#corroborated by all my coworkers too

[transgenderboobs]

what working in customer service has taught me is that teenagers are the most normal people to go into stores ever. they're actually some of the most polite and considerate customers we get. i feel giddy relief when a teenager comes to the counter. they always say please and thank you and have excellent manners. they're downright deferential to the people giving them their food. it's middle aged people and older people who look at us and don't even see a person there but a dog or a servant to bark at and order around

[sapphicthunderhead]

TMagP 18 Spoilers: Oh my heart. I didn’t expect to be saying “poor Gwen!” this week but… poor Gwen. And Alice is in a bad place too, although Sam doesn’t seem to see the full extent of it yet. As for Celia… damn. All these people’s situations seem to be at least on the precipice of becoming FUBAR.

But at least we got to hear from Georgie! Although, unfortunately, it seems this version of her may be a tad bit unhinged. I hope they don’t take this iteration of her character in the opposite extreme from the one we knew, turning her into a full-on paranoid conspiracy theorist instead of the fearless, goofy, kind, resourceful woman we all know and love. (Speaking of those who love Georgie, I miss Melanie!)

Most crucially from a plot perspective, we’ve just been hit with genuinely shocking information about the extent of the Fears’ power in this world, the ramifications of which I need more time to process. The concept of Fear holding on to a person’s consciousness/soul after death is absolutely horrifying. I was under the impression that certain entities (Vast, Buried, & Lonely in particular) had the ability to eternally preserve a life in order to perpetually torment a victim, because if said victim died of famine, thirst, exhaustion, etc., the entity could no longer feed on their terror.

If that’s not the case, then each fear can function like a victim’s personal, eternal Hell— except you don’t have to “sin,” to be “evil,” to be condemned to this miserable fate. One of the most terrifying aspects of the Magnus Archives, as in the stories of MR James from which Jonny drew inspiration, is that folks don’t have to do a moral wrong or violate a clear warning to incite their supernaturally induced suffering. There have certainly been some notable cases of people bringing shit down on their own heads, as in the case of the criminal who couldn’t just sit back and let Angela kill his adversary for him in Piecemeal (TMA) and the dastardly dickhead finance bro in Futures (TMagP). But these aren’t necessarily the norm.

Also: does the Lonely/Hunger or other entity involved holding on after its prey’s demise indicate that Terminus isn’t strong enough to pry the other Fears’ hands away from their victims in this Universe? Would that in turn imply that a Fearpocalypse in this Universe could be never-ending?

Thinking back, there is potentially some evidence from TMA that set this up, although at the time, I failed to register it. The avatars in general simply refuse to die, so that’s a possible corroborating piece of evidence. Also, a Desolation avatar assigned to keep Agnes fed turns his coworkers’ flesh and fat into candles infused with their Fear; the Fear remains until the candle burns out, and the people who provided the raw materials are definitely deceased.

This is a deeply unnerving turn of events. I feel for everyone in this episode— particularly the deceased, who is somehow still trapped in the Forsaken house they rebuilt inside their mind. RIP.

[amunisence]

Rogue Player AU Headcanons

First of all, this is all based on Saltymongoose's Self Aware Madness: Project Nexus AU with inspiration from Dallyfae's Purgatory Mode AU. The Rogue Player AU explores the idea of *multiplayer* in Salty's AU (since there's a local/remote multiplayer option in Project Nexus).

Now onto the headcanons! Starting with the Players! (For my sake they'll be shortened to "Rogue" and "Newbie")

Rogue Player aka Player 1 used to be the normal Player we all know and love, but they became corrupted by the desire for more power and praise

Rogue's powers are amplified: anyone can be a vessel and the strings themselves can be used as a weapon

However, Rogue's powers have a very limited range... don't get too close

Now onto New Player aka Player 2 the reader insert. Auditor brought Newbie into Project Nexus in a last ditch effort to save his ass from the other Employers' wrath (and save Nevada I guess)

Unlike Rogue, Newbie has no established relationship with any of the grunts. So even though Newbie is a fan of MadCom, the first impressions are the absolute first impressions. Both for Newbie and the grunts towards each other.

Newbie is pretty much a mix of starstruck/intimidated when meeting the grunts (excluding Sheriff. Newbie was too preoccupied with Hank and Rogue to really react to Sheriff other than surprise)

Once Christoff gives Newbie the halo, it gets transformed accordingly, but the effects on their powers remains a mystery for now...

Now onto the main four + Christoff...

Unlike the others, Hank was fine with and at times delighted by Rogue's new violent tendencies. He was suspicious of Newbie's sudden appearance on a mission to pacify Rogue but didn't protest since they offered aid for that outcome.

Hank currently holds no allegiance towards Newbie aside from what's mandatory. He isn't convinced that the player Rogue once was is completely gone which tends create tension between him and grunts who think otherwise.

Sanford and Doc were the first to notice the change in Rogue's behavior. Sanford in particular noticed how eager Rogue was to fight alongside him and Deimos. Outside of missions, Rogue became more distant and less sociable. Rogue was even less receptive to the meals he cooked them.

"Did I do something wrong?" Sanford asked Rogue one day. "Of course not!" Rogue responded, "I just don't feel like myself lately." Sanford continued to worry as his beloved Player became unrecognizable.

Currently, Sanford hasn't met Newbie yet, but he is convinced that Rogue is no longer his Player. Since he believes the deep connection he had with Rogue is lost, he's more open to the idea of a new Player than Hank.

Deimos suspected there was something off when the playful banters between him and Rogue came to an end. Every so often they would shut him down, but now Rogue almost chastises him at times for his jokes.

Deimos could obviously tell there was something wrong but was afraid of wasn't sure how to approach Rogue. He talked to Sanford who corroborated Rogue's odd and worsening behavior. He assured Deimos it wasn't his fault.

Like Sanford, he hasn't met Newbie yet, but is also receptive to the idea of a new Player. Deimos feels like he lost a dear friend and would jump at any opportunity to regain the connection that rivaled him and Sanford's.

Like I said before, 2BDamned and Sanford noticed Rogue's odd behavior before the others, but Doc was the first to inquire them about it. During a check-up, Doc asked Rogue about their mental health, "I appreciate your concern 2B, but I'll be fine! Don't worry." Which of course made him more concerned. Rogue had acknowledged there was something wrong but wouldn't elaborate.

Doc continued to monitor Rogue's well-being and was disturbed by an increase in violence during missions and conflict with coworkers in SQ. He attempted to ask Rogue about this a few more times, but they began refusing to answer altogether.

Doc is more than open to the addition to a new Player. SQ needs all the help they can get. Whether he's open to developing anything more than a professional relationship with Newbie is uncertain. He still holds deep concern for Rogue and feels like he failed them.

Christoff remembers Rogue fondly from Project Nexus Classic but has not seen nor felt their presence in ages. This is why he was shocked at the news from Doc that his Player had gone rogue and aid was needed.

When he confronted Rogue, he could hardly recognize them both visually and personality-wise. Christoff thought he could save Rogue from whatever had caused this drastic change in them but was struck down by his own heroics.

Then at seemingly the last second, Newbie stops Rogue and saves the keystone fragment in Christoff's possession. It didn't take long for him to realize that Newbie was another Player. To ensure the safety of the keystone fragment, he gave it to Newbie recognizing them as Nevada's new savior.

Christoff was quick to accept Newbie as a new Player, but he still holds the desire to save Rogue and will help any way he can to make that possible.

Hopefully, I'll be able to upload Chapter 1 of the story soon since the prologue is done, and I got these headcanons done!

[firstelevens]

Sambucol, 50

50. all the rumors are true

“A gossip hotline,” MJ repeats flatly.

Betty nods. “I thought it was just a weird residual page for news tips, but I logged into the address and it’s all just gossip and rumors.”

“Does Excelsior have a page six that I don’t know about? Are we on Gossip Girl right now?”

Ned has the account access history open on his computer—something he definitely should not be able to do, but which MJ will be turning a blind eye to for the time being. “Only one teacher has ever even accessed this account: Mr. Harrington, on the day it was created. After that, it looks like it’s just the journalism kids from last year, but even that stops in December. Whatever they were gonna do with it, I think they just forgot about it.”

“But people are still submitting?”

He points to the little counter on the inbox tab. “Two tips just came in this morning.”

So they stick the younger newspaper staff on writing puff pieces and taking pictures and decide to spend the period just sorting through the tips in the inbox, on the off chance that there’s a story worth breaking open. Ned collates everything into a spreadsheet, and they filter out all the spam—there are so many links to mixtapes—and libel risks and a bunch of gross stuff that makes MJ want to pitch a schoolwide lecture series on sex positivity, and then they divide what’s left between the four of them.

It’s a pity that last year’s newspaper team abandoned the inbox when they did, actually.

Between MJ and Peter, they trace a bunch of tips that would have broken the cheating scandal at Atlas Academy two months before anyone else reported on it. Ned finds a bunch of messages that sound like someone who watched too much Breaking Bad spinning out theories about a vague chemical smell in the biology hallway, except that they all showed up a week before the fumes from improperly stored chemicals in the labs almost started a fire.

Betty even finds a few leads about stories that don’t seem to have been broken anywhere yet, and once they’re corroborated a few times, MJ throws them onto the whiteboard so they can assign them to the rest of the crew for investigation.

It would almost feel like a real newsroom, except—

Well.

Once they’ve filtered out the libel, and the slutshaming, and the contextless passive aggressive digs sent in because of interpersonal drama, they only have two things left: hints that might lead to actual stories around the school and gossip about teachers.

At first, MJ is worried that they’ll find something that she won’t know how to deal with, but half an hour into digging through the messages about school staff, it becomes clear that this is just where the student body goes to marvel over the fact that their teachers have lives outside their jobs.

‘Pretty sure Mr. Murdock is some kind of secret ninja,’ writes one student. ‘He caught Mr. Nelson’s coffee mug as soon as it got knocked off the desk and NONE OF IT SPILLED. No guidance counselor has reflexes that fast.’

‘Saw Mr. Rogers (AP gov teacher not the PBS guy) lift a whole ass couch in the teachers lounge. What the fuck,’ says another, not explaining what they were doing in the teachers lounge in the first place.

Some of them are too out there to be true: ‘Dr. Strange came into my coffee shop on Saturday with this lady and he smiled when he ordered his drink????? he’s been bodysnatched. Source: three years of class with this fuckin guy where he never cracked so much as a smirk.’

Others make so much sense that MJ’s not sure why they didn’t clock them before: ‘ran into Coach Barton straight up LARPing in the park. he had his face painted blue.’

And then there are the submissions that form such a strong pattern, anyone with half a brain would dig further to find the truth.

‘Worked a wedding this weekend,’ says a tip from last October, ‘and Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes were there together!!! TELL ME YOU TAKE RANDOM COWORKERS TO WEDDINGS WITH YOU.’

From December: ‘Mr. Wilson brought his nephews to the winter street fair and I heard them in the hot chocolate line asking him when someone called Uncle Bucky would get there. then Mr. Barnes showed up so I got distracted. WHOS BUCKY THOUGH? IS MR. WILSON MARRIED????’

From February 14th: ‘had Mr. Barnes for first period geography today and he was running late so we had to wait for him to unlock the door. he turned on the lights and there were flowers on every flat surface except our desks. this is not single dude behavior.’

There are two from the same night at the end of February. ‘JUST SHOWED MR BARNES AND A PRETTY LADY TO A TABLE FOR TWO. THERE ARE CANDLES. I CAN’T BELIEVE HES CHEATING ON MR WILSON RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY TABLESIDE CAESAR SALAD,’ says the first. 

The second is timestamped ten minutes later: ‘oh lmao nvm thats his sister.’

March 11th brings multiple Mr. Wilson sightings at the farmer’s market where the theater program was running its bake sale, and the general consensus is best boiled down by the shortest message of them all: ‘Mr Wilson trying to be slick and buying organic marmalade in a Rutgers sweatshirt when we all know he went to LSU.’

The tips continue into April (the umpire at Mr. Wilson’s nephew’s baseball game says they looked really cozy) and May (somebody accidentally sits behind the two of them at a movie and just leaves before it gets awkward) and into the summer, too. Someone is convinced they saw Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes together at the art museum downtown, another person insists they were grocery shopping together on a Saturday morning, another person sees them trying on tuxes together and definitively declares that they’re getting married. MJ is starting to understand why this inbox may have been abandoned.

When they make it to the end of the spreadsheet, she looks up at Ned and Betty and Peter.

“Do we…do we do something about this?” asks Peter.

“Yeah,” says MJ. “We shut down the email and the submission box as soon as possible, and we get rid of all this stuff. If anyone’s got more tips for us, they can send it through the normal tip line. That’s what it’s there for.”

“On it,” says Ned, already tapping away at his keyboard.

“And what do we do about all this?” asks Betty, gesturing to the spreadsheets and, MJ knows, the messages about Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes.

“People see what they want to see,” MJ says with a shrug. “We’d know if it was something we needed to know, and we don’t have the column space to devote to pointless gossip. Ink is expensive.”

Betty doesn’t argue, and MJ turns to the next thing on her editor-in-chief agenda for the day.

That afternoon, she walks home from the bus stop and checks the mailbox before heading up her driveway. Lifting a hand, she waves at the neighbors as they’re getting out of their car, laden with groceries.

“Hi, Mr. Wilson,” she calls out across the lawn. “Hi, Mr. Barnes.”

They both shift their overstuffed grocery bags to wave back, and then Mr. Barnes gets lightly bonked in the nose with a baguette that’s sticking out of the top, and Mr. Wilson is too busy laughing at him to do anything else. 

MJ thinks they might not have even realized that she’s already headed inside, except that she’s just turning to close her front door when she sees Mr. Wilson glance around furtively, shrug his shoulders at the lack of passersby, and then kiss Mr. Barnes’s nose.

She shuts the door, shaking her head, and hopes that tomorrow there’s something better in the anonymous tip box than a romance that literally anybody could see from a hundred paces.

[cassafra5]

Where Have I Been?

Hey everyone,

It’s been a long while since I’ve made an address about what’s been going on with me and why I’ve had difficulty posting. It’s felt weird being on this site with the large elephant in the room being “what happened to you?” After having made addresses previously explaining a couple of rough experiences, I felt too ashamed to mention something even worse. It felt awful to post something after more than a year of nearly no activity, but I feel like it’s been severe enough to warrant this. I had also been requested not to speak originally because certain parties were worried about becoming “pariahs” on here, but I am writing this post to clear the air and to explain what has happened by my own account.

It’s been more than a year since I escaped an incredibly abusive relationship and left New York. After having lived there for three years, it has taken me quite a while to begin recovering from everything that has happened since 2016 until recent. During this time, my spouse and I were used by his family as caretakers for his grandmother, and we were also threatened with homelessness as his family considered taking the condo we lived in. The mounting stress caused him to start lashing out and to begin drinking, and his behavior grew increasingly erratic. For more than 3 years, I lived in a home where every door was broken to get to me when I tried to get away, and every wall in the house was left with a hole or a dent. I was forced to live under horrible conditions, but when I reached out for help about the abuse, multiple people antagonized me, shunned me, and waved away my concerns because “it’s not like he hits you every day.” My mental and physical health suffered greatly, and I still have lapses in my memory from that time because of just how dire my circumstances became.

Inevitably, I had to leave and was “helped” by some coworkers who, unfortunately, took my situation as a means of having a personal crusade, and thus exacerbated the situation further. Police were involved and I had to endure literally running away with what I could carry. Our divorce only just finalized. A majority of my belongings are still in New York, as I only carried back what I could scramble together while I had the police with me, as well as what was sent to me to try to convince me to come back. At this point, I don’t expect to get my remaining belongings back.

My ex is very unhinged and not well. It is harmful and counterproductive for me to be in contact with him or to involve myself any further with him. That being said, I would appreciate that anyone reading this not reach out to him, if you know who he is, as it may cause further incidents that I do not want. This address is mainly for my own recovery to help me move on with my life, and to explain why I’ve been so inactive. Despite it all, I want him to grow as a person and move on with his life as well.

During our separation, my ex involved a Tumblr user that has commissioned me multiple times. He effectively used this person as a means of getting information about me and to put me in a hostage situation – stating multiple times that if I didn’t speak to him, he would go through this person. I fought with my ex multiple times to try and get this person removed from our personal issues, but repeated attempts to warn this individual did not work. I excused this user’s behavior multiple times because they are very young and naïve, and for a while I assumed they just didn’t understand the situation enough to see how much they were hurting me and furthering the abuse. However, I was then made aware that this person was taking commissions from my ex and making decent money off of him. Even more egregious, they were also giving my ex information about me on who I was hanging out with, what I was currently doing, my day to day schedule, etc. I actually had to argue with this person over my safety and privacy, only to get “but I’m making money” as an excuse for them to continue selling my information. To say this was a breach of my confidence and trust is an understatement, and I cannot explain how violated and outraged I felt when I found out that a follower I was trying to protect had blatantly chosen to stay in the middle of my messy divorce and profit off of my mentally-ill ex while spying on me.

In LA I had a rough time adjusting. I did not have a support system to come back to and unfortunately I realized just how quick some people are to take advantage of someone in my situation. I have ultimately learned that I can’t try to understand people like that nor give them the benefit of the doubt. Throughout my time here on Tumblr, I have met some wonderful people such as @kirain who I’ve become best friends with, and who actively helped me escape the situation I had been in. But I’ve also discovered that some people don’t see me as a person worth basic common decency and respect. I’ve literally had users reach out to me just to get the details and gossip for their own amusement, or to either one-up me or stroke their egos over their own successful relationships, which has hurt me immensely. I even had a nightmare where my ex found me and chased me down, and when I reached out to the person he’d turned against me, the only response I got was, “Well, technically I just commission you, so I’m more of a client than a friend, so you shouldn’t be angry.” This person continued to take my ex’s money and profit off of everything that happened after I cut contact, and I don’t have the words to explain how absolutely nonsensical this entire situation seems to me.

I have cut off both individuals from my life and, while I don’t want to jinx it, I am doing much better. It’s been very difficult, but I’ve been recovering and have made great strides. I’m fixing up my house and making it my own after years of feeling like I couldn’t unless my ex allowed me to. I am working and learning in a new profession and I’m finding people who I can really feel are friends, and even more so. It’s been very night and day to be around people who respect and care about my wants and needs, and to have my autonomy back. I no longer have that feeling of being dipped in acid, which is exactly how I felt in New York.

Getting back into drawing and expressing myself is a challenge and something I’m slowly trying to revive. I do really appreciate all of your patience and kindness. Some things I used to draw are a bit difficult but I am slowly getting better.

To my ex and to the follower mentioned, I would ask that you refrain from contacting me or retaliating. I do still have videos, screenshots and other things that I have kept. If I am attacked for making this post, I can and will release them to corroborate my story. All I want is to be left alone, and I should not be silenced and muted because of you fearing repercussions for your actions.

