#it might get cut because it's potentially not relevant to this particular chapter but THAT'S OK

[wanderingcas]

Day 9 from "the common hours"

Sunlight dimples the sky, clouds casting off into the distance, as far as the eye can see. The man raises his eyebrows at Castiel. 

You’ve been seeing him again, haven’t you? 

#lineaday #the common hours #ok but i loved writing this dream sequence of cas's at the beginning of the chapter i just finished #it might get cut because it's potentially not relevant to this particular chapter but THAT'S OK

[theopfan]

So I just read chapter 418 and I noticed something off (?) with the translation in Spanish given the fact that I saw the English scans and spoilers a couple of days before the official release, now that I have read both the official ones I noticed something that doesn't really line up between the two versions and decided to share it here for whoever is interested!

It's under the cut so people don't get spoiled (and because it's long as hell), the screenshots are taken directly from the MangaPlus website, so it's not a fan translation. However, I did translate with the best of my abilities the dialogues written below the screenshot from Spanish to English so people reading this would understand them.

[Originally posted the 31st of March, I edited some tags]

Okay, so it's about this page in particular, where in English, the person talking with Kotaro (most likely AFO) is asking about someone's Quirk, heavily implied that it's Tenko's since he's talking to Kotaro, why wouldn't he ask about his son if in the previous page they were talking as if they knew each other previously? Anyways, here's the page, where I circled the two dialogues that I found different while underlining that the person talking to Kotaro wanted to know about the other person's Quirk, that apparently hasn't manifested yet.

Well, in Spanish the page goes like this, which I'll translate here with the best of my abilities to make it as accurate as I can on the circled dialogues and the underlined, which in this case has the person talking to Kotaro asking about their own Quirk.

Please have in mind that English is not my first language, I did this translation as accurately as I could given my own knowledge while also adding other ways that the dialogues could be interpreted as, and I tried not to make any mistakes while writing them.

Non bubbled words: What is this memory?

Kotaro: I see. It won't be easy, but...

[Note: And here comes the difficult part for me to translate, because these two dialogues could go differently depending on how it's translated to English. I did a couple of takes with different options just in case.]

Mystery person: And what will happen to/with my Quirk? [Note: Both versions could be accurate]

Kotaro: It still isn't/hasn't... [Note: Both versions could be accurate]

-Other version in which 'Eso' is translated to 'That':

Mystery person: And what will happen to/with my Quirk?

Kotaro: That still isn't/hasn't... [Note: Both versions could be accurate]

[Note: The dialogue above is what made me want to make this post in the first place.]

Non bubbled words: I don't know

Izuku: It's not Tenko's

Non bubbled words: Who is this guy? [Note: I want to point out that the word 'tipo' is sometimes used to talk about a male person in an informal way, the translators could have perfectly put '¿Quién es esta persona?' = 'Who is this person?' but for some unknown reason chose not to.]

The difference between the two versions confused me, because I don't understand why the English one talks about what could potentially be Tenko's Quirk while the Spanish one talks about this other mysterious person's interest in their own Quirk.

Their dialogue could imply that the person is asking what will happen to their Quirk because of something, something that Kotaro could apparently know but doesn't yet. These are my own thoughts though, and I don't know how true they might be officially.

I don't know how relevant this could be to the following chapters, or why they chose to translate it/word it this way, but I thought I would point it out in case someone wanted to know.

Again, I translated the Spanish into English as best as I could so people reading this would understand why I thought it was strange, I don't know if this has happened in other languages as well.

If you read this whole thing, thanks for staying! Have a good day/afternoon/night!

#mha #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #mha 418 #bnha 418 #mha manga panels #translation #kotaro shimura #all for one #it's a matter of time before we know

[pikahlua]

Hello! What are your predictions for leaks this week? I love hearing your thoughts about the final arc of the manga and where you think we will be going. Do you think Edgeshot patching bakugo's heart is going to work? Do you think we are getting a POV switch? Edgeshot's backstory?

I don't have anything like predictions for any particular incoming chapter because at any moment Horikoshi could decide to switch to another perspective, right? But as for thoughts on the current goings-on, I think there's quite a bit about Katsuki's predicament that's (purposefully) unanswered. Regardless of what Edgeshot does, Katsuki's got a gaping chest wound and a lot of blood loss--not that that's ever stopped an anime character before, but it's not likely he'll just immediately hop to his feet unless a random quirk bizarrely revitalizes him. I imagine he's down for a bit until some other story beat where he recovers enough energy to act again. You know...kinda how it went down in the previous war arc lol. Gotta give some other characters their time to shine for a bit.

That said, if the story is properly foreshadowing anything, it's not unreasonable to suspect we could get something relevant to any recently highlighted characters: Edgeshot, Best Jeanist, any of the Big Three, All Might, S&S, and the Second User are all contenders. We're also probably looking at a potential entrance sometime soon for Gentle Criminal and La Brava (god I hope we get that, I'd fucking kill for some AFO vs Gentle banter). And let us not forget that Iida is conspicuously due for a spotlight moment sometime soon, or that we haven't cut to the Octo Island battlefield in a while.

And I guess Izuku's hanging out over the ocean somewhere. Actually, given the implied timeline of what's going on, it's likely Yoichi's weird premonition syncs up with both AFO's self-destructive rewind AND Katsuki's near-death. Chronologically, it could make sense to switch over to him for at least a few frames sometime soon.

Regardless of the POV logistics, I think the most important thing we are meant to pay attention to this time are two heavily-displayed themes from recent chapters.

1. The torch

That’s what I’m calling All Might’s vestige in my head at this point. I think there’s something conspicuously different about his design that we as a fandom have generally neglected to key into. He’s a bit of a mystery and has the potential to be something more than just a wordless vestige. I think he’s likely tied into the concepts we’ve seen before with Stain in Kamino (the torch passed from All Might to those he inspired) and most recently with the generational torch-passing from All Might to Star(s) & Stripe(s) to [insert the next generation here]. Heck, even AFO’s “baton of dreams” passed to Tomura invokes this concept to some degree. This all looks eerily similar to the chain of One For All this last year’s worth of chapters have constantly referenced. I’m curious if the All Might vestige Katsuki saw in “death” may actually have very little to do with One For All in the end.

2. Invaders and defenders

AFO’s little speech about how villains = invaders/attackers and heroes = protectors/defenders is enormously suspicious in its placement--in that it comes just after Katsuki’s supposed death. His philosophical speech is conveniently contradicted by Katsuki’s existence, so for him to ramble about this essentially over Katsuki’s dead body is kind of heavy-handed. If AFO’s determinations about villains and heroes are correct, where does that place Katsuki, the heroic attacker? Or Twice, the villainous protector? How does AFO get away with ignoring the behavior of Star(s) & Stripe(s), Hawks, and the HPSC? Edgeshot literally invading Katsuki’s body to keep him alive feels like a direct answer to AFO’s demonstrably wrong oversimplifications. Are the lines between villains and heroes that AFO has arbitrarily drawn being blurred? Are their respective roles changing? Is AFO’s philosophy just that wrong from the outset? Wouldn’t saving Tenko entail some similar sort of attack/invasion that AFO’s possession represents?

I don’t know where Horikoshi is going to take this point, but I think Katsuki has so obviously represented the exact opposite of what AFO is talking about here that he has to come into play regarding this somehow before this is all over. And maybe All Might will too. And Izuku.

#ask pika #anon ask #my hero academia manga spoilers

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha) #takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (2/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia)

Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party

Chapter 224 – Revival Party

• Mr. Compress’s side comment about how the distance Re-Destro wants them to travel means he must know they have warp capabilities. Also shortens his subsequent line, removing the bit about how their position has been locked onto, leaving only the marveling about the dude on the phone being the kind of person who has access to a satellite camera. Not a major cut, but it did strip out a bit of reiteration on how very Seen the League is. The warp line is another nod to how the MLA’s been doing their research—in particular, it ties in nicely with RD’s observations about the Noumu. He talks, there, about something Dabi said after the High End fight, which means he must also know that Dabi was warped out by an “Ujiko-san.”

• Also Mr. C’s observation that they haven’t broken Machia yet, and his posed question about what to do. Mr. Compress, I’m so sorry that you’re so wordy and lose so many quips and asides because the anime was set on brutally scything out every line of non-essential dialogue it could find.

• Ujiko’s extremely hilarious, “Listening to Villain Radio is my new favorite hobby,” line. Why would you cut this; this line is hysterical.

• The bit where Mr. Compress has the bright idea to use a High End Noumu like the one Dabi used, Ujiko rejects the suggestion out of hand, citing production woes, and Shigaraki says that he wasn’t going to ask for one of them anyway. Aside from being more cut Compress content (or “Comptent,” for short), it helps center the timeline somewhat at a point where the manga is jerking it around all over; it also shows that the League has been keeping up with news from the outside world. It also shows that at least one of them thought about using the Noumu—and since we know Re-Destro did some rationalizing on that scenario too, it’s good to see that it is at least briefly on the table.           Further, Ujiko provides a few rare details about the Noumu creation process. Firstly, that AFO is normally involved, so his absence makes the procedure much more difficult (though not, apparently, impossible). Secondly, that Hood-chan was the only Noumu who’d actually reached the testing stage. This will be important later, for Ujiko’s agonizing about unleashing them early/Mirko having to fight four of them at once.           Also, I just miss Mr. C’s funny little head wilt when Ujiko immediately turns down his “use some Noumu” idea. Ditto Shigaraki’s blasé shrug and little grin. Again, not to harp on the art too much, but man I wish the anime had kept all the fierce little grins and tight, incensed smirks Shigaraki has through the majority of this and the phone call sequence.

• Spinner’s line, “Without knowing squat about what we’re up against?!” A minor cut, as these things go, but it reiterates that there’s a chance RD is bluffing and the League has no way to know one way or the other, and demonstrates that the League can give Shigaraki some pushback on his decisions without having to worry about getting dusted for the temerity.[1]

• Takes one of Spinner’s lines—“Wait. I get it. Wherever you go, Shigaraki, he’ll sniff you out and hunt you down.”—and gives it to Shigaraki instead. Because fuck Spinner’s growing understanding of Shigaraki and the way his mind works, I guess! It’s especially notable that Spinner figures this out when Mr. C had completely the wrong idea about Shigaraki’s intentions—it demonstrates the way Spinner is gradually aligning himself with Shigaraki’s way of thinking, which we’ll see even more clearly during the War Arc. Also, again, it’s good to see the moments where the League weighs in on Shigaraki’s plans.

• The visual of Twice lashing out at Dabi with his razor-edged tape measure over Dabi’s dismissal of Giran, though all the relevant dialogue was there. Possibly this is because, having cut the CRC bit, the audience has no way of knowing that Twice’s tape measure is razor-edged, so why bother raising the question, “Why is Twice trying to attack Dabi with a tape measure..?” Possibly it’s because showing that attack would require animating movement, and MAN ALIVE, did Episode 109 ever want to do everything it could to avoid animating movement.

• Slidin’ Go’s line about how Deika isn’t usually his turf, but today is a big exception. This makes the hearty affirmative with which Trumpet announces himself a response to Shigaraki’s half-phrased observation about the reason behind the city’s emptiness, rather than a response to Slidin’ Go. It works, more or less, and probably even flows more clearly, all things considered. I’m always sad to lose lines from the vanishingly few named/characterized MLA members we have, though. I like, too, that it hints at the machinations that have to have been involved with setting things up for the Revival Party, and the way those plans were carried out with confidence that Re-Destro’s “bait the League into coming for their broker” plan would work despite the total absence of a response from the League in any of the time Giran was missing/his fingers were cropping up on the nightly news reports.

• A few shots of cameras in the city, which foreshadow Skeptic’s watchful eyes and ability to track the League through the city. In retrospect, this isn’t surprising, since the anime went on to cut basically any indication of Skeptic’s entire plan re: the footage of the League attacking, so why bother keeping the cameras? (Oh, right. Skeptic’s whole thing is cameras and information/disinformation. Skeptic for second-most screwed-by-the-anime MLA member.)

Additions

• Showed Toga having stood back up somewhere during Shigaraki’s explanation of their throw-Machia-against-the-MLA plan. A simply appalling choice. In the manga, she stays crouched down by Twice the entire time Shigaraki has his mask pulled off, because Toga cares about reassuring Jin-kun when he’s in a bad way.

• Rephrased Compress’s dialogue somewhat, also giving him a new line about the MLA’s forces in Deika when the League was still in the hills looking down at the city: “The so-called Meta Liberation Army has a force of 110,000 here.” I assume it was because the scene falls in a different episode than the tactical discussion did (in the manga, they’re the same chapter), so the anime was reminding the viewer of the stakes, but it’s potentially awkward because, er, no, the MLA categorically did not bring their entire army to Deika. We’ll find out as much for sure later, with the note that the regiment advisors weren’t in attendance because they were occupied at the bases they command, but even with only the knowledge we have here, Re-Destro’s statement about his numbers is that they’re scattered all over the country—hence the shot of Japan with a bunch of lights scattered across it to represent said numbers.           That said, to be (briefly) charitable, there’s no particular reason for the League to assume that, and they did discuss the possibility that there were going to have to fight 110,000 people. So it makes sense that Mr. C might state as much when recapping for the audience.

Chapter 225 – Interview with a Vampire

• Re-Destro talking about Deika’s geography and why they chose it strategically. The anime dropped so much about the MLA’s planning and information-gathering beforehand; it really made the MLA look ludicrously overconfident. And while they don’t lack for that trait, certainly,[2] this is also an organization that has meticulously grown its membership for generations right under Hero Society’s collective nose; you don’t get to where they are by being unduly foolhardy. Erasing so many scenes demonstrating their caution and forward-planning undercuts the threat they represent to both the League and society at large.           Also too, the descriptor of Deika as a nice, quiet, isolated little town in the mountains gives us some hints about how the MLA has avoided notice for so long, when you consider how the Hero business works: because so many people who get into heroism want to make it big, like celebrities, they don’t want to stick around small-town beats, and so the rural areas are understaffed.[3] That’s presumably why groups like the CRC and the MLA grow their numbers out in the boonies: much less attention from the Powers That Be. You can guess at some of that from how Spinner describes the place—“not too small, not too big”—and what Trumpet says about the percentage of the population that’s MLA, but RD adds that key “isolated” descriptor, and says that it’s a place where they “lay low.” That gives us some potential insight into how many—likely the majority—of the MLA came to their beliefs: by being raised to them, because their hometown was infiltrated by the MLA generations ago and they have literally never known anything else.

• RD’s phrasing, “Counter to point one,” when he makes his second point about the Noumu. He acknowledges that it’s counter-intuitive to his first argument, that he knows it would normally be an argument against that opening point, not in support. It’s just conversational padding, really, but “conversational padding” like that does a lot to distinguish character voice, so that not everyone talks the same way.

• A panel showing a trio of unnamed MLA warriors strategizing about how to divide their forces now that the League has split up. It’s the little cuts like this that gradually remove the agency of unnamed characters, such that they’re left looking like unthinking puppets instead of real people with the ability to register and respond to their circumstances. It also points towards the truth of what the MLA warriors are and one reason they’re so dangerous (for all that the manga itself will neglect this most egregiously later on): they’re trained in regiment tactics and accustomed to working in groups. This contrasts them both with villains, who might group together, but certainly don’t usually fight that way, and heroes, who are so unaccustomed to working in groups that it’s cited as part of the reason to have named super moves.

• Curious’s little pageboy-cut middle school kid line telling Toga to back off when Miss Curious is on the job. This is an early example of how defensive the MLA are of people above them in the hierarchy, an important thing Spinner will pick up on and attempt to use against Trumpet. Again, it’s little moments like this that both add some welcome notes of individuality to the MLA warriors (if only by virtue of Horikoshi and his assistants’ traditional talent for distinctive character design) while also fleshing out who the MLA are as a group, and contrasting them with the League.

• Deleted Toga’s line IDing her “on-the-go suck-suck mask,” but did insert a nice little bit of her expression shifting when she whipped it out. It lost a bit of the self-conscious silliness of her support item name in exchange for a cool little animation beat. I don’t dislike it, particularly, but I am, as previously stated, very leery of edits that make the League more polished in their villainy at the cost of their human foibles.

• Curious’s line about having come prepared to counter Toga’s moves, which was supposed to further reiterate that the MLA has done their research on the League; they didn’t just decide out of the blue to target the most notorious Villains in the country without studying up on them first and planning accordingly!

• Curious’s line about how she’s going to get started with some background info while her people use their meta-abilities to keep Toga and her buddies on the ropes. A marvelously characterful line! It speaks especially to that edge of formality the MLA brass observe that even as she’s ringleading this attack, Miss Curious is still set on going through her interview process step by established step.

Framing Shifts

• Made some of Curious’s lines spoken dialogue instead of internal monologue. That’s probably fine for when she’s waxing enthusiastic about Toga’s lack of hesitation in committing murder or how she’ll use Toga’s story to further the MLA’s agenda. It’s less fine when she’s rattling out the entire name, brand and patent status of her support item for no particular reason when Toga is already halfway through trying to knife her (that’ll be next chapter).

• The anime implied pretty firmly that Curious’s bombers died. And like, yeah, that’s always made more sense than the idea that anyone could survive something like that, but I hate it anyway. For one thing, it makes it even harder to credit the idea that Toga’s still on her feet afterward if Curious’s supposedly not-very-lethal explosions merk all her own people. People in this series survive ludicrous amounts of damage, and these random MLA devotees are no exception! For another, it leans into the narrative that the MLA higher-ups throw away the lives of their minions without the slightest care. It’s a lot harder to make that case when it’s explicit in the manga that Curious’s people survive the blood explosions—the blonde in the tracksuit is unharmed enough to snicker about it, and the noodle chef is even doing well enough to continue attacking! I’ve always been of the opinion that the MLA are, yes, willing to spend the lives of their underlings on attaining goals, if that’s what they think is necessary, but that is not at all the same as gleefully throwing them onto the pyre to watch them burn.

Additions

• Some individual shots of Mr. Compress, Dabi and Twice fending off or fleeing from various MLA types. A nice try on getting the group split up, but it feels kind of budget save-y, when we could have gotten actual animation of those fights instead.

• Inserted a quick shot of a headline about Toga’s first attack as Curious was rambling on about why she’s interested in Toga but not the League in general. Actually a fairly reasonable insertion, given how much text is crammed into her talk bubble in the manga while the dude standing next to her is already getting a knife in the neck.

Chapter 226 – Bloody Love

• A panel of interviewees talking about Toga’s first victim being sociable and popular. It gives a bit of context on what he was like, what people thought of him, but given that we know enough about Toga at this point to know that his popularity was entirely incidental to what she liked about him, it’s not a huge loss.

• The detail of the broadcasted interviews censoring Toga’s name. Considering how Japanese media normally treats minors accused of crimes, this is an eyebrow-raising change—the manga censors it because Japanese media outlets would have done the same. No idea why the anime didn’t, unless it’s another of those places where it would feel too “real,” to have something that so closely mirrors real life treatment of criminals?

• Everything about quirk counseling, and whoo boy, that is a loaded cut. There is exactly one other mention of quirk counseling anywhere in the manga, and, curiously enough, it also comes up in relation to a villain: in the U.A. faculty meeting after the USJ attack, Midnight muses that maybe Shigaraki never received quirk counseling in elementary school. It’s a weird little non sequitur there—exactly what sort of program did she expect could single-handedly make the difference between a well-adjusted adult and a gleefully murderous manchild with aims on killing Japan’s Number 1 Hero? Just over two hundred chapters later, we get a hint: a program designed to fit people “neatly into society’s little boxes.”           Quirk counseling, then, is not about helping children find healthy ways to process their quirks, but rather, about teaching children what is and is not acceptable in terms of quirk use—and as Curious says, Toga’s admiration of blood was never going to be acceptable.[4] This explanation doesn’t just tell us a lot about Toga—that she wasn’t only failed by the hysterical condemnation of her parents, but also by a society that had no interest in helping her if it didn’t see a use for her—but also provides some insight on the viewpoint of the Meta Liberation Army vis-à-vis mandatory state-funded programs that dictate what “normalcy” looks like to impressionable children.           Curious is, of course, not a particularly trustworthy narrator in this, as one might expect of someone who uses language like “society’s little boxes,” but it does track with Midnight’s earlier musing of, “Maybe the anti-social dude never took the program intended to make sure he was a functioning member of society.” That kind of statement—“State-sponsored educational programs are there to program children into becoming unthinking cogs of society, actually.”—is one that it’s all too easy to imagine the people with an eye on broadcast standards taking issue with, even coming as it does from the mouth of a villain.

• Curious’s line, “Let’s turn your death into a legendary tragedy, shall we?” and its accompanying visual of two different papers with imagined headlines. The dialogue doesn’t strike me as crucial—Curious’s fervent belief in Toga’s story is amply demonstrated elsewhere and her intent to turn that story into a legend reiterated in the line immediately following—but it is a shame to lose the headlines. They tell us, in Curious’s own words, exactly the tack she was planning to take in telling Toga’s story to the general public, without the constant namedropping of the Liberation Army that she does when talking about it in person. One headline in particular—The Price of Suppression: A String of Bloody Murders—is an especially useful reference for discussing whether the MLA actually wants, as is popularly claimed, completely unhindered quirk use, even for people like e.g. Muscular who want nothing more than to murder people with their quirks.[5]

• Curious’s initial wait what response to getting Floated, and her people’s focus shifting away from Toga and onto Curious instead. On a surface level, that focus shift helps explain why Toga’s able to zip around the ground and touch nearly twenty people before they even react: because they’re afraid for Curious. It also hurts the ongoing characterization of the MLA rank and file as being fanatically devoted to their higher-ups which, again, is something Spinner is supposed to notice later. It’s the worst kind of plot device if that devotion is completely told to us rather than consistently shown!

• Toga’s internal reflection that she’s seen Ochaco use her quirk, and knows how to use it. It’s obvious from the panel that she knows how to use it, but the manga implies that Toga transforming doesn’t automatically grant her an understanding of peoples’ quirks; it’s only in observation (and possibly love) that she can reach this particular unlock. Leaving out that information leaves open the possibility that she can just do this all the time now, with anybody she transforms into.

• The reaction from the surviving crowd to Curious’s death. See above re: STOP FUCKING ERASING HOW MUCH THE MLA CARES FOR EACH OTHER.

Framing Shifts

• When Toga bolts, Curious in the anime sounded serious, her expression alarmed, like she was actually worried that Toga might escape, even though her dialogue said just the opposite. Maybe you could say that she was afraid Toga would die before she got her statement, but given that she tried to kill the girl herself moments later, I’m skeptical of that claim. Regardless, in the manga, she never loses her smile, and she flashes a Liberation salute as she stands up to give chase. It’s a characterization note, that she’s so wildly confident about this that she never stops being completely enthralled with whatever Toga has to show her.

Chapter 227 – Sleepy

• The last of Toga’s conscious dialogue, about how she’s lost a lot of blood, is fading out, can’t move—but more notably, the way that this state of things makes her feel closer to “them,” that it’s “the same sensation.” And who is “they” here—her victims? The people she loves? More alarmingly, why does the line sound like she’s been this beat-up before, and remembers the sensation? Does that tie into e.g. her comment during the training camp that she doesn’t want to fight too many hero students at once because she doesn’t want to die? Has she actually been subject to this kind of violence before in the past? Does that tie into her still-unexplained ability to erase her presence? It’s an interestingly loaded little line, for being so vague, and illustrative of Toga’s mentality on becoming the people she loves. Which also lets the scene segue nicely into Re-Destro’s observation that, in Toga Himiko’s world, there’s no such thing as “other people.”           On which note, guess what else the anime cut?

• The entire fucking scene where Re-Destro actually reacts to Curious’ death, the motherfuckers. This lost:           1. RD’s talk about the way Toga sees the world and how that led to society casting her out, which he points to as evidence of said society clinging to old ideals even though the nature of humanity itself has changed. It calls back to his methodology with Detnerat, marrying his lines from the commercial to his overarching ideals; it also shows that he understood very well what Curious saw in Toga, and demonstrates that he can express that understanding and empathy even in the face of losing one of his closest allies.           2. Skeptic’s reaction to Curious’s death, which is pretty sparse, but at least present. He says she never should have been on the front lines—an excellent reminder to the people who’re always going on about how the MLA brass thinks themselves so above their followers: Curious was on the front lines, against the wishes of some of her peers!—and calls her a valuable resource.[6] You can theorize about Skeptic not caring for her beyond her usefulness to the cause, or just that Skeptic is a huge autist who processes his emotions differently than most, and isn’t going to stop to do that when there’s still a battle going on, but either way, you need this scene to do it accurately.           3. Speaking of people who process their emotions in unusual ways, as I said above, this scene also shows Re-Destro openly crying over the deaths of Curious and each and every warrior diving into battle with their hopes for the future. They’re not crocodile tears, either. As was the case with Miyashita, there’s no one in this room that Re-Destro would need to perform grief for: Skeptic clearly doesn’t see a use for tears right now, so I don’t see him expecting them from Re-Destro, and the only other person in the room is Giran, a hostage who the MLA—very probably Re-Destro himself—maimed! It’s not like RD’s tears are going to change Giran’s mind about him (indeed, Giran gets a comedic reaction beat at the absurdity of the dude who started all this up here crying about it)! But RD says life is precious and he cries anyway, briefly, before he ruthlessly turns it off.           RD’s valuing of human life—especially his own peoples’ lives—crops up in roundabout ways twice more, both leading the fight with Shigaraki (“It angers me.”) and ending it (“Any more would bring about meaningless death.”). This, though, is when he’s most open about it, to the degree that—as with Machia’s grief—it’s kind of off-putting and strange. Cutting it makes it that much easier for people to get entirely the wrong impression of RD as a character.           4. The delightful scene where Skeptic berates Giran about asking brainless questions and then answers his question anyway. Fuckin’ hell, why cut this?? So much of Skeptic’s character is in this scene! You get moments of his neuroticism later on, but never in so concentrated a burst as this (there’s one other sequence that could compete, but—spoilers—the anime cut that one, too). The exchange also explains the cameras placed throughout the city—which are visually referenced early on—and what the MLA is planning to do with their footage. Without that explanation, the audience has no idea how, exactly, the MLA was planning to use wiping out the League as a springboard for their grand return to the spotlight. That footage is the crucial part of how the rest of the country reacts to Deika in the Endeavor Agency Arc, and the anime never even mentioned it! The audience was just left to assume that all the media came in afterward, not that there was the slightest whiff of footage from the battle itself.           5. Once again brings up Re-Destro’s belief in the power of the heart to move other hearts. We get a bit of that in Curious’s flashback, but here he says it in his own words—as he will also bring it up to Shigaraki. Once again, Shigaraki is going to be challenged about his conviction, which ties back into what Spinner and Ujiko demanded from him earlier in the arc. With so

many people set to be grilling Shigaraki on this front, it tells us again what the arc is for: Shigaraki’s conviction, and him demonstrating it to the people who think he lacks it.

• The panel of Spinner asking how long they’ve been at it and Mr. Compress responding. This line helps manage the pacing, giving the audience an idea how much time is passing as we cut around to different places. It’s also, you know, more cut Spinner dialogue, and shows the beginnings of Shigaraki and Spinner getting split off from the rest by Shigaraki’s sleep-drunk staggering angling him off in a different direction. The rest of the scene is moved to after Toga’s fight with Curious, but not otherwise tampered with.

• The other big reaction to Curious’s death, which is Trumpet using it to rile up the crowd. The group that attacks Shigaraki isn’t just some free-roaming mob—they’re coming at him in a grief-stricken frenzy, which they’ve been goaded into by one of their leaders.           This sequence also introduces the campaign van—a vehicle that will have several more appearances—to events, and hints at Trumpet’s meta-ability. Further, it’s one of the scenes that outright states that the MLA is less an army than a religion, in Mr. Compress’s line about how Trumpet is like a preacher rallying his flock. That understanding—that the MLA may style themselves as an army, but what they really are is a cult—is key to the way the MLA members act, from the very bottom to the very top.

• Trimmed Shigaraki’s flashback down, cutting—among other things—the very first lines Hana speaks, and her namedrop. This moment is the first one Tomura gets back, and the very first thing we find out is that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The anime also failed to identify Shimura Nana’s relation to Tenko/Tomura and Hana—helpful to remind the audience of a plot thread they haven’t heard about since Kamino. It also cut out the silhouette of chubby baby Tenko and Tenko’s first line, asking why Hana’s showing him this, a line which clues us in that Hana was the impetus here, not Shigaraki as he was back then. Still not satisfied, it also cut the phrase, “Daddy said all that stuff,” which is a clear and ominous warning that there was some conflict going on between young Shigaraki and the Father whose dismembered hand he now wears on his face.

• Left the dialogue but cut the silhouette of an airborne Geten with his enormous ice fists coming in hot behind Dabi when he was smarming about it not being his style to take the pacifist route. It’s not crucial, since we see the fists again shortly (it’s the end of the chapter page, whereas the anime rolls right on into the continuation of the scene), but it’s a shame, since framing Dabi from below with this sudden presence behind him is a much more fun, dynamic angle than the dead-boring medium shot the anime used. Also too, it’s good foreshadowing for the fact that Geten can fly, since he certainly didn’t get that kind of air by jumping off the roof of the mini-mart across the street.

Framing Shifts

• The crowd attacking Tomura came at him from the back of the shot, whereas in the manga, they’re surging forth from the front; that is, the anime had Shigaraki between the crowd and the POV of the viewer, whereas the manga has the crowd interposing between the viewer and Shigaraki. It makes a huge difference in the impact! Running up from a nebulous background distance, the crowd looked small and futile. Crossing directly in front of the viewer as they attack Shigaraki makes them look like the crashing human wave that they are. But, you know, coming in from the front would mean they’d have to be animated with more detail, and again, Episode 109, more than any other episode in the arc, clearly didn’t have the budget to spare on such things.

• The moment Shigaraki first uses the spreading Decay is horrifically clear in the manga. It’s full of speed lines, Shigaraki moving so fast he decays a dude mid-word, but the impact itself is spread over two pages. We watch his hand literally cleaving through the leading attacker’s face, and then are encouraged to linger on the oversized panel below, the intricately drawn crowd, full of individual faces, still intact on the left, scattering to dust on the right, all fully lit, with Shigaraki—still drawn with speedlines to emphasize his movement—the focal figure in black at the center.           The anime rendered this moment in two stills—Shigaraki’s hand about to hit the lead attacker’s face, and then the crowd already decaying. There was virtually no movement to it, the crowd was so heavily silhouetted against a glare of daylight that it was difficult to tell what was going on, and the moment stayed on screen for only two seconds before Shigaraki landed and threw up, both actions favored with more animation than one of the signature moments of the entire arc. Hell, it even left the walls on either side of the alley intact, when the manga shows them dissolving into ash as well, decay traveling through the ground in a deadly, destructive radius around Shigaraki’s attack.           The anime ever-so-graciously allowed Spinner his line to explain to the audience what just happened, but I think that’s mostly because it would be genuinely difficult to parse if he didn’t. It also gave him a flashback to what we had literally just seen, except this time it wasn’t silhouetted for some reason, so at least the audience got another chance to look at it, I guess?           “Am I seeing things? Just now, his decay effect spread to people he wasn’t even touching!” Well, I guess we’ll have to take your word for it, Spinner.

Additions

• A quick shot of a camera, there and gone almost too fast to register. I want to compliment the anime for adding a camera back in, since it removed the shot of the cameras earlier, but honestly, given that it cut all the scenes about how and why the MLA was gathering footage, I really don’t know why it even bothered. Also too, the camera was gone so fast it felt more like a marker for a scene change—which it also was, segueing the scene from Toga collapsing (only to cut back to her later staggering down an alley) to Spinner and the rest still trying to hold their own—than it did something the audience was supposed to really notice.

Chapter 228 – Wounded Soul

• Twice in the opening pages left out scattered members of the MLA that were around for the start of the Dabi/Geten fight. Leaving them out raises the question of where all the people attacking went, but it’s also the first demonstration that Geten is a danger to his own allies. We don’t see any of them dying on-panel or anything, but we do see them having to dive frantically out of the way because Geten demonstrates no care to the collateral damage of his attacks.

• Cut a small flashback, presumably from Twice’s perspective, of finding the site where Toga and Curious’s fight concluded. You can see the ground covered in blood, and a body that looks a bit like Curious if you squint (distinguishable by the sleeves of her jacket), as well as a small group of people kneeling on the ground in various poses suggesting mourning and a paying of respects. Yet another shot demonstrating the depths of care these people have for their leaders, that they’ve completely let the battle fall by the wayside in favor of their grief.

• Drops the “those zealots” phrase from Twice’s, “I’ll rip those zealots limb from limb for this!” line. Damn, the anime really was determined to erase everything that even hints at the Liberation Army being something much creepier and more damaging than just an underground militia, huh?

Framing Shifts

• For all my complaints about the material, I generally like the voice acting quite a bit. I don’t love the first exchange between Dabi and Geten, though. It’s not a fault of the voice actors themselves, but rather the delivery. Geten was very cool and level-headed throughout, which is all right to a point, but he’s a gremlin under that troll parka, and this fight is where we hear him as close as we ever will to how he is before the multi-layered humbling he’s subject to over the course of this fight. It’s a bit of a shame to play him totally straight, without any of the snark he’s so clearly capable of—and without the tick upwards in vehemence his talk bubbles indicate in his last lines.           Meanwhile, it’s fine for Dabi to get more heated as the scene goes along, and indeed he does, but he also plays it pretty cool at first. You can tell in the shape of his talk bubbles that he’s completely unruffled during his delivery of that, “Consider this a freebie, just for you: ice melts,” line. The anime had him raising his voice for it, and it just loses a lot of the humor of Dabi’s own snark to have him yelling it instead of just laughingly stating it, voice barely raising enough to give his talk bubbles some straighter lines instead of being all undisturbed curves. (For comparison’s sake, it’s about the same level of angular as Geten’s, “You’d best not think your little campfire can melt my ice!” line, but the anime had Dabi shout his line, while Geten continued at the same unperturbed volume he’d maintained since the beginning.)

• As with Shigaraki’s first mass decay, the shot of Geten’s ice dragon did not make the impact on me in the anime that the manga did. I think it’s mostly the way the ice was colored? The claw’s pretty good, but the head looks blobby and indistinct, more like blue soft-serve than the shifting, sharp-edged, brilliantly bright sculpture-in-motion of the manga.

• Twice’s voice actor did his best to sell the scene of him finding Toga, but I wish they’d kept that tight close-up on his mouth when he says, “Give it up. The girl’s dead.” They animated him leaning closer to the camera, but that doesn’t have the sharpness of that sudden cut to being right there on his lips, like some malevolent thing is using them to speak words so terrible that they can’t even be associated with the rest of his face.

                                                          ---

Come back next time (and hopefully in less time) for Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade.

FOOTNOTES

[1] We would, of course, have an even clearer idea of that had the anime not cut the scene of Spinner shouting in Shigaraki’s face.

[2] It seems particularly strange to me that Curious and RD both mention quirk evolution as a thing they know can happen in extreme circumstances, but didn’t predict that backing the League into a life-or-death corner might provoke one or two members to undergo exactly that evolution.

[3] Mount Lady is the obvious example, but you can look to places like the island in Heroes Rising, too: one hero, and when they retired, a group of high school kids had to go sub in for a while until a replacement could be arranged. It’s not like retirements just happen overnight; the Commission had to have known it was coming. Still, they had to scramble to find someone. It doesn’t suggest they had anybody just champing at the bit to take the post, you know?

[4] In Chapter 140, we see a young Tamaki Amajiki in a class called “quirk training.” It’s uncertain how connected this P.E.-like class is to quirk counseling, but Toga wouldn’t have been getting much help there, either, seeing as it’s all about figuring out how to use one’s quirk in a way that’s “useful to society.” I can think of some ways, but nothing that I expect would be very popular or liable to be explained to a grade schooler in a country with as long a history with ritual cleanliness as Japan. To a Shinto mindset, Transformation isn’t just off-putting or unhygienic; it’s spiritually unclean.

[5] The answer there being, no, obviously not, or Curious wouldn’t, in all apparent sincerity, be trying to characterize Toga using her quirk to murder people as an undesirable outcome, a cost society is paying for its current stance on quirk use. Yes, you can gather that much from her calling Toga a tragic girl, and Re-Destro concurring later, but listen, I will take every line I can get that I can use to push back against the wretchedly widespread idea that the kid whose name means Apocrypha is the be-all-end-all source on MLA ideology, somehow more reliable and trustworthy than every other MLA character combined, including Destro himself. I would very much like it if the anime had not deleted a bunch of my talking points while making good and sure to leave all Geten’s most damning lines intact.

[6] Not that an anime-only person would fully understand why some random reporter was all that valuable a resource, since the anime cut the explanation of what Curious actually does for a living.

#my villain academia #bnha #bnha meta #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my writing #stillness has salt

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (10/?)

Chapter Title: Collide

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

Pairing: Miranda/Samara, I told you it was a fucking slow burn 

Story Rating: R

Warnings: I don’t think any specific warnings apply for this chapter. Certainly nothing that doesn’t apply to the fic as a whole. Just assume any past warnings remain relevant.

Chapter Summary: The ‘flashback’ storyline comes to an end at the party on the Citadel. In London, Miranda’s insomnia is affecting her worse than ever before. Then Samara shows up at her door. And everything implodes.

Author’s Note: “If I'd have said I love you, she'd have said it back. And then everything would have been different.” - Sue Trinder, Fingersmith. Featuring Citadel dates that aren’t dates except they’re totally dates part II. I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of proud of myself here with the contrasts and parallels going on between the flashback scenes and present day scenes. People at their best, versus, well, close to their worst. Spotify playlist below the cut again.

(Link to Playlist)

*.    *     *

Miranda had been on the run from Cerberus for so long that it still hadn’t fully sunk in. She wasn’t hiding anymore. Wasn’t looking over her shoulder every waking moment. Didn’t get startled awake by every sound she heard in her sleep.

Somehow, she’d done it. She’d turned against The Illusive Man, and lived to tell the tale. For now, anyway.

The events at Sanctuary were so fresh in her mind that she’d barely had the chance to stop and catch her breath since. The bruises had mostly healed, but she still felt lingering echoes of her fight with Kai Leng, which could have ended a lot worse had she gone in unprepared. Not even ten days had passed since she hugged Oriana on Horizon and said her goodbyes, perhaps for the last time.

And yet she wasn’t thinking about what lay ahead. Not really.

Miranda was here. Living in the now.

For this one night, she was able to just...stand in one place, and enjoy the moment. That was something she had never taken the time to do previously, before all this came to pass. On an unconscious level, she had always taken tomorrows for granted. Never stopped or cared to appreciate today.

Suffice it to say, her head hadn’t quite fully caught up to where her body was, and that this was no mere illusion. It felt like at any second she would wake up and find herself alone in the dark again, scurrying like a rat through the shadows in hidden passages of the Citadel where nobody but the keepers could find her. 

But this wasn’t a dream. It was really happening.

It meant all the more that at this particular moment she was surrounded by familiar faces from The Normandy she hadn’t seen in months, plus a few new ones. For a while there, it had felt like she would never see them again.

It was something to savour. So she did. 

Miranda drew a deep breath and allowed herself to be present. To exist. To not be in her own head. She took in the scene as she made her way through Shepard’s apartment, letting her eyes wander the party going on around her, her gaze landing on each person she could see as she passed them by.

Liara and James Vega had spent a good portion of the evening arguing whether biotics were superior to brawn, or vice versa, with Jacob and Ashley having joined in on the great debate earlier. That still seemed to be ongoing, from what she could tell. The answer should have been eminently obvious to anyone, Miranda thought. Then again, she didn’t feel the need to convince anybody why her own preference was correct when she already knew she was right, as usual.

On a related note, Miranda might not have been the best judge when it came to reading signals between people, but even she was starting to get the sense that James and Ashley might be more than just shipmates by the end of the night, if they weren’t already. Good for them.

Tali, the last time she’d seen her, had been very much enjoying how uncomfortable EDI was making Samantha Traynor, talking openly about the crush Sam had on her voice. Although, come to think of it, Miranda was pretty sure Traynor had at long last managed to escape that awkward conversation and gone to hide under a table somewhere. Or maybe she’d just locked herself in the bathroom until she felt safe to emerge again. Either way, fair.

Speaking of potential couples, it hadn’t eluded Miranda’s attention that EDI and Joker had definitely become, shall it be said, a lot closer ever since EDI got a body. In retrospect, that wasn’t surprising, although the idea of the two of them becoming...entangled in that way had obviously never occurred to her before. Why would it have? But, come to think of it, the two of them had always bickered like an old married couple even when EDI was just a disembodied voice. From that perspective, Miranda supposed it kind of made sense.

And lastly on the list of possible relationships, there was also a...vibe coming off of Tali and Garrus, which was by far the most unexpected. And a little weird. Jacob had picked up on it before Miranda had, and she wished he hadn’t pointed it out. It was like finding out that two people she had thought of as more of a brother and sister might be hooking up. But it was none of Miranda’s business. In any event, the two of them seemed to mostly be avoiding each other. Perhaps they hadn’t confronted whatever this was between them yet.

She’d also caught sight of Zaeed and Samara admiring the artwork adorning Shepard’s new apartment. Miranda had thought about intruding on that, since that duo included the one person at this party she had been hoping to speak to tonight above all others, but she ultimately elected not to disturb them just yet. There would be other opportunities to catch up with her.

Somehow, she got the sense that Zaeed had finally been brave enough to shoot his shot with Samara after all this time. Judging by the expression on his face, and given that he was now drinking alone and very much not with Samara, presumably it had gone exactly as smoothly for him as had been predicted a year ago. She would be lying if she said she felt sorry for him.

A big group that included Joker, Garrus, Wrex, Steve Cortez and Javik had been arguing about guns and target practice or some similar nonsense, which hadn’t sounded particularly riveting to her in all honesty. Boys and their toys. They were still in that discussion from what she could hear. Unfortunately, Shepard seemed to have encouraged that line of thinking, which Miranda wished she hadn’t. Guns and alcohol were not the best mix.

Meanwhile, Kasumi had been popping in between all groups almost as much as Shepard had, like the perpetual snoop she was. She always loved getting up in everybody’s business. Miranda would have been a pretty big hypocrite to take issue with that, though. Although, when Miranda spied on people, it was for entirely professional reasons, not because she liked to gossip.

She had heard Grunt yelling at party crashers over the intercom a while back too. Who better to be a bouncer for a party than a genetically perfect krogan? She didn’t care to interrupt him. He’d done a good job of keeping the riff raff out.

And, honestly, for as much as Jack still grated on her nerves, a small part of Miranda had been somewhat relieved to see her there too, because if nothing else that meant she had survived long enough to attend this reunion. Miranda may not have liked Jack in the slightest, but if anybody thought she was actively rooting for any of her former Normandy comrades not to make it through this conflict, even Jack, then they really didn’t know Miranda at all.

Sure, they had instinctively traded barbs when they unintentionally crossed paths, because god forbid Jack actually behave like a fucking adult for once. But then Shepard had appeared out of nowhere and, for some bizarre reason, suggested that they, quote unquote, ‘work out all that unresolved tension between them’ and go have sex, or words to that effect.

In a weird way, that stupid comment had inadvertently somewhat doused the animosity between herself and Jack because, for once in their lives, they finally agreed on something - being that that would never fucking happen, and they would sooner drink broken glass than even think about it.

Credit to Shepard, though, Miranda and Jack hadn’t fought after that.

Maybe that had been the point.

Unfortunately, not all members of The Normandy had made it this far. There were missing faces. Only a few, but too many. From what she knew, they had all gone out like heroes, whatever that meant, and if it made any difference.

Thane had died giving his life to protect the Council from Kai Leng when Cerberus attacked the Citadel. Mordin had sacrificed himself to end the genophage, undoing what he had in retrospect come to believe was his greatest mistake. And Legion, well, to the extent that Legion could be considered ‘dead’, he had certainly ceased to exist in any recognisable form - giving up his ‘individuality’, for lack of a better word, to achieve peace between the quarians and the geth.

It wasn’t until after being forced to go into hiding for so long, believing some Cerberus agent would find her and put three bullets in her head before she saw any of her Normandy comrades again, that Miranda began to regret that she never took the chance to get to know her shipmates better, especially now that there were some with whom those lost moments could never be reclaimed.

What was that saying - you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone?

Yeah, this was definitely one of those instances.

She’d always liked Thane, come to think of it. There was little to dislike. He had been one of the few on the ship who had never been anything other than extremely civil towards her, even when, admittedly, Miranda hadn’t been particularly courteous in return, misjudging him as a man of tenuous loyalty.

He never complained or questioned any task he was given. He just did it. A consummate professional. Exactly the kind of person she would want on any team.

Mordin, she respected. Hadn’t trusted, no, nor completely understood, but respected. They’d teamed up on a fair few field missions with Shepard early on when they were still studying the Collectors. Between her warps and Mordin’s incineration tech, they could tear through any armour in seconds. And he was undeniably a genius. Back on The Normandy, he was probably the only other person who’d spent as much time hard at work as Miranda. Maybe more.

With the benefit of hindsight, she wished she had taken more of an opportunity to pick his brain, and work with him on his endless list of projects. Even if he did talk at a million miles a minute, it was only because he had so much to do and no time to waste doing it. A sombre smile came to her face as she thought how many of the galaxy’s ills the two of them could have solved given enough all-nighters and enough pots of coffee between them.

And then there was Legion. In truth, she hadn’t had much time to speak to him, much less get to know him. He had been on The Normandy so briefly. Less than a month had elapsed between finding him, and Miranda being forced to leave. He was the one she knew the least. But he was unique.

She had been wrong about Legion, hadn’t she? Miranda still didn’t fully know where she stood on the whole question of whether machines could be considered ‘alive’, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Did it even matter if they weren’t? Either way, it would have been wrong to send him to Cerberus, like Miranda had initially suggested. If that had happened, Rannoch might not be at peace right now. With his final sacrifice to unite the quarians and the geth, Legion had definitively proven himself to be more than the mere sum of his programs.

So the question remained. Why hadn’t Miranda taken the initiative to get to know them? To speak to them? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that the time Thane and Mordin had was short, irrespective of intervening events. She’d just...not bothered.

It hadn’t occurred to her back then to think that was something she ought to have done. The old Miranda hadn’t cared to do such things. Because other people didn’t really matter to her.

By the time Miranda had started to defrost and emerge as a more tolerable (and, in turn, more tolerant) person to be around, it was already too late. The mission was over. The Alpha Relay was destroyed. And everyone went their separate ways.

But there was no changing the past. Perhaps there was no sense in wondering what could have been, or what she would have done differently if she had known then what she knew now, or if she had been the person back then that she was now, because that just wasn’t possible. And Miranda could do many things, but even she couldn’t make the impossible possible.

Well, not usually.

She couldn’t have those days back. But she still had this day. This one night. Best not to dwell on what was missing or the mistakes of yesterdays gone by when there was so much that she had to be thankful for. And, moreover, so much which she had, for once in her life, finally learned to appreciate.

And it wasn’t lost on her that this one night of joyful reunion was almost certainly the last one they could ever have like this. The last time they would all be together. The last time that all the faces in this room would still be here to celebrate as one. 

Because they wouldn’t be alive much longer.

The reality was, the whole galaxy was at war. And it was a war they were currently losing. Their chances of victory were slim to none. From what Miranda had gathered, all organic life was essentially banking its hopes on some ancient miracle superweapon passed down from previous cycles called The Crucible that they didn’t even fully understand or know how to use yet. And if that failed?

