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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Ultimatum”

Welcome back, everyone! We had an unexpected break last week due to the horror going on in Texas. I'm glad we did. Not because of any salty "RWBY is bad right now yay free Saturday" feelings, but because keeping to a schedule for a fictional webseries should never take precedence over peoples' safety. I can't believe I need to type that sentence out, but it's true! Over the last seven days I've seen fans who are not merely disappointed by the mini hiatus (understandable) but outright hostile towards the crew because they... were ensuring everyone survived during an unprecedented emergency? Yeah. Given the highly critical nature of these recaps — including today's! — I want to be clear that my thoughts towards Rooster Teeth's creative choices are distinct from any thoughts about the crew itself, including the most basic forms of compassion like, “I sure hope everyone is okay over there.” In an age where it has become horrifically common to harass creators and even send them death threats over stories, it has likewise become necessary to remind people: Don't do that shit. Never do that shit. If I can teach anyone anything at all, let it be that!

Anyway, dark fandom reminders out of the way, let's dive straight into our delayed episode. It was certainly a doozy. Titled "Ultimatum," we open on a trigger warning for flashing lights. Good on Rooster Teeth for including that, though I do wonder if creators shouldn't be including time stamps as well? Or perhaps a note that you can find those time stamps in the credits, avoiding any (minor) spoilers for everyone else? I'm not photosensitive myself, so I certainly don't mean to speak for that group, but my first thought was, "So how would I watch this episode if I was? Hand on the pause button, hoping I stop fast enough as soon as the lights start?" Hard to do given the surprise nature of the scene. Really, my answer would be, "Wait for the fandom to post warnings of their own, likely including where it happens so I know when to skip" which is perhaps an indication that this information that should be included from the get-go.

But I am glad the warning exists, regardless. The episode itself begins with a shot of Ironwood looking down at the kingdom. He's used his windows as a vantage point since Volume 7, so that's nothing new, but something about this particular shot reminded me of Ozpin, looking down from his tower. I'm sure the response from many would be simply, "Ah yes, the two power hungry dictators watching over their victims," but I think there's a much more nuanced reading here about leaders being expected to fix the literally unfixable and what that responsibility does to an individual. Of course, it's a nuance that is absolutely obliterated by the episode’s end, but the implication existed for a hot second!

Two other soldiers are in the room with Ironwood, reporting that Cinder has helped Watts escape. They try to soften this with news that they still have Jacques in custody, but receive only a, "I don't give a damn about Jacques Schnee." Which, fair. He's pretty useless at this point. It's when Ironwood learns that both Qrow and Robin escaped too that he really gets mad, something his subordinates have been expecting given their scared expressions.

Now, I'm treading lightly here because I realize how this is going to sound given the end of our episode, but I still want to note that outside of that ending... this is a weird take? Just hear me out. Since Volume 7 the show has worked very hard to make Ironwood seem scary and unstable — bad setup for what we end with today — but the problem is that none of it works in context and it certainly doesn't work when compared to other characters' actions. They are literally in the midst of an unwinnable battle and thousands of his people are dying. If the audience wants a human being — who also just lost a limb and was betrayed by half his allies — o remain perfectly poised and polite during that, sorry, but that's not how human beings work. But even beyond this, what’s the message here? Ironwood raises his voice, so does Yang. Ironwood hits his desk, Qrow hits a child. If we're going to examine how Ironwood handles his stress and anger, he often handles it better than many of our heroes. Namely, by continually taking that anger out on inanimate objects. I kept waiting for him to attack his subordinates or attack Winter this episode, especially given where we end up, but it never came. Ironwood always has enough control to break the desk or punch the wall, not the person in front of him. Which, of course, would not be a good thing in the real world. I want to be clear given these sensitive subjects that if someone is breaking things in your presence that's a major problem to address. But this isn't the real world. This is a fantasy world in the middle of a war, populated by other characters who express their anger by punching people, slamming them into walls, or screaming at them until they run away. The story wants us to fear Ironwood long before he makes his objectively horrific choices and it tries to achieve that by showing us characters who are clearly terrified in his presence, by giving us a string of broken objects in his wake. But those details don't land well when we compare them to other instances of stress. In the same volume I have watched Ironwood take a deep breath to calm himself down when things have gone horribly wrong. I've also watched Weiss start a conversation by threatening her defenseless brother. So again, what’s the message here? It can’t be that acting violently towards someone = villainous behavior because, as established since Volume 6, that’s common for the heroes. Why are these subordinates terrified about Ironwood slamming his fist on a table, but Whitley has no problem hugging the woman who threatened him? Obviously there is a HUGE difference between our main group and Ironwood when it comes to other actions (cough-bomb threats-cough), but these day-to-day moments don't match up. The show wants to use violence as a way for us to easily identify the Bad Guy while ignoring all the times when our heroes do the same thing.

All of which isn't meant to be a defense of Ironwood. As we'll see in a bit, there is no defense for what he's done. Rather, it's a way of acknowledging just how badly he's been written. Why does a man who consistently reins in his anger and takes it out on objects suddenly shoot a councilman for literally no reason? Why does a man defined by wanting to save as many people as he can suddenly threaten to bomb his city? Ironwood's characterization is all over the place, in the sense that they keep writing him as the morally gray, sometimes harsh, but ultimately compassionate man he started out as... up until they need a villain. Salem isn't here yet, so Ironwood can shoot Oscar. Salem isn't attacking yet, so Ironwood can shoot the councilman. Salem is currently reforming, so Ironwood can threaten YJR and Mantle. He's the B-plot villain whenever Salem is out of commission, which is a problem for both their characterizations. This filler doesn't make sense for Ironwood and it severely undermines the threat of Salem. You finally introduce the Magical Big Bad and our heroes are facing more of a threat from a guy with a broken army and three loyal allies left? Hmmm.

The tl;dr is that Ironwood's arc is a disaster and, frankly, it's gotten old reading simplified takes of, "It's just a realistic look at what white U.S. men will do in power sweetie :) " RWBY does not have the context capable of conveying that sort of critical take because our world is not besieged by literal monsters and an immortal witch, to say nothing of how real life good guys do not get deus ex machina canes that fix the problem instantaneously. Ironwood is not an example of anti-U.S. imperialism, he's an example of writers who don't know how to write.

Anyway, I'm getting severely off topic. Obviously Ironwood is a major part of this episode, but the problems demonstrated here are two years in the making. This is the culmination of things I've been discussing for months across hundreds of posts... so I should probably stop trying to summarize it all in a few paragraphs lol. Perhaps when RWBY is over — or Ironwood has died — I'll do a single meta on his character, try to pull everything into one, unified argument.

For now though, we have an episode to analyze.

While Ironwood is receiving this news we get flashbacks to Qrow and Robyn. Qrow attacks a soldier in his bird form, which is hilarious. Someone GIF that please. It does raise some interesting questions about this magic though: does Qrow retain his aura and strength in this form (something I thought given his choice to transform during the explosion), or was that soldier just so shocked at being attacked by a crow that he went down easy? We'll never know, because that would require establishing concrete rules for this world. The point is Qrow is going feral in his freedom, throwing punches left and right — did he kill that guard? — while Robyn watches it all from under a rock. They're apparently still somewhere in the facility since all the exits are guarded, but that's not the good thing Ironwood seems to think it is. After all, Qrow is out to murder him. He wants to be there.

We all see where this is going, right? The show is going to ignore Qrow's crazy belief that Ironwood got Clover killed in favor of a "Qrow saved Mantle by murdering Ironwood"/“Qrow got revenge for Mantle by murdering Ironwood” ending. Who cares why Qrow wanted to kill him in the first place now that Ironwood has his finger on the trigger? If RWBY is good at anything, it's writing moments that encourage you to ignore everything that came before it. We'll be seeing more of that in just a bit.

"Damn it!" Ironwood yells, because the show is leaning into its cursing. He orders that the subordinates not return until "you have Qrow Branwen in custody." Here we have another great example of the show conflating what the audience knows with what other characters know. See, we know Qrow has a vendetta against Ironwood. We know their relationship is the important one to the story and that Robyn is incidental. Ironwood doesn't know that. There's no reason for him, as a character, to specify that they only bring Qrow back, but it makes sense for the audience who has the whole, thematic picture. Our understanding of the situation is influencing Ironwood's dialogue, which is... not great.

This entire scene we've had creepy music to hammer home just how evil Ironwood is. Except, as said, he takes a breath to calm down and the music fades. Instead of flying into a rage, hurting someone, or doing anything the music suggests he might, Ironwood calmly calls in for an update — which is when the explosion hits.

It's MASSIVE, seeming to originate from a lightning strike, which is weird, since it's coming from inside the whale, but whatever. The animation is very dramatic and pretty, as we've come to expect of RWBY, but the actual plot is lackluster at best. It's funny though because I thought for a hot second, when Winter and the Ace Ops were caught in the blast, that RWBY had actually done something exciting. I mean, holy shit! There are the deaths we expect from a battle like this. My god, what is everyone going to do when they realize that Oscar's needless attack took out five characters, including Weiss' sister —

No wait, never mind. They're fine.

Let's talk about that "needless" descriptor for a moment though. Do you all remember, two weeks ago, when I went, "Hey, why isn't anyone telling Oscar that that Ace Ops are approaching with a bomb? They're on a time limit! If someone would just mention that Very Important Information then Oscar wouldn't keep standing around to fight Salem." See, at the time I was frustrated because of how the plot was needlessly allowing Oscar to put himself in danger (especially when the whole point of this mission was to rescue him). Now, I'm frustrated because that same plot needlessly wasted the most powerful weapon the group had. There was no reason for Oscar to use literal lifetimes worth of stored energy when the heroes already had a bomb to do the same job! What was the point of that? I guess he took out the other grimm too, but without the whale that still would have been a challenge with a finite end, one Ironwood's army and the remaining huntsmen should have been able to handle. It doesn't feel justified to have Oscar use a weapon kept on the bench for lifetimes when there was another option literally minutes away.

There's so much wrong with this I need another list. So:

Ozpin's cane supposedly stores kinetic energy, which may contradict what we've seen from it before. Regardless, we’ve never heard about this. The all powerful weapon comes out of nowhere

It also begs the question of why Ozpin wouldn't use that power at Beacon and why he wouldn't insist that they try to get their cane back while captured. You had an out this whole time! But we’re going to ignore that because Oscar is a little hesitant?

Which makes YJR's presence even more useless than it originally was, which was already pretty useless. Oscar essentially rescued himself

This kinetic energy miraculously doesn't hurt any people or buildings, just grimm

So what is the point of Silver Eyes? That's been their MO since they were first introduced. Sure, Silver Eyes can be used far more often than Ozpin's cane, but it still feels like a let down to learn that the Big Secret behind this weapon is... the exact same thing Ruby has been doing for years

Like Ruby, Oscar likewise didn't need any practice or training. He just set off this massive attack perfectly and without issue

We have now eliminated the biggest threat to the cast instantaneously — the whale and the other grimm — with no effort from the rest of the heroes. Like the Hound, the stakes are obliterated with no satisfying work on the part of our protagonists

Instead, as said, the actual plan already in place never happened. The bomb just... goes back. Kind of like how Cinder attacked and then just went back to Salem. Penny woke up and then just got knocked out again. We continue to go in circles

This is because no one took two seconds to tell Oscar, "There's a bomb on the way"

Because this threat is gone the show needs a new one, hence Ironwood randomly threatening Mantle with said bomb

The one way we might have justified Oscar blowing up the whale instead of Winter is if he did it to save Hazel, but Hazel is implied to be dead

Maybe he's alive, but if he's not that happened off screen and we're not sure how. It couldn't have been because of the blast itself — everyone else is fine — so what, Salem somehow killed him before she was blasted to bits? While he was holding her?

And there's no body?

Salem was torn apart multiple times during that fight and reformed instantaneously, yet now, conveniently, she's taking her time

None of the characters mention the issues above. None of them admit that there was no reason for Oscar to waste LIFETIMES worth of power when they already had a solution in the works. Fantastic

I need to take a moment to acknowledge that so far this recap feels... bad. Disjointed. Bit all over the place. Which makes a certain amount of sense because that's where my thoughts are at. There's so much going on in this episode — so much wrong with it — that I don't know how to boil it all down into a few, neat claims. This episode is a mess! We're barely a few minutes in and the combined issues of Ironwood's characterization and Oscar's choice have left me reeling. So if you're still reading this, bless your patience, I think we'll both need it for the rest of this journey.

Let's snag a neater plot-point to discuss. Amidst all the chaos Neo literally skips away with the Lamp, clearly thrilled at how her own life is going. Later in the episode she'll text Cinder with the obvious: Salem is going to be pretty pissed when she realizes this is gone. “If you want her name you know what you owe me."

So wait... what is Neo leveraging here? Is she agreeing to give the Lamp back so Cinder doesn't get in trouble with Salem? Give Salem the password she's been looking for? Or give Cinder the password to use the Lamp for herself? What would Cinder even want the Lamp for when she's after the Maiden powers? I'm confused about what Cinder is being blackmailed with. Regardless, she needs the lamp for something and presumably what she "owes" Neo is Ruby. We get a cut to her just to hammer that home.

(Side note: both pictures of Neo are hilarious.)

Before that though, back at the whale, everyone is taking stock of the situation when Marrow cries, "Hey, they were still in there!" I feel like this is another scene meant to make him look like the one good guy in the group — he cares about YJOR while the others can’t be bothered — but as always, that reading doesn't fit well with the situation as a whole. The others have barely had time to realize they're alive. I don't think it's a moral failing that they didn't instinctually worry about four betrayers, one of whom attacked them, while they're still checking that they have all their limbs intact. Besides, why does Marrow assume they're dead? The Ace Ops were caught in the blast as well, yet miraculously came out unharmed. They clearly didn't set their own bomb off, so it's logical to assume that YJOR did something themselves. It feels weird to have a "Marrow mourns them and Winter is the only other character who cares" moment when everyone is recovering from bomb shock and no one even knows if the others are dead. But, of course, the show is out to portray only two of these characters as good people, so ignore the logic and run with the emotion of the scene.

All of which is bolstered by Elm pulling away when Vine puts a hand on her shoulder. Why is she acting cold towards him now? Because they're not friends, remember?

While we get more ridiculous relationship dynamics, Ironwood calls in and congratulates them on the bomb working, but tells them to get back because they have another problem in the works. That would be Qrow and Robyn. Winter decides to tell him about the bomb in person.

We cut to Watts and Cinder watching the remnants of the blast from a rooftop. Cinder has tried calling, but no one answered. Unsurprising, given that Salem doesn't have any other allies left. Cinder says that the plan hasn't changed, she's still going to take the Winter Maiden's power for herself, and Watts can help her by bringing Penny here. He explains that he doesn't have full control over her. Rather, he implemented a virus that is setting her on a single path: open the vault, then self-destruct. Cinder, as one might expect, is furious.

She snags Watts by her grimm arm and threatens to toss him over the side of the building. Thus begins the best part of the episode, hands down. Despite the danger he's in, Watts throws common sense out the window in favor of dragging Cinder in the most satisfying manner possible.

“You think you’re entitled to everything just because you suffered, but suffering isn’t enough. You can’t just be strong, you have to be smart. You can’t just be deserving, you have to be worthy! But all you have ever been is a bloody migraine!”

It's true! You know what else is true? This speech could apply to our heroes as well. Accusations of entitlement and reminders to be smart as opposed to just strong hit hard, considering those are the same flaws our protagonists are struggling with. The difference is that Cinder, miraculously, listens, pulling Watts back to safety and going to cry by herself. That moment is simultaneously more growth than Ruby has gotten and more sympathy than Ironwood has gotten. The woman who murdered Pyrrha is treated more kindly by the narrative than one of our initial heroes and our very first villain has taken more time to reconsider her choices than our title character. You know a show is falling apart when excellent choices are applied to the worst possible character.

So Cinder is crying while Watts looks guilty and we cut back to YJOR's group post-blast. Yang is finally able to answer a call from Blake who is obviously overjoyed to see her. Weiss gives them directions to the mansion and they ask what in the world they'll do with Emerald, currently on her knees, mourning Hazel.

Thus begins the third most frustrating part of this episode. See, on the way back the group continues the conversation about what to do with Emerald, with Yang and Jaune distrusting her vs. Ren and Oscar encouraging cooperation. I can't believe I'm saying this after's Ren's speech and Oscar's entire existence... but I'm team Jaune and Yang here. Look, what Oscar and Ren say — the literal words coming out of their mouth — is nonsense. Ren goes, “We can’t let all of our actions stem from fear," as if Yang and Jaune are being ridiculous for mistrusting Emerald, one of the established villains, after years worth of harm from her. It’s weird that Yang points to her arm as something Emerald is responsible for, rather than being framed or the deaths at Beacon, but the general sentiment of, “She’s done horrible things!” is true. Ren’s perspective is the same simplification that was applied to Ironwood last volume, wherein everyone acted as if he was crazy for fearing an attack on his kingdom... post an attack on another kingdom and pre an attack on his kingdom. Putting generic lines in Ren's mouth about not being afraid makes him sound willfully ignorant, as if choosing to believe that someone is good will magically make them so, to say nothing of thinking it will erase all the harm they've already done.

Oscar at least acknowledges the difficulty here, but then follows this up with, “You don’t have to forgive her… just give her a second chance."

Oscar, honey, that amounts to the same thing in this situation. Allowing Emerald a second chance means working with her, which means trust, which means emotionally reaching a point where these characters can put aside the harm she's done them in an effort to give her that chance in the first place. This actually ties into a post I saw last night, one I've come across before, that claims redemption arcs don't require any suffering on the part of the person who has done wrong. I agree in theory, that prolonged suffering doesn't help anyone, but the problem is that people tend to conflate suffering with consequences and someone who has done this level of harm should face consequences for their actions. The problem with redemption arcs is not that the bad people suffer too much — emotionally and physically beating on them as a form of revenge — but that the people they've harmed are put into situations like this one. If Yang and Jaune let Emerald go like she suggests, they are agreeing that she doesn't have to face any consequences for the damage she's done (which, keep in mind, involves multiple deaths, not including all the lost lives here in Atlas). If they agree to give her a second chance, they are forced to jump straight to some level of forgiveness. We might claim they don't have to forgive Emerald to work with her, but from a practical perspective how are they meant to function, especially during a warzone? Anything she provides them with — information, watching their back in a fight, undertaking missions, etc. — requires trusting her enough to allow those things to happen: working with that info, letting her protect them, allowing her that responsibility. It's all about trust, trust she has yet to earn. In order for a redemption arc to be successful, the power has to be in the hands of the victims. They need to be able to see some justice for what was done to them, be offered some proof that the person in question has truly changed, and have the ability to walk away if they decide no, I don't forgive you, glad to hear you've improved, but please stay out of my life. Jaune and Yang have none of that. There are currently no systems in place for Emerald to face consequences for her choices, she has offered them no proof of her remorse or true motivations, and the other half of the group is pressuring them to give her that second chance without closure or reassurance. None of that makes for a good redemption arc and reducing that to, "So you want to see poor Emerald suffer, huh?" ignores the suffering she has already caused. The group are her victims and they are under no obligation to give her a second chance, particularly under these circumstances, which makes the story's choice to have Ren and Oscar act like Yang and Jaune are being stubborn or inconsiderate a problem. The conversation boils down to, "Give the woman you know to be a liar, manipulator, murder accomplice, and servant of our enemy a second chance based entirely on unfounded faith. If you don't you're letting yourself be ruled by fear."

RWBY's touchy-feely themes really don't sit well within its realistic, morally gray premise. We cannot continually have these characters go through hell one moment and then have others accuse them of being paranoid the next. The fact that all of this is wrapped up in the group trusting Robyn, Emerald, and Hazel over their established allies remains beyond frustrating.

Because yeah, you know how Oscar finishes his speech? “I’ve already gotten a lot of help today from someone I don’t exactly trust right now." Meaning Ozpin.

The story is trying to compare Emerald and Hazel to Ozpin.

"Oh hey, I kept a secret from you after lifetimes of watching that secret lead to betrayal and death. I keep apologizing for my mistakes while ignoring that I had no reason to trust a bunch of kids with such world-shattering information and also that you tore it from me in the most traumatic way possible."

"Oh hey, I willingly joined our world's version of the devil and helped her destroy your school, leading to numerous deaths including your friend and headmaster. It was his death that put Oscar in this position in the first place! I then continued to attack your group, leading to another near death of a friend, and a kidnapping, and the destruction of Amity, until I became scared enough to make a run for it."

Which one of these characters is granted an instant second chance? You'll never guess who!

And I do think the word "instant" is important here because just like Jaune and Yang have the right to have distance and justice from Emerald, they had that right with Ozpin too. The difference is they got it. They had the power in the situation, as evidenced by their use of the Lamp and physically attacking him. Ozpin heard what they needed from him — leave us alone — and did that without complaint. They were given months to come to terms with the secrets he kept. They were offered apologies and acts of service to demonstrate intent: saving them in the airship and continually saving Oscar. I don't believe Ozpin ever needed a redemption arc, but even if we think he did, he had it. After three volumes of material Oscar's perspective is still "I don't exactly trust [him] right now" but Hazel and Emerald have earned at least the same amount of trust in a matter of hours? They're really having my boy look at the guy who has tried desperately to do right by him despite unimaginable circumstances, and the guy who tortured him to get information for Salem, and went, "That first guy. He's the one we need to watch out for."

To make things even worse, Oscar tells the others that Ozpin took on all the torture so he wouldn't have to. So he did that and they still don't trust him? If you had told me back in Volume 6 that two years later the group would still be hostile towards Ozpin, while simultaneously urging one another to trust Emerald, I would have said you were lying. RWBY has its problems, but it's not that bad. Yet here we are. I suppose the one silver lining here is that Ren smiles when he realizes Ozpin is back? So at least one of them isn't prepared to draw their weapon at the mere mention of his name.

Both these moments raise more questions though. How in the world did Ozpin take on that torture when we clearly saw Oscar getting pummeled for a good portion of the kidnapping? Is that a weird merge thing the story hasn't bothered to explain? I wouldn't be surprised, considering Oscar said last episode he didn't want to use magic because it hastened the merge, he uses the biggest explosion of magic we've ever seen, and nothing has changed. Ozpin is still in the back of his head, thanking him for the tinniest shreds of decency they get. Ren, meanwhile, seems to be back to mindreading. How in the world does he know that Ozpin is back? I assume it has something to do with his semblance, but we don't know what. They could have shown us Oscar from Ren's perspective, perhaps with two distinct emotions swilling around to imply that he sees two different people now, not a useless shot of Emerald with purple flower petals, whatever purple means.

Oh, but no, we shouldn't have gotten either of these scenes. Remember that Ren's aura broke a very, very short time ago? Is it back already? Can he use this part of his semblance without it? Considering it was near impossible to see Ironwood's aura breaking in the Watts fight and we were then mistakenly told he used his semblance in the office, I'm going to go with, "The writers forgot."

Oscar explains that the cane had "lifetime after lifetime" of power in it and though there's still some left, "we have to be careful with how we use the rest." He says that Ozpin trusted his judgement and of course he did! Ozpin also didn’t know that there was a bomb on the way. Yet funnily enough, no one else mentions that, whoops, your choice made in ignorance was a waste and that's due entirely to us prioritizing hugs over basic mission information.

Also, all these explanations take place in front of Emerald. Half the group doesn't trust her, but they'll freely discuss their powers and limitations here. Remember how the group once wanted to talk about magical relics in front of the old lady they'd just met? Yeah, they've learned nothing.

Combine all this insanity with the fact that Ozpin's magic saved the day before Ironwood's bomb could do the same... while Ruby sat in a mansion drinking tea. Who's our hero again?