[brandoncarlo]

so there was this big blowup at my work on friday where two of my coworkers tried to undermine me and went to my manager with half truths to make me look bad. I explained what was going on from my perspective and because one of my coworkers has a history of lying to get me in trouble and the other manager actually there corroborated what was going on plus the cameras, my manager got extremely angry with my other two coworkers. I pretty much blew up, for me at least, and ranted to my manager about everything that happened (they were shit talking me and saying how i don't do work loud enough for me to hear it, on the back of my 3rd week in a row clocking in the most overtime besides the two managers, which included covering their shifts because they each call out regularly). So my manager is now saying she's going to bring both of them in and talk to them with the big boss. And while every discussion I've had with my manager has left me feeling vindicated and I know everything I said was the truth at least from my perspective. I'm like gaslighting myself and questioning my own reality (how do you know you're not lying, what if you're just trying to make yourself look good), on top of stressing about whether or not they could end up getting me in trouble by saying i did something wrong (and if i did do i remember doing it, or will it be a lie, or how will i know).

anyway the entire thing really stressed me out. i do not handle anger well and left work on friday shaking. i had to work with one of them on saturday and was blown away that she kept pretending to be nice to me, when she must have known that I could hear everything they were saying. I also had to work with another coworker who I didn't hear say anything, but knowing him he's on their side and he gave me the cold shoulder even tho he's one of the friendliest people i work with and makes sure to say hi and bye to everyone. which is FINE because i was giving him the cold shoulder too but petty me wanted to be the one to ignore him first.

point is this fucking sucks cause i love my job but i won't let people walk all over me. i am just stressed for monday because I'm not sure what's going to happen all I know is that I am going to be extremely clear with my manager about what's going to go down after she leaves. What exactly are my responsibilities and who is going to express that to the other people I am working with. Because I do not need to be told I'm not doing work because I'm the only one who can give the front desk manager a break in the afternoon, but they only see me go up front and disappear for 15 minutes, i guess assuming I'm not doing anything.

and to top it all off right before this I had gotten yelled at on the phone by someone trying to book a grooming appointment. Which is kind of funny and kind of shitty. Shitty because I was already stressed and agitated before this and also funny cause part of me was like lmaooo girls if you want to deal with that bullshit sure but they already triedd to train you for it and it failed.

[spencers-renaissance]

Hunger

Summary: Spencer really likes his new coworkers: they're nice, welcoming, friendly, and made his transition to the BAU as easy as possible. Which makes it impossible for him to turn down an invitation to eat dinner with them at an upscale fancy restaurant, no matter how anxious that makes a boy who grew up with next to nothing feel.

Tags: insecurity, anxiety, allusions to poverty, hurt/comfort, team as family, angst with a happy ending, fluff, background jelle

TW: mentions of poverty, financial difficulties, and food insecurity

Pairing: Gen (Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills my "trying not to cry" bad things happen bingo square and is set a few weeks after Spencer joins the BAU, in an AU in which Elle was there before him.

Everyone is so nice, is the thing.

And that’s great. Really, it is. Spencer isn’t about to complain when JJ kindly walks him through the filing system all the while asking questions about him and his life, or when Derek ribs him gently about his ducktail hair or his nerdy brain. No-one cuts him off when he gets carried away — unless it’s time-sensitive, of course — or teases him about anything that cuts too close to home. Being the new guy in the most prestigious unit in the FBI could’ve been a nightmare, but this team made it easy. He’s so grateful for all of it.

It just makes it really hard to turn down dinner invitations.

He watches his shaking fingers in the mirror as they button his shirt up and wrap his tie around his neck, poking it fastidiously under the collar, not a wrinkle of fabric out of place. He glances down at the countertop again, re-reading the restaurant name copied down in JJ’s careful handwriting onto a piece of copier paper regardless of having committed it to memory the first time he heard it. Sur la Rivière: a fancy European restaurant in DC.

He’d hoped for a cheap and cheerful Chinese when Hotch had first brought up the idea of a team bonding dinner, something more his style, but he’d smiled anyway when Elle had mentioned this place her foodie friend had recommended, no matter how strained it might have been. He’s the new guy after all. He doesn’t expect much swing when it comes to choosing where to eat.

As soon as his shirt and tie are perfectly in place, he gets to work on taming his curly hair. It makes him look younger when it’s loose and fluffy, and with a baby-face like his combined with already being the youngest person in the entire FBI, every year he can add on counts. Soon, though, there’s no more grooming he can use to stall the inevitable, and he sighs tiredly before clicking off the bathroom light and heading to the hall.

He collects his phone and wallet, checking for the sixth time that evening that his credit card and extra money to tip the waiter is definitely in there, grabs his keys, and heads out of his apartment. Derek is in his car waiting on the curb for him like he promised he would be, looking effortlessly suave and cool in a way Spencer never will as he honks his horn at the sight of the younger man walking towards him.

“Pretty boy!” he calls, his grin making Spencer smile, too. “Took you long enough. Hop in, fancy European cuisine awaits.”

Another rush of nerves floods Spencer’s stomach at the mention of the fate he’s signed up for, but he smiles anyway as he opens the passenger door and slides in. “Thanks for giving me a lift, Derek,” he says, hating that his anxious discomfort is so obvious in his voice.

Thankfully, Derek doesn’t pick him up on it, simply pulling away from the curb and beginning the drive across town. “How many times do I have to tell you not to mention it? I live less than ten minutes away, Spencer, it’s really not a problem.”

Spencer flushes a bit at that, wringing his hands in his lap as he watches the streets of his district pass by out the window. “Well, I appreciate it anyway,” he settles on, flashing Derek a quick smile that he doubts he sees anyway with his eyes glued so firmly to the road. “Riding the metro is a nightmare at this hour.”

“Never learned how to drive? I didn’t have the money for lessons, Spencer wants to say, irrationally frustrated at his situation. I was rushed through the academy too quickly to learn something as trivial as driving.

“I was too busy getting five degrees,” Spencer says instead, forcing a smile on his face. He wishes he wasn’t so well-practiced at managing other people’s emotions; wishes he could say what he’s really thinking. But he can’t, not in front of the people he’s trying to impress, not so soon.

“Alright, alright, I get it, you’re a genius,” Derek chuckles. “I’m glad you’re coming tonight, we all are. Gideon didn’t tell us much before he left, just that you had an IQ of 187 and he’d pulled a lot of strings to get you in at only 22.”

Spencer winces slightly at the mention of his ex-mentor. “Yeah, I’m sorry he ran out on you guys so suddenly.”

“Hey, from what I hear, he did the same to you,” Derek counters. “You guys seemed way closer than we were anyway. I never really liked the guy.”

As much as most of Spencer hates Gideon for abandoning him without warning, leaving him to find his footing in the FBI alone and afraid, a small part of him still itches to defend him. “He was a good mentor. Not such a good friend, as it turns out.”

Derek looks away from the road for a moment and shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, man. But Gideon’s loss is our gain. You’re gonna be an amazing asset to the team, I just know it.”

A genuine smile crosses Spencer’s face at that. “Thanks, Derek. I can’t wait to really get stuck in, you know?”

“I remember the feeling.” Derek grins again.

They continue chatting for the rest of the journey, Spencer finally relaxing into the company of a new friend— that is, until Derek cuts across one of his stories from his second PhD. “Hey, the restaurant should be up on the left somewhere but I can’t see it…

“Oh, there,” Spencer says, pointing at the sleek, almost anonymous-looking black sign hanging above a set of fancy doors. How can doors be fancy? They’re supposed to be functional, not pretentious. All of a sudden that sinking feeling that had lifted on the car ride over settles back into his stomach and he can’t help but swallow nervously as Derek parks the car and they step out into the street.

Everyone’s already seated when they finally push through the restaurant doors, and Spencer hates that he made them both late with his apprehensive stalling, but no-one really seems to mind as they all cheer happily at the sight of them, ignoring the dirty looks it earns them from the other patrons.

“You made it!” Penelope squeals as she gets up from her seat to give Spencer a hug. He’s a little touch-averse, really, but something about Penelope’s hugs make him never want to leave her arms. He does anyway, though, and he and Derek find their seats opposite one another at the end of the table.

“I’m glad you’re here, Spencer,” Hotch says kindly as the waitress passes the two late-comers their menus.

“You’ll fit right in,” JJ promises, “we’re like a weird little family, to be honest.”

Spencer flushes a bit under the attention of so many experienced FBI agents, but he nods anyway before they all get started on deciding what to eat. He listens vaguely to everyone talking amongst themselves, giving one another suggestions in a way that corroborates JJ’s statement, and all of a sudden Spencer’s collar feels tight. It’s not just the nerves of meeting new people or the anxiety of an alien social environment, he realises he doesn’t recognise a single item on the menu.

He knows what the words themselves mean, but reading the words 'tortellini of venison’ and trying to imagine deer meat pasta is not easily done. The only simple meals seem to be seafood and Spencer’s never been a fan of fish. The only food he can even begin to imagine himself actually putting in his mouth, chewing, and swallowing is the porterhouse steak: not that he’s ever really eaten much red meat like that.

Spencer isn’t a fussy eater. He’s eaten a wide variety of dishes from any number of different restaurants across multiple cuisines, he’s just never had the kind of money to eat at a place that serves caviar, for God’s sake. Far too soon, the waitress wanders back over to the table, taking everyone’s orders with a polite smile on her face.

He listens as everyone confidently orders their meals: the smoked trout, the Moroccan quail, the lobster tagliatelle. Spencer thanks the heavens he isn’t a vegetarian, at least, but it’s not much of a consolation prize when everyone’s eyes fall on him.

“Uh, I’ll have the porterhouse steak,” he says uncertainly, hoping nobody notices the sweat beading on his forehead or the anxiety raging behind his eyes.

Everyone seems to accept his answer, the waitress taking their menus and walking back towards the kitchen as the rest of them resume their conversation. Hotch’s eyes linger a moment too long on him, and Spencer thinks he sees something like concern in his gaze, but before he can think much of it, Penelope’s drawing everyone’s attention to JJ’s bracelet.

“Can we please appreciate this?” she says, sounding scandalised for some reason Spencer can’t quite discern from context yet. “Elle, baby, you have taste. This is absolutely gorgeous! Are you sure you don’t want to date me, too?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raise slightly at that. “Oh, you two are together?” he asks, although now that he realises it he’s not sure how he didn’t notice sooner.

“Are you sure you’re a profiler, kid?” Derek laughs. “They don’t exactly hide it.

“Even though they’re supposed to,” Hotch chimes in with a faux stern look. “You two are gonna have my job at some point.” “Aw, but where would we find another Unit Chief that would help us hide our secret so well?” Elle says charmingly, making everyone laugh, including JJ, who presses her face into her shoulder fondly.

It’s easy for Spencer to momentarily lose himself in the banter, smiling as they tease one another, interspersing their gripes and funny stories from work among it all. They include him in all of it, and he doesn’t feel left out for even a second, finally relaxing into the unfamiliar environment of a fancy restaurant, eased by the reassuring company of his new team.

“JJ’s right,” he muses out loud when there’s a brief lull in conversation, “you guys really are like a little family.”

JJ leans away from Elle towards him for a moment, wrapping him in a side hug. “And you’re the perfect addition to it, Spence,” she says softly, everyone’s expressions reading nothing but fond agreement. “We needed a little brother to add into the mix.”

Spencer blushes again but leans into her touch.

No-one gets a chance to say anything else before the food arrives, the servers bringing JJ and Elle’s meals first, then serving Hotch and Penelope, before they finally bring out his and Derek’s order.

Everyone dives into their food, immediately making noises of contentment, passing bites around to one another, but Spencer can’t join in the jubilant celebration of a good meal. He picks his knife and fork up shakily as he stares at the massive portion of steak in front of him. It’s served with roast potatoes and flecks of a pointless salad that he suspects is only there as a garnish rather than actually part of the meal, but that’s not what has him worried.

This huge slab of meat hasn’t been sliced beforehand. He knows that he’ll shake the whole table if he tries to do it: it’s a massive, impenetrable slab of red meat that Spencer has no chance of enjoying, let alone finishing. He stares at it as tears burn in his eyes: he’s so out of his comfort zone and he’s so terrified of messing up and pushing away these newfound friends that he can’t move.

“Spence?” JJ cuts in gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look up, only to find everyone looking at him with worried expressions on their faces. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” he says, standing up abruptly, the disturbance of the table barely registering in his brain. “I just need a minute.”

He rushes out of the restaurant without looking back, drawing in deep breaths as soon as he’s in the cool evening air of spring. Thoughts race through his mind at a million miles an hour as he grasps for something concrete to grab onto, eventually settling for a tall flower pot.

“Spencer?”

He looks up to find Hotch standing next to him, deep concern written across his face, and Spencer’s heart clenches at the thought that he’s already messed this up so quickly. Could this night possibly get any worse?

Apparently, it can, because all of a sudden he feels his face crumple and the stinging tears finally spill down his cheeks. He sinks down to the ground and buries his face in his hands, humiliation glimmering in every cell of his body.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says gently, lowering himself to the cool pavement next to him and placing a warm hand on his back. He lets him cry it out for a couple of minutes, his palm drawing small circles in between his shoulder blades, trying again to get through to him when Spencer’s sobs calm down slightly. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

With a shuddering breath, he forces himself to lift his face from his palms, although he still refuses to meet Hotch’s eyes, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the Korean restaurant across the street. “I guess it just all got to be too much,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” Hotch says encouragingly. “What specifically?”

“I— I didn’t have much growing up. It was just me and my mom so we were living in the middle of Vegas on a single disability check each month. And, uh, then I went to college, and I was barely scraping by there, too. It’s only recently that I’ve known the luxury of knowing for sure I was eating that night, and it still gets to me sometimes when I’m faced with fancy restaurants and heavy, expensive meals. My body’s had to work for years on virtually nothing, there’s no way I can stomach a steak like that. I guess, all those feelings that are a lifetime in the making combined with the anxiety of eating with the team for the first time… wanting to make a good impression, it just all got too much. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Hotch raises a hand, and Spencer finally meets his eyes, finding nothing but compassion and understanding there no matter how much he searches. “You don’t need to apologise, Spencer, not for something like this. I’m sorry that none of us thought to make the first team dinner with you a more casual affair, and I’m even more sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell us you were uncomfortable.” “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but I’m glad you accept my apology,” Hotch says, smiling softly. “You know, we all bring baggage with us, Spencer. I can’t relate to food insecurity, but I had my own issues when I first joined the BAU. I grew up with a pretty terrible father, and the thing I found myself reprimanded for the most when I was a new recruit was the inability to follow orders. I’d spent my whole life scared of this man, obeying his every word, and I couldn’t help but hear him when my superiors would tell me to do something. When I was finally free of him, it was like I couldn’t help but rebel.

“You’re not the only one whose childhood follows them around, and I’d much rather it be something like this that we can easily manage, than something that will affect you or the team in the field, okay? Instead of beating yourself up over things you can’t control, try and remember that you have a whole new family who will do anything they can to make you feel as comfortable as possible. We already think the world of you, Spencer. Sacrificing fancy dinners that — let’s face it — can’t beat cheap junk food anyway is hardly a big ask.

Warmth spreads across his chest at Hotch’s words, replacing the feelings of failure and rising anxiety with something that feels like a promise of all the good to come. There’s something fatherly, something deeply paternal in Hotch that there wasn’t in Gideon, and it’s the most comfort Spencer’s felt in years. “Really?”

“Really,” Hotch nods, squeezing his shoulder gently. “You wait here one minute, okay?”

“Okay…” Hotch is gone before he can finish replying, and Spencer is left staring at the doors confused, until the rest of the team are piling out of them a few minutes later, Hotch bringing up the rear with his jacket and wallet in hand.

“We just paid the tab. How does cheap Chinese food eaten in the park a couple hundred yards down sound?” Hotch suggests, raising an eyebrow as he smiles warmly at Spencer.

He looks around briefly at the rest of the team, who are all giving him encouraging looks, not a trace of judgement or annoyance to be found.

“That sounds amazing,” he laughs wetly, the tears springing to his eyes this time caused by a completely different emotion. “I can pay you back, though.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” Derek says, patting Spencer’s back, “we’ve got it. Now, come on, I’m gonna order sweet and sour chicken balls, and I want them now.”

“That’s what she said,” Penelope giggles, linking her arm with Derek’s.

“That was terrible, baby girl, but I love that you tried.”

“Do you want to share shrimp chop suey with me, babe?” Elle asks JJ as they clasp hands, walking a couple of steps ahead of them.

“Well, I’m certainly not sharing with any of these losers,” JJ teases, before kissing Elle’s cheek.

Spencer feels Hotch place his hand on his back, and he turns to smile gratefully at the older man. “Thank you,” he says quietly, trying to convey just how earnestly he means it. “No-one’s ever done anything this nice for me before.”

There’s a slightly sad tinge to Hotch’s smile, but it doesn’t look like pity. “I’d get used to it if I were you. That’s just how we do things in the BAU.”

Well, if that’s the case, Spencer thinks, smiling as he falls into step between Hotch and Penelope, I think I might just stick around.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @temily @jellejareau @reidology @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @tobias-hankel @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @im-autistic-not-stupid(taglist form)

[luminary-lady]

A Note on Female-Led, Male-Centered Fandoms

Why your negative emotions about your fave and their potential love interest aren’t as unique as you think

I’m what might be considered an “old person” in fandom circles. Granted, I don’t think I’m that old, but I’m old enough to have been in many different fandoms for years at a time. I’ve learned a lot of lessons through my participation in these spaces, and one thing always strikes me about female-led fandoms that center around male public figures: No matter how different their subjects of affection are, they fall into the same patterns. One of the most consistent patterns is how they react when their “fave” is romantically connected to a woman.

Recently, I read some Tumblr blogs focused on a famous man who was linked with a woman who most would consider less famous. They may or may not be dating in some capacity, but there are a lot of different people in fandom invested in finding out. Because celebrities don’t put every moment of their lives online, fans conduct research into their preferred hypothesis by analyzing social media likes, follows, and comments. They study the backgrounds of pictures to determine the subjects’ whereabouts. The more zealous members of fandom try to solicit details from people in the subjects’ vicinity, including their friends, family, and coworkers.

In the midst of all this research, the fandom divides itself into camps. One camp is metaphorical Switzerland, at least publicly: “Let’s just focus on his work, guys. Respect his privacy.” A second camp hopes that their fave is dating the woman in question, and they hunt for clues that corroborate their shipping desires. Yet another camp does not want their fave to be dating this woman. They consistently remind themselves and other fans of all the clues that point toward the “not dating” hypothesis, and when clues arise that could be interpreted as disrupting this theory, they go on the offense.

They start with the woman first. The Instagram story she posted of an everyday object could be traced back to him in some way, so of course she is baiting the fandom and looking for attention. So thirsty. She liked one of his posts. God, how pathetic. She said or did something wrong or shady in the past and did not address it or apologize. It’s not just her actions that get the side-eye; as a person she is irredeemably problematic.

Unfortunately for them, the all-important clues are not one-sided. Sometimes he interacts with her. To the final camp of the fandom, this means he must be dissected as well. This presents a dilemma, however. They can’t label him thirsty. No, no. That would mean admitting that he wants to be tied to this awful woman, that he is a willing and equal participant in their interactions. If they go down that road, they’d be forced to face an even worse possibility: what if he likes her? What if he would consider dating her or *gulp* already is?

