#Chapter one contains spoilers for the game's end but this one does stand alone if you want to avoid that

[vibesbasedorganism]

I've been thinking about how, on in-game Monday, Morell and Gary haven't returned from the coast, and yet Lena leaves the Whirling at the scheduled time to supposedly go to Gary's apartment. If you break in after 11pm, it is obviously empty. So where is Lena? Which in turn had me reflecting on my experience navigating *modern* cities while marginally disabled, and getting immensely sad about Lena having to cope with shelled-to-shit Martinaise. 'Don't worry, this old thing is gas-powered' may have sounded convincing to Harry, but not to me. So we have a flashback, from before the miracle.

________________________

Monday 11th March '51

At eleven p.m. sharp, she had left the Whirling-in-Rags. 

She'd had to. Not that the manager would have rushed her out when the kitchen closed, despite not renting a room there. But to stay longer – as all but the passed out drunks drained from the room, through the cracked grouting of the night and into the street – would make her feel pitiful. It was bad enough feeling old and isolated, without being pitiful as well.

Eleven o'clock, and the temperature was already hovering at zero degrees celsius — the condensation on the inside of the Whirling's windows warned of it, and the sharp twinge of arthritis through her bony hands confirmed it, as the automatic doors pulled frigid air into the Whirling's warmly lit throat. 

Behind the partial shield of her spectacles, the membranes of her eyes became instantly wet with shock. She blinked, blinked in determination against the cold and loneliness, and tapped the accelerator stick on her wheelchair's right arm. It was good that her carriage was gas-powered, because the days were long gone when her arms could have managed alone the war-pitted streets of Martinaise.

Sometimes, when she observed her arms without sleeves, bent at their sharp elbows, tendons arched as she levered herself down into the chair... she saw the Phasmid again. Just like all those decades ago: limbs pale and porcelain, seeming unconscionably fragile; swaying, despite how near to nothing its body must weigh. 

It was an eerie experience: living long enough, to become a dull human equivalent of that miraculous design. In places, her skin was so thin upon bone, it may as well have been chitin. 

If only her limbs could balance like a ghost upon marsh waters. If only she could skim away into the reeds, leaving barely a ripple behind.

Rolling across the mosaicked plaza, she kept the jagged concrete fissure on her left, until it joined a crater between two public benches and she was faced with a branching decision: directly ahead, eight shallow stairs down awaited her, slightly more than double the width of her chair and with metal tube handrails that seemed more ornamental than functional, in height; a little further on, past the mailbox and between the bookstore's outdoor displays, were seven steeper, much narrower steps - an extremely tight fit for her chair - with the slight benefit of raised stone on either side, should she need something to grip — or, more likely, cling onto. 

Either way, it would be stairs, the natural enemy of wheeled vehicles. Either choice would be hazardous, and even more so on her own, with no one there to grab the chair handles and prevent catastrophe.

While she continued to appraise the ground at the end of both descents, the coastal temperature dropped another degree, the ceaseless brushing of waves against concrete making her feel colder still, as she imagined her chair moving too quickly towards the guardrail, at the foot of the bookstore stairs, imagined herself crashing over, onto the next snow-dappled level, and then helplessly into the icy black water. 

Even if her legs still functioned like a regular person's, it was doubtful her heart could survive the glacial shock. Even if the drunken man teetering by the rails had been of a mind to leap in after her, and had the uncommon means to be more help than hindrance. 

It would be an ugly way to die. And Morell deserved so much better. When her time eventually came, Dei willing, the life would simply flutter out of her chest, as they both slept. It would be too much to hope for that she could outlive him and keep him from grief, but she could at least die kindly...

Her stomach cinched, her worsening mood making her even more vulnerable to the cold, and she shook her head, attempting to shake all of it off but only forcing more air past her increasingly sparse hairline.

"Get a move on, old woman," she muttered, the words rising in thin vapour past her spectacles.

Two metres from the bottom of the broad steps was a man-hole cover, whose texture would help slow her down, and with some reasonable steering she could safely coast for quite some time without any obstacles, long enough for the wheelchair's mechanism to regain control; engaging the brakes too hard was best avoided in these conditions, even with a chair as solid as hers. 

Rotating so that the chair's larger rear wheels would be making the descent, she drew an X over her heart, leaned her body weight as far forward as she could, and prayed for gravity to be merciful. 

There was no pausing on the way down, only thunk after jaw-jarring thunk, and then the pounding of her heart in her ears as she continued backwards with a craning neck, controlling the situation as best she could. Until she was beneath the three-way lamp-post, its illumination granting no warmth while she soothed — as efficiently as possible — the spooked pony that thrashed about inside her chest, and spirit.

"That's halfway now," she told herself, though it was not quite true.

[continue on ao3]

[aillinstories]

Reborn of balance - Chapter 93: Recognition (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1480367373-reborn-of-balance-chapter-93-recognition?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Hajnalszinei The idea was originally found in A_Bored_Reader Undertale ideas for stories that hit me like the brick called Reborn! I asked permission to use it. Read the original if you're interested, but it contains quite a few spoilers for this story. https://www.wattpad.com/977277228-undertale-ideas-for-stories-that-hit-me-like-a Fate got tired of game that own and decided to start a new one. This battle was bloodier and more serious than ever and the Bad Sans were at a loss. Nightmare sacrificed himself so the rest of Bad Sans can escape. Error was the only one, who stubbornly refused this and fight whit him to the very end, in the hope that both of them would be able to leave alive. It's been a while since then. Ink and Dream got together and had a child Palette Roller. And the thing is, Nightmare was reborn as Palette. Fate laughs at him. The new fun no doubt has begun! How does Nightmare handle the new situation? What about the other Bad Sans? Error? What will happen to the world? The balance? Will Nightmare be left alone? Or will there be those, who stand by him in his fight with Fate? Character belongs to their respectful owners. Error made by Crayon Queen Nightmare made by Jokublog Dream made by Jokublog Ink!Sans created by Comyet UnderSwap made by P0pc0rnPr1nce Geno made by Crayon Queen Reaper-Renrick Fate-harrish6 Palette-Angexci Goth-Nekophy Killer Sans is created and owned by Rahafwabas Horror created by Sour-Apple-Studios Dust made by Ask-DustTale Cross XTale made by Jakei95 The personalities of the characters do not match those of the original character. There's a balance in it and Fate, but not fully FGod. Warnings: Cussing, Manipulation, Dark-bloody past. Mention of violence, abuse, characters death. Ships you may not like. The images I used belongs to their own creator. The cover image as well, I just edited it a bit.

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

The Despair Disease

While the post I made saying I want to make this post didnt gain a lot of traction I’m making it anyway to defend the motive the fandom deems the worst of the worst when it’s one of my favorites

This post contains spoilers for SDR2 and DR1′s chapter 6 and other chapters so finish those before you read. I dont believe I spoiled anything about DRV3 but if I did shoot me a comment I’ll update this.

In this post I will explain why I adore this motive (its prolly even my favorite in the franchise) and later explain the despair disease we got. If people want I will make another post on what the other cast would get as a despair disease but this post is getting very long.

Also I apologize if this post makes no sense I write on pure passion and don’t feel like trying my best to make it cohesive. Feel free to ask in replies or my dms what Im saying in some points.

The criticism behind this motive

I see a lot of posts saying this motive is a lazy excuse for foreshadowing and how it butchered characters like Mikan because they were running out of motives.

In my opinion, to say this is lazy foreshadowing is a bit ridiculous because it foreshadows two things pretty well when I was watching a playthrough (I wasnt able to buy the game *mourning noises*)

- Junko AI’s control over the world is foreshadowed with the fact the disease easily came and went. As the teacher or admin essentially she has the power to do this because its a game world not the real one. 

- Mikan’s breakdown and motive is the biggest remnant of despair foreshadowing we get prior to it being revealed in Chapter 6. 

I’ve seen people say Junko choosing to only infect Mikan with the remembering disease is ridiculous because she should just infect everyone then they kill each other and she takes the bodies but this idea forgets one key aspect of Junko’s plan.

She wanted to trap Makoto, Kyoko and Byakuya in the Neo World Program

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TLDR: Junko cant trap the survivors if they’re all despair cause Byakuya or Kyoko would’ve ended the whole thing and have the DR2 cast killed.

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If Junko made everyone back into despairs, Makoto might’ve jumped in if he was alone but Kyoko and Byakuya (well maybe with Makoto’s urging just Byakuya) never would’ve gone in and they would’ve stopped Makoto. Byakuya might even just straight up pull the plug on the operation and tell Makoto its impossible to save them because they’re optimistic not delusional. They believed in them in Chapter 6 because they were still themselves but if they all became despair then Byakuya or Kyoko would’ve ended the whole thing and her plans would go down the drain. 

Of course causing herself despair may have been a side motive but above all if she made everyone despair she couldnt trap the survivors which she wanted to do so only Mikan became despair and I fully believe Mikan was an appropriate choice for the remembering disease not because she outlived her usefulness to the plot or she’s too useful but rather she along with Hajime are the most fitting candidates for the remembering disease.

To prevent this post from becoming super long my elaboration on the Despair disease and how it works will be under cut along with me explaining why this motive stands out to me to be one of my favorite motives 

How does the despair disease work

As the name suggests to put it lightly the disease causes despair but how exactly you may ask

The disease makes the character act or experience something that makes them miserable

I mean in hindsight it’s actually pretty obvious since its name isn’t exactly subtle yet most seem to think it just makes them behave erratically (I did initially but upon rewatching chap 3 which is one of my favorite of DR2, another hot take but the hate on that chapter is more justified so I dont feel inclined to defend it.)

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TLDR: Akane hates being a coward, Nagito wants to be helpful not just spew nonsense, Ibuki wants to be herself not a mindless doll and Mikan has a horrible past and hates remembering it.

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Akane Owari (Coward disease) - This disease is the most obvious in how it causes its host despair as in the main story and her free time events its made  very clear how much she hates crying and being afraid. She will charge in head first at danger and despises crying, even keeping herself together after Nekomaru sacrificed himself for her so she must’ve thoroughly hated crying so much and acting so pathetic.

Nagito Komaeda (Lying disease) - This disease makes Nagito not just lie but spout info that is blatantly wrong or unhelpful. The way this disease causes him despair is not actually that Nagito hates lying. In chapter 1 he freely acted like he had no clue Teruteru was the murderer and will gladly help the killers which would require him to lie. This disease causes him despair because in this state Nagito is extremely useless and flat out in the way. Nagito as problematic as he is always has meaning behind his action whether its to try and inspire hope or its to lead his classmates to the correct answer he doesnt just do things for the sake of insanity. With the despair disease, Nagito is saying the most dumb and useless info along with not being able to give proper lies or half truths to this classmates which means he’s just actually bothering them now with no purpose which is what causes him despair (And the fact the disease worsened his what must be painful tumor so yeah that mustve caused him despair as well)

Ibuki Mioda (Gullible disease) - Admittedly I know less about Ibuki then a lot of the cast but I will say why this disease works in my opinion. Ibuki left her band that made her so successful to make her own music because of creative differences because Ibuki likes being herself. The gullible disease makes her just some subservient lapdog with no personality. She believed Mikan who told her to go to the music venue with her during the night with no suspicion whatsoever because of this disease and she didnt die being herself but just being some doll who will believe anything and do anything because of how gullible she is.

Mikan Tsumiki (Remembering disease) - Alright time to explain the most criticized one. This disease is honestly perfectly fitting for Mikan because of Mikan’s abusive past. It’s not rocket science to tell Mikan was abused after the first chapter of the game with her timid and weak personality along with frequent reference to bullies. Mikan both in the main story and her free time events never actually elaborates on things like her home life and how bad her bullying was. Of course we know they did things like draw on her and cut her hair but she never actually talks about events that scarred her for life or things like why she’s covered in bandages, its mostly implicitly told by her behavior and one instance where she mentions her home as a place she was beaten a lot in. This just shows that Mikan doesn’t like looking at her past and she would rather try to please the people she’s currently with or just be happy about her current situation (she calls the neo world program a paradise because no one abuses her there). For Junko to give Mikan a disease where she remembers all about the things she’s forgotten along with the memories of her past that weren’t wiped must’ve been hell for her as she would remember all the pain and agony throughout her life which made her return to her despair self, the Mikan who snapped and become dependent again on the person she believes is the only one who’s ever been kind to and loves her. It takes more than remembering Junko to return Mikan to despair, she would have to remember all the bullies and people who beat her at home for her to return to the remnant of despair who chose to plunge the world into chaos and madness. 

Now why do I love this motive

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TLDR: The despair disease has the framework of a sympathetic motive that would make us shed tears for Mikan but she hits us with the fact this was who she was before the killing game. This motive is great because the person it triggered to kill wasn’t some innocent angel who would never do it otherwise, it’s someone who just needed a good push to kill not one but two of her classmates.

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After that very long elaboration, I want to say why this motive is one of my favorite in the franchise and a motive I deem one of the best.

As I mentioned earlier this disease makes the characters feel or act in a way that makes them miserable or as the game would call it “bring them despair”. It’s really interesting to watch because the characters aren’t all going “We’re friends and we’ll never kill each other!” which is the expected attitude after Terueru and Peko’s sympathetic and tragic ends. This motive makes the infected erratic and the uninfected afraid of the infected because they don’t want to get sick. 

This motive was done by Monokuma and the Junko AI because after the events of chapter 1 and 2 where Teruteru didnt get to learn what happened to his mom and where Peko begged her classmates to never do a senseless killing again, it takes very extreme circumstances to make the cast kill again because these events united them so Monokuma needed to break it open because if it weren’t for motives like the despair disease and later the funhouse and the truth behind the cast, they likely would’ve actually stopped killing because it’s not like life is hard on the island, it’s quite pleasant for them honestly. 

But of course necessity to the plot isn’t enough to make a motive something I deem part of the best, now what about this motive makes me think it is one of the best in the franchise.

The sympathy aspect

Now what do I mean by this?

In Danganronpa it’s very easy to identify a sympathetic motive from an unsympathetic motive. For example: Danganronpa 1 case 1 is a sympathetic motive because Leon was scared and panicked after Sayaka tried to kill him so he killed her before she could leave the bathroom she locked herself in and try again. Danganropa 1 case 3 is obviously an unsympathetic motive because Celeste for cash, no stakes on her life she just wanted the cash prize.

The despair disease is written with the framework of a sympathetic motive because it forcefully changes the way a character is so it would hypothetically make someone crazy against their will then kill someone without them actually wanting to but this motive throws your expectations right in your face because of Mikan’s despair disease.

Mikan’s disease being the remembering disease turns the motive of this case to “Poor soft nurse was forced to kill her friends” to “Soft nurse remembers she’s actually really insane and wants to kill her classmates to inflict despair and join her beloved in death because she believes they loved her above all else.” 

Danganronpa 2 is full of sympathetic killers at the start with Teruteru wanting to first save the others then later save his mother when Nagito ends up living and with Fuyuhiko wanting to avenge his little sister who died too young but Peko sees what he’s doing will get him killed so she kills Mahiru instead of him to at least let him live another round. 

This motive was supposed to make another character in this cast a sympathetic victim of Monokuma as they would not kill the people they did on other circumstances but with the disease that would inflict Mikan the most despair, it made her remember everything that has happened and what made her want to kill. 

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

A TINY REGRET and A LOT MORE....

“....You’ve always come through, haven’t you?”

⌚ CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR S1 CH 18 to CH 37- Victor route, slight from S2 CH 1 UNDER THE CUT ⌚

—

Continuation after that “I...” – CH 37:

Yes, PG really said... Think whatever you want to think with that “I...” LOL.

Regret for Victor stans that they got robbed off those words. :'(

Not for MC, the game character though, cause she did make out the words she wanted to hear him say more than anything.... Welp, guess she wasn’t wrong when she claimed this in their dating timeline haha. 🥲

And right on point LOL

Snippet from “Dazzling Date:”

....Guess, some things, some people, and some feelings really do never change, no matter the time or the space– and at this stage, it’s already proven. ಥ‸ಥ

Snippet from CH 28-3:

—

And... Now, since I don’t have much complains about the recent chapter translation– I shall share some random screenshots cause even after a year and more, I’m STILL not over how beautifully and perfectly this chapter gives a conclusion to their S1 journey, sheds light on just how much they’ve been through, and just how much they love each other.

Snippet from CH 37-3 [left] and CH 37-4 [right]

The significance of the SS on the right is what I discussed in this post– when, after feeling something was amiss for a long time– MC finds out how much he had to go through for that CH 36 ending to be achieved and her being absolutely crushed by just getting a tiny glimpse of his pain. :'(

The beauty of the SS on the left is– MC acknowledging that the reason for her wanting to completely awaken- was so that she could stand by his side, and he doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone.

And, yes in CH 18, she did make the decision at that point, but she was still wavering till this moment. Seeing this forever composed and unwavering man in his despair is what stuck the last pin onto the board– despite not being absolutely certain what this power could do at that moment.

Snippet from CH 18-18 and CH 27-14:

For those who are updated with S2 contents, ring a bell on why MC is so hellbent on always staying by his side? Because.... that was her dream/wish/desire/goal/destination all along– whichever of the words fit in your lexicon!~

Snippet from CH 37-0:

“I’ve always chased after you, and I’ve never been afraid. Because I know that you will always be waiting for me there. Victor, if you really disappeared... I’d let the world forget me along with you.”

– [ MC, S1 CH 36-15, Victor route dead boyfriend dream sequence ]

“Since a very long time ago, I have already intended to become the person standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you, to be the one walking next to you.”

– [ MC, S2 CH 7-3 ]

I could never, ever, ever stop emphasizing on how their dynamic is not just the feelings for each other, or being romantically interested in each other, loving each other– it’s way more than that, wanting to be the person walking next to the other– and not just wanting it, rather making it happen. And, it doesn’t overwhelm one bit of their feelings for each other– only adds more flowers to the brocade.

All that struggle was so that they could be with each other, be it hard times or good times.

——

Moving on, the realization that.... after all he’s been through, after all they’ve been through– it’s okay to expect a little something more. And that, he allowed himself to go from...

THIS (left image: 37-3) to THAT (right image: 37-4)

And it’s all because, which I mentioned in that post– MC takes the lead to give him that reassurance along the way– as always.

On that note: Throughout the story– MC never holds back her feelings from him. Be it being mad at him and saying to his face, be it being grateful, being happy, or bluntly admitting that she does stare at his face often when caught red-handed several times LOL, not holding back her emotions in her most vulnerable state, or letting him know how much he means to her– which doesn’t change in the very last chapter either.

And the answer he gives to that question of hers, is exactly what’s expected from someone like him.

—

Now onto a sadder part, because why not?

The way he actually compared him searching for her for 17 years to her going out to buy him a cup of coffee....

Well, if 1 month = 10K years.... Then, 17 years = 2040K years. Yep, he isn’t wrong........... 💔

In case you don’t know, the coffee Victor is referring to, is the “magic coffee”  MC made for Victor in “Movie Date” cause she had to work over time... and nearly gave him food-poisoning LOL.

On that note....

This bit is just too good to pass up on–

< Eck, there was no “little” in the CN version. Why did you have to add that Elex LOL -.- >

And some more random screenshots, cause why not?

(｡•́︿•̀｡)

Bad wish it was MC... wanting to look into his eyes a little more... cause... well... look at those ripples in them....

Owh yes, on that coffee.... one of the many things I’ll never, ever stop screaming about...

And she brings him the coffee she promised him– even though, the him she is bringing the coffee every time– doesn’t even remember that promise.

Snippet from S2 CH 1:

And.... it’s only the beginning of doing good on all the promises.

On the final note– as I plan to put an end to this rambling... it’s angsty but so significant that– She actually got to call out his name once more, and look into his eyes a little more– as she is the one  who notes leaving him behind first, and then  we switch to the narrator POV.

And that leads to another one of my ramblings I’m planning to write.... But for now, as she made her wish clear full-well...  He is all yours, MC- the rest of us can make peace with that. xD~ ( ⚈̥̥̥̥̥́⌢⚈̥̥̥̥̥̀)

—

[desultory-novice]

Note: This is about the RtDL novel, “The Starcutter and the Lying Wizard.” It also contains some vague spoilers of said novel. (It also has me being salty about Magolor.)

...Oh gosh, I totally missed this message! So sorry about that and thanks for reminding me. Hmm. “Official fanfiction” is an interesting term. I did some double-checking and couldn’t find a generally agreed upon definition, so I’ll just state that I've always taken in to be mildly insulting toward a work. 

Of course, fanfiction doesn't have to be bad (and there are many, many great fanfic out there!) but I feel like, sometimes, it's a way to label an official work that feels like it goes OOC or does whatever it wants to the story without sticking to established guidelines. Stuff that makes it "fanfic-y."

So, under that definition, is the novel official fanfic?

...Hrm. Well, anyone who's read this post knows my feelings on the novel lean toward mixed. That said, I don't think the novel's flaws (yeah, it has them) are the same as the kind of flaws "official fanfiction" has.

Outside of one clear “this isn’t what happened in game, no matter how you look at it"(1) moment that sticks with me, the rest of what they do with the story is just a matter of interpretation. It doesn’t stray from the story of the game (maybe to its detriment...?) and no one is out of character. 

Now, I do think Mie-sensei chose one of the least interesting interpretations of RtDL's story, but it is still RtDL’s story, no question. (I've said this before, I’ll probably say it again, but she focuses too much on the friendship of the core group while giving Magolor barely any presence in the story, thus robbing us of the other relationship we're supposed to compare the group's friendship to. And just to make this clear, his absence as a character alone does NOT do a good job saying "This is why he fails at being a true friend!" Because a character can be missing for most of a story and still be a good friend. As long as they're characterized that way. But it’s tricky to characterize someone when they’re barely present and have nothing but expository dialogue..)

Of course, if the question isn't about the quality of the novel but where it stands as an official Kirby production, well, in that sense...

I would also say the novel is NOT official fanfiction. While the game series definitely make up the core Kirby universe/story, Kirby has expanded to a multi-media franchise now, and those often tend to have multiple interpretations of the same stories as they get translated into different media.

So this is, rather than official fanfic, an official adaptation of Return to Dream Land. That is, it’s just plain old fiction.

In the end, the game “Kirby’s Return to Dream Land” is its own thing and (to me) the best and most complete way to experience that story. Outside of the prologue chapter, I wouldn't say there's anything you can get here (that is significant) that you can't get out of playing the game. (And you also get, ya know, MAGOLOR AS A COMPLETE CHARACTER if you play the game.)

Oh, he may not engage in narrative conversation with the four main characters in game as he does here in the book, just him talking to the player/Kirby. But I'd argue those dialogue boxes characterize him better than the....maybe four conversations he has total in this book? 

...Argh! GDI, I'm still salty! 

The funny thing is, I’m really glad we don’t get a big expository Magolor chapter that spills all his secrets and reveals he’s, like, Hyness’s great grandson, or an unrelated salvager looking to make it rich boosting artifacts, or the lost child of Halcandran royalty just trying to reclaim his birthright, or a test cat experimented on by the Ancients seeking revenge by taking their stuff, because I like seeing all the various interpretations of Magolor and want them to continue existing freely. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that they took him out of the parts he SHOULD have been in!

The thing is, I've been replaying RtDL and there's some things I want to bring up there that I really don't understand why they’re not in this novel...

There's a reason Magolor is so beloved after all these years, and it's not just because of the "Hahaha, I was manipulating you the whole time!" Generally speaking, every few stages in RtDL, Magolor will pop up on screen to tell you excitedly about a new room he's built for you on the Lor, and that you ought to come back and check it out. And after every boss battle, you have a cutscene that takes you back to the ship where he'll converse with you, update you on your goals, tell you what's next, and generally wish you good luck. Then you can stay and bother him some more if you want, and he’s got TONS of dialogue! He's always there on your journey, even if he never leaves the ship.

I know I haven't finished with the novel’s translation yet (please, no one take my ranting about it as evidence I'm not going to finish it or that I'll give it a bad translation out of spite. I will finish it and I’m even trying to take the most generous and enjoyable interpretation of the text in my translation of it, so that everyone doesn’t have to live with the version I see in my head when I read it. But I feel it's also okay to level appropriate criticism at things, even things you're working on/are a big fan of!) but anyway, you've probably all read enough of the novel to see Kirby and the gang fight several bosses and every time they beat one it's "...and they took the part back to Magolor. Chapter over."

Why would you cut the Magolor bits out? I mean, are we REALLY reading this book for Mr. Dooter lore? To find out Fatty Puffer desperately needs his worldview broadened? Or to hear EVERY SINGLE BOSS give the exact same "Nuh-uhhhh! I found this shiny thing and it's mine now and you won't take it from meeeeee!" speech? (Also, when I say “the most generous read of the text” up above, I want you know, their speeches really are almost IDENTICAL to each others, and I’m trying hard to make them NOT read that way in English so you all won’t get bored.) And of course, they ALL keep their stolen parts in identical treasure rooms hidden behind walls?? ...Sigh...

That said, I'd be perfectly fine with all those things if they didn't seem to come at the expense of cutting the deuteragonist-villain out of the story! He's in the title! He's the one you should be developing before the end! Else his betrayal comes off as meaningless. What exactly is Magolor BETRAYING if he's never established to be anything other than a pitiful stranger to Kirby and the others? Give us an emotional connection so that we have an emotional investment in him when he grabs the Master Crown and gives The Speech. 

Mie-sensei does this very thing with the Lor! Gets us involved. Quite subtly and brilliantly, even! It only takes a few lines to make us feel the ship’s sadness by the concerned way Bandanna Waddle Dee speaks of it. But we get (spoilers for unfinished chapters) that at least two more times to hammer it in! 

Opposite to that, “Let’s hurry! Magolor is waiting for us!” has no emotional cues to let us know the group is warming up to this funny wizard and are beginning to think of him as a friend. (Which you’d hope they would. The novel actually makes the journey to repair the Lor take a LOT longer than is implied in game. They really SHOULD be friends. Or fake friends.)

I don’t know why the small page count is the way it is. It’s supposedly not even that short a book, as it’s got more text in it just because of the size they printed the book at, but the narrative balance on things is just..off.

...Okay. I've done enough ranting about novel Magolor...

TLDR, the novel is not bad; it's definitely lacking in a key area, but it IS official; it's just an official adaptation. 

(Technically, Pupupu Hero is ALSO an official adaptation of Return to Dream Land. You know, the manga where Magolor wants to bed Chilly?)

Maybe we'll get yet another adaptation of RtDL down the line in a different form? Maybe we'll get a new Kirby anime that treats the different games as 4-5 episode arcs? Right now, this is the only novel adaptation of RtDL, but it doesn't necessarily supersede the game's version of events - even if it's got some additional details that ARE likely canon to the Kirbyverse going forward.

