy that likes to look like a girl.”

“If that feels best to you. Like I said, you don’t have to  be a guy, just because that’s what you were assigned at birth.”

“What do you mean? ‘Assigned at birth’?”

“That means the gender that’s on your birth certificate. It’s just a better way of saying like, male-bodied, since that can be, kinda shitty for people. And like, what even is a male body, you know?”

“You’re getting a little introspective for me here, Bill.”

“Basically, just because you were born with a dick and a doctor was like, it’s a boy, doesn’t mean you have to be a boy that likes looking like a girl, or whatever you said. That’s a perfectly valid way to be, a femme presenting guy, don’t get me wrong, but earlier you said you didn’t feel right as a boy, and I just don’t want you to back yourself into a corner.” Steve blinked.

“Yeah, I think, I think you’re right. I don’t, I’m not a guy. I don’t think.”

“You do not have to know right now. You literally just learned about this, you don’t have to like immediately make a choice. Take some time. Try different labels, try different pronouns, try no labels, see what feels best.” He smiled, looking at Steve softly. “If you want to, I can, like, help you. If you, if you think of something you want to try, it may be nice to, like, hear it from someone else.”

“What was, what was the one that was like, sometimes people identify as like, another gender?” Billy typed away, pulling up a new article.

“I think you mean non-binary. It’s more of an umbrella term to some people, they find more leeway in it.” He scrolled down, pointing at a list of pronouns. “So, some people who identify as non-binary also use alternative pronouns, things like they or ze, which is a way for them to be referred to outside of the gender binary.” Steve’s mind was racing. He tested the words on his tongue, thinking ze, sie, hir to himself, to, themself?

“But if I identify, as, as non-binary, or something, can I still, like, dress like this?”

“Of course. Identity and expression are two different things. To some, they go hand-in-hand, but to others, they can be totally separate.”

“I think, as of right now I think non-binary is okay.” Billy beamed.

“Okay! You don’t have to decide right now, and some folks never decide, they spend their lives flowing through different ways to identify and express themselves, and again, that’s totally fuckin’ okay. Nothing has to magically click into place for you. You can experiment.”

“Can I, can we experiment with, with they. I kinda, it kinda makes sense.” Billy just kept grinning, his smile huge and beautiful.

“Yes, I can do that.” But his face fell, “But I, I mean, this is fuckin’ Hawkins, and I don't’ know, I mean, is it, like safe?” Steve felt like their heart was breaking.

“No, it’s, I don’t think it is, I mean, there haven’t been like incidents but also, we don’t have a lot of people that are, like, openly different.” Billy’s brow was drawn.

“I can, I can call you whatever you want just the two of us, but, I don’t want to like, out you-”

“You can, you can say he was it’s, when it’s other people. I don’t, I don’t want this to get back to my dad, or anything.” Billy’s eyes were sharp.

“I can do that, I can protect you, like that.” He was nodding vigorously. “I just, I wanted to be on the same page, didn’t want to be like misgendering you behind your back and make you feel like shit.”

“You have my express permission to, uh, misgender me, or whatever you just said.” Steve sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I just gotta get outta this fuckin’ town, man. Then I’ll be good. Live my little queer life outside of the shitty bar outside of town.” Billy laughed.

“You go there?”

“I used to, when I was first kinda, questioning myself. Used to let guys fuck me and call me, like, their pretty little slut or whatever. Not my finest moments.”

“Christ, Stevie. That’s some deep shit. I went once when I first got into town, and some guy was like, I wanna hear you screaming ‘Daddy’ for me and I was like, nope. No thank you to That.” Steve laughed with him.

“I’m pretty sure I did let that guy fuck me. Bily groaned.

“Stevie, no. Don’t call random men Daddy.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Bill, I got a lot of daddy issues.”

“Yeah, me too, but not that many.”

“Just enough to be called Daddy, then?” Billy went red, dropped his eyes from Steve as they cackled. “Hit the nail on the fuckin’ head then, didn’t I?”

“Whatever, you little asshole. Let’s just fuckin’ get on with your English homework that is why I’m here after all. Go grab your books.” Steve grinned, leaning in close to Billy.

“Okay, Daddy,” they purred, racing off up the stairs laughing loudly, hearing Billy cursing them out from the kitchen.

[im-a-space-gay]

The Deleted Name Reveal

Another Gay Gamers fic about me making the British boi suffer :D!! I am tired, and really need sleep and validation, but guess what?? I’m not gonna get either!! Oh well.

Trigger Warnings include: Cursing, mentions of pervs, anger, sadness, lack of mental stability, break downs, crying, name reveals that weren’t recorded, Virge been a lil troll, let me know if I need to add more!

