#I suppose they could add more information in a later game making any possible intended connection between the two even a little obvious?

[warden-melli]

Wait, people think Perrin is related to Irida? I don’t see one design element, or physical feature that in any way resembles her?? In fact in game she only ever makes references to the Diamond Clan, and the concept of time? Her team only references Adaman, with Leafeon being a direct reference to his, and Noctowl referencing both the Diamond Clan and Adaman’s reverence of time? Even her Growlithe friend is a reference to her own name and homeland with Growlithe being a Hisuian rock type and Perrin’s name literally meaning rock and being of Hisuian heritage??

Actually, if she is intended to be related to Irida I’d be kind of upset, because I think that Irida deserves a character that physically resembles her and actually references her in some way? Not one use of Pearl clan imagery, no physical features, no cute team reference and no dialogue any way directly linking the two? Not fair. Irida deserves better

[moved-to-void-kissed]

"Avalon (Japanese: アーサー, Āsā) was a Special Rare Blade in Xenoblade Chronicles 2. They could grant tremendous power to their Driver Aline and her allies. Avalon used the light element, wielded a Glaive Dirk, and acted as a Healer in battle. He was renowned for his ability to crystallise ether and use it for multiple purposes, including healing Core Crystals.

After the events of Torna ~ The Golden Country, Avalon’s Core Crystal was passed down through Aline’s family as an heirloom known as the Brilliant Core Crystal, and was eventually broken 500 years later by the impact of a shipwreck in the mouth of the Urayan Titan. Sapphire ended up acquiring some of Avalon’s powers when fragments of the Brilliant Core Crystal entered her body."

Avalon is a Blade OC I created for Xenoblade Chronicles 2! They mostly came about as a way for me to provide reasoning behind Sapphire’s abilities, but I’ve now figured out a way to make them important and relevant by incorporating them into TTGC - including doing so alongside my other XC2 self-insert, Aline - so that’s been very fun to work on and use to develop them both! ^-^

(Please note that the image above isn’t accurate to their clothing, although it is accurate to their physical appearance, and was also not drawn by me; instead, it was created using a Picrew by Nase_Nikyuu, linked here! A lot more information about Avalon, their story, and how they might work in-game is under the readmore, if you’re curious!)

As promised, here is some more information about Avalon that isn’t just restricted to the Xenoblade Wiki’s structure (which is what I was trying to replicate up there above the readmore):

Just to clarify, Avalon is nonbinary, and uses both he/him and they/them pronouns interchangeably! ..I didn’t necessarily intend for his colour palette to have all the colours of the nonbinary pride flag on it - I picked the purple eyes and blond hair since I thought they looked neat on him, then only realised after the fact what would happen if I made his outfit mostly white with black accents (albeit the Picrew image doesn’t show that since it’s more for showing his physical appearance than his outfit) - but, that has also happened.

Avalon’s character:

Avalon is Aline’s first and only Blade during the time of TTGC. She awakened their Core Crystal unexpectedly after unearthing it in the middle of a crop field, and she did not realise she had the aptitude to become a Driver, so she picked it up without expecting anything to happen. Except it did. Oops.

Aline recognises that he is a very powerful Blade (not only because light-element Blades are so rare but also because of his special crystallisation ability), and so sometimes worries that her aversion to combat is holding Avalon back from his true battle potential. However, he seems content with taking a more supportive role, given his proficiency and role as a healer.

In terms of personality, I would say he is fairly calm, but determined to do what is right, and is protective of his teammates; I imagine him getting on well with Aegaeon in particular, but maybe not as well with someone like Minoth (which I suppose arguably makes sense, given that Minoth is dark-element which opposes Avalon’s light-element). Given my relative lack of knowledge about TTGC’s characters, this isn’t particularly set in stone.

Avalon’s ability - Ether Crystallisation:

As was mentioned before, Avalon has the unique power to crystallise ether out of the atmosphere in their local vicinity; these crystals are always white in colour, because of their status as a light-element Blade. This has many potential applications - for example, on a large scale, they could do this enough to create walkable platforms (possibly as a unique Field Skill that’s used similarly to the Ice Mastery bridges in the main game of XC2, but for TTGC instead?). They could also use the ether crystals as projectiles to attack with during Specials, or maybe shields to defend with in combat.

However, on a smaller scale, Avalon can also repair damaged Core Crystals by restoring the crystal, regardless of whether it is unresonated (so a fracture can be healed, allowing the Blade in the Core Crystal to be awakened again) or already-resonated (so an awakened Blade with a damaged Core Crystal can be healed, and although no such examples existed in his time, Blades whose Core Crystals had been eaten to create Blade Eaters can also be stabilised and further enhanced by his power.) This allows them to be a very effective and appreciated healer for the forces fighting against Malos, since they can heal both humans and Blades thanks to his ability.

(This is also the only aspect of Avalon’s powerful that Sapphire “inherited”, since she can’t crystallise anywhere near much ether as he could in one go, due to the source of that ability - i.e. Avalon’s Core Crystal inside her body - being incomplete and fragmented. Sapphire’s not a Blade, after all.)

Avalon’s fate:

Speaking of Avalon’s Core Crystal - which has a special name, the Brilliant Core Crystal (like how Kasandra’s is called the Lucky Core Crystal) - it is passed down through Aline’s family after her death because of the exploits the pair achieved together during the Aegis War. Whenever Avalon is awakened, their Core Crystal is shaped like a medieval sword on their chest.

The inheritance process continues for almost 500 years before the Brilliant Core Crystal is passed down to Sapphire’s mother, who does not have the aptitude to become a Driver. She was keeping the Core Crystal safe as a family heirloom, intending to let Sapphire try to resonate with it once she was old enough, but it ended up being destroyed in the shipwreck that caused Sapphire to wash up into the mouth of the Urayan Titan.

The Brilliant Core Crystal was shattered into fragments by the impact of the shipwreck, and Sapphire ended up being flung against a wall and landing on top of its shards. This caused them - and subsequently, some of Avalon’s power as a Blade - to enter Sapphire’s body and become integrated into her (essentially turning her into an unofficial/unintentional Blade Eater), and the enhanced regeneration that all Blades have allowed Sapphire to survive the awful injuries she sustained before Vandham and his crew found her and brought her back to Garfont Village.

Avalon’s hypothetical playstyle:

Avalon wields a unique weapon type, the Glaive Dirk. Essentially, it’s a long-bladed knife (i.e. a dirk) that can also turn into a spear (i.e. a glaive), because.. the pole is made of ether, or something. This was mainly just an excuse to classify them as a healer, since combat roles are tied to weapons in XC2 (and I want them to be a healer because of their unique power but also the fact that there are no light or dark healer Blades in XC2), but I didn’t think any of the pre-existing healer weapons really fit them. And it kind of makes them more special, which they deserve!

If he was playable in the main game of XC2, his animations would probably work like a mix of Megalance and some kind of one-handed Knuckle Claws (since.. too many other unique weapons use Twin Rings’ animations), with maybe different Drivers favouring either the glaive or the dirk aspect more for their Arts and auto-attacks (e.g. the taller the Driver, the more they use it as a glaive, since it’s so much longer?). A very versatile weapon because it’s essentially two pre-existing weapons from our world rolled into one.

In terms of their playstyle, Avalon would be more able and willing to take aggro compared to other healers, to fit the fact that they’re supposed to be inspired by an archetypal “knight in shining armour” despite not being classed as a tank (since.. their name is Avalon which is a paradisal island from Arthurian legend, their Japanese name is supposed to be read as Arthur as in King Arthur, and also they’re light-element).

I was thinking that maybe one of their battle skills would be some kind of damage absorption mechanic, so they actually have more defensive potential than their stats would suggest and there’s merit to them having aggro? Or maybe they provide a small constant healing effect to the party - it’d have to be small so as not to be too overpowered, but still enough to have a noticeable effect and improve party survivability while they’re on the field. That might make more sense, actually.

I think that’s everything for now, and if I want to add more then I always can later. I know I still need to figure out what their outfit would look like, possibly incorporating some kind of knight’s armour (though trying to do that without making it look tank-like and bulky will be tricky), but I wanted to post this now since it’s been in my drafts for a long time.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far, because I realise that I wrote a lot but it means a lot that you would read it all if you did so!

[redstaratmorning]

Headcanons and Musings of Pirate-y And Plunderous Proportions: Astarion Says What

Synopsis: Random musings and ramblings regarding and spawning from the differences between how Astarion says just one word, depending on your choices—“What?” This got very long and touches not only on Astarion’s difference in presentation in aforementioned moment, but also some discussion-thoughts to chuck onto the dashboard regarding some other elements of Astarion’s content thus far in Early Access, and some thoughts to add onto others’ speculations and wonderings (I did not save sources so pardon the lack of proper citation, oops. We’re going informal here anyway.) Spoilers for Chapter 1 BG3 scenes, plot, etc, under the cut in case someone hasn’t filtered out the tags. Trigger warning/content warning: some discussion of heavy topics is mentioned and explored, including starvation, abuse/torture, and trauma. Other topics of note for summarization include speculation on Astarion’s largely unknown as-of-early-access background and a touch of his possible pre-vampire morality leanings, possible mental state/trauma reaction in a couple of scenes, and vague speculation on Larian’s gameplan for Astarion’s arc ending. Gather thy party and venture forward, for here be dragons and lots o’ text, matey! [/stereotypical pirate accent]

“What?” Just that one word, between the goblin party and the tiefling party. If Larian keeps the body language and tone presentation more or less where it’s at now in Early Access, they are worlds apart and delightfully up for interpretation of just what’s going on in our favorite vampire spawn’s head. This won’t be an in-depth post about all the tonal and body language differences, just picking out a few due to personal constraints (ie too broke to buy this game currently.) Edit: And also a lot of other thoughts and ramblings tacked on, lol. On the one hand we have him at the goblin party, where he seems much more superficially comfortable there, knows what’s going on and knows what to expect—it feels like he’s done this kind of scene a hundred times before. The comfort of familiarity. Did Cazador throw “parties”, much like how he “invited” Astarion to dine with him? I wouldn’t be surprised if he mingled at regular dinner parties either before his turning, or perhaps after when he’s ordered to hunt for Cazador’s evening repast. I doubt the goblin party has anything as potentially horrific as what Cazador would have lined up on the nightly basis, which is why Astarion isn’t aggro’d: he’s in a position of power at this party after all, not a powerless one. A conquering hero, as he describes the MC. A Precarious position, as it turns out.

Circling back to that one word though, the way he says “what” in that scene after he propositions the MC and the MC picks the “Maybe. If you say please” line feels like Astarion’s response could be interpreted as pretty abrupt. On guard, perhaps, squaring up, offended, even perhaps lowkey challenging/hostile. Expressing social displeasure and possibly staring down the MC mayhaps? Could be, especially if Astarion’s body language remains as it is rigged now in-scene with that step forward, his shoulders shifting, the lack of a smile, that assessing glare, all combined with that flat tone of voice. The animation could just be temporary and subject to change, but if it does end up as more or less the final version of that moment’s depiction, it’s pretty interesting as a shift. I’d read it as potentially “not actually truly comfortable in this situation, just familiar and numb to it all”, especially when combined with some of his other earlier potential lines at the goblin party, such as the following: Astarion: So, what are we drinking to? Other than a pile of corpses. MC: That’s not funny. Astarion: Oh don’t be so sour - It’s a party. You did what you had to. Don’t be ashamed that you did it well. MC: I wish things had turned out differently. Astarion: And I wish I was drinking out of the skulls of everyone who’s ever wronged me. Life is tough. Although that’s not to say we can’t have a little fun. This supports the whole “has been through his personal hell and has adapted to survive it albeit not unscathed” story Larian seems to be going for with him quite nicely in the little tells and details. A sort of “take what joy you can even amidst the dark situation surrounding us” trauma-induced adaptation, coupled together with actual enjoyment on his part for killing. It’d be easy to say Astarion is moreso in his element at the goblin party, and to a degree he is—it’s one he is well practiced with in his current mindset. Compare now how he acts at the tiefling party—we can all agree he’s not having a good time, our friendly neighborhood vampire sulking in particular over the fact that “there’s a worm in [his] brain, [he’s] surrounded by idiots, and all [he] has to drink is wine that tastes like vinegar.” But the delightful thing is he’s complaining so vividly about it. The wine likely is worse at the tiefling party, seeing as they’re refugees, and the goblins had previously captured a duke whom they likely stole loot from and under orders from Minthara et al stored said goods elsewhere for a later date (likely some of said goods were consumed at the party if it happened. Edit: Shadowheart’s drunk dialogue at the goblin party mentions the goblin’s wine there being good, poor dear. Fascinating hints at her story and character in that scene though.) This is assuming Astarion is drinking wine at the goblin party, of course. He may very well be drinking something red and full-bodied there, just not made from grapes. But even in his complaints and presentation, he seems arguably more relaxed and less on guard compared to his demeanor at the goblin party. Let’s be honest, he doesn’t view goblins as equals or stimulating company judging by his various voice lines expressing his disdain, distrust and overall low opinion of them as vermin among other things. The fact that he’s willing to call the tiefling refugees idiots while in earshot of them? Definitely doesn’t respect them as a group—though he has a less negatively opined line regarding them earlier on if the caged goblin (Sazza) is killed,—which is not surprising given that MC and company at the time of the party just saved them from certain death. Astarion’s reaction however also reads as potentially at ease enough to say what he’s thinking. He’s not going to get murdered for saying so, and there aren’t any punishing power games at play with the refugees and do-gooders he’s found himself surrounded by. There aren’t any hedonistic shenanigans going on and the drinks are terrible, so it’s not an entertaining party for him, but one could make an argument that Astarion might actually be feeling more secure or at least less threatened-as-is/was-his-accepted-ongoing-norm there. Which might mean he’s feeling quite out of place, or even just not...entirely engaged with what’s going on around him and even within him as far as emotional states go. Would he casually pull the same stunt at the goblin party? If you’re a bastard to him, yes, but that’s not in the same emotional vein as his dialogue during the tiefling party at all. Loyalty from the goblins is fickle, the goblins worship the Absolute and those that are chosen by the Absolute—so long as said Chosen remain powerful enough to subjugate them and is in favor. Astarion knows this kind of power structure well: ruling by fear and power. With the tieflings? It’s not superiors-and-subordinates, it’s just...people. People celebrating surviving an event that could’ve very well and most likely would’ve ended in their deaths. Will he get to celebrate like that one day? That could very well be a painful and bleak thing to consider, and not something he wants to contemplate as of yet, based on his dialogue lines that demonstrate his fear of Cazador. How’s he supposed to get lost in the fun and revelry if the wine doesn’t even taste good to him? I don’t know wines, but I’m guessing from what little I do know and what I’ve read of flavor descriptors for wines hyped as good, it might actually be bad wine based on the adjective “sharp” when mixed with the rest of the description if the MC takes a sip. Sharp seems to suggest too many tannins, or maybe improper storage so the wine actually did turn to taste a bit more like vinegar, or maybe not enough sugar in the grapes used, perhaps? To be fair, I do believe there’s a non-conversation line somewhere of Astarion’s regarding solid food tasting terrible to him, but I can’t verify that so a pinch of salt there. Still, if his taste buds are aligned with regular living mortal ones for wine at least, RIP Astarion, he’s stuck with a terrible drink for the foreseeable night. Unless, of course, you know. ;D Compared to the tieflings, the goblins as a whole? As a group they’re a scraped together army of pillagers hungry for destruction and spoils. They don’t have ANY loyalty to you—in addition to being willing to betray you via murder immediately despite working with them when Sazza first brings you back to meet Minthara, there’s also when Minthara potentially opts to try to kill you post-goblin-party. If you persuade her not to, Minthara does mention “do not return to the goblin camp, as far as they were concerned you were destined to die tonight.” This is not a group to get chummy with, obviously. Doesn’t say good things about the Absolute’s followers in general, either, or the Absolute depending on if Minthara’s being honest about the Absolute intending that the MC dies after razing the grove. Minthara could just be lying to serve her own ends and is out to destroy any rivals for the Absolute’s favor, after all, I can’t verify that from dialogue exploration at present. So it’s not surprising that this is not a group Astarion is going to let his guard down around I’m sure, or around an MC that sided with the goblins, because fortunes can shift like the wind in a scene like that, and I think his utter lack of surprise at Minthara trying to kill you all (whether or not the MC had a romp with her) is potentially spawned because he recognizes this fact. He’s been here before, in another time, another place, with different faces, but he’s seen this play before. And the MC is just another face for the same old role of a player in this rat race for power when they side with the goblins, aren’t they? The difference this time though is: will they succeed and make it to the top? Is Astarion betting on the winning horse, or not? Far less reason and far more motivation to not be emotionally invested in anyone or anything around him because it’s survival of the fittest, and the most ruthless will be the ones who win—the MC just reinforced that perspective for Astarion, in slaughtering the tieflings. But Astarion isn’t fully corrupted yet, despite however much Cazador has twisted and tormented him so. Isn’t it fascinating, that the MC, one of the first people Astarion can actually interact with relatively freely without Cazador’s puppeteering influence hanging over him quite so acutely, is someone who might very well and very likely will have a huge impact on how Astarion develops and sees the world? For better or for worse, the MC will shape all the companions’ futures and perspectives it seems, depending on their choices. On a meta note, isn’t that thrillingly fascinating and engaging work by Larian Studios? Bravo, honestly. Continuing, for Astarion this could very well just feel like a better but complimentary and thematically continuous segment of the nightmare that is his existence under Cazador as it goes on: he’s a vampire now, and the world is only ever a power struggle between the strong and the weak, and he knows better than to ever be weak again. Kindness and virtue belonged to Before. Before he died, before he turned, before he was taken. Those are things in stories and fairy tales now, that belong to other people, other places and times, other lives—things that belong to the living, not the undead. Sentimentality, more universally-accepted morality, all of those Good™-aligned or softer feelings can feel like they have no place in his world now, on this darker path. But he knows what they are, not just in theory I think, but also perhaps knowing from memory and experience, however distant and faint. The way he speaks on many occasions has subtext that could very well suggest he wasn’t without a better side through implication and emotion. Which is not to say I think he was a shining paragon of virtue before he died—guessing based off of the dev team’s writing of him so far, I’m expecting nuanced and complex but ultimately very human (or elf if you’re being fantasy-based technical) morality with both merits and flaws, for polarizing opinions in the fandom. That being said, I’m holding off judgment on what kind of person he was before he was turned for now despite reading about pre-early-access, preliminary ideas the dev team had for his background. The reason I’m waiting to see what the dev team puts into the game for his backstory of Before, is because some of his datamined lines could be taken in a couple of different ways, and some of his emotional responses as is currently don’t track as truly Machiavellian or I’d say malevolent in nature for manipulation or otherwise. Granted, not all Evil™ acts stem from intentions to be malevolent. Sometimes people do evil both in-game and in life without really intending to, or recognizing that they do, nor seeing the harm they have caused or will cause (I’m looking at you, Mayrina.) Manipulative yes, but so far it’s looked like it’s for defensive purposes in a world that is out to hurt or kill him if given any opportunity whatsoever. Personally I actually wouldn’t even say he’s been really manipulative at all, but your mileage may vary. He lies because he’s afraid you’re going to murder him for being a vampire, and because he doesn’t want to reveal the cause of two centuries’ worth of trauma to someone he just met and likely can’t predict if they’re emotionally safe for him to interact with. Note: “emotionally safe” does not necessarily denote being sympathetic here, so much as “will their response cause me pain in some fashion?” from Astarion’s point of view, which does not necessarily require the MC to be mean to him though obviously that wouldn’t help. We touch upon why sympathy can hurt later on in this essay. And why would he expect sympathy in the other instance, regarding revealing that he’s a vampire? How often would we not murder strange vampires we just met in DND-worlds? Is that not a common response and practice in Faerun for the most part? They’re on the list of acceptable prey for a monster hunter to be kidnapped and taken to who knows what fate (probably nothing good we’re sure), and who would come rescue them? In all actuality: No one. If he wasn’t a companion he’d easily just be one more random encounter to kill—as he and all the companions are in the right circumstances, *cough cough* like when sacrificing anyone to Boooal *cough.* Astarion’s had little cracked moments where he seems to be showing genuine vulnerability, and I’d say he likely displays real genuine emotion plenty of times, just not all the time. While the vulnerable moments could be a ploy, were he the type to actually be fully acting, I’m disinclined to bet that he’d act in the way he does during those moments if he planned them out or even improvised. It could be a mix of both, where it’s both true but also an act of manipulation. Were it the last option, that would require more exploration of his character in various situations to determine imo. I still doubt that though. I think he’s a little too raw and real in his pain, anger, and aggression to say he’s being malevolently manipulative at the end of the day, at least thus far in chapter one. The MC’s choices may change and influence that, on the Evil™ route. I’ve been following some of the fantastic dash discussions on Astarion’s reaction to when the MC tries to comfort him (because of course I have, I’m here for BG3 content and Astarion content especially, aren’t we all here for the same party in his tag? Also hello fellow Astarion stans! :D I hope everyone’s having a good day), and if some of these datamined lines from Pjenn’s blog post are actually implemented and kept as canonical [link], specifically the ones Astarion says regarding heroes, I do think it ties in very strongly with some of what other folks have said regarding his recoiling reaction. Copy-pasted the potential dialogue lines of interest below: Astarion: Heroes. |said with disgust| Astarion: Heroes had two centuries to save me from my torture, but not one came knocking. Astarion: The strong had two centuries to pluck me from torture, but no one came. No, it was the mind flayers that rescued me. Astarion: I spent centuries as the victim of a corrupt man. It was the mind flayers that plucked me away from that. I very much enjoyed all the takes on Astarion’s potential motivations in his response, and I do want to chuck another idea into the fray that supports the vein of ideas that have him being truly afraid and then angry at the MC in that scene, with the speculation including those possible hero lines above as influence. Specifically, I’d like to bring in an outside comparison to part of Molly Grue’s reaction to seeing the Unicorn from The Last Unicorn animated movie for the first time, transcribed below: The Unicorn: I’m here now. Molly: [Bitter laugh] Oh? And where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent, young maidens you always come to? How dare you. How DARE you come to me now, when I am this. [begins to cry, heartbroken] Consider Astarion being shown kindness when he is now away from Cazador, not fully free or safe yet but not currently actively fully suffering Cazador’s torment all up close and personal. Consider that only on that very night before he was snatched up by the mindflayers, which might’ve been anywhere from only a day to a handful of days before this conversation about his nightmare, he was going out to falsely smile and lure some innocent—(“No innocents. You have my word.”)—or perhaps not so innocent, beautiful soul back to Cazador’s mansion to very likely die or be turned. How often must he do so? Is it every night he is ordered to go out and condemn someone else to that unfortunate fate? Do you think Cazador killed them cleanly? Quickly? Why would he, instead of agonizingly grinding out any last traces of sympathy his spawn might have through the guilt that they are the ones who “choose” who suffers and likely dies at Cazador’s hands that night? To give the illusion of choice is one abuse/torture tactic that can be used to break a soul that we see often in games: choose who suffers or dies. Cazador is unquestionably a personality who enjoys the psychological aspect of tormenting his victims, as evidenced by giving Astarion the “choice” to be either flayed or to “dine” on a rotting, dead rat, as well as other mentions of how he puts thought into torturing those around him. Astarion is still so fresh from his torment,—torment that is still technically on-going with the very real threats of resuming once more—he is emotionally bleeding enough arterial blood at the seams to fill a sea. His actions, words, and emotions so often metaphorically smell of blood, and not because he’s a vampire and the traditional role of a vampire being a predator among humanoids ironically enough, but because being a vampire spawn means Cazador. And Cazador means horror. Astarion has survived, yes, and it’s been hell. He’s still in hell, because he isn’t free yet. Not truly. It’s a desperate gasp of air, this taste of freedom, to dream that he could be free of Cazador. Imagine his feelings when he’s now in something like freedom, a reminder of what could be, what his life might’ve and likely was like once upon a time, an uncertain here-and-now where he has the possibility—just a possibility, and an unlikely one at that for most ordinary or less-than-ordinary people, not a certainty—of being free, and he’s just admitted to the horror that is Cazador. Admitted in this moment how much Cazador frightens him, how much just the thought of Cazador frightens him, how much the possibility he might be sent back to his master and having his previous tormented existence resumed truly frightens him. And the MC reaches out in sympathy. In acknowledgement that what Astarion has been through is horrifying. To look at this horror and say it is pain, and terror, and awful, that it isn’t normal. It isn’t something to ignore. It isn’t something to pretend is just everyday same old, same old, to numb and take off the edge as much as one can. That Astarion’s pain and fear aren’t to be sought out for entertainment or at best to be willfully neglected in an act of malice. That stark moment of contrast, like night and day, could bring the pain of two hundred years crashing down inside his head, all compressed into one moment. Feelings he tried so hard to survive through, ignore perhaps, suppress: fear, helplessness, loneliness, misery, anger, sorrow, hatred, pain, anxiety, distress, need. Memories, of so many instances that hurt in that moment and then continued to hurt for so long afterwards. How much must it hurt him, wound him, to lift his head for air and have a perspective outside of his suffering that is sympathetic...but knowing that nobody came to save him.  That perhaps, no one ever will, if he loses this so-called freedom and is dragged back under. That those that care, cannot help you. And that those that can help, do not care.  Why would anyone help him at this point after all? He’s a vampire spawn. A classically defined monster in the eyes of society, and he knows it. (”I’m not some monster!” / ”At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.”) He must have been truly desperate in his starvation to chance anyone finding out he’s a vampire in the party. Not surprising, he can’t rest at the end of the day like the other companions can. He has to expend extra energy at that point to find food discreetly after fighting all day, and subpar food at that. (”Animal blood tastes like muck.” verification needed, it’s a conversational line in some branch of the morning-after he asks to bite the MC the first time) He’s not eating breakfast, snacks or lunch during the day, and he isn’t guaranteed to find food while hunting in the woods. Game might be scarce, he can be wounded or exhausted after a long day of fighting, and he wasn’t starting out in the peak of health to begin with either. He is a vampire spawn yes and apparently can take down large game such as boars to drain them, but that is a rough existence to condemn anyone to mechanically speaking. He knows what he’s risking, regardless of his int stat. But he takes that risk anyway. The character who is so survival driven, risking a very high likelihood of expulsion at best or death as the much-more-likely worst outcome of this attempt? His bite isn’t painless, and pain can wake a person up readily enough if they aren’t a deep sleeper, and how deep a sleeper are most people when in an uncertain and unfamiliar wilderness, potentially while hungry and cold, with the fretting fear of a agonizing death looming over their head? Even accounting for a lack of mental clarity from hunger and exhaustion and other factors, I find it deeply unlikely that Astarion is unaware of how big a risk he’s taking with the odds are stacked against him, rogue class or not. And even if he’s just thrown out of the group? He’s alone. Vulnerable. A target to be hunted by a much bigger, meaner predator. One that won’t kill him quickly, we can guess. His odds are much lower, on his own. Specifically his odds of not being dragged back to Cazador...assuming the MC doesn’t just turn him over to Gandrel. How terrifying is it to imagine that your suffering will never end, to be told it will never end, and then you are reminded of what it is like to not suffer for a time. To have felt the painful hope that maybe there is a possibility that you could escape an existence of torment...but knowing you very well might not? It is desperately bleak. It is no great leap of the imagination to hear Astarion saying—(or more likely thinking because this would be terribly vulnerable...but he might say something when pushed because he’s so full of sharp edges and bleeding insides still)—something similar to Molly Grue’s line in his own fashion, is it? Astarion: “[Bitterly laughing, mockingly so. As he speaks his tone breaks, an edge of raw, desperate hysteria slipping through, attached to centuries of pain turned to anger] And where were you two hundred years ago? A hundred years ago? Where were you when I still desperately thought in the deepest parts of my heart that someone might come? When I still had hope?  Astarion: [his voice turns low and venomous, raising in volume and accusation before finishing with a break on the final word “this”, a tonal admittance of how distraught and self-aware he is of what he’s had to do, of what he’s had to become to survive] How dare you. How DARE you say this to me now, when I am this.”  (the above lines are entirely fictional and are not from any in-game, data-mined, or otherwise official source or content) He’s been made to do so many terrible things, even just based off of the few lines we have heard in early access he’s been through so much horror. An hour of torture, a day, a month is so incredibly long. It can have such lasting impact on a person—PTSD, as we know it in this day and age. A year? Five years, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred? An elf he may be, but from a human perspective...he’s been tortured for lifetimes. Even as an elf, two hundred years is a long time. More than long enough to seriously alter how someone’s brain works—people are both amazingly resilient, but also so incredibly fragile. Cazador has had all this time to play with Astarion’s brain, honestly I find it impressive Astarion has any sense of self left after all this time. That he’s still driven to survive, that he still feels anything at all. (”It doesn’t look broken. But then again, none of us do.”)  It doesn’t surprise me that he’s intensely bitter when encountering the “paladins” of Tyr—(ie Anders and company if you know who I mean—and was that a Dragon Age 2 reference? If not that is an amazing coincidence with the whole Anders-Justice-Vengeance-Demon thing there)—if the MC asks something to the tune of “Don’t you wish someone had helped you when you needed it?” Oh. Oh that had to be a painful question for him. Astarion had his basic needs denied and abused, to ask if he wished that someone had helped him when he needed that and more, and no one came? Why was he denied but the paladins get help? Why does he have to be the hero when no one came for him, when no one very well might come for him when he might still very well be in dire straits in the near future?  I can see the possible desire to inspire sympathy intended in the question from the MC, but it can be so utterly without sympathy to ask that in some contexts, and in Astarion’s case it is. He was being abused and controlled without any way out—Anders and his cohorts opted into the deal with Zariel for personal reasons, not as far as I know under threat of imminent death, and they are relatively capable of fulfilling their end of the bargain barring their current injuries at the time. They certainly have more freedom of choice than Astarion and other vampire spawn ever did, and they were not being tortured right then and there. Warlocks, referring to Anders and co., might even have the option to get out of deals, a la Wyll’s personal questline hook thus far. Astarion can’t get out of his servitude from Cazador. Cazador holds all the cards, makes all the decisions, has all of the power. To compare Astarion’s situation to his face with that of the “paladins”? I’m surprised he wasn’t spitting fury, honestly. They still have normal elements to their day to day life, despite their devil’s deal. They are not being tormented on the daily—yet. They are not in hell—yet. They can get out. They have the possibility. A possibility Astarion didn’t—until now. And isn’t that the most fucked up thing, that it wasn’t a force of Good™ that saved him, but an even bigger monster than Cazador himself? He was saved—by mindflayers, intending some fate that was likely worse for him than before. Even when the Absolute’s hand begins to be revealed in all this, he is still a pawn among monstrous masters. What heroes there are in the world, won’t come for him. They never did before, and they didn’t now. Heroes are for other people, for realities aside from his own. They are for other people, living Other lives. Not his life. Forces of Good™ swooping in to save the day, to correct the wrongs of the world and to make things Right™ just isn’t his normal. Not anymore, if ever it was. His normal was warped by Cazador a long time ago. Is it a stretch of the imagination that if Cazador twisted “dinner” to be a choice between consuming a rotting, putrid rat corpse or being flayed on a nightly basis, turning “poetry” into the memory of a “sonnet” carved into Astarion’s back with a razor over the course of an entire night full of Astarion’s own pained screams? Is it hard to imagine that Cazador also took pleasure in turning other ordinary situations one might encounter in normal life into nightmare versions as well for Astarion and his other spawn? One illithid mind-power option shows Cazador controlling Astarion by holding his chin, though without any further context. Cazador wouldn’t have had to do more than that to invoke terror, after a certain point in time. It seems highly unlikely the gesture wasn’t followed up with more pain, though. Perhaps in that moment when he speaks of his nightmare in the first conversation and the MC reaches out to him in sympathy...Astarion was reminded of something. Multiple somethings, multiple moments, when Cazador reached out to him oh so casually, and it ended in pain and terror. The way the camera is framed as of the current time in early access, the way he flinches away crying “No!” so quiet and low, his eyes wide and staring just so, how he goes so far as to pull back almost entirely out of frame and the camera slowly pans to follow him? Perhaps that is just a stand-in scene, but as it is, even now, it emphasizes that he is I would argue genuinely afraid, and reflexively responding in what is likely his first opportunity to freely respond to his traumatically induced fear. The first opportunity where he wasn’t supernaturally compelled to do exactly as Cazador ordered him to, the first opportunity where he was likely not going to be tormented further for expressing his fear, for having his main tormentor laugh and delight in his distress. The first instance where he for a split second let his guard down, and didn’t expect to be hurt—until the MC reached for him, echoing possible memories of what happened last time someone (Cazador) did that. It’s not Cazador reaching for him. But...it is not Cazador. He doesn’t have to worry about Cazador hurting him right that second, but...will the MC hurt him, like Cazador did? Will they make it look like they’re going to help him, that he can trust them, and then betray him? (”How can you be so cruel?” / “It [Raphael playing games] reminds me of Cazador, taunting his slaves with hope when he knew the game was rigged.”) But they scared him. They scared him, and perhaps for a moment he was back there, in another time and place, where he knows, where he remembers, vividly, perhaps even recently, what normally would have happened to him. And how dare they make him feel that. (“I can do without reliving that particular night, thank you.” [Nightmare about Cazador dialogue, a separate scene if you miss the insight check from the first post-nightmare camp discussion I believe.]) He’s so raw and upset, both aggressive and defensive when he speaks about his nightmares in quite a few of his lines, asking and waiting to explain just why his nightmares are truly so terrifying, especially in the second-nightmare conversation. The way he speaks there, and in other scenes, makes me very disinclined to interpret him as actively intending evil in general so much as having been shaped to be ruthless through a centuries-long trial by fire that he isn’t free and clear of yet. Based off of how he reacts on more than one occasion, I’m personally inclined to take a leaf from Wyll’s book and say I do think he has more than just potential to be good. “Good™” being relative of course to his situation and undead-life—Astarion has GREAT potential as a character to explore not only what it means to be Evil™ aligned, but also what people on the meta perceive as evil, as well as what prejudices we may carry from that labeling.  He is I think very much an excellent walking morality test and ironically a mirror for the player’s character. What kind of person is the MC, in how they treat and interact with him. He is a complicated and morally-entangled character, and it is so very easy to only read him in the here and now within the stark, daylight context of societal’s average norms without looking at the very real, very recent nightmarish Twilight Zone reality he’s lived in that echoes through his words and story thus far. It’s a marvelous bit of echoing reality and real life here by Larian, truth be told: how do you tell people about your life, when it’s been a ceaseless, unending nightmare? With smiles, witticisms, and the occasional polished lie that bleeds out pain, for some folks anyway, including Astarion. He says he’s having more fun at the goblin party, but at the tiefling party? That’s probably the first time he’s been at a normal party where he hasn’t had to obey and fear Cazador’s orders and inevitable torment during or afterwards. That’s the first time in his entire undead existence when he’s been in a social situation like this without being afraid, hurt, or manipulated. It’s not a fun party on its own by his standards, but it is a safe party for him. In a way though, safety can be boring. A luxury, yes, but in this case? For him, boring. And boring...might very well be irritating, in an anxiety-turned-irritation fashion, because he’s not being tormented right this very moment. He should be finding something to enjoy, because in his normal everyday routine? In the day to day that he would expect, that his subconscious expects out of habit? Opportunity for any form of enjoyment must be rare indeed, twisted and tainted by Cazador’s ever looming shadow over every minute of Astarion’s vampiric existence so far. It could be anxiety-inducing, to not seek pleasure or some form of happiness or comfort while there is opportunity for it, in what one perceives as a respite from constant, on-going suffering. (”Why do you insist on exhuming the past?” - when you ask about his past in camp, after you know he’s a vampire. An unpleasant reminder of an unpleasant past, why would he want to dwell on it? He has enough pain to last him multiple lifetimes. Literally.) From the deep, deep depths of prolonged suffering, it can potentially take a great deal more intensity of sensation to feel anything at all, let alone something approaching happiness. (”For the first time in two hundred years, I felt happy.” [presumed Astarion-origin line after drinking from a sleeping companion] / “I feel strong. I feel...happy!” [after MC succeeds in persuading Astarion to stop drinking from their neck after giving him permission to do so.]) This isn’t even taking into consideration how vampirism might have impacted Astarion’s psychology on a metabolic/biochemical level, so to speak. Where Larian goes with that is still to be determined, though my money’s on they give him more a murderous edge and natural inclination—not unlike a Beast-lite version of bloodlust from Vampire: The Masquerade— but still keep his core traits very much human rather than supernaturally-alien/2D-cut-out-monstrous. (Or elvhen, if we’re being fantasy-world-linguistically technical here again.) Touching on the matter of monstrous behavior though...It is a powerfully understated moment of casual cruelty that Larian allows the MC to decide once and once only, if Astarion may also drink from people or only animals. It’s so fitting I don’t believe it to be coincidence that he was a magistrate in his backstory—isn’t the MC passing a judgement too on him, a sentence to change his life for the foreseeable future, possibly forever without realizing or perhaps not caring about the full extent of their actions? And one cannot forget Wyll’s comment about the rat diet. Oh, can you not hear the resonating parallel real life pain from how those ignorant of another’s hurts might unintentionally mock the person and hurt them so? How some might apply their own morality from their own life experiences, without looking at the full extent of the consequences of their actions? A life and perspective that more likely has never been tested under the lash and upon the rack of some of life’s worst possible realities? Even if Wyll and the MC don’t mean to be, it is so very, very cruel. It is beautifully painful, Abdirak and the goddess Loviatar would be proud. (”My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel...happy!”) To be denied not just better food, but the ability to think clearly, to feel well, the actuality of being happy as a norm? It is so very hollow an existence to feel so constantly weak of both body and mind, and oh isn’t it just the richest thing, that an MC might echo Cazador’s choice and power over Astarion thusly? It’s enough to make one laugh an Evil Laugh™ of appreciation at just how unthinkingly, horribly cruel a person can potentially be while playing a Good™ character. This is actually a level of genius on Larian’s part that I wonder how many in the audience will actually look at and appreciate the subtle horror of. The horror that we do this too, in real life, sometimes without ever knowing the seemingly small, far-reaching ripples of harm an unthinking phrase or comment can do when we don’t take another’s reality into consideration—that we don’t know what it is we don’t know. It is a fine piece of storytelling, to offer up a story with so many facets to reflect upon. It’s so beautifully crafted that Astarion speaks and dresses like a noble, that he can so easily be perceived as a person of privilege at first glance should one merely look at some of his surface behaviors and inclinations—remnant trappings of his distant past most likely, from once upon a time. It’s a delightful reveal and subversion that he, I think we can safely say, isn’t that. Perhaps he was, once, but he isn’t at this point in his life, not anymore. Appearances are deceiving, and doesn’t that just tie so nicely right into some of Astarion’s potential themes and behaviors? The lies that crack open as truth and pain come bleeding out from underneath? I do wonder how many of Larian’s audience have known hunger—and not known when the next meal will happen, what it might be, if it will have strings attached? The kind of hunger that follows you everywhere, that roots down into your bones and hollows out a home there forever more? It changes how a person sees things, how they act, how they think, even when they’re removed from being hungry all the time. One doesn’t need to be skin and bones to feel like one is starving constantly,—(I very much enjoy that headcanon just to clarify, I’m not intending to throw shade in any of this or future rambling)—to be kept on a hollow diet of empty calories that are enough to keep your heart pumping, but your body struggles because it doesn’t have the nutrients it needs in the amounts it needs? To feel your mind fog over with exhaustion and blanketed despair, a primal and low level desperation whittled down into a tired and numb, anxious background static from adrenal fatigue? Miscellaneous aches, pains and problems that seem unrelated but in reality, if only you knew, were because your body can’t function the way it should ideally, because you don’t have what you truly need? A very real problem in real life, for far too many people. And oh, the beautiful, casual, so very human monstrousness Larian lets us exercise here, knowing or unknowing. It is such a powerful, understated cluster of ideas. And I think Larian knew—someone on the dev team did their homework on both traditional starvation but also what one might call masked-starvation as no doubt other tumblr folks have also speculated, just based off of what we’ve seen and because of that Happy buff Astarion gets when he uses his Vampiric Bite ability in combat. It fits right into his whole theme of “what makes a monster and what makes a man?” (Sing the bells of Notre Dame~♪) But not necessarily asking that question only of him. Rather, asking it also of the MC. This fits into the game’s whole theme with the tadpoles, the choice of using the power and turning into “Something More Beautiful” as Minthara put it, of taking the darker path, it all fits so very well. I just want to applaud this because it’s not a major story-beat moment. It’s a companion-side-quest moment. It’s going to be for the most part seen as a combat-game-mechanic and head-canon defining moment, deciding if Astarion may feed on people or not. I doubt we’d see Larian actually changing Astarion’s demeanor much in how he delivers lines with a “allowed to drink people blood” code flag, as cool as that might be. It very well could factor into later outcomes but for voice acting I doubt they’ll make an entire second/third/etc set of each line spawning from that one seemingly small choice. It makes me very hopeful that Larian can handle such weighty themes so deftly thus far—we’ll have to wait and see if they can stick the landing once the game is finished, but boy oh boy their nuance and delivery so far is strong as steel and sharp as a double-edged sword right out of the gate. The studio is in a fantastic position to explore and to challenge people’s thoughts and ideas regarding character builds like Astarion’s imo, depending on how the dev team chooses to play it out. Seeing some of Gale and Shadowheart’s dialogue trees from the goblin party, I have high hopes that the dev team will allow a great deal of exploration and flexibility all across the moral spectrums, not only allowing us the option to drag the more seen-as-good-aligned characters down paths of moral corruption,—(note: I’m including Shadowheart in more neutral-ish territory for now but the fact that she seems to feel emotionally ill—guilty, one could say—at the goblin party and is busy trying to get drunk to drown that feeling out suggests to me she Definitely does have a more good-aligned moral compass to a nuanced degree)—but also the chance to drag more seen-as-evil-aligned characters along the path to more traditionally good endings and persuade them to see the benefits of playing nice with others per more classic Good™ societal rules (subjectively speaking ofc.) But Larian is also in a very precarious place too—speaking strictly of just the one character as the focus of this essay, Astarion resonates very easily through that very real fear, pain, anger, bitterness and so many other emotions as a result of what he has survived, is still surviving through, and struggling against: trauma. How bitter indeed would it be should a character—that people with very deep, real pain can relate to—not get at least the option for a well-crafted, hopeful and merciful epilogue? Oh the sympathetic pain that Larian could reap could be pain of the very worst kind, if they condemn him to only death and darkness with bleak endings that lack nuance and care. I’ve seen some posts where people worry about Astarion not potentially having a good ending, with possible unspoken implications that he might be railroaded into betraying the MC. I’d like to say that I think a lot of his subtext, even looking at the instances where he lies and the datamined details of the voice-acting-directions, would run counter to railroading him to only ever betraying the MC. I think straight betrayal is going to run as mostly antithetical to his core themes in a way. He might betray your MC—but it will likely be because the MC betrayed him first in a myriad of small ways, or in a big way. Approval-rating-system based choices are a very real possibility too, separately or as a part of the equation naturally, in addition to your major in-game choices. That would also include the scenario of betrayal through using the tadpole powers enough to be mind-controlled into having no will of his own, much like the other characters, including the MC. I do think we have plenty of good, solid reason to be very hopeful that he will have a possible good continuation—not ending. A continuation where he manages to free himself from Cazador with the help of his companions or perhaps dare he even say friends, manages to begin the process of healing the immediate pains of his trauma and learning how to truly live with all that he’s been through and all that he’s done, to have the possibility of not only living but living both happily and well for the most part? Who knows what else Larian Studios might have in the works for him and the other companions, as well as the MC and the story of Baldur’s Gate 3. But good outcomes for all seems like it very likely could happen, for all of the companions. His wiki page’s summary tagline hook in particular offers up that implied promise from the developers to the audience, I would say, “Astarion prowled the night as a vampire spawn for centuries, serving a sadistic master until he was snatched away. Now he can walk in the light, but can he leave his wicked past behind?” What that promise is, varies from creator to creator. In this case, based on the wording, I would say that potentially implies a satisfyingly well-crafted and engaging story wherein we find out and determine if the answer to that question is yes or no, and in a DND-based RPG full of choices that have an impact on the people and world around you? In a game genre that has a history of multiple, varied endings for your companions based on how you play? That checks out. Larian so far has been handling things admirably well in my opinion, and I’m willing to invest emotionally in this story they’re telling with the trust that they will deliver a good continuation and conclusion. But on the off-chance that somehow Astarion’s endings all turn out painful and tragic on the meta for the fanbase, that the associated intentional or unintentional messages wound and grieve those who recognize and resonate most strongly with the pains he has felt? On that off-chance, in that instance where we are left bereft and disappointed because of what happened to him or any of the companions or the story itself should somehow things go awry, then it would be your right to ask Larian the very same question Astarion asked you once: How can you be so cruel?