Magolor started out with magic (at least, the ability to project light through his hands); the Ancient’s city resembled a clean, modern day metropolis and they worshipped the Lor before they were destroyed overnight; Super Abilities exhaust Kirby and could be dangerous; legends of Halcandra have spread all over multiple-universes; the Lor can speak - not with words, but into people’s minds/hearts; Meta Knight can recognize Halcandran text and is a huge nerd for history; Bandanna Waddle Dee is pure of heart... (2)

Oh, and for a better explanation on what I mean by “details that are probably canon...” on a broad scale even though these are only adaptations, I point to the Planet Robobot novelization that had stuff like The Pocketwatch in it, and spelled out Susie and President Haltmann's real backstory....yet also had Haltmann survive, something that definitely did NOT happen in game.

Anyway, as is typical for one of my posts, this was very rambly and derailed quickly, but I hope that cleared some stuff up!

--

Actual Spoilers: 

(1)

...Whether or not you interpret Magolor Soul’s death scream in game as him shouting “Kirby!!” - and you don’t have to - it has an unmistakeable “...aieeee!!” sound in there. The novel writes Magolor Soul as shouting “Guoo...” - trail off included. Literally the only vowels not in his in-game scream.

(2)

...that the Master Crown responds to the wearer’s soul and Magolor became that way because he had evil in his soul. Also, that the eye that appeared where his mouth should be was NOT his eye.

[danteinthedevildom]

A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 1 (of 7)

I mentioned (a while ago, oops) that I had a lot of thoughts on Diavolo’s character as revealed in the A Royal Pajama Party Devilgram. I ended up with so many screenshots, I couldn’t contain them all to a single post - so I’ve had to split it up into seven parts (ironically). 

For this first part, I’m focusing on the free chapter. Spoilers under the cut, of course! 

To start off with, I’m going to focus on this one, single screenshot. Despite how short it is, there’s a lot that’s revealed in just six words. 

My main point of focus? Diavolo is so genuinely excited to spend time with you - actual time, not time he’s tried to slot in with some pretend event to trick you into hanging out with him - that he’s been actively waiting for you to turn up. 

This is something I’ve noted before, but we know from previous Devilgrams that Diavolo doesn’t often get to spend time with other beings simply because nobody really wants to. He openly admits that he has to trick his friends into it by planning parties - as seen in the Concealed in Colour Devilgram - and that he struggles to get out of that habit now that he’s found someone (you) willing to visit the castle just to see him. No other alterior motives required. 

And here he is, finally setting something up without trying to trick you into it! He doesn’t feel as unsure about your friendship with him anymore; he’s aware - and accepted - that you are there for him, to see him, and that he really can just ask for your time and have you willingly show up. So he’s created this little, private sleepover just to hang out with you. That shows a heck of a lot of improvement in his confidence with you and the strength of your friendship (or relationship, depending).

It also just shows the sheer excitement he has towards it. He’s anticipating the moment you arrive with such ferver that he’s been actively waiting for you. I’ll go over this a little more beneath another screenshot, but this really does highlight A) just how much it means to him that you’re coming over for a hangout and nothing more, and B) how rarely this happens for him that it’s an event worth waiting for. 

This is, mostly, just exceedingly cute, in my eyes. 

Firstly, the onesies are canonically a gift from Diavolo due to his enthusiasm for the concept of sleepovers and his enjoyment at having everyone wear one (which he believes makes it feel like a festivity). He’s so into the idea of everyone doing something together that, even if they aren’t specifically there with him, he’s had these outfits made for the beings he considers friends to unify them in fun and merriment. 

These are things he’s never been able to do before. With his isolated and sheltered childhood, the experience of sleepovers with friends - something more than normal for most (if not all) of us - would have been something he completely missed out on due to the impossibility. He couldn’t get anyone close enough to him to even make friends, let alone have them spend the night with him playing games and having fun. 

So, this act of making onesies and sending them out? This is probably his own way of replicating that experience. He’s aware that a lot of the demons - and possibly the angels - won’t be too enthused with the events he has planned, and might begrudge even showing up. Doing this instead - letting them have their own sleepovers but with his gift - is like giving them that freedom and distance from him while still being involved. 

It also shows the sort of relationship he wants to have with them. Yes, he canonically needs to send everyone an outfit since that’s how outfits in these events work - but the devs could have just as easily come up with some other reason for them all having onesies. Considering the main event, it could’ve literally just been “these are outfits forced on them as part of the curse, and are retained afterwards as a reminder of the experience”. 

To state, then, that Diavolo had these made for everyone - and combined with another screenshot I’ll show later, where Diavolo announces that he believes onesies to be part of the sleepover experience - shows that he wants the other main characters to be the kind of friends comfortable and happy enough in his company to willingly spend extended time with him. 

(It also shows, I think, that they’re the friends he always hoped for as a child. You often find that people who were isolated as children or forced to grow up too quickly try to recreate moments they never got to experience in their childhood once they’re adults. I fully believe Diavolo is doing this. He’s always doing this; it’s why he can be so immature at times. He wasn’t allowed to be a normal kid, so he’s being a big kid now to make up for lost time. It’s why it’s so important to him that he does this sort of thing with others.)

Secondly, I love the wording of the second screenshot: “I’ve had yours specially tailored”. 

This is a way around not showing MC with a onesie, and allowing all of us to create our own, sure. However, it’s also Diavolo openly admitting that he’s put extra work (and no doubt time and money) into having MC’s outfit created. After all, it’s not likely due to us being human; Solomon’s a human too, and he got his onesie without issue (Simeon explains that Purgatory Hall get theirs at the same time in his SSR Devilgram, Purgatory’s Pajama Party).

The implication? Diavolo didn’t just want to give us a onesie; he wanted to give us the perfect onesie. 

Do you recall that I said I’d come back to Diavolo’s waiting later? This is why. (Please excuse the shoddy editing to remove my own MC’s name-)

This exchange says so much about Diavolo’s relationship with you. Not only is he anticipating your arrival, he’s anticipating it with such unrestrained glee that he - the Prince of the Devildom; most powerful demon in his entire kingdom - ignored typical royal protocol and sat down in front of the castle entrance, impatiently waiting for your arrival, so he could be the first person you saw as you entered. 

The way he words it, you can imagine him bubbling with excitement, eyes constantly flickering over to the clock, shifting in his seat until the need to pace drew him to his feet, counting down the minutes until your scheduled arrival. Then, maybe fifteen minutes early - or thirty, or an hour - he can’t contain himself anymore. The sheer excitement - the knowledge that you’ll be there soon, there of your own free will, there to spend time with him - finally gets the better of him, and he sneaks away to stand before the grand front doors, eagerly awaiting the moment they open to reveal your much-loved form. 

I’d definitely say it was a substantial amount of time, too. Fifteen minutes at the least, and maybe an hour at the most; Barbatos seems genuinely shocked, and the fact he says “all this time” implies Diavolo’s been guarding the door for a while. Longer than any reasonable demon - let alone a royal one - should have been. 

This childish excitement really does show just how much of that lost youth Diavolo is getting back through MC. You let him experience things he never got to; things that were utterly normal for everyone else. He gets to replace those memories of loneliness and isolation with these moments of exhilaration and unrepentant joy - all because you treat him like someone normal. Someone worthy of care.   

Additionally, the extent to his feelings towards you? Fully encompassed in that screenshot: “For [MC], no amount of time is too long.”

He cares about you and enjoys your company to such a degree, he’ll wait however long it takes just to see you. Every moment spent counting the minutes and seconds is worth it if, at the end, he gets to spend time with you. You - the one being he’s fully confident enjoys his presence as much as he enjoys yours - mean so much to him, you’re fully capable of making the Prince of the Devildom wait for hours, and he’ll be perfectly content to just sit there until you arrive.

What other being in all the Three Realms can claim the same thing? That they made the Prince wait for their arrival, and rather than be met with annoyance and disregard, they walked in to a veritable man-puppy so overwhelmingly enthused to see them he had to be scolded by his butler for breaking protocol?

The best part, of course, is Barbatos’ response. He sounds so resigned, so disbelieving; like a mother sighing over their child’s ridiculous behaviour. 

This isn’t the first time Diavolo’s done something like this. This isn’t the first time Barbatos has had to reprimand Diavolo for acting in an un-princely manner over you. It’s something we’ve seen before, of course - in the aforementioned Concealed in Colour Devilgram, Barbatos teases Diavolo for constantly inviting MC over just to see you - but in this instance? When it’s not just Diavolo making up some scheme to lure you to the castle? It implies something else.

Firstly, it implies Diavolo’s behaviour regarding you is completely different to his behaviour regarding anyone else. That sort of childish, gleeful, almost puppyish excitement? The enthusiasm that makes him lose his poise and authority, and drives him to do such expressive things as wait to greet you at the front door? That’s very likely reserved only for you. It’s only you that he so wholly loses his shit over, to be absolutely blunt about it. It’s only you he feels so strongly for as to make such a bold declaration over. 

Secondly, though? It implies this sort of... length, I think, is the best way to word it; the lengths Diavolo will go for you, even in really small, insignificant ways. “Whenever anything concerns [you] in the slightest”, Diavolo will forego all set boundries and standards. That feeling of resignation is Barbatos chastising Diavolo’s utter willingness to do... pretty much anything for you. 

He’s just so excited that you’re there, he overreacts. From the tone, the sprite, and the wording used, I could fully imagine that, when it comes to you, Diavolo isn’t above diving out windows just to keep good on a promise. He isn’t above going the extra mile for your sake, whether asked for or not. 

And though it’s done in a humorous way here - really just implying that Barbatos is a bit done with Diavolo’s sillier antics when it comes to you - it does make me wonder just how far that goes. It’s when anything concerns you “in the slightest”. Not just directly, but anything that has you in it even tangentially. 

How much has Diavolo done, or planned, or changed, solely because it might have a glancing side-effect that makes you smile? How many times has Barbatos had to mention your name in something to get Diavolo to take an active interest in it? How many times has, “I believe MC would benefit from this...” actually worked to get Diavolo to consider a proposed deal? 

More than that, however; if these are the lengths Diavolo goes to when you’re only slightly involved... what lengths would he go to if you’re more directly involved? What lengths would he go to if your involvement was something dangerous? Something that could have a rippling effect across the Three Realms?

You’re the only true friend Diavolo really has. He’s admitted before, more than once - both in the main game and in Devilgrams - that he’s aware both Lucifer and Barbatos don’t consider him as much of a friend as he considers them, and although we know of someone like Queen Rose, we don’t actually know the full extent of their friendship. Certainly not all too close, if the Dame event was anything to go by; it still felt stiff and formal, and Diavolo was still putting on airs. 

You’re the only friend he can really let loose with; can laugh and play and spend time with, without having to do so through a veneer of formality. 

He can be himself around you. Not the Prince, but Diavolo.

How far would Diavolo go to preserve the only friend he’s ever had?

+++

This post is the longest one of the lot, so if you made it this far - thank you! Hopefully it’s been an enjoyable and easy read. 

The next set of screenshots are a bit more clear and don’t require so much in-depth thinking, but still provide plenty food for thought regarding Diavolo and his relationship with MC. They also go into content that you have to use Story Keys to unlock, so if you’re unwilling to see spoilers, you’ll have to end your reading here.

That said, if you’ve already unlocked the Devilgram (or are curious about what happens next/how much we learn about Diavolo in the next chapter), you can hop right over to part 2!

[dabidagoose]

What's your fave video game sountrack(s)? =^o

Ok that is a very loaded question so this is gonna be a long ass response, I hope you're prepared for what you've done.

(ok there's a tl;dr at the end if you want it sorry for this lmao)

FIRST POINT my immediate thought was the Ikenfell soundtrack (actually my immediate thought is I can't fuckin' choose they're all amazing but. then ikenfell). On the personal side, I was pretty much obsessed with the game for like three months straight, and i fuckin' love aivi and surasshu's music. I am also a simp for chiptune so jot that down. Moving past what may very well just be personal preference there are some incredibly interesting musical choices and impeccable choices story-wise that hit just. SO fuckin hard. Like emotionally. I won't elaborate on to the context and why the song works so well but the final battle theme is absolutely SPECTACULAR. (I could elaborate though so. ask if you will and i'll write another spiel on why it breaks my heart and soul). But also to reference a less-plot relevant piece I'm gonna bring up Alchemy is for Everyone. The squish bass sounds at the beginning are SUCH a fun environmental sound, it is really just NOT a sound I hear often which makes the track really stand out. And it fits SO perfectly for all the slimes and just. It's so WET. I love it. Makes me wanna wriggle. Which ok is probably also personal preference on reflection because my friend hates a wet song that I love but. Ok it's GOOD. Anyways continuing to the melody the fuckin PITCH bends. This is digital music at it's peak. We get the fun sounds. We get the fuckin pitch bends. Which are so fun because having slightly out of tune notes is such a fun feeling. It's a little off kilter, it's a little different. It's just SO funky and sounds so awesome to bend those pitches just a little bit, take full advantage of the medium and play around with it. Now I'm gonna talk a bit about why I love aivi & surasshu's music so much which. Ok so I believe(?) they coined the term "digital fusion" where you're mixing all these fun fresh digital sounds with real instruments/more traditional sounds and it can work SO fuckin well (for extra musical literature on this subject I'd like to suggest Yoann Turpin and specifically Chip Ship). Which we already get a taste of that where the pitch bends are playing on piano but it really kicks in when the violin takes over the melody and it's SUCH a graceful instrument in comparison to all this funky/awkward stuff we've had. The dichotomy is fuckin awesome. The violin is like a graceful victorian socialite ballroom dancing in after these pitch bends just pinned their arms to their sides and wiggled their hips around. We then get a third spacey instrument (I. have no idea what it is.) and it is. SUCH a switch. We have moved from awkward and stilted to almost too perfect and graceful (I forgot to write before but the high piano at the violin adds so much) to a moment of awe and discovery. We are now exploring the universe, the world of science and alchemy, and it is fantastic. The song almost seems to have it's own little narrative, and this is just a backing track for exploring one of the buildings!!!! This is within the first couple hours of gameplay, it is incredibly non-plot-relevant but SUCH a piece of art. I am absolutely in a slime ball watching amazing science happen so precisely and it is. so fuckin cool. And I could probably go off about every single other song, but in the interest of keeping away spoilers and finishing this post before 2 am, I will not. (Addendums because I can: this is less wet than the one my friend hates, and also this song is MOIST. I would also like to mention It's Showtime and Between the Lines as other song favorites but if I went into them I would never sleep.)

Okokokok. So. So SECOND point (I'm. so sorry.) I looked at my video game music soundtrack (I have two main soundtracks one for just every music but I didn't want to overwhelm it with VG music so I made one just for that that has ENTIRE soundtracks from almost every game I've played which. oops.) and I found two other contenders based mostly on I Really Liked The Games. The Oneshot soundtrack and the Night in the Woods soundtrack. Ok I'm gonna talk about Night in the Woods first cause HOLY shit. holy shit. The fucking astral songs. Those are fucking masterpieces. Such a simple ensemble but it creates such an INTENSE atmosphere. I really love instrumental music can you tell. I specifically want you listening to Astral Train for this one (played it for my senior recital and even though I had to play the violin part on clarinet I maintain it was one of the best choices I've ever made), but we the way the layers blend together is a fucking masterpiece. Since this song had to be designed so that any layer could play alone and each one could join in any order, each part of the quartet has to be interesting, but they still all must blend together and so they each get melody moments but the harmony/bass lines have to be interesting as well and. They ARE. This is such a hard task and it's accomplished SO. INCREDIBLY. WELL. (Side note: also makes for a good ensemble piece for, say, your and your friends' senior recitals, so everyone gets fun parts, a chance in the limelight, and a chance to rest, haha totally irrelevant note right there definitely no connection to my real life). With Astral Train we really get this cool ghostly train feel and through all the Astral pieces we REALLY feel the absolute intensity of Mae's dreams and the music creates such an immaculate vibe. It is unmatched. The rest of the soundtrack contains plenty of bops in a variety of genres too, where the bass songs have to be both playable and fun (Die Anywhere Else my beloved), and we get nostalgic and mischievous music fit for this ragtag team. This is the feeling I've had hanging out with my teenage friends at 10 PM in a parking lot. It is absolutely perfect for this video game. The music is SUCH a bop and really emotionally connects to me cause the game is such a bop of a plot. It is truly fantastic. (Addendum: Ok listening to Gregg rn and. Holy shit bop. I love him. I love this)

Ok now onto Oneshot, which, admittedly, does not have as strong a holding on the podium as these other two do, but curse me for having been emotionally destroyed by the video game because now I am emotionally attached to the music too. But, again, ATMOSPHERE. I am once again gonna be speaking in the interest of spoilers here, so I hope anyone who's finished the game will forgive what I'm not saying, but the entire landscape of this desolate planet is just SO much. The world is so simple and empty, and yet awe is often mixed with this feeling of despair. This is incredibly fitting for Niko, for the hopeful little pal they are, and creates an incredible effect. (I included specific song reccs for the last but I don't quite for this - so I'll just say now that I'm listening to On Little Cat Feet). The visuals are fairly simple, the map small, and just looking at the game the world feels incredibly small. But the music makes it all seem so vast. We really get put into Niko's shoes (or their little cat feet I suppose), and get to see this world for the vast, terrifying, but incredible place it is. The music makes you feel like that child seeing a new world for the first time, (this isn't spoilers past the first chapter but I'm warning you anyways) even though you are meant to be a god, you are still made to feel small and the world still large. The music does so much of this work, and it's incredible. Throughout the soundtrack the underlying angst, the despair, remains present, and the game has so much more impact for the music. No game is incomplete without it's music, and Nightmargin does a fantastic job creating this music for Oneshot. I haven't analyzed the actual music instruments/structure so much, but it's those instrumental sounds again tearing at my heart strings again. I would also like to recommend this game beyond the soundtrack, since it is an incredible story, with some puzzling gameplay, and it has made me feel how no other game has. It is a masterpiece of a game, and I implore everyone to play it through. Get hints if you need to, or play alone, just make it to the Ending. You'll know when you're there. (Addendum: I think I'm very repetitive here but I refuse to edit it so you have to live with this. Anyways gonna say it again: Play Oneshot!!)

Now I have chosen three game soundtracks that had a story that incredibly connected with me, and music to bolster that story and those emotions in incredibly meaningful ways. But there are so many others with great music, but that didn't necessarily connect on such an emotional level. Portal and Portal 2 have fantastic soundtracks, Celeste has beautiful music, Underhero has some funky and spectacular beats, Undertale and Deltarune are famously incredible (although I also did emotionally connect with them... but they're already talked about enough. Lancer beloved.), Clam Man is just. Fun., Oxenfree is also incredibly atmospheric and spectacular, Sewer Rave just has nice beats, and Minecraft is nostalgic as all hell. There are so many games to choose from, that from the moment I saw your question I knew I would be writing a far too long Tumblr post to answer you, because it feels an injustice to just answer one without reasoning, or without bringing to light all of the other amazing sounds I've discovered.

To finally answer your question, I think Ikenfell deserves the top spot in my heart. My instinct was right, there's fresh sounds, great musical structure (see: Between the Lines that I didn't elaborate on), incredibly emotional sounds, and fantastic storytelling within the soundtrack. But I love all of these other soundtracks, so I must bring them up. For they also have spots in my heart.

TL;DR - Ikenfell wins but I also love Oneshot and Night in the Woods and many others so I don't know what to say chief (lies i have too much to say)

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 12 (Kiro) Final Part [Forge Ahead] & [Return to the Game] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

Here’s the final part of MLQC season 2 chapter 12. All the Kiro-centric chapters have been translated for season 2. Whew!! Now I’m impatiently waiting for the next chapter update coming in September. I NEED to know what went down after the end of chapter 15!!!

For previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 12: Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8

Enjoy~

[Forge Ahead]

The gears rumbled and the door of the lighthouse slowly closed behind us.

What I saw and heard just now echoed in my mind. Too much information left me at a loss as to how to react.

MC: Say, is what we just saw true?

I looked at the sealed door again and asked Helios gently.

Helios: Don’t know.

MC: The civilizations before us….how did they end up being destroyed?

MC: Will we also….

The rest of my words were left unspoken. The painful memories have already given me the answer.

Natural disasters every day, the disappearing sunlight, the clusters of comets descending from the sky….

This is a world that has witnessed the coming of the end.

MC: Countless people’s research, countless people’s attempts….

I recalled 19’s last words to us.

I inhaled.

In those other lighthouses, there must be additional clues and information about this world. Perhaps, there will be info about CORE and Evol.

I think of the same symbols I saw in the hunter game photos. Maybe….there are also more lighthouses in the hunter games.

MC: Helios, I may have clues to other lighthouses.

Helios: You should go back.

MC: What?

Helios: Do you think you will be so lucky every time?

Helios: Whatever you wanted to investigate should have been done thoroughly.

Helios: Don’t get in my way.

I looked at Helios’ cold face, knowing I couldn’t go back here.

If I want to stand by his side, there are many more things I have to do.

MC: Then you have a really wide range of control.

Helios: You have no idea what you are doing.

I took a deep breath.

MC: I am certain.

MC: I knew what I want to do a long time ago.

MC: Now that I have finally found a breakthrough, I won’t give up.

MC: Helios, I’m going to investigate the hunter games, the lighthouse, and the connection between lesions and Evol.

MC: Because I know there is information I want.

MC: If you are worried about me, come to me and face the danger with me.

MC: Whether it is your business or mine, two people’s solutions are better than one.

After I was done talking, I removed the white handkerchief he gave me that I used to bandage my wound and wrote down my phone number with the pen that I carried with me.

Then, I walked to his side and tied the handkerchief around his wrist.

Helios: What is this for?

I looked up and smiled at him.

MC: Getting formally acquainted.

MC: Hello, Helios. I’m MC. You can call me that directly from now on. Just in case, this is my phone number.

MC: Feel free to contact me any time.

I didn’t give him any chance to reply or reject me, so I turned and left.

Like I said before, Kiro. This time, I want you to come to me yourself.

After returning to Loveland City, my already busy itinerary left me no time to spare.

In order to find the next lighthouse, I desperately searched the hunter game sites. Maybe there will be new clues there.

Or even luckier, there will be a new lighthouse.

It’s only now that I realized in hindsight that perhaps the hunter games are not just used for testing the “small syringes”.

Considering the connection between the sites, the stone slate, and the lighthouse, maybe the organizers of the hunter games are also looking for lighthouses.

MC: So busy. I knew I should’ve trained more right-hand men….

Although Zehn occasionally complains, sometimes he does things fairly quickly. But the information I need is not something he can find out alone.

MC: I might be the least organized boss in the world. I do everything by myself.

As I sighed for who knows how many times today, my cell phone rang.

There is an unfamiliar number on the screen, but inexplicably, I think I know who is calling.

MC: It’s the first good news of the day.

I smiled and pressed the call button.

Helios: It’s me.

[Return to the Game]

After continuous rainy weather for the past several days, the sun finally reveals itself in the sky.

For ordinary people, this is just a mundane thing.

No one noticed that in a large shipyard outside the city at this time, a thrilling hunt was being organized--

A hunter game is being held here.

I tightened the shoulder strap of the backpack I was carrying and my thoughts floated back to the phone call from a few days ago—

*flashback*

Helios: I can tell you what you want to know.

Helios: But the news is conditional.

MC: You can tell me.

There was a slightly derisive scoff on the other end of the phone.

Helios: Aren’t you going to ask?

MC: No need, I believe you won’t be too hard on me.

MC: So you can help me find the exact location of the hunter game, right?

Helios: It’s over. I can find it for you.

MC: I thought about it. If the hunter game is really related to the lighthouse, then the latter will definitely make contact with the lighthouse.

MC: Therefore…if I can go to an ongoing hunter game, maybe I can directly find the source of the game.

Helios: You want to go to an ongoing hunter game site?

MC: You’re so smart.

The next second, I heard the busy tone on the other end.

He actually hung up on me?!

I took a deep breath and dialed back persistently. After about a dozen times, the call was finally picked up.

Helios: How long do you think you can last there?

The angry, harsh voice came from the other side and I couldn’t help but shrink my neck.

MC: Since I planned it this way, I naturally have my preparations.

MC: As long as you are willing to help me, I can guarantee that I will not be discovered by anyone in the game.

Helios: Fool.

I habitually began to ignore what I didn’t need to hear in Helios’ words and snorted softly.

MC: Helios, I can kindly remind of who you’re dealing with—***Changed some wording***

MC: I am the owner of a large media company with superstar Kiro.

-End of Final Part-

[lycorogue]

Perfect Doesn’t Need to be Perfect: Chapter 7

Oh, thank the Lord! We’re done with the birds! There are so many birds in this song! Poor Chat Noir. At least he doesn’t have to worry about any more birds past this chapter.

I’m going to work hard to keep my promise to have this story done before February, but I honestly don’t have much more of a game plan than that. Hope to see you fine folks again soon.

**Contains Spoilers for Taurus Pixie’s story Twelve Days of Chatmas**

Summary: Chat Noir has run into a long streak of poor luck, all in an attempt to give Ladybug the perfect Christmas gift. Little does he know, his first try was already perfect in Ladybug’s eyes. Now it’s her turn to try to navigate around Chat Noir’s failed attempts in her own pursuit to find something equally fantastic for him. **A Switched-POV Unofficial Companion Story to Twelve Days of Chatmas by @thetauruspixie​​**

Rating: General Audience

Chapter Word Count: 2295

Story Total Word Count: 37,973

Status: chapter 7 of 12; complete

**For reals, if you haven’t read Twelve Days of Chatmas yet, read that first so my story doesn’t spoil anything for you. It’s cool. This story will still be here when you get back. ;) **

See below for chapter 7, or find this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

CHAPTER 7:

Ladybug closed out the next afternoon blindfolded again.

After their escape from the geese the day before, and their halfhearted patrol of the city, they parted ways with Chat Noir asking her to keep watch for a message from him.

“I'll make this right,” he had said with a bow.

“Chat Noir, you really don't-”

“I do, and I will.” He had puffed out his chest to make himself as tall and wide as possible. “I promise you. Just keep an eye out for a new message.” He gave her hand a quick peck, and then off he went, grumbling deprecations to himself.

It was a bit ridiculous to periodically transform just to see if she had a new message from her partner, but she couldn't deny his request. The next morning, however, she debated keeping up the practice. She hadn't heard word from Chat Noir the rest of Saturday, and she wasn't sure Tikki would be thrilled with another day of useless transformations. Her kwami reassured her that it was fine, however, so, like clockwork, Marinette snuck off to become Ladybug every two hours.

During her noon transformation, Ladybug finally found a text from Chat Noir. He gave her directions to a park and asked her to meet him at four. She wasn't sure if he was doing the same thing – powering up just to see if he had messages – but she sent him back a text that she'd be there.

Now she was standing in the middle of a large park with the blindfold again wrapped around her head.

“You know, Kitty, you really don't have to keep doing all these things for me.”

“Yes, I do.” Chat Noir was more resolute than he was even the morning before. “Especially since your other surprises ended in disaster.”