Before Virgil went to Florida

~~~~~~~

One more thing. If one more sh*tty thing happened to Virgil in the remaining time of today, he will scream. So many things went wrong today, if you asked him.

It started out when he realized he was out of food, meaning he had to leave his dark and amazing apartment and into the sunlight where people were to buy more. But of course, he missed the bus, had to wait an hour for the next one, had some perv sit next to him that kept leaning into his personal bubble and giving him the bedroom eyes, and then the store was out of Cheddar Broccoli Ricearoni in a cup, making his day so much worse because damn that was the good stuff.

And then when he missed the bus back, he decided walking would be faster, and halfway there, it started raining. He understood he lived in England, but come on!

So now, here he was, soaked all the way through as he entered his apartment, hoping to god his food was dry because most of that stuff didn't last in water, like chips. He put away his snackage first, deciding his health didn't matter anymore as he put the food in the cabinets, ignoring his shivering.

And soon enough he was done putting away groceries and getting into dry clothes and currently was brewing up tea. He was making some part of today enjoyable, mark his words. However, he didn't count on one thing.

His online friends.

They started texting him, telling him to set up and load Minecraft, and that's when it hit him. Recording day. The cherry on top of his already perfect day, huh?

He thought about how he wouldn't make it through the recording without either snapping at everyone or staying completely silent as he turned on his computer, deciding he was gonna need a lot of sugar in his tea for this crap. Hopefully, his mood would make the video more interesting, as it wasn't very often he was like this with no explanation.

Virgil first loaded Minecraft, deciding he could use that time to try to relax and cool down before he had to hear those voices that he was not ready to hear.

And when the time came, he dreadfully opened Discord while sipping his sweet tea. He clicked on the call and oh boy, they were already yelling.

"Hi Anxie!" Patton called over the other two's arguement, making them shut up quickly and say their hellos as well. Virgil just grunted, reading back in the chat to figure out what they were doing and opening one of their modded worlds.

"Did you just wake up?" Logan asked, his stern lecturing voice already coming out which really peeved Virgil off.

"No. I've been awake all day," he growled, trying to ignore his friend's characters as he went down into the mine.

"Okay, no need to be violent!" Roman said, and Virgil just hissed and continued on. As his friends officially started the video, Virgil went to level 23 and made a little hole, barricading himself in and hoping to God nobody would find him. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t mind him doing essentially nothing this video and would be fine with just his barely there commentary.

“Say hello Anx!” Patton said, and wow, did he really miss the other’s introductions? Dang.

“Greetings,” he said, trying not to let his anger out on Patton. He was too good for that. Patton moved on, and he assumed that would be it for five minutes, but of course, Roman was unpredictable.

“That’s it? That’s all?” Roman asked, apparently not pleased with his one word.

“Greetings fellow pieces of garbage, how are you. Better?” Irritation was creeping into his voice as he went on, and if the others didn’t know something was wrong before, they definitely did now.

“Geez, calm down,” Roman said, sounding concerned. Virgil hissed at him again, holding back tears from his frustration as he sipped his tea.

“Are you alright Anx?” Logan asked this time, sounding equally concerned, which did not help his mood at all.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. He became more irritated when there was no more tea in his cup, getting up and going into his kitchen to pour another cup before deciding to grab the entire kettle and drinking out of that as he tried to stay calm listening to his friends.

“So, what do you think of that Anx?” Patton asked halfway into the video, and Virgil just hissed. He didn’t hear what Patton was asking about, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay in this f*cking hole, chug his piping hot tea, and not talk. He shall achieve this, even if he had to commit arson to do it.

“Dude, what is your problem?” Virgil hissed again. When he noticed Logan’s gamer tag coming closer, he crouched. Of course, this didn’t matter as Logan broke into his hole, but it seemed like he found it by accident.

“Wha- Anx what are you doing down here?” He asked in confusion.

“Trying not to have a breakdown and burning my tongue on Chamomile,” Virgil said truthfully, his angry tone melting into an unstable one. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks and he chugged more tea so he wouldn’t make any noises.

“Are you okay?” Roman asked in a joking tone, probably thinking he was kidding. Virgil stopped drinking his tea, opened his mouth to answer the usual “I’m fine”, but a small sob came out instead. “Wait, sh*t, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Anx,” Patton said in a concerned and begging voice.

“I’m fine!” Virgil insisted, holding back any noises that might prove otherwise.

“Pause the recording,” Logan said, and it sounded like everyone went through with it like Virgil did. “Anx...”

“I’m okay!” Virgil said, but the small sobs wracking through the two words contradicted his statement. He couldn’t help but curl into a ball in his giant computer chair, wiping his eyes as if they could see him.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Logan asked softly, and Virgil started crying louder, rubbing his eyes harder too.

“I- I don’t know...”

“God damn it Anx,” Roman mumbled, and Virgil started shrinking into himself before Roman continued. “Why do you have to be all the way in England?”

“Because tea,” Virgil sniffled, and smiled brokenly when he heard the surprised laughter from all three.

It took a while, but they managed to calm him down, and never once asked what he was upset about, which he was thankful for because all the things that made him mad sounded stupid out loud. They just asked if he could continue the video, and after reassurances that he could and wanted to, they let it go. But...

“Uh, before we start recording again, can I um... tell you guys something?”

“Of course Anxie!” Patton said cheerfully, and oh boy that made him more nervous. “What is it Kiddo?”

“Uh- um, so uh...” Virgil took a deep breath. It’s like a bandaid, you just gotta rip it off. “MynameisVirgil!”

“I- I’m sorry, what was that? You said that really fast.”

“My name, is Virgil,” he repeated slower, biting his lip. It was silent for a second before Roman spoke up.

“Wait. Wait wait wait, for real? This isn’t another prank? Like, that is actually your real name?”

“Uh, unless mum’s been lying to me all my life, I’m pretty sure that is my name,” Virgil joked before realizing he’s probably said something similar in his pranks. “I could try and find my birth certificate? It’s gotta be around here somewhere, just give me a second and—“

“Virgil?” Logan cut him off, and Virgil stopped from where he was about to get up.

“Yeah?” He responded near-immediately, not noticing the name difference. Patton squealed, clapping excitedly. This of course, made Virgil really scared. “What? Did I do something?”

“That was too quick to be a fake name!” Patton said, and Virgil finally registered what happened.

“Do you still want a birth certificate or...?”

“I think we’re good Anx.”

“Okay,” Virgil said nodding, and was about to start recording again before—

“Hey An- Virgil?”

“Yes?” He stopped, looking at the computer with the call on it in curiosity.

“We love you, okay?”

Virgil felt his face heat up, and thankfully held back a squeak for the most part, only letting out a small flustered sound. He had to remind himself that Roman was most likely referring to platonic love, and not... the love he felt.

“Y- Yeah, okay. I love you guys too,” he mumbled, and he felt his butterflies turn into seething hot rage as not one, not two, but all three of them starting to “aww” at him, saying how tiny and adorable he was.

How insulting. This is why online friends from America couldn’t be trusted.

Needless to say, Virgil left his little hole and kept trolling the others for the rest of the day, his only explanation being: “What? Me? I’m just a smol, cute bean who apparently can’t do anything wrong.”

[thelovelydreamer17]

The Lost Adventures - Teaser

Summary: Starting junior year in a new school halfway through the semester was already hard, but after you and your biology partner make an alarming discovery it was starting to look like a walk in the park.  

Relationships: Robert Downey Jr. x Daughter! Reader, Eventual Tom Holland x Reader (As in later in the series) 

Word Count: 1,932

Warnings: Slight mentions of anxiety

Prompt: “I’m sorry, you’re what now?”

A/N: Here is my part in @afictionaladventure16 2K Celebration Challenge! It is loosely inspired by their series Safe and Sound, one of my all-time favorite stories. I haven’t posted anything in a long time, so go easy on me, please! This is sort of a prologue/teaser for the storyline. I have a lot of ideas on where to take this, should anyone want to read it. I hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!

You paced back and forth in front of the couch, biting on the side of your thumb. Indio was supposed to be here five minutes ago, you only had so much time before Robert was done filming and would be coming back. The minutes were counting down as your worry went up. As you crawled into the fifteen-minute mark you decided that this was ridiculous. Grabbing your bag off the counter, you swung it over your shoulder and hurried to the trailer door to get the hell out of here before anyone came back. Just as you were about to open the door, it swung open nearly hitting you clear across the face. 

“Shit, Y/N.” Indie waited until you had moved back before pushing it open enough so that he could slip in. He set the small cardboard box he was holding down on the little kitchen table and kicked the door shut with his foot. 

“You’re late.” You started to pace again, not being able to sit still. 

“I know, sorry.” He opened the box and started to pull out what you were going to need. “Mom was home and it took longer than I thought to sneak it away from her and then Andre stopped me at the front gate to talk about school.” 

“He’s going to be here any minute.” You let him take the bag out of your hands, crossing you then freed arms against your stomach. “This is a horrible idea.” 

“It’s a great idea, and I got Holland to try and stall him. It should work for a few minutes. Now come sit down and please stop pacing. You’re making me anxious.” 

You looked at him incredulously, “I’m making you anxious? How are you not already anxious?” 

“Because I know this is a good idea and I’ve been wanting to do this from the start.” He sighed and stood up, halting your steps as he placed your hands on your shoulders, grounding you. “I can remember the few years after you were taken when he was so full of grief and worry that he would drink himself into a haze, and then when that wouldn’t work he would switch to drugs just to make it a little easier. It took him years to finally come to terms with what happened, and get clean, but I know that he still struggles with it. 

“Every year on our birthday we light a candle for you, mom always will make a small little cupcake and we light the candle and make a wish that even if you don’t come back to us, that you are happy and safe and loved.” You wiped your eyes with the heel of your hand, letting out a sniff. 

“If only that wish came true.” He wraps you up in a hug, the solid six inches he had over you making it feel like a warm blanket. 

“And that is why we are doing this, so that can be true.” Giving you a kiss on the top of the head he pushed you away, “Now, let’s get this show on the road. Holland won’t be able to keep him away much longer and we need to get your nerves under control and get a plan together.” 

You wiped your eyes once more and nodded. Indie gave you a soft smile before handing you the box you kept in your bag.

“I honestly don’t know what half the shit in here is,” You let out a laugh and took it from him, walking over to join him at the table. He had started to lay out the papers and documents that you were going to use as both proof and evidence. You still hadn’t decided if you were going to press charges, but Indie was sure that Robert would want to. 

You had just placed down your copy of adoption records when the door burst open once more, this time without nearly knocking you out. Your eyes shot up and you felt your throat clench when you saw Robert standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face. Tom popped up over his shoulder, mouthing an apology to the two of you. Quickly putting down the papers, you took a half step away from the table as Indio tried to fix the situation. 

“Hey, Dad. How was filming?” He ever so carefully slid the papers under each other behind his back, and your thumbnail ended up between your teeth once more. 

“It was good, now does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” He fully entered the room, crossing his arms as he raised his brows at his son. “I’m assuming this has to do with Holland trying to get me to taste everything at the buffet table?”

You shot Tom a look of wonder, and he just shrugged, stepping into the trailed and closing the door behind him. 

“You guys said to stall him and I ran out of ideas.” You stared at him a moment longer until he added, “And I was also hungry.” 

Indie let out a chuckle and was about to add to the conversation when Robert interrupted him again. 

“Aren’t you the biology partner?” He was looking straight at you and you felt your face heat up without your approval. You nodded, your eyes flashing between Indie’s and Tom’s. If you were anxious before, you were damn near a heart attack now. This was not how this was supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen this way. 

“Yeah, she is.” Indie said slowly, “But there’s something else that she is as well, something that we need to tell you.” 

“Are you two dating?” You let out a high pitched laugh that sounded slightly on the verge of hysteria. 

“Dating, oh my god what is happening.” Your voice had risen three octaves and you run your hands through your hair before sitting down on the edge of the couch. You could feel their eyes on you, and Indio inched closer, letting you know of his unspoken support. 

“No, we’re definitely not dating.” He let out a sigh, turning around to grab all the papers behind you in an unorganized clump. “You’re probably going to want to sit down.” 

He walked over and sat next to you, leaving Robert to the armchair directly across from you both. Neither of you noticed as Tom snuck out of the trailer to give the three of you time to talk.

“Do you have the test results?” Indie asked you, mentioning the DNA results that started this all. 