[shihalyfie]

Adventure, 02, and the “secret double life”

Adventure’s concept of “Chosen Children” prophesized save-the-world heroes is hardly unique to it, and given that it ostensibly follows so many fantasy tropes, it’s easy to see it as having a textbook pattern of the “secret identity”/”secret double life” tropes, in which adventure-faring kids keep everything from their parents and society under the idea that if people found out about their adventures, they’d be kept from action or be experimented on.

But as much as it’s easy to see it that way, in fact, Adventure and 02 had a somewhat different view of the matter. Although 02 in particular, with its concept of “wake up, go to school, save the world,” probably gives off the strongest “double life” aura, in actuality, Adventure and 02 both had an underlying sentiment that the concept of keeping Digimon from one’s parents -- and, eventually, the public -- was practically impossible.

(Unless otherwise stated, translations for Adventure/02/Kizuna are from Ryuu-Rogue/PositronCannon/L Subs, respectively.)

The Hikarigaoka incident

The aftermath of the Hikarigaoka incident in 1995 (or, in other words, the Greymon and Parrotmon incident depicted in the first movie) was depicted in Adventure episode 29, in which, as it turned out, was passed off as a “terrorist bombing incident” -- and that kids like Takeru who attempted to explain the situation to their parents were dismissed for imagining things.

The Adventure novels add a bit of extra addition that there might have been some external finagling to make sure things were cleaned up, but even then, things weren’t all that clean-cut. For one, the Hikarigaoka incident was a rather short one that was cleaned up in quick order -- there was a minimal amount of destruction compared to what later events would bring (only a single localized area in terms of collateral damage, especially since Parrotmon wasn’t there to cause wanton destruction), the full brunt of the incident may not have even spanned so much of an hour, and both Digimon involved vanished almost as quickly as they came. It really is just enough that you could sweep it under the normalcy filter of wanting to throw out any supernatural explanations, especially since the kids themselves eventually succumbed to the adults’ explanations.

And yet, even despite that, Takaishi Natsuko still found the Hikarigaoka incident a topic of interest to the point she started doing independent research on it -- especially when a certain incident four years later pushed things far beyond the range of plausible deniability. The novels make this pretty explicit:

Among her normal jobs, a side project that she was working on involved investigating the “Hikarigaoka terrorist bombing incident” four years ago. It was an incident that occured in the very place where they had lived. Not only did it capture her interest, but as she kept investigating it, she found many aspects about it that weren’t acceptable explanations to her. It still wasn’t enough information for her to put into an article or a book, but someone, somehow, had managed to find out that she was working on it and had contacted her wanting to talk. But when the time of their appointment came, the man she was supposed to meet didn’t appear. What was that man’s name? Oikawa? I think? Well, I’m never going to set up a meeting with him again. 

So in other words, the fact that she had spotted a rat was somewhat public enough for someone to figure out that she was on the case. Not to mention that said someone had also spotted a rat -- someone who was not possessed by any Digimon vampires at this point, and was merely just an enthusiast trying to reconnect with a mysterious phenomenon from his childhood and dealing with grief for his recently deceased friend. It probably would not have been long before the truth would have been fully spilled even by itself -- but later events that would confirm everyone’s suspicious pretty firmly were already on the horizon.

Menoa Bellucci and the advent of Chosen Children

In a bit of “hidden” Adventure lore, the number of Chosen Children thus started to double every year -- something cited by Two-and-a-Half Year Break (Koushirou’s track) and confirmed by directorial statement. (Kizuna’s To Sora is consistent with this principle, and the 02 epilogue being set in 2027-2028 also tracks with the global population being partnered to Digimon with that precise number.) Either way, Adventure episode 53 confirmed that the eight “Tokyo Chosen Children” from 1999 (or, in other words, the Adventure main cast and their partners) were hardly isolated singularities -- there was a group of Chosen Children before them that placed an incomplete seal on Apocalymon prior, and, according to the Adventure novels, four of their partners evolved over a long period of time to become the Holy Beasts. The fact that there had to be at least four gives only a very narrow period of time said Chosen could be from, most likely between 1997 (4 Chosen) to early 1999 (16 Chosen), with the very short real-world time in between likely correlating to enough time in the Digital World for their names to be lost to their history.

(Note that Oikawa Yukio doesn’t count here; although he and Hiroki made contact with the Digital World through video games in the 80s, there is no indication that Oikawa was fundamentally partnered to Pipimon at this time, in the same way that it was only after the Tokyo Chosen Children witnessed the Hikarigaoka incident that “the one who wishes for stability” -- Homeostasis -- came up with the idea for creating a system to tie Digimon evolution to human partners.)

Kizuna confirms it further by introducing Menoa Bellucci, who says that she met Morphomon (and, presumably, did become a Chosen Child) at the age of nine, meaning presumably 1997 -- making her one of the small handful of people who became Chosen Children before the Tokyo eight.

The little snippets we get of Menoa and Morphomon’s life are interesting, but also telling. For one, their life together is depicted through a bunch of photos with both of them there, through events such as birthdays and travel...and given that someone had to have taken all of those photos, this means that it is extremely likely Menoa’s parents were fully aware of Morphomon’s presence and existence as her partner. In other words, Morphomon was not a secret to them in the first place.

Another interesting thing here is that it’s never said that Menoa went on any incredible world-saving adventure during her time with Morphomon, so it’s ambiguous whether she did or not. It’s entirely possible that she did but doesn’t want to bring it up to Taichi and the others because of how much baggage would be associated with it compared to, well, the rest of her early childhood life with Morphomon; given the time dilation that was in play prior to 1999, it’s very likely any adventure she could have gone on would have been lost to Digital World history. (That said, given that Morphomon doesn’t seem to have any ties to Holy Beast lines, a group of 4+ Chosen distinct from her and the other Tokyo Chosen Children by necessity would have to be from 1998 or early 1999.) She does, at the very least, seem to have evolved Morphomon at least once, given that she cites “loss of the ability to evolve” as part of the process of partnership dissolution when explaining it to the others (and it’s implied very heavily she only has her own personal experience to work with). But if Menoa’s parents were sufficiently supportive, it’s possible they might have had no problem with Menoa having a large and very cute butterfly friend -- especially if Menoa didn’t go on some grand adventure and wasn’t even in danger anyway.

We also learn a bit more about the Yagami siblings in Adventure episode 21, which takes place on August 1, 1999, and that Hikari has been witnessing the increased Digimon contact with the human world (part of a long, ongoing process of the Digital World slowly coming into more concrete contact with the human world) for quite a while now, but because it isn’t very “clear” contact yet, she’s the only one who can see them. She’s been trying to tell people for a long time, but nobody believed her -- and that’s the only reason she kept quiet about it.

There’s also another interesting line in this episode, when Taichi considers never returning to the Digital World and staying home with Koromon -- it seems that he intends to be straightforward with Koromon’s presence and not hide him from his parents! At worst, he simply thinks his mom might think Koromon to be a nuisance -- but not something he has to entirely keep a secret, meaning he also trusts his parents to be open-minded about a weird pink talking creature.

The Odaiba fog incident

The “Odaiba fog” incident refers to the events of August 3, 1999, spanning Adventure episodes 35 to 54, when Vamdemon covered Odaiba in fog and launched a bunch of mass kidnappings in the search for the eighth Tokyo Chosen Child, put a large amount of adults to sleep, was defeated by the Chosen Children, and eventually was followed by a projection of the Digital World in the sky, resulting in the surrounding witnesses observing the eight Tokyo Chosen Children and their partners rising into the sky, returning to the Digital World, and defeating the Dark Masters and Apocalymon.

Unlike the Hikarigaoka incident, this was not something that could be easily ignored. People in Odaiba saw, in vivid daylight, a bunch of strange monsters kidnapping them and stuffing them in Tokyo Big Sight. The Digital World appearing in the sky, Digimon falling out of them, and freezing anything they touched happened all over the world. Ultimately, this was not the kind of thing you could just sweep under the rug!

Daisuke, Iori, and Michael recount their experiences with this in 02 episode 14, and Spring 2003 and the Adventure novels depict this as a formative experience for Daisuke wanting to become someone strong enough to protect others. The kids’ parents in Tokyo saw their kids fighting in the sky (in fact, it’s likely everyone did, but only the parents were aware of the actual identities of the kids up there, considering it wasn’t like the sky gives you much of a close-up view). And, of course, we had our “intrepid reporter” Ishida Hiroaki, who was insistent on covering these incidents in Adventure episode 35 before he even knew his sons were involved, and Takaishi Natsuko, who, as per 02 episode 38, ended up tacking this on her list of Digimon incidents to investigate.

So by the conclusion of this incident, it is pretty safe to say the populace knows that Digimon are a thing. Of course, they still haven’t made sense of all of it, and everyone (including Hiroaki and Natsuko themselves) is missing some key details, but the fact that these monsters are A Thing That Exist is hardly a secret. In fact, this is made pretty explicit in 02 episode 39:

The governments of every country most certainly did not just see that whole incident and decide “well, that’s nothing to worry about” -- they immediately went ahead and started doing military research on the Digimon! But Gennai and his fellow Agents figured out pretty quickly that very bad things would happen if the Digimon became public knowledge and government militaries started exploiting them, so they secretly wiped away data regarding Digimon in order to hide their existence.

Note that this does not mean they wiped everyone’s memories -- they’re not that all-powerful -- but merely made it so that anytime anyone tried to do organized research on Digimon, poof! -- the info would just magically vanish. Of course, that doesn’t stop pen-and-paper work, and, again, it also did not stop reporters like Takaishi Natsuko or Ishida Hiroaki from doing investigations into everything from a journalistic perspective, nor humanities scholars like Takenouchi Haruhiko or Kido Shuu from taking an interest in Digimon. And, of course, it’s not like you can just wipe human memory that saw all of that happening! But it sure does put a major slowdown on attempted organized research of Digimon to the extent of being easily able to do the kinds of things Gennai and the Agents feared, because it makes it significantly harder to exchange info or collect anything.

Which of course leads to...

The events of 02

The Tokyo Chosen Children got a “break” of sorts after the events of Adventure, and for the most part they didn’t have to think too hard about how to deal with their Digimon in regards to society, especially since they were separated from them. Then, in April 2002, Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori get their partners, and they, Takeru, and Hikari become lucky enough to be able to bring their partners back and forth between the real world and Digital World. With their partners small enough to be passed off as plushes, and no Digimon battles taking place in the real world at this time, the kids choose to keep their Digimon activities a secret from their parents.

At this point, it should be pointed out that this was not actually strictly necessary in terms of keeping the Digimon from society -- especially on the part of the Adventure kids, whose parents already know they exist and certainly have not forgotten! In fact, this is made into a prominent scene in 02 episode 18, when Koushirou’s mother is surprised Tentomon is not there (even though there’s no indication a conflict is going on at the time), in contrast to Koushirou having just been worried about opening a gate in her presence.

In fact, Kizuna adds an important detail by showing us a newspaper clip from around 2002 (when Menoa was accepted into university), indicating that apparently the concept of a “Digimon partner” was well-recognized enough that Morphomon was openly in the newspaper clipping, accompanied by a caption identifying her as Menoa’s Digimon partner. (Kizuna having so much attention to detail with background lore that it even complies with the doubling-every-year principle, it’s not something you can easily pass off as a writer mistake.) Doing the math, 16 Chosen Children in 1999 means around 128 by 2002 (which also tracks with the approximate amount we see around the world in 02 episodes 40-42 and 50). That’s still a drop in the pond in terms of how much the global population truly understands this, but considering that there were reporters like Takaishi Natsuko and Ishida Hiroaki already on the case, it’s not too much of a stretch to think that the press and informational publications would have an idea.

So why did the kids still try so hard to keep the Digimon from their parents and society? A lot of it has to do with the way the kids make their plan to infiltrate the Kaiser’s base in 02 episode 18.

Prior to this point in the series, their fight in the Digital World had been an after-school affair, one that they were capable of hiding instead of having the truth presented up-front to their parents, whether they liked it or not. Starting in April 2002, the kids voluntarily chose to enter a territory war after school. Think about how they’d have to explain this to their parents -- “oh yeah, by the way, I befriended a mysterious monster and will now be going to another world after school to fight a territory war with even bigger monsters on a near-weekly basis” -- of course, most parents would start being obstructive and immediately put an end to that, and there would be so much they’d have to explain to them. In fact, the way the kids parade their Digimon around and try to use the “plushes” excuse instead of really making any decent attempts to hide them indicates they’re not really trying that hard to maintain a facade, just enough to not get awkward questions and people intervening with their actions. After all, if even incidents like the ones in 02 episode 9 can be safely passed off as “being over late at a friend’s place,” why not use that excuse?

So when they first start a real trip into the Digital World that may span multiple days (with Miyako being visibly out of place with this, a sharp contrast to her seniors being used to the idea of being “trapped” there for days on end), Iori says very explicitly that he doesn’t want to worry his family, and the discussion immediately shifts to how they’ll keep this from their families. Interestingly, when Daisuke suggests just lying about it, Hikari scolds him for doing so -- implying that it’s not like she (or the others) is even comfortable with that kind of lie, hence why they ultimately resort to having the seniors stage a camping trip so that the lie can at least be a bit less far-fetched.

But the fact that they can do this in the first place ultimately ends up being a luxury, because they can get away with this as long as the conflict is still in the Digital World. Eventually, we arrive at...

The Christmas 2002 incident

A lot happened on Christmas 2002, especially given the timezone stretch and the number of episodes it spanned, but this effectively sparked the point of no return where Digimon incidents were unavoidable and staring everyone in the face -- especially since it spanned multiple days. Dark Towers started appearing all over the world, wandering Digimon started appearing everywhere, Chosen Children around the world mobilized to round them back into the Digital World, Demon and his army invaded Tokyo, Oikawa kidnapped a large number of children, and eventually the battle with BelialVamdemon on New Year’s Eve ended up bleeding into the real world, with Chosen Children appearing en masse to help them defeat him.

During the course of the international Chosen arc, we do see that quite a few other kids have been hiding their Digimon from their parents -- indeed, not everyone is like Menoa, and especially if they’ve been involved in dangerous incidents or are very small children! Even Mimi tries to hide her involvement from her parents in 02 episode 10, despite them already knowing about the Digimon from the Odaiba fog incident, because -- as they say in the episode -- moving to the US was partially motivated by them wanting to get away from all of this, so, naturally, they’d prefer Mimi have nothing to do with it. But Takeru is comfortable enough to call his grandfather in to help, presumably deciding that he was trustworthy enough about it.

And, indeed, the first major break we see in the facade with the core cast’s parents is with Takeru’s mother Natsuko, who correctly deduces that something is going on and confronts Takeru about it -- to which he immediately does not attempt to cover up or deny, and admits without hesitation. Natsuko, in turn, decides to accept it without grilling him too much, deciding that she’ll trust in Takeru to handle this (presumably, especially after seeing him handle quite a lot even at the young age of eight). At the end of 02 episode 45, Ken -- whose parents have seen so many horrors going on with him that the explanation of him engaging in dangerous monster battles would be more of a comfort to them, because at least they’d be aware of what’s going on -- ultimately chooses to confide in his parents, leading to them and the rest of the Adventure kids’ parents actively choosing to support their kids in their fight over the course of episodes 46-48. Naturally, as much as they’d probably rather their kids not get engaged in dangerous things, they understand what this is and that it’s important, and at the very least want to support them as much as they can -- Koushirou’s mother laments in 02 episode 48 that she wishes she could do more besides just bring food!

02 episode 46 has a moment where Oikawa and Archnemon watch a TV program with people trying (very badly) to blame the recent incidents on a mass delusion -- the TV show itself is portrayed as a sort of trash gossip kind of special -- and Oikawa provides an explanation for the impasse of acknowledgment where people seem to be increasingly aware of Digimon but also not quite aware: things are undeniably happening, but people still aren’t quite ready to accept an explanation that borders on the supernatural. The entire concept of Digimon is a massive shake to the status quo, after all, so while certain investigative and curious people like Natsuko or Haruhiko are naturally more open-minded, and many parents are likely to pay closer attention when kids are involved, only slightly over a hundred Chosen Children (many of whom are still erring on the side of keeping it a secret) and a few reporters aren’t enough to really help people understand...

...but all things considered, it seems to be enough that the Chosen are now functionally giving up on hiding it at all!