...There wasn’t a plan B. Not yet, at least.

Even if The Crucible worked and they somehow defeated the Reapers, the chance that more than a handful of people in this room would survive the war was infinitesimally small. And, perhaps more than anyone else at that party, Miranda had no expectation that she would be among the living when the dust settled. Because Miranda had never been happier than she was right then. Never had more to live for. And if that wasn’t a curse that put her right at the top of the list of ‘most likely to die’, then she was not only naive, but delusional.

The universe was a cruel place. The people who had the most to live for were always the first to die. There was no way that Miranda could rationally believe that the future she now saw for herself and Ori after the war might ever actually come to fruition. Because, if there was one thing that Miranda’s thirty-six years had taught her, it was that she would never get to be that fucking happy.

Things like that just didn’t happen. Especially not to people like her.

Or, if they did, then they shouldn’t.

Seeing what Cerberus had become, knowing she’d spent just shy of twenty years of her life working for them? No, she didn’t deserve a good ending.

As that thought went through her head, Miranda glanced up, and spotted a singular, solitary figure standing alone by the second floor balcony, watching the scenes playing out below. Samara. Somehow, that she was by herself was the least shocking thing Miranda could have imagined.

Finally sensing her long-awaited chance to catch a private moment with the one person she had been more eager to spend time with than any other, Miranda ascended the stairs, a glass of wine curled in her grasp.

“Not mingling?” Miranda asked as she joined Samara’s side.

“I am content to observe,” Samara replied, maintaining an upright posture with her hands clasped behind her back. She seemed to mean it, preferring to watch and listen from a distance than to be directly involved in the action for the most part. Considering she was about four hundred years out-of-practice when it came to this sort of thing, being a passive onlooker probably genuinely was the most enjoyable way for her to experience this party at her own pace.

“Normally, I would do the same.” Miranda leaned on the railing beside her.

“Yet you appear to be enjoying the festivities,” Samara noted, pleased with that.

“I know. It feels incongruous, doesn’t it? Me, being social? A year ago I would have been telling you all to stop wasting time and focus on the mission,” said Miranda, finding it rather bizarre to consider how far she'd come from the cold, aloof person she was previously. Well, not that she couldn't still be those things. But she was less so now. Especially among this dysfunctional bunch of misfits she had reluctantly become fond of, despite her better judgement.

Being part of The Normandy crew had changed her irrevocably. More than she'd realised at the time. Meeting her sister had done that too. And Samara, of course. And so had losing all those things when she went on the run. It made her appreciate aspects of life she wouldn't have otherwise.

It was almost enough to make her call them all her friends. Even Jack.

...Almost.

“You do not need to deprive yourself for my sake,” Samara assured her, gesturing towards the party going on beneath them, as if believing Miranda was only approaching her out of a sense of obligation to ensure she didn't feel excluded.

“I'm not. I enjoy your company. I always have.” Nothing had changed in that respect. No matter how much time had passed, Miranda would never feel any less at ease in Samara’s presence. She just had that effect on her. A vague smirk came to her as she thought back on the last time they spoke, toying with her wine glass. “I was right, you know?” she said, recalling her own words from all those many months ago. “I did miss you more than anyone else.”

“Even Shepard?” Samara inquired, her lip quirking with amusement.

“Even Shepard,” Miranda confirmed, taking a sip. “Don't pass this on, but Shepard was always barging into my office when I had a lot to do. Ask Garrus and he'll tell you the same thing about his calibrations.” She gestured to their comrade, currently setting up a number of glasses on the bar, resembling a firing range. That was going to end badly. “That was something I always liked about you.”

“What was?” asked Samara.

“You might be the only person I've ever met who never wanted anything from me,” Miranda explained, having had plenty of time to think about that in her loneliest moments this past year. “Not to be presumptuous, but it wasn’t because you simply didn't care, or wanted to get rid of me. You just...accepted me, as I was. I never felt as though I had to earn your approval, whether through my usefulness, or my accomplishments, or even through keeping you entertained with conversation. I could just...do nothing around you – literally, just sit there and say nothing in your presence, and that was fine with you.”

That was no exaggeration. They had spent hours together in serene silence, or in meditation. Maybe more than they had spent talking. It never mattered what they chose to do. One was never any more or less welcome than the other.

“It was,” Samara confirmed, her voice soft and reflective. “And, no, you are not being presumptuous. You may be more forthright than I am about such things, but, if I ever desired to be left alone, believe me, I would not have made a secret of it.”

“Ah, good, so you weren’t secretly dreading it whenever I showed up because you were too polite to tell me to bugger off this entire time,” Miranda joked. She already knew that, of course, but it was nice to have it on record.

“I am unfamiliar with that term. But no, I was not,” Samara answered kindly. “I would be a fool not to value your abilities. The things you have accomplished are remarkable, let alone what you have yet to achieve. But such things are only possible because of who you are. That is what is truly important. And I asked nothing of you, because I already enjoyed your companionship.”

Miranda wasn’t prone to blushing like an idiot, but it took an uncharacteristic amount of effort not to glow at such sincere praise. “You aren’t so bad yourself,” Miranda wryly replied, gently nudging Samara with her shoulder. 

“No, I am terribly dull. I assure you, I am aware of this,” Samara replied, a self-effacing smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the misplaced compliment.

Miranda snorted at that assertion. “Are you kidding? You were the only one out of this lot I found even remotely interesting to talk to most days. And, considering the company we keep, that’s saying something,” she said, indicating their cohorts below, who included some of the most famous heroes and infamous outlaws in the galaxy. “You’re one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met. Besides, I owe a lot to your wisdom and advice. More than you know.”

“It pleases me that you feel that way. However, if I may, I do not consider myself especially wise,” Samara humbly responded, downplaying her role. “If I appear so, it is only because experience has taught me one lesson that can make even the most dimwitted person appear well-considered in their thoughts, and that is to speak as little as possible, until I have something worthwhile to say.”

“See? That’s the most intelligent thing I’ve heard all evening,” Miranda pointed out, earning a faint chuckle from Samara. “In all seriousness, though, I really have been looking forward to catching up with you.”

“And I you. Much has come to pass since last we met. For both of us, I suspect,” Samara reflected, as if she had often wondered in her journeys where her friends were, how they were faring, or what they might be doing. Miranda knew, because she had done the exact same thing. “If it would not trouble you to share it--”

“I killed my father,” Miranda nonchalantly answered, filling in the gaps of what had transpired over the past few months before Samara could even ask her to, bringing up the subject about as casually as she might remark on the weather.

“Good,” Samara enthused, without a hint of hesitation. She didn’t even need to ask whether or not he deserved it. She already knew the answer.

That Samara took it so in stride almost made Miranda laugh. That exchange would have sounded so bizarre out of context. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man,” Miranda commented, taking another drink from her glass, nearing half-empty. “So, yeah, I’ve gone from having the absolute worst year of my life so far to feeling pretty bloody wonderful, if I’m being honest.”

“I am glad to hear you say that. However, if I may...are you sure you are alright?” Samara asked with the warmth and gentleness Miranda had come to expect from her. Although her own experiences with Morinth were very different, no doubt they gave her an insight that, irrespective of how much Miranda hated her father or how justified she was in her actions, killing the man who had been her only family for sixteen years of her life might unearth some complicated feelings. “It would be no failure on your part whatsoever if you are not.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Believe me, if there was any small part of me left that might have wanted to let him live, or might have felt something resembling an attachment to him, that part of me died the moment he hurt my sister,” Miranda declared, her voice unwavering. She glanced down. “Unfortunately, I...should have gotten there sooner. Oriana’s adoptive parents weren’t spared. They didn’t make it.”

“I am sorry,” Samara said, her sympathy sincere. “Is there anything you could reasonably have done to prevent this from happening?”

“No, probably not,” Miranda acknowledged. She had been fighting so hard just to survive some days. To stay one step ahead of The Illusive Man and his agents. She’d kept an eye on her as best she could, but it hadn’t been possible to watch over her and protect her the way she used to from such a position of powerlessness. She hadn’t even known she was in danger until it was too late.

“Then you must not blame yourself,” Samara encouraged, ever the voice of compassionate wisdom. “If your actions could not realistically have changed anything that transpired, then you cannot be held responsible.”

“I suppose not,” Miranda conceded, staring down at her glass.

More than anything else, Miranda hated that feeling of helplessness. Knowing that Oriana had suffered and felt pain she never wanted her to experience, and there was nothing she could do to shield her from it. She would have traded her own life in a heartbeat to take it all away and wind back the clock for Ori and her family, if it were within her power. But such things weren’t. It couldn’t be undone. It couldn’t be fixed. They just had to keep moving forward.

“Enough about me. How about you?” Miranda changed the subject. “I tried to keep tabs on everyone but...you are a hard woman to find, Samara.”

“That is my way,” Samara affirmed, calm and quiet. “I have no possessions, but that which you see before you. And I often journey through very remote places.”

“You’re off-the-grid,” Miranda translated. Certainly, Samara was about as disconnected from galactic society and unplugged from the network as it was possible to be in this day and age, short of eschewing those things completely.

“You could say that, yes,” Samara gave a firm nod, accepting that description. She stepped away from the balcony, gesturing with her hand as she spoke. “You may not know this, but there are villages in remote parts of asari space where people have...returned to a simpler way of being, rejecting modernity and embracing tradition in every facet of life. Even though their ancestors may have come to those worlds by spaceflight, they prefer to live as their predecessors did thousands of years ago. It would not be an exaggeration for me to state that several such places I have visited recently would still not currently be aware there is a war going on as we speak, and would never have heard the term ‘Reaper’.”

“Doesn’t sound that strange. There are people and places on Earth that haven’t changed at all in the past two hundred years, if not longer. As long as they aren’t holding back social and scientific progress for anyone else, why force them to adapt?” Miranda shrugged. If people wanted to stay stuck in the past, that was their business. She would happily continue moving forward and enjoy all the trappings and privileges of modern life that they rejected.

“...I have always liked such places, at least since I became a Justicar. They remind me of my temple somewhat,” Samara confessed, her eyes losing focus, drifting into thoughtful contemplation. “Just as there is tranquility in being surrounded by nature, there is truly no wiser woman than she who is content with her life, however humble it may seem. Would that we could all achieve such harmony.”

The hint of sombreness in Samara’s final words wasn’t lost on Miranda.

“Speaking for myself, give me twenty-second century technology any day,” Miranda remarked, both because it was true, but partly in an effort to lighten the atmosphere. It wasn’t clear whether Samara even heard her, in all honesty. “So where did you go after that?” Miranda asked casually. Given that she was here, she must have run into Shepard again somehow.

At those words, a sudden flicker of sorrow passed across her features. Samara turned away, one hand falling across her face, as if struck by a surge of sadness, and needing a moment to collect herself.

Needless to say, that reaction definitely didn’t escape Miranda. She moved closer to Samara, concerned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Samara summoned a heartbroken smile as she looked up at her once more. “Forgive me. My thoughts turned to the day I encountered Shepard,” she began, a hard story to tell. “I heard that the monastery where my daughters were taken four centuries ago had issued a distress signal, and none who had been sent to investigate had returned. As soon as I knew they were in peril, I did not hesitate. I had to go to them. I feared the worst, and my fears were not misplaced. The Reapers were indoctrinating Ardat-Yakshi, turning them into…” Samara couldn’t even say it. There weren’t words to describe those creatures.

Miranda listened to her recount the events in heavy, dread-filled silence. Nobody had told her that. She had no idea about any of this. 

“Fortunately, both Shepard and I arrived in time to rescue Falere from that fate. However, we were not quick enough. I lost...I lost Rila.” Samara’s voice caught in her throat, choked by a sob as she relived the all-too-raw pain of her death. 

Her oldest daughter. Gone.

Miranda’s heart sank. “Samara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she said with heartfelt remorse. Miranda never would have brought this up if she had suspected anything had happened to what little family Samara still had left. Why hadn’t anybody said anything? Why had no one told her about this?

“No, it is…” Samara shook her head, raising a hand as if to signal that it was not her fault for inadvertently touching upon an open wound. As if she thought the only misstep made was her own for letting grief cloud the moment, when she had so much still to be thankful for. “I should not. Not today.”

Miranda didn’t quite know what to make of that reaction, but if Samara didn’t want to talk about the death of her child, she couldn’t exactly blame her. She certainly wouldn’t force her to.

Their moment of quiet was interrupted by glass shattering somewhere below.

“Oh, God,” Miranda groaned miserably, getting the sense that the boys were in fact about to break out the guns and start shooting after all. She was not particularly keen to be near them when that happened. “Do you want to go somewhere a little quieter?” Miranda asked, thinking that would be best.

“As you wish,” Samara replied, gesturing for her to go ahead, composing herself as she followed in Miranda’s footsteps. With that, they retreated into Shepard's bedroom, seeing that it appeared empty.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda glimpsed something. Shepard's closet was open, but the clothes were shifting ever so slightly as they hung there. Hmm. She had a fair idea what was causing that. However, this wasn't the time to address it. Not when this moment with Samara could be one of the last they ever had. She made a mental note to file her theory away for a little later.

Ignoring the disturbance, Miranda stepped inside. She supposed they could have sat on the bed, but, somehow, that just didn't seem fitting. “Here, for old time's sake,” she said, sitting down on the floor, her legs crossed, patting a spot beside her. “I know the view isn't as good, but—“

“I have spent many years gazing out over the stars, and I will see them again before my days are at an end,” Samara interrupted Miranda, joining her by her side, mirroring her posture. “In comparison, I have spent far less time with you. This is more worthy, do you not agree?”

“Definitely.” Miranda glanced down, having reflected on that sort of thing a lot recently. “Cutting myself off from...everything like I did made me appreciate the value of how I spend my limited time in this universe. I’ve come to understand what I want to do with my life, after all this is done. Assuming there is an ‘after’. And it turns out you were right, but you probably already knew that.”

“I...do not,” Samara replied, mildly perplexed. “If I said something in the past that you are referring to, I am afraid that I do not recall it.”

That happened a lot, Miranda thought. She had a near-perfect memory, by human standards. It felt entirely natural to her to harken back to conversations that had taken place long ago as if they’d happened only yesterday when, almost invariably, by that stage, the other party had forgotten them completely.

“You remember how you would encourage me to concentrate less on devoting all my energy to my work and other external achievements and to focus more on my inner development instead? Well, you asked me once which of those two things ultimately has greater meaning to me,” Miranda refreshed her memory.

“That does sound like something I would say,” Samara acknowledged, certainly remembering words to that effect, even if a few more specific details had faded.

“You did. And you were right,” Miranda continued. “I had a lot of time to myself these past several months. Completely to myself. And when that crushing isolation was just starting to tip me over the edge, I thought of you. I thought of us, our time together. And so I tried my hand at meditating again. It succeeded at calming me down and clearing my head but, more importantly, finding that state of tranquility gave me the first chance I’d had since leaving Cerberus to really stop and think about my life, and the direction it was heading, even before this.”

Samara’s expression revealed she knew that epiphany all too well, as if she had undergone something similar in her own life. Possibly more than once. It was no wonder she considered meditation such an essential facet of her existence.

“Serenity is the key to mindfulness. The only key. Even the simplest truths are often lost to us in the noise and chaos of life, or clouded by impenetrable shadows of anger and despair,” Samara spoke sagely, from the benefit of experience. 

That was the truest and most astute thing Miranda had heard anyone say in a long time. And beautifully poetic. And, as she looked at Samara then, Miranda had to once again wonder how she could possibly believe herself to be dull or unwise, even if she had only made those disparaging remarks about herself in jest. 

“What came to you in the silence?” Samara prompted, keen to hear it.

“I thought of the person I was before I met you, and, out of nowhere, it suddenly hit me - really hit me - that all that time I spent working for Cerberus was...wasted. It meant nothing. And I knew it meant nothing because all I could think was that, if Cerberus did catch up to me and kill me, then I would be leaving behind absolutely nothing that I could look back on and say, ‘Yeah, you know what? I’m satisfied with that.’ Not one thing. Except for bringing Shepard back, but any contentment I feel about that has less to do with me, and more to do with Shepard.”

“Because you were never satisfied with anything you produced,” Samara intuited, sensing what Miranda had come to terms with. “Nothing could ever truly meet your own unattainable standards that you set for yourself. And no amount of work could ever fill the void that you felt inside. A void that festered because you were...completely avoiding focusing on your inner life.”

“Yes, I was. And, no, it couldn’t fill it,” Miranda confirmed, seeing now what she had been too distracted to see before. “And, although I didn’t realise it at the time, I really did not like the person I was when I was working for them. I was not happy. I thought I was, compared to the life I had before. But, in actuality, I wasn’t any less trapped with them than I was with my father. I was like Shepard’s stupid hamster, running in a wheel, doing the same things over and over again, thinking I was getting somewhere, but going nowhere. Deep down, I was...I was fucking miserable. And...honestly, I think I was lonely.”

Samara watched on, her eyes glistening with unfeigned sympathy and understanding. “I gathered as much,” Samara admitted, barely above a whisper. Miranda wasn’t surprised to hear her say that. She wasn’t sure at precisely what point it had occurred to her to suspect that Samara’s spiritual intervention in her life might be intentional, but she’d made no secret of her guidance. 

“I’m glad you noticed, because I never would have. It was you who gave me that gentle push that made me re-examine what I was doing with my life, how badly I was treating myself, and reflect on what really mattered to me,” said Miranda. Hell, Samara had known what Miranda was missing better than she knew it herself. “So, as I was having this moment of insight and meditating on all those things you said to me, it made me think, maybe the path I’ve been taking until now isn't what's fulfilling to me. That's why, once the Reapers are defeated, if I make it out alive...I think I'm done,” she stated frankly, shrugging her shoulders.

“Done?” Samara echoed, curious as to her meaning.

“Done being that person,” Miranda clarified. “Done leading my life that way. Or at least I’ll try to be someone different for a while, until I figure out what I really want to do now that there’s nobody controlling me anymore. I'm not planning to be a puppet for another shadowy organisation. I'm not going to go off on some grand mission to save the galaxy. I’m not going to spend sixteen hours a day hunched over my computer screen, stressing over worthless administrative tasks to meet the arbitrary standards of people who don’t care at all if my crippling addiction to perfectionism sends me to an early grave,” Miranda announced, voicing that commitment aloud as though it were a vow. “If I’m finally going to take charge of my own life, then I'm going to focus on what's most important to me.”

“And what is that?” Samara asked, suspecting she already knew.

“My sister,” Miranda answered without hesitation. Oriana was her be all and end all. Whether she knew it or not, she always had been, ever since she was brought into this world. She made Miranda feel complete, or as close to whole as she had ever felt, anyway. “I made a promise to her that, when this is over, we're going to find some nice, quiet place on a colony world and start living our lives together as a family. And that's the only thing I want to do. The only thing I know will make me happy. I don't care about anything else.”

“You are...retiring?” Samara inferred, tilting her head in questioning.

“In a manner of speaking, I guess you could say that,” Miranda affirmed. As she glanced over at Samara then, it wasn’t lost on her that, while she was clearly impressed with the level of growth Miranda was demonstrating, suffice it to say that there was a hint of scepticism. “What?” Miranda prompted her, always preferring people to be direct rather than refrain from speaking.

“Forgive me. It delights me to hear that you have chosen a path which you believe will bring you inner fulfilment, but...with greatest respect, after our many conversations, I find it difficult to imagine you content with embracing idleness,” Samara noted with interest, even though she obviously supported her decision. She knew it drove Miranda crazy when she didn’t have enough work to do. She was perpetually busy, by choice. She hated being bored more than anything.

“No, I'm not saying I’ll be idle. I mean, I am only thirty-six, and...well, you've seen what I'm like,” Miranda conceded that fault, aware of her workaholic tendencies. She didn’t expect those qualities to fade, and she wasn’t sure it would be a good thing if they did. They were part of her personality. “But the point is that I’ve been doing the exact same thing for twenty years and getting nothing in return - except money, I guess. Before that, I was my father’s prisoner. I’ve never had the chance to be my own woman. I need a clean break. A hard reset. To steer things in a new direction. I need some time to...do or be something else, for the first time in my life. I need to…” She trailed off, struggling for the right words.

“Find yourself?” Samara suggested.

“Something like that,” Miranda confirmed. She’d never had a chance to discover herself and her identity except insofar as it related to her upbringing, or to her career with Cerberus. What else was there? Who was Miranda Lawson when she wasn’t working? Or wasn’t busy solving all the galaxy’s problems?

She would have loved to know. It was a shame she wouldn’t get to live long enough to meet that person. But, God, did it feel good to live in denial, and allow herself to hope, for just one night.

“I don't know how long this experiment will last, or what this phase of my life will look like,” Miranda continued, “And I'm sure that at some point in time I'm going to find ways to keep myself productive, because I probably can't do otherwise. But, whatever I decide to do with my time and my skills, I'll be doing it of my own volition. Not because I'm tethered to anybody else. Not because somebody else is running my life and telling me what to do. It will be because I took time to think about it, and found a way to devote myself to something that actually makes me feel good when I do it. Whatever that ends up being.”

That was the core of it, when it came down to it. She wanted to be her own master. To have control over her own life. To be her own boss. Wanted the freedom to cut ties with anyone or anything that was toxic to her quest for self-actualisation. 

“Either way, from now on, all those other things are going to be secondary, because my family is my priority. Oriana is,” Miranda professed, and that was immutable. “And, while I already knew that, you helped me realise what that means. So thank you for that.”

“If I was able to be of any assistance, then seeing you embrace your innermost desires is thanks enough. I am glad that you and your sister have found one another,” Samara said, her sincere smile reaching her eyes. “Truly, you have come so far from when I first met you. Wherever your path takes you, I wish you nothing but happiness. And I hope you both lead very long and peaceful lives.”

“Don’t we all?” Miranda remarked. That was the hard part, though. The entire galaxy was under attack by genocidal, unknowable cosmic horrors. But nobody wanted to think about them right now. Not tonight. “What about you and Falere?” Miranda asked, hoping she wasn’t treading on too sensitive ground by asking that question. “Will you do the same with her?”

“...I cannot; my adherence to The Code does not end with the salvation of the galaxy,” said Samara. Though it was clear she accepted that, her response left her visibly conflicted. No doubt, she wished it could have been otherwise. “I am the last of my Order. When I perish, so do the Justicars perish with me. It may seem futile to continue to walk this path when there is no one left to demand it of me, but I must. I must, for those who can no longer walk it with me.”

Samara’s devout pledge carried a hint of sadness, but it was well-camouflaged. What she personally wanted was irrelevant, ever since she'd renounced her former life and sworn her service to the Justicars. Being their sole living legacy only further cemented what had already been true. She wouldn't turn her back on her obligations, no matter how tempting it was to savour every moment she could with her daughter. She could never forgive herself if she did.

“However, I have also promised Falere that I will return, if I survive – when I am able,” Samara continued, though her tone did not change. It remained distant. Almost resigned. Layered in over four hundred years of history between them.

Miranda couldn’t quite make sense of the mixed emotions she sensed in Samara’s voice. Perhaps she was disappointed that they couldn’t be as close as she would like - that there were restrictions standing in the way of them fully reuniting in the same kind of way Miranda and Oriana had. Falere was still an Ardat-Yakshi, after all; she could never live a normal life. It was too dangerous.

“But you will see her? You will have a life together?” Miranda surmised, in a subtle attempt to encourage Samara to think of her circumstances more positively.

“...Yes,” Samara answered hesitantly, deciding that was indeed true, in part.

“Then, if both of us have reasons to survive, I don't like the Reapers' chances,” Miranda spoke with false confidence. If she said it with enough self-assuredness, perhaps she might actually start to believe it. But she wasn’t trying to convince herself. Only Samara. “If we've said we're going to do these things, then we already know what the outcome of this war has to be.”

Samara didn't share in her display of bravado, but she did appreciate her sentiment. “Though I am not afraid of death, I certainly have found a great deal more to live for than I ever thought I would have again...” Samara trailed off at that thought, her eyes briefly drifting out of focus, almost pensive in her reflection.

“Here's to living,” said Miranda, raising her mostly empty glass in a salute, finishing the last of her drink.

At that, Samara shook herself from whatever temporary trance had come over her. “Yes. Indeed. As you once said to me, I will…’see you on the other side’,” Samara echoed Miranda’s words from The Collector Base, nodding her head in agreement. There was nothing more worthy of affirmation than the desire to emerge from the ashes when all this was over. “The hour grows late, and I fear I have kept you too long. Do you wish to return to the festivities?” 

“You go on ahead,” Miranda encouraged. “And don’t just sit in a corner and meditate all night. Go...fucking have fun, Samara. You deserve it.”

Samara uttered a soft chuckle. “I am not entirely sure what that means, but if you are insistent, then...I will try to avail myself. The atmosphere is certainly...energetic,” she commented, as if sounding faintly overwhelmed by the party.

Miranda didn’t need to be a genius to recognise that it had been a long, long, long, long (too many longs to possibly put into a sentence) time since Samara would have experienced anything like this. The young Samara she had heard tales of had definitely been a wild child, but she had ceased to be that person even before her personal tragedy befell her. As a Justicar, she had been travelling alone, in total solitude, for over four hundred years, barely even speaking to anyone for most of that time, except as required to carry out her duties.

How many centuries had it been since she was able to get together like this with a group of friends? Since she even had a group of friends? Since she...relaxed and unwound? It was no wonder that, so far, she seemed content to watch from the sidelines more than actively participate in the unfolding chaos. 

Still a little sad, though. At least from where Miranda was sitting.

“Will you join me?” Samara asked, extending her hand as she got to her feet.

“In a bit,” Miranda declined. “There's something I have to take care of first.”

Samara didn't ask what Miranda meant by that, respecting her decision. “Very well. May we speak again soon,” she said, taking her leave and rejoining the others. 

Once Samara was gone, Miranda uttered a faint disgruntled sigh. “I know you're there, Kasumi,” she said, annoyed. “Samara may not have noticed, but I did.”

“Aw, what gave it away?” Kasumi playfully whined, de-cloaking in front of Shepard's closet.

“The movement as you rifled through those clothes,” Miranda answered plainly.

“Ooh, you're good,” Kasumi acknowledged. Most people wouldn't have seen it.

“Genetic enhancements. Superior vision. You've heard this story,” Miranda explained, waving that nonsense away. She elected not to ask what Kasumi was doing by rifling through Shepard’s clothes. That was the least unusual thing about this. “So, were you riveted by our conversation?” she asked.

“Actually, yes,” Kasumi replied, her answer apparently unfeigned. “Samara wasn’t kidding; you really have changed your perspective for the better. This new you, it's nice. You seem happy. I hope everything works out for you and your sister.”

Miranda couldn't quite manage to be cross with her after that kind response. “Yeah, well...I’ll never hear the end of it if the crew thinks I’ve gone soft and sentimental, so don’t go telling anyone. Besides, I haven't changed so much that I won't be capable of making your life hell if you let word of this spread around,” Miranda idly threatened, not meaning it at all.

Kasumi lost any trace of heartfelt sincerity after that. “On the other hand, I was also enthralled because I thought your little love session was going to end with you and Samara christening Shep's sheets,” she teased.

Miranda arched an eyebrow. Her and Samara? How absurd. “Of all the comebacks you could make...Really? A gay joke? In this day and age? What century are you from?” Honestly, it was the lack of creativity and wit that disappointed her more than anything. Kasumi was normally funnier than this.

“Who’s joking?” Kasumi wryly replied. “I was going to take bets from the others on which one of you topped. I picked you, for the record.”

Miranda snorted, not even humouring this nonsense. “Sure. If you say so.” 

“Be dismissive if you want, but I was right across the hall from Samara. I overheard more than one of your conversations. I know nobody else knows how much time you spent together, but I do. Besides, Shepard has it all wrong; Samara's a much better match for you than Jack would ever be,” Kasumi nonchalantly commented.

Miranda sighed heavily and let her head fall in her hand, massaging her forehead in visible annoyance. “What is it with everyone tonight--”

As soon as Miranda began to utter the question, she found that Kasumi had already cloaked herself and disappeared, leaving her by herself. Miranda rolled her eyes, not even slightly shocked. Kasumi had done that to everyone all night.

Seriously, though, why was everyone suddenly so intent on getting her to sleep with women at this party? They knew she was straight, right?

*     *     *

Drip.

Drip.

She stirred at the disturbance. Her right eye flickered open, but the other didn’t respond. Twisted metal and exposed wires loomed over her against the backdrop of an empty sky.

Drip.

Drip.

A body hung out of the seat above her. Half a body. A cracked ribcage visibly protruded from a burned uniform. Entrails dangled from the open corpse. Droplets of blood ran down a lifeless arm swaying limp in the light breeze.

Drip.

Drip.

Miranda had been here before. So many times. But this time, she was frozen in place. Trapped. Stuck. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t shift her body. Could only feel the blood and the viscera. It surrounded her. She was practically floating in a pool of it beneath her.

It was still warm.

Drip.

Drip.

She could taste copper in her mouth. She was covered in sanguine from head to toe. She wasn’t sure how much was hers, and how much was the pilot’s.

Drip.

Drip.

Her eyelid fluttered as a drop landed directly in her iris. As she blinked, she noticed something she’d never seen before. The pilot’s neck was bent back the wrong way. But there was a head. Half a head. Split clean open. Down the middle.

Her helmet had come off, exposing blonde hair. Stained with a crimson mask.

Drip.

Drip.

Miranda’s instincts reacted before she did. Her heart began to race - her pulse quickening with a deep, abiding dread. Adrenaline surged through her veins. And she didn’t know why. Until she saw.

Until she saw the body above her move.

Drip.

Drip.

That bent-backwards broken spine shifted consciously. And, with a wilful snap, suddenly that limp neck was above her. Hanging. That half-skull hovered directly over her. Looking at her. Appraising her.

Drip.

Drip.

Miranda tensed with the urge to fight or flee, but she was frozen in place, as if made of stone. She couldn’t move a single part of her body below her neck.

Drip.

Drip.

That torn face, broken in two, shifted back and forth, as if studying Miranda. Examining her. Asking itself…why did this stranger live, when I died?

Drip.

Drip.

With one click of a button to release her harness, the pilot dropped to the floor, freed from her restraints. Miranda could only watch as that unliving corpse of the woman blasted in half by the Reaper unnaturally positioned itself above her. Then the thing looked over to one side. Its eye was fixed on Miranda’s left arm.

Her wounded limb hung like dead weight from her shoulder. Fractured. Lifeless. Her forearm was twisted around completely the wrong way from the elbow down. Miranda couldn’t so much as twitch her fingers in self-defence.

Drip.

Drip.

Without warning, it seized her left hand.

“Ah!” Miranda gasped in pain, but couldn’t fight her off. Couldn’t move.

All she could do was lie there helplessly and watch as this dead creature lifted her broken, mangled arm. She willed herself not to scream from how much it hurt. Not to give it the satisfaction of breaking her.

Drip.

Drip.

The pilot stared down at her, unmoved by her anguish. It felt nothing.

It never broke eye contact with her as it lifted her backwards-twisted hand towards itself. Until Miranda’s fingers were almost touching that split-open face.

Miranda would have resisted if she could, but it felt like her arm would rip clean in half at the elbow if she pulled back with even the slightest force.

Drip.

Drip.

And then the pilot opened her mouth.

And a river of maggots came pouring out.

Wriggling.

Writhing.

Miranda could do nothing except watch as those horrible, crawling larvae spread from her fingers, down her palm, and to her wrist. And everywhere they touched, her flesh was consumed with rot. Infection. Disease. Death.

She could smell it.

She could fucking smell it.

And they just kept coming.

Drip.

Drip.

Some of the vile things fell onto her abdomen, there were so many of them. And the rot took hold there too. Turning her skin sickly septic. Pestilent. Necrotic. 

The pilot let go of her arm, letting it fall to the floor as the maggots swarmed her.

That half-body reached down and grabbed a fistful of the squirming things that were feasting on her still living corpse. It held that pulsating mass above her.

Drip.

Drip.

“No,” was all Miranda could say, knowing what it intended.

But there was nothing she could say that would stop it.

Drip.

Drip.

It shoved that handful of maggots directly onto her face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Instinctively, Miranda reached over and slapped the alarm off before anyone else would hear it. The next thing she did was bite down on her pillow to keep from screaming, or vomiting, stifling the lingering echoes of her nightmare.

Once the panic subsided, Miranda flopped onto her back, catching her breath.

Four forty-five in the morning.

This had been her bright idea to get some sorely-needed rest. She’d set her alarm to go off every half hour - to wake her before she could dream. It worked for the first three cycles. That was the fourth. Another failed solution. Another plan that hadn’t helped. Every time she slept, it was hell. It was always hell.

Miranda lay there in darkness, staring at the ceiling, listening to her ear ring. At least she’d got two hours before the nightmares struck this time. Thank Christ for that small mercy. But she was still so tired. She was so fucking tired.

Miranda could run on far less sleep than the average human. Persevere longer before frayed edges started to show. But even she had limits on what she could withstand. The longer this went on, the harder it got just to function.

How long did she have before she was physically incapable of staying awake?

Miranda had given up trying to pass time during the night. With anything. Didn’t use her computer. Didn’t read. Didn’t listen to music. Didn’t go out for walks by the river. Didn’t do any of the things she turned to in the past.

It was all so...boring. Everything was. Every single thing in her life that she used to use as a crutch to ward off these dreams had lost its lustre. Nothing was worth the effort of doing anymore. Expending the energy. All she had to keep herself awake anymore were her thoughts. And that sound.

That relentless

Fucking

Sound.

Days bled together in a blur. It almost didn’t feel like the past few hours had even happened. Fresh memories were like watching scenes from someone else’s life. What little release she’d had from getting off with Shiala earlier that night had already worked its way out of her system. It had been nothing more than a fleeting distraction, which offered scant relief from the problems that plagued her. And now she was back to this. A torment she’d been living with for so long that she no longer even remembered how it felt to be rested.

But thinking about literally anything else was preferable to dwelling on the nightmares, and she could only count the same cracks in the ceiling so many times before that would drive her clinically insane. So Miranda replayed the night in her head, trying to make sense of it all, and where it left her.

If sleeping with Shiala had accomplished one thing, it had proven that her feelings for Samara weren’t just in her head. No, the desire she’d felt when she imagined Samara in Shiala’s place, picturing her body beneath her, had not been some mere delusion. Those physical reactions couldn’t be faked or exaggerated. The sheer fucking want. That was real, vivid, stark, and intense.

So that was just great. After all that, not only had she not managed to convince herself that she was any less in love with Samara, she was now painfully conscious that she was sexually attracted to her. Extremely so.

It was the opposite of what she’d hoped to achieve. Fucking Shiala hadn’t been a release for her feelings. If anything, it had only crystalised them.

It was no wonder why Samara was dominating her thoughts. This obsession with her was about the only thing Miranda could feel at all anymore, outside of her nightmares. When it came to everything else in her life - all the death, the destruction, her own survival, her injuries, and the loss of all but a small handful of people she knew - everything else that should have provoked her to feel something, anything...there was nothing there. A hole. A void. An empty space.

She was just so fucking…

Blank.

Neutral.

Numb.

She couldn’t feel anything at all. Just hollowness. Except when Samara was there. And then, when she looked at her, when she felt her standing by her side, everything got so intense and so achingly real and corporeal that it burned. She came so alive in her proximity that she damn near couldn’t stand it.

But Samara wasn’t there.

She had gone again, leaving her to wilt in the dark.

And there Miranda lay. Staring at the ceiling. Avoiding her dreams. Listening to her ear ring. And she felt dead inside. Like every breath she took, she wasn’t getting enough air. Like she was asphyxiating, bit by bit. Suffocating so slowly that nobody would even notice if she simply stopped breathing. Not even herself.

But what the hell did she have to complain about?

She was still here.

Millions of others weren’t so lucky. Hell, billions. 

As her mind began to wander in the way that minds could only wander when they were desperately tired and teetering on the verge of sleep, she thought about The Normandy. About the shockwave that had destroyed the mass relays, and all ships anywhere near them. The faster-than-light blast that killed her friends.

Miranda hadn’t even been conscious when it happened. She’d only heard descriptions of what it looked like when the Crucible fired. It painted a pretty grim picture. Jacob had told her how he’d seen people standing only a few feet in front of him scream as they disintegrated in front of his very eyes. Torn apart on a cellular level, in a single, bright, flash.

Was that what happened to The Normandy? Had it been sudden? Had they been scared, in their last moments? Had they felt pain? Did they even know that they were in danger? That they were going to die? Or did they just...blink out of existence, blissfully quickly?

Did it matter?

People didn’t go anywhere when they died. There was no soul. No afterlife. No heaven. No hell. There was just...nothing. People were, and then they weren’t.

They would never even find any trace of them, would they? They would never have anything to bury or lay to rest. Even reading out their names as she had done hadn’t added a sense of catharsis or closure to it. It still didn’t feel entirely real, even though Miranda knew it had to be. The Normandy would have either reported in or been found by now if anyone had survived.

And then she thought of the people who were serving aboard The Normandy when it disappeared. People she had spoken to only a few months ago - a mere matter of days before the battle for Earth. People she would never speak to again. People she probably hadn’t earned the right to call her friends.

Tali, Miranda had never had a problem with. They only talked when it was directly related to the ship or the mission, which had been an ideal working relationship from her perspective. She wasn’t on The Normandy to make friends. That wasn’t something she wanted or thought she needed back then. It was only around the time of Shepard’s party on the Citadel that Miranda had finally begun to twig that Tali actually did not like her at all, and never had. To her credit, she had simply been far too professional to let it show, or interfere with her job.

That was perfectly fine, honestly. And, if Tali really did hate Miranda this whole time, that made her not a bad judge of character, in fairness. She hadn’t realised it about herself when they served together but, in truth, Miranda hadn’t liked herself all that much either. Still didn’t, on some level.

Garrus, by contrast, was notoriously snarky and sarcastic towards her. She’d never thought turians could smirk before, but Garrus had proven they could. He would meet her commands with smart-arse quips and a wry glint in his eye. He never took Miranda’s shit. Needless to say, she hadn’t been his biggest fan because of that but, in retrospect, she couldn’t blame him. With the gift of hindsight, she now recognised she had been pretty intolerable to be around at times. If she’d had a better sense of humour, they could have traded some witty banter. But the old Miranda took herself far too seriously for that.

Liara, Miranda had met earlier than any other member of The Normandy, save Jacob. Miranda had enlisted her help to retrieve Shepard’s body from the Shadow Broker, before it fell into the hands of the Collectors. It was strange to think that that brief crossing of their paths had set all subsequent events in motion.

Miranda had been so focused on her own goals at that time that she never formed particularly strong impressions of Liara, beyond a mixture of respect for her capabilities, tinged with appropriate suspicion and mistrust. That mistrust had mostly faded through a combination of being there when Liara took down the Shadow Broker, and perhaps more importantly from getting to know Shepard well enough to trust her judgement about the company she kept.

She didn’t know Liara well enough to speculate as to whether she shared that sentiment. Miranda rarely cared to ponder others’ opinions of her. Presumably Shepard didn’t have quite as many positive things to say about Miranda as she did about Liara, given their relationship. But they’d never had any issues.

James, Javik and Ashley, Miranda obviously didn’t know. She’d barely been introduced to them, really only meeting them when Shepard threw that party. She hadn’t formed particularly noteworthy opinions of any of them, beyond that James was a bit of a meathead (albeit, a fairly charming one), Ashley was what happened when the quintessential military brat grew up and became a soldier, and Javik was coping with being the loneliest man in the universe by staying alive through the sheer burning willpower to avenge the destruction of his people. 

Then again, maybe she was wrong about them.

Joker and EDI, though, Miranda definitely knew. Joker had never been shy when it came to talking shit about everyone on the ship. Miranda was no exception, although he was more cautious about her than most, given that she scared the crap out of him. Still, that hadn’t stopped him from spending an entire week humming the Wicked Witch of the West theme every time Miranda approached - a reference Miranda hadn’t understood (because of course she didn’t) until Jacob explained it to her, which led to her swiftly putting a stop to that.

And EDI? Well, EDI was The Normandy. The closest thing it had to a soul.

It was difficult to say whether Miranda could truly consider her a ‘person’, but on some level she supposed she did. She did think of her as one. Miranda had always found herself being instinctively polite to EDI, even in moments when she didn’t extend the same politeness to anyone else. But for as calm and helpful as EDI could be, she also had a personality. A sense of humour. Desires. Wants. In some ways, maybe she was more human than Miranda herself.

And then there was Doctor Chakwas, and Gabby and Ken, and Engineer Adams, and Kelly Chambers, and Mess Sergeant Gardener. So many people. So many faces that had become part of her world. She didn’t even like all of them, but they were there. And now they weren’t.

And Shepard.

Where did she even start when it came to Shepard?

Meeting Shepard had changed Miranda’s life on a fundamental level. She’d led by example, and shown her a different way of being. She was the undeniable proof that being kind and empathetic wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. That making friends with the people around her wasn’t a distraction from more important work, but an essential tool she used to build a strong and loyal team.

She was, without exaggeration or qualification, as close to a perfect human being as Miranda had ever met. If humanity strived to be more like Andrea Shepard, then the galaxy would be a better place.

Huh. What would Shepard say if she could see Miranda now?

Do you even miss us?

At all?

Good question, Miranda thought. Was this what it was like? Was this how a normal person was supposed to act when they missed people who had died? Because it didn’t feel that way. If this was a test, she was failing. Despite what Samara had said about there being no correct or incorrect way to grieve, it certainly didn’t feel like she was mourning the right way, whatever that meant.

Do you even care that we’re gone?

You haven’t cried.

Not once.

Not even the faintest sting in your eye.

No, she hadn’t. She’d never really been able to do that. Only Oriana ever brought that out of her. And Miranda wasn’t speaking to her right now. Because she still had nothing positive to say.

At this rate, it wasn’t looking like that was going to change anytime soon.

Miranda lay there in the dark for two more hours, forcing herself not to slip into slumber. It was seven in the morning when she finally willed her weary limbs to get her up and out of bed. She had already heard the pipes going, so she knew some of the kids were awake. Sometimes she got up before them, but she usually waited for them to stir as her signal to stop pretending to sleep. It aroused less suspicion if she wasn’t the first one up every morning. And her ruse must have been working because so far none of them had noticed.

She got up, had her shower, got dressed, and joined the early risers for breakfast.

“Morning, Miss,” Leah Brooks greeted her.

“Morning.” Miranda opened the fridge, her voice slightly hoarse. She stopped, blinking as she glanced back at the students. “...Is that actual fresh milk in the fridge?” she asked, wondering if she was just hallucinating from insomnia.

“Sure is,” Rodriguez confirmed.

“How on Earth do we have that?” said Miranda, on a slight delay.

“Black market,” Rodriguez answered with a shrug.

Miranda gave her a single nod of approval, grabbing the glass bottle. “Good girl.” She was teaching them well. It was worth every credit to have food that didn’t come in powder form whenever they could manage to get their hands on it.

With that, Miranda poured herself a bowl of cereal and joined the kids at the table. They ate in silence for a solid two minutes. Despite not paying the students much mind, she didn’t fail to notice that they were sneaking surreptitious glances at her, and being awkwardly quiet. They were usually chattier. She didn’t ask them what this was about, because she didn’t care. It was always some teenage nonsense with them. As long as it was harmless.

“...Screw it, I’m gonna ask her,” Reiley eventually broke the silence.

“Don’t! Don’t fucking ask her,” Rodriguez warned, hushing her voice as if that would somehow make her imperceptible, even though Miranda was sitting right across the table and could see her and hear every single word uttered between the two of them. “I’ve played this game, it doesn’t go we--”

“Miss…” Reiley began, completely ignoring Rodriguez’s protestations. “Is it true you banged an asari last night?”

Miranda fumbled her spoon.

Fuck.

“First of all, that’s a very inappropriate question,” Miranda responded, not at all impressed with Jack’s students. And she stood by that assessment, even if she knew damn well she was being a giant hypocrite, because she was also prone to asking questions she wanted to know the answers to without caring who she offended in the process. But the key difference there was that she did that to other people, and this was now happening to her. And that was obviously unacceptable. “Secondly, where is this even coming from?”

“I overheard you talking to Mr Taylor last night,” Leah solved that mystery.

At that, Miranda’s normally faultless composure cracked. “You...what?”

“We sleep right there.” Leah pointed at her room. “Voices carry.”

Instead of coming up with some elaborate fiction, which she was far too drained to do, Miranda simply ran her fingers through her hair and uttered a frustrated groan. Damn it, Jacob. She should have guessed at least one of them might be awake and listening through the door when she came home.

“Holy shit. You were right. She did,” said Rodriguez, finding all the proof she needed in Miranda’s reaction, and complete lack of any defence.

Leah made a gesture with her fingers. “I told you. Pay up.”

“You know it's rude to eavesdrop on people,” Miranda pointed out, displeased.

“Pfft. You would do it to us,” Reiley remarked.

“No, I wouldn't. None of you have anything remotely interesting to say,” Miranda countered, going back to her cereal, seeing little point in denying the truth, although there was no way in hell she was going to divulge anything further.

“Yeah, well, if we did, you would,” Reiley replied with a shrug.

Miranda never liked admitting when other people were right so she didn’t respond.

“Was it Samara?” Rodriguez asked, immensely intrigued, or at least pretending to be for the purposes of screwing with her. “I know I sensed a vibe between the two of you. So were you lying when you said she wasn't your girlfriend?”

Miranda rolled her eye. She hated her life. She hated everything.

“You will run out of cereal eventually, and then you’ll have to talk,” Leah teased.

Miranda fixed her with a one-eyed glare as she ate, making it plain that this pestering would get them precisely nowhere but ignored. She really did wish that Jacob hadn’t made her be nice to these teens. Back when they were intimidated by her, they never would have pulled this stunt.

At that instant, Prangley emerged from his room, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Jason. Good to see you,” Miranda called his attention to her, seeing an opportunity to escape this torment. “Do me a favour. Bring my pistol over here and shoot me with it, would you?” Miranda requested with an entirely straight face.

Prangley blinked blearily, certain he must have misheard. “What?”

“Kill me,” Miranda reiterated, in the same tone. “I don't want to live anymore.”

“What? Why?” asked Jason.

“She boned an asari last night and Leah overheard her and Mr Taylor talking about it,” Rodriguez explained. “It was totally Samara,” she added in an aside.

“Oh. Nice,” said Prangley, continuing his march to the kitchen, unfazed.

Miranda exhaled in annoyance. “Damn it, Jason.” He’d been her best hope of backing her up and putting a stop to this. And he’d failed her. She was disappointed. “You were this close to being my favourite,” she complained in jest, holding her thumb and forefinger a small distance apart.

Jason shrugged. He wasn’t about to interfere with this. She was on her own.

“Samara seems really cool, Miss,” Reiley commented, nodding in approval.

“And also super hot,” Leah chimed in. “And I mean that in both a feminist way and a lesbian way. So, you know...good for you.”

Jason snorted. “Did you just congratulate her on who she had sex with?” 

“Yes. Absolutely,” Leah confirmed. “I mean, have you seen Samara?”

“It wasn't Samara!” Miranda insisted, finally getting fed up with this.

Rodriguez gasped excitedly. “So you're seeing someone else? Who is it? Is she your girlfriend? Is that why you and Samara aren't together? Wait, oh my God, Miss, are you cheating on Samara? Is that why she left London?” 

Miranda let her head fall forward and hit the table with a thud. This was why she normally chose to stay silent when they tried to get a rise out of her like this. Shame she’d forgotten that strategy in her exasperation.