You nodded and grabbed the box off the side table, digging through it until you produced the two thick pieces of paper. They were the official DNA results, you had both figured that the classwork would not suffice in this situation. 

“Okay, so I’m not really sure where to start this.” Indio glanced at you, and for the first time that day, he looked unsure of the situation. You gnawed on your lip, looking down at the papers that were just out of view of his dad. 

“Dio, what’s going on. You know you can tell me anything.” Robert said softly, making you both look up at him. Seeing the truth in his face, you made the decision for both of you. Grabbing the papers out of Indie’s hands you arranged them into a way that would make sense and passed them over to Robert. He took them,  his eyes not leaving yours as he scrunched his forehead in confusion. 

“Just read them. We can explain anything else afterward.” He nodded and started to look through them, switching pages every few seconds. You felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room as you waited for him to finish. When he got to the DNA results, his eyes flashed upward, looking between the both of you with suspicion. Finally, he set them down on the table between you and crossed his arms over his chest. Your gaze met Indie’s as you both wondered what the older man was thinking. 

It was silent, the tension in the room building until your leg started to shake again on its own accord. 

“I don’t understand what this means.” One look at Indio’s face told you that he wasn’t going to be any help, and you were forced to bite the bullet yourself. 

“I’m your daughter, his twin.” There was a moment's pause and when no reaction was made you continued on. “I was taken for what I think was this illegal black market adoption ring, people would steal kids and them sell them for a lot of money for this ring who would them sell them to other people who would think it was a legit adoption company. Usually rich, desperate people. 

I would have stayed there with them, but they were in a car crash a few years after they adopted me and I was put into foster care. I bounced around for a while until I ended up at the school that was partnered with Hamptons Bay for a Bio project, a DNA comparison project. Indie and I happened to be paired up, and we figured it out but then there was the contest, and then the Thymes and I wanted to wait but Indie and Tom said that we shouldn’t, and we were going to do this in a smoother way where we could ease you into the idea, but then Indie was late and you were coming and so we just had to blurt it out and,” 

He cut you off, making your mouth close with a clank of your teeth. 

“I’m sorry, you’re what now?” He looked at you, then changed his gaze to his son who had been awfully quiet since the conversation started. 

“She’s what now?” Swallowing Indie flipped through the papers on the counter before pulling out the two DNA results and your original birth certificate and the fake copy that the adoption ring had made. 

“She’s my twin, your daughter.” He laid all four out in front of Robert, “She’s Y/N.” 

This time, Robert took in the information and understood what he was looking at. You could see his eyes start to water and when he looked up at you again you could see that he understood. 

“It really is you.” He said it softly, a tone that you had never heard in the movies and interviews you had seen of him. It was a tone that was reserved only for his family. “You came back.” 

He stood up and moved over to crouch in front of you. Gently, he unraveled your arms and took your hands in his, his grip loose enough to allow you to pull away should you choose. When you didn’t, his grip tightened slightly as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“We’ve missed you, Kid. You might not remember us, and to you, we’re probably strangers, but I have never stopped loving you or believe that you were still out there. Never.” You felt your own eyes water slightly at his words. Nobody had ever told you something with so much love and trust. This as a man you barely knew who had shown you more kindness in the last half an hour than anyone had in the past ten years. Sure, you had some good homes, with some nice parents, but they had never loved or cared for you as Robert claimed he did. 

[lovelyirony]

OKAY prompt for you: tony stark + scumbag by goody grace ft blink-182

Tony knew that he was not cut out for friends by age seven. People asked him question upon question, took advantage of his homework, and he was left being frustrated. 

Perhaps the only piece of advice his father gave him besides “don’t ever wreck one of my cars or I will kill you” was this: 

“No one in this world you have really wants to be your genuine friend. And to be frank, you can’t have friends when you have this business.” 

So Tony figures out that a.) His dad is an asshole, and b.) Tony’s next-up for competing to take the spot. Except they don’t refer to the position as “asshole.” They usually call you “boss.” 

At first, Tony thinks his father is wrong. At least one person has to want to be his friend. 

...right? 

After age seven, there is a period of time where this is disproved. Ten years, in fact. Person after person tries to befriend him and he lets some of them in. Some of them don’t ask for things right away. 

They wait a month. Or two. And for a moment, he really enjoys this time and he wants so badly (too badly) to shove friendship in his father’s face because he’s disproved his father’s claim. 

But then they ask. Whether it be for homework help (“Can I please just copy your homework? You’re already so smart, and maybe could you do my physics for me?” 

“Hey, could I borrow some money? You have so much of it--”) 

And he gets it. So he helps them, but after that he doesn’t offer to hang out because it’s just him paying for everything because he won’t expect them to. He can afford anything. 

They brand him as stand-offish and holier-than-thou when he refuses to spend more money on events, when he won’t buy them fake IDs to get into parties or alcohol. 

“Why?” They’ll sneer. “Too proud?” 

“You’re not my friend,” Tony drops, voice dead calm. “So why would I?” 

(Because he wishes that he could just have a friend. Just one fucking friend that doesn’t expect shit and doesn’t ask in that way, and god it sounds privileged but would anyone get that? Would they?) 

He’s cold and collected and people say that his gaze is unnerving. 

(You have to look through them first before you allow them any sort of anything.) 

SHIELD doesn’t even consider him. Howard was...overeager, in a sense. He had a friend in Peggy, or at least something that suggested partnership. He was willing to help with weaponry and communication technology. 

Tony Stark shows no promise of that. No one ever gets a read on him and he requests his own room in college. No sense in hoping for a roommate. No one gets in. And that means that nothing about him can come out. 

Until Rhodey. 

Rhodey goes to MIT and also has no roommate, but mostly due to the fact that sign-ups for their dorm were down. Honestly, he’s fine with that. He can make at least buddies with ROTC and some engineering majors. 

But Tony interests him. Because he always shows up a bit of a mess, writes notes on paper and when that runs out (he never brings any sort of notebook), he starts to write on his arms and sometimes his legs if he’s really invested. 

People call him eccentric. 

“Man, he’s just fucking crazy,” Rhodey says to Jack, one of his friends. Jack is a pretty cool dude, if not for the fact that he’s in a frat and got drunk on a Tuesday at 3:45 p.m. after a chemistry class. 

Tony doesn’t say anything. He hears Rhodey, and yeah it kind of hurts that someone is saying he’s crazy, but it’s not the worst thing you could be called. 

You could be called “a living disappointment” over a dinner on a random Thursday when a business trip got cancelled and someone doesn’t have good anger management skills. 

But that’s getting too specific, isn’t it? 

Rhodey is curious about Tony Stark. Not really about business or anything, just how the fuck this guy functions. Because he can hear him get home from somewhere at four a.m., and it’s not the drunken stumblings that Rhodey’s had to deal with so far this semester. 

So at four in the morning, Rhodey knocks on the door and barges his way in. 

“I wanna know what you’re working on,” he says. “Because I can hear tools and I don’t really mind that, I just wanna know.” 

“Um, a robot.” 

“What’s it do?” 

Tony’s not sure why he indulges this dude. Maybe because it’s four a.m. and at four a.m. you don’t really have to impress the shit out of anybody except for maybe a stray cat depending on the night, and so he lets this guy in. 

“This bot is called Dum-E. All he knows how to do is bump into chairs and lie to me.” 

“He can lie?” 

“Yeah, which is actually pretty impressive considering he was born a week ago.” 

“Well then, congrats on becoming a father.” Rhodey says, grinning. “Should we write him up a birth certificate?” 

Rhodey is listed as the witness--Tony’s not sure if they need one but Rhodey figures he should be something on it, at least. 

Tony doesn’t say he’s a friend. Rhodey doesn’t claim to be. But Rhodey waves to him at the dining center and comes into his room to ask for help on physics and it’s not in the way that it usually is it’s Rhodey poking his head in and asking Tony if he has time and if he can review over the problems. 

“I don’t wanna drag you away from anything,” Rhodey says. “I just really don’t get why the hell I keep getting acceleration wrong.” 

So they sit down to do homework and Rhodey brings ramen over to share with Tony and it’s just--nice. 

The thing about having a pattern is that sometimes, there are outliers. Things that you don’t expect but happen nonetheless because of reasons. 

Reasons like Rhodey knows that someone needs a friend. 

Reasons like they both laugh at stupid puns and really like watching SNL weekend updates. Reasons like Tony has never once cooked for himself and Rhodey is like “oh my god you are literally the worst let me show you how to do shit because you are useless.” 

It’s the fact that they treat each other like human beings. And that’s what matters. 

[dvp95]

giving you my forever

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: fluff, established relationship, idiots in love, proposal word count: 1.2k summary: Phil gives him a little wave and goes to water their semi-neglected plants. He's wearing glasses and ugly pyjamas, and he looks like the rest of Dan's life.

"Hey," says Dan. "You wanna get married?"

read on ao3 or here!

It's something Dan has been thinking about a lot recently. They've always treated it like the eventuality it is, but their five-year plan, scrawled on a Sword Art Online sticky note after a long plane ride home and kept in a kitchen drawer, is wrapping up and making space for a new one. He's thinking about it even more now, as they round off a decade together and suddenly every day is another reminder of how far they've come.

Ten years. It stretches across a good chunk of Dan's life, over a third of it, really, and it kind of blurs together. He doesn't remember every single moment with crystal clarity, and there were long bouts where nothing felt good at all, not even Phil's hand in his, but he can look back on all of it with the sort of peace that comes from hindsight and knowing what you want.

What Dan wants is another ten years. And then another, and another. He's greedy like that. He wants to keep hitting this milestone over and over again, wants a lifetime of plans with Phil jotted down on sticky notes and celebrated with lazy kisses in the late autumn air.

They've talked about it, but not seriously. It's been passive jokes and soft whispers into each other's hair when they're feeling particularly sappy for so long. There had been so much to do before it, people to confide in, but there's not much left now that they've made such big leaps into a more authentic existence.

Dan is comfortable on their sofa and half watching some interior design show Netflix has been shoving down his throat like it somehow knows about the moving boxes scattered around the flat. When Phil comes in with his little watering can and a soft smile in greeting, Dan feels his heart flip over like it has since he was eighteen and stupid over the first boy who made him feel good about himself. That feeling hasn't diminished, it's only gotten stronger and softer in equal amounts, settled into Dan like something he never knew he'd be allowed to feel. Phil gives him a little wave and goes to water their semi-neglected plants. He's wearing glasses and ugly pyjamas, and he looks like the rest of Dan's life.

"Hey," says Dan. "You wanna get married?"

Phil laughs, quiet and lovely and not at all surprised. "Sure, we can have a party."

"That's not exactly what I asked," Dan notes. He's all too familiar with the way Phil dodges questions he doesn't have an answer for. "But we don't have to, I was just wondering."

"I think it sounds nice," says Phil. He picks up a small cactus to survey it sadly. "Oh, this one might not be salvageable."

"Probably not. So d'you want to get married, or are you just trying not to hurt my feelings?"

With another soft huff of a laugh, Phil sets the cactus and watering can down on the coffee table. He flops onto the sofa mostly on top of Dan, knobby knees and bony elbows all knocking into Dan in a way that ought to be annoying but is, instead, the most endearing thing in the world.

"I think," Phil says, pressing his lips to Dan's fluttering pulse point, "that we've earned making a big deal of it if we'd like to."

"I would like to," says Dan. A smile is tugging at his lips, but he's not giving in yet. He wraps his arms around Phil as best as he can, since neither of them are in properly comfortable positions, and kisses Phil's temple. "I want to be married to you."

"Well, that's a silly thing to want," Phil laughs. "You already are."

"I know it feels like we are, but I just think -"

"No," Phil interrupts before Dan can get a good ramble in, which is rare enough on its own that Dan's words die in his throat. Phil gives him a bemused sort of smile. "You literally already are. Is this a joke, or have you actually forgotten?"

This would be exactly the type of thing that Phil would joke about, his lips twitching and his eyes wide with fake innocence as he tries to convince Dan of something blatantly untrue, but none of his usual tells are there. Instead, Phil just looks like he's torn between offense and a desire to laugh in Dan's face.

"We aren't married," Dan says, slowly.

"We are," says Phil, "and you'd know that if you ever did any of our paperwork."

Dan feels like, maybe, he ought to be more shocked.

"When did this happen?" Is all he's really got. It's not like he can be angry about something he so desperately wants. "Where was I?"

"Couple years back," Phil says, and he giggles into Dan's neck. "You signed the papers, you absolute idiot. Did you not know what we were doing? I asked if you wanted to take the next step."

Dan wracks his mind for that memory. He's signed a lot of shit with Phil at his side, and he can't remember any of it being a marriage certificate. He's about to dismiss this as another over-the-top Phil prank when he gets a sneaking suspicion.