So things are a hot mess, to put it lightly. Their conversation finally ends when they hear voices and round the corner to find all the Atlas citizens huddled in the subway. For once the show actually writes them in a sympathetic manner, emphasizing how terrified and helpless they are. This image doesn't lead the group to any revelations though, certainly not anything that would tie back to Ren's earlier speech in the snow. No, once again the justified criticisms here are ignored as we hear that “However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you, [Emerald.]” That's it then. Discussion over. We knew as soon as it started that blindly trusting her was being presented as the "right" thing to do and now here we are, deciding that conclusively, despite Jaune and Yang's complaints. By the time the group reaches the mansion, Oscar is defending Emerald from Ruby. We're supposed to just accept that she's a part of the group now, only minimal pushback allowed.

Before that though we return to Ironwood getting news that their bomb never went off. He briefly wonders who else could have done that, but puts the currently unanswerable question aside for what he does know. They still have the bomb and it could be "useful." See, this moment — like shooting Oscar and the councilman — is when Ironwood just randomly goes off the deep end. One minute he's talking about what they've lost and cradling his new arm,

the next he's saying that he should have tortured Qrow to get Penny to obey him! Which doesn't even make sense since I'm pretty sure Penny hasn't ever spoken to Qrow. She wouldn't want anyone to suffer, true, but it's not like Ironwood had a close friend like Ruby to use as leverage. Qrow is just Some Guy to her. Regardless, he thinks Yang, Jaune, and Ren are decent replacements, despite Penny also having no relationships with them. This is what happens when your characters only start breaking up their teams eight years into the story, the response to Ironwood wanting to torture Ren to hurt Penny is, “Does Penny know Ren exists?” But, you know, torture is torture, right? Maybe. Probably not. I mean, if they're going to turn Ironwood into a cartoon villain, they could at least keep him smart.

Because all of this is just the height of stupidity. Ironwood wants to torture people Penny barely knows to make her listen (so just grab some civilians? It would do the same job...). Ironwood wants to shoot down empty ships, even though no one, including us, knows where in the world those ships would have gone. Ironwood wants to destroy an entire city to try and save another city. He wants to use a bomb meant for a comparatively small whale and acts like that alone will take out the majority of a kingdom. None of it makes sense! And I know the easy comeback for that is, "Well yeah, Ironwood is crazy and evil" but he's not. I mean he is. Threatening torture and bombings is obviously evil, but he's never been insane, or stupid. As said before, his arc (or lack thereof) is an absolute disaster. The fandom assumes so many things about Ironwood given the opportunity — the whale is a suicide mission. He expects the Ace Ops to die on his order — and the writing hints at so many things that never happen — he's going to hurt his subordinates, attack Winter for disobeying him — and every time what we actually get is a far more compassionate, level-headed character... until he randomly does a 180 and goes, "Let's murder a whole city now!" I never wanted Ironwood to be the bad guy, but they could have at least given me a persuasive decent into this level of horror.

So... yeah. Ironwood has got to die by the end of the volume, yeah? Between Ruby warning the whole world about him and him going into full villain mode, there's no coming back from this.

Neo sends her text to Cinder and the group makes it back to the mansion. Remember Yang's criticisms of Ruby's leadership? The ones she conveniently forgot about when Ren started to agree with her? Yeah, those are entirely gone as the sisters hug it out and, presumably, forgive one another for... daring to admit that things are bad? Look, I'm not going to deny that Ironwood's scene with Winter was creepy as fuck,

but I'm not of the opinion that the heroes are any better when it comes to the theme of obedience. They've attacked one another, screamed at one another, and any dissent from Ruby's leadership results in the questioner being left behind in the snow. We'll accept you again when you fall back in line. I used to adore the relationships in this show, but watching them now is just discomforting. The show might be 100% more obvious with Ironwood, using creepy music, a smile, and that hand on Winter's shoulder, but the concept of, "Sorry I dared to question you before! We won't ever do it again :)" isn't healthy either. The fact that the show keeps erasing theses problems with hugs — Weiss hugs Whitley now, Yang hugs Ruby, someone will probably hug Emerald soon — doesn't make the circumstances any less uncomfortable.

None of this even gets into the Blake and Yang hug. First of all, why is Blake acting like they had a fight and Yang might not want to see her? She's hiding inside rather than rushing to greet them, ears down in a devastated expression until Yang touches her. Combine this with Yang's "Do you think she's mad at me?" and it feels like the writers cut a fight in the final script and then didn't bother to remove the fallout from that. Seriously, where did any of this come from? You can't just have characters act like they've been fighting when they haven’t.

Also, can't forget this.

At this point there's nothing more I can say in regards to RWBY's almost-queer baiting. Is touching foreheads more intimate than the hugs Yang gave the others? Absolutely. Is that an appropriate stand-in for overt representation? Absolutely not. This would have been a perfect time for them to kiss. Take out Blake's nonsensical fear and replace it with them both reuniting after their first separation since Volume 5, working under the knowledge that either one could have been killed, finally admitting their feelings. Hell, they don't actually have to kiss. Not all girlfriends are interested in kissing! But they could use the terminology that makes things unequivocally canon. Another forehead touch when we got that in Volume 6? It's not enough, especially not when our straight couples have all been allowed their rep.

Ren at least wants to know where Nora is. He's presumably told what happened off screen as Oscar tells Ruby that Emerald is their friend now.

Then an emergency call from May interrupts the reunion and the group learns that Ironwood is bombing the Schnee ships. “Those ships… they were going to save people” Weiss whispers. How? Tell me how they were going to save anyone. Where were you going to take these people where they would be safer than where they are now? RWBY continually asserts things without explaining them, meaning there is precisely zero emotional weight here. Again, Ironwood is far past the point of defense, but I'd be a whole lot more critical of this particular action if I had a better sense of why it's bad. He appears to be endangering the people given May's shout to run — falling debris? — but the further implication is that Ironwood has doomed the people of Mantle by denying them these ships. It's that part that makes no sense based on what we've been told.

Which finally comes to the ultimatum of our episode title: Penny opens the vault, or Ironwood bombs Mantle. Great! So glad this plan is wicked smart and works well for his characterization. It's definitely not a nonsensical, unfounded, overblown change that feels like it belongs in a child's cartoon, complete with dramatic spotlight. Nope. Excellent writing choices all around.

Our final line of the episode is, “I hope you live up to the title I gave you," referring to Penny's job as the Protector of Mantle, and you know what? That line could have been very cool if it was delivered by an Ironwood with a persuasive fall and a halfway decent plan in place. I love that we've twisted the concept of a protector and turned the title into a horrifying, rather than honorable responsibility... I just hate everything surrounding those details.

So, usual RWBY fare.

(At least we get to see that Nora is awake!)

Will things get better over the next four episodes? I doubt it. We're still expecting the rest of the Ace Ops + Winter to ditch Ironwood, someone getting the vault open, the fall of Atlas, now the potential destruction of Mantle, and none of that includes Salem who should reform at any moment. Frankly, I'm not looking forward to any of it. The final leg of a season should make its audience excited to see how everything turns out, not dreading it. I've heard from multiple people that this is the volume that finally got them to drop the show and honestly? I'm not surprised.

As a final (happier?) note: we've finally got a bingo! I completely forgot our board last time, which was a terrible oversight, but we can update it now.

Our army of grimm can't kill anyone now that it got KOed by Oscar (that is the third one hit defeat of a major enemy we've seen this volume. Yes, I'm including the Hound considering it was obviously on its last legs after Ruby's eyes.)

I'm likewise including "Ozpin apologizes for everything including his existence" because he's done nothing but apologize since he came back. The emotion is there even if the literal words are not. Oscar reminded everyone of how untrustworthy he is, but kept the group from jumping them again. And Ozpin thanked him for it.

Neo didn't literally backstab Cinder (shame), but the Relic still counts.

So a triple bingo! Is that how bingo works? Idk, I've never played. I feel like I should have thought up some sort of humorous prize, but sadly I've got nothing. If you think of anything, let me know lol

That’s all then, folks. Until next week! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby ultimatum #rwby recaps #mymetas

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masterweaverx · 3 years

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Part of the fun of these character builds is taking absolutely ridiculous characters and making them work in the context of D&D. So today I’ll be looking at Makuta Teridax, from Bionicle. That’s right, I’m expanding my palette a bit!

So Makuta Teridax is a Makuta. Which means he’s a shape-shifting robot with the elemental power of shadow, a unique shadow hand, a bit of telepathy, the ability to make Kraata and Rhakshi from himself... and, oh, fourty-two seperate Kraata Powers. Which he, himself, can also use. Also he has the mask of Shadows. Yeah, Bionicle was a wacky setting, all things told. Basically, we’re going to have to go Full Caster, with some unusual considerations.

Since we’re going Full Caster, that means we’ll be using the point buy system--all six stats start at 8, and you have 27 points to spend to up them, at a rate of 1 point for one improvement up to 13 and then 2 points per improvement after. That means upping a stat to 15 costs nine points total--and we’re going to be upping Intelligence and Wisdom to 15 to maximize our spell power. That leaves us nine points to split between Constitution and Charisma--five to Constitution, upping it to 13, because Constitution is both the ‘health’ and the ‘concentration’ stat, and 4 to Charisma, upping it to 12, because when a Makuta speaks, you listen. And Teridax is the leader of the Makuta...

Bionicle characters are biomechanical and you know what, so are Warforged! Yes I know the Makuta are actually living gas clouds in airtight armor but (1) they weren’t always that and (2) this is Flavor/Mechanics oriented, not accuracy oriented. Anyway, as an Envoy Warforged specifically, Teridax gets +1 to Constitution and +1 to two other stats--which are of course going to be Intelligence and Wisdom, since those are going to be our casting abilities.

All Warforged have Integrated Protection--instead of wearing armor, they can switch between ‘modes’ they’re proficient in every long rest, great for a shapeshifter. There’s also Warforged Resilience, which makes him immune to disease, resistant to poison, renders eating and drinking and even breathing unnecessary, and makes him impossible to put to sleep magically. Speaking of which he also has Sentry’s rest, which means on a long rest he just goes inert for six hours without going unconscious.

Envoy Warforged in particular have a few other advantages. Their Specialized Design gives them a Skill Proficiency and a Tool Proficiency, and since we’re not going to get it anywhere else Teridax is going to pick Intimidation and Thieves’ tools. And they have an Integrated Tool--they can select one tool they’re proficient with, and not only is it part of their body but they have expertise with it. I don’t think it’s too much of a spoiler to say that the tool, in this case, is a Disguise Kit--because Teridax is going to get proficiency in disguise kits from his background.

And what background is that? Why, Charlatan, of course! Free with proficiencies in Deception, Sleight of Hand, Disguise Kits, and Forgery Kits. It also has the False Identity feature, allowing Makuta Teridax to take on another persona (like say, Turaga Dume), and have all the paperwork on hand to prove that, no really, he’s Turaga Dume! Pay no attention to that sphere in the corner. He’s also really great at forgery of documents.

And now comes the tricky bit: getting 42 Kraata powers, plus all the other abilities Teridax has, onto a spell list. Doing that meant I had to multiclass, pick specific subclasses for each class, allow each class to meet a minimum level, and amp two different stats to their max. It was incredibly tricky, but through some very, VERY careful selection, I pulled it off. Mostly. The Elasticity Kraata Power just couldn’t fit, sorry about that. But everything else, I packed in! Are you ready for this?

Three levels in Tempest Domain Cleric...

...then seventeen levels in Nature Theurgy Wizard.

Okay, so before I explain the subclasses, I’m going to go over the standard class abilities. Clerics have proficiency in light and medium armor, shields and simple weapons, and Wisdom and Charisma saving throws. They get two skill proficiencies--I chose History and persuasion--and at three levels their big thing is just... Channel Divinity. Which I’ll get to in a moment.

Wizards, on the other hand, get Arcane Recovery, which lets them regain spell slots on a short rest once per day up to a total of half their wizard level rounded up. That’s 9 points here, so you can get three third level spell slots, or a fourth and a fifth, or five first and two second... but you can’t get seventh, eighth, or ninth spell slots back, presumably for balance reasons. The Wizard class is also where we’ll get our four Ability Score Increases, for a total of eight points to spread among ability scores--and putting four each in Wisdom and Intelligence lets us have the MAXIMUM SPELL POWER for this combination. Trust me, preparing Spells is important for clerics, and for wizards.

So now let’s talk about the Tempest Domain. Teridax gets proficiency in Heavy Armor and Martial Weapons from it, as well as Wrath Of The Storm--which means if somebody rushes in and hits him, he can use a reaction to force the creature to make a dexterity saving throw or suffer 2d8 Lightning/Thunder damage. And he can do this five times per long rest. Of course, it also gives him a Channel Divinity option; once per rest, Teridax can either Turn Undead (making them run away from him in fear), Harness Divine Power (regaining a spell slot of first, second, or third level), or unleash the power of a Destructive Wave (automatically rolling maximum for Lightning or Thunder damage).

And now... Theurgy Wizard. What does it do, you might ask? Well, it basically hybridizes Cleric and Wizard classes. A Theurgy Wizard takes a Cleric Domain--in this case, Nature--and those spells are considered Wizard spells for purposes of what they can learn. They also get some of the Domain’s cleric benefits--not the eighth level one, or any weapon or armor proficiencies from the first level, but at level seventeen, they have everything else.

Including Channel Arcana, which is slightly different from Channel Divinity. For one thing, Teridax can do it twice per rest, instead of just once. For another, the options are either Divine Arcana, giving +2 to his next spell’s attack roll or save DC, or Charm Animals and Plants, which... charms animals and plants within 30 feet for up to a minute.

Acolyte of Nature means that Teridax has proficiency in Animal Handling and a single druid Cantrip, which we’ll get back to in a moment. Dampen Elements means that, as a reaction, he can give himself or anybody in 30 feet resistance to an attack that hit them if that attack did acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder damage--very useful in a world where a good portion of the population has elemental powers. And Master of Nature means that he can take a bonus action to tell critters that are charmed by his Channeled Arcana what to do on their next turn.

And now, at last, we get to the spells. BUT FIRST! Let’s calculate this all out. Since Clerics and Wizards are both full casters, Teridax has all the spell slots--4 first level slots, 3 second-through-fifth level slots each, 2 sixth and seventh level slots, and one slot for eighth and ninth levels.

Clerics can prepare a number of spells equal to their level plus their Wisdom modifer--so 3+5--up to a level determined by their cleric level--in this case, up to second level. They also automatically have spells prepared from their domain, which don’t count toward the previous limit; while it’s only up to the level they can learn, it’s still an extra four spells.

Wizards, on the other hand, learn six spells at first level and two spells every level thereafter, so at level 17 that’s 38 spells. Granted, they only prepare their level plus their intelligence bonus a day, which is 22 spells from that 38 spell list, but hey! That’s on top of the 12 prepared spells of a cleric

And Teridax also has five Wizard Cantrips, 3 Cleric Cantrips, and 1 Druid Cantrip from Nature Theurgy. Which segues well into why I picked Nature Theurgy--I needed a LOT of wizard levels for most of these spells, but I also needed some Cleric levels for some spells wizards couldn’t get, and some Druid spells that neither class could get on their own. And most of the low-level spells I needed that come in a cleric domain actually are from the tempest domain, but the Nature domain has high-level spells from the druid list... hence, Nature Theurge.

So with all that said: The list below covers the spells Makuta Teridax has, and what abilities they correspond to. Spells from Cleric, Cleric Domain, or Druid List use Wisdom; Spells from Wizard or Wizard Theurgy list use Intelligence. The listed Cleric spells are considered always prepared; Teridax selects 22 of the listed Wizard and Theurgy spells every long rest.

The Makuta Power Shadow Hand has 2 component spells: Lightning Lure and Soul Cage. The Makuta Powers Project Voice Through Shadows and Telepathy have the same spell: Telepathy.

The Kraata Power Density Control has 2 component spells: Gaseous Form and Investiture of Stone. The Kraata Power Insect Control has 2 component spells: Infestation and Insect Plague. The Kraata Power Plant Control has 2 component spells: Plant Growth and Grasping Vine. The Kraata Power Rahi Control has 2 component spells: Animal Friendship and Dominate Beast. The Kraata Power Weather Control has 2 component spells: Control Weather and Fog Cloud.

The Kraata Power Stasis Field has 2 component spells: Hold Person and Hold Monster. The Kraata Power Teleportation has 2 component Spells: Misty Step and Teleportation.

The Kraata Powers Fire Resistence and Ice Resistance have the same spell: Protection from Energy. The Kraata Power Elasticity has no component spells, due to not really having a good match and most of its benefits being covered in other spells.

Cantrips: 5 from Wizard, 3 from Cleric, 1 from Druid for Nature Theurgy -Chill Touch [Wizard] --Shadow Blasts (MAKUTA) -Fire Bolt [Wizard] --Heat Vision (Kraata Power) -Infestation [Druid] --Insect Control (Kraata Power) -Lightning Lure [Wizard] --Shadow Hand (MAKUTA) -Mending [Cleric] --Forge Tools (MAKUTA) -Sacred Flame [Cleric] --Laser Vision (Kraata Power) -Thunderclap [Wizard] --Sonics (Kraata Power) -Thaumaturgy [Cleric] --Control world mechanics (MAKUTA) -True Strike [Wizard] [Concentration] --Accuracy (Kraata Power)

1st-4 Slots -Animal Friendship [Wizard Theurgy] --Rahi Control (Kraata Power) -Cause Fear [Wizard] [Concentration] --Fear (Kraata Power) -Command [Cleric] --Terrorize (MASK OF SHADOWS) -Cure Wounds [Cleric] --Quick Healing (Kraata Power) -Fog Cloud [Cleric Domain] [Concentration] --Weather Control (Kraata Power) -Inflict Wounds [Cleric] --Protosteel Armor (MAKUTA) -Ray of Sickness [Wizard] --Poison (Kraata Power) -Sense Emotion [Wizard] [Concentration] --Sense Moral Darkness (MASK OF SHADOWS) -Sleep [Wizard] --Sleep (Kraata Power) -Thunderwave [Cleric Domain] --Power Scream (Kraata Power) -Witch Bolt [Wizard] [Concentration] --Electricity (Kraata Power

2nd-3 Slots -Blindness/Deafness [Cleric] --Enshadow (MASK OF SHADOWS) -Crown of Madness [Wizard] [Concentration] --Anger (Kraata Power) -Darkness [Wizard] [Concentration] --Darkness (Kraata Power) -Detect Thoughts [Wizard] [Concentration] --Mind Reading (Kraata Power) -Enhance Ability [Cleric] [Concentration] --Adaptation (Kraata Power) -Gust of Wind [Cleric Domain] [Concentration] --Vacuum (Kraata Power) -Hold Person [Cleric] [Concentration] --Stasis Field (Kraata Power) -Immovable Object [Wizard] --Gravity (Kraata Power) -Invisibility [Wizard] [Concentration] --Chameleon (Kraata Power) -Locate Object [Cleric] [Concentration] --Sense through Shadows (MASK OF SHADOWS) -Misty Step [Wizard] --Teleportation (Kraata Power) -Shatter [Cleric Domain] --Fragmentation (Kraata Power) -Silence [Cleric] [Concentration] --Silence (Kraata Power) -Spider Climb [Wizard] [Concentration] --Magnetism (Kraata Power)

3rd-3 Slots -Gaseous Form [Wizard] [Concentration] --Density Control (Kraata Power) -Haste [Wizard] [Concentration] --Dodge (Kraata Power) -Major Image [Wizard] [Concentration] --Illusion (Kraata Power) -Melf's Minute Meteors [Wizard] [Concentration] --Plasma (Kraata Power) -Plant Growth [Wizard Theurgy] --Plant Control (Kraata Power) -Protection from Energy [Wizard] [Concentration] --Fire Resistance (Kraata Power) --Ice Resistance (Kraata Power) -Slow [Wizard] [Concentration] --Slow (Kraata Power) -Vampiric Touch [Wizard] [Concentration] --Hunger (Kraata Power)

4th-3 Slots -Confusion [Wizard] [Concentration] --Confusion (Kraata Power) -Dominate Beast [Wizard Theurgy] [Concentration] --Rahi Control (Kraata Power) -Grasping Vine [Wizard Theurgy] [Concentration] --Plant Control (Kraata Power) -Summon Greater Demon [Wizard] [Concentration] --Create Kraata/Rhakshi

5th-3 Slots -Hold Monster [Wizard] [Concentration] --Stasis Field (Kraata Power) -Insect Plague [Wizard Theurgy] [Concentration] --Insect Control (Kraata Power) -Passwall [Wizard] --Molecular Disruption (Kraata Power)

6th-2 Slots -Chain Lightning [Wizard] --Chain Lightning (Kraata Power) -Disintegrate [Wizard] --Disintegration (Kraata Power) -Investiture of Stone [Wizard] [Concentration] --Density Control (Kraata Power) -Soul Cage [Wizard] --Shadow Hand (MAKUTA)

7th-2 Slots -Teleportation [Wizard] --Teleportation (Kraata Power) -Whirlwind [Wizard] [Concentration] --Cyclone (Kraata Power)

8th-1 Slots -Control Weather [Wizard] [Concentration] --Weather Control (Kraata Power) -Telepathy [Wizard] --Project Voice Through Shadow (MAKUTA) --Telepathy (MAKUTA)

9th-1 Slots -Invulnerability [Wizard] [Concentration] --Limited Invulnerability (Kraata Power) -Shapechange [Wizard] [Concentration] --Shapeshifting (Kraata Power)

And I mean... LOOK AT THAT LIST OF SPELLS. It’s ridiculous. Bionicle is an amazing setting, sure, but this is insane! Even if Teridax burns through all his spells, he’s still got nine cantrips--NINE! With a lot of effects! That he can use to attack the petty heroes coming after him.

So yeah, that’s Makuta Teridax.

#Bionicle #Dungeons & Dragons #D&D 5E #Makuta Teridax #Character Build

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

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Riven x Musa

Ok, so I keep seeing posts everywhere that basically badmouth S8 and after seeing ten seconds of the trailer (YIKES to the animation, what’s wrong with the industry that they are making everything anime? Powerpuff Gen Z, I’m looking at you – obs: I didn’t watch it fully yet) I can see where some of the criticism is coming from but anyways…

My favorite Winx!couple EVER has always been Musa x Riven since I was kid and first watched the show (Netflix is not helping ‘cause I ship them even there).

I remember yawning at Bloom/Sky, rolling my eyes at Stella/Brandom and making a completely incredulous expression that I could literally feel forming on my face at Helia/Flora (can anyone say ‘unrealistic’?). Timmy/Tecna are a second favorite.

And why my Winx OTP are Riven x Musa followed after Timmy x Tecna? Because it reflects real life. In real life you’re not gonna stumble into people whose real and deep relationship problems are solved in twenty four minutes (not even that considering that some episodes present the “problem” half-way through said 24 minute-episode).

The breakup between Riven and Musa in S6 (spoilers everywhere after all) was one of the most mature breakups in the history of breakups with the hope for the future (yes, I’m completely ignoring S7, sue me, the whole thing was one huge filler anyways). And, after reading a lot of opinions on both ends (defending Musa/attacking Riven and defending Riven/attacking Musa) and watching the episodes in question (reuniting through reconciling) I think I can give my own analysis.

Since Musa AND Riven (individually and as couple) are my favorite characters in Winx, I think I CAN give a fairly unbiased view (hopefully).

*clears throat*

Ok, keep in mind that I’m defending BOTH of them, because I ship them too hard not to.

Musa Being OC (sometimes being called ‘brat’): C'mon, people! Musa and Tecna are OC since S4 anyways, where are the tomboy and the nerd? With the sneakers, T-shirt and comfortable-looking clothes? Noooo, now they all need neat skirts and hot pink high heels and long, glamorous hair. Do they look good? Of course, but and I would totally be less pissed if there was ANY indication on the reason for the change. Are they just maturing? Expressing themselves differently? Crowd mentality? Tune and Stella finally broke Musa down and Tecna followed soon after? Was it just to please Riven and Timmy? ANYTHING (even the 'pleasing a boy’ would at least be A reason - a ridiculous one that would piss me off, but A reason none the less), was just a sudden impulse that took?