So, it’s time to dust off their degree in Diagnosing Strangers’ True Desires and Psychological State via the Internet. He is a playboy who will never actually get married, and probably is just using her (and a bunch of other woman) for gratification. He is a feckless, manipulatable fool who likes to act smart and intellectual, but is actually too dumb to see how she is using him. He is a bottomless pit of ego who gets off on women publicizing themselves through him. 

In short, he is the absolute worst, and must be protected at all costs. Or, if they’re feeling too angry to be protective, he must be “called out” and “held accountable for his actions.” These actions may include, but are not limited to: remaining silent about the woman’s problematic nature, liking her posts, being seen or photographed with her, interacting online with any other attractive women, and pursuing other women IRL (ok, so, he might not have actually done that, but Enty/Deuxmoi/a random anonymous Instagram said he did). Anyone who disagrees with their conclusions is a delusional stan.

I’m talking about the Chris Evans fandom, right? No, wait, the Sebastian Stan fandom. No, hold on, the Tom Hiddleston fandom. Or another fandom, or another one.

The (overwhelmingly) female participants of each of these fandoms will swear up and down that they are not part of this larger pattern. Yes, they acknowledge, there can be misogyny in certain fandom spaces - the way Reddit treats Brie Larson is just awful! But their motivations are different. This woman actually is problematic. She is thirsty. She is cringeworthy. That’s just reality. Therefore, their vitriol is justified. Besides, they been fangirling their fave a long time. They’ve seen his tendencies over the years. They know who he really is based on the information they meticulously collected. 2 + 2 = 4, they say. Can’t you see it?!

Yes, I can see it. And by “it” I mean the utterly predictable, utterly boring conversations that will play out across fandoms, blogs, and anonymous asks until Tumblr finally tumbles into the ocean. I’m not delusional enough to think that this rant will open anyone’s eyes, or change their behavior. I’m just exhausted, and tired of the repetitive drama. So I’m calling all of you out.

Ideally, you would self-reflect. Dedicate time to other, more productive pursuits. Though if past experience is any indication, you will either jump ship entirely, or continue to obsessively blog about your no-longer fave while periodically venting your simmering disappointment and resentment. To each their own. Just please don’t ever think your “insights” are unique or based on reason. They were said before you, and they will be said after you. When it comes to fandom misogyny, the men are inconsequential, the women interchangeable. Insecure fangirls always follow the same playbook.

[writingpaperghost]

There is a Me Who Can Become Strong (Chapter 12)

Chapter 12: Christmas Special: Targeting the Silver X-Mas!

Now knowing Gemn's identity, the CR must still cure Shuhei. Meanwhile, Kiriya's come to a dangerous conclusion about the identity of Mu. Merry Chirstmas, everyone.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32857183/chapters/83165572

Saki’s not entirely sure why she’s looking for Kiriya. She supposes, she owes him an apology, if nothing else, given he’d turned out to be right about Kuroto being Gemn. Though they still didn’t know anything about that other man they’d seen as Gemn, both after retrieving the Giri Giri Chambara Gashat and as they defeated Graphite. Regardless, she was now trying to figure out where he would be.

She’d checked the morgue, his coworker, Nishiwaka, said that he was out. When she’d asked him when he’d be back, Nishiwaka just shrugged. Still, he did offer a possible destination. Though Saki didn’t understand why Kiriya would be at a cemetery. She didn’t know everything about him, obviously – in fact she realized she didn’t know very much at all. He was prone to lying, yes, but even in some cases, he did turn out to be right, whether his claim Kuroto was Gemn had been intended to be a lie or not.

If Kiriya was at a cemetery, for whatever reason, she really oughtn’t bug him. It felt… wrong. So instead, she supposed she should wait for him, she knew that if she were visiting Hiro, she wouldn’t want to be interrupted. Though curiosity plagued her mind and her schedule was rather tight… And if nothing else, she owes him an apology.

The bright side about Kiriya’s rather… disastrous attire is that it often made him stand out. It was often hard to miss one who wore a bright red jacket such as his, or the ripped pants, or even the terrible, terrible, shirts. Thus, she was able to find Kiriya with relative ease and speed.

He stood at a grave, as one would when they are at a cemetery. For a moment, Saki wondered if she should really bug him, but she also knew that it was unlikely that she would have an opportunity to speak with him again any time soon. As much as she hated to do it, she really did need to speak with him. To apologize – not to mention there were a few things she was curious of.

She walks over towards him, stopping a few feet away, then calls out to him, “Kujo,” He looks up, slightly startled at her appearance. “I’m sorry to… disturb you.” She continued.

Kiriya blinks, “I’m surprised to see you here,” He finally says, “What brings the Genius Surgeon?”

“I came to… apologize,” She answered, choosing this time not to show her disdain for the title, “For being so… distrustful of you. You did turn out to be right about Kuroto being Gemn.”

“Oh?” He intoned, “Huh, yeah, guess I was.” The fact that he sounded so unbothered by it was off putting. Much about him was off putting, really. He was always so casual and nonchalant about everything, though she supposes there were times when he seemed serious. Not to mention, seemed so obsessed with things, like Game Disease and even Emu. While the first one was understandable from anyone, to some extent, she was curious why he wanted to know so much about Emu. Or when Emu had decided to trust him so much.

“You were,” She nods, then adds, “There is something that I’m curious about, if you don’t mind me asking.”

He laughs a little, “I can’t stop you, now can I?”

He’s right. She could ask the question anyway, regardless of how he felt. But he also was under no obligation to answer it, whether truthfully or at all. She’d have no real way of knowing whether he was telling the truth or not, unless it was something easily fact checkable. Given what she was about to ask, that wasn’t necessarily possible.

“I’ve always wondered why you’ve been so… fascinated with learning about Game Disease,”

Kiriya doesn’t seem surprised at the question, not really. Maybe he knew she’d ask it, if not now than eventually. “I had a friend die on Zero Day,”

He’d given the answer before, but Saki had checked, “Your friend died in a traffic accident,” She reminded. At that moment, she becomes painfully aware of the grave that Kiriya stood in front of. Jungo Aihara, his friend who had died that day.

“I said he died on Zero Day,” Kiriya repeats, “He’d been infected, but when I’d told him, he’d ran off. Next thing anyone knew he was dead.”

That was a harder story to corroborate, but it wouldn’t be impossible. Still… “How had a medical examiner known of Game Disease?” While Zero Day had been the first major outbreak, there had been a handful of cases of Game Disease before that. But knowledge of such a disease would not have been widely known. It still wasn’t widely known and hopefully they could keep it that way.

The look that Kiriya gave was one of the those infuriating ones where you knew right away he wouldn’t be giving a satisfactory answer, “I managed to find out about it,” As if that answered any questions.

“That’s not an answer,”

“That’s all you’ll get from me about it,” Even without his comment, Saki knew that he wouldn’t give more of an answer.

He turns to walk away, but she calls out, “One more thing, Kujo,” He turns to glance back at her, “Have you found anything out?”

With an expression that might have been a smirk but it was hard to tell from this angle, Kiriya responds, “Just theories,” He turns back to face the other direction, “Just gotta find some proof, first.”

Proof…

Sure, Saki supposed, it was believable enough. Though, she had to wonder just how true any of that was. She hadn’t wanted to immediately assume him to be lying, but with how Kiriya could be, it was always a possibility.

---

With the revelation about the existence of this so-called “Emu Dan” and all his oddities, the theory board in Nico’s room has been rearranged. Though she has her back to the doorway, she can tell by the way that the person coming to the doorway is walking that it’s Kiriya. Taiga’s boots always clunk around, making way more noise than Kiriya’s sneakers.

“Yo, N,” Nico turns to face Kiriya, who’s already standing in the doorway.

“Kiriya,” She says, placing her hands on her hips, “So about that Mu…”

“Cutting right to the chase,” Kiriya’s hands are in his pockets, he clearly wants to know what’s she’s found.

Unfortunately, Nico doesn’t have much to report, “This guy works at Gemn Corp, but I sure couldn’t tell you what he does. Doesn’t seem to really do… anything, I guess.” She taps on a blurry photo of Mu she acquired from… somewhere. “And as far as I can tell, he doesn’t exist. Not in connection to Masamune or otherwise.”

Frowning, he wonders, “So it’s probably not his actual last name?”

“Most likely,” Nico shrugged, “There’s not much more I can do from there.”

They stand in silence for a moment. Kiriya seems… thoughtful, though maybe bothered by something. It gives Nico an odd feeling. She doesn’t think she’s ever seem him so obviously bugged, but she can’t really figure out why.

Finally, he tells her, “You need to be careful.”

“Of course,”

“No, I’m serious,” And he does have a serious face as he speaks, “I think I’ve dug a little too far and now someone knows that I know more than they want me to.”

Nico scoffs, “Kiriya, you’re a Kamen Rider,” She rolls her eyes a little, “Who would be able to stop you? No ordinary person would be able to actually kill you.”

“Gemn,” He responds, “He might not have Shakariki Sports anymore, but he has that new Gashat he finished yesterday.”

“We don’t know what that Gashat does,” She countered, “It could do nothing.”

“Exactly. Or it could do something terrible.” He really seems to be worried. Nico wonders if she should maybe take his concern a bit more seriously. “After all, losing Shakariki Sports was clearly a calculated move. Whatever he got from it, it’s probably stronger than Level 3.”

Sighing, Nico has to admit he has a point, “Alright, alright, so you’re worried Gemn’s gonna try to kill you or something?” Kiriya nods, “Well, be careful, I guess? Don’t forget we’ll come help you in a heartbeat, even Brave.”

“I know,” He starts to turn away, before stopping, “Oh, one last thing, a very important thing.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about Ace,”

---

Still on his quest to discover what would make Shuhei smile, Emu decides to see if he can speak with Mrs. Yamanaka again. After all, she still had a better idea about her son than he did and… well truthfully Emu thought that perhaps some answers could be found in knowing how Shuhei got hurt. It wasn’t easy to break your leg – even Emu, as clumsy as he could be, had never managed that.

Thankfully, Mrs. Yamanaka is visiting Shuhei again, however briefly. When he mentions Shuhei’s declaration of disdain for the cake, she seems surprised. Which was odd, though that confirmed that she really had thought he would enjoy it.

“My husband and I run a patisserie, Shuhei’s always liked the cake when we made it,” She notes, “Though he’s never liked how busy we get during the holidays.”

So Shuhei was probably a lonely child, at least when his parents go so busy. That wasn’t something that Emu was entirely unfamiliar with, at least. So far as trying to understand Shuhei went.

“What happened that caused him to break his leg?”

Mrs. Yamanaka frowned a little as she answered, “He was climbing a tree in the park,” She said, “Then he fell.” That could certainly result in a broken leg. But why was he climbing trees? While a perfectly fine hobby, it was a bit odd.

He thanks her, then decides he wants to check out this tree. So he makes his way to the park and it doesn’t take him long to find the tree. Logically, climbing a tree, even as an adult, is probably not the best idea. But there’s something that Emu wants to check.

So he climbs the tree and he isn’t sure what he expects to find, but he finds something. In a way, it feels like it answers at least one or two of the questions he has. Which means, he now needs to get down. He was able to get into the tree easy enough, so, in theory, it shouldn’t be that hard to get down.

Emu very much falls out of the tree on the way down.

When Emu returns to the CR, he wastes no time in making his way to the patient room. He takes a seat next to the patient bed and smile at Shuhei. Shuhei does not return in kind.

“Hey, you’re… lonely, aren’t you?” Emu begins to say, noticing the glance that Shuhei gives him, “I was lonely when I was your age too. I didn’t have any friends, so I was always just playing video games.”

“So what?” Finally, Shuhei responds, though it’s not quite what Emu was hoping for. Still, he wasn’t going to give up.

“It’s no fun being lonely, even if you manage to convince yourself that it’s okay,” The biting memories of Emu’s childhood come to mind. There was no one else there, always just… Emu. He’d learned to deal with it well enough, but it certainly made being in spaces where people were friendlyand nice, odd for a while. “I played video games, but you, you climb trees, right?”

Before Shuhei can respond, he gasps and glitching begins to appear on his body. A frown quickly forms on Emu’s face and he stands. With Poppy’s help, they bring Shuhei with them to his parent’s patisserie. It might not have been the best idea, given it was currently being attacked by Salty. Dammit Salty.

Quickly taking out the Mighty Action X Gashat, Emu decides it’s time to test out the Gashat they retrieved from Gemn the day before, Shakariki Sports.

Mighty Action X!

Shakariki Sports!

Shakariki! Shakariki! Bad Bad! Shaka to Riki to Shakariki Sports!

Much like how the armor on Gemn appeared, the Shakariki Sports Gashat caused a pink and green bicycle to fly onto his shoulders, becoming armor. Then, Salty summons some of his Bugster grunts, dressed as chefs, like when Emu first fought him.

Taddle Quest!

DoReMiFa Beat!

Do-Do-DoReMiFa-So-La-Ti-Do! Ok! DoReMiFa Beat!

Beginning to knock down the Bugster grunts, Saki arrives, quickly taking Level 3. One of the grunts goes flying into Salty, who then stumbles back and breaks one of the blocks spawned by Mighty Action X. A power up pops out of the block.

It’s different from the normal ones though. It’s seems almost… festive? Well, today was Christmas. Emu jumps and grabs the item. There’s a flash and he’s on the ground again, the bike from Shakariki Sports – Sports Gamer – down on the ground beside him. By all appearances, he’s been reverted to Level 2 except…

Why was he dressed as Santa Claus? Sports Gamer was decorated too…

It starts to snow and Emu can’t help but watch for a moment as Mrs. Yamanaka speaks with Shuhei. Earlier, Emu had found an unfinished wreath in the tree that Shuhei had climbed. Given the tree had holly berries, it was safe to assume that Shuhei had been trying to get them when he fell out of the tree. Mrs. Yamanaka shows him a cake, one decorated with what looked like their family.

Salty attacks once more, easily dodged. Poppy breaks two more of the blocks, grabbing the items from them, one of which went to Saki. Now, both Poppy and Brave were dressed as Santa Claus, in some capacity, though Saki still remained in her Level 3. Poppy jumps over to Saki, grabbing her arm and messing with the disks on her arms. Soon, a peppy rendition of Jingle Bells begins to play and…

Poppy starts singing. But instead of the actual words, it just “p” sounds. As Poppy sings, Emu and Saki use this as an opportunity to continue their fight against Salty. Somehow, they find their attacks syncing up with Poppy’s music, making it seem almost as if they were dancing.

Attacking Salty at once, they’re able to defeat him, destroying him. Together, he, Saki, and Poppy cheer, “Merry Christmas!”

Game Clear!

---

A cloud of virus cells is absorbed into the Bugvisor, formerly having been what comprised Salty. Now though, they were simply data. It was… an odd sight to see, Mu hadn’t quite seen anything like it. But Kuroto said it was necessary.

It was also odd being out with Kuroto, normally it was only ever one of them. But now with his new Gashat completed, Kuroto was far more comfortable heading out together, since they could both transform now. Though the day before, Kuroto had lost Shakariki Sports, which would definitely make it harder to fight on even ground against the Riders. Well, for Mu, since he was certain that Kuroto would have made his new Gashat so much stronger than anything the Riders had.

Mu had an idea, of course, but he wasn’t going to mention it to Kuroto, quite yet. Instead, he just wanted to confirm the purpose of collecting this data, “So now that we have Salty’s data, we’ve started the part that we need for the game? To collect Bugster data so it has data on all the strains?”

With a small smile, Kuroto nods, “Yes, once all of them are collected, the game will be complete.”

“And then once we clear the game, everyone will be cured,” Mu smiled, almost excitedly. After all, he’d spent six years preparing for this and now… now they were so close, he could almost taste it.

The ultimate game, the one that would make everything better… And it was closer than ever.

---

The CR had a Christmas party that night. Which was strange. Not that it wasn’t nice or anything, it was just strange to Emu. He’d never really gone to a Christmas party. The CR isn’t exactly big, so the any only ones there were Poppy, Director Kagami, Saki, and himself. Still, someone had gotten some cake – frankly Emu thought it had been Saki – and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

But Emu still couldn’t shake just how odd it was the way Salty had appeared. After all, they’d never had a Bugster appear, already formed and separated like that. So it had been bugging him for a while, not that he’d had time to think to much about it, between fighting Salty, Gemn, and trying to cheer Shuhei up.

“Is something bothering you?” Emu startles at Saki’s words. She continues, “You haven’t eaten of your cake.”

True, Emu held a plate with a slice of cake on it, untouched. While she was right about something bother him, the cake had nothing to do with it. He’d actually just spaced out and forgot he’d been holding it. That and he doesn’t think he’s had cake like this before, nor had he remember that when people had a plate with food on it, they generally ate it. Since he was a Bugster, it wasn’t like he needed to eat. But Saki didn’t know that.

“Well,” He began, “I was thinking about how weird it was that Salty separated from Shuhei without us having to remove him.”

Saki hummed, “Most likely, Game Disease has mutated, resulting in the Bugsters separating on their own and being stronger than before.” She takes a bite of her own slice of cake, “Diseases do it all the time to avoid vaccines.”

That made enough sense, at least to Emu, so he doesn’t question anymore on the subject. Instead, he turned his attention to the plate of cake in his hand, a fork in his other. Saki had already noticed he hadn’t touched it, it was likely someone else would if he continued not to eat it. Or Saki would notice again. The point was, it would probably benefit him to at least eat some of it.

He takes a bite of the cake, almost hesitantly. It was… sweet. Not bad, he just wasn’t used to actually eating things. But it was pretty good, so he takes another bite. He’d never really saw the need for eating food all that much. It didn’t have a functional purpose, so he didn’t often do it. Usually, he spent the time that he would have spent eating, if he were human, doing other things. Like studying or playing games.

On the white board, Poppy’s drawn some cute little pictures of them dressed up as Santa from earlier. He was honestly surprised that she managed to convey Para-DX and Brave so well, while also being cute and Santa-like. He has another bite of cake, deciding that while it tastes pretty good, it was maybe a bit too sweet for him.

Poppy pops in from the side, “What’s that face for, Emu?”

He blinks, trying to figure out what she meant. He didn’t think he was making face, “Uh, cake, I guess?”

She is clearly confused by his response, “Cake? Why would you be making that face because of cake?”

“It’s… sweet?”

Saki chimes in, walking up to the two of them, “It’s cake, of course it’s sweet.”

“I’ve… never had it before?”

The looks that the two give him are definitely surprised. They clearly hadn’t been expecting that answer. Which Emu supposed made sense, it was probably weird to say you’ve never cake before. But he hadn’t really, mostly because there had been no point.

Poppy gasped, “What?” Apparently, she was a bit more surprised than he had initially thought, “You’ve never had cake?”

“Uh, no?”

Before either Poppy or Saki can say anymore on the matter the phone rings. It’s Kiriya and he’s telling them that he wants to meet them. That there was something that he needed to tell them. So off they went, ready to meet up with him.

---

Nico was still stewing on what Kiriya had told her earlier, about Emu. She’d held off adding that to the theory board, mostly because she was trying to keep too much important information off there. Didn’t want someone waltzing in and finding out too much about all this. Not that she thought it was very likely.