“Kitty...” Ladybug wanted to cry. While the blackbird surprise – whatever it was supposed to be – and the picnic didn't go swimmingly, neither of those were his fault. Entirely. The fact that he was kicking himself so firmly about those cut deep. His eyes were also a little puffy, and didn't have their normal shine to them. She could only imagine how much sleep he had lost over trying to come up with these surprises for her.

“This is all already too much. Your partridge in a pear tree was the most perfect gift you could give. You don't have to-”

She couldn't complete the thought. There was too much to fill in the blank. She didn't deserve any of this effort. She didn't deserve him putting so much work into these gifts. She didn't deserve such a sweetheart of a partner. It kept all her willpower – and the knowledge that the park was filled with citizens who could whip out their phone any minute – to not pull him into a hug and thank him for everything he had already done that week.

Lost in her own thoughts for a minute, she didn't realize right away that she didn't hear Chat Noir anymore.

“Chat Noir?”

“Huh?” he blurted in front of her, “What?”

“Are you okay?” she asked nervously, “You completely spaced out on me there.” Maybe everything wore harder on him than she was giving credit.

“I'm purr-fect, my lady.” There was laughter in his voice, and he included one of his stupid cat puns. Ladybug released a small sigh of relief. “Nothing to worry about,” Chat Noir continued.

“As I was trying to tell you before you zoned-out on me,” Ladybug groped the air for Chat Noir to make sure he was paying attention this time. He grabbed hold of one of her wrists, and gave it a gentle squeeze to cue her that it was him and that he was still there. “I hope you're not putting too much pressure on yourself to come up with a gift for me, because I get the feeling that's what this has been all about. It's not that I don't appreciate it, but the first-”

“Don't worry, my lady,” Chat Noir interrupted. She frowned. He wasn't getting it. “It's no trouble at all. Now,” his voice perked up as he got giddy about his latest surprise, “follow me.”

He slid his hand down her wrist and into her hand. With a small tug, he bid her forward. With another sigh – Ladybug knew they really needed to have this talk he was avoiding – she relented and let him lead her to this big surprise.

She trusted him completely to lead her safely through the crowd and around obstacles, so they were able to walk at a normal pace; as if she could see clearly. It still felt like an unbearably long walk through the park in silence. She had tried a couple more times to talk to Chat Noir about all of these surprises, but he kept brushing her off; telling her how much she was bound to love this latest gift. Eventually she heard Chat Noir's boots click on wood. There was also the sound of water sloshing. Ladybug wondered if he was trying the lakeside picnic again, but in an area populated enough that hopefully geese weren't roosting nearby.

“Chat?”

He let go of her hand, but then she felt him cupping her ears; muffling that sense as well.

“Chat Noir?” She nervously giggled. She had no clue what he was planning, but the fact that he was putting this much effort into her not finding out prematurely was adorable.

A couple minutes later his hand was back in hers, she heard the sound of what she hoped was his pocket zipper, and a gentleman thanking Chat Noir. There was another pause before the sloshing of the water around them got louder and Chat Noir walked her towards it.

“Trust me?” he purred in her ear.

She gave him the best side-eye she could, considering he couldn't see her eyes, and nodded. He scooped up her free hand and turned her slightly.

“Take a step back and down.”

She did as she was told, and her footing instantly wobbled. She was climbing into a boat blindfolded. If she were Marinette in that moment she would have guaranteed capsizing. As it was, without the use of her eyes, she was unsteady. Chat Noir's grip tightened, anchoring her and helping her steady as she lowered her second foot into the boat. Ladybug heard him gasp as her weight shifted too much and the edge of the boat dipped before he was able to right her. With a plop, she was seated and safe. She then heard him hop in behind her and ask for a cast off.

Chat Noir rowed them out into the water. The rhythm of the oars cutting through the water was soothing, and Ladybug nearly drifted off; enjoying the peace of an uneventful boat ride. The sound of the public enjoying the park faded. There was the sound of other oars connecting with the water, but they were far enough away she wasn't sure she'd hear them if she wasn't powered up.

“Okay.” Chat Noir pulled the oars into the boat and let them drift. There was the slight rustling of paper before Chat Noir cleared his throat. “You can take your blindfold off now.”

Excited to see what all the secrecy was about, Ladybug removed the blindfold. They were alone in the middle of the lake. A few other boaters were drifting in the distance, and swimming a few meters out was a small flock of swans. Ladybug panicked briefly at the reminder of the geese, but these swans seemed so peaceful, and didn't appear to even notice their little boat floating by them. The water rippled with a faint orange glow from the evening sun hanging low in the sky. Once again, Chat Noir was able to show her such a picturesque moment, and she was in complete awe.

“Chat Noir.” She let his name hang in the air as she tried to gather her thoughts. The best she could come up with was, “this is amazing!” She gripped the edge of the boat to balance herself as she looked around. The swans, still calm and almost dismissive of them, began circling their boat. It was like a scene from a fairy tale movie.

The swans wove an intricate but delicate ballet in the water as they circled the boat. Some ducked their long necks down in the water to look for food. Others stretched their necks out and ruffled their feathers in a shudder to shake off whatever itch they might have had. A couple preened their wings as they floated around. All seven swans shifted what they were doing, trading tasks between each of them. A couple of times one of the swans would swim up to another so they would circle the boat as a pair, their heads nuzzling each other's necks. The whole dance was hypnotizing.

Ladybug turned to Chat Noir to thank him, but his eyes were closed. She smiled at how peaceful he looked, knowing how much he had earned that rest. Then he started to list to his left.

“Chat Noir!”

His eyes snapped open, but he had already slumped too far and couldn't correct his weight fast enough. In a gasp, the boat capsized and they both were tossed into the lake. The shock of hitting the water jolted Ladybug out of the zen-like relaxation.

Chat Noir had passed out! The thought sent another jolt through her. Where is he? Is he alright? She wiped the water out of her eyes and whirled around to where he was thrown. He was there, equally in shock, and holding a piece of paper above his head. Relieved, she swam over to him.

“Ladybu-!” Chat Noir let out a heavy breath when he noticed her beside him.

“Chat Noir, are you okay? Did you just fall asleep?” This was getting insane. He was putting way too much on himself. He needed to take care of himself, not worry about a Christmas gift for her!

The flock of swans that had been circling them must have been startled by the capsized boat, because they had grouped together a few meters out and started honking. None of them were facing the teens, so Ladybug assumed the swans were more communicating with each other than yelling at them. Still, she kept a watchful eye while also trying to focus on Chat Noir. Which meant she didn't have any eyes left to keep track of the boat as it drifted away, leaving them stranded.

Ladybug noticed a bit too late, and she splashed around her as she flailed for anything to catch hold of it.

“No! No no no no. Wait!” Ladybug began swimming after the boat, only to hear a very loud and long honk trumpeted behind her. She swung around just in time to see one of the swans buzz by Chat Noir and pluck the piece of paper out of his hand before soaring off into the sky. The poor boy simply stared at his empty fingertips, dumbfounded.

With more trumpeting, the rest of the flock followed the one with the paper, zipping past Ladybug and Chat Noir. A few feathers fell into the water from their collective takeoff, making Chat Noir violently sneeze out of his shock.

“Chat Noir?” This was bad. He was already having a rough time with all of these birds lately, but now this? Stranded in a lake, whatever his planned gift to her was literally plucked from his hand, and now a sneezing fit?

As she inched closer to him she saw his jaw tense up and his shoulders and neck equally tighten. His eyes seemed puffer through the green cat-eye screen of his mask. He looked so defeated, and she couldn't bear it. Even if she didn't have to worry about Hawk Moth potentially akumatizing her partner, she couldn't handle him looking so down. She had to fix this somehow.

She found his hand under the water and gave it a squeeze. When she caught his gaze she gave him a smile she hoped would convey all the love she had for this boy.

This is fine. You don't have to be sad. I loved the moment we had. She was afraid he wouldn't listen to her again, so instead of saying any of that, she gave his hand a little tug.

“Come on,” she splashed around a little bit as she pulled him behind her, trying to get him back into his usual playful mood. “Race you back to the shore!” She gave him a wink and shot off towards the shoreline.

She didn't hear him at first, and she wanted desperately to turn back around to make sure he was okay. She had hoped his competitive nature would shake him out of his funk, and she couldn't ease up so soon.

Come on, Chat Noir. Catch up.

Then she heard it. Softly behind her, she heard Chat Noir laughing, and then the frantic splashing of him trying to overtake her. She was grateful she was already drenched. That way she didn't have to explain the tear stains down her cheeks later. Forcing a poker face, she flipped into a backstroke.

“Is that the best you've got, Kitty?” she playfully teased. “You'll never beat me that way!”

“Just wait, my lady!” His voice was perky again. It had worked. She just needed to find a way to get it in his head that she didn't need all of these theatrics. His first gift was perfect.

Thank you for reading. Read Next Chapter

Read from the beginning: Chapter 1

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@discoveringmiraculouswriters

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - 9

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader; Reader x Noah (…)

Word Count: 7386

Rating: M (language.)

Summary: The rain might have ruined the end of the game, but it’s also giving Benjamin a chance to sit and talk with you ... but will either of you actually say what’s on your minds? And then, back at the hotel, Eric’s got an agenda of his own  - which forces Benjamin’s hand - and some brutal honesty on his part. 

Author’s Note:  *spoiler alert* This chapter ABSOLUTELY contains spoilers from Gold Digger. If you haven’t seen it, and don’t want to know about Benjamin’s backstory in detail, I wouldn’t read any further. It could NOT be avoided. (We’re getting to my favorite parts of this story so far, so....)

By the time you reached cover, both of you were soaked, clothes clinging to your skin and hair plastered to your heads. That came out of nowhere. You joined a large group of people, stepping in far enough to ensure that the rain didn’t continue to dampen you, but didn’t make it more than a few feet beneath the overhang before you stopped due to the crowd. “Benjamin, I’m so sorry, I should have noticed.” Don’t worry about it. He eyed you, noticing that you were standing closer to him than was probably necessary. “We’ll wait it out for a little while, but we have to -” Towels. We have towels. He opened the plastic bag, careful not to rip it, and handed you the towel, still folded. 

 “Here.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and using one corner of the dry material to wipe it. “We can put our phones in the plastic, that way…” You laughed, but reached for your own phone, following suit. Both devices went into the bag and then back into your purse, you still holding the towel in one hand. “That’s sorted then, I guess we -” But he was distracted by you unfolding the towel and lifting your hands, using it to dry his face off - followed by moving it up to his hair, where you rubbed it quickly through his soaked locks. What? He was frozen, unable to react as your hands moved toward the back of his head. He said your name, almost whispering it, but you ignored him, continuing the movement of your hands through his hair, the material keeping your fingers from actually touching him. What is she doing? Satisfied that he was dry enough, you let the towel fall onto his shoulder, but didn’t lower your hand. Instead, your fingertips touched his cheek, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. “What are you doing?” He swallowed, forcing himself not to lean into your touch. “You -” 

 “Benjamin.” You closed your eyes, the backs of your fingers resting against his skin. “I’m not -” You paused, and he watched as you squeezed your eyes shut more tightly. “This… I...” This can’t happen. This can’t… A sudden gust of wind caused people to step backwards as it drove the rain inward, someone bumping into you and forcing you to stumble forward. Benjamin’s hands both shot out to steady you, landing on your hips, the chilled material of your shorts beneath his palms as yours fell to his shoulders, gripping them for balance without pause. He said your name again and you looked up at him, the expression in your eyes unreadable. The two of you stood like that for long seconds, Benjamin unsure of what to say, but unwilling to move even though he knew that it was what he needed to do. If we stand here, it won’t...

 “I don’t like him. Noah, I mean.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, and he watched as your eyebrows went up, lips parting slightly. “I don’t like the way he’s treating you, the way he … that he won’t…” Say you’re his. Say that he wants  to be with you. “You deserve someone that will -”

 “What do I deserve, Benjamin?” You laughed, sniffling and rolling your eyes without letting go of him. “Someone that will what?” He watched as a large drop of water rolled down the side of your face, collecting on your chin, and without thinking he moved one hand from your hip and brought it up to your face, wiping it away with his knuckle. I’m going to kill Eric. This is unfair. He used his thumb to tilt your face up further, taking a deep breath. 

 “Someone that cares about you enough to be with you completely.” You scoffed. “Someone that does the right thing.” Like I need to right now. With regret, Benjamin flexed his fingers once against your hip again and then pulled his hand away, dropping the one from your chin, too. “Noah might be Eric’s friend, but you know that you’re not happy with how things are.” And you shouldn’t be. “But that doesn’t mean...Don’t do this. Not now. Not like this.” He was pleading with you, both in his tone and the look in his eyes, though he was unwilling to gesture between the two of you with his hand and confirm anything. Please. You stared up at him and then you moved one hand to grab the end of the towel that hung over his shoulder, using it to wipe your own face and neck, wringing out your hair after taking a step back. That almost crossed a line. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, taking a deep breath. But she… she moved first, she… He needed to think of something else, and so Benjamin looked around, glancing back over your shoulder at the open space behind you before he said your name again, hoping that his voice was steadier. “It looks like it’s going to rain for a while.” 

 “Yeah.” You refused to meet his eyes, agreeing with him halfheartedly. “You’re probably right.” Why does she sound so disappointed? “We can walk further in, there might be somewhere to sit to wait, and -” Benjamin reached out, taking your hand in his and linking his fingers between yours. “What -”

 “I meant what I said.” You looked confused and Benjamin tugged you closer to him, still holding your hand. “About doing the right thing.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “But I didn’t just mean Noah, I meant … me, too.” 

 “I don’t understand.” I know you don’t. And I shouldn’t be saying this. 

 “You might not be his girlfriend, but you’re still with him, and I can’t… I can’t let myself…” He fumbled over his words, wishing desperately that you weren’t in the middle of a crowd so that he could have the conversation with you that he wanted to have. “No matter how much I…” You’re just out of a relationship, Benjamin, and you’re saying these things to a woman you barely know? Someone’s that’s dating someone else? “I’m not that kind of man.” The crowd around you was loud, but he was focused only on your face, waiting for your response.

 “I know you’re not, Benjamin.” You finally smiled at him, and to his surprise, you pulled your hand from his and wrapped both arms around his body, hugging him tightly. He hugged you back, turning his head to press his cheek against the top of your head. “And I appreciate that.” The embrace lasted longer than he thought it would, but when you straightened up, you looked determined - and slightly less sad. “Come on, we’re going to get you a new shirt.” 

--- 

 Twenty minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the ground in front of one of the team shops, both of you wearing new White Sox shirts. Though his jeans and your shorts were still wet, he felt better with the top half of his body dry, both pieces of wet material along with one towel in the plastic bag that the new shirts had been in. He’d dried off partially in the bathroom before changing his shirt, and then stood in front of the mirrors for almost too long, staring at his reflection. I shouldn’t have said that to her. I shouldn’t have touched her. I shouldn’t have… “But you did.” He spoke out loud, getting a few looks from other men in the room, but he didn’t care. This isn’t you, Benjamin. 

 It was still raining when he met you outside of the bathrooms, and when you checked the Uber app, you’d seen that it was extraordinarily expensive for a ride back to the hotel. Since it was still early, you’d decided to wait a little longer, riding out the storm under the cover of the upper levels of the stadium. “This probably isn’t the way you wanted to spend the night, is it?” You sighed from next to him, shoulder pressed against his. “Wet and cold on the cement in a -”

 “I can’t think of a better way to spend my night, actually.” He grinned at you, turning his head. “Does this happen often? The rainouts?” 

 “Delay.” You corrected him, laughing. “Not a rainout yet, it’s just delayed. And yes, this happens a ton.” You went quiet, and Benjamin was relieved that it wasn’t an awkward silence. Maybe we didn’t ruin this. 

 “Well I don’t mind it. Much.” It was his turn to laugh, Benjamin leaning his head back against the wall behind him. “Do you think Eric knew it was going to rain when he -”

 “No.” You cleared your throat. “Eric didn’t know anything except that he was trying to get you and me alone, and give us time to… talk.” Wait, she knew it too? “What do you think he wanted, or expected from this?” I don’t know. “He -”

 “I told you before, Eric’s your brother and he’s going to be on your side no matter what.” Benjamin looked away, watching as people hurried past, some of them still dry, others as soaked as the two of you had been. “I think… he’s trying to make you understand that from his point of view?” Benjamin groaned. “He can see that you’re not… not as happy as you could be, that Noah’s not... “ Not what, Benjamin? 

 “But why not just say something? Why stick me with -”

 “Because you like me. Because we’re friends. Because… I’m a perfect example that settling for enough doesn’t end well.” He realized the truth of his words only as he said them, head drooping downward. “Because he’s hoping that since I’m not your brother, you’ll listen to me.” 

 You shifted, turning to face him, one of your fingers idly running along the stitching on the heel of his boot. 

 “And what is it you think he’d like to tell me?” He was focused on the movement of your finger, imaging that he could feel it tracing over his ankle bone and up his heel and then back down, though you weren’t using any pressure. “What would you tell me, Benjamin?” He looked up at your use of his name. “Aside from what both of you have already said?” So many things. 

 “If you’re unhappy, you shouldn’t keep yourself in a situation that…” He wrinkled his nose. “Perpetuates that unhappiness. You met me at Christmas, you saw how miserable I was.” 

 “But you loved Julia, you, had every right to be miserable over the fail-” You stopped, lifting your hand from his foot and covering your mouth with it. “Oh, Benjamin, I didn’t mean that.” You looked worried, but he only shrugged. 

 “You’re right. I did love her. But for too long, I … I let myself believe that I was at fault for things being wrong, that it was all my doing.” He lifted his hand to the back of his head, scratching it. “This - your relationship - is nothing like that. You’ve just started seeing him, it’s not… love, not yet.” Or is it? But as he watched you shake your head back and forth, he knew that your initial instincts about dating Noah had been the right ones, and he’d been the one to lead you toward it. He said your name, calling your attention back to him. “I encouraged you to date him in the first place, and … I didn’t know you well then, but I knew enough to know that I wanted you to find someone that made you happy. That could give you the kind of relationship that I wanted to have with …” He paused. Not with Julia, I don’t think I ever thought we could be truly happy, not after Ted and the fire and her children. “With someone, even though part of me knew it wasn’t possible with my wife any longer.” He sighed, tilting his head back and softly hitting it against the cement behind him. “I was in no position to give anyone relationship advice, but I guess I still had some hope, and …”

 “Benjamin Greene, the hopeless romantic.” You laughed, fingers tightening around his ankle again and then loosening, though you didn’t remove your hand. “Do you still believe that? Have hope that people can be truly happy, even after what you’ve gone through?” This isn’t about me, this is about you. “Or are we just supposed to -” You stopped as someone came over the loudspeaker, announcing that the game had been postponed to a later date. “Ah, damn.” You sighed, closing your eyes. “Now we have to leave.” 

 “I can get the car, it doesn’t matter the cost, we need to get out of these wet clothes, so getting back to our rooms is…” He stopped at the disappointment on your face, waiting until you nodded. Bracing himself with both hands, Benjamin unfolded his legs and stood, careful not to kick you and then bent down, holding both hands out to you to help you up. “I’ll just need my phone back, and -” His voice failed him as he felt your hands within his again, you allowing him to pull you to your feet slowly, drawing you closer to him without even realizing that he was doing it. I cannot do this. I cannot let her… “As much as I like my new shirt,” he finally said, glancing down. “I’d like to change into dry pants, and I’m sure that you -” 

 “You’re a good man, Benjamin.” Without saying anything else, you stepped even closer, pulling your hands from his and wrapping them around his neck. Then, you rose onto your toes, lips landing against his cheek, just beneath his eye. “A good, honest man.” No one’s ever said that before. You pulled away from him completely, digging into your purse and handing him his phone, the smile returning to your face. “Use Lyft. It’ll be cheaper.” You knew that all along, didn’t you?

 --- 

 Getting dropped off at the hotel, you and Benjamin rode the elevator up, and though he’d never admit it to you, he was cold. All I want are dry pants, and… “Wait a minute.” He stopped in front of his room door, key in hand. “The door, the…” Eric, seriously? He looked at the screen of his phone, but there was no notifications. “He…”

 “Is that the ‘do not disturb’ sign?” You laughed. “Because of course it would be.” Eric what are you trying to pull? “Wait a minute, he texted me.” You stared at the screen of your phone, hissing out your brother’s name. “Oh, that dick.” You looked up at him, lips pressed together in a thin line. “He got an extra key for my room from the desk, and moved your bag there, Benjamin.” Excuse me? “His text says, and I quote, ‘Tell Benjamin that I’m sorry but I needed the room tonight.’” Sure, like you just planned this while we were out. 

 “Alright, well, at least let me change before I go down and see if there’s an available -”

 “What?” You were frowning. “An available what?”

 “Look, you planned on spending the weekend with Noah, and I’m assuming there’s only one bed in your room, so that’s obviously not going to work for us.” Since I am not, in fact, Noah. “So if you’ll let me change, I’ll see if there’s a room here I can book, and if not I’ll try another hotel.”

 “Not necessary.” You gestured with one hand. “Come on.” Confused, he followed you, waiting until you used your key to open the door, immediately turning the temperature dial up. “Sorry it’s so cold in here, I figured I’d be coming back gross after sitting in the humidity all night, so…” There are two beds. Why are there two… “When I booked the rooms, it was much cheaper to get double queens.” Benjamin saw his bag sitting on the bed that was still untouched, and because he was unable to stop himself, his eyes moved to the second bed, and the way the blankets and sheets were balled up atop it. 

 “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t feel comfortable…” Sleeping in the same room you slept in with another man last night. “I’ll just change, and -”

 “Noah didn’t sleep here last night, Benjamin.” You were standing next to your suitcase, having already flipped it open. “He came up and we talked for a few minutes, but… he didn’t have any clothes with him. I should have noticed, but I was… distracted when we were in Wrigley, and…” He didn’t. I didn’t even think… “He never planned on spending this weekend with me.” You opened your mouth again, but then stopped. “No, you know what? Not now.” You pointed. “Get changed. There’s plenty of towels in the bathroom, if you need them.” 

 “No, you go first, I -” 

 “I’ll change out here.” You grinned. “No big deal.” That’s the last thing I need to think about. “Go. It can’t be comfortable to have on all that denim when it’s damp.” It isn’t. He pulled clothes out of his bag and stepped into the bathroom, quickly stripping and using one of the still-folded towels to dry his legs before pulling pajama pants on, the soft material of his t shirt settling into place a few seconds later. This is a bad idea. I need to get another room, I can’t sleep here, this isn’t right. But the truth was that Benjamin didn’t want to sleep in a different room, and there wasn’t as much wrong with the situation as there could have been. We’re both technically single. Both… 

 He gripped the edge of the counter, head hanging down. It still cannot happen. Nothing can happen, not until… not unless… Benjamin brushed his teeth before calling out to make sure you were dressed, and when you assured him you were, he stepped back into the room. “You look much drier.” He laughed at that, settling down onto the bed after moving his bag onto the chair next to it. 

 “I am. And I’m warmer, too.” You crossed the room to ensure that the door was locked, and though he’d seen them all day, he was focused on your legs, bare beneath the cotton shorts you were wearing. “You?” 

 “I didn’t put the sign on our door handle, Benjamin.” You leaned against the edge of the wall that separated the entryway  from the rest of the room. “I hope that’s alright with you.” Of course it is. Why wouldn’t… “We never finished our conversation from before, and I know that.” You stepped back through the room again, pulling the window open, the sound of the rain falling onto the city growing louder. “About whether or not you still think that there’s a chance for happiness. For you, for … everyone.” Laying down atop your bed, you stretched, rolling onto your side and propping your chin up with one hand. 

 He leaned back against the headboard, hands in his lap. How do I answer that? “I think…” He started and then stopped, choosing his words carefully as he turned to face you, back still against the pillows behind him. “Everyone’s happiness looks different.” Benjamin thought about Kieran and  his mother, about the time he’d spent behind bars, the time he’d had to think about the choices he made. Allie’s face popped into his head, the way she’d callously turned down his affections at the end, the way she’d broken his heart by telling him there was someone else, even though part of him already knew it. He thought of Julia, of the ways  that they’d connected - quickly, easily, overlooking the hard parts to focus on the things that didn’t seem so big or bad. “And the things that you hope will make you happy? The things you’re told should make you happy?  They might not be the ones you get right away.” You watched him, not saying anything. “They may not be the ones you ever get, and in the end, you have to decide what’s most important to you.” He swallowed hard. “There are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, and a lot of them… a lot of them aren’t things I’m proud of, but they’re the things that make me… well, me.” 

 “Benjamin, everyone’s got a past. Everyone has things that they’ve done, that they aren’t proud of.” You moved your head back and forth slowly, never taking your eyes off of him. “Your life was very different from mine, and the last couple of years have been…” You sighed. “A test for you. You dated someone before Julia, right?”

 “Allie. Yeah, we… I thought we were going to get married, but she had other plans.” You frowned. “That hurt. And for a while, I was just… I figured that that was it for me, and that I’d better get used to being alone, because it’s what I deserved. I went on dates here and there, but nothing really… I didn’t feel anything real, you know?” He licked his lips, scooting down onto the mattress so he was mirroring your position, on his side and facing you. “And then, by chance, I met Julia, and it was like a whirlwind.” That’s putting it lightly. He’d spilled some of the details to you since the night you’d met, so he didn’t want to rehash everything. “And I was happy, a lot of the time. We had our problems, and her kids were miserable most of the time, but I loved her. Very much. And then I asked her to marry me, and she said yes, so I thought ‘well this is all that matters, it’s going to be alright’ but it wasn’t. Not even close.” You knew that part, too, about how close the wedding had come to being called off. But not why.

 “Can I ask you something else?” You sat up, leaning toward him. “You don’t have to answer, but… you got an annulment, not a divorce. And I’ve looked into it more. There are only a few things that would qualify you for that.” She looked into it more? “How did you… you let her come out on top, but how, Benjamin? What was -”

 “I lied to her.” He sat up, too, long fingers gripping at his thighs after he’d crossed his legs, trying to keep them from shaking. “Well, that’s what everyone thinks. She knew what… she knew everything, before we got married. That’s why it almost didn’t happen, because she found out and then didn’t believe me when I explained.” He paused and you were quiet, waiting. “But since we were only married for a little while, and she never really told anyone, it was easy to… to lie to them, to let her…” You moved quickly, pushing off of the bed and climbing into his with him, your arms going around his upper body as you knelt next to him, head leaning against his shoulder. “I destroyed my reputation to give her the easy way out and to take the blame for everything, and it shouldn’t surprise me because I spent -”

 “Oh, Benjamin.” He reached up, gripping your arm just above the elbow and closed his eyes. “That’s… you…” Turning his head, he buried his nose in the hair on the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. She couldn’t possibly care this much.