Sure, we can talk about “character growth” until we are blue in the face, but the matter of the fact is that there was none.

The changes we see in Musa and Tecna are basically the creators making them more like the rest of the Winx (I’m including Aisha in this too, where is the sporty girl that matched the boy’s interest in extreme sports? C'mon! Even Bloom and her Girl Next Door looks are replaced with Bratz and Clueless-level of outfits).

Is anyone really going to look me in the eye and say Stella wasn’t a shallow (if friendly and good-natured) Mean Girl? She got better, but as I re-watch the show (currently in S3, meaning almost half-way through the content), Stella still worries more about her hair than anything else even while under literal fire.

More and more, Musa, Tecna and Aisha are losing their identities and what made them, IMO, the more badass Winx.

How did the two on the left went from this…

… to this:

Yeah, yeah, Musa still sings, Tecna still technobabble and Aisha is still a Warrior Princess but Aisha was the first one to go Bloom and Stella on us with Musa and then Tecna following soon after. It’s not just their clothing style, it’s the way they carried themselves too.

Right now? The only thing keeping them apart is their BF blues (different kind of blues) and some personal interests (singing, shopping, tech, the whole drama with Domino/Sparks, etc). But that’s IT, their personalities are going down the drain!

Sorry for the long-winded text, but the reason I’m expressing my disappointment at their change is because Musa’s reaction fits it. S6 we have such an AMAZING breakup (didn’t even think that was possible, WTH, right? Amazing breakup?) only for her to be mad as hell at Riven at S8? Bad writing, that has been dragging her (and the rest of the Winx) down to becoming just one unilateral, shallow character (the Specialists are also falling into that pit, what in the world did they do Helia in S8? He sounds like Thor telling about his “brave exploits” there, yikes). And continuity what? What continuity? Do they even remember how the breakup was written?

But ok, let’s put the Audience View aside for a moment and focus only on the In-Universe terms.

S6: You’ll always be my hero.

S8: What on EARTH are you doing here.

I laughed a bit, the contrast just got to me but instead of getting mad at one or the other like most of the fandom, I laughed.

Musa followed that by saying that Riven has not maintained contact and just in that I would be beyond pissed as well and giving my support to Musa. WTH, Riven? I think that each season is more less six months to a year? Sort of? Still, zero contact for so long even after ending on amicable terms and wanting to stay friends? And he went off on his own! A text now going, “I’m not dead” would be the bare basics for Musa not to worry herself bald!

BUT then I also read comments about how this was a two-way street, why didn’t Musa call either? That’s unfortunately something that I very much doubt will ever be explained. One of those: did it or didn’t it? Musa could have called and went straight to voicemail with no signs of life from Riven or she might not have called and just expected him to call as if feminism were dead and all initiative must come from the guy (which doesn’t even fit because they parted as friends).

Since we have no info on the above, I put it on both of them. It’s not fair to say, “HE should have called!” or “Why didn’t SHE call?” because we don’t have fricking context. So the only thing we can take is: no contact.

BECAUSE I put the lack of contact on both of them, Musa’s reaction was a little too much, however, Riven shows up all smirks and leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and I would have flashbacks to S1 if it wasn’t for the animation style that made all the guys look like girls. Dude! Not the time for that kind of posture. Not saying that he should be all sheepish and rubbing his arm as if he had done something horrible (again: we don’t have context on the no contact) but a more neutral approach was warranted here. Nobody does themselves any favors with that kind of attitude no matter what how high of a horse they may be (rightly or not) riding on, if anything I would react like Musa solely on that one.

Next episode we have that Riven convinced the guys to follow the girls in some mission and Musa was angry. Again: I would be too. WTH? Yes, yes, they helped and if it wasn’t for them, the Winx would gotten seriously injured but Musa did have a point saying that this demonstrated that they had no trust in them and need their hand held, it was no sanctioned mission like on Earth after all. BUT, Riven does something that I would never expect from in S1-4: he explains, he reasons it, he puts it in all the words that he does trust Musa and co and that he only wanted to show that he’d be there for her (you know? One of the main issues in S6 that made them breakup in the first place? His inability to conciliate Specialist work with supporting his girlfriend and ultimately failing or feeling like failing in both?) and Musa still pouts, crosses her arms, and turns around. Geez. I expected that one from Stella, not Musa. I think the closest Musa has ever come to THIS was back in S2 when Jared explains that Riven was the one to recommend that he interview Musa and yada yada yada and she got mad and stomped off on the poor guy that didn’t even understand what was going on (only to immediately apologize to Jared and recognizing that it wasn’t him that she was mad at… like I said: what character growth?).

Riven then goes to show that he indeed grew when he asked for advice from Sky and Brandon (WTH, right? Can we picture that happening back in S1-3? He very grudgingly would LISTEN to UNSOLICITED advice from Nabu and Helia in S4-6). And does a very, very goofy and embarrassing show of affection. Yeah… again… I can picture Stella loving the light show with her face for IDK how many people to see but not Musa (although can we really blame the guy after the series went out of its way to make Musa all Stella-like? Clothes, attitude, the only thing missing is making Riven carry her shopping bags around and call him “Shnookums” (although the mental image is already enough for me to fall over laughing, just for the face Riven would make). Still, I have to count that one against Riven if only because (as much as the show gives only lip service to it) Musa isn’t Stella.

Riven being mind controlled (again) aside, those two are back together. And on the overall? Riven showed more growth than any other character in the show COMBINED (he is the Zuko of the show), that doesn’t go to say that he didn’t make mistakes since coming back in S8 (but that was more a guy trying to win back a girl than… betraying his friends for a pair of nice legs or… IDEK like in S1 – where, mind control or not the show itself made sure to make it clear that he had free will) or that he is now the one out of Musa’s league. I think that NOW it can actually work… if the show allows him to keep the progress, Musa is the next to see her flaws and work on them (which she showed to be able to do since S2) and put effort in the relationship. The difference between them is that Musa can actually work on herself and the relationship at the same time. That’s not me saying she is better than Riven in any way, everybody has their own pace and their own way to cope, to improve and to self-reflect.

I still root for them.

~*~

PS-IDK why, but I read posts about how Riven changed so much and posts about how all his progress disappeared and he is now back to his S1 attitude and I’m just cofused. Yeah, different of opinions and so on, but such opposite opinions on the subject of a guy whose relationship was focused on three episodes?

#winx club #winx musa #winx riven #musa x riven #rivusa #anti stella #submission

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ginmo · 4 years

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...This response took me a million years, because there’s so much textbook abuse and mislabeling that I was like where do I even fucking start and how do I come at this. I’m still not happy with my approach but here we go. Sorry. This is going to be long.

Why do people abuse?

Domestic violence and abuse stem from a desire to gain and maintain power and control over an intimate partner. Abusive people believe they have the right to control and restrict their partners, and they may enjoy the feeling that exerting power gives them. They often believe that their own feelings and needs should be the priority in their relationships, so they use abusive tactics to dismantle equality and make their partners feel less valuable and deserving of respect in the relationship. [x]

Abuse is habitual. Everyone on the planet has either intentionally or unintentionally done an abusive act, emotionally or physically, in one of their relationships at some point in their life, but that doesn’t mean that relationship was abusive or that the pair was mutually abusive.

It’s also not uncommon for an abusive relationship to have a degree of abuse from both parties involved. Many victims will unconsciously do something abusive as an attempt to bring balance to the relationship and gain some control, but those incidents are isolated and not “habitual,” which puts them in the overall victim category.

In this abusive relationship:

Jaime is the main victim. Cersei is the main abuser. There’s nothing “mutual” about it.

“lmaoooo Jaime CHOSE to be in this relationship”

I’m aware that GRRM probably intended Jaime to totally jump in 100% by his choice, but that doesn’t change the fact that literally every person in an abusive relationship appears to have chosen to remain in that relationship. Hell, I knew my abuser was abusive before I even got into a relationship with him, but I did it anyway because, man, he was charming and persuasive. He unconsciously used that charm, manipulation, and seduction to keep me hooked while chipping away at my identity. Victims of abuse all have a choice, in theory, but the reality of it is messy, because there’s manipulation at play and a great degree of delusion.

Cersei is guilty of narcissistic abuse.

It’s perfectly valid to view Cersei as a narcissist. She obviously isn’t diagnosed with anything, but I’m reading her as a textbook narcissist so… let’s play. Before I dive into all the abuse, I’m going to dig into Cersei’s narcissism, because it plays into the interpretation of their dynamic.

“You can argue, well, does she genuinely love her children, or does she just love them because they’re her children? There’s certainly a great level of narcissism in Cersei. She has an almost sociopathic view of the world and civilization.” (Also look up: malignant narcissism and sociopathy)

GRRM then immediately makes a comparison to Jaime, contrasting their abilities to love.

“At the same time, what Jaime did is interesting.”

He goes on to describe Jaime’s action of pushing Bran, implying he did it out of genuine love for others (since he used the word genuinely for Cersei and then compared). [x]

“LMAO BUT JAIME IS A NARCISSIST TOO”

No lmfao. Someone can appear narcissistic at times and swing on that spectrum, but that doesn’t make them a narcissist or show they have “a great level of narcissism.” One of the main defining characteristics of a narcissist is a lack of empathy. I’m not even going to dig up all of the empathy examples, because the above comparison from GRRM should be enough to tell you he isn’t writing Jaime as a narcissist and going that route would take this way off topic. Just… read his chapters lol. You don’t even have to get far into his POVs to see empathy and how his thought process is intentionally written to be different than Cersei’s.

Anyway, my level of sympathy for Cersei is entirely wrapped around her narcissism. To me, what’s sad here is the idea she can’t experience true intimacy and is completely unaware of it. She loves Jaime, and I truly believe she believes she loves Jaime, but in reality it’s only at the capacity that narcissism allows.

Narcissistic Abuse:

“Narcissists don’t really love themselves. Actually, they’re driven by shame. It’s the idealized image of themselves, which they convince themselves they embody, that they admire. But deep down, narcissists feel the gap between the façade they show the world and their shame-based self. They work hard to avoid feeling that shame.

Many of the narcissist’s coping mechanisms are abusive — hence the term, “narcissistic abuse.” [x]

I mean… that’s kinda sad? I feel for her in that sense, but, as the article says, “Abuse is abuse, no matter the abuser’s diagnosis.”

Needs to Look Like Her

There are several examples of Cersei commenting on his changed appearance and how she doesn’t like it. That isn’t too weird, since people have their own personal preferences and hey, maybe she just doesn't like beards? But no. That’s not the case. She doesn’t like the changes, because it means he looks less like her. It 100% is about Jaime being male Cersei - an extension of herself.

“Nor did Jaime help her mood when he turned up all in white and still unshaven, to tell her how he meant to keep her son from being poisoned. - AFFC

“his face was thinner, with hollows under his eyes and lines he did not remember. I don’t look as much like Cersei this way. She’ll hate that.” - ASOS

(and lol so tempted to go into how Jaime’s facial hair is symbolic of his identity shift and how that relates to the separation with his twin).

“Jaime likes looking like Cersei too”

Oh does he? If that’s still so then why isn’t he shaving his beard for her?

Has he ever been disgusted by her looks? Does he ever look at siblings and get irritated if he thinks they look more alike? When he noticed his change in appearance did he think, “I hate that we look different” or did he think, “Cersei will hate that”...? (Also, when he thinks that he would be Cersei in fucking ASOS - *pre-handchop which is pre-arc-* that’s a laughably obvious set up for the identity aspect of his arc with that belief being destroy, you dense- ...*deep breath* moving on)

I’m sure he romanticized the looks to an extent, but it’s been made clear that it’s far more important to Cersei than it is to him, since she often makes note of his change in appearance. This is even shown in a scene where Cersei is observing Loras and Margaery and getting annoyed that they look more like twins than she and Jaime do.

For some context, Cersei was watching them dance.

“They could be twins, Cersei thought as she watched them. Ser Loras was a year older than his sister, but they had the same big brown eyes, the same thick brown hair falling in lazy ringlets to their shoulders, the same smooth unblemished skin. A ripe crop of pimples would teach them some humility. Loras was taller and had a few wisps of soft brown fuzz on his face, and Margaery had a woman’s shape, but elsewise they were more alike than she and Jaime.

That annoyed her too. -AFFC”

Narcissistic abuse includes emotional and physical and is used as an umbrella term for the two when they’re done by a narcissist, therefore slightly changing the context of the abuse.

I’m not going to pretend that GRRM sat down with a sexual narcissist checklist, created from the hours of research through his dinosaur computer, BUT he clearly is aware of basic narcissistic and abusive dynamics. It’s… really not that hard. And even if you don’t think he consciously did it, her behaviors are still aligned.

“LmAo CeRsEi’S ‘EvIL VaGiNa’ - MiSoGyNiStS!”

…manipulation through sex is an actual fucking thing that’s genderless.

Right lmfao this is going to be long.

“A sexual narcissist is a person who uses sex as a tool to emotionally manipulate their victims to get what they want.”

People admit that she uses sex as a tool to get stuff done, claiming its her form of power in the patriarchy. What they fail to consider is that Cersei does this frequently to Jaime - a person who is meant to be her lover - which… makes him a victim of narcissistic abuse. Don’t believe me?

I’m going to be using this article to break apart sexual narcissism. If you want more just research. They all pretty much say the same thing, but I chose this one because I prefer the structure. The article breaks examples into categories:

Sex is used to manipulate/persuade

Excessive focus on physical over emotional

You Exist to Serve the Narcissist’s Needs

Constantly Puts You Down

Reacts Negatively When You Don’t Give Them What They Want

Treats You Poorly / Neglects You After Sex

Infidelity, Violence, and Sexual Addiction

This whole post has been a nightmare to organize. Tbh most of the examples I’ll use fall under MULTIPLE categories. The scenes are like fucking Russian dolls of abuse. Or like… Abuse Inception. Abuse within abuse within abuse, so I had to just pick and choose which ones to put where.

Charming and Romantic – But with a Catch

“Many sexual narcissists can come across as alluring and attractive, especially during the initial stages of a relationship, when they’re trying to win you over. Like a master salesperson, they use charisma to get your attention, flattery to make you feel special, seduction (flirting, gifts, dinners, get-aways, etc.) to lift you off your feet, and persuasion to get you to give them what they want. Some sexual narcissists are very good in bed (at least they think they are), for sex is used as a tool to impress, entrap, and manipulate.

While there’s absolutely nothing wrong inherently with being charming, romantic, and a good lover, the narcissist crafts these traits in order to use others. He or she is not really interested in you, but only what he wants to extract from you (often to fulfill an inner emptiness due to the inability to create true intimacy).”

You can even find some meta that almost word for word says what’s described above, but they erase her doing this to Jaime - her partner- and frame these actions as feminist lol.

Eel Alley.

“But,” Jaime said, “there’s Casterly Rock …”

“Is it a rock you want? Or me?”

She then starts to seduce him to show him what he can have, to have the scale weigh in her favor. Manipulation through sex.

“He remembered that night as if it were yesterday. They spent it in an old inn on Eel Alley, well away from watchful eyes. Cersei had come to him dressed as a simple serving wench, which somehow excited him all the more. Jaime had never seen her more passionate. Every time he went to sleep, she woke him again. By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest.” - AFFC

There's no indication whatsoever that Jaime had any intent to NOT wed and be Lord of Casterly Rock. He wasn’t really into Lysa but he never straight up refused to take on the role he was born into. In fact, he even kinda fancied Catelyn lol.

“Lord Hoster kept me for a fortnight whilst mulling his reply, and sat me beside his daughter Lysa at every meal.”

“Small wonder you took the white. I’d have done the same.”

“Oh, Lysa was not so fearsome as all that.” She had been a pretty girl, in truth; dimpled and delicate, with long auburn hair. Timid, though. Prone to tongue-tied silences and fits of giggles, with none of Cersei’s fire. Her older sister had seemed more interesting, though Catelyn was promised to some northern boy, the heir of Winterfell …”

And lol

“but at that age, no girl interested Jaime half so much as Hoster’s famous brother, who had won renown fighting the Ninepenny Kings upon the Stepstones.” - AFFC

He doesn’t even say, “but at that age, no girl interested Jaime so much as Cersei.” No. The Blackfish. Had Catelyn been unbetrothed, it’s not a stretch to think that Jaime would have been entertained by the idea of their betrothal. This was before Cersei seduced him at Eel Alley.

“hE GaVe HiS ConSenT”

Yeah, after she manipulated him through sex LOL. IT’S RIGHT THERE.

“Jaime always wanted to join the KG!”

“He had joined the Kingsguard for love, of course”.-ASOS

(HEY! Just like that tall, blonde, “beauty” he’s been hanging out with HHMM)

He wasn’t going to join the KG before Cersei gave him “love,” which is why he was asking about Casterly Rock and talking about Tywin, as if this was an idea he hadn’t thought of before. (Knight and KG are not synonymous). He joined “for love” AFTER she gave him intimacy, showing him what he could have if he agreed to stay by her side forever.

She even murdered Melara -HER FRIEND- for saying she wanted to marry Jaime one day. She kept trying to rob Jaime of a life outside of her, and yes I use the word “rob,” because it was through narcissistic abuse. She literally turned up the passion and kept waking him up with sex until he gave his consent.

And “by morning” Casterly Rock was “a small price to pay.” A SMALL PRICE TO PAY. That means it was worth something of value to him and then “by morning,” after she woke him up over and over and over until he agreed, it became a “small price.”

Also keep in mind that when Cersei was begging Jaime to join the KG to be close to her, she was legitimately crushing hard on Rhaegar not long before... she’s allowed to fantasize about marriage with Rhaegar, but Jaime isn’t allowed to fit his role and marry?

“once she had drawn a picture of herself flying behind Rhaegar on a dragon, her arms wrapped tight about his chest. When Jaime had discovered it she told him it was Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys. [...] By night the prince played his silver harp and made her weep. When she had been presented to him, Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes. He has been wounded, she recalled thinking, but I will mend his hurt when we are wed. Next to Rhaegar, even her beautiful Jaime had seemed no more than a callow boy. The prince is going to be my husband, she had thought, giddy with excitement, and when the old king dies I’ll be the queen.” -AFFC

Like… fuck…

Later on, when Jaime is developing into his own being and becoming aware of the bs, the Eel Alley scene is brought up again.

“Cersei.” He spoke slowly, like a man waking from a dream, still wondering where he was. “What hour is it?”

“The hour of the wolf.” His sister lowered her hood, and made a face. “The drowned wolf, perhaps.” She smiled for him, so sweetly.”

There’s the use of charm. Normally you could argue that she was honestly happy to see him. But what does she say next and what does he associate with that encounter?

“Do you remember the first time I came to you like this? It was some dismal inn off Weasel Alley, and I put on servant’s garb to get past Father’s guards.”

“I remember. It was Eel Alley.” She wants something of me. “Why are you here, at this hour? What would you have of me?” His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe, fading to a whisper. For a moment he dared to hope that all she wanted was the comfort of his arms.”

And he wasn’t wrong. She did want something from him. So no. It’s not in his head.

“Jaime, Kevan has refused me. He will not serve as Hand [...] “You must be Tommen’s Hand.” -AFFC

This time he realizes what she’s doing. Using her outfit, she’s causing a recall to a past manipulative event that worked, exposing her intent, which is why Jaime immediately recognizes it as something she wants from him. This also implies that he now views their encounter at Eel Alley as Cersei wanting something of him since the two encounters were directly associated.

Here’s another moment of manipulation by a sexual narcissist.

“My sister wanted the girl to lose a hand. The old penalty, for striking one of the blood royal. Robert told her she was cruel and mad. They fought for half the night … well, Cersei fought, and Robert drank. Past midnight, the queen summoned me inside.”

Failing to get Robert to side with her and do something, she then summoned Jaime to give him the attention she knows he wants. You see where I’m going here?

“The king was passed out snoring on the Myrish carpet. I asked my sister if she wanted me to carry him to bed. She told me I should carry her to bed, and shrugged out of her robe. I took her on Raymun Darry’s bed after stepping over Robert. If His Grace had woken I would have killed him there and then. He would not have been the first king to die upon my sword … but you know that story, don’t you?” He slashed at a tree branch, shearing it in half. “As I was fucking her, Cersei cried, ‘I want.’ I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead.” The things I do for love. - AFFC

This isn’t Jaime interpreting the incident incorrectly. This is character growth.

GRRM is speaking through Jaime by destroying the illusion and becoming aware of the reality he has been living. Because the lights are turning on for him, the things I do for love can take on a new meaning here. It’s more like the things I do to earn intimacy. He’s jogging down memory lane and realizing that every time (shown or told about in the books) she approached him she was trying to get something from him or trying to get him to agree with her. There was always a motive apart from a genuine desire to give and receive love, no strings attached.

Excessive Focus on Physical Over Emotional

“The sexual narcissist’s style of love-making is often focused on appearance and image, with a keen dislike for flaws and weaknesses from oneself or the partner. The love-making is less about two human beings connecting, and more about measuring up to idealized expectations. Try as the sexual narcissist might at physical grandiosity, there’s inevitably something missing in their performance: genuine human emotions.”

Mm yes.Going back to this as an example:

“his face was thinner, with hollows under his eyes and lines he did not remember. I don’t look as much like Cersei this way. She’ll hate that.” - ASOS

“The Targaryens wed brother to sister for three hundred years, to keep the bloodlines pure. And Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We are one person in two bodies. We shared a womb together. He came into this world holding my foot, our old maester said. When he is in me, I feel … whole.” - AGOT

“I need you. I need my other half.” He could hear the rain pattering against the windows high above. “You are me, I am you. I need you with me. In me. Please, Jaime. Please.” - AFFC

People use Cersei’s romanticized twin comments as evidence to show that she genuinely loves Jaime. This also can connect to the GRRM quote mentioned above about her genuine love capabilities which can be argued as “lol no”.

She does not have “genuine human emotions,” because her words and feelings are from a narcissistic desire to be whole through the idea that Jaime is an extension of herself. So… yeah, if she thinks Jaime is herself as a male (“you are me, I am you”), then she’s missing half of her until he’s inside her, making her whole. Her, her, her, her.

Also, that’s a move to try to strip him of his own identity, his own person, and is a fucking massive red flag that this is how the relationship began. Does he ever try to persuade her to do shit by reminding her that they’re the same person? Like ffs.

She does this while trying to manipulate him using sex. He’s not listening to her, so she begs him to be inside her. Hey, why not? We’ve seen this work before.

“Every time he went to sleep, she woke him again. By morning Casterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. He gave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest.” - ASOS

You Exist to Serve the Narcissist’s Needs.

“After the initial courtship period during which he or she tries to impress and please, a sexual narcissist may begin to demand that you cater primarily to his own selfish needs. He may expect you to be “on call”

Okay I bolded that “on call” bit, because she does go to him when she wants something, and then gets hella mad when he refuses. But I know some people will use this to be like BuT JaImE TaKeS hEr WhEn He WaNts and like.. Yeah, fair enough, you can make that argument, but… that’s leaving out context. He goes to her because she’s withholding intimacy and only initiates when she wants something from him. I’m going to play devil’s advocate and say it does fit. Remember what I said in the beginning that it’s not uncommon for victims to act in ways that are problematic (hate that word) to try to get back some control? Yeah. Apply this here. His unhealthy response is a reaction to her using intimacy as a tool.