“Wow. You’ve officially done it. You’re all dead to her now,” Jason noted.

“Oh, I crossed that boundary a long time ago,” Rodriguez assured him, evidently proud that she’d finally managed to break Miranda. “I have nothing to lose.”

“How about the roof over your head,” Miranda retorted, picking up her cereal, deciding she would rather starve than continue to be subjected to this.

“Pfft. You don’t mean that,” Rodriguez brushed her off. Miranda just silently arched her eyebrow at her as she limped away. Rodriguez began to sweat, turning to her partners in crime. “She...She doesn’t mean that, right?”

Jason just pulled a face, as if to say he’d warned her.

*     *     *

“I heard a rumour about you,” Shepard began, approaching Miranda near the lounge on the second floor.

The party had gone fairly late into the evening by that point, and the energy was starting to wind down. Miranda hadn’t asked but somehow she got the sense that everyone was planning on crashing at Shepard’s for the night, since nobody had made any motions to leave yet. 

“I’m the subject of many rumours, Shepard,” Miranda dryly replied, sitting back against the armrest. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Although, if it’s the one about the incident with the drop bear, I swear that only happened one time and only three people died.”

“Drop bear?” Shepard echoed curiously, tilting her head, as if trying to work out whether that was Miranda’s serious voice or her sarcastic voice. Miranda just gave an ambiguous shrug. If Shepard couldn’t tell, then she wasn’t going to spoil it. “Nah, it was nothing that exciting. Although remind me to ask you about that later. I’ve been told you’re considering an early retirement?” 

Miranda sighed, not needing to guess where that had come from. “Kasumi...”

“Mhmm,” Shepard confirmed the source of her information. “And, from that look, I'm starting to think it's true. So, this is really it for you, huh? Once we get rid of the Reapers, you're out – you're done.”

“Well, not immediately. I'm not about to leave people dying in the streets. But yes, you heard correctly,” Miranda replied, taking a sip from her freshly refilled glass of wine. It was a relief that not every single bottle or glass had been destroyed when Garrus set up that makeshift shooting gallery. “I’m my own woman now.”

“Really?” Suffice it to say, Shepard didn't seem to be buying it. “Not working for anyone at all, other than yourself. Ever. You're sure?”

“I haven’t made up my mind about ‘ever’, but yes. As of right now, that's the plan,” Miranda answered.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but who are you and what have you done with the real Miranda Lawson?” Shepard teasingly remarked, since this was the single most uncharacteristic thing the Miranda she had come to know a year ago could possibly have said or done.

“Oh, she’s dead. I buried her under the floorboards. I probably should have mentioned, I’m also an escaped Cerberus clone. You are the fake Shepard, right? Because if you’re not, then this is a joke and you should forget I said that,” Miranda responded, her tone completely deadpan.

Shepard laughed, moving to sit across from her on the opposite sofa. “Seriously, what brought this on? Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

Miranda exhaled, shifting until she was seated on the armrest, deciding to stop being snarky and start being direct. “Being on the run this past year...It's been the worst year of my life. Including all the years I lived with my father. But if nothing else, being on my own for so long made me realise that, for as long as I've been alive, everything about me has always been controlled by other people. In one way or another, I've never been free to make my own choices. Except for a few months with you. I need to take some time away to breathe. Just be me, without anyone expecting anything from me. Figure out how to be...”

“What?” Shepard prompted, when Miranda fell silent.

“I was going to say ‘an actual fucking person’ and then I realised how depressing that was,” Miranda muttered with appropriate self-awareness, earning a light chuckle from Shepard. “I guess that’s the whole point. I don’t even know who I am when I’m not working myself to the bone. I could be anybody under all this.” Miranda vaguely gestured at herself.

“And what if you can’t stand having nothing to do?” asked Shepard. 

“Then I change plans,” Miranda answered plainly. She wasn’t so attached to this idea that she couldn’t be flexible if it didn’t work out, and she wasn't sure why it mattered. As it stood, the chances of any of their dreams for the future coming to fruition were slim at best. “But how can you be so certain that I'll hate it? I'm not; I've never had the freedom to do nothing before. Maybe I'll thrive.”

“But you were always putting yourself under pressure to stay busy, even when you didn’t have to. You love how much of a workaholic you are. Don’t deny it. You were practically begging me to give you more stuff to do towards the end there. What would you even do with your time if you’re no longer devoting yourself to some kind of high-powered career?” Shepard wondered aloud.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of things I’ve never done before, and never thought I’d do.” Miranda shrugged. “Maybe I’ll try being a blonde for a while. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo. Maybe I’ll become Wiccan. Maybe I’ll get fat.”

Shepard stared at her sceptically, sensing the obvious sarcasm.

“What? Don’t think I couldn’t do it if I set my mind to it. I’m secretly a foodie at heart, you know,” Miranda pointed out, her tone drier than her wine.

“And you have a superhuman metabolism,” Shepard countered.

“Ah. Right. Scratch that one off the list then,” said Miranda, taking another sip from her glass. “Blonde, tattooed Wiccan it is.” Shepard laughed, entertained.

“Well, when Hell freezes over a million years from now, I look forward to meeting that version of you. But, until that happens, you know it’s not a two-party system, right? You don’t have to choose between going in a totally new direction forever, or staying exactly as you are right now. There's a lot you can do that isn't either of those things,” Shepard reminded her, gesturing as she spoke. “You'd excel at anything you tried. It doesn't have to involve life or death struggles over the fate of the galaxy. And, if you’re sick of bringing people back to life, you can retire from science and move onto something else. I could definitely see you taking well to life as a lawyer, or a CEO, or even a political leader.”

“Politics?” Miranda snorted, reaching out across the gap with an insincere handshake. “Hi, I’m Miranda Lawson, former terrorist. Vote for me.”

“Point taken,” Shepard conceded.

“You also realise that all the professions you listed have a higher than average ratio of sociopaths compared to the general population,” Miranda noted.

Shepard scratched the back of her head. “Sunday school teacher?” she offered.

“Can’t do that. I’m becoming Wiccan, remember?” Miranda quipped. “Did you really come and find me just to try and talk me out of this?”

“No. No, I didn't. It's...actually the exact opposite,” said Shepard, shaking her head and leaning back against the cushions. “Because the truth is I've been thinking the same thing; that this is the end for me too,” she confessed, piquing Miranda's intrigue. “If I make it through this...I don’t know if I can keep fighting other people’s battles anymore. If I can, I don’t know if I want to.”

“I guess after stopping a galactic genocide, all other conflicts start to look petty in comparison,” Miranda mused, swirling her glass, strangely empathising with that sentiment. What would be the point of Shepard saving the entire goddamn galaxy from the Reapers, only to then continue imperilling her life, risking getting shot and killed day after day over some insignificant political squabble that didn’t matter the slightest bit in the grand scheme of things? 

Shepard had been lucky enough to get a second chance at life. Literally. She had more reason than anyone to realise how precious that was. And also how fragile.

It would have been beyond tragic if Andrea wouldn’t get to savour a calm, peaceful future if the war with the Reapers ever ended - a future that would only be possible because of her. Because she was the one person who saw what truly mattered, and valued collective unity over selfish, shortsighted division.

“Don’t take anything I’ve been saying about you as an attack. It’s not,” Shepard assured her. “I'm just surprised, and maybe projecting a little, because...I have no clue what I'm going to do after this, and it's terrifying to me. I’ve never...I’ve never not been a soldier. I don’t even know how to be an...an ‘actual fucking person’, like you said. And neither do you. And yet here you are, and that doesn't bother you at all. I thought it would have been the other way around.”

“Me too,” Miranda conceded. “But things are different now.”

“You mean you're different now,” Shepard added, impressed by Miranda’s growth.

“You helped,” said Miranda. She crossed the floor and sat down beside Shepard, sinking into the seat, leaning her head back on the lounge to look up at the ceiling. “I’ve been cognisant for a very long time that I’m not a normal person, Shepard. Not only that, but...I don’t have the faintest clue how to pretend to be normal,” Miranda elected to be frank about that flaw. Though she rarely showed weakness, she felt safe sharing that with her. “My whole life, I’ve never seen the point trying to fit in with other people when I know I can’t, and don’t even want to. So, while I might not be showing it...I am more scared than you think. But I’m also just kind of over worrying about anything anymore? Maybe because I’ve spent most of this past year living in constant fear. I think I got sick of it.”

Shepard paused, considering Miranda’s words. “Can I be honest with you?” she began, after several seconds had passed. Miranda gestured for her to go ahead. “I also have no idea how to be a normal person. I think that’s what’s freaking me out about what comes next. What if I’m bad at it?”

“What a horrible thought. Being bad at mundane problems,” Miranda dryly commented, hoping her sarcasm would help Shepard put her anxieties into perspective. “What if you mix up your recyclable plastics with your non-recyclables? Perish the thought. That’s a disaster, right there.”

“I’m being serious,” Shepard insisted, though it was obvious she got the meaning behind Miranda’s comment. “Look, you get what I’m going through better than anyone. You and I, we’re both...not to sound arrogant, but we’re both fuckin’ good at what we do,” Shepard stated plainly. And she wasn’t wrong. They were the best of the best. “What if we suck at everything else?”

Miranda shrugged. “Then it was a fun experiment, both of us trying to be ordinary people for a while. I think it will be worth it.”

Shepard exhaled, and rested her head on her hand. “So...what does being a regular, everyday person look like to Miranda Lawson?” she wondered aloud. “What does a nice, safe, boring future look like to you?”

That was a question Miranda had no problems answering. She had a singular vision. “I’ve promised Oriana that we’re going to find a quiet spot on a colony world. We’ll buy a big plot of land far away from anyone else, and build our dream house. Somewhere with a view, where we can sit out on the deck, watch the sunset, drink wine and eat sashimi while we talk about our day,” Miranda revealed, trusting Andrea enough to tell her what she said to Ori before she left.

“...That sounds pretty great,” Shepard said softly. In that simple description of what life after the war meant to her, and the goal she was fighting for, it had instantly clicked into place why Miranda was so content with the idea of ‘retiring’.

“What about you?” Miranda asked, gently nudging Shepard’s knee with her own. “Where does Andrea Shepard see herself in five years’ time?”

“That’s the million credit question, isn’t it?” Shepard spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. She sat forward, electing to just give voice to what was in her heart. “Honestly, this is going to sound corny as hell, but...when I think of my future, I can’t see anything but Liara. That’s it. Nothing would make me happier than just...I don’t know, having a boring fuckin’ house with a yard and a white picket fence, and lots of little blue children running around.”

“Maybe I’m getting sentimental in my old age, but that might possibly be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Miranda commented, eliciting a sheepish chuckle as Shepard rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh, God, we are getting old, aren’t we? And we’re only in our thirties,” Shepard realised aloud, as if it had hit her that both of them had been through enough to fill several lifetimes. No wonder they both wanted to ‘retire’ so young.

“Mhmm. And I’ve got five years on you, so I can promise you it’s all downhill from here,” Miranda confirmed, taking another sip of wine. “But I meant that, though. Don’t be ashamed of that dream. Lots of people would kill for something like that.” Herself included, she thought. “And you will make an excellent…father? Father’s the correct word in this context, right?” Miranda asked aloud, earning a nod. “Take it from someone who killed hers: you would be the best Dad ever.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.” Shepard gave her a light knock on the arm.

“I’m not. I’m really not. Okay, I know it sounds like I am, but…” Miranda trailed off for a moment, a thought occurring to her. “Huh. You know what? I just realised something. You and I actually both have the exact same dream,” she pointed out, turning to face Andrea. “We want a family.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, we do, don’t we?” Shepard nodded in agreement, seeing the clarity in Miranda’s words. “Ours just look a little different from each other.”

“So, that settles it. We’re both going to hang up our weapons and retire somewhere nice and dull so we can each have the families we always wanted,” Miranda reiterated. Despite her efforts to be hopeful, at those words, she couldn’t keep a pessimistic sigh from escaping her. “Now, we both just have to convince ourselves that we'll live long enough to do that.”

“I'd bet on you,” Shepard acknowledged, glancing over at her.

“And I’d bet on you,” Miranda replied with a bittersweet smile, but it lacked the conviction to reach her eyes. “Don't get me wrong; I haven't given up, and I'm going to fight for that future as hard as I can. But I can't believe that it's going to happen until I'm standing in the rubble and the Reapers are all gone.”

Shepard exhaled heavily, sinking lower against the couch. “That makes two of us.”

The more Miranda thought about it, the more it became painfully apparent that their odds of getting to lead those lives they were imagining were slim to zero. Even if by some miracle they did find a way to defeat the Reapers, it was virtually impossible that both she and Shepard would survive whatever came next. At best, it seemed like a binary choice. One or the other. And Miranda knew which of the two of them was least likely to endure if push came to shove.

Her body tensed imperceptibly. An apprehensiveness fell over her. A sense of urgency rose in her stomach. Words she couldn't leave unsaid.

“...Shepard,” Miranda began, her tone serious. “If anything happens to me—“

“Miranda,” Andrea attempted to cut her off, but Miranda ignored her interruption. She couldn't forgive herself if she stayed silent about this.

“Just listen, Shepard. If I can’t be there for her, for whatever reason, promise you'll keep an eye on Ori for me?” Miranda persisted, needing to hear Andrea give her word on that, because she understood what this meant to her, and she would absolutely follow through. Even if Andrea had to die to honour her commitment to Miranda, it wouldn’t stop her. “Make sure she's okay.”

“You can do that yourself,” Shepard replied, either refusing to fear the worst, or determined not to let her crew see that she possessed any doubts that they would live to see those tomorrows, come what may.

“Hypothetically, then,” said Miranda, rolling her eyes at Shepard’s reluctance to answer the question. “If something happened to me, whether now or twenty years from now...I need to know: would you look out for Oriana if I couldn't?”

Andrea relented, realising what she was asking, and why. “Of course I would.”

“Do you swear?” Miranda pressed.

Shepard sighed, and held up her pinkie. “I swear.” Eyeing that gesture somewhat peculiarly, Miranda eventually extended her own little finger. However, Andrea pulled away before they could interlock. “Uh uh. But before we do that, I need you to make the same promise to me. So, if--”

“Liara does not need protecting, Shepard,” Miranda reminded her. 

“You had your turn. Let me finish,” said Shepard. Miranda signalled for her to take the floor. “Thank you. Now, if anything ever happens to me...you’re the one person I trust more than anyone else to step in for me when I’m gone. No matter what, you’ll have your shit together, and you’ll do what needs to be done. So, if I can’t be here…” Instead of articulating it all in words, Shepard flicked her gaze out towards the balcony, down to the lower floor, where everyone else was. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but...just do what you can for them. Watch over them for me. Make sure they’re alright. And, if they’re not...do what you think I would do.”

At that request, Miranda softened. It hadn’t been what she’d anticipated Andrea would say, but perhaps she should have seen it coming. Shepard loved her crew like family. She was their North Star. A guiding light who united so many disparate personalities in a common cause, and brought out the best in all of them.

Shepard really was a hero.

A bloody icon.

How could Miranda possibly say no?

“What else is a second-in-command good for if not that?” Miranda extended her hand once more. At that, Shepard finally locked pinkies with her, swearing on it. “You know I’ve never done this before - pinkie promised,” Miranda noted, finding it a bit juvenile. 

“Of course you haven’t.” Shepard shook her head, not at all shocked by that. It was at that particular moment that a certain AI came up the stairs, into view. Shepard called out to her. “Hey, EDI. I have a question for you.”

“What would you like to know?” EDI asked.

“What the hell is a drop bear?” said Shepard.

Miranda arched her brow, and took a long drink, saying nothing.

“One moment.” By the time she finished saying ‘one moment’, EDI had already concluded her search of the Extranet. “Here is what I’ve found: the drop bear is a hoax Australian folklore creature. The origins of the drop bear hoax are unknown, though it appears it may have originated as a campfire story in the early-to-mid-20th century. Australians have been known to pretend the drop bear is a real creature so as to frighten and confuse tourists and non-Australians for their own amusement.” EDI paused for a beat. “It is a joke.”

“Thank you, EDI,” said Miranda, concealing a smirk. Way to ruin the fun. 

Shepard slowly turned to her, eyeing Miranda in quiet bewilderment. “...Did you of all people just prank me with a two-hundred-year-old joke?” 

“Not that I’m that attached to it, but I’m pretty sure I would be stripped of my citizenship if I didn’t do that at least once before I die,” Miranda informed her.

Shepard’s expression didn’t change. “Mhmm.”

*     *     *

“So are you gay now?” was the first thing Jack said to her the next time they saw each other, a week after their last meeting.

Miranda sighed. God damn it. Nobody could keep their mouths shut about anything, could they? “I’m something,” she muttered, taking off her wet jacket. It had been raining all day. And not the usual soft English drizzle that didn’t even warrant mentioning, but actual rain.

“Good for you,” Jack replied, not actually interested. “Let’s play.”

Miranda slumped down into the chair across the table from Jack, the raindrops pittering off the windows behind her. “Your advice was terrible, by the way,” she told her as she moved her first piece.

“Nah, you’re just a shit lay,” Jack countered, making her own opening.

Miranda flicked her eye up at her, unamused, but decided it was best not to validate that comment with a response. 

All of a sudden, Jack started laughing at something unsaid.

“What?” Miranda asked suspiciously.

“...‘Meh’-randa,” Jack remarked, making an appropriately nonchalant gesture.

Miranda exhaled heavily, rubbing her temple in annoyance. “Jack, I need you to understand this,” she began, placing her elbow on the table and leaning forward as she spoke, eerily calm. “One of these days, you will forget that this conversation ever happened. You will go on with your life, and there will come a day when you are blissfully ignorant and happy. And on that day, I will come to wherever you live. And I will break into your room. And I will suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Fair,” Jack conceded. “Worth it, though.”

Miranda leaned back in her chair, oddly relieved to have gotten that off of her chest after biting her tongue for so long. “God, that felt good. Why did I ever stop insulting you?” she wondered aloud, starting to think she should snap back at her more often instead of taking every jibe Jack threw at her in stride. 

“Because you’re a fucking pussy now apparently.” Jack shrugged, focused only on the game. “Shut up and play me.” Miranda didn’t need to be asked twice.

She didn’t know what it was about that particular day. Maybe it was the dreary weather, and the sound of the rain making the tinnitus a little less abrasive for once. Maybe it was how long both of them were taking between moves. But, for whatever reason, Miranda found herself stifling yawns as the game went on.

She moved a pawn, and leaned her head against her hand as Jack studied the board, weighing up her strategies, keen to avoid falling into another trap.

God, she was so fucking tired.

It had been three days since she last slept. Or...wait, was it four? She couldn’t remember. Six or seven days seemed to be her absolute limit before she started passing out irrespective of willpower, and that was because she was, quote unquote, a ‘genetic freak’ as Jacob had once put it. She’d only managed two hours of thirty-minute naps the last time she got any rest at all.

Her eyelid felt so heavy. Every single time she blinked, it stayed dark a little longer, and it took a little bit more effort and time to open it again. 

What harm would it do to just rest her eye for a second, she wondered? It wasn’t like she was going to fall asleep, sitting up like she was. Although, leaning on her hand felt so fucking comfortable. She didn’t want to move.

So Miranda let her eyelid drift shut for a moment, listening to the rain.

…

…

...

“Hey, eyepatch.”

…

…

...

“Eyepatch?”

Miranda was vaguely aware that someone was talking, but it didn’t reach her in the darkness. That was, until Jack hit the table, hard, and startled her awake. Miranda’s head slipped off her hand. At that jolt, she panicked and reflexively reared back so hard that she damn near fell out of her chair.

“What? What? What is it?” Miranda took a few moments to blink and remember where she was after being shaken from her stupor. It only clicked when she found Jack sitting across from her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Am I boring you?” Jack remarked, arms folded across her chest impatiently.

Miranda shook her head, trying to save face. “It’s called ‘thinking’, Jack. You should try it sometime,” she retorted, moving a piece quickly as if to prove she hadn’t just blacked out for a couple of minutes.

Jack glanced down at the board. “You can’t do that.”

“What?”

“That’s not a legal move,” Jack pointed out. Miranda checked the board. She honestly didn’t even know what piece she’d just touched. Jack reached across, and dragged her knight back to where it should have been. Jack sat back in her chair and fixed her with a stare.

“...Fuck me dead,” Miranda muttered under her breath, realising she actually had to stop and concentrate to figure out her next move.

“Forget it. I’m out.” Jack pushed her chair back from the table and stood up.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” Miranda insisted.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to beat you when you’re like this. That wouldn’t even count,” said Jack, gesturing listlessly towards her, having lost all interest.

“I’m not ‘like’ anything. I’m just…” Miranda trailed off, staring at the board, stuck for a move. Her head was so full of fog that she couldn’t see any options. The whole table was a blur. A featureless mush. Every piece looked the same. She couldn’t even fucking think. If someone asked her to name a single rule of the game in that instant, she would have drawn a complete blank.

“Go home. Take a fucking nap or whatever. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you look like death, by the way. More even than usual,” Jack casually observed, opening her fridge and pulling out a can of energy drink.

“I’m fine!” Miranda barked, a little too loud, willing that lie to be the truth.

“I honestly don’t care. You could jump off a bridge for all the difference it makes to me. I wouldn’t stop you,” Jack said frankly, nonchalantly gesturing with her drink in her hand. “All that matters to me is making sure you don’t have a fuckin’ excuse when I destroy you. So get the fuck out of my apartment, and don’t come back until you stop sucking at the only reason I keep you around.”

Miranda swallowed a groan, the pain in her head only growing. Jack obviously wasn’t going to change her mind. This game was over. “Alright. Fine. Suit yourself,” she grumbled as she got up, collecting her things. “See you next week.”

“Only if you don’t look like complete shit by then,” Jack commented, prepared to close the door in her face if she wasn’t going to play her at her best.

Miranda left and went out into the cold December rain, which showed no signs of easing. The problem was, she didn’t have anywhere to go. She couldn’t go home. There was nothing there to keep her awake. And she absolutely was not ready to fall asleep, and contend with the nightmares that awaited her.

She couldn’t go to the bar, because drinking would make her tired. The last time she got drunk, the nightmares were so visceral that she woke up vomiting. 

She thought about it a bit longer, and then one option came to mind. She still had a key to her office. Bailey had banned her from working weekends out of concern for her wellbeing if he didn’t, sure, but he wouldn’t be there. Even if he was, she could avoid him seeing her. Nobody else would question her presence. She ranked above them. They would just assume something had come up, and most of them were too intimidated by her to talk to her anyway.

So Miranda fell back on her one and only crutch. Her only coping mechanism. Her favourite distraction from her problems. She buried herself in her work.

“Director Lawson,” the man at reception greeted her. She glanced at his name tag to remember who the hell he was. “What are you doing here on a weekend?”

“Losing control of my life, Ian,” Miranda remarked as she limped right past him, heading straight for the lift without stopping.

He chuckled at that. “Aren’t we all? You have a good day, now.”

Miranda rolled her eye as soon as he looked away. As predicted, there were no interruptions between her and her office. Nobody thought to question her.

She didn’t even glance at the clock as the hours ticked by, and file after file went across her desk. Task after task got done. When she finished her own matters, she moved onto work delegated to her subordinates, just to stay there longer. Nobody bothered her. Even without distractions, it was hard to concentrate. Her mind was full of fog. Everything she did was lost in a haze, forgotten mere seconds after she did it. But, in the present, it was something to focus on.

It wasn’t easy, though. She had instances where she...lost time. Just drifted into space for a few seconds, here or there. When that happened, she would go and fill up on coffee. She only decided she’d had too much when she started to feel her heart beating a little too fast in her chest, and her fingers got jittery, and she had to flex her hand to keep it from shaking. If she had any more she would probably start hallucinating, as if she wasn’t on the verge of that already.

So maybe she’d hit her limit as far as caffeine toxicity went.

But she was awake.

She was fucking awake.

It was dark out, and still raining by the time she was snapped out of her work-induced daze by a text message alert. She already knew who it was. Miranda squeezed her eye shut, resting the base of her palm against her forehead, fighting off the constant, nagging pain that had become her permanent companion. She knew she shouldn’t look. But she had to. She couldn’t resist hearing from her.

Miranda opened her message tab on her computer, and clicked on Oriana’s name.

“Still not talking, huh?” said the first message. And then a second and third popped up. “Okay. That’s fine. Take your time. I’ve got more jokes.”

Oriana could see that Miranda was reading her messages in realtime. She would know that she was there on the other end at that very moment, not replying back. And yet, in typical Oriana fashion, she wasn’t calling her out on it or judging her for it or demanding a reason for her silence. Just letting her be.

“A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says, ‘Why the long face?’ And the horse says, ‘I have crippling depression, Steven. I’ll thank you not to mention it’.”

When that joke garnered no response, Oriana sent another.

“A glazier invited me to high tea. It didn’t go well. Turns out people in glasshouses shouldn’t throw scones. Eh? Worked on that one for ages.”

Miranda felt the warmth of a single, stray tear trickling down her cheek. God, she loved Oriana. She loved Oriana so much it physically hurt. No one else could be so...bright, and radiant, and happy, and genuine about it. Her positivity and cheerfulness wasn’t faked, or feigned, or insincere. She was just like this. Just funny, and kind, and...and fucking perfect.

“Why did the funeral director need to go to the doctor?” Oriana asked. “Because he couldn’t stop coffin--okay, no, that one was atrocious even for me. I’m sorry. Please delete that. You deserve better.”

If she were in a better mental and emotional state, all of this would have brought a smile to her face. Of course it would have. Oriana always did. Miranda thought about finally texting her back. Saying something. Anything. Even started to type. Just wanted to let her know she was okay. Just wanted to talk to her. Needed that connection with the person who mattered to her most.

But she stopped herself.

What the fuck did she have to offer Oriana right now? What could she say to her that was worthwhile when she was this dour and miserable?

She could just see how it would play out. She would say something, and then Oriana would eventually start asking questions. She would need, and deserve, some sort of explanation as to why Miranda had been so quiet. So distant. Any half-hearted excuses would be recognised for the lies they were.

Oriana would ask her if she was okay, because of course she would. And, then, if Miranda started telling her the truth, that she really wasn’t, and hadn’t been for a long time, she didn’t see how she could stop the floodgates from opening. Everything she’d been holding back since the shuttle crash, Oriana would bring it out of her, like a torrent after a storm. And she just...refused to be that person. Refused to drown her little sister in her unresolved trauma.

Oriana was the Sun. She was light, and warmth. Basking in her presence for even a few minutes could make even the lowest person feel uplifted, and stronger, and brighter. She was doing just fine without Miranda. She always had.

Why bother her? Why disturb that?

In fact, all the best times in Oriana’s life had been the moments when Miranda had pushed her as far away as possible. When she wasn’t involved. When she kept herself at a distance. Ever since Miranda introduced herself to Oriana on Illium, Ori’s life had only gotten worse. Never better. A downward spiral. 

Perhaps that was a sign.

What did she really think was going to happen when they met up with each other again anyway? That they were going to spend the rest of their lives together? As if. Oriana was twenty. She would be twenty-one before too long. She was only just starting to grow into her own as an independent adult. She would want to go do things normal twenty-one-year-olds did, without anyone cramping her unique personal style, or getting in her way as she formed new connections.

The Reaper Invasion had cut short her degree and compelled her to start work earlier than expected, but she probably planned to finish her education at some point. Chances were she would want to move in with friends her own age. Eventually, of course, she would meet some boy she liked (who Miranda would absolutely hate) and she would want to find a place with him. Statistically speaking, that would happen more than once over the course of her life.

She wasn’t a kid anymore. Oriana was an adult. At exactly the age where families like theirs...tended to drift apart from one another. When young women like Ori wanted to go out into the wider world and discover themselves, and carve out an identity free of any ties to their childhood. And it was at that moment that a thought abruptly struck Miranda that had never connected before.

When she and Oriana had talked about finally getting to be a family, they probably had very different ideas of what that looked like.

And Miranda’s vision of that future was completely fucking delusional.

It always had been.

She wasn’t helping Oriana by being near her. Wasn’t protecting her, because the man who posed a danger to her was dead. With Henry Lawson out of the picture, Ori didn’t need her in her life. In many respects, she never had.

Miranda wasn’t some noble self-sacrificing big sister anymore. She was a fucking leech. Sucking her sister’s energy and her positivity, consuming it for herself. She was a chain holding Oriana down, when what she truly deserved was to spread her wings and fly wherever she wanted like the free spirit she was. 

Wasn’t that precisely why Miranda had denied herself the connection she craved with Ori in the first place? Wasn’t that why she had given her up? Because she knew it was the right thing to do? Because, deep down, she knew that the best thing she could do for Oriana was to ensure that she grew up completely isolated from her - so that she could become as unlike Miranda as possible?

She’d succeeded at that, at least.

Where Miranda was cynical, Oriana was optimistic. Where Miranda was closed-off and antisocial, Oriana was outgoing and friendly. Where Miranda was rigid and concrete, Oriana was creative and open-minded. Where Miranda was bitter and sarcastic, Oriana was lighthearted and funny. Where Miranda was cold, Oriana was warm. Where Miranda was dark, Oriana was light. Where Miranda lacked empathy, Oriana was sensitive, and the kindest person she knew.

They couldn’t have been more different.

And Miranda wanted it to stay that way.

None of her qualities were things she would wish upon Oriana. And, if Oriana did become more like her, Miranda wasn’t sure she could ever forgive herself.

The most loving thing Miranda could do for Oriana was just let her live her life in peace, the way she had done for her before. She really would be better off just being cut loose, without her older sister weighing her down, shackling her to the weight of despair, damage and loneliness.

So Miranda didn’t text. She deleted the message she’d started typing, and the three dots to signal that she was writing were erased. She closed the app, got up and left her desk, deciding to head home.

She didn’t see the next message her sister sent.

“Miranda? Whatever is going on with you right now, please just remember that you are my most important person. I love you more than anything. And I’m here for you whenever you need me. You do know that, don’t you?”

Miranda limped home in the dark in the rain. It was freezing. She didn’t know how late it was. She hadn’t kept her eye on the time. She dragged her weary body up the stairs. Aside from the fact that her head was killing her, parts of her body that had never hurt before were starting to feel sore, and tight, and tense.

“Hey, Miss,” Seanne greeted her when she heard her key in the door. A few of the kids were gathered together in the main lounge, watching some sort of movie on the television. “We saved dinner for you. It’s in the fridge.”

“I’ll have it later,” Miranda muttered, not hungry at all. Just tired. 

“No problem,” Seanne replied, too focused on the film to pay her any mind.

Without another word, Miranda retreated to her room, and shut herself away, prepared for another night of staring at cracks in the ceiling in the darkness in a desperate attempt to ward off her dreams.

She slumped on her bed and ran her hand through her hair, staring into space.

And that was when it hit her. She didn’t...know what she was doing with her life anymore. Or why. She didn’t have a plan. A goal. For the first time since she’d reunited with Oriana, she no longer had a future she was working towards. Because that hope, that dream, had been snuffed out. A lie. A delusion.

The one thing that had made getting up every morning worth it since the shuttle crash - believing that, one day, she and Oriana would start a new life where nothing tore them apart ever again - had been exposed as a figment of her imagination.

With that dream dead, when she pictured her future now, there was...nothing.

Absence.

An empty, black abyss. Filled only by the ringing in her ear.

Miranda lay down on her bed. Curled up. And stared. And listened to that perpetual sound. And her mind, like her future, was blank. She watched the time tick by on the clock. Barely even registering it in her fatigue. 

One hour.

Two hours.

What was the point of anything anymore?

What was the fucking point?

Three hours.

Four hours.

It was after midnight when she was disturbed from her near-catatonic state by an urgent knocking at the front door. It came once, such a strange and unexpected sound that, at first, she wondered if it was just a trick of her mind. But then it came again, even more insistent. 

Reluctantly, Miranda dragged herself out of bed and shuffled into the entryway, not even bothering to grab her cane. She saw the door to one of the students’ bedrooms was open. Jason was leaning out, as if to go investigate. 

“I’ve got it,” said Miranda with a dismissive wave as she limped to the door, assuming it was probably for her. “Go back to sleep.”

Jason gave her a nod, but lingered in the doorway, just in case.

The frantic knocking came again. With an annoyed grunt, Miranda undid the lock, wondering who the hell was bothering them at that ungodly hour.

“Jesus Christ, what is it--?” The words caught in Miranda’s throat the second she flung the door open. Her weary eye flickered wide awake. “Samara?”

*     *     *

Miranda stepped over snoring bodies and discarded glasses on the floor, not keen to wake anyone up when half the crew were spread out at various points on the spectrum between ‘fast asleep’ and ‘passed out drunk’, and all of whom were likely to be very cranky if awoken. Miranda hadn’t drunk as much as most of the others, and neither was she prone to going to bed early. 

Indeed, she was very much awake, not even close to tired. And it was not her idea of a fun end to the night to hang around being as quiet as a mouse, forced to pretend to doze off because everyone else was such a goddamn lightweight. 

With that in mind, Miranda crept over near the door to where Shepard kept her keys, pinching them for herself so she could let herself back into the apartment. Shepard wasn’t going to miss them. She and Liara had gone to bed some time ago for very obvious reasons. They wouldn’t be seen again until morning.

However, Miranda’s cunning plan was not one concocted purely for herself. A thought had occurred to her while she waited for everyone else to nod off, being that there was one other person she expected might be awake. Someone who, by all appearances, had not been a drinker for centuries. Someone who Miranda was eager to spend a lot more time with one-on-one, particularly given that it was not lost on her that this might well be the last opportunity they ever had to do so - the last time they might ever see one another.

Sure enough, she found that very person meditating under the stairs.

“Samara,” Miranda whispered just loud enough to be heard. Blue eyes opened, and shifted her way. “Can’t sleep?” Samara did not respond verbally, but let her current state speak for itself. “Me neither.” At that, Miranda held up Shepard’s keys and made a signal towards the door. “Feel like going out?”

Samara glanced at her slumbering companions scattered over the lounge. After a moment, she held a finger to her lips, and silently stood.

Taking that as acceptance of her invitation, Miranda stealthily snuck over to the door, and held it open for Samara. She closed it behind them as quietly as she could. There was a faint ‘click’ as it automatically locked.

“Do not mistake my surprise for protestation, for it is not, but...to what do I owe this?” Samara asked, once they were safely out of earshot of the others. Evidently she had not been anticipating this - that Miranda would seek her out. 

“What, did you really think I’d just forget about you after a single conversation?” Miranda rhetorically remarked. “I told you I missed you more than anyone else.”

Samara allowed herself a small smile, touched by her intentions. “You did.”

“Since you and I are both still awake, and I have way too much energy to sleep, I figured, hey, the Strip is right here, and nothing ever closes - let’s go enjoy it while we can,” Miranda offered, circling Shepard’s keys around her finger before slipping them into a discreet pocket. “Nobody will even notice we’re missing.”

“No, they certainly will not,” Samara concurred, clearly not regretting her temperance when it was apparent most of the crew would be nursing hangovers come morning. “I must admit, given I saw you partaking earlier, I did not expect you to be in such a better state compared to our other comrades.”

“Good genes, plus I know how to pace myself,” Miranda casually explained. She gestured for Samara to follow her. “Come on. Let’s go be stupid for a while.”

Samara suppressed a chuckle. “An enticing prospect. Very well. Lead the way.”

“I was planning on taking you back to my favourite sushi place - you know, the one we went to before. Unfortunately, it’s not open right now.” Miranda sighed, putting a hand on her hip. “There was an incident. Shepard was involved.”

“I see. That is unfortunate,” Samara commiserated, needing no further explanation as to what had happened. For as much as they both loved Shepard, it was no hyperbole to say that trouble followed her everywhere.

Ultimately, Miranda didn’t have a preference as to where they went, or what they did. This entire venture was little more than a flimsy excuse to spend time with Samara without anybody else interfering. A throwback to those intimate moments on the Starboard Observation Deck, and a means of paying her back for all her kindness, assuming Miranda succeeded in showing her a good time.

“There is the casino,” Miranda thought out loud. She’d been there before, and didn’t mind the atmosphere of the place. Plus another drink or two wouldn’t go amiss to kick things off - she was still a fair few away from her limit. 

“After you,” Samara gestured for her to go ahead, trailing in Miranda’s footsteps. A reverse of the last time they had visited the Citadel together.

Unlike the Presidium, the Wards didn’t operate on artificial day and night cycles. Virtually everything on the Citadel stayed open at all hours, with everyone resting and working shifts according to their own personal needs and wants. Thus, when they came to the casino, to nobody’s shock, it was still as busy as ever. 

The people here had been affected by the war, of course, but there was a sense of safety and security that existed nowhere else. As all the homeworlds fell, the Citadel stood strong as the heart of Council Space - the one place most species would unite to protect. If anywhere would survive the war, this was surely it.

“Can I get you anything? The food here’s not bad, if you’re hungry,” Miranda offered as they both made their way up to the bar.

“Just water, thank you,” said Samara. Miranda ordered something much stronger for herself, and the bartender filled up their respective glasses.  

“So, how have you been, Samara? Really?” Miranda asked, keen to make up for lost time. Now that they were alone, they were free to talk as long as they wanted, which was something they couldn’t really do at the party. That was precisely her intent in sneaking out like this. It would be several hours at least before anybody else woke up and wondered where they were. The Silver Coast Casino was no Starboard Observation Deck, but it would serve well enough.

“That is a...complicated question,” Samara acknowledged, still a little caught off guard by Miranda’s genuine eagerness to catch up with her, as if she hadn’t expected to warrant her attention. “Some days have been kind to me. Others have not. Many somewhere in between. I imagine you could say the same.”

“Most of my days have ranged between terrible and awful since I left. I’m glad you had some good ones.” Miranda took a sip of her drink.

“Forgive me. I am aware this past year must have been difficult for you.” Samara bowed her head, as if she had misspoken. “As a Justicar, I am not unfamiliar with the peril of knowing there are many people who would seek to have me killed, nor am I a stranger to looking over my shoulder expecting to see a gun each time I turn my head. Although, by the same token, my status affords me many privileges. Many asari will lend me aid or support without question, for no other reason than because they see my armour, and know what I am. You do not have that luxury.”

“No, sadly,” Miranda confirmed. Hiding like a cockroach in parts of the Citadel not fit for human habitation had not been fun. Having any allies she could have safely turned to, beyond her few limited contacts with Shepard, would have made a world of difference. “But I’m out in the open now. If anybody still wanted me dead, I would have been executed days ago. I think it’s safe to say what little is left of Cerberus no longer sees the point in targeting me.”

“I hope you are correct.” Samara instinctively cast her eyes about the place as she said that, scanning for signs of any suspicious activity. Miranda picked up on that, of course. “If it would be safer--”

“Samara, seriously. It’s fine. You can let your guard down. You don’t need to be on alert. Not for my sake,” Miranda assured her, reaching out to touch her hand to make sure she understood that. Nobody was hunting her anymore. 

“If you are certain…” Samara took her at her word, despite a hint of hesitancy.

“Yes. Relax. I insist. If you don’t, it somewhat defeats the whole purpose of going out,” Miranda pointed out. At that, Samara seemed to concede she was right. Being paranoid would only spoil their time together. “Enough talk of serious subjects. Have you kept up reading human literature?”

“When I have been able, yes. Although, I must confess, I did not have such access when I was travelling in asari space. The Citadel libraries have been a source of great assistance. Tell me, I must know, was this ‘King Arthur’ a real person?” As soon as she asked, Samara just as swiftly changed her mind. “No, no. On second thought, I would prefer you do not answer. I fear I would be disappointed.”

Miranda laughed, endeared by Samara’s odd, childlike fascination with such figures. If it wouldn’t have sounded so patronising to describe a woman in her mid-to-late 900s as ‘adorable’, that label definitely would have applied.

“Oh. That reminds me. Kurosawa,” said Miranda. Samara tilted her head in questioning, not sure what that meant. “Not an author, but a director. I’ve been told, if you’re interested in samurai media, his films are the place to start.”

“I see. Thank you.” Samara nodded, taking that recommendation on board.

“What is it with you and this sort of thing anyway?” Miranda decided to finally broach the question that she had been wondering for a while, earning a curious glance. “Knights. Samurai. Why are you so interested in them?”

Samara did a poor job concealing a grin. “Yes, why would I, a lone wanderer who adheres to a strict moral code and seeks to bring justice to the places she visits, see any appeal whatsoever in stories about virtuous, heroic wanderers who adhere to strict moral codes and seek to bring justice to the places they visit?”

Miranda couldn’t argue with that logic. “I withdraw the question.”

“You did not withdraw it. I answered it,” Samara corrected.

“No, no. I withdrew it,” Miranda maintained in jest, as if she had come to that conclusion entirely on her own, without any assistance. Samara affectionately shook her head. During that pause in the conversation, the song changed.  “You know, I saw you dancing before,” Miranda said with a smirk, indicating the dancefloor. “I’m glad you listened to me about enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I did. However, if I remember correctly, you once stated to me that you would dance when I danced,” Samara reminded her. Miranda raised her eyebrows and took a drink, averting her gaze. She’d really hoped Samara had forgotten that conversation. “And yet you did not join me. How perplexing.”

“Oh, so you haven’t noticed that I’m a pathological liar until just now. Good to know,” Miranda joked, toying with the stem of her glass as she placed it down. 

“You must be. You keep insisting to me that you are not funny, even though you clearly are,” Samara cleverly countered, a glimmer of mirth in her kind eyes.

“I--” Miranda stopped before she could retort, taken aback by that comment. Nobody had told her that before. Nobody thought she was funny, because she wasn’t. According to everyone else, she was just mean and sarcastic and unpleasant to be around. Eventually, Miranda awkwardly rubbed the back of her head, managing to mumble a response. “I think you have a very different definition of ‘funny’ than everyone else in the galaxy, but...if you say so.”

It didn’t seem lost on Samara just how much that compliment actually meant to her. But she didn’t harp on it, letting it stand unchallenged. “There is still time for you to keep your promise to me before we part ways,” Samara pressed and, though her tone was lighthearted, it was evident the offer was genuine. “After all, there is a dancefloor here, and I am finding this music rather persuasive...”

“Still time for me to continue breaking my promise forever, you mean? Yes. I intend to. Glad we’re in agreement,” Miranda remarked. Samara’s enquiring gaze didn’t shift. “...Okay so I did dance at Shepard’s tonight, just a little bit.” Miranda reluctantly held her thumb and forefinger slightly apart.

“Good. I am delighted to hear it,” Samara enthused, pleased to see that Miranda had heeded her own advice and let herself go, and allowed herself to have some fun at the party. “My only regret is that I did not witness it.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Miranda assured her. “But I fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

“No, you did not. This imbalance must be rectified immediately,” Samara persisted, getting up from her seat and extending her hand. Miranda did not accept the invitation, quite intent on not moving anytime soon. “You made a promise to me, Miranda Lawson. As a Justicar, I must insist that you keep your word. You said you would dance when I danced, and I am going to dance. Hence...”

“No. You knock yourself out, but I am very comfortable on my stool.” Miranda shook her head, waving Samara off, making her stance plain.

“Then hand me the keys, and I will return to the apartment,” said Samara.

That got Miranda’s attention. “What?”

“You were the one who said, and I quote, ‘let us go and be stupid for a while’, and it was you who suggested we both sneak out after midnight for this purpose,” Samara noted. “That was the evening that was represented to me - one spent in inane, ridiculous frivolity. Yet, so far, you are being extremely sensible. If you are not going to do this with me, then I fear I have in fact been misled.” 

Miranda saw right through Samara’s feigned disappointment. “You’re evil.”

“In this moment, perhaps,” Samara conceded, but she still extended her hand.

“This is peer pressure,” Miranda complained.

“Yes, it is,” Samara confirmed, without shame, her mischievous smile widening.

Miranda sighed, but it was hard not to be uplifted purely from seeing Samara this outgoing and cheerful. That was a rare privilege. The last time she’d seen her like this was...well, the last time they visited the Citadel together, which must have been around nine or ten months ago by that point.

“You’re in an abnormally good mood tonight, aren’t you?” Miranda observed, certainly not complaining, but wondering what had made her so upbeat.

“Why would I not be?” Samara asked plainly. “I am with you.”

Miranda’s heart skipped a beat. Honestly, Miranda was so thoroughly charmed by that response that Samara could have asked her to do anything in that moment, no matter how embarrassing, and she would have been powerless to resist.

“...If you’re trying to butter me up to get me to dance with you...good strategy, because it’s working,” Miranda admitted defeat, seeing no point in even pretending to warn her otherwise. No doubt Samara could tell the warmth in her cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Samara was evidently entertained by that reaction, but equally quick to dismiss any notion that her words were coming from an insincere place. “It is not falsity. The time you and I spent together aboard The Normandy was the most I have enjoyed myself in many years. Longer than you can possibly imagine.”

“Oh, wow, that's depressing,” said Miranda. “Because I am not fun at all.”

“Neither am I. Perhaps this explains it,” Samara quipped. 

Miranda didn’t agree with that, but that wasn’t the point. “You’re not dropping this are you?” she deduced, realising she didn’t have a choice in this.

“I am afraid I cannot,” Samara confirmed, as if the decision was out of her hands. “Just as you have sensed that I am in a good mood, I have also been astounded by the change in you tonight. I have never seen you so unshackled from your burdens as you are now. So, if we are ever going to keep our promise and share a dance together, I fear this will be our only opportunity. We may not get another. And I cannot abide a broken promise,” she pointed out.

She wasn’t wrong. Tomorrows weren’t exactly guaranteed.

“Well, you bloody got me, alright? Now that you’ve accused me of being good company, I feel compelled to live up to the hype.” With that, Miranda threw back her head and downed her drink, determined to be ‘fun’ for once in her life. “You get one song.” She held up one finger. “And only because it’s you.”

“One song will suffice,” said Samara, taking Miranda by the hand at long last, leading her to the dancefloor. That was all she had been promised.

Maybe it was just the drinks talking, but as she let go of her inhibitions, started moving to the music and surrendered to not caring whether she looked stupid, Miranda found herself having a far better time than she would have thought.

Most of all, the best thing about it was getting to see Samara let go of her usual restraint, and glean a rare escape from the harsh and austere lifestyle that she was required to abide by as a Justicar. It went without saying how much she deserved this reprieve. Not merely to have fun and enjoy the evening, but to have a chance to let her walls down and be herself. Her real self, beneath the armour. Just one fleeting night in however many centuries, free of worries or cares. 

If Miranda could give her that, then making a fool of herself would all be worth it.

Miranda didn’t know what had suddenly made Samara so open to things like this she would have politely declined a year ago, aside from the same ‘carpe diem’ reason that applied to everyone at the moment, nor did it really matter. The point was that they were here and they were doing it while they could. And any time spent with Samara, no matter what they were doing, was never time wasted.

One song turned into two. And two into three.

In truth, because the music all blended together with similar rhythms and chord progressions, it was hard to tell where one track began and another ended. And, for the first time, Miranda began to understand that perhaps that was the whole point. It would have been pretty jarring and moment-ruining to have the flow disturbed by each new song. So, for now, she stopped being critical of that.

It was as the music changed to a fourth song that they were rudely interrupted.

“Heyyyyy, ladies,” a complete stranger wandered up to them, making finger guns and clicking his tongue. “Can I be the meat in your sandwich?”

Miranda gave the man an unimpressed look. “Mate, if that line ever actually works on a woman...she deserves you,” she said, earning a confused expression in response as the insult went over his head. 

“...Is that a no?” he asked, clueless.