 “D’you know something?” He felt a tear running down his cheek, even as he continued to speak, words slightly muffled. “That was the easiest lie in the world to tell.” It was the first time he’d admitted that to himself. It feels… “Because it meant that she - that Julia, no matter what she says to anyone or tells herself,  knows what I did for her, even though I had no obligation to do it.” I’m always doing things for people at the expense of my own...His eyes widened. That’s what I’m doing right now, too. “For me,” he continued, heart pounding in his chest - harder with each word. “For me, I think my happiness needs to be about considering myself first for once, and what I need, and what I want, and not what’s best for everyone else around me.” 

 “You can do that now.” You straightened up, squeezing his arm again before you moved back to your bed, still sitting up and watching him. “You’ve got a fresh start, Benjamin. And I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re a good man. You deserve to be happy. And you deserve to do what makes you happy, too.” But I can’t, not right now, not... “You know something?” You laid back, this time staring up at the ceiling. “When I first saw Noah in that parking lot? After not seeing him for a couple years?” You scoffed. “I knew what he was like in college, knew from Eric’s stories, but I was still… I thought, ‘oh, maybe it’s been long enough, he’s ready for something more serious’, right?” Benjamin nodded. “And we get along, really well. Always have. But even though I like him, there’s been something missing the whole time. And I think that’s why I’ve been so… alright with letting it be casual?” What? “I know it’s not really going anywhere, and I know that if I pressure him to commit to me, it’ll be over, so I’ve just been…” You paused, looking over at him. “Going along with it.” She’s settling. “We have fun together, and it’s enough, so I don’t really need anything more. I’m not happy, but I’m not unhappy, either, if that makes sense to you...” But do you want more? 

 “So why not tell Eric? He wouldn’t have been as upset if he knew that both of you were looking at this the same way.” You stayed quiet again, thinking. “You’re his sister, yeah, but he’s been seeing women in London with no intent of seriously dating them, so why not…” 

 “Because as soon as he found out that Noah and I aren’t a “couple”,” you continued, using your fingers to make air quotes, “... he immediately went into ‘big brother’ mode and tried to set me up with another of his friends.” He did, didn’t he. Benjamin laughed at that, one hand raised to cover his face. 

 “To be fair, he invited me here before he knew anything.” You laughed too, Benjamin continuing. “And I’m not sure if this qualifies as trying to set us up, since…” Benjamin took a deep breath. “Since we’ve both kind of done that on our own already.” It was more honest than he’d intended to be with you, and though you didn’t respond verbally, Benjamin saw your fingers curl slightly against your stomach, where both hands were resting. “You know, when I met you, it was just nice to have someone to talk to that I could relax around.” You still stayed quiet, eyes on the ceiling. “But then when we started messaging? The more I got to know you? When we started video chatting?” He looked over at you, still sitting up, legs crossed beneath him. “I realized that I like you, and yet I …”

 “But you’ve been so supportive of me and Noah, Benjamin.” You finally spoke, turning your head to look at him. “It -”

 “Because I was still technically married when you told me about him, and I live an ocean away from you.” He shrugged. “What good is it going to do if I say something? You’ve got a guy here, right here in front of you that you can see and go out with and spend time with, and if it makes you happy, why complicate it instead of encouraging it?” The words poured out of him, Benjamin unable to stop them. “And.” He laughed. “And we spoke once in person, for a few hours. I’m nearly 40, recently divorced and have more -”

 “I don’t care about any of that, Benjamin.” You were staring at him, your eyes wide, fingers clutching the edge of the pillow beneath your head.  “Talking to you makes me happy. Being your friend makes me happy. Spending these last few weeks with you has made me happy.” She’s unhappy with him, but I make her… You closed your eyes, and Benjamin felt his chest getting tight again. None of this matters, she’s still… and I’m leaving. Talking about this isn’t going to help anything. “Eric wanted you to come here because he wanted you to have your rebound with an American… someone you’d never have to worry about again, if that’s what you wanted. He just wanted you to forget about what you’ve been through and what you’ve been worrying about.” You laughed again, but the sound was very bitter. “He told me this when I asked him why he was so adamant that you come home with him. And then thinking of you with some random woman? Meeting one at a bar? Going home with her, or even… even just… dammit, Benjamin.” You stopped. “I care about you, and even if that’s all it ever is, I…” All it ever is? What’s the other option? “You deserve happiness. No matter what anyone else says or what you believe, and I hope you find it, but I know goddamn well that you weren’t ever going to be happy with Julia, even from what little you’ve told me.” No, I wasn’t. Not completely. 

 “We’ve gotten off topic.” He chuckled, uncrossing his legs and laying back, hands behind his head. “W-”

 “What did you expect?” You reached over, twisting the knob on the lamp between the beds and turning the light off. “We’re alone together in the middle of the night, and I almost kissed you twice earlier.” You almost kissed me? I… “There’s a lot for us to talk about.” Though he couldn’t see you clearly, he heard you shifting, the sound of blankets rustling. “And a lot more that neither of us are saying.” Benjamin thought for a few minutes and then said  your name, waiting. “Yeah?” 

 “I wouldn’t have let you.” He licked his lips, fumbling over his words. “Kiss me, I mean.” You laughed at that, the sound loud in the darkness, and all Benjamin wanted was to climb into bed with you, wrapping you in his arms. “It’s not… not right, not now.” Not while you’re still… whatever with Noah. 

 “I know.” You were quiet after that, and Benjamin pulled the blankets up and over himself, trying to get comfortable. The bed’s fine, but she’s right… she’s right there, and I can’t… “Goodnight, Benjamin Greene.” 

 --- 

 When he opened his eyes, the first thing that Benjamin saw was that he’d rolled over to face you while he slept, his body moving to the edge of the bed. Trying to stay quiet since it was still dark beyond the partially closed curtain, Benjamin took a deep breath, bringing his right arm back onto the mattress. If I get any closer to the edge, I’ll fall off. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Benjamin studied what he could see of your face, features relaxed as you slept. Neither of you had spoken again after you’d said goodnight to him, and after only a few minutes, Benjamin heard your breaths lengthen, though he was still wide awake. 

 The day - despite Julia’s accusation - had been the best he’d had since before Christmas, and Benjamin knew you were a large part of the reason. And she said… she… He thought back to your words, adjusting his legs beneath the comforter and finding a cool spot on the pillow. She wanted to kiss me. She didn’t want me to meet someone while I’m here. It was more than he’d ever expected to hear from you, but Benjamin didn’t know what it do with the information. I’m leaving at the end of the week, this changes nothing. “You’re staring, Benjamin.” Startled by the sound of your voice from the next bed, he inhaled, eyes going wide. “Go back to sleep.” You paused, and he heard you shifting, head rising to adjust your pillow. “Don’t make this weird.” 

 He laughed and then you did too, and Benjamin’s heart thumped again in his chest. This feels… “I’m sorry, I just woke up and -” He cleared his throat, sighing. “Won’t happen again.” He heard you mumble a single word - damn  - as a reply, but he could tell you were on the verge of sleep again. Pulling the blanket over his head to hide the light, he checked his phone, surprised to see a message from Eric on the screen, sent nearly two hours before. What do you want? 

 You two needed a push, and tonight was it. There was a second message, sent a few minutes after the first. Don’t give me shit, you know it’s true. Though he didn’t disagree with Eric - and it seemed that you didn’t, either - he didn’t know what the man was trying to accomplish. It’s not as if I’d take her to bed the minute we admitted… He shook his head, darkening the screen. Doesn’t matter. It’s only four. Get back to sleep, Benjamin. With one last look at you before he rolled onto his opposite side, Benjamin closed his eyes, preparing for the tossing and turning he’d grown accustomed to over the previous months - but instead, he was sleeping within ten minutes. 

 The next time he woke, the room was bright and you were laying on your back, phone held above your face. “Morning, Benjamin.” You looked at him briefly. “Did you get the ‘middle of the night pep talk’ text from Eric, too?” 

 “I did.” He pushed the blanket down and stretched, raising his hands above his head and arching his back. “Didn’t answer, though.”

 “I halfway expected him to be standing in the corner of our room this morning.” Our room? He blinked rapidly and you continued. “Just to see if his plan worked and we were in the same bed.” Benjamin ran a hand over his face to stifle his groan and he imagined the way it would feel to wake up with you in his arms - Eric or no Eric standing guard. I can’t think like that. “But apparently he and Michelle already went down for breakfast, so if he was here, he didn’t get what he wanted.” 

 “Most brothers wouldn’t want to see their kid sisters in bed with anyone.” Benjamin sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “You think he’d -” He focused on your face, trying to memorize the way you looked with lines from your pillow faint on your cheek, the tangle of your hair from the movement of your head, the brightness of your eyes. “You think he’d really check on something like that?” 

 “He’s never pulled a stunt like this before, so I honestly have no clue, Benjamin.” You took a deep breath. “Just a warning, I tagged you in more pictures from last night.” You sat up, facing him. “It’s very clear that it was just the two of us at that game.” He nodded. “Benjamin, we … we said a lot of things to each other yesterday, right?” It’s too early for this. 

 “We did.” He chewed on his lip. “And you said that there was more unsaid, too.” You let out a short laugh, closing your eyes. 

 “So much more. But you’re right, this isn’t the time.” You opened your eyes again, staring at him, and for the first time, Benjamin saw genuine sadness in them. “I wanted to take you to Millenium Park today, but it’s supposed to rain all afternoon.” Damn. “So we’ll probably just head back after we eat, because this city in the rain isn’t… it’s not the greatest.” 

 “Last night wasn’t -”

 “That’s not the city, that’s just the South Side.” You waved your hand. “But that’s not the…” You went quiet, and Benjamin’s gut told him that whatever you said next, he wasn’t going to like. “Benjamin, I invited Noah over tonight because…” You met his eyes, the sadness replaced with hesitation. “I’m going to ask him what he has against committing to me.” His heart felt like it was a lead weight, sinking into the very bottom of his stomach, but Benjamin only nodded, waiting. She’s not done. “And if he says that he was just waiting to know how he felt, or… that it was my friendship with you, that he needed to see…” He left you with another man for a weekend, that says enough, I think. “Then it was a test, this whole thing.” He straightened up, still staying quiet. “And it means that he never really trusted me, and just wanted…” 

 “Hey.” Benjamin reached out, taking one of your hands in his. “Look, there’s no reason for you to explain your actions to me, because you’re… we’re… we’re not…” Damn. “You said last night that you weren’t … that something was missing?” You nodded. “What if it’s just that commitment that you want? What if you just want him to stand there and say “I really want to be with you”, and the fact that he hasn’t done that yet is what’s holding you back?” Why are you saying this? He’s not the right … “He could very well say that, and you could… you might realize that it’s all you need.” It would crush me. He had the realization as he finished speaking. Absolutely crush me. He looked down and realized that you’d added your other hand atop his, both hands holding onto him tightly. 

 “Or I’ll realize that it’s exactly what I don’t want.” You spoke quietly, and Benjamin looked back at you. “Because I want something else.” Please don’t do this. It would have been easy for him to stand, using his legs to propel him toward you, pushing you back onto the bed and kissing you hard, like he’d wanted to do for longer than he liked to admit. It would have been easier still for him to tell you not to even bother with Noah, because from the way you were looking at him, and the words you were saying, it was clear that part of you wanted that to happen. “Someo-”

 “Don’t.” He flexed his fingers, shaking his head. “If you say that, something that we’d both regret later will happen now, and that isn’t…” Benjamin closed his eyes, fighting to keep his emotions in check. “You owe it to him, to yourself to see if it’s right for you. Whatever you do, don’t do it for someone else. Do it for you.” Benjamin pressed his lips together, drawing a deep breath in through his nose. “He might be terrible at commitment, but he doesn’t have secrets, not like me.” Rip it off. “No one does, and what I’ve kept to myself is -”

 “Secrets?” You pulled one hand back, settling it on your knee. “You act like you’re a goddamn criminal, Benjamin, like you’ve -” You have no idea how right you are. “Like whatever you could possibly tell me would make me feel any differently about you than I have for the last five fucking months.” She’s mad, I’ve never heard that… He pulled his hand away from yours, standing and striding past your bed and to the window, pushing the curtains open. “You’re right, I owe it to myself to see what he says and see how I feel about it, but we both know damn well that I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else.” You’d stood as you spoke, standing behind him but keeping your distance. “And I’m not imagining the way you -”

 “Would you still feel that way knowing that Benjamin Greene isn’t even my real name?” He turned to face you, holding his shoulders straight and his head high, though he felt more defeated with each word. “That I was born Sean White, to a mother that didn’t care for me and a father that didn’t stick around? That it got so bad that my brother and I had to nick things from shops just to eat?” He took a step toward you, feeling the tears gathering in his eyes as he told the story for the second time to a woman he cared about. This time it’s not to save a relationship, it’s to prevent one. “That I spent the better part of a decade in prison for murder to cover for my brother because Kieran was an adult and I wasn’t, and he just hit him once?” Benjamin held his hands up, one of them moving to the back of his neck. “That no matter what I do, what I change my name to, who I become, that inside I’ll always be that boy that tried to do what was best and still managed to fuck it all up, because that’s how I’ll always see myself? On record as a boy who killed a man and then changed my identity to hide it just so I could have a life?” 

 He could see the barest outline of your reflection in the glass, heard your breath hitch as he spilled his story to you. It’s easier now, to tell it. He continued to grip the back of his neck, the room silent. “I like Greene better.” Your voice was steady. “Suits you.” You didn’t say anything else, and then Benjamin felt your arms go around him from behind, wrapping tightly around his torso, your cheek pressed between his shoulders. “I’d like to hear the full story, Benjamin.” You sighed, and he felt himself freeze. What? “Look at me.” He turned to face you, heart pounding, though it slowed slightly when he saw the small smile on your face. “To be clear, you in fact did not kill someone?” With a shake of his head, Benjamin answered your question, nearly dizzy with the revelation he’d just made to you - and your reaction to it. “Alright.” 

 His hands hung at his sides, yours still around his waist. “You just… believe me? Just like that?” He thought of Julia’s reaction - running, anger, fear - the way she’d been unwilling to even listen at first, backing away from him each time he’d gotten closer. She did have that article, though. I have to consider that. You nodded again. “But -”

 “Close your eyes.” He watched you suspiciously but you rolled your eyes, letting your shoulders drop. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise.” Against his better judgement, Benjamin closed them, waiting. What is she doing? Your hands dropped and you braced yourself against his hips, fingers settling against the elastic of his waistband. “I don’t know why you’re trying to sabotage this.” He felt your grip on him tighten, and the next thing he knew you were speaking into his ear, lips close to the skin. “But I’m not going to let you.” His hands went to your sides, Benjamin’s breath catching as he realized how close you were to him. “You trusted me enough to tell me this story.” Your breath was warm and Benjamin felt your cheek brush against his as you leaned in further. “Trust me enough to know that I know what I’m doing and how I’m thinking.” You let out a breath, and Benjamin thought that you were going to pull away, but instead he felt you kiss the side of his face, lips landing just in front of the ear you’d been speaking into. “And why I’m doing it.” 

 You finally pulled back from him, and Benjamin was entirely overwhelmed, but felt himself nodding. “You’ve got to do what makes you happy.” He forced the words out. “Y-”

 “You should follow your own advice.” You laughed, stepping back from him. “And I can tell you for sure that you trying to convince me that I don’t feel something for you?” You tilted your head to the side. “That’s not making you happy, that’s just you doing what you’ve done before and hoping for a different outcome.” It is. “Now.” You raised on eyebrow, looking him up and down. “As fashionable as those pajama pants are? You’re not going to want to wear them home on the train.” 

--- 

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[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 8: The Wind and the Rain

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

Spoiler Warning: Starting this chapter, Gracidea Blossom will contain spoilers for Komari’s Route of Little Busters! Since this is the first such spoiler point, I’ll reiterate my general policy: I’ll be using primarily backstory spoilers and trying to leave elements of the route that people can still enjoy even if they read this story first, and marking with an author’s note like this one before any chapter that firstintroduces spoilers from that route, while considering backstory information introduced in that route fair game for the rest of the story afterwards.

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The day after Rin started her training, Riki finds himself aimlessly wandering the streets of Jubilife. With Masato and Kengo occupied with preparing Rin for her Gym Challenge, and Kyousuke busy at Jubilife TV, Riki’s been left largely to his own devices whenever he’s not being dragged into the training himself.

The gray sky seems to press down on him as he walks. Ever since this journey started, something’s felt subtly off. Masato and Kengo always pushing their training. Kyousuke’s vague questions. As much as Riki wants to treat everything as just more of the silly games the Little Busters play together, he can’t shake the feeling that something is moving. Dragging Masato, Kengo, and Rin into these strange impetuses, and threatening to leave him behind.

Perhaps that’s why his feet take him back to the park where he and Rin had battled the previous day. Sitting with his Pokémon amidst the faded grass, he can at least feel a little less alone.

After letting Terra and Sly out of their Pokéballs, Riki leans forward to spritz his Turtwig down with a spray bottle. The soil on its head and back drinks the water up greedily, and its sprout seems to stand a little straighter. Riki scratches the Turtwig lightly under its chin.

“I guess you were getting thirsty? Alright, then. Here. Let’s get you something to eat, as well.”

He pours out some Pokémon food into a couple of bowls - one for Terra, one for Sly - and lies back on the grass while he waits for them to eat. A chilly breeze rustles his clothes and the grass beneath him. Temperatures in Sinnoh already trend cool, and with the rain cooling the city down even further, Riki is glad to have worn layers today. Still, it’s peaceful, and he just lies there for a few minutes with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the wind.

Eventually, the sounds of crunching stop, and his Pokémon cuddle up next to him. Terra settles down on his left right by his ribs, while Sly sits by his right ear.

But…

Soon, the calm only makes Riki feel lonelier. Normally, by now he’d have been jarred back to reality by Masato and Kengo’s roughhousing, or Rin shouting at one of them, or Kyousuke coming up with some sort of game. The more time he spends alone like this, the more his thoughts drift back to the days after his parents died.

Before he can go any further, Riki pushes himself to his feet. Hopefully, doing something will be enough to distract him. But what? He’s here because he didn’t have anywhere to go.

For want of a better option, Riki beckons his Pokémon to walk with him along the wavy stone path circling the park. At least, moving should be better than not. It doesn’t do a lot… but he still starts to feel just a little better.

And then—

“YOUUUUUUUU!”

Riki’s melancholy thoughts are blown away in an instant, replaced by confusion under the sudden sonic assault. Bracing himself, he pushes forward to confront the figure responsible.

“Wait, you’re the old man from yesterday!”

“WHO’S AN OLD MAAAAAAAAAAN!?” The uproar doubles in strength.

However, Riki simply finds his frustration building. “By all accounts, you are! You shouldn’t shout at people for simply stating what’s true.”

“…Hmph.” The man quiets down at that. “At least you have some spine. That’s more than I expected, from your performance yesterday.” He fixes Riki with a flat stare.

“Eh?” Riki glares back. “What do you mean by that?”

“Simple. Kid, your battling was atrocious. What in the world possessed you not to have your Pokémon use Rock Throw at the end there? You might have been able to at least KO that girl’s cat.”

“Ah... I mean, Lennon was already getting weak. I didn’t want to hit him with an effective attack if it might injure him too badly!”

The old man fixes Riki with a flat stare. “Oh? So you know what that Pokémon can take better than it and its trainer combined?”

“I...” Riki wavers, but frustration wins out. “Why do you even care? It’s clearly not for my friend’s sake, given how you chased her away out of nowhere.”

“Bah. This and that have nothing to do with each other.” He glares at Riki. “You’ve clearly got some amount of guts, or you wouldn’t be talking back to me like this. So I just want to figure out what you’re doing insulting your Pokémon and your opponent by refusing to show them!”

“I told you. I don’t want to hurt my friend’s Pokémon.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing for it, then.” The man smirks as the trap snaps shut. “If you’re worried about being able to judge if a Pokémon will get hurt, you’ve just got to get a feel for it through experience!”

“…Seriously?” Riki suppresses a groan. Why does he always get dragged into these things?

“Alright then, kid! I, Kojirou, will teach you how to put your all into a battle!” He rolls a Pokéball out of the sleeve of his robe, and throws it. “Go, Whismur!”

What appears is a round pink mammal, around two feet in height. The Whismur has cross-shaped eyes and two nubby arms. Its feet are yellow-tipped, as are the long, curved rabbit ears jutting up from the top of its body. Each ear canal is positioned just in front of the base of its ear, so that the ears can bend down to act as plugs. “I’ll tell you what. If you beat just this one Pokémon, I’ll promise not to bother you again. I’ll even go apologize to that other kid you were with! How’s that sound?”

Riki sighs as he sends his Bonsly out to battle and tells it to use Rock Throw. A rock type against a normal type… with Sly’s defenses, wearing his opponent down shouldn’t be too hard. “Do you not have better things to do than hang around in this park harassing people about Pokémon battles?”

“Uproar!” At Kojirou’s command, the Whismur stretches its mouth wide open and lets out an ear-splitting cry. Sly stops in its tracks, vibrating a little from the sheer volume of the sound buffeting it. “What was that, kid? I couldn’t hear you!”

“Ugh… Sly, use Rock Throw again!” Riki grimaces as his Bonly sends a chunk of rock flying right into its opponent’s face, briefly cutting off the piercing wail. “I said, isn’t there anything else you should be doing right now? Don’t you have friends or family to spend time with, or something?”

“Hmph.” Kojirou brings his arms together so that his sleeves cover both hands. “Kid, you were right about one thing - I’m old. when you get to my age, you’re not gonna have friends around for much longer. As for family… Well, I’ve decided to live on my own. I don’t plan on inconveniencing them when I die, got that?”

“What - that’s horrible!” Even as the Whismur resumes making an uproar, Sly slowly advances towards it, its rocky defenses holding up well against the Normal-type attacks. It may be a little slow, but if things keep up as is, Riki’s Pokémon will be the one winning the battle of attrition. “If you’ve still got family, then you should go to them! I’m sure they want to see you!”

“Here’s some advice, kid: don’t meddle in situations you don’t understand!” Kojirou’s shout corresponds with a particularly loud blast of sound from his Pokémon as its uproar reaches a peak. Sly has to stop moving again from the sheer intensity, but it still holds firm. “And I’ll give you a two for one deal, while I’m at it.” Rather than continuing to cry, the Whismur waits for Kojirou’s command: “Don’t underestimate the versatility of Normal types! Whismur, use Water Pulse!”

Rather than sound, what emerges from the Pokémon’s mouth this time is a pulsing ring of water that travels forward with enough speed to knock Riki’s Bonsly off of its feet. Although it rises, Sly seems dizzy from the impact, and its next Rock Throw misses the target before a second pulse takes it down.

“If you’re so concerned about not holding back, then why didn’t you use that from the start?”

“Simple,” Kojirou responds. “I’m trying to teach you something. If I ended the battle from the start, I wouldn’t be able to judge how you fight.”

“I didn’t ask for that.” As Riki calls his Bonsly back to its Pokéball, Terra steps forward as though to say the battle isn’t over yet.

“Not much respect for the lessons of your elders, huh?”

“Not when those lessons amount to ‘scream at random passers-by so they’ll leave you alone’.” The battle pauses as Riki and Kojirou stare each other down, neither making the next move. Then, the old man laughs.

“Hah! Fair enough, kid! But tell me - what’re you gonna do next? How do you plan to win this?”

“I…” Riki glances at his Pokédex, checking what TMs are known to work on Whismur. Yeah… He thought so. “…I don’t. Terra, return!” Just as the turtle is about to charge its opponent, with or without its Trainer’s help, Riki reaches for its Pokéball and calls it back with a beam of red light. “If you’ve used TMs to teach that Pokémon coverage moves, then it probably knows Flamethrower, too. I’m not letting Terra get in close and risk something like that. You win.”

“…” Kojirou sighs. “Fine. Whismur, return.” He recalls his own Pokémon, but fixes Riki with a serious look. “Kid… if you’re not willing to take a chance now and then, you’re never gonna grow stronger.”

“Getting stronger…” Riki looks away. “I don’t understand why everybody keeps talking about that.”

“It’s not physical strength I’m talking about here. It’s mental. Spiritual. If you want to find happiness in life, you need to grow enough to go look for it.”

“I…” Riki shakes his head. “I’ve got what I’m looking for right here, already. I have my friends. That’s enough.” He turns to walk away. He’s done here.

Kojirou doesn’t follow him. Before he’s out of earshot, though, he gives Riki one last parting remark. “…Everything changes, kid. There’s not a single thing in life that ever stays the same. If you try to hide from that, you’ll earn nothing but regret.”

———

Once again, Riki finds himself walking through the city, caught between the gray of the streets and the gray of the sky, with no destination in mind. He shakes Kojirou’s words out of his head.

There’s nothing wrong with wishing for tomorrow to always be the same as yesterday.

He knows he should return to the Pokémon Center, so that they can start getting Sly back to full health. But… his Pokémon is safely in stasis within its ball, and he doesn’t feel like being roped into whatever training scheme Rin’s working through now.

“Hm?” For a moment, the monotony of the city is broken. Streetlights flicker on, illuminating something unusual just as it disappears around a corner. Riki rushes ahead, and turns to see a lone Pokémon floating down the road ahead of him.

It looks like a meteor hovering in place, with a spherical body covered in a cracked shell of rock. Around its perimeter are five small craters, arranged like the points of a star. Each crater is ringed with dark brown triangular impressions, and has a rounded white nub poking out from inside of it.

Not recognizing the species, Riki points the camera of his Pokédex at it. The pocket encyclopedia brings up a picture of the Pokémon’s front, which boasts two huge black circles that look almost like eyes. Each has three triangular impressions emerging from its top, and the one on its left also has a smaller brown circle the same color as the triangles overlapping it on the bottom left. Apparently it’s a Minior, a Pokémon native to the Alola region.

Definitely strange for one to be on its own here, then. Lacking anything better to do, Riki follows it.

A few turns later, it leads him to a large, plain, blocky building. A sign hanging above the entrance says “POKÉMON GYM” in faded letters. It’s shockingly plain for the place that’s making Rin act unusual. Evidently, this city’s Leader doesn’t care much about appearances.

The Minior doesn’t go inside, however. Instead, it floats around to the back, where a metal fire escape staircase leads up to the roof of the building. The Minior rises, and disappears over the lip of the roof.

Curious, Riki grips the railing and climbs the fire escape.

He emerges onto a wide, flat rooftop. Riki’s shirt flaps in the wind; it’s much stronger up here than at ground level, and it doesn’t stop. A mesh fence runs along the perimeter, preventing access to the edge of the roof except for an opening for the fire escape. Scattered across the plain in front of Riki are several long metal hangers for drying sheets. They’re rusty from disuse.

Riki advances towards the center of the area, looking around. After a moment, his eyes focus, and he recognizes a figure who had until now blended into the grey of the sky. It’s a girl, sat on the ground with her back leaning on the mesh fence. Several discarded wrappers, carelessly pinned to the ground beside her by a bag and a lunchbox, rustle in the wind. The girl herself is hugging the Minior to her chest, and gazing forward with dull eyes. The eyes are what help Riki place her - she’s the girl from the café the other day.