“and satisfy sexual desires at his pleasure, require you to engage in sexual acts which only he enjoys [doesn’t really apply], or demand that you limit your other activities to be more available. Rather than being an individual with your own thoughts, feelings and priorities. The sexual narcissist expects you to exist merely as an extension of his or her wishes. ”

Cersei resents Jaime for disagreeing with her and thinking on his own. Literally the “you are me” bs and how she gets really angry when he begins to challenge her and goes against her wishes. She views him as someone who needs to cater to her, All he’s doing for her to slap and throw nasty words and cups at him is just... not doing what she asks him to do... his existence in Cersei’s life is simply to cater to her.

Constantly Puts You Down

“In order to put up a facade of superiority, and disguise hidden insecurity and inadequacy, some narcissists will constantly put other people down, to boost their own desirability and acceptability. In a sexual relationship, some (but not all) narcissists may also target their partners for ridicule, blame, shame, sarcasm, and overall marginalization. By subjecting the partner to an inferior psychological position, the narcissist is able to exercise a greater degree of dominance and manipulation.”

I mean… Do I really need to provide examples here? This is actually similar to the next one, so I’m going to put my examples there.

Reacts Negatively When You Don’t Give Them What They Want

“Since many sexual narcissists can't stand disappointment or rejection, they will frequently react negatively when you don’t give them what they want, in the way they want it. Some of the common responses include:

Anger – Tantrum. Negative judgment. Personal attacks. Ridicule.

Passive-Aggression – The cold shoulder. The silent treatment. Withhold of love and affection [which ties in to withholding intimacy examples I provided above]. Sarcasm. Calculated separation.

Emotional Coercion – Blame. Guilt trip. Calling the partner ungrateful. Threaten to withhold love and intimacy (such as it is). Pretend narcissistic victimhood.

None of these responses are those of a mature, reasonable adult. The sexual narcissist, by acting like a petulant child or a bully, hopes the drama and manipulation will hook you back in, so you’ll once again “belong” to him or her.”

Some of this is physical abuse too, so I’m sticking those under here. And yes, slapping counts as physical abuse and it doesn’t matter who the hell does it.

“Rule? I said naught of ruling. I shall rule until my son comes of age.”

“I don’t know who I pity more,” her brother said. “Tommen, or the Seven Kingdoms.” She slapped him. Jaime’s arm rose to catch the blow, cat-quick … but this cat had a cripple’s stump in place of a right hand. Her fingers left red marks on his cheek. - AFFC

Keep in mind that every time Jaime’s reflex goes to his face to block a blow it’s a sign that this is a behavior he’s used to. Sometimes people use the, “I don’t know who I pity more” line as well for “mutual abuse.” Context and… where’s the lie? Lmao.

Most of the time he’s being straight with her. Snarky ass? Sure. Abusive? No. Intent is key. She puts him down to shame him and attempts to decrease his self-worth. This is a control move, because she throws cruel words at him when she is unsuccessful in getting what she wants. He sometimes calls her a fool and one time asks if she’s drunk or stupid, because she’s legit spiraling into a paranoia and he’s going wtf lol. He’s not trying to make her dependent on him through the use of his poor language.

Anyway, back to physical.

Jaime felt his anger rising. “True, Loras does not leer at your teats the way Ser Osmund does, but I hardly think—”

“Think about this.” Cersei slapped his face. Jaime made no attempt to block the blow.

“I see I need a thicker beard, to cushion me against my queen’s caresses.” He wanted to rip her gown off and turn her blows to kisses. He’d done it before, back when he had two good hands.”

People love to use this against Jaime. Ffs. He’s literally trying to fucking defend himself from physical abuse by trying to diffuse the situation through sex, turning “blows to kisses.” This is one of those messy situations where it’s a victim trying to gain back control in an unhealthy, arguably abusive way. Does that make them anywhere near “mutually” abusive as if they’re 50/50? LMFAO no.

“Would Your Grace honor her white knight with a dance?” She gave him a withering look. “And have you fumbling at me with that stump? No. I will let you fill my wine cup for me, though. If you think you can manage it without spilling.” - AFFC

She turns him down with her disgust over his missing hand and then allows him to fill her cup I-

“Get out, I said. I am sick of looking at that ugly stump of yours. Get out!” To speed him on his way, she heaved her wine cup at his head. She missed, but Jaime took the hint.” - AFFC

Alright this big one…

WST:

“You mustn’t let Father take him from me. Jaime, please.

“I can talk to him, but he will not listen …”

“He will if you agree to leave the Kingsguard.”

“I’m not leaving the Kingsguard.” His sister fought back tears.

“Jaime, you’re my shining knight. You cannot abandon me when I need you most! He is stealing my son, sending me away … and unless you stop him, Father is going to force me to wed again!”

Guilt tripping and playing up the loving language.

Also, off topic, but I just want to point out that it’s funny Cersei came to him in Eel Alley to persuade him to join the KG to be with her. Jaime said they can’t get Tywin’s approval, so then she fucks him all night and he agrees. They played as lovers before that moment, but that was the night that sealed their affair to one another, to remove himself off the market and stay by her side forever. In this scene, she’s coming to him to ask him to LEAVE the KG, knowing Tywin would approve, and when he’s questioning the idea she tries to have sex with him, BUT he refuses her so her plan doesn’t work, making this moment the solid beginning of their downfall lmao. The opposite of Eel Alley.

“It makes no matter who they wed me to, I want you at my side, I want you in my bed, I want you inside me. Nothing has changed between us.”

Increasing the level of manipulation through intimacy since her previous persuasive strategy wasn’t working.

“Let me prove it to you.” She pushed up his tunic and began to fumble with the laces of his breeches. Jaime felt himself responding.

“No,” he said, “not here.” They had never done it in White Sword Tower, much less in the Lord Commander’s chambers. “Cersei, this is not the place.”

“You took me in the sept. This is no different.”

She drew out his cock and bent her head over it. Jaime pushed her away with the stump of his right hand. “No. Not here, I said.” He forced himself to stand. For an instant he could see confusion in her bright green eyes, and fear as well. Then rage replaced it.

Angry reaction due to refusal of sex. Childish reaction from not getting what she wants which quickly turns into bullying.

Cersei gathered herself together, got to her feet, straightened her skirts. “Was it your hand they hacked off in Harrenhal, or your manhood?” As she shook her head, her hair tumbled around her bare white shoulders. “I was a fool to come. You lacked the courage to avenge Joffrey, why would I think that you’d protect Tommen? Tell me, if the Imp had killed all three of your children, would that have made you wroth?”

Lol people thinking she was there to hang out with him. She admits to only being in there to ask something of him. “I was a fool to come.” Don’t miss out on the angry, nasty response because she was rejected and couldn’t use her favorite go-to manipulation tactic.

“You great golden fool. He’s lied to you a thousand times, and so have I.” [...]

“You had best go, Cersei. You’re making me angry.”

“Oh, an angry cripple. How terrifying.” She laughed. “A pity Lord Tywin Lannister never had a son. I could have been what he wanted, but I lacked the cock. And speaking of such, best tuck yours away, brother. It looks rather sad and small, hanging from your breeches like that.”

She’s trying to establish superiority by attempting to break him down, using his disability against him and attacking his manhood.

More?

“Gold? Or silver?” Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. “All the color is draining out of you, brother. You’ve become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white.” She flicked the hair away. “I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold.” - AFFC

I mean…I think that’s enough.

lol jk

“Tell him what has happened, and write … write …”

“Yes, Your Grace?” She licked her lips, shivering. “Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.”

“As you command. ‘I love you’ thrice?”

“Thrice.” She had to reach him. “He will come. I know he will. He must. Jaime is my only hope.”

“My queen,” said Qyburn, “have you … forgotten? Ser Jaime has no sword hand. If he should champion you and lose …”

We will leave this world together, as we once came into it. “He will not lose. Not Jaime. Not with my life at stake.” - AFFC

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHE

FUCKING

THOUGHT

ABOUT

HOW TO WORD IT

TO GET HIM TO COME BACK

SHE CONSCIOUSLY, FORMULATED A PLAN TO WRITE “I LOVE YOU”

SPECIFICALLY THREE TIMES

TO “REACH HIM.”

SHE. LITERALLY. ADMITS. TO MANIPULATING HIM. THROUGH EMOTIONS.

“Come at once,” she said. “Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.”

Vyman was hovering by the door, waiting, and Jaime sensed that Peck was watching too. “Does my lord wish to answer?” the maester asked, after a long silence. A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck.

“No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”-AFFC

And Jaime had so much character growth by that point that IT DIDN’T FUCKING WORK LMAO. Her game isn’t working anymore. And not only is she trying to manipulate him through loving words, she’s also NOT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT HIS LIFE OUTSIDE OF HERSELF, because she’s acknowledging that if she’s going down then she’s taking him with her. T

he loving thing to do would be, “Jaime, I won’t allow you to be my champion. You’re missing your good hand and can’t win. I don’t want to be the one to cause your death.” But Cersei never gave a shit about his life outside of her so... not a shocker. (Also I just lmao that around the same time Cersei is trying to get Jaime to come back for his death sentence, Brienne is out there willing to literally hang by a noose to save him. Great contrast.)

On to Jaime…

I did a bit of research to see why the fuck people think Jaime is abusive towards Cersei. Almost all of the examples involve their type of sex play, his thoughts (WHAT LMAO), and… not understanding the difference between toxicity and abuse. Abuse is always toxic, but toxicity isn’t always abusive.

I’ve been in both an abusive and toxic relationship and the difference was that my partner in the toxic one wasn’t trying to establish constant control through various different methods. He wasn’t using me for his own gain or trying to make me feel like garbage about myself. He didn’t become physical when I went against him. In my non-abuse toxic one, we were like each other’s “drug.” Extreme highs and lows, propping each other up on a pedestal, losing ourselves within the relationship by wrapping our happiness around the other. The twins are definitely toxic, mutually, but some of Jaime’s unhealthy behaviors are confused with abuse and, ironically, his more questionable actions stem from Cersei’s abuse on him.

Quoting this again since it’s like a million pages up:

Why do people abuse?

There is a difference between UNHEALTHY/TOXIC and ABUSIVE.

Don’t come at me about the patriarchy being the reason why Cersei can’t be abusive towards Jaime (yes… I’ve actually seen that hot take). Within their own personal dynamic, Cersei has power over Jaime just by the nature of him being in the KG. She literally uses her position to tell him where to go and what to do, and even oversteps her boundaries sometimes by giving orders for him.

As stated above, she manipulated him into joining the KG with implied promises of being together always. She then had affairs behind his back, used intimacy to persuade him, and cruelly put him down when he didn’t want to do the things she asked of him. That’s Cersei trying to maintain control of their dynamic. This is a “pattern of behavior” that dates back to at least Eel Alley.

Unhealthy/Toxic

There isn’t a clear line when a relationship becomes unhealthy or abusive. This means it might be hard to figure out what kind of relationship you’re in. Remember that abuse is all about power and control. An unhealthy relationship might involve a power imbalance, being mean, ignoring boundaries [x]

Unhealthy behaviors can appear to be abusive behaviors, and certain toxic acts can turn into abusive over time, but they’re not the same thing.

For Jaime’s side of the “abuse,” he falls more often into the “unhealthy” category. I’m going to respond to a meta I came across recently.

“Jaime has channelled all his sexual desire into Cersei for most of his life (even thinking “I’ve been too long away from Cersei” when he experiences some arousal upon seeing Brienne naked), and that is not something one partner should put upon another. He judges the attractiveness of other women in reference to Cersei: Brienne, once, and Hildy the sex worker in ADWD. Cersei is a person, not a standard of idealised beauty.”

People twist the entire context to make him appear to be somehow abusive in a situation that actually…. sounds like a victim. Cersei wants that level of devotion from Jaime (and so do some of her stans), which is literally exactly why they don’t think Jaime and Brienne are a love story and why Cersei is like LMAO HER? Jaime would never leave me for that creature! SHE’S UGLY.

She lived her whole life knowing that Jaime only had eyes for her, and the irony of “not a standard of idealised beauty” is that Cersei wants to be the standard of idealised beauty. He’s not “putting” anything on her. He’s reflecting what she wants and what has been reinforced since childhood.

Besides that, I don’t see why it’s so wrong for Jaime to think Cersei is the most beautiful woman on the planet lol. And way to miss the entire fucking point, because the point is that YEAH, their entire relationship is superficial. Superficiality is unhealthy to an extent, but it’s not “abusive.” Jaime has only been with one woman his entire life and now he’s finally starting to encounter women away from his sister, so of course he’s going to compare. It’s like if you never left your town but one day decided to venture out into the world outside of it. You’re going to compare the buildings, the culture, etc because your mind is going to be expanding.

“ Until late in ASoS, he does not value his Kingsguard vows except as they allow him to be close to her. (Again, mutually abusive relationship; Cersei’s actions were vital in getting him into this position where he has nothing but her.)”

HOW IS THIS ABUSIVE ON JAIME’S END? And I already discussed how she manipulated him into that situation with Casterly Rock being something of value to him.

“Cersei has no meaningful relationships with anyone or anything outside of Jaime and her children. This is bad for both of them. So much of their emotional energy goes into each other, fostering the sense that they are not independent, whole people, and reinforcing the sense that the relationship is the only thing of value in their lives.”

Yeah! It is! And since Jaime is in the KG because Cersei convinced him to join, and she literally murdered her friend because the girl expressed wanting to marry Jaime, I WONDER WHY JAIME HAS NO FUCKING LIFE OUTSIDE OF CERSEI? As for Cersei, she CHOOSES to limit herself to Lannisters. Jaime isn’t forcing her to not have friends what the actual fuck. Cersei murders her friends lmfao.

This is unhealthy, not abusive, on Jaime’s end. HE isn’t the one “fostering the sense that they are not independent, whole people.” As explained above, CERSEI is the one repeating this over and over, using it to convince him, to control, to attempt to rob him of his identity when he tries to stray. So on Cersei’s end, yeah, that’s abuse.

“For all his idealisation of her and their relationship, Jaime’s trust in Cersei is also a very brittle thing. When Tyrion tells Jaime “she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know,” while still believing Cersei’s declaration that Tyrion has “lied to you a thousand times, and so have I” was “a clumsy attempt to hurt him,” he doesn’t do what someone in a healthy relationship would do, and ask her. Whatever trust he has in her vanishes in two sentences, one about Cersei’s honesty, one about her fidelity.”

And… his… lack of trust was justified anyway? LMAO. He even thinks at some point that Tyrion IS lying. And when he’s away from Cersei in ASOS, he doesn’t imagine her fucking other people while he’s gone, because he trusted her. He genuinely believes that she’s faithful to him (which is precisely why he felt so betrayed). But he also trusts Tyrion, so he went back and forth, wondering wtf was the truth.

AND HOW THE FUCK IS LACK OF TRUST ABUSIVE? This is another case of IT’S UNHEALTHY to have little to no trust in your relationship. Not abusive ffs (!!!)

“Jaime is abusive because he coerces her into sex”

BTW, a person who laughed at me and said this also is a huge twincest shipper which… why… do you… romanticize it and claim their love to be True.. If… you think… he does that?!

Pretty much everyone brings up “sexual coercion.” And you know what? Fair.

But... Jaime and Cersei are drawn to a messy push-pull sex play. She says no and then “weakley” pushes him away.

There were soft, wet sounds. Bran realized they were kissing. He watched, wide-eyed and frightened, his breath tight in his throat. The man had a hand down between her legs, and he must have been hurting her there, because the woman started to moan, low in her throat. “Stop it,” she said, “stop it, stop it. Oh, please …” But her voice was low and weak, and she did not push him away. Her hands buried themselves in his hair, his tangled golden hair, and pulled his face down to her breast. -AGOT

This is GRRM trying to clarify that this is their messy sex dynamic. I mean, he has a fucking little kid observe this all “oh hey but she isn’t pushing him away guys! It’s all good, guys! That’s just them!” Like he’s taking down notes. The 4th wall being broken here is almost jarring.

This sounds a lot like the scene at WF.

“No,” she said weakly when his lips moved down her neck, “not here. The septons …”

“The Others can take the septons.” He kissed her again, kissed her silent, kissed her until she moaned. Then he knocked the candles aside and lifted her up onto the Mother’s altar, pushing up her skirts and the silken shift beneath. She pounded on his chest with feeble fists, murmuring about the risk, the danger, about their father, about the septons, about the wrath of gods. He never heard her. He undid his breeches and climbed up and pushed her bare white legs apart. One hand slid up her thigh and underneath her smallclothes. When he tore them away, he saw that her moon’s blood was on her, but it made no difference. “Hurry,” she was whispering now, “quickly, quickly, now, do it now, do me now. Jaime Jaime Jaime.” Her hands helped guide him. “Yes,” Cersei said as he thrust, “my brother, sweet brother, yes, like that, yes, I have you, you’re home now, you’re home now, you’re home.” She kissed his ear and stroked his short bristly hair. Jaime lost himself in her flesh. He could feel Cersei’s heart beating in time with his own, and the wetness of blood and seed where they were joined. - ASOS

In both scenes she’s weakly protesting which implies it’s a form of their sex play, and she’s being turned on by him “taking” her. This depiction of sex was actually really trendy in the media not too long ago, so honestly the sex scenes for this “edgey couple” just exposes his age. That push-pull, yes/no, “he can’t resist me” wasn’t nearly as controversial as it is now. He was literally writing what used to be seen as hot. It obviously did not age well.

And GRRM never meant for Jaime to be interpreted as a rapist.

"If the show had retained some of Cersei's dialogue from the books, it might have left a somewhat different impression – but that dialogue was very much shaped by the circumstances of the books, delivered by a woman who is seeing her lover again for the first time after a long while apart during which she feared he was dead. I am not sure it would have worked with the new timeline. That's really all I can say on this issue. The scene was always intended to be disturbing … but I do regret if it has disturbed people for the wrong reasons." [x]

“Jaime thinks of her as a whore”

WHY IS THERE A THOUGHT POLICE? How is it abuse that he thinks a word with zero abusive action attached to it?? And like fuck LMAO Cersei is the one that goes off with the word “whore” quite often, in a misogynistic way.

What’s even stupider is when Jaime thinks of her as a “whore,” he’s just reciting what Tyrion told him, word for word. The words came from Tyrion, so Tyrion’s words are playing out in his mind.

“Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son.” - AFFC

Oh, how Tyrion was sniggering.… a lying whore … fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack … - AFFC

And he even removes the whore bit.

“If so, we might have coaxed the truth from them.” … she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know … - AFFC

Ser Osmund Kettleblack paced beside them in his white enamel plate and white wool cloak. “… she been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know …” - AFFC

Jaime could feel his phantom fingers itching at the sight of him.… fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know … - AFFC

Strong and vigorous and handsome, Jaime thought.… she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know … - AFFC

He wanted to kiss her, carry her to her bedchamber, throw her on the bed … she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy … - AFFC

That only made her laugh. “We all have secrets, brother,” she replied. … she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know … - AFFC

Now there’s this time where he says,

Jaime gave a shrug. “My apologies if I mistook you for something you’re not. My little brother has known a hundred whores, I’m sure, but I’ve only ever bedded one.” -ADWD

OMG EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING NOW IT’S TIME TO OFFICIALLY STAMP HIM AS A MISOGYNIST AND THIS AS MUTUAL ABUSE towards someone who isn’t even fucking there and for bitterly thinking of his cheating partner as a whore in a world that throws that word around like it’s candy at a parade.

Since “whore” in Westeros is more loosely thrown around than it is in our world, the incredibly hurt and angry Jaime thinking she’s a whore for sleeping with multiple people behind his back is not that fucking wild. Do I think that's sexist? Yeah. Do I think it’s healthy? No. Do I think it’s a realistic response that a very hurt person would think, especially in a world where it’s a common term? Absolutely.

“He dreams about hurting her though so lol he’s clearly violent against her”

(yes I’ve unfortunately seen this a lot)

Hey all... I have a confession to make...

I dreamed about pushing a certain politician in front of a bus and bashing D&D’s teeth in. I also had a dream where I kicked my sister because she ate my last piece of cheesecake. I’m so sorry. Please lock me up and throw away the key until it’s time for me to be executed.

Last night he dreamed he’d found her fucking Moon Boy. He’d killed the fool and smashed his sister’s teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. -AFFC

… he DREAMED it.

PEOPLE ARE FUCKING USING THIS AS EVIDENCE FOR MUTUAL ABUSE BECAUSE HE DREAMED IT.

You know partly why? Because they THINK he’s going to murder her or harm her, so they’re prematurely calling him abusive and removing literally all the context because... IT HASN’T HAPPENED. They’re essentially accusing a man of doing something before he even does it without even knowing FOR SURE if he’s even going to do it, USING THIS DREAM TO ACCUSE HIM LOL.

god THIS FUCKING FANDOM I-

DREAMS. ARE NOT. ABUSE

I’mcryingwhydoIhavetosaythat

Not only is it in a dream, but like, idk, why do you think he’s having those violent dreams? Did she do something to really hurt him so his pain is manifesting in his subconscious as violence? IDK just a wild guess! Maybe he specifically thought about smashing her teeth in, because just previously they were speaking about how Ser Gregor did the same thing to Pia. You know... kinda like me dreaming about angrily pushing my cheating ex down the stairs after I watched a murder mystery documentary where someone was pushed down a flight of stairs. (Oh but my ex was a man, so it’s just viewed as a dream).

… the cringe of the thought police...

Yeah. I’m done. I didn’t even dig up all of Cersei’s instances of abuse and this thing is like fucking 20 pages long. So even IF you view Jaime’s thoughts (!!!!) as abusive and IF you believe he was full on coercing or raping her, they still aren’t nearly MUTUALLY abusive, as in 50/50 abuse, and I’m just going to circle back around to what I said in the beginning about the main victims reacting in problematic ways.

Anyway. I always start these as calm and cool and then end with all caps and a glass of wine to chill me out. All I have left to say about whatever that “mutually abusive” meta was is

#longest one I've ever done heads up LOL #jaime lannister #asoiaf #probably have a million mistakes and a thousand regrettable things but I'm tired and want this done #but honestly thanks anon #I was legit wanting to write about this for a long time #abuse

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elai-okonma · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10. Jesus Wept

Thank you to @obeymekookie for always supporting my work<3

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, TORTURE, SEXUAL CONTENT, ETC.

Word count: 2,064

Devildom

The brothers were still outside watching the light show in the sky when Diavolo spoke up, they had forgotten that he was even there. He looks to Lucifer, whose eyes were glued to the Celestial skies above.

“I don't understand, who would want to start another war??”

“Does anyone else think it suspicious that Simeon disappeared right before all this started?? I mean, it was very unlike him to leave the way he did. He looked really concerned.”

“Maybe so, we’ll just have to ask him when he comes back. Or better yet! Someone text him on his DDD!”

Asmodeus is the one who whips out his phone and sends the message:

Hey, do you know anything about what’s going on up in the Celestial Realm, right now??

Is it another war??

I hope you’re ok!

Simeon??

Hello??

…

No answer. Asmo tries to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Honestly, what the fuck is going on up there??

Another few minutes goes by, before the black sky goes quiet.

“Huh… well, it seems that the fighting has stopped.”

“Lord Diavolo, we need to finish our conversation about Belphie, but that will have to wait. If there is another Celestial war starting, then we need to find Satan, and then come up with a plan.” states Lucifer.

“Why would we need to do that?? If there was another war, why would we need to be involved?? We don’t know if it’s directed at us, or the human realm. It could even be just amongst themselves, for all we know.” replies Diavolo.

Lucifer is stern with his words: “That’s right we don’t know. We don’t know anything about what just happened up there, but what I do know is that, that was Celestial Ash falling down upon us, and in all my years as an Angel I’ve never seen that. And even more, what little I have read about it, was vague. There is little to no information on it. So yeah, it might not be directed at us, but wouldn’t you rather be prepared for if it were??”

Diavolo thinks on this. He knows Lucifer is right, his priority is the people of the Devildom. Every Demon is his responsibility. Including Satan, and Belphegor.