“Yeah, look, I’m in a good mood, so just save yourself some embarrassment and…” Miranda signalled for him to walk away, not particularly keen on wasting time and effort verbally destroying him when she would rather not bother.

To his credit, he took that rejection without a fight and left without causing a scene.

“Sorry about that.” Miranda turned to Samara. Unwanted male attention was something that happened to her a lot, so she was used to dealing with it.

Samara seemed more perplexed than perturbed. “He made this gesture.” Samara somewhat awkwardly mimicked his finger guns, as if she’d never seen anyone do that before. “...I assume I should not interpret that as a threat.”

Miranda blinked. Then, as soon as it clicked that Samara was in fact joking, cracked up with laughter. She’d never forgotten how funny Samara could be, but that sneaky delivery of hers still took her by surprise when it came out.

“Why are you laughing? We may be in grave danger,” Samara feigned ignorance.

“Alright. That’s it. That was the last song,” Miranda declared, taking that disruption as their cue to leave. “Since neither of us are gamblers, I think we’ve seen as much as there is to see of the casino. We should move on.”

“Where should we go next?” Samara prompted, letting Miranda take the lead.

“Hmm.” Miranda pondered that. What she would ordinarily do versus what Samara would expect of her on a night devoted to frivolity were two very different things. Fortunately, the Strip did serve the latter quite well. “There's an arcade not far from here. Did you know I've literally never been to one?”

Samara looked rather impressed with that suggestion, given that it was entirely out of step with Miranda’s usual character, and hence very much in keeping with the evening of inane silliness she had been promised. “I believe you humans have a saying that 'there is a first time for everything'.”

“Alright. Arcade it is.”

It certainly wasn’t far to get there. And Miranda wasn’t kidding when she said she had never had the simple pleasure of playing these games in her childhood. Or any games. She had been deprived of anything resembling fun growing up.

That being said, the lightgun game came pretty naturally to her, even if Miranda did maintain the only reason she didn’t score higher was because the controller was a shitty piece of plastic and the sensor must have been broken. If Samara thought otherwise, she just smiled and didn’t correct her.

By contrast, Samara definitely did recognise some of these games from her youth.

“You’re telling me that some of these machines basically haven’t changed at all in nine hundred years?” said Miranda, arching a sceptical eyebrow.

“No, they have not,” Samara happily confirmed, an audible tinge of excitement colouring her voice at the prospect of coming across something familiar.

Miranda snorted. So much for creativity.

“Oh. This. I remember this.” Samara went over to a particularly old-fashioned machine in the corner. ‘Whack The Thresher Maw’. “It was not thresher maws when I played it. I do not recall what it was. But I was very little. I could not have been more than...twelve? I remember vividly; it was shortly before my father left Thessia to come live here on the Citadel. That was the only day I spent together with both my mother and father - the only day that they ever both took me out together,” she spoke softly, nostalgic for that fond memory.

Miranda’s eyes twinkled as she stood by her, listening to Samara reminisce about her past. She said nothing as she waived her credit chit over the machine, spurring it to life. When Samara glanced at her in questioning, she leaned against the wall, and gestured for Samara to go ahead and play. And she did.

The next game they played was a version of what Miranda would have called air hockey, using a virtual puck. Miranda was winning up until Samara cheated, using her biotics to subtly move Miranda’s wrist away from the goal. 

“I would never cheat,” Samara professed, not even trying to conceal her guilt.

“Mhmm.” Miranda fixed her with a knowing look. Two could play at that game. The very next round, she used her own biotics to move the table right when Samara least expected it, allowing her to get her goal back. “I would never cheat,” Miranda echoed back to her, mirroring Samara’s false innocent voice.

“Hey!” At that, one of the arcade workers pointed at a sign behind the counter which clearly stated ‘no biotics’, giving them no further warning than that.

Keeping track of the scores kind of went out the window when they could hardly make it through the next few rounds without cracking up. They called it a draw and gave up before they did something that got them both banned for life.

They moved on. The next thing that caught Samara’s eye was the claw machine.

“I used to be very good at these,” Samara noted, examining it.

“Really? I thought they were all rigged.”

“No, not at all. Certainly made to be difficult, yes. But if you could not win, that would be illegal. There is a skill to it,” Samara explained. Miranda gestured for her to go right ahead and show her. “I have no money,” Samara pointed out. “And I could not keep the prize even if I won.”

Miranda sighed. “...Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I don’t know this is a waste of money on the same level as gambling,” she said, making it clear that nobody was to know she had done this. She put credits into the machine.

Samara appraised the prize spheres to see which would be the easiest to grab. “Aim for that one,” she advised, indicating a sphere that was higher up than the others. “It may take more than one attempt, but if you line it up correctly…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it,” Miranda waved off her backseat driving, still sceptical that it was even possible to win.

The first time, she didn’t get it at quite the right angle, and the claw slipped off. The second time, she was sure she lined it up properly, but the claws snapped shut above the prize sphere, without picking it up, like the prize was too heavy.

“See? The machine is rigged,” Miranda insisted. “It’s not possible.”

“You are very close. And you have one play left,” Samara encouraged. Miranda rolled her eyes, reluctantly deciding she may as well use the game she had already paid for. “Try coming at it slightly more from the left.”

Miranda did as Samara suggested, and this time, the claw grabbed it. She blinked as the claw lifted the prize and took it all the way to the chute. “Huh.”

“I believe the appropriate phrase is ‘I told you so’,” Samara teased.

“Alright, alright. No need to get cocky,” said Miranda, opening up the prize sphere to see what she’d won. It was a keychain in the shape of Blasto the Hanar Spectre. She uttered a tssk. “I’ve never seen any of these movies. They look like rubbish.”

“Sometimes, that is precisely the appeal,” Samara advised. Miranda didn’t share the sentiment. “I think that triumph signals that we have overstayed our welcome here,” said Samara, aware they were still being watched by the same employee from before in case they cheated again. “Where to next?”

“Hmm.” Miranda glanced around as they left the arcade, thinking of options.

“There is a combat simulator here, is there not?” Samara piped up, as if she’d been holding onto that idea for a while. “I would be eager to try that.”

“By all means. Though what people find fun about a laser arena is somewhat lost on me,” Miranda remarked, probably because her father had subjected her to similar combat programs when she was a kid. “It just feels like training.”

“Its intent is to recreate something we experience as a regular part of our lives. It is fun for them because it is unfamiliar. For us, it is not a deviation from the norm, save that for once we have the liberty of not being in any actual peril,” Samara astutely observed. She had a point, Miranda thought. It wasn’t the most relaxing pastime, but Miranda could run combat sims in her sleep. She had no problems teaming up with her if that was what Samara wanted to do.

“Okay, that absolutely was rigged,” Miranda loudly complained as they emerged from the combat arena a while later. “I hit that soldier dead between the eyes, and he still had twenty percent health left? That's nonsense. No human being could possibly survive that,” she argued, gesturing as she spoke.

“We still did extremely well,” Samara pointed out, content with their performance.

“If this program was realistic, my name would be on top right now,” Miranda proclaimed, waving her hand towards the scoreboard. She was nothing if not competitive, when she wanted to be anyway. Her rant was interrupted when Samara uttered a quiet, amused chuckle. It was impossible not to soften, seeing the unfeigned affection shimmering in Samara’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Samara shook her head, her smile reaching her eyes. “I simply...I did not forget how much I missed spending time with you, but...in a way, I forgot just how much I missed spending time with you,” Samara acknowledged, well aware of the contradiction in her own words, but unable to say it another way.

Miranda knew exactly what she meant. Memories of the Starboard Observation Deck were no substitute for the real thing. They didn’t do justice to just how at home she felt in Samara’s company. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And do not think I did not notice,” said Samara, a very proud look coming over her. Miranda tilted her head in questioning. “Reave. You mastered it,” Samara clarified, somehow wholly unsurprised to witness that.

“Oh. Right. That.” Miranda brushed that off. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Do not undersell yourself. It is not an easy feat,” Samara told her, not about to let this go unremarked upon. “Well done, Miranda. You are the first, and I suspect only human ever to learn this ability. And it would be a great achievement even if you were asari. Indeed, I have personally never met anyone, other than some fellow Justicars, who have mastered it.”

“Well, I owe that entirely to you. So here. Present for you.” Miranda held out the Blasto The Hanar Spectre keychain she'd won from the claw machine earlier, as a token of her appreciation for Samara’s teachings a year ago.

Samara smiled, politely raising her hand to decline. “Although I am grateful, I am afraid I cannot accept this; Justicars eschew personal possessions.”

Miranda's brow crinkled, looking down at the stupid thing in her hands in abject incredulity. “...It's a keychain.”

“That is not the point,” Samara reminded her, although clearly not at all shocked or offended why someone who had not chosen a religious life might fail to understand this. The fact that the gift had no material value did not make it any less of an indulgence. “I have sworn an oath to the Goddess. I can own nothing but what you see before you - my weapons and my armour - for that is all that is essential for me to carry out my duties as a Justicar.”

“Alright. Allow me to rephrase,” Miranda began, sensing a solution to this issue. “This is a...tactical keychain,” she informed her, arching an eyebrow as she twirled the chain around her finger. “It provides an entire additional square inch of armour plating. So I insist that you take it for your own protection.”

Samara laughed, more freely than Miranda had ever seen her do so. “There is that sense of humour you maintain you do not have again,” Samara wryly commented. “I will never comprehend why you insist on claiming that you are not funny.”

“Because I'm not.” Miranda shrugged, wearing a small, self-deprecating smile. “You also described yourself as ‘terribly dull’ earlier when you’re by far the most captivating person I’ve ever spoken to, so if we’re going to start this debate right now, then I’m pretty sure I’m going to win.”

“You would not be a stranger to that, would you?” Samara sighed, realising Miranda would not relent from her position. “Very well, then. You have convinced me.” She took the keychain, clasping it in her fingers. “Make no mistake, this is still yours,” she said, pointedly. “However, I will hold this in safekeeping on your behalf. And I will return it to you the next time we meet.”

“See? Was that so hard?” said Miranda, glad they'd reached a compromise.

Samara tried not to smile, because it was evident that she knew she was technically stretching the rules by accepting this gift, even on loan (though Miranda naturally assumed that she was kidding about intending to return it later), but despite her intentions she couldn't really fight it off. Not tonight.

“If you do not mind my asking, I know what your plans for the future are in the long term, but what of the short term?” Samara asked her, curious to know where Miranda would go when she left the Citadel.

“What else is there to do but get ready for whenever Shepard needs us?” said Miranda, leaning against a nearby railing overlooking a lower section of the strip. “I’ve taken command of a small ship and started putting together a team of Cerberus defectors. So, whatever happens, I’ll be there.” She looked over at Samara. “I suppose I don’t need to ask you, but...what about you?”

“I am as I am,” Samara answered, confirming Miranda’s assumptions. “When the day comes, I will walk into the fire, alone, with nothing but what you see before you, and fight to my last breath. And, should I die, I can only pray that my final acts honour the memory of all the Justicars who perished before me.”

“...I don’t see how they wouldn’t,” Miranda said softly. “I mean, you’re you.”

Samara didn’t respond to that. “Miranda, I...” Samara hesitated. Her expression was unsettled, but she swallowed, quickly finding an equilibrium and settling on what she intended to say. “Though I imagine we will be fighting on the same battlefield in the near future, it has not eluded me that we may not get a chance to speak like this before that time comes to pass. Or...ever again.”

“I know,” Miranda admitted, glancing down. The same thought had been swirling in her head even before Shepard’s party. She wasn't sure if they were meant to address that, or if that looming spectre of death was an open secret they weren't supposed to confront, but she was glad Samara had raised it. The problem was, there were too many things she wanted to say if this was going to be the last conversation they ever had. Thoughts she hadn’t even put into words in her mind, and could never fully express. “...I really am sorry about Rila,” was where Miranda chose to begin. It would have felt wrong not to tell her that.

Samara swallowed and nodded her head, trying to stay strong. Then her resolve cracked, and the tears came. Her hands went to her face, unable to stem the tide. Even the strongest woman in the universe could only carry so much.

For a split-second, Miranda thought she had made a mistake bringing this up, seeing how much Samara was hurting over her recent loss. But then it occurred to her. Maybe Samara breaking down in front of her didn’t mean she’d done anything wrong. Maybe it showed just how much she needed this moment of connection with someone she trusted - to allow herself the vulnerability to be hurt.

Had anyone even comforted Samara at all since it happened?

Had anyone given her the chance to grieve for her daughter?

“I did everything I could to save her. Even though I should not have. Even knowing it might mean putting myself in the position of choosing between my children and The Code. Even while the rest of my Order gave their lives to save so many on Thessia.” Samara drew a deep breath, but it wound up shallower than she intended in her sorrow. “...I violated one of my Oaths, Miranda.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked, not knowing enough about the Justicars to understand what that meant. “You mean you broke The Code?”

“No. No, I would never...never break The Code. Not while I draw breath,” Samara insisted, making that clear, even through her tears. “But the first step to becoming a Justicar is to take the Oath of Solitude. That means you are forsworn from any family, including children. I did not utter a single word to Falere or Rila in four hundred and thirty-one years, save for when I wrote to them a year ago to let them know Mirala was dead. However, when I heard their monastery may be under threat...I did not go to them as a Justicar.” Her breath hitched as the moisture trickled down her cheeks. “I went to them because I am their mother.”

“Of course you did,” said Miranda, feeling nothing but sympathy for her, and a touch of anger towards the Justicars for subjecting Samara to that dilemma in the first place. For depriving her of the shattered, broken remnants of a family she had left, and making her feel ashamed for protecting her daughters from certain death. “There’s no oath in the universe anyone could swear that would make a mother stop loving her children. Not a mother like you.”

“No, there is not,” Samara confirmed, her voice breaking under the strain as her body was racked by another sob. “I saw so little of Rila before she died, but what I saw...I could not be prouder of the woman she became, in spite of the cruel hand fate dealt her. I always knew her to be the most responsible of my daughters, always taking care of her younger sisters, though she was barely any older than they were. But she was so strong, Miranda. I never knew she was so fearless. So ferociously protective. She gave her own life so that Falere could live.”

“And you,” Miranda added. “So that you could live too.”

Samara didn’t reply to that.

“How’s Falere?” Miranda asked, after Samara didn’t respond.

“She is well. Alone, but well.” Samara glanced down at her hands, her tears beginning to dry on her cheeks. “She was always a gentle and sensitive soul, so much like her fath--” Samara’s voice caught on that word. She couldn’t say it. It hurt to speak of her. “The woman she has grown into...she is so much kinder than I could possibly have imagined. She had not seen my face or heard my voice for four hundred and thirty-one years. She had every right to hate me. But, instead, she...when all was said and done, she embraced me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” said Miranda, thinking that should have gone without saying. “She’s your daughter. She loves you.”

“That is more than I deserve.” Samara’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Miranda couldn’t stand to hear her talk about herself that way. “Samara--”

Samara raised a hand to silence her. “Respectfully, Miranda...It is no fault of yours, but there are some things that are beyond even your understanding. I believe this is one of them. I would prefer not to argue with you.”

Miranda sighed. She hated to admit it, but Samara had a point. If she felt that way, it wasn’t like it was a poorly-considered opinion. She had lived her own life for nearly a thousand years, and the disconnect between Samara and Falere had been there for centuries. It wasn’t Miranda’s place to debate with her about her perception of herself, or where she stood with Falere, much as she wanted to.

“...But you weren’t lying before, right?” Miranda pressed, unable to leave that thought alone. When Samara said things like this, it made her worry about her. “You are going to keep seeing Falere, aren’t you?”

“My Oaths say I should not,” Samara acknowledged.

“But you will,” Miranda intuited.

Samara held back the last of her tears, the first signs of a conflicted, broken smile coming to her lips. “I have no choice. In truth, there is no power in the universe, nor within myself, that could force me to stay away,” she said honestly, recognising she did not have the willpower to resist seeing her daughter again, especially knowing Falere had nobody else to look after her.

“Good,” Miranda forcefully enthused. For as much as she respected Samara, she might have had to slap some sense into her if she said otherwise. “No offence, and I know this is easy for me to say because I don’t have a single religious or spiritual bone in my body, but any oath that would compel you to stay away from the one person in your life who makes you happy isn’t an oath worth keeping. For me, that person is my sister. For you, that person is Falere.”

At long last, Samara allowed herself to smile again, her eyes glistening from her tears, but shedding no more. “She is.” Her voice was soft, perhaps even fragile, but Miranda had never heard it filled with so much tenderness. “I should not permit myself to feel this way, but...if you thought you perceived a change in me tonight, Miranda, you did,” she admitted. “Though losing Rila broke my heart, and my wounds for her will bleed until my dying days...even so, I have never felt more at peace than I do at this moment. Or, if I have, then I cannot remember it.”

Miranda could only imagine. In her own life, she had gone without seeing Oriana for nineteen years. And, the moment they met on Illium, it was like a weight she hadn’t even known she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. That was nothing compared to what Samara had endured.

Going four hundred and thirty-one years not seeing her daughters, the people who mattered most to her...it must have been torture. Now, that torment had finally stopped. Even though Rila hadn’t lived long enough to be part of this new reunion, Samara had still regained a connection with Falere she never thought she would have again. She had some semblance of her family back.

That was life-changing.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Miranda said sincerely. After everything she’d lost, Samara had more than earned her just reward. "And, for what it’s worth, I hope this is merely the start of newer and brighter things for you and Falere.”

After recollecting her composure, Samara faced her. “Thank you, Miranda.” 

Miranda was not anticipating that shift in focus. “For what?”

“For this. For tonight,” Samara clarified, gesturing at their surroundings. “For allowing me to enjoy myself more than I have in centuries. And for reminding me to savour these effervescent glimmers of happiness while I still can.” She paused for a moment, averting her gaze down towards her hands on the railing. “I think, perhaps, on some level, you sensed I needed this. But perhaps you do not appreciate just how much I did. So, again, I thank you for spending your night in the company of this poor, tired old woman, when it was not required of you.”

Miranda hesitated at that. Of course, it meant a lot for Samara to tell her that she had gotten so much out of their time together, and that it had helped her in some way. But Miranda never liked it when Samara made those resigned, self-defeating comments about herself. They made her sound like some washed up, retired old racehorse about to be put down with two barrels behind the garden shed. And that was the furthest thing from reality.

Samara was amazing. Beyond compare. She had not lost a step. Aside from being a matriarch and continuing to get stronger with every passing year, she did not show a single sign of age. It certainly hadn’t hindered her yet, and probably would not for many decades yet to come. Asari regularly lived to be over a thousand years old. Hell, although hitting eleven-hundred was rare by most accounts, even that wouldn’t be unheard of. Not by a long shot.

Not that Miranda was an expert, but just from knowing her, she would guess Samara was still a long way off from the natural end of her life. About as far off as any of the human members of The Normandy. So why did she so often talk about herself like she was past the point where she had anything of worth left to offer - a broken relic of a bygone age to be carelessly discarded and cast aside?

Did she think Miranda was just doing this because she felt sorry for her?

“...I didn’t invite you out with me because I pity you,” Miranda broke the silence, glancing over at Samara. That had never been what this was, and she would correct any such mistaken assumptions as promptly and frankly as possible, so that there was no chance for misinterpretation. “I wanted to spend time with you because I like you, and I care about you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Samara confirmed, returning Miranda’s gaze. “And I hope you know that I did not spend time with you because I was merely seeking some distraction from what has come to pass in recent weeks.”

“I do,” Miranda replied in kind. She folded her arms across the railing, seeing no reason not to continue being so transparent. “This probably isn’t going to be a shock to you, because there aren’t exactly a lot of contenders for the title, but did you know you might very well be the best friend I’ve ever had?” 

Jacob may have been her friend for longer, sure, but they butted heads a lot, often on pretty fundamental things. There were some things she hadn’t told him, and may never tell him. Some things she couldn’t go to him about. Whereas Samara just...knew her so intimately. She got her on an entirely different level. One that didn’t even require words, a lot of the time.

Samara’s eyes dipped slightly. “It...occurred to me, some time ago, in fact, that...I could possibly say the same thing about you,” she replied. Miranda was taken aback by that, and it must have shown on her face. “You doubt me, but you have a stronger claim to that position than you know.”

Miranda brushed that off, finding it too hard to believe. Samara had been alive for over nine centuries. She’d definitely had better friends. “You’re just being nice.”

Samara squinted at that comment, visibly perplexed. “I do not know where you have garnered this impression that I am ‘nice’, or would say things I do not mean just to be thus. I can assure you, I have never at any stage of my life been renowned for being particularly ‘nice’ to anybody. Quite the contrary,” Samara assured her, wanting to clear up that mischaracterisation. “I mean no offence, but...in that regard, you and I are more alike than you seem to think.”

“None taken,” Miranda nonchalantly replied. She supposed she understood where Samara was coming from by not accepting that description. If anyone tried to tell Miranda she was ‘just being nice’, she would have looked at them like they had grown a second head. “And I guess you do have a point. I mean, the first time I met you, you crushed a woman’s skull with your foot.”

“You would have used a gun,” Samara noted.

“Yeah, probably,” Miranda conceded. “You were always nice to me, though.”

“Not always. There were times when I challenged you. Like you, I am not prone to remaining silent when I disagree with someone. If I am less stubborn and stern than I once was, it is only because experience has humbled me, and I have spent many centuries practicing patience and mindfulness,” said Samara. 

Samara wasn’t wrong about any of that, Miranda thought. Samara had indeed called her out on her bullshit a couple of times, although whenever she did offer advice she had always treated it as something constructive rather than an exercise in judgement, which was largely why it had been so effective.

“However, if despite all that you perceived me as being especially nice to you...I probably was,” Samara admitted with a small sigh, willing to concede that wasn’t misplaced. “It is easy to be nice to a person you are already fond of.”

“Why though?” Miranda couldn’t help but ask, earning a confused look. “That’s something I’ve never been able to figure out. Look, I know I’m not the most self-aware person, but I’m better than I was. And, God, I could be fucking intolerable sometimes.” Miranda grimaced in annoyance at her own memory of herself, eliciting a faint smirk from Samara. “But even at my worst, you never had a problem with me. So, why did you like spending time with me?”

“How long do we have before our absence will be noticed? Because, if I answered that question comprehensively, we would be here a very long time,” Samara stated. That was, without question, the most heartwarming thing Miranda had ever heard another person say about her. “If I am being truly honest, I have often wondered the same thing about why you chose to spend your time with me.” 

“Is that a joke?” Miranda asked, not sure how Samara could even question that.

“You know very well that it is not,” Samara said astutely. She wasn’t a liar.

“Well, then, you and I remember things very differently, because you had countless things to offer me. Wisdom. Insight. Friendship. A place where I could just sit in silence for a while. You've taught me so much, but somehow you never made it feel like you were lecturing me. Even when you clearly were,” Miranda remarked, with a hint of teasing to her tone. “The only problem is that I've gained so much more out of knowing you than you have from knowing me.”

“That is not true,” Samara firmly insisted, the quickness of her response catching Miranda somewhat off guard. “The life of a Justicar is a solitary one. We meet many people, but have no companions. I had no companions. Until you. The connection we share is unlike any I have known in centuries. Or...even before that. You have enriched my life. I am better for having known you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Miranda instinctively replied. Samara was...well, she wasn’t a ‘perfect’ person per se, because they didn’t exist. But she was as close as Miranda had ever seen to one. She was a perfect version of what she strove to be. So how could Miranda make her better than she was? How could she possibly do anything to improve upon such sheer mastery of the self?

“Goddess, you do not even know…” Samara’s suddenness took Miranda by surprise. She watched as she let her fingers fall across her face, sighed deeply and shook her head, choosing her words carefully. “Forgive me. It is difficult for me to say this, but...when we travelled together, there were times where I thought…” Samara stopped herself, as if reconsidering what she intended to say. “Perhaps I did not always recognise it then, but in hindsight there were days where I do not know how I could have withstood my burdens if you were not with me.”

Miranda didn’t know what to make of that. It just...didn’t make sense. Samara was so strong. “But I didn’t do anything,” Miranda pointed out. 

At that, Samara uttered a quiet sound, almost like a short, sombre laugh. “But you did,” she said, meeting Miranda’s gaze once more. “You were there. And you have shown me nothing but kindness from the moment we met.”

Miranda still couldn’t accept what she was hearing. Besides, she didn’t remember doing anything that would strike a normal person as especially compassionate, because that wasn’t who she was. “But I’m not kind,” she said.

“No, perhaps you are not,” Samara acknowledged, never blind to the person Miranda was. She was not known for being sensitive or sympathetic, for good reason. “But you were to me,” she stated plainly. That was all that mattered.

Miranda didn’t completely agree with that. But she was glad Samara thought so. And, if nothing else, it was true that Samara did make her want to try to be a better person than she was, and had brought different shades out of her in a way that nobody else had, irrespective of whether they came naturally to her.

That was the thing about people like Samara, Miranda thought. When a person had a special connection with someone else, a special relationship, then they got to know a version of them that didn’t exist for anyone else. Parts of them nobody else ever saw. Truths nobody else ever knew. So maybe the Miranda reserved for Samara's eyes only really was gentler than the one everybody else had met. But, if so, that was only because their friendship brought that out of her.

As the silence lingered, the memory of one very unkind thing she had done emerged in Miranda’s mind. It wasn’t lost on her that there was still one regret she had in their friendship. One mistake for which she’d never made amends.

It was not something she had forgotten about. She recalled with discomforting clarity how she’d never taken her numerous chances back on The Normandy to confess to Samara about looking into her past without her consent. She’d never apologised for it, though she had intended to do so, eventually. She would have done it after The Collector Base but, when the Alpha Relay was destroyed, the thought had genuinely completely fallen from her mind amid so much death. By the time she thought about it again, it was too late. They had already parted ways.

So many months had passed since all of this transpired that part of her just wanted to let sleeping dogs lie, and not raise the subject now. But Miranda knew this was the only chance she would get. If she was ever going to apologise, this was her moment. She had to take it, or live with being a coward.

“...Samara, can I say one more thing?” Miranda broke the silence.

“You may always speak freely with me, Miranda. Indeed, that you always say precisely what is on your mind is perhaps my favourite thing about you. Certainly, one of them,” Samara said with a charming twinkle in her eye.

“Okay, then.” Miranda took Samara’s encouragement at face-value, and elected to come out with it, even if it was a heavy subject. “What happened to your family wasn't your fault,” Miranda began, deciding to approach the topic from that angle. The unexpected shift in the conversation caused Samara to stiffen visibly. “And you know I'm not the sort of person who'd say something I didn't think was true purely to make you feel better, no matter how much I like you. But you didn't do anything to make that happen. None of it is your fault. None. So please stop blaming yourself for what happened four hundred years ago.”

Samara didn't seem to know how to react to Miranda’s words, as they were the last thing she had anticipated. It was obvious it was a message she struggled to accept, even after all this time. Of course, she had no idea how much Miranda knew about her past, beyond the broad picture she’d painted. Not yet.

“Has anyone ever told you that before?” Miranda asked, curious.

“...They have not,” Samara answered, no less taken aback. From prior conversations, Miranda knew she had scarcely spoken about her past. Her daughters’ diagnoses made her a pariah as soon as they happened, leaving her nobody to turn to, and Justicars did not discuss the people they were before they swore their Oaths. Samara had carried her burdens alone every day since.

“Then I'm glad I said it,” Miranda replied, already feeling a sense of relief just from stating that out loud, though she knew she was far from finished when it came to things she had to get off her chest. “I should have said it a long time ago.”

“Then may I also say something I should have said a long time ago?” Samara cut her off, speaking rather quickly. Miranda gestured for her to go right ahead. If she was being that abrupt, then it must have been important. “I wish you loved being Miranda Lawson as much as everybody else believes you love being Miranda Lawson,” Samara spoke plainly. “Because she is and has always been a far, far better person than you seem to think she is. And there is not a single thing about her that makes her a ‘failure’. It wounds me whenever you think otherwise.”

Miranda was totally blindsided. She hadn’t expected Samara’s response at all, since she would never say anything unless she truly meant it. In fact, any prior thoughts Miranda had were completely ripped from her mind.

Samara didn’t need to ask whether anybody had told Miranda that before. She knew they hadn’t. Evidently, that knowledge bothered her a great deal.

“Miranda, I...” Samara reached out and touched Miranda's arm, as if considering saying something more. She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before meeting Miranda's eyes. “I think we have been gone longer than we ought. We should return before our absence becomes a cause for concern,” she said, mustering a faint smile, sensing they had both lost track of time.

“Of course,” Miranda concurred, too dumbstruck by Samara’s confession to remember that there were words she had left unsaid. “After you.”

With that, Samara led the way back towards Shepard's apartment.

As she trailed behind her, Miranda discreetly wiped at the corner of her eye, maintaining her composure, masking any lingering signs that betrayed any frailty, and just how much Samara’s words had touched the core of something she hadn’t even known was as raw and vulnerable as it was.

It may have been a scant two hours that they’d shared there alone on the Silversun Strip, but stealing that precious time together felt like the best decision Miranda had ever made. It may have been over sooner than she would have liked but, if nothing else, at least she could look back on this night in the coming days and feel content with the way she left things between them.

She wanted to part ways with Samara on a high note. After all, deep down in her heart, Miranda knew it was the last time Samara would ever see her again.

*     *     *

Of all the people Miranda had expected to be banging on her door in the middle of the night, Samara was not high on that list. She hadn’t expected to see her anytime soon, given she had left only two weeks ago. And, when they eventually did meet again, Miranda hadn’t imagined Samara would look like this.

“Samara, what are you doing here? It’s freezing out, and you’re drenched--”

“I must speak with you,” Samara cut her off, her voice firm, and her eyes ablaze with a strange intensity Miranda had never seen in her before. It seemed as though Samara didn’t even feel the ice-cold rain on her. “It cannot wait.”

Judging from her tone, that wasn’t a request.

“Uh...Of course,” was all Miranda could mutter as she held open the door for her, closing it behind her. It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to say no. Not when Samara was in such a state, moving with such urgency. “In here.” Miranda gestured towards her room. Samara marched in without hesitation.

Suffice it to say, Miranda was a little stunned. What the hell was happening?

She followed her inside, and clicked the door shut. There wasn’t much space in her small room, but Samara found enough to pace back and forth. She was uncharacteristically wringing her hands as she wore wet tracks in the floor. These were things Miranda had quite literally never seen her do before.

“Samara, what is this? What’s going on?” Miranda asked.

“Forgive my intrusion. But I needed to see you. I could not...the way we left things, I…” Samara paused for a moment, meeting her gaze. “I fear that perhaps you already know what has brought me here, and what I wish to discuss.”

Miranda said nothing, too disoriented and sleep-deprived to be capable of doing anything other than staring at her in a dazed silence. She had no idea what she was talking about, or what could make her act so out-of-sorts. Miranda had never seen Samara so dishevelled. So discombobulated. So...frazzled.

“Oh. Oh, I see. You do not. I see. Very well, then. I…” At that realisation, Samara resumed her pacing, running her hand along her crest. “I suppose I shall have to start from the beginning, then. I do not know why I expected to avoid this.”

“Samara, please slow down.” Miranda raised her hand, her mind far too clouded with fog to make sense of any of this. Even just watching her march back and forth felt like running a marathon, which would have been an exhausting prospect even if she had slept in the past four days. Her request fell on deaf ears.

“Miranda, I was...I was dishonest with you the last time we spoke,” Samara began. “No, worse than dishonest. I have been deceiving you, for no other reason than because I have been too craven to admit the truth. What is worse, I fear that you have sensed my deceit, and that this is what has damaged our friendship. I cannot...I cannot abide this. I cannot continue to lie to you.”

Miranda could barely even make out what she was saying as she paced. She was speaking so quickly, and with such adamance that it felt like she might spontaneously combust from internal friction if it weren’t for the rain soaking her skin. Miranda had never seen Samara in this state. She was like a completely different person. A stranger wearing the face of someone she knew.

Samara was so restrained. So dignified. So elegant. She was a woman who had walked alone, unflinching into mortal peril thousands of times with no regard for her own life, and somehow emerged unscathed, even where countless others had fallen around her. She was the most fearless individual Miranda had ever met. 

There was none of that here.

She was...overcome.

Her proverbial armour had cracked.

“Samara, respectfully, you’re a category five hurricane right now. I need you to bring it down to a stiff breeze,” said Miranda, gesturing for her to cool her frantic energy just a little bit, because right now this was impossible to follow.

At last, Samara halted, and stood still. “...Yes. Yes, of course. You have my apologies,” Samara replied, no less anxious, but at least she seemed able to recognise what an incoherent onslaught her words must have sounded like. 

Miranda leaned back against the chair that was tucked into her desk, gripping it with her hand to take some weight off her bad leg. Whatever could have left Samara so shaken, it had to be serious. Nothing ever rattled her.

Except apparently this.

“What have you been lying about?” Miranda asked, that being about the only thing she had managed to make out of Samara’s hasty, jumbled rant a moment ago.

At that question, Samara held her stare, a distant expression falling across her face. “...After all this time, you truly do not suspect, do you?” she asked aloud, the realisation sinking in, as if that was a possibility she had not contemplated.

“Suspect what?” was all Miranda could say, tempted to utter a desperate laugh as she shrugged her good shoulder, not because there was anything remotely funny about this, but because she was so fucking tired, and so fucking lost.

“Why I abandoned you as I did. Why I fled this city and deserted you. Why you have been forced to contend with so much pain, suffering and death alone, when I ought to have been here to share those burdens with you, and taken care of you when you needed me by your side,” said Samara. Her voice was shaking.

Miranda softened when she heard that. Did Samara really think she was angry at her for leaving? “Samara, no.” Miranda shook her head, unconsciously gesturing with her amputated arm as if to strike that thought from history. “Of course I understand why you left. You’re a Justicar. You have your Code--”

The moment that word left her lips, Samara laughed a humourless laugh, laced with turmoil and despair. Miranda was struck mute by that. It was so unlike her.

“Oh, my sweet Miranda, you truly still believe that about me?” said Samara, her hand on her forehead, as if she couldn’t fathom what she was hearing - that even now people still trusted her at her word. “No. No, my dear, it is a fiction. A comforting lie. A shadow I hide behind.”

Miranda damn near recoiled in abject confusion. “But you are a Justicar.”

“Yes, but that is not why I acted as I did. When I turned my back on you, it had nothing to do with The Code,” Samara unburdened herself at long last, revealing a secret that had been silently killing her. “When I left, it was for one reason only. And that was because I...because I could not be here to watch you die…”

Samara’s voice cracked on the last word, and her hands covered her face as tears began to swell from beneath the surface.

Miranda was dumbfounded - rendered speechless from utter astonishment. She had only seen Samara break like this twice before. Had only seen her cry twice before. That was when she killed Morinth. And when she opened up about losing Rila. Only the deaths of her daughters affected her like this.

Samara trembled, her hand over her mouth. Her eyes shone with remorse as she met Miranda’s frozen visage across the room. “I am so sorry,” Samara told her sincerely, her words cut by the hitch of a breath. “I know my contrition means nothing, but I am so deeply, deeply sorry. I do not blame you if you despise me. You should. I know I deserve it, because the truth is that I failed you. I failed you because I am weak, and I am broken, and I could not...I could not lose you.”

Miranda’s heart tore in half when she heard that. Her head fell, and she pressed her palm to her eye, squeezing it shut. Was this why Samara thought Miranda had snapped at her the last time they spoke? Was she responsible for hurting her like this? God, she regretted that day even more now than she already had before.

“You didn’t fail me, Samara,” Miranda quietly assured her. “You saved my life.”

“That, too, was selfishness,” Samara confessed, owning up to her sins. “When the dust settled, I saw you had not returned. When I realised how close you had been to the Conduit, I went searching for you. And only for you.”

“That’s not true,” Miranda interjected, refusing to let Samara denigrate herself for what had been unparalleled heroism. “You saved dozens of lives in the wasteland.”

“Because The Code demanded I must, and my life would be forfeit if I did not. Every time I came across another survivor, I had to stop and render aid. But, though The Code compelled me to do everything in my power to rescue those in need, I tell you plainly I did not want to. I did not care about any of them. I would have abandoned every single one of them if I could,” Samara said starkly, stripping bare her truth. That revelation hit Miranda like a shockwave. It was something Miranda would have said. Not Samara. “People thought me brave, but I was not. People thought I was saving lives, but that was never my goal. My deeds should not entitle me to praise, but rather scorn, because I was selfish. I was so selfish. My only reason for going out there again and again was to find you.”

Samara swallowed. Miranda would have, but her mouth was suddenly dry.

“...And I did,” Samara continued, her features softening as she gazed upon Miranda. “You were caked in blood and dirt when I found you. So much so that I could barely recognise you. And then you...and then you stopped breathing.”

Samara took a moment to compose herself, affected by those painful memories. She drew a deep breath, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

“I did not merely believe that you would die. I knew it. I was certain of it,” Samara quietly admitted. “The infection had already reached your blood. It was shutting down your organs. There seemed to be no hope that you would survive. The only reason you were breathing was because machines were doing it for you. Your pulse was so weak. Your condition showed no signs of improving. As I sat by your bedside, I came to understand that I was doing nothing but watching your life slip away before my very eyes. Every day, you were slowly dying in front of me. And I could not endure it. I...I broke. I ran away, rather than face it.”

“But you left me that message,” Miranda pointed out, struggling to fit the puzzle pieces together in her clouded head between things she already knew, parts of the story she had been told by others, and what Samara was saying now.

“A lie,” Samara said bluntly, her voice too strained to speak louder than a whisper. “To convince myself that I had not forsaken you. That I was not hiding in the shadows from my fears. That I was merely doing as I ought to, as a Justicar. A lie that rang hollow.” Samara glanced down at her feet, ashamed of her actions. “If I truly believed that you had any chance of recovering, I tell you from my heart, I would not have left. Never. And, if I had sincerely been forced into some temporary departure by my Code as I claimed, I would have placed a much better message beside your bed for you to find when you awoke. But I did not do so. I did not do so, because I could not bear to step into your room again. I was afraid each time I went near you, it would be the moment you would…”

Samara couldn’t even finish that sentence. She didn’t have to.

Miranda didn’t interrupt her, too overwhelmed to respond. 

“This is why I have returned now. To apologise for my selfishness. Not to seek your forgiveness. Just to apologise,” Samara explained, repentant for her recent failings. “You have earned nothing less than that.”

“I…” Miranda didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t...form the words. It was a lot to take in. She could scarcely process it in her heavily fatigued state. She couldn’t think. She was so tired. So confused. “I still don’t understand. You’ve seen death before. Why couldn’t you be here? Why did you have to leave?”

“Goddess…” Samara turned away, facing the wall. “You truly do not know…”

“No, I don’t. So tell me,” said Miranda, growing exasperated with how Samara kept doing things like that. Acting like there were things she should already know, which she didn’t. She wasn’t psychic. She couldn’t read her mind. Obviously not. Samara had come all this way to throw this confession at her feet out of fucking nowhere. Why hold back now? “You’ve already said so--”

“Because I could not bear the pain of losing you!” Samara snapped back, her voice sharper and louder than before, as if she had to force the words out, fighting against herself to speak them. But, once they were said, they couldn’t be retracted. “I did not trust what I would do. How I would withstand it. Goddess, Miranda, I was coming apart. I had already broken The Code for you!”

Miranda’s eye widened. “What do you mean?”

“You know this. You said it yourself.” Samara faced her once more, moving a step closer. “I...I threatened to murder doctors, because they wanted to turn off your life support,” Samara confessed, hard as it was for her to say. “You were functionally dead, and I was prepared to harm innocents rather than accept it - to use violence against healers so I could keep you hooked to those machines.”

Miranda’s heart stopped in her chest.

Wait, what? That wasn’t something Jacob had just misunderstood? Her weary mind went black. She couldn’t even comprehend that revelation. 

“I breached two tenets, in total. Not only by threatening innocent medics, but that I lied about The Code in order to compel them to spare you,” Samara confided in her, exposing her transgressions, her shame. “This is not permitted. I was unjust. Had I any sisters left to judge me, I might be expelled from the Order for this. At worst, perhaps even executed. Though, if there is but one small mercy to be found, it is that my words, evil though they were, were only words. I took no violent act, drew no weapon, and made no attempt to carry out my threats. Had I done so, The Code would not suffer me to live. Nor should it.”

“...You…wait…” Miranda couldn’t hear herself, her ear was ringing so loud.

What the fuck was happening? This couldn’t be real.

“In what small part of me was still capable of thinking rationally, I knew my behaviour had made me a danger to myself and others,” Samara continued. “If you passed, I could not take the risk of what I might do. At least, that was what I told myself. In truth, by that stage, I was simply too afraid to stay. Afraid of how much it would hurt when you...” She trailed off into silence, her meaning clear.

Miranda didn’t even catch all of that, her thoughts blank. No, this didn’t make sense. Samara was a Justicar. A servant of her Code. She was the embodiment of her way of life. She stuck to it rigidly. She never bent the rules, much less broke them. She would never do that. She was so disciplined. So loyal to it.

Samara hadn’t even broken The Code when it came to her own daughters. An Oath, yes. But not The Code. From what Miranda understood, that was the difference between breaking a promise, and breaking the law. She had told Miranda straight to her face that she couldn’t do the latter. That she would never.

And yet now Samara was standing there in front of her telling her that she had not merely violated The Code, but that she had done so consciously. For her.

Twice.

“Now you see me for what I truly am. Frail. Weak. A fraud.” Samara glanced aside, accepting that what she had done would forever tarnish her in Miranda’s sight, as it should. “So, like a coward, I ran. As far as I could. Every day thinking, is this the day she died? Is this the day? Surely, she must have passed by now, Samara. Just go back. Just go. Confront this. Be with her. But I could not. I could not return, because I was not ready to know. Because I was not ready to feel--”

Her voice caught, rendering her unable to finish that bleak thought.

Miranda felt a heavy tide rising inside her. Like she was swimming in a maelstrom. Sucked in under the water. Unable to breathe. Unable to think or react. It was so much all at once. It was as if she’d been consumed by a tsunami.

“...Why are you telling me this?” Miranda asked through the haze.

“Because you do not deserve to believe you are at fault,” Samara insisted, taking another step towards her. “I abandoned you in your hour of need, not because you mean nothing to me, but because you...you are so important to me it scares me. But that is my burden, not yours. You should not have to suffer for my lack of bravery. I could not bear it if you thought that I have treated you so carelessly because you have slighted me in some way. You have not. I am to blame. Only me. The failure is mine, and mine alone. I am the monster here. Not you.”

“Please don’t say that,” said Miranda. It hurt to hear Samara berate herself like that. She was the opposite of a monster. “I wouldn’t even be here if not for you.”

“But I should have been here.” Samara took another step. As the space between them shrank, Miranda felt a shiver pass through her body, but not because it was cold. “I should have watched over you. Cared for you when you awoke. Been by your side as you rebuilt this city. Weathered the terrible news with you when you learned what became of our friends. But I could not. Instead, I left you. I let fear take hold, and surrendered to despair. Worst of all, I gave up hope. I did not have faith in you, when I should have known you are beyond extraordinary.”

“You don’t owe me anything--”

“Please.” Samara quietly cut her off, refusing her forgiveness, feeling unworthy of it. Even so, she could not refrain from reaching out, curling stray strands of hair back behind Miranda’s ear. Miranda’s pulse spiked, thundering like a drum. “I was distraught for so long. Too paralysed with sorrow to return, and face the news. So convinced that everything I dreaded had come to pass. That I had been too late when I found you in the wastes. That you had succumbed while I was away. That I would find nothing here but your grave.” Samara’s eyes shone as she looked upon her, a warm smile coming to her face. “I do not know how I ever doubted you would defy the odds. You are truly incredible. You always have been.”

Miranda didn’t dare to breathe, Samara was so close. All those bottled up feelings came flooding to the surface. It felt like somehow Samara should just know. That she should be able to lay eyes upon her, and glean from a single glance how easily Miranda came undone in her presence.

God, the things it did to her for Samara to be this near, her fingers on her skin. It was too much. She should have withdrawn and pulled away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want Samara to stop. She needed her, with every fibre of her being.

Miranda couldn’t take it. For her own sanity, she had to force herself to turn her head away. To look somewhere else. Anywhere else but Samara.

"Do not hide from me.” Samara’s fingers curled beneath her chin, lifting her head, compelling Miranda to lock her eye on Samara once more. “I know I ran before, but it was not because of you. Do not think it was ever to do with you.”

She realised then that Samara must have assumed the reason Miranda averted her gaze was because she’d felt self-conscious in that moment. Of her wounds. Of the scars on her face. Little did she know that had nothing to do with it.

It became achingly apparent then as she got lost in that shimmering sapphire stare that Samara had no idea what Miranda felt towards her. And that those feelings were so powerful and intense that they were threatening to devour her. 

How could Samara not see what she was doing to her? 

She was laid open. Bare. Exposed.

Samara’s fingers combed through Miranda’s hair until they grazed the cord that held her eyepatch in place. Miranda was so transfixed that she almost didn’t even feel her touch it. “May I?” Samara asked her permission to remove it, gauging whether Miranda trusted her enough to show the extent of her scars.

Miranda swallowed and nodded, giving her consent. That was never the problem. Least of all with Samara. Miranda stood stiff against her desk, knuckles turning white against her chair as Samara carefully slipped it off.

Samara released a slow exhale as she set that black cloth down on the table, a wave of heartfelt warmth washing over her features as that barrier fell by the wayside. As if on instinct, her fingers reached out to touch her face, but she stopped her hand just short of Miranda’s scarred cheek. “Will it hurt if I…?”

Miranda shook her head, almost too tense to speak. “Not if you’re gentle,” was all she could manage. And when was Samara ever anything less?

With Miranda’s tacit approval, Samara softly cupped her cheek. Miranda’s breath hitched. How could she be so on edge that such a feather-light caress could make her feel like her entire world was on the verge of exploding? 

“I have been devout in my faith for a very long time, and yet...Believe me when I tell you, the only time in my nine hundred and seventy-one years of life that the Goddess has ever answered my prayers was when I turned around on that balcony, and saw you standing there in front of me,” Samara professed.

If she moved so much as a single muscle, Miranda wasn’t sure there was any power on Earth that could stop her from crashing her lips against Samara’s, no matter how wrong she knew it was, or how bad of an idea. She willed her body to stay stone still, because it was all she could do to control herself.

If Miranda hadn’t been leaning so heavily on the desk and chair behind her, she was certain her legs would have given out right from under her. Samara’s skin was still so cold from the rain, but her touch was hotter than fire, and Miranda like wax beneath her fingertips. She could have melted into a puddle on the floor.

“I know I should not, but…” Without another word, Samara tilted Miranda’s head down, and pressed a tender, savouring kiss to her forehead. Miranda’s palm shook against her desk. She was trembling like a leaf. When she parted from her, Samara let her head rest against Miranda’s, cradling her jaw. “...I am sorry, but that is all I have wanted to do ever since I learned you were alive.”

Miranda’s heart wasn’t just pounding. It was screaming.

Somehow, she just knew, if she dared to utter a single sound, she wouldn’t be able to keep from shouting the truth at the top of her voice. The desire to say those five pivotal words seeped from every pore. She was bursting at the seams. 

“No, I should not have done that.” Samara shook her head, taking a step back. It was only then that Miranda realised she hadn’t taken a single breath in the last minute, and sharply gasped for air. “I have been selfish. Allowed myself to…” Samara stopped herself, as if suddenly coming to her senses. “Forgive me, Miranda. I have said all I needed to say. I should--”

The instant she turned to leave, Miranda’s hand shot out and seized Samara by her wrist, grabbing her as tightly as she’d ever held onto anything in her life.