She can hear footsteps coming down the hall and tries to recall if Taiga had any patients that would be near this part of the clinic. She couldn’t recall any, but it was possible that he’d just gotten one. The footsteps aren’t Kiriya’s, they’re too heavy, but they’re not quite right to be Taiga’s boots either. They sounded a little lighter footed. Probably just a patient.

At least, that’s what she thought, though she quickly sees a familiar face, one side of which was partially covered with some faded cyan hair the top of which was covered by a navy-blue hat, a pair of headphones over it. The woman outside looks though the window then quickly opens the door. Excitedly walking in, Nico can see her outfit. A bright pink scarf is wrapped around her neck, paired with a navy blue and bright green jacket with black and green sleeves, zipped up. A bright green skirt with dark blue pants beneath them, and knee-high boots.

She’s grinning at Nico when she enters, “Nico!” She exclaims, “Here you are!”

Standing, Nico greets her with equal enthusiasm, “Yuko!” The two high five, “I’d ask how you knew I was here but…”

Yuko slides her hand back into her coat pocket, now with both hands in. “You already know,” She finishes with a laugh. “Didn’t expect to find you hanging out in a shady clinic, though.”

Shrugging, Nico responds, “It’s easier. Taiga and I are help each other out.”

Nico flops on the bed while Yuko pulls up the chair in the room, “So, have you managed to find M and get your rematch?” Yuko asks, settling into the chair, “I still can’t believe you’ve gone through all this for a rematch.”

“Yeah, I beat him a while ago, actually,” Nico leans back slightly.

At her answer, Yuko frowns slightly, “Then why are you still here?”

“Because there’s a mystery I want to solve,” Nico answers, “It was brought to my attention by one of the other Riders. Now I really want answers.”

Yuko blinks, then slowly points to the theory board on the wall, “Does it have something to do with that stalker board?”

“It’s not a stalker board! It’s my theory board,” Nico protests, standing up and walking over to the board, “But yes, it does.”

Standing too, Yuko examines the board, “It’s pretty vague,”

“Don’t want anyone finding out anything too important,” Nico shrugs. She’s about to sit back down on the bed when her phone begins to ring.

Answering it, she hears Kiriya, telling her that he’s meeting with all the Riders. There’s something he wants them to know, something he presumably hasn’t told her either. She figured it was probably pretty important.

She grabs her bag and turns around, backwards walking out the door, “Sorry, Yuko, I gotta go!” As she runs down the hall, she calls out, “See ya later!”

Yuko’s only left to stand in the room and blink, unsure of what’s happened. After a few moments, the sound of clunking boots can be heard and eventually, Taiga arrives at the doorway. He looks at Yuko and stares.

He sounds exasperated when he asks, “Who are you?”

Shaking off her startlement, Yuko grins, “Yuko Morishita.”

---

It really bugged Mu how much that Lazer had been able to figure out. While he didn’t doubt that Lazer was something of an outlier in his investigative and detective skills, compared to the rest of the CR, it really bugged him. Even Kuroto seemed bothered, though he did a good job of hiding it, all things considered.

Still, Mu sort of felt that it was his fault that Lazer had figured out so much. After all, Kuroto hadn’t exactly gone out much and certainly had less direct interactions with the Riders. While Lazer had initially figured out that Kuroto had been Gemn, given how easily the others had believed him, it was possible that none of them saw it a large leap of logic.

Regardless of how Lazer found out so much, Mu really wanted to do something about it. But now that Kuroto had lost Shakariki Sports – which was perhaps a part of his plan but still a bit of a pain for Mu – he’d never stand a chance in a fight against any of the Riders. Often, he could barely keep up with Shakariki Sports, depending on who he was facing, now that they’d all gotten their Level 3s.

Kuroto’s out right now, Mu’s not sure why… But his eyes are drawn to the Gashat and Bugvisor on the table. He didn’t know what Dangerous Zombie did, but surely it was stronger than a Level 2, if nothing else. It wasn’t really designed to work with a Gamer Driver, for some reason, but it worked with the Bugvisor.

It was probably not the best idea but… Well, it couldn’t hurt to try, could it? Besides, he needed to make sure just how much Lazer knew. Mu stands, grabbing the Bugvisor, the belt it combines with, and the Gashat. Just in case.

Finding Lazer isn’t hard, mostly because he knew that Lazer would want to tell the others what he’d found out. But Lazer also didn’t like meeting in normal places, so a shady warehouse definitely seemed like somewhere he’d want to talk with people. It helped that Graphite had agreed to keep an eye on him from a distance.

Taking a breath to prepare himself, Mu calls out, “Lazer,”

Of course, Lazer spins around to face him, seeming far too casual about the whole encounter. Mu couldn’t help but notice the dark blue shirt he wore, printed with red and green mistletoe. “Well, surprised to see you here, Mu. No Kuroto?”

“He’s… busy,” Mu responds, “But you know… Way too much, obviously.”

“Do I?” Lazer shrugs, “I mean, I guess I do know what you are. Who you are.”

Mu really hoped he didn’t actually know. That made things a lot more complicated, especially because it would be hard to keep Lazer from telling others. No, he really shouldn’t know, and he really couldn’t tell the other Riders. Mu wasn’t entirely sure why, but it had been made very clear to them that no one can really know who really is. It isn’t safe, he was told.

If Lazer knew who he really was… Mu bites his lip a little, trying to decide what to do now. He couldn’t let Lazer tell the other Riders, that was for certain. He fishes the Bugvisor out of his pocket and the Dangerous Zombie Gashat. The belt that the Bugvisor attaches to turns the Bugvisor into the Buggle Driver, capable of working like the Gamer Driver. Mu didn’t really know what was different, though, other than its capability of doubling as a weapon and only having a slot for one Gashat.

Lazer hummed, “What’s that you got there?” He leans a bit to look. “That the Gashat Kuroto just finished?”

The Dangerous Zombie Gashat is snatched out of Mu’s hand – he hadn’t noticed that Lazer had come closer to him. Wide eyed, he watched as Lazer quickly moved away, examining the Gashat. Mu had only been here a few minutes and he’d already messed up. “Don’t-!”

“Well let’s see what it does,” Lazer pulls out his Gamer Driver, slotting Bakusou Bike into it. Once in Level 1, he activates Dangerous Zombie, placing it in the second slot of the Driver.

The problem here was, Mu didn’t know what all Dangerous Zombie could do, but he knew it wasn’t meant for use with a Gamer Driver, He had no clue what would happen, with Lazer trying to use it. “Please, don’t…” Mu says, though he doesn’t think that Lazer even hears him.

It might be odd to worry about what would happen, given Lazer was his enemy but… As much as Mu wanted to hate him, even his role in Graphite’s death didn’t seem like sufficient motivator. Besides, it was possible that Dangerous Zombie could do something to help Lazer and that would be a million times worse.

When Lazer tried to use Dangerous Zombie, it hurt him. The health gauge on his chest slowly went down, until the Driver ejected the Gashats, forcing him out of the transformation. Mu rushes over and grabs the Dangerous Zombie Gashat. Oh, this was a terrible idea!

Lazer pushes himself up, grabbing the Bakusou Bike Gashat. “Ugh, what the hell does that thing do?”

“I don’t-“ Mu cut himself off, not finishing his train of thought. He probably shouldn’t let Lazer know that he doesn’t know what exactly Dangerous Zombie can do. Instead, he just realizes that Lazer can still tell the other Riders, so Mu needs to do more to stop him.

Dangerous Zombie!

Slowly, Mu inserts the Gashat into Buggle Driver. Lazer watches him, pulling out the Giri Giri Chambara Gashat. It was time for a fight. Mu figures he can just beat him up like last time, knock him out for a while so they can come up with a better plan. He presses the buttons on the Buggle Driver.

Buggle Up! Danger! Danger! (Genocide!) Death the crisis! Dangerous Zombie!

Gemn Level X was weird. Mu wasn’t sure how to explain the feeling. Like… A dull sort of pain, maybe a broken limb? But also some kind of power. It’s an overwhelming feeling of cold emptiness, covering and wrapping him in an unwanted cocoon.

Mu hated it.

But he wouldn’t stand a chance against Lazer otherwise.

Bakusou Bike!

Giri Giri Chambara!

Giri-giri-giri-giri Chambara!

Lazer quickly went to his Level 3. Mu didn’t know how Level 3 would compare to Level X, given the seven level difference, but he was confident that he’d be able to defeat Lazer. Not to mention, Lazer was already weakened by his attempt to use Dangerous Zombie.

“Alright, then,” Lazer grunts, “Time for a fight.”

There’s a flash of panic in Mu’s mind when the Bugster begin to appear, dressed in torn clothing. They don’t pay Lazer any mind, though, instead going out of the warehouse. Oh right, Lazer was supposed to be meeting with the other Riders. Mu would have to be quick.

Level X was odd in that it lacked a weapon, which definitely threw Mu off for a moment. But even with Lazer having a weapon, he was too weak to even really do any damage. Besides, it wasn’t as though Mu was incapable of hand-to-hand combat.

It quickly must have become clear to Lazer that he wasn’t going to stand much of a chance in the fight, as he quickly grabs the Giri Giri Chambara Gashat and places it into the Gashacon Sparrows, separated into their sickle form.

Giri Giri Critical Finish!

Mu had attempted to dodge the attack, not that it mattered. Because he ended up taking the whole hit anyway and… it really didn’t faze him. In response, Mu grabbed the Gashacon Sparrow and swung it back at Lazer, hitting him solidly in the chest.

The way that the Gamer Drivers worked was that they were designed to limit the possibility of the death of their user. Thus, once the health bar on a Rider’s chest reached a certain low point, the Gamer Driver would eject the Gashats. Except, while that was what happened when Mu struck Lazer, Lazer was clearly far more hurt than he should have been.

For a moment, Mu stares at Lazer. Oh, he realized, oh Lazer was about to Game Over. Lazer was about to die.

As much as Mu was upset about Graphite’s death, about everything that Lazer had done with or separate from the other Riders to impede his and Kuroto’s progress on the game, he didn’t want to see Lazer die. Mu didn’t want anyone to have to die, even if they were misguided, thinking that he and Kuroto were some kind of villains.

One half of the Gashacon Sparrow still in hand, Mu hears the sound of fighting outside. Right, the other Riders were supposed to meet up with Lazer. The grunts they were fighting wouldn’t keep them occupied for much longer. He couldn’t stay around. Quietly, he walks over to Lazer, reaching down to grab the other half of the Gashacon Sparrow and the Giri Giri Chambara Gashat. It could come in handy, at least.

Lazer grabs at the sleeve of his hoodie, “Why?”

Mu blinks, eyes almost like a deer in headlights, “I’m sorry.”

---

It never bodes well when you’re trying to go somewhere and then Bugster grunts showed up. These were dressed a lot differently than the ones they fought before, these had torn clothing. Emu thinks they remind him of zombies in a video game, but he doesn’t know what Bugster could have caused them.

He, Saki, and Nico were fighting them off, finally finishing off the last of them. He just hoped that Kiriya was okay. They quickly enter the warehouse.

Kiriya was not okay.

Kiriya was on the ground, beaten up and glitching, errant pixels here and there. Emu didn’t know what was happening, but he knew two things. It wasn’t an infection, and it wasn’t good.

“Kiriya!” He rushes to Kiriya’s side, grabbing at him, “What happened?”

Grunting, Kiriya pushes his Gamer Driver and the Bakusou Bike Gashat into Emu’s hands, “Gemn,” He answers, “Ace, take your fate into your own hands.”

The Gamer Driver lets out a loud sound:

Game Over

Kiriya disappears into pixels, leaving nothing behind but his Gamer Driver and Gashat in Emu’s hands.

At first, Emu’s shocked, only able to stare at where Kiriya once was. Then, he feels something overwhelm him. A feeling he hasn’t experienced in six years. He starts to cry.

Nico and Saki can only watch in shock behind him.

---

When Mu returns, Kuroto is at his desk. “Mu-“ He begins, but Mu just makes a beeline for Kuroto’s desk. Placing the Bugvisor, Dangerous Zombie Gashat, and Lazer’s Gashacon Sparrow on the desk.

“I don’t think Lazer will be a problem anymore,” Mu says distantly, “I’m… going to go on a walk now.”

Kuroto’s only left to stare. “Mu, what did you do?”

---

Mu keeps walking until he finds Graphite. He still feels a bit numb, in disbelief of what he’s just done. It was easy enough, then, for Graphite to notice that something was wrong. Not that it would probably been hard anyway. Graphite was good at telling when something was bugging Mu.

“Kin, you’re upset,” Graphite notes, placing a hand on Mu’s shoulder, “What happened? Did Kuroto do something?”

Shaking his head, Mu whispered, “No,” then shakes his head again, “No, Graphite. I did something.”

“So what happened?”

“I… Lazer knew so much, he knew way too much!” Mu quickly said, “He said that he knew who I was, even! I didn’t know what to do but I knew he was going to tell the other Riders so I had to stop him and…”

Mu looked down, “I took Kuroto’s new Gashat to fight him and then… for some reason the Gamer Driver didn’t eject his Gashats before his health gauge was depleted and…” He pauses. He can’t bear to finish it. Because it just. It was too much. Finally, he manages to whisper, “I killed him.”

He can hear Graphite’s small but shocked gasp. Mu just repeats, “I killed him Graphite.”

You decide what’s good. You decide alone.

Graphite stares for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say or do. Then, he hugs Mu, as Mu begins to cry. He’s glitching and he knows he shouldn’t be getting this worked up, but he’s not sure what to do.

At some point, it gets really dark. Graphite just picks up Mu and carries him back. Mu tries to protest, to say that Kuroto may find out about Graphite, but Graphite doesn’t listen. By the time they get there, Kuroto’s already asleep. So Graphite just brings Mu into the nest and holds him tightly.

---

Nico’s not sure why Saki’s following her on her way back to Taiga’s clinic. It’s out of character, as far as Nico knows. Of course, Taiga may try to say otherwise, but she wasn’t entirely convinced they were even talking about the same person.

Pausing her walking for a moment, Nico looks at Saki, “So the hospital is the other way,”

Saki blinks, “I’m worried about Emu,” She confesses, though Nico’s not really sure why. Saki continues, “He left to go home so quickly and…”

“His friend just died,” Nico groaned, “Of course he’s upset. But he’s gotta figure this out for himself and being around us wouldn’t help him.”

Surprised, Saki comments, “I hadn’t thought that Kujo and Emu were friends.”

Rolling her eyes, wondering how Saki could really miss something like that, Nico responds, “You don’t know everything about M,”

They begin to walk again and Nico’s accepted she might not get an answer as to why Saki’s coming with her. After a few minutes, Saki speaks again, “I wonder what it was that Kujo wanted to tell us.”

“I don’t know,” Nico shrugged, “Whatever it was, he hadn’t even told me. But he did mention earlier that he was worried that someone might think he knew too much. That Gemn might try to kill him. Guess he was right.”

“I… suppose so,” Saki conceded, “I still can’t believe…”

Neither could Nico, frankly. It felt almost… well she wasn’t sure. She just hadn’t considered how much any of them, as Riders, were putting themselves in danger. Some part of her wanted to give the Driver and Gashats back to Taiga, like she’d planned to before. But now… She’d stayed for the mystery, and she still wants to know, but now she also wanted to figure out what was going on so she could understand why Kiriya had been killed.

“We’ll just have to figure out why, I guess,” Nico shrugs, trying not to show just how bothered she was, “And makes sure no one else gets killed.”

[iancny]

Can’t fix broken system from the bedside

Yesterday I was sitting in on an interview for a new oncology nurse manager at the hospital where I’ve worked as an RN the last four years. Right off the bat I thought the prospective hire was doing well. He projected sufficient confidence and humility. He seemed likable enough. After about 2 minutes I turned to my coworker and said “Yea, he’s got the job.” He had the appropriate experience, and by the time a candidate has interviewed with higher ups and is brought back to interview with us it means the offer is all but extended.

As we churned through questions about his past experience, career accomplishments, and pedantic “leadership style” questions, all his responses were appropriate and predictable. He would be hired to tow the line as a middle manager, in a successful corporate hospital, in a failing national healthcare system. A successful hospital in a failing national health system... So the job is akin to that of the conductor leading the string quartet on the deck of Titanic going down.

In our present day there isn’t a single lucid American soul that could truthfully describe our national health system as effective, let alone successful. Byzantine, kafkaesque, and inequitable are the first descriptors that come to my mind. Any healthcare provider could tell you about the inordinate amount of time they spend explaining and apologizing for a health system that’s inadequate and failing, and any patient could corroborate it. So that leaves the question: who wants the job?

I framed a question to the interviewee. “The problems that we have here: the turnover of management, turnover of staff, short staffing, inadequate training, burnout, equipment shortage, communication failures, etc — they’re not unique to us. It’s all a symptom of our greater failing national system. Is there anything you do to advocate for a more equitable, more effective health system beyond the walls of the hospital?” As I asked him this (with less skillful words), I became emotional. I could feel it swelling in my chest and head, though I don’t think my coworkers noticed. I knew how important my point was and that the only accurate answer could be: “Not enough.” (That would be my own answer too.) Rather though, the interviewee reiterated how important that question was, talked about the illusory “community” a bit, and I don’t remember much at all specifically about what he said.

Being a good nurse, going the extra mile for patients, forgoing my break to spend more time providing care at the bedside: none of that’s enough. And attending BLM rallies, supporting and donating to progressive political campaigns, writing my congressperson to receive back form responses the equivalent of a shrug: that’s not enough either. Because at the end of the week I collect a paycheck from the offal too.

By the time I was graduating high school I had enough knowledge and insight to see that our health system wasn’t working... and beyond that: our education system, our criminal justice system, our financial system — all different arms of a deformed, undeniably racist, unjust society. But eventually I became a nurse, one occupation largely beyond reprove when tracing the lines between all the systemic injustices of our society. On occasion people with no personal knowledge of my life will learn of me being a nurse (like when I’m wearing scrubs on my way to and from work,) and tell me how it’s a noble profession. Few professions are awarded the same universal regard. And I enjoy that regard too. But I also recognize myself as complicit when I spend that paycheck and weeks pass without me taking any concrete action to improve upon the status quo.

I write all this because I know I’m not alone in these thoughts; I’m hopeful for change in the future; and I know open communication is the way forward. I’m looking to keep talking and get moving!!!!!!

[practicalbuoyancy]

When misery has no villain.

Long story short, it was a bad, bad time. 

I am angry all the time. 

Sometimes this anger manifests itself in unkind snapping at my husband. Sometimes it manifests itself with a harsh word to my toddler who just wants to play with me. Sometimes it manifests itself in passive aggressive text messages to let some steam off.  

Today, I did all the things that make me happy. I spent time with wonderful friends in the sunlight. I restocked on my favorite tea. I went home and painted and listened to Harry Potter for hours. I watched a movie. I tended to my growing plant collection for another hour. It was the perfect day, sunny and warm, but never hot or unpleasant. The light breeze that smelled of blooming flowers and citrus trees made sure of that. 

But after the perfect day, I laid on my bed and just. felt. angry. 

My “dream job” ended up being a huge bust. 