By the time of episode 50, the situation has now escalated to the point where any member of the families of the Tokyo Chosen Children who wasn’t already aware of what was going on is now definitely aware, as they await their children’s return from the Digital World. Considering that Jun was already witnessing the return of dangerous things as early as 02 episode 38, and Iori’s grandfather Chikara discovers Armadimon’s existence in episode 47, it becomes rather important to point out that Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori failed to hide their partners’ existence and involvement in Digimon battles for any longer than eight months (April to December 2002). That is how flimsy the facade was. Again, they weren’t even doing that spectacular a job keeping their partners under wraps, Chikara discovered Armadimon by sheer accident just from Armadimon being too big and being unable to control his hunger, and, ultimately, it really is pretty hard to conceal the existence of a living creature constantly accompanying you everywhere.

The aftermath of 02

Well, firstly, there were definitely other things that happened right after the events of 02 that would be pretty hard for people to deny. For instance:

The Internet being the Internet, the incident in Our War Game! could have potentially been passed off as some kind of graphics stunt. But the 2003 Diablomon/Armagemon incident? Nah. People saw that one, and even actively participated in that one! In real life!

With that, as much as Oikawa claims that people are too stubborn to accept changes to the status quo and thus accept Digimon, ultimately, Spring 2003 makes it clear that the Christmas 2002 incident made enough of a fuss that the involved parties all got put on the spot by the public and media. This got to the point where the kids had a risk of their privacy being invaded, and had to be covered by their parents.

My mother, who followed the Hikarigaoka incident as a non-fiction writer, along with Sora-san’s father, are known today as “Digimon critics.” Although the two weren’t sure whether they appreciated their new titles or not, they accepted it and went from investigators to people who were most sought after... ...Thanks to [Hiroaki], we were saved from publicity. It’s sort of like… we’d like to keep our identities and the Digimon a secret. I don’t mean forever, when I say that, but the relationship between us and our partner Digimon is unique and other people probably wouldn’t understand that. For example, we can’t have people thinking that Digimon are slightly strange pets. If they do, then they won’t take us seriously either, and of course, the Digimon wouldn’t like that perception themselves. That’s why, until we get the general public to acknowledge Digimon and the Digital World for what they really are, we’d like to lay low. But in order for that to happen, someone must go out there to explain about the Digimon to others. It was both my mother and Sora-san’s father who accepted that role wholeheartedly. We told the two everything we knew, and they spoke for us to the TV, newspapers, and magazines.

Being people directly connected to the children and understanding of their position, but also in media and publicity positions, Natsuko, Hiroaki, and Haruhiko took on the jobs of advocating for Digimon and explaining their part to the world, while also deliberately acting as go-betweens so that the kids could maintain their privacy. But nevertheless, at this point, the incident in 2002 was such a major thing that it basically was a turning point for people realizing that Digimon exist and are a major presence, and starting to grill informed parties about the details (and, technically, getting those details from the kids themselves, speaking through said media outlets). Hikari also starts working on a “surprisingly useful” informational video for new Chosen Children confused about having a partner -- encouraging them to contact them for help -- and it is also revealed that Shuu, Miyako’s sisters, and Jun had all just gotten partners, meaning that the issue was now starting to become significantly more relevant to their families.

Kizuna also drops an interesting detail about what happened right after 02, or, rather, right after 2002:

The articles describing Menoa’s Digimon research team have titles that indicate that this is one of the first major Digmon scientific research efforts in the world, indicating that, shortly after Menoa’s admission into university and establishing herself there, she began to open up the field of Digimon academic research (her declared major beforehand had been “biology”, presumably the closest she could get to studying Digimon when such a topic didn’t formally exist yet). This is significant because it means that Gennai and the Agents had finally dropped the embargo on Digimon organized research, since it presumably would have been bad for Menoa’s data to vanish without warning -- and, indeed, it makes sense that they would allow for Menoa’s research team to proceed, since Menoa is a Chosen Child herself who has a vested interest in studying Digimon for the greater good and advocating for them in the same way Haruhiko is.

It also provides potential context as to why Menoa may not have been involved much in Digimon fighting and battles in the past but was chosen as a Chosen Child anyway -- Koushirou describes the definition of a “Chosen Child” as such in Two-and-a-Half Year Break:

Having a partner Digimon isn’t really that special. Being a “Chosen Child” means… to cease the hostilities that break out and inconvenience the Digital World. In order to do so, that child gains a partner Digimon faster than another.

While it’s not necessarily in terms of aggressive fighting, a bright and intelligent child like Menoa being chosen to “fight” in the sense of using her intellect to study more about Digimon and help advocate for them seems like a fitting way to fulfill this role in her own way. But, alas, as Gennai and Homeostasis and the Holy Beasts couldn’t necessarily predict what happened to Ichijouji Ken and his fall into becoming the Kaiser, they didn’t seem to be able to predict Menoa’s unfortunate fate and downfall...

Kizuna and 2010

Again, To Sora citing the number of Digimon partners to be over 30,000 by 2010 correctly tracks with the “doubling every year” principle, so it’s probably prudent to assume it’s still been applying over the years. 30,000 is certainly a lot, but it’s not exactly a huge chunk of the global population -- especially since said 30,000 are spread out all over the world, and it’s hard to say how many of them would even live in Japan, let alone Tokyo. It’s a big enough number that Koushirou and Miyako now need to maintain a whole network of Chosen Children (Hikari’s video presumably helped with that), but there are still a lot of unknowns, like the still uncharted territory of the partnership dissolution phenomenon.

Nevertheless, what we see in Kizuna is what you’d probably expect from a society that has now had eight more years to properly digest the existence of Digimon and Digimon incidents. This is most starkly demonstrated in the opening, when a waitress comes by to berate Agumon and Gabumon for making too much noise -- and that’s it, with no weirdness or being taken aback by their presence or existence, just telling them to calm down. The characters in the movie carry around and parade their Digimon quite openly in almost all walks of life, and others interact with them in a very normal manner. One of the credits scenes even shows Daisuke’s higher-up at vocational school being more annoyed at Daisuke’s fight with V-mon than he is at the fact V-mon is there. A newspaper article from early in the movie also correctly identifies Parrotmon and Greymon as Digimon (even if not their specific species), and it is merely treated as an incident rather than paying any particular attention to the fact that Digimon exist. The drama CD also indicates that Daisuke and co. are at the point of sneaking their Digimon into a karaoke bar because said bar has enough awareness of Digimon to charge them admissions fees!

There’s another interesting minor detail in that Palmon, Tailmon, and Patamon are depicted on digital cameras without any static interference. In Adventure and 02, it was impossible to catch them on digital camera in the real world, because, as per Adventure episode 39 and 02 episode 33 (among others), trying to do so would cause nasty static interference and ruin the attempted photo/recording. (This is presumably why Menoa’s photos with Morphomon seem to be film photos.) But for a society where the presence of Digimon is becoming more and more expected, and digital cameras are naturally becoming more commonplace, it would be very bad if this continued to be a problem -- so it makes sense that, by 2010, technological research would have figured out a way around that.

Obviously, not everyone has a Digimon yet, and it’s not like everything in the world has accounted for the assumption people will be walking around with partners -- after all, Taichi’s thesis still involves having to help advocate for Digimon partners and the fact that many people are still skeptical about them. But nevertheless, people are not surprised or perturbed by them anymore, and when something does happen with them, they’re relatively accepting of them. Again, 30,000+ is not exactly a lot to the extent that the entire population has a partner, but with the doubling-every-year principle in play, it seems like society is already well on its way to adjusting to their increasing presence and the eventual point in 2027-2028 when everyone will be expected to have one.

[eremiss]

11. Preaching to the Choir

Mild 5.5 spoilers below the cut

Gwen frowns at her half-filled pack, mood still a bit wrinkled from the meeting earlier. 

Too wrinkled, surely.

Of course Thancred wants to get back to work. Anyone who knows him knows the first thing he intended to do once Krile’s restrictions were lifted was journey to Garlemald. He’s been chafing at his recovery and limitations practically since the moment his soul returned to his body, and recently, particularly the past week, he’s gotten more slack about hiding his discontent. Much as he likes to tease her for her restlessness, he can’t stand to sit idle any more than she can. The only person more sick of the restrictions is Alisaie.

Even so, hearing him say it aloud had inspired a familiar tug of worry. The same little tug she felt when he declared he would tail Elidibus, and every other time he’s gone off alone. The fact that Urianger will be accompanying him and he won’t be utterly alone offers a bit of comfort, though only a bit.

That he hadn’t shared his intentions with her before the meeting is nettling her a bit, too. 

He hadn’t exactly tried to hide it from her, to be fair. His discussions with Riol and the other intelligence operatives about the current goings-on in Garlemald have been growing particularly long recently, on top of devoting all his spare time to refamiliarizing himself with all of his notes and maps of Vylbrand and everything that changed during his time on the First.

Gwen heaves a sigh and shakes her head. But that’s Thancred’s way of doing things, isn’t it? And the fact he hadn’t tried to hide his preparations and intentions is something of an admission or advanced notice, in its own way.

Still, something more direct would have been nice. She hadn’t needed to tell him she was leaving to fight in Bozja, it had been obvious enough, but she had anyway. 

“That disappointed about me heading into Garlemald, are you?” Thancred’s voice drawls.

Gwen jumps, biting back a squeak of surprise. She spins back to find him closing her door behind him, a lopsided smile on his lips.

She quickly turns to check her chronometer. How long has she been standing around doing nothing? “You’re leaving already?”

“Not quite yet,” he assures amusedly. 

So he’s not here to say goodbye, then. She breathes a sigh of relief and her shoulders loosen and sink.

His smile tilts apologetically as he crosses the room, “But on that note, I’m afraid my visit is more for business than pleasure.”

She cocks her head to the side, humming curiously.

He produces a familiar pouch of cartridges from his pocket, offering it alongside a smile so charming as to be blatantly persuasive. “If you’d be so kind.”

She takes it, marveling briefly at the ridiculous knot tying it shut. Thancred volunteers no explanation, and his suspiciously passive expression gives nothing away no matter how skeptically she squints at him.

A bit of tugging and twisting later, she victoriously upends the pouch and dumps the cartridges on her desk. She fights the satisfied smirk that threatens to curl her lips at the bemused look on Thancred’s face. What’s he supposed to do when he finally does make a knot I can’t undo? Ridiculous man...

“A few things?” she prompts, turning down the edges of the pouch so it will stay open. 

He leans his hip against her desk, glancing over her half-packed bag. “I wondered if you might have a few tinctures or salves to spare.”

Gwen pauses, hand hovering above a cartridge.

“I’d like to have a few for the trip, if you’ve any to spare. I should think they’d be useful to have with us,” he adds casually.

He’s used her homemade concoctions before, but has always made due with whatever she had on-hand in her cabinet. He’s never specifically asked for his own, nevermind taken them with him on an assignment.

Cartridges momentarily forgotten, Gwen drifts over to her collection of salves, tonics, and other concoctions, taking stock of her inventory. Her hands hovered and fluttered indecisively, darting one way and then another as she tried to think of what would be useful. Thancred doesn’t offer much help idly hovering and giving a small shake of his head or nod to proffered suggestions.

They don’t talk. There’s...something in the air between them, not quite tension but not far off from it either. 

They both know there’s something to address, and neither wants to take the plunge. 

Gwen sighs inwardly, coming away with jars of bruise salve, a bitter stimulant to help ward off drowsiness, and a vial of shimmerdust. Thancred wouldn’t need the help sneaking, but Urianger might, and it never hurts to be safe.

Something tight and a little sharp presses against her chest, lingering even after a steadying breath. She’s conscientious of her tone before saying, “I would be able to give you more if I’d known you would be leaving so soon.”

Thancred sighs almost imperceptibly beside her, equally out of relief that she’d broached the subject and exasperation for how she’d gone about it.

“You knew I intended to return to the field as soon as I was able,” he says, folding his arms. “And where I’m most needed is in Garlemald, gathering information.”

“You knew I was going to Bozja, too,” Gwen replies with a frown. “But I didn’t wait to tell you myself until right before I walked out the door.”

He frowns at the floor. She has him there.

“...I don’t suppose saying ‘because I knew it would make you worry’ is an acceptable excuse,” he says with a sigh. 

Gwen offers the assorted jars, neither agreeing or disagreeing. 

“I never relish having to tell you I’m headed off into danger.”

Likewise, she thinks. She never enjoys breaking the news of her newest dangerous assignment either.

“It’s necessary. We need information from Garlemald, I need to refamiliarize myself with the terrain, and Riol and his connections are stretched about as thin as possible,” he goes on. “But I’m just preaching to the choir, aren’t I? You know all of this as well as I do.”

“That doesn’t make it any less dangerous,” she says eventually, frowning at the jars and shifting her weight on her feet.

“Which is why I have these,” he says, laying a hand on the jars she’s holding. “And Urianger, to boot.”

She hums a vaguely agreeable sound. “I suppose that does help.”

They both hesitate, unsure if the conversation is truly complete or not. Theoretically everything is resolved, but it doesn’t quite feel like it.

Thancred tries to take the proffered jars, but Gwen doesn’t let them go. His brows start to knit, a frown tugging at his lips as he peers at her face, searching for an explanation. She shuffles things around until she has a hand free, resting it over his and glancing at the floor, “It still would’ve been nice to hear it from you. Before you were setting out.”

Thancred opens his mouth, closes it, and exhales through his nose. “...Fair enough,” he agrees. “That’s something I shall endeavor to improve on in the future.” After a moment of thought he quirks a small, lopsided smile, “In my defense, you’re always so disappointed to hear that I’m setting out that it just about stops me from leaving altogether.” 

That tickles just right to get her smiling a little, a familiar heat on her cheeks and fluttering starting up in her chest. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Only a bit,” he replies earnestly, smile growing wider and tilting a little more. With both of them smiling, the lingering static in the air finally disperses, and they both breathe small sighs of relief and begin to relax. 

She finally lets him take the jars from her hands and disperse them amongst his pouches and pockets, after which he wastes no time drawing her close.

She brushes her lips against his and then presses their foreheads together, combing her fingers through his hair and trying to release some of the worry and lingering frustration that wants to keep needling at the back of her mind. “Be safe.”

“As I can be, dove,” he replies fondly, “As always.”

--------------------

Preaching to the Choir -- phrase To try to convince someone about something that they already support; to state one's opinion to those who are already most receptive to it.

When you had an idea for the prompt word, but as you get to the end you realize the prompt word doesn't suuuuper fit like you thought it would but you're committed by this point, so you just kinda...shove it in lol

I’ve been having trouble getting super deep into characters like I normally do, but otherwise I’ve been pretty satisfied with all my entries so far, this one included. Maybe I’ll go back some time and dig a bit deeper and add a bit more to this!

Shimmerdust, in one form or another, IS an actual thing in-game, but I’m having trouble remembering what it’s ACTUALLY called. I remember an item’s tooltip (80% sure it was an item for a leve) mentions something along the lines of “and this could ‘theoretically’ be used to make this dust that makes you nigh-on invisible and good and sneaking, but you’re not supposed to so don’t *cough*” with the same energy as that prohibition grape concentrate that said “Definitely DON’T put this in a bottle with yeast and forget about it for 30 days, oh no, because then you’ll have WINE and THAT’S BAD” If I ever manage to track down the exact name, I’ll update with it!

[ilguna]

Redamancy - Chapter Five (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, GORE, MURDER.

wc; 12.2k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You take your time getting ready, slightly comforted by the idea that Finnick has it handled. If he’s down there, and a situation arises where your tributes need something, he’s there to send in the sponsor gift. You’re sure that he’s even got other mentors to keep him company if he gets bored.

Still, you find yourself unintentionally moving quickly anyway, a deep feeling in your gut that not everything is what it seems. You rush through your shower, barely get your hair done. When you get dressed, it’s very simple clothing since you’re not expecting anything special today. 

You turn on the tv to catch up on what you might have missed while you eat. Knowing that you’ll be in the betting room for a while, you eat until you’re completely full. Even then, you grab some snacks for later. Cashmere and Enobaria might have brought lunch yesterday, but there’s no guarantee that the same happens today.

As far as you can tell, all the tributes are just waking up or still sleeping. Annie and Marsh are inside of the shack, dividing up supplies and quietly discussing what they’ll be doing today. It’s hard to know exactly since there’s no volume and no motioning this time around.

You think that they’ll either continue moving parallel to the dam to the right, or set up some snares for whatever animals that lie inside of the woods. You know that would be one of the first orders of business, especially when you don’t have an endless amount of supplies to count on anymore.

The careers are sleeping in the cornucopia, not a big surprise. The girl from One is sat upright, hand gripping a knife, clearly supposed to be on watch. But she’s out cold, the early morning air tends to make a lot of people drowsy inside of the arena. They don’t really have anything to worry about too, so that just worsens it.

As for all the other tributes, they’re in their own little bubbles. District Seven is still asleep, under the cover of spring green leaves and sticks. A feeble shelter, and it’s pretty obvious that they’re there. District Nine girl is awake, she’s laying in the middle of the grass, hands over her stomach. You don’t know how she’s so nonchalant. She’s got no supplies.

Six boy is asleep, the map that the Capitol provides shows that he’s far enough away to not even worry about others finding him. Sometime in the afternoon yesterday he stopped wandering and started hunting for food. You have a feeling that he’s going to get right back to it today, it only makes sense.

The other tribute in the village is asleep, as well as the District Eight girl, who’s in the woods. No one died last night, which is a good sign. It just means that today is either going to go very slowly or too quickly. After the first day of the games, tributes slowly get picked off. When and what order is always a toss up.

You leave the apartment and head down to the betting room, forcing yourself to take your time. Finnick will be there, your tributes just woke up, there’s only one other person awake in that arena right now. However, it’s still worrying that no one knows where she is exactly. Well, the gamemakers have to know because she has a tracker inside of her, but they’re purposely not showing you guys to add some sort of suspense to it.

The betting room is fairly empty, only a few mentors mill around. Most are still in their rooms sleeping, same goes for every other Capitol citizen in this city. The first day of the games is always the most exciting. The days following is when the boring shit really starts.

Your eyes sweep the room, looking for Finnick to tell him to get to bed before the sun rises too high. But you’re only met with the friendly sight of Gloss half-asleep on the couch. Finnick is nowhere to be seen in here. You press your lips together. Maybe he just left? But the clock says that you aren’t late, and you didn’t even see him in the hallway.

He left early, didn’t he? You asked one simple job from him, all he had to do was sit here all night. And he’s not even here. Oh, it seems as if he’s suddenly forgotten just how awful you can be. He thought threatening was the only way you could get what you wanted? He’s about to see something new.

Two can play at this game. Cat and mouse won’t be fun when you’re cornered with nowhere else to go, Odair. You don’t do second chances.

If today is slow and boring, that just means tomorrow is going to pick up. It’ll decide how the entire rest of the week is going to go for the tributes inside of the arena. You’ll give Finnick one more day, let him think that he’s in control and you won’t have any sort of leverage. But then he’ll be trapped. 

You’re not sure when or how Finnick forgot that you create master plans, but he’s going to be reminded that anything he does, you can do better. You’re always two steps ahead. This is like your own personal game, you already told him you’re in control. It’s just time to prove it.

You pat Gloss’ knee when you pass in front of him, taking a seat on the couch. He hums slightly, opening his eyes to see you. A smile creeps onto his face, and he turns his head away from you.

“Good morning.” You toss a snack bag at him, and then curl your legs up beneath you, “How long have you been out here for?”

“Only a couple of hours. I’m regretting it already.” Gloss mutters, taking the snack bag and opening it up, “Thanks.”

“Figured one of us would need it.” You smile, looking at the Morning Line Odds. Only a few changes, all of which belong to the careers. Annie is still at 6-1, Marsh is at 7-1, “Is there any chance you saw Finnick down here this morning when you came around?”

Gloss thinks for a moment, “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

The confirmation from Gloss is really all you need. Even if Finnick were to bribe Gloss to keep quiet, it wouldn’t last. Gloss would take the bribe but still come around and tell you. You and him have known each other longer, he’s not going to lie to you. Much less keep information like that from you. It’s fairly important, and they all know your annoyance when it comes to Finnick.

Your silence, and probably the look on your face, tips off Gloss, “Oh, you talked to him last night?”

The smile you give Gloss isn’t exactly warm, “I waited in his room for hours until he finally came back. He didn’t even look tired. I told him to come down here and wait until eight just in case anything were to happen in the arena and…”

You motion, there’s no Finnick. No trace of Finnick, no memory lingering. He flaked. You warned him not to do it, just to wait it out. It was only a couple of hours, and he couldn’t do it. 

“Does he realize that it’s easier than he thinks?” Gloss asks, chewing.

You stare, shrug and then fall back onto the couch slightly. You’re tired, and disappointed. He’s mentored before, he knows the severity of being there just in case. The arena is a mystery, sometimes it’s even unpredictable to the gamemakers. There are hundreds of thousands of different scenarios that could happen.

One tribute could run into another. Will they fight? That means injuries, the tribute might need a sponsor to make sure they get through the night. Capitol escorts can’t confirm or deny gifts, and other mentors can’t do it for you either. Maybe the tributes will silently agree to an alliance for a minute and leave each other alone. 

Or maybe, they’ll confirm an alliance, then you’ll have to work with other mentors. The sooner you get that line of communication going, the better the connection will be. The more likely it’ll be for your tributes to get along and get the things that they might need.

Mutts are constantly around the corner, and the gamemakers have endless possibilities of what they can send inside of the arena. They’ve been working at this for decades. One dull moment inside of the arena could cost a life. Also, accidents happen too. The tributes don’t always intend to self-sabotage but you’ve seen tributes get too used to the knife on their belt and forget that it’s there. You move the wrong way, and suddenly you’re impaled.

All of this and more happens at inconvenient times. You could be just waking up, in the middle of a nap, eating, talking to someone important. Maybe you’re already sending in a different sponsor gift for another tribute and have to switch gears out of the blue. 

You need a second hand, you’re so fucking tired of running on two percent. Finnick is here for a reason, it’s to look over the tributes. He’s supposed to want to help! Those tributes have no choice but to rely on you guys, and he’s making it out to look like an option. 

And if it’s the nighttime shift that’s the problem because of how boring and slow it is, you’ll switch. The problem is, you’re not sure why he would want to do that. With his current problem still going on every single year, he should want the night shift. Basically no one is here, everyone goes home for the night except for a select few.

You should be taking the daytime anyway, because you’re on your toes better than he is. He’s gotten sluggish, he isn’t as quick as you are. It’s just what happens when you’re out of practice, or refuse to do your job for so long. You’ve picked up the ability to work quicker. But you can’t sleep quicker, or eat quicker, or speed up what’s going on inside of the arena. 

You close your eyes and rub your face. There’s several ways you can go about this, with one taking more time and potentially putting your tributes in danger. And the second one being not as self-respecting, you’ll turn heads, but it’ll get Finnick to come around quicker.

The answer should be obvious. You should want the one that will get Finnick to start as soon as possible. You’re not exactly sure what you’re subjecting yourself to if you do it, though. But you also don’t want to put the tribute in danger if it’s not needed. 

You’ll start tomorrow. You’re already down here, so you probably shouldn’t leave for the rest of the day anyway. Especially since Annie and Marsh are awake now, who knows what kind of trouble they can get themselves into. For all you know, they could come across the other tributes and immediately pounce.

“Well, you’ve got to have some sort of plan, right?” Gloss asks, you look at him, “You’re not the master planner for nothing.”

“Ha.” you let out, cracking a smile, “Oh, I’ve got plans. And I’m going to do the one I know will work first.”

“Straight to the point. Care to share?” 

“You’ll see tomorrow morning.” you wink.

Around noon is when the rest of the tributes start to get up and ready for the day. By then, Annie and Marsh have moved pretty far away from the shack. They were sure not to leave anything behind that might show the others that someone was there. It would be an open invitation for a stalker for the rest of the games.

It was smart for them to move away too, since there’s no doubt that everyone is going to start looking for water now. With the exception of the boy from Six, who’s still traveling but not as efficiently today. He probably thinks that he’s in the clear, so he can take his time. The only person that doesn’t seem to be looking for water is Three boy, who looks like he’s searching for food.

The career pack has moved to the woods, narrowly missing the Seven tributes while they’re at it. Unfortunately, the careers find the stream of water pretty easily, but it wasn’t through tracking, just pure luck. The Seven tributes follow them, so that also creates a problem. Five unwanted people now know the vague location of where Annie and Marsh had stayed. It's probably not safe to be there anymore.

While the careers aren’t in the cornucopia, the Eight girl sneaks in and gets a backpack. That’s going to change her whole game, especially since it’s a backpack from far back inside. It’ll be carrying everything she could ever hope for, with the exception of water. She’ll still have to find that on her own. 

Enobaria comes around with lunch, but there’s no sign of Wade. She lets you know that they’ll probably be taking the night shift from now on. Cashmere doesn’t mind sitting here in an empty room, and Wade doesn’t like dealing with the Capitol citizens. And Enobaria is much better at communicating what she wants from them, or getting to do what she wants.

Either way, you’re glad to have her. You, Gloss and Enobaria enjoy yourselves for the rest of the day. Like you expected, it’s a slow day. Annie and Marsh set up snares and manage to catch a single rabbit to share. They’re a couple of hours away from where they’re staying, so they have to make the entire journey back and be careful while they’re at it.

The careers tried looking for other tributes, but the District Seven tributes are smart enough to keep out of sight. The girl from Nine is still on her own little mission, she doesn’t seem like quite the threat just yet. Eight girl doesn’t find water and takes shelter flush up against the dam. While Five boy wanders aimlessly, getting to know his surroundings.

And finally, the two tributes in the village are so far apart from each other and the people in the woods that they don’t have to worry about anything. It makes for an uneventful evening, but that just means tomorrow is going to pick up. The gamemakers won’t let this go on for very long. The Hunger Games is supposed to be a show, after all.

Since you’re the only one that seems to genuinely care for your tributes, you stay well past dinner to make sure that they’re in a good position before leaving. Annie and Marsh cooked their rabbit while there was still daylight. They also didn’t move from the snares, just in case someone were to spot them. You watched as Annie applied s little more of the healing cream to her cuts before deciding that she didn’t want to use anymore just in case she needed it in the future.

After they were done eating, they moved all the way back over to the shack. With it being unoccupied by others, they have shelter for another night. You wonder how long it’ll be before someone finds the shack and decides to make it into their own place. Maybe that’ll be the push for Annie and Marsh to relocate in the village.

Either way, once Annie takes watch, short blade by her thigh, tying and untying the rope, you think that it’s as good a time as any to leave. You hug Cashmere goodbye and wish them an uneventful night. Wade does the two-finger wave from his eyebrow as a goodbye.

The apartment is still pretty lit up when you get inside. There’s no sign of Elysia as far as you can see. Knowing her, she’s probably gone to bed already so that she’ll be up early tomorrow. And Finnick is avoiding you, there’s no question about it. It won’t last long, you know he’ll be talking to you in a day or two.

You head straight to your room and order small meals on the food transport thing. Chicken, vegetables, fruits, soups, ice cream, cake, everything appears within a couple of seconds. You take your time eating, letting the drowsiness come to you. You’d rather be tired before going to bed than just laying down for hours and hoping that you’ll magically fall asleep.

When you’re full, you stack the plates in one spot, change clothes and brush your teeth before falling onto the bed. You stare off into the dark for a little while, dreading what you’ll be wearing in the morning. That doesn’t keep you from sleeping though, as much as you would have liked it to.

—

You spend a while in the shower, scrubbing your skin even after the soap is gone, trying to stall getting out. The longer you spend inside, the more you’re left to think about what you’ve agreed to. Well, ‘agreed’ to.

“It’ll only be a day.” You say, letting the machines dry your body and style your hair, “Maybe two if it really comes down to it.”

You put on shorts and a shirt first to eat breakfast, sitting at the table all by yourself. Still no Finnick, but Elysia saw you before she left this morning. She wanted to tell you that she’d be stopping by in the betting room to help you out somewhat. She can relate to the Capitol people, she can convince them that Annie and Marsh are worth betting on.

You brush your teeth, and find yourself staring at a coral pink dress. One that’s just long enough to be modest, but still shows as much skin as possible. The last time you really dressed up for the Capitol was during your Victory Tour. You don’t think you’ve worn a dress purposely since. Even during the reaping, you stick to long pants.

Either way, you pull the dress of the hanger and carefully put it on. It takes you a moment to pull the zipper up to your mid-back, since reaching is a pain in the ass. You slip your feet into white flats and then make your way back over to the bathroom.

Without focusing too much on the outfit and just how breezy it is, you carefully go through the makeup, only applying what’s necessary. Mascara, a small bit of eyeshadow, concealer if it’s dire. By the time you’ve worked through it all, you’d say that the makeup Leo does is excessive compared to what you’ve done. Then again, that’s his job.

You put on the ring, brush your teeth carefully, and then head down to the betting room. There will be no snacks to bring today, you’ll actually be eating at a place with the others nearby. And since the Hunger Games is the primary interest, you won’t miss a single thing. 

It’s half past nine when you get into the betting room. Gloss and Enobaria sit across from each other at a table, one chair open for you to take. As soon as Enobaria even catches a glimpse of you, she’s doing a double-take to make sure that she saw correctly. Gloss has his back turned, so he waits for you to come around.

“Hey,” you tuck the dress under yourself and find that it doesn’t provide as much protection as you thought. 

You looked in the mirror before you left, and you definitely can’t see anything unless you twirl. But you thought that the fabric would semi-protect you from the frigid ass chairs. It doesn’t, your face twists once you sit down. The back of your thighs are fully exposed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Enobaria laughs, eyebrows quirking inward.

Gloss stares for a second, and then snorts, “This is your plan?”

“What plan?”

You lean against the table slightly, “Okay first, the plan is going to work really good, and you’re going to realize that when Finnick comes down here tomorrow.” You give Gloss a look, he shakes his head. Moving onto Enobaria, “Second, Finnick has been avoiding me and this room so I’m forcing his hand.”

She nods, “By doing what exactly?”

“Jealousy.” You smile, “You’ll see. Just wait until it starts to get busier.”

In the meantime, you have to focus on your tributes. Annie and Marsh are already on their way to the snares, the gamemakers tune in to allow you to hear them talking about moving spots. Annie doesn’t want to stay near the dam, Marsh isn’t sure about a good time to leave.

If you were them, you’d leave early in the morning while everyone is sleeping. It’s almost a guaranteed safe path to the village. There’s no doubt that the careers are going to be sleeping in the cornucopia; it has all of the supplies and they wouldn’t want to risk anyone else getting their hands on weapons. And from what you’ve observed for years now, the lookouts always fall asleep.