"Babe," he says, pulling back from their weird snuggle so he can give Phil a properly dubious look. "Did you dream this?"

A giggle and a smack to Dan's chest. "No!"

"Where's the license, then?"

"With all our other papers, you want me to prove it?"

"No, Phil," says Dan, "I'm just going to take your word for it that we got married without me noticing."

"I'll show you," Phil grumbles, good-naturedly, and he clambers off of Dan with some more awkward flailing of his long limbs. He hurries down the stairs and Dan's laughter echoes a little bit in the open, nearly empty space.

The interior design show is still playing, but Dan has long lost interest in it. He stands up instead and picks up the watering can, because he knows damn well how unorganized their filing system is, and he might as well keep sustaining their houseplants while Phil gets lost in paperwork. Phil keeps saying he knows where everything goes, but Dan wouldn't be able to find his own birth certificate without help.

It only takes Phil a few minutes, somehow; Dan has really got to pay more attention when Phil is explaining his system. He comes back upstairs empty-handed and sheepish.

"You dreamt it," Dan says flatly.

"I might have dreamt it," Phil agrees.

"You're an idiot."

Phil shrugs. He's grinning and his cheeks are a little pink, his hands moving around in vague, uncertain motions like he doesn't know what to do with them. He's an idiot, but he's Dan's idiot. "Yeah, alright, maybe I am," he laughs. "We probably should get married so I stop committing tax fraud."

Dan cannot tell if that's a joke. He also doesn't really care. He laughs too, loud and grateful and just so unbelievably, deliriously happy that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Sure. That's a good reason."

"I mean, it is," says Phil. "I don't want to go to tax jail. And I liked being married to you, when I thought I was."

"Guess we need to start planning shit out, then," Dan says, smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. He's thinking about that sticky note, the five-year plan, and everything he wants to add to the next one. For now, though, he's going to water the plants so Phil isn't begging him to pack up dead succulents in the next couple of weeks and start to think of a better proposal story to tell his nan.

[1899-newsboy-strike]

The Twins Pt. 3 - Johnny Cade Imagine

The Twins Masterlist

A/N: Just a quick disclaimer, if you see this story on Wattpad under the title “Dallas Winston’s Twin Sister” it is not a copy or I’m not trying to copy it, it is my story from well over two years ago that I am just rewriting and actually finishing 

Warnings: Dallas being Dallas, fighting

Summary: The only things you and your brother cared about were each other, and your best friend Johnny. You cared about the rest of the gang, but Johnny was like the younger brother you both never had. You’d do whatever you had to in order to protect your friend, even when it means you were the one in danger. 

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

When you got to the drive in, the movie was already playing and all four of you slid through the hole under a gate right by the show one by one. You passed this one mustang, and you could hear this girl arguing with her boyfriend making you laugh. The four of you hopped over a railing and got seats almo. The same girl that was arguing with her boyfriend sat right in front of us with her friend making me groan internally. 

"I'm freezing man." Ponyboy complained shifting in his seat uncomfortably. 

"Why didn't you bring a coat stupid?" Dallas asked while he tried to turn on his match to light his cigarette. 

"I forgot." Ponyboy muttered looking at the movie. You slipped off your jacket, handing it over to Ponyboy. 

"Here." You told him, but he shook his head making you roll your eyes putting it back on. Dallas went to the seat next to some redhead and was finally able to light his match, making both of the girls jump. One started giggling and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

"Some cute redhead huh?" Dallas told you making the other girl giggle. "Are you a real redhead?" He asked the girl going up to her real close and not to anyone's surprise the other girl giggled again.

"Come on Dal." Johnny said and you looked over at him shaking your head. If Johnny told him to stop, Dallas would probably get mad and you didn't need Dallas mad at Johnny. 

"Are you real?" Dallas asked again as he put his feet up on the chair next to her making him fall out of his chair making all of you laugh while he got back up. "How can I find out if this is your real red hair? If this is the same red hair that you have on your uh" Dallas started and you smirked trying not to laugh since you knew what he was gonna say next. "These eyebrows. Is it?" He finished and you scoffed making him shoot you a look. Dallas laughed to himself, sitting back down making you shake your head. 

"Cut it out Dal." Johnny told him looking back at the girls. You nudged him with your leg silently telling him to be quiet. Dallas was messing with the back of the girls chair like a child and you had to hold back a laugh because you could tell she was getting annoyed. 

"Get your feet off my chair and shut your trap." The girl said over her shoulder to Dallas. 

"Who's gonna make me huh? Your boyfriend?" Dallas asked her as Johnny got up. 

"I'm gonna get a coke." He told you while he left making Dallas have to put down his legs. 

"Leave her alone Dal." Ponyboy told him and you pinched Ponyboy making him hit your hand. No one tells Dallas what to do, he’d never listen. You saw the giggly girl whisper something to the redhead, making your eyebrows knit together. 

"Sure whatever you say honey." Dallas told Ponyboy, making you smirk and give Dallas a small high five. 

"You better leave us alone or I'll call the cops." The red threatened him making you laugh. 

"Oh my my. You got me scared to death. What, what am I gonna do now Y/N huh? This girl's making me shake." Dallas joked, making you laugh even more. 

"Why don't you leave us alone? Be nice and leave us alone!" The girl said getting mad cutting Dallas off from saying something else. 

"I'm never nice." Dallas replied, getting close to her again. "Can I interest you in a Coca-Cola or a 7-up?" Dallas asked, almost sounding polite. 

"Get lost hood!" She screamed in Dallas' face making you glare at her. 

"Hey I'm sorry. I didn't, I didn't know you had this problem with, yelling in my face. Okay, all right I'll go. I know when I'm not wanted." Dallas explained getting up and walking away. 

"Are you gonna start in on us now too?" The redhead asked, turning around to face you. 

"Please, you're both not my type." You joked, giving Ponyboy a small shove. 

"No." Ponyboy replied to her softly. 

"You don't look the type anyway. What's your name?" She asked Ponyboy as she looked at you cautiously. 

"Ponyboy Curtis." Ponyboy told her, shifting in his seat. 

"That's an original name." She told him laughing a little while she ignored you. You didn't really care since you already didn't like her. 

"Yeah. My dad, he was an original person. I got a brother named Sodapop. It even says so on his birth certificate." Ponyboy told her, sounding excited. If you got money every time he said that you'd probably be able to bail Dallas out of jail whenever he goes. 

"My name is Sherri but my friends call me Cherry because of my hair." She told him, smiling at him softly. 

"Yeah I know. We go to the same school. You're a cheerleader." Ponyboy told her adding the last part when she gave him a confused look.

 "You don't look old enough to be going to high school." The other girl told him. 

"What's a nice boy like you doing hanging around with that trash?" Cherry asked, making you roll your eyes. 

"Dally's my buddy and Dani's brother. I'm a grease too. We're all friends." Ponyboy told her, sounding upset. 

"I'm sorry I didn't know." She told him, sounding like she felt bad, but there was no doubt in your mind that it was probably fake. 

Johnny finally came back from getting coke, and you stopped paying attention to the conversation between Cherry and Ponyboy. You grabbed Johnny's coke out of his hand, drinking some giving him a small smile. He looked at you like he was about to complain about you getting some but, but you quickly kissed his cheek. 

"Thanks Johnny." You laughed making him blush. Dallas walked up with a countless amount of drinks, and handed them to each of you. 

"Here, since I stole some from you you can have the one with more in it." You told Johnny, handing him your cup, switching with his. 

"Here, I thought this might cool you off." Dallas told Cherry, handing her a drink making you laugh a little. 

"Maybe that will cool you off greaser. When you learn to talk and act decent I might cool off too!" Cherry exclaimed while she threw the drink in Dallas' face. 

"Fiery huh? Just the way I like it ‘em." Dallas replied, getting close to Cherry. 

"Leave her alone Dallas." You told him when you saw Johnny was about to say something. 

"What'd you say?" He asked you, getting mad. 

"You heard me. I said leave her alone." You told him standing up. You thought it was better to have Dallas get mad at you than Johnny. 

"What'd you say you little shit? What'd you say to me?" He asked again, getting more mad. 

"You heard me, kid brother." You told him getting mad right back. You were born before a few minutes Dallas and you always used it to your advantage when you had to. 

"You wise ass." He mumbled as Johnny pulled you back down to sit next to him. Dallas got up pushing his chair making it fall before he walked away. 

"Thanks." Johnny whispered to you and you nodded smiling at him. 

"Now you blew it." Ponyboy told you, making you scoff. 

"He's my brother little Curtis, I can talk to him however I please." You told him, stealing a piece of popcorn from his container. 

"Thank you. He had me scared to death." She nodded to you, giving you attention for the first time that night. 

"Sure didn't show it. Ain't nobody talk to Dal like that." Johnny chipped in. 

"From what I saw, she does." Cherry replied looking at you. 

"That's different, I'm his sister, I'm allowed to talk to him however I like." You shrugged, drinking your coke. 

"Why don't y'all sit up here with us so you can protect us?" The other girl asked the three of you, smiling. 

"What do you think man?" Johnny asked Ponyboy who had a smile on his face. 

"Might as well." Ponyboy agreed, wiping the smile off his face pretty quickly. You all sat in the empty chairs near the girls, and got settled in. 

"How old are y'all?" The other girl asked. 

"14" "16" "17" You all told them. 

"Huh I thought both you boys were-" Cherry started and she said 16 while her friend said 14. "You look a little older though." Cherry told you and you shrugged. 

"Go through stuff you might look older too red." You told her, giving her your own nickname, making her look away awkwardly after that. 

"How come y'all ain't scared of us like you was Dally?" Johnny asked them. 

"You two are too sweet looking to scare anyone. You're surprisingly just like your brother though." Cherry replied. aiming the last part toward you making you shrug. People always said that you were like a girl version of Dallas. You’d been to jail about the same amount of times, maybe Dallas a few more than you, but the gang knew me and knew I could be sweet when I wanted to be. "Besides I know about the Winston’s. You and Johnny don't look mean." She told Ponyboy, making you furrow your brows, wondering what she meant. 

"Yeah right. We're young and innocent." Ponyboy said, sounding like an upset child.

"No, you're just not dirty." She told him. 

"Come on Dal and Y/N are okay. I mean they're tough and all but they're both cool if you get to know them." Johnny told her, sticking up for the both of you making you smile at him. 

"He'd leave you alone if he knew who you were." Ponyboy explained. 

"Well I'm glad he doesn't know us. I kind of admire him." Cherry thought out loud making you mentally gag. 

"All right greaser you're dead!" You heard from behind you as someone grabbed Johnny. Johnny jumped out of his skin, and you all looked and saw Twobit. 

"Hey Twobit." Ponyboy called from where he was sitting. 

"This hair's out of place." Twobit laughed running his switchblade over Johnny's hair. 

"Do you mind?" You asked the other girl, reaching for her soda. She shook her head, handing it to you making you nod as a thank you to her. 

"Here kid. Have a beer it'll settle your nerves." Twobit told Johnny, handing him the beer he’d brought. You sucked up some soda through the straw before spitting it at Twobit before handing back the girl her drink. 

"That's not funny Twobit." You told him while he wiped his face. 

"Well who do we got here your great grandmothers?" Twobit joked making the girl laugh. "What are you young ladies doing hanging out with these greasers anyway huh? Twobit asked, trying to sound like a Soc. 

"Dal was bothering them and they wanted us to come sit with them." Johnny told Twobit. 

"He was huh?" Twobit asked near your face, squeezing your shoulder hard getting you back for spitting coke in his face. "Where is old Dal now anyway?" He asked. 

"Yeah where is old Dally?" You heard someone asked and you looked up to see Tim Shepard. 

"He left Tim." Ponyboy told him, picking at his popcorn. 

"Hey I know he slashed my tires." Tim accused, angrily looking over at you. 

"Look Tim. He left. He's not here. Really. You guys seen Dally?" Ponyboy asked all of you winking and you all said no. 

"Yeah well I'll be looking for him. Come on Winston." Tim told you, making you look over at him confused. 

"What?" You asked as he was staring at you. 

"Come on we are going to go find your brother." He explained, walking up to you, grabbing your upper arm pulling you out of my chair. 

"Hey Tim if Dally did slash your tires it's not Y/N's fault." Twobit told him as he was about to get up.

"If I don't find Dally then someone’s gotta pay for it. Got to give him a message now don't I?" Tim asked as he pulled you close to him. You looked up at Tim while he looked down at you, and he had a look in his eye that was meaner than usual. 

"Y/N." You heard from behind you and you looked back seeing Johnny. 

"It'll be alright Johnny don't worry." You told him while Tim dragged you away. 

"Hey I can walk by myself okay." You spat at him, pulling your arm out of his grip. 

"Doesn't look like it." He fired back when he saw you grabbing your side where William had kicked you earlier. "What happened?" He asked, almost sounding worried. 

"Don't act like you care Shepard." You rolled your eyes as you kept walking. He muttered something under his breath and you were about to say something, but he grabbed you by the neck with a firm grip. "There he is." He whispered to me. "Hey Winston!" Tim called Dallas who was talking to a girl. Dallas looked over and quickly walked over to us, ignoring everybody around him. 

"Let her go." Dallas glared at Tim. 

"I know you slashed my tires Dallas." Tim told him, tightening his grip around your neck.