“Ok, you all continue to search for Satan, I'll be leaving with Barbatos to tend to other matters back at the palace. Try to stay in the house until we figure out a plan.”

The Lord and his butler turn to take their leave, making haste back to the castle. The two knew what they had to do. They were going to have to let Belphegor know what had happened, and even try to find out if he knew where Satan might be. They didn’t expect any type of cooperation from him though, and quite frankly the two didn’t ever want to see the youngest brothers face again.

“How do you suppose we go about this??” asks the Demon Lord, once they are back home.

“Any way you’d like, my Lord. I know you never wanted to see Belphegor for as long as he lived, which is why you exiled him from the Devildom. So, however you want to go about this, I will support you.”

______________________________________________

The Celestial Realm:

As you sit restrained on the shore, you hear Elai speak up quietly:

“MC….do you have any idea what the penalty is for attacking an Archangel…

You stare up at your friends, not knowing what to say. What was there to say?? What was going to happen, now that you betrayed what was technically your Celestial brother. You don’t get long to think nor answer Elai’s question before you hear a loud, booming voice come from the night:

“MC!!!!!”

Your eyes widen at the familiar voice, your hand shakily coming up to cover your mouth. The three Angels next to you flinch when they hear your name. Fuck, is the only thought you can form, the seriousness of the situation becoming more clear.

That familiar blue light piercing through the dark sky, as you look up.

“Father…”

It was the last word you heard before you covered your eyes to shield them from the light.

When you open them, you notice you’re in a dark, unfamiliar room. The only light source was from your halo. It’s only when you try to walk forward, you realize you can’t. Panic starts to set in when you try your arms, but those also fail you. Looking around frantically, you crane your head around over your shoulders to try to see your surroundings but it’s no use. However, you hear metal clanking and it dawns on you that the reason you can’t move is because you’re chained up. You didn’t even notice the cold of the cuffs around your ankles and wrists.

Ok, let’s try to get some bearings, here…

You tug at the cuff on your left wrist, then your right. Solid. I’m not going anywhere. Your shoulders start to ache from your arms being strung up above you, and your toes barely touch the ground. I’m suspended from my wrists. The chain, I'm assuming, goes up to the ceiling. The cuffs around my ankles are most likely chained to the floor.

The presence you feel behind of you now, interrupts your thoughts.

“Who’s there?!” you call out, voice echoing of the walls.

The warm breath you feel on your ear sends a shiver up your spine. It’s followed by a low, smooth voice that makes you sick to your stomach.

“Hello, MC…”

You don’t recognize the person, and that makes your breathing pick up, you’re scared now.

“W-w-who are you-u??” your voice falters, throat thick with panic.

A low pitched laugh, followed by an answer:

“You wouldn’t know me, would you?? I’m not very talked about down in the Devildom, huh??”

A hand runs through your hair, gripping the back of your skull. You feel another hand tracing your jawline and lips. Something warm and wet makes its way up your cheek, and you can’t stop the tears that start to flow from your eyes.

You try again, hoping for an answer, “who are you?!”

The person is in front of you, now. He leans down to your ear again, “the left hand of God, the Archangel of Mercy and Redemption, the One who told Mary she would birth the son of our Father...I could go on all day with who I am, but for now, you can call me Gabriel.”

You hear a loud crack, then feel a sting on your belly. A whip. You yelp at the sudden feeling but it’s soon followed by another, then another. You barely have time to catch your breath before you choke out:

“I-i-is t-this my punis-shment for-r attac-cking M-michael??...”

The laughter that fills the room makes your insides knot.

“I would suggest not asking questions, that you really don’t want the answer to…”

You try to steady your breathing, but with your skin itching from the welts it was almost impossible. Gabriel speaks again, this time sounding like a judge reading off a sentence.

“...MC, for the attempted murder and assault of Archangel Michael, you are hereby sentenced to the Seven Terraces of Purgatory…”

Another crack of the whip. You hang your head down as Gabriel continues:

“...and after that, you are to be sent to the Labyrinth of Judas…”

You didn’t understand what these places were, but that didn’t stop you from trying to put the words with the context.

Judas, yes, I know who he is.

Purgatory, I’ve heard little about it.

And Labyrinth, another word for a type of maze.

Putting everything together made you realize just how fucked you actually were. All you could do was stay silent as the whip kept cracking down all over your body. Do you regret doing what you did?? Absolutely not. Anything for them. What could Gabriel do to you that hadn’t already been done, being tortured before being sent to the void?? An easy road to walk if it meant getting home to your Demons.

Sensing your newfound willingness to accept your punishment, Gabriel cracks the whip down on your face this time. You let out another yelp, and you hear the Archangel snarl. When you ready yourself for another hit, it doesn’t happen. You relax your muscles and take a shaky breath. Gabriel’s voice sounds farther away, now:

“I bet you think you’re special, MC. I bet you think you’re going to come out of all of this unscathed. But you’re wrong. You see MC, it’s my job to send you off, but no one said when. Did you honestly think that I wouldn’t avenge my brother?? Our Father might be merciful, but I am not.”

You decide to take this opportunity and clear some things up;

“Michael asked ME to make a pact with HIM, not the other way around. Had I known what it meant I would’ve declined the offer! I don’t regret what I did to him, and I don’t feel sorry for him, either. I hope he loses the wing that I ruined.

You feel that same sadistic energy from before come over you, and you look right at Gabriel.

“I relish in the thought of you going through all this trouble for me. You asked me if I thought I was special, and though it was obviously a rhetorical question, I’ll give you an answer anyway. I don’t think I’m special, I know I’m special. I fuck Demons, and get marriage proposals from Archangels. Do you honestly think that there won’t be repercussions for your actions here today?? Because let me tell ya, as soon as I get back to Lucifer and the others, mmmmh, it turns me on thinking of what they’ll do to you.”

Gabriel is right in your face now, breathing heavily, and truly enjoying every minute of this interaction.

“Ohhhh MC, something needs to be done about that mouth of yours. I could shut you up in more ways than one, but the easiest option would be to just simply plug it up.”

Something soft but dense enters your mouth. A ball gag, how original. You roll your eyes. He was going to have to do a hell of a lot worse than this. You hear him walk away again, but then comes right back, holding something that you thought looked like a wreath in his hand.

“MC, you would look absolutely stunning if you wore this…”

You feel him slam down the sharp object onto your head, and you let out a muffled scream. A crown of fucking thorns. The action caused you to grip onto the chains that were attached to your cuffs. The feeling of your warm blood dripping down your face and head makes you laugh around the gag.

“You’re enjoying this way too much, MC. I didn’t know we had a masochist amongst us.”

I you mumble through the gag.

“Hmm?? You have something you wish to say??” Gabriel pulls the gag out of your mouth, drool spilling out onto your chin, and you’re quick to correct the Archangel:

“Sadomasochist.” you say with a confirming smile, eyes blown out and hooded with satisfaction.

A guttural moan slips past his lips, and you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh at him, the crown of thorns staying in place. You look back down at him, eyes meeting his gaze.

“My my, Gabriel, I didn’t peg you as the type to get off torturing your own kind.”

The instant you said it, you knew you struck a nerve. His eyes were dark and the features of his face were cold.

“First off MC, do not put yourself in the same ranking as me. I’m an Archangel, you are a human turned Angel. A gift given to you by my Father. Remember that when you fall. And lastly, I do not ‘get off’ on torturing my own kind, I get off on torturing you.”

As he shoves the ball gag back into your mouth, he draws his other hand back and slaps you across the face so hard, that the light from your halo dimmed out for a second.

“Now MC, what shall we do with all this time we have on our hands??”

You shoot Gabriel your most dirtiest look, a look that says; ‘let’s play’.

#obey me!#obey me fanfic #obey me luficer #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #Obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon

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flufflebones · 4 years

Text

some more fun hcs about delphine [mc 1.... closest 2 my heart since ive used her in various settings for a While]! it’s a little long so im slapping it under a cut but its all sfw and all very much in good fun.

you know, mostly. i only really got two headcanons down and one is brief/about michael and the other is about pets in the devildom

- can and will fight michael do you think they saw the angel/anni event and were ok with it? yeah? no! just going to kick him hard enough in the shin to....... probably bust their own foot but its FINE

- has an approximate accumulated f*ckton of devildom native and possibly (definitely) magical pets

[The list:

Sosig / Sausage - Hellhound - Gift from Beelzebub!:

A beast of considerable size and [reportedly] god awful temperament, bearing charcoal fur and the lingering [faint] scent of sulphur. More vulpine than canine, their frames are typically gaunt, with the flames that fuel their bodies licking out from the ends of their tails, their ankles and wrists [on their normal quadrupedal legs], the inner portions of their ears [leaving them at a disadvantage when it comes to hearing], their somewhat visible / open ribcage, and the corners of their mouth.

Despite this general introduction, hellhounds are wildly varied and have a number of breeds and variations in recent history, typically intended for one of three purposes.

Companionship - These hellhounds are typically smaller in stature and less sturdy, with a tendency to bond strongly to one or two masters [with some consideration/leeway for those close to their master: See- Cerberus]. Arguably the most docile of any class of hellhound, they are still dangerous if not raised correctly, and have a nasty bite. Though not a true classification and with no formal means of training a hound to do so naturally, some companion hellhounds serve as a psuedo service dog, heavily attuned to the needs and potential problems unique to their primary master. This isn’t to say that they are an alternative to service animals, or anywhere near as well trained, *of course*, but the devildom is hardly the safest place for a regular human realm animal; And sometimes, you’ve just got to work with what you’ve got.

Sport / Show - Typically very much breed standard. While raised to tolerate handling and grooming, these traditionally built hellhounds are temperamental at best and borderline terrifying when their willful nature comes in direct conflict with a demonic handler who bit off more than they can chew. Heavily regulated, and typically owned by the elite.

Protection - The devildom is dangerous, and nobody is questioning that. Demons with a knack for animal handling [or demons who can afford to hire someone skilled with animals, of course!] breed and train these creatures to guard many things; People, places, objects, etc. They’re typically territorial and hard to train as a rule, as one cannot allow for a beast such as this to be tempted by treats or good petting from *anyone*, yfm?

Sausage is a bit of a mixed bag. Born from protective stock and bought by Beelzebub after overhearing Mammon trying to convince Lucifer to get Delphine/my mc a pet [who lays eggs, we’ll get there, that he can sell for a massive profit]. Being the youngest present brother at the time, anything capturing his interest other than food is both welcomed and encouraged in an attempt to positively reinforce him to not put the devildom at risk of a famine.

Delphine unintentionally raised this brick house of a hellhound puppy into a sort of in-between of companion and protector, with him being very social, very sweet, and *fairly* defensive and willful if things aren’t going his way. He’s typically the one to step in most successfully to motivate her to move around [yes, moreso than the brothers!] and do her day to day tasks, and is probably the best way to find out if something’s wrong with her-- Past being able to just kind of drag her off due to their size differential, his general wit and ability to communicate his needs and wants have led to unexpected food deliveries, blankets spread over her shoulders, and human world medicines arriving a few days before she shows any real signs of illness that she can see.

He’s also spoiled as all get out. If you’re sharing a bed/couch/blanket/etc with her, you can bet Sausage is soon to follow. Sorry, Mammon! He loooves table scraps and is almost as bad as Beel when it comes to eating things he shouldn’t [and looking too cute to be scolded about it too heavily].

Rocky - ... That’s just a rock, dude. - Gift from Belphegor:

It’s really hard to tell if Belphegor is messing around when he presents Delphine with a rough hewn black rock bearing two googly eyes, a pair of hilariously out of place crystalized horns, and a pair of similarly out of place crystal wings, but I swear on all things unholy, he’s doing it for a reason.

Though not... Really sentient, initially, Rocky just needs a good, possibly year long charging. Soulstones are sort of... Weird, in that they are inert and lifeless for as long as they remain with the boulders from which they are harvested. but typically-- After being exposed to a single party’s magical runoff and signature for a year or so-- absorb enough energy to come to life, their coloration and mineral makeup adjusting to fit the nature of the being they owe their life to. Delphine’s takes the form of a celestine and blue goldstone peryton; A winged stag. With crystalized wings and antlers, Rocky would almost look majestic; If it weren’t for the fact that the googly eyes have remained a feature that she has never been able to figure out how to remove. Soulstones are typically quiet observers, not requiring active care to thrive but delighting in contact [especially immediately post spell casting or magic use]. They are attuned to the needs of their magic bound masters, and typically exude an air of-- if not positive-- reassurance.

In Delphines Little Canon Divergence Corner, it’s likely that rocky coming into her care is one of the first of many attempts at reconciliation that Belphegor makes with her post chapter 16; And it honestly really, really sets him back, like, even when she returns to the human realm. Forgotten but included in her luggage, it’s a few weeks into her settling down on Earth that she finds the dinky little stone, and an overload of magic-- Possibly emotionally sourced, possibly due to unresolved tension/a discussion that never got to happen because he was being a little jerk about it-- sets off the transformation, which occurs overnight.

She recognizes the little stone figure when it approaches her in the morning, and one of her first texts about it is a simple, succinct “WTF” + an image attachment sent to Belphegor, specifically in the dead of night with the intention to wake him.

Henry “Pogchampion” 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, A.K.A: “Pip! Minette! Beans!” - Infernal rats - Gift from Leviathan:

A note: If you don’t care for rats or you’re more familiar with their popular association with illness or disease/classification as vermin, and are only capable of thinking of them in that context, I don’t care. I am specifically talking about rats in the context of them being pets-- And good pets, at that. If you want to talk about how much you wish they were dead/didn’t exist, thats not my problem. Just don’t do it on a post discussing them as a pet, or I will block you!

Anyway!

Leviathan is probably the most appropriate person for them to get pet recommendations from, but her asking never winds up a necessity; When he finds out that he’s got another pet enthusiast in the house, he’s *all* about it, and when he finally [very unsubtly] weasels his way into the information he needs, he gets them to come along with him to what’s supposed to be a routine supply trip for Henry that just *CAN’T* be accomplished online. It’s a trip to *a* shop, but not what she’s expecting, especially when she gets to meet a handful of very curious, very playful, larger than a medium sized dog mice and rats. These guys are very much pests turned pets, with a small niche of hobbyists raising them and breeding them for temperament and overall health and disease resistance. Very social and very intelligent, they tend to thrive best in groups if one is not devoting all of their time to them as an individual. The type Leviathan recommends are on the smaller side, with cloudy, soft fur and sweet temperaments. And massive teeth, nubby horns, spade tipped tails, and very large, typically bony or leathery wings.

Levi is... Probably the one who wanted them, really. They get a little big, and tend to like to roughhouse, and they chew like nobody’s business-- And while he can’t risk his figures or merch or other Otaku Trappings or wires for everything in his room, he *CAN* risk Delphine’s. Plus, Sausage needs a friend, right? Or three?

They pick up three, all of whom are sisters, and all of whom on paper are named Henry “Pogchamp”, 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, since he *is* technically the one paying for them and at least gets to do that much. Even when they start being named Pip, Minette, and Beans, in casual conversation, he can still hold on to the fact that they’ll always be Henries in his heart of hearts.

Sausage loves them to bits, for the record, but their interactions tend to be supervised/very brief even without the worry of him being able to harm any of them due to the general (and very appropriate) ill advisement of large predators interacting with smaller prey animals. It’s cute, sure, but it can be dangerous, and Delphine (and Levi, to a lesser extent, because he’s using the excuse of them being friends to keep Lucifer off of his ass for adding another animal to her menagerie) isn’t about to risk it.

Sweets - .... A black cat? That glitters? - Gift from Satan and Asmodeus:

Small, sleek, and independent, Sweets is probably the pet people see the least of all of Delphine’s little collection-- Though that doesn’t mean she’s not well loved. A pet project between Satan and Asmodeus, Sweets isn’t *technically* a cat; They’re a being comprised of shadow, somewhat similar in nature to a familiar without the connotation of them technically being a demon slash demonic. Who just so happens to have been enchanted to appear like and generally function in their day to day life as a cat. That sparkles, the only concession Satan was willing to grant Asmodeus in return for his help obtaining the materials necessary to create the little beast (and in return for him taking the heat when Lucifer inevitably got pissy about it). Given its unique nature, very little is actually known about the little being of shadow past basic care and assumptions based on its generally feline behavioral patterns. The rats scare the hell out of it, however, and it tends to be out of sight except when called, hiding in shadows and only occasionally emerging on its own.

... Oh, and be careful. Satan hasn’t told Del yet, but it seems that the belly rubs this shadowy kitty offers tend to bite off more than they can chew if they’re not careful. Asmodeus thinks its horrible. Who wants a pet with a massive maw of teeth in their stomach? Satan desperately wants to use this quirk in Sweets’ nature for a prank. Delphine already knows, but is playing dumb for the sake of faking surprise when its formally revealed.

Elysia - Gilded Crow - Gift from Lucifer and Mammon:

SO, i”M going to keep this short because i’ve been writing this for several hours at this point on and off and i really really want to be ready for my dinner when its ready, but!

Elysia is a sort of... Special circumstance. Literally. Devotees to Mammon-- And yes, there *are* people who think he’s a legitimate demon lord, the only people really allowed to treat him like garbage are his brothers and a few choice officials too strong to be eradicated as any lesser demon might have been-- with a background in magical augmentation specifically enchanted this line of crows to reflect that which is most valued by their Lord; Riches. They’re technically not legal due to their status as something of an organic money generator, but a select few in a small flockare kept under the watchful eyes of the Demon Lord and his immediate family, and those who have been trusted by his family members. This is where Lucifer comes in.

Understandably, Mammon is not allowed to have care of his flock, though he certainly wouldn’t be the worst at caring for them. He’d just also be selling their products illegally, and you can’t have that!

Elysia wears a small enchanted band comprised of dull, unimpressive iron-- The kind of thing Mammon would neither notice nor have interest in. This band is enchanted, and serves as a sort of storage space for any of Ely’s dropped organic components. Talons, feathers, eggs-- Everything is automatically absorbed into the band, rendering the bird borderline useless outside of being a gorgeous pet, and a gigantic nuisance.

Lucifer hates to admit it, but he really is a fan of the large, intelligent, gorgeous creature; And Mammon thinks it’s really funny to teach her to take shiny things (like grimm, loose jewelry, gum wrappers, etc), even past the sentimental value of the bird itself and what her kind represents to him.

Delphine adores her, too, and is about as good an influence on her as Mammon is-- Teaching her to speak, in some capacity, simply by repeating certain words or phrases to herself as she does things in the day to day, especially during feeding time. It’s all fun and games, until this pretty golden bird calls Lucifer a ‘motherf*cker’ while she thinks he’s out of the room while visiting with Diavolo for an update on her health.

#long #obey me #obey me mc #obey me mc headcanon #obey me headcanons

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crashingmeteorz · 4 years

Text

me and the ash can’t settle down ch. 2

lu ten goes on his first hunt, and his past comes back to haunt him.

read ch.1 here. word count: 5.8k. read on ao3.

trigger warnings for: death, violence, ptsd

"Tell me, Bǎi. What do you know about bounty hunting?"

The short answer is, not much.

Kōji is pleased with Lu Ten’s physical ability - Lu Ten has no intention of revealing his firebending, of course. Kōji may be unusually accepting, but theoretically housing an enemy is much easier when you don’t have the physical proof of their past in front of you.

So Lu Ten sticks to hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting. Of course, trying to beat Kōji in a fistfight is like trying to knock down a rock wall with your bare hands. Lu Ten tries to use his agility to his advantage, but it becomes clear very quickly that Kōji fights dirty. He bests Lu Ten at every turn, and what’s worse, it’s obvious the older man is holding back.

“These people we’re dealing with,” says Kōji in his rough voice, “they’re not gonna show you mercy so don’t you show them any, got it?”

Lu Ten listens to his new teacher and tries to forget the rigid rules he’d spent his whole life abiding by. It’s surprisingly easy to let go of the concept of fairness, and when Kōji stumbles for just a moment, Lu Ten punches him square in the face.

“Shit,” Lu Ten says panicking as blood pours out of Kōji’s nose. “Shit, shit, shit.” Kōji tries to stem the flow with one hand, which is growing redder by the second, and waves at Lu Ten nonchalantly with the other.

“You did what I asked,” says Kōji, the blood-flow making him sound congested. “Think you might’ve broke my nose though...”

Lu Ten procures a rag and hands it to Kōji, but the floor is already a blood-splattered mess. He can’t help but think that if he had been firebending and slipped up like that, Kōji would be dead.

Kōji pulls up a chair and sits with his newly crooked nose, courtesy of Lu Ten’s fist, and tells Lu Ten to show him what weapons he’s familiar with, to Lu Ten’s extreme relief. None of Kōji’s small arsenal of weapons is state of the art, every single one accompanied by scratches and dents, but there’s at least one katana in the mix. He inspects the blade carefully - it’s nowhere near the quality of the one he made with Piandao, but that was left at home in the palace. A thought arises unbidden: will his father include the katana in his memorial? Lu Ten closes his eyes tightly, so that it hurts, and then holds the blade steady.

He practices his forms blindly, never once opening his eyes as he dances around the room with the battered old katana. Suddenly he’s eight, practicing with some weapons he stole off the palace guards, his father laughing merrily as he lunges with the clumsiness of a child. Now he’s 14, and Piandao is patiently correcting his forms, demanding more but never implying Lu Ten is not enough. Now he’s 16 and his cousins are begging him to firebend at them, but they’re far too little, so he says conspiratorially, “what about a sword fight?” Now he’s 18 and killing one of his fellowmen-

“At least you can use that thing,” Kōji chuckles, and Lu Ten is grateful for the interruption from his thoughts. “You’re a piss-poor street fighter.”

“And you’re a fucking mountain,” Lu Ten retorts, setting the blade down gently. “How the hell am I supposed to get the jump on you?”

“There’s no weight classes in bounty hunting,” says Kōji, wagging his finger like a school teacher, upper lip still stained a bright red. Lu Ten finds a new rag and pours some water over it this time, tossing it to Kōji.

“I thought we’re not supposed to kill these guys?” Lu Ten asks curiously. Kōji had tried to explain his profession, but it had mostly resulted in a series of tangents and old stories about the job. Any important details Lu Ten had gleaned came exclusively from context clues.

“We’re not,” was Kōji’s reply, giving Lu Ten a look that seems to imply he’s said the stupidest thing Kōji’s ever heard. “But you need to be able to defend yourself. You know how to disarm, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lu Ten replies tersely, looking for a sheath that might fit the sword. Piandao had taught him to disarm, obviously, but he had also said that the katana was a weapon of death. At the time, Lu Ten had hardly listened, too appreciative of the thin, curved design of the blade to really care for its purpose. Now it seemed Lu Ten had always been destined for violence.

“Good,” Kōji says gruffly, but his eyes are alight with excitement, “because I have a tip for us to follow, and we don’t have time for you to sit around all day figuring it out.”

The rules of the hunt are both straightforward and murky, if Lu Ten has understood anything from Kōji’s reminiscences. You track the target, capture them alive, and hand them over to the paying party, but you can work out a deal if things got messy. You don’t encroach on someone else’s territory, unless the bounty’s extraordinarily high. You always follow through and refuse to be bought, unless the offer is good. You never kill a target, unless it’s the only option. When he asks Kōji how to make the call on these flip-flopping rules Kōji brushes him off.

“Comes with practice,” he says, unconcerned. “Eventually you’ll learn to trust your gut.”

The man they’re after is, according to Kōji, your average lowlife. He started off small-time, scamming elderly couples and widows with too many children and not enough food.

“Now he’s gone to flat-out stealing, but he hit up the wrong guy,” Kōji tells him through a mouthful of rice that evening. “Rich kid like you. Influential family. The spoiled brat tried to fight, and he barely survived.”

Kōji suddenly and meaningfully points his chopsticks at Lu Ten.