Now that I’ve turned the corner on a year and am no longer contractually obligated to pay back my relocation package, I feel more comfortable talking openly about it. Friends, I hate my job. It has actively worsened my mental health. I want to flee from Silicon Valley and never return. I have developed a physical panic response to the Slack notification sound. The amount of self-hatred I feel on a daily basis has shades of my teaching self in it. 

It sucks. It still sucks. And as I told my therapist the other day, “I hate everything about everyone there. They are all the worst.” 

Except, that’s not true. 

My narrative wants a villain. 

Friends close to me will know I have strong opinions about my coworkers. They have gotten ranting text messages, screenshots, and phone calls or Marco Polos that start with angry laughing and end up with complete mental breakdowns. One thing is true: I have never had a more challenging coworker on my team or a more challenging boss. 

I am desperate to direct my anger at someone or even a group of people. And I do, believe me. Some of it is warranted, sure. But most of it is just an outpouring of devastation, helplessness, and pure misery. It’s my anger desperately latching onto the tangible as a way to justify or explain the intangible. 

I can’t find the villain in this story, though. 

Because the coworker who makes me mad also introduced me to my favorite tea. They have listened to me cry and they have taught me about digital marketing. They care deeply about the people our company serves and will pull long hours just to help a teammate in need. They have caused me legitimate trauma, and Lord knows, I can make them a villain if I really wanted to. But doing so would erase the complicated mixture of goodness, kindness, and helpfulness this person has brought into my life. 

I could blame my boss for enabling this behavior on my team. I could blame my boss for not setting me up for success. And again, I think I have corroborated data and legitimate reasons to be angry. But my boss has also listened to me cry and helped me through an extremely troubling interaction I had with a colleague. My boss has consistently encouraged me to own my voice and speak up often and they can be incredibly empowering. They seem to deeply care about me and my wellbeing. 

That’s not villain behavior. Villains could do those things with agendas, sure. But the demonstrations of true affection I have experienced from the people above are too earnest and too consistent to reasonably infer bad intentions. 

I could be angry with the whole lot of people at my company, for creating a culture that is toxic and values performance and productivity over humanity and health, despite what they say they value. 

But they love when my toddler hops on my Zoom calls. They deeply commended my mental health presentation. They let me talk about potty training and sing drivers license parodies More than let me, they express that they love it. They seem to truly accept - and dare I say, encourage - my personality. They are kind, intelligent, and loving people.

So then... I am left with no target for my misery. And that’s a frustrating feeling. 

More than frustrating, it’s hollow. I am stuck with this persistent, nagging ache in my heart and no ugly dragon I can fight with a legendary sword. There’s no secret spy enemy to hunt down. There’s no corrupt government to overthrow. There’s no mysterious evil power to destroy. 

I suppose this is where “I do the work” of therapy, medication, and general recovery from this pandemic... but my heart isn’t really behind those words. They would simply exist to ease the guilt I feel when sharing my burdens with others. We’ve all had a hard year. You don’t need to hold any more than you currently are. 

I feel listless. I feel restless. I feel incomplete. I’ll wait until the next thing to rage about and rage I shall, but when that’s over, I will just feel empty and sad all over again. 

I guess I don’t know where to end this. Life was simpler when I was Harry Potter and hunting horcruxes to save the world. Now I’m nearing 30, J.K. Rowling is kind of a dick, and people are nuanced and complicated in the way that this world is nuanced and complicated. Marred by sin and simultaneously bearing the image and holiness of God Himself. It’s confusing. I don’t like it. 

But I like you.

Thanks for reading.

love, mi

[bellygunnr]

you’d finally like to learn ch.7

you're 30 minutes late to work. you're not sure if that matters once you get inside your shared office because both of your esteemed colleagues are on the floor, rummaging through old files and folders. the filing cabinets that held these piles are practically disassembled-- the drawers are arranged haphazardly around Vance and Kleiner. you skirt the edges of the mess, setting your tray of apology coffee on your desk.

they don't notice you.

and you don't really... care. not right now, anyway. the sheer amount of mess on the floor makes something in your brain cringe-- where the hell did they start? where do they end? what could drive them to such urgency as to destroy the carefully ordered backlog of studies and research? had there been a memo you missed about this?

well, if you had missed it, you sure as hell weren't going to look for it. you knew what you wanted from life, and it wasn't this. besides, it wasn't like they had explicitly--

you stop yourself. there's order to everything, provided you have the wherewithal to create it yourself. you could insert yourself between them, make your presence known, but that's...

what am i willing to put up with today? you ask yourself. i don't think it's this. i have a better idea.

you take a long drag of iced coffee, letting the slightly bitter notes cauterize your decision. then, as silently as you arrived, you walk right back out of the office.

if they really need you, they'll call. you'll check back in a couple hours at the very least.

-

the Black Mesa ventilation system was, predictably, a labyrinth. its tunnels were narrow but sometimes opened up into larger canals or turned right into slowly whirling fan blades that pulled or pushed air. you peeked out of every grate you came across- even though you've been in here an hour, you haven't left Sector C. familiar AnMat labs and offices peer back at you.

your shoulder catches on a metal corner as you cut it too close. one shaft narrows dramatically, forcing you to tuck in your elbows and bow your head. you wonder how barney crawled his way through here-- even though you were taller, he was broader by a mile. would his shoulders even fit in the vent you entered through?

you bow your head at the thought. barney had really nice shoulders-- you had the pleasure of seeing them bare exactly once so far, whilst he was helping you with weight training. his muscle was evident, but he wasn't hard angles and flat planes. no, barney had dangerous slopes and curves, soft in appearance but firm in actuality.

well, you imagined they were firm. his hands certainly were as he corrected your form or patted you on the back. at certain angles, you could see the stretch marks patterning his upper arms. a strange pattern of old scars decorated his stomach too-- that piqued your curiosity, but it hadn't been the time to ask, nor the time to pry.

you shake your head. the vent shafts had opened back up, enough so to permit you sitting upright. that probably wasn't a good sign. you peek through the slats of a grate, one conveniently placed underneath you.

unfamiliar corridor with nonsense wall markings.

definitely not Anomalous Materials.

i should turn around, you think, now that i have the space. but i don't remember how i got here.

barney's not even here and he's still distracting me, you think despairingly. aren't i supposed to be nearly 30? what the hell am i doing?

maybe this is how all first crushes or infatuations worked. now that you were settled down, accepted (mostly), and comfortable somewhere, it was time for you to latch onto the first friendly man you met and wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked. sure, you had had flings and such in grad, but they were just that-- flings. you only ever performed touch n' go's with people in the past.

you were scared of commitment. relationships were a minefield of expectations, implications, and social rules you understood less than the standard set. besides, you had committed before and gotten hurt.

more than once, it had been a trick or a joke or misfired signals. data suggested it would happen again, but as you had considered before, barney calhoun was a brand new variable. maybe he would be the one to break the pattern.

the next grate you peek through has a face staring back at you.

it's awfully familiar.

-

on some stroke of luck, it's barney to find you, which you're unsure how to feel about beyond embarrassed. after all, he had been the one to occupy your thoughts for the past 30 minutes. stained mental images of his shoulders and stomach flash helpfully in your mind, causing you to blush. it takes far too long for you to catch what he's saying.

he's gotten good at sign, at least.

"I was exploring," you say, cutting him off. "You gave me the idea."

"Did I?" Barney asks, laughing a little. "What, when we met?"

you nod, scratching your beard. you forgot to trim and shave this morning.

"Do you know how to get back?"

"Probably," you say. "Where are we?"

just as you finish signing, a deep vibrating hum overtakes the corridor. it grows in volume and intensity to the point of settling in your bones, but it's over just as quickly as it began. surprised, you look at barney for answers.

he looks... uneasy.

"They call that the test chamber. No idea what's in there, but I wager it's got somethin' to do with aliens, y'know? But you ain't supposed to be here without clearance, Doc," Barney explains, his voice suddenly patient but edged. "Hey, you wanna see the HEV suits? There's a couple still in there." He jerks his thumb behind him, that phantom edge gone and replaced with a goofy, eager lilt.

oh.

you try not to react too overtly. so this is where you'd be spending your days in the next few months? you nod, slightly excited, somewhat apprehensive.

"Great! Walk with purpose, Doc. It's on this way."

and so you fall into step behind him, striding "with purpose." barney leads you directly to a slightly closed-off room that drops off a level. within its confines stands a large contraption that further contained three pods. two were lit green and full, the third empty, shining red.

the HEV suits-- Hazardous Environment suits-- seemed to float within their pods. bright orange armour, black, indeterminable material underneath, with heavy gloves, boots, and helmets to match. you fiddle with your glasses uncertainly. despite being selected, you hadn't seen one in person yet.

they were rather unassuming to some degree, nothing belying their capabilities beyond protection. they also looked far lighter than the booklet you received suggested.

briefly, you wonder if the test chamber is where you would also undergo the looming "hazard training" in a few months.

"Got a good look, Gordon? Here, you can take this vent back to AnMat. Don't worry, I won't let anyone know you were here," Barney says, grinning good-naturedly. he pries off the grate, ushering you inside.

"Before I go," you say, clasping his shoulder and bringing him around. "I want to tell you something. Can we get drinks at my place tonight?"

barney blinks in surprise, then wiggles as he grins and nods. "'Course, Gordon! Shoot, I'm off at seven tonight. That good?"

you nod. that was perfect. without saying anything else, you fold yourself up and disappear into the HVAC system once more. hopefully, no one will have noticed your absence.

-

the grate leading back into the office falls with a messy clatter onto the smooth tile. you flinch at the sound, it grating on your ears, but force yourself to drop down after it. the impact goes straight through the soles of your shoes and into your ankles.

it hurts, but you're rewarded with two startled shouts, then laughter.

"Gordon! Goodness, I was wondering where you were," Dr. Vance says, chuckling. he's standing behind you, so you slowly turn around, glasses still held to your face. "How long were you up there?"

"Lost track of time," you say, shrugging.

"What on earth were you doing in the vents? Do you know how dangerous that is?!"

you wince. Kleiner. carefully, you put your back to your desk so you can better face your coworkers. on some level, you note that the mess of files and folders is gone. cleaned up, vacuumed back into their cabinet home.

"Look at you. You've got dust and all sorts of muck on your coat. You didn't get hurt, did you? Did you get lost?"

Kleiner has his hands on his hips even as he frets over you with a restrained fatherly aura. you entertain throwing barney under the bus very briefly, but decide against it.

you were 27. not 12.

"I only got a little lost," you admit, smiling faintly. "I ran into Barn. I think a few more runs and I'll have the layout memorized."

"Let the man breathe, Izzy. Say, did you find the route into Kleiner's lab?" Dr. Vance steps in, smiling with that always-easy expression. at your nod, he laughs heartily. "Very good! Maybe now we won't have to wait for ol' Calhoun to rescue him from lockouts. Was that your goal?"

you shrug, rubbing the back of your neck, suddenly anxious at the attention.

"Calhoun, bless his soul, is going to lead to my early death," Kleiner laments, shaking his head.

that doesn't sound very fair on barney. you scratch at your beard, the bristles rough under your fingertips. how much did you need to explain your actions?

not really very much.

"How was work?" you ask instead. they both launch into recounts of their day, which mostly involve trying to find an old study that corroborated a present-time experiment. you don't mention that the entire database is digitized.

sometimes, even paper gets lonely.

-

before you leave for the night, an hour shy of your meeting with barney, Eli Vance pulls you off to the side. you worry slightly, gnawing at your lip.

"Could you let Barney know that I might need him for some babysitting soon? My wife and I are going to the cinema this weekend, and he's usually my first option," the doctor explains, looking giddy at the mere thought.

you release a relieved breath.

"Sure," you say slowly. "I'll tell him tonight."

"Great! Thanks so much, Gordon."

-

Barney raps his knuckles across Gordon's door, sharp and brief, then rolls back on his heels, shifting his weight with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Gordon had looked awfully serious when asking if they could get drinks. Either something terrible had occurred, this was a love confession, or something else entirely.

He wouldn't really mind if it was a confession. Gordon was cute, and he was gay.

Then again, he had no way of knowing how Gordon swung, if he swung at all. He'd hate to strain their burgeoning relationship with an errant crush, but there was always the hope it would fizzle out in time. Not that they ever did.

He was a hopeless romantic in that regard. Things always looked sweeter when you could never have them.

The door opens, squeaking slightly on its hinges. Gordon smiles down at him with shining eyes, looking far more casual and relaxed than he had earlier today.

"Sorry I'm late, Gordon," Barney says, stepping in after him. "Tram takes a bit to traverse this place, y'know?"

Gordon nods in agreement. "Don't sweat it. I got takeout and drinks for us, is that alright?"

"Always is, boss," Barney says reflexively, grinning. Already he can smell the scent of the food-- boxed up and ready on the kitchen table. He hangs back while Gordon goes about divvying up the food.

Before he hands Barney his plate, however, a booklet makes it there first. It's not very thick, stamped with the Black Mesa logo, and entirely black and white.

The table chair squeaks against the tile as he finagles it underneath him.

"Hazardous Environment Suit Introductory Manual?" Barney reads aloud, blinking. "Shit, are you gonna be doin' Hazard stuff, Gordon?"

That was big. Had to be, right? Gordon was already impressive with his PhD and decisive career at 27, but this was like icing on the cake. All he knew about HEV guys were rumors and hearsay, but this suddenly made them feel very real.

"I might be," Gordon says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I have to pass some tests first. It's supposed to be secret, but..."

Well, then.

Barney picks through his food as he mulls this over.

"Then it's our secret," he says, pointing his chopsticks at Gordon. "And we're gonna keep trainin' that hot bod so you won't fail."

At that, Gordon's pale face goes entirely too red and he chokes on his latest morsel of food. Barney claps him on the back while trying to repress laughter, mussing up his hair once the danger is clear.

"Don't die on me yet, Gord," Barney teases, his own face dusted pink. God, he really just said that out loud.

[moro-nokimi]

chapter 5: December 31, 2010

Summary: Shit gets real. Near continues to have refuge in his audacity and Naomi continues to be snarky.

NOTES: Two more chapters! Whew boy. We've got a live one up in here. Oh Near, we're really in it now. This bitch is almost 10k, so I BETTER get a review, ask, or reply talking ab how good this is. (This is a joke; no pressure.) TW: Death of a loved one, suicide mention, allusion to gun violence and sex.

ffn.online

“Light Yagami is a registered grad student at To-Oh University, but nobody has seen him on campus since he graduated. And the Japanese police have given all the employees false job titles to hide the fact they are members of the police force. He received letters of appreciation from the police in 2000 and 2002 for advice that led to resolved cases. I think it’s safe to say that these facts and the influence of his father point to him currently being with the police.

“When I asked former students what they remembered about him, several of them had interesting comments. He had the highest score in the entrance exam, but someone going by Hideki Ryuuga--the same name as the top idol back then---tied scores with Yagami. They gave the freshman address together, and were often seen with each other. But no photograph of this Hideki Ryuuga can be found.”

So was this L? Feels like suicide to me… then again, they don’t seem to instill Wammy’s alumni with a particular sense of self preservation, Naomi thought.

“I also received information that around June of 2004, Hideki Ryuuga, Light Yagami, and Misa Amane were seen together on university campus. After that, everyone seems to have lost track of this Ryuuga. Light Yagami and Misa Amane also went missing for several months at that time,” Rester finished.

“He used the name of a popular idol to get close to Light Yagami, whom he suspected of being Kira. It was a dangerous plan that assumed he wouldn’t be killed so long as Kira didn’t find out his real name. But then the Second Kira appeared, with the ability to learn people’s names just by looking at their faces. Then, they joined hands. Everything fits. Light Yagami is Kira, and Misa Amane being the Second Kira, and Hideki Ryuuga being L,” Near said.

“It corroborates the report we received that Mogi and Aizawa went straight to Amane’s place after leaving here,” Gevanni said.

“So the fact that Amane is Light’s fiancee is…,” Lidner added, avoiding Naomi’s eyes.

“No coincidence,” Naomi finished. “She was a loose cannon, just going back to when she first appeared. No doubt, he wants to keep her close to avoid any mishaps.”

Late at night and when everyone was distracted or asleep, Naomi finally had her chance.

“You’re still holding a grudge over what Mello did?” Lidner asked.

“I think it was a damn stupid thing to do, yes. No matter if Near said for you to go along with his wishes, he still walked in and you held me back from tackling him and ending the standoff,” Naomi seethed. She rarely found herself angry, but when she did, it was enough to make others recoil.

“He never would’ve forgiven you for the blow to his pride, and it would’ve just escalated things.”

“His pride is the least of my concerns, Lidner. He pointed a goddamn gun at Near and you wanted me to be worried about his pride? He. Almost. Killed. Near.”

“I never told you to be worried about anything.”

“Don't you fucking twist my words like that. You putting his pride over Near’s life says a lot.”

Lidner's brows had knit and her eyes had narrowed. “You’re complaining to me about double allegiances? At least they’re working together now, right?”

“The last thing I want is to be working with a criminal again.”

Lidner had chewed the inside of her mouth for a second before lowering her voice and adding, “Think of it like this. Your fiance is like Near: he asks too many questions before pulling the trigger. But in this case, Mello shoots first and asks questions later. Near needs that push to act.”

Naomi’s vocal volume spiked for a second, and this drew Rester and Gevanni’s attention:

“Raye exhausted all options to make sure his gun was the last resort!”

“That doesn’t sound like very good methodology to me," Lidner said sharply.

That was the last button Lidner pushed before Naomi snapped back, volume rising, “Don’t you fucking compare them! Raye was a good man, Mello is--”

“Is there a problem?” Rester asked. Gevanni was placid, eyes sliding between them, gears turning in his head.

“No,” said Lidner coolly, eyes boring into Naomi. Naomi was red with anger.

“I’m going out. If I’m not back for a couple hours, don’t worry.” She knew her hands were shaking.

She bunched her turtleneck to her mouth and screamed as soon as she was out of earshot. She cried later on her bike and almost ran a red light.

Naomi had the urge to scream now, just thinking back on it. She stepped outside and dug the photograph out of them on the beach. That had been a fun day. Suruga had taken the picture. He was also understandably irritated when Naomi told him about the incident.

“So she just uses something she told you in confidence like that? Sheesh,” Suruga said. “That’s just shitty.”

“I screamed. Not in the room, just as I was leaving.” Naomi shuddered. “I’m not proud of it.”

“You have every right to be irritated, Naomi. Again, talking about something she told you in confidence for the sake of a comparison was just low. Especially in earshot of your other coworkers and your boss.”

“I almost woke up my boss. I don’t think he would’ve been too happy, ha… Do you think about what would’ve happened if he lived, Suruga?”

He hadn’t responded. There was an implicit yes, but she supposed he feared crying more than being transparent with his friend.

“Men don’t like crying,” Audrey had explained. “Toxic masculinity says that men have to be these pinnacles of strength. The only emotion they show is anger, and so on. Hell, Raye was expressive, but he never liked crying, especially in front of me or you.”

Naomi figured there was some truth to that. But she also figured avoiding crying was unhealthy period. No way around it.

Though, she was one to talk.

She resisted the urge to cry and stepped back inside.

“Near, this NHN announcer Kiyomi Takada was a classmate of Light Yagami’s in college. She was an excellent student, and was on close terms with him, it seems,” Rester added.