"He didn't slash them Tim. I did." You choked out, lying and saw Dallas look at you in shock. 

"No I-" Dallas started but you cut him off. 

"Don't try and cover for me Dallas. I slashed the tires." You told Tim, and his grip loosened. He spun me around and you got a good blow to the face. He threw you to Dallas and he caught you holding you tightly to him. 

"Do it again Winston and it'll be worse." Tim spat over to us and you sighed when he walked away. 

"Do something like that again and I'm gonna kill you." Dallas explained, shoving you. 

"You already fought someone once today because of me. I just returned the favor." You told him, and  probably made him even more mad. "I probably won't come back tonight because I'm gonna stay with Johnny and make sure he's okay because he's been acting strange lately." I told Dallas and he nodded smiling a little. "Wait." You stopped before walking away. "What did Johnny tell you earlier that he wouldn't tell me?" You  asked, looking up at  Dallas. 

"Now you'll just have to ask him yourself now won't you?" Dallas told you, smiling and avoided the question. You groaned to yourself, walking back toward the drive in and you saw the boys walking with Cherry and her friend before you ran up behind them, jumping onto Twobit's back to scare him.

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

Tag List: Let me know if you would like to be tagged in this series

@the-aussie-fangirl @wnygirl2012 @mathletemadison

[itsclydebitches]

The RWBY/It Crossover That Absolutely No One Asked For But You’re Getting Anyway

Ozpin - The “gifted child” who is already sick of that shit, both because of the bullying he’s gotten for it at school (what middle schooler uses his vocabulary and dresses in a suit?) and because it has given his parents another reason to ignore him. You’re basically a functioning adult! The Losers are Ozpin’s first group of friends outside of his little sister Salem, gone missing one day and now re-appearing in his basement, pale like she drowned, with strange black veins threading over her skin... Though they all silently think of him as the leader once the horror begins, he discourages that whenever possible. He’s done with being the odd one out. 

Qrow - Qrow “Trashmouth” Branwen. Twin brother of Raven who also disappeared around the same time as Salem, though only Qrow knows that’s because she finally hitch-hiked out of their fucked up town. He hasn’t heard from her since. Unfailingly annoying and loyal in turns, Qrow’s nickname is only partly because of his foul-mouthed tendencies. The group decided he needed another, proper nickname after he quietly told them that he and Raven would like to be known by those names indefinitely now, regardless of what’s on any birth certificates. The Losers respect that. Devoted to Ozpin in particular, Qrow often uses his status as the (presumed) local bad boy to keep others off his friends’ backs. 

James - Coming from the only Jewish family for miles around, James has his own share of problems, thanks. Lately, with his bar mitzvah approaching, he’s found his adoration of science is somewhat at odds with his faith, especially when so much is riding on him continuing tradition. Quieter and more reserved than the others, James was inwardly pleased to make a friend in Ozpin, the only one around capable of keeping up with his theories---even if they disagree 99% of the time. When all the horror starts, it’s James who is the most resistant to it, first through sheer disbelief, then later through confidence in his own sense of what is and is not reality. It’s often his mental fortitude that gets them out of tight spots. 

Bart - Manic almost to the point of being obnoxious (some Losers would lovingly argue that there’s no ‘almost’), Bart has ADHD according to a couple online quizzes he took with Glynda. That’s the best they can do with no money, no resources, and no one else who cares. It’s fine though. They make do. With an intense passion for all things history, Bart is more than happy to start researching the town once Ozpin brings it up. A good thing too, considering that he’s probably the only one capable of working through that many massive, dry tomes. Find him in the library and you’ll be startled by the contrast: a vibrant look that includes dyed green hair and a bright yellow shirt paired with the most studious of attitudes. Researching something he loves is the only time when Bart keeps still. 

Peter - A stocky, boisterous boy, Peter longs for nothing more than to be the hero of his own story. Even if he really doesn’t look the part. Or seemingly have any heroic skills. And sometimes freezes when things get messy. None of that matters because he’s going to succeed one day, dammit. Fake it till you make it! Practically attached at the hip to Bart, the two make an unlikely---but as others quickly learn---unstoppable pair. Contrasting James’ skepticism, when Ozpin first told them about seeing an evil looking Salem in his house, Peter immediately pulled an ax out from under his bed and demanded to know where he was needed. Oh, the ax? He just had it for... reasons. 

Tai - Kind-hearted almost to a fault, Tai took Raven’s bedroom when she left in order to escape his own parents. He’ll take indifference over his previous living arrangement any day. Though more than once Qrow has tried to talk to him about the broken school supplies and badly hidden bruises, Tai never offers anything except a smile. It’s the same for all of them, all the time, and whenever his back is turned the Losers share glances among each other, wondering when he’ll finally break. Not if, but when. Not that it matters because they all intend to be there when it happens, determined to show Tai that he’s allowed to be something other than that constantly cheerful, helpful version of himself. 

Glynda - The one girl of the group and no, she’s never going to let you forget it. Also the real leader if we’re getting right down to it. Glynda had no intention of making friends with six other boys, especially when she already has an entirely undeserved reputation as the town slut. Why not embrace it then? The Losers lose their collective shit the day she walks up in a new purple skirt, black boots, and white top, all of them stolen from the store where the manager dared touch her. The persona isn’t at all what she’d intended---like Ozpin and James, Glynda is somewhat introverted---but then she had no intention of fighting whatever was hiding in those sewers either. Something dark and otherworldly, capable of transforming into a massive bird, a boar, sometimes a vaguely human-like shape...  Glynda hates that version most of all. 

Fun plot points after the time jump include: 

Qrow losing his goddamn mind as he remembers that he’s been in love with Ozpin for over thirty fucking years and what pRECISELY is he supposed to do with that information NOW? 

Ozpin is also panicking, he’s just quiet about it 

The awful realization that this Grimm thing beneath the town feeds on/grows stronger through negative emotions so lol that’s a bit not good when the seven of us are all such a mess 

Oh hi Tai great to see you again quick question WHY DID YOU BRING YOUR TWO YOUNG DAUGHTERS TO THE MURDER TOWN? 

Hey Tai second question what do you mean you went and had a kid with my long-lost sister 

Whole side plot involving Ruby and Yang meeting Weiss and Blake who grew up here. Cue culture clash and the kids helping the adults out on their messed up adventure 

Blake: “You won’t believe me if I tell you... no one does... it’s just too horrible...” Yang: “Oh you mean the supernatural entity that wants to devour you and frequently finds its way across the town via the sewers? Yeah. Dad filled us in on the drive up.” 

James takes all of .5 seconds to start bickering with Oz again, mostly on how to handle the situation. The Losers know they’re really back together once the shouting starts

Bart greets Glynda with an enthusiastic “I finally got diagnosed and you would not believe---I need you to sit, honey, this is gonna take a while” speech and she’s so happy to do it

Peter still has his ax. It comes in handy 

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (5/?)

Chapter Title: Perspective

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob

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

Story Rating: R

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

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

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

*    *     *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*    *     *

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

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

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

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

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

“Roger that. Ox out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How rustic,” Resnikov remarked with a snort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So let's check,” Yoshizawa insisted.

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

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

“Did you feel that?” asked Resnikov.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Detonations. Someone was causing biotic detonations down there.

But for what purpose?

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

“I only drink Paragade,” Yoshizawa remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That confirmed it then. There were survivors down here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miranda's breath caught.

It couldn't be.

This wasn't possible.

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

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

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

Miranda quickly recovered from the shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I noticed,” Miranda curtly replied.

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

“We're acquainted,” Miranda answered dryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Jack's mind, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you mean?” Miranda pressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, bloody hell.

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

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

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

They couldn't afford to let that happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miranda heard it too.

“What was wh—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she saw it. Miranda was awestruck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emergencies didn't come more urgent than this.

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

Then the channel went quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miranda couldn’t argue with that assessment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was she supposed to choose?

“Jack—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her thoughts were quickly shattered by a loud scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That had been a close call. Too close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tempting, but no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*    *     *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alien?” Samara supplied, somewhat wryly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was one reason I suggested it,” Samara acknowledged. “It is a means of pursuing this kind of clarity – identifying aspects of oneself that the rigours of life normally distract one from perceiving and analysing.”

Miranda paused and glanced down, swallowing. “...I suppose I should thank you,” she said. Samara's silent response indicated she didn't know what Miranda meant by that. “For seeing the best in me, instead of dismissing me for my faults.”

“Could I not say the same to you?” Samara replied.

That thought managed to bring a small smile to the corner of Miranda's lips. She had a point. Then again, it wasn't hard to see the best in Samara. It was quite touching to think that maybe Samara would have said the same thing about her.

Maybe that was just what it was like when you met someone you felt instantly connected to. Maybe that was just how someone knew a rapport like this was real.

*    *     *

It was a few days before Miranda was really able to get back to the green zone and get her affairs in order. The operation had been a moderate success. They had found outposts of survivors who had hunkered down during the war, found pretty much anything resembling usable supplies that was left in the covered area, and found some habitable buildings to start moving people into.

Nobody had seen Samara though. Miranda was trying very hard not to let that concern her. It helped that she had other priorities to focus on.

Shiala had kept her updated on the status of Jack and her students. Thankfully, Seanne was recovering quickly from her illness. She was still in care, but expected to be released in the next couple of days.

Jack was...well, doing a lot worse than Seanne. Her condition was stable but her biotics had damn near destroyed her body. Almost as bad as the shuttle crash had destroyed Miranda's. No permanent damage, most likely. But her muscles were in a lot of pain, still slowly repairing themselves. From the sounds of things, it would take a lot of time and rehab to get her back to where she was.

Miranda was able to confirm all that with her own eyes. It wasn't hard to find Jack, even among all the beds, and all the sick and injured. She didn't look great. There were clear bruises where capillaries had burst beneath her skin. It did look like she'd been in a crash.

Jack must have sensed someone watching her, obviously not coping much better with bed rest than Miranda had. Bleary eyes glanced over in Miranda's direction, immediately turning with irritation when she realised who was standing there.

“Who the fuck let you in?” Jack groaned. Miranda was the last person she wanted to deal with when she was like this.

“It's a field hospital, Jack. Not much in the way of security.” Miranda thought about reminding her that she was known around here and people let her go wherever she wanted, but she had the good sense to realise that Jack would probably want to kill her if she said that. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

“Fuckin' hurts,” Jack remarked, draping her arm over her eyes, hoping Miranda would just go away. “But I still look a damn sight better than you, fuckface.” 

That was debatable, honestly. “You're lucky you didn't tear yourself apart,” Miranda said quietly, moving closer. She was trying to be civil and understanding. “Not just limb from limb, but on a cellular level.”

Jack didn't respond, deliberately ignoring her in an effort to get Miranda to leave.

Miranda rolled her eye. So much for her efforts to be kind to her. Obviously her presence wasn't wanted. With that in mind, it was probably best to just cut straight to the point.