If they leave just before the sun rises, the darkness will cover them. The only reason why you’d think that they wouldn’t want to move to the village is because of the water. They’re not sure if there’s water around the houses, while on the other hand, the stream is right there if they need it. They’ll be able to find it a lot quicker.

It’s only the third day, though. They can probably take another day or two before deciding to leave. The gamemakers don’t want to end the game too early, so they’re probably pretty safe by the dam. However, comparing the dam to the village, the village would be preferable. There’s only one tribute that Annie and Marsh would have to worry about. The dam has four--potentially five--tributes. And with the careers knowing about the stream now, it bumps it up to seven.

Still, your tributes get up, refill on water, and leave for the day. With that, the perspective switches to the only other group that’s really important: the careers. They’re gearing up today, getting backpacks, placing weapons in spots that you’d think is uncomfortable. Looks like they’re looking for a slaughter today. You’re not sure if they’ll even be able to get that far.

The girl from One seems to be hellbent on going after Annie and Marsh, but that’s for a good reason. Annie literally killed her counterpart, Colt, you think his name was. It’s obviously a revenge thing, it happens a lot inside of the Hunger Games. You kill a member of an alliance and naturally the alliance is going to try and come back around.

It’s a problem, though. If it were only Annie, there’s nearly a one-hundred percent chance of all three of the careers making it out alive. Even with Annie’s knowledge in fighting, she won’t be able to hold all of them off. Same thing with Marsh, he’s an excellent fighter, but at some point you’ve got to draw the line.

However, it’s not just Annie, it’s Annie and Marsh. They’re a duel package, both you’d consider at the top of their classes. There was one time you put them head to head in a fighting match, out of yours and Anchor’s pure curiosity, and you had to call it off a couple minutes in. They would have killed each other.

If the careers even dared to come at them, especially when the both of them are prepared for a fight, the careers would not leave unscathed. In fact, you think that Annie and Marsh could overpower them easily, kill all three of them and the only people they’d have to worry about in the arena after that, would be the nobodies.

It wouldn’t be an easy job to do, they’d probably get hurt in the process. You think that if they were to do it, they’d have to be the ones to initiate the fight. The problem with that is, Annie would never do that unless her life was in immediate danger. And Marsh wouldn’t want to start it by himself. A good example of this is when Colt had his eyes locked on Annie during the bloodbath. She knew that it was fight or die, so she chose fight.

Hell, if they just ambushed the careers while they’re sleeping in the cornucopia, they’d only have to worry about killing one person. Especially if they killed two at the same time. Again, the problem would be solved. It would make for a quick Hunger Games, but no one ever wants to be inside of the arena for more than a week or two. You were in there for three, and look at what it did to you.

The arena slowly begins to come to life when it hits eleven, which is also when the influx of Capitol citizen starts. You take one look over the Morning Line Odds to see that it was the same as yesterday for everyone. No one has moved up or down, probably because there hasn’t been a chance for any tribute to show off what they know.

And with that, you start your plan of moving around the betting room, talking to everyone that you can. Most you haven’t seen in a while, so it’s basically catching up like old friends. Except, you aren’t friends and you don’t really care what they’ve been up to. But as long as they think that you like them, the more likely they are to sponsor.

And with the people that you haven’t seen before, you introduce yourself and let them have their moment of realization. You’re not a living legend, you haven’t done anything special enough to even earn a title like that. It’s more like you have a habit of not opening up your horizons and allowing people to talk to you often. You approaching them is a whole new chapter of the story.

They seem to enjoy your presence, it’s not before long you’ve got your own little circle made. People of all different classes, different colors and thicker accents stand around you. They ask questions about your tributes, you give off more information than necessary in the hopes that they’ll get attached to the idea of Annie and Marsh. They ask if the interview was planned, and you tell them that you were just as shocked as everyone else. Which is obviously a complete lie, and anyone who had actually been paying attention to you or Finnick would know that.

That part doesn’t matter. What does is the fact that you’re gaining attention, and therefore people are taking notice of what you’re wearing. The mentors normally wear casual clothes, they don’t dress up nicely. Appealing to the Capitol is always the last thing that they want. Which you can completely understand why, but you’re going for the opposite today. And it’s working.

It’s sometime around three in the afternoon when the gamemakers suddenly square in on the Six boy. The room falls silent enough for you all to actually hear what the boy is saying--er singing. He’s singing some song to himself, one that you don’t recognize, so it’s probably native to District Six.

That’s not what has you all quiet and confused, though. Everyone could care less about the singing. In fact, no one really cares about the tribute in general. But if the gamemakers think that he’s important enough to get a full screen all by himself, then there’s something wrong. 

He’s wandering along a dirt path, hands swinging by his sides. He almost looks happy, being out there all by himself. You wouldn’t ever wander that far, not without knowing that there’s food or water nearby. It’s literally the only thing that can keep you inside of the arena. But as long as he’s having fun… right?

Yeah, well, one moment he’s just fine and looks like he could actually be inside of his home district instead dof the Hunger Games. And the next, there’s some sort of electrical explosion, with the audio blasting loud enough to even startle you. The boy flies back, hits the ground hard and a cannon goes off. He’s dead. District Six is going home.

You look over to Enobaria and Gloss, who look just as confused as you feel. You excuse yourself from the Capitol people and join them, “Guesses?”

Enobaria opens her mouth, closes it, and then reopens, “Maybe he reached the end of the arena?”

“But has that ever happened in the past?” Gloss asks, you turn so you can watch the screen again.

It’s full of reactions to the cannon. Annie and Marsh pause, debate, and then get back to going around their snares. The careers are unsure, One girl hopes that it’s Annie, you can’t help but roll your eyes and wait for the gamemakers to move on. As for everyone else, they’re either indifferent or they’re thinking what the rest of you are: just one more tribute out of the game. 

“There had to be one before, right?” you look at Gloss, “The arena can’t be infinite.”

“Do any of us know any older mentors that’s left out here?” Enobaria asks. 

Your eyes find Cecelia, the female mentor from District Eight. She’s sitting on some chair, hands resting in her lap while she watches the screen. But she’s only in her thirties, so it wouldn’t be that far before you and Finnick. Actually, you think all the older tributes, the ones that you’d consider dinosaurs, has gone home already. District Eleven had two mentors from twenty years or more before you were born. And Haymitch isn’t that old, but he’s got more than fifteen years on you.

“Cecelia…?” you loosely suggest, and then turn back towards them, “I don’t know.”

“Well, at any rate, your Capitol friends are missing you.” Enobaria says.

You all look over to see that they’re beckoning you over, waiting for you to join them. It’s only been a couple of hours and you’ve already left a lasting impression. Enobaria says that she’ll ask Cecelia, you go ahead and go back to what you were doing before. 

You stay with them, but don’t pay as much attention. The tribute dying like that shouldn’t be this important to you, but you’ve never seen it before. Knowing stuff like this for the future of the boarding school is important. The more you know, the more you can advise tributes. It increases efficiency. Plus it’s something you’d never expect, so you wouldn’t really think of it in the first place.

Maybe Mags will know, or Anchor. You’ll just have to ask them when you get back home. It’s not worth the phone call. Plus, you’re sure that all the times that you’re available, they won’t be. Unlike you, they actually go to bed at regular times. They don’t need to stay up at all hours of the night.

And if Cecelia knows, then she can give you an answer. Sometimes she has the older male victor, whatever his name is. He won a couple of years after Mags, but he’s not doing so hot. While Mags only had a stroke, you’ve heard about his medical stuff in passing. He’s basically deteriorating. Well, in that case, he probably won’t have any recollection.

When the evening starts to become more prominent, people start leaving for supper. You find yourself saying more goodbyes than holding conversation at all. You’ve learned a lot today, like how you’re not exactly in Finnick’s shadow as much as you thought you were. And Annie is actually pretty adored for her mannerisms.

You find yourself back with Gloss and Enobaria, falling onto the couch and rubbing your feet because they hurt from you standing for so long. Enobaria tells you that Cecelia hasn’t seen anything like it before, more like heard about it. Coming across reruns of previous Hunger Games is hard, mostly because the capitol is all about the Hunger Games that’s happening right now.

But that doesn’t mean that it can’t be passed from mouth to ear. With that, Cecelia briefly joins your table, pulling up a chair with a polite smile. You’ve talked to Cecelia before, she’s got a motherly aspect to her, and that’s because she has a couple of kids of her own. She got married after her Hunger Games, which is not something a lot of victors tend to do. No one wants the chance of their children going through what you’ve already been through.

Unless something happens, you think that you won’t be having kids, either. Worrying over Alyssum is already giving you grey hairs, and she’s seven. You’ve already decided that she’s going to start the training early, as soon as she hits nine, she’s going to be in the boarding school as often as you can get her in there. And unlike the other kids, she won’t be starting slow.

Anyway, Cecelia starts at the very beginning by asking you three if you know Haymitch’s Hunger Games, which is an obvious yes. He was a Quarter Quell winner, he went up against forty-seven other tributes. And while his arena looked like heaven, it was a disguise for the worst imaginable nightmare. He couldn’t trust anything inside.

Well, Cecelia says that Haymitch briefly teamed up with one of the girl tributes from home. The two of them wandered for a while, even forcing themselves through hedges with fire. But when they got through, they found out that it was a cliff with jagged rocks at the bottom. Cecelia immediately relates this back to your games, saying that the cliff was basically a copycat.

Haymitch wanted to stay at the cliff, the girl wanted to leave. They said their goodbyes, but it wasn’t long until the girl was dead because of some pink birds that speared her throat. Later, two more tributes would end up dying in their own horrifying ways, leaving just Haymitch and a girl career to fight it out.

“It was a gorey fight.” Cecelia says, her voice quiet as if she doesn’t want to offend Haymitch. But he’s nowhere to be seen, in fact, he’s probably back home by now.

The girl had lost an eye, but not before Haymitch’s stomach had been completely cut open. Haymitch ran through the beautiful landscape, holding his intestines in while being chased by the career girl. He led her all the way to the cliffside, ultimately cornering himself. 

You picture yourself side-by-side with Haymitch back when you were in your own Hunger Games. Half-dead, suffering from typhoid, the only thing running through your body anymore was adrenaline. It was fight or die, and you didn’t want to die. You were so close to going home.

And Haymitch, holding in his stomach, back to the cliff, knowing that he led her there for a reason. It was to stall, to tire her out and have a sliver of a chance at making it back home by some miracle. You and him were practically the same age when you won the Hunger Games. While Haymitch was sixteen, you were fifteen.

Cecelia says that the career girl threw the ax she was carrying just as Haymitch collapsed to the floor. The ax flew over the side of the cliff, officially getting rid of the only weapon she had. While she tried to stop the bleeding from her eye, Haymitch was seizing on the ground. He was probably minutes away from death.

She pauses for a moment, “And then the ax came back.”

“What?” you three ask at the same time.

“The ax came back up and killed the career girl, making Haymitch the victor. It happened because Haymitch reached the end of the arena. The forcefield or whatever it was at the bottom threw it back. It’s the same technology that’s used with the balconies to keep tributes from jumping off.” Cecelia says.

She’s right. You even showed Annie and Marsh yourself. You knew that the arena wasn’t limitless, that it had to stop at some point but you didn’t think that it would be built like that. You thought it would be some sort of unbreakable wall that the tributes wouldn’t be able to get through.

Okay, well, this changes a lot, actually.

Cecelia wraps up the story, telling you that Snow thought that Haymitch collapsing was an act of rebellion. Because of it, Haymitch had his entire family and girlfriends at the time killed because of it. This is just another puzzle piece to the misery that is Haymitch Abernathy, but at least some of his actions nowadays can be explained. If you were him, you’d probably turn to drinking too.

You all bid Cecelia goodbye when she leaves, thanking her for the information. Annie and Marsh have just reached their shack again when the sun begins to set. You don’t want to stay in the betting room for any longer than you have to. Plus, now you’ve got to ask Elysia why she didn’t make it down at all today, not that you really mind. You’re sure she would’ve had a mouthful and a half to say about what you’re wearing.

You hug Gloss and Enobaria, “Finnick will be with you tomorrow, right?”

“More than likely.” You give them a slight grin, “If he doesn’t look very happy, don’t be surprised.”

“Evil genius.” Gloss mutters, you elbow him.

“Goodnight, good luck with your tributes.”

“Thanks.” Enobaria waves, you leave the betting room while you can.

The dress wasn’t all that bad by the end of the day. It was hard to get used to at first, and the paranoia of others staring was a constant in your mind. But after you got into conversations, it was easier to forget what you were doing. If the Capitol wasn’t the way it is, you think that you’d like to stay here permanently.

Laurel is sat at the table when you get up, and you guess that instantly answers your question about where Elysia has been. They’ve probably been working together at Laurel's place. As much as it doesn't seem like it at times, Laurel actually enjoys the company of others, especially when she’s sketching out new ideas for the tribute parade and whatnot. Normally she relies on Pleurisy for the company, though, so something must’ve changed.

At first, no one seems to actually comprehend your presence until you’re standing at the table in front of them. Only then does Elysia stare at you, Laurel minimally raises her eyebrows before going back to sipping on her red wine. She doesn’t care, you’re sure that she actually enjoys you putting her designs to use for once.

“Finnick around?”

“Just left. You missed him.” Elysia says.

He must’ve taken the other elevator, which brings him to a different part of the building. It’s away from the betting room, and it’s a long walk to get to. But with his determination at avoiding you, you’re sure that anything is possible when it comes to him. Hers managed the couple of days thus far, who knows how long he’d try and keep it up for if it was his choice.

Fortunately, you’re smarter than him sometimes. If it were you, you probably wouldn’t have tested your own patience and wit after the reaping on the train. Really, it doesn’t take a genius to know when someone isn’t fucking around. After the whole week that you just went through, you’d think he'd know that by now.

At any rate, you eat dinner with Elysia and Laurel. It’s not at all quiet like it has been the last couple of days. In fact, the entire reason why Laurel is here in the first place is to discuss whether or not you think that Annie or Marsh is going to win. She wants to start preparing the outfits now, because the sooner they’re done, the better. It’ll leave room for you guys to focus on other matters.

Of course, your answer is yes. There’s no doubt that your tributes have a fighting chance. There might be half the arena still in the game, but it’ll only be a matter of time before they’re gone too. At the beginning rate that they were dying at, you knew that the games would be over quickly. A week and a half you said, and the half is already over.

Laurel’s glad to hear that you have confidence in the tributes. After dessert, you stick around them for a little while, only leaving when you've been assured that they won’t need your opinion for anything else. With that, you go to your room to wipe off the makeup and go to bed. 

It’s a rinse and repeat the following morning. You think that it can’t hurt to get ready just in case Finnick hadn’t caught the word yet. But you’re sure by now that a lot of the Capitol has heard how vulnerable you made yourself yesterday. Either way, you wash your hair, do it in the same style it was before you pulled it out last night, and then put on the dress.

Yesterday it was a coral pink, today it’s long-sleeved and has white lace. You use the same white shoes, since they’re not scuffed and they actually match today. You take your time in the bathroom, slip the ring over your finger, and make your way out of the hallway. You haven’t put this much effort into what you look like since after your Hunger Games, when the reporters were everywhere and taking pictures. You didn’t really have a choice.

You’re two steps out of the doorway when you see that the table isn’t vacant this morning. You pause for a moment, staring at the bronze-colored hair. His back is turned to you, which is unfortunate since you have a smug grin on your face. You’d love for him to see just how victorious you are.

See, Finnick can run and hide, but you know how to bait and hook. It took one day of showing skin and getting the Capitol riled up to draw him out. A part of you wishes that he would’ve stayed back a little while longer, just to see how much he could tolerate before it was too much. But you’re glad that he’s made it easy for you.

You head down the three steps, passing by him to take your seat at the other end of the table. You can’t even do that, Finnick grabs a hold of your wrist tightly, spinning you towards him. When you make eye contact, you see that he’s glaring, straight-faced. You can’t say that you’re surprised, you knew that he wouldn’t be happy. Having your hand forced is never a pretty sight.

“Go change.” He says, not letting you go.

Your face twists, “No—“

“If you want me to help, you’ll go and change.” Finnick says.

You squint at him, “You’ll help me for the rest of the games.”

Finnick nods, letting you go. You stand there for a moment. If he goes back on his word, you can just try the second plan. This also gives you an excuse to not wear this in the betting room. Without a word, you go back to your room.

You don’t have a lot of time, so you end up changing into jeans and a white shirt, slipping on laceless tennis shoes. The makeup can stay because it’s not all that noticeable anyway. It’s just there to accentuate what you already have. You join Finnick at the table again, eating in silence.

When you’re done, you quickly brush your teeth and meet him at the elevator. He jabs his thumb into the button, calling the ride to you two. You get in first, press the button to the betting room, and head all the way down. At some point, Finnick crosses his arms, staring at the door in front of him.

“You’re so stupid.” Finnick says.

You look at him, eyebrows raised, “Excuse you?”

He shakes his head, “You can’t just go out and do shit like that. You’ll cause problems for yourself.”

“Finnick, as much as you like to think I’m oblivious, I’m not.” You snap, “You think I dressed up without knowing what the Capitol would say? What they would think?”

“Well, you were stupid enough to try it a second time!” He bursts.

You stomp towards him, swiftly grabbing his shirt collar to pull him to your height. Much like how you grabbed Wade, but this time Finnick can’t push himself away to escape. Not when you slam his back against the glass wall, trapping him here.

“Do not speak to me like that.” Your voice is measured, but you’d love to beat him to near death in here. If there is one word that doesn’t describe you, it’s stupid. You’re not stupid. If you were stupid, you wouldn’t have made it out of that arena alive with Finnick, “Do it again, you won’t like what happens. After all your shit that I’ve put up with, you owe me some respect.”

“I don’t owe you anything.” Finnick’s confidence is admirable, but he should really learn when to keep his mouth shut. The fact that he doesn’t seem bothered at all pisses you off more.

You let go of Finnick’s shirt with one hand, seeing the wrinkles that you’ve left behind on the collar. But with the one hand that still has a tight grip, you twist your hand, and throw him to the other end of the elevator. Your hand slaps the button that’ll keep the elevator in place. Finnick might have been able to catch himself, since the elevator is so tiny, if it weren’t for your foot that you kicked out in time to trip him.

He hits the floor, turns to sit against the wall, and stares at you with wide eyes. Your breathing has increased, a tightness growing in your throat, “I am so fucking sick and tired of your fucking attitude!” Your voice is loud, “I have done nothing but let you off easy for the past week, and this is how you treat me?”

Your fingers curl into fists, “All I wanted was help. I asked for your help. I even gave you the fucking nighttime to make it easier for you. There’s no one in there at night, which means that you’re not put in any sort of danger. And I get it that it’s a little hard to trust me and realize that I’m working in your best interest, but it’s true.

“So do me a fucking favor.” you suck in air through your teeth, relaxing your hands and pressing the button again, “And stop acting like I’m beneath you. I’m not, and if I was, I would’ve stooped down to your shitty level and stopped paying attention to our tributes too.”

The doors open, you place your hand out to keep them from closing, “This is not a game, and if it was, you would’ve lost by now.”

You start off without him, getting more than halfway down the hall before you finally hear him following. When you get inside of the betting room, you see that neither Gloss or Enobaria are sitting on the couch. In fact, they’re standing in a small group of people by the sponsor table.

You check the Morning Line Odds to see if anyone has died. They shouldn’t have run out of food already, and they know where water is. If they’re getting sponsored right now, that means they got into some sort of fight. Which means that someone should’ve died but there’s no new faces greyed out.

The only real difference is the odds, Marsh has gone from a 7-1 to a 6-1. Same goes for a few of the other tributes, they either increased or decreased, with the exception of the careers, who still hold the same odds that they had yesterday. The girl from One is a 4-1, the girl from Two is a 5-1, and her district partner is a 3-1. 

You head towards them, wanting to hear what’s happened. The screen is showing anything too interesting, it’s the same thing it’s been for the past two mornings. The only change is that the careers are awake this early in the morning, and they’ve got a bigger spot on screen than usual.

Enobaria sees you through her peripheral, and moves slightly so that she can talk to you. She also spares a minor glance behind you, and you do the same to make sure that Finnick hasn’t found a way to disappear into thin air. He hasn’t, he’s actually still coming towards you.

“What happened?” you ask.

Gloss looks over at the sound of your voice, and then does the exact same thing that you and Enobaria just did to see Finnick, “A scuffle.”

Enobaria snorts, “A lot more than a scuffle--Sanguin would’ve killed Geare if it weren’t for Vanilee!”

You blink. “Who?”

“Sanguin is my tribute.” Gloss says, “She got into a fight with Geare, Enobaria’s male tribute. It was a disagreement, and it escalated a lot more than it should’ve.”

“And Vanilee is the girl, who nearly got killed for stepping in.” Enobaria glares at Gloss for a second, and then she turns her eyes on Finnick, “Do you know what personal space is?”

“Don’t you have something more important to focus on?” Finnick retaliates.

Enobaria doesn’t say anything else to him, turning her back, “Anyway, no one died but they’re hurt so we’re organizing two separate gifts to send. Sanguin went off by herself to the village.”

Well, you’re not sure what she’ll be trying to find at the village. There’s only the Three boy hiding out there, and there are far too many houses to just start randomly searching. It’s not like she even knows that the tribute is out there, anyway. Your best guess is that she went to clear her head.

When they start talking about who’s to send first, Enobaria immediately interjects, “I should send mine first because Sanguin attacked Geare.”

“Oh, give it up.” Gloss says, “If your tributes had a shred of common sense, they’d be listening to Sanguin.”

“Except Sanguin just wants revenge.” Enobaria bites back, bearing her sharp, white teeth, “Annie and Marsh don’t pose that big of a threat, anyway. They’re in the woods surviving, not actively killing anyone. Annie got lucky that Colt was a fucking moron.”

Gloss opens his mouth, but Enobaria’s moved onto sending the sponsor gift. He gives you a look, “She acts like her tributes wouldn’t be desperate to do the exact same thing if Annie killed one of them.”

“True.” you mutter, “I don’t think your alliance is going to last very long.”

“Neither do I.” Gloss says.

The two of you look up at the big screen. It’s focused on Sanguin, who has her sword’s blade flat on her shoulder so it’s easier to carry. She must’ve started walking only recently, because she still has a few hours to go. It took the careers basically the entire day to get to the village on the first day.

There’s a small video of the Three boy going on in the corner. He’s no longer inside of his house, and with the sun shining on him, he looks extremely pale. He places his hand against the nearest wall to keep him upright, squints through the sunlight, and then starts his way out of the village.

“Oh shit.” you say. 

Enobaria sends in her sponsor gift, her tributes get it just fine. And even though it’s technically his turn, Gloss doesn’t move from where he stands. He clearly wants Sanguin to run across Three boy, and sponsoring her would ruin that. She’s in a specific mindset, he’s unarmed. And you suppose this could be a way for her to blow off steam. The poor boy is a pacifier to her growing agitation.

You take a step back, wanting to find a better place to stand, and find that Enobaria wasn’t exaggerating about Finnick’s close presence. You bump straight into him, his hands find your shoulders, directing you around Gloss. You try and shrug off his hands, but he doesn’t let go. So this is how today is going to be, a fucking irritation.

Sanguin is still a while away from the village, if anything is going to happen between her and the Three boy, it’s going to be an hour or so away from now. At the pace she’s walking now, she’ll be there before or after noon. So, until then, you can focus on your tributes and the Capitol people around you.

You move around the betting room, Finnick keeping close behind you. You try not to be annoyed with it, silently wishing that he’d chill out and sit somewhere if he’s just going to hover like this. But you don’t brush him off, you wanted him down here, so now you’ve got to put up with it. Not to mention, you have two older brothers and a younger sister, you’ve dealt with more than your fair share of annoying people.

Still, you can’t help but to wonder if he’s being like this on purpose to try and make you tell him to go away. He stands too close, he’ll have his hand on your arm, shoulder or elbow while you talk to people. The good thing is that the people don’t ask about it. Hell, they hardly seem to notice it in the first place, or they’re just being extremely polite, which is a whole new ordeal.

Annie and Marsh go out to their snares for lunch, the District Seven tributes catch their own animals to skin and eat. The other two--potentially three--tributes in the woods are focused on getting water and finding food. Whether it be an animal, berries or some roots from an edible plant.

At around ten, Sanguin has almost made it to the village. Three boy was further in than all of you thought, and at the pace he’s going, he’s clearly miserable and out of his mind. He drags his feet through the dirt, creating a literal snail path behind him. If Nine girl were inside of the village, all she’d have to do is find the path and follow it to him.

You’re also able to watch your tributes come around to their snares, moving from one to another. They’re used to seeing some empty by now, there’s not always going to be some rabbit or squirrel strung up in the air. However, every single one that they’ve come across this far is bare. Either they’re not going to eat tonight, or they need to start a plan b.

Or, you can always start your own plan too.

You give Gloss and Enobaria a smile, “I’ll be back.”

“Going to make sure your tributes don’t starve?” Gloss asks, snorting slightly.

“Yup.” you turn to Finnick, “You don’t have to come, this’ll only take a second.”

He’s got this dead look in his eyes, partially because he clearly didn’t get enough sleep. He was obviously banking on the hope that you wouldn’t go and pull something like you did yesterday. Sleep during the day and be up all hours of the night. Another whole reason why you think that he’s not the brightest light bulb in the box.

Anyway, he pushes himself up from the couch. You start your way towards a certain group, you’ve known them for a while now, but Finnick places a hand on that arm to keep you from going.

“What the hell--”

“Not them.” Finnick says.

“They’re fine, I’ve worked with them for years.” you turn towards him, grabbing his hands out of irritation, “Quit it.”

Finnick doesn’t look bothered, “(Y/n), we’ve spent time in the Capitol in two different ways. You know your way around mentoring and how to get the best possible result out of the week, and I know the way that the people think and what they want to do just by how they look. For once, trust me on this. You want to stop being around them before it’s too late.”

You let go of his hands, taking in a deep breath. There can’t be any collaboration without cooperation on both parts. You know this. And he’s not wrong, either. You both have two different areas of expertise at this point. If he’s sure that the second group will give you the same outcome, then you might as well.

“Okay, thank you.” you flash him a smile before heading towards the group he wanted you to be at.

They’re not so bad, they just don’t know you as well. But after a couple of minutes of talking with them, even Finnick has pitched in a few times at some points, they’ve warmed right up to you. A man mentions how he wishes he could be more of a help to them, and you jump at the opportunity in the most responsible way possible.

In no time, you’re sending in a feast to your beloved tributes. You thank the group of sponsors a lot, and spend the next hour talking to them about what foods Annie and Marsh seemed to have liked while they were here. It makes the hour go by faster, you go and join your friends on the couch once you're done. And it’s just in time for Sanguin to make it to the village.

Unfortunately, by then the Three boy is visible. Sanguin catches sight of him, he sees her, and suddenly a hunt has begun. The boy ducks out, disappearing into an alleyway, Sanguin doesn’t waste time running after him. Even with the state that the boy is in, he still manages to move quickly. There’s no doubt that it’s adrenaline.

He’s weaponless, might even be hopeless when it comes to defending off Sanguin. If he can lose her in the maze of houses and find a good hiding spot inside of one, you’re sure that she’d have a harder time finding him. She’s already seen him, so there’s no point in thinking that she won’t just go ahead and search. She’s got plenty of time on her hands, and no motivation to go back to the cornucopia just yet.

He’s more awake, running but not running. He’s trying not to be loud, but Sanguin is following him without a problem. He turns a corner, she follows it moments later. It’ll take more than just running to get away from her, and it doesn’t look like he has any other option than to run. He’s going to get tired eventually, all Sanguin will have to do is outlast him. 

Well, Three doesn’t even get that far. He’s getting reckless with swinging his foot around corners, trying to cut them. One bad move from him, and he’s sprawled across the dirt, a cloud of dust getting kicked up because of how hard he hits the dirt. As if that weren’t bad enough, he starts coughing, gasping to breathe. It doesn’t take a genius to know he has asthma. No wonder why he was having a hard time breathing quietly while he was running.

Sanguin comes around, sword swinging off of her shoulder. It clips the wall next to her, a chunk of cement goes flying. She pays no attention, eyes on the boy. His face is red from running, he’s got his shoulders pressed to the dirt but his head has risen enough to see Sanguin. He watches her come closer, not moving.

She doesn’t say anything to him, just lifts the sword and swings. You all watch in silence, prepared for it to be a quick death, but then he rolls out of the way. The sword hits the dirt, he wraps his foot around the back of her ankle, lifts, and she fails to catch herself before falling.

He’s smart, scrambles to his feet and takes off as fast as he can. It’s not quick, though. Sanguin is tired of the running, she gets out of the alleyway, and then throws her sword diagonally. It’s over for the boy, then. He can’t see the sword coming, which means he can’t move out of the way. The blade flies right into his back, next to his spine. 

Blood splatters against the wall in front of him, he collapses face-first into the dirt. Sanguin takes her time going over there, now. You imagine that if he hadn’t run in the first place, he wouldn’t have suffered like he is now. Gloss gets up from where he sits, heading to get the sponsor gift in life, three and a half hours later. Sanguin grabs the hilt of the sword, lifts, and then slams the tip through the back of the boy’s head. 

One cannon, ten tributes left in the games. Three in the cornucopia, seven in the woods. Annie and Marsh should move soon.

Sanguin gets her healing cream, which is paired with a bottle of water. Sanguin sits against the wall where she killed the Three boy, trying to catch her breath before she heads back. It’ll be another three hour walk, it’ll be late afternoon by the time she gets back around. 

All that’s left to do today is sit, wait, and watch. Annie and Marsh keep rationing out their food, enough to keep them energetic, but still saving some for tomorrow. They spend their time setting up extra snares, lower down into the woods as a backup just in case tomorrow is an empty day too.

District Two stays in the cornucopia, they’ve got food and water, they’ll last until tomorrow. The Nine girl is eating some berries she found in a bush, which makes you all think that she’s in the forest, but Enobaria points out that there’s bushes near the village too. However, that means she’s pretty far into the village, and it’s not completely cleared yet. And that just doesn’t seem likely. And since the Nine girl is resourceful, she’s found other ways to get water.

The Seven tributes eat soft bark off of the trees, sticking to their stick and leaf covers. They seem like they’ve adjusted to the woods pretty fine, talk about a stereotype. If they weren’t cliched before, they are now. The Eight girl has made it to the stream, she drinks water out of her hands, splashes her face and sits there for a while.

Five boy has found his own source of water, he’s on the verge of being exposed, though. If you were standing by the outside tail of the cornucopia--as the mouth is facing the field--he’d be on the far left. Which isn’t a bad place to be, since the right is pretty crowded with people because of the stream of water. But it makes for a problem because he’s still seeable. 