The girl glances up at him. “Who… are you?”

“Ah—“ Riki falters. “…My name’s Riki. I ran into your Pokémon, and, er… wound up following it. Sorry.”

“Mm.” The girl nods. “I’m Komari. I guess.. You found my secret base, huh?” She puts on a sheepish smile, but the moment of effort behind it betrays her.

“…Sorry. I can go, if you don’t want me here. I won’t tell anyone.”

“…No. It’s fine.” Komari’s face falls again, once it’s clear that the smile didn’t fool Riki. “I don’t have any special claim to this place, or anything.” She closes her eyes, and squeezes her Pokémon tighter for a moment. “I just like it, that’s all.”

Riki makes a sound of understanding. He supposes this place is as good as any other. And… after their encounter the other day, he doesn’t want to leave this girl alone here. “Then, is it alright if I sit here a while? I’ve been struggling to find a place to go to.”

“I won’t stop you.” Komari smiles weakly as Riki sits down. “To be honest… I’d be sad, if my being here kept someone else from enjoying it.”

“Ah.” Riki glances around the open roof. While not a skyscraper, it’s still one of the taller buildings in Jubilife, giving him a wide view of the city beyond the fence’s boundaries. A thought strikes him. “This must be a really nice place when it’s sunny.”

“It is. I’m glad you think so too.” Komari nods along. She continues quietly, more to herself than to Riki. “…I just wish it wouldn’t rain so much lately. I hate the rain…”

A few minutes pass in silence after that. Eventually, Komari pulls something out of her lunchbox. After fiddling with the wrapper, she breaks it in half, and offers one half to Riki. “Belgian Waffle?”

“Huh? Um, sure…?” Riki hesitantly takes the offered sweet.

“…Sorry. You probably think it’s weird.” Komari looks down at her knees. “People are made to feel what others feel, right? When the people around you are happy, you get a little happier too. So, by sharing the things I like, I figure maybe I can make myself feel a little better. You know?”

Riki makes a noise of understanding. It seems like an awfully simple philosophy… and from Komari’s listless behavior, he gets the sense that she’s trying to convince herself as much as him. Still, he takes a bite of the waffle. He’s never been a particular fan of sweets, but… “…It’s good.”

“Mm.” Komari chews on her own half of the waffle. “…Of course, I know it’s not that simple. When I’m sad, that makes the people around me sad, too. And then knowing I’m responsible just makes me feel worse…”

“…It’s kind of a vicious circle, huh.”

“Mhm.”

The wind continues to blow, as Komari carefully pins the new wrapper under her lunchbox with the rest. The conversation slows to a halt. The atmosphere grows more and more awkward, until Riki says something just to break the silence.

“So… that Pokémon. You don’t usually find Minior outside of Alola, right?”

Komari’s grip on the meteor Pokémon tightens. She speaks still without looking back towards Riki. “Mhm. This is Granny. My brother gave her to me, back when… when he went to Alola.”

Riki tilts his head. He’s pretty sure the Pokédex said Minior were genderless… but then, it’s not as though it really matters what Komari calls her Pokémon. “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was. My big brother was always really nice to me.” The girl rests her chin on the Minior’s rocky shell. Her eyes cloud up a little more than usual.

Was? A pit of dread sinks into Riki’s stomach. He wishes he was wrong, but… he’s certain that he wasn’t. “…Oh. I’m sorry… You mean, he’s…?”

“That’s right.” Komari gives a small nod. “My brother… doesn’t exist, anymore. He died eight years ago.”

———

That day…

“Honestly, the hardest part of this whole expedition was just getting Irwin to turn corners. Garchomp don’t exactly have the best handling at top speed.”

As the five of them sat around their table, chatting about the day’s adventures, Riki’s thoughts had started to drift. As the rain hammered down around them, for a moment he imagined the world had shrunk down to only this one café. The low buzz of discussion through the café and the patio faded into the background, the energetic jazz - which suddenly sounded almost desperate - blurring into white noise.

Instead, what his mind focused on was the rain. The faint sounds of thunder in the distance. The flowerpots, looking like fragile markers of this tiny world’s boundary.

The rain made him think of that day, so many years ago, when his own world had been shattered. The storm pouring down on his family, the accident near the lake, and…

Kyousuke nudged Riki gently with his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. Lightly shaking his head clear of the thoughts, Riki gave his friend a small smile.

The band switched to a new song.

A few moments later-

“Wah—!”

The shout drew Riki’s attention to a girl in a beige sweater, windmilling her arms as she lost her balance. Riki rose from his seat, meaning to help her right herself.

Unbalanced from his own sudden movement, he wound up getting dragged down under her instead. The floor rose up to meet him, and he smacked against the burnished wood.

“Ow…” Riki sat up and rubbed his head. Wincing at the pain, he stood and turned to the girl. “You alright?”

“Hm?” The girl rose as well. Blue eyes met Riki’s own. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry for the trouble…” She bowed and rushed out the door, but Riki barely noticed.

The moment he’d looked her in the eyes, a stabbing pain in his heart had overshadowed any concern over the pain in his head.

Even as his friends sat him back down, Riki’s gaze drifted to the door where the girl had left.

He knew that look. He knew the emptiness in those eyes.

After all…

He’d seen it in the mirror every morning, all those years ago.

[eternalgirlscout]

a while back @lesbians4sokka (i think? sorry for @ing you if i’m thinking of a different blog) asked me to share my thoughts about The Rise of Kyoshi, and seeing as i just finished the book last night (because i am a monster who gets most of the way through a book and thinks “if i keep reading it’ll be over i can’t have that”) i’m finally doing it now!

this got long as hell OOPS

spoilers under the cut

I want to talk about vengeance and justice in this novel.

back when I was only maybe a third of the way through it, i said on twitter that i was excited to see an avatar with an “opposite moral trajectory” to aang; in AtLA, aang has to learn to value justice over conflict avoidance, whereas RoK’s kyoshi has to prioritize justice over revenge. they come to similar conclusions from wildly different starting points. now that i’ve finished the book, i can’t decide how much i stand by that assessment. it feels reductive--which is a testament to the strength of F.C. Yee’s storytelling. while yes, aang and kyoshi both learn a great deal about justice, they act justly in very different ways.

aang, for reasons i like and appreciate from storytelling, ethical, and characterization perspectives (if you haven’t read my The Lion Turtle Is Good, Actually manifesto, you are legally obligated to do so now) has a strict rule about how he enacts justice that aligns with his beliefs and duties to the legacy of the air nomads. rather than killing people who abuse power to oppress others, he takes away the mechanism by which they accomplish violence--namely, their bending. in LoK we see that he continues to use this ability as an alternative to taking a life for at least most of his career as the avatar when he takes yakone’s bending.

kyoshi, on the other hand, has a very different philosophical development and ultimate approach to justice. her last conversation with lao ge summarizes the conflict between the mode of justice that works for aang (though obviously AtLA takes place chronologically after RoK, the novel is well aware that the reader has almost certainly seen the series first and takes ideas and details from it to flesh out the world, which i think is another strength of Yee’s) and the mode of justice she creates for herself.

“I feel... inconsistent. Unfair. Like I should have either killed them both or let them both live.”

...

“If you had a strict rule, maybe, to always show mercy or always punish, you could use it as a shield to protect your spirit. But that would be distancing yourself from your duty. Determining the fates of others on a case-by-case basis, considering the infinite combinations of circumstance, will wear on you like rain on the mountain... You will never be perfectly fair, and you will never be truly correct,” Lao Ge said. “This is your burden.” (405)

the stark difference between aang’s philosophical background and kyoshi’s leads them to very different outcomes with regard to their choices as the avatar. yes, aang makes decisions on a case-by-case basis as well, but he is not interested in retribution as much as restoration and has a line he will not cross. i could argue that kyoshi sees the two (retribution, restoration) as inextricable in the pursuit of justice.

but what about vengeance?

kyoshi’s hatred of her parents wears away over the course of the novel, but her need to enact revenge on jianzhu only becomes more urgent. she is not universally vengeful, but she does not let go of revenge as a goal until she has it... sort of.

speaking of which, i fucking screamed when yun showed up again. i had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of him, but the timing of his appearance and the change in him hit me like a lightning bolt. sorry, i have to gush for a second about how interested i am in what’s up with him. i am a sucker for a literal dead boy walking, for someone who has been turned into something Other by forces outside their control, and no matter what kyoshi ends up having to do to deal with him, i know i’m going to go feral for it. this is a Yun Stan Account until further notice.

anyway. it’s fascinating that kyoshi doesn’t actually get her revenge per se. yun does. he avenges himself, and it (likely) only causes more problems for kyoshi. and i think the distinction between vengeance and justice is quite wonderfully articulated afterwards:

How could such a container [as Jianzhu’s body] have held the volume of her anguish, her wrath? If any feeling at all pressed through the numbness... it was the ire of a hoodwinked child who’d been promised the end of her bedtime story only to see the candle-lights snuffed and the door slam shut. She was a girl alone in the dark. (430)

she gets the outcome she wanted: jianzhu dead. but her path to him “simply ended.” she has pragmatic advantages now that he’s out of the way--freedom, for one thing, and rangi’s safety, but those weren’t the things that drove her to want her revenge. there is a hollowness to it, a lack of catharsis. revenge is about the self, not the other.

and selfhood is something else kyoshi gives up.

one of the most striking lines in this novel appears when she walks into the tea house to meet jianzhu. at this point, kyoshi has assembled a motley outfit of expensive armor, theater costume pieces, battle accessories, outlaw facepaint, and bending aids for the heretical air nomad. she looks fucking weird. she’s like a video game PC wearing all the highest-stat armor she could loot from random dungeons and none of it matches. literally an assemblage of the places she’s been and the people who have helped her.

This was who she was now. This was her skin. This was her face. (418)

as the avatar, kyoshi has to be a symbol more than a person, even though she is fundamentally a human being as fallible as anyone else. the people who hear of her defeat of xu think she’s a spirit or a dragon in human disguise--regardless of what kyoshi wants and who she is, the world expects her to be something More. so, she gets dressed up and gives them what they need to see.

watching that transformation over the course of one novel is incredible. the path from the girl she is at the start of the novel to the woman we see advise aang that only justice will bring peace is far from over, but the trajectory is more than established. i’m really excited to see what Yee brings to another novel. kyoshi is just getting started.

some other miscellaneous thoughts:

i loved the choice to have a YA writer write this novel. not just for the obvious reason that Avatar is a franchise primarily for kids and teens, but because a lot of the common stylistic elements in YA fiction serve this story incredibly well. (by no means are any of these universal, of course; YA is a broad category of literature with huge stylistic and generic diversity, but in general it has these strengths.) the third person limited pov that switches between various characters gives a vital breadth to the story. there are a lot of moving pieces, and being able to see most of them in real time cuts back on exposition and heightens tension when you can watch their collision course. the focus on the given pov character’s interiority is put to incredible use, especially on the occasions when kyoshi enters the avatar state--and when it’s revealed that jianzhu hides things from even the reader, it becomes all the more staggering what a cunning bastard he is (jianzhu hate blog right here). kyoshi’s blushy crush on yun and even blushier crush on rangi are so good and are woven naturally into the story (bi fuckin rights babey!). that’s a teen with a big heart right there. also, fun swerve to the love triangle trope to get one of the love interests eaten by a spirit a few chapters in! his mind...

the part where kyoshi runs through a stone wall and leaves a kyoshi-shaped hole had me rolling, not just because i was impressed by how well that visual gag worked in prose but also because i can’t believe neither (to my memory) AtLA nor LoK pulled that.

HIDDEN PASSAGE... HIDDEN PASSAGE... THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS...

again i say: bi fucking RIGHTS

and i guess that’s all. stay tuned for the masterpost of Rise of Kyoshi memes i made as i read the book because i have a whole folder of them

[leonthecardboardunicorn]

The Ruined King, Chapter 1

Pairing: Felix x Liz

Summary: Hawkeye is once again moving through Gedonelune, and it looks like their aim is on the heart of the Dragonkin Ruins. It looks like we’ll need the help of the three Reciters to solve this mystery!

Contains spoilers for the Melody of Awakening spinoff!

I would like to thank @ghostnightbride​, @zigackly​, @explosiveglitterqueen​, and @nadia-the-wizardess​ for their endless help and support on this. From helping with artwork, listening to me ramble, and just overall support, thank you~

The oppressive darkness had been cleared away; now, sunlight poured through the trees, casting the forest in a warm glow. You could be forgiven for thinking it was a different place all together. But the tower, a familiar sight to all in Gedonelune, still remained, forever hovering in the distance.

Shu and I had just finished our duties for the day, so I thought it would be nice to go for a stroll before we met the others.

'So much has happened over these years,' I thought. I giggled as I heard Shu chirping just ahead of me, basking in the sunlight. Who would've thought a clumsy wizardess like me would end up here, walking through the once frightening forest with my dragon?

Someone caught my eye. A woman stood on the path ahead of me, gazing up at the tower. She was dressed all in black, but a silver gem glimmered around her neck.

"Ma'm," I called out, "are you lost?"

Her gaze fixed on me. "You're the girl with the dragon.”

"Have we met before?" I didn't recognize her face.

"No, of course not. But you knew a friend of mine; you.. and that wretched golden boy," she said, drawing closer to me, "destroyed him."

I took a step back. Golden boy? And who was this friend she was talking about? "What are you talking about?"

With a wave of her hand, I was flung back. Pale magic crackled in her hand as she approached me, never losing her smile.

"I thought you might cause problems for us again. So now, I need for you to get out of our way!"

Her magic swept towards me-

'I have to do something!'

-And suddenly, he was before me, a black shield rising before us.

"Felix.." What was he doing here? Was he saving me?

"Pay attention," he said, keeping his gaze on the woman.

"Right!" Now wasn't the time to get distracted; I whipped out my wand. She sent another wave of magic at us, but I was ready this time. "Saggita Lumen!" Felix's dark magic joined mine, aiming for her-

But the woman smoothly dodged, as graceful as if she was dancing. Where had I seen that before?

She never took her eyes off of him. "Who are you? Your magic is.."

"Stay away," he said, raising his hand again.

"You are.." Her smile sent shivers down my spine. "This may be a complication." Before I could move, she was gone.

All was still- and then I heard a familiar chirp. Shu flew into my arms. "Mama!"

"I'm okay, Shu, we're okay," I reassured him, petting his scales. "Thank you, Felix."

And only now did I realize I was face to face with Felix. At this distance, his eyes sparkled like jewels. I gulped without meaning to. 'He really is beautiful.'

"I wanted to ask.." I started to say, but he turned away. "Wait..!" And suddenly he was gone, as quick as he came, as though he had never been there at all.

I sighed. 'I guess it was just by chance. Well, whatever. I have other things to focus on.' I looked back to the forest. 'Who was that woman?'

A few hours later, my friends and I gathered in the Night Cafe, but I still couldn't get the incident out of my mind.

"You were attacked?"

"I've already reported the incident to Headmaster Schuyler," I said, settling at the table, "but I wanted to see what you guys thought of it."

"What could they have meant by you and the 'golden boy'?" Caesar said, leaning against the table. "It must have been somebody that you've faced before."

"Then it could have been one of us," Alfonse said. "Golden could be referring to the Goldsteins."

"That's true, but in that case.." I could think of only one person who fit the bill. Elias gave me a hesitant glance; I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

"She would've been talking about Drago." Elias and I had faced him before. "But that would make her a member of Hawkeye."

Hawkeye. The memory sent chills down my spine. Drago's death had been a blow to them, but I knew that they were still out there. Former Headmaster Randolph was still out hunting for them.

"But I have to admit, I'm curious, you took her on all alone?" Alfonse asked.

"No. Actually, Felix saved me," I admitted. "He just showed up out of nowhere; I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't there."

"Felix saved you?" Zeus was gaping. "Well, I suppose that he does live near the area.."

It still took some getting used to. It hadn't been that long since Lacan's revival, since we had come to a tentative trust with Felix and the three Reciters had been reunited. Now, Felix and Lacan had moved into Liz Village.

“I keep meaning to go and pay them a visit,” Alfonse said cheerfully. “It would be nice to see how they're settling in.”

"Well, you'd know best of us, Hugo," Caesar said with a laugh. "What is it like having three Dragonkins as a neighbor?"

"We tend to keep to ourselves,” Hugo said. “Every time I've looked over, it seems they're hanging over at Willem's.”

"Willem sure seems happier though," Mischa said with a smile.

"Then maybe I should go and visit them this weekend!" I said. "I'd like to thank Felix for helping me anyway, and I can ask him about the incident."

The next morning, Shu and I set out bright and early for Liz Village.

Stepping through the forest, a sea of flowers greeted us. The wind carried the sweet smile of the flowers across the village- and booming voices.

"Go easy on me, will you? I'll never beat you, at this rate!"

Warm laughter, as clear as a bell. "That's the idea!"

"Willem, can you help me out here? He keeps throwing my pieces off!"

"I'll be there in a minute!"

I gathered Shu in my arms, knocking on Willem's door.

A new face answered the door. Long, silver hair falling down his back, curled blue horns, and emerald eyes. Someone I never thought I'd see in person, and here he was.

"Hello, Lacan."

"Oh! It's you!" he said with a warm smile. "I wanted to see you again, Miss..." He stopped, fumbling for words.

I just laughed. A lot had happened then, and we'd only really seen each other in passing. It was understandable he'd forget some things. "My name is-"

"Don't tell me, I know this one!"

I heard a voice from behind him. "For goodness sake, Lacan," Felix said. "Her name is Liz."

My gaze fell on Felix. He was sitting at a table before a sprawling board game; his hood had been pulled back, revealing golden hair and curly horns.

"Right, Liz!" Lacan said cheerily. "I knew that."

Felix rolled his eyes; but when he caught my look, he turned away. "I'm.. going to go help Willem in the kitchen," he said, walking away.

"I wanted to thank you, Liz," Lacan said with a sweet smile. "It's thanks to you and your little dragon friend that I was awakened, and I was able to reunited with my family. So thank you."

I smiled. After so long, the three were finally together again. That made everything worth it. "Not a problem."

"Oh, Liz, you're here!" Willem stepped out of the kitchen.

"I hope you don't mind. I thought I'd stop by and see how you were settling in."

'Now, where did Shu run off?' Walking outside after breakfast, humming drifted through the air. 'That must be his song.'

I followed the trail of his sound to Willem's porch, but something stopped me. Felix was sitting with him, scratching under his chin. He seemed.. relaxed; there was an unusual gentleness in his eyes.

'Willem always said he loved magical creatures,' I thought. 'It makes sense that he would be drawn to Shu.' I shook my head. 'This looks like a private moment. I should leave him alone.'

He looked up sharply. "Who's there?" He relaxed as he saw me. "Oh, it's you."

Well, I suppose no harm in coming out now. I walked closer to him, scooping up Shu in my arms. "Shu seems to really like you," I told him, petting Shu. He let out small, happy chirps. He seemed to relax around Felix too.

“I knew a Ratatoskr before. I doubt I'll ever forget that song of his.” He stood up, coming over to me. "I came out here to thank him.. and you."

"Huh?"

"Despite everything I tried, I couldn't do much on my own." He faced me, meeting my eyes. "But thanks to the two of you, Lacan came back to us peacefully, and I was reunited with my family." He smiled, giving a small bow. "So thank you."

"O-of course." I blurted out without thinking, "I wanted to help you." Was I just imagining the surprise flickering across his face? But it disappeared. "But.." I had so much that I wanted to ask him, but the words wouldn't come. "Was that the reason that you saved me yesterday? To pay me back."

He tilted his head. "...I'm not sure."

"You wanted to see us?"

The Prefects had been called to the Headmaster's office. But I stopped short as I saw a familiar face standing there.

"Head.." I caught myself quickly, running into the room, "Randolph! What are you doing here?"

"I thought that you were supposed to be in Queensblade," Elias said.

"It's good to see you again," he said with his usual warm smile. "But I'm afraid there's another reason I'm here."

"I called him here," Headmaster Schuyler said. "I thought that he would have more information on the woman who attacked you."

My heart sank. 'If even Randolph had to come here..' Maybe our assumptions weren't that far off after all.

He took out a picture from his pocket. "Tell me, Liz.." When he laid the picture down, I saw an all too familiar face, a silver necklace glinting around her neck, "is this the woman that you saw?"

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

Alfonse: You faced a member of Hawkeye all by yourself? That's so brave of you.

Elias: Well, not just by ourselves. We had our friends helping us.

Alfonse: I can't believe that I missed out on it.

Elias: Don't worry, we handled it. We had lots of adventures like that. There was the Tower of Sorrow, the fairy flower incident.. don't even get me started on the Sol Maiden-

Alfonse: Ah, I can't believe I missed so much!

Elias: Don't worry, we have plenty of time to make up for it.

Alfonse: Next time, 'Hawkeye'.

[angst-fairygodmother]

On Her Father’s Wings (The Umbrella Academy S2 Fic)

CHAPTER 2: FATHERS

What if there was one more thing left in Five’s care at Hazel’s untimely passing? Something more precious than a briefcase, more useful than a tape, and infinitely more infuriating. A smart-mouthed girl determined to pick up where her father left off and help save the world, whether the Hargreeves like it or not.

Word Count: 5230 Rating: T for canon-typical violence, swearing

Warning: this chapter contains major spoilers for both S2:E2 (The Frankel Footage) and plot twists later in the season. Read at your own risk.

Cross-posted to AO3: here Previous Chapter: New Sidekick

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“So that went well…” Piper drawled, leaning back against her elbows on the edge of the bar.

Five startled, causing her to snicker.

“How did you get in here?” he asked, sounding less surprised or impressed than she’d hoped and not even bothering to look up from his drink.

“Fun fact, they’ll let anybody in when you’re dressed like a cigarette girl,” she said wryly. “So what are you going to do now? Besides mope into a whiskey?”

I don’t know,” he admitted with a sigh. “I’ve struck out with both siblings I’ve been able to find.”

“So far. But you all landed in the same place, and Elliot said they all went back to the alley looking for the rest of you, so odds are these two aren’t the only ones that stuck around Dallas. Just have to keep looking.”

“And what if I say no?”

“Then I’ll kick your scrawny ass and do it myself.”

He looked up at her finally, surprised by her determination, only to quickly look away again, blushing from her sequined and very revealing outfit.

“Do you want me to stick around, keep an eye on this brother and see if he leads us to the rest?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

“No need. He said he thought we were all dead.”

“Cheerful. Could he be lying? I mean he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you from where I was standing. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting them?”

“Protecting them? From me?”

She shrugged. “Anything’s possible. I mean you are a time-travelling assassin. And I don’t know what family Christmases are like at your house.”

Five sighed in exasperation. “Stay if you want. I’m going back to Elliot’s. He’s still, unfortunately, my best lead.”

He continued to sip his drink. She rolled her eyes, not liking the feeling of being dismissed. Still, she decided, she may as well spy on his brother and Jack Ruby while she had the opportunity.

Just as she was about to walk away, Five finished his drink, muttering about how their father should have left Luther on the moon as they both watched the larger man “escort out” a drunk. Then he stood, the pocket of his jacket catching on the back of the chair and tearing away to reveal a bulky yellow box. He took it out, staring at it, puzzled.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked her almost absently, voice sounding like his mind was far away.

“No idea,” she answered, eyes fixed on the label, on handwriting as familiar to her as her own. “It was in your pocket. Why would I know about it?”

“I think Hazel put it there. When he saw those goons get off the bus.”

“Well, it’s probably important then. You should go figure out what it is. I’m going to stick around here and see if I can’t find out a little more about your brother problem.”

Five frowned, glaring as she turned the tables, dismissing him for once, but she was already walking away, a cheerful smile plastered on her face as she held out her cigarette tray in question to one of the other club patrons.

Not long afterward, Piper watched as Luther exited through a back door, and followed, keeping far enough back that he wouldn’t notice, or at least she hoped not. He seemed to freeze, staring as he watched a mystery woman climbed into a car near the payphone out front. Piper couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t really need to to recognize the shock written across his entire body. The woman stared back for just a moment, confusion on her expression evident.

“Vanya,” she heard Luther whisper as the woman shut the car door and drove away.

Luther turned, watching her go, and Piper caught a glimpse of his distress before she ducked back inside to avoid getting caught tailing him. Back inside, she leaned against the wall, biting the nail of her thumb as she debated sticking around to see what other events unfolded for the night and reporting back to Five that she had at least some idea of where another sibling was.

Her decision was made for her though, when an unnervingly large arm pressed across her, pinning her to the wall by her shoulders.

“Who the hell are you?” Luther asked, face mere inches from hers and twisted into a scowl.

“Relax, there’s no need for violence here,” she said, trying to placate him.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not. I mean I was. Sort of. I mean it was more general surveillance than ‘following.’ Although it did…also involve following…”

“Shut up and answer my questions.”

“Um, which of those would you like me to do? Because I can’t simultaneously shut up and…speak, which I need to do to answer your questions.” She tilted her head questioningly to one side and put on her most charming smile.

He pressed his arm harder across her collarbones, shaking her, the pressure making it momentarily harder to breathe until she adjusted to it.

“Quit playing games. Who. Are. You?”

“My name is Piper Rofa. I’m with your brother, Five. A fact that he’s not super thrilled with because of his whole grouchy loner thing, but I’m not about to let that stop me. I stayed behind to keep an eye on you in case there was more you knew or something, even though he’s willing to write you off as a lost cause. Because I’m not about to let the world end based on the fact that your asshole family can’t get their shit together.”

His hold on her slackened, though the arm was still large enough that even slight pressure kept her in place. “I don’t know anything. Until Five showed up, I thought everyone was dead.”

“So that wasn’t your sister in the car?”

“It…was. But tonight was the first time I’d seen her since…”

“Since she blew up the moon and tried to kill you all? Or was that the other sister?”

“No…that was Vanya. How do you know so much about us?”

“It’s a long story. One I’ll happily tell to all of you once you’re rounded up in the same room but I really don’t want to have to keep going over.”

“I’m done with that life.” By now he had released her completely, but she remained rooted in that spot anyway.

“But they’re still your family. Don’t you want to see them?”

“Are they?�� his voice was soft, pained. “All I’ve ever done is push them away and hurt them. It’s better for everyone if I just…don’t go back.”

“Bullshit. Family’s hard, but also family’s family. Whatever you’ve fucked up, they still love you. Or at least, the one I’ve met does. You should have seen his face…”

He stared at her, mouth open in shock, face twisted in uncertainty. “How…how many of them are together right now?”

“None. But we can make it at least three, possibly four if you give me that address, and you come with me back to our makeshift base of operations. We still haven’t found Allison or Klaus?” she hesitated, unsure she had the names right. “And the other brother is locked up in an asylum which Five for some reason decided not to spring him from, but that’s…fixable.”