“Listen, I've spoken to Bailey. They're starting to house priority personnel in apartments in the city. That means Alliance officials, and people involved in the recovery effort. Civilians and non-essential personnel are the lowest priority. You'll be lucky to get a look-in on a place to live even a year from now, unless all of you are prepared to work for it. And, no offence, but you're not really in a condition to do that,” Miranda set out the facts.

“Why the fuck do you always talk like you're answering a question nobody fuckin' asked?” Jack grumbled. Despite her complaint, she reluctantly opened her eyes and shifted her head to listen to what she had to say.

Sensing she had her attention, Miranda continued. “I tried to convince Bailey to make an exception for you and your students, but he can't. Not unless someone who warrants high priority quarters chooses to take you in. Someone like me.”

“I'd sooner fucking drink bleach than live with you,” Jack shot that down.

Miranda had expected Jack to say that. “Okay. But what about your students? They don't have spare beds at this field hospital, Jack. There's barely enough room for them to breathe if they wind up in tent city. It's not safe for them out there by themselves. You don't know anyone else here. And, right now, you can't exactly look after them. Not without help,” Miranda explained. Much as she visibly hated it, Jack couldn't object to that. “I've already made the necessary arrangements. I can cancel them if you want, but I'm prepared to take them in, with or without you.”

“...Why are you doing this?” Jack asked suspiciously. It sounded like Miranda was being sincere, but it was hard to tell. Miranda never did anything for anyone without an agenda behind it. Unless it was for her sister. Or Jacob. Not for someone she didn't care about. Not for Jack.

Miranda pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed. “There are only four of us left, Jack. If not for Shiala, that number would only be two; neither of us would be here right now. You nearly died the other day. And it would have been my fault if you had,” Miranda stated frankly. Jack had held an entire building up to keep her alive, and broken her body doing it. “That was why I couldn't leave you.”

Contrary to popular belief, Miranda had never hated Jack. Disliked her, yes, but the hatred had been entirely one-sided. Truth be told, she'd never cared about Jack enough to hate her. She hadn't cared about her at all. Not back then. In a way, that was a lot worse than hate. Jack would probably take it that way, if she knew. And Miranda had the decency to feel a tinge of regret about that, in hindsight.

Most of her memories of Jack were of conflict, or mutual avoidance at best. But Miranda had never set out to antagonise Jack, deliberately or otherwise. She hadn't sought her ought for anything, good or bad or neutral. Not once. She was completely uninterested in her. Apathetic. She didn't give Jack any unprovoked attention at all. Not that it mattered one way or the other. The fact that she was a Cerberus Operator had been cause enough to make her enemy number one.

Miranda hadn't batted an eye, save when things got violent. To her, not getting to know Jack was fine, and her hostile attitude had said more than enough about how little she was worth anyone's time.

Jack had loathed her. And Miranda had found her a nuisance at best. An insignificant insect who would be brushed aside as soon as the mission ended.

But she'd been wrong about her, hadn't she? Jack had been right about Cerberus the entire time, and Miranda had been too blinded by loyalty to believe her. And, while Miranda had been on the run from The Illusive Man and his agents, Jack had turned her life around. She'd set out to give the kids in the Ascension Program a far better shot at life than she ever got herself.

Miranda had done some growing of her own as well. She'd been cold and callous back then. Not just towards Jack but towards everyone. Whether she'd realised it or not at the time, she'd still been living in her father's shadow, letting the way he'd raised her shape how she treated others.

But things had changed. They weren't the same people they once were. Maybe they were never the people they'd assumed each other to be. But they were both working on being better people. And they'd lost almost all of their other comrades along the way.

Maybe Jack still wanted to hold onto her grudge, and maybe she was justified in doing that. But Miranda was tired. She wanted no part in this anymore. She couldn't carry on pretending her past grievances with Jack meant a god damn thing to her anymore. She didn't have the energy. If there was ever a time to bury the hatchet and move on, this was it.

“You said if I wanted to make up for all the bad history between us, and all the atrocities Cerberus committed against you, the only way for me to do that is to look after these kids the way I would look after my own sister,” Miranda recalled, knowing how much the students meant to Jack. “So...Okay. This is my answer. I want to honour that. I can't promise I'll be any good at it, but I intend to fulfil that bargain. This is me trying to make things...better.”

Jack looked at her for a long moment, a cold, hard stare, studying her face for any signs of duplicity. She didn't find any. Miranda wasn't lying. Her motives may have been self-centred, but that was to be expected. Jack would have been suspicious if they weren't. At least that reasoning made sense as to why Miranda suddenly wanted to be a less shitty person. For her, this was progress.

“...I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually fucking right about something,” Jack admitted, willing to put personal feelings aside for the well-being of her kids. “Living in a real fucking apartment is better for them. Better than being out here in this depressing shithole. So I'm going to tell them about you and what you’re offering. But I'm not going to force them. It's their choice.”

“Okay.” Miranda nodded. That was it, then. This was really happening.

She didn't want Jack to sense it, but she had mixed feelings about what she was getting herself into. Looking after teenagers was not high on her list of things she wanted to do. And she knew she was taking on a lot of responsibility. But this had been the one thing Jack had asked of her when she thought she was going to die. Doing her best to deliver on that request was the least Miranda could do, especially since Jack had saved her life that day.

“What about you?” Miranda asked, not sure whether Jack would be joining them. “I know we don't exactly get along, but you're welcome to stay too. I'll just make sure to hide the bleach before you do.”

That remark elicited a snort. “Yeah, about that. I don't think I'm gonna be going anywhere for a while,” Jack glanced down at herself.

Miranda gave a small, understanding smile. “I was in your position not long ago. I promise you, it will feel like an eternity. And your rehab will take time. But you'll be healthy enough to stay somewhere else sooner than you think. It doesn't have to be with me. Jacob is keeping my old bed free in case you'd prefer that.”

A conflicted look passed over Jack's face, a little bittersweet. “So I wouldn't be with the tykes?” she realised aloud.

Miranda suddenly recognised a possible flaw in her plan. “Jack, I'm not trying to separate you from them. I'm just offering them a place to stay. A roof over their heads. They're at liberty to see you whenever they want. And vice versa.”

“I know, dumbass,” Jack cut her off. “I'm just...I'm not sure they'll take it that way.”

Miranda softened. “You nearly gave your life to save them. If they don't know by now that you love them far too much to abandon them...well, I don't know, maybe tell them?” Miranda suggested. That's probably what Samara would have advised. “I don't know. I'm not good with people. Maybe don't listen to me on this subject.”

“I don't listen to you about anything,” Jack assured her, only half-joking. It hadn't escaped her notice that Miranda really was making an effort. Having some semblance of humility. Admitting that she sucked at something. The old Miranda never would have spoken to her like this. “...I'll think about it. I've got time. I've got some healing to do. I'll decide my living arrangements later.”

“Sure.” Miranda nodded, accepting that. “...Well, I'll start getting the apartment ready. There's still a lot to do, so...we'll talk another time.” Miranda elected to take her leave, getting up from her seat.

“Hey, Miranda.” Miranda paused, wondering if that was the first time Jack had actually called her by name. She turned and looked back. “We're not starting over at zero. It's too late for that. But I know you had nothing to do with what Cerberus did to me. And, if you're serious about trying to be straight with me, and you're not just going to throw my kids to the wayside the second you feel better about yourself, then...fuck it, I'll give you a shot.”

“This is you trying?” Miranda inferred. Jack didn't say anything, but nor did she protest. Miranda gave a nod, satisfied. She could live with that.

There was no chance they could ever become friends. But coexisting relatively peacefully would be good enough.

*    *     *

“Finally making use of the library, I see,” Miranda remarked, catching Samara in the act of reading.

Samara cracked a small smile as the doors closed behind Miranda. “I do reside on a human vessel. It would seem a terrible waste to remain ignorant of your arts and cultures when you have been so gracious in sharing these resources with me. That is if you do not object.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Miranda, not at all surprised that Samara appreciated what humanity had to offer based on their previous conversations, but glad for it nonetheless. Her long lifespan had not robbed her of her curiosity and adventurousness.

Despite their reputation for benevolence and co-operation with others, some asari Miranda had encountered could be incredibly patronising towards human cultures. Even if they welcomed other species into the fold, there were some who looked down on humans as effectively a novelty – like lost children taking their first steps on the galactic stage, whose beliefs and habits were cute, but would soon be a thing of the past once they were 'enlightened' by more ancient races. Thankfully, Samara wasn't like that. Her respect for other species was genuine and unfeigned.

“How many books have you read so far?” Miranda inquired, noticing that she was currently nearing the end of her copy of Moby Dick.

“Fewer than I would have liked,” said Samara, almost with a hint of self-deprecation.

At that point, EDI piped up. “Justicar Samara has requested my assistance in selecting texts from a diverse array of authors whose works were written in different cultural and linguistic contexts, as well as different genres and time periods.”

“This is correct. Thank you, EDI.” Samara nodded her head at EDI's holographic interface, which continued to operate silently. “I have heard that your species is far more diverse and varied than those who have come before. I did not wish to make the error of inadvertently and arbitrarily narrowing the scope of human literature available to me. This could lead me to draw false inferences, such as misconstruing humans as more homogeneous than you actually are.”

“Read anything by an Australian author yet?” Miranda asked, impressed by the care and consideration Samara had put into her decision to explore human literature for fun. That was thoughtful of her.

“Not at this time, no,” Samara confessed.

“You're not missing much.” Miranda shrugged nonchalantly as she joined her on the couch, not even sure there were any Australian texts in their small library. Out of curiosity, she brought up the database on her omni-tool. It contained a record of all available books aboard the ship and showed who had checked out what and when, so nobody could get away with not returning them.  Unsurprisingly, Samara was the most frequent user of the library, closely followed by Kasumi.

“I am sure that is not the case. I have yet to encounter a text that I have not enjoyed the experience of reading. Although I confess that, at times, certain details may have been lost on me,” Samara admitted as she closed her book and put it aside, acknowledging the effect that her own limited understanding of Earth and human history had on her comprehension of these stories.

Miranda tried not to smirk. “You had to ask EDI to explain to you what a whale is, didn't you?”

“She was very informative,” said Samara, which elicited a chuckle from Miranda. “Do you read?”

“When I have time, yes,” Miranda answered. It was also one of the few things her father had allowed her to do as a child, since he saw intellectual value in it.

“Are there any books you would recommend?” Samara asked, implicitly trusting her taste.

“Sure. I could send you a list, but I'm not sure that my preferences would be along the lines of what you're looking for,” Miranda acknowledged, earning a curious look from Samara. “For the most part, I don't read fiction anymore. There are some exceptions, but I rarely enjoy it.”

“I see.” Samara took a moment to contemplate that, choosing to seek elaboration. “Is there any particular reason why you tend to dislike it?”

“Well, on merit alone, ninety percent of all content produced is not worth consuming. As for the remaining ten percent, the vast majority of novels I've read are like being locked in a room listening to the inane thoughts and dialogue of annoying characters while the author either beats you over the head with their uninformed opinions or waffles on aimlessly while avoiding making anything that constitutes a worthwhile observation or statement,” Miranda explained, remembering how irritating she had found so many texts she was forced to study in her youth. “Even when the ideas and concepts are intriguing to me, I find it’s often ruined by the characters or the writing style getting in the way.”

“What makes a character annoying to you?” Samara pressed, curious about her comment.

“They make stupid decisions, they think things that I would never think, and everything is just a frustrating waste of time while you wait for them to cut the nonsense, realise the obvious and get to the point of the plot,” said Miranda. She hadn't anticipated an interrogation of her views on fiction. Fortunately, her frustrations were well-founded, and she never struggled to defend her positions.

Samara stared at her like she wasn't entirely certain whether or not Miranda was being facetious. “...Is that not, perhaps, the intent?” Samara considered aloud, prompting Miranda to glance up from the library database. “If the story reached its conclusion from the outset, bypassing all conflict and circumventing all faults and failings possessed by the characters, then would the author not have lost the opportunity to explore the – what is your term for it? – human condition?”

“It's not my bloody condition,” Miranda dryly remarked.

“You understood my meaning; do not be coy,” said Samara, mildly amused by her retort. “One of the benefits of literature over and above any other artform is that it allows you to experience life through the perspective of another, even down to their most private thoughts. It prospers empathy and understanding, even for those characters who are deeply flawed, as we all are. It is why I personally find that I have learned more about other species through reading their stories told in their own words than from any other source – certainly far more than I have gained from the detached academic writings of an asari anthropologist.”