“How do mean ‘close’?” Near asked.

“I can’t assume anything, but they looked to be more than friends. I don’t believe this is a coincidence.”

“But Light’s relationship with Amane started when he was in college, too,” Gevanni pointed out.

“I don’t believe anyone’s introduced you to the concept of male infidelity,” Naomi said dryly. "Clearly there's no accounting for taste."

“Commander Rester, can you get close to Takada?”

“I’ll give it a try, but… She’s more heavily protected by Kira worshippers than Demegawa ever was. I’d attribute it to her being a woman. To the worshippers, if Kira is their God, Takada is their goddess.”

Prophet, Naomi corrected.

“You said she was an excellent student, but that was only her grades. She’s downright stupid outside of class.”

This woman hosts debates and is knowledgeable about our political landscape, and she’s stupid because she worships Kira? Naomi thought. Audrey would’ve called this misogyny. I call it underestimation.

“It may be possible for me to get close to her among all the worshippers. But Mr Aizawa and Mogi have seen my face before. They may tell L about our movements.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. There’s no reason for them to get in the way of our investigation. I’m sure they won’t tell L you are a member of the SPK. And if that information is passed to L and you die, it means L is Kira. I find it hard to believe Kira would do such a thing before finding out about Mello and I, unless Kira is in a very tight situation.

“Gevanni, Lidner, Maki, would you like to go to Japan as well? It’s almost certain the one writing the names is in Japan. I think it’s a safe call based on the people killed, and from the fact an announcer from NHN was chosen as the spokesperson.”

Naomi wasn’t too impressed with Kiyomi Takada. It’s definitely not easy to keep up with Kira and what’s going on, but it was her blind loyalty and outright reverence to a murderer that chafed. She tried time and time again to put her personal ties to the Kira case aside, but it just wasn’t possible.

“Depending upon what their sin was, Kira will not tolerate people with a criminal record…,” Kiyomi Takada said. “Starting today, I will be introducing you to messages and requests from viewers as well as expressing my own opinion on some matters. Many of the countries and companies claim to support Kira now…”

Naomi shook her head and tuned the rest of it out.

“... But that is a mere empty promise, and we do not know how they are supporting Kira or should be supporting Kira. I feel that in order to create a peaceful world as fast as we can, Kira should give orders to the army and police of each country on how they should act. I would like Kira to give a reply to this and…”

Near turned on his PA. “Rester, find out who Takada saw last night. Whatever it takes.”

Rester nodded. “Well, Kiyomi Takada is being protected unbelievably well, and even getting near her is tough. I never expected it to be this difficult. A reporter who tried to investigate the meeting last night was caught by the guards and accused of breaking and entering, then got killed by Kira on the 9 o’clock news. Her phone is completely untraceable and bug proof. She’s better guarded than the president.”

“Speaking from experience?” Naomi asked. The thought of things becoming that authoritarian worried her, despite her wisecrack.

“Very funny, Maki. All her guards are people who’ve participated in TV programs pertaining to Kira many times, and whose backgrounds can be easily traced. It’s incredibly hard to get in.”

“Gevanni and Lidner should be getting back to Japan shortly. Please get near her any way you can,” Near said.

“Near, Takada went into the Perin Hotel. Until she comes out, no one is allowed to enter or leave unless requested by Takada,” Rester said.

“Then you’re going to have to try to become one of Takada’s trusted bodyguards at the very least,” Near said.

“I’ll do my best.”

December 12 “We’re trying to get on Takada’s personal bodyguard team, but the hurdles are getting higher. We need more time,” Rester said.

“Very well. I had a feeling it would be like that,” Near replied. “Maki, would you mind making flight arrangements?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

While she cleared her cookies and went searching for airplane tickets, Near called the Japanese task force.

“This is Near. I’d like to talk to L.”

“This is L speaking.”

“It’s been a while. Thank you for keeping the connection open.”

“What do you want?”

That’s no way to greet someone, Naomi thought.

“I am in Japan to capture Kira. Right now, actually,” Near said. He snipped away at paper. “Seeing as how the best way to investigate Kira is to start with Kiyomi Takada and all.”

L paused. “I’m in Japan already, doing just that. If you’d like to cooperate, I’m willing to do so as well. But since you’re suspicious of me, I guess that’s not possible.”

Near’s brow furrowed. It quickly turned into a scowl. “Did you just say ‘I’?”

“Yes. I’ve personally gotten into contact with Takada and am making headway in the investigation.”

In more ways than one, I think, Naomi thought.

“We’ve gotten as far as having our investigator, Mogi, be able to enter NHN.”

So he knows we’re trying to get into NHN ourselves. Or is hypothesizing as so. With these geniuses, any hypothesis automatically means they know something.

“We’ll find a way to get into NHN as well, but there’s one more thing. You said you’ve personally contacted Takada and are investigating her, right? Then please tell Takada however you can that members of the SPK have escaped from the Kira worshippers in New York have entered Japan to capture Kira. Judging from the current world situation and her position, that’s the type of news she’ll have to report.

“You can even say that there are five members of the group including Near, the leader. There are four other members that Mr Mogi and Mr Aizawa met. This isn’t a lie, so it’ll be a true report. If either of the aforementioned men see them near NHN, please feel free to tell L. We don’t want to get in the way of your investigation. But please don’t show their faces as members of the SPK on TV or via other media outlets. This report is to lure out Kira.

“Including me, there’s only five of us. There’s no way Kira is going to find out, and I’m sure that Kira will make a move to try and kill us. That is where I intend to counterstrike and defeat Kira.”

Oh, great, so we’re being used as bait. I’d rather I was the killing shot, Naomi thought, and slammed her laptop lid closed.

“There are five members altogether in Japan. Is that it for the message, Near?”

“Yes. I’d gathered people who could work under me, but now that the situation has changed, numbers aren’t important. I’m in Japan. Since you are as well, we may come face to face.”

“True.”

“And that will be something worth looking forward to.”

“Indeed.”

“We’ll bring Kira to an end once and for all.”

“Of course.”

Well, he’s taciturn all of a sudden. And here I thought he’d never shut up, seeing as how all the other meetings have been.

“The only way to restore the world now is to get rid of Kira and the existing notebooks. If we succeed in both of those objectives, we win. If we die, Kira wins. This battle was not about an arrest or something measured by the laws of this world. It’s always been a one-one battle to prove who’s on top.”

Near turned the PA off.

“You’re playing a zero-sum game, Near,” Naomi said.

“You don’t have to tell me that. The original L was doing the same thing. Commander Rester, where are Gevanni and Lidner now?”

“Right now, they’re in a booked room near NHN.”

“Please connect me to them.”

“Pay close attention to what I’m about to say. I have decided to meet L---rather, Kira---in person in the near future and settle this case once and for all.”

“In person?” Gevanni repeated, the poor guy surprised into echolalia.

“Do you mean you’re going to see him face to face and capture him?” Lidner asked.

“Yes. The world is practically in Kira’s hands now. But, in Kira’s nearly completed world, only the SPK members, Mello, the Japanese task force, and I remain in Kira’s way. I remain the biggest problem as well, since he can’t easily get my name or face.

“It seems Mello’s name has already been discovered, and he’s also wanted for the murder of the Japanese police director and deputy director.

“As we all know, he lets his emotions control him. Kira may think it will be easy to kill him using his followers. If Kira succeeds in killing me, he will very likely kill the rest of you, and the Japanese task force.

“Since I, his biggest headache, who hasn’t made a move until now am now making said move, Kira will not miss this opportunity to kill me. And the fact that he’s said he’s willing to meet me means he’s accepted my challenge. The die is cast. Whether we like it or not, we must make our move.

“Let’s examine this situation. L is Light Yagami and Light Yagami is Kira. We know for sure that L would answer yes if we asked if he was Light Yagami, seeing as how he told us he’d personally gotten into contact with Takada, as well as Maki’s account of meeting him five years ago. But he will obviously deny the fact that he’s Kira. There’ve been many incidents to make us suspect he’s Kira, but no solid proof.”

Naomi was rather bitter that things could’ve gone very differently if she’d not regarded Light’s “selling” of the Japanese task force as a bit too maudlin to be genuine. Mostly at herself. She’d learned her lesson then: hard evidence only, no circumstantial evidence will be taken as fact whatsoever.

“There’s almost no doubt that he’s Kira. I’m 99.9999 percent sure. The lack of proof is the only reason it’s not a hundred percent.

“Kira… let’s call him L-Kira. Around him are several people who know of the existence of the notebook, such as Aizawa, Mogi, and the others. However, L-KIra is not using the notebook himself. That’s because there are others around him keeping an eye on him and the notebook. Obviously, there’s another who has the notebook and is using it. That’s X-Kira. Based on the fact that L-KIra has used Misa Amane in the past, as well as with relation to the attack on Mello’s hideout, I think that L-Kira does not have the Shinigami eyes. But judging from the killings of recent criminals, X-Kira definitely has the eyes. Of course, both Kiras are connected in some way. But since L-Kira is being watched, it would be almost impossible for him to get in direct contact with X-Kira.

“So, they use Takada. Note how Kira’s messages are spread through NHN, and L-Kira and Takada can meet in person without arousing suspicion. At the moment, both Kiras are able to send messages to and through Takada. Though she may be only Kira’s puppet, we can’t deny she’s highly important to us in discovering X-Kira.

“I likely don’t have to explain this, but this is a recap of the situation. I see two ways to defeat Kira. The first is…” Naomi cringed as Near pulled the trigger on the toy gun and knocked over the legos. “We kill L- and X-Kira and confiscate the notebooks. If the killings stop, it means we are correct.”

“Right. That would prove L---Light Yagami---was Kira,” Rester said.

Near returned the cork to the barrel of the revolver. “We are almost positive that L is Kira, so I’m confident we can solve this case. But we won’t be using this method, no matter what.”

“Why not?”

“Even if the killings stop, it doesn’t really prove that Light Yagami is Kira. Since no one is using the notebook at the task force headquarters, there’s always a chance that the killings stopped because of X-Kira’s death. And the killings may continue if there are Y- and Z-Kiras.

“Most important of all, we kill those two and the killings stop, then to say see, we were right… such an ex post facto justification will not be tolerated. That’s not the way we do things.”

“We?”

“Of course, we being me and L. He wouldn’t be happy if we did that.”

Naomi was still ruminating on the possibility of X-Kira’s identity. She figured it would have to be an acquaintance of Takada’s but not Yagami’s, so it would leave a pool of up to a hundred people who were regulars on her debate show.

In another life, while her and Rester were discussing this during the C-Kira case and Rester would say this and shrug and say “like it would offend L’s spirit or something”, Naomi would shrug, too, and say, “Well, that means he centers his identity on being L’s true successor.” And Lidner would take a seat on the counter and say, “That could be used as an advantage some day, by someone unsavory.”

“It would be an insult to L, who entrusted those who came after him with this case.”

And then Rester would mention that line. Naomi had sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “You’d better hope someone wouldn’t decide to create another impossible to solve case,” Naomi would say. If she closed her eyes, she could see B’s burning silhouette.

“Hence, even if we are going to kill L- and X-Kira, first we must rub their faces in the evidence and make them taste the misery of their defeat. It’s out of the question to kill them before that. So we get solid proof.”

“And how will we do that?”

“Have him use the notebook and arrest him on the spot.”

Naomi’s throat went dry.

“Then the person whose name was written will die. Do you have any plans for that?’

“Not at the moment, no. But we no longer have other ways to get proof. But I’ll think of something. When we first meet Kira, the first person he’ll write down is me, so.” Lowering his voice, Near held the miniature notebook replica. “Now what will I do…”

Holding the L-Kira labelled lego, he added, “But just as I said now, killing Kira and confiscating the notebook with hopes that the killings will stop is a plan Kira will assume we have. We may be able to use that to our advantage. But for the time being, our job is to find out who is executing the criminals as Kira. And in order to do that, we must investigate NHN and Kiyomi Takada, even though Kira knows we will be doing it.”

December 14 “The Japanese police announced at three PM today that five members of the SPK who escaped from New York have entered Japan. The police are initiating a full search for these people and are calling out for public support,” Kiyomi Takada said.

To say Naomi was unsurprised was an understatement. Takada had expressed such authoritarian views before, so this was no surprise. But the police being willing to hunt them down and be the footsoldiers for a regime like this was the cherry on top of a shit sundae.

The latest ass-kissing program (Today’s Lady Takada) began.

“Today, Lady Takada chose four female bodyguards from 20 finalists who went through rigorous testing. These four glorious women are Tatsumi Ooyama, champion of the women’s 60KG weight class in the 22nd world karate championship. Former CIA agent, Hal Lidner…

“These four all passed the tests and…”

“It’s just as you said, Near,” Rester said. “Sooner or later, Takada needed female bodyguards, which she didn’t have until now. Being with the CIA formerly made it easier for Halle to be chosen, but it’ll make it easier for Kira to notice her as well.”

“Yes… I am grateful to Lidner for putting the investigation before her safety. By the way, Commander Rester, have you been able to come up with an answer for this?”

“If I was Kira, who would I have chosen for the spokesperson after Demegawa?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t watch and listen to several screens at the same time. I can’t do it in only five days. I need more time.”

“Gevanni said the same. I was merely going to use your opinions as a reference. Don’t think too hard about it. An answer off the top of your head will suffice. Maki?”

“An easier solution would be to look at each segment of each news channel separately. You’ll lose out on sleep, but maybe you’ll have more input that way,” Naomi said.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“I know. If I were Kira, I’d go for someone I know and has a platform. As for X-Kira…”

“So long as it’s not someone extreme like Demegawa, they all look the same as a possibility for Kira’s spokesperson,” Rester said.

“I can’t decide either, but I wouldn’t have chosen Takada. No matter of her and Yagami’s acquaintance, she’s still a rookie announcer,” Gevanni said.

“Agreed. It seems she’s popular, having gotten second place in a magazine poll. There are, of course, more male announcers with more experience and dignified demeanors. So why was Takada chosen? It could just be that Takada is the type of woman Kira fancies, but I think it was because…”

Naomi couldn't hold back a snort.

“Takada was a Kira worshipper and Kira knew about it. The reason Demegawa was chosen is because he zealously used Sakura TV to support Kira even before the world began leaning towards him. It would’ve been easy for Kira to threaten someone into being the spokesperson, but it would be to his advantage if the spokesperson supported Kira.

“Well, in Takada’s case, I’m sure she was chosen because she’s a Kira worshipper. Here’s a comment by Takada from last night’s news.”

He turned on a clip of Takada.

“I feel that it is necessary for schools to educate children about Kira, and that Kira’s teachings are the proper way to live.”

“Ever since she started making comments to Kira, Takada’s been nothing but a stupid Kira worshipper.”

“That’s not stupidity, that’s authoritarianism and incredibly worrying,” Naomi said. "She very much has her own agenda." … So could we be looking at her becoming Kira point blank, or does she want to be his follower and nothing more?

“True. But it’s also true that Takada’s words are affecting the public, which is filled with stupid people. To Kira, this is great.”

"It's quite easy to assume that because someone supports something authoritarian that they lack the ability to rub two brain cells together. It's much scarier to think about Kira supporters being our lawyers, our realtors, etcetera," Naomi said. Near shrugged.

“Then if we believe Light Yagami is Kira, does that mean he chose Takada because he was on intimate terms with her in college and knew her feelings towards Kira?” Rester asked. That’s generous, Naomi thought.

“No, Takada only started making pro-Kira remarks after the meeting at the hotel. L/Light Yagami claims that he’s in contact with Kira for the investigation. And I’m sure that we’ll be able to confirm that with Mr Aizawa and the others.

“Therefore, if L-Kira/Light Yagami chose Takada, he would’ve been able to get Takada to make pro-Kira remarks from the moment she became the spokesperson. But in reality, Takada only started making pro-Kira comments the day after the meeting. She also spoke directly to Kira in the comment, so I can only assume that L-Kira made her say this comment, since he hasn’t gotten into contact with X-Kira at that point. Same with Takada before the meeting. That’s likely because Mr Aizawa and the others had their eyes on him and had doubts. That means Takada was chosen as the spokesperson through X-Kira’s personal judgement.”

“But isn’t it possible L-Kira ordered X-Kira to kill Demegawa and choose Takada as the next spokesperson before Aizawa and the others began to watch over him?” Rester asked.

“I won’t say that it’s impossible, but after Demegawa died, it was a week before Takada was chosen as the next spokesperson. Even if L-Kira had ordered X-Kira to use Takada after Demegawa died, it would be meaningless and odd to order X-Kira to wait a week.” He leaned down to inspect a black lego. “So it fits better to assume that X-Kira, unable to get in contact with L-Kira, killed Demegawa and then took a week to decide who to choose as the next spokesperson.”

“Then that proves Maki right, that X-Kira has some kind of connection with Takada,” Rester said.

“Yes. I understand that it’s dangerous to investigate Takada right now, but could you please look into it with Gevanni again?”

Both agreed.

“I’m going to start off by tracing all of the programs that Takada has appeared on, Starting with the most recent ones and looking at the regulars. Maki, would you mind taking record of these people?”

“Of course.”

On a hunch, she dug up a previous survey of one Teru Mikami. Near practically swam through all the DVDs to find Kira’s Kingdom, coming to a stop in front of all the monitors in front of Mikami speaking about Kira’s ideals.

“The reason I became a prosecutor is because of the frustration and helplessness I felt over all the physical and emotional abuse I witnessed as a child. All the young people going into the world should have their own goals and use their abilities to contribute to society.”

The click of a remote, and next she heard:

“I would very much like to hear Kira’s voice again, and I intend to follow your ideals. I believe that following your orders and teachings is the quickest way to achieve world peace. Kira, please let me hear your voice. If there are no orders or words from Kira, I believe that I am going to have to judge by myself what Kira’s thoughts may be, and put them into action.”

Naomi looked up from the survey.

“Near, I think you want to take a look at this.”

Right on his survey on the question of his opinion on Kira, the answer was listed as “God.”

Near peered over her shoulder, and turned on his PA to Rester.

“You no longer need to look into Takada’s friends and associates. Please come back to HQ, as Maki and I have just found a suspect. I’ll ask you to start investigating again if my assumption is wrong.”

“You’ve already found a suspect?”

“We’re good at looking," Naomi said.

December 21 “According to Lidner, Mogi is acting as Amane’s manager, which means he will often be away from L’s headquarters,” Rester said.

“That’s right,” Near replied.

“We can get Lidner to ask Mogi if they have their eyes on L when he is meeting Takada. That way, L won’t find out what we’re investigating.”

“But Mogi probably won’t tell us. And it’s highly likely that both Kiras are contacting each other through Takada. They know that we know it, so there’s no reason for us to go sneaking.”

Obviously, being clandestine isn’t our strong suit, Naomi thought, and passed Near the PA to L.

“L, if Mr Aizawa is there with you right now, is it okay for me to talk to him in person through this?”

“It’s Aizawa. What’s the problem?”

“When L meets with Takada, are you recording their conversations through wires and cameras?”

“No, we’re only using wires.”

“I see… Thank you.”

She set the PA aside and rolled her neck.