“Don’t you dare walk away,” Miranda growled. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Samara hesitated, caught off guard. “...I thought you did not want me here.”

“Why would I not want you here?!” Miranda shot back, her tension built to breaking point. She felt like she was going insane, trying to find her balance on shifting sands. Nothing made sense anymore. For all Samara’s honesty, she still didn’t understand what the hell was going on.

“Because I abandoned you,” Samara answered. That had been the whole reason for her confession. Her apology. “Because I hurt you. Because you hate me.”

“Hate you? Samara, you idiot, I’m in love with you!” the words tore themselves from Miranda’s chest before she could stop them. Samara froze. Miranda released her tight grip on Samara’s wrist. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror as she realised what she’d said. But it was too late to stuff that confession back in.

God damn it. She’d really just said that out loud, hadn’t she?

“Fuck…” Miranda cursed under her breath, realising there was no going back. It was out there now. She had to confront it. “I’ve never...you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. It’s like a kind of madness.” She wasn’t sure what to say, or whether it was even a good idea to keep talking. But she had to. Now that she’d said it, she had to. “That was why I asked you to leave me alone before. Not because I hate you, but because...I feel the exact opposite.”

Miranda pressed her hand to her forehead, fighting off the incessant pain in her skull. The insomnia that made it so hard to think. To put these complicated feelings into words. She was so not in the right frame of mind to have this conversation.

Yet here they were.

“I’m pretty sure I have for a long time, actually. I was just too bloody stupid to figure it out any earlier. But...” In place of adding anything further, Miranda simply gestured, leaving her feelings out there, in the open, for Samara to do with as she wished. It was a horrible position to be in. She hated every second of it.

“...No,” was the first thing Samara said. Her voice sounded so distant. And it was tinged almost with a sense of...dread. “No. You do not. You should not.”

“I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I do. I think about you all the time. And I don’t...I don’t know what to do about it,” Miranda admitted, shrugging her shoulder. 

“No,” Samara repeated herself, more insistently. Her suddenness startled Miranda a little. “You...you are mistaken.”

“I’m not,” Miranda reflexively answered back. She couldn’t help but get defensive, hearing Samara tell her she was wrong about her own feelings, when she knew painfully well she wasn’t. “I tried to convince myself that I was, but--”

“You do not know what love is. And you do not know who I am,” Samara coldly shut her down, refusing to hear this. “If you did, you would know there is nothing about me that is worthy of you.”

“Fucking hell, Samara…” Miranda ran her hand through her hair. This was not how she would have planned this to go. For one thing, she never anticipated she would have to contend with Samara being in staunch denial about her dramatic love confession. But then she paused, as the final part of Samara’s sentence gradually registered in her tired mind. “...I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

“You…” Samara swallowed heavily, realising she had perhaps revealed more than she ought. Maybe because she thought her own feelings had already been blatantly obvious, and it hadn’t occurred to her to think Miranda wouldn’t have realised them by now. But she didn’t take it back. “No, I cannot do this.”

Samara moved for the door as if to leave. In response, Miranda extended her hand, biotically lifting Samara six inches off the ground, holding her in place.

“No,” Miranda sternly commanded her, not letting her run off and hide again. She was getting pretty bloody sick of that. “We’re talking.”

Samara could have overpowered her easily if she wanted to. Miranda was no match for her biotic prowess, especially not in her current state. She could have broken out of this grip with little more than a shadow of a thought. They both knew that. But she didn’t fight. She didn’t resist.

After a moment, Samara just gave her a nod, as if to confirm she would stay. Miranda let go. Samara’s feet hit the floor. She didn’t so much as stumble.

“You were saying,” Miranda prompted, losing patience for her evasiveness.

“...You heard what I said. It is as it seems,” was all Samara could bring herself to say, not denying Miranda’s suspicions. She would not lie to her.

“Do you feel the same way about me?” Miranda asked, forcing her to acknowledge it out loud. To put it into words. There was no room for misunderstanding here.

“That is not the point,” Samara responded, tersely.

Miranda sighed heavily, intuiting what she meant. “Of course. You’re a Justicar,” she said. It didn’t matter what Samara felt about her, if The Code forbade it.

Samara’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I...am uncertain what you mean by this.”

Miranda’s expression mirrored Samara’s, equally bewildered. “Doesn’t the Justicar Code forbid...?” Miranda didn't finish that sentence, simply glancing down at the space between them, choosing to be deft in her words. Using any specific term that entered her mind might be perceived as demanding or presuming too much, or too little, and she wouldn’t risk that. 

Samara stared at her, the open-ended meaning not lost in the silence. It was obvious from looking at her expression that she wished her status as a Justicar permitted her to speak falsely. That would have made things so much easier. “...It does not,” she replied to Miranda's myriad unspoken questions, and the words running through her mind. It was the same answer for all of them.

At that, relief dared to trickle through Miranda’s skin. 

“That was never the problem,” Samara continued, not allowing Miranda to think that information changed anything. It didn’t.

“Then what is?” Miranda replied. “There’s obviously a connection between us. We both feel it. And if your Code says there’s nothing wrong with that, then--”

“Because I deserve to be alone!” Samara professed. “That is my penance.”

Miranda recoiled. It actually, physically hurt to hear that. “How can you say that?”

“Miranda, listen to me,” Samara implored her, holding her focus. “You are a remarkable woman. You are brilliant and exceptional, in every respect--”

“So are you,” said Miranda.

“No, you are not listening.” Samara raised her hands, determined to continue. “You are so young. You still have so much life ahead of you. So much potential. When others see you, as I have seen you, the entire galaxy will fall at your feet. As it should. You have nothing to gain from me. I am...I am regret, and ruin,” Samara told her, a faint glint of unshed tears in her eyes. “If you truly saw me for what I am, you would know there is only death and misery for you here.”

“I do know you, Samara,” Miranda spoke quietly. “I know that, despite all the tragedy you’ve endured that would break a lesser person, you somehow still manage to wake up each day and choose to be warm, and kind, and good--”

“I am none of those things,” Samara assured her.

“You are to me,” Miranda persisted, undeterred. “I know you are, because you found me when I was at my most jaded, my most cynical, my most closed off--”

“Miranda, no.” Samara shook her head, pleading with her not to feel this way.

“And, instead of rejecting me, you...you reached out to me,” Miranda continued, talking right through any interruption, or resistance. Because this needed to be said. “You made me smile more than anyone has ever made me smile. You showed me that...that opening up to someone you trust and letting yourself be vulnerable around them isn’t a weakness, but that it takes bravery and strength.”

“Please stop this,” Samara begged her, her voice a whisper.

But Miranda didn’t stop. “You single-handedly made me a better person than I was before I met you.” There was no denying that. Without Samara, she wouldn’t have learned from her past mistakes. She would have kept perpetuating the same cycles, and never stopped to reflect on her preconceived notions about what mattered to her, and what made her happy. “So, if you’re unworthy of love, then what does that make me? Because, from where I’m standing...Samara, there aren’t enough superlatives to describe you.”

“Enough!” Samara swept her hand across her body, signalling for this to cease.

But Miranda wouldn’t.

“No.” Miranda pressed forward. She was pouring her heart out. She’d never done this before, because she’d never felt this way about anyone. And, now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “Don’t you get what I’m saying? You’re it. You’re it for me. I will never feel the way about anyone else that I feel about you, and I know because I’ve tried, and those efforts failed so hard I didn’t even think the ability to fall in love with someone existed in me, until I met you. You’re not just beyond comparison to everyone else. God, you’re...you’re fucking transcendent.”

“Do not...say these things!” Samara cut her off, her voice so loud and forceful that there was no doubt it bellowed through the whole apartment. Miranda had never heard her raise her voice before, let alone like that. “You know not of what you speak. You love a shadow. Nothing more.”

Miranda’s gaze narrowed. “What is it you think I don’t know, Samara?” she challenged, determined to prove herself. “I know more than you think.”

“I killed the last person I loved!” Samara shot back, refusing to subject herself to that indescribable agony a second time. She would never let that happen again.

“No, you didn’t, Samara. She killed herself,” Miranda curtly replied.

“You know nothing of it!” Samara insisted through her teeth.

“I know everything,” Miranda interrupted, unshaken by what Samara thought were secrets. They weren’t. “I know every little fucked up detail you didn’t want me to know. I know you tried to kill yourself too, and the only reason you failed is that your neighbour found you. I know you blame yourself for Mirala becoming Morinth because you think whatever you said to her the night before her test scared her into running away and melding with her best friend to prove she wasn’t an Ardat-Yakshi. I know the police blamed you and wanted to charge you with something, anything, and that you broke down during your interrogation and told them you blamed yourself for everything too. I know the whole world turned against you for something that wasn’t your fault. I know it all.”

Miranda’s response thrust Samara into stunned silence. Miranda had the decency to look contrite, already seeing the fire of betrayal in steely blue eyes. Exactly like she expected. Exactly why this admission had been so easy to put off.

“There’s nothing about you that’s a mystery to me,” Miranda continued, quieter than before. “I looked into your past when we were aboard the SR-2. I’m surprised you didn’t already assume I did. I mean, this is me we’re talking about.”

As that slowly sank in, Samara stepped away and shook her head. “I am disappointed in you, Miranda. Yet I suppose you are correct; I cannot claim this was a shock,” said Samara, in a tone Miranda had never heard before. “After all, you have at all times been nothing if not transparent about your duplicity.”

Miranda’s eye darkened. That hurt.

“Fuck you, Samara. You don’t get to turn this around on me right now. In case you haven’t noticed, between the two of us, I’m not the one lying.”

“Yes, how very dare I be hurt by your treachery,” Samara countered, looking her in the eye once more, her words laced with biting sarcasm. “I should know better than to criticise you, or confront you with consequences for your actions. After all, you are Miranda Lawson. You can do nothing wrong.”

“I’ll apologise as much as you want later. But that’s not what this conversation is about. So don’t change the subject,” Miranda snapped. 

“What more is there to say?” said Samara, her arms folded across her chest, unwilling to discuss it further. This hadn’t helped. “You know my answer.”

“There is so much more to say, because you’re pulling away and I don’t even know why. To punish yourself for some imaginary sins? Is that it? Look…” Miranda crossed the distance between them, reaching out and gently clasping Samara's hand, guiding it to rest upon her chest, where she could feel her heartbeat. “Whatever this is, I...I want this,” Miranda assured her. “Do you?”

Samara withdrew, resisting the temptation. “What I want is irrelevant.”

“Why is it irrelevant?” Miranda pursued her. “You’re a person, Samara. An incredible one, but still just a person, with feelings, and wants, and needs. You've spent four hundred years being selfless, to a greater degree than your Code required you to be. You don’t have to do that. You’re allowed to feel things. To want things. To need things. You’re allowed to...to move on with your life.”

“Move on?” Samara echoed incredulously. She turned her body away, refusing to look at her, visibly caught up in a tempestuous tumult of conflicting emotions.

Hurt.

Anger.

Grief.

“If you knew me half as well as you claim to, you would understand what an insult it is to me that you would tell me such a thing,” said Samara, shaking her head in contempt and disbelief. “‘Move on with my life’. The audacity...”

“I'm not saying that to get something from you. Genuinely, I'm not. You don't have to...” This wasn’t working, was it? “What I’m trying to say is that, whatever this is between us, this doesn’t have to go the way I want it to. I’m not even sure what that is, or what that would mean. I was so convinced this could never happen. But don't you deserve a bit of happiness?” she asked, trying to catch Samara’s eyes, though she was intent on avoiding her. “If I bring that to you, then—“

Before she could finish, Samara exhaled heavily and stepped closer, until the space between them virtually evaporated. Miranda trembled as she stumbled backwards on instinct, until she could go no further, and hit the wall near the door.

“Do not speak of happiness.” Samara pinned Miranda in place without exerting any force whatsoever. Without touching her. Whatever Miranda had intended to say before swiftly fled her mind. “My happiness died centuries ago. And I promised myself -- I promised myself, I would never...never betray that.”

Miranda moved to protest, but stopped abruptly when it became apparent Samara wasn’t really talking to her, but rather that she was arguing with herself.

“But, I...you were not...you were not part of that plan. I did not foresee how much I would...how much I would come to...” As her dilemma tore at her soul, Samara grimaced and braced herself on the wall, as if in physical pain. “I do not know what to do. I know I do not deserve this, but...perhaps we can, without...”

“Yes,” Miranda all but whimpered. Whatever she meant, her answer was yes.

She wanted this. So bad. Even if it might have been a terrible mistake. Even if it might have ruined everything they already had. At that moment, she didn't care.

Miranda wanted to kiss her. To sink her teeth into her neck, and tear her armour off. Her body was screaming at her to do those things, desperate to touch her, and powerless to resist if this was what Samara chose. But, in what little part of her brain could still think, she knew she had to let Samara take the initiative for whatever happened next. If she didn’t, she would push her away forever.

They probably only stood like that for a few seconds, but time moved so slowly it felt like minutes. Miranda could see the cogs spinning in Samara’s head. The conflict. The indecision. Temptation. Torn between resistance and surrender.

Samara’s fingers brushed her bare arm. She’d leaned so close Miranda felt her breath against her lips. Then, blue eyes went black. And Miranda felt the magnetic sensations she recognised as a meld beneath Samara’s fingertips. 

In an instant, everything changed.

A wave of sheer, uncompromising despair crashed over Miranda, plunging her into the deepest, darkest, blackest abyss she had ever known. It felt as if her very soul had been ripped from her body and murdered in front of her, leaving behind only a hollow, empty shell. Any memory of happiness or joy was stripped from her mind, and shattered into a million pieces at her feet.

She had never felt more devastatingly, crushingly alone.

Bereft of hope.

And, although it had come over her as suddenly as the blink of an eye, it felt like she had never known anything else.

Abruptly, Samara glowed blue, her biotics repelling Miranda, like a barrier between them, pressing her back against the wall. The meld ended only a fraction of a second after it began, leaving both of them visibly shaken. The moment they separated, Miranda's hand flew to her lips, trembling as tears spilled from her eye, coursing down the unscarred side of her face, beyond her control.

Samara staggered backwards, as if she had seen a ghost. “No, I...I cannot.”

“No, don't...” Miranda could hardly speak, overcome by a grief that she could not name. She shook her head. What was happening? She never cried, unless her sister was involved. But this sorrow. It had lasted only a fleeting moment, but it was intense and crushing and it dwarfed any sadness she had ever felt. So much so that it hurt just to breathe. Just to be alive. “I'm sorry, I don't...I'm not...I'm not normally like this. I don't know why this is happening.”

“Because it came from me,” Samara answered, her lips scarcely moving.

“...What did you say?” Miranda lifted her head, staring at Samara, shellshocked. But she hadn’t misheard. Whatever she was feeling, these weren’t her own emotions. In that brief instant that they had started to meld, Samara had inadvertently transferred whatever she was currently feeling onto her. 

“I did not mean for this to happen. I am so sorry. I...I thought I could contain myself. My boundaries. I never wanted you to experience this...” Samara whispered until her words trailed off into silence, confirming it to be true.

That realisation struck Miranda to her core, that agony still permeating her being.

“...Is this how you feel about me?” Miranda asked, a deep, dull ache pooling like lead at the base of her heart at the very thought - that this was how miserable she had made her by putting her in this position. Samara didn’t respond, neither confirming nor denying it. “Is this how you feel all the time?”

“It does not matter. This cannot happen,” Samara stated, her voice hollow.

“Samara.” Miranda reached out for her, but Samara raised her hand, signalling for her not to come closer, convinced this had been a terrible mistake.

“In another time, or another life, this would have been...” Samara didn't finish that thought, shaking her head. “I cannot contemplate this. I must not.”

“So, what? You’re just going to run off again?!” Miranda’s shout was enough to momentarily stop Samara in her tracks. Her throat was strangled with emotions that weren’t entirely her own. But some of them sure were. “Tell me, Samara, when did the strongest woman I’ve ever met turn into such a pathetic coward?”

“This is what I have always been!” Samara hissed in response, despising herself for this horrible misdeed. There was no hint of the stoic, composed, restrained person Miranda previously knew. “I have always been a coward. A fraud. A monster. A mistake. A worthless, selfish waste! I have the blood of over a thousand murders on my hands! I am nothing! I should not even be here!”

“Then why don’t you just fucking go!” Miranda shot back, lashing out in pain.

Samara took her at her word, looking at her one last time before she stormed out. Miranda heard the front door slam. The instant it did, Miranda slid down the wall, tears spilling from her eye, the weight of what just happened combining with Samara’s despair, still coursing through her body.

She felt so cold. Like everything right, or good, or light was just...absent.

There was only shadow.

Only grief.

A shaky exhale escaped her lips. What had she done? This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. She’d told Samara the truth, and pushed her away forever. They would probably never speak again. Not after this.

She didn’t even realise that the door to her room was still open until a few heads peeked around the corner to see her. Obviously, they’d been roused by raised voices, and the door slamming. The walls weren’t that thick. They probably hadn’t heard everything. But they would have heard enough.

“Are you okay, Miss?” Reiley asked, visibly concerned.

Miranda wiped her eye and picked herself up to her feet, refusing to let herself look vulnerable in front of them. Even though it was too late for that. “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth, taking her eyepatch off the desk and putting it on.

“You don’t look fine,” Jason pointed out as Miranda limped her way past them.

“Samara left in a hurry. And we heard fighting,” Rodriguez noted, not really sure how to approach this. “...Did you fuck things up between you?” she asked, in what sounded like an effort to be understanding and comforting. It wasn’t. Jason chastised her insensitivity with a light slap to the back of her head. “What? It’s fucking obvious they just had a fight…”

Miranda ignored them, grabbing her things, pulling on her jacket and scarf.

“What are you doing?” said Jason, shaking his head at her. For a second, it almost sounded like he was the responsible adult in the house. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Miranda answered stonily.

“It’s 1:00am,” Jason pointed out, as if convincing her to see reason.

“I don’t care.” Miranda slipped on her shoes, and took hold of her cane. She couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t lie there and think about this. Couldn’t feel this.

“Are you coming back?” said Reiley, confused.

Miranda was tempted to lash out at them and say no out of sheer bitterness and spite, but she couldn't. Unlike Samara, she didn't run from her problems.

“...I'll see you in the morning,” she said, before she closed the door and left. None of them knew it then, but they would not, in fact, see her in the morning.

And, when they did see her again, they would wish they hadn’t.

So would Miranda.

*     *     *

#fic #miranda lawson #samara #mass effect #femslash

[laboratorioautoral]

The original outline and why it is still relevant to ASOIF

Since the original outline for A Song of Ice and Fire was leaked there’s been a massive effort, both in fandom and mainstream media, to discredit everything that was revealed there as a potential clue for the future of the story.

Although I agree that some changes happened, I don’t subscribe to the idea that the outline is irrelevant at this point. This little essay is my attempt to analyze the outline and compare it with what has already happened and still could happen in the future books, how much was changed and more importantly, how it was changed. I won’t say this is an impartial analysis (because I don’t believe that such a thing exists) but an honest effort of textual interpretation.

Here we go:

“Dear Ralph,

Here are the first thirteen chapters (170 pages) of the high fantasy novel I promised you, which I'm calling 'A Game of Thrones.' When completed, this will be the first volume in what I see as an epic trilogy with the overall title, 'A Song of Ice and Fire.'”

First things first. A Song of Ice and Fire was first imagined as a trilogy and the fact that GRRM extended it to 7 books obviously has an impact in terms of structure. It seems quite reasonable to assume that a lot more would have to happen to fill the gap occupied by 4 additional books. That alone is a huge influencing factor, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that the essence of the story was changed as we can see in the following paragraphs.

“As you know, I don't outline my novels. I find that if I know exactly where a book is going, I lose all interest in writing it. I do, however, have some strong notions as to the overall structure of the story I'm telling, and the eventual fate of many of the principle characters in the drama. Roughly speaking, there are three major conflicts set in motion in the chapters enclosed. These will form the major plot threads of the trilogy, [unclear] each other in what should be a complex but exciting (I hope [unclear] tapestry. Each of the [unclear] presents a major threat [unclear] of my imaginary realm, the Seven Kingdoms, and to the live [unclear] principal characters.”

Here we have Martin admitting that he usually doesn’t outline his novels over fear that he will lose interest while writing it. However, he also clarifies that he has “some strong notions” for the story he is telling, especially in which concerns those he considers to be the main characters.

In some of interviews Martin already said that the ending he had planned many years ago is still in place and he has known the characters’ endings ever since. It’s safe to assume, I think, that the core of his plans hasn’t changed much. What might have changed is the path that leads the characters from one point to another.

“The first threat grows from the enmity between the great houses of Lannister and Stark as it plays out in a cycle of plot, counter-plot, ambition, murder, and revenge, with the iron throne of the Seven Kingdoms as the ultimate prize. This will form the backbone of the first volume of the trilogy, A Game of Thrones.”

Can anyone say that this didn’t happen? Of course not. This is the spark that lights the fire that will consume the Seven Kingdoms throughout the story, with major and minor consequences that will shape both the narrative and the characters’ development. The conflict between Starks and Lannisters is the first of three conflicts that represent the core of the story.

“While the lion of Lannister and the direwolf of Stark snarl and scrap, however, a second and greater threat takes shape across the narrow sea, where the Dothraki horselords mass their barbarian hordes for a great invasion of the Seven Kingdoms, led by the fierce and beautiful Daenerys Stormborn, the last of the Targaryen dragonlords. The Dothraki invasion will be the central story of my second volume, A Dance with Dragons.”

Here we have the second major conflict and with this one in particular I’ll have to take my time to elaborate some points. First of all, A Dance With Dragons became the 5th book of the series instead of the second. So far everything we saw about Daenerys was her preparing to take her place at the center of the stage.

Dany has her own arc which hasn’t integrated to the events in Westeros so far given to her geographic location. That doesn’t mean that Daenerys has no relevance to what’s happening in Westeros, but her existence wasn’t directly noticed by the seven kingdoms yet. Daenerys is preparing for her role in the main story: She is gathering a military force based on the Dothraki to invade Westeros.

We already know that Daenerys will have more than just the Dothraki on her side. The Unsullied were added to the plot and my guess is that they exist to humanize Daenerys and make us sympathize with her cause as she creates the great narrative of “Breaker of Chains”. This makes Daenerys sound heroic and noble, but I would like to point that Martin is very specific about one thing: The fierce and beautiful Daenerys Stormborn is first and foremost a threat. She is ready to invade Westeros and invasions are not peaceful.

At this point we already know two things worth being mentioned that are related both with Daenerys and the title of this book: The Dance of Dragons was a civil war involving two Targaryen claimants to the Iron Throne. On one side we had Rhaenyra, firstborn of the king and rightful heir if gender wasn’t an issue in Westerosi succession laws. On the other side we had Aegon, a son born from the king’s second marriage. His claim was mostly based on gender norms that favor male heirs in detriment of primogeniture.

It isn’t much of a dance if we only have one dragon, is it? Yes, Daenerys is the first half of this equation, but there is another half that Martin hadn’t created yet (or didn’t mention) when he wrote the outline. There is a second Targaryen, or at least someone who claims to be one.

Aegon VI, or Young Griff, is actually the first one to arrive in Westeros with invasion in mind. Does it mean that Dany is less of a threat or that she was suddenly placed in a heroic position? Absolutely not. No one with three dragons is a harmless creature and Dany is even more dangerous now that she has a direct enemy in position to take away everything she fought for.

I know that there’s a lot of speculation on whether Aegon is a Blackfire or not, but honestly I think his true lineage will be irrelevant as long as he has at least a drop of Targaryen blood and the right looks. Legitimate or not, Aegon looks like a Targaryen, has the house’s ancestral sword and a story that is convincing enough. More than that, by posing as Prince Rhaegar’s legitimate son, Aegon makes his claim stronger than Daenerys’. On top of that, he would be the Targaryen male heir in opposition to a Targaryen woman, repeating at least a part of the scenery that led Westeros to the Dance of Dragons.

Aegon and Daenerys are bound to become enemies because of their own ambitions. I don’t see Dany accepting him as a suitor or even the rightful heir. She doesn’t need Aegon to take Westeros and a queen without a king is, historically speaking, more powerful.

Everything said about Aegon can also be applied to Jon once his true parentage is revealed. Jon and Daenerys are a threat to each other and only one will survive this.

“The greatest danger of all, however, comes from the north, from the icy wastes beyond the Wall, where half-forgotten demons out of legend, the inhuman others, raise cold legions of the undead and the neverborn and prepare to ride down on the winds of winter to extinguish everything that we would call "life." The only thing that stands between the Seven Kingdoms and an endless night is the Wall, and a handful of men in black called the Night's Watch. Their story will be [sic] heart of my third volume, The Winds of Winter. The final battle will also draw together characters and plot threads left from the first two books and resolve all in one huge climax.”

The third and greatest danger also remains just the same. The Others are still the core of the last book and the major battle. There isn’t much to elaborate on in this part except for the title of what was supposed to be the last book, The Winds of Winter.

I don’t think A Dream of Spring will be some sort of extended epilogue, but most of the action and conflict should take part during The Winds of Winter. At the very least the center of the whole debate will be both the North, with all the plots there, and what lies beyond the Wall.

“The thirteen chapters on hand should give you a notion as to my narrative strategy. All three books will feature a complex mosaic of inter-cutting points-of-view among various of my large and diverse cast of players. The cast will not always remain the same. Old characters will die, and new ones will be introduced. Some of the fatalities will include sympathetic viewpoint characters. I want the reader to feel that no one is ever completely safe, not even the characters who seem to be the heroes. The suspense always ratchets up a notch when you know that any character can die at any time.”

Needless to say anything about this. The books are well-known for these hallmarks. Now we are getting to the juicy part.

--

“Five central characters will make it through all three volumes, however, growing from children to adults and changing the world and themselves in the process. In a sense, my trilogy is almost a generational saga, telling the life stories of these five characters, three men and two women. The five key players are Tyrion Lannister, Daenerys Targaryen, and three of the children of Winterfell, Arya, Bran, and the bastard Jon Snow. All of them are introduced at some length in the chapters you have to hand.”

I would like to make a point here. The five characters will grow from children to adults, changing the world and themselves in the process.

Although I believe that Martin made a bit of a mess in which concerns the characters’ ages, I think we can understand that the characters will not only be forced to act like adults, but also will be perceived as such by those around them and given positions of power or leadership.

Specifically in which concerns the female characters, both Daenerys and Arya will be perceived as adult women by Westerosi society and this is important for several reasons, mainly in that being an adult noblewoman is a relevant component to form political alliances via marriage. In Arya’s case in particular, it reinforces the idea that she won’t be a nine year old girl forever. This impacts her relevance in the political game (something people usually overlook or ignore) and also makes it possible for Arya to have romantic interests.

“This is going to be (I hope) quite an epic. Epic in its scale, epic in its action, and epic in its length. I see all three volumes as big books, running about 700 to 800 manuscript pages, so things are just barely getting underway in the thirteen chapters I've sent you.”

Can anyone say it isn’t an epic? Sometimes I wish it wasn’t so intense so the books would come earlier, but here we are.

“I have quite a clear notion of how the story is going to unfold in the first volume, A Game of Thrones. Things will get a lot worse for the poor Starks before they get better, I'm afraid. Lord Eddard Stark and his wife Catelyn Tully are both doomed, and will perish at the hands of their enemies. Ned will discover what happened to his friend Jon Arryn, [unclear] can act on his knowledge [unclear] will have an unfortunate accident, and the throne will [unclear] to [unclear] and brutal [unclear] Joffrey [unclear] still a minor. Joffrey will not be sympathetic and Ned [what appears to say] will be accused of treason, but before he is taken he will help his wife and his daughter Arya escape back to Winterfell.”

Here we have proof that Ned and Catelyn were doomed from the start. Basically everything in this paragraph happened, even the part in which Ned helps Arya to escape by giving her position to Yoren. The only problem is that Arya never reached Winterfell and her mother had left the capital before Ned was arrested. Also the part that says that “things will get much worse for the poor Starks before they get better” makes me think that it’s quite clear that the Starks (or some of them) are the main protagonists of this story.

Why am I saying the Starks (or some of them) are the main heroes? Because being a charismatic character, created with the intention of getting the readers’ sympathy, isn’t necessarily what makes this character a protagonist. You can like whoever you want in the story, this doesn’t make a secondary character a main character, nor does it make a likable character the ‘hero’. The structure of the story and who are the main players is already given.

“Each of the contending families will learn it has a member of dubious loyalty in its midst. Sansa Stark, wed to Joffrey Baratheon, will bear him a son, the heir to the throne, and when the crunch comes she will choose her husband and child over her parents and siblings, a choice she will later bitterly rue. Tyrion Lannister, meanwhile, will befriend both Sansa and her sister Arya, while growing more and more disenchanted with his own family.”

Tyrion and Sansa were set to be the ones with dubious loyalties to their families. This also happened with slight differences. Tyrion befriends Jon and is somewhat sympathetic to Sansa and Bran. Sansa didn’t marry Joffrey, but she did choose him over her own family  the moment she went to Cersei to tell her Ned’s plans to get Sansa and Arya out of the capital. This might or might not indicate that she will have the chance to repent and atone for this, but her dubious loyalty is consolidated. Also Sansa has no children so far.

“Young Bran will come out of his coma, after a strange prophetic dream, only to discover that he will never walk again. He will turn to magic, at first in the hope of restoring his legs, but later for its own sake. When his father Eddard Stark is executed, Bran will see the shape of doom descending on all of them, but nothing he can say will stop his brother Robb from calling the banners in rebellion. All the north will be inflamed by war. Robb will win several splendid victories, and maim Joffrey Baratheon on the battlefield, but in the end he will not be able to stand against Jaime and Tyrion Lannister and their allies. Robb Stark will die in battle, and Tyrion Lannister will besiege and burn Winterfell.”

Bran’s arc is pretty much the same. We saw all of these things happen to him. The biggest change is in Robb’s part and even so most of it remains untouched. Robb did win splendid victories and in the books he even strategically beats both Jaime and Tyrion. What changed is that Robb and Joffrey never fought each other personally. Also Robb’s death was not on the battlefield but during the Red Wedding and Tyrion wasn't the one to sack Winterfell and burn it.

Tyrion’s first act of explicit villainy in the outline was transferred to Houses Bolton and Frey with participation of Theon Greyjoy. Still it was all part of the Lannisters’ plot and it was executed by their allies.

“Jon Snow, the bastard, will remain in the far north. He will mature into a ranger of great daring, and ultimately will succeed his uncle as the commander of the Night's Watch. When Winterfell burns, Catelyn Stark will be forced to flee north with her son Bran and her daughter Arya. Wounded by Lannister riders, they will seek refuge at the Wall, but the men of the Night's Watch give up their families when they take the black, and Jon and Benjen will not be able to help, to Jon's anguish. It will lead to a bitter estrangement between Jon and Bran. Arya will be more forgiving ... until she realizes, with terror, that she has fallen in love with Jon, who is not only her half-brother but a man of the Night's Watch, sworn to celibacy. Their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until the secret of Jon's true parentage is finally revealed in the last book.”

Here we have some changes. What doesn’t change is that Jon becomes a member of the Night’s Watch and ultimately ascends to the position of Lord Commander. Benjen is a famous member of the Night’s Watch and I believe he was the first choice to take the position of Lord Commander after Mormont, but Ben’s disappearance accelerated Jon’s ascension.

Catelyn and Arya never fled Winterfell, since their paths had already taken them somewhere else, but Bran did and his first impulse is to go to the Wall. Given the fact that the three eyed raven calls him, Bran’s magical journey leads him to go beyond the Wall before he can be reunited with Jon.

Arya and Cat had completely different journeys, or at least partially. Cat seeks her eldest son and stays by Robb’s side during his campaign. Arya, on the other hand, is stranded all over the Riverlands trying to find her way to either Winterfell or the Wall, although she explicitly says that she prefers to go to Wall, where she can find Jon. There was a clear intention to send both Bran and Arya to the Wall, but as the story progressed this decision might have been abandoned temporarily.

Thanks to his vows, Jon can’t take part in the realm’s politics. When news of Ned’s fate arrive at the Wall, Jon is devastated by the impossibility to help his family and fight side by side with Robb. Jon’s moral boundaries and his code of honor become a huge issue for him in the books, and they are tested the most whenever his family is involved. This seems to be his main dilemma in the outline as well.

Jon’s relationship with his family is also ambiguous in some aspects, especially when it’s revealed that his greatest dream since he was young was to be the Lord of Winterfell. This implies a level of rivalry and envy of his true born siblings. Jon repressed these feelings as much as he could out of love for the Starks.

Now I’ll make some guesses here, I don’t think it’s impossible for Bran and Jon to have some bitter estrangement between them, but it won’t be because of the Night’s Watch: If Jon is released from his vows once he is resurrected and takes back Winterfell along with the titles, it will undoubtedly lead to a succession crisis involving not only rights of conquest but also Robb’s will. Bran’s rights are directly affected in this scenario and, unlike the show, Bran never once questioned his position as Robb’s heir. It’s not impossible to imagine that factions will gather behind both claimants and this can cause another crisis in the North and bitterness between brothers in a moment when union is crucial.

Arya has a close relationship with both Bran and Jon and she is someone both of them feel inclined to listen to. I think Arya will be the bridge between them and the one to diplomatically avoid a rupture in the North, but it doesn’t mean the bitterness between Bran and Jon will disappear.

Now we reach the hugest taboo of the outline and the main reason why people claim “it’s no longer relevant” or that “Martin changed his mind”. Jon and Arya falling in love.

Let’s get one thing very clear, Jon and Arya already love each other in the books. This is not my opinion, this is the literal text.

Jon’s best friend was Robb and still Jon affirms that he missed Arya the most. Just go back to the books and count how many times and how affectionately they think of each other. They repeatedly say how they miss finishing each other’s sentences and how Jon loves to mess Arya’s hair. “The memory of her laughter kept him warm during the long journey north.” and “Needle was Jon Snow’s smile” are two small quotes that speak volumes of how deep this love is.

Am I saying this is a romantic sort of love? No. I’m not saying this. What I’m doing is  highlighting the fact that this particular relationship stands out as one of the strongest (if not the strongest) bond in the books to the point where it’s not even questionable that Jon and Arya love each other the most. It’s strong enough to make Jon forsake his vows and decide to march to Winterfell to rescue a girl he thinks to be Arya. It’s strong enough to make Arya lie to Ned because she would never betray Jon.

Jon didn’t break his vows for any other sibling, no matter how much he wanted to, but he did it to save whom he thought was Arya. His love for her is the cause of Jon’s death in the books. He committed treason the moment he received the pink letter and decided to march against Ramsay Bolton. Jon’s last thought is “stick’em with the pointy end”.

I think it’s safe to assume that Jon will be resurrected and Melissandre is probably the one to perform the ritual. We already know that resurrections have some side effects in the asoiaf universe, the most evident one being some sort of obsessive thought that keeps guiding the resurrected’s actions (like Beric Dondarrion’s obsession with keeping the king’s peace, and Lady Stoneheart killing Freys to avenge Robb’s death). Jon’s last thought was directly related to Arya and there’s no other possible interpretation. His last thought is likely to become his obsession.

I also think it’s safe to say that Jon’s memory will stay inside Ghost at least for a while and we will have to wait and see the effects that will have on Jon’s personality once he comes back to life.

Varamir said that Ghost would be a second life fit for a king and I think this is a clear foreshadowing of Jon’s true identity. There are also some other aspects of wolf pack dynamics that deserve some consideration: Wolves are social animals that have hierarchy and well divided roles inside the pack and although Ghost is a lonely wolf that was separated from his original group, it would only take one female for him to start his own pack. Curiously Nymeria is an alpha female already, leading a pack of regular wolves, but she rejects her smaller cousins as potential mates. Ghost and Nymeria are the alpha male and female of a new pack. The wolves of Winterfell will come back; stronger and more dangerous.

I think all of these elements will play a significant role in how Jon and Arya’s love will change once they are reunited. It won’t be immediate, but as the story goes the sexual tension will become evident. Jon’s perception of Arya as a sister will be blurred as a teenage Arya starts to see him as a love interest. At this point Arya will already be perceived as an adult woman according to Westerosi society, as I pointed out before. My guess is that she will be close to Daenerys’ age when she married Drogo. I’m not judging if this is right or wrong by our own moral standards. What I’m saying is that it’s acceptable in the world created by GRRM.

As the outline says, their passion will continue to torment Jon and Arya throughout the trilogy, until Jon’s true parentage is revealed. This necessarily implies that: 1) they are not siblings; 2) their passion brings a lot of moral issues and they are not comfortable with it; 3) their agony has an end when Jon’s parentage is revealed. Jon’s true parentage is a moral free pass for them and, at least from what we can read in the outline, this is more relevant than any potential succession rights.

This moral free pass wouldn’t be applied in a romantic relationship between Jon and Daenerys for example. It would actually have the opposite effect, giving Jon reason to question his moral choices and torment himself with doubts. This plot point is not applicable to Sansa either, mostly because Sansa and Jon don’t have a close relationship that’s already been established. They have a distant one and don’t even think much about each other. The whole point of Jon and Arya’s strong bond is to lay the foundations for a romance, establishing a relationship based on love, mutual loyalty and respect.

Do we have any indication that Jon and Arya’s romance was scrapped based on the books? No. Do we have any conclusive evidence in the text that Arya was replaced by any other female character? No. Why do I think Jon and Arya are endgame? Because we have only two books left and a lot of events that must be covered by them. It’s way easier to use an already established loving relationship with 5 books of consistent development and make it a romantic one (and make it believable as an epic romance because all the dramatic elements are already there), than to write a brand new one from scratch and make the reader believe that this is the ultimate love story.

“Abandoned by the Night's Watch, Catelyn and her children will find their only hope of safety lies even further north, beyond the Wall, where they fall into the hands of Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall, and get a dreadful glimpse of the inhuman others as they attack the wilding encampment. Bran's magic, Arya's sword Needle, and the savagery of their direwolves will help them survive, but their mother Catelyn will die at the hands of the others.”

Catelyn was meant to be killed by the Others. It’s not hard to conclude that she would have become one of them. The major difference from the outline to the books is that Catelyn died elsewhere, however she was brought back to life by fire magic as Lady Stoneheart. I can also see Bran and Arya fighting against the Others with the help of their direwolves in the event of a great battle by the end of the books. There’s nothing indicating that this part was cut, it just hasn’t happened yet.

“Over across the narrow sea, Daenerys Targaryen will discover that her new husband, the Dothraki Khal Drogo, has little interest in invading the Seven Kingdoms, much to her brother's frustration. When Viserys presses his claims past the point of tact or wisdom, Khal Drogo will finally grow annoyed and kill him out of hand, eliminating the Targaryen pretender and leaving Daenerys as the last of her line. Danerys [sic] will bide her time, but she will not forget. When the moment is right, she will kill her husband to avenge her brother, and then flee with a trusted friend into the wilderness beyond Vaes Dothrak. There, hunted by [unclear] of her life, she stumbles on a [something about dragon eggs] a young dragon will give Daenerys [unclear] bend [unclear] to her will. Then she begins to plan for her invasion of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Daenerys’ arc here didn’t change much. What changed was her motivation to kill Drogo and how she gets the dragons. Everything else that happens to her since the second book is her preparing to invade Westeros.

“Tyrion Lannister will continue to travel, to plot, and to play the game of thrones, finally removing his nephew Joffrey in disgust at the boy king's brutality. Jaime Lannister will follow Joffrey on the throne of the Seven Kingdoms, by the simple expedient of killing everyone ahead of him in the line of succession and blaming his brother Tyrion for the murders. Exiled, Tyrion will change sides, making common cause with the surviving Starks to bring his brother down, and falling helplessly in love with Arya Stark while he's at it. His passion is, alas, unreciprocated, but no less intense for that, and it will lead to a deadly rivalry between Tyrion and Jon Snow.”

There’s only one character that was replaced, I think. The Jaime Lannister of the outline seems to have been replaced by Cersei in the books, and it makes much more sense.  The Baratheons are briefly mentioned and we know Joffrey to be officially one. We know that Tyrion and Jaime are Lannisters and that Tyrion and Jaime are brothers. Unless Joffrey’s official father was a Lannister, Jaime would have no place in the line of succession to the throne whatsoever and this is important even when you want to use the rights of conquest. Cersei could have one, by becoming her son’s heiress in case there’s no one else left.

Also, although Sansa didn’t marry Joffrey, her wedding to Tyrion still makes her a Lannister and ties her to the enemy. Her loyalty was put to the test because of Joffrey, but her ties to the Lannisters were consolidated with Tyrion. Her arc is still in place. Her marriage wasn’t declared null so far and I don’t think it will happen anytime soon. As far as public knowledge goes, Sansa is Lady Lannister.

As for the love triangle Jon Snow x Tyrion x Arya, I don’t think it’s impossible at all. While it’s true that so far Tyrion hasn't interacted with Arya and I doubt he even remembers her face from the short time he stayed at Winterfell, the Arya he will eventually meet will be an educated young woman that had many intriguing experiences in Braavos, is very charismatic and makes friends with everyone and anyone. Tyrion, being a man profoundly affected by his physical condition would gravitate towards her. I don’t think it’s hard to imagine him falling for someone capable of seeing him as an individual as Arya is.

There’s also an argument to be made that this love triangle might have been replaced by Ramsay x Arya x Jon in some ways. After all Tyrion didn’t burn Winterfell, Ramsay did. He also married a fake Arya (Jeyne Poole) to claim Winterfell in her name, leading to a violent rivalry between Ramsay and Jon.

This plot point might have just been either altered to replace Tyrion with Ramsay, or it hasn’t happened yet.

“[The next graph is blocked out.]

But that's the second book ... 

I hope you will find some editors who are as excited about all of this as I am. Feel free to share this letter with anyone who wants to know how the story will go. 

All best,

George R.R. Martin”

With everything said so far we can conclude a few things:

1) The three major conflicts remain the same.

2) Ned, Cat, Robb, Viserys and Drogo’s fate didn’t change.

3) Bran still went through a coma and can’t walk anymore. He also developed magical abilities. An eventual strained relationship with Jon is still possible.

4) Tyrion and Sansa’s dubious loyalties to their families weren't removed from the books and Sansa still got tied to the enemy via marriage, although to a different character.

5) Tyrion continues to travel, to plot, and to play the game of thrones. He didn’t kill Joffrey, but was blamed for it anyway. Eventually he will make alliances with enemies of his house.

6) Jon joined the Night’s Watch and became Lord Commander. His vows are constantly challenged, especially when his family is endangered. His incapacity to help them keeps torturing him and in the books it leads to his death.

7) Jon and Arya share a strong bond, based on love, mutual trust and loyalty, and respect. This relationship remains one of the most important ones in the books. This relationship was consistently developed throughout the 5 books already published and turning it into a romantic one is still possible.

8) Jon’s true parentage is super relevant.

9) Daenerys’ arc didn’t change.

10) The love triangle Jon x Arya x Tyrion was either replaced by Jon x FArya x Ramsay, or could still happen in its original form once Tyrion and Arya have the chance to interact with each other.

This was my lengthy analysis of the original outline and why I think it’s still valid. I hope you enjoyed it.

#ASoIaF #origial outline #waterstone letter #a song of ice and fire #jon and arya #jon x arya #jon/arya #jonrya #jonarya #meta

[unexpected-possibilities]

Saudade: Ch 10&11 Meta

I was realizing I did a lot with the magic in the last two chapters of Saudade (Chapters 10 and 11(posted last night, link in my pinned post)) and haven’t been able to provide proper explanation of the development on it that I’m doing, or even what I take the magic of the ToA universe to be. To be honest, I still don’t fully understand my own stance on interpreting it, so this is partially to help me sort out things in my own mind.

I will preface this by saying: if you have not caught up on Saudade, this is spoilery towards the second half! Please, if you’re interested in this meta and the overall story, do some catch-up reading first and I promise you’ll enjoy and understand this tenfold. Everything potentially spoilery is under the cut, but for those of you who don’t follow the story, there is plenty of headcanoning the magic just in general that you can read if you’re interested.

So, here goes. There’s a lot we don’t know or get yet about the magic of the Tales of Arcadia Universe. From what it appears to be, there are various types of magic, magical practices, and energies in ToA. It would give me a severe headache to really delve into everything, so for the sake of my sanity, I’m sticking to what Wizards gave us.

It seems that in the fields of magic, there are, at the very least, three main designations.

1) Classic Magic that revolves around energy, runes, incantations, and the like -- Merlin and Douxie’s magic, in particular. It’s very all-encompassing and seems to be a practiced art, maybe one is born with some innate talent or skill as with any kind of magic, but much of the ability comes from learning it, practicing, so on.

2) Shadow Magic, revolving around the Shadow Realm and manipulation of shadows -- Morgana and Claire’s magic. Morgana does not seem relegated to only the use of Shadow Magic, which I would guess has to do with her being an apprentice of Merlin.

3) The natural magics -- this would be the magic that Vendel has, or what the hedgewizards have. A primal form of magic that often presents in the user in a way related to elements or natural forces. For example, the four general elements, but also more refined towards things such as Zoe’s lightning magic, plant-based, healing, and so on. I would think that the most common forms of hedgewizardy would be the four natural forms; fire, water, earth, air. They’re considered classics and fairly simple, so often these people don’t really search out specialized jobs for their fields, or if they do, it’s things where they can subtly use these skills. (i.e. a firefighter could be either a fire HW* or water HW, works either way. Maybe a skydiving instructor is an air HW who ensures things all go smoothly, a landscaper sneakily shifting the rocks in the ground to make it easier to dig, and so on). [HW will stand for hedgewizard/witch for my purposes here]

But as we jump more to specialized talents like tech wizardry, things get a little more complex. Now, a HW is more skilled in working with technology, maybe you have electricians who don’t have to worry about live wires or the Hex Tech workers who can manage to fix almost anything. But while their magic might stem from electricity-based magics, they can’t quite call down lightning or anything. Same with how a plant-magic person couldn’t manipulate rocks, even though it stems from earth magics. Healing magic might stem from water magic, but the mage has no ability to manipulate water. Basically, specific magic can and does develop from the basic fields.

But this doesn’t explain where Zoe’s lightning magic or, say, magic regarding the paranormal, sits. The paranormal magics sit outside this realm of natural magics, bordering Shadow magic, a sort of foot in both types kinda thing. It’s more of a learned and practiced skill than the natural magics, and it can be developed over time on top of preexisting talents. See: Tara, the fire HW who will be returning to the story as a medium. I will go back to this once it becomes relevant in Saudade.

Zoe, however, has actual lightning magic. I consider her magic to be very near, if not, the strongest, most powerful, and most dangerous of the natural magics. It is pure elemental magic in the highest form, derived from what makes up the worldly elements (states of matter(plasma, in this case)). In being such raw and primal magic, it’s incredibly sensitive to the user’s emotions and highly volatile. More than a few mages have been killed by their own magic in cases like this. And it’s not a magic that can be learned, either, you’re either born with it or receive it otherwise (see: Taking Flight, Zoe being struck by lightning as her magical origin story). There will be a whole post coming one day on purely Zoe and her magic because I love exploring it so much.

So what about Saudade, again?

Right, right, let’s go back quite a few steps. So, in the two most recent chapters of Saudade, I delve a lot into the idea of “magic is emotion.” And because magic is emotion, magical signatures and connections can be used to reflect on a magic-user’s emotions. Depending on the connection between two magic users, the strength of the bond and what can be understood of it varies.