“I’m not going to give you this address. I don’t even know if Vanya actually lives there, but if she does…I don’t know you, no matter what you claim. And I need to talk to her first. Alone.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Fine, suit yourself. Just, when you’re done, both of you should come to Morty’s Television and Radio.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask,” she shrugged. “Now unless you’re planning any other secret sibling reunions or interesting events, I should probably be off.”

She gave him a wink and wave as she sauntered away.

~

“I can’t tail a car on foot!” she shouted in frustration as Five raged. “And what else was I supposed to do? Fight your brother for the wallet? He could snap me in half like a toothpick!”

“You incompetent…useless…” his face was rapidly reddening. “What is the point of you if you can’t even do a simple task?”

“Hey!” she glared, folding her arms over her chest. “At least we can confirm that she’s still in Dallas. And that she’s either a very good actress or didn’t recognize your brother. Neither of which we’d have without me sticking around, which you called a waste of time. Besides, Luther all but said he was going after her, so we can tail him there.”

“Don’t bother. Let’s just focus on this tape from your father and hope it’s more helpful than you are.”

She bit back the first retort that came to mind, sticking her tongue out petulantly. “Do you have the magic power of film development now too?”

His jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth angrily. “No. I don’t have the power to develop the film. But I’m sure I will find someone who can.”

“Some stranger? When there could be signs, clues, or references to the apocalypse? Great plan. Definitely won’t lead to panic or getting arrested as a terrorist or anything. Especially if you drag them out of bed to do it.”

He sighed angrily. “What would you suggest then?”

“Wait until morning, see where these came from,” she gestured to the photos around the loft. “Until then, do some more research through all this junk to see if we can find where the last two siblings are?”

She watched him struggle with himself, not wanting to admit that she was right.

“Now pass me that box,” she gestured to a large cardboard box overflowing with sheets of paper and newspaper clippings, clearly things that Elliot thought were important but hadn’t gotten around to sorting into his desk or “conspiracy wall.”

~

Hours later, Elliot shuffled out of his bedroom, setting up a pot of coffee before noticing that the two time-travelers were there, each wrapped in their own heads and oblivious to the world.

“Do…do you like eggs?” he asked them, stammering out an offer for breakfast, cutting through their thoughts. “Or cereal?”

Piper looked up, smiling politely as she accepted and Five waved him off, muttering about “just needing coffee.”

As the girl and Elliot ate, Five looked around again, eyes falling to focus on some of the strange images on the walls.

“Elliot, did you develop these photos yourself?” he asked, leaning in to look closer at one of them.

“Of course. Can’t exactly drop that stuff off at the neighborhood Fotomat,” Elliot stood, walking across the partition with his bowl of cereal. “Government has eyes everywhere.”

Piper rolled her eyes, half listening as they discussed the lack of darkroom and Five asked him to develop the footage her father had slipped him.

As Elliot began listing supplies and excuses for why they were difficult to get, she rose, moving to lean in the doorway, arms folded.

“Elliot,” Five said, face taught with frustration.

“It’s like five, maybe six hours.”

“Would it go any faster with a sweet ride?” she asked, spinning her keychain, complete with neon orange rabbit’s foot, around on her finger.

Elliot’s eyes lit up at the prospect and Five became distracted by the call over the radio.

“The hell is a code 3-15?”

“Fugitives on the run,” Piper and Elliot said at the same time, glancing at each other in surprise before focusing back in on the rest of the call.

“Oh, Diego,” Five sighed, pressing his lips together and turning his eyes toward the ceiling as if to ask God ‘why?’

“Who’s Diego?” Elliot asked and Piper gave him a puzzled look.

Hadn’t they talked about it the day before, when he’d shown Five the mugshot? Or was the at least 30 hour day starting to mess with her memory? She shook it off, surreptitiously pinching the flesh of her own upper arm, the quick, sharp pain waking her up some.

“Imagine Batman, then aim lower,” Five explained before turning away from the radio.

She snorted at the description, which just about matched up to what her father had told her.

“You get started on that film,” he told Elliot. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Actually, it’s probably faster for you to go alone,” she pointed out with a shrug. “I mean you can just pop to him and sort things out without…awkward introductions or sidetracking. Plus, I can get the supplies, help Elliot here; we’ll know what’s on that tape a lot sooner.”

Five hesitated. She flashed him a reassuring smile.

“I promise,” she said. “We’ll play nice. I mean, I can only hope the feeling’s mutual but I like Elliot, and this is something actually useful I can do. Now go teleport after your crazy-escapee brother.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion and Five rolled his eyes, heading for the door.

“Alright, Elliot,” she said, turning back to the man and planting her hands on her hips in an exaggerated, almost-superhero pose. “Hope you’ve got a shopping list and some cash because I have neither. But I’ll drive.”

~

Several hours later, she sighed, brushing hair out of her face as she bent to the task Elliot had given her, focused intently as they neared the finish line. Suddenly, something heavy clumsily smashed into the side of her head and she staggered away from it, dropping her tools and turning, shifting instinctively into a defensive stance to face her attacker.

“Elliot?! What the hell are you doing?” she shouted, watching the nervous little man drop the lamp he had swung moments earlier.

“I saw the footage!” he shouted. “I know what you are!”

Her head throbbed from the blow.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, frowning. “What exactly did you see?”

“I saw enough! And I won’t let you get away with it!”

She sighed, uncoiling her fists and trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. Holding up her hands, palms flat and facing him, she locked eyes with Elliot.

“Calm down Elliot, please,” she said, voice trembling almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but I promise there’s an explanation.”

“I’m not going to let you warp my mind!” he shouted. “You’re some sort of demon or alien or…or Russian spy!”

“What?”

Rather than responding, Elliot charged at her and swung a wild haymaker, so unexpected (and surprisingly quick) that it caught her off-guard. Striking on the same side he had already hit her, it drove her to her knees, vision swimming. The last thing she noticed as the world fell away were hands on her wrists and her only thought was that she had failed.

~

When Piper woke up next, she was somewhere completely dark. She could feel that her wrists and ankles had been bound together, trapping her in a hunched over position. Luckily, her captor (Elliot she suspected) made the mistake of putting the ropes in front of her, and probably didn’t know about her training in escape artistry. Gritting her jaw against the waves of pain and nausea that her movements triggered, she set to work, among other things discovering that she was in the darkroom closet.

Outside, she could hear shouting, and then, worryingly, the blast of a gunshot. Elliot wouldn’t actually shoot Five…she hoped. Though she also didn’t expect him to knock her out cold and tie her up, so maybe she didn’t know the nutter as well as she thought. And even if he wouldn’t really shoot Five, she couldn’t say the same in reverse if Elliot threatened him.

Finally, she felt the ropes go slack and stood.

“Where is she Elliot?” she heard Five ask through gritted teeth.

Her hand stilled momentarily on the doorknob, curious to hear where this would go.

“The one you left here to kill me when I found out the truth?” she heard Elliot snap. “I took care of her. Bet you weren’t expecting that.”

She rolled her eyes. So dramatic.

“I swear, if you hurt her…”

“Who are you talking about Five?” she heard another voice ask. “Is Allison here? …or Vanya?”

So that must be Diego then. Before things could go any further, she decided to make her grand entrance.

“Christ,” she said loudly as strode casually out of the converted closet, shaking the remaining ropes off her wrist. “That was uncalled for.”

Elliot stared. Diego and the mysterious woman with him stared. Five pointedly avoided looking at her, but she thought she might have caught a flash of relief cross his face.

“Seriously,” she smiled at Elliot who she now noticed was pinned down by the one she assumed was Diego. “That was an impressive punch from such a wimpy-looking guy,” her face fell into disappointment and she held out the rope, “but it was super unnecessary.”

“He managed to take you out with one punch?” Five asked, tone somewhere between mockery and incredulity.

“I mean, there was the element of surprise. And I think a lamp?”

“I had to do it! You people are dangerous! I know!” Elliot shouted, trying and failing to struggle as the strange woman tied his legs together.

Piper rolled her eyes. “You don’t know shit, Conspiracy Brain. Which would have been obvious if you let me explain instead of giving me a migraine. Now you had better have aspirin somewhere or I am going to be very annoyed.”

“Who the hell is this girl Five?” his brother asked.

“I like her,” the woman chimed in, earning her a glare from both Hargreeves and a smirk from Piper.

“My name is Piper Rofa, it’s really nice to meet you,” she called as she rooted through the bathroom medicine cabinet. “Do you want to explain the rest, Old Timer, or shall I?”

“Rofa…why does that name sound familiar?” Diego muttered.

Piper caught sight of Lila’s eyes, narrowed and studying her shrewdly. Something about her calculating look put the younger girl’s nerves on edge and she looked back with the same faux-casual inspection.

“Let’s just watch the film, see what’s got Elliot all worked up, and we can do introductions later,” Five said, brushing aside Diego’s curiosity.

They tied Elliot more securely, to one of the dental chairs he had inexplicably laying around. Lila dug out an old bottle of sickly green nail polish and began doing her fingernails and the captive man’s toes. Piper couldn’t help but chuckle from where she sat with her boots resting up on the corner of the kitchen table; the other woman was really doing a bang-up job of playing the loon.

They all sat in silence as the tape began. And then, realizing what it was, Diego leaned forward with a new intensity of focus.

‘He really is obsessed with JFK,’ she found herself thinking. ‘Professional interest or crush?’

“How do you have this?” Diego asked his brother.

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five explained, eyes flickering to his brother, and then to Piper who tried to hide her distress behind a blank mask, before turning back to the projector screen. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“It had better be,” Piper muttered.

“Hazel?” Diego said with an accusatory frown.

Piper stiffened, swinging her legs down to the floor. She did not want to deal with a confrontation right now when her headache was finally going away, but she wasn’t going to stand for anyone disparaging her father’s memory either.

“Long story,” Five said dismissively, still focused ahead of him.

“What’s doomsday?” Lila asked, looking pathetically up at Five from her seat.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Piper’s eyes flickered to Five’s face, equally curious for his answer as his brother was.

“Well he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

Her teeth found the middle knuckle of her thumb, biting down on it gently while she wracked her brain for something her father might have told her that could help, feeling useless. How could she claim to have known him, to be his protégé or fill his shoes if she didn’t even know what he died for?

Four sets of eyes flickered determinedly over the screen as chaos unfolded, only Lila looking away, confusion and fear on her face as she instead watched the watchers. Suddenly, Five muttered something under his breath and moved to rewind the tape, shifting the projector around to change the focus. Whatever he saw, Diego noticed the second time around, hesitantly unfolding himself from the countertop, mouth hanging open as he approached the screen in shock to get a better look. Elliot meanwhile, was thrashing about and struggling in his chair as if he still thought he could get away. It was distracting, and for a brief moment, Piper considered the lamp and returning the favor just to get him to calm down.

“This can’t be,” Five said, his focus fixed.

“Okay are you going to fill me in now?” Lila snapped. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

“No that’s impossible,” Diego’s statement might have been a denial but his face seemed to say that whatever the realization the two Hargreeves had come to, it was as plain as the hair on their heads now.

“Clearly it’s not.” At least Five had the decency to sound awed at the new information.

Information Piper still didn’t understand.

“What…what is it?” Elliot asked from around the makeshift gag in his mouth.

The two remained transfixed on the grainy image in the center of the room.

“I gotta say I’m with Lila and Elliot on this one. You two might recognize the mystery blur, but the rest of the team’s,” she gestured around, “in the dark.”

“Dad…” they both said softly.

“Oh shit.”

To call what followed a discussion would have been giving far too much credit to the participants, and vastly underplaying the childishness of their sniping at each other.

“No, you’re jumping to conclusions,” Five said, pacing back and forth.

“What the hell else is he doing standing on the grassy knoll, holding an open black umbrella, on a sunny day, in Dallas, the exact same moment the president gets shot?” Diego shouted, gesticulating wildly at the screen.

“It doesn’t look good, I admit,” Five snapped back.

“I mean your father clearly had a thing for umbrellas, given the academy, tattoos, etc. so that could be nothing,” Piper drawled, inspecting her nails as the brothers went around and around in circles, physically and metaphorically. “Or it’s for shade, and maybe he’s there to watch or meet the president, like everyone else in Dallas? He’s not a supervillain, right?”

“You think it’s a coincidence? No. He’s the signalman for the whole goddamn thing.” Diego turned to face her, eyes ablaze. “And what would you know anyway? Who the hell are you?”

“I told you. Piper Rofa. I’m…a friend.”

“Bullshit.” From seemingly nowhere, he had drawn a knife, pointing it at her threateningly. “I saw your face while we were watching the footage. You know something.”

“I wish I did! I wish I could answer your questions or villain monologue or whatever it is you’re looking for. But I don’t know jack, except that the world is ending. It might be connected to Kennedy, it might not.” She shrugged, slapping her hands back down to her sides. “My father is dead, and he told me that The Umbrella Academy were the best chance at saving the world. So get your stupid knife out of my face, and figure it the hell out.”

“Who…?” Diego looked momentarily taken aback. “Who’s your father? How does he know about us?”

“Piper, don’t,” Five cautioned. “Now is not a good time to be bringing that up.”

She sighed, turning away from both of them and folding her arms around herself. “Hazel,” she admitted softly, almost apologetically.

She thought she heard Lila gasp and frowned at that, but there wasn’t time to address it as Diego seized her shoulder and slammed her into the nearby doorframe.

“Your father killed my…friend,” he hissed through clenched teeth, knife pressed to her throat and face in hers.

She rolled her eyes, undaunted. “Oh cry me river. Good people die all the time. Besides, that’s in the past…or the future? And I’m not him. Nor will killing me do anything, other than make a mess of this lovely apartment and delay what’s important. So can we focus back on your dad, who you apparently think is just as bad or worse than mine?”

He growled, pressing the blade harder into her neck, enough that she felt a thin trickle of blood, clearly not taking kindly to her opinion on the matter.

“Easy Diego,” Five interrupted, placing a hand on his brother’s arm and drawing him away.

Piper rubbed at her neck and shoulder where the majority of Diego’s weight had been, adding them to her growing catalogue of bruises to expect.

“Seriously,” Five sighed in exasperation.

“No, it makes sense,” Diego insisted, shifting instantly back to the topic of Reginald Hargreeves and JFK as if there had been no interruption at all. “This is what Hazel was obviously trying to tell you.”

His eyes flickered over to Piper and she shrugged. Lila stood up, offering to help her with the wound and hesitantly she accepted, both women leaving the brothers to argue.

“We have to stop dad from killing the president,” Diego declared dramatically.

Piper rolled her eyes and caught Lila doing the same. She frowned. There was something about this woman…something that set her teeth on edge but felt very familiar.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“No. I don’t think we’ve met,” Lila answered with a smile that seemed to waver uncertainly. “But I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

Piper bit her lip, wanting to say more when Five’s voice cut through again.

“Dad’s clearly in Dallas, right? Let’s just go talk to him. Maybe he can help us fix the timeline.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Piper muttered, brushing aside the rest of Lila’s first aid to return to the main room in case she had to referee between them.

“Dallas is a big place,” Diego pointed out. “We need to find him first.”

“Gee, if only we had some magical, old-timey way of finding people and their addresses.”

Piper tossed the October 1963 phone book at Five, “Or should I pull another fast one on the 911 operator?”

He dropped in on the table. “Let’s start simple, his name.”

Before he could, Diego had already opened the book and bent over it, scanning for ‘Hargreeves’ with increasing frustration. When they didn’t find it, Five suggested looking for his company instead.

“D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Co.”

“Yeah, I know the name,” Diego shot his brother a look.

“Seriously, more umbrellas? I think it’s time to consider it was a fetish,” Piper joked, drawing a laugh from Lila and a disgusted shudder from Diego.

When they found what they were looking for, the two almost immediately turned to go, rolling up the screen and heading for the front stairs down into the showroom.

“He okay to leave here like that?” Diego asked quietly.

“Yeah, he’s fine. What about the girl?” Five answered.

Both men looked behind them to find Elliot, still tied and gagged, and Piper flipping aimlessly through a magazine, once again leaning back in a chair and resting her feet on the table, making it all to obvious  that she was eavesdropping. There was no sign of Lila.

“Shit,” Diego muttered, turning back.

Five sighed. Piper pointed over her shoulder to the darkroom closet Lila had scurried off to as soon as their backs were turned. He sat down across from her while Diego went to check on the other girl.

“Are you coming with us?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“No. I think I’m going to stay here. We still need to find the rest of your family as fast as possible, and I have a few ideas. Plus something’s not quite sitting right with me that I want to follow up on. And I don’t think your brother likes me much.”

Five chuckled. “Diego doesn’t like many people.”

“He likes Lila a hell of a lot. You sure that’s not going to be a problem?”

“No, I’m not. But it’s one we can deal with later.”

She sighed, fidgeting with her hands on the table. “You wanna take my car?”

His expression softened, understanding the gesture of trust it was meant to be.

“No, I don’t want to draw attention.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a very flashy car, Piper.” The tone of his voice sounded almost like a scolding father, or like her mother’s not-quite-disapproval when she’d cut the picture out of a magazine and pinned it to her corkboard at fifteen. It made her smile sadly, rubbing at the sting of loss she hadn’t let herself feel completely yet.

Diego emerged from the cupboard, Lila following behind a few moments later.

“You three play nice now,” Five said, faux-sternly. Diego turned to him, surprised, but his face was blank, showing no sign that he might have just made a joke. “We’ll be back soon.”

~

Piper waited until Five and Diego had been gone for some time, and until Lila had finished painting Elliot’s nails, in case things went south – it would be rude to leave him with only two thirds of a mani-pedi after all.

“We need to talk,” she said sternly, setting aside the article she had been reading and sitting up to face the other woman, arms folded across her chest.

“About what?” Lila’s tone was the epitome of innocence and Piper found herself impressed. She was one hell of an actress.

“You’re Commission right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lila frowned in confusion.

Piper scoffed. “Oh please. My father was a Field Agent til he met Mom and settled down. But you knew that.” She cocked her head to one side in question, inviting Lila to deny it again. “He taught me how to spot another agent, in case they ever decided to use us to force him into un-retirement or something.”

Lila tensed, body movements subtle but still there, noticeable to a trained eye like Piper’s as she got ready to attack.

“You can relax,” Piper sighed, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “You don’t get in my way, I won’t get in yours. Or rat you out.”

“And what if our missions are incompatible?” Lila’s eyebrow quirked, finally dropping her ‘scared little crazy girl’ act completely.

“Still no reason to bring extra parties in. If it comes to that, we settle things the old fashion way, and may the best woman win.”

The two women locked eyes, sizing each other up, baiting each other. The air practically crackled with electricity. Elliot, still bound and gagged and distinctly uncomfortable, tried to mumble something as his eyes flicked frantically from one to the other. Surprisingly, Lila broke the stare first.

“Yeah sure, I’ll agree to that, at least for now.”

“Excellent,” Piper smiled wryly. “Like you said, I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

[looking-for-wisdom]

Bleeding Hearts (chapter one)

a/n: this was a fic I did for the @grishaversebigbang! It ended up being roughly 33,000 words, the longest fic I’ve ever written. I loved participating in this event and working with my gang as well as the tides :)

Corporalki: @villainofthepiece​, @dregstrash 

Materialki: @bucumber​ X, @koelsong​ X [art may contain spoilers]

Summary:   Zoya has spent her life learning to survive a world of fairy tales. She knows better to rely on wishes and fate; those things only protected the nice girls, the ones all the stories were about. She was used to doing whatever gruesome task was needed to get by, but now, with her aunt’s life on the line, she has finally met a monster she’s struggling to beat. A monster that comes in the shape of a kind prince she can’t help to grow attached to. 

But that’s always been the case. The monsters are what you find when happiness is just within reach. But she’s strong and she won’t falter— she’ll do what’s needed, as she always has before, to save the only good woman she’s ever known. Even if it means plunging a knife into the heart of the first man she’s ever loved. Even if it means becoming a monster herself.

Ao3 Link: Bleeding Hearts

(chapter one under the cut)

What becomes of the girls whose parents do not teach them unwavering kindness and whose fairy godmothers are not magic enough to keep them from harm? What becomes of the girls the slipper doesn’t fit and the prince does not steal away from drowning in cruelty? There is no happy ending promised at the close of their story. So they learn, learn to swim through the abuse and lift a sword themselves, lest they become another maggot filled body in the graveyard.

Zoya had read the kind of stories where young women overcame their evil stepmothers with their obedience and compassion. Unfortunately, Zoya had no stepmother, just one horrible regular mother who had birthed her and spent every moment after shaping her daughter into an equally horrible side character in someone else’s story. It wasn’t that she was immune to draw of fairy tales and their promises of futures with a prince who called her lovely, but not every girl had that in her cards. Zoya glanced over the hand she’d been dealt. She was not sweet or innocent enough to be the damsel in distress. The game of fate was rigged— with every girl who was saved from misery a hundred others suffered in her stead. 

Shivering but far too afraid to risk asking her mother for a place by the fire, the childish part of her hoped. Winter’s might be less harsh if she was not so alone and unloved. But compassion was a rationed resource, like medicine and wheat. It might have been nice to have, but girls with no one to fight for them had to choose their battles, and unlike bread, kindness didn’t keep her alive. 

Sabina Garin had been wealthy once, many years ago, and like most who had never seen sacrifice, she underestimated its sting. It was easy to be fearless when one had never felt real fear in the first place. 

When her father had passed his inheritance had been split equally between his two daughters. Lilyana, the eldest sister had invested in a plot of land at the edge of town where she kept a small garden and a chicken coop. She built a home there, selling vegetables and eggs in town when she was in need of money, and she was happy. 

With her own cut, Sabina enjoyed the same luxuries she had in her youth. Seeing no appeal in farm work the way her sister did she resided in the house that had belonged to her father. At nineteen she married a handsome man with nothing to his name but a winning smile, and for a while, she was happy as well. At least, until the debt hit. 

Marriage for love is an appealing prospect, but the stories never talk about the bloody endings. No one mentions the way he yells when the money runs out. No one mentions the way she hoards the few jewels she has left because they’re the only thing that makes her feel like herself. No one mentions when the house is taken and she’s bloated and raging from the parasite inside her but he is nowhere to be found.

Sabina’s episodes began not long into her pregnancy. With no trace of her husband and no place to stay but an abandoned stone cottage at the edge of town it wasn’t long before she became unpredictable. It was a miracle that the child made it to its due date in the first place, though one could say it would be the first of many times Lilyana Garin would come to her niece’s aid. 

She had offered her sister help on many occasions, but Sabina had repeatedly refused Lilyana’s generosity. Pride, after all, was the only thing she had left. When Sabina became a danger to herself, however, the older daughter could stay away no longer. Though Sabina had no way of paying the housemaid who had worked for her father, Lilyana ensured she stayed the nine months until the child’s birth, hiding knives from the expecting mother and restraining her hands when she desperately clawed at her body until the skin was nearly gone. For months Lilyana held her breath, praying that her sister might be stabilized and the child would survive. 

And against all odds, her prayers were answered. 

The midwife said the birth went by with relative ease. The mother and child both handled the process exceptionally well. The only oddity was when she asked the mother for a name. Sabina had only sneered. “Call it what you will. It makes no difference to me.”

For the sake of simplicity, the midwife had given the child a placeholder name of sorts, at least until her mother came to her senses. She’d call her Zoya, just until Sabina saw fit to name the girl herself. 

She never did. 

So perhaps if it had been Zoya’s mother who fell ill, she wouldn’t have agreed to the witch’s terms. She couldn’t have cared less for her absentee mother, but when a letter reached Os Alta it brought news of the closest thing to family she’d ever had. 

Her young cousin, Lada, had written of her mother’s condition-- Lilyana had grown feverish and weak. The town’s medics estimated she had two weeks to live.

Desperation had a strange way of sending people deep into the woods where good, honest people lost their morals somewhere in the darkness. It had a way of turning skeptics into the arms of witches. But when it came to saving Lilyana’s life, nothing was too high a cost. Kill the prince. Carve out his heart and leave his body bleeding on the floor. Zoya wasn’t a killer, but a few towns away one of the few good people left in the world was dying. Zoya would have given her soul away a thousand times if Lilyana lived. 

The main square of town jittered with anticipation. The feeling filled Zoya’s chest, clamping down on her lungs and stealing away her breath. Gossip was sweet on the lips of housewives and young maidens, like the juice of an apple after taking a bite. Zoya was no fool; she knew what was on their minds. A few months earlier, the young prince Nikolai had proposed-- but not to a distant princess or nobleman's daughter. He’d given the ring to an orphan girl with no prospects or riches. Faces lit with hope and perhaps a bit of envy whenever they spoke of the prince’s fiance. She’d been from a town just carriage rides away from Os Alta. It could have been any of them. But yesterday, news had come that the girl had left Os Alta for good, leaving the promises of riches and romance behind her. Not a single person could figure out why. 

She’d been given a shot at a storybook ending. Zoya wasn’t gullible enough to believe her life would have been perfect, but when she thought of what her own future held, even she couldn’t help a pang of irritation. She would have taken wealth in a heartbeat over her fate. She shifted the basket she carried up onto her shoulder, the weight of it exhausting her arm at a rapid pace. With her other hand she lifted her skirts in a futile attempt to keep the mud from seeping into the fabric as it dragged along the ground. As she walked she overheard elated conversations.

“They say she was beautiful-- hair like starlight and a smile like the sun. It’s surreal, honestly, that some everyday girl won over a prince. She must be quite something,” said a girl she’d met only in passing, to a young blonde woman at the baker’s stand. Then, with a cheeky smile, added, “Maybe I'll find myself a princess soon with my winning looks.” 

Across the way a middle aged woman shared her own thoughts on the matter with her daughter. “Perhaps if you spent less time fooling around that could have been us! We’d have been rich, you idiotic girl!—”

Despite herself, Zoya felt a familiar chill go down her back.

Tiny people, wrapped up in their tiny lives, bound to accomplish tiny things. For perhaps the first time ever Zoya envied them. At the end of the city’s main road, after dozens of wooden merchant stands and civilians homes, were the woods. Travel in Ravka was unavoidable, but most families stuck within the cities borders as much as possible. The forests on the outskirts of town were places of darkness and witchcraft beyond the understanding of the standard civilian. However, there were ways to make navigating the woods less dangerous. Old wives tales said to carry black tea leaves in one’s left shoe or bury a lock of hair in the dirt before beginning your journey. Most nonbelievers opted for a professional guide. 

Zoya had no guide as she found her way between the brush and trees, though, nor was her shoe supplied with tea leaves. Her travels through the woods were not a situation of point A to point B. 

Zoya intended to find a witch. 

An hour in, Zoya had acquired a multitude of new cuts up her arms from low hanging branches and nearly destroyed what was left of her skirt by snagging it on thorn coated weeds. She’d also come across at least fifteen new types of bug she’d never seen before and honestly could have gone her whole life without. Zoya had learned to hold her own against all sorts of dangers growing up in Pachina, but that didn’t make her any less disgusted by the grimes and grudge of the Ravkan forest. 