The tributes left right now seem to be the ones that know what they’re doing. If you die in the bloodbath, clearly you have no common sense. The four that died in the village were straight unlucky, but it was ultimately inevitable because the careers were hunting. They’re going to kill more tributes after the bloodbath. And it was also lucky that they came across that many tributes.

Six boy was too smart for his own good with trying to run away. He couldn’t have known that there would be a barrier like that at the side of the arena, so he’s not really the one to blame here. And Three boy might have been the only stupid tribute that was left because of how long he waited out getting water. Plus, he was probably pretty hungry by then too. He almost had Sanguin, but then again he wouldn’t have made it very far anyway.

With all the tributes in their own spots, away from each other and hours away from any conflict, you think that it’s calm enough to go out and get food real quick. You know a place just down the street. Of course, you’re nervous to leave the betting room, every single year that you mentor, you stay just in case anything happens. Even if you’re hungry, or thirsty, or need to use the bathroom, you stick it through.

On your way out, you invite Cecelia to go with. She declines at first, but when she sees that her girl tribute is doing fine, she comes along. You introduce Finnick and Cecelia, and then explain yesterday’s events to him so that he understands why you know her. Afterwards, she’s telling the story of Haymitch’s games so it all makes sense to him.

The restaurant has tv’s set up so that you’re able to see if anything happens. And with choosing a table by the door, it makes for a quick and easy escape if need be. You enjoy yourselves in the meantime, sharing food and making predictions as always. With Cecelia added, her experience with the past games is actually pretty insightful.

The only problem is that she’s the last winning tribute of her district, so she doesn’t know what to do when it comes to training tributes exactly. Her mentioning that was probably the worst idea ever, because suddenly you, Gloss and Enobaria are giving her different pieces of advice. Eventually she has to start writing down what you guys say because it’s too much to remember.

She can’t get a boarding school started, so instead she’ll just have to work her ass off during the Capitol week. Districts One and Two have been established for years, so their advice is a little harder to understand. But since District Four has just recently gotten on their own two feet, you’re able to relate to her level. Cecelia is genuinely grateful, and she never stops thanking you guys for the help.

This time around, you pay for lunch since Gloss paid last time. Since your tributes hadn’t been up to anything important, you don’t have to rush back to the betting room. Sanguin should be arriving at the cornucopia in the next few minutes, Annie and Marsh are exploring further to the right, away from where everyone is currently. And Eight girl--whose name is actually Bauhinia, after the flower--was up against the dam.

It’s four in the afternoon when you get back, and it’s only an hour later when the Capitol people begin to leave. Annie and Marsh make their way home to the shack, the careers make up and apologize to each other. Sanguin tells Vanilee and Geare that she was the one that set off the cannon, she couldn’t tell who it was though, only that it was one of the guys and definitely not Marsh.

By seven, only a couple of Capitol people are still around. You, Enobaria, Gloss, Finnick and Cecelia sit around a table talking to each other. At least you’re friendly with Cecelia now, you’re not sure how that’s going to hold up next year. But then again, she’s used to her tributes dying in the arena. After a while, it’s hard to hold a grudge. Unfortunately, that might mean she’ll end up like Haymitch in a couple of years.

For a while, Enobaria and Gloss play the same get-to-know-you game that they played with Finnick, with Cecelia. You end up learning a lot about her and the district that she’s from this way. It makes for interesting conversation when Enobaria asks her the weirdest way that Cecelia can probably kill someone, and she says a sewing needle.

Which only starts hypothetical situations in which you all are back inside of the Hunger Games, and have to get creative with items to use to kill people. Rocks, tree bark, water, dirt. Enobaria says that she genuinely considered shoving a tributes face in the dirt and holding them there until they died.

“Wouldn’t they just be able to move their mouth off to the side?” you ask, feeling a little ridiculous for asking the question in the first place.

“I don’t think so.” Enobaria says, “They’d be face down.”

“No, (Y/n) has a point.” Gloss shakes his head.

“Do you want to test it out?” Enobaria gives him a look.

“Is there any dirt nearby?” Gloss asks back, “Because I bet a thousand that I’m right.”

“Oh, you’re on.” she says, looking behind her. 

There’s a planters box on the far side of the betting room. Enobaria and Gloss get up and go over, which means that you, Finnick and Cecelia follow. Gloss gladly hops over the cement wall that keeps the dirt inside, and lays down face-first as nonchalantly as possible. He looks awkward doing it.

“Alright, if you feel like you’re dying, just kick your feet and I might let you go.” she says, sitting on his back.

“I won’t call uncle.”

“You will eventually.” she says, and then shoves his face into the dirt.

While Enobaria tries to kill Gloss with one of the five elements, Cecelia talks, “I used to do stuff like this with the other mentors, but that was a while ago.”

“You’re welcome to join us any time, Cecelia.” you give her a polite smile, “Even in future games. We can’t really blame the tributes for killing each other, everyone wants to survive.”

Well, the careers--including District Four this year--all do it to themselves on purpose for the fame and money. With the other districts, they typically have no choice and they’re the ones being picked during the reaping. But you get what you’re saying, right?

“Thanks.” Cecelia says, and then looks to Finnick, “Haven’t seen you in a while, how are you doing?”

It’s friendly conversation, you listen as Finnick tells her that he’s been busy. She doesn’t pry, taking his word for it. It’s better that way, you’re not sure what he’d say if she did ask, anyway. Finnick’s still got a hand on you, too. You guess that the very last people inside of the betting room aren’t all that great. Otherwise you’re sure he would’ve let you go by now.

“Are you dead yet?” Enobaria asks.

“I’ve been breathing the entire time.” Gloss says, and then he starts coughing and spitting because of the dirt in his mouth. Enobaria gets off of him, he closes his mouth and grits his teeth, and you can literally hear the crunch of the dirt between his teeth.

“Oh,” you laugh, covering your mouth, “Gross.”

Everyone is laughing, Gloss struggles to find a glass of some sort of liquid to wash it out of his mouth. There’s dirt down his shirt and pants, and it’s even ruined his clothes to some extent. When he’s finally able to rinse and spit the dirt out, he looks at Enobaria, “As long as they don’t speak and breathe through their nose, I’m sure they’d be able to survive.”

It’s a good way to wrap up the night, so you hug your three friends goodnight just in time for Cashmere and Wade to come around. Back on the Four floor, for the first time in a while, you’re actually able to eat with both Elysia and Finnick. You don’t talk much with each other, just tell Elysia what you had done today.

After dinner, Elysia goes to her room, leaving you and Finnick alone.

“You should go back down there.” you tell him.

“I’m not.” Finnick says, and you let out a sigh, “(Y/n), you can’t be down there. As nice as it probably is to be with them--did you even notice the way they were looking at you.”

“Finnick, I’ll be last week’s news by the time the new victor is announced. I’m not going to be the center of attention for much longer.” 

“Except to some extent, you’ve been in their sights for a while now.” he shakes his head, “I used to hear things about you while we weren’t talking. And I thought it was all lies and rumors until I got to see it for myself.” his voice is surprisingly calm, eyes on you, “They’re mistaking your friendliness for flirtation. You’re laying it on too thick, and it’s confusing them.”

You open your mouth, and then close it.

“I would rather you take the night shift, so I can take the daytime. But I know that you won’t let that happen so we’re going to have to compromise.”

Still being hung up on the flirting thing, you nod slowly, “What are you thinking?”

“You go from afternoon into most of the night, I take late night into early morning.” he raises his eyebrows, “Sometimes evenings if I think I can handle it.”

It makes the most sense, “Okay, yeah.”

“Yeah?” he lets out a breath, “That was easy.”

And once he thinks that, he’s suddenly squinting at you, “You’re not going to backstab me, are you?”

You squint back at him, “Unlike you, I’m a respectable human being.”

He laughs, “Respectable! You nearly killed me in the elevator.”

“And you would’ve deserved it, don’t even fucking lie.” you roll your eyes.

“Maybe a little bit.” Finnick admits.

--

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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These Violent Delights Review (contains spoilers)

Where to begin with this book? I finished it almost two weeks ago, but I put off reviewing it because I had a lot of thoughts about it and a lot of ranting to friends to do before I felt calm enough to write an actual review. I personally dislike rant reviews and didn’t want to be the author of one. And it’s not like I hated this book! It had so much potential! I still think the concept was great! But I had so many craft problems with this book that I actually started writing notes and using page flags to keep track of everything that bothered me. I don’t normally do that!

So here we go. TLDR: Brilliant idea, terrible execution.

I split my page flags into 3 categories while reading: language, character, and gang-related (which ended up becoming worldbuilding in general). All of these informed my thoughts on what I found to be the biggest problem with this book in the end, which was the fact that it was a retelling. Or rather, it was supposed to be. This book is marketed as “Romeo and Juliet in 1920s Shanghai,” but it really, really does not want to be Romeo and Juliet. It is fighting that framework with everything it’s got. It makes me think that the idea of retelling Romeo and Juliet, regardless of setting, was probably the original inspiration for the book, but it definitely outgrew the play. The author needed to just let the retelling go and let the story be free.

What really firmly convinced me that this should not have been a R&J retelling was actually the author’s note in the back of the book. Gong talks about how, though there was no blood feud between two gangs at this time, she tried to keep the story as true to history as possible. So she lists all of the groups that were vying for power in 1920s Shanghai, all of whom were featured in the story in some way. And that’s exactly the problem. From a political perspective, Romeo and Juliet is a very simple play. There are only three groups with power: the Montagues, the Capulets, and the Prince. In 1920s Shanghai, there were always at least four (counting all the foreigners as one group) and, with her added blood feud, there’s always at least FIVE. If you have three other powerful groups running around causing problems, it pretty much takes all the intensity of your blood feud out of your blood feud. With everything else that was going on with the Communists, Nationalists, and foreigners, whenever the blood feud between the gangs came up, I was always sort of like, “Why is this here? It feels so pointless. What could it possibly add to the story?” All it really did was slow everything down because the gangs refused to work with each other, and add a layer of ~forbiddenness~ to the main romance. The actual plot of the story, about a British businessman unleashing a madness-inducing insect upon Shanghai, had literally nothing to do with the blood feud.

It would have made more sense to insert Roma and Juliette into two of the existing powers of historical Shanghai, and, indeed, Gong almost did: Roma could have been part of the “foreigners” block, like Paul Dexter. But for some reason the White Flowers were treated as separate from the foreigners for reasons I don’t totally understand. In the author’s note, Gong talks about how the Russian refugees in Shanghai never actually held much power, but that there was a reason she made them equal in power to the Scarlet Gang in this story. She doesn’t ever actually give that reason. Basically, as I read the author’s note, I kept thinking, “Then why didn’t you write about this? Or that? Or that? Why did you add all this stuff, when the actual history is more interesting?”

The other things that made this feel really unlike Romeo and Juliet are all character and gang-related. The thing that makes Romeo and Juliet WORK is that the characters, even when foolish and impulsive, COMMIT to the foolish and impulsive decisions they make. And those decisions have MASSIVE consequences. In a short series of fatal moves, they bind themselves to their fates. But halfway through this book, in the middle of yet another argument about what should be done (if anything) about the madness, I stopped and thought to myself, what has been done? What have these characters actually been doing? I was halfway through the book and it felt like nothing had happened. Sure, people had died and guns had been fired, but what were the consequences? Had anything actually CHANGED? It was at that point that I began to add page flags and take notes. I was tired and frustrated by the endless pages of characters waffling around Shanghai, having the same arguments over and over, and not accomplishing anything. This book was paced like it was written by the seat of Gong’s pants during NaNoWriMo, and then never underwent any significant structural edits. (The meanest my rants about this book ever got was after I finished it and described it to my twin as “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” But that’s still what most of it felt like.)

One of the best examples of what I mean is a persistent problem I had with Juliette that was both character- and gang-related. Basically: there’s a point in the book where she thinks that everyone in Shanghai can recognize her on sight (and indeed, this does happen) because she’s the heir to a very powerful gang and she dresses in American clothes. So far so good. But on another occasion, she raids some place in pursuit of the Larkspur with Roma at her side in front of at least a hundred witnesses, and then….nothing. She doesn’t find the Larkspur, and later when talking to one of her cousins, she worries that her cousin might have learned about what she did. But then she thinks, no, it’s not possible that anyone knows I did that with Roma! And she’s right. SHE’S RIGHT. She waved her gun around and shouted in front of at least a hundred people, and was clearly working with Roma while she did it, AND NO ONE FOUND OUT. Things like this happened over and over with Juliette. Normally I’d love an interpretation of Juliet who’s so hot-headed and driven, but she got away with SO MUCH without ever being recognized or experiencing any consequences. In the end, my suspension of disbelief broke. Juliette’s antics, and consequently all the rest of the gang-related drama, became melodrama. It made me roll my eyes. I just couldn’t believe it anymore. This whole thing with Juliette wasn’t the only gang-related thing that frustrated me, but it was the biggest one.

In an effort to give Gong the benefit of the doubt: Romeo and Juliet can be read quite melodramatically. Maybe this is the effect she intended? Maybe she wanted us not to take it seriously?

But that brings me to my next point: at times, this book seemed to take itself TOO seriously. I got this impression mostly from the language. My initial reaction to the prose was, “Wow, this is so beautiful!” Eventually, though, it mostly just seemed purple. I kept wanting to cut sentences in half. It was like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be a normal YA book or if it wanted to emulate William Shakespeare. So in the end, it mostly just seemed like an overwritten YA book in which the characters spouted needlessly flowery lines that just sounded silly. Again, it became melodrama. This was actually the first thing I started page-flagging.

The problem with the language wasn’t just silly though; it also had a detrimental effect on the plot and characterization. At times, the book was written in third-person omniscient and at times it was in third-person close. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but with the confusion of the plot I described above, it became difficult to keep track of who knew what. There were two separate times in the book when the characters discovered something about the monster and I thought, “Wait….didn’t everyone already know that?” One of these times was within the last twenty or so pages. I’m trying to stay calm right now, but it was unbelievably frustrating for something that had been obvious since the first page to be realized by one of the main characters at the very end of the book. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the book across the room. But it is very pretty, so I didn’t.

The detrimental effect the language had on character was mostly that I never felt like I knew any of the characters. They’re fond of reminiscing dramatically on the past, but all we ever get are random details and no actual story. I kept waiting for a flashback that never came. I’m not a huge fan of flashbacks, but this book really, really could have used one. Both Roma and Juliette are very poetic about their shared history, but it all rang hollow because I felt like I had nothing real to grasp onto. They played games by the docks and killed each other’s loved ones? That’s pretty much all I got. By the end of the book, I still had no idea why they even liked each other. It’s mentioned several times that they thought they could end the blood feud, but, given how the blood feud pales in comparison to the actual history of Shanghai, that didn’t seem like much. The blood feud is not Shanghai’s biggest problem historically or in this book! So why should I care?

So we come back to the main problem of this book not feeling like Romeo and Juliet. It doesn’t want to be Romeo and Juliet! It is begging to be something else! The real causes of turmoil in Shanghai at this point in history were the foreign powers and the workers’ strikes. Gong says that herself! She made the foreigners the villain, which I think was a very good choice, but the workers’ strikes and growing Communist party just ended up feeling like set dressing. Background scenery. It added nothing to the plot but a red herring. In the authors’ note, Gong says that if she had followed history more closely, there would have been strikes in every chapter. I can understand why that would seem overwhelming, but if she didn’t wanted to include the workers’ strikes, then maybe….this should have been set….in a different time period….because this time period….has too many political elements….for an R&J retelling to work…. Just a thought! Or maybe she should have tossed R&J, which is the option I prefer, because the actual history is, as I have said before, much more interesting than a fictional blood feud between gangs.

In an effort to not be entirely negative about this book, I do have a mild interest in reading a comparison of this book with The Beetle by Richard Marsh. The Beetle is a Victorian novel and, like many Victorian novels, it’s about Britain’s fear of reverse-colonization, or being infiltrated by one of the countries’ they’ve invaded. In The Beetle, the infiltration comes in the form of a scarab from Egypt that carries some curse. I don’t remember all the details, since I read the book several years ago, but I found it interesting that this book had a similar concept of foreign invasion via insects. I think it would be interesting to compare the two, especially since they have opposite perspectives on British imperialism.

So, in summary: I think the idea of this book was great. I would have loved to read a retelling of Romeo and Juliet set in 1920s Shanghai that worked; unfortunately, for a variety of craft problems related to pacing, worldbuilding, characterization, and language, I don’t think this book worked at all. It wanted to be so much more than a Romeo and Juliet retelling, and the author should have let it.

Am I going to read the second book? Maaayyybe. I might get curious enough about the backstory to see whether she puts it in that book. But if I do read it, I’m getting it from the library.

[redbeanboi]

Scacchi

Rating: M (nothing particularly crazy, but it’s still related to BBP)

Characters: OC’s: Giuseppe Giovanna, Vittorio Pesca, plus a few extras. Mentioned: Don Giorno Giovanna/Reader, Fugo, Narancia, Mista.

Summary: Giuseppe learns how to play the game.

Alternatively: Pesca doesn’t approve of sheltering who he considers to be the “heir” to Giorno’s empire and takes matters into his own hands.

Word count: 1.8k 

A/N: One of several Giuseppe-related OCtober writings that I’ll be sharing in the next few weeks. This takes place about 15-16 years after BBP, so Giuseppe is a teenager and it would basically be taking place around his “part” (as some of you have come to call it :-D ). For context: Giorno and the Signora have discovered that against their wishes, their son has managed to secretly join Passione (more on that in another snippet, and know that Giuseppe’s “uncle’s” aren’t any more pleased). Unfortunately they all have to deal with some other mess happening in the city, and the only relative around to spend time with Giuseppe is Pesca, who I have yet to fully introduce in BBP. I hope you’ll enjoy this interaction between them! 

some translation notes;

trisoru (’tesoro’ in Siciliano), Matri/Patri and Matre/Patre (mother and father, in Siciliano and Napulitano, respectively), Se (yes, Siciliano), La Famigghia (the family, Siciliano), prozio (great-uncle in Italiano: referring to Don Arnaldo from BBP).

One of the soldati entered the room, Giuseppe in tow. “I hope your trip was pleasant, Signore Pesca. Things are a bit… disorderly here at the moment,” he added, casting a wary, sideways glance at his charge.

Giuseppe’s greeting was less effusive. Passione’s princeling was in a sullen mood, furious that he had been ordered to stay home while his father and trusted men sought out the current threat. “You need to stay home, where it’s safe, trisoru,” you had insisted. “These are unsettling times.”

None of this satisfied Giuseppe, Pesca noted. Perfect on many accounts, but still a child for all that, still inexperienced in the ways of this world. “Giuseppe,” he called. His nephew looked over sure enough. “Seeing that we’re stuck here together, perhaps you’ll be a dear nephew and entertain me to a thrilling game of scacchi? For old time’s sake.”

Giuseppe fixed him with a wary stare. “Chess? My homework sounds much more interesting.”

“Not interesting to you? I suppose it’s only natural when you’ve never beat me. Do continue with your studies.” Pesca raised his book, smirking in safety behind the pages. 

His comments pricked Giuseppe’s pride, just as he expected. “Very well then, Uncle. Fetch the board and pieces—this time I mean to actually beat you.”

They set the chessboard on a wooden table in the center of the room, a handsome piece of furniture that was undoubtedly carved and toiled over by some craftsman in the city. Pesca knew his cousin-in-law liked to patron the local artisans. Giuseppe had already moved his first piece on the board—’Grob’s Attack,’ Pesca thought with amusement. Most would consider it a mark of daring youth, a move that was as bold as it was foolish. Willing to risk it all for the quick kill. Giuseppe’s bodyguard Affogato sat in a chair beside his charge, watching as they played.

Pesca responded in kind, setting his Queen’s pawn two spaces forward. Later, when all the pieces had cleared the way and Giuseppe reached for the Queen’s Bishop, Pesca hummed and shook his head. His nephew paused and quirked a brow at him. “This is an interesting opening, dear nephew, but I wouldn’t do it in the future.” He offered Giuseppe his most disarming smile. “You’re just as bold as your Matri and Patri.”

“So I’ve been told,” Giuseppe returned warily. “...My mother says that you let her drive your car when she was twelve.”

“She’s a very good driver. She’s good at plenty of things, actually. A clever woman. Do you heed her advice?”

The boy pushed a tuft of dark blue hair away from his eyes. Pesca noticed that the dye had yet to fully wash out. “Of course I do. She’s my mother.”

“And yet we find you here, already a fully initiated member of your Patri’s gang.” Pesca blinked at the board before moving his knight. “If I remember correctly, your beloved parents had every intention of shutting you out from either organization. Were they heartbroken when they found out?”

Giuseppe flushed. “I’ve told you already, it was the right thing to do. I can help them.”

“Se,” Pesca returned in his rough Siciliano. “And in doing the right thing, you’ve also uncovered a new plot to dispose of them. It’ll make for an interesting family story in the future, and I’m sure your children will love to hear of how you managed to save us all… assuming your Matri and Patri ever let you set foot outside of this house any time soon.”

“They will. They have to.”

“Must they?” Pesca asked with a tsk and a scandalous tone. “I would be careful with that. Don’s and Signora’s do not like receiving orders, least of all from children. Your Matri is a Signora, a principessa of one of the oldest criminal organizations in this world; she knows a great deal more about these sorts of things than you do. Your Patri, on the other hand? Why, he’s the Boss of all Bosses, made himself a conqueror at the age of fifteen. They love you dearly and clearly gave the world to you, but I don’t think you’ll find them very willing.”

“They will be willing,” Giuseppe insisted, clearly shocked by this information. It was clear to Pesca that Giuseppe had never considered the possibility that his parents might lock him away for his safety and refuse him. “You don’t know them as I do.” Giuseppe took his knight and leapt over the pawns, letting the piece land on the board with a harsh thud.

Pesca shrugged at that. “Perhaps I’m still a stranger to the sacred love between parent and child, but I know what they are like. I know your Matri most of all. I know that she stole cars and sold them, that she impressed Don Vittorio Andolini with her thievery. She’s known danger from a young age, knows what it is like to run, to be hunted, to never be safe. I know that she is fierce. How else would Cosa Nostra bend so easily to her? The ‘Ndrangheta are half hers, considering her family ties to Don Arnaldo. She grieved for her father and schemed to protect you and your ridiculous Patri years ago—all when she was matched with a troublesome opponent. She’s not officially initiated in any gang, yet your Patri relies on her to no end. How do you suppose a woman like this will react when you come to her with a pleading child’s eyes and say, ‘Buongiorno Mamma, I have grown up now and would like to be recognized as a member of La Famigghia.’”

Giuseppe gave him a cold and hard stare. He looks so much like his father. “I am not going to plead to my Matre like a child. I am a young adult, with reasonable requests. I actually accomplished a decent amount of work before you discovered me and alerted them.”

“To be frank? You have too many requests, and as well as you did your job you can easily be replaced,” Pesca corrected. Good, that’s made him angry. It almost reminded Pesca of the times he teased you for having similar ambitions. This boy looks like Giorno but he acts more like his mother. “Don Giorno has plenty of soldati, and last I checked none of them add this much stress on those slender shoulders of his.”

“Think whatever you like, Zietto Vito,” said Giuseppe. “I can still prove myself to them. Signore Fugo said that if I wait, they will see that I’m not a child anymore and can listen like a respectful adult.”

“And you believe that? Goodness. Trust no one, dear boy. Not your strange padrino who wears that ridiculous suit, nor your false uncles or cousins or brothers. Above all, don’t hold to every word your parents say to you—they’re liars like the rest of us. And perhaps this wariness will dampen your gatherings or keep you awake for much longer than you’d like to be at night, but I’m sure it’s better than the never ending sleep that awaits us all.” He sighed and moved his Queen. “I am only your uncle though, only your mother’s lawyer. What could I possibly know that your padrino doesn’t? Still I’ll insist. If you really aren’t a child, you should know that one must make their own way in the world. I wouldn’t do as Signore Fugo says.” 

“... What would you do then?” his nephew asked, leaning forward with interest.

“If I were in your position, I would simply sneak away from this city. Go south. These threats come from the Sacra Corona Unita in Puglia, and neither of your father’s forces from Campagna have enough men to deal with an organization from the east. I’d go to Sicilia first, rally the other factions of Cosa Nostra, and meet with your prozio in Calabria. You can start making moves once you’ve got the forces—”

“I have none.”

“You have a famous name and enough resources to tempt the men associated with Cosa Nostra... And even if you don’t, you’re a smart boy, you’ll figure out some way to procure funding.” Pesca flew a Bishop two spaces over. “You’ll need plenty of them, if you want enough men to overwhelm and absorb this new organization.”

“I still would need Patre’s help,” Giuseppe said. “I can’t make any actual moves without his approval. He’s—”

“You don’t need to make any moves, not right away. All you need to do is gather enough support for your Patri. He’ll join you at once.”

Giuseppe frowned. “You said Patri doesn’t intend to let me work with him. I’m still a child to him. He doesn’t entirely respect me the way he does any of his trusted men...”

Pesca shook his head. “A poor choice of words on my part. Ask Don Giorno, your father, for permission, and he’ll treat you like a child. Do you want to act on your father’s whims for the rest of your life? Now… if you left and bolstered his cause down south, in Sicilia? The men of Cosa Nostra only follow the strong, and that is what you’ll be if you can soothe out the wrinkles that stayed after your first birthday. That would prove you are your own man. Bold, reckless, a perfect followup to the infamous Don Giorno. Another conqueror.

“Your Patri has suffered many losses in his youth. You might have noticed he’s grown an attachment to your Matri. If he finds that you’ve taken up his cause and put yourself in a vulnerable position, ordering around the men of Cosa Nostra—no doubt directing attention to yourself—and gone on the offensive, he’ll come and join you. When he meets with you, he will find a fierce and bold youth waiting for him. Not his son, but an equal. How can he help but name you his Underboss and heir then?” Smiling, Pesca took his Queen and ate Giuseppe’s King. “I hope you’ll still harbor some affection for me. And know that you impressed me by managing to last this long, even with an underdeveloped Bishop and godawful castling.”

Giuseppe stared at the board in disbelief. “My Queen–”

“You put her in a tight spot several moves ago. Do you not remember? My Knight took her.”

“What you said earlier... about my first move—”

“Ah! Remember what I said? Trust no one. Though I definitely recommend using a different opening next time. If you’re going to listen to anything I say, at least remember never to start with “g4” ever again.”

Giuseppe jerked back, gaping at the table and then at his uncle. Not ten seconds had passed before he frowned and shoved the board away, hard enough that a white knight and pawn flew across the room. One of the butlers grumbled as he shuffled around the carpet to return them.

“Giving up so soon?” Pesca asked, taking the pieces and setting them up once again.

He half expected the boy to saunter off, especially with the way he’d lectured and poked at him, but to Pesca’s surprise, Giuseppe leaned forward and shook his head.

“No.”

“I won’t be going easy on you,” he warned, “but I promise you’ll have much to learn if you decide to continue.”

Giuseppe nodded. “Teach me then.”

A/N: 

Ah ! That’s teenaged Giuseppe for you. Very different from his parents, I think, but I love him all the same. He has much to learn. This is generally untouched from when I first wrote it, so I hope you enjoyed it in all its rough, out-of-context, first-draft-ish glory!

Honestly surprised myself with how much I ended up writing, but I was mostly just following these two; the way they bounce off each other made it easy to let the words go onto the page.

If you wanted to see what the board looked like towards the end of the game, here’s a bit of a visual:

Lots of ways that this could go wrong for Giuseppe’s pieces... I stand by Pesca’s advice though. If you start on white, avoid opening with the infamous “g4.”

[tavi-hayes]

side fic one ~ a series of very unfortunate events

((hiii! here’s a little side fic with some lovely rps with chris @leanarg​ and anna @arin-schreave​ thank you both! ignore all the spelling and grammar mistakes, as you always have to do with my writing woops...))

“Lady Octavia, what have you done?” one of my maids, Carla, almost screams at me. I can’t tell if she is angry, upset or disappointed. Or a mixture of all those things.

I’m looking at the mess I created, “it was an accident, I just wanted…”

Carla sighs, “accident or not, now I’ll be the one to clean it again.”

“I - I can do it myself,” it’s not like changing bed sheets is something new to me. At home I had to do it all the time, especially when little Arlan had been going through the peeing-in-bed phase.

Carla gives me a pointed look, “no, you’ve done enough. Please go!”

All the other girls seemed to have gotten friendly maids, but I was stuck with the one with a sour personality. I collect my iPod and my headphones, where do I even go to?

As I am about to leave, my other maid Willa enters the room. She gasps, “what on earth is that?”

Sour Carla shoots me an enraged look, narrowing her eyes at me. “Someone thought it was clever to eat ice cream in bed.”

There was in fact a gigantic brown stain on my bedding. The cause: chocolate ice cream. I hadn’t been paying attention as I wanted to grab one of the law books from my bedside table. I had reached over, pulling the blankets with me and then the bowl tipped over, creating a mess.

I don’t feel like being in this room anymore. Before I close the door behind me, I hear Carla say, “she’s supposed to be a lady, not one of those savages.”

To let them know, I actually heard that I close the door. With a bang.

Now that I’m in the hallway all by myself, I feel like I can breathe again. My head is pounding, why is that I always end up in situations where people just bring me down?

Still unsure of where to go, I take the stairs down to the main floor. The door to the women’s room catches my eye. Please let it be empty. Please!

I open the door and peak inside: empty, thank god! But as I open the door further my eye lands on someone else. She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I decide to clear my throat softly, “uh, hi?”

The girl doesn’t even look up from her work, “hey…”

Wow, okay. “Do you mind me being here? Or would you rather be on your own?” I keep my hand on the doorknob, ready to leave again.

It seems like I got her attention now, “oh, hello!” she says as she turns her face towards me, “You are fine, I can continue this later,” pointing towards her work.

Nodding I say, “okay cool,” I walk over to one of the sofas in front of the window and sit down. I pull my legs up in an attempt to make myself comfortable. Then I focus on the other girl again. I’m not sure if I have been seen her face before during the meals. My guess is that she is another selected, but given the fact that I also didn’t know the ex-fiancée from our wonderful prince I decide to ask for a confirmation anyway, “you're also a selected right?”

That makes her laugh a little bit, “yes, I am,” she says as she puts her stuff on her lap, turning towards me. “I’m Leana Grant and you are ...?”

Phew, I feel relieved that she not actually an old flame from the prince. Her name, Grant, does ring a bell but I’m unsure where I’ve heard it before.

“Octavia but please call me Tavi,” I can feel a yawn coming up, so I bring up a hand to cover my mouth, “nice to meet you.”

“Seems like you need some good rest, Tavi,” Leana says with a raised eyebrow. Please, tell me something I don’t know.