Ever since Chapter 8, the whole confessions scene, Zoe and Douxie have been a lot more in touch with their own and each other’s emotions, both in a physical and emotional/magical sense. Now, it’s been a while since that, and they’re beginning to see just how much an extended bond like this can mean, no walls between them. It’s not telepathy or mind-reading, it’s more like reading someone’s body language, but on the level of magic, a bit more intimate than physical cues, though is still something either of them can shut off to the other.  Emotions, however, can most certainly be processed and understood through the connection via certain types of magical signatures produced, and hence is how Douxie detects Zoe’s emotions. In Chapter 11, Zoe feels all sorts of emotions from Douxie without even needing to cross into the territory of magical connection because there is physical contact, and they’ve dropped all boundaries for the time being, leaving each other perfectly exposed to any and all emotions, and each other’s magic.

Merlin strictly forbid any sort of relationship so long as Douxie is a wizard because of the consequences it could mean. I haven’t explored it much past the small scene in Taking Flight, but Merlin and a late of lover of his discovered the painful truths of emotions and magic, resulting in a death. Merlin doesn’t want this to come of Douxie, and tells him such. But with Merlin now passed, and a world that Douxie is no longer just getting by in, but rather living and mastering, things have changed. And on top of that, Zoe and Douxie’s connection is really unlike any other, even to Nari, who has been around since the beginnings of magic. And yes, Merlin also advised against even strong platonic relationships because those can totally count as strong emotions.

So Douxie and Zoe’s connection is the intersection of two extremely powerful magics in it’s own right, with lots of untapped potential to be discovered...as we see in Chapter 11, even what seems impossible just might be possible. But as with all things magic, it comes with a price and a fairly significant toll. There is much left for these characters to learn about themselves and their magic.

#toa wizards #toa headcanons #meta #fanfic meta #wizards meta? #toa zoe #douxie #zouxie #headcanons #my fanfic #analysis #lots and lots of analysis lol #thanks for reading all that lol #hope it helps make things a little easier to understand #my ramblings #toa magic #toa merlin #toa morgana

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 128 Thoughts

Pacing, I think, is the single most difficult thing to do correctly when telling a story. Out loud or in text, you have to juggle every cue you’re giving off, keep it all relevant, and make it so when things fall into place, they’re falling to the gravity that the story’s been given.

That’s why we’ve got something of a problem in this arc.

I complain a lot, because it’s easy, and this is hardly a flawless work. Organization has also been one of the regular things this series just has trouble with.

Still, while I really feel that the last few chapters aren’t the best way to tell this story, the story chosen is a monster to keep in line.

[insert amusing pre-cut joke of your choice here]

Conflict is the root of every story. Character vs self. Character vs character. Character vs nature. Pick one, then plant the seed and watch the clash reform the setting. Knowing your protagonist often involves knowing your villain.

Eren has always been the best protagonist for this series. He embodies the fury of humanity in an environment that embraces complacency. He is the voice that shouts for people to do something.

Back in Trost, everyone on his starting squad plans on picking the Survey Corps. Because of his constant, unfettering influence. He’s the one who is always reminding them that there’s a world outside that they’re abandoning. He never lets Jean forget it. He interrupts parties with the vocal equivalent of hammering 99 problems to every door.

Eren is one of the top ten soldiers in the 104th, and he makes sure everyone knows what he’s using his skills for. And before they themselves are confronted with what’s being asked of them to join him, everyone in his social circle is ready to make the same choice.

Moving forward is what Eren does in a world that’s been trapped in stagnation. He is a force of change. He is a force of impotent rage in the face of disaster.

He is every reaction the humans inside the walls don’t have, because as a people, they can’t imagine what there is to be done about their problems. Staying within the safety of the walls and limiting their potential in return for not dying a bloody death seems fair, to them.

They are imprisoned, so Eren, our protagonist, seeks freedom.

Being born free is the linchpin of his first successful transformation.

His first rather disturbing act of violence comes from him murdering slavers.

The wings of freedom are the iconic brand of his chosen military branch.

Subtlety.

That’s all very straightforward and simple to work with.

Then we open up the setting, and things are still rather simple, just in a turn that kicks off one hell of a problem.

The world itself is a cage. Physically, in the form of internment camps, or culturally, in the form of how people think about each other and act. There is no freedom for the citizens of Paradis now that they have broken out of their shell. There is just another prison, and a ticking time bomb.

Naturally, in its most basic form, this would make the world Eren’s enemy, because Eren is the champion of freedom.

Only then, if you stick to the most basic form of the concept, the simple answer is that when everyone else dies, then you will have your freedom.

Eren might be the story’s protagonist, but that’s because he stands at the fulcrum of all the story’s core ideas. He makes the rest of the plot move. He is the focus point. He is why there’s a story, and not a jumble of confused, dying people throwing themselves at the problem of titans.

He’s not everything that’s going on.

The world’s cruelty is not what this story is about.

Eren starts thinking about the outside world because a boy shares his dreams of the ocean.

Mikasa takes the time to salute a little girl on a battlefield.

Sasha fights a titan off with a bow and arrow to save one child’s life. She dies because she won’t kill a little girl.

Levi chooses not to revive Erwin so that Erwin can die without being brutally abused as the rest of mankind’s sacrifice.

Niccolo’s entire concept of what he’s fighting for is disrupted because people like his cooking.

Gabi is protected and treated like a child by the 104th even after they know she pulled the trigger on their friend.

Colt dies because of his insistence on giving his little brother comfort.

Reiner’s still breathing because there’s a few little kids he can do some good for.

Annie just wants to see her dad again.

Humanity, as a general concept, begins in an easily condemnable place in the manga. One of the first things Paradis does is send out a large percentage of its citizens to die so that the rest can live. Meanwhile, the only people who do try to go outside and learn more about the world are smeared even as they’re bringing back corpses.

By the end of Uprising, there’s a crowd of cheering people waiting for the Scouts to succeed.

People are awful.

They can do better.

A lot of Eren’s objection to Jean is highlighted through that. He never gives Connie a hard time for wanting to join the MPs. It’s Jean, who’s vocally joining up just so he can take it easy, that Eren objects to. Jean doesn’t have to be a jackass. It’s a decision he’s making.

Jean decides to do better.

In the beginning, people are willing to settle for ‘good enough.' Slowly, as the arcs go by, we approach a near universal take of people seeing problems and taking preventative action.

Here, with the Yeagerists, we come back to the original sin of Paradis.

As long as this one little island is okay, and no one on it has to worry about death, what does the outside world matter? Especially when that outside world has repeatedly promised to kill them? Killing them all first isn’t a problem, it’s a solution.

Samuel’s there at the start of Trost.

Sasha saves his life.

Connie kills him.

They don’t hate each other. Neither one wants to pull the trigger. But Samuel is willing to see the rest of the world die if it means keeping Paradis safe. Connie isn’t.

Over and over, the cycle plays out the exact same way. People kill each other to free themselves. As long as there’s always an Us vs Them dynamic, the bloodshed continues indefinitely. The Eldian Empire enslaved the world through titans. Marley won its freedom and decided it was okay to do the same thing as long as they only enslaved Eldians.

The methodology is what’s going to fuck everyone over in the end.

During Uprising, it is routinely discussed that it’s possible the royal family and the upper brass do know something that makes a coup a bad idea. It’s possible that overthrowing them will bring Paradis into an even darker landscape.

What it comes down to is that whatever they know, they’re willing to let everyone else die if it saves their own skin.

Since that particular Everyone Else is united, the coup continues, and the island’s given its chance at actual peace.

Now, the Yeagerists are making that same argument.

Meanwhile, before we were dealing with this, we had Zeke. His argument was that seeing as the world would never change, Ymir’s people were all cursed and damned, it is for the best of all of us if we all die.

He’s the ultimate counter to Eren. Eren is fighting for life, while Zeke is only searching for the best death.

Only by all appearances, Eren’s fight has landed him in the exact same place. It’s only the question of which people are dying.

Getting back to Connie and Samuel, if you squint, Connie is betraying his allegiance to his comrades. ...If you squint. I know he feels that way, and I know what the chapter title is, but the Yeagerists are a genocidal cult who bully their way into power and try to kill off their actual Commander, who Connie is still following.

Samuel might not be aware of that, but that’s what we’ve got.

The closest Connie came to betrayal was throwing a Warrior Candidate into his mom’s mouth, and we wrapped up that subplot.

Without squinting, Samuel is betraying the ideals that Connie chose the Survey Corps for. Connie wants to save people. He doesn’t want all this death, regardless of how it benefits him.

So this whole conflict, throughout this entire chapter, is really all about who wants which people dead.

The Warriors are still fighting for Marley. Despite everything, that’s their home, and their base of operations if they ever want a chance at fixing things. Paradis has more friends on it than they like thinking about, but Paradis is not their problem.

Kiyomi and the Hizuru flock are pretty much... she is just so done, and it’s very easy to see why. This is not their war. They were looking for a beneficial partnership. For power and resources, sure, but they were willing to play ball. Now they get to watch as the nation they helped kills off the world and their only allies are rushing them to a basement. Hopefully to do something significant before their country burns.

What’s left of the Scouts who are actually following the legitimate chain of command is, surprisingly, focused on stopping Eren’s genocide.

Then I guess the rest of the world probably has opinions, but they don’t get any pages. But it’s pretty safe to assume Eren’s high on their ‘want dead’ list. If not all of Paradis.

We’ve got one group of people who are actually, actively, doing the anti-genocide thing.

The rest is just fighting over the biggest piece of the pie.

The conflict is that some people think genocide is bad, and some people think genocide is okay, actually.

And, you know, fine.

Only then we have Eren.

Protagonist boy.

We don’t know his conflict, and he has more power than anyone else in the entire cast. Unless we count the primordial ooze as a cast member. He is a giant stegosaurus monster who has threatened the entire world, and as far as anyone with eyes can see, he’s actually going through with it.

Nothing presented anywhere suggests that there is a way to stop him.

At best, if people succeed in killing him, they will have unleashed a bunch of mindless Colossals into the world. If we revisit our volume 1 knowledge, we know this to be a problem.

Making all of this really, really pointless.

Obviously, this is what all these characters would do in this situation.

Obviously, we have some feelings about them being forced to kill their allies while the world falls apart.

Obviously, the author probably being willing to fast-forward through all of this is not necessarily an indication that that is what creates the optimal story.

Obviously, these are important details.

The plot still might as well be a glacier.

There is one person moving pieces around. Everyone else is just scrambling on the board he’s created and rehashing whether or not genocide is a good thing every time they’re considering shooting someone they kind of don’t want to.

All of the tension is literally an ocean away.

As great as the character moments are, there’s nothing to ground them in. There’s just a baseless hope that somehow, there’s a way out of this, and the story doesn’t end with yet another genocide kicking off a rebellion.

Magath flips on his worst hot take immediately. He does that because his country is dying and it’s reorganizing his priorities and beliefs to line up with what he’s actually feeling instead of parroting the world that created him.

Yelena goes from being catatonic to being a nuisance because -- reasons?

Connie almost kills Falco then doesn’t, because he really, honestly, was never going to kill the kid and we all knew that.

The driving force of all these potential conflicts is just too distant. As much work as everyone’s doing, they’re only making progress towards getting to Eren.

When you have a character who can end the world choosing to end the world, it creates problems. When that character is your protagonist, it’s even worse.

In the past, Eren’s absence has spurred characters to action and revealed more of the world’s secrets. Presently, unlike in his various kidnappings, Eren is the one with the secrets. His absence is making people do stuff, but not stuff that has any tangible meaning outside of putting actions to the belief that genocide is bad.

Secrets, and people seeking answers, has been a major player in moving the plot from the beginning.

Here though, we have the issue of no one having the luxury of investigating why this is happening. Mikasa and Armin might be desperate to know, but they have no tools available to them except the airship. Which, again, just puts them in the same place as Eren. It does not give them much more than they had the last time they were in a room with him.

Whatever secrets are in place, they are insignificant next to the fact that the world is ending as they watch.

Only, you know, slowly.

Because the decision has been made that Eren’s perspective is going to be a Reveal. It has to stay private until the moment it’s relevant to the other members of the cast, or otherwise, what was the point of holding off so long?

The result is this. Too much going on in too little time, and all of it technically mattering, but not enough that spending 40 pages on it really changes how the story is progressing.

I’m not sure this is a problem that would be easy to see coming. In the design phase, I mean. I’ve kind of been cautiously whining about these concerns for several months.

But the stage is set like this: Eren pulls the doomsday trigger. Enough time must pass for Paradis to cultivate a new normal and for Eren to reach land with his squad of titans. The goal is gathering our cast and stopping Eren.

There’s a disconnect between what needs to be done and how much time it takes to portray those things.

Connie’s breakdown over feeding Falco to his mom is a character moment that helps to inform his emotions this chapter. That’s probably why it survived. It still drags four named characters off to a village in the middle of nowhere while Floch’s reign is establishing itself.

Magath’s turnabout this chapter is the culmination of a lot of the emotional connections he’s made with Eldians, and the attachment he has to his home, but it comes after driving in the point of why Marley is so fucking awful. He’s spouting rhetoric last chapter, then he’s immediately confronted with the birthplace of that rhetoric being destroyed thanks to events he’s had a part in forging.

Yelena goes from being willing to let Floch shoot her to having an interest in watching things play out. Courtesy of one background dump.

The emotional beats these characters are all due do not match up with what they have to do, and it’s making things come across as really disjointed. It’s a frustrating combination of this needing more pages, but the idea of yet more pages being spent off where the main plot actually is going on is exhausting.

The world is ending, but the world has been ending for months.

We’ve clearly got a checklist of things to get done before we meet up with Eren, but he’s hoarding the plot. Sticking around to watch the list be physically checked is...

To paraphrase some tumblr post from the past few months, it feels like laundry, mostly.

The story wouldn’t survive just jumping to Eren. The more time we’re away from him, the greater the impact when we finally know what’s up. The more time we have with our squad of unlikely, plucky heroes, the more we’re going to want to punch Eren in the face for not listening to them. Again.

It’s not that there’s no value in devoting chapters to all of this planning and reeling. It’s that no matter what happens here, it is not fixing the larger problem of Eren’s genocide campaign.

The plot is across the ocean, and we are months into watching our cast try to reconnect with it.

For me, that makes it a bit dull to read, but it is hard to hold it against the story. Writing the end of the world when you intend to make the audience care about the world -- even though the protagonist is ending it -- that is a lot of plot. Knitting it all together is not a simple task. You can see the seams popping.

Oh well.

One of the things I will stand by is that this manga is a great story told gracelessly. If you read it all linearly, problems are going to be noticed. Stuff be weird. Plus timed terribly.

But there’s a lot of emotion packed into it all. It’s a story that, when you look back in retrospect, free of any time line and observing only through the lens of your knowledge, it holds up and has power.

So I’m glad all of this stuff is being drawn, because one day, when the story’s over, having a fragmented, disjointed thread of progression isn’t going to matter so much.

Some stories survive on how they’re told.

Arguably, that includes this one, because the anime got people through the first few volumes.

This story, primarily, survives on the quality of what it is attempting to lump together.

...Not that I don’t wish it wouldn’t try a little harder to pace itself, but I suppose all that energy is being spent on Eren. You know. Since he’s the only one who has any of the parts of the plot that matter.

Uh.

As far as what actually happened this chapter, yay for Mikasa showing attachment to Kiyomi and crew. Intrigue for the question of where Eren is being such a topic (he’s a fucking giant stegosaurus last I saw figure it out). Sadness for Samuel being on the wrong side after surviving so long (Connie probably remembers Sasha saving his life). Sadness for Reiner trying to spare his friends the pain of what he went through for his cause. Pat on the head for Annie still being impossibly Annie. Pat on the head for Onyankopon just because (sorry about your life yikes).

The absolute funniest part of all of this, to me, is that Daz is now dead.

Beats freezing to death in a blizzard while two teenagers shout about philosophy over your unconscious body?

Anyway, another month goes by.

Much the way waves do in Wind Waker.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 128 #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post #it might be worth noting that I spent all of the time writing this post wondering what the hell I was talking about #the nature of how these posts are written means that is now your problem

[songtoyou]

Chapter Two: Never Enough

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC) 

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to communicate with one another openly but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either is willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG with mild swearing

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,630

Author’s Note: I hoped those who ‘liked’ the previous chapter enjoys this one as well. I went back and made one little change in the first chapter. No longer is Raina a fan of the Seattle Mariners or Seattle Seahawks, but a Mets/Giants fan. Instead of having Raina grow up in Washington State, she grew up in New York on Long Island. It just made more sense location-wise for her to “closer” to Chris. I also changed something that happened during the summer of 2016 that involved another MCU actor. Let me know what you think. Feedback is always welcomed.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family, and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms. 

Thank you to @southerngracela​ for your support! :)

*Updated for grammar edits.

July 2019

"Christopher Robert Evans! Come here!" yelled his mother, Lisa Evans.

"What, Ma?" Chris asked when he entered her kitchen and replied, "Whatever happened? I assure you that it was Scott who did it."

"Would you stop? You aren't in trouble. Sit down for a sec." Lisa told her oldest son. 

Taking a seat at the kitchen table next to his mother, Chris asked, "Why are you on the laptop? You hate using the computer."

"I do, but you need to send Raina some flowers to celebrate her big opening night on Broadway. You were planning on getting her something, right?" inquired Lisa as she turned the laptop over to Chris for him to look through different flower arrangements. 

"Uh…I don't know, Ma. I am sure you will pick out something great."

Lisa gave Chris a knowing look and said, "Chris, you spend more time with Raina than the rest of us. You know her likes and dislikes. Now come on, look at the arrangements and pick which one she would like best."

Chris groaned and turned away from his mother to roll his eyes. His mother's behavior was not unusual to always insinuate that Raina was more than a friend to Chris. Well, she was, but that did not mean his mother had to know all of the dirty details. Despite what people might think of the confessed mama's boy, Chris did not always share everything with Lisa.  

"Don't get her flowers…" Chris began, but Lisa cut him off.

"Chris! Why not?"

"It would be better to get Raina chocolate, cookies, or brownies. Something edible. Just not cupcakes because she doesn't like them. Call them overrated. Trust me. She'd prefer to have food over flowers," informed Chris.

"Great. You choose something for Raina while I give Carly a call. Choose something good," Lisa ordered as she got up from the table and exited the kitchen. 

As Chris perused the website's items, he knew what to get Raina when he saw the object: a personalized gigantic caramel toffee fortune cookie. It was perfect. Not only was it giant, but it was dipped in decadent caramel with fatty toffee bits sprinkled on top and drizzled with dark chocolate. Raina would love it. 

"Ma! Come here and look at this! What do you think?"

Lisa entered the kitchen once again. She was still talking on the phone with Carly.

"Chris, whatever you get, Raina, it will be great."

"What should I put on the card since it is from all of us?" asked Chris with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"No. Just have it be from you. Scott and I already picked out a nice flower arrangement from the two of us for Raina," Lisa informed Chris nonchalantly and added, "Carly is wondering if you could watch the kids this weekend?"

Chris was amazed at his mother's crafty scheme. She had that way about her. 

"I'll text her that it isn't a problem, and I know what you are doing."

Lisa feigned an innocent look. "What are you talking about?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an exasperated sigh, Chris said, "Ma, it isn't like that with Raina, okay. We are just friends. Nothing more. We can't be anything more. It would ruin what we have already. Plus, we both don't necessarily want the same things. She has shared with me that she doesn't see herself having kids. I want kids, someday." 

Lisa put her hands up in mock defeat. She was not going to press Chris press about his hidden feelings for Raina. He was an adult, after all. However, as a mother, it was hard not to step in and help her children no matter what they were dealing with at the time. 

"Just be sure to write something heartfelt and sweet in the gift message," ordered Lisa and got up once again left the kitchen.

Now alone, Chris looked over the textbox space to put his message for Raina's gift. He typed and retyped what to write to her. Taking a deep breath, Chris let his inhibitions go and proceeded to write honestly about how he felt.

Raina,

You bring so much joy and love to my existence. I know it would not be the same If I did not have you in my life. You help keep me centered in this crazy world of ours, and I always know I can count on you if I need anything. I am so proud of you. Your determination, hard work, and motivation in achieving your dreams have always inspired me. Sometimes I wished you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would realize how special you are to me. I hope you know much. I appreciate and love you so much.

Love,

Chris

With the gift now ordered and soon to be on its way, there was no going back. 

"1, 2, 3, and 4! Turn! Kick leg up! Cross and dip!" shouted the choreographer and added, "Let's do it again from the top!"

Trying to catch her breath, Raina got back into position next to her co-star, Aaron Tveit. The two have been working on this project for the past three years. It amazed them both how everything started at a workshop lab, to a small theater production in Boston, to debut the show on Broadway. It was a dream come true for everyone involved. 

For Raina, it was a check-off on her list of career accomplishments. While Raina had been offered different roles for Broadway productions in the past, she never accepted the offers. She was either too busy promoting and touring for her albums. Or the parts offered merely did not appeal to her. Raina was cautious about particular projects and took her time in making decisions on which to pursue or decline. That would often lead to arguments with people at her record company or management as one or the other would tell Raina that she was not reaching her full potential as a star. But the Long Island native never wanted to be "famous for being famous." She was not the type to freely give out information about her private life to maintain relevancy with the press or fans. She wanted her work to speak for itself.  

A child prodigy gifted in music, Raina has set her sights on impacting the world through song. Her parents, George and Marie, often worried about the precocious little girl when she would hold herself up in her room for hours and hours a day practicing on her guitar or keyboard while jotting down lyrics.

When Raina was 14 years old, she was discovered by her first manager, Jerry Sullivan, at the annual New York State Fair. Jerry was taken aback by the young girl's mature voice as she sang Reba McEntire's classic hits, "Why Haven't I Heard from You" and "Fancy." He immediately introduced himself to Raina and her parents.

Although skeptical, both George and Marie agreed to a formal meeting with Jerry to discuss their daughter's future. After all, they did not want their only child to get screwed over by some conman. Thankfully, Jerry turned out to be legit and had been in the music industry for 20 years as an artists and repertoire (A&R) personnel at Columbia Records.

"Not many talented singers I have seen in all my years in the music have what Raina has. She has 'it' and could go far," said Jerry.

"Oh, I don't want to be famous," little Raina spoke up and continued, "I just want to make music."

Jerry just beamed with happiness, "That is a great answer, little one. You have your priorities. That is important in this industry. You don't ever want to lose sight of why you started in the first place."

"Trust me, I won't," replied Raina with a toothy smile.

Unfortunately, it was hard to remain authentic in the music industry. Too many times, someone would try to mold Raina into who they thought she should be. She never wanted to be placed in a box or confined to one style of music. All Raina ever wanted to be was Raina.

"1, 2, 3, and 4! Turn! Kick leg up! Cross and dip!" repeated the choreographer, "Great job, everyone. Let us take a ten-minute break. Raina and Aaron, they need another costume fitting."

"I swear, I am at a point where I could do the choreography in my sleep," Aaron joked as he walked with Raina to the fitting area.

Raina let out a chuckle, "Isn't that the truth."

With rehearsals finally coming to an end for the day, Raina gathered her belongings, said her goodbyes, and headed home. Thankfully, her Tribeca apartment was only 15 minutes away from the Al Hirschfeld Theatre. Frank, Raina's driver, greeted her as he opened the black Cadillac Escalade's back door.

"How were rehearsals today, Miss Raina?" 

"Not too bad," Raina shared with her driver, "I think once the show is finally open to the public, everything will be…a lot easier to handle."

"You're going to be great. The previews of the show went very well, as you mentioned," Frank reminded Raina and asked, "Who you got coming to see you on opening night? I'm taking my wife and youngest daughter to see it before she heads off to school in late August."

It was not uncommon for Frank and Raina to have an easy rapport with one another. Frank was a talker, while Raina was quieter and preferred to listen to his stories about growing up in Queens or his family that consisted of a loving wife and three daughters. Despite enjoying Frank's company, Raina knew that she still had to keep herself wary and not allow herself to be caught off guard. Sadly, her past experiences when allowing others into her world, both private and public, left her feeling burned. Raina learned how to be a master at changing the subject from herself to the other person prying into her personal life. 

"Aw! That is wonderful. Where is Alisha headed off to again? Cornell?" asked Raina while thinking, 'Hook line and sinker.'

"Brown University in Providence. Got a full academic scholarship."

"That's wonderful. At least your daughter won't be too far from home. I kind of wish I went to college but never had the time with everything else going on."

"Oh, come on now. I'd say you turned out well. Not everyone needs to go to college to be successful. With Alisha, she always had her sights on pursuing a career in archaeology. By attending Brown, she will have access to the best research and educators the country has to offer."

"Well, if she is anything like her father, then she's got the charms to take the world by storm."

When Frank finally reached the building of Raina's apartment, he proceeded to step out to open her door, but she stopped him and said, "I got it, Frank."

"You sure?" he questioned. 

"Yeah. Tell your wife and daughter I said 'hello.' Bye, Frank. See you tomorrow."

"Okay. Have a nice night, Raina."

Upon entering the apartment building, Raina was greeted by the concierge, Winston.

"Hi, Winston. How are you?" asked Raina to make polite conversation as she strode into the lobby.

"Very well, ma'am. Thank you for asking."

Raina cringed at being referred to as "ma'am" despite being two-decades younger than Winston; however, she knew he was only polite and professional. Stopping by to check her mail at the cluster of mailboxes, there was only advertisements and bills. Closing the mailbox with a loud sigh, Raina walked towards the elevator to head up to her penthouse apartment. 

The Tribeca apartment was such a great find as the penthouse had its own intimate and homey feel. The condo's main floor greeted guests with an open space kitchen-living room area with a fireplace and powder room. Floor-to-ceiling arched windows dominated the living room, allowing natural light to seep through in the morning and afternoon. Overall, it was ample space for when Raina wanted to entertain her close friends. She was able to accommodate overnight guest stays with two sky-lighted bedrooms with one main bathroom. One floor up was where the master suite was located with floor-to-ceiling French doors that led to a landscaped terrace that included a hot tub, outdoor kitchen, along with fantastic sunset and nighttime views of the Tribeca skyline. 

It was a place where Raina felt at home and safe from the prying eyes of the paparazzi or overzealous admirers. Thankfully, the majority of Raina's fans respected her privacy and knew the importance of boundaries.

Unfortunately, only Raina's name was associated with fellow celebrities that things could get out of hand and overrun with speculations. For instance, in the early years of her friendship with Chris, both fandoms speculated if they were more than friends. Whereas with the media, they were relentless in their prying for more information about the two stars. Luckily, it was a dilemma that the two friends worked hard to overcome. The bond that grew between Chris and Raina was not something either experienced with other people. It was unique in how relatively normal both felt around each other. There were no pretenses the friends had to follow or any egos getting in the way. 

Sad that the same could not have been applied to Raina's last relationship. The media scrutiny and the online abuse/harassment from the actor's fanbase became too much for Raina to handle that she eventually had to end the relationship prematurely. It was not something that she wanted to do as she cared for the man very much. He was sweet, charming, handsome, and treated Raina with respect. He became someone Raina could confide in outside of her inner circle. She was lucky to have met him at President Barack Obama's final White House Correspondents' Dinner back in April 2016. 

'What might have been? Where would my life be if I had stayed with Tom?' Raina often thought.

After taking a quick shower, Raina changed into baggy sweats and a fitted tank top. Stretching out on the couch, she searched through Netflix and selected season five of Schitt's Creek to watch. It was her go-to show that she liked to watch at the end of the day. The crazy antics of the Rose family always helped her relax and ease her anxious mind. 

"Oh, David Rose, you are a precious little bean, wrapped in uncertainty and apprehension about the world, aren't you? I connect with you on a spiritual level," Raina commented to herself.  

Chris was a bag of nerves ever since he ordered Raina that gift. It was not so much the gift that was causing him to have anxiety, but the message inside the present. 

He let it all out in that gift message and was mostly worried about what Raina would make of his words. For instance, would she read them and express the same sentiment, revealing that Chris's feelings were more profound than mere friends. However, what if Chris's words caused her to be upset and that she would not be able to return his feelings in fear of losing their friendship. 

'Or she just doesn't love you the way you might want her to,' thought Chris apprehensively.  

Now, Chris was beginning to worry that he might have overstepped his boundaries with Raina. 'Why did you have to go and develop deeper feelings for her. I knew our whole friends with benefits wasn't a good idea. 

Nothing good ever comes from that arrangement,' he scolded himself while taking Dodger out for a walk on his property. Chris hoped that the cool night air would help relieve the tension and worry he was feeling. It was either a walk or a cigarette, and he promised both his mother and Raina that he would no longer partake in the nasty habit. 

The dynamic of Chris and Raina's friendship was a unique one. She was one of the very few that Chris allowed in his world. Over the years, Raina had become acquainted with his close friends from Massachusetts and individual family members outside of his mother, father, brother, and sisters. It was not unusual for Raina to attend one of his Uncle Mike's campaign rallies. That always got the fans on social media talking and wondering if there was something more than friendship between the two. 

Chris and Raina's responses were always the same, "We are just friends." It was their go-to answer for years.

It was not until mid-2014 when they decided to add a new element to their friendship: sex. 

What started as a fun hookup turned into a full-fledged agreement. For Chris, it was liberating to be with someone sexually with no strings attached. For Raina, she felt safe and comfortable with Chris. There was genuine respect and trust the two had for one another that when sex added to the mix, it did not cause a lot of complications, surprisingly. They took the time to set guidelines and go over expectations that both could abide by and not ruin the aspect of their friendship. 

Their guidelines included:

Be transparent with one another as possible. Be open to compromises.

Be open to communicating with your partner.

Never be judgmental.

Be open about what is off-limits and what is acceptable. 

Conversations or decisions cannot be one-sided.

Make sure each partner is on the same page.

Check-in with one another. Ask each other about how things are going and how the individual is feeling about the arrangement.

Develop a PR strategy for when friends or family members ask questions about the status of your relationship.

Ground rules: staying over is optional, breakfast in the morning is acceptable, no booty calls as it demeans the overall friendship, and friend-dates are suitable.

Even when Chris was in a serious relationship with Minka or Jenny, he could revert to his non-sexual friendship with Raina. Chris never quite understood how Raina could adapt so quickly whenever he had a new romantic partner. He honestly would not know how he would react if Raina showed up one day with a boyfriend on her arm. 

'Liar! You'd flip your shit!' Chris thought, which he did when Raina was rumored to be dating fellow MCU actor Tom Hiddleston back in 2016. Both had been photographed together numerous times during outings and events.

'Six-months of Hell,' Chris bitterly referred that time. 

The crazy thing about that time is that Raina did not share anything with him about her relationship with Tom. She kept it all to herself even after they broke up. 

"Why does she keep that part of her life secret from me?" Chris asked himself as he walked up the steps on his front porch with Dodger following suit.

"Because it is none of your business how Raina's relationships go down," a voice spoke up, startling Chris.

"Holy shit, Scott! What the fuck are you doing out here?" yelled Chris as he stood in front of his little brother. 

Scott replied with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Just getting some fresh air and enjoying the sunset. What have you been up to?"

"Don't change the subject. Why do you automatically assume I am talking about Raina? For all you know, I could have been referring to Shanna," Chris retorted back defiantly as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the porch railing. 

However, Scott was not falling for what his brother was trying to sell. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Chris," Scott reprimanded and continued, "I know you and Raina have had a friend with benefits situation going on for the last five years. Of course, only when neither of you was in relationships with other people, that is."

"How the fuck did you know about that?" questioned Chris. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

"Well, I had my speculations, but your reaction just now confirmed everything. What the fuck were thinking. Nothing good comes out of a friend with benefits relationship. Hell, I could have told you that while also saving you the eventual heartbreak that will eventually happen. So again, I ask, what the fuck were you thinking?" 

Letting out a huge sigh, Chris moved to sit next to Scott on the porch swing. "I was thinking…that this is someone who I love and care about, you know. At first, the arrangement was, I don't want to say that it was just for fun. With Raina, it felt like a natural progression for our friendship. I don't know. I guess maybe…"

"You hoped that it could turn into something more down the road," Scott finished for his brother. 

"Yeah. I felt we were getting to that point, but Raina kept pulling back, you know. Like, she was too scared to move in that direction with me,' Chris confessed as he leaned back on the porch swing. 

Scott continued to stare at Chris as he contemplated what to say next. He felt terrible for his older brother and realized Chris's dilemma.

"I wish I could give you some sage advice, but honestly, I am at a loss on what you should do. Raina is special to you. To all of us. But, no one can deny that she has always had a little hold on your heart. The sad thing is that I don't think the poor thing fully understands the effect she has on you. All I can say is to tread carefully. Don't do anything rash," advised Scott and got up to go into the house.

'Too late.' Chris thought to himself. 

"Fuck it! I need a cigarette." 

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Series Review Pt. 1/3

So, this isn’t even a YouTube video where you have the advantage of hearing a voice over a recording with snappy editing to lighten the mood or convey feeling; but believe me that there was a lot of earnest sincerity put into the review this time around.

But before I put the rest of it under the cut, there are some corrections/clarifications I want to put down about my last review that I believe we're significant shortcomings on my part. 

My first, and probably most MAJOR goof was my choice of words in trying to describe the scene with Hawks and Twice at the end of 263 - “ he clearly hasn’t killed Twice yet, and we don’t know why, but if he has to he’s prepared to do so without hesitation or remorse.”

BIG OOF. I hadn’t even been looking much at others’ opinions and the common-enough impression that Hawks doesn’t care about Twice at all/is incapable of empathy/ONLY concerned with his mission from the Commission. When I looked back at my own review, though I didn’t have any indication anyone believed I was one of those people (“without remorse” being the problematic phrase in question), I could easily see how others could get the impression and decided to wait until the next review to do a better job instead of just saying I would. My views on that particular scene will be clear later on, but at least that’s out of the way in case that was keeping people from reading this in the first place.

Second, I failed to arrange my observation points in a more ideal order. If anything, the fact that we were seeing that last page from Twice’s perspective should have been the first point. This mistake made it sound like a neutral assessment of the situation instead of an observation through the context of Jin's feelings. This ended up confusing even myself, as someone who usually writes these reviews solo, into forgetting to factor in that Twice's perspective may be warping the perception of Hawks guarding him into one of intent to kill while forgetting that the Hero Code forbids killing others unless it's truly a necessary last resort. For some reason, Sad Man's Parade and Twice's two-double limit also slipped my mind which brings me to the last point.

Third, I rushed things. When I rush, I make mistakes, sometimes pretty sloppy ones. It has been a ROUGH couple of weeks to be a Hawks or villain stan, even more so if you’re both, so for some reason I felt like I needed to get my thoughts out there quickly. I don’t have any kind of real incentive to do so other than a faster response - I don’t make any money off this, don’t have any relevance algorithm to feed as if I was on YouTube or Twitter, and I’m not the only half-decently known blog to hold these opinions so I don’t know what I was thinking. That’s my problem, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it anyone else’s.

For complete transparency, I’ve been reading and re-reading through the entire series canon again, starting with Hawks’ manga debut, and reviewing the entire series’ events and in-universe history, and have been taking literal whole pages of notes and drafts since Thursday the 12th. I’m glad I did because it brought to mind things that often get left out of pockets of fandom discussion who hyper-focus on their circles of interest while forgetting that each individual section is meant to work with the whole.

That’s what we’ll be working with today, and additional thanks goes to  @baezetsu and @dorito9708 for volunteering as proofreaders and editors to make this more focused and concise. If you’re interested please keep reading. A fair warning, this is what we in the professional field call a “long-ass post, no seriously guys grab a drink and a snack we’re gonna be here a while.” It's actually so long I have to split it up into parts because Tumblr Mobile is stupid and doesn't like making the "read more" function available to the mobile version.

So here we go, people, let’s try this again one last time…

Where we’re at in Chapter 264 (or at least, you know, ignoring literally everyone in the series that isn’t these two) is Twice and Hawks’ confrontation in the study room; but let’s put a pin in that for now and come back.

The biggest piece of information to keep in mind is that even though both these characters are currently front-and-center and have major plot and symbolic value in the series, they are still not the main characters. Their conflict is also not the central conflict. Let’s zoom out to the big picture and see what happens when we put everything together at the end.

The whole inciting incident of the series is when humanity began to display superhuman abilities in a few random individuals. These abilities are neither inherently good or bad - they are constantly intended as neutral with the potential being dependent on the user. Eventually these abilities began to be collectively termed as “quirks” - literally just a single facet of each person’s unique identity. From a social commentary standpoint, quirks have been used as a narrative stand-in for the unique situational circumstances or combinations of circumstances individuals may find themselves with that are either mostly or completely outside of their control like aptitude, physical ability, race/appearance, mental state, and inherited societal station. While more of these examples have been explicitly stated and inserted into the story later on, quirks still serve as the main catalyst and lens by which these topics are discussed.

Because of the initially new and unfamiliar nature of these abilities, people who possessed them faced descrimination and persecution despite having no say in whether or not they had them; and some who did possess these abilities began abusing their power. Taking advantage of this, a man calling himself One-for-All took unwanted quirks from people and redistributed them claiming to want to help others and bring about peace but merely wished to amass power and a following for his own gain. Morally upright individuals eventually rose to the occasion and placed themselves between innocent bystanders and evildoers, earning no official reward or compensation for their work, though eventually they became so effective that they became recognized and endorsed if they went through proper governmental training and channels. These endorsed specialty crime fighters came to be dubbed “heroes.”

All-For-One had risen to prominence by this point and his loyal following actively supported him in his now blatant criminal empire despite the morally reprehensible actions he committed which incessantly terrorized innocent bystanders - earning him the title Symbol of Evil or Symbol of Fear. Eventually a hero named All Might rose up to specifically deal with All-For-One’s reign of terror, having worked his way up from obscurity taking down criminals and saving civilians in unprecedented numbers, determined to create a world where everyone could feel safe in the face of danger. Though only succeeding in beating AFO into hiding All Might ushered in a new era of safety and prosperity earning him the title Symbol of Peace.

Therein lies the central message - “It’s not the situation you’re given that determines your worth or potential but what you choose to do with it” - and the main conflict is - “I want to use what I’ve been given for my own benefit" vs "I want to use what I’ve been given for others.” Deku and Shiguraki are merely the next generation iteration of this conflict distilled down to their simplest essence. Deku's desire is to save anyone who needs help the moment he realizes they need it. Shiguraki wants to remove people's sense of security regardless of their character or situation. 

This conflict is initially framed as simple - a clear black and white/good and bad dynamic that’s easy to see from a distance; but as characters and groups developed over time it’s become more and more difficult to tell the two sides apart. It was not a coincidence that immediately after introducing the clear-as-day bad guys to the series we were presented with the idea that who we perceived to be “good guys” could be bad people doing good things or that people could do good things for the wrong reasons when we were presented with the personal conflicts that Bakugo, Shinsou, and Todoroki all faced at the Sports Festival that were either their internal struggles with the way the were perceived by others or were their personal struggles with the way they perceived themselves. Immediately after that, we were introduced to Stain's criticism of modern heroes and shown who would come to be the core members of the League of Villains.

At the current events in the series we’ve waded through so many shades of grey we’re expected to determine who’s a “hero” and “villain” not by what they say but what they do, how they do it, and why they do it. The individual members of the League of Villains touch on various ways a person might be driven to a life dedicated either to the pursuit of personal satisfaction with no concern to others or to the active pursuit of destroying others, and generally the villains are some of the most morally gray characters we have in the series, though not all of them - the two most notable morally gray “good guys” are Hawks and Endeavor.

There’s one last thing to note about how the series chooses to distinguish morally gray characters as “good” and “bad,” and that ultimately boils down to the choices they make with the hand they are dealt - that being to help or to harm others. This is not quite the same thing as a “hero” and a “villian” (I know, as if it wasn’t confusing enough), but the series has now gone to great lengths to make a clear distinction between the ideals of heroism and the institution of heroism.

Looking at the difference in institutions and ideals as the series presents them we get a better picture of the actual core issues the series seeks to address. The institution of heroism is a utilitarian approach to maintaining a sense of order and safety, and it does so by incentivising people to resolve as many public altercations as possible in exchange for wealth and fame. Criminals are those who break the law regardless of the motivation for the crime or its degree of impact. The institution does not take into account factors that may drive someone to commit a crime nor is it concerned with the core motivations of those enforcing the sense of order.

On the opposite hand, the ideal of heroism offers no reward, no recognition, may require some amount of suffering on the part of the hero, and never guarantees that the victim in question will be saved. Conversely, villainy/evil is any action taken for one's own gain with zero regard to the impact on others and/or is any action committed with malicious intent. These definitions are about moral obligation and human to human connection.

While having a strong correlation (helping others because it's right usually helps the majority in the long run, and doing harm is often ultimately bad for the majority) these two schools of thought are able to function independently of each other. In other words, a criminal can be a good person fallen on hard times (like stealing food to feed their family, but only as much as they need from someone who won’t notice it missing) while a “professional hero” can be an evil person doing good things for the wrong reasons (like obsessing over gaining wealth and popularity with no mind to collateral damage they may cause). Most characters are categorized and even described in-universe as morally aligning with the institution they associate with; but several have been explicitly noted as exceptions to the rule such as Gentle Criminal and La Brava, Endeavor, and Twice. 

Are we properly confused yet? Great, because there’s one more layer to consider! What do we make of someone who is trying to do a good thing (like saving as many people as possible from a known threat) but to do so has to make a choice that might leave a few people in the fire? Which outcome do we use to decide if this is a good person or a bad one? Do we judge based on intent or on the outcome?

Now we zoom back in to Hawks and Twice, but we’ll pick that up in Part Two.

Part Three

#bnha meta #mha meta #BNHA Chapter 264 #MHA Chapter 264 #BNHA spoilers #MHA spoilers #long post

[commentaryvorg]

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Bonus 4.2 - UTDP (Still Mostly Kaito Edition)

This is postgame content, so people shouldn’t be reading this without having already finished the main game anyway. But just to be safe: while this is non-canon character stuff, I will sometimes be mentioning events that happened in the main story, so there will be spoilers for the main game.

Last time in the first half of my Kaito-centric Ultimate Talent Development Plan coverage, it was all about Kaito helping people! Kaito encouraged Shuichi to use his detective skills to help out his schoolmates, and Shuichi passed some of Kaito’s advice about relying on people onto Kyoko. After some incredibly stubborn persistence to even get her to open up in the first place, Kaito nudged Maki into letting Kaede play piano at her orphanage, and Maki also bonded a little with Chihiro over keeping secrets and projecting their issues onto a dead bird. Then, after a brief sports festival interlude, Kaito helped Mondo be more positive about his future, and I lengthily compared Mondo and Chihiro’s relationship to Kaito and Shuichi’s one in canon, because both had similar issues and dynamics going on.

There’s still a bunch more Kaito-related stuff to cover in this mode, so let’s start off this second half on a high note, shall we?

Ryoma (featuring Kaito’s issues)

Another of Kaito’s friendly events is with Ryoma, so you can bet I’m interested in it. Remember, Kaito’s fondness for tennis meant he looked up to Ryoma as a hero, and as a result, all of Kaito’s unreasonably high standards for heroes that usually only apply to himself also apply to Ryoma. Ryoma therefore provides a delightful look into Kaito’s hero issues that can’t really be found anywhere else in this AU, since Kaito hasn’t been dying, and nor has Shuichi been saving everyone’s lives in class trials without seeming to need Kaito’s help.

This scene also features Usami – yes, she’s also here in this mode, as is Monomi, though never at the same time. I don’t even know, just go with it.

Usami:  “I just came to talk to Ryoma! I’m everyone’s teacher… so if you ever wanna talk to me about something, please feel free!”

Ryoma:  “Thanks, but there’s nothing to talk about. Don’t bother with me. Go back to your students. It feels… wrong for such a cheery mascot like you to be around someone like me.”

Kaito:  “Really? I think talking about stuff will help. Come on, just talk to her.”

Of course Ryoma talking about things will help! And it’s… actually rather surprising to see Kaito doing something that amounts to trying to help Ryoma get stronger, by encouraging him to do this. Kaito is usually so hung up on Ryoma being weak in the first place that he can’t even get as far as suggesting some kind of help for him. So I can only assume that the reason he manages to do so in this instance is because Usami was the one to suggest it first, which made Kaito actually briefly see Ryoma as someone in need of support for once, because she was treating him that way, and agree with her.

Ryoma:  “Hmph… is being nosy your talent or something?”

In my Kaito-isn’t-into-tennis AU, I wrote Ryoma’s POV describing Kaito as “nosy” for reasons I couldn’t quite place, but it seems I was subconsciously remembering that he does so here, even though I didn’t recall the details of this scene back then. Kind of like how Maki considers anyone worrying about her to be “gross”, “nosy” may well be Ryoma’s way to refer to people who are going out of their way to help him, as a way to try and brush off their help because he doesn’t consider himself worth it.

(In that sense, yes, being nosy practically is Kaito’s talent. Or at least it is with everyone except Ryoma.)

Kaito:  “What did you say?”

Usami:  “Hey! Fighting’s a no-no!”

Kaito:  “We’re not gonna fight. There’s no use butting heads with him anyway. Because this guy’s a total sad sack now. He used to be an amazing athlete before.”

Being called nosy probably wouldn’t normally rile Kaito up, not when he considers it a good thing to be invested in other people’s wellbeing. But apparently something about it coming from Ryoma in particular gets to him and causes him to snap right back to his Ryoma-specific mindset of “he’s not worth helping because he’s supposed to be a hero but he’s weak”. Specifically, I think it might be because the “nosy” comment was essentially Ryoma brushing off Kaito’s attempt to offer help. That refusal to even try and get stronger is another kind of weakness – and a more meaningful kind, one that it makes more sense to be upset at someone about, because it’s a choice.

Not that that’s a thing that usually stops Kaito from trying to help someone, of course! He openly called Maki a coward for running away from her issues at first, but that didn’t change the fact that he knew she had the potential to be brave enough to face them, if he just pestered her stubbornly enough to convince her. It usually takes a lot for Kaito to conclude that someone really is beyond help and isn’t ever going to decide to change, as we saw with Kokichi in canon. But not when it’s Ryoma, apparently. Even though Usami got Kaito to temporarily see past Ryoma’s initial weakness and try to help, refusing that help even once and not wanting to change is even more weak of Ryoma, and is therefore again disgraceful for a hero and sent Kaito’s opinion of him right back to square one.

Which seems quite relevant to how Kaito was in canon, considering how much he refused any help with his own weaknesses. Particularly in trial 4, where it was very apparent that he was struggling to face the truth and should have reached out for support, and he was only making himself look even more obviously weak by not doing that.

This moment here with Ryoma, thanks to Usami letting Kaito get as far as offering help at all, is essentially illustrating to Kaito that if a hero does do the unacceptable and be weak in the first place, then refusing help for it when people can already see that he needs it only looks even weaker and even less heroic of him, and he should at least cut his losses and accept help. I would say that if only a moment like this with Ryoma had happened in canon then it might have served as a lesson of How Not To Be A Worse Hero (When You’re Already A Bad One) and taught Kaito to actually accept the support he needed. Buuuut I still very much doubt that, because Kaito here definitely seems to have fallen too far back into his general frustration of “heroes shouldn’t be weak at all!!!” to be using this as any kind of example.

Ryoma:  “You knew about me?”

Kaito:  “A little, yeah…”

Ryoma:  “So you get it now. The Ultimate Tennis Pro… I’m not that guy anymore. That’s in the past.”