She dragged onwards, a cool sweat gathering on her forehead and regrets filling her mind. Of course— hundreds of people go missing every year without any explanation and yet the one time she goes looking for trouble the death forest decides to be a normal lot of trees. Typical. 

“Don’t know how to handle someone who doesn’t fear you? Is that it?” She called out to no one in particular. “I didn’t realize witches were such cowards.”

Or perhaps she was just a stupid child, looking for magic where it didn’t exist. Perhaps those people had simply been mauled and eaten by bears and she was the idiot trying to be the next. 

The sun passed over the sky as she became more and more hopelessly lost in a forest where she seemed to be the only inhabitant. Honestly, witches had no respect for willing customers these days. She only realized just how much time had passed when dusk began to fall. Night was coming, and she had no idea how to get back to the city. It was one thing to be in the forest during the light of day, but trapped in the darkness with no food or water was something else entirely. 

The moon shone a sickening white glare onto the black dirt floor, seeming to take all the pigment from her skin. Zoya hadn’t been afraid of the dark for many years, but there was something… off about the way the darkness felt here, as if it was alive and feeding on any sort of life. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she tensed, waiting for something horrible but not knowing what. 

She stood, frozen, listening for any sound other than her own shallow breathing. But nothing moved, not even tree branches in the wind. She was alone. 

Which made it all the more terrifying when someone spoke. 

“What could possibly bring a lone girl to the woods at night?” said a molasses smooth voice from behind her. 

Zoya spun around and was greeted by a pale faced man with dark hair who was far too close for her to not have noticed his approach. Every instinct in her mind screamed to back up, but she forced her legs to stay in place. She would not be intimidated. She met the man’s void black eyes with a fearsome stare. “I’m searching for a witch with the kind of magic to help me,” she stated, voice like steel. “Tell me, would you fit that description?”

A sly smile curled across his face and sent a chill down her spine.

 “That depends,” he crooned, “what can you offer me in return, Zoya Nazyalensky of Pachina?”

Zoya felt a certain sort of dread sink into her chest. There was something wrong with this man-- he knew things he shouldn’t. She should have been afraid, but a morbid part of her was drawn to it. 

She wondered, despite herself, what would it be like to be him? She’d never feel small with a power like that at her disposal. She’d never be made a fool of. For a moment, the swell of her envy almost overpowered her reason, but then she thought of Lilyana. She was not here to find a way to be rid of her own weaknesses. Zoya shook the initial fog of his presence from her mind and reminded herself that for once, she would not be selfish. 

“What is it you want?” she retorted.

His smile did not falter as he considered. He slipped past her, like an ink spill with legs, so that she had to turn to keep sight of his face. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he walked away from her, but just as she was about to call out for him to stop he paused and glanced back at her. “Well?” he asked. “Are you coming?”

Her mind was empty of a response, perhaps still caught up on the absurdity of what she was doing. Her legs, thankfully, had instincts of their own and carried her forward when he began walking again so she didn’t lose sight of him in the darkness. He led her through the trees, as if he was navigating a maze for which only he had the map. As lost as she’d already felt, it was nothing compared to the lack of an internal compass she had now. The forest had consumed her completely. 

This was insane. Her mind ran rampant with possibilities as the silence between them grew longer. She’d be murdered by this demon of the woods and no one would even hear her scream as he dismembered her. She should run while she still had the chance. 

Except, if she ran Liliyana died. 

So, she kept walking. They entered a clearing of land. At the center of the plot was a looming mansion of black stone and though Zoya was no expert on the woods, she had spent the day wandering its depths and knew for certain the building had not been there before. This man’s magic was dark, but it was also powerful-- she needed powerful. The dark haired man led her to the tall doorway of the structure and held open the wooden door. “We can discuss terms inside.”

She hesitated for just a beat. This could very well be the room in which he planned to butcher her and bake her liver into a pie. She considered this man she knew nothing about and what he was offering. If there was even the smallest chance he could help her, she had to take it. 

There was no going back. She stepped through the door frame and into the home of a witch.

Whatever she had expected, this was not it. She remembered the tale of witches with homes of candy to lure in naive children. She had thought she’d see cages filled with starving creatures and cobweb covered jars holding various gruesome substances. She had thought there would be a cauldron to brew potions that would cure dying aunts. To her surprise, though, there was nothing of the sort. The floors were a sleek black tile and the walls were covered in bookcases filled to the brim with titles in languages she didn’t understand. Golden lamps hung down from the ceiling, casting a warm light onto the sleek table in the center of the room filled with well kept paper and an ink well. Tapestries of the night sky made with painstaking care hung as the rooms most prominent decor. 

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought she’d wandered into the home of one of Ravka’s most wealthy nobles. 

She swung around to face the man, who had been observing her carefully since her first step into the room. “First things first, who exactly are you?” She asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Names are a powerful thing, Zoya,” he answered as he walked towards the desk at the center of the room. Something about the way he moved reminded her of black silk. “For now, you can call me The Darkling.”

Her lips pulled together in a tight line and placed a hand on her hips. For a moment she considered calling him out on his pretentiousness-- what kind of title was “The Darkling”-- but she restrained herself. In the grand scheme of things his name hardly mattered, and angering him didn’t strike her as the best way to get what she wanted.

He took a seat at the desk and gestured to the chair directly across from him. Smoothing her skirt as she sat down, she felt almost like she was at a business meeting in the town square and not trying to make a blood deal. “I’ve heard that magic can do things science can’t. Buildings are created without any regard for physics and wounds that normally kill are healed in a split second,” she began, an authority in her voice that she hoped hid the fact there was no real power behind it. “My aunt is ill. The doctors say there’s nothing to be done, but that is the opinion of a medic, not a magician. Can you save her?”

A certain rage sparked within her when he didn’t look her in the eye. She didn’t have the time to waste on a man who could do nothing for her. She had already lost a day to the woods, and here he sat, unimpressed and hardly listening. Part of her wanted to get up and leave right then and there if he wasn’t going to give her request the dignity it deserved, but she stayed seated, waiting. 

He spoke then. “I can,” Zoya’s breath caught half way in her throat. Hope crawled into her lungs and left no room for breath, “but it will cost you.” 

“I don’t care,” she responded, not missing a beat. “I’ll trade my life for hers, just name the price.”

He wasn’t smiling, but Zoya could almost see the grin in his eyes and felt like she’d just walked into a hunter’s snare. “I know you’re afraid of me, Zoya,” he said, and though she wanted to insist that some stranger in the woods didn’t scare her, her words fell flat, “but I have known you for much longer than you believe. Your familiar with a blade, aren’t you?”

Zoya swallowed the lump rising in her throat and nodded. When she was young she’d studied swordplay when her mother was away. Soldiers left home to begin their training at fourteen in Ravka, and for a girl whose home had been anything but stable, it had been an appealing opportunity. The issue was, the army was for men only. She’d hoped they’d see her skill and immediately make an exception, but when she was finally old enough to enlist she’d been turned away at the gate. 

How this witch knew that was beyond her. “I believe we can help one another. For you, I will not only return your aunt to health, but also give you the chance to pursue your dream,” he continued. “All I ask in return is that you rid Ravka of what is standing in our way. The Lantsov line has held this country back far too long-- I plan to lead us into the future, and I’ll need a general by my side. The only thing you need to do is get rid of the old crook’s heir.”

Zoya could barely breathe. It was all too good to be true-- first he’d claimed he could help Liliyana and then he’d promised her what she’d dreamed of since childhood.  She would have taken the deal in a heartbeat if he wasn’t asking her to commit treason in return.

“Vasily,” she breathed, but he only shook his head. 

“He’s not nearly competent enough to be a concern. Talents like yours should be spent on a real threat. The king’s second born, Nikolai, is much more clever than his brother,” said the Darkling. “I know you don’t trust me yet, but my intentions are good. You, of all people, have seen the state of this nation-- the hardship it’s people face. You and I are very similar: ambitious, strong,  and intelligent. We can change things.”

She chewed her lip and shifted in her seat, weighing the pros and cons. Zoya was many things, but she wasn’t a murderer. 

At least, not yet. 

Her rejection from the army had allowed her to keep her hands blood free until now. It wasn’t that she had any compassion for the prince, but there was nothing noble about slaughtering an unknowing victim. The honor of serving her country and protecting her people against an enemy who would kill her if she didn’t end them first was vastly different than what he was asking her to do. 

In the end, the morality of the proposal didn’t matter. If it was one life to save another, Liliyana was more important. The only question was whether or not The Darkling had any credibility to his offer. It was true she barely knew him, but for the first time since she had first encountered him he seemed fully sincere. A tug in her gut told her he was right. She didn’t know if they were as similar as he claimed, but something deep inside her made her believe his love for Ravka was as real as her own. 

And if he was telling the truth about that, then he was probably true in his claim that he could heal her aunt, too. Or, at the very least, she had to believe it was true. She feared she would not be presented with another opportunity like this.

It was the best chance she had, even if it would make a killer out of her. She stared him down, taking in the room that had appeared from nothing. “I’ll do it.”

She could repent her sin later by aiding this man in his journey to lead Ravka into an age of prosperity. That was for later, though. For now, Zoya just needed a plan.

The Darkling smiled knowingly, but as far as she could tell it was not mocking. Looking away for only a moment, he pulled a quill from somewhere she couldn’t see and handed it to her. 

“Find your way into the castle and get close to the prince. Trust will make him foolish. If you need to contact me, use that quill. The ink will find its way back to me. When it is time to put the plan into motion I will contact you. Until then, keep your wits about you.”

“Wait--” she interrupted, afraid he’d simply dissipate after giving his orders. “How am I supposed to infiltrate the palace? They don’t just allow anyone inside.”

“Nikolai has been in need of a new Etherialki for a few weeks now,” he answered, unphased. She tried not to wonder what kind of spies he must already have under the Lantsovs’ noses to have that kind of information. “You will be filling the position.” 

The servants of the Lantsov family were divided into three orders: Coporalki, Etherealki, and Materialki. Coporalki had a tendency to remain in the palace. They were responsible for keeping the palace functioning properly and were trained in the art of medicine. Materialki was the class of any sort of specialist working within the Lantsov’s walls. From chefs, to tailors, to blacksmiths, each played their part in making up the artisans category. 

Etherealki were traveling companions to the royal family and whatever rich guest happened to be staying with them. They accompanied their charge from dawn till dusk, braving and complication of man or nature along the way.They were known to think on their feet to quickly amend any problem their employer might encounter. It was, without a doubt, the most fitting role for Zoya’s skill set.

 “What about my aunt? She might not last long enough for whatever you’re planning to be ready.”

“There’s no need to worry-- deliver your end of our agreement and I swear to you that your aunt will live.”

He extended a hand towards her and she examined him one last time. Growing up, she’d been told to never trust witches, and here she stood, going into business with one. If life had taught her anything, it was that the worst monsters aren’t always supernatural in nature. For all intents and purposes, the Darkling seemed to have good intentions. More than that, he had the power to save her aunt. 

From every angle, Zoya came out of this deal with what she wanted. 

She held his gaze and took his palm in a firm handshake before gathering her things and heading back into town.

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, Chap. 21

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

I hope you like angst on your fanfic sandwish :) Leave a comment and tell me your thoughts!

Also: (spoiler not a spoiler) I included the Capitol anthem from the new THG book “The ballad of songbirds and snakes” but it doesn’t give away the story so it’s safe to read.

Chapter 21 The betrayal

*ring ring*

… What?

*swallows back a sob* Haymitch? Haymitch, it’s me.

Ah. There she is. Long time no princess. What can you want?

I’m sorry. I know I should have called you a long time ago.

Oh, I remember that voice. Effs Trinket needs a shoulder to cry on, huh? So she goes to good ol’ Haymitch. Course. *takes a mouthful of something* It’s too bad mine’re all the way down here then. Both of ‘em.

I can take the train. If I go now I ought to be…

Here in a day. Yeah. And I’m supposed to just welcome you with open arms?

Haymitch…

That’s my name.

I really must speak to you. It’s im…

What for? I’m a dead-end drunk, remember?

I’ve never called…

No, that’s right. Your words were much fancier.

I know you’re angry. This is not easy for me either but…

I’m fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Can’t ruin a life that’s already ruined, right? I s’pose you want all your crap back? Yeah, the kids have it. They think you’re gonna come back, you know. “When hell freezes over”, am I right? But you know Peeta. I’ll just tell ‘em to send it over straight away so you never have to set your foot here ever again. Great, huh?

You left me, Haymitch! I didn’t want you to go! I didn’t want it to end!

Could’ve fooled me. *twists the top of another bottle* And don’t you worry your pretty head, sweetheart. You’ll get over it. Trust me. Soon you’re gonna find some nice, wholesome guy who does exactly what he’s told. It’ll be all: “Yes, Euphemia. No, Euphemia. Whatever you say, Eu…”

Don’t call me that! Haymitch, please! Mrs. Q, she… she tried to… I need you! If you care about me at all…

Oh, I cared about you. A lot. More than a lot. Should’ve fucking known better. So why don’t you call Plutarch or Octavia or any other of your friends and just leave me alone. Cause I owe you nothing. Nothing at all.

*sobs* I’m so stupid.

Have a wonderful life, Eff. I’m sure you’re gonna be deliriously happy.

*toot toot*

xXx

There was still some broth left. Katniss slipped her flask into a jacket pocket and poured a second mug.

The storm had finally blown itself out, for now anyway, but one look through the window quelled all hope for a hunting day. No point roaming the woods for sustenance when the snow lay waist-deep.

She fed Buttercup her last piece of bacon and carried the mug into the living room.

“I’m going to the bakery.”

Nightmares had made Haymitch kick all the cushions off the couch again. He lay on his side with the knife cradled against his chest like some scary version of a teddy bear.

“There’re scrambled eggs if you want it,” Katniss said. “And some bacon. I left it on the stove.”

She couldn’t set the mug down. Wasn’t enough space on the coffee table and Haymitch grunted at the sound of glass against glass when she tossed the empties in the container by the door.

He muttered something she couldn’t make sense of and pulled his arm up over his eyes to ward off the light from the one lamp. “Drink the broth at least.” She placed the cup at arm’s reach and was gone.

It was almost a month now since Haymitch set up camp on their couch. One day mid-dinner he just staggered into their living room and he hadn’t left since.

He was decent enough to not completely trash the place but still, you didn’t want Haymitch Abernathy for a roommate. He was hard enough to deal with nextdoor.

Katniss couldn’t stand it being at home these days. Haymitch woke both her and Peeta almost every night with the agonized sounds he made in his sleep and daytime was no better.

Their mentor, hollow-eyed and shrunken on the couch – it all reminded her too much of her mother and Katniss fled when she couldn’t help. She kept to the woods as much as possible and if not the woods the bakery or the Hob or Hazelle’s.

Anywhere but home.

When they finally asked him if it wasn’t time he moved back to his own house, they cleaned it for him, Haymitch only shot them a long look, like a dog they had just mistreated and rolled over so he faced the couch.

“She’s there,” that’s all he muttered.

And what could they do? Not tie him up and dump him somewhere. He was their mentor and they already owed him more than they could ever repay.

They had known something was off the moment they got home, the day before Christmas Eve.

They walked up the old pathway, loaded with bags and the first thing they saw when they passed Haymitch’s house was the Christmas tree lying in the snow, still green and frosty and covered with ornaments. Like someone had just thrown it out the door.

And it wasn’t the only thing.

In the ever-growing light they saw the ground littered with items. Towels and bed sheets and bath robes lay in bundles, all frozen stiff. Soggy, old newspapers and magazines too, blown apart by the frisk wind.

Her clothes were everywhere, along with an endless number of bottles and jars and other beauty products half-buried in the snow. They found napkins and slippers, perfume bottles and pillows. Hairbrushes, tea cups, blankets, curtains, shower curtains, even anagrammed towel hangers attached to chunks of the bathroom wall.

The state of his house was even worse, like a twister had gone through it. They asked him about it but Haymitch was a closed book.

Then, of course they found Effie’s note on their kitchen table and it wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened in their short absence.

They wanted to help. Of course they did. Only, how? Wasn’t like they could change what had already happened or say anything to make it better.

Not that Peeta didn’t try to talk to him. Talk at him. Finally Katniss stepped up and said, not unkindly,

“Just leave him be.”

Haymitch had said next to nothing the whole time but when Katniss and Peeta turned to leave he stopped them in their tracks.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said and looked Peeta straight in the eye; a feat considering how intoxicated he was. “You don’t get any ideas ‘bout calling the Capitol, alright. I mean it, boy. This is my wreckage.”

Sun set early this time of year. For the remaining hours, Katniss and Peeta dug for treasures in Haymitch’s garden, until they had to squint in order to see. And even then some of Effie’s belongings would probably not be found until Spring.

They brought it all back to their house. Silently, Peeta filled the sink with hot water and suds and washed the plates and glasses and tea cups while Katniss stood at the ready with a towel, both of them deep in thought.

Back in District 4, when Peeta gathered her in bed, he had teased her about their cosy, up-coming Christmas. Painted her pictures of Effie plaguing both her and Haymitch with her bright holiday spirit and bringing them gifts – wrapped in regular wrappings so she didn’t technically break Haymitch’s rule of “no Christmas presents.”

Dinner at the Hob would follow where Effie would spend about two thirds of it clucking over Haymitch’s table manners and Haymitch stating he should just hire her voice to cut his turkey for him and “we’re not doing this again, that’s for sure”, all the while not quite able to keep his hands to himself.

“And then they’ll top the evening with a see-through excuse like ‘I’m gonna go get a bottle’ or ‘I am simply exhausted. Do you mind if we call it a night?’,” Peeta finished and grinned at Katniss who squirmed like a worm in hot ashes.

It just felt good to make fun of their mentor being happy for once. Happy with Effie.

Now, everything was in ruins and tomorrow would be just like any other day, with Haymitch drunk and getting drunker.

Not that Christmas had ever been a busy affair in the Victor’s Village. They had dinner and that was pretty much it. A slightly fancier one, perhaps, with about a 50% chance of Haymitch joining. He only ever showed up last New Year’s because of Effie.

Because of Effie. That phrase applied for many aspects of Haymitch’s life, didn’t it? He’d deny it but just the fact she got him to even consider drying out pretty much said everything.

“Maybe we should call her,” Peeta wondered, not sure himself.

“But you heard him,” Katniss said. “This is none of our business. And they’ll come around, eventually.”

They were both so used to their mentor and escort’s antics. Those stubborn, old fools were always at each other’s throat and through and through they found a way back to one other. Back at each other’s side.

This too would pass, surely? Sooner or later, one of them would swallow their pride and pick up the phone.

And while Katniss and Peeta waited for that call they stored Effie’s things for safe-keeping, well out of Haymitch’s sight and stopped asking questions.

But February rolled to a close with dark days and even darker nights. Life in Twelve was just one storm after another and people were forced to seek shelter at the Hob so as not to get lost in them. The vixen’s cry echoed in the night and Katniss and Peeta stored up on candle sticks for the blackouts.

March came with the deceiving breath of spring only to bury the district in a second winter. Hazelle’s kids put her on bed rest after a sprained ankle. Brooks gushed in plentiful streams under the ice and an apple-cheeked Katniss returned from the woods, game bag loaded with wild turkey.

April arrived with warmer weather. Tiny greens peeked in people’s gardens and the patches of last year’s grass grew bigger for each day. Water dropped down every icicle and town’s kids and Seam kids alike melted snow in water barrels to make the spring come faster.

Everyone kept busy. It was a time of change, of rebirth. Winter was finally over and it had a rejuvenating effect on everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Effie’s name was never mentioned and yet she was ever present. If an outsider walked past and saw Haymitch on the couch he might think “same old, same old”. But Katniss and Peeta were family and they knew him better than that.

Haymitch had never been an easy person to deal with and definitely not a happy-go-lucky one. But every once in a while, if he had a couple hours of dreamless sleep it was like he got an energy boost.

That’s when he got up, checked on the geese, helped Peeta in the bakery, maybe just had a hot meal down at the Hob before he returned to his bottles.

Now, it was like he didn’t care about anything anymore. He just lay on the couch, drinking and God help the one who bothered him. He only ever left for the bathroom breaks or when his liquor ran out.

But even that came to an end.

It happened when Haymitch staggered into the Hob on a Sunday morning.

“Usual,” he slurred and tossed handfuls of money on Ripper’s bar counter.

“Sorry, Haymitch. You’re too early,” she said. “The train doesn’t arrive until Monday. We’re all out now.”

“Usual!” Haymitch repeated, louder this time like she was slow. Sighs rose from around the tables.

“It’s Sunday,” Ripper told him patiently. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll get your bottles. I can’t sell it to you now because we’re out.”

She couldn’t make him understand. Each time she tried Haymitch only got surlier. “Wha’s the problem?” he whined. “I have money. Wha’s the problem?”

He scared some of the little kids eating breakfast with their parents. The temperature in the diner seemed to have dropped twenty degrees and finally a gray-haired old man muttered, loud enough for Haymitch to hear it,

“Who’d have thought we’d ever wish for that fancy sow to come back?”

That’s when Haymitch wielded his knife. He was so drunk it was pathetic but for Ripper that was it! She kicked him out and told him either he left his knife at home or he would have to get someone else to buy him his liquor.

From then on, Katniss and Peeta stocked up his supplies and Haymitch found even fewer reasons to get up.

What for?

Maybe it would have been better, Katniss thought. Less cruel, if he never got those precious few months with Effie. Because losing her, losing her altogether and not just as a lover, seemed to have opened a crack in his rock bottom and pushed him down that hole as well.

And Effie, how was she doing?

xXx

May. God, he hated May. Ever since he turned twelve, the month right before the Hunger Games was nothing but a ticking clock. Even now, years after the war had ended, there were still times when he started awake, thinking,

Reaping day’s almost here!

He couldn’t sleep. While he marinated his liver a bug had detoured in to the house and was now buzzing about in the window.

The sound unnerved him because the bloody thing just wouldn’t give up! It bumped and thumped against the glass over and over again, yearning for freedom.

It was Peeta’s damn fault. He always opened a window when it rained.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, alright,” Haymitch growled and swung his legs off of the couch.

It was a wasp. Not the tracker jacker kind, just a regular one. It crawled along the window sill, flew into the glass once more and wiggled it’s antennae in irritation.

“Out with you now,” Haymitch muttered as he struggled with the window hooks. “Be free.” And watched the bug disappear.

The night air felt balmy against his skin. He took his time unscrewing the lid on the silver hip flask. The geese were quiet for a change but the mockingjays were still up, frisky and begging for company. He ran his hand through his wild beard and drank the flask dry. It didn’t take long.

He was just looking for something to fill it up with when he heard the sound. One even his soaked brain could place.

A phone. Ringing.

His mind jumped to Effie and he could’ve kicked himself for it. He resisted the desire to slam the window shut and closed it before he returned to the couch. The coffee table held nothing but empties. They clinked under his fingertips until he found one with some in it. He lifted it to his lips and greeted the burn with a sigh of relief.

Outside, the ringing continued. Even with the window closed, there was no escaping it.

It’s not her. Why’d she call now? No reason for her to call now.

After what felt like 10 years, the phone silenced. The knot in his stomach eased somewhat and after he promised himself to tear the phone out the wall as soon as the sun rose he walked over to the cabinet and peeked inside.

“Thank you, kids,” he mumbled at the welcomed sight. He grabbed same bottles at random and brought them back to the couch. But before he got the chance to flop down on his ass-print the phone went off again.

“Oh, fuck me,” he wheezed.

Who called him at three in the morning? No, strike that. Who called him, period?

Sweat trickled down his sides in never-ending streams. The sound played on his nerve strings like a violin. It was the wasp all over again because the caller, whoever it was, didn’t give up. Refused to stop until he did something about it.

A hundred whispered insults spilled over Haymitch’s lips as he pulled on his shoes.

He hadn’t seen the inside of his house in months. The last time he was here had been a fucking nightmare. Broken furniture, broken everything.

The long, hard signals cut through the stillness like a knife.

It’s not her.

He picked up the phone and the blare of music nearly ripped her ear drum. He held the thing a meter away.

“Hello?” someone called. “Helloo?”

He brought the phone closer.

“Who is this?”

“Well, hi to you too!” the person laughed. It was a woman’s voice. One he recognized, only he couldn’t quite place it. From the Capitol at least. “How’s the bachelor’s life treating you, Haycock?” the stranger woman asked. When he didn’t answer she went on, “It’s me, Gloria! Gloria Highgrass. We met at Octavia’s birthday party, remember? Yellow dress. Good-for-nothing cousin by my side.”

Haymitch drew a silent sigh. Of course.

“Where you’ve been hiding, hm?” she asked. ”Haven’t seen you in a while. Finally tired of your afternoon delight?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself.”

“Oh,” Gloria chuckled. “You kiss your bottle with that mouth? What would Effie said?”

Her words drew giggles. Clearly, they had an audience and he was just about to slam the phone down when she said,

“I just saw her, that little cock-warmer of yours. And between you and me: I don’t blame you for leaving. What a mess, haha! You screwed her up good, Haycock! She’s so unfuckable now! Well done, sir. Well done.”

And her brilliant laughter hammered his head.

“Do you know we all placed bets on how long the two of you would last? It’s true! You cost me a fortune, Haycock! You guys stuck it out way longer than I thought. And then my useless cousin told me about your little scene at the train station. ‘Get your shit together’ and all that. God, I wish I was there!”

She had a sip of something and then rallied on,

”You wanna know what I think? I think she planned the whole thing. So you’d never leave her. Too bad she forgot that district scum scurry off like cockroaches once the light’s on. Well, she’s paying for it now, isn’t she? How’d she tell you? Before or after you cleared out?”

It was a wonder the phone didn’t break in Haymitch’s fist. He could hardly breathe, that’s how furious he was. But he refused to give this woman the satisfaction of him losing his temper.

“Hey, lady,” he said, in a very measured voice. “If you know something about Effie, spit it out. Or else you can just stop wasting my time and go back to your pathetic little life.”

That finally silenced her. For about three seconds.

”You don’t know?” she said. “You kidding me? He doesn’t know!”

And everyone on the other end broke down in hysterical laughter. Gloria contained hers just long enough to say,

”Come back to the Capitol, Haycock! See for yourself!”

And she slammed the phone in his ear.

He couldn’t stand another second in this place. Her things may be gone but he still felt Effie’s presence in every corner of the house. Like fumes slowly killing you.

He didn’t realize how much his hands trembled until he was back on the couch. He balled them into fists.

The nerve of that woman! “Come see for yourself.” The hell’s that supposed to mean?

He needed a drink. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and tipped the first bottle he found in to his mouth, again and again until he came up choking.

The liquor numbed his worries like they numbed everything else.

“You screwed her up good.” Yeah, that’s likely. He didn’t fancy himself being important enough to lose even a minute’s sleep over.