“If it’s only a wire, we can assume that L- and X-Kira are getting into contact with another through Takada. This only makes things more dangerous for Lidner. All of Takada’s bodyguards have their cell phone records checked. We can’t directly contact Lidner, so is that all right?” Rester asked.

“Lidner is well aware of the danger, but the important thing is that she is still trying to find out who X-Kira is through Takada and we have no clue as to the identity of X-Kira, so L’s attention will lie with them," Near said.

“Gevanni?” Rester asked.

“It’s about Mikami. Tailing him is strangely easy. It’s not like he’s making a move to go into hiding or anything. He’s been living at the same place for the past four years and leads an ordinary life. He’s very active with his job as well. I understand he’s a Kira worshipper from the fact he was on Kira’s Kingdom, but I find it hard to believe he could be X-Kira.”

“It’s not like Kira’s going to be waving his arms around saying ‘I kill people for justice’,” Naomi said.

“Thanks, Maki. I appreciate your input.”

“No problem.”

“The chances of Mikami being X-Kira are high, even ignoring his personal endeavors. Please be careful. Don’t try to enter his house or anything else yet. Just keep your eye on him.”

“Of course. You should try this, Maki, it’s very fun.”

Too familiar. “Stalking isn’t my idea of fun. I’d be worried if I didn’t know you were joking.”

“Please,” Rester said.

“Mikami just pulled the notebook out. There’s something---ugh, weird about it. He took a picture of the guy who was harassing a girl before writing in the notebook. He’s getting off the train, I’ll follow---” Gevanni said.

A high pitched scream followed.

“The guy who was doing the harassing just collapsed, about a half minute after his name was written… but that leaves me curious as to what the purpose to taking the picture was. And he said delete while writing it.”

“O-kay. X-Kira is definitely Mikami,” Rester said.

“Yes, but that also makes the possibility known of there being a Y-Kira,” Near said.

“So what do we do? Aren’t we going to capture Mikami?”

“Commander Rester. Please don’t make me repeat myself. Even though we know for sure that Mikami is X-Kira, we’re not going to use that method. If we do that, we’re never going to be able to get to L. If we capture Mikami, we may even face the situation that the killings stop and Mikami will appear to everyone to be Kira.

“All will be meaningless unless we prove the Light Yagami is Kira, the root of all this, and stop him.”

“Right…”

“In any event, we must get near Mikami, but there is one thing we must be extra careful about. And that is the Shinigami.”

Naomi raised an eyebrow. She’d never particularly believed in them, even as her dad told her that they take children who don’t go to sleep by 10pm’s souls. (Because what is the point of parenting if you can’t scare them a little.)

“The Japanese task force once told us that in order to get the notebook back from Mello, Kira gave the Japanese HQ a different notebook from that of Mello’s via a Shinigami. That means a Shinigami followed Kira’s orders and brought the notebook to them. And that means the Shinigami possessing Mikami will follow Mikami’s orders. So if we are going to tail Mikami from now on, there’s a chance that Mikami’s Shinigami will alert him.”

Rester said, “But the Shinigami can only be seen by those who’ve touched the notebook. Being careful of something you can’t see isn’t easy.”

“Even so, I would like you to do it. But this time, you may keep some distance from him and film his movements. It would be best if you can get an image of him talking to the Shinigami.”

“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

December 25 If they only have wires, they’d just have to not say something out loud if they wanted to avoid being caught by the task force, Naomi thought.

Her attention was drawn by a notification that Lidner was on the monitor.

“I’m sorry, I’ve hardly had time to be alone. It was four days ago. Takada, Amane, and me met up. The conversation was really only about which of them was ‘his’---really meaning Light Yagami’s girlfriend,” Lidner said.

Naomi rolled her eyes. “So it was a covert catfight?”

“What does it mean?” Rester asked. Lidner’s expression just about screamed Are you shitting me?

“That Light Yagami’s a two timer?” Naomi said, as Near replied, “This just proves that Light Yagami is a ladykiller. Takada and Amane are infatuated with him. Though I’d be inclined to agree with Maki’s summary.”

“Seriously, Near?” Rester asked. “You too, Maki.”

“And they went after each other instead of going after Light for being a two timer.” Naomi shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“But being seriously infatuated can be a problem. They won’t betray him, and he can control them as he wants. However, what I’m more worried about is that there’s been nothing new in Gevanni’s reports,” Near said.

“But he reported today that Mikami pulled out the notebook and killed someone. Or had him killed, if we’re going with the Y-Kira hypothesis.”

“Not the notebook, but the Shinigami. If a Shinigami is possessing him, it would be normal to say a word or two to each other in three days. If they’ve decided not to talk to each other in public, then it doesn’t make sense that he pulled the notebook twice this week in front of everyone to kill someone. And then it’s strange that…”

“What is?”

“The Shinigami at L’s headquarters can be seen by the other members. That means that apart from Light Yagami, they’re also keeping a close watch on the notebook and the Shinigami. Obviously, L-Kira is not able to give orders or talk to Shinigami that easily. But judging from the fact that Kira probably got his notebook from L-Kira, then only L-Kira and Mikami should be able to see the Shinigami on that notebook.

“And if that’s so, why didn’t they get into contact with each other by using that Shinigami? It’s a lot safer than making contact through Takada, and if only the two of them can see the Shinigami, there should have been a way for them to get into contact.”

Naomi stretched her legs, careful to avoid the legos, and swivelled until she was laying on her front. “That also means the task force has touched the notebook.”

Rester’s knees popped as he got onto Near’s level. “Now that you mention it… But the only thing I can think of is that there are Shinigami that will work for you and those that won’t.”

“Yes. Or the members of the task force can see Mikami’s Shinigami too. Mello said that he’d seen a Shinigami. While he had his own, L’s investigation team must have had their own Shinigami as well. Mr Aizawa and Mogi have claimed to have seen a Shinigami that was different from the one that their headquarters. That could be possible.”

The monitors beeped.

“Gevanni?” Rester asked.

“Mikami’s talking to himself!”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I’m wondering if he’s talking to the Shinigami. I’m too far away from him to hear what he’s saving, but I’ve been able to film his mouth as it moves. The footage is here.” Gevanni sent the footage to the monitor where everyone could see it. “It’s at the rooftop of the prosecutor’s office where Mikami works, during a break. Oh---he’s saying something right here.”

“Slow it down.” Rester leaned towards the monitors and read Mikami’s lips word-for-word perfect. “I guess he’s asking if it’s his Shinigami?”

“I see you aren’t a commander for nothing,” Near said.

“He seems to have reacted to the piece of paper to the bottom right of him.”

“He’s giving a small sigh.”

“He’s talking a little more from here. Give me a second, I’m going to zoom up to his mouth and slow down the footage.”

“That Shinigami… ever since he handed me the notebook, he hasn’t appeared…,” Rester said.

“Huh,” Naomi said. She pushed herself off the floor and into a squatting position.

“So there’s no Shinigami possessing Mikami at the moment.”

“But that makes me wonder if there’s a time limit as to when the Shinigami can appear to Mikami,” Naomi said.

“True…”

Near threw one of the Grim Reaper legos over his shoulder without comment.

“It makes things easier for our investigation if Mikami isn’t being possessed by a Shinigami. We may even be able to find proof from him that Light Yagami is Kira.”

“Yes…”

“Gevanni here. I’m at Mikami’s apartment. I’ve counted two surveillance cameras at the door to his room from my position. I’m assuming that the security inside is even tighter so even if I’m able to get inside, it’s going to be hard for me to remain unnoticed.”

“The tenants gotta be loaded if there’s security cameras everywhere,” Naomi said.

“Mikami makes 200 grand a year easily, not counting bonuses. Anyways, when he’s outside, Mikami just leaves the notebook inside his bag, so it’s not seriously guarded. But it would be undoubtedly strange if he did keep his guard up in public.”

“Commander Rester, I would like you and Gevanni to research Mikami’s behaviour patterns as much as possible, and look for any opportunity that might let us touch the notebook.”

“I thought you weren’t going to confiscate the notebook from him,” Rester said.

“Yes. I won’t use Mikami and the notebook as proof. The chances are that Mikami doesn’t have a Shinigami of his own, but we can’t be sure until we touch the notebook and monitor Mikami for several days. Of course, there’s a possibility that Mikami does have a Shinigami possessing him, and that the Shinigami will tell Mikami that we touched the notebook and have him kill us. But even so, from all the observation so far, it’s likely that Mikami’s Shinigami isn’t very cooperative with him.”

“So who’s going to touch the notebook? Me or Gevanni?”

“Well, since you’re his superior… Gevanni, I guess.”

Naomi cringed.

“I appreciate the support, Maki.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“If there is no Shinigami possessing Mikami, then there’s a plan I’d like to see put into action. But if there isn’t, I’m going to have to make some changes.”

“Very well. I’ll keep my eye on Mikami.”

“Mr Aizawa. It’s been a while,” Near said.

“I believe what you said earlier. L and Takada have been seeing each other almost every night,” Aizawa said.

“I know.”

“What about this? The two are talking to each other via notepads. I left a mark on the notepads at the hotel, and…”

“Of course. As I said before, I know what’s going on. Kira is using the notepad to give orders to X-Kira through Takada. X-Kira being the person who’s doing the killings. Anyways, it’s commendable that you found this out on your own. But it does little for us unless you’ve found any actual notes.”

“I haven’t found them yet…”

“Then it means nothing. Those notes can be ripped up and flushed down the toilet or merely handed over to Takada to dispose of, since no one can search her bodily. In other words, there are a million ways to dispose of them.”

“You said that if we could get one note, it’ll be proof! I can talk to other members of the task force and have one of them hide inside the room once it’s booked. The wire detectors don’t react to people and I can pretend to have checked the place where the investigator is hiding. That way it’ll be possible to get one of the notes before they’re thrown away.”

“Mr Aizawa…,” Near said, “please stay out of the way.”

“What do you mean?”

Near underlined just why Aizawa intervening was such a bad idea.

“Unless they were to institute cameras in certain spots,” Naomi pointed out.

“But they run the risk of detection either way,” Near pointed out. “Obviously, all of your identities have been revealed to whoever is doing Kira’s killings. They know who you are. Kira probably has it set up so he can kill you all with the snap of a finger. The only reason you’re all still alive is because of me. There’s no other reason now that everything has fallen into Kira’s hands.

“Though, if you are able to get that notepad and are killed, I could use that as proof that L is Kira. But I already know that, so it’s useless to me. It’s not the way to go. If you do this, it’ll only allow Kira to move about freely, and it’s nothing but a headache for me. Even if Kira’s identity is proven to the world, most people are still going to take Kira’s side. And even if that happens, even I will no longer be a threat to Kira. Do you follow?

“Mr Aizawa, it’s not longer a matter of merely finding evidence that L is Kira. The only way to stop Kira is for me to completely defeat him and rub it into his face.” He held up his own lego figure. “Mr Aizawa, I’m sorry to say, but Kira doesn’t even consider the task force a threat. You’re not worth dealing with to him. He sees you as a bunch of flies buzzing around him.” Near took his Kira figurine and knocked down the task force’s lego models. “However, he’ll never be able to ignore me. That’s because, to Kira, I’m his current opponent in the battle for pride between him and L. The only way to stop Kira is for me to defeat him.

“Mr Aizawa, you and the task force are no longer a part of this battle. Please stay out of our way. This is the reality of things. However, if you still wish to capture Kira and continue to cooperate with me. Just keep an eye on him like you’ve been doing. That’s the best thing you can do for me and this investigation.”

“Just keep an eye on him…”

“That’s right. Anything more will just be a nuisance to me. The plan is almost set, and I do not want you to do anything that may disrupt it. Kira is also in the midst of coming up with a plan to defeat me. As such, any moves on your part will be a waste of time.”

“Are you saying that we’re of no significance now?”

“No. There is a significance in keeping an eye on L, and that is a part of my plan. And that is how I want you to cooperate with me in order to bring down Kira.” He lined up the figurines made of the task force. “Kira kills people without a second thought as if they were bugs, but it’s very likely that he will keep you all alive until time comes to fight face to face with me. I want you to see this through to the end, to Kira’s defeat.”

Silence.

“Mr Aizawa…?”

“Okay.”

She did feel for the guy. If someone said that she couldn't do anything of use, she'd be unhappy too.

December 31 Happy birthday, Raye, Naomi thought. Kira will go down and I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.

She held her phone away from her ear as Misa Amane screamed in the backseat of Lidner’s car. “She’s temperamental isn’t she?”

“Yup,” Rester said.

“I guess Kiyomi’s angry at me again, but this’ll teach her a lesson. She’s lost face now as the host of the show!” Amane said.

“Is the lesson going to be not letting her perform on NHN again?” Naomi asked, rolling her eyes.

“What is it, L?” Near asked.

“Mogi and Misa Amane have gone missing.”

“Yes. I’ve taken the liberty of bringing them into my custody.”

The task force began cussing Near out.

“What for?” L asked.

Near smirked. “Just to be on the safe side.”

Silence. Naomi was beginning to wish they’d put away their dicks and rulers.

“Near, kidnapping and confining people is criminal! Please stop, this instant!”

You sound like you’re chastising a child instead of trying to order Near to let your employee and one of your girlfriends go, Naomi thought.

“Well, Mr Mogi and Amane have agreed to cooperate with me. They won’t be staying with me, but you can talk to them if you want to. Should I connect you to them?”

“I must find out if they are safe, and if what you’re saying is true, then connect me to them.”

“Sure.” He patched L through to the mic in Mogi and Misa’s room.

“Mogi, Misa, it’s L. I heard you’ve been imprisoned by Near, but is it true that you agreed to it?”

“Yes,” Mogi said.

“Mochi said that it would be better for us to stay put until the whole Kira ordeal is over. If not, we might all be killed, so I’m fine with that. I just want to live happily with my boyfriend once Kira’s caught.”

Naomi’s chest panged. I wanted that too, she thought.

“Very well. If you two are fine with that. There are no problems, but please remember you can leave any time you want to. I’ll be switching back to speak with Near now. Near, I’ve talked with them, and I’m okay with everything.”

She ducked her head as she wiped her eyes. I don’t think Near’s too inclined to be asking for permission or your forgiveness.

“L, if I pose as you and announce to the world about the existence of the notebook and of my speculations on who Kira really is, a lot of people will probably believe me. If I do that, there are definitely going to be people who’ll try to kill Kira, but Kira isn’t going to just stand there and be killed. He’ll make use of his worshippers to try and stop that. I don’t want such meaningless bloodshed to occur. So I’ll bring this to an end by defeating Kira myself.”

L’s tone rankled. The condescension and babying she’d put up with for a long time, whether it was at a boss or coworker’s hands, and L was just another shitheel boss who thought he knew better than someone else of arguably more expertise.

“Near, your speculations are wrong. You mustn’t announce to the world what is a mere assumption on your part.”

“You’re right. I’m going to end this by pinning solid proof right in front of Kira’s face. But if my assumptions are wrong, then… Well, even if my assumptions are correct, but if I lose to Kira, then the world will no doubt be his. When that happens, Kira will kill me and all of those who are aware of the notebook’s existence. Only then is it a complete victory for Kira.”

“Near, the world is close to being Kira’s perfect world already, so we must capture him as soon as possible. That is the only point on which I agree with you today.”

“ … Anyway, it’s incredibly likely that Misa Amane was the second Kira who had the Shinigami eyes. Therefore, I’ve decided to keep her contact in case Kira wants to use her again. I intend to keep her here until the Kira incident comes to an end. Rather, until I give her permission to leave. L, I’m sure you’re well aware of the present situation even if I don’t say any more.”

The task force debated this current situation.

“Apart from the fact that he leaves his office at slightly different times depending on his workload, Mikami’s habits are completely fixed. He’s also a bit of a neat freak,” Gevanni relayed.

“And every Thursday and Sunday, he attends the gym from nine to 10:30 pm?” Near asked.

“Yes. I’ve become a member myself to do research on that. Ever since he joined four years ago, he’s been going to the gym on those days at that time. Near Year’s day 2006 was a Sunday, and he went to the gym on that day as well. The only reason I can think of for him to have picked a hotel gym that’s open all year is because he wants to go on those specific days at that time.”

“Then I suppose it’s safe to say that he’ll be going there on the 31st.”

Naomi clenched her teeth. She’d almost forgotten in the midst of all this.

“Well. Yes. I don’t see a reason why he wouldn’t. I don’t believe he’s devout Shinto or goes to the temples.”

Near paused. “Gevanni, is it possible for you to touch the notebook at the gym on the 31st?”

“I’ll probably be able to. The lock on his bag won’t be an issue, but the location may be… No matter, either way.”

“Have you checked on the security system at the hotel?”

“Yes. There’s surveillance cameras inside the hotel, but none in the locker room for obvious reasons.”

“Right. If Mikami is at the gym on New Year’s, touch the notebook. Takada will be hosting the show, but I’ll distract L just in case.”

“What are the chances that a Shinigami is possessing him?”

“I don’t believe there’s one near him, but I’m asking you to touch the notebook to check that. If there is one, then that’s that. I’m going to have to think of another plan. Even if you want to touch the notebook and don’t see the Shinigami, I want you to keep your eye on him for a while to be sure that there is no Shinigami possessing him.”

“But if there is, I’ll probably die, right?”

“Yes. If you’re scared, I can have Rester do it.”

“It’s all right. I’ll do it.”

“Please be extra careful not to be noticed by Mikami either.”

“Of course.”

“Mikami and Gevanni would have left the hotel around eleven, and then he tails Mikami back to his house. It should be about time for Gevanni to call us,” Rester said. He took off his suit jacket and placed it over the back of a chair.

“Ooh, I can’t do anything until they catch Kira… Why am I here anyway?” Misa Amane whined.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say 2300 hours. You’re supposed to be a commander,” Naomi said.

“Very funny, Maki.”

“I try.”

Near’s thoughts were somewhere else: “Misa Amane, the person suspected of being the second Kira by the first L…”

Rester said, “But she didn’t say anything even when she was confined for more than 50 days. I don’t think you can get any information from her. Anyway, we’re talking about a notebook that can kill people. It probably has powers beyond comprehension. Of course, trying to find that out is our job, but…”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting to get any new information from Amane. This is only so Gevanni will feel a little easier about touching the notebook and in case Kira needs her eyes.”

A notification went up that Gevanni was onscreen. “It’s Gevanni. How’d it go?”

“I’ve successfully touched the notebook. But I haven’t confirmed the presence of the Shinigami yet.” He checked his watch. “I touched the notebook at 9:09. Mikami returned home at 12:07 and I tailed him back to his house.”

“And during those three hours, you didn’t see the Shinigami, is that right?’

“Yes.”

“Please continue to keep an eye on him.”

“Okay.”

“Commander Rester, please connect me to Mr Mogi. Mr Mogi, do you remember the rules of death when Higuchi was doing those death meetings at Yotsuba?’

“The rules of death? That sounds scary…,” Misa Amane said. Naomi rolled her eyes. Of course, she’d been in the job for roughly a decade, she’s desensitized. Though if Misa Amane is the second Kira, she ought to be too.

“I disagree with you when it comes to your assessment of Kiyomi Takada’s assessment, but if you called Amane stupid, I wouldn’t disagree.”