“Don’t let the same thing happen to you, ‘cause I’m not hauling your sorry ass all the way back here again.”

“Again?” Lu Ten asks suspiciously. “I thought you said I showed up practically on your doorstep?”

Kōji grumbles something practically unintelligible about a couple of bodies in the valley below and practically shoves his face in his dinner. Kōji may put on a callous front, but Lu Ten doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Point is,” Kōji says after finishing his meal, “the rich kid comes from a rich family. Minor nobles, or something. We bring them this guy, they reward us with gold.”

“How much?” Lu Ten asks, not necessarily out of greed as much as curiosity. How much is a son’s life worth around here? How much is his attacker’s?

“That’s usually negotiable upon delivery,” is the only answer Kōji seems willing to give. “We leave at dawn, so get some rest.”

“What, that quick?” Lu Ten asks in surprise, rising from his seat. “We’re just going to leave without a plan? Do we even know where he is?”

In response, Kōji tosses a rolled-up sheet of parchment at him. Lu Ten unfurls it to reveal a wanted poster, and a note scrawled at the bottom that reads “Lower Mùchéng - Frogman”.

“Who the hell is Frogman?” Lu Ten asks.

“My informant, for this job anyway,” Kōji explains as he gets ready for bed. “You find something to keep that sword in? It’s not exactly a stroll in the park to Mùchéng, so we gotta leave early.”

Since that is apparently all the information he’s getting, Lu Ten sighs and mimics Kōji, climbing into the warm bed.

“You always have this laid out for unexpected guests?” Lu Ten asks after a while. On the rare occasion he’d had to intrude on someone’s home, they’d usually just roll out a mat or futon. Kōji, while comfortable, didn’t seem to live the most luxurious life, to provide such a thing for strange guests.

“Go to sleep,” Kōji grunts, turning over in his own bed. Just as well. Every man deserves his share of secrets.

He wakes up before the sun rises. Kōji is still snoring (and hell if Kōji isn’t a loud snorer), so Lu Ten splashes his face with water and dresses. It feels like a strangely serious moment, dusk making everything outside seem muted and foreign. Lu Ten was always an early riser, preferring the warmth of the sun to the cool of the night, but then, most firebenders are like him. As he slips the sheath he found, just a touch too big, beneath his belt, he feels for a moment the same as he did the morning he shipped out for the Earth Kingdom. He was still just shy of 18, then, and his father’s most recent letter had been clutched in his hand, creased from the way his fingers pressed into it.

“My dear son,” the general had written, “I challenge you to find a father who has ever been prouder than I am of you. Let me meet this man, and show him my son, and see if he still feels so certain.”

Kōji snorts loudly, and when Lu Ten looks over the older man is rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Someone’s eager to get going,” he grumbles, and Lu Ten wonders if Kōji’s ever happy. He tells the older man he'll be waiting, and when he steps outside the sun is just beginning to rise. Lu Ten hasn’t ventured beyond the garden since he arrived, and his heart sounds loudly against his ribcage as inhales the smell of the world around them. Something childish inside him whispers “adventure”, tickling his ears and pulling at his lips to form a smile. It’s terrifying. It’s invigorating.

Kōji joins him a few minutes later, a large weapon in hand.

"Is that a mace?" Lu Ten asks in disbelief.

“Mùchéng is that way,” is Kōji's reply, pointing towards the northern mountains, and he sounds more alive now than Lu Ten’s ever heard him. “The city is built practically on stilts. Lots of good hiding places, but I have an idea of where to look. Don’t be too obvious about it now.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lu Ten says easily, the contagious energy zipping through him like electricity. “You’re the one who sticks out like a sore thumb, colossus.”

Kōji laughs, loud and long and hearty, and Lu Ten has to fight the urge to suggest they race to a nearby yew tree, his giddy excitement is that strong.

“Okay, shrimpy,” Kōji rumbles, knocking his boots against each other to rid them of mud. “If you’re so slick, think you can beat me to that tree there?”

Lu Ten grins.

“You’re on, old man,” he retorts, but when Lu Ten steps out to run Kōji sticks his foot out, tripping him so that he falls face-first in the dirt. Kōji laughs uproariously the entire (slow, in Lu Ten’s opinion) run to the yew tree, yelling something about payback for a broken nose. Lu Ten can’t even be upset, as he hauls himself to his feet and jogs to catch up with Kōji. It feels good to have fun again.

They reach the mountain town by mid-afternoon, or Kōji says they do, anyway. All Lu Ten can see is a rocky path and a drop-off point. Kōji smirks at his confusion, raps a quick rhythm on the mountain, and then there is a loud creak followed by a descending platform. Kōji and Lu Ten step on and are slowly lifted into the air by a series of pulleys and ropes. When they reach the top, they are surrounded by a city made entirely of wood. Wooden planks and paths lead the way inward, wooden beams support the platforms and building, wooden stores and homes sit up and down on the mountainside.

“It’s all wood,” Lu Ten says, trying not to let his nerves show. He suddenly feels like a gemsbok bull in a pottery shop. This whole place is a fire hazard.

“Weren’t you listening?” asks Kōji, leading the way into town. “Mùchéng is a refugee city, or it used to be anyway. People came here and built this town to hide from the Fire Nation. When their villages were raided, most of their benders were taken, so this is what they had to work with.”

“You never said any of that, Kōji,” Lu Ten says irritably, unable to stop himself from tiptoeing. “Besides, of all the materials to build your secret city out of -“

“I know, I know, one big cookout,” Kōji agrees. “But it’s well-hidden.”

“So were the airbenders,” mutters Lu Ten, but Kōji either doesn’t hear the comment or just ignores it.

Lu Ten finds himself sticking close to Kōji as they make their way along the planks, like a small child afraid to stray from their parent's side the first time away from home. In any city there are varieties of people, but Mùchéng has a distinctly disjointed feel to it. In this corner, there are children playing under the watchful eye of their parents. Under a nearby archway, a young woman cries as she writes a letter to a loved one far away. The very next ramp drops down to reveal a group of shady characters discussing something fervently. Every single person seems like they don't belong here, but it's clear from the suspicious glances that Kōji and Lu Ten belong here the least.

To match the sinking feeling in Lu Ten's chest, Kōji leads them down the ramp near the probable-criminals. The narrow path is so tight they have to mumble excuse me's as they pass, and the politeness only seems to lower their credibility. They travel deeper, edging along what can only be a crevasse located within the mountain. Lu Ten practically falls into the black abyss but Kōji's arm shoots out to keep him firmly on the ground. The older man points down to a rope ladder, which seems to be the only way in or out of the hole.

"Popular hideout down there," says Kōji, gazing downwards. Lu Ten's never had a fear of heights, but something about the situation makes his stomach turn.

"We'd be pretty screwed if we ran into trouble down there," Lu Ten says, swallowing a knot that's been building in his throat. What is wrong with him?

"Yep," is all Kōji has to say. "You ready?"

Lu Ten lays a hand, lightly, over his katana, and nods sharply. It's clear now that any ideas about this being a straightforward job have gone out the window - and Kōji trusts him anyway. He's not about to back out now. In a moment of courage, Lu Ten descends the ladder first. When a strong breeze causes the old rope to swing this way and that, however, he regrets his decision.

Whatever Kōji's reward negotiation skills are, they better make this trip worth it.

It turns out to be an average bar, once you ignore the fact that it's buried so deep within a mountain wolfbats hang sleeping from its rafters. Kōji sits at the bar with practiced confidence, and Lu Ten wonders if it's just from frequenting places like this, or if Kōji's been to this bar in particular a few times. When Lu Ten sits beside him, however, Kōji rolls his head, twisting his neck left and right a few times, and the tension in his muscles seems to indicate he's not comfortable here.

"We're looking for a skinny guy, probably pretty arrogant. He's got a two-headed rat viper tattoo on his right shoulder," Kōji murmurs. "He may be a small fry, but he's lethal. I'm practically a stranger here, and he's not, so he's got the home-field advantage, too."

"Knowing this stuff upfront might have helped," Lu Ten hisses before taking a swig of whatever Kōji had ordered for them. His stomach is still nauseous, and his throat feels dry for some reason. The burning liquid doesn’t seem to help.

"You're shaking like a leaf as it is, didn't need any more stress," Kōji whispers back.

"I'm not-" Lu Ten begins to reply indignantly, but he's interrupted by a fight breaking out in a back corner. A pair of young men, a little older than Lu Ten, are arguing loudly about money. Everyone in the bar pays attention, and fast, the familiar sounds of drawn weapons ringing out around them. One man gives the other a shove, and that's all the patrons need to start an all-out brawl.

"Shit," says Lu Ten, ducking to avoid an errant swing from his neighbor at the bar. The bartender hit the floor the moment his customers started swinging, and now he, Lu Ten, and Kōji are the only ones not actively fighting. "What do we do now?"

"We stay right here and find our guy," Kōji says gruffly, before promptly smashing a bottle over the head of a man who had tried to engage him in a scuffle. "The fight started right after we showed up. Someone must have recognized me and needed to create a diversion. Come on."

Kōji pushes away from his seat and heads towards the back of the bar, navigating his way through the flying fists and falling bodies. Lu Ten has to cough a couple of times as he follows, his throat feeling tighter than before, probably because of all the dust the crowd is kicking up.

"Won't he leave through the front?" Lu Ten whisper-shouts in the chaos.

"I've been here once before, years ago," Kōji replies. "There's an exit out back. I'm willing to bet we can cut him off from there."

Lu Ten coughs again and follows, relieved to be getting away from the mess of the bar. They get to a wooden door where someone is beating the crap out of someone else, and Kōji effortlessly pushes him out of the way. He yanks open the door to reveal a dim hallway leading to a back room.

"In there," says Kōji as Lu Ten slams the door behind them. "You ready to fight?"

"Sure," Lu Ten says, more confidently than he feels. He lets out a breath that comes out like a wheeze, and he fights the oncoming cough so severely it feels like he's choking on it.

Kōji enters the room.

"Duck!" roars the older man, tackling Lu Ten to the ground as a large arrow whizzes past them into the dark hallway. At the end of the room, one man has a crossbow, and there have to be at least six or seven men besides that. They move at once, attempting to surround Kōji and Lu Ten, so Lu Ten rolls out from under the older man, withdrawing his katana as he does and leaping to a stand. He immediately goes to defend Kōji, but when Lu Ten glances over, Kōji’s already bludgeoned someone and is swinging his mace around furiously.

Lu Ten takes the shooter, leaping forward to slice in half the arrow that had been knocked and jabbing their attacker with his sword. The man yells out in pain, but when Lu Ten gets a good look it's not their target, so he withdraws the katana kicks high, hitting the man in the head and knocking him out.

They're down five versus two, now, and it would feel like fair odds if Lu Ten didn't think he was having an asthma attack. The thrill of the fight is familiar enough that his body responds practically on instinct, but he coughs and coughs the whole time, sounding as though he'll hack up a lung. The coughs wrack him so violently that when he takes down another opponent, two more manage to subdue him, grabbing him by his hair and pressing a blade to his throat.

I survived the war, Lu Ten thinks almost hysterically, and I'm going to die at the hands of thieves.

"Bǎi!" Kōji practically screeches, and the hand at his throat is knocked away by a mound of earth. Lu Ten processes in slow motion this turn of events - he looks out the window, which has shattered, and back to his assailants, who are fighting Kōji from across the room. Kōji is yelling and snarling and practically foaming at the mouth.

He is also earthbending, Lu Ten realizes too slowly, as more rocks go sailing past his head and into the attackers.

He's earthbending. There's earthbending here. Kōji, his friend, is an earthbender.

Lu Ten knows he's still kneeling on the ground, and that four very violent men are attacking Kōji, but it's just so hard to breathe, and earthbending is so loud, why is it always so loud?

There's a shout, somewhere, and another rock rushes past Lu Ten, but this time it nicks his ear. Lu Ten inhales, sharp and violent, and the noisy earth falls away to the crackle of flames and smoke. Someone is shrieking. Lu Ten inhales again, and everything around him is a reddish-orange color. It's good and bad all at once, but even though his lungs are working again, his chest still hurts so bad.

"Bǎi!" someone yells, and Lu Ten wonders who they're talking to. There are lots of Bǎis, in both the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. He hopes it's not a fallen soldier - the man sounds worried. Lu Ten would hate for him to be disappointed.

"Bǎi!" comes the voice again, and Lu Ten's vision clears just long enough to see a round, worried face.

"Dad?" he asks, and the red-orange fades ever-so-slowly to black.

When Lu Ten comes to, he's surrounded by the bodies of his friends. Last he remembered the earthbenders had crossed no man's land in a desperate move, doubtlessly hoping to keep the firebenders from making way on yet another of their walls. Lu Ten had felt for the Earth Kingdom soldiers, of course, but he never thought for a minute they'd succeed. His father was the general, after all, and his father was very good at war.

But it would seem they had been successful, in the end, and the corpses that surrounded him proved it. They're piled on man-made mountains, crushed between enormous boulders, disfigured beyond all possible recognition. Lu Ten moves to stand, a dull ache in his core, and is shocked to find that his legs still work. A voice in his head insists they don't, but then how could he possibly be standing?

He limps around the massacre numbly, unsure what is up and what is down in the aftermath of what seems to have been an explosion, or maybe a very powerful earthquake. He checks every body he passes, even the ones without faces, but every single one is dead. Lu Ten realizes with a start he is the only surviving member of his regiment. That he, the captain, did not go down with his ship. What a miracle. What a shame.

The idea that strikes him is vile and cowardly, but he's removing his decorations and insignia before he can stop himself. The body at his feet is mangled and torn asunder, as though it has been held down and stretched. Its face is nothing but exposed bone and meat, and when Lu Ten switches out his identifiers for the dead body's, it almost feels like he really did die today.

Lu Ten climbs one of the hills created by the earthbenders and looks to the sky. He can see mountains beyond, the Northern Mountains, he's sure. Maybe he can get there. Steal some Earth Kingdom clothes. Pretend his life is not his own. Suddenly there is a low groan from the ground below, and Lu Ten practically tumbles off the hill in search of it. A man, no, a boy is lying at the base of the rocky hill, his leg trapped beneath it. He's pale, paler than Lu Ten has ever seen him -

"Zhen," Lu Ten whispers, cradling the boy's head. He's known Zhen since childhood, the younger brother of one of Lu Ten's closest schoolmates. Lu Ten had insisted he was too young to go to war, but Zhen had fought bitterly for the great honor of serving his nation.

"Lu Ten?" Zhen says, and when he coughs blood stains his lips. In a moment of weakness, Lu Ten wonders if it would have been easier if Zhen had just died with the rest. Lu Ten removes his coat one-armed, taking care to still hold Zhen's head.

"What are you doing, Captain?" the boy asks, barely keeping his eyes open.

"This is going to hurt," Lu Ten says bracingly, shoving the coat in Zhen's mouth and instructing him to bite down. Finally allowing Zhen's head to drop softly to the ground, he moves over to the spot where the boy's leg is stuck. Lu Ten unsheaths the katana he won in a gambling match from his belt and takes a breath, then slices clean through at the juncture between rock and flesh. Zhen barely has time to react before Lu Ten is creating flame against the skin to cauterize the wound, and even with the makeshift gag, Zhen’s screams of pain echo throughout the battlefield. They are going to have to move the minute the skin has closed.

After what feels like forever, Zhen's leg finally stops bleeding. Zhen has stopped screaming as well, and when Lu Ten stands he sees that the boy has passed out. He bends down, hauling Zhen up by the middle and tossing him over his shoulder. Lu Ten almost keels over with the weight, so he stops a moment, shedding his armor and sword and pack, hoping that they'll find a generous healer on their journey north. Lu Ten doesn't want to try their luck with the Earth Kingdom army. They've already shown their cards.

He heads towards the mountains in a daze, Zhen a dead weight on his back as he navigates the smoke and the rubble. Just getting out of the battlefield feels impossible, but the futility of his task does not slow him down.

Lu Ten needs to help Zhen. He needs to leave the war behind. He needs to be anywhere else right now.

Exhausted, delirious, and unaware of his own broken leg, Lu Ten marches on.

Lu Ten sits straight up in bed when he wakes, gasping for air. It takes him a few minutes to remember where he is, especially since he wakes up in the cool summer evening, and the room is illuminated by a bizarre twilight he can't remember noticing before. He lets his breathing slow as he realizes he's safe in Kōji's house, a bowl of water and a neatly-folded washcloth sitting on the table beside him. His lungs, blessedly, accept the air he brings in, without burning or hacking away.

The job, he assumes, did not go well.

Kōji is nowhere to be seen. Lu Ten wonders for a moment if maybe the older man gave up, packed his things and left, before realizing how stupid he's being. This is Kōji's house. Lu Ten splashes his face with the water and rises to a stand, wincing in pain as he does so. His head feels like someone hit it with a club.

Or a mace.

Pushing forward, Lu Ten walks out back to the garden, where Kōji is watering his plants. He barely even looks up, just makes a small nod of acknowledgment and continues his work. Lu Ten had intended to have this conversation standing, to retain some dignity, but his pounding head protests, and he all but collapses into the nearby chair.

Lu Ten rubs hard at the back of his head, knowing more pain is counterintuitive but digging in with the base of his palm anyway. After a few moments, Kōji joins him in the adjacent chair, his bones cracking as he leans back.

"You could've mentioned you were a firebender," the older man says at last. The wind chimes tinkle gently around them, and the scent of fresh berries carry over to where they sit. There is no anger, or even surprise in Kōji's voice. Just a gentle reprimand, like a father would give to their adventurous child.

"You could've mentioned it was a wooden city," Lu Ten says. Kōji smiles, a small, soft thing. He does not laugh like he usually might, and for some reason Lu Ten feels 15 again, sneaking his secret girlfriend into the palace at night, like his father is saying Lu Ten could've just told him.

"You were right," Kōji says, which definitely throws Lu Ten for a loop. "I should've mentioned some things upfront. I didn't want to spook you away from the job, and I didn't want to spook you away by earthbending, either."

Lu Ten doesn't say anything. Just the sound of the word makes him want to get up and run, which is pathetic of him, considering he probably burnt a building down and Kōji is talking like he took a few silver pieces without permission.

"Guess we gotta start being straight with each other, here on out," Kōji continues. "Either that, or maybe we shouldn't be working together."

Lu Ten's stomach somersaults at the very suggestion. He knows, logically, that this is only his first attempt at a new life, that things don't always work on the first try, and if this life with Kōji isn't what he's meant for, well, he'll find something else. The thing is, though, Lu Ten's always gotten stuff on the first try. It's kind of his thing. And Kōji...Kōji is everything and nothing like his father, just the right middle-ground that makes him feel safe at home and far from the Fire Nation all at once.

"There are some things I can't tell you," Lu Ten says plainly, trying not to let his nerves show. Kōji just sighs.

"Yeah, I don't know what I expected," he says, still smiling. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

Lu Ten hesitates, trying to parse through the pieces of his life and figure out what bits are need-to-know.

"Earthbenders killed my men. My friend," Lu Ten says slowly. "I grew up with him. I've known him since he was nine. They crushed his leg and left him there to die."

Kōji hums appreciatively.

"I was taking the low road to the west for a job, and that's when I spotted you and your friend to the south," Kōji says. "You weren't too far from here, but no, you didn't get all the way to my house on that leg. Also, I have a kid, but they're not around much. About your age."

The last admission is hardly a surprise. Kōji may be loathe to admit it, but he’s a natural caretaker, and there’s a terrible loneliness about him Lu Ten had never understood until now. Lu Ten and Kōji look at one another in a sort of mutual understanding. Neither man has said all that probably needs to be said, but still, the air is lighter and things feel easier between them. Cleaner, somehow.

“How’d I hurt my head?” asks Lu Ten after a while.

“Passed out,” Kōji chuckles. “Hit the floor hard.”

"What happened to the target?" Lu Ten asks, an afterthought he hadn't considered until just now.

"Dead. Fortunately, they still paid up. Showed them the tattoo as proof."

"And the others?" Lu Ten says cautiously.

"Burnt to a crisp," Kōji says simply. Then, upon seeing Lu Ten's nervous reaction, he adds, "Don't worry. I made sure they were dead before we left. As far as anyone in Mùchéng's concerned, some fool kicked over a candle."

Lu Ten nods in silent thanks, even as he feels a pang of guilt for the unecessary death. He trusts Kōji, likes him a lot, but he's not really sure why the older man keeps covering for him. Maybe it's for the same reason Lu Ten's so eager to stick around - they're both missing something they lost, and looking for something new.

"We'll have to get used to each other's, you know. Skills," Kōji says awkwardly. Lu Ten agrees, despite the fear in his chest. "I say we start small. Candles and clay and things like that."

Lu Ten nods again, snapping his fingers and producing a tiny flicker of light. Kōji follows suit, reaching down to pick up a rock and crushing it between his fingers. Lu Ten watches, making sure to keep his flame controlled, as Kōji shapes and reshapes the earth. It's not so bad, here, in this context, when Kōji's earthbending resembles pottery more than anything else.

"What do you say?" Kōji asks, finally bending the rock to sand and letting it float away on the summer wind. Lu Ten similarly closes his hand, putting out his fire. "You wanna give hunting another go?"

"Why not?" Lu Ten says grinning. Kōji smiles back at him, and Lu Ten feels with absolute certainty that their next expedition will go better. "Can I just ask one more thing?"

"Shoot, kid," Kōji says as he rises from his seat.

"Show me where you buried my friend?"

Kōji stops in place, eyes widening in surprise. Then he nods solemnly, leading Lu Ten out of the garden and down a winding valley path, which intersects with the road they traveled to Mùchéng. Lu Ten’s head is still pouding, but he fights it off in order to show some respect to Zhen. Kōji points Lu Ten to a small hill, a lump of freshly-turned earth marked by a large stone. At first, the sight makes Lu Ten's throat well up all over again, until he moves closer and finds that Kōji has shaped the stone into a crude rendering of the Fire Nation symbol. His chest loosens again as he reaches out to smooth his fingers over the stone. It's not so bad, really, to be buried beneath the earth, but it's not what Zhen would have wanted.

"Is it...is it possible we could dig him out?" Lu Ten asks in as steady a voice as he can muster. Kōji says nothing, just raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"I want to give him his funeral rites," Lu Ten clarifies.

Kōji moves forward and moves into a careful stance, his face furrowed in concentration. Slowly, gently, the mound rumbles and falls away to reveal an almost fully deteriorated body wrapped in a blanket. Lu Ten takes a deep breath, mumbles a few words of farewell and thanks, and bends a wall of fire befitting of such a soldier.

He moves to stand beside Kōji as Zhen's ashes scatter around them. Kōji stands with his hands clasped, head bowed solemnly. Lu Ten is in a similar stance, but refuses to look away from the pyre he has created, focusing all of his thoughts on his friend, a tribute that has come much too late. When it is done, only Zhen's bones remain. Kōji buries the bones, just as before, and Lu Ten resets the grave marker.

"Thank you," he tells Kōji. It doesn't feel like nearly enough, but it's all he can say, for now. Kōji just grunts in reply. As they walk back to the house, Lu Ten's stomach settles for the first time in days. He knows it's only temporary, but he thinks he feels at ease.

#avatar bebop au #lu ten #iroh #atla #avatar the last airbender #tw death #tw violence #tw ptsd #fanfiction #operation sfa #my stuff #my fanfic

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zikadraws · 5 years

Text

Ok then... It's gonna be really complicated, but let's go for a

🌙LM4-PROJECT🌙 CONCEPT PRESENTATION (part 1).

(Better say it now : it's gonna be a LONG post.)

Alright, so let's start with the main new character of the project ; and just because you can't really airdrop a character without any context, I'm going to try and summarize the global story of the game concept.

Sooo please meet :

Basically a doctor, vet, researcher and detective for ghosts.