Maybe so. But you’re not the only bad thing that’s happened to her. Remember?

“She’s fine,” he told the empty room. “Just fine.” Probably thrived now that she didn’t have to deal with him anymore. That low-life Gloria Highgrass was just fucking with his head. She wanted to cause a spectacle, get some gossip material, that’s all.

If Effie was in any kind of need all she had to do was pick up the phone and call him.

Besides, wasn’t like she kept in touch to see how he was fairing. It was damn clear she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. And if she didn’t care, why should he?

Yeah, he thought and reached for the next bottle. Let her deal with her own demons.

xXx

If Haymitch thought he was the only one up he was wrong. Katniss slept a deep slumber for once but all the creaks and groans coming from the floorboards downstairs finally wormed their way into Peeta’s dreams until he flinched awake.

The room burned with morning light. Peeta’s heart pounded in his chest but he remained still so as not to disturb Katniss while he listened to the sounds below.

It wasn’t the first time Haymitch “ghosted the halls”. Peeta remembered it especially well from their train rides together and back at the penthouse during the Games.

Sometimes it seemed like Haymitch just couldn’t stand to remain in the same place, locked inside his own head. And that’s when he stalked from room to room, aimlessly. Like a bear in a cage. Well, a bear with a bottle in its paw.

No, it wasn’t the first time but it was the first time in a while. And he used to go to bed with the sun so what was he still doing up?

At least with Haymitch on the couch, you knew where you had him. Finally Peeta carefully extracted himself from Katniss and slipped out of bed, just to check on him. That wouldn’t be a first either.

He reached the foot of the stairs just as Haymitch returned in to the living room, surprisingly sober. Sobered up. He sunk down on the couch, elbows on his knees. He never noticed Peeta. His eyes were squarely focused on something in his hands.

Peeta couldn’t tell what it was at first but then Haymitch shifted it over and the penny suddenly dropped.

It was a paper goose. The paper goose. He knew it well because it used to sit on the window sill back in his studio. Haymitch must have ventured inside and stumbled upon it by co-incidence.

Effie’s paper goose. Well, Haymitch’s really since she gave it to him.

Peeta remembered the day she made it. It was the summer Haymitch had brought her here after the over-dose.

She had one of her good days and joined them for breakfast in the studio. He painted, Katniss ate cheese buns, Haymitch doodled a horrible caricature of Effie and in exchange she made him this little origami creature.

A good day in an ocean of bad ones.

Shortly after, the night terrors sent her in a down-ward spiral again and just to keep her from clocking out Haymitch said he thought about getting some geese. What’d she think?

The idea probably originated from Chaff. Eleven’s victor loved everything made from the bird. Roast goose and buttered potatoes, corned goose hash, fried eggs with mushrooms.

Those were the dishes he ordered at the training centre before the third Quarter Quell and if memory didn’t deceive Peeta he even told Caesar Flickerman after he was crowned victor, that he liked to raise geese once he returned to District Eleven.

Now he never really got that idea off the table. Instead, Haymitch did. Well, sort of. None of his birds had ever wound up on a plate.

In any case, Peeta bet the whole ”let’s go to Eleven” adventure wasn’t motivated by some great desire to buy geese. That’s just what Haymitch had her believe. Because for whatever reason Effie lived up a little whenever she got to plan things. It gave her a sense of control.

It was slick how he played it. Made her think “This will be good for Haymitch” when really it was “good for Effie”. Something to keep her mind occupied. His own way to try and coax her out of her depression.

A hundred memories drenched up by one paper bird. That’s what Peeta witnessed this very moment. Haymitch could have crushed it easily. Just made a fist and tossed it on the fire. He tossed everything else that even vaguely reminded him of her.

He didn’t. The way he held it, you’d think it was one of his goslings and he had a look on his face that would not have been there, had he known someone was watching.

“Morning,” Katniss yawned as she walked in to the kitchen, hours later. Peeta stood by the stove, quietly pouring hot water through the tea leaves. She reached for the jug of orange juice to set it on the table. “Where’s Haymitch at? I didn’t see him.”

“On the train.”

Katniss stopped, eyebrows lifted.

“You sure?”

In answer, he pointed at the table and she discovered the note, jotted down on a scrap of paper.

I’m gonna go see Effie. Call her and tell her I’m coming, OK? Thanks.

“You talked to her? What’d she say? What?” she asked at the look on Peeta’s face.

“I tried, for about an hour,” he said. “I can’t get through. The phone’s disconnected.”

xXx

Gem of Panem Mighty city Through the ages, you shine anew

Intertwined with their laughter, the Capitol anthem echoed around the deserted city. Morning light stretched their shadows into four giants as they walked down the street, arm-in-arm. Their makeup was smeared, the flowers in their outfits drooping. All evidence of what a smash hit the night had been!

We humbly kneel To your ideal And pledge our love to you!

Coriana’s voice rose highest of them all, the only member in their quartet who could hit all the high notes, drunk or sober, but they all joined in just as merrily with the voice they had.

Gem of Panem Heart of justice Wisdom crowns your marble brow

It felt good, comforting, to chant the age old verses of their childhood. The real anthem of Panem. The politically correct atrocity Paylor whipped together didn’t hold a candle to it!

You give us light You reunite To you we make our vow

Tipsy to say the least, Priscilla wobbled dangerously in her sky-high heels but each time she careened to far to the left, they steered her right again with many giggles and “Oopsy-daisy!”

Gem of Panem Seat of power Strength in peacetime, shield in strife

“Oh, this is my favorite part!” warbled Imogen who couldn’t carry a tune with a gun to her head.

Protect our land With armored hand Our Capitol, our…

Lancer gasped, mid-through the final crescendo. Linked with the others he almost toppled them over at sudden halt.

“My gracious!” he said. “It’s Haymitch Abernathy!”

Up ahead, a man had just appeared round a corner. Ruffled clothes, hair hanging forward, everything about him completely out of place here. He paid them no attention but it was him, without a doubt. The drunken traitor of District 12.

“You heard about him and Effie Trinket, right?” Imogen asked in a loud whisper.

“Of course we heard,” said Coriana. “The whole town knows.”

“Ugh. Just look at him.” Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “At least on television he dressed decently. Disgusting!”

“She’s the one who’s disgusting,” Lancer said and pursed his lips. “He’s district. What did you expect? But a Capitolian really should know better.”

“I would jump off a cliff if it was me!”

“It could never be you, Imogen, the very thought!” said Coriana. “What’s he doing here again? Flaunting himself on our streets after what he did. What they did!”

If Haymitch heard them he didn’t show it and he didn’t change his course. When they remained shoulder to shoulder, gawking at him he sawed right through them like they were a flock of pigeons and they jumped apart with furious cries.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Priscilla shouted to his back. “I really think you should!”

Those four weren’t the only ones who questioned what Haymitch was doing in the Capitol. Had there been one positive consequence of him and Effie breaking up it was that he would never have to see this place again.

Well, the joke’s on him.

She’s not back on pills, he told himself as he kicked a squashed ice cream cup far up the street. She promised she wouldn’t go down that road again.

The train ride was hell on earth. Throughout the long hours he failed to quiet his mind, to shake off his worries over Glorias’s words and why he couldn’t get a call through to Effie. Just thinking about their impending reunion made him sick, until he finally caved in to the bottles in his duffel.

Ironically, the one thing that stopped him from drinking himself completely senseless was the paper goose, now hitching a ride in his pocket. It helped him focus.

Walking the deserted avenues, through glitter and serpentines left from some party only reminded him of the first time he came here unannounced.

Little Ms. Hypocrite. She was one to talk about having someone almost die in your arms.

But she’s not back on pills.

The brightness of the sun reflected in the candy buildings, the lush public gardens alive with bird song, the bounty flowerbeds, the gushing fountains. It was like the Capitol mocked him with its splendor. Days like this were Effie’s favourites.

And there her building was. He saw it over the roof tops, windows reflecting bits of the blue sky. With a grimace, Haymitch slowed his steps like he’d run out of gas. Fuck it. He needed a drink. One more or less, what did it matter? He wasn’t going to stay here long anyway.

He was still struggling to close the zipper as he entered her street, her curb. He pulled the straps over his shoulder, about to give the door a knock.

And he just stared. Dumb-founded, for half a minute or more. Gaped at her front door, like the gaggle of fools he passed earlier.

No, no this can’t be right, he thought, unable to take in what his eyes were telling him. It’s gotta be a mistake.

The name plate on Effie’s door was gone. The window shutters were all closed. He turned the handle. It wouldn’t budge. He rang the bell. He knocked, pounded rather. No one opened. The place was completely dead.

But it made no sense! Effie had lived in this apartment almost all her life!

He walked over to the windows, shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he tried to peer through the shutters for any movements inside. 

“Eff?”

He returned to the door, raised his hand for another knock.

“She’s not here,” a voice rung out.

He turned at the sound. On the other side of the road, just across from him, stood an old lady. The same dry twig of a woman he’d seen twice before. At least twice.

“Mr. Abernathy,” she said. The sun glinted off the gem stones in her wrinkled cheeks. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t think I would ever see you here again.”

He crossed the road.

“The hell’s going on here? Where’s Effie?”

The woman’s pale green eyes pierced his. She had to lift her chin to do it. Just like Sae she barely cleared his shoulders but that’s where the similarities ended. Because this woman’s eyes held none of her warmth or gaiety.

And yet, behind the frost he noticed that same sadness he’d seen there before. Only not for him.

“I warned her”, she said. “I told her from the very beginning not to get involved with someone like you. A man who would give her nothing but heartache. But she never heeded my advice. She didn’t want to listen.”

“Here’s an idea,” Haymitch cut her off. “How ‘bout you quit playing games with me and tell me what you know.”

“I blame myself,” the woman continued, unfazed by the interruption. “I insisted she applied for an escortship. If she became an architect like she first wanted, she wouldn’t be where she is now. Maybe none of us would.”

“Who are you?” Haymitch demanded. “What’s your name?”

“Mrs. Quinlan.”

Quinlan? He had definitely heard that name before. Nothing Games related, at least he didn’t think so. No, Effie had mentioned her at some point. Yeah, at the hospital, after her rescue. She asked if she was still alive. If she was safe.

Mrs. Q.

“You’re Eff’s landlady.”

The woman shook her head.

“Not anymore.”

“Because you kicked her out.”

“She’s beyond my help,” Mrs. Quinlan said. “Euphemia was a good girl, Mr. Abernathy. A good daughter. I have wept blood for her sake but I never gave up on her. Even after the war. She got one last chance to make amends. To build up a life for herself that she could be proud of. And she went and threw it all away the moment she decided to keep your young.”

Haymitch heard the words, loud and clear, but it was like he couldn’t absorb them. Make sense of what she just said.

It was like when he was little and broke his arm, falling down a tree. They all saw it was broken but it didn’t hurt. Not straight away. Like the shock was so great nothing registered.

“’Keep my young?’ he rasped. Heat rose up his throat and face until it burned. “What do you mean ‘keep my young’?”

For the first time, a flicker of surprise registered on Mrs. Quinlan’s face.

“Where is she?” He didn’t think his voice would carry at all. Instead it echoed around the buildings. “If not here, where’s she staying?”

“Go home, Mr Abernathy,” she said. “You have done enough damage as it is.”

“If you don’t want me to wake the entire neighborhood, you tell me where she is!”

Sleepy heads already poked out windows at the commotion. There were murmurs, curious looks thrown their way. Mrs. Quinlan’s lips pressed into the same tight line.

“She moved in with Caesar Flickerman’s daughter. I assume I don’t have to tell you which one.”

xXx

The bearded dragon slumped on her favorite spot in the vivarium - a gnarled old tree root and basked in the warm rays slanting through the windows.

When they first got her she fitted in your pocket. Now they had to use both hands to carry her properly. Sandy yellow and with a look on her face like “you’re all beneath me” you’d think she was the distant cousin of a certain District 12 cat but it was only an illusion.

“Hey, you,” June said and slipped a hand inside the enclosure, knuckles down, fingers outstretched in an inviting gesture. The reptile crawled down the root and over to her. June gave her a soft scratch under the spiky chin and the animal climbed up her palm.

Annabel sat by the secretary desk, her tea long cold and forgotten, but when June passed, she took the time petting their dragon before she returned to her letter. She eyed what she’d just written, critically and gave a deep sigh.

“They won’t even…”

“They will,” said June. She had settled on the couch with the dragon on her lap. The animal closed her eyes under the soft strokes.

It had been a quiet, docile morning with just the occasional car passing by and the gentle scratch of pen against paper.

“The crates should arrive today,” said June and reached for her own cup of tea.

Right on cue the bell rang.

“Speaking of the devil,” said Annabel. She set the pen down and slowly and painfully flexed her fingers.

It rang again, on her way through the hallway.

“Coming!” She pulled her hair back in a hasty pony tail. A shadow moved behind the frosted glass. She took the chain off the door.

And came face to face with the victor of District 12.

”Mr. Abernathy,” she said, eyebrows lifted. “I…”

He didn’t let her finish.

”Effie,” he said. His face was a deep red. “She here?”

“Bel?” June’s voice fluttered in from the living room.

“Is she here?” Haymitch repeated, the fury behind the words only barely contained. “Never mind that. I know she is.”

“She’s here, Mr. Abernathy,” said Annabel.

That’s all he needed. He pushed past her.

“Eff?” he called as he stalked into the living room. June had risen, face white as paper. The dragon’s tail flailed between her cupped hands at the sudden alarm.

Annabel had followed inside and he turned on her again.

“I know all about it,” he spat. She could smell the hard liquor fumes on him. June quickly set the reptile back in the safety of the vivarium. “I know she’s pregnant so don’t try and lie to me!”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s resting.”

“Well, go and wake her up!”

“Mr. Abernathy,” she said, voice suddenly firm. “You will not shout in my house.”

“I don’t care! She thought she can just have my kid and never tell me? Who the hell does she think she is!? I wanna talk to her. Give her a piece of my mind!”

“Not until you’ve calmed down!”

“The hell with you! I’ll go find her myself.”

He turned for the door but she was right at his heel.

“Stop it!” June cried when Haymitch shoved Annabel’s hand off of him. The tea cup knocked over and crashed against the floor. The dragon ran frantically around in its cage. “Stop!”

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

“Haymitch, what are you doing!?”

Her cry made them all turn. Flushed and out of breath from the rush and alarm Effie stood in the doorway, a robe carelessly thrown over her nightdress. Her eyes locked on his, for the first time in months and the words choked in his throat. It was like the rest of the room and everyone in it just disappeared. Everyone but Effie.

And through the blood pounding in his head he could make only one coherent thought.

What have I done to her?

xXx

“I’ll be in the back if you need anything,” Annabel said as she swept up the last of the broken cup. A spitting mad June had already retreated to their bedroom, carrying the dragon with her and now Annabel went as well, leaving Haymitch and Effie to talk in private.

Not that Haymitch looked like he’d ever speak again. He hunkered in the armchair with his arms crossed over his chest. Effie sat on the couch but they could just as well be light years apart.

“Who told you?” she asked in a hushed voice.

”Does it matter?” He wasn’t yelling now. Wouldn’t even look at her. He seemed to have aged ten years in the past half hour.

“No,” said Effie. “No, I suppose not.”

She had a blanket draped over herself. Like that was going to hide anything.

“I thought you were on the pill?”

“I was.”

“Time and money you could’ve saved, clearly,” he said through gritted teeth. “And the whole Capitol knows I’m the father?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I wanted to tell you.”

“So why didn’t you? If you have my kid rolling around in your tummy I deserve to know about it, don’t you think?”

When she didn’t answer straight away his eyes darted to her face. And his insides contracted all over again as cold panic flooded his limbs.

“What, Eff?”

”It’s...” Her voice faltered. “We’re not...”

“We’re what?”

He saw his own anxiety mirrored in her eyes. She placed her hand against her stomach and his throat closed up. Because he knew the truth before she said it.

No! No, I don’t wanna hear it!

”It’s two,” she said. “Haymitch, I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. I didn’t…”

But Haymitch had already heaved himself to his feet. He wanted to throw up. He would throw up.

“I can’t do this.”

”Wait,” she said but he didn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her and her big stomach.

”I need some air.”

xXx

“Good afternoon, Mathilda,” Mr. Bumble smiled when he crossed her door. His elegant, twirled up mustache was dyed a dusk pink today, the same color as the lap dog, freezing at his feet.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Bumble,” Mrs. Quinlan said, hoping he would pick up on the very inappropriate use of her first name.

He didn’t.

“I’d stay and chat,” he said, “but Helga is waiting for us.” And he gave his bouquet of blue roses a little wave. “It’s our anniversary, you know! 25 years!”

“How wonderful. Give her my best,” Mrs. Quinlan said mechanically as he trotted off down the street. If Helga was home or even remembered what day it was, she would eat up her hat.

She dropped the key in to her handbag and crossed the road, mindful of any ice patches hidden under the fresh snow.

The door was locked but that she only expected. So she slipped her hand into her handbag and got out different set of keys. Normally she took pride in not using them but the girl had sounded very off on the phone. Sad.

“Euphemia?” she said as she stepped inside. The flat was dark but she turned the lights on as she went. She knew her way around this apartment, almost as well as her own. “Euphemia, where are you?”

She heard noises from the master bedroom. Retches that led her straight for the adjoined bathroom.

Effie’s nightgown clung to her with sweat. Slumped down on her knees, she clutched the toilet seat as she threw up. Tears and perspiration rolled down her face from the ordeal.

She didn’t hear anyone come in. That way she never saw the complete and utter shock on Mrs. Quinlan’s face. But she quickly composed herself again.

“Euphemia.”

Effie looked up, startled.

“Oh”, she groaned. She was pale as a sheet, her eyes wet and red. “Mrs. Q, now’s… not a good time.”

And she disappeared inside the bowl again as the next wave rolled in.

Mrs. Quinlan didn’t say anything. She just pulled up a stool and seated herself. She gathered Effie’s hair with one hand and held it back from her face until the worst was over.

When Effie grew still, head heavy against her arms, just heaving breaths of both exhaustion and relief Mrs. Quinlan reached for a towel.

“Here,” she said and soaked it under the faucet. “Clean yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Q,” Effie mumbled and dabbed her mouth with it. She felt Mrs. Quinlan’s eyes on her and tried to elude them by wiping the tears off her cheeks. “I am not quite myself today.” 

“Euphemia.”

“Must be something I ate.”

“Euphemia, look at me, please.”

With an enormous effort, Effie lifted her head. She swallowed and swallowed. The color of her face had returned, from barely holding it together.

“Are you with child?”

Those words did it. It was like a dam broke. Effie buried her face against her babysitter’s lap and now they came. All those pent-up tears she hadn’t been able to shed since that awful day with Haymitch on the train station.

Mrs. Quinlan’s face was taut as a string.

”There now,” she murmured and stroked Effie’s hair. ”You will be alright. It’s going to be just fine.”

Effie soaked Mrs. Quinlan’s skirt with her sobs and it was like she was little again.

She’d been four or five and accidentally knocked over a vase. Everything in Mrs. Quinlan’s apartment was either ancient or valuable or both and little Effie stared in horror at the broken pierces. Finally she ran off and hid.

For the next half-hour Mrs. Quinlan had to go from room to room and from closet to closet, peer inside the cupboards and behind every thick curtain, calling her name. When she finally found her in the laundry basket Effie was so terror-struck she burst in to a wail of tears.

But Mrs. Q just scoped her up, pulled a dirty child sock off the side of her dress and carried her into the living room. With her skinny arms linked around Mrs. Q’s neck Effie sniveled and whimpered the entire time, her little body racked with sobs.

Mrs. Q. wrapped her in one of her own shawls that smelled of perfume and to the rhythm of the creaky old rocking chair, she hummed her to sleep with a Capitol lullaby.

She had never felt so safe.

“Why don’t you take a shower, Euphemia,” Mrs. Quinlan said once Effie’s sobs had subsided a little. She patted her hand between her own icy ones. “And then you and I will have a cup of nice, hot tea.”

“Oh, that is awfully sweet, mrs. Q, but I think I rather,” she started to object but Mrs. Quinlan only waved a finger in the air.

“It will do you some good,” she said. “Tea at my place, four o’clock.”

Effie had avoided Mrs. Quinlan’s flat for the past almost two years. She had spent a great deal of her childhood in the company of her landlady when mother and father couldn’t or wouldn’t take their daughter with them to one of their events.

But these days there was only one subject Mrs. Q wanted to discuss when they met and Effie found herself coming up with excuses. Because it didn’t matter how many times she tried to change the subject, Mrs. Q always steered the conversation back on the same sole topic.

Haymitch Abernathy.

Effie never talked about her and Haymitch’s relationship. Not with Mrs. Q or anyone else. But living just across the road, Mrs. Quinlan seemed to know everything anyway.

She didn’t approve. She never liked the gruff and unrefined victor of District 12 and nothing could change her mind.

She just didn’t understand. How could she? No one in the Capitol did.

“How far along are you?” she asked and poured them tea from the plump china pot. Effie tried to breathe through her nose. Just thinking about ingesting something made her queasy.

“Nine weeks.”

“Have you told him yet? Are you sure it’s his?”

“Mrs. Quinlan,” said Effie tiredly. “We’ve been through this. I’m sorry, but it’s private and really no one else’s business.”

“So, I take that as a yes,” she said mildly.

Exhausted, Effie’s eyes wandered longingly to the snow-specked window beyond Mrs. Q.

“He should have taken precautions,” the old woman said. “The situation he puts you in.”

”It wasn’t his fault,” said Effie. ”It just… happened.”

Mrs. Quinlan poured cream into her cup but Effie didn’t touch it. All she really wanted was to lie down.

There were cookies rounded up on the silvery cake stand. The frosting wasn’t like Peeta’s. Not nearly as nice but looking at them only reminded her of those lazy days in District 12 and Haymitch, teasing her for having such a sweet-tooth.

”Drink now,” said Mrs. Quinlan. “Add a little honey. Or would you rather I put some ginger in? It helps with the nausea.”

“No, it’s OK.”

Effie lifted the cup just to humor her. She was about to take a sip when the warm scent curled into her nose. A crease appeared between her eyebrows.

Mrs. Quinlan didn’t like surprises. Her routines had been virtually unchanged for the past decades. She washed her hands with the same kind of rose soap, combed her hair with the ivory comb that had survived two wars and she always drank jasmine tea.

This wasn’t jasmine tea. Effie should know. After all those tea parties at this very table, the flowery aroma was forever ingrained in her memory. She took another tentative sniff of the strange and unfamiliar fragrance.

It had a faint minty quality but not quite like the mint tea in District 12. She doubted she ever had it in the Capitol either. And yet the smell tugged at her, tried to tell her something.

Her eyes flitted to Mrs. Quinlan. The old woman stirred her own cup in slow, precise circles. The silver spoon rasped the bottom of the china. A cup she had yet to touch.

And a wave of dread flushed Effie’s face when the name surfaced.

”It’s pennyroyal.”

Mrs. Quinlan looked her in the eye. Her face was as hard and unyielding as the gems in her cheeks.

”You should never have let him into your bed.”

The beverage scalded Effie’s hands when she pushed back from the table. She stared at Mrs. Quinlan, eyes wide in terror.

”It’s for your own good, Euphemia. Nobody ever needs to know. It will be like it never happened.”

Effie didn’t stay to hear the rest. She fled the room, didn’t bother with her coat just bolted for the door. Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t work the locks and one terrible moment she thought herself trapped.

Footsteps approached or she imagined they did and a shriek escaped her lips. Then the door flew open and she staggered out into the sleet.

Blood pounded her ears as she locked her front door, fled into her bedroom and locked that door as well. She was shaking all over and slumped rather than sat down on the bed, hand clamped over her mouth.

I didn’t drink it. I never drank it.

Her vision was so blurred it took her three efforts to dial the right number. Her hand found her tummy and she tried to draw slow, deep breaths to calm the erratic beating of her heart.

”It’s OK,” she whispered to the unborn baby in her belly. ”It’s OK. You’re OK.”

So many signals just came and went, her hopes faltered with each one. Until,

“What?”

A sob slipped between her lips at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t help it. Her palm remained against her bump that wasn’t even a bump yet. Just a slight swelling beneath her dress. It made her feel stronger.

”Haymitch?” She fought to keep her voice steady. ”Haymitch, it’s me.”

“Ah, there she is,” he said with the nasty edge that sometimes crept into his voice when he drank, especially now under these circumstances. “Long time no princess. What can you want?”

“I’m sorry. I know I should have called you a long time ago.”

“Oh, I remember that voice. Effs Trinket needs a shoulder to cry on, huh? So she goes to good ol’ Haymitch. Course.” She heard him take a swig from a bottle. “It’s too bad mine’re all the way down here, then. Both of ‘em.”

“I can take the train.” Tears threatened to spill over her lashes but she held them back. Didn’t want to break down in to a blubbering mess. ”If I go now I ought to be…”

“Here in a day. Yeah. And I’m supposed to just welcome you with open arms?”

“Haymitch…”

“That’s my name.”

“I really must speak to you. It’s im…”

“What for?” he cut her off. “I’m a dead-end drunk, remember?”

“I’ve never called…”

“No, that’s right. Your words were much fancier.”

A wave of despair rose up within Effie. It was like a physical pain.

“I know you’re angry,” she said. ”This is not easy for me either but…”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just fine. Can’t ruin a life that’s already ruined, right? I s’pose you want all your crap back? Yeah, the kids have it. They think you’re gonna come back, you know. ‘When hell freezes over’, am I right? But you know Peeta. I’ll just tell ‘em to send it over straight away so you never have to set your foot here ever again. Great, huh?”

“You left me, Haymitch!” Effie cried and her voice broke. “I didn’t want you to go! I didn’t want it to end!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He twisted the top of another bottle. “And don’t you worry your pretty head, sweetheart. You’ll get over it. Trust me. Soon you’re gonna find some nice, wholesome guy who does exactly what he’s told. It’ll be all: ‘Yes, Euphemia. No, Euphemia. Whatever you say, Eu…’”

“Don’t call me that!” she cried at the sound of Mrs. Quinlan’s name for her. “Haymitch, please!” She didn’t care that she begged now, hand clutched against her stomach like she could somehow protect it that way. ”Mrs. Q, she… she tried to… I need you! If you care about me at all…”

“Oh, I cared about you,” Haymitch said. “A lot. More than a lot. Should’ve fucking known better. So why don’t you call Plutarch or Octavia or any other of your friends and just leave me alone. Cause I owe you nothing. Nothing at all.”

Tears rolled down Effie’s face and she abandoned all efforts to try and stop them.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Have a wonderful life, Eff. I’m sure you’re gonna be deliriously happy.”

And she was left with just the flat audio tone.

Author’s note: I don’t know who I feel the most sorry for. Haymitch or Effie. How about you? And hayffie twins are on the way!

What did you think of Mathilda Quinlan? I face claim Geraldine Chaplin for her, the way she looked when she played Aurora in “The Orphanage”.