“Yeah I still need to get used to the time zone difference and it’s only a 2-hour difference,” I flip my hair over my other shoulder, “so what were you doing in here?”

For some reason unknown to me, she moves a bit uncomfortably in her chair, “just distracting myself a bit, the change of habits it’s hard as well...” she pauses before changing the subject, “what would you been doing right now back at your province?”

“Uhm I don’t really know what the time is right now, but I would probably be at work,” that seems like the safest answer. I yawn again. Maybe I should go to bed early tonight, then I remember the situation in my bedroom and I immediately don’t feel like going back there anymore. “Do you miss your life back home? What did you do to fill your day?”

“Not exactly miss, no, college and I work for a newspaper, The Globe, but maybe you haven’t read it...” Leana waves it off, but the mention of a newspaper my attention rises. I feel fully awake all of a sudden.

“Wait,” I narrow my eyes, “you work for a newspaper? So you're a journalist?”

My pulse quickens, please don’t be a journalist, be a photographer, an editor, anything else.

“Yes I am.”

A memory resurfaces: my mom sitting on a chair in the kitchen, crying. Myself trying to comfort her. A doorbell ringing. ‘I’ll go get it,’ I tell her. But as I open the door to see who it was, a billion camera flashes blind me.

“What do you write about?” I ask Leana. The Globe. One of the newspapers to write about my dad’s arrest. And instead of writing the freaking truth, they turned my dad into the most dangerous criminal Illéa had ever seen.

“Um, does it matter?”

People with recording devices and cameras push forward. I can barely keep them from entering our house.

“How does it feel having a criminal in the family?”

“How many skeletons are there in your father’s closet?”

“Are you his accomplice?”

“Care to comment?”

“Ever felt the urge to kill?”

“Did you know…”

“Our sources claim…”

All the voices blur together, I quickly close the door and lock it. I do the same with the back door. Telling Aria and Arlan to go join mom in the kitchen, I close the curtains and barricade the front door with the sofa.

I narrow my eyes at the girl, I see her in a completely different lighting now. “From my own experience, lots of people working in the news sector only focus on making headlines not even caring if the news they’re selling is even true.”

The next day, the headlines in every newspaper had been about my dad. Writing their own version of the story. Making it thrilling, exciting, scary just to get people to read their dumb paper.

Leana starts laughing at me, “you mean making statements without further information...?”

I can’t even hear her properly anymore. I’m seeing red. All the anger and hurt that I’ve kept hidden for so many years, takes control of me. I can’t push those emotions down anymore.

Collecting my stuff from the sofa, I stand, “you are all the same,” I roll my eyes, “only caring about landing the big story.”

“Such an accusation would require proofs and I doubt you have any.” Her voice is way to calm for my liking.

Pfft, she is just like the other press. “just open your eyes, maybe read some articles your beloved newspaper has published.” I can’t stand to be in the same room as this girl anymore, I need to calm myself down. Walking over towards the door, I say, “you news people are just using everyone as pieces in your chess game, and that's wrong!”

Leana keeps her perfect composure, “alright this sounds like a personal problem.” Her eyes narrow at me, just when I open the door, “do you care to share?”

Why would I want to share anything with her? “I'd rather not,” in the most sarcastic way possible I add, “I wouldn't want to read about it in the newspaper tomorrow.”

She walks past me out of the room, before I even have the chance. “Well, I will tell you then that the press wasn’t really the problem.”

I scoff, “and what was the problem then?”

She frowns, but I can tell she is faking her confusion, “thought you didn’t trust the press.”

I want to get away from her as quickly as possible, “wow what a joy you are.” I start walking away, not hearing anything else she says, and not looking back once.

In my head I’m trying to push my feelings back behind that the solid wall inside of me again. They shouldn’t have broken free, but that girl was just saying all the wrong things. All I can see is an image of my dad’s unconscious body being dragged out of the court room.

That was the last time I saw him. I feel my eyes becoming watery. Actively trying to think about nicer things, like music and my band, make me forget my surroundings completely. I don’t see the other person walking directly in my path. Until I run it them, literally.

An oof escapes from the other person.

“Just look where you’re…” I don’t finish my sentence when I see who it is, I’ve run into, “oh, I’m sorry!”

The prince ignores me completely, already crouching down on the floor to pick up his papers which have scattered everywhere. “I should have been paying attention”

“Yeah you should have,” that sounded way harsher than I intended, plus I need to remember that this is the person who could send me home any minute. I crouch down as well and try help him picking up his papers. “I'm sorry though, it is also my fault.”

He looks at me, “My apologies, Lady.......”

Well, how great is this? He doesn’t even remember me. I guess I didn’t make a good impression on him during the interview after all. I just blink at him, confused myself. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with curly hair, but okay… “It’s Octavia. We’ve met before you know.” I collect some more of the fallen papers.

“Yes,” he nods, “I remember.” He reaches for the papers in my hands, instead of being the annoying little child everyone claims me to be, I hand them over immediately. “You're the one who likes Dutch love songs?”

Another blow to my ego, “I'm just gonna ignore the fact that you don't remember me, but who on earth likes Dutch love songs?” Flipping my hair over my other shoulder I say, “I know quite a bit about music, so I can say the Dutch and music do not go together at all.” I realize I’m being a little bit aggressive right now, sighing I add, “but okay everyone can like whatever they want to like, I suppose.”

“I imagine the Dutch would disagree…” he neatly piles the rest of the papers, then looks at me again. “Are you the one that churns butter?”

“What?” I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he doesn’t even remember a little bit about me, or the fact that he thinks I look like a butter churner. I can only stare at him. “Someone can churn butter?”

At that the prince nods a little, “I think so...?” He shifts uncomfortably, “oh, sorry... I forgot to ask if you're okay.”

“Oh yeah I'm fine, nothing I can't handle.” I clear my throat softly, realizing I probably should have asked the same thing, “what about yourself? You look a bit dishevelled.”

“Yes, well... Being run into will do that to a person.” The prince takes a deep breath, then says, “why were you going so fast anyway?”

That makes me remember the encounter with Leana. My feelings have been locked away behind that wall again. But it doesn’t sound like a great idea to tell him about my little rampage. Tavi think. “Oh uhm, maybe I just like speed walking,” I say, looking down at my dress and realizing I look dishevelled as well. I try straightening it.

“Inside?” he glances around.

I nod my head, “hmm, gotta keep myself in shape.” Very believable…

That earns me a frown, “alright then... If you say so. Maybe just consider going outside next time.”

“Thanks for the tip, I will keep that in mind.” I nod again. Let’s change the topic. “What were you doing? Are you always walking around with your nose in whatever that is?” I motion towards the stack of papers he has been clutching close to him.

“Oh, they're just meeting notes. But no this isn't normal. Why...? Are you planning on running into me again?”

What does that mean? Unlike other girls here I don’t necessarily feel the need to know his whereabouts. Let me just do my own thing, searching for law books in the library that is.

“If that's what it takes for you to actually remember me, then yes I will make it my daily goal to find you. It's not like I have anything better to do,” I say jokingly.

He just blinks at me, no laugh, no smile, nothing, just those eyes blinking. And he actually takes a few steps backwards, “I have to warn you... Kevin won't like that.”

I genuinely can’t tell if he’s being serious… “I don't know who this Kevin person is,” I sigh, coming to the conclusion that maybe I should clear the air a bit, “but don't worry I won't seek you out if I don't have to.”

“He's my bodyguard...” the prince says before frowning at me, “I'm sorry that I ran into you and if it upset you.”

“What?” Why can he read me like that? I’m over here trying to hide everything I feel, and then this prince comes along and just sees it anyway. Well he doesn’t know the cause of these emotions but still I feel very vulnerable all of a sudden. I furrow my eyebrows, “that's not what upset me. Why do you think that?”

“Because we just ran into each other and you seem unhappy…”

Maybe I’m just not as good at hiding my feelings as I thought I was. “Oh uhm that is not because of you,” I pause for a bit, desperately trying to think of something to say. I start looking around, hoping to find inspiration elsewhere. But luck is not on my side, “just, you know.”

“I don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “But alright…”

“I'm sure you have enough problems of your own, I won't trouble you with mine,” I say flipping my hair again. Why do I keep talking?

The prince frowns at me again, which seems to be his go-to facial expression. “Why do you all think I'm so troubled?”

I didn’t say he was troubled, did I? But if others are saying it as well…? “Maybe it's just the vibe you sent off. But like aren't you going to run this country? I'm sure that isn't an easy task.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m troubled,” the prince states, very convincingly if you ask me. Not. “And I’m sure I’ll do just fine. I have years to get ready.”

I strongly suppress my eyeroll reflex, “okay if you say so.”

His gaze is fully on me again, before he frowns again. “Unless you know something I don’t.”

“It’s just,” I sigh, “no one is perfect. Everyone is fighting their own battles you know.”

“I guess yeah,” the prince says as he glances down at the papers in his hands. “Though I’m not sure a hallway fight was necessary.”

“You…” I’m shocked beyond words, “you consider this a fight?” Had I been too aggressive, too hostile? I genuinely feel bad for making him feel like this was a fight. It was all my fault anyway. Well technically it was all Leana’s fault, but still the poor prince in front of me didn’t deserve to be dragged into this. By me. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I will just go,” I say, desperately to end this … whatever this is.

But the prince shakes his head, “no, it was a joke. Uh, I’m sorry. It wasn’t a good one.”

I turn to face him again. Did he just… make a joke? “You almost made me feel bad,” but his words actually made me relax a little, “you have an interesting sense of humour.”

“I’d argue it’s a bad one if I upset you that much.” The prince swallows and shifts a bit awkwardly. Can he please stop reading me?

“That didn’t really have anything to do with you,” I sigh, being very aware I should probably give him some more information. “I was…” I pause again, not really sure how to put it all in a sentence without dumping all my crap on him. “I was upset because of some bad memories,” I look at the stairs again, my only escape, “I can go if you want.”

“You don't have to go if you don't want to. It's just the hallway and you're mostly free to be where you like.”

Free to be where I like, okay noted. “Yeah but I don't wanna keep you from whatever it is you have to do,” I flip my hair again, maybe I should try not to do that so often, “or make you feel awkward in your own home.”

The prince glances around again, “I promise you that you weren’t the person to make it awkward.”

I remember him doing the exact same thing during the interview, “who was it then?” I look around as well, “is it that bodyguard of yours? Is he sneaking around?”

He looks very uncomfortable. Did he not realize it was a joke? “Oh um, no. Kevin isn’t awkward.”

Perhaps someone should teach him how to take a joke, not take life so seriously. I don’t think I’m the right person for that. “Oh well okay,” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, “I won't take up more of your time.” I offer him a small smile. Why? I don’t know. “Sorry for running into you, literally.”

The prince nods his head, “well, I'm sorry I also ran into you. I'll uh... see you around then I guess?”

“I guess you will,” if he doesn’t send me home before that. It takes me a few steps towards the stairs for me to remember the company I’m in. I quickly turn around and drop into a curtsy, “goodbye your highness.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, but then nods, “I'll see you around. Try not to hurt anyone else.”

That makes me chuckle softly, “I can’t promise that.” And with that we part ways.

Before I know it, I’m back in my bedroom again. That weird run-in with the prince had put my mind at rest, I feel much more at rest right now.

I notice the new bedding, making a mental note to thank my maids the next time I see them.

But then I notice my hands being empty. No no no. I must have dropped my iPod in the hallway, the same time the prince dropped his notes. Except I forgot to pick up my own stuff.

I hurry back towards the hall. it must be here somewhere. After at least 20 minutes of me crawling over the floor, looking under sofas, behind flowerpots, everywhere, I realize it’s gone. And my world collapses.

[daisylincs]

What about 14/23+54 for staticquake? Please and thank you. 😊

14 = Bodyguard AU, 23 = Performer AU and 54 = Secret Relationship.

Once again thank you to Grace for the wonderful prompt!! In fact, it was SO wonderful I got totally carried away, and wrote this monster of a bullet point-fic. I would say sorry, but I enjoyed myself far too much. Ah, well. I hope you like it, too! 

Lincoln is an Ed Sheeran-level singer-songwriter who fell in with a bad group - but, kudos to him, managed to get away from them. Problem is, now he's in quite a lot of danger because of it. 

But, being totally stubborn and unreasonable, and above all a musician, Lincoln flatly refuses to give up on his performances.

Mack, his manager, throws up his hands but knows there's no point in arguing (he has learned the hard way that it will get him. literally. nowhere.) 

So he compromises: Lincoln gets to go on giving performances IF he agrees to have a bodyguard with him at all times.) 

Lincoln hates the idea - "I'm not a baby, Mack, I can take care of myself, and also there's NO WAY I'm letting some musclebound goon ruin my shows by standing there glaring all the time." 

Mack gets a little smirk on his face at this point that has Lincoln thinking, oh dear. "Don't worry," Mack says, "I know just what to do." 

And Lincoln really doesn't like the look of that smirk - Mack only ever wears it when he has A Plan™.

But he figures, best not to complain now - he can always fire the musclebound goon tomorrow, and anyway the muse is a very flighty thing so he has way better things to be doing. 

The next day, Lincoln goes into his office fully expecting to meet, well, a musclebound goon. Instead, he finds a pretty girl perched on his desk making notes on her phone. 

At first, he thinks she's lost, and being way too nice for his own good, he tries to help her find where she's actually going. 

Only… "Oh, no," she says with a cheerful smile, "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." 

"No, no," he says, still nice because she's quite pretty, even if she is in totally the wrong place. "This is a private office, actually." 

She hums her agreement - "nice decor, too." 

Lincoln is getting kind of annoyed now, because pretty or no, she's wasting his time. "You don't understand," he says. "This is Lincoln Campbell's office. I'm supposed to be meeting my new bodyguard here." 

The woman gives him a cheeky grin. "I know," she says. "Pleased to meet you." 

Lincoln's jaw drops practically to the floor as he finally gets it. "Wait… you're my new bodyguard?" 

"Daisy Johnson," she says with an exaggerated bow. "Graduated from May's academy with highest honours. I also have a degree in computer science, and by the way, your security system is crap." 

And, much as he doesn't want to be, Lincoln is impressed. Really impressed. She's only been here, what, fifteen minutes, and she's already hacked his security system? 

Also, a graduate of May's Academy? He knows next to nothing about the bodyguarding business, but… wow. 

And as he quickly learns, she's every bit as stubborn as he is. More, probably. If he doesn't want protection, well then that's too bad for him, she's here whether he likes it or not. 

After just one morning, he's already thinking that if he has to be stuck with a bodyguard following him around 24/7, he's glad it's Daisy. 

Days pass, and they get more comfortable with each other, falling into a routine that's almost friendly. He sleeps in, she mocks him for it as she wakes him up with coffee. After breakfast, he goes to the piano, while she improves some tiny feature of their now incredibly sophisticated security system. If it's a show day, or if he's meeting fans, they'll head out to the car together. Daisy has made her routine bug sweep into a kind of game, being unbelievably dramatic about flinging open the doors and declaring them "clear!" before bowing him into the car. 

During the drive, they chat about everything and anything (Daisy is hilarious, and her stories about the family she found at May's are the best. He feels like he knows Fitz and Jemma personally, and wants to smash their oblivious faces together as much as Daisy does.)

 When they get back from whatever show or interview he finished (or after a morning of song-writing), they like to play board games together. Daisy is insanely good at battleships, but he always beats her at backgammon. 

And Lincoln never, ever thought he'd say this, but he really likes his bodyguard. Impossible as it would have seemed to him a few weeks ago, she's become his friend. 

(It helps that she's not some musclebound goon, after all.) 

Which, great as it is, is also kind of a problem. 

Daisy is the furthest thing from a musclebound goon… because she's really, really pretty. 

And smart. And funny. And all-around just a great person. Honestly, could you even blame him for crushing on her? 

Luckily, Daisy hasn't noticed. (He thinks.) And he intends to keep it that way - he is NOT willing to lose his friend over the shitshow that is gossip tabloids. He knows that if the press gets even a hint of something between them, it's tickets for them. 

So, no, he's not willing to risk even thinking about his crush too much. 

Too bad Daisy seems determined to make him think about it as much as possible. 

"I'm bored," she informs him for the fiftieth time that afternoon. 

"That's just because you're losing in backgammon," he points out, also for the fiftieth time. 

She rolls her eyes. "No, I want to do something." Then her eyes light up with what can only be a really terrible idea. "I've got it! Come spar with me in the gym." 

"No!" There's no way he's going to agree to spar with her - seeing her in workout clothes every morning makes it hard enough to stay in his self-imposed friendzone, he isn't going to go making it WORSE by doing something as physical as sparring with her. 

"Pleeeeeaaaaaase?" 

That's the thing about Daisy - once she has hold of an idea, she will not let it go. And she'll resort to any means to get him to agree, even the hugely unfair advantage of puppy eyes. 

"Fine," he sighs, and the way her whole face lights up makes him think maybe it's worth going through the torture of a whole sparring session. 

He reconsiders that as soon as he's actually there. Daisy in full-on sparring mode is a whole new kind of beautiful - eyes shining, grinning hugely between panting breaths, curls loose and tangled around her face. She looks so alive, and God, he has never been more smitten. 

She kicks his ass. 

Twice. 

And on the third time she pins him, she huffs and goes, "I know you can do better than that." 

"Sorry," he says, trying his best not to dwell on the fact that she is currently lying on top of him. "You're just really distracting."

Shiiiit, he thinks, cursing himself immediately. Why, why, why did he say that? 

But Daisy's gaze simultaneously softens and turns mischievous. "Is that so?" she asks, leaning forwards so her curls are tickling his face. 

He has to catch his breath, because when she's leaning over like this her lips are suddenly really close to his. And also, did she just flirt with him, a little? 

He shifts his head a little, trying to ignore how this brings her lips even closer. "C'mon," he says. "You know you're really pretty." 

She raises her eyebrows. "Is that all?" 

"Of course not," he says. "You're smart, and kind, and funny, and badass. Daisy, you're… you're brilliant." 

He doesn't know how the mood turned from playful to so sincere, but he does know he means every word. 

And Daisy knows it too. Her eyes soften, and before he quite realises what's happening, she leans down and kisses him. 

He kisses her back, of course he does. And when they break apart, he sees his own feeling of oh-God-what-did-we-just-do reflected in her eyes. 

They look at each other for a long moment… and without having to say a word, they agree to leave the questions and worrying for later, and for now, let themselves just feel. 

And, well, they do. 

The next morning, Lincoln wakes up happier than he can remember being in a long time. Daisy is stretched out next to him, the sunlight painting her skin gold. 

It has to be the first time in history he's up before she is, and all he can think is how beautiful she looks. 

She wakes up, too, shooting him a sleepy smile that has his insides doing funny things, and for a few precious minutes they just bask in the warmth of the moment. 

But all too soon, reality comes crashing back. 

"I'm your bodyguard," Daisy says, scrambling out of bed with a look of dawning horror on her face. "This breaks every rule in the book, I can't do this." 

"I'm so sorry," she adds quietly, giving him a stricken look as she's halfway out of his room. "You deserve so much better, I should never have done this." 

"Okay, first of all, I was hardly an unwilling participant," he says, and her lips quirk up despite everything. "Second of all - I've been torturing myself for weeks trying to tell myself I'd get over it, but I really like you, Daisy. And I know better than anyone how impossible this seems - believe me, I've analysed every corner of it - but I can't let you go." 

She looks like she might still walk away, but she hesitates just inside the door. "What do you want to do?" she asks quietly. 

And it's crazy, and it's stupid, but he says it. Secret relationship. 

Daisy stands in the doorway, biting her lip, but slowly, she starts to grin. 

And that's how they start dating in secret. 

The funny thing is, their lives don't even change all that much. They still share a coffee in the morning, chat in the car and play board games in the afternoon. They still make each other laugh like crazy and get along like a house on fire.

 The only real difference is that he can kiss her whenever he feels like it, provided no-one's watching. That, he thinks, is the best difference he could ever have hoped for. 

They just need to be very careful not to get caught kissing. 

But after the first few weeks, caution turns into a kind of game - how far can we take this before someone'll be onto us? 

They are almost caught SO many times, and it just gets funnier every time. (Daisy's latest excuse: she needed to inspect his bare chest to make sure he wasn't bugged. Joey's face… Luckily for them, Daisy leaned poker faces from the best.) 

In short, life is great. He's got a job he loves with great people around him, and the best secret girlfriend anyone could wish for. 

It's so great, in fact, that he kind of forgets Daisy is actually his bodyguard. 

She doesn't forget, though. And she does her job. 

Because at his latest concert, some freaky terrorists decide it's just the time to try and make a statement by murdering a popular performer. 

Honestly, those poor terrorists. They never stood a chance against Daisy. 

Everything would have been one hundred percent fine if he hadn't called out "Daisy!" and rushed off-stage when he heard the gunshots, suddenly remembering with a cold shock that his girlfriend was also his bodyguard and currently being shot at. 

But unfortunately, he doesn't really stop to think. He rushes off stage, not giving a damn what anyone might think, to make sure she's all right. 

And the thing is, she's fine. Until she sees him. 

Then she freezes, for just a second, but it's enough for one of the terrorists to get in a shot. 

He sees it all happen in slow motion - the blood seeping out and staining Daisy's bodysuit, Daisy herself swaying and collapsing to the floor. He hears the shot a second after it hits. 

He runs over, his entire world suddenly panicky and terrified. Not Daisy, no, he can't lose her; oh, God, this is all his fault. 

Somehow, Daisy manages to squeeze his hand. He understands the silent message for what it is - it's going to be okay. 

Even when she's been shot, she's still so unbelievably strong. He squeezes her hand back and won't let go even when the paramedics come rushing into the building. 

He keeps gripping her hand as they load her up onto a stretcher, not even caring about the reporters that swarm them as soon as they're outside. 

The paparazzi can go fuck themselves. His girlfriend needs him right now, and that's more important than anything else. 

The next few hours, where he's waiting tensely as Daisy is in the operating theatre, are some of the longest of his life. 

At some point, four people (two men and two women) come rushing into the hospital, faces white and drawn. He's never seen them before, but he recognises them. May, Coulson, Fitz and Jemma. Daisy's family. 

The intimidating one, May, takes one look at him and goes "Daisy's boyfriend?" 

"Yeah," he says, so surprised he almost forgets his worry for a second, "how did you know?" 

May snorts and tells him that he's about as subtle as a brick wall, oh, and Daisy tells her everything. 

He smiles faintly at that. And the five of them - they don't know each other, but in those awful, uncertain hours, they form a bond, the kind that can only form in times of extreme stress when someone you all love is in danger. 

When the tired-looking nurse finally comes out to tell them Daisy's going to be okay, they hug each other on the spot. And it should be awkward, but all any of them can think about is Daisy, so it's not. It just feels right. 

They troop into her room, all five of them together, and a very dopey Daisy smiles weakly up at them. Lincoln immediately reaches for her hand, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles and lacing their fingers. 

Daisy gives him a small, tired smile, but then her brow squinches in confusion. "Wait… we're supposed to be a secret couple." 

Jemma coughs. "About that." And she shows them the latest gossip headlines: Lincoln holding Daisy's hand for dear life as they rush her to hospital. 

"Oh, that's not good," Daisy says, frowning through the effects of her heavy sedatives. 

This would have totally panicked Lincoln just a few days ago, but now… he almost lost her. The tabloids seem paltry and insignificant in comparison. 

"How would you feel about going on a date when you're better?" he asks, because he thinks she and everyone else in the room needs some cheering up. "A proper date, not a secret meet-up in the closet."

 Coulson raises his eyebrows, like, too much information. But Daisy grins. "I would love that," she says, just slightly slurred through all the drugs. 

"Good," he says, and kisses her forehead. She's smiling as she drifts off. 

Watching her, Lincoln thinks that their secret relationship was never meant to be. It was a lot of fun, sure, but it was never meant to last. 

They were always going to end up being a real couple. 

And honestly? He couldn't be happier. 

The end.

[eidolonlathi]

The Issue with Gen’s wasted Character Potential

With the manga about to reach its end I thought it worthwhile to have a closer look at how Gen’s character has been written. And the conclusion I'm coming to is that things started promising but then ended with already established potential not getting used.

Let’s start at the beginning. I don't believe that by the time of their introduction, any of the Sato squad’s new members had a clear and finished backstory. Or if, that it must have gotten changed while the story was progressing.

At this point it is difficult to say what the initial intention had been. But looking at Gen’s introduction, I always had the impression he and Takahashi didn't use to know each other before, came to the meeting alone and met there for the first time, instantly developing sympathy for each other. Something of the body and facial language in their first panel just seems too distant for me to signal anything else. And taking into account that until chapter 66.5 it hadn’t been confirmed that they shared a backstory, I view an individual arrival still as a possibility. Gen stating some time after the Grant Pharma arc that he possesses no ghost is no contradiction; just because Kou was clumsy enough to attract attention and got caught doesn't mean Gen wouldn't have been able to attend the black ghost meeting undetected.

Either way, only moments later, as soon as Sato's plan was established, he and Takahashi were able to quickly adapt to the situation and work together in harmony. Be it because they used to already know each other or by forming an instant strong connection. This moment already established the pattern that functioning together came easy to them while with Tanaka in the equitation friction would develop easily. But interestingly on the newly formed team all disharmony vanished at first, the operation on Grant Pharma ending a success.

I think this is about the only time in the manga where Gen is completely on his own and it’s impressive how good his nerves are during this moment. He stays calm, analyses the situation and delivers the needed information. And he has to do all of this while Takahashi is constantly being killed right next to him, yet Gen doesn’t get nervous at all.

That kind of levelheadedness would last until into the Forge Arc. And then getting reduced for the sake of preparing a “twist” lacking any solid foundation. Regardless of what one thinks of Gen being human or him and Takahashi supposed to have been brothers all along, from a storytelling perspective it makes zero sense to hide this all away from the reader until the last second. Like, that’s it? That’s the twist? How is this supposed to be relevant again? One of the random sidekicks to the main baddy –who you always knew wouldn’t have a chance to make it to the end- died instead of having gotten captured. I doubt anyone but the less than 20 people who used to ship takagen cared. These characters were about to disappear from the story either way, the average reader wouldn’t care about the surrounding details because these two were not the kind of characters that were given enough relevance. Or more, after a strong introduction, relevance and focus kept getting taken away from them.

Because relevance is the second factor why the reveals at the end were a bad way to progress the story. Since it got clear that some intended surprise was along its way (being shocking for the purpose of being shocking always looks forced), Takahashi and especially Gen were shoved further away into the background of happenings, given little to do. And that was a waste, frankly, taking into account how active both of them were allowed to behave shortly after their introductions. Remember them both supporting Sato with their sniping skills during the Grant Pharma attack? Sniping is a task complicated to do right but both of them were proving to be capable. Together and on their own: The moment Takahashi was taken out by enemy snipers, Gen was perfectly able to calmly overview and asset the situation, like this gathering together the information Tanaka needed to advance further and deal with those threats.

So, you have these two characters who have proven to be capable during stressful situations with a reliable mind and then the manga just… shoved them aside. Not just by lessening focus on them but by downright ignoring the ways they would have been able to contribute to their team. Cutting their teeth and claws further and further, first by putting more of a focus on their drug using habits (edgy. Now we know they’re bad guys for sure. Don’t get me started on addiction getting used as an indicator of morality) and then taking this further until they were reduced to not much more than moving props clowning around in the background. Compare that to Okuyama, whose early established technical skills kept getting efficiently used to advance the plot.

The curse got broken. After years of silence chapter 59 finally allowed Gen to speak again. Unfortunately barely anyone still remembered he existed or what he had brought to the plot so far.

Letting all this potential go to waste, for what? Because more of a focus would have threatened to reveal those wannabe twists? Something that turned out as boring as “one was human all along but the writing never told us that for no good reason”. It is hard to imagine after all the Sato squad was unaware about this important little detail: Not with their habit to regenerate themselves or their injured comrades via shooting themselves back to life during operations. With this they would have needed getting informed about Gen not being an ajin.

And the sudden sibling status about to get introduced resulting in “Gen’s dialogue needs to get reduced into nothing, otherwise it would become too obvious he and Takahashi being brothers was a last minute idea, with them going against local conventions by not calling each other “brother”, instead using their last names ever since.” Yeah, how did that work out? Now we have actual implied canonical incest because Takahashi and Gen being related changed nothing about the fact they were giving off the most obvious couple vibes this manga had to offer, making it look they were actively hiding being related. Where did it go wrong? Was “Gen is human” installed as a possible twist last minute late in the game, kept nebulous in case some better idea came up? (The hints were always vague guesswork at best, supposed to be able to go both ways, and unlike the anime the manga didn’t have the foresight to prepare it as believable by keeping Gen out of the most dangerous situations and reducing this drug consuming habit to a zero. So, am I supposed to look at it as a deliberate suicide mission on his part in manga context? Was his nihilism this deeply rooted here?) And what about the sibling retcon? Was “he joined this non-human extremist group for the sake of supporting his friend” sounding too gay an explanation, so in an attempt to erase that away they were retconned brothers? Would at least explain why those two look absolutely nothing alike despite supposed to be related.

Ironically this accidental incestuous implication was the only element working here in favour of story telling and character development. Disillusioned incestuous couple disappointed with life drifts into nihilism and thus resonates with Sato's ruthless modus operandi? Now that's the kind of variation and originality I like to see in fiction.

Interesting how Gen just shrugs his shoulders and goes back to routine once told the hostages already served their purpose. Zero sentimentalities to be seen. 

I’m glad the story at least let those two stay loyal to Sato until the end, keeping the last bit of relevance in place that differentiated them from their (former) teammates. Takahashi and Gen had bloodthirsty motivations long before they met Sato, so it makes sense those shared similarities kept deepening the bond of those three. It makes sense on a level of characterization and interpersonal relation as well: I’d go as far as to say that Sato was most likely one of the few (the first?) people who accepted them the way they were. Attentive as he was it is hard to imagine he would have missed any aspect of the nature of their relationship. Yet his demeanour towards them never changed, more, as time went on the three of them grew closer. Being met with this kind of acceptance, it is easy to see why Takahashi’s and Gen’s loyalty towards Sato would have strengthened over time as well. Add to this that those three had a pretty similar mind set and voila. A unit that could have had it all, hadn’t it been for the story’s need to play it safe and prepare circumstances so the “good” guys (anyone seriously believing the status quo of using captured ajin for experiments would have changed without outside pressure?) win because of reasons.

This manga has many strengths but the recent habit to insert plot threads that keep dangling and are leading to nowhere or constant retcons that backpedal on what was previous established are none of it. Seeing how the manga started losing its way shortly after the Forge Arc ended and how the plot is now stumbling around in an attempt to reach an ending has been a disappointment, exactly because the story already has proven so many times that it can be excellent under the right circumstances. Alas, hope gets snatched away last.