Miranda shrugged, seeing her point. “I'm glad that you get so much out of it, but I never have,” she said honestly. “I can appreciate the themes of all these works on an intellectual level and the skills and techniques they've used in their writing, but I've never connected with a book or related to a character the way I've heard other people say they have. Fiction just doesn't resonate with me. Perhaps we're built differently like that.”

“Perhaps,” Samara replied, though if she had thoughts to the contrary she did not express them. “What is your preferred form of artistic expression?”

“Music,” Miranda answered without hesitation. “Not 'songs' per se, but I'm not as rigidly confined to the great composers as everyone seems to assume. I like my operas and my symphonies but I have a flair for the experimental as well. The theories and formulas that underpin music are there for a reason, but brilliant minds know how to break them in just the right ways.”

“Do you play?” asked Samara.

“Not since I was sixteen. But yes. I was classically trained in piano. I also did two years of violin before my father objected. Didn't like hearing me practice.” Miranda didn't feel the need to share that he'd ripped the violin out of her hands and thrown it across the room to break it in front of her because he'd decided she hadn't mastered it quickly enough and therefore wasn't taking it seriously. It wasn't relevant to the conversation and was more personal than Miranda cared to get.

“That is unfortunate,” Samara spoke sympathetically, evidently inferring why it was that Miranda had stopped playing nearly twenty years ago, given it held such a strong association with negative memories of her father. “One day, when the time is right, maybe you will play again.”

“I think you're the only one who wants to hear that,” Miranda commented, finding the thought of her other crewmates' reactions comical to ponder. “The rest of them out there would assume I was showing off and hate me for it.”

“Most likely. But you do not strike me as a woman who constrains herself based upon the opinions of others,” said Samara, with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Do I make it that obvious?” Miranda joked, unfazed by her unpopularity.

“Nevertheless, if the opportunity arises, perhaps you should consider it,” Samara quietly encouraged. “Your devotion to your work is admirable, but you should not squander the time you have by avoiding things that bring you joy. A day may come where you look back upon your years, and find them filled with regret for chances you did not take, and simple pleasures you let pass you by.”

“...I guess you'd know,” Miranda conceded, although in her heart she knew she had no intention of following through on playing again. Too close to home.

With that, Samara returned her attention to the book cradled in her hand, content to sit with Miranda in silence, as they often did. Miranda watched her for several seconds before speaking.

“Which one was your favourite?” she asked, prompting Samara to glance up at her in search of clarification. “Of the works you've read, I'm guessing either Don Quixote or Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” Miranda speculated. They seemed to her taste.

“Astute choices. But there was another I preferred. A poem, in fact,” she said. Miranda arched her brow, curious. “You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here. And, whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be and, whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul,” she recited.

Miranda's lip quirked in recognition. “That's Max Ehrmann, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, meeting her gaze. “There is much wisdom in those words. I would do well to remember them when I stray. So too would it benefit many others to hear them.”

“You may have a point,” Miranda agreed, appreciating that Samara found meaning in those words, even if they did not particularly strike a cord with her. “It sounds like the sort of thing you could reflect on in your meditation.”

“I have,” said Samara. “Every day.”

*    *     *

[superfreakerz]

TDDUP 26

"Til Death Do Us Part"

Rated M for smut and heavy themes.

Reincarnation/Immortal AU.

Summary: There are immortals and there are those who reincarnate, though it's best to keep these things hidden. Lucy is attending college and meets Natsu, a boy with pink hair, a devilish smile, and a body that never ages.

Read earlier chapters on FF.net

Chapter 26

Searching

Natsu didn't consider himself a nosy person. Sure, he would go to the world's end to read Lucy's stories, but that was different. That was only to bug her and see that cute pout of hers. He didn't care about the pasts of the people he cared about, only interested in living the present.

Only this time was a bit different.

Shoving on his boots, Natsu headed towards the door.

"Where're you going?" Gray asked just as he was about to leave.

"I'm goin' over to Lucy's," Natsu answered.

"Lucy's? But she isn't there."

"Yeah, I know."

Gray arched a brow. Natsu hadn't looked at him once. "Natsu, is somethin' going on?"

Finally, the boy turned to face him, running a hand through his pink locks. "Nothin' much. I just gotta go check on something."

Gray eyed him before shrugging. It was obvious he was hiding something, but it wasn't his business, and he knew better than most it was best to stay in his own lane.

"Whatever," he said, turning his attention back onto his phone. "Don't set her apartment on fire while you're there."

Natsu glared at him. "That only happened once!"

"Yeah, to her apartment. What about the times you've set the basement on fire?"

Grumbling to himself, Natsu gave the other boy the finger before heading out. He avoided everyone else in the basement, not wanting them to know what he was doing. If they did, that would only make matters much worse than they already were.

Natsu jogged straight to Lucy's apartment, using his spare key to let himself inside. Locking the door behind him, he sighed.

He trusted Lucy. He really did.

But something was off.

Ever since he'd known her, there were times when she would lie to him or their friends. He always shrugged it off considering he wasn't exactly truthful at times either. But recently, all of her strange moments were starting to pile up, and he was starting to get suspicious. There were too many times to count, the most recent being the incident with the locket.

Sure, there was a chance that she could've been telling the truth about it, but there was something off about her reaction. Even if it was something important to her, it didn't explain why she jumped away so hastily. Natsu valued his scarf more than anything else he owned, and even he didn't react so poorly to other people touching it.

Whatever the truth behind the locket was, it had to be important.

With the nature of their relationship, he already knew that both of them had secrets they wanted to keep hidden. She was guarded when they first met and refused to talk about certain topics. That, along with the rest of the evidence, only led Natsu to believe one thing.

She was one of them.

He'd been wondering about it for a while, even more so after her strange nightmare. Since then, he'd really begun to scrutinize everything that happened since he met her, to the point where some things just couldn't be explained away. There was no way in hell she was that guarded without having some sort of insane secret.

Lucy was an immortal.

There was little doubt in his mind. It was the only thing that made sense. She was one of them. That was why she had no friends before, why he caught her lying about the weirdest of things, and why she was so intent on keeping her locket a secret. It must have had an old picture of her from long ago.

All he needed to prove his point was some concrete evidence. Unfortunately, Lucy had taken the locket with her, so he wouldn't be able to check. But there had to be something in her apartment, something that she didn't want anyone else to see.

He started with the obvious spots, namely her dresser. He scavenged through her lacey undergarments, searching for just one sign that he was right. An old picture, a diary, anything that could be traced back far enough to prove that she wasn't just twenty years old.

He wanted to be right. He needed to be right more than anything. If she was an immortal, that would be a total game changer! He wouldn't have to lie to her anymore, she could move into Fairy Tail, and they would be able to spend the rest of their lives together! It was everything he ever wanted!

Finding nothing of importance in her dresser- well, besides a new pair of underwear that set his face ablaze- he shut the drawers and moved to the next location: the bathroom.

He opened the cabinets and rummaged for anything out of the ordinary. There were ribbons, a million scattered bobby pins, and a box of tampons, but not a single clue that could lead to something great.

Another spot known to house a person's secrets is their bed. Natsu lifted the mattress, searching for a crumpled picture or an old birth certificate. All he found were the baseboards that held the mattress up. With a disgruntled sigh, he tore the pillows from their silk cases, shaking the fabric in hopes of finding something. Again, his efforts were fruitless.

"This is pointless," Natsu muttered to himself. He had looked everywhere and hadn't found anything. "That locket is my only lead."

All he could do was wait for Lucy to get home.

Natsu leaned his head back against the marble pillar, thumping this foot impatiently. It had been almost a week since Lucy left on her trip, and he was starting to feel antsy without her. It turned out he really was addicted to the blonde. Luckily, she was finally coming home, and even though he had to greet her in a blasted airport, he was thrilled to see her again.

"Natsu! Over here!" a voice called out to him, one that caused his heart to leap up to his throat. Turning his head, he found Lucy running up to him with a bright grin, rolling her suitcase behind her.

Jumping out of his seat, he met the girl halfway. Lucy rocketed herself against him, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Immediately, he closed his eyes and inhaled her scent, savoring the warmth of her against him.

They stayed like that for minutes, uncaring of how everyone stared at them or if they were being a tad-bit dramatic. They missed each other and they were going to act on it.

"How was your flight?" Natsu asked, finally pulling away from the hug so that he could take a good look at her.

"Long. As usual," Lucy answered with a sigh. "But I'm glad to be back! And luckily, I won't have to go on a plane again for a while!"

"Good, because I'm not lettin' you go again! Now, c'mon. Let's get outta here already, Gray's waiting outside for us."

Natsu took Lucy's suitcase for her, leading her to the parking lot where Gray waited. Once they approached, Gray got out of the car to greet Lucy, giving her a brief hug.

"Hey, Lucy," he said. "How was your trip?"

"It was actually better than I thought it would be," she answered as Natsu stashed her suitcase in the trunk. After sliding in the backseat and buckling up, she continued, "I think my dad and I are going to try to fix things between us."

Natsu arched a brow and cocked his head to the side. "Really? What happened?"

"Well, it turns out he had a heart attack a little while ago, and that sort of put things in perspective for us. It's not like we're a normal family now, but I can at least stand being in the same room as him. We just spent the time talking to each other to get to know each other better. No assistants or talk about his business. Just us."

"That's great!" Natsu exclaimed, throwing an arm around the girl's shoulder. His eyes searched her neck for the locket, only to find that she wasn't wearing it. "You and your old man are getting along!"

"Yeah, I guess. Anyways, how was your week? Did you do anything fun?"

Natsu craned his head back with an exaggerated groan. "Not at all. It was so boooring, Luce! Seriously, I think I went into some kinda coma or something."

"Oh. Well in that case, umm…" Lucy's cheeks tinged pink as she stole a glance at Gray, who was doing his best to stay out of their conversation. What she had to say next was embarrassing to say in front of Gray, but after her trip, she was feeling more confident lately. She didn't want to wait to get home. "Why don't we move in together?"

Natsu blinked once, then twice. His mouth hung open like a fish out of water, his eyes bugging out of his head. He could hear Gray choking out of surprise.

"Wait, what?" he asked after finally regaining his ability to speak.

"Why don't we move in together?" Lucy repeated. At his shocked expression, her blush deepened, her confidence starting to be replaced with embarrassment. Perhaps she was being hasty asking him to move in with her after knowing him only a short time. "I-I mean, if you think about it, you're at my apartment every day anyways! And you have some stuff there already! Why not just make it official?"

Natsu rubbed the back of his head, a habit he had when he felt uncomfortable. Moving out of Fairy Tail was impossible for him. He had to let her down gently. He only wished she didn't pop the question in front of Gray.

"Uhh, maybe we should talk about this later," he whispered.

Lucy's eyes went wide. "O-Oh, yeah! Of course! Sure!" She kept a smile plastered to her face, but behind the carefree grin, she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide from the world. She never expected him to say no.

Natsu winced. He could spot that fake smile from a mile away.

"Uhh, you guys wanna listen to some music?" Gray asked, hoping to alleviate some of the tension. Why oh why did he have to get stuck listening to that train wreck of a conversation?

The two of them nodded frantically. Gray turned on the radio, blasting the car with a hit song from the past. But instead of shouting the lyrics at the top of their longs like last time, they opted for staring out the window instead.

Once they reached Lucy's apartment, she and Natsu grabbed her luggage from the trunk. They thanked Gray for the ride before silently heading inside.

Lucy rolled her suitcase into the bathroom so that she could unpack her bathroom essentials, silently taking note that Natsu chose not to follow her. A soft sigh slipped past her lips. Ever since she asked him to move in with her, they hadn't spoken a word to each other. She was too mortified, and he was probably too uncomfortable.

Unzipping her suitcase, the girl gnawed on her lower lip. Was she really going to ignore the problem by unpacking? No. They were better than that! They loved each other, they didn't need to pretend that they were fine! They were going to talk it out.

Meeting Natsu in the living room, Lucy forced herself to meet his anxious gaze.

"So…" Natsu started. He shoved his hands in his pockets and avoided making eye-contact.