A kid who, at her time of living, once managed to solve an important ghost crisis menacing the equilibrium between the living world and the Beyond Dimension (long story short she appeased and cured corrupted ghosts and helped them to destroy what corrupted them).

Her act got the attention of the forces that were in charge of this equilibrium in the first place in the Beyond Dimension, so when she passed away nevertheless due to pitiful life conditions, they offered her to become a really special type of spirit ; some sort of saviour, who reappear when ghosts meet dark times, who help them solve their problems and play ambassador with the Humans if necessary, by being reincarnated. (She was absolutely bewildered, but she rolled for it.)

So she did it, and became a really powerful-skilled ghost helper, getting reincarnated when needed, under the following system : she reappears where she can somehow get to the problem, but they don't have a body or soul ready for her, so her reincarnation quality depend on if there's people where she lands or not :

- like if there was no one around, she rolls with her original body, but has no soul so no emotions ;

- if there was one person, she possess their body and got their soul so feelings, but that process consumes (and kills) the unfortunate host in the end ;

- or (extremely rare), she collides with two persons, in which case she forms a soul out of their both, leaving them enough to survive and leaving her with a body mixing their both DNA, a bit of their personalities (and her original characteristics of course, just like a newborn actually), so she gets everything and nobody dies ; BUT that case is only possible if the persons's souls share a strong bonding link with each other, which is why she almost never got this in millenaries.

- (She also is deeply related to the Dark Moon.)

---

ANYWAY. These informations were here for a better understanding of the story, which comes now (the most summarized I could do) :

- It begins on a soirée at Peach's castle, where they celebrate Luigi's victory on the hotel's anniversary. Everyone is here, including notably Princess Daisy, E. Gadd and even all of our favourite ghosts.

- Light ambiance, congratulations, strangely evasive allusions from E.Gadd about how's King Boo doing, when suddenly, Luna is getting reincarnated. Just near Luigi and Daisy, who were ''just being dance partners''. And yeah you guys guessed : she gets the third reincarnation option, and becomes the child you saw in the picture. (She's extremely stunned herself.)

- Everyone freaks out, she very awkwardly explains them who she is and what she do (''no I'm not some random evil entity, chill out'') and then declares she's here because apparently an extremely important ghost figure has been abnormally weakened, so she had to take care of them asap.

- Everyone turns out to the usual ghost specialist, E.Gadd, out of reflex : then it appears he sneaked away during Luna's speech. She gets it first and hurry them to escort her to his lab : where they catch him while he's packing some weird equipment, and crystals of the same type of KB's crown, and also from the old mine in LM2. King Boo himself was surexposed to it, which that was what got him horribly sick. E.Gadd flees through a portal and breaks it before they could even react.

- So yeah : the main antagonist of the game is this time E. Gadd. We discover that he used Luigi so he could get his ghost research to another frightening level : like when they return to the new hotel for a first level, they realize that the walls and rooms and everything is stuffed with sensors and ghost studying material- and when they get to the roof, they have to leave in emergency because the whole building fucking teleports god knows where. Which was obviously planned for something like that.

His reasons will be discovered around the two tiers of the game.

- They also realize he greffed some ghosts with mind controllers. They are the enemies in the first two mansions, (I'd talk about that in another post), along with robots and gooey thingies. After, they (Luigi) have to ride through the Evershade Valley, to prevent anymore damage, and have to capture boss victims of ''ghosts controllers'' and free-minded but scared and recalcitrant ghosts.

(I didn't heard of the Experiment AU when I got this idea, just to clarify. Sorry.)

- Meanwhile Peach and Daisy host the now homeless ghosts (who are in-game randomly wandering in the castles, doing their shenanigans and the player can interact with them :) ), while Luna took E. Gadd's usual role and guides Luigi (kindlier and with better humour, and even some interventions of the ghosts and others), takes care of the rescued-captured ghosts and above all of King Boo whose health represents an important issue.

The game goal is to save and protect the ghosts ; and destroy E. Gadd's installations and stop him. (Tho KB did not stop to hate Luigi for crap. He will get you to remember it.)

The game includes almost-open world after the two first mansions (perhaps) and also the return of the Game Boy Horror from the first game (and its comments).

---

Here, it was basically the global plot of the story. Hope it sounds interesting to you, because it still is really unsure. If you have questions, ask away.

I'd like to talk about the game playable mansions and zones after, if it does.

Aaaand let me end that first part of that LM4-project presentation with a completion of character personality development for little Luna :

- As she is reborn from Luigi and Daisy's souls and being, she inherited some of their appearance traits and above all, from their personalities : so she's in the same time extremely sensitive and insecure and a volcanic & revendicative bonehead. An epic combination.

- She got the Luigi's Death Stare™ and she uses it frequently (as for some nervous tics from him too) and gets easily excited like Daisy ;

- She's by nature determined (especially to help, wether you like it or not), fast-minded and thirsty for discovering, and knows how to adapt if a situation or ghost requires so.

- Even though she got a shit ton of knowledge from her previous reincarnations, adult problems still pass completely up her head. (That's why she didn't get why Luigi and Daisy were so flustered when she told them about the soul bonding condition thing. At least, not at first.)

- She has the same abilities as ghosts (like flying, telekinesis, passing through the walls, and a little bit of possession and mind reading) and can go feral black-eyed ghost if pushed too far (happen more often now that she has Daisy's temper). But she knows where to put the limit.

- Serpci knows her personally and Hellen got once obsessed with her ; so knows a lot of stories about her. May talk about it from time to time from her prison.

- Likes to wears dark, phantom-themed clothes. And mainly green, lately.

- Can take radical decisions from time to time.

- Loves every ghost, including boos.

- Socially awkward, but quick to make friends.

-...that's all I got for now.

(...Yeah she's basically a fanchild, I know... Problem, buddy ?)

---

Alriiight--- so that was it.🎵

Let me know what you thought and perhaps we can go further on the lore !

...(Thank you.).

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badgersprite · 4 years

Text

Fic: Desiderata (6/?)

Chapter Title: Cycles

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

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

Story Rating: R

Warnings: References to past childhood abuse/trauma.

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

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

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

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

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

“Look out!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” Samara confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

She took it about as well as expected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No problem.”

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

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

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

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

One new message from Oriana.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” Miranda answered, unfazed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did she say?”

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

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

Miranda managed a small, sad smile at the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miranda paused. It was funny. A few weeks ago, that opportunity would have triggered a very different feeling in her than it did now. A need to feel in control. A need for knowledge, because knowing things was power. It meant certainty. Security. Protection. Stability. Back then, she hadn’t hesitated to download files from the Shadow Broker, and had never thought twice about spying on her squadmates, reading all their messages.

And yet, a single conversation with Samara had suddenly changed all that.

In a way, Miranda knew that Kelly had a point. She hadn’t tried to get to know most of her squad. At all. She didn’t care to. She wasn’t there to make friends, after all. But...what was the line between learning about people and being like her father?

Now that Samara had brought that comparison to her attention, it was hard not to feel like a monumental fucking hypocrite for monitoring every single person on the ship and reporting on their every single fuck-up, the same way her father had monitored Miranda and scrutinised her every mistake. But, maybe if she went in with less adversarial intentions, maybe if she went about things the right way and for the right reasons for a change, that would be a good place to start.

“...Okay. I see what you’re saying. Perhaps I have been...distant from other people on the ship. And it couldn’t hurt to get a second opinion,” Miranda reasoned. She wasn’t sure she would agree with anything Kelly said. But would it hurt anyone for Miranda to know what Kelly thought about them?

“Ask away, within reason,” Kelly gave her an open invitation.

Don’t be controlling. Don’t be controlling. Don’t be controlling.

“...What do you think about Commander Shepard?” Miranda started with the most obvious name, since that was as good a place as any to begin.

“Andrea is remarkably well-adjusted for what she’s gone through,” Kelly answered upfront, without falsity. “She’s highly empathetic, and cares a lot about other people. It’s no wonder she’s such a remarkable leader, and why she’s such an expert at resolving situations through words rather than violence. She gets people. She understands them. But, even though I feel like I should know her so intimately by now, as I’m sure many of us feel we do, I also feel like I know so little about her. She’s always asking about us, never talking about herself.”

“Hmm.” Miranda had to admit, that was a rather astute assessment. She couldn’t fault it. “What about Jack?” she asked, not forgetting their recent clash in her quarters, and the discussion she’d had with Samara about it.

“Jack has grown up in an unfathomably traumatic environment. Her experiences have conditioned her to see others as hostile and to view her own survival as a zero sum game. But she’s young, and she’s never had the opportunity to seek treatment for post traumatic stress disorder, or even exist in a healthy environment,” Kelly acknowledged. “She has the potential to make a lot of progress. It’s just a matter of finding the right environment for her, and providing her with the support she needs.”

Miranda disagreed. It was hard to imagine Jack would ever become a well-adjusted member of society. Nevertheless, Kelly was entitled to her opinion.

“How about me?” Miranda inquired.

Kelly’s eyes widened in alarm at that. “...Honestly?”

“You must have thoughts. I’m curious to know what they are.” Miranda shifted her posture, casually flicking her hair back over her shoulder. She was trying to do this whole...self-reflection thing, at Samara’s recommendation. She needed to start somewhere. “There’s no reason to be nervous. Frankly, you couldn’t hurt my feelings if you tried. So don’t worry that I’m going to be offended.”

Kelly chose to take Miranda at her word. “Alright. Where to start?”

Miranda arched a brow. Oh, so it was like that? She glanced at the clock, wondering how long this would take, and whether she should have brought some coffee with her.

“You’re a brilliant woman, but...not when it comes to other people,” Kelly stated, electing to begin with the uncontroversial. “I don’t believe you have Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but you do show some narcissistic traits, such as a sense of superiority, an expectation for others to comply with unrealistic demands and a tendency to exploit other people without feeling guilt or shame. Honestly, though, that’s not surprising. By all accounts, it sounds like you were raised by a narcissistic sociopath. And it’s not uncommon for children raised in those situations to learn and replicate toxic patterns of behaviour.”

Miranda consciously said nothing, listening to Kelly’s opinions and letting her speak without interruption.

“You have difficulty reading other people and knowing how to react appropriately in social situations, beyond the extent to which you’ve developed social scripts to aid you in your professional life. To my knowledge, you’ve never formed meaningful, long-lasting connections, platonically or romantically. Perhaps this is partially out of a lack of interest on your part, but...if I had to hazard a guess, I also suspect it’s because you genuinely don’t know how,” Kelly speculated. “However, because you’re...stunningly attractive and extremely self-confident, people don’t recognise your social awkwardness for what it is. Instead, they interpret your behaviour towards them as deliberate rudeness and animosity.”

Miranda would have been lying if she said she didn’t recognise a grain of truth in Kelly’s words. It wasn’t exactly easy to just sit there and take it, but it was what she’d asked for. So she remained silent, allowing her to continue.

“I imagine that, when you were younger and first left your father, you most likely had several experiences where people reacted to you negatively for reasons you didn’t entirely understand. It makes sense. I mean, you had gone your entire childhood without developing normal social skills, and you would have had little to nothing in common with any of your peers, not that they had any way of knowing that. These negative responses would have further alienated you from other people, and reinforced your belief that you were superior to others, and that there was nothing to be gained from talking to them. That would go a long way to explaining why you seem to genuinely prefer being alone, and why you seem to lack any desire to socialise and interact with others,” Kelly reasoned.

Miranda shifted in her seat, the tip of her tongue tracing the top of her teeth, even as she kept her mouth shut. Okay, so, she had undergone a few unpleasant social experiences when she first joined Cerberus and met people her own age. But anyone could have guessed that. Getting lucky didn’t count as insight.

“You’re also frequently wrong in your predictions of how others will act or react in any given situation, because you don’t understand people well enough to read their motives,” Kelly continued. Miranda had to will herself not to impatiently roll her eyes, realising Kelly still wasn’t finished. “From what I understand of your mission two years ago, you thought you would have to blackmail or bribe Liara T’Soni into helping recover Shepard’s body. It never seemed to occur to you that bringing the woman she loved back to life would have been motivation enough.”

“Okay, in my defence, I didn’t know her then,” Miranda spoke up, raising a finger in objection, unable to remain silent on that.

She noticed Kelly studying her face a little nervously, searching for any signs of anger in her response. “...I didn’t just ruin this session, did I?”

“No,” Miranda nonchalantly replied, unperturbed. She didn’t care enough about Kelly Chambers of all people to be bothered by what she thought of her. But, that being said, she wasn’t so full of herself as to pretend Kelly hadn’t given her a few things that were worth thinking about. Just because she didn’t particularly care for her as a person didn’t mean she couldn’t learn something from her comments. “...I don’t agree with all of your assessments, but there was some legitimate criticism in there. And if that’s the case, I suppose I’m better off taking it on board than getting defensive about it,” Miranda admitted, somewhat humbled.

Being open to that level of criticism rather than taking it personally was certainly something new for her. The fact that Miranda hadn’t instantly rattled off a hundred different reasons why Kelly was wrong about her was definitely Samara’s influence. That and Miranda wasn’t stupid. She knew she didn’t relate well to others. And, if everyone was constantly giving her the same feedback about the way her demeanour came across, there was probably some truth to it. Maybe there was something to be gained from listening to them for once.

Kelly seemed relieved that Miranda had taken her comments constructively, even though she clearly wasn’t thrilled about them. “I’ve noticed some changes in your behaviour lately. I had my suspicions that you’d begun to realise some things about yourself. Maybe things you’ve known on a subconscious level for a long time. Either way, it’s been nice to see that happen. And it’s not just from reuniting with your sister, either, although that’s obviously made you a lot happier. Working so closely with others on the Normandy has been good for you, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Miranda conceded. “It’s funny. A few weeks ago, Shepard told me I have a tendency to interact with people like they’re objects, disregarding their thoughts and feelings, because I’m only concerned with my own goals. I disagreed with her at the time. But, in hindsight, I’ve realised she had a point. I do have a habit of only taking my own perspective into account, and treating others in ways I’d never want to be treated myself.”

Miranda neglected to mention that Samara had practically had to spell it out for her yesterday before she understood that, and that she’d felt...uneasy about her past behaviour ever since.

“This is all learned behaviour,” Kelly advised, believing that knowledge would both aid and comfort her. “Like I said before, you were raised by a narcissist, who possibly suffered from other personality disorders as well. As a direct result of being raised in that environment, knowing nothing except his treatment of you, you were taught not to empathise with others. You had no model to learn empathy from. In a way, becoming self-centred and emotionally closed-off was also necessary for your own survival. But this can all be unlearned, if you choose to.”

“Hmm.” Miranda paused to consider that, giving it some thought. It made sense that her problems relating to others were a result of nurture rather than nature, given that Oriana was her polar opposite when it came to those things. So why couldn’t those things be changed later in life, given enough time and effort?

Really, in a lot of ways, it wasn’t news to her that the way her father had raised her had affected her. She knew it had. She’d always known she didn’t fit in socially. The thing was, up until now, Miranda hadn’t cared. The prospect of working to improve those aspects of herself was one she would have scoffed at a few months ago - changing herself to appeal more to people she didn’t like, so that she could be better at faking conversations she found tedious.

Before the Normandy, Miranda hadn’t done friendships. She hadn’t done relationships. Jacob had been her only exception on both counts, and that had fizzled in a few short months. She didn’t go out for drinks with people after work. She didn’t want to, or care to. She’d seen how social other people were, and brushed it off as a massive waste of time. Something that didn’t interest her, or appeal to her in any way. So what had been the utility in working to become better at something she had no intention of doing anyway?

If the old Miranda had had her way, she would never have interacted with anyone unless there was a purpose behind it - getting something she wanted out of that person in return. Conversations were like transactions, or else what was the point of them? She valued others for their usefulness, just as her aptitude and her skills were what others always valued in her.

But none of that was true anymore.

On the Normandy, Miranda hadn’t been able to continue the same patterns of behaviour she had in the past. For as long as she’d been with Cerberus, nobody had ever really cared about her closed-off personality, as long as she’d gotten the job done. And her hypercompetence had quickly led her to rise through the ranks, into positions of authority.

She didn’t have to deal with people’s quirks. She was in charge, and she reported directly to The Illusive Man. So, when Miranda told people to do things, they did them, no matter how much they didn’t like her.

Miranda hadn’t been able to get away with that on the Normandy, not that she hadn’t tried. She’d issued commands and expected them to be followed, and it hadn’t worked the way it used to. Her squadmates weren’t Cerberus. Even the members of the crew weren’t really. They’d been recruited specifically for this mission. That made most of them fundamentally different from the diehard Cerberus agents Miranda had worked with in the past.

People didn’t respond to her the way she’d expected them to respond. They’d been difficult, and complex, and often baffling to her, like puzzles that had to be solved before they would heed her instructions and advice, which was something Miranda had no time for. Most of them would still begrudgingly do what she said, but it wasn’t lost on Miranda that she didn’t command anywhere near the same level of respect that Shepard did.

Being this close to so many different types of people had forced Miranda (however unwilling she was) to step out of her comfort zone. She still hadn’t learned how to talk to people, or figured out what wasn’t working with her regular approach. But, for almost the first time in her life, she’d formed actual bonds with people, made real friends. With a select few in particular, but, really, even the weaker social connections she’d formed on the Normandy were a huge leap compared to where she’d stood a few months ago - where she’d considered every single person under her command disposable. Shepard didn’t lead that way, for good reason.

For the first time in her life, Miranda had finally started to concede that she might have been wrong all those times before - that maybe she had actually been missing out on something for all those years that she’d dismissed the idea of pursuing friendships with people, or working to become more social.

Needless to say, there was one specific person who entered her mind when she thought about that. The one person who had been more responsible than any other for changing her perspective.

“Enough about me. What do you think of Samara?” Miranda prompted next, ready to change the subject.

“Samara…” Kelly trailed off, a slightly pained smile crossing her lips. “Samara is actually the person I’m most worried about on this ship.”

Miranda instantly straightened up, surprised to hear that. “Oh?” She shifted in her seat. She wasn’t sure if that might have been because Kelly had somehow accessed Samara’s old medical records too. Miranda still felt uncomfortable about having gone behind Samara’s back like that, and she knew she had to apologise for doing it, although it was a question of finding the right time to admit to her wrongdoing. “...Why, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Because I haven’t seen any signs of progress with her mental health, and I can’t foresee a path to recovery for her at this time,” Kelly conceded. “I mean, think about it. She’s been in pain for four hundred years. She’s taken the life of her own child. That’s unfathomable to either of us.”

Miranda’s brow creased. Kelly wasn’t wrong, exactly. She knew Samara still carried a lot of grief from her past. But ending Morinth’s killing spree had caused a fundamental change in her. Samara had been so quiet and reserved before that, so focused on the task that lay ahead of her. Since Morinth’s passing, she’d been so much more open, and conversational.

“You really don’t see any change in her after Morinth?” Miranda asked, unable to let that slide.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Kelly shook her head. “Killing her own daughter may have closed a chapter in her life, but it hasn’t healed her wounds. She’s a strong woman, but she still carries that shroud of sorrow with her everywhere. I don’t think she knows how to live without it. And I’m not certain she wants to.”

“It’s not always there,” Miranda spoke up, much to Kelly’s surprise. “Most of the time when I talk to her, she seems perfectly fine to me. Happy, even. I imagine Shepard would say the same.”

Kelly was visibly intrigued to hear that. “You talk to Samara a lot?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?” Miranda shrugged in reply, not sure why that warranted comment.

“No, no, not at all,” Kelly assured her, shaking her head and waving her hands to clear up any misunderstanding. “Samara did mention that you’ve been training together. Even meditating, which I admit I found difficult to believe at first. I just wasn’t aware you spent so much time with her. Do you...talk with her a lot?”

“Most days,” Miranda replied. Actually, she couldn’t remember the last day she hadn’t seen Samara. “I enjoy her company. She’s a very intelligent woman.”

“You have that in common,” Kelly acknowledged.

Miranda paused and glanced down, thinking about their connection over the past few months. “Samara’s...helped me a lot, actually. Sometimes it seems like she knows me better than I know myself. Those things you observed about me before, she’s the one who’s been...encouraging me to do more self-reflection, and reassess my perspective on things. And those changes you said you’ve seen in me, she’s a big part of the reason why I’ve taken those steps. Or tried to.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Kelly enthused, genuinely happy for her.

A small smile came to Miranda’s lips. “I’ve learned a lot from her. I’d say she’s been like a mentor, but it’s never once felt like she’s talking down to me. She’s never treated me as less than an equal. She’s simply offering her point of view, as I offer mine to her. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t benefited from her advice far more than she’s benefited from mine. But I suppose wisdom and insight come easily to someone nearing a thousand years old.”

“You like her a lot, huh?” Kelly mused, idly resting her head on her hand.

“Of course. For as different as we are, we share a lot in common. And I know I’m supposed to be neutral and unbiased but, let’s be honest, she was always going to be my favourite person on this ship,” Miranda remarked.

Kelly chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“I don’t know what I expected her to be like, but she’s so...non-judgemental, for someone whose role is to be judge, jury and executioner,” Miranda remarked, still trying to wrap her head around Samara the person and Samara the Justicar. The two were so intertwined that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began, but there were definitely distinctions. The interplay between her personal views and this rigid Code were fascinating to ponder, particularly for someone such as Miranda who had never been religious or spiritual.

“I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from, though,” Miranda continued, reflecting on Kelly’s earlier observation. “She does have a sorrow that she carries with her. I wish I could say that I fully understand it. I’ve tried to but I don’t. I think she’s used to dealing with it alone, not sharing it with anyone, which I respect. But the day after she killed Morinth, she even told me that she wouldn’t hold it against me if I didn’t want to be around her while she was grieving, and that she wouldn’t think any less of me for abandoning her at such a dark time. I was blown away. I virtually had to tell her, Samara, I’m not here out of a sense of obligation or a sense of pity. I’m here for you because I want to be.”

“But she accepted your help?” Kelly prompted.

“Yes, if you can call it that,” Miranda acknowledged. “I’m not a...sensitive person, by any means. I’ve never claimed to be. I couldn’t pretend that I know what to say or do when someone is going through something so...horrible. But I’ve tried my best to be there for her. Keep her company, when she’s needed it. I’d like to think that’s been of some comfort to her. I suppose it has, because she hasn’t kicked me out yet. I mean, there was one time where I said something that crossed a line, but I apologised for that and she accepted it.”

“What did you say?” Kelly asked.

“Ugh. I barely even remember,” Miranda lied. She remembered perfectly. “I made some flippant remark about Zaeed having a crush on her, and asked her if her Code allows for...dalliances. I realise now that was inappropriate, and she’s not comfortable with me joking about that. I certainly won’t do it again.”

“Good for you for owning that,” Kelly enthused, genuinely. That was progress.

“Yeah, well...” Miranda shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. She didn’t feel comfortable admitting to Kelly that there was another, much greater sin she still needed to apologise to Samara for which she hadn’t owned up to. She couldn’t tell Kelly that, because it involved secrets that weren’t hers to share.

“So, uh...is that all you think about Samara, or...?” Kelly idly probed, as if trying to keep an unreadable expression. Miranda glanced back at her, curious. “Hey, you asked me for my opinion. It only seems fair that I get to ask you for yours.”

Miranda couldn’t exactly argue with that. “I don’t know where you want me to start. There’s a lot I could say. And a lot that I’ve said already. I mean, she’s an incredible woman. She’s strong, and she’s kind, and selfless almost to a fault, although she’s far from being a doormat. She’s patient, and understanding. When you see her in battle, she’s so graceful and precise. She can literally float on air like a feather. I’ve never seen anyone use such powerful biotics so elegantly, and so effortlessly, like an extension of themselves,

“One thing that’s really amazing about her that I don’t think a lot of people know is that, even though she’s been travelling around the galaxy for centuries, she still has this...youthful sense of curiosity and adventure. Honestly, I think she was secretly more excited about getting to meet and travel with humans than I was the first time I went into space. You’d expect her to be jaded, but she’s not. She really isn’t. Despite everything she’s been through, and all the injustice she’s seen, she believes the universe is fundamentally full of good people,

“There’s so much that I admire about her. Her wisdom. Her humility. How principled she is. Her honesty. Her tact. I wasn’t expecting it at all, but...frankly, it’s been an honour and a privilege getting to know her, and to be able to call her a friend. Everyone could stand to learn something from someone like her. And I think the galaxy would be better off if there were more people like Samara in it.”