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 2: The Racism of the Conductor’s Baton (Part 5)

TIER: Meanwhile, minutes in the future, a new character wanders about the desert wasteland. A PEREGRINE MENDICANT.

CHEL: This character resembles WV, except plain white in colour and noticeably taller, also wrapped in rags and pushing what appears to be a shopping trolley full of mailboxes.

WV heads for the passageway outside, the door to the bunker slamming shut behind him and glowing with a touchscreen; interacting with that causes the antechamber to spin around and a door to open into a new room, containing more computers. One of the two screens depicts Earth, while the other shows four spirographs orbiting around a fifth spirograph, with one set of two dots (one large, one small) next to the centre and another set of dots outside the orbit range. Looks familiar? A smaller screen below shows coordinates and times.

The room also contains a meter stick, which WV considers combining with his knife (really a strip of rusty metal) and a strip of rag to form a spear, but he hasn’t got his knife with him, and a bizarre contraption which looks like a ray gun pointing at a circular platform. When WV presses the big blue button on the console, the machine is proved to be an APPEARIFYER, which produces a pumpkin apparently out of thin air. Closer examination proves it to have taken the pumpkin from the coordinates entered on the console; there is a symbol carved on the pumpkin in the shape of what appears to be a pointy-eared animal’s face.

WV experiments a bit more with the machine, successfully summoning his knife back and using it to cut open the pumpkin (we are spared the apparently gruesome sight of him devouring the innards messily). The spirograph switch is immovable without a key. WV is also able to rescue the firefly from within the amber chunk, and this being a cartoon the firefly is miraculously alive and very happy about this! Awww.

TIER: The APPEARIFYER seems to be capable of grabbing thing from anywhere and anywhen, as long as doing so doesn't create a time paradox of all things. Attempting to do so causes the machine to activate a failsafe that turns whatever someone tried to get into a pile of paradox slime.

CHEL: With seconds to spare and dramatic music playing, WV appearifies the grate over the entrance to provide himself with an exit route, then scrambles around cramming all his cans and equipment into the hollow pumpkin, much to the consternation of the firefly, now named Serenity (of course). Frantically, he rushes up the ladder towards outside and safety… only to slip and fall back down at the last second, cans landing all over him, cutting to a scene reading “PSYCHE?” The next page states simply “UNPSYCHE”, the text beneath declaring a failure of the rare and highly dangerous 5X CLIFFHANGER COMBO, and we lead into another animation.

WV makes it to the top of the ladder just as the countdown finishes. Fortunately, the explosion doesn’t kill him; instead, it turns out to be the starting of rocket engines which propel the entire bunker into the air, setting it flying westward. Cut to John’s suburb, noted to be A CONTINENT WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST (BUT NOT MANY), where a meteor plummets to Earth, destroying all life and construction around it. Wind fills up the crater with soil again and a large white tree sprouts in its centre over a time period then revealed to be the years between its destruction and WV’s arrival.

Meanwhile, Peregrine Mendicant pushes their cart full of mailboxes along in the desert, oblivious to the bunker which is heading right overhead. WV observes, and the camera pans out to show PM’s outside another bunker with the same green house symbol on it. AN OCEAN WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST, but not “not many” this time, a spirograph opens up in space, shooting out a meteor, which crashes beside an active volcano. Millennia pass; the volcano dies, the crater fills up with greenery, and a tall building of green stone with a frog statue on the top is erected by unseen beings. As water levels rise, the building is covered almost completely and the volcano becomes an ocean island. Pterosaurs fly past, so we can presume the building was not made by humans.

Cut to Rose, cornered by the fire, frantically hitting and screaming at the generator until a flaming tree falls, shattering the generator and forcing Rose to leap to safety - or not safety, as the fire is still surrounding her. Mom Lalonde observes from the window of the house and presses a button on a keypad, opening up a secret passage in the mausoleum, leading downwards.

In a mysterious purple tower, Dad Egbert is handcuffed and hurried along by two imps, until he breaks free of the cuffs and attacks with cake and shaving cream. (If you pay close attention, you'll discover the cuffs were the trick ones from John's chest, according to another reader - I never did notice.) Atop another tower, this one Dave’s apartment building, Dave faces down Bro and Cal under a bright orange sky, and we finally see Bro Strider in non-silhouette. He bears a striking resemblance to the photo of the GameBro writer, right down to the popped collar. I don’t know if he’s actually supposed to be said writer, though.

Finally, WV’s flying bunker comes to a gentle stop in the middle of another desert, and he finds himself at the foot of a third tower, this one the remains of the frog-topped building, the ocean now long dry. The animation ends, and the curtains close on Act 2.

Now this is how to get across a lot of information fast! Much better. Very little text needed (in fact, what is there might not be strictly necessary, though it’s useful for immediately parsing what’s shown), no messing about. It’s a sharp improvement over sylladex shenanigans.

Okay, what do you guys think of Act 2? What does it do better than Act 1, or worse? Do you think it’s doing a good job of storytelling?

TIER: The pacing has improved.

CHEL: Technically speaking there are more instances of GET ON WITH IT (five to Act 1’s three), but this act is also longer and some of those instances were unnecessary single pages and not endless faffing about like in Act 1, so yes, that’s getting better. I think Hussie now knows better where his plot is going, and I don’t know if he originally did in the early stages of Act 1, so he’s better able to stick to a route to the goal.

FAILURE ARTIST: It is interesting seeing Rose’s and Dave’s home situation in light of later developments. I don’t think Hussie intended any deep commentary on child abuse when he wrote those scenes. I think it was edgy humor.

I hadn’t paid much attention to Rose’s FAQ or Sassacre’s book and I am disappointed by the racism in the excerpts. Worse, I know Hussie reuses the ethnic wedding metaphor later.

But on a positive note, the walkabout game is a cool new use of the medium.

BRIGHT: There’s a lot more meat to this act. More things happen, we get introduced to some of the background characters and find out more about how the game is set up. We also have more characterisation, which is a definite plus.

CHEL: So, for our hypothetical rewrite, removing the racism is obvious. “Edgy” humour was in at the time of writing, but even with that excuse, this is icky. It doesn’t really have the self-awareness of the awfulness of, say, Something Positive, it’s just a guy saying offensive things and it’s not quite clear how aware he is that they’re offensive.

Also obvious is removing the redundancy. I’d also add in a better reaction for John learning that Earth is doomed. I considered possibly moving that part of the reveal to a later point when it could be explored a bit more, but it does work nicely as a wham line with little info given yet. Also, figure out what the fuck we should be going for with Rose’s and Dave’s parental figures and stick to it. I could certainly see it being possible to lull the reader into falsely thinking of awful situations as funny in context and slowly revealing ways it fucked the kids up as we go, but in HS it’s handled clumsily, and there’s far too much going on already for an idea like that to have space to do it justice, I think. Oh, also, if John’s dream sequence was necessary, I’d have had it with him being knocked out, not just randomly deciding to nap while still surrounded by monsters. That was just kind of weird, especially since his friend is still in danger at that point.

Anything else you all can think of, readers? I don’t think we have any huge holes in the plot yet or anything. It’s certainly still much better than most of the works sporked here, but we'd appreciate it if you point out anything we missed.

COUNTS ALL THE LUCK: 0 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 6 CALL CPA PLEASE: 2 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 6 GET ON WITH IT!: 8 GORE GALORE: 0 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 13 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 3 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 0 RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 0 SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 0 SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS: 0 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 1 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 6 TOTAL: 45

[cryoculus]

soulmate au wit oikawa where soulmates feel each others pain and oikawa isnt the one who hurt his knee, his soulmate is a soccerplayer and got slide tackled. i really love your work, tysm!!!! 💐

» Word Count: 6,080 wordsCross-posted on AO3

Omg i was looking for references on what to base the scene where the soulmate gets tackled from and this is what i imagined! Just scrub the video to 0:14!  I know jack SHIT about soccer though. Everything in this work was purely based off research, so feel free to leave me a message if you spot some errors!

And MAN this was meant to be a short scenario with quick transitions but it turned into a whole drama bomb. You can keep scrolling if you’re not up for a 6000-word oneshot ++ as usual, my shit is terrible on tumblr mobile pls bear with me.

Oikawa loved the thrill of the game.

The incessant beat of his heart against his chest, the adrenaline that surged through his veins, the buzz of confidence that washed over him as he hit powerful serves at the other side of the court – he was enamored with his own capabilities, so to speak.

Today was like any other day. Seijoh was hosting a practice match against Datekou and Oikawa was in top form. They were already down to a match point in the second set. But just before he could land the killing shot that would decide the winner, he halted mid-air as a searing sensation ripped through his knee.

The volleyball bounced aimlessly for having been forgotten. Oikawa fell on his side against the hardwood floor, clutching the afflicted knee to his chest as agony bloomed across his nerves. He bit his lip, not allowing himself to utter a single sound as everyone else on the court crowded around him.

“Coach, Oikawa’s injured!”

The sound of your knee popping from its sockets from where the enemy defender, Yamanaka, kicked you from the side was sickening. Even through the incessant cheer of the audience in the stands, you could hear it loud and clear. The moment the sole of her shoe made brutal contact with your knee, Yamanaka even brushed her torso against yours, roughly toppling you off balance and forcing your kneecap to absorb the impact of your fall.

For a moment, your vision darkened from the agonizing pain that flared up your right knee as you fell onto the grass. A scream ripped its way from your throat, your hands scrambling for purchase to alleviate the mind-numbing sensation that burned through your nerves. You’re sure that your leg was twisted in an unnatural angle, too.

The distant sound of a whistle rang in your ears. Even through your current state, you were hyper aware of everything that’s happening around you. Players from both your team and the opposition flocked around you with concerned stares. Your best friend, Harada immediately crouched beside you, careful not to move your injury.

“Hey, (Name)!” Her eyes were wide with dread. “Can you hear me? Can you stand up?”

You shook your head with minimal effort, groaning as you did your best to remain still to avoid inflaming your knee. A few moments later, a couple of medics arrived in the scene, telling the others to give you some space to breathe. You wanted to tell them that you could breathe fine, but your voice failed you.

As you were being carried onto a stretcher, you could see one of the referees giving Yamanaka a red card. She only shrugged, as if getting penalties was a regular thing for her. But before she could step off the field, she took the liberty to cast you a self-satisfied smirk.

A sob unknowingly made its way from your lips, gaining the attention of one of the medics that was about to bring you to the first aid station. He murmured something about everything being okay in the end and that you’d get to play with your teammates soon enough.

Today really wasn’t your day.

“So,” Doctor Yamano began, “what seems to be the problem here?”

Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa, who was fidgeting nervously under the professional’s gaze. For some reason, he harbored an inexplicable discomfort around doctors. Whenever he visited one, it was either because he was sick or sustained an injury. Frankly, he wasn’t a fan of both.

“While we were playing a practice match against another school earlier today, I…” His voice trailed off. How the hell was he supposed to explain it to him?

Yamano hummed. “Yes?”

He sighed. “…I felt my right knee give out.”

“Did you apply the proper first aid procedures, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa nodded, recalling the urgency in Coach Irihata’s voice as they lugged him to Seijoh’s infirmary.

“Is it severe? It probably isn’t if you’re not in the emergency room, I presume?”

He scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “It felt serious. I really thought my whole career was done for just because of a practice match.”

Yamano nodded in understanding. “Did you have your knee x-rayed already?”

“Uh, no.”

He sighed before lacing his fingers together. “Well, I’ll be needing a clear image of it so I can make a proper diagnosis, Oikawa-san. I’ll write you up a request form to show the radiologists.”

“Ah…” Oikawa wanted to tell him that it really wasn’t necessary. That maybe going here was a mistake because his knee still looked pretty much intact, save for the dull throb that pestered him throughout the day. Iwaizumi even jokingly berated his soulmate for getting such a severe injury. But Oikawa didn’t really know how doctors reacted to that.

So when he was given the green light to get an x-ray, Oikawa told Iwaizumi that he’d be all right on his own and that he should get going. There was obvious apprehension in his best friend’s eyes, but he indulged Oikawa’s request, regardless.

He was glad. If there truly was something wrong with him, he wouldn’t want Iwaizumi to be there to see how bad it was. He already worried about him far too much than Oikawa deserved.

“You go here often?”

You shot the guy that was sitting a few seats away from you in the waiting room a bizarre look. If you could recall perfectly, you were in a radiology center, not a bar.

“I’m not even from here,” you explained gruffly, pressing your legs closer together. They exchanged your uniform with a hospital gown to minimize the pressure on your knee as much as possible. The injury was beyond what the stadium’s first aid medics could manage, thus the impromptu trip to the Sendai Medical Center. But before the doctors could assess the severity of your condition, they needed a visual.

“Hmm, so am I.” The stranger sighed miserably. “I live in another district, but this is the only hospital that covers my insurance. So, where you from?”

Your brows scrunched up at his nonchalance. Did you not look distraught enough for him to just leave you to your own devices? Maybe he was just like that as a person?

You exhaled. “I’m from Hyogo.”

His noticeably brown eyes widened in surprise. “What’re you doing all the way here, then?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

A soft-hearted laugh escaped his lips as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “When I see cute girls looking like their whole world just ended before their eyes, it’s kind of my thing to swoop down and comfort them.”

“Like a knight in shining armor of sorts?” you snorted.

He shrugged. “Take it as you like. All I’m saying is that I’m a pretty good listener. It’s not like we’ll cross paths again for me to hold anything you tell me against you, right?”

You managed to give him a lopsided smile. The gravity of everything that’s transpired today was slowly beginning to weigh down on your shoulders.

When the coach’s assistant arrived in the hospital, the game had already been concluded. Without their main offensive player, Mikage Shihan had to surrender their title to Aomori High for this year’s tournament.

When the news fell upon your ears, the sting of loss almost rivalled the throbbing ache in your knee. But before you could get emotional about your own hastiness, the nurse that attended to you in the emergency room informed that they needed an x-ray so the doctors could treat you accordingly.

Your eyes trailed back to the chatty stranger. He’s gazing at you expectantly and though there’s something about that sympathetic look he’s giving you that’s making warmth dance across your skin, you weren’t really the type to confide in people you just met.

Just as you were about to reject his offer, the door to the room where they conducted the x-rays swung open. The person inside called out your name, saying the machine was up and running. Talk about being saved by the bell.

You gave the stranger a curt nod as you tried to stand up from your seat, almost crumpling to the floor when the sharp pain from your knee shot up in your leg again, but you resisted it. Too many people have seen you in this sorry state already. You didn’t intend to add more to the list.

When the door closed behind you, you completely missed the way Oikawa Tooru clutched his own knee in a deathly grip as the pain, that he’s now realizing really wasn’t his own, came to life once more.

His knee was fine, but he’s pretty sure he accidentally stumbled into his soulmate in the process. At first, Oikawa didn’t know if Iwaizumi would understand, but thankfully he did.

“It happens,” he told Oikawa as they were heading home from practice. “Not everyone experiences it though.”

Iwaizumi told him about how Hanamaki and Matsukawa used their own bond to grate at each other’s nerves. Oikawa did a double-take on that one. He asked Iwaizumi why they didn’t bother telling him, their most trusted friend, about their status as soulmates. Iwauzmi smacked his head, reminding him how much of a chatterbox he was and that Makki and Mattsun wanted to keep it private.

“Ow!”

The woman that’s overseeing your therapy shot you a concerned look. You’re in the middle of doing the exercises that aid in rehabilitating the torn ligament in your knee, and you were on the last of your reps when suddenly, you lurched forward as if a ghostly hand had smacked you upside the head.

“You doing all right there, bud?” your therapist asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You rubbed the side of your head, still stinging from the contact (or lack thereof). “I feel like my head was spiked by a volleyball player.”

She laughed. “Really now?”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling it really often. One time, I was eating and my face nearly pummelled into a bowl of ramen.”

“Your soulmate must piss a lot of people off, then.”

You stared at her, but laughed it off as one of her jokes. Surely, she didn’t mean you actually had a soulmate right? Only a few people were blessed enough to be given one. Besides, whoever got stuck with you as a soulmate would be damned to the achingly slow healing stage of your knee for an indefinite amount of time.

But a hopeful part of you wished that, if you did have a soulmate, they wouldn’t be an athlete like you. Your own tribulation would only weigh them down in ways you can only imagine.

Oikawa could bear with the pain.

On good days, it was just a faint throb in his knee that he could ignore for the most part. His performance wouldn’t be easily affected by a twinge of pain. He had a pretty high tolerance for it, after all.

But there were also times like these when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, clutching his leg as he stifled a scream. What were you doing in such an ungodly hour?

He laid in his bed until the agony subsided back into the usual telltale throb that reminded him that though it’s no longer volatile, the sensation was still there. You were still in pain. He didn’t like the idea; not one bit.

That was the first time he looked you up. He clumsily spelled out your name on the search engine in the way that he remembered the x-ray technician from nearly a month ago pronounced it. He expected to see links to social media accounts you probably owned, but instead he was faced with a bunch of news articles from online high school sports magazines.

Curious, he clicked on the first link.

“Hyogo’s Own (Surname) (Name), Out of Commision for Good?”

Oikawa vaguely recalled you mentioning that you were from Hyogo and nothing else. It was a district far off on the other side of the country. It would take more than twelve hours to drive there, yet he had  found you sitting in a hospital in Sendai with a dead look in your eyes. He always wondered how exactly you wound up waiting to get an x-ray of whatever was afflicting you so far away from home, but the pieces slowly came together as his eyes grazed every word in the article.

“The coach of Hyogo’s Mikage Shihan is yet to release a statement with regards to their star player’s condition. But from what we’ve gathered from the team’s captain, Matsumoto Hiyori, she sustained a severe injury in her right leg. Some speculate that it was a dislocation, but others insisted that it was just a torn ligament. Whatever the cause may be, the football scene would be having scarce glimpses of one of Japan’s top three high school strikers, both in the male and female divisions.”

Your back collided with the wall as Harada roughly pressed you against it, holding you by the shoulders as unveiled fury burned in her eyes.

“Do you really want to end your whole career because of your own stubbornness?” she spat.

You have half the mind to tell her that your career would end sooner if you didn’t practice, but Harada would only remind you that you were given a three-month probation from any sporting activities. You hated that your doctor was right, that Harada was right, but could they blame you?

Soccer was all you had – it’s all you’re good at. You wanted to feel the rush of running through the field, the sun glaring at your skin, and the sound of grass crunching under the soles of your shoes. You ached for it.

“Just one month more, (Name),” she whispered, her fingers trembling. “One more and you’ll be free to play again. But right now…your knee still needs to heal.”

You knew that. You knew it far too well more than Harada or anyone else could ever understand. The burden of waking up every morning, feeling like your knee was going to snap off its sockets at any moment was already fair enough of a warning. But you couldn’t help yourself. You needed to move, to constantly be doing something because you’d rather incapacitate yourself entirely than spend another second feeling worthless. Seeing everyone do their drills on the field as you watched them between the barrier of a chain-link fence ate away at your sanity more than you expected it to.  

The door to the locker rooms abruptly creaked open as your team’s goalie, Suzuhime, and your captain, Matsumoto, made their entrance, shattering the tension that nearly suffocated you.

Their gazes, oh how sick you were of those pitiful gazes they sent your way. Why did they always look at you like you wouldn’t be playing alongside them anymore? It infuriated you to no end and the frustration that’s been building up in your chest for weeks just…burst.

“Why does everyone have to keep deciding what I can and can’t do for myself?” you snapped. “It’s my body, it’s my career, why do you have to meddle with what I want to fucking do with my life?”

Poison might as well dribbled from your chin at the sharpness of your tone. The two newcomers shot you wide-eyed stares, unused to your seething behavior, but Harada remained unfazed. She’s known you since you were children and even if you were a collected person for the most part, she’s borne witness to your rage a handful of times. And she knew how to handle the situation accordingly.

You were armed with an arsenal of even more hurtful things to say, but before any of them left your lips, the sting of Harada’s palm smacking against your face snapped you out of your haze of indignation.

The frown you didn’t know you’ve been making loosens as your lips parted in surprise when tears fell from Harada’s eyes.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt by this, you know?” she interjected with a shaky breath. “We hate seeing you in pain. We hate it when you try to push yourself to limits you can’t reach anymore. So please just–” she exhaled, “–try to understand why we’re keeping you from training.”

Matsumoto came forward, pulling the two of you in a tight embrace. Suzuhime muttered something about unwarranted affection, but joined in regardless. You couldn’t react. You never really thought of it that way until Harada slapped you with the truth (no pun intended).

“Can you promise me one thing, as your captain?” Matsumoto pressed her lips in a thin line.

You nodded.

“Focus on getting better. The field won’t disappear, but your career can. Wasn’t that one big shot university in Tokyo eyeing you for a sports scholarship? You can’t lose that.”

And she was right. There was more to your life than this measly little slip-up. In five years give or take you’d be laughing at this whole thing like it was an inside joke. Everything was going to get better.

With that, you wiped the tears that ran across Harada’s cheeks, mumbling an almost inaudible apology.

“Man, you guys are too uptight,” Suzuhime whined. “Let’s all just get some pork buns like we used to!”

The idea never sounded better.

“What’s up with you?” Iwaizumi spared Oikawa a mindful glance. Their captain was rubbing his cheek instead of warming up for practice.

“I think she got slapped,” he muttered.

Hanamaki, having found out about Oikawa’s newly discovered soulmate bond, cackled. “You want to return the favor?”

“Shut the fuck up, Makki.”

“A soulmate?” Harada cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you have one, Suzu?”

Redness crept up Suzuhime’s face for having been singled out. “Um, yeah. It’s my childhood friend. You don’t know him. He goes to another school.”

Matsumoto scoffed. “That’s just high school girl-talk for ‘my soulmate doesn’t exist’.”

“Hey! He does, too!”

Harada waved away their impending banter, her attention solely on you. “So you think you have a soulmate?”

You nodded, eyes drifting towards your half-eaten pork bun. “They get hit a lot. I’m worried they’re in an abusive environment.”

“How sweet,” Suzuhime sighed. “My soulmate doesn’t care about his health at all. He always gets into scuffles and the bruises take ages to heal. When I talked to him about it, he just shrugged it off!”

“If he exists, that is,” taunted your captain.

“Matsu, I am going to tape your damn mouth.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Ignore them,” Harada told you. “So, what do you plan on doing about it?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same thing. Soulmate bonds are a surefire way of determining that someone was out there fated to be with you. But the tricky part was finding them. They could be anywhere in the world and the only means you had to contact them were the shared sensations of pain you felt on both ends of the bond.

Your eyes drifted onto the black knee brace you’ve been coerced to wear for the duration of your therapy. It served as a visual reminder of what had happened. But then again, the dull ache that made itself known every now and then still haunted you. Did your soulmate feel that slight ounce of pain, too?

“I think,” you sighed, “I’m just going to wait it out.”

This was bad.

Oikawa Tooru was known for his exceptional talent as a setter and a jump server. He wouldn’t have the audience from the stands hyping him up when it’s his turn to send a merciless blow towards their opponent. But jump serves were the only serves he made, since he refused to settle for anything less. This put an unnecessary strain on his knees that he knew, from the start, he would pay for when the time comes.

That time was now.

He hissed as Iwaizumi soothed the taut muscles in Oikawa’s legs. Matsukawa handed their ace an ice pack, which he placed over their captain’s aching knee.

“Is it yours?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Matsukawa snickered at the side. “Of all the soulmates you could have ended up with, they just had to be an injury-prone idiot, too.”

Normally, he would’ve told Mattsun off for being mean, but honestly, he couldn’t have been more right.

“Shouyou’s playing volleyball now?” you clarified to your mother, who was giving you your afternoon massage.

She hummed. “Your aunt told me their school’s fighting to qualify as Miyagi’s representative for nationals. They got us tickets to watch their semifinals game.”

You couldn’t ever picture your little cousin, Shouyou, being able to touch the top of a volleyball net. He never even showed the vaguest interest in any kind of sport! Whenever his family visited yours in Hyogo a few years back, you always tried to get him into soccer one way or another. But he was as stubborn as an ox. Now, you’re hearing he’s playing to qualify for a national-level tournament for their prefecture?

“Miyagi, huh? That’s where I…” You frowned. No, you weren’t going to dwell on it any longer. “When’s the game?”

“This Friday, but we’re leaving on Thursday night. Your father’s driving.”

School wasn’t particularly hectic this time around, so you shrugged, agreeing with your mother to go all the way back to the place where some of your dreams were crushed. It wouldn’t do anyone harm, right?

Things were looking pretty dire for Seijoh. The little chibi – no, his entire team wasn’t letting up at all. It annoyed Oikawa more than it should. How did they still have that much determination left? 

Oikawa’s breath came out a little shaky as Mr. Refreshing and the little shrimp attempted to send the ball back to Seijoh. But Oikawa saw through the feint. Sugawara set it into the ace’s direction instead, who promptly slammed it down with unparalleled precision. Hanamaki was quick to react, diving for it without a second’s hesitation. The receive was off and it was flying away from the court, but Oikawa’s feet moved before he could even set a plan in stone. 

He forced his legs into sprints as he snapped his arm and pointed an index finger in the direction of the person he trusted most. His eyes flashed with fiery determination and the flames spread to Iwaizumi’s as well. It seemed impossible. It would be one of the riskiest sets he would have to make in his whole career thus far, but if he didn’t take it, he would just be admitting defeat. 

Oikawa launched himself into the air, twisting his torso in the direction of Seijoh’s ace and put the ball back in play all the way from where he set it from outside the court. Iwaizumi nodded in understanding, bending his knees for the sole purpose of connecting it. Naturally, the rules of physics still applied in a volleyball game and gravity eventually brought Oikawa back on the ground, at the cost of his back colliding with some of the metal chairs set aside. 

But Iwaizumi didn’t disappoint. He was already flying, arm pulled back in a spiking stance before the ball could even come to him. He trusted Oikawa’s accuracy enough to make this shot possible. There was no one else that could pull this off.

The captain grit his teeth, struggling to get back on his feet, but a sheet of black cloth was on the floor, making him lose traction in his shoes. The urgency in his action made him slip, his bad knee – your bad knee – colliding with the floor. The familiar sting in his bones flared back into life, but he couldn’t afford to pay it any mind.

He was running. Running even if his knee screamed for him to stop. Running even if his lungs burned for a breather. Running because even if Iwaizumi connected his set with a beautiful spike, that blasted Karasuno delinquent was definitely going to receive it–

A pained scream momentarily distracted him from everything happening on the court. It was strange. He never let what was going on in the stands distract him from a game, whether it be Seijoh’s supporters egging them on or some other matter than didn’t require his attention. 

But he could see it. The way you crumpled on the stairs a few levels above in the stands, clutching your knee to chest as you howled in agony. His heart stopped at the sight. 

What were you doing here?

“It hurts! It hurts!” you sobbed into your father’s shirt, fingers clamped around your aching leg. The all-too familiar pain erupted in your knee at the very same time that familiar face slipped on the court. You knew it wasn’t just a coincidence that the chatty stranger from a few months back was in the very same match as Shouyou. 

“Shh, we’re going to get your meds, baby,” your father cooed as he carefully hooked his arm under your knees and supported your back with the other. “Just hold out for a while.”

You could vaguely hear your mother apologizing to your aunt, but all your mind could focus on was how beautiful his eyes were. They were looking straight at you with crackling intensity. But before you could spend any longer drowning in those hazel eyes, your father carried you out of the stands, whispering words of consolation in your ear. 

“Oikawa-san!” 

Yahaba’s shout pulled Oikawa back into focus and he could clearly see Tobio running about on the court, going into position for their freak quick. A menacing smile graced Oikawa’s lips. That’s what he wanted – for his junior to use their ultimate weapon and fail. 

But something was wrong.

Iwaizumi, Kindaichi, and Kyoutani – the three of them, at the same time, lunged in an attempt to sully the ball’s trajectory. But they shouldn’t. The chibi’s arms were angled too obtuse. The shot was definitely going outside. He was about to bark at them to stop being a couple of idiots, but there was no reversing it.

Even if you can’t stop it, touch it, that’s what Oikawa always told them. He shouldn’t go back on his own teachings now. 

The chibi’s spike grazed Iwaizumi’s fingers. Out of instinct, Oikawa pulled his arms to the side in a pathetic attempt to receive, but he knew it was in vain. If only he stood a few feet at the back, maybe he could have had better odds. 

But fate has always been cruel to the ordinary. 

As all eyes were on the outplayed volleyball, none of the players dared to draw a breath. But seeing that Oikawa was already their last line of defense, it collided with the floor, the echoing sound imprinted in his mind for the rest of his days.

Seijoh had fallen.

“When I find that boy, I’m going to beat him to a pulp,” your father flatly proclaimed when you finished your story. The three of you were back in the Hinatas’ living room, your mother having soothed your knee with her otherworldly massage. 

“Dad, no,” you pleaded, but knew he didn’t mean the threat. At least, not entirely. 

“I’m going to have to agree with your father, sweetie,” your mother caressed your hair. “He must know what’s going on with you by now. He should be more careful.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Mom, I should have been careful. Who knows what he went through when I got slide tackled in the Aomori game.” 

She hesitated before sighing in defeat. Your parents then shared a look, presumably having a telepathic conversation as to what your next course of action should be. 

But before they could make that decision for you, Shouyou emerged from the hallway. 

“You’re…soulmates with the Grand King?” 

You didn’t know who this ‘grand king’ was, but he probably meant the chatty stranger turned volleyball player you met eyes with earlier today. You shot Shouyou a pained smile.

“Yeah.”

“Iwa-chan, I don’t get why we’re in rival territory. Why won’t you just tell me?” Oikawa simpered as Iwaizumi dragged him along further inside Karasuno’s campus. A few girls they passed by shot him knowing glances, which was odd. Most females would swoon at the sight of Oikawa Tooru.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi dismissed before letting go of his best friend’s collar when they arrive at the school’s gym. “Someone wants to see you.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “If it’s Tobio-chan, tell him to forget it! As if I’ll let him gloat about their victory in my face.”

“Dumbass, it’s not him! None of the players are looking for you!”

“Then why are we even here in the first place?”

“Uhm, hello?”

It’s been months since Oikawa’s heard that voice, but even now, he could still associate your face with it. You peeked your head from inside Karasuno’s gym. The sound of volleyball shoes scraping against the polished floor spilling from inside almost made Oikawa nostalgic, but he was preoccupied with something else entirely.