"So…" she repeated, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Wanting to get rid of the tension, she turned to face Natsu with a sigh. With slanted brows and hands planted on her hips, she questioned, "Why don't you want to move in with me? I mean seriously, you're here all the time. Why is moving in such a big deal? Do you not think we're going to last?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then why not? Is it me? Do you just not want to live with me?"

"You really think I don't wanna live with you?" Natsu stepped closer to the girl, grabbing her hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Seriously, these past few days have been hell without you. I was bored out of my mind and I missed you. I hate feeling like that. I always wanna be with you."

Lucy cursed her heart for its erratic pounding. With a small pout, she asked, "Then why won't you move in? You live with the others; it has to be crowded. I'm sure you could use some space from them."

"It's not that simple, Lucy. Look, we're new to this whole thing. We love each other, right?" Only once she nodded, he continued, "Then why rush this thing?

"I guess you're right. I'm overreacting. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, weirdo." He ruffled his hand through her hair. "I gotta admit though, asking in front of Gray was a bold move."

Lucy groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I'm so embarrassed! I can't believe I made him listen to that conversation!"

"Ehh, don't worry about it. I've been forced to listen to a bunch of awkward conversations between him and Juvia before they got together."

A laugh bubbled up to Lucy's lips. She could just imagine Juvia, the girl known for wearing her heart on her sleeve, demanding affection from Gray without a care in the world who saw.

Natsu stifled a sigh of relief at her laugh. Crisis averted. Though, if he could just get the proof he needed that Lucy was an immortal like him, then they could certainly live together in Fairy Tail. Well, separate rooms thanks to the rules in place, but it was still better than nothing.

All he needed to do was find her locket. However, he had a feeling that if he asked about it, it would set her off. She would harden her defenses. What he needed to do was catch her off guard.

He could do more investigating later. For now, he just wanted to spend time with her.

"What do you wanna do now?" Natsu asked. "Wanna watch a movie?"

Lucy's cheeks burned pink as she averted her gaze. "Actually, now that that mess is out of the way, I had something else in mind." Her tongue slid over her lips.

Natsu's eyes followed the small movement, and just like that, a familiar warmth was ignited in the pit of his stomach.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, voice huskier than usual. "And what's that?"

She peeked up at him through her lashes, wringing her arms together. As he took a step closer to her, his onyx orbs bore into hers, never wavering. She could tell by that familiar look in his eyes, that specific gleam that he only showed her, that he understood what she wanted.

Lucy's blush deepened as Natsu smoothed his thumb over her cheek. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest, threatening to break free as he cupped the back of her head and slowly began to lean towards her. She felt pulled towards him, her eyes slowly starting to close.

As Natsu's lips brushed against hers, Lucy could feel her legs starting to shake. Snaking her arms around his neck, she held herself up while pushing her lips harder against his. Their lips washed against each other, savoring in the warm feel of the other.

Natsu laid his other hand over the small of her back, pulling her flushed against him. Her hands coiled in his hair. Never moving his lips from hers, he moved his hands to her hips and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried them to the bed, dropping her onto it and caging her between his arms.

Natsu sat over her, gazing down at her. Her brown orbs were filled with sultry excitement as she wiggled impatiently beneath him, and after being away from her for almost a week, he couldn't deny his impatience either. He tore his shirt off, watching as Lucy licked her lips appreciatively.

Natsu crashed his lips amongst hers, the kiss harder than the previous one. He could hear a faint whimper coming from Lucy as she splayed her hands over his back.

Ever since they first gave themselves to each other, they hadn't done it again since. It wasn't that they didn't want to, they just hadn't found the right time. And now was a better time than any.

He trailed feather-light kisses over her jaw, leading down to her neck. Gliding his hand up her side, he smoothed his fingertips over the curve of her breast, eliciting a sharp breath from Lucy. Thanks to the thin shirt she was wearing, he could feel the lace imprint of the bra she was wearing underneath.

Lucy gently pushed him away so that she could sit up. Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, about to take it off when Natsu stopped her.

"I wanna do it," he said, tugging her hands away. There was something about taking Lucy's clothes off that got him pumped up. Lifting the shirt over her head, his gaze went straight to her chest, admiring the way her bra pushed the heavy mounds together.

Tossing her shirt behind him, Natsu pressed his lips against hers, all the while unclasping her bra. With his inexperienced hands, he struggled for a bit at first, but luckily Lucy didn't tease him about it. When he finally succeeded, he tore it off in an instant.

Lucy flushed as Natsu stared at her bare chest. Even though he'd seen her naked before, there was still a part of her that grew shy under his gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking his view.

Only that made his hunger for her grow.

In the blink of an eye, Lucy found herself on her back with her arms pinned above her head. Natsu's face was mere inches from hers, his breath fanning her face. His eyes, which were usually filled with mischief, had a dark glint to them.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice low.

Lucy's stomach did flips at the look he was giving her, the area between her legs starting to ache. "You were taking too long."

"I was looking at you."

"Well, maybe you should spend less time looking and more time touching."

The corner of Natsu's lips curled into a crooked grin. "What? Feelin' impatient?"

"Oh would you just-!"

A squeal slipped past Lucy's lips as Natsu's mouth captured her nipple. He sucked the sensitive spot, making her eyes roll in the back of her head. When his warm tongue slid over her flesh, she felt a moan building up in her throat.

Natsu chuckled against her skin. He could literally feel Lucy's pleasure as her body shook.

"Stop laughing at me," Lucy said, her voice airy.

"Nah," he replied before moving to her other breast.

Lucy gnawed on her lower lip, arching her back and pushing herself against him. Wrapping her legs against his torso, she lowered him onto her so that she could alleviate the fire that was ignited within her. She could feel his bulge through his pants as she rolled her hips against him.

It wasn't enough.

"Natsu," she whispered as she tugged on the hem of his pants, hoping that he'd understand.

The boy nodded, moving off of her so that he could take off his pants, along with his shirt while he was at it. He would've loved to tease her more, but after their time apart, he wasn't sure how long he was going to hold up. Before returning to his position on top of Lucy, he hooked his fingers underneath the hem of her underwear and slid them off.

Lucy watched as Natsu's hands moved to his boxers, pulling them off. Her eyes glazed over his cock, her tongue sliding over her lips.

"Can I try something?" she asked, feeling courageous.

Natsu arched a brow. Did she really think she had to ask? He'd let her do whatever her heart desired.

"Yeah, 'course."

He laid on the bed, watching as Lucy positioned herself between his legs, grabbing his shaft and stroking it lightly. At first, he had no idea what she was planning, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It wasn't until she pressed a kiss to his shaft that he knew what was happening.

A wave of excitement ran through him as he watched Lucy leave feather-light kisses over him. When her tongue darted out, sliding over his shaft, he nearly lost his composure.

Lucy smiled to herself. She could feel Natsu trembling in excitement, and it was all because of her touch.

Feeling more confident now that she knew he was enjoying it, she ran her tongue from his base up to the tip before pushing it into her mouth. Natsu's legs buckled at her sides and she could feel him arching to go deeper.

Natsu shuddered, his eyes sealed shut as Lucy's mouth worked over him. It was hot around his cock, and he couldn't believe what she was doing for him. Pleasure coursed through his veins each time her wet lips glided across his flesh. His toes curled, his hands fisting the sheets. His gut coiled, and he could feel himself about to break.

"L-Lucy," he choked out.

She tightened her mouth around his shaft as she pulled away, her lips tugging his sensitive skin until she released him with a pop. She looked up at him with raised brows.

"Yeah?"

"I-I don't think I can go that much longer," he answered.

She nodded with a smile. "Okay. Let's finish together then."

Natsu was going to get up so that he could be on top, but Lucy pushed him back down.

"I want to try being on top this time," she said with a wink.

Natsu nodded frantically. Lucy was taking the reins, and he found it sexy as hell.

Lucy lowered herself onto him, her eyes squeezing shut as his cock explored deeper than it had been their first time. It was like a fire was spreading through her the deeper he went. She started out slow, rolling her hips against him and trying to find a rhythm that worked for the both of them.

Natsu planted his hands on her hips, pulling her harder against him. Lucy bit back a moan, picking up the pace. Pleasure spread through her body as she bounced over him, every inch of her being explored as she moved in circles.

Natsu groaned, tightening his hold on Lucy and slamming into her.

Lucy's eyes rolled in the back of her head as he hit a sensitive spot of hers, an involuntary moan slipping past her lips.

Natsu forced his hazy eyes open so that he could stare at Lucy. Sweat dotted her flushed face, her mouth was parted as moans escaped her lips, and she played with her breasts as she bounced over him.

He could feel the familiar throbs of pleasure as his grip tightened over her hips, his toes curling. He felt like he was going to explode if he didn't finish soon, but he had to endure it for Lucy. He wanted her to finish with him.

Lifting her by the hips with ease, he pounded into her quickly, all the while going as deep as he could. Lucy's breaths grew louder by the second, and before long, every breath turned to moans. He slid her over him, changing speed and intensity until finally, she shattered.

Lucy's head hung back, a scream slipping past her lips he sank into her. Her body trembled, a wave of ecstasy washing over her.

Hearing Lucy's intoxicating moans, Natsu stopped holding himself back. His knees buckled, the coil in his gut so tightly wound that all it would take was one final thrust. Hoisting her up, he slammed her down onto him hard. Just like that, he snapped. Pleasure jolted through his body like electricity as he rode out his orgasm.

When he was finished, Lucy rolled off of him and collapsed beside him in a fit of pants.

"How was it?" she asked. Her chest rose with each breath, her voice light.

Natsu ran a hand through his bangs, frowning when he found that they were plastered to his forehead with a coat of sweat.

"That was crazy," he answered, lazily flopping on his side so he can face her with a grin. "What about you? Did you like it?"

"Like would be an understatement. We have to try that again next time."

Natsu nodded, his lips curling into a coy grin. "You were really into trying new things this time, huh? I wonder what our friends would say if they knew what you did earlier."

Her face turned red as she glared at him. "Luckily for us, they'll never find out."

"I don't know. I might just tell them. Could be funny."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Hmm, fine," Natsu said with a shrug. "But to repay me, you're letting me take control next time. And I fully plan on returning the favor, if you know what I mean."

Lucy swallowed thickly as he ran his hand up her thigh and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. The familiar ache between her legs returned as she pictured his mouth leaving kisses along her folds.

Natsu bit back a laugh, watching as Lucy gnawed on her lower lip. He could tell that he got her aroused again, but unfortunately, they were going to have to wait a bit before they could go at it again.

"I'll let ya look forward to it," he teased before getting off the bed. "In the meantime, I'm gonna start a shower for us."

Heading to the bathroom, he started a shower, cranking up the heat since he knew Lucy would turn it up anyways. He was about to hop in when he realized that she didn't unpack her bathroom essentials yet. Figuring he'd do it for her, the boy unzipped the small pouch of her suitcase and grabbed all of her bathroom supplies when a faint twinkle at the bottom of the pouch caught his attention.

His heart nearly stopped as he dug into the pouch and retrieved the locket that was buried at the bottom. A shaky breath slipped past his lips. This was it. This was all he needed to confirm his theory.

He ran his finger over the exterior of the locket. Its edges were cracked, its shine starting to fade away. It was obviously old, but exactly how old was it?

He went to open the locket when the sound of Lucy's footsteps caught his attention. Cursing below his breath, he dropped the necklace back in the pouch and jumped in the shower without another glance.

"You're a jerk for leaving me in the mood, you know that?" Lucy said, poking her head past the shower curtain to glare at him.

Natsu forced a grin to his face. As much as he loved his usual banter with his girlfriend, right now, he only wished to finish his investigation. "Yeah? Well, guess you'll just hafta live with it."

Lucy huffed. "I'm coming in. Let me just get my shampoo and conditioner."

"Oh, I already got it for you."

Lucy paused, her head immediately turning to look at her suitcase. Sure enough, the pouch she kept all of her bathroom essentials in was left open. Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure Natsu wasn't looking and dug out her locket.

Lucy frowned. She knew better than most that Natsu's curiosity could sometimes get the best of him. It was best not to leave her locket lying around.

Grateful that the shower was running, she opened the drawer as quietly as she could. Grabbing her box of tampons, she dropped the locket inside before shutting the drawer once again. Once Natsu was out of the apartment, she could move it to a better hiding spot or perhaps bury it somewhere for her next lifetime. For now, this would have to do.

As Lucy jumped in the shower, the two shared a smile, all the while unaware that both of their thoughts were consumed by that fateful locket.