Kaito:  “Yeah, I guess not… The Ryoma I knew was invincible and would go up against any opponent.”

Oh, Kaito, why am I so right about you. Throughout all of the lengthy rambles I’ve written about Kaito’s unhealthily unrealistic standards for heroes, including the fact that he also applies these standards to Ryoma, I had basically forgotten about this scene and didn’t use it to help me figure any of that stuff out. And yet here Kaito is, describing the Ryoma that he looked up to as invincible. Of course he saw him that way. Kaito’s writers have always known exactly what they’re doing and I love it.

Usami:  “K-Kaito… Is everything okay!? Please calm down!”

Kaito:  “My bad… I’m gonna go cool off.”

[Kaito leaves the room]

I like how Usami managed to notice, even though it wasn’t showing that much in his face based on his sprites, that Kaito was beginning to get really worked up about this. And credit to Kaito for actually acknowledging this when it’s pointed out, apologising for it (a more worthwhile apology than like 90% of the ones he ever gives) and leaving to calm down. Kaito can often react to things that upset him with a cycle of getting more and more riled up until he snaps in some way. At least in this case, he realised that he doesn’t want to end up lashing out as that doesn’t help anyone, and that the best thing for him to do is to just step away from the situation before he reaches that point. This is Kaito actually showing decent self-care! That’s rare.

…It’s probably only because Usami pointed it out to him. I said it’s ridiculous that she’s even here in this AU, but… Usami actually subtly did a lot for Kaito in this scene. Maybe he ought to talk to her. (You know, because Kaito is so good at talking to people about his issues.)

Usami:  “The air feels so tense… It’s all my fault…  I shouldn’t have said anything at all…”

No, Usami, you did a good. If you hadn’t been here and it’d just been Kaito and Ryoma, Kaito wouldn’t have even vaguely acknowledged the possibility of helping Ryoma and might have actually lashed out at him. This is a scene about Kaito’s issues with Ryoma, but it seems the writers included Usami in it for a reason.

The scene ends with Ryoma acknowledging that Usami cares about him, but also saying that he’s still not planning on actually talking to her and accepting her support. Damn it, Ryoma, you aren’t helping yourself either. He needs someone a lot more stubborn than Usami to really get through to him, but… yeah, there’s an issue with that, isn’t there.

There’s also a final year seasonal event that somewhat follows up on this. Ryoma heads to the gym to help Himiko set up for her Christmas magic show and finds Kaito already there.

Kaito:  “Oh…”

This is Kaito’s evasive face. This particular kind of reaction rather reminds me of Kaito’s reactions to Shuichi’s presence in early chapter 5. Which is only appropriate, since this is a similar situation of him awkwardly not really wanting to talk to someone who sets off his issues, but not wanting to admit why either.

Ryoma:  “Did Himiko get you to help her out, too?”

Kaito:  “Well, something like that. You too?”

Ryoma:  “Yeah. I may not be as fit as I was back in my glory days, but it should be enough…”

Kaito:  “How pathetic… An athlete at your level should say stuff like, ‘I’ll take on any challenge!’”

Heroes like Ryoma are meant to be full throttle, larger than life, all the time, with no half measures. That’s what Kaito’s like when he’s setting an example for his sidekicks and anyone else he’s trying to inspire; Ryoma’s supposed be like that too!!

It’s not even acceptable that Ryoma is saying he’s still strong enough to get the job done and is going to do his best. Simply admitting to any kind of weakness in the first place isn’t allowed and will definitely prevent anything else he says from ever being inspiring. (Won’t it?)

Ryoma:  “Hmph… Don’t bring up such an old story now. Those days are long past.”

Kaito:  “I don’t care about your past!”

Kaito, you extremely care about his past. Not about the past of him being a murderer that led to all his self-loathing, because he doesn’t have to let that define him and can move on from it and do better in future. That’s a lot like Maki’s situation, and obviously Kaito doesn’t care about her past in that sense, so I can believe he also wouldn’t do so analogously with Ryoma. But here they were actually talking about Ryoma’s past before the murders, when he used to be a superstar athlete. Kaito very obviously still cares about that past, because that’s why he can’t deal with Ryoma properly. If Kaito was capable of seeing Ryoma as nothing but the person he is today, then he’d be able to help like can usually help anyone.

Kaito:  “There are plenty of tennis players that look up to you. They’re trying to surpass your memory. One of them might become the next Ultimate Tennis Pro! So quit it with that mopey face you’ve got on all the time! When you see a tennis fan, can’t you just smile at him and say, ‘Tennis is pretty great, huh?’”

Kaito is kind of giving some reasonable advice here, but only on the level on which he looks up to Ryoma as his tennis hero. He’s managing to encourage Ryoma to be a little better at being that hero to people who look up to him, even if he’s not necessarily ever going to pick up a racket again. That’s something, but it’s not remotely what Ryoma really needs; it’s really more just what Kaito wanted from him.

Kaito:  “That’s all… I just wanted to say that to you before we graduate.”

Apparently this really has been bothering Kaito on and off for the past three years such that he would have regretted not getting to say it in the end. But still, “you should be a better hero” is not remotely addressing the real problem here, Kaito. Three years and Kaito was still too hung up on Ryoma being a disappointment of a hero to actually be able to figure out how to help.

Ryoma:  “Were you… just waiting for a chance to talk to me about tennis?”

Ryoma, perceptive as he is, does seem to have picked up that this whole speech Kaito just gave him was really more for Kaito’s own benefit. He just did it because he wanted Ryoma to become someone willing to talk to him, or at least others like him, about tennis.

Ryoma:  “Well, even if I agreed to… do you really think you’re qualified to talk to me about tennis? Well… you’d probably say that something like that didn’t matter.”

Kaito:  “Heh, so you do get it after all!”

Kaito has a point here, though. Someone shouldn’t have to also be a superstar with ridiculous anime tennis superpowers to be able to have a conversation about tennis with Ryoma, and if Ryoma’s trying to claim that just to avoid talking to people genuinely interested in tennis, then he’s only making excuses. (And I like how Ryoma’s perceptiveness lets him realise Kaito would say that to him before he even said it.)

Apparently Ryoma and Kaito do then end up chatting about tennis with each other as they set up the stage, which is at least some level of progress for both of them. Ryoma would probably have refused to talk about tennis if this’d been earlier on, but by now it seems he’s mellowed out enough – for reasons that have nothing to do with Kaito, of course – to be up for it if pushed. On Kaito’s end, though, this is still only him interacting with Ryoma as a fan of his and a fellow tennis enthusiast. He hasn’t stopped being incapable of properly seeing and helping with Ryoma’s real problems because of his own messed-up standards for heroes.

But even though Kaito still wasn’t able or even really willing to help him, we don’t have to worry about Ryoma in this universe. We can see this most clearly in one of Mahiru’s third year winter scenes in which she’s giving him some photos that he asked her to take as keepsakes of his time here…

Ryoma:  “I won’t let it end so easily. During the three years we spent in this academy… I found something I don’t want to let go of. Something I thought I’d never find again… And your pictures… have captured their smiles so clearly. These pictures will always remind me that the time I spent here was worth every second.”

…so, Ryoma’s going to be okay. He’s found his new reason to live.

Year 2 seasonal events

Year 2’s seasonal event is the school festival in which a lot of the students are doing shows or exhibits displaying their talents. Kaito isn’t doing anything like that himself and only helped set up the stage, but then he can check out one of the shows afterwards.

-      Can’t miss Kaede’s recital

Kaito’s POV wording for this option is great. It’s not just that he’s checking out Kaede’s show because eh why not – he actively doesn’t want to miss it!

Kaede:  “Huh…? You came by yourself, Kaito?”

Kaito:  “Yeah, my bad. Shuichi’s not here yet, but he’s on his way.”

Kaito, why are you apologising just because you didn’t bring Shuichi when she didn’t even ask you to? The fact that Kaito apparently on some level feels like this counts as doing something wrong suggests that he assumes Kaede doesn’t think much of him on his own and only ever cares about seeing him if he has Shuichi with him.

(I’d be surprised that he doesn’t know Kaede better than that, but… maybe what other people think of him is another inherent blind spot in Kaito’s intuition. I never quite thought about it in that way before, but that really does make a lot of sense and is kind of heartbreaking to think about. Oh, Kaito, you idiot.)

Kaede:  “I-I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… I’m a little surprised you came to listen to classical music.”

But of course Kaede didn’t mean her comment in the way Kaito assumed! Instead, however, it seems that she similarly assumes that Kaito doesn’t think much of her on her own and would only ever come to her recital if he was tagging along with Shuichi, rather than for his own enjoyment.

Kaito:  “Hey, of course I’d come. You’re the one playing, so there’s no way I’d miss it.”

Obviously, though! Kaito respects and admires Kaede a lot, so of course he’d want to see her doing the thing she’s best at and loves so much! Classical music may not be personally Kaito’s area of interest, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate Kaede’s passion for it and get excited about it anyway!

Kaito:  “I know you’re gonna do great! As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best pianist out there!

Everyone is supposed to think Kaede is the best pianist out there; that’s literally the point of her being the Ultimate Pianist. So I love how Kaito doesn’t care about that, and instead he makes a point that her being so great at this is his opinion of her.

While it’s less prominent in this AU, Hope’s Peak tends to do the rather unhealthy thing of putting people’s talents first and acting like that’s the only thing about them that matters. If Kaede is the Ultimate Pianist, then that means that her being so great at the piano is just the baseline expectation for someone with that title and not really anything special at all. But Kaito doesn’t see her as an Ultimate who’s already destined to be good at her thing – he sees her as a fully-rounded person first and foremost who just happens to have an amazing talent that deserves to be praised and admired rather than expected of her. And he does this despite spending all day every day surrounded by Ultimates and being one himself to the point that someone being talented at a particular thing should be difficult to see as anything special any more. He’s so good.

Kaito:  “Be confident and knock their socks off. I’ll be watching from the seats!”

Kaede:  “Hahaha, thanks. That’s so Kaito of you.”

I love Kaede using “Kaito” as an adjective, much like I’ve done many times throughout this commentary. His personality is so impactful and distinctive that sometimes there’s no better way to encapsulate it than that. And the fact that Kaede does this goes to show that she also appreciates Kaito’s outlook a lot, because she wouldn’t describe it in this way that expresses just how uniquely him it is if she didn’t.

Both Kaede and Kaito assume that the other doesn’t think much of them or see them as anything more than another close friend of Shuichi’s, but they’re so wrong! You should be better friends with each other as well, you two! You have so much in common other than just being Shuichi’s friend!

Kaito’s other two options for the festival aren’t especially noteworthy. He can talk to Ibuki before her concert and see that she’s already plenty hyped up about it without his help, or he can check out a fashion show featuring the class 1 girls and have “Junko” (really Mukuro) accuse him of being a perv when he’s genuinely just interested in the show. (Why wouldn’t he be interested? There’s nothing unnecessary in this world!)

However, Kaito’s appearances in other people’s events for this school festival are all quite noteworthy in one way or another.

One of these festival events is with Byakuya. This is not someone you’d expect Kaito to go out of his way to talk to, because he’s empatically neither someone Kaito respects for being invested in helping others, nor someone who might benefit from Kaito’s support. But apparently there is one reason Kaito is interested in him, and therefore approaches him after a speech he was giving at the festival…

Kaito:  “I’ve got a question for you! The Togami Corporation funds all kinds of stuff, right? What about space exploration?”

…Which is, of course, SPACE.

Byakuya:  “That is within our power. The Togami group, and myself, can move mountains. We are obligated to spread our grasp into space. A loser like you wouldn’t understand.”

Byakuya, you asshole, you are talking to the Ultimate Astronaut; if you actually cared about a Togami space program then he’d be an incredible asset to that. Evidently Byakuya does not actually care about space travel itself and is only interested in doing this as a way to make his name seem even more big and important.

Kaito:  “I’m no loser! I’m Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

…At one point in the main commentary I mentioned that Kaito never actually responds to being called useless (which “loser” is pretty analogous to) in this overblown way. But that was because that kind of overblown response would have sounded like an obviously-desperate defence during the times when he actually was afraid he was useless. Here in this AU, though, Kaito has no such issues going on, so all that’s happening here is his genuine overblown confidence. Being called a loser just bounced right off him; he knows he’s not.

(Also look at how Kaito would rather inform Byakuya that he’s the Luminary of the Stars, even though him being the Ultimate Astronaut is pretty relevant to this conversation. His luminary title is so much more important to him.)

Kaito:  “But I see you understand how great outer space is.”

I am kind of surprised though that Kaito didn’t pick up on the fact that Byakuya doesn’t understand how great space is, at least not in any meaningful way.

Kaito:  “Alright! I’ll make you my sidekick!”

…Kaito? Clearly Byakuya is not a potential sidekick, what are you doing.

Kaito then apparently spends a while following Byakuya around and pestering him about space despite his protests. Given this, I can only assume that in this instance Kaito means a somewhat different kind of sidekick, one that only applies in the context of space travel. Obviously Kaito is the foremost authority on space around here, so he wants to teach Byakuya all about space exploration and how he can make the Togami corporation the best at space. Maybe Kaito does realise that Byakuya only “understands” how great space is in the sense that he superficially recognises it’s big and important, and so Kaito wants to teach him exactly why it’s so great so that Byakuya will definitely decide to throw all of his money at it.

Kaito, cut your losses, dude. You could do so, so much better than him for a space sidekick.

On a similar but much more interesting note, Kaito can also interact with Izuru Kamukura. (Yes, he’s in this mode like it’s no big deal. Hajime is also in this mode. They’re never both seen or mentioned in the same scene, so I guess we’re just running with two alternate universes here?)

Kaito:  “How about it? You wanna become my sidekick, too?”

And Kaito just casually offers this out of nowhere after they’ve done nothing but help set up the stage together.

Izuru:  “It wouldn’t make sense to have a sidekick who is better than you at everything, right?”

Oh, Izuru, you don’t get it at all. Kaito absolutely can have sidekicks that are better and more capable than him. The only thing required for them to be his sidekick is that there’s something standing in the way of them reaching their full potential, something that Kaito’s support can help with.

Kaito:  “Heh, Ultimate Hope? That’s nothin’! I’m Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

Heh, there’s another instance of him seeing his luminary title as far more meaningful than any of these Ultimate talents, even the most Ultimate one of them all.

Izuru:  “I can analyze everything about a future you would follow.”

Kaito:  “Analyze? You’re just talking about predictions. My destiny’s too big to be predicted! Plus… I’ve got Shuichi and Maki Roll as my sidekicks. If we include their strengths, the possibilities are endless.”

Silly Izuru, assuming Kaito has limits, that there are things that might just be impossible for him. That’s not how Kaito works! And I love that Kaito brings his sidekicks into it, too; he believes in their potential so much! More than that, he believes that when people work together, they have unlimited potential that could never be predicted!

Izuru:  “As I predicted, you are an idiot. How boring…”

Kaito:  “That’s a bad habit. If you keep saying that, you’ll start to think everything’s boring. Are you okay with that?”

…See, Kaito gets it. He knew exactly what he was doing in this instance when he asked Izuru to be his sidekick. It doesn’t matter that Izuru is infinitely more talented than him – he still has weakness that he needs help with. After nothing but a brief session of helping each other with some manual labour, Kaito managed to pick up on that. His intuition is incredible.

This weakness of Izuru’s – to see everything as boring because he’s such a super-genius that he can predict every possible outcome – is, as far as I understand it, ultimately the reason he ended up contributing to the apocalypse in his canon storyline, because Junko convinced him it was the least boring thing he could do. But it didn’t necessarily have to be that way. If he’d only had the right help, he could have ended up using his talents to do far more productive things than ending the world.

If anyone could teach Izuru how to have more passion for life, to see the value and excitement in things even if he already knows everything about them, surely it would be Kaito? If anyone could let him realise that people are inherently unpredictable and he’s never going to always know everything that will happen, surely it would also be a beautifully reckless doofus like Kaito?

Plus, Izuru was supposedly implanted with every single talent imaginable, but only insofar as he’s one person. He evidently doesn’t have Kaito’s talent, because that’s all about teamwork and co-operation. Izuru is already a super-genius, but he could be so much better than he is. If Kaito could convince him that this interpersonal kind of talent is worthwhile to have as well, then he could teach him that, and Izuru would learn to value other people’s strengths no matter how predictable they are! There’s just so much Kaito could do for him.

Unfortunately, Izuru brushes Kaito off as boring again and ignores continued attempts to sidekick him, so we can only assume that Kaito eventually backed down and decided it wasn’t worth it because Izuru wasn’t willing to try and change. Which I’m only begrudgingly accepting because if Kaito did succeed in making Izuru listen to him then that’d be the beginning of a whole storyline that this side mode just doesn’t have the capacity for. Otherwise, I really do believe Izuru had the potential to change, and that Kaito would believe that too and not give up so easily.

Just… man, imagine Kaito being a part of actual Hope’s Peak canon and just casually averting the apocalypse because he saw Izuru’s weakness and did his usual Kaito thing and it worked.

At some other point during the festival, Nagito approaches Kaito and is disappointed to hear that the Ultimate Astronaut isn’t putting on any kind of show about space today.

Kaito:  “Oh, are you interested in space, too?”

Nagito:  “Of course I am! The vastness of space… that’s the only stage suitable for your talent, right!? There’s no mistake that you’ll be able to bring hope to the world from outer space!”

Kaito:  “Hmm… something feels off.”

Nagito:  “Off? What do you mean?”

Kaito:  “You’re not interested in space… Or me. That’s how it feels. Like it’d be weird for you to cheer me on…”

Kaito’s intuition is so good. He barely knows Nagito, but he can sense well enough just from a few sentences that Nagito doesn’t actually care about Kaito himself or his interests at all and is only obsessed with the “hope” that he thinks Kaito represents. (Not that Nagito’s concept of it is anything close to the actual meaning of the word “hope”, but let’s not go into that again.) Kaito hasn’t seen enough of Nagito to know for sure that this is the kind of creep he is (like I imagine Nagito’s classmates are probably fully aware by now), but even without that, he can instinctively pick up on it straight away.

Kaito would probably have a lot of very interesting things to say to Nagito if he was exposed to him more and got to know his deal better, especially if it’d been in the context of an actual killing game. …But really, Kaito’s already had to do more than enough giving a piece of his mind to a selfish asshole who keeps making the killing game about himself and his own bullshit philosophy, and there’s so much more to Kaito’s character than just being stuck doing that all the time. Let’s give him a break.

Nagito:  “Hmm… did I get too excited? I’m sorry if my blabbering made you uncomfortable… But it’s true that I want to cheer you on, Kaito…”

Kaito:  “Well, I guess you’re not lying… My bad.”

No, Kaito, not your bad, because you were right! Just because he really isn’t lying about “wanting to cheer you on” doesn’t necessarily mean he cares about you.

This shows something neat about how Kaito treats his hunches that never really came up in the main storyline. If Kaito’s hunch about someone is negative, then he won’t act on it without further proof. Despite how much faith he puts in his intuition, he’ll give someone the benefit of the doubt if they deny whatever negative thing he suspects about them. (We saw this kind of thing very briefly in trial 2 when he picked up that Kirumi was trying to save an “everyone” who wasn’t here but then stopped pushing the subject when she denied it, even though she was lying and he probably still suspected that.) After all, it’s just a hunch. Kaito doesn’t want to form firm negative opinions of someone based only on that, because that’s not fair. That’s just being a dick to someone for what’s really no good reason, especially if it then turns out he was wrong about them and they didn’t deserve it.

Of course, Kaito is quite happy to act upon unfounded positive hunches about people, because why shouldn’t he? There’s nothing wrong with being nice to someone for no reason! Maybe it’ll turn out he was wrong about them and they didn’t really deserve his kindness, but then, still, no-one was hurt; he was just being a bit too reckless by believing in them is all. Kaito is so often recklessly kind like that – yet we can see here that he also tries not to be recklessly unkind. He’s so good.

Elsewhere in the school festival, Mikan is working as a receptionist for the haunted house exhibit. In an attempt to attract more guests, she tries inviting passers-by… one of whom happens to be Kaito. As you can imagine, this does not go down well.

After his initial freakout over the idea, which rather startles poor Mikan, Kaito tries to calm down and talk himself into it.

Kaito:  “Wait, wait… I’m not scared. Everything in there is just fake, right?”

Obviously he doesn’t want to be seen as a coward, but this could also be partly because he feels bad for freaking out at Mikan when she was genuinely just trying to be a good receptionist for the exhibit and doesn’t want to disappoint her.

Mikan:  “Yes… they’re all just props for the festival. So it’d make me happy if you tried it… sorta…”

Kaito:  [looking ill] “Sorry… I still can’t.”

But I’m glad he realises that he’s not going to be able to handle this and backs out before actually forcing himself through the exhibit and fucking up his health a lot more. Sometimes these things just can’t be helped, and that’s okay, Kaito. Looking after yourself is more important than saving face or preventing someone from being mildly disappointed. (And don’t apologise for it, you moron.)

Since Kaito already did make himself feel a little ill just thinking about it, at least he happens to be with Mikan, so she’s able to take care of him.

What interests me the most about this scene, though, is just the fact that it’s here at all. I went over at great length in the main commentary how I’m absolutely convinced that Kaito’s phobia only existed as something that Tsumugi deliberately wrote into him so that she could weaken him when she wanted to. It didn’t make sense for Kaito to have that phobia for any other reason – it was in-universe bad writing that was justified in an out-universe sense because Tsumugi was a lazy writer.

But in this AU, Kaito is not a fictional character written by Tsumugi and nobody is trying to nerf him.  There’s no in-story reason for Kaito to have the phobia in this AU – the only reason is that “he had it in canon”, but the reason he had it in canon does not apply here. Every other one of his character traits is here in this AU not only because he had them in canon, but because they’re all a part of what make him Kaito. But I think it could be argued that his phobia is not a part of what makes him Kaito – it sure as hell isn’t connected to anything else about his character at all – and therefore that it doesn’t need to be here.

So it honestly would have been entirely plausible to me to see Kaito not have the phobia in this AU. They could have instead had a scene of Kaito excitedly going into the haunted house exhibit with absolutely no explanation as to why he’s okay with this, because why should there be an explanation for something he’s never had a problem with in this universe? It would have been a delightful subtle hint as to the reason behind his phobia in canon. I’d have loved that. Alas.

Instead, it seems the writers just decided to take the in-universe bad writing that gave Kaito his phobia originally and make it a part of the out-universe writing for Kaito in this AU. Which I guess is acceptable if we consider that Gonta is also here at all.

Gonta had by far the most obviously-fictional backstory – raised by a race of creatures from a videogame? – and so that shouldn’t be a thing in this universe where he’s not made from fake memories. However, they also can’t just briefly edit it so that in this universe his forest family really were wolves, because wolves don’t have a proper language. Apparently, if a human child is isolated from any kind of language for a prolonged amount of time at the ages Gonta would have been at, it severely fucks up their ability to grasp language at all and they become basically non-functional. This is not an issue with fictional-Gonta, because Reptites are sapient and have a language that he’d have learned instead, so his backstory is perfectly consistent with the person he is. But if some kind of sapient non-human creature is not able to be part of his backstory… Gonta’s entire character falls apart and does not make sense. So Gonta existing as the Gonta we know in any non-fantasy universe in which he wasn’t made from fake memories is bad writing.

The writers had Gonta exist in this AU anyway, of course, because obviously they didn’t want to deprive us of our lovely gentleman friend in this mode, and if that means there’s technically some bad writing here, then so be it. So I guess with Kaito as well, they used that same philosophy of keeping him exactly as he is in canon, even including the parts that make a lot less sense when he’s not made out of Flashback Lights for Tsumugi’s story. Hence Kaito’s phobia still being a thing even when it kind of actually shouldn’t be.

A few more miscellaneous scenes

Kaito’s last friendly event isn’t nearly as interesting to me as the rest of them and I’m not covering it in full, especially because it features Leon and Teruteru and I refuse to quote a single word that comes out of Teruteru’s mouth. But it’s still at least a little worth talking about. The gist of it is that Leon and Teruteru begin to discuss going after girls and are shallow and gross, but they’re vague enough about it at first that it somehow spurs Kaito to start talking about “a man’s passion” and sound like he might be agreeing with them.

Kaito:  “I never said I wanted to peep! I’m talking about chasing after unknown worlds!”

But he was never agreeing with them; they were actually having two entirely different conversations at once without realising it. When Kaito said “a man’s passion”, he was talking about going to space, obviously, what the hell did they think he meant?

Kaito:  “Listen up! I’ll teach you what a man’s passion really is!”

Kaito’s concept of manliness does not and never did have anything to do with gross sexualising misogyny, and if anyone thinks that is what being a man is supposed to be about, then he’s going to set them straight, dammit!

…Okay, admittedly that is probably not what Kaito’s about to do – presumably he’s just going to try and tell them how great space is, incidentally sidestepping the actual problem with how they were behaving. Danganronpa’s occasionally-shitty writing is thankfully not so shitty as to directly include Kaito in it (except for the literally four single lines in the main story in which he is still nowhere near as bad as these idiots and which are out-of-character outliers that should be ignored). However, it’s unfortunately still bad enough to not go and actually have the dudes who are shitty be called out by another guy for being like this. But if Danganronpa’s writing wasn’t Danganronpa’s writing, I really feel like this is the kind of thing Kaito would absolutely do.

While the writing isn’t letting Kaito properly acknowledge how gross those two are being, it is otherwise at least having him be very Kaito about this. Even if the other two were being legit and non-gross about it, Kaito would still rather talk about going to space than getting a girlfriend, obviously; space is way more exciting! (…Which, actually, means that this scene is some actual evidence supporting that that one line in one of his Salmon Team hangouts about crushes on girls is likely to be out of character for Kaito. And the one about reading dirty books, for that matter. Ha! Take that, clueless intern!)

Anyway, thankfully this is the last piece of Danganronpa shittiness that goes anywhere near Kaito that I am ever going to have to defend him from being seen as a part of. Let’s move onto something better.

The final year���s seasonal event is less of a specific school event; it takes place in winter close to graduation (the Japanese school year ends in March) and generally involves characters reflecting on their time here over the past three years. I’ve already covered a bunch of the ones I find interesting in conjunction with friendly events they’re connected to, but here’s a few of interest that are a bit more standalone.

Shuichi happens to come across Maki and Himiko on the morning of the winter closing ceremony. This is an unusual trio to see together in this universe and definitely has no particular out-universe reason behind it at all.

Shuichi and Maki are both feeling rather sentimental about the fact that graduation is coming up soon, but Himiko is having none of it.

Himiko:  “Ugh, don’t make that face! It’s not like we’re graduating today!”

Shuichi:  “H-Himiko?”

Himiko:  “Besides, we can still see each other after we graduate! I’ll invite you all to my magic show! My magic can still improve. The next time I show it to you, it’ll be even more amazing! See? Why don’t you guys try to think of the future in a more fun way? Look forward to it!”

Look at her go! She’s been spending enough time with Tenko over the past three years to have reached basically the same point in her development that she reaches in canon in terms of how upbeat and optimistic she’s able to be. This is just the kind of thing that can help cheer Shuichi and Maki up when they’re feeling down, and also exactly the kind of role she’d be playing in this trio in canon as they’re trying to get by and deal with their trauma in the outside world. Since this scene rather pointedly has these three together (when they’re otherwise not seen together in any other scene in this mode), it’s got to be a deliberate nod to the canon ending, so it serves to show us that this is the kind of thing Himiko would have been doing for them there, too. In this universe she’s not been specifically inspired by trying to fill Kaito’s shoes or anything, but she’s doing this anyway simply because she’s a performer and this is what her magic is all about.

Shuichi:  “Hey… Kaede played a performance at Maki’s orphanage, right? Why not have Himiko do a show at the orphanage too?”

Himiko:  “A show for orphans, huh? Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Aww, that would be adorable! Both Kaede and Himiko perform to make people smile, and those kids definitely deserve to smile. Also it’s lovely to see confirmation that Kaede really did end up going to Maki’s orphanage and it went off without a hitch.

Himiko:  “I might even get an apprentice. How about it, Maki?”

Maki:  “…I can’t imagine you as a master. I think you’re moving too fast.”

Nah, Maki, I think Himiko would be great at that. She ended up greater than her own master despite seeming to be the apprentice on the surface, so I think that makes her plenty qualified to be a master herself and train her own apprentices now.

(Since Himiko’s master actually exists in this universe, I am Very Invested in her reuniting with him one day. She needs to help him realise that having messed up in front of her one time doesn’t mean he’s failed her because she still looks up to him and cares about him even if she’s become greater than him, and he was being an Idiot to ever feel like she’d be better off without him because they are not just master and apprentice but also friends.)

Meanwhile, for Kaito’s final year event, one of his choices is obviously the most correct and worthwhile, but I’ll save the best for last. If he instead chooses to go for a walk on his own, Kaito bumps into Kokichi and has a predictably infuriating conversation with him, most of which I’m not going to bother covering, but there’s one part of it that I find interesting enough to talk about.

Kaito:  “You haven’t changed a bit in these last 3 years…”

This seems at a glance just like a general way to express exasperation, but it is very like Kaito to focus on Kokichi not having changed. After all, Kaito’s watched his sidekicks grow and change so much and is generally invested in the idea of people changing as they meet and form friendships with others. But of course none of that happened to Kokichi over these three years, because, as ever, he refused to let himself change.

Kaito:  “You’re still like this at your age? Doesn’t it make your parents cry? Do you even visit?”

Some very good questions! What is going on with regards to Kokichi’s parents? Did he live with them? Does he visit? Are they in the picture at all?

All questions that like hell we’re ever going to get the answers to, of course, and I don’t have nearly enough basis to bother speculating. But I do love that Kaito has thought about this. He’s trying to make some sense of why Kokichi is this way, but he’s also thinking about what Kokichi being this way must be doing to the people out there who actually unconditionally care about him.

(At least, Kaito is automatically assuming that Kokichi’s parents care about him, even though them being assholes could potentially begin to explain a few things. Apparently Kaito considers parents being decent to be the norm, which is another indication that his own parents being assholes is not the answer to why they’re not around.)

Kokichi:  “Hey now, you don’t really ask the supreme leader of evil such normie questions. Also, if you wanna know my origin story, you’re gonna have to bet two lives for it.”

Kaito:  “Idiot, everyone’s only got one life and there’s no way I’d waste mine on your story!”

Kokichi:  “Aw maaan, how boring. If you’re not gonna bother learning the truth about me…”

Kokichi, of course, responds with some evasive insincere bullshit rather than actually be honest about himself for a second, and then acts like it’s Kaito’s fault for not caring enough to want to learn. It couldn’t possibly be that Kaito really does want to understand him better and Kokichi is just refusing to open up because of his trust issues, nope, not at all, nothing is ever Kokichi’s fault.

For the other obviously-not-correct option for his winter event, Kaito goes to the dining hall and comes across Hifumi, who just finished submitting some fan comics of his before the end of the year.

Hifumi:  “The crunch time for them was difficult for even my golden hand… But as you can see, I overcame it and triumphed! I’ve raised the bar for fanfic yet again!”

Kaito:  “In other words, you wanted to show your manliness, huh? Good for you!”

While I’m not entirely sure why he decided to bring it up now out of nowhere, Kaito’s concept of manliness is still not inherently gendered. He’s just talking about Hifumi giving it his all and wanting to show how good he is at what he does. It’s about being true to yourself!

Kaito:  “Alright! Then next you can make a manga about me, Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars!”

Hifumi:  “Huh? A manga about you, Mr. Momota?”

Kaito:  “It’s gonna be a legendary manga! If you make it about me, it’s gonna be a global hit! Cuz it’s gonna be filled with manga-style adventure before it even gets to the space part!”

What an absolute dork. What I can only assume he means by this is that he’s going to have Hifumi manga-ify the ridiculous make-believe games he played as a kid. Obviously that’s the kind of story that everyone’s going to be able to appreciate, children and adults alike, right? And in his narration at the end of this scene, he calls this his biography, because it’s all definitely true. Oh, Kaito.

Hifumi:  “Well, that aside, if I’m gonna make it… It’ll definitely be a global hit! You’ve got a good eye for talent, Mr. Momota!”

Kaito:  “Of course! I’m a hero with many sidekicks!”

Kaito is citing his status as a hero with sidekicks not as part of why his story will obviously be a global hit, but as a separate thing, in terms of why he’s good at spotting talent. Because he is! His hero-and-sidekick thing is all about seeing the potential in people and bringing it out of them, and he’s so good at it!

Reflections with the sidekicks

But anyway, speaking of Kaito’s sidekicks, let’s get back to the obviously correct option for his final year event.

The stars are especially pretty tonight… What will you do?

-      Take a walk with my sidekicks

Kaito’s POV is again being wonderfully Kaito – of course he’d notice that the stars are pretty. He definitely goes for walks on clear nights all the time just so that he can look up at them. Space.

(How many times do you want to bet he’s tripped over something and made a doofus of himself because he was too busy looking up at the stars to watch where he was actually going? A lot. The answer is a lot, I will accept nothing lower.)

Kaito:  “You can see the stars pretty well tonight, yeah? Before long, I’ll be up there with ‘em!”

Maki:  “The stars are pretty, but… is this really the only reason why you called me out this late?”

Shuichi:  “He does this a lot…”

See, he does do this all the time! And what better way to enjoy the beauty of the night sky than by sharing it with his sidekicks? This isn’t even a training session; they’re just hanging out under the stars.

Shuichi:  “But isn’t it kind of fun?”

Maki:  “…I never said this wasn’t fun.”

And Shuichi and Maki have come to appreciate Kaito’s impromptu starlight walks too! They are friends.

Kaito:  “So many things happened in the last three years after I met you guys! We did some school stuff, went to Sonia’s country during the break and solved a case!”

This is indeed another thing that happened. One of Shuichi’s friendly events is with Sonia, in which she tells him about an unsolved conspiracy causing problems among the nobles of her country that ultimately boils down to a lot of missing pets. Since that’s his area of expertise, Shuichi offers to look into it for her, and Sonia takes him up on that. This is more of him trying to help people out using his detective skills, like Kaito was encouraging him to do near the beginning!

And while Shuichi didn’t mention his friends at all during that conversation with Sonia, apparently Kaito later heard about it and invited himself and Maki along. He probably just wanted the three of them to have an adventure together, didn’t he.

Maki:  “Hm, I still don’t know why I had to tag along, though.”

Kaito:  “You were great at wiping out all those assassins! That’s my sidekick for you!”

Maki:  “Correction. I protected us from danger and Shuichi solved the case…”

It sure sounds like they did have quite the adventure, too. Maki used her assassin skills to protect her friends! She even seems to realise this! (Kaito’s wording doeees kinda imply that, while he’s trying to gloss over it, she might have straight-up killed those enemy assassins, though. That’s a shame if so, but it was probably the only way to keep her friends safe.)

Maki:  “If anything, I don’t know why you’re tagging along, Kaito.”

Shuichi:  “If Kaito hadn’t invited you, Maki, then Sonia and I could have been in big trouble.”

Kaito:  “Issuing orders to sidekicks is the most important job a hero has!”

Maki:  “Then your job was over before we even left the country.”

Kaito was helping, you guys. His decision to bring Maki was a good call, but then he also came with them for, uh, you know, moral support! …Which probably genuinely did help them, at least a little, because Kaito is the actual best at moral support. If Maki did kill those enemy assassins, they could potentially have been the first people she’s killed since enrolling in Hope’s Peak, which might have caused a setback in her growth that Kaito would definitely have helped talk her through.

Kaito:  “After graduation, when I’m in space, I’ll look for you guys from up above!”

Maki:  “Huh? You’d never find us.”

Shuichi:  “Ah, well, he might be able to see the approximate area…”

It’s lovely how Kaito says this even though it’s extremely unrealistic to think he could actually see them from there. He wants his sidekicks to be able to feel, even while he’s gone, that he’s watching over them from space!

(This is also a sentiment that very much applies in canon when he really is gone. He died up there in space, which means he’s still up there and watching over them from among the stars, isn’t he?)

Kaito:  “And then I’ll take you guys into space one day. After all, I need my sidekicks to help me out.”

Kaito pulls this out of absolutely nowhere despite how clearly unfeasible it is. And the idea that it’s because he’d need them to help him is obviously an excuse, because that’s not what the word “sidekick” actually means to him.

Kaito just… doesn’t want to be without them for such a prolonged amount of time. He’s so positive-minded that he’d always have thought of only the good things about going to space, so his comment just a moment ago might have been the first time it’s properly occured to him that going to space does have its downsides, because he’s going to have to say goodbye to Shuichi and Maki and leave them behind for months at a time. There’ll be video chats and such, but it won’t be the same. Kaito wants to keep being with them all the time not just for their sake but for his sake, because even if he still isn’t calling them this in this AU either, they’re his best friends and he loves them to bits.

So obviously that just means that they’ve got to come to space with him too, yep, that’s definitely plausible and definitely something they’d both want, and Kaito’s not going to think about anything else.

Shuichi:  “You need us to save you, Kaito?”

Maki:  “Well, yeah… We’re the only ones who would do it.”

Kaito:  “Hey, Shuichi, what do you mean ‘save me’!? Maki Roll, what do you mean, ‘the only ones’!? Geez, what sassy sidekicks. I gotta teach you guys some manners.”

They are the best sassy sidekicks and I love the way they’re making such affectionate jabs at him like that. He’s an idiot in some ways, but he’s their idiot and they wouldn’t have it any other way. And they really would be there for him if he actually genuinely needed help, even though they’re making it sound like a joke on the surface and Kaito is bound to be assuming that they don’t mean it as anything more than that, goddammit Kaito.

Shuichi:  “…How did we end up agreeing to go into space with Kaito?”

Maki:  “There’s no way it would go that smoothly. You really are all talk, Kaito.”

Kaito:  “Shut it! The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so! It’s already been decided!”

Bad sidekicks, stop telling Kaito it’s impossible! And, okay, technically it isn’t completely impossible for Shuichi and Maki to potentially become astronauts and go to space with Kaito if they both trained hard enough. But that’d require them to put in far more effort than they’d be willing to do just to be able to keep Kaito company in space, considering that space isn’t their passion and they have their own lives they want to lead. Of course Kaito knows this – he just doesn’t want to think about leaving them behind, and so he’s trying to use his own line to tell himself that bringing them to space with him is something he’s totally allowed to imagine happening.

Kaito:  “Both of you gotta keep up your training!”

Shuichi:  “I don’t know if we’ll ever end up in space, but… I’ll keep on training.”

Maki:  “…If I feel like it.”

But regardless of how unrealistic the space part is, they will definitely be keeping up their training, even while Kaito’s up in space without them! Including Maki, despite that she’s acting all dismissive about it here. (She’s smiling when she says that.)

You made a promise for the future with your sidekicks…

Kaito, no, that is not what you did. They did not actually promise to come to space with you. (It’ll be okay, though! You’ll be friends with the other astronauts too, because that’s what astronauts do! And you’ll get plenty of time to see Shuichi and Maki in between missions when you’re back on Earth, and plenty of video chats from space!)

Since this scene is only available while you’re playing as Kaito, it has more of a focus on Kaito’s perspective. Of course Shuichi and Maki also each have a third year seasonal event with Kaito that I’m about to get to, and theirs focus more on their perspective, namely what Kaito’s done for them. Because that gets covered in their scenes, Kaito’s scene is free to be about what Shuichi and Maki mean to him, beyond the purely selfless sense of him being proud of how much they’ve grown – and they’re his best friends that he wants to keep hanging out with and having adventures with forever! This scene isn’t really about them as his sidekicks. They’re more to Kaito than just that, even if he still won’t actually use the word “friend”, the big doofus.

Let’s move onto Maki’s scene, then, and talk about what he’s done for her. (Both Maki and Shuichi’s scenes with Kaito are only one-on-one, so Shuichi’s not here for this.)

Kaito:  “It was a lot of work taking care of you guys these past three years. You didn’t even try to talk to people in the beginning.”

Maki:  “Yeah. If you hadn’t annoyed me so much with your constant pestering… I probably would have never been able to talk to Shuichi and the others so casually.”

Kaito helped her relearn how to be friends! Here is confirmation that he very much did employ copious amounts of stubborn pestering to get through to her, not that that aspect of how it happened was ever in question. Kaito is even actually more or less admitting that it was pretty hard work getting through to her – he refers to both her and Shuichi when he says that, but let’s face it, he definitely had to put in a lot more effort in Maki’s case at first.

Kaito:  “You’re being pretty frank today. It seems you finally understand how great I am!”

It is unusual for Maki to be openly admitting things like this – which is also a big sign of her progress! And it’s very like Kaito to respond to her genuine expression of how much he’s done for her by being over the top about it rather than just directly, earnestly accepting it. In this instance it’s definitely not that he’s having any issues that make him not truly believe he deserves such thanks. So I guess it’s instead just due to him feeling kind of awkward when it comes to heartfelt, down-to-earth things like this, and he’s more comfortable putting on the super-awesome-hero fiction for it. (More on this in Shuichi’s scene.)

Kaito:  “Or… are you sad because graduation is getting closer?”

Maki:  “…Yes.”

Kaito:  “…That’s a bit too frank.”

It does seem that Kaito’s also kind of awkward just thinking about generally sentimental things at all. After all, we saw in his scene that he doesn’t like thinking about the fact that he won’t be seeing his sidekicks every day any more once they graduate.

Maki:  “Well, there’s no point being sentimental. It’s not like we won’t ever see each other again.”

Looks like Maki could tell that Kaito’s also feeling more sentimental than he wants to be. At least Maki is capable of being pragmatic about it even while she’s feeling sad. (Kaito would of course be capable of being as optimistic about it as he can, but for his part he doesn’t even really like to think about the sad bits in the first place if he can avoid it.)

Kaito:  “Yeah… you’re right. It’ll be hard for me to see you on a daily basis after this, but… it’s not goodbye forever.”

Maki:  “What do you mean, it’ll be hard?”

Kaito:  “Hm? Well, because I’ll be up in space, obviously.”

Maki:  “Oh, yeah… You still want to go there.”

Obviously! Keep up, Maki Roll! Don’t tell me you ever thought for a second that he wasn’t serious about going there, or that he’d change his mind one day! I’m going to instead put this reaction down her just having not quite properly thought about what that means in terms of the future of their friendship, in that he’s not going to be able to be around as much. Kind of like how Kaito himself in his scene apparently hadn’t thought about it properly until now.

Maki’s looking distant and a little sad in her last line there, and it seems like Kaito picks up on that.

Kaito:  “But you’re my sidekick! If something happened to you, I’d fly back here, right away! I look out for my sidekicks! Cuz I’m a hero!”

Therefore obviously it’ll totally be possible for him to do this if Maki needed him to! Aborting a space mission on short notice in the middle of it and zooming back to Earth for personal reasons is definitely something an astronaut can do, right? This is adorably like the previous scene in which Kaito insisted they could totally come to space with him. He really does not want to think about the fact that going to space will unavoidably separate him from his sidekicks for months at a time.

While the last scene was more from Kaito’s perspective and was therefore about what he’d want – his sidekicks in space with him! – this one is reversed. This scene has been about what Kaito’s done for Maki, and her talking about that has made him focus on what she’d want. So of course he would selflessly abandon space and come right back to help her if something serious happened and she really did need him! …If only he could. His reluctance at the idea of being separated from his sidekicks is, just as you’d expect, also partly out of selflessness for their sake, in terms of him not being there to support them like the hero he’s supposed to be. Kaito can’t bear the thought of Maki needing him and him being uselessly stuck out in space, not able to help her.

(She’d be okay, though, Kaito! Maki’s got other friends too who’d be able to help her in person. And if she really did need Kaito in particular, video chats would be enough, because Kaito always helps the most with just words.)

Maki:  “Huh… that again? Well… I’ll be waiting, but I won’t be expecting much…”

Maki is of course fully aware of how unfeasible these claims of Kaito’s are, but it seems, based on her wistful smile at the end, that she at least understands and appreciates how much he genuinely wants to be able to do that for her if she ever needs it. He is a hero who looks out for his sidekicks, after all, and Maki knows this, no matter how ridiculous she might think that way of wording it is.

Last but not least, Shuichi’s scene begins with him waking up early on the day of the winter closing ceremony. (This is remarkable in and of itself, considering how emphatically not a morning person Shuichi was in canon. Perhaps that was partly for mental health reasons, though, and after three years of being friends with Kaito and Kaede and working on his issues, he’s got better at waking up in the mornings.)

Thinking about only having a short time left at this academy makes you sad… And from that comes restlessness. What will you do?

-      Exercise is perfect at a time like this

It’s lovely how Shuichi thinks of this entirely by himself as something that’ll improve his mood. Kaito really has taught him well!

So Shuichi heads to the school field and finds that Kaito had the same idea as him.

Kaito:  “Oh, hey there bro! Are you training too?”

Shuichi:  “Yeah! It’s good to sweat some things out!”

Kaito:  “Right on! That’s the spirit! It’s all thanks to your training with me!”

Of course it’s all thanks to his training with Kaito! Shuichi would never have even considered doing this kind of thing to help himself if Kaito hadn’t been his friend.

Shuichi:  “…You’re right. You befriended me, and encouraged me, and gave me advice… You’ve… helped me so much, Kaito…”

Kaito:  “Hey, hey. What’s all that about? Don’t dampen the mood, bro.”

…But Kaito still can’t quite just earnestly accept such heartfelt gratitude. This is kind of a reverse of last scene with Maki, in which he responded to her acknowledgement of how much he’d done by being kind of flippantly over-the-top about it. This time, he started with the over-the-top “well, it’s because I’m awesome!”, but Shuichi responding with an earnest “no, you really are, thank you so much,” still managed to wrong-foot him. And again, this isn’t the canon storyline where Kaito had heaps of issues and ended up with a gaping hole in his sense of self-worth, so it’s not because he doesn’t feel like he deserves any kind of thanks at all.

It seems bizarre to be using this word for Kaito, but… he might actually be kind of modest? Sure, he’ll act over-the-top about his achievements, but it’s like he only really thinks of that as a fiction for the sake of keeping up his usual luminary image, an image that people might buy into and play along with because it’s fun and it helps encourage them, but not because they really think he’s that ridiculously amazing. If someone takes his overblown words at face value and seems to genuinely feel that they’re true, then he’ll back up and try to brush it off, because nah, he’s all right, but there’s no way he could really be quite that awesome. (You are that awesome, Kaito. At least when it comes to supporting your sidekicks.)

Shuichi:  “Ah, sorry… I was just thinking about what we’ve built over the years…”

Friendship! You built the best adorablest friendship, is what you did. (Also what are you doing apologising for this, Shuichi; there is absolutely nothing wrong in telling Kaito how amazing he’s been even if he’s too much of an awkward dork to properly accept it.)

Shuichi:  “If I ever find myself in trouble, I can look back at my time with you for inspiration, Kaito.”

Just like he’s also able to do in canon even though Kaito’s not there any more!

Kaito:  “That’s true, but… Graduation won’t be the end for us!”

But thankfully, in this universe, Kaito is always going to be there. (Just maybe sometimes only over video chats, from space.) He doesn’t ever want their friendship to end!

Kaito:  “Listen up! Even if things get tough in the future…”

Shuichi:  “Don’t bear it all by yourself, right?”

Kaito:  “Oh… well if you get it, then it’s all good.”

Pfft, I like how Kaito seems almost miffed that Shuichi stole his line. But it definitely is okay so long as he understands that, and evidently Kaito has told him this enough times over the years that Shuichi has that well and truly ingrained in his mind by now and already knew exactly how Kaito was going to finish his sentence.