You grinned at him, but your eyes held a hint of shyness in them. Oikawa didn’t know whose breath hitches, but he’s definitely having a hard time taking in oxygen at the sight of your face, more vibrant than the first time he saw you in Sendai. His eyes glazed over the knee brace slapped on your right knee – it looked painfully similar to the one he needed to wear in games. 

“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time,” came your sheepish apology. “If I’d been more careful back then, you could’ve beat these guys… But I was rooting for Shouyou from the start, so…”

Oikawa didn’t know anyone named Shouyou, but he must have been someone close enough to you that you’d go all the way from Hyogo to watch their game against Karasuno. He made sure to shower whoever Shouyou was with infinite affection for finally, finally bringing you back to him.

Shit, he’s hot. 

You didn’t remember mister chatterbox from the hospital being this attractive. Maybe you just had such a terribly pessimistic view of the world at the time that you missed how unfairly good-looking he was.

You could feel the warmth spreading all over your face at apologizing profusely for your past mishandling of your current predicament. But he dismissed all of your concerns with a lighthearted laugh that sounded like a symphony in your ears.

“(Surname) (Name), Japan’s number three striker, is apologizing for an injury she didn’t even mean to get? You’re quite the saint, are you?” The way your name rolled off his tongue tugged at your heartstrings more than it should. Stupid soulmate bonds, making you lose composure all the damn time.

“You know who I am?” you queried, rather amused with this revelation.

He offered a nonchalant shrug. “I do my research.” 

The two of you stood there, carefully taking in each other as much as you could. You almost felt bad for the friend he brought with him, who stepped aside as to not interrupt your first meeting with your soulmate. But knowing that he’s the boy who’s always getting smacked in the head, the one that made you feel the sting of a service ace on the tips of your fingers, and the very same guy that powered through the burden you unknowingly shoved into his plate all with an award-winning grin on his face, it was all worth it. 

This was Oikawa Tooru, one of the most amazing setters in the high school volleyball scene.

But why did he look like he was about to cry?

Oikawa couldn’t help it. He threw his arms around you and took a long whiff of your scent. Ever since he ensured your identity, he couldn’t help but think of all the times your pain was transmitted to him. Those days were difficult for him, alone, already, what more for the person actually suffering the affliction?

Gentle fingers tangled themselves in your hair as he pulled you as tight as he could into his own body. His arms shook with the sheer emotions coursing through his veins and–

“Why are you crying?” 

He sighed, placing his hands on your shoulders. You eyed him bizarrely, but concern was lining your features, nonetheless. 

“I hurt you.” 

You snorted. 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve hurt you more times than the other way around,” you retorted, smiling up at him. “What kind of athlete would I be if I had a shitty pain tolerance?”

His eyes widened, taken aback with your reply. Admittedly, he already planned his first meeting with you in his imagination dozens of times. Only he didn’t expect for it to be in Karasuno, a day after his last volleyball game in high school. But he imagined himself letting his emotions lose, apologizing for hurting you, and you clasping his hands in forgiveness. He didn’t exactly write it in the script for you to take the blame, yourself, too. 

You were simply full of surprises.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and talking until the sun was beginning to bleed into the horizon.

Oikawa Tooru was an interesting person. He loved volleyball, had a penchant for milk bread, and admitted that he may be quite the narcissist at times. He told you that Tobio-chan, one of Shouyou’s teammates, was a junior that finally surpassed him. (There was a bitter undercurrent to his voice as he told that part.) He was going to Tokyo for college and–

“For real? I’m headed for Tokyo, too,” you chuckled, lacing your fingers together on your lap. 

Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “Do you happen to be on a sports scholarship as well?”

You hummed, smiling playfully. “I dunno. Could the number three high school striker of Japan be able to land a scholarship even after this shitty injury?”

“Hmm…probably not.” Oikawa shook his head.

That reply garnered a pout. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t seen her play yet. She’s seen me play, and we both know that my skill is already university-tier.” 

“Yet, you still lost,” you sighed dramatically.

The offended look on his face was priceless. “You didn’t have to go that far!”

You bellowed a hearty laugh, clutching your stomach at the puppy eyes he’s sending your way. Never could you have imagined that same boy from the radiology center being gifted with a whimsical persona so in tune with your own. Weirdly, you’re thankful for the injury that linked you to him. 

But as your laughter died down, the sun had already set. Your mother told you to be back with Shouyou and from the looks of it, the boys were already cleaning up inside the gym. 

You glanced at Oikawa, who was contently gazing at you with a small smile. 

“I’m going back to Hyogo tonight,” you imparted. 

He gave you a curt nod. “Have a safe trip.” 

“What, you’re not going to proclaim your love for me and force me to never leave your side again?”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose at such a bold statement. “You’re pretty, but not that pretty.”

“Hey!”

“I jest. I jest,” he chuckled, tucking in a lone tuft of your hair behind your ear. The graze of his fingers against the skin of your cheek made your lips part in a mute sigh. 

“All I’m saying is what’s there to fret about when we have–” he gestured towards your knee, “–this bonding us?” 

“You saying you want me to get injured again, Tooru?”

“Oh, say my name again.”

“Pervert!”

“No! It really sounded nice in your voice!” 

“(Name)-neesan!” 

Your heart almost sank at the sound of Shouyou’s voice. He emerged from the entrance with his gym bag slung across his shoulder. With a polite smile, he asked if you were ready to go.

You almost told him that, yes, you were, but that’s until Oikawa hissed at him like a cat.

“You’re the Shouyou that brought us together?” he accused with thinly veiled apprehension, to which Shouyou laughed.

“That’s right, Grand King! You owe me now!”

“I owe nothing to any of you Karasuno folk!” 

You rolled your eyes to pull Oikawa into an abrupt embrace, which effectively snapped him out of his hostility towards your younger cousin. He stammered with his words, but they remained forgotten when you whispered in his ear:

“See you in Tokyo.”

[ruination-fangs]

Tales of Asteria, Chapter 3 Elize’s Scenario: Strands of the Truth Stages 1-3

i translated these a long time ago, when i wasn’t sure which part of the game i would work on next, and then moved on to something else. it’s possible i won’t finish this, because i haven’t actually read much of the third chapter and don’t fully know what’s going on... but since i have it, i might as well post it

this isn’t as detailed as most of my other translations because i was trying to keep my posts a reasonable length, so just a brief summary this time

-

Stage 1: Milla's Whereabouts

Scene 1:

Jude and Elize fight off monsters in a forest. There are plenty of monsters, but not a lot of crystallization compared to the lake ruins they went to that morning, which had the worst they've seen yet. A traveler they met told them Milla was headed this way, but the forest is big, and they still haven't found her. Elize wants her to investigate the crystallization with them; Jude thinks that's probably why she came to the human realm. Elize is worried that means the crystallization really is related to the great spirits, but they won't know until they ask Milla. They continue searching the forest for her.

Scene 2:

After looking all over, they still can't find Milla, and surmise they must have missed her. Elize notices some pink flowers that have been crystallized, and says when she first saw it she hadn't imagined the crystallization could have spread so far. She remarks that people used to say it was pretty, but now it's capturing living things as well as plants, and it scares her.

She thanks Jude for visiting her and giving her the courage to do something, and Jude thanks her in return for her help. He's also uneasy, having heard that even humans are being crystallized, and imagining that people might start having trouble finding things to eat and places to live. That's why it's important they stay calm and look for a solution. Elize isn't sure they can find one, but Jude explains that right now they can start with the small things, like discovering how differently the crystallization has progressed in different places. After collecting more data, they can compare it and look for any laws it may be following. They might not confidently come to any big revelation, but he and Elize agree that acting is better than sitting and staring. They continue looking for Milla and fighting off monsters.

Stage 2: Teepo Troubles

Scene 1: Elize and Jude are unable to find Milla, and conclude that she must have moved on somewhere else. Disappointed, they decide to head to the nearest town to rest, which Elize thinks is Iniru. (Teepo is very excited about taking a break.) Before they can leave, they're attacked by a monster, which drags Teepo away. Jude and Elize go after him only to find themselves surrounded by more monsters - until Milla appears to help them, promising to explain later.

Scene 2: Together they fight off the monsters, and Elize and Teepo are reunited. Milla asks what brings them to such a dangerous place, which Jude and Elize explain. Now that Milla thinks about it, she recalls talking to some travelers who were having trouble with monsters. Jude says they were about to give up, so they're lucky Milla came when she did (all because he got kidnapped, Teepo adds, but all's well that ends well).

Milla then asks why they were looking for her, prompting Elize to explain and ask about the crystallization and the great spirits. To Elize's relief, Milla doesn't think they're connected, because she's looked all over and not found a great spirit with that kind of ability. Jude asks why she came back to the human realm then, and Milla explains that something has happened to the mana. She can't verbalize it well; it's not that the mana is decreasing again, she just feels a discomfort she's never felt before. The Four mention, through Milla, that unlike last time there's been no sudden drop or change in the mana, but some of the mana seems to be stagnating, which is causing circulation problems. Feeling that change is what brought them down, and it turns out this crystallization is spreading all across the world.

Jude wonders if the change in mana and crystallization are related. Milla has been considering that, and has found that they're happening at overlapping times. Jude and Elize worry that if it's not a great spirit, there's some other troubling thing happening, and the crystallization phenomenon may be negatively affecting even the mana. Milla notes that they've seen various living things become crystallized, and that, more importantly, if the crystallization is eroding the world so badly they need to find the cause.

To that end, Elize asks if Milla will come investigate with them, because she wants to find out why this is happening. Milla readily agrees. Pleased, Jude suggests that since it's late they leave the rest for tomorrow, and reiterates the plan to head to Iniru. But before they leave, they hear a sound from nearby and go to check it out. It turns out not to be a monster, but another crystal, this one somehow different. Teepo points out that unlike the other crystals, which form around plants or animals, this one is empty. Jude thinks it may be a new discovery, until Milla sees it and is stunned silent, worrying the others. Milla informs them that the crystal isn't empty, it's just that they can't see what's inside it - a spirit. Lesser spirits are weaker than the great spirits they're familiar with, but their existence is crucial to maintain nature. It seems even they can be crystallized. This knowledge disheartens them all; Milla abruptly proclaims that there's nothing else they can do there and immediately heads out, leaving Elize concerned.

Stage 3: The Answer to Your Tears

Scene 1:

Elize is quiet and pensive in her room until Jude comes by. He wants to talk about tomorrow, but is surprised to see Milla isn't there. Teepo and Elize explain that she went out by herself, despite the late hour and chill outside, though they tried to stop her. Jude figures she's still in shock after seeing the crystallized spirit; Elize agrees, remembering how she was lost in thought all the way back to town. Jude mentions something Milla once told him, that the Four are like family to her, irreplaceable, and wonders if she thinks of lesser spirits as precious friends or companions too. They suppose that they'd be just as upset if they saw a human get crystallized.

Elize is worried about Milla, and asks Jude if they can go check on her. She doesn't know what she should say, but she wants to help. Jude of course agrees, and suggests that Elize tell Milla how she's feeling. But before they can leave, the innkeeper knocks on the door, looking for a doctor for another guest who's having bad stomach pains. Though only a student, Jude agrees to go help, apologizing to Elize. She'll go to look for Milla on her own, with Jude promising to follow as soon as he's made sure the patient is okay, and warning Elize to be careful and not to leave town. Elize and Teepo assure him they'll look out for each other, and go to find Milla.

Scene 2:

Elize and Teepo find Milla in town. When Milla asks why they're there, Teepo blurts out that they were worried about how depressed she seemed. This surprises Milla, who was trying to stay calm; she apologizes for worrying them. Elize stumbles through a speech about how she understands why Milla is upset, because she knows the spirits are precious to Milla, and she's scared to even think about someone important to her like Milla or Teepo or Jude getting crystallized. She thinks it's natural for Milla to be upset after seeing that, and doesn't want her to have to bear it alone. Only when Teepo points it out does she realize she's crying, and she apologizes to Milla for getting so emotional. 

Milla thanks her and says she's fine now. She was surprised because she hadn't expected this to happen, but that's not all; she was also telling herself that they need to stop the crystallization from spreading, for that spirit's sake. Elize is relieved to hear that she's back to normal, and renews her commitment to do something about the crystallization, even if she can't do much. Milla reaffirms that she's not alone here, because she has the Four and Elize, and she believes there has to be a way to help.

Jude appears and suggests they go back to the inn soon, so they don't make themselves sick before they even start their investigation tomorrow. He's been listening for a little while, and is glad Milla is feeling better. Both of them are thankful to Elize, even though she thinks she didn't really do anything. They all intend to go to bed, but of course are stopped by a scream, because of course monsters have somehow gotten into the town.

[cyangarden]

Technicalities

Lance learns something about his sniper rifle with the help of someone

~2.1k words

It was another day in the Castle, the members of the team doing their own things. Hunk was doing inspections of the Lions, Coran doing maintenance on the Castle, Shiro and Allura were talking to other coalition members for the next move. Lance in the shooting range, further honing his skill as the sharpshooter of the team. Pidge in the lab, scanning through various radio messages picked up by the Castle to see if there was anything interesting.

When Pidge nonchalantly called Lance the Sharpshooter one time during a mission, something inside Lance sensed something, something different. He somehow felt more complete, making him more confident being a Paladin. Yeah, Shiro acknowledge him before when they freed Slav from the Warden’s hands during their escape from Beta Traz, but when Pidge said it, it had a different meaning to it. It made Lance push further when it comes in training, even making his own routine rather than use one of the presets stored in the computer. Whatever it was, Lance was glad it was happening to him.

Pidge took a break, she left computer running the sorting algorithm automatically but set it to notify her if something of attention came up. When Lance and Pidge got the game console from the Space Mall, she noticed that by not spending so much time in the lab, she had more energy throughout the day instead of crashing down suddenly when night came. After that, she had scheduled breaks. Pidge usually went to Lance’s room to play the videogame, sometimes Lance would be there to play with her but sometimes, he’s not there so she plays on her own. Pidge typed the password to his room, but to only see it empty. She wanted to play with Lance, maybe he was somewhere. He went to the lounge then to kitchen, but he still wasn’t around.

Pidge thought about the shooting range, she did notice Lance spending more time going there after she called him Sharpshooter. Lance’s skill became more apparent after she called him the name one time. It amazed her and made her admire his skill, but she didn’t want to admit it out loud that he ended up being right about his name for him. Probably to avoid the teasing from Lance, she thought his head might get to big and he might not let it go. Though she thought she was a bit harsh on him when she doubted the use of the name. She wished she could do something to make it up to him. Lance was happy with his skill, but she felt she still needed to do something about that incident — or that was what she keeps referring to.

Lance moved cover to cover, engaging the targets along the way. His goal for training? Practicing fast transitions between targets to shoot them down as fast as possible. His reaction was something he wanted to work on after Sven almost tackled him down back in the alternate reality. Though nothing bad came out of it, he did not want that to happen again, especially if it would be someone else’s life. He was practicing against target plates rather than sentries, he added a shot timer to measure his reaction time. He had a goal set up of only having a maximum of 1.5 second reaction per target, from the target popup, to aiming his rifle then to shooting it. However, he would still give himself some allowance depending on the context of the target. Lance moved forward to shoot, until he heard a target popping up behind him. He thought it would be too slow to do a 180-degree turn and engage the target, so he spun around but decided to fall on his back. The move was intended to surprise the supposed enemy and might cause the shot fired at him to miss by suddenly presenting a lower profile. Lance fired two shots to the target when he hit the floor, then quickly stood up to scan for more targets.

“What’s the reaction time for the last shot?” Lance asked the shooting range AI.

The AI replied, “1.9 seconds.”

“That’s—” Lance was about to comment but then cutoff by someone.

“Not bad, impressive.” Pidge was standing on the doorway of the shooting range.

“Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Lance said.

Pidge gave Lance a small smile, “I see you’re spending more time here.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to train.” Lance winked at her. “By the way, what are you doing here? I thought you’re doing something in the lab?” Lance rarely saw her in the shooting range, he wondered why she was there.

Pidge gave out a heavy sigh, “I decided to take a break, it gets quite boring there really.”

“Wow, Pidge and taking a break? What a weird combination.” Lance joked.

Pidge got back at him, “Hey! I find it really good for me, plus playing KBP is more fun.” She almost forgot what she came here for, “I was actually about to invite you to play Killbot, but then I saw you’re busy… Next time?”

“How about later? You know, being the Sharpshooter here and working on something.”

Pidge smiled at him, “Yeah sure.” Then she remembered the incident back in Beta Traz, and talking about being the Sharpshooter, she asked him, “You wanna see something?” As Pidge went to the console to open a preset scenario.

“What is it?” Lance was curious.

The shooting environment switched to a long-range scenario and a small structure appeared with target sentries and a ‘friendly sentry’ inside.

Pidge instructed Lance, “Change your Bayard into a sniper rifle.”

“Okay, I see where this is going but how am I going to see the targets? They’re clearly obstructed.” Lance exclaimed.

“Just aim through your scope.” She told him.

“Is there something supposed to happen?”

“Hold on,” Pidge entered a command into the console, “There.”

The targets appeared in Lance’s scope, “Woah,” he was amazed that he could. Lance moved his scope around the building, checking the scan coverage of his scope. He wondered how it operated, “So how does this work? My scope seeing through the walls?”

Pidge explained, “Your scope is actually indirectly seeing the targets. The scope is not emitting anything but is receiving something over there.” Pidge pointed at the small structure.

Lance looked up to where she was pointing, “Really?”

Pidge continued, “Yep. There’s one sentry inside that’s ‘friendly’, it’s sending out a sonar signal that bounces around the room or obstacles to determine whatever is behind. When the signal returns, the suit forms the ‘map’ of the surrounding and it sends it to your scope. Remember how bats use sound to see in the dark or move around?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s pretty much the same principle but on a more refined scale.”

“You said the friendly sentry is sending out the sonar, does that mean you need to hack an enemy sentry to let me see through walls?” Lance questioned her.

“No, there’s no need to. I just simulated the capability in the sentry because our Paladin suits has it. The entire suit is a sonar array itself, capable of sending out an omnidirectional signal for proper 360-degree coverage. The suit actually has a phased array sonar to be specific.”

“What does the last part mean?”

“Phased array means that instead of having a single transceiver module to send out a signal, the system is composed of smaller modules that work together to send out the signal. Doing that increases image resolution, scan range and improves scan time. Also, kinda like an incandescent bulb versus an LED light, the latter one being better in general.”

“Wow, that sounds cool.” Lance sounded amazed from what he was hearing.

“Also, since the suit is sending out the signal, it’s able to ‘tag’ the contacts found by the suit to determine if it’s friendly or a bad guy. There’s already a tag information database in the suit of known contacts, but there’s still an option to add one if there are friendlies nearby. I’m still not sure about the specifics of the frequency used by our suits, but it’s high enough that the so called ‘image resolution’ would produce a good map. A high image resolution means that we or the system can distinguish contacts clearly. Like being able to determine that an enemy sentry is actually an enemy sentry instead of something like a support column. Whatever material the sonar would hit would produce a particular sonar signature that can be unique from one another, an algorithm is used to sort out that stuff. It’s a very useful thing.”

“If I’m getting these things correctly, the suit ‘maps’ out the surrounding area to see if there are contacts then the processed map goes to my scope? So, I’m able to see because of the suits?”

“Yeah, you got it.” Pidge added another detail, “By the way, the suit has around 20 feet of mapping distance. Any more than that, then you lose image resolution and the map wouldn’t be as good.”

Lance sounded astonished, “That’s a lot of things, I didn’t know it was that complicated.”

“There’s still the data link for the suit-scope communication which is a neat thing itse—” Pidge was cut off by a notification from her lab computer, “Oh, I have to go. Sorry for cutting this.” Pidge sounded a bit disappointed.

Lance replied, “Hey, don’t worry, I know I’m not good with those things, but I’m glad you still took your time to explain those things to me. I did my best to understand them and so far, I did get them all.”

Pidge placed her hand on his shoulder to help reassure him, “Don’t say things like that, Lance. You’re smart in your own way, don’t let anyone else say otherwise. And sorry for when I was being harsh to you when you just want to learn new things, I’m still getting used to making things explained simpler.”

“It’s alright Pidge, I know I sometimes get annoying.”

Pidge just gave him a hug, she wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed her face on his chest. She suddenly thought of doing it, maybe it was the right thing to do.

Lance was surprised when she did, but slowly dropped his arms and wrapped them around her. The hug gave him a slight blush on his face, but thankfully for him, they were facing away each other.

They stayed for a few seconds before pulling back.

“I didn’t know I needed that hug, thank you again.”

“Later, Lance?”

“Yeah, later, I’m waitin’ for you.” Lance gave her a smile.

With that, Pidge went back to the lab and Lance continued with his training.

Their interaction just made Lance more pumped up, suddenly feeling alive and ready for the challenges set.

~~

Lance, Veronica and Kinkade were in an overwatch position on top of an abandoned building. They’re providing sniper support for the ground team who are about to infiltrate a Galra stronghold.

Keith asked for the support team’s cover, “Lance, you ready to cover us when we get inside?”

Lance confirmed, “Ready to go.”

Pidge and Keith teleported inside the stronghold using Kosmo.

Pidge said, “We need to find a port where I can hack in. A control panel or a substation.”

“Got it.” Keith replied. Then two ran through the hallways.

Lance saw the two moving inside, “Got you, Keith. Scanning for hostiles,” Lance cautioned them, “Sentries on the other side of the east wall.”

Pidge and Keith teleported away from the hostiles.

Keith asked, “Lance?”

“You’re clear.” Lance replied.

Pidge and Keith stopped by the column where the tunnels were splitting in two directions.

Lance instructed them, “You guys are gonna have to take the right tunnel. But wait,” he warned, “There are sentries approaching both tunnels. Hold position.” Lance counted down, “Coming up to you in three, two, one.”

Pidge and Keith teleported behind the sentries then they moved towards their objective.

Back in the abandoned building, Kinkade asked how Lance was able to see through the walls.

“That thing pick up heat signatures?” Kinkade asked.

Lance explained, “It actually locks on to their suits’ sonar imaging and renders a 3D map within a 20-foot perimeter. It’s cool Paladin stuff.”

Even though there weren’t much stuff described, Kinkade was still amazed by it, “Must be pretty neat with all the advanced tech you have out there.”

Lance smirked, “Yeah, it is. Especially when someone teaches you about it. It’s amazing.”

Tfw you have to dig out the meta you have written because you forgot the explanation 😅

Here’s a more detailed explanation for how the Lance’s sniper scope works.

[clonerightsagenda]

The epilogues look terrible and I don’t want to spend my time reading them... but I love + trust your judgement and your takes on things. Could you summarize them? (No pressure if you don’t want to)

OK, it’s been a few weeks since i read it, but I will do my best.NOTE: This is probably not comprehensive and definitely not objective. As a supplement, I did some poking around, and the MSPA wiki has some bullet points. I also eventually found another  summary on tumblr, albeit by someone who also didn’t like it, so it is probably biased as well. 

ANOTHER NOTE: Those content warnings weren’t a joke. Below are references to sexual content, assault, suicide, sexism, transphobia, character death, and probably some other stuff.

WHAT HAPPENED:

In the prologue, Rose summons John to inform him that he needs to defeat Lord English right now, or they will all experience terrible consequences. These are mostly meta consequences you can interpret as ‘if we don’t produce new Homestuck content on its 10th anniversary, everyone will give up on this franchise for real, and also canon doesn’t seem stable when the big bad never got beaten’. John goes to visit Roxy and Calliope before he leaves and is given the option to eat either meet or candy. This represents a choice he is supposed to make, and that choice creates two timelines.

In MEAT, John travels back in time and gathers three 16 year old versions of his friends. They confront Caliborn in the battle he represented in his Masterpiece and are sucked into the house juju. Vriska activates it, but not before being pulled into the black hole. Rose and Jade die immediately, with Rose’s body being destroyed and Jade’s falling into the black hole, because why should women get to fight the story’s biggest misogynist. Dave lands a solid hit on English before having his head bitten off Mami from PMMM style. John gets chomped on as well and a gold tooth ends up embedded in his chest. Davepeta appears and drags the wounded LE into the black hole. John finds his father’s wallet, retrieves his car, and slumps inside. Terezi appears, in bad shape after a long time wandering the ring. She seems confused at his state (explained because in CANDY she has been texting that version of him for years). She removes the tooth from his chest and they have sex.

Meanwhile, on Earth, Dave and Karkat have avoided talking about being a relationship for seven years, while Jade harasses them about becoming a threesome. This is explicitly tied to her abandonment issues but also she is referred to as a slut so like. Don’t love that. Jane is running for president, and Dave thinks this is terrible because she’s a woman fascist and doesn’t understand the economy and Karkat should run instead. Other shit is happening but I lost track. Rose is ill because she’s becoming her ‘Ultimate Self’ and seeing all timelines. Dirk claims he’s overcome the same problem and offers to help her but ends up controlling her and revealing he is the one actually writing this narrative.  There is a bit where the narration starts addressing the reader directly and then turns orange which I admit is genuinely cool and might have been interesting if done with characters I didn’t actually care about.

Dirk amps up controlling the narrative, directly forcing people to do and think certain things. (For example, he sequesters Rose away in his workshop and tells Kanaya via narration she believes Rose is better off with him, and she uncomfortably agrees without understanding why she thinks that.) He supports Jane’s bid for the presidency, even though she wants to crack down on trolls because they are naturally violent and reproduce too fast. Everyone tries to get Jake’s endorsement because he’s popular, which includes Jane attempting to seduce him in a very uncomfortable scene.Then Jade slips into a nice coma, because it’s not Homestuck without Jade losing her agency, and alt!Calliope starts using her as an avatar to take control of the narrative away from Dirk. They have some back and forth arguments before he is pushed out which, again, is genuinely clever but would be more enjoyable without all the edgy bullshit. Dirk eventually tricks alt!Callie and sedates Jade, taking back control of the story. Jane wins the presidency. Also at some point Meat!Roxy and Callie ID as nonbinary and start using they/them, and narrator!Dirk freaks out about it and misgenders them a lot, which is character assassination bc everyone knows Dirk is a trans icon. Anyway. Dave and Karkat have an awkward talk about their relationship where they keep dancing around things and Dirk tries to force Dave to kiss him. Dave gets frustrated because he’s aware someone is trying to make him do something (like with the Aimless Renegade), and eventually yells at Dirk to get out of his head before kissing Karkat. Terezi brings John back to Earth, and he begins to fade, since apparently LE’s tooth was poisoned with something more powerful than god tier that makes you irrelevant. Possibly a meta commentary on the hero or story not being needed once the big bad is gone. Terezi is sad about this and listens to him bleed while she smells him die. Then Dirk contacts her via narration and implies he can help her. She gets a text (later revealed to be Vriska). Dirk gets a spaceship from Jake after forcing him via narration to grovel about how much he loves him and then rejecting him and flying away with Rose and Terezi in tow. Jade wakes up long enough to tell everyone Dirk’s gone bad before she gets repossessed and starts pointing in his direction, prompting everyone to give chase. 

There is a final scene that will make more sense later, so I’ll add it later.

CANDY

John decides not to go fight LE. Roxy is delighted, and they began dating. Calliope tells John it is time to let Gamzee out of the fridge. Gamzee pops out and claims he is redeemed in a long speech making fun of sloppy redemption arcs. He then proceeds to be terrible for the rest of the story.Candy essentially satirizes Harry Potter epilogue style fics. Jane marries Jake (it’s implied she essentially roofies him with the trickster lollipop) and has Gamzee on the side. They have a son named Tavros. John and Roxy have a son named Harry. Rose and Kanaya adopt a troll clone of Vriska and name her Vriska. Jade, Karkat, and Dave are all dating, but Dave and Karkat are miserable. Dirk kills himself when he realizes the timeline went off kilter. Jade’s corpse from the Meat timeline crashes to earth, and in the middle of the funeral (which was genuinely a good scene) she sits up, possessed by alt!Calliope. Alt!Callie sequesters herself on the old meteor, now landed, and explains to Aradia and Sollux that this timeline is a dead end and she is protecting it from the influence of the prince. She also, in a parallel to Dirk’s reveal in Meat, talks about how every narrator has an agenda even if the text is formatted to make you not realize that.Jane becomes a fascist dictator and begins oppressing trolls. Karkat eventually get sick of being in a trio and runs off to be a resistance leader, including getting a sick eye patch (reference to Summer Teen Romance). Meenah stole the Ring of Life from Meat John and lands in the session; she and Karkat begin dating. Other ghosts begin falling from the sky as well, and Gamzee converts them to his redemption religion.John feels like something is really off.  His only solace is texting Terezi a lot, and he seems closer to her than he is to his wife. He and Roxy break up for a while and then (non-romantically) reconcile. Jake eventually leaves Jane and takes Tavros with him. Jade and Dave become rebels as well, then Dave meets a hologram of Obama, who helps him attain his ultimate self, putting his soul in a new robot body. 

Oh, also Vriska falls out of the sky, has hatesex with Gamzee, kills him, and then talks with Rose and Kanaya’s Vriska about how she loves Terezi. Then she texts her, as seen in the Meat timeline. Isn’t Vriska 13 and Gamzee an adult at this point? Probably. There’s a lot of questionable age stuff in this.

I’m sure I missed some details. Can you tell I’m losing steam.

Anyway, the two last chapters of each section reference the other storyline. At the end of Meat, Lord English’s body falls out of the sky, and alt!Callie (still in Jade’s body) devours it, becoming powerful enough to battle Dirk. Candy!Davebot arrives and he and Aradia jump into the black hole in pursuit.At the end of Candy, Dirk’s ship nears a new planet where he intends a new game of SBURB to be played. Rose is in a robot body serving as his handmaid essentially, and Terezi’s also on board.  

TAKEAWAYS:

There are a lot of different interpretations of the epilogue. A mockery of the two extremes of fanfic. Andrew Hussie continuing the theme of ‘all authors are tyrants by nature’ and using his self-insert to display how he hates his own story but also can’t stop telling it. Dirk trying to create conflict by making himself a villain because otherwise they’ll lose relevance and disappear. Musing on how being arbitrarily labeled 'grown up’ when you’re not ready (aka handed godhood by a game that doesn’t understand people) can fuck you up, and there is no single winning screen in life. Just a big old meta experiment on unreliable narrators. I can see where some of this is coming from, but frankly, I found it disturbingly sexist (even if it is intended to be so for effect). A lot of the sex and violence felt over the top and graphic just to be #ow the edge rather than serving any narrative purpose. Also, authors can do what they want with their texts, and they’re allowed to write tragedies, but after Hussie’s self-insert informs Caliborn that the most important stories are about friendship and teamwork and the fandom (that I’ve seen anyway) really responding to the bonds between characters, it felt cruel. That’s my feeling. Not everyone shares it. But hey, I’ve got my solution.