Miranda trailed off, not even really paying attention to what she was saying. It was a stream of consciousness, really. Thinking aloud. She only lifted her gaze after she realised several seconds of silence had passed with no response. She looked up to find Kelly grinning at her in a manner Miranda could only describe as disconcertingly cheerful.

“What?” Miranda asked, regarding her with an odd look.

“Nothing. It’s just...that was very sweet.” At that answer, Miranda tilted her head in confusion, not sure what that was supposed to mean. “You know, hearing you...say nice things about someone else,” said Kelly, waving her hand as if trying to downplay her reaction. Miranda wasn’t sure she was being entirely honest with her as to why she was so interested all of a sudden. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you self-conscious. You know what? Forget I said anything.”

“I do that every time you say anything,” Miranda dryly quipped, suddenly remembering precisely what it was about Kelly that she didn’t like. To her credit, Kelly only snickered at Miranda’s snarky comment, not taking it personally.

“You know, this is the sixth session we’ve had together, and this is the first time we’ve actually talked,” Kelly pointed out, very pleased with that.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll never make that mistake again. Am I free to leave?”

“Aw, I was really enjoying this…” Kelly playfully remarked, sensing that Miranda’s apparent disdain lacked most of the bite it once used to possess. “I swear, this stays between us. I won’t tell anyone you have a heart. I promise! It’s our secret!”

The door had already shut behind Miranda before Kelly finished calling out to her.

* * *

Living with tinnitus was straight up hell.

If Miranda managed to get to sleep before 2am, it was a fucking luxury. Some nights, she didn’t get to sleep at all. When she did, there was no rest waiting for her.

The sounds of bullets and biotic blasts and banshees shrieking in the dark echoed in her head, unpleasant dreams drowning out the ringing in her ear. Every night when she closed her eye, the battle began all over again. She was back at the barricade. Back in that shuttle. Back to hiding from people who would track her down and kill her if she put a foot wrong.

Every night she ran from Cerberus.

Every night she felt Kai Leng stab her in the stomach.

Every night she went to war, and led her whole team to their deaths.

Every night she watched husks, marauders and banshees tear her team apart.

Every night she woke up to the disemboweled corpse of the shuttle pilot dripping blood onto her face.

Every night the impaled soldier begged Miranda for help she couldn’t give him. Every night she left him to die.

Miranda rolled onto her back and pressed her hand to her forehead, not sure whether it was worse to lay awake with that piercing sound blaring like a siren in her soul, or to revisit the ghosts that were waiting for her in her nightmares, and that made her wake up in a cold sweat.

One way or another, it was a deafening cacophony. Louder than a hurricane. She couldn’t even remember the sound of silence anymore.

When was this going to stop? When was she going to be able to sleep again?

Sometimes, it was too much to face. So she just didn’t. She didn’t go through the torment of trying to block out the ringing in her ear long enough that she could go back to the harrowing memories that awaited her there.

Sometimes, she would slip out and climb up to the roof so she could breathe. Other nights, she would limp out onto the street and go somewhere near the water. The flow of the river was one of the only things that could drown out the ringing for a while. She would head back when the sun began to rise, before Jack’s students noticed she was missing.

Miranda had played Oriana’s messages on loop so many times in those restless nights, she knew them word for word. She would never get sick of listening to her talk about her day, and telling bad jokes to try and make her laugh. Miranda never did laugh. Not these days. But that didn’t matter. It was the thought that counted.

Miranda had taken the time to respond back, recording a message in the cold night air on the roof. She’d told her about the status of things on Earth. About finding Jack. About taking on responsibility for her students, at least until Jack recovered. Hopefully, she would get a response in the next few days.

She’d thought of Samara, and tried her hand at meditating. It hadn’t helped. She couldn’t focus. Couldn’t meditate. Because that ringing her ear was so loud. And it wouldn’t. Fucking. Stop.

Other days, she just stayed up and worked. She had a list of names. Everyone aboard The Normandy. Past and present. All the missing. And the scant few who had lived.

It wasn’t easy to track down next of kin, with how long and how widespread the war against the Reapers had been. But it was her duty to do it. With Shepard gone, and The Normandy missing, Miranda was the only thing left resembling a commanding officer.

She had to write to them eventually. She knew she had to. But how could she when she had nothing to say?

Why hadn’t they heard from them yet?

Miranda sat up and grimaced, running her hand through her hair. She couldn’t keep thinking about The Normandy. She couldn’t. Because, if she did, she couldn’t keep living in denial.

She would have to acknowledge the fact that nothing could ever be changed or remedied or healed. She’d gotten a second chance with Jack. A chance to rectify past wrongs, and admit her faults. But what about Shepard? Tali. Garrus. Doctor Chakwas. Kelly Chambers, who’d most likely died on the Citadel. Zaeed. Grunt. Kasumi. Not to mention Mordin and Thane.

It was too late. No apologies could ever be given for her mistakes. She’d never be able to tell them that she’d changed from the person she was a year ago. That she understood now why they hadn’t liked her. That they’d been right about her. Things that never bothered her before now curdled in her throat with the bitter taste of impotent regret.

Miranda’s jaw clenched as her fingernails dragged against her skin, her hand tightening into a fist, that incessant ringing growing louder and louder.

No. She couldn’t lose her cool. She wouldn’t. Getting frustrated, getting emotional, it felt like admitting defeat - letting that damn ringing win. She could do this.

Miranda drew a deep breath, trying to will herself to let go of her thoughts, and to stop letting them eat away at her. Beating herself up wouldn’t change anything. It was pointless to stew on the fates of her crewmates, or the team she’d led to Earth, or the soldiers who’d died in the shuttle. So why couldn’t she chase those ghosts from her head?

She rubbed her palm across her eye, trying to compose herself.

Not for the first time, she wished Samara was there. She was the only person Miranda could have talked to about something like this - the only person whose advice ever helped her make sense of what she was feeling, and the only person who knew how to guide Miranda to put things into perspective. Never patronising. Never condescending. Honest, but fair. A confidant.

But this wasn’t like the old days. She couldn’t just walk into the Starboard Observation Deck when she needed Samara’s advice. Miranda had no way of contacting her now, wherever she was. No way of knowing if she was ever coming back. Whether she was still alive.

She had to deal with this alone.

And, despite being surrounded by people, she’d never felt more alone in her life.

A knock on the door disturbed her restlessness. For a moment, she thought it was a hallucination. But then it happened again. “Who is it?” Miranda grumbled. She felt sick. Her head was throbbing.

The door opened a crack. “Sorry, Miss. I didn’t want to wake you up,” Rodriguez’s recogniseable voice apologetically began.

“It’s alright,” Miranda murmured as she sat up, cradling her blaring forehead, concealing her grogginess. It wasn’t as though she’d been sleeping anyway. “What do you need?”

“Yeah, um. Reiley’s been coughing a lot. Think he might have caught something. I was wondering if you had something to give him for it,” Rodriguez asked, shifting back and forth between her feet.

“Check the middle cabinet above the sink. There should be a blue bottle with cough medicine,” said Miranda, fingers perched against her forehead in a futile effort to fight off the headache attacking her skull from the inside. She’d tried to use cold medicine as a sleep aid before, to little success.

“Right. Thanks, Miss,” said Rodriguez, turning to leave.

The door clicked shut. A bleary-eyed glance at the clock beside her bed told Miranda the time. Four o’clock in the morning. She hadn’t slept a wink. It didn’t look like that would change anytime soon.

With a heavy sigh, Miranda pushed herself up and headed to her desk. She had nothing but time. She might as well use it constructively, and address one of her problems. Something she had been putting off for too long.

She began to type.

To Admiral Shala’Raan vas Rannoch,

To Castis and Solana Vakarian,

To Feron,

To Abby, Lynn and Sarah Williams,

Regarding the status of

your husband

your daughter

your mother

your brother

I regret to inform you that the whereabouts of

Samantha Traynor

Steve Cortez

James Vega

Greg Adams

are still unknown.

I had the pleasure of serving with

Gabriella.

Ken.

Karin.

Jeff.

They were fine people. Among the finest.

Rest assured that I will do everything in my power

will personally see to it

will not abandon this cause until answers are found.

I will not stop until I can give

Ensign Copeland

Private Campbell

Private Westmoreland

Diana Allers

the justice of knowing what happened to them.

I will continue searching until I find out what happened to

Rupert Gardener

Sarah Patel

Zach Matthews

Jennifer Goldstein

Kelly Chambers

I understand this is a difficult time for you, as it is for all of us. I know that there is little that I can say that would ease your pain. But I hope it is of some comfort to you to know that not one soul who has ever served aboard the Normandy, past or present, has been overlooked.

That is my oath to you; that none of these names will ever slip through the cracks. If there are answers to be found, I will find them. No one will be left behind.

As long as I am alive, they will never be forgotten.

Yours sincerely,

Yours faithfully,

Regards,

Miranda Lawson.

* * *

“See, this is why I don’t understand Shepard’s obsession with collecting fish,” Miranda commented, taking another salmon nigiri in her chopsticks. “Every time I look at that tank, all I can think about is which one of them would taste best with wasabi. And, yes, I am aware that makes me sound like a krogan; they’re not right about many things, but we see eye to eye on fish being delicious.”

“Did you never have a pet?” Samara remarked, finding it very difficult to believe Miranda legitimately didn’t understand Shepard’s attachment to those fish.

In response, Miranda merely paused and stared at her.

“...That was an uninsightful question,” Samara acknowledged, shaking her head at her poorly judged query. Of course the answer was obvious. Miranda’s father had deprived her of anything resembling joy.

“No offence, but part of me is glad that you’re capable of making mistakes. I was starting to wonder for a while there. It’s nice to remember that you’re still human,” Miranda light-heartedly told her. She blinked, catching her own error. “...Figuratively speaking,” she added belatedly.

Miranda didn’t fail to notice the glimmer of amusement in Samara’s eyes at that comment.

It was a nice change of scenery, spending time with Samara on the Citadel. Shepard had granted everyone some shore leave while EDI was busy installing the Reaper IFF. Shepard was off somewhere in Zakera Ward, probably looking to purchase some more upgrades. Everyone else had been left to their own devices.

Samara had been curious to see how much the Citadel had changed since her last visit, which had been many centuries ago. Miranda had been only too glad to follow along at Samara’s invitation, watching as she wandered the Wards, listening to stories of what used to be there, and hints of the memories they held.

She’d pointed out a bank that used to be a nightclub. The mercenary group that Samara used to travel with frequented it. Apparently, they’d had some...interesting times there, in her youth. Samara hadn’t elaborated beyond that, but Miranda certainly wasn’t naive to the implication.

That clothing store in the corner used to go by a different name. It must have changed hands dozens of times in the intervening years. One of Samara’s sisters used to work there, and eventually became the owner of the store. Samara had wondered aloud what had ever become of her half-sister - if she ever did realise her dream of becoming a fashion designer.

Over by that fountain, Samara’s father had nearly gotten arrested there. All a big misunderstanding, of course. Evidently, she hadn’t realised the hanar would take the comment so personally. The young Samara had been mortified, and had apparently yelled at her father for a solid three hours for being so thoughtless, earning comparisons to her mother.

It had been a refreshing change, seeing Samara so relaxed and casual. It wasn’t lost on Miranda that this was probably the closest thing Samara had had to a ‘day off’ in four hundred years. She was clearly enjoying it, nostalgic for happier times.

Once it started to get late, Miranda had invited Samara to visit her favourite sushi joint. She hadn’t been keeping track of how long it had been since they got to the restaurant, but the time they’d spent there had just flown by. Tables that arrived after them had already finished their meals and left, but Miranda and Samara were in no hurry to join them. Not a moment went by where they didn’t find themselves comfortably drifting into some new and interesting conversation.

“If I may ask, how old were you when humanity first made contact with other species?” Samara asked her.

“Seven,” Miranda answered, cleansing her palette with ginger. “Why?”

“Being among the crowds and diversity of the Citadel reminds me that, however quickly humanity has adapted, this is still a novelty for your species,” Samara observed. “I have known many things, but I have never known a time when asari were alone in the galaxy.”

“Well, we knew there was other life in the galaxy because of the Prothean technology uncovered on Mars. That discovery wasn’t terribly long before I was born. We had already begun to colonise other planets by the time I was aware of the world. We just didn’t know how long it would be before we met you,” Miranda explained.

“I am not particularly familiar with human aging, but seven would be more than old enough to have distinct memories and some comprehension of The First Contact War, would it not?” Samara asked, curious. Miranda nodded. “What do you remember of that time?”

Miranda paused. “...It was the first and only time in my life I ever saw my father afraid of anything.”

“Intriguing. What did he fear?” Samara prompted her to elaborate, levitating a piece of sushi towards her with her biotics.

“That we had been foolish, delving out into space,” she answered. “That any aliens we made contact with would be hostile conquerers, and that the skirmish on Shanxi was just a prelude to a turian armada finding their way to Earth and wiping us all out.” Given his response, it had been no wonder why he had become a Cerberus supporter once The Illusive Man published his manifesto. “Your species helped calm things down pretty quickly, though. I respected that. My father didn’t.”

“It is not an unfounded response,” Samara acknowledged. “The Rachni Wars and the Krogan Rebellions were long before my time, but they are evidence of how contact with new species is not without danger.”

Miranda’s expression darkened at her response. “You agree with my father, then?”

“No.” Samara shook her head, at ease. “My experience of the galaxy, and that of my kind as a whole, is that meeting new species is most often a beneficial and positive experience, and rarely a negative one. We would all be lesser without the galactic community. However, it would be arrogance to simply dismiss alternative points of view. They are not entirely unwarranted.”

“I don’t really need you defending my father’s views on anything,” Miranda somewhat curtly replied. There was no anger in her words, just a frank statement of fact. Samara blinked, mildly taken aback. “I was exposed to them relentlessly. He tried to control me and make me think the same way. I was never allowed to disagree. So, suffice it to say, if I hold a different opinion, it’s not for lack of ‘seeing his side’,” she muttered, turning over a piece of sushi between her chopsticks before picking it up.

“...Forgive me.” Samara bowed her head slightly, in respectful deference. “I am aware you did not have a...pleasant relationship with your father. It should have occurred to me to be mindful of your history with him, especially after I have advised you to do the same for others in the past.”

Miranda sighed, realising how she’d come off. “No, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault. But a lot of things remind me of him. And it’s never in a good way.”

“Nevertheless, I apologise,” said Samara, unfazed.

Miranda frowned. If she was being entirely honest, the ‘father’ issue had been more of a raw nerve with her than usual ever since Miranda had been forced to confront just how much her own behaviour echoed that of the man she despised.

“Did you have a good relationship with your parents?” Miranda asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, although I was often unappreciative,” Samara told her, floating another piece of sushi towards herself.

“Again, very hard to imagine,” Miranda commented, accompanying that with a pointed finger from the hand that held her chopsticks. Young Samara really did sound completely unlike the Samara of today. Most of the time, anyway. The parts about lecturing people on the virtues of independence and self-sufficiency Miranda could totally believe.

“As you are aware, both my parents were asari. I was raised by both my mother and my father, though never at the same time,” Samara explained.

“Were they separated?” Miranda intuited.

“They were never bondmates. But yes. Their relationship was brief, and I was the only child of their union,” Samara answered. “I primarily lived with my mother. My father was adventurous, often absent-minded...”

“Prone to getting arrested in front of fountains,” Miranda added, dipping another piece of sushi into some soy sauce.

“Yes,” Samara acknowledged, which almost made Miranda snort. “She was by far the more permissive parent. She did not believe in structure or discipline. She was also, shall we say...very generous with her affections.”

“Is that why you have so many half-sisters you probably don’t even know about?” Miranda wryly remarked, remembering their prior conversation about that.

“It contributed,” Samara conceded, perhaps missing Miranda’s half-joking tone. From her demeanour, Samara clearly didn’t bear any negative feelings towards her father for that. Miranda wondered if she once felt differently, or if that kind of sexual freedom was so normalised for asari that it simply wasn’t an issue. “In contrast, my mother was stern and strong-willed, which meant we often fought. From an early age, I yearned to travel the galaxy. She...did not encourage that ambition, and wanted me to focus on my studies. It was only later in life that I realised her strictness had been born from love, and that her desire for me to remain close to her on Thessia was the only way she knew how to express it.”

“Reminds me of someone I know,” Miranda observed, regarding Samara with knowing eyes. Samara didn’t deny the similarity. She definitely took after her mother, even if she had inherited her father’s adventurousness. “I remember you mentioning before that you felt like you lost your opportunity to reconcile with her.”

Samara’s eyes glistened wistfully. “That is correct.”

“What happened?” Miranda asked, curious to know.

“The last time we spoke, we had a terrible argument. I was young, and fed up with her restrictions. I told her I was going to come here to live with my father. She insisted I was making a terrible mistake and that, if I left, I would not be welcome to return. I took her at her word,” Samara relayed.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Miranda commented, in an effort to be comforting.

“That is because I am skipping over the part where we each said some very hurtful things to one another,” Samara pointed out.

“Oh.” Miranda’s shoulders sank a little.

“Forgive me. This must sound trivial to you.”

“No. Not at all.” Miranda shook her head. That was the opposite of true. “Why didn’t you reconcile earlier?” Miranda asked, shifting the subject away from herself. Based on her mental timeline of Samara’s life, Samara and her mother could have gone as long as three hundred years without speaking before her death.

“We were both too proud to apologise. But I did love my mother, and I know she loved me, in her own way. I am fortunate that I have many happy memories with her,” said Samara, at peace with that aspect of her past.

“What about your father?” Miranda prompted, listening intently.

“I was not with her when she died, but we parted on good terms the last time I visited her. It pains me to say it, but...I honestly cannot remember what the last words I said to her were, nor her to me,” Samara confessed.

“If it’s any consolation, at least you know they were better than the last words my father said to me,” Miranda offered.

“What were they?” Samara queried.

“’Shoot to kill. Don’t let her escape’,” Miranda bluntly replied. Samara didn’t react, which helped Miranda feel a little less like a freak due to her abnormal childhood. “I suppose that was technically a command to his men, not to me.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable to hear others talk about their relationships with their parents?” Samara asked, well aware that she had enjoyed privileges Miranda had not in that regard.

“No,” Miranda answered honestly. “My childhood was what it was. I don’t begrudge anyone for having a better one than mine.”

“You are not envious?” said Samara, genuinely impressed if that was the case.

“Well, I didn’t say that, but it’s also hard to envy what I never had. My father was never a father to me. And I never even had a mother, or any kind of maternal figure. Just some altered genetic sequences taken from dozens of women I never met,” Miranda contemplated aloud.

“Do you wish that you had met them? Or that you had been raised by a mother figure?” Samara asked.

“That’s difficult to say. I might be a completely different person, if I had been. Unless she was exactly like my father. In that case, no - having one of him was bad enough,” Miranda muttered. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought about this, but there had never been a clear answer. “It’s complicated. Part of me obviously wishes I hadn’t had these experiences, and that I’d had a childhood more like yours instead. That’s why I made sure Oriana never had to go through what I did. But, at the same time, if I’d been raised differently, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I don’t know if I’d be better or worse. But I wouldn’t be me.”

“And I would not be who I am today had I not weathered great tragedy,” Samara replied. Miranda felt a sliver of guilt, well aware of the devastating events she had endured in her past. More so than Samara realised. “Would you tell me that I was wrong if I wished my life had been otherwise?”

“No. Of course not,” said Miranda. The agony Samara had suffered was...soul-crushing. Miranda wouldn’t wish that upon her worst enemy. “But I’d rather confront reality than dwell on things that could have been.”

“And you are right to. It is folly to deny that which cannot be changed. But that which befell you was not what created the woman I see before me today,” Samara assured her. “You do not owe your character to any aspect of your father’s mistreatment of you. That you have grown into a capable, determined and resilient woman in spite of his abuse can only be attributable to your own strength. And that cannot be accredited to him. Your response to those events came entirely from within you. That is what truly makes you exceptional.”

Miranda’s lip curled into a small, lopsided smile. “I don’t know whether I can believe that, but thank you for saying it. I appreciate it. And everything you’ve done for me,” Miranda added. This mission had been far less tolerable before Samara came along. So had Miranda herself.

“And I am also grateful that events transpired to allow the two of us to meet, just as I am content with the person I have become,” Samara concluded, her expression as peaceful as her voice.

They both sat in contented silence for a moment, each grateful for the rapport they shared in their own way. For Miranda, this was the first time she’d ever formed such a meaningful connection with another person. For Samara, she was savouring a genuine friendship for the first time in over four centuries.

“If I may...” Samara began. “I do not know why you chose to spend your limited shore leave listening to this foolish, tired old woman prattle on about the distant past, but...thank you, for accompanying me. I have enjoyed this a great deal.”

Miranda smirked. “First of all, there’s nothing tired or foolish about you. So jot that down,” she said, gesturing as she spoke.

“I am flattered. Although, you greatly misjudge me,” Samara replied.

“Secondly,” Miranda leaned forward conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve had a lot of fun today too,” she half-whispered, as if it was their little secret. “And I would gladly listen to you prattle on about the distant past again any time.”

Samara’s smile reached her eyes. “Now I know you are flattering me.”

Suddenly, Miranda’s communicator beeped, disturbing the moment.

“Operator Lawson,” EDI’s voice came out, “The Reaper IFF is nearly online. Commander Shepard has requested all crew return to The Normandy. We will disembark in approximately one hour.”

“Thank you, EDI. Samara and I are on our way,” said Miranda, ending the transmission. For as much fun as they had been having together, the mission always took priority, for both of them. “I still can’t believe we have a geth crewmate now,” she remarked, paying the tab remotely from her omni-tool, leaving behind a generous tip as she always did for this place. “If someone had told me that a few days ago, I would have sent them for a psychological evaluation.”

“You should speak to Legion, if you have the time,” Samara recommended, getting up from the table and following Miranda out of the restaurant. “I found him very enlightening, both as an…’individual’, and because he provides fascinating insights into a species we know little about.”

Miranda was sceptical, but she gave Samara’s opinion of Legion a hell of a lot more credence than she would have done for anyone else. “I’ll think about it.”

As they approached the cab terminal, a holographic advertising board lit up.

“Waiting for a cab, Miranda Lawson?” asked the digital projection of an asari. “An elegant woman like you with an education in -DATA UNAVAILABLE- and an income of -DATA UNAVAILABLE- should be taking charge of your own destiny. You could be showing Justicar Samara the sights of the Citadel in your very own luxury, hand-crafted skycar from Tennekont. Now, wouldn’t that be an impressive way to end a night out on the town?”

Miranda snorted and shook her head as the billboard rattled on through a series of commercials. “I hate these personalised ads,” she said, hailing a cab.

“Do not worry. If you ever did wish to impress me, I would not recommend you follow that advice,” Samara remarked. “Aside from the fact that Justicars eschew personal possessions, in my experience, Tennekont have never been able to manufacture skycars the way they used to four hundred years ago.”

Miranda smirked. Either she was just imagining things, or Samara was...actually funny for a second there. “Did you just make a joke?” she asked.

“I would never joke about something so important,” Samara assured her, a glint of humour in her eyes. That time, Miranda did crack up just a little bit.

* * *

#fic #mass effect #miranda lawson #samara #femslash

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