Kaito:  “When things are bad, me, Maki Roll, or Kaede will help you carry your burdens. As long as you understand that, you can get stronger.”

And it’s good to see that Kaito isn’t just focusing things on himself as the sole figure of support (after all, he wouldn’t have any reason to in this AU where he hasn’t been having massive issues). He’s happy to remind Shuichi that he has other friends as well who’ll be there to help him.

Shuichi:  “The same goes for you, Kaito. If there’s anything I can help you with, just say so.”

Shuichi is also so very good. Every time Kaito says something along those lines to Shuichi, I’m always burning with the desperate urge to tell him that goes for you too, Kaito, you selfless idiot, you deserve it – so it’s really lovely and cathartic to see Shuichi actually telling him that. He’s such a caring friend and really would be more than happy to do anything for Kaito if he ever needed it.

Kaito:  “Heh, now we’re talking. Of course you’d help me! I’m the hero and you’re my sidekick!”

…

*tilts head almost 180 degrees*

Who are you and what have you done with Kaito.

This is not how Kaito works. He seems to be actually acknowledging that helping the hero is one of the roles of a sidekick, but no it isn’t, not in Kaito’s definition!

Okay, so. When I was starting to think about writing these UTDP bonus posts, I had one hell of a hot take in mind for this line. That take was that the reason Kaito says this here is because in this AU, he’s not “fictional”.

As I explain in greater length in my post about Kaito’s entire character arc from my main blog, it seems reasonable to assume that Kaito’s childlike black-and-white view on heroes and sidekicks comes from the fact that he was in-universely written to be the perfect ideal hero to inspire Shuichi. It’s somewhat unrealistic to think that if Kaito had actually experienced growing up, he wouldn’t have gradually gained a more nuanced appreciation for fiction, as he started reading more complex stories containing more fallible heroes who were still capable of being inspiring not despite but because of that. So I was going to say that Kaito not being fictional in this AU and having actually grown up meant he’d been able to gain that greater understanding of what made a hero inspiring, which’d mean that Kaito’s usual double-standard about heroes simply doesn’t exist in this version of him, and therefore that he genuinely means it here when he says of course Shuichi can and should help him out too.

…Except that clearly doesn’t track with some of the other scenes in this AU, now, does it. Mostly I’m talking about the scenes with Ryoma, in which Kaito’s issues about heroes clearly still apply to Ryoma in the same way they did in canon. There’s also that one scene with Hifumi in which Kaito is quite happy to have his ridiculous childhood games made into a manga and doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that mayyyybe a lot of people wouldn’t actually find them to be particularly compelling narratives.

And while the scene with Kaito’s phobia isn’t about the hero issue, the point I was trying to get at there is related to this. It doesn’t quite make sense that Kaito has his phobia if he’s not “fictional”, just like it maybe doesn’t quite make sense that he has this view of heroes either. But ultimately, when writing this AU, the writers just decided to keep the characters entirely as they were in V3 canon, even including the parts of them that don’t actually quite make sense if they’re not made out of Flashback Lights for Tsumugi’s story.

So never mind, scratch all that. I only brought it up because I found it an interesting concept to think about, but it’s definitely not what’s going on here. Kaito not being “fictional” in this AU is not actually why he’s willing to admit that of course Shuichi would help him out as his sidekick.

Instead, presumably the reason Kaito is saying this here is that… he doesn’t really mean it, the idiot. It is at least not quite as bad as in canon where he knows full well he already has problems and is consciously lying when he insists that he’d totally ask for help if he needed it. Here, it’s more just that he’s never expecting he will need help and so he’ll never have to actually think about whether or not this claim is really true. Ultimately, it’s easier for him to just casually claim this here, because the alternative is being all “oh but I won’t need your help!”, which’d just make him sound like he doesn’t even appreciate Shuichi’s willingness to be there for him.

I do like to believe, though, that whenever Kaito does run into some kind of trouble in future in this AU (and I say “when” not “if” because nobody can ever go through life without having at least some problems here and there), he’ll actually be able, with Shuichi and Maki’s prodding and reassurance, to admit it and ask for help. Without the stress of the killing game making Kaito tunnel-vision into the fact that he needs to keep supporting his sidekicks and that the only thing that matters is how much of a difference he can make to everyone’s survival, I think he’d be a lot less completely and utterly averse to acknowledging weakness. Plus, hopefully his astronaut training will drill it into him that part of good communication is telling your teammates when there’s something wrong with you, because holy crap is it only going to make things way worse not just for you but for everyone involved if you don’t, you moron. And the more Shuichi and Maki grow and the less obviously they need his help and support most of the time, the more Kaito will come to consciously see them not just as his sidekicks but as his friends, and friends can open up to each other about anything.

One way or another, Kaito is bound to eventually realise what an idiot he’s being and overcome these issues of his. He just needs to live for long enough to get that far.

Kaito:  “Alright then… wanna run for a while? Better hurry, or you’ll be eating my dust!”

Shuichi:  “Ah, hey! No fair, Kaito!”

Working up a good sweat, you chased Kaito all the way to homeroom.

Aaaaa look at them racing each other off into the sunrise. They are friends and they are going to live happily ever after. Kaito is going to go to space multiple times under normal circumstances and come back alive each time, and also one day learn not to be a hypocrite about asking people for support. Shuichi is going to start his own detective agency where he exclusively takes on jobs that involve helping people and continue to have confidence in his talent in between relying on his friends for help when he needs to.

And Maki… I refuse to accept that she’s just going to have to go back to killing people in this universe when she’s come so far; that is Not Okay. Either Hope’s Peak really is going to somehow absolve her of being an assassin as part of its “set for life” policy, or Kaito and Shuichi are going to do something about it. Maki may still try to claim that assassins are necessary and therefore that totally justifies her being an assassin – there’s no real evidence in this AU that she quite got over that part of her issues – but Kaito would be having none of that. So Shuichi’s first job as a full-fledged detective may have to be to find evidence of her assassin cult’s awful deeds and report it to some kind of authorities that can take it down and take custody of all the kids from the orphanages and give all the other child-slave assassins some goddamn therapy because the rest of them don’t have a Kaito. Then Maki can rid herself of her awful past forever and get a normal job, maybe as an actual child caregiver, where she never has to think about killing anyone ever again and can live a relatively happy life after everything she’s been through, because I say so.

I just love these three so so so much and want them to get to be happy and keep being adorable friends for the rest of their lives, because they’re the best and they deserve it. So I’m glad we have this AU where nothing particularly drastic goes wrong at all, everyone is fully real, and their adorable friendships are still there like in canon, so that there’s at least one world in which we can imagine that they really are going to be okay.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #bonus content #ultimate talent development plan #commentary

[6ix-dragons]

Edens Zero: The Chapter 83 Uproar (and What’s Next)

(Please be advised: important spoilers for the latest chapters of Edens Zero will be found below!)

When I mentioned in one of my previous posts, the other day, about having to take a break from this series...I was actually half-joking about it. More on that, at the end of this post.

But, ladies and gentlemen...even ‘though it has been probably mentioned multiple times, by now—can we still talk about how incredibly dark the latest chapters have gotten, for this series...so far? I mean...pump the brakes there, Mashima! We can’t handle all this angst, and feels, that quickly!

As long-time followers of Hiro Mashima’s works would know, these dark themes and situations are really nothing new. We’ve seen them before, in Rave Master. We’ve seen it also happen in Fairy Tail—despite it being considerably lighter in nature, compared to Rave. However, all of those darker moments in both series don’t come even close to what had just happened with the latest chapter of Hiro’s newest series!

Now, for those who have actually yet to be caught up with the story, I’ll just cut straight to the chase: Shiki and a few of his prominent allies of the Edens Zero have taken on the next biggest villain (and, arguably, who might yet be the most infamous amongst those who the EZ crew faced, when this is all said and done), in Drakken Joe, and his equally-challenging cronies that are the Elemental Four. 

Long story short—all of the more prominent members of the Edens Zero crew end up losing their fights to them, and are promptly captured by Drakken Joe, and his group. What then happens next will may as well have sent most of the fandom into quite the shock they’re having right now.

Not long after Weisz ends up losing his arm, as punishment following their defeat, Drakken Joe—who claims he doesn’t kill people (yeeeaah...keep saying that, why don’t you? /s), makes the serious decision to execute Shiki, by putting a friggin’ bullet right through his head!!

I haven’t seen an execution this brutal being carried out by a villain, ever since Arlong did it to Bellemere, from who knows when!

Okay, now, not long after this chapter was released, I made the social media rounds to see how readers of this series really felt about what had happened in that chapter. There were some who actually praised Mashima for taking a more realistic, grounded approach, as well as for bringing the tone and themes more in line with Rave. Personally, I don’t see much of a problem with these opinions. I also did think that Edens Zero should stand out more than Fairy Tail did, in terms of both. However, as I will mention this later on, I was also concerned at the same time, as having something like this happen much earlier in the story, does bring major implications to the entire story itself, including its direction. 

Aaand, then, there are the opposite reactions from the other portion of the fanbase. I’ve heard rumblings of a lot of readers who were upset (rightfully so, but greatly) by this latest development. In fact, they were so upset about it, they actually sent hate messages—and, probably death threats, too, while we’re at it—to Hiro’s social media accounts! At least, that’s what I’ve come across from others in the fandom, who were warning those not to do these kinds of things.

So, what are my actual thoughts, and opinions, about what had just transpired from all this? Having read the latest chapter myself, I had the same reaction just like most of the fanbase did. I was shocked, and upset, at what was being done to, who is (apparently), one of the major, prominent leads of this series. And, just like certain portions of the fanbase, I had previously expected a different outcome for the main characters involved. Just an outcome that would not  potentially divide the fanbase in half, much like now. That wasn’t quite the case, unfortunately, as I have mentioned everything above.

As it stands right now (as of the time, and date of this post), it seems that Shiki has been ‘killed-off’...maybe for real, but, maybe not. It’s hard to mention, for sure, if he really is—unless there’s solid confirmation from Mashima, himself. All I can say is, ‘though, Shiki’s ‘death’ does open up more new questions, than it does answer the ones that have already been established before. 

Questions, like, how does this really address the nightmare that Rebecca had, from a few chapters earlier? In that sequence alone, we do get to see Shiki in it, as he tries to lead her out of an intense battle happening somewhere, at some point in time. How do the events of this newest chapter factor into what was already happening before? 

Another question, I think, would be even bigger than that. We’ve seen, from the beginning of the series, and onward, about what each character’s motives are, and their goals. Shiki’s ultimate goal was to find the mystical space entity, “Mother”. With the events of chapter 83 seemingly putting that into major doubt, however...that just makes me wonder what Mashima’s true intentions are, for this series. Were we really to believe that this would just be about the protagonist going on a journey to search for this entity of sorts—only for Mashima to mislead us into thinking that, and what really ended up happening, was definitely all for naught? Because, I certainly want to know what Hiro was truly thinking, when he planned out this arc of the story. 

Then, there are the significant implications to the future direction of the story that I previously mentioned above.

So, it’s obvious enough that Shiki is, at the moment, ‘killed-off’ quite early in this series. Where does it all go from here? As I previously mentioned above, Shiki’s goal was, ultimately, to find Mother. Without him at the helm of the Edens Zero, however, it won’t be possible anymore. Maybe the rest of the crew there can take the mantle from him, but I have a hard time imagining that would be the case. After all, he is the one guiding them, in the first place.

With all that being mentioned, I’ve been hearing from some who have mentioned that Shiki should make a return into the story, at some point. I also think that he should come back into the fold, too. The only questions for that, is: how—and, how soon?

Let’s start, by answering the first one. Assuming, again, that Shiki isn’t 100% confirmed to be killed off, for sure (which, also again, is pending on what Mashima says, himself), there are already a few possibilities on how he can make a return to the story in some form, or capacity. 

One of the most common theories I’ve come across from readers, is this whole C.A.T. idea. It’s been mentioned more than once in the story, including one from Master Noah, of all people. The thing is, ‘though, we still don’t know anything of what C.A.T. really is about. That’s where the whole aforementioned...mention from Master Noah comes in, however. He claims that Shiki is the key to unlocking C.A.T.—as he is talking about Rebecca, in the same breath. What does this all mean? Not much, but I believe Mashima should address that question, in a later chapter at some point. 

Speaking of Rebecca...another theory some fans have, has something to do with her recently-discovered Leaper ether-gear ability. They theorize that Rebecca would use that ability to somehow reverse these particular events from happening in the first place. Some of them have also included the above-mentioned C.A.T. idea, and combined the two together. I would seem to think there is some plausibility to this notion—it all comes down to how well Rebecca can develop her ether-gear to that point, however.

The third-most plausible theory would have something to do with Shiki himself. I believe it was either Drakken Joe, or Master Noah (correct me if I’m wrong; I’m trying to remember what happened in that chapter, as I’m typing out this part xD), who mentioned that Shiki ‘wasn’t human’. However, let’s go way back to the beginning of the story, when Shiki and Rebecca visited her guild, for the first time. Shiki claimed that ‘he saw Mother before’, after when said entity was mentioned by someone else. Maybe there is something more to how Shiki and Mother are greatly linked to each other, than we already know, in the grand scheme of things.

And, then, there’s this theory thrown out there that might be one of the least-plausible. A certain section of fans claim that Shiki could possibly make a return to the story...not as a human, ‘though—but, as a robot/cyborg of some sort. Yeah. No. Seriously. While it does lend credence to an older, but still-relevant idea that the Demon King Ziggy could actually be Shiki himself, I also have a hard time believing it would happen so soon. I mean, it’s still a possibility, of course...but, given the timing of it all, I reserve a healthy amount of doubt about this one. 

So, the other question to answer about Shiki’s (assumed) potential return in the story, is, how soon?

From how the story is paced yet, so far, I have my doubts that he will make a return that quickly. There is a source I’ve come across on Twitter, recently, who regularly posts spoilers for upcoming chapters of this series (I won’t name the source here, ‘though; you’ll just have to look it up, yourself). Based on the purported synopsis and spoilers straight from this source, for the next chapter—chapter 84, it appears that the focus is on what happened after the previous chapter, roughly a week later...mainly on Rebecca, herself, as she tries to make her escape. 

Of course, there are also other questions to answer that remain from the last chapter, such as the whereabouts of Weisz, Homura, Happy, and Pino. But, regardless, I digress. The point I’m trying to make here, is that, assuming Shiki does come back into the story...it probably won’t happen, until at some point later on. How late, we don’t really know. It all depends on what Mashima does next, for the upcoming chapters, soon. But, we can only hold onto the hope that he does write Shiki back into it all. Otherwise, I...well, I don’t know what to think of, anymore, then.

This has been a long post, so far. I only typed this out to let it all out from my mind, because of how chapter 83 had actually bothered me. I’ve been into Edens Zero a little bit more, now that the story has gotten somewhere—and that Shiki happens to be one of my favourite characters from that series, just like Natsu, from Fairy Tail. These latest revelations from the last few chapters, so far, have put a damper on what I expected out of this cast of characters, going forward. I know that there are some who wanted this series to stand out from Hiro’s previous works, through the inclusion of darker themes, and moments. But, this is something I think was a bit too extreme, in my honest, personal opinion. It also lead me to think more about how this series is going to progress, as well...which is why I made this post, and posts like this one, prior. 

Anyway, I had already stated that I would be taking a break from Edens Zero, for now—half-jokingly, that is. I will still try to keep a close tab on what will happen, every now, and then. But, you can let me know when Shiki does make a return (or, not) in the story, by leaving a reply on this post, or you can DM me. Either way, thanks for reading this entire post. Click on the heart if you like this; reblog this to all your friends...and, I will now focus on the Fairy Tail side of things. At least that can’t be any more messed up than EZ is, right now...

...right??

#edens zero #ez spoilers #chapter 83 #shiki granbell #rebecca bluegarden #weisz steiner #homura kougetsu #edens zero happy #em pino #hiro mashima #fairy tail #long post #personal takes

[bladekindeyewear]

Freed up some time, actually!  Gonna blog the new pages of HS^2.  Liveblogging resume...

FYI, the post I glimpsed that alerted me to the fact that new pages exist had a translucent screenshot of Brain Ghost Dirk on it, so I know that at least is in store for me.  Makes sense; a way to involve Dirk’s voice obnoxiously heavily even when he’s too far away to narrate.  And ties into this... chapter(?) name, of course.  Chapters, huh?

> CHAPTER 1. Ghostflusters

God. Damnit.

Could we NOT???  No?

Fuck you, Dirk.  I blame you for this.

So we have greenery, a can-city and Sburb-legal human house mix... some sorta cow-looking thing from far away in the front yard...

The void resounds. Space seizes and warps as the bounds of relevance erode away to nothing but the wishful nostalgia of times passed. There is a hole in the middle of the universe, and it is hungry.

All very literally true.

But the denizens of this particular iteration of Earth C don’t know it. All of this is just business as fucking usual for a planet plagued by war, continuous inclement ghost weather, and the general malaise of being absolutely severed from canon.

--oh, FUCK.  This isn’t the new planet, this is Candy timeline Earth.  I didn’t wanna come back here!  :C

I guess that explains most of the content warnings.  Except fucking ALCOHOLISM.  Gee, thanks for adding THAT to the Candy timeline, as if it wasn’t fucked over enough!!!  Bluh.

I thought the closing lines of the Epilogue were that after RoboDave, Aradia and alt!Callie dove out of the Candyverse inside the singularity, the black-hole timelines and Dirk’s presumably-still-”relevant” nonsense weren’t going to collide with each other again?  So... why are we seeing this?  Is there going to be MORE influence like that, and the ending line was just fancy-talk?  Is it just an irrelevant little follow-up to Candy to show things turning out okay or pseudo-okay, like an epilogue to the epilogue?  Or is some of this Dirk nonsense presumably within the bounds of some sort of canon going to still have some last bit of influence on this so-called non-canon timeline?

That last one would make sense, given that it echoes how Homestuck^2′s dubious canonicity would still have definite influence on fanworks outside of canon.  Right?

Let me pull that last line from the epilogues again--

...where’s the Epilogues’ log, this is getting kind of hard to find with all their reorganization... fuck, I had to guess at the URL even.  Here we go, the last page of Meat...

The hole leaves behind an absence in the sky so calm that continuing to call it a sky wouldn’t seem to do it justice. It’s a perfectly neutral expanse into which anything one can imagine might be summoned. And for a while, anything was. But not anymore. Where the hole gaped just moments ago, there now exists an imaginary line.

Above this line resides all that matters. Below exists all else. Never again the twain shall meet.

...Right.  This implies that Canon and Non-Canon shall never meet again.  BOTH ways.  Doesn’t quite gel with the fact that we’re cutting back here--

Oh.

This is about Jake and Brain Ghost Dirk isn’t it.  I noticed his name down further on the page.  THAT’S why we’re cutting back here.

So, Canon and Non-Canon aren’t exactly meeting... not for anything relevant, anyway.  But we’re using Candy Jake’s visibility of Brain Ghost Dirk to get a better idea of Dirk’s broader self and plans through a splinter of him?  While getting another glimpse into how the post-epilogue Candy timeline is going for our, er... “curiosity”?  Is that it?

Hm.  I guess that doesn’t count as the twain “meeting”... I’ll just keep reading now.

They spend their days absorbed in the petty and pointless pursuits of “having jobs” and “raising families” and “falling in love”.

Is this Dirk’s narrator voice?  This sounds like something the current megalomaniacal Dirk would say.

I’m not going to quote the rest of the text’s further reminders of how Jane has been made into an absolutely fucked-over asshole in every timeline except the one where she grew old to open a Joke shop, adopt Dad, die, get prototyped and timeline-doubled, then mysteriously disappear from any mention in the Epilogues as if the Sprites were just forgotten about completely eventually.

> (==>)

Oooh, using the less-relevance-surrounding-parens that were used on retconned ghost!Vriska back in Homestuck proper to denote our presence in the non-canon Candy timeline? How handy!

Not a far-away cow, then.

John has been an incredible pal, opening up his home to Jake and his son on such short notice, and even offering him a pair of pants, as well as a shirt that he has so far neglected to put on.

Alright, that got a chuckle from me.

John’s house doesn’t have air conditioning.

What the flying fuck.

...Ah, John’s been away patching things up with Roxy some more, I presume.

It, like the rest of his assets, is in her name. She’d seen to that as soon as they were married.

Life players and assets, huh?  Always gotta be hoggin’ em.

He hasn’t seen much of Tavros today either, but that’s not unusual. He’s probably out with his kismesis, the one he thinks Jake doesn’t know about.

Huh.  Maybe Candy’s young Vriska?  Couldn’t get the real Tavros with your main self, so your alternate nigh-clone self settled with a human by the same name?  Or one of the other kids we heard of from this ‘verse..?

> (==>)

Jake’s hot man-bod cropped out of this image to avoid titillating my readers too much.

(Tumblr keeps jumping back to the top of my post after I add images and I keep thinking the title reads “Ghostfuckers”.)

Jake washes the dirt out from under his fingernails, and his eyes fall on the bottle still sitting on the counter. John had opened it, but together they’d barely touched the stuff. Jake had promised him and Tavvy he’d dry up his act and all, but... well.

God damnit.  If this is still Dirk-voiced narration -- I’m not sure it can be, now I think about it, as he’s supposed to be “out of range” or something, unless non-canon is just malleable like that, which wouldnt be surprising (or Dirk’s splinter’s presence allows it) -- he could literally be inducing or writing in Jake’s drinking problem just to hurt him more.  You can’t really put an overstep that assholish past Prince Dirk the way he’s gotten to be.

There was another ask in my inbox insisting that Dirk wasn’t going to stay the true villain here, if only as some sort of karmic revenge for declaring his self-importance... but I still don’t think that’s the case.  For one, Dirk HASN’T declared himself the villain... he still can’t see how fucked-up and unjustified his trampling over of everyone’s wills IS.  Shadows of recognition... but not really.  He really honestly believes he has the fucking RIGHT to do what he’s doing.

(Which is, incidentally -- to answer another ask -- why there’s basically NO chance that Rose has some sort of control or recognition of her situation under the surface, and is playing Dirk, as another person hopefully surmised.  No.  She really IS being unknowingly steered away from personal growth and recognition of the thought-control she’s under... because nothing less could feel as horrible to us.)

Part of the entire POINT of Homestuck and its Riddle was to show that these crazy kids, if they put their wills to it, always had the potential to be the literal Gods of the world around them.  That when ordinary people grasp the will and drive to shape the world around them, they can turn everything back from the brink of destruction... or vice versa.  Thus, it’s only appropriate that a player from this game could become a villain more disgusting than any we’d imagined in the series so far.  What he’s been doing -- writing twisted sorrow directly into the lives and experiences of those around him, nurturing their worst, most power-hungry tendencies (Rose) and deceiving them more directly than Doc Scratch (who was PART Dirk) ever did, making a JOKE of their free will in a more terribly direct way than ANY have been shown onscreen to do?? It IS, and is MEANT to be, the worst we have EVER seen in Homestuck.  Not as clumsy and from-the-outside as Lord English, but just as blatantly direct.  Not as easy to ignore or mistake as Doc Scratch’s horrible, intentional Prince-of-Hearty worsening of the players, instead just as impossible to gloss-over as it is to bear witness to.  That very TITLE, “Prince of Heart”, can embody the very ANTITHESIS of the Ultimate Riddle itself, robbing EVERYONE of their ability to shape not just the world around them, but even so much as themselves or their very thoughts.  When used the way Dirk is using it RIGHT NOW, anyway.  And his ambition is to impose this on all of Paradox Space.

There COULD be another villain, later.  But I can’t imagine a single one more appropriate.  And Andrew’s just the type to use one of the Striders, both practically self-inserts of parts of his personality and presence, as that ultimate villain to be overcome in a story about escaping Canon, too.

Turning his ex into an alcoholic just for his own self-satisfaction?  In a side timeline where Jake didn’t even try a relationship with him again and finally had a chance to grow up happy in SOME universe?  I wouldn’t put it past him, and you shouldn’t either.

Moving on.

> (==>)

Eugh.  I just... don’t want to think about him being an alcoholic on TOP of everything else.  As if there wasn’t enough to deal with in Candy already.

> (==>)

Hm?

> (==>)

The jungle air is heavy, humid, and familiar. Twenty years on and the thick drag into his lungs settles on him in a blanket of nostalgia, reassuring in its discomfort.

Hm.  Is this his fantasy, or a view of him in another timeline?

He is deeper in the jungle than he’d ever venture in his waking hours. There were places on his island that not even his Gran would tread, and she’d been the bravest person he’d ever known.

Hmm.  So he even knows it’s a dream, but is still in control...

Jake doesn’t recognize anything. The jungle of his dreams is wild and unknown, and there are things moving in the dense undergrowth.

...Hhhuh.  Still not sure what to think of this yet.

A sudden wind thrashes the canopy. There are pine needles in his mouth. There aren’t any pine needles in the jungle.

Very Dream, then.

> (==>)

--Yup.

> (==>)

Yoink--

> (==>)

JAKE: Yes you are i know that much. I saw your body! I carried your coffin chock full of all those stupid fucking swords! DIRK: Nope. JAKE: Dont nope me mister!

They would pile all those shitty swords into his coffin, yeah.

Anyway, now to see how much Prince Dirk is in this Dirk.  And if he’s in one mind with himself or has the slightest chance of feeling rebellious.

JAKE: I know a dead dirk when i see one! DIRK: Sure you do. But that wasn’t me. Are you really surprised to find out I got a couple of spares? JAKE: So what youre saying is you arent my dirk. DIRK: ...That is a whole ‘nother conversation that we really don’t have time for, pertaining to exactly who or what ‘your dirk’ actually constitutes. DIRK: Do you mean the Dirk from your timeline? DIRK: Then yes, that Dirk is dead. DIRK: If you mean the Dirk that you fucked and then ghosted, no, I’m not your Dirk. DIRK: If you mean the Dirk that you felt closest to, that you really knew--

...well, this Dirk still knows how to be a presumptuous, pushy creep.  :(

JAKE: Ahhh! Brain ghost dirk! DIRK: In the ghosty flesh. JAKE: Crumbs bro where have you been? JAKE: I could have used someone on my side! JAKE: You just disappeared one day without even the odd toodaloo to mark your passing! DIRK: That isn’t strictly true. I did disappear, but it was in a catastrophic blaze of hope-drenched pathos. I even threw out a couple one-liners. DIRK: But you wouldn’t remember that. JAKE: Because...it was a different dirk? DIRK: No, a different Jake.

Hhhuh.  So in the claymation-reproduced Lord English stagefight -- or, maybe more likely, the pre-retcon Aranea-induced Game Over timeline -- he was too washed out by hopesplosions to manifest properly?

DIRK: Until recently there’s been a shortage of ambient narrative relevance for Dirks, since one particular motherfucker has been sucking it all up like a thirsty little twink at his first interspecies rave.

Hm!  So Prince Dirk has been making it so other splinters of himself have really limited ability to influence, huh?  Guess that’s a sort of price for the narrative-hijacking power he’s attained.  Wonder how this Dirk really feels about that.

> (==>)

--Pff.  He’s certainly not shy about letting Jake know he shouldn’t trust him, though!  That’s a good sign.

I’ll split the post here for a bit.  Seems we’re about halfway through this upd8 from the look of the log.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

A Dangerous Invitation by Erica Monroe. Quillfire Publishing. 2013.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, The Rookery Rogues #1 of 4 (and a short story)

Summary:  She’s given up on love, and wants only independence… Torn from her life of privilege by her father’s death, Kate Morgan survives in London’s dark and depraved rookeries as a fence for stolen goods. The last man she ever expects, or wants, to be reunited with is her first love, who promised to cherish, honor and protect her, and instead fled amidst accusations of murder. He’s the reformed rake determined to win her back… One drunken night cost Daniel O’Reilly the woman he loved and the life he’d worked so hard to create. If he ever wants to reclaim that life–and Kate–he’ll not only have to prove he’s innocent of murder, but convince the pistol-wielding spitfire that he’s no longer the scoundrel he once was. Together, they’ll have to face a killer. Time is running out…

***Full review under the cut.***

Trigger Warnings: violence, sexual content, sexism, forced prostitution, rape, sexual assault, alcoholism, being buried alive

Overview: Another recommendation from the website Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. I decided to give this one a try because I’m a sucker for a spitfire heroine, murder plots, and the criminal underbelly of late Regency/pre-Victorian London. But while the previous recommendation was a hit, this one was somewhat of a miss. I think the bones of the story are good, as well as the character archetypes, but I wasn’t personally a fan of Monroe’s writing.

Writing: Monroe’s prose is fairly straightforward with some dramatic flairs here and there to heighten the emotion. It’s easy to read, and you can skim it quickly, if that’s your style. For me, however, it bordered a little too much on the melodramatic, and it became a bit repetitive when the same sentiments were evoked again and again. For example, we’re told a lot how much our heroine, Kate, can never trust a man again and that she can’t have a future with our hero, Daniel. After the first few times, I wished Monroe would move on to explore more complex emotions to develop her characters a little more. I also think the dialogue is a bit unrealistic, as characters tend to say exactly what’s bothering them or what deeper issues are plaguing them without much prompting, and real people don’t exactly talk that way. Some metaphors and choices of words were also a little awkward, which made for a confusing read at times.

By far, the biggest issue I had was the way Monroe handled the exposition and the details of her mystery. The action of the story starts out fairly quickly, which would have been fine except that I felt like I was being asked to care about characters’ histories without getting to know them first. Daniel runs into Kate after a long absence on page 2 of the first chapter of the novel, and I wish we were given a chapter where we saw Kate fencing some stolen goods or something else first to get us invested in her as a character. Also, because things happened so quickly, I felt like I was being told a lot of information rather than relevant details being shown to me organically. For example, a character might do or say something, then there’s be a kind of aside that explained the significance of the thing. Or Daniel would reference something about his quest to clear his name, then the author would take some time to tell us how he started his journey, how he knew people helping him, etc. As a result, there was a lot of setup jam-packed in the first few chapters, and I wish more had been done to create a flow that didn’t rely on duck info-dumping. Maybe if we had a chapter showing us Kate completing a sale (as I said) while Daniel is contacting his rogue friend, Atlas, who agrees to help him clear his name. Then the action between them could begin.

Plot: I love the idea of former lovers teaming up to solve a mystery, and at its heart, I think the premise of the plot was interesting. I did think, however, that some of the details and steps along the way weren’t handled as well as they could have been. There’s a lot of going to talk to witnesses or persons of interest, which makes for a lot of info-dumping, and there’s also some random chases which seemed to be inserted for the purposes of action rather than a logical unfolding of the mystery. During the first chase, for example, I was constantly wondering whether their pursuer was just a night watchmen or someone more nefarious. If the latter, how in the world would someone have known Daniel and Kate were snooping around the warehouses at night unless someone was following them? The thought that someone must know they are investigating the murder from the onset (and thus, know that Daniel is back in London) doesn’t really occur to the characters, which I found a bit frustrating.

Overall, I wished the events that made up the main narrative had been strung together more meaningfully. Every encounter that was related to solving the mystery had the potential for some interesting social commentary, and while it was gestured to, I ultimately felt that it was rushed. For example, there’s one scene in which Daniel and Kate go visit a prostitute, and Kate thinks a lot about how the girls are more than just objects and how women have to do what they can to survive. Soon after, she discloses her own rape after being tricked into prostitution. It seemed to me like the author was trying to cover a lot of things at once when the personal lives of the characters and the unfolding of the mystery could have revolved around one or two themes: the link between minorities and crime (due to poverty resulting from prejudice), for example, and the way gender also affects how women experience the criminal world. Or, given that the main undercurrent of the book is the existence of body snatching, every aspect of the story could be tied to the concept of “selling bodies” and disregard for the poor. If the bodies of the poor are being exploited to sell to medical facilities, that kind of matches up nicely with the idea of poor women “selling their bodies” via prostitution or Irish immigrants “selling their bodies” by becoming laborers. But alas, it seemed like the novel wasn’t quite interested in diving deep into those issues.

Characters: Our heroine, Kate, is a headstrong woman who has used her knowledge of her father’s shipping company to fence stolen goods following her family’s bankruptcy. I rather liked how her ruthlessness and street smarts were connected to this aspect of her life rather than the author throwing up her hands and just asserting that Kate was a badass. Kate was also pretty likable as a street-smart protagonist who knew how to navigate the criminal world of 19th century London. I liked watching her get out of tricky situations and disappear at opportune moments, and I especially liked that she had a practical, active role to play in the investigation. She’s enlisted for her quick mind and encyclopedic knowledge of her father’s company, and I found that enjoyable and well-done. However, she was a bit back-and-forth in her affections for Daniel. One minute, she’d be proudly declaring that they can’t be together and values her independence, and the next, she’d kiss him or let him touch her while thinking about how she wanted to be protected. While it was understandable, given her traumatic history on the streets, I did find it a bit frustrating, as a reader, because rather than there being some evolution or development to her character, Kate seemed to be on a more cyclical track.

Daniel, our hero, is an Irish immigrant who has returned from abroad after being accused of murder years before. I liked that Monroe set him up as a struggling former alcoholic and as having PTSD as a result of having found the murder victim before he died - it made it seem like reform was a continual process rather than a quick fix, and that men can be emotionally vulnerable in more ways than just being lovesick or abused. I didn’t quite see what Kate saw in him, however, as her main attraction to him seemed to be physical, especially when recounting their past. Why, for example, did she fall for him before the murder when she says she was concerned about his alcoholism? What drew her to him? I also think Daniel was written as a bit too jealous. He would hate a man he just met just because he potentially got to know Kate while Daniel was away. There was more than one time where his jealousy almost ruined his chances of clearing his name, which I found ridiculous.

The supporting characters were a bit of a mixed bag. I liked Kate’s barmaid friend, Jane, and Atlas, even though neither had quite enough “screen time” to be anything other than a convenient plot device. Other characters just outright got on my nerves with their general disregard for women. The villain, in particular, was poorly done in that he monologued a bit and sexually assaults our heroine for reasons that seem to just be “because I’m evil.” It made for a rather up-and-down reading experience.

Other: There were some interesting political aspects to this book in that many references were devoted to the mistreatment of Irish immigrants. There’s such potential there for a deeper exploration of prejudice and life as a “second class citizen,” including the brief references to Daniel’s code-switching (which was delightful) and his complicated feelings about being Irish but barely remember living in Ireland. I think, however, that a lot of the prejudice was left to stand on its own and generate some automatic sympathy for characters without actually thinking about how it could enhance the story. For example, are Irish people scapegoated for crime in Monroe’s world? How is the stereotype of the alcoholic Irishman subverted by Daniel’s struggle to be better or how does his past make us think more deeply about why people turn to drink (as opposed to judging everyone as uniformly “amoral”)? Just because the novel is a romance doesn’t mean that these issues can’t be explored (one has only to look to someone like Courtney Milan, who weaves social commentary into her romances brilliantly).

I also think more could have been done to enhance the romance itself. While I did like that Daniel was intent on proving himself to be a better man than he was when he left, I also didn’t think the romance was built on much other than their past and physical attraction. Daniel’s reasons for loving Kate seem to be that she anchors him, which is a bit selfish and frustrating, but he also admires her independence and intelligence, which prevented me from giving up on him entirely. That being said, their relationship doesn’t evolve as much as it’s cyclical. They fight a lot and Kate is constantly back-and-forth about whether or not she wants to be with him, so it felt like I was reading about the same issue over and over rather than seeing how trust was built between them. Daniel’s arc could have been more about accepting Kate for who she is now - not reminiscing about a past that couldn’t return - and Kate’s arc could have been about learning to trust again or valuing living people over the memory of her dead father. While Daniel’s acceptance of Kate’s past was well-done, I really wanted more insight as to how each person made the other’s lives better and more emotionally fulfilling, not just how they’re a good person for overlooking the other’s flaws or how the love interest “anchored” them or whatever. In fairness, Daniel does learn that he needs to “save himself” rather than rely on Kate to do it for him, but there was very little lead-up for him to get to that point.

Continuing with the Series? No.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in historical romance (especially set in the 19th century), criminal underbelly of London, Irish heroes, reformed rakes, disinherited heroines, former lovers, and murder plots.

#book reviews

[vios-rockland-corner]

How I’m going to tackle “Rumors of Rockland”

Hello there!  Today there was a RIDICULOUSLY large information dump on Outlaw’s Patreon about upcoming game layouts.  There’s far too much there to comment on right now, but there’s one thing in particular I wanted to focus on today.  This post actually is less of me talking about the possibilities of the game, and more so how “I” personally am going to approach these particular “games.”

Overview of what’s below:

- What is “Rumors of Rockland” (RoR)

- My OC Sasha Holmes

- What kind of posts you’ll see from me as these RoR installments come through

What is “Rumors of Rockland?”

Of the long list of future games to come from the creators in the Rockland Universe, one of the very first things mentioned that’s new is the “Rumors of Rockland.”  THIS might actually be the first bit of solid content besides the demos that you may see pop up.

“Rumors of Rockland” is a little interesting.  I’m not 100% sure I’d call it a “game” first of all.  I do fully believe it will be presented to us in the same visual format we get with Ren’Py.  The visual novel style basically.  But there’s two big keynotes on what makes this piece of media different from the creators’ other games.

1) The MC in these “games” is going to be more of an observer.  It’s specifically going to be different from the rest of the games where the MC is directly involved in the story.  Here, it sounds more like the MC happens to be in the same setting as another set of characters, but otherwise does not affect what’s going on.  With that being said, I don’t even know if we’ll be playing through with any choices to select.  The creators also said that it would ideally be the same MC in all the scenarios, further suggesting that the MC isn’t being placed in a perilous situation here.  They are an untouched bystander.

2) There will be several installments of this series.  Oh yes.  When I said “scenarios” before, I didn’t necessarily mean that there’s going to be a lot of things happening in this one...I’m going to refer to is as a “visual novel” until further notice.  What I mean is this is a series that will be continuously updated throughout the development of other Rockland games.  New installments can be called new chapters to the visual novel.  “Rumors of Rockland” appears to be a way to supplement extra information to the audience about certain characters and what is going on in Rockland.  That solidifies even more for me why I would prefer to call this a visual novel over a game.  Yes I know lots of games will sometimes continue to get DLC content to add further progression.  Call it a hunch though, I think the creators would want to save their time developing multiple games rather than developing one and just continually adding updates for it.  They have a lot of characters to go through, so this could be an effective way to show some elements that may not be able to make it into a main game.

Apparently, the release order of games has switched around once again and Rumors of Rockland is going to be released first, followed by “Welcome to Rockland” (this is a path focusing on just one character), THEN Misfits: First Blood.  I know, sometimes this gets a little confusing to keep track of.  Just trust me, a lot of this has to do with character shifts for the groups.

Right now the first Rumors of Rockland we’re supposed to get is just listed as “Introduction/Prologue.”  It might not be long, but we’ll see soon what we’re working with here.  There also was a BIG list of potential chapters touching on all sorts of different elements of Rockland.  It’s kind of wild.  Chapters may not be long themselves, considering how many they have planned.  But the good news is I think if they’re doing this the way I suspect...it won’t be difficult to pump out a lot of chapters at a faster pace than any of the other games.  I think all they need is a stock set of backgrounds and sprites...then it’s just recoding and new script each time.  That’s not really so bad if they don’t have the MC have to make a lot or any choices at all.  No complaints from me in that case.

My OC

Okay, little detour here, but this WILL become relevant to this blog and tie back into RoR.  I don’t make many OC’s, but I made one from scratch here.  Her name is Sasha Holmes and I created her specifically to be an NPC in the Rockland Universe.  

See I’m not really the creative type, but I wanted to try practicing character creation and development.  I’m NOT the type of person though who usually a) visualizes/creates my own MC for a game (I prefer games even with pre-made protagonist avatars) or b) self-inserts.  I have NOTHING against anyone who does either of these obviously.  My brain just...lacks the creativity to do the former, and since games are a form of escapism, I don’t self-insert because that’s not part of the fantasy and escapism aspect for me.

What’s more, lots of these games are going to be horror survival.  I feel even LESS inclined to craft an OC I may fall in love with only to throw them into the pits of hell.  Likely any character I make would die, and I don’t have the mental energy to create another OC for every.single.game, haha.

To get around this, I said: “Well what if I just make a character that solely exists in this universe, but never interferes with the story.  Surely there are just normal citizens that live in Rockland?”  What I was planning on doing was occasionally utilizing Sasha for extra posts when I couldn’t think of anything to write.  Something like journal entries she’d make about her day and gossip that she’s heard around town.  Perhaps gossip about people going missing even or shady dealings.  How would Sasha react?  Sometimes a normal person will wave something off as too outlandish to be true.  If it doesn’t directly impact you, it’s easier to ponder one second but push it to the side the next.  Or maybe what you hear could make you start to feel paranoid.  Especially if things persist.

Originally, I was going to split things so that some of the gossip or rumors Sasha heard were actually based on real things that “I” know happen in the games and universe, and some things that are false (because you know how rumors get pretty outlandish if someone mishears something or someone’s just looking for attention).  I was prepared to just kind of craft my own type of content like this in due time.  In addition to all the analysis posts, don’t worry.  The posts regarding my OC would have just been filler when I couldn’t think of anything else.

Now that Rumors of Rockland is a thing though…do you know what this is for me?  It’s a template. I am literally being gifted the EXACT kind of scenario I would have previously had to craft myself.  This visual novel doesn’t need an interactive MC, just one that observes the events happening.  If they’re the same MC in every chapter too, that means they should be safe!  I am beyond ecstatic and not going to look a gift horse in the mouth!

My Rumors of Rockland Posts

So here’s what going to happen in the future.  I’m going to try to do at LEAST one post for every Rumors of Rockland chapter that comes out.  Even if the chapters are short, they’ll still be enough for characters to comment on. The goal here is for me to try something new and have a little fun while also putting out content.  At the moment, I don’t know which of the two types of posts I will end up preferring to do:

1)     Journal Entry- The RoR event has already taken place, and Sasha’s just writing in first person her exact thoughts on the day/information. This would be beneficial if I don’t feel up to describing a whole lot of actions for Sasha or what’s happening around her and just want full dialogue.

2)     Present time fic?- Writing the story as the events of the chapter take place.  This means placing Sasha directly there and describing all that’s happening with her and getting her IMMEDIATE reactions to certain information.  I’m not going to lie, I need to see an RoR chapter first to kind of figure out how I’d write a present time piece.  I certainly don’t want to copy paste all the dialogue she hears. Could do a –cut to RoR chapter- note literally in there, and do more of Sasha’s before and after behaviors and emotions.  This one would be more dynamic definitely, but I would have the advantage where I could practice having Sasha interact with other characters I bring in such as coworkers or friends.  It could be interesting depicting Sasha conversing with another person about what she sees/hears rather than just focusing on her inner thoughts.  I also have another side character I might want to utilize to explain why Sasha is even repeatedly going back to where these events take place.

I will admit, I’m not really a creative writer.  So I’m going to apologize ahead of time if what I put out isn’t all that stellar. This is going to be practice for sure. Like I said, I may start to favor one post type over the other.  I don’t know if I’ll keep them short and sweet, or make it long.  Whatever I feel up to I suppose.

I will also mention that I may still end up doing an ADDITIONAL analysis/thoughts post of sorts along with my OC post for an RoR chapter.  This is only if there is information revealed that “I” personally want to comment on that I know Sasha can’t.  Sasha might not be able to either because she, as an in-universe character, is not aware of the bigger picture, or because her personality doesn’t allow her to think about something in a different way.  Sometimes characters are very set in their beliefs and views, which can affect how they perceive information.  So if there’s people viewing this blog who are more keen on the analysis posts and don’t really like OC content, don’t worry.  Not only will all the big games solely get more analytical posts, but the RoR chapters may still get some as well.  It just depends on what kind of information I get fed.

I need to stress again that Sasha is NOT a self-insert.  She’s a completely human OC, but she is not me.  Now, of course it’s not uncommon for a creator to put just a little bit of themselves into any OC they make.  Sasha’s no exception.  What’s more, I just realized she’s one of the few purely human OC’s I’ve crafted. I might accidentally end up having her share similar beliefs and mannerisms to myself simply because…that’s what I know best.  Sometimes you write better if you write what you know.  That being said, I do also try to go out of my way to give my OC’s both minor and major differences to myself, whether it’s small likes and dislikes, physical appearance changes or certain beliefs. The only reason I’m explaining this is because in the event I have both an OC post AND an analysis post that seem to contrast greatly, it’s because my OC and “I” are reacting differently to something.  Don’t assume necessarily that the way Sasha views something is exactly the same way I view it.  If you do, you might get confused, haha.  I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of times where it can’t be helped that Sasha and I think very similarly.  But for this, I want to try my best to give Sasha a consistent personality and system of beliefs. Big or small.

I don’t know if I will be putting out a post immediately once the first RoR chapter drops. I’m feeling pretty good about the image I have of Sasha in my head, but there’s still some BIG bio points I need to settle on before I can get started.  I know I shouldn’t try to nail down every little piece about her right away so that I can have some flexibility later, but a couple of things I think I need to settle on include:

·        Age and occupation- There’s a time skip I know we’re going to get for the Rockland universe, so it’s important for me to decide where I want to start and where she will potentially be in the future.  I know some of the other characters’ ages now, so that helps a little in deciding how much younger or older she is compared to some characters. It’s also a big deal whether or not she’s a college student pre-time skip, or already started a career.

·        Long term resident of Rockland vs. New in Town- As cliché as it sounds, I may be leaning towards “new in town” simply because it really IS an easy way to explain why she’s never noticed anything strange before in Rockland. While it’s true that children are often ignorant to a lot of the world happening around them, I don’t know enough about the Rockland universe to say WHICH things should be “common knowledge” to a local.

Those are the big ones.  After a lot of thinking, I’m sticking to my original plan that Sasha will just be “good.” Don’t expect her to be TOO sympathetic to a person who she hears committed murder for example, haha.  I just think not only will it be easier for me to write someone who is a “normal civilian” with a good conscience, but also because I think it might be fun later down the line to tackle a little fear that grows and pondering on why people do bad things to begin with.  She’s be a good girl, right now most likely lawful good.  Maybe if I ever wanted to craft a side character that’s a little more chaotic than her to bounce off dialogue with to get other perspectives in there, I could do that.  That’d be another challenge for me altogether though.  

I’m sure not every single chapter though in RoR is going to be about hearing characters describe how they’ve murdered someone recently though.  Especially not continuously in a public place.  Not everything is going to be crystal clear I’m sure. Sasha might brush off some things that happen, and other stuff seems so incoherent without the context that she won’t know WHAT to make of it.

I’m also still debating whether to not only wait for at least the first RoR piece to come out, but if I want to wait for “Welcome to Rockland” to come out as well before finalizing Sasha.

Last thing before I end this!  I wanted to get this post out as a just heads-up on what you’ll see from me in the future.  This should work fine considering the RoR chapters sound like information dumps in visual novel format for the most part.  I want to be make it clear though that I am NOT copyrighting this way of commenting on the RoR chapters.  What I love about these installments, is that you could literally have any viewer’s own OC operating in their own space and just reacting to what happens in plain sight. Anyone should feel free to imagine themselves as the MC here and it’s not going to interfere with anyone else’s story.  I would certainly love to see if anyone else tries to do something similar to what I want to do with the RoR updates.  There’s so many different types of MC’s people can make and I’m positive they won’t all react to things the same exact way as each other.

#rockland #Rockland Games #rumors of rockland #runawayoutlaw #rottenbonethief #sugarhazard #RoR #my OC #sasha holmes