“Mm.”

Mogi looked up. “I do. It’s been quite a while now, but…”

“In return for information on Mello, I was told by the new L about the rules written inside the notebook and about the rules of death. If a person is to die of an illness, unless it takes longer for that illness to progress, the notebook is able to control people for up to 23 days before their deaths. Is that right?” Near poked at his Mogi figurine.

“Yes. It’s not that we tested it out ourselves, but the killings at Yotsuba proved that.”

“Thank you very much.” Near shut off the PA and added, “Then let us consider the possibility that there is a Shinigami possessing Mikami’s notebook, and it has already told Mikami that Gevanni has touched the notebook. Hence, Gevanni is actually being controlled by the notebook to say that Mikami doesn’t have a Shinigami with him. So we’re going to face L if Gevanni is still alive 24 days from now.”

Naomi’s eyebrows shot up. That was a gamble that she considered the former and current L to make, not…

“However, Maki, I’m going to move the plan ahead under the assumption that he will still be alive.”

[artofabeginner]

The Doll

“It took painstaking long to realize something was wrong with Alice. Longer than I would care to admit. I took no notice of her oddly perfect face, or slightly too long limbs. I mean, it’s kinda rude to bring that up isn’t it?”

“Full names for the statement, please.”

“Right, sorry. Alice Stoker was my colleague. She joined us about 6 months ago? Something like that. Nothing really weird in the beginning, fairly amiable. I work for Cleo Renown, it’s that way too expensive clothing store, off Hamper Street? Anyway, we get a bunch of new workers around the summertime, mostly college students. So Alice was rather insipid, really. Except, to be quite honest she was very elegant, a little weird to note. But she really was, she held herself in a way that was poised, even when she bent down. Not normal, for a college student, but she did mention living near Ashburton, and we all know people near Ashburton are loaded.

Anyway, in terms of work she wasn’t anything remarkable. She did an average job, like most of us. Although, now that I think about it, she always had her head turned down, like an obeisance? Or maybe, a prayer? Point is, she never made contact with anyone really. But other than that she was normal? I mean again it’s hard to think back and not immediately think of the incident.”

“Please do try, this is very important to our investigation.”

“Okay? Umm, well I suppose the first time anyone noticed anything strange was maybe two weeks into her working there. A man came in, I can’t remember his name. I do remember how he acted though. He was officious, by that I mean, I had been talking to James Penet, my coworker, he really isn’t that important. But the man had jumped in to comment, and I’ll get to this later, but every time he showed up he would get really nosy. He wasn’t very pleasant to be honest.

The thing that had made this weird was Alice’s reaction. It was fear and indignation. It was so ardently violent that even the customers showed some solicitude.  

I remember her telling him to leave, and he did. Later we asked her what was wrong and who he was. But she lied, I know she lied, it was just so generic, a ' stalker’ she had said. Told us not to worry. But of course we could only worry as he began to show up everyday, and Alice’s decorum slowly changed. But, I wouldn’t be coming to you if it was a stalker issue. 

Four weeks ago, I was closing up. I had sent Lainy Stewart, my co worker home early. I suppose what I saw could have been a trick of my imagination, but it was way too long of a hallucination not to be real. I mean I’m fairly taciturn, i don’t talk to many people unless I have to, but I’m not crazy, I know what I saw.”

“And what did you see, Ms. Lubane?”

“Outside the window that night, I saw Alice. She was walking weird, poised way too well. Her back was way too straight and her legs jerked in such a way that almost seemed like she had no joints. I don’t know what compelled me, but as I watched her walk down the street, I felt such a desirous need to follow her. So I did.

We walked for almost three hours, all the way out of town and into a dark and unfamiliar ally, at this point all that false gallantry that had been inside me, had vanished, and I almost walked away. But then, the man stepped out. He was wearing such ostentatious clothes, like something out of a circus. It had gotten way too weird, and I was about to leave, when I heard him address her. “Are you here to see the Doll Maker, Alice?” She nodded, and then he stepped aside.

Behind him was a door, that I swear hadn’t been there. It was pitch black, the door that is. And without repine, she opened the door and walked in, behind her the man followed. I expected him to close the door, but he didn’t. Instead it was left wide open, and like the folly that I am, I followed.

Inside, had been an old crippled man, he had no eyes, but I could swear he was staring right at her. I had missed the first part of whatever tete-a-tete they were having. Instead all I saw was that old man, reach into his eye and pull out a screw. He lifted it to her face and began to twirl it, I had no clue what was happening until it popped off. Her face had popped off.

And I saw why she never looked people in the eye. I don’t know how we missed it, how anyone missed it. Even James, the most fastidious of us all didn’t notice. In her face there were holes, and in those holes had been screws. And now her face was lying on the floor. I think i gasped i must have because all three of the people in that room turned to look at me. All three of their faces had screws, and Alice's faceless head was bloodless, just a mound of carved out flesh.

I ran, I mean of course I did. I ran and I ran and I ran. I made my way home. The next day I resigned. And I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone, I mean no one would believe me even if I did.”

“So, why are you here then giving a statement?”

“Yesterday, something came in the mail, there was a note attached that simply read, ‘Love from the Doll Maker’ Inside was a doll that looked like me, with screws outlining my face, hands and joints. I don’t know what to do. I’ve brought the doll. You can look at it, keep it. I’m leaving the country tomorrow. I just wanted to tell someone.”

“Statement Finished.

Looking into Ms. Lubane’s statement proved difficult. Both James Penet and Lainey Stewart have corroborated that Alice Stoker did in fact work there. Lainey also agreed that Lubane had indeed closed shop that night and had resigned the next. As for any information on Alice Stoker, well there isn’t any. Nothing shows up on any database we could find. She simply does not exist. As for the Doll Maker, it rings alarming bells, I have definitely seen this name somewhere in the records. Which does not sit well with me. However, until I can find the exact statement. I’m going to have to postpone calling this ‘Real One’, as for Ms. Lubane there is nothing to follow up with, as she disappeared before her flight. The official case has been closed. And the only thing found in her apartment that was strange was a doll that resembled her, some screws, and a note that read ‘The Doll Maker gifts, so you must too.’

End.”

[silenceandpatiencepining]

1/5 There are a few “personal/private/intimate” moments which make Taylor and Joe relationship very believable to me. One of those moments is the surprise song at the rep stadium tour in Toronto (august 4), which was Come back... be here. She had NEVER performed that song live before and, most importantly, in the last chorus she sang “I guess you’re in London today” instead of “I guess you’re in New York today”, which are the original lyrics.

2/5 It’s one of her lesser-known songs and nobody was gonna talk about that specific performance. There weren’t any possible PR reasons behind it, she didn’t need to sing that song and she didn’t need to change the lyrics to fit her story with Joe, but she did. Another thing is that video of Joe on Taylor’s tennis court. That was a private video which got leaked. It wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone beside the person the video was made for.

3/5 He didn’t have any PR reason to be on her tennis court, and yet he was. Sure, you can think that he was there to talk with Taylor about bearding strategies... but there’s the (more) probable option that he was on her court because they’re together. There’s also the screenshot from the zoom call that Joe had with some friends/coworkers a couple weeks ago (it’s important to note that he wasn’t the one to share the screenshot).

4/5 The room he was in was filled with daylight (sorry, I couldn’t resist), while the rooms of his friends who are based in London were in the dark. That’s the only “proof” that we have that he’s quarantining with Taylor, but it’s a pretty strong one, I think. I mean, for sure he isn’t in London. Maybe he’s in Costa Rica or in Argentina, we don’t know ahahah. My point is that every time something more private happens/gets out, it ALWAYS corroborates the fact that they’re together.

5/5 About the rugs/Benji debate: he posted another pic of Benji under a rug a couple of weeks ago. I honestly don’t think there was any malice in his intentions. He simply liked those pics of him and of Benji, that was all there probably was to it. I mean, those who believe that they’re dating aren’t gonna stop because of a rug, and those who believe that they aren’t have better arguments than a rug anyway. (I hope this whole thing sounded nice and respectful because that’s how I meant it!).

——————————

Hi hello thank you so much for sharing these! Absolutely sounded very nice and kind—I really appreciate that! I didn’t know about several of these so it’s nice to hear that there are some more personal moments to the Joe/Taylor story.

In regards to CBBH being the surprise song, the first night in Toronto was on Karlie’s 26th birthday. I’ve seen some speculate that Taylor sang that song for Karlie since they couldn’t be together on her birthday and that it was a big deal precisely because she never performs it and it’s not as popular, being a slower track on the deluxe edition of red. I’m not saying that the lyric was changed to London to be about Joe to distract from that, but as a Kaylor, we would absolutely be on alert for anything happening on Karlie’s b-day especially since New York is their city. Some might think it was too obvious if the original was kept. Just a thought.

The tennis court and zoom call thing I’ve not heard anything about though—honestly didn’t even know Taylor had a tennis court. But I’ve heard Tyler Swift does some half-assed performative charity tennis (lol sorry I couldn’t resist). If there’s a post(s) that has these, could you send them my way? I’m curious if you can tell anything about where Joe is from the call, aside from it being a different time zone from his friends. And also just want to check out Taylor’s tennis court, I don’t know anything about here place in LA aside from the spiral staircase by the piano and the mural wall.

As for benji and the rug—I will literally never turn down cute cat content. I think the rug thing is mostly about fans who already think they’re together getting some easy confirmation/suggestion that Joe and Taylor are quarantining with each other, but kaylors obviously don’t think so and that’s why we pointed it out.

Thanks again for sharing! This kind of stuff is definitely more my speed :) Stop by and interact anything!!

[prompreg17]

Balloons

Warnings: mpreg (trans male pregnancy), vaginal birth, graphic depiction of birth, (pocket) monster pregnancy, man gives birth to pokemon

Pairings: None (in this chapter)

Notes: @ohmyguts and some wonderful anons came up with the idea of Prompto working at a daycare and becoming pregnant with pokemon! I just really liked it.

I might make this a series because I didn’t get to any of the promptis with this one.

==

Working at a daycare full time, playing with and caring for pokemon for a living, had always sounded like a dream come true. Maybe it didn’t pay as good as being a researcher or a professional trainer or a gym leader, but the work was satisfying in a different way.

So Prompto, newly 18 and ready to make a life for himself, had applied to as many daycares as it took until one stuck. The work, as he’d expected, was satisfying and fun and rewarding. With plenty of interesting people to meet and plenty to do, Prompto kept busy. It was a good life.

But it wasn’t the job Prompto had always expected it to be. Not when his boss, a (probably prematurely) greying woman with sharp features, pulled him aside and explained the other work they offered their customers.

Pokemon breeding wasn’t a new concept by any means. Humans had always meddled in the reproductive affairs of pokemon, for science and vanity and profit. But pokemon breeding as she explained it was like nothing he’d ever considered.

“It’s not a requirement of the job,” she added, “but it does come with premium pay and benefits.”

Premium pay and benefits in exchange for renting his womb to desperate trainers whose pokemon had trouble reproducing. He hadn’t even thought it was possible; surely their DNA was incompatible? Surely there was no way of actually becoming pregnant with a different species? Surely birth would be impossible?

But his coworker, a girl a few years older than him with short hair and a swollen stomach, corroborated the story.

“It’s not that bad,” she said and placed a hand on her bump as Prompto’s wide eyes gravitated toward it, “we don’t do species that would be too big and they usually come way faster than you expect. Plus the trainers pay the fee in advance and once you see the percentage you make on it it’s really hard to refuse.”

“So you’re..?” He asked, too shocked to continue, and had nearly flinched in surprise when she laughed.

“Yeah, Teddiursa right now,” she confirmed, smile easy and hand gently caressing her stomach, “even better that it’s one of my favorites!”

Prompto hadn’t taken the daycare job thinking it would pay well, but it turned out living alone in a city was even more expensive than he’d realized. Every time he thought about how long it would take to save up for a new camera, or when an unexpected expense would pop up, he would think about his boss’ offer. Being pregnant didn’t seem like a walk in the park, no matter what his coworkers said, but the money was nothing to sneeze at and even though he wasn’t quite desperate, he found himself coming back to it more than he expected.

So when a trainer came in, only one pokemon in hand with the extra cash required for the breeding fee, Prompto hesitantly agreed to take it.

==

Prompto hadn’t asked how they received the semen, and had no intention of finding out. Pushing the syringe full of it into his vagina was weird enough, as was stacking pillows underneath his back and laying propped up in the hopes it would take.

Weirder was the positive pregnancy test, and the knowledge that there was a pokemon actually growing inside him. He stared at his unclothed belly for a good half hour in wonder, still smooth and seemingly empty, and wondered over what he’d agreed to do.

True to his coworkers’ word, the pregnancy would be short. Igglybuff gestation was surprisingly fast, and before long his once-smooth stomach swelled.

“I count three,” his boss said as she smoothed the ultrasound wand over his stomach, “all seem healthy and a good size, good job! Igglybuff is a great first choice. They’re light and pliable and should be easy to handle.”

Prompto stared at the screen, marvelling at the three little blips that, before long, would be fully formed pokemon. It was hard to think of anything else all day.

The marvel of being pregnant never actually wore off, not even two months later when his stomach had swollen like a balloon (rather fitting, considering he had three balloon pokemon baking inside). It was all happening so fast, he hardly had time to get used to a stage of the pregnancy before another began. Doing his normal duties around the daycare became harder each day, but he enjoyed his work too much to let it stop him, even when his stomach got in the way. At least the Igglybuffs weren’t heavy at all, just two pounds a piece, making the strain on his back and ankles fairly minimal.

“Lucky,” his coworker said one day, eager hand caressing Prompto’s tight stomach as he flushed at the attention, “I started with Happiny. Those things might be small but they’re so heavy!”  

==

It was just three months after that first awkward night with the syringe full of semen and the pillows under his back that his boss pulled him aside and reminded him that it was time.

“Igglybuff are so light, they often can’t rupture their own amniotic sacs. Labor still happens, of course, but some find the process more uncomfortable than necessary. Three months is more than fine for these baby pokemon, so, if you’re ready, we can induce labor and have those suckers out tonight.”

The prospect of labor, even after three months of mentally preparing for it, made Prompto’s heart speed up in alarm. But the thought of never knowing when it was going to happen? Of maybe even being alone through it? Well, that was worse.

“Okay,” he said, a tinge of nerves in his voice.

“Attaboy, shortcake,” She said, smile encouraging but still sharp on her face, “I’ll get the room prepped.”

==

Labor kind of sucked. The cramps started weak but quickly became stronger and more intense, which was apparently normal once the amniotic sac was ruptured. His boss, both owner of a daycare and part-time midwife, had an entire delivery room furnished at the daycare. She had him labor on the delivery table for a bit, and then let him sit out in the main room for a while when he whined long enough.

It was easier to make it through the pain with a purring Meowth against his side and half a dozen comfortable pillows arranged around him.

But soon enough, he was back up on the table with his legs in the stirrups and his boss’ gloved hand pushing inside him.

“Alright, fully dilated. Ready for the fun part?”

“No,” he warbled, and tried not to be offended when his boss laughed at him.

“Time to get ready for it, shortcake,” she said, “you’re not keeping them in for long.”

Sure enough, the urge to push came just minutes later. It was a strange sensation, uncomfortable and urgent, and he gasped in surprise before he was forced to give in to his body’s desire.

Pushing kind of sucked more than labor itself, because suddenly his vagina was on fire, too. Each contraction brought with it that urge though, and even though he knew pushing meant the babies had to come further down his opening, it also brought with it a sense of accomplishment too, like the pain of his contractions wasn’t all for nothing. It helped get him through the pain, both of the cramps and the seemingly unending stretching of his vagina.

At least, until the widest part came.

Teeth gritted in pain, Prompto clung to edges of the table as he was stretched to his widest and keened pathetically.

“Fully crowned, good job. One more push oughta do it.”

Sure enough, with one more hard push and a grunt of effort, a tiny Igglybuff fell into his boss’s waiting hands.

She cooed softly at it as she carefully disconnected it from its cord and bundled it up. Cramps momentarily subsided, Prompto stared in wonder as she held the tiny pokemon up for him to see. It was probably the tiniest thing he’d ever seen, even smaller than other, older, Igglybuff he’d seen, and he suddenly felt embarrassed for making such a big deal about the birth. That tiny thing was what had hurt so much coming out?

“Wanna hold it?” His boss asked, no doubt taking in his softening expression.

“Uh, yeah,” He replied, already holding his arms out. She placed the bundled baby pokemon into his arms and he couldn’t help but smile at it; worn out and pained, but genuine. He was the reason it even existed, and that fact filled him with warmth.

“Don’t forget you don’t get to keep it,” His boss said, voice soft, and he quickly looked up. Her expression was hard to read.

“I know. I just… can’t believe it’s real.”

He relinquished the Igglybuff back to her arms and she carried it off to an incubator, checked its vitals for a moment, and then returned.

“Alright, ready for number two?”

If Prompto had thought pushing something out through his vagina was a weird sensation, having someone place their whole hand inside it was something else.

“Just helping pull it down,” She had explained as she’d done it. The fact that the whole thing, and then her wrist, fit with no trouble was probably the weirdest part of it.

Plus it kind of hurt, but she did have her entire hand in his uterus. She seemed to fish around for a few moments, encouraging him to take deep and even breaths as she did, but soon she was pulling her arm back out. Something about it brought the pressure back tenfold and he made a noise of alarm before he pushed into it with all his might.

A second Igglybuff joined the first barely two minutes later.

His boss let him visit it briefly before she placed it in the incubator beside the first and rejoined him again, smile encouraging as she patted his knee.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah,” he said, but he was breathing hard and his energy levels were way down. Pushing was more tiring than he thought.

“I’m gonna help the next one down again, alright?” She asked, and waited for his nod before she placed her hand back inside him. It stung worse the second time, his inner walls none too happy after two births back to back.

She had to reach more of her arm in the second time, until she was all but leaning over him to reach. This time, when she pulled the third Igglybuff down, Prompto held his breath through the urge to push.

“Alright, it’s all you now,” She said once she’d pulled her hand away.

The last few contractions were just as painful as the rest, and the final burn of his vagina was definitely just as intense, but he was obviously more stretched out toward the end. After just three hard contractions the final Igglybuff popped free.

The final release of pressure was heavenly. Prompto hummed through it, breathing hard with effort as his boss carried the last pokemon away. He watched her place it with the first two, eyelids drooping in fatigue, and finally let them close as she came back and dealt with the afterbirth.

An hour later he was all cleaned up and tucked in for a nightly observation, the only evidence of the pregnancy the three sleeping pink pokemon in the incubator beside him. Prompto found himself watching them for several minutes before he let himself fall back to sleep.

==

The new pokemon went to their trainer barely a week later. Though it kinda sucked to give them up so soon, Prompto reminded himself they had never actually been his. He’d expected it to be hard to hand them over, but when the trainer smiled, big and bright and excited, Prompto found himself smiling too.

Being pregnant had been a walk in the park if, and only if, the walk took place on a brisk winter day in the middle of a snow storm. But despite its pains and challenges, he found that it really hadn’t been that bad after all. And when the next trainer came in a few weeks later, inquiring about breeding with the cash to back it up, Prompto surprised himself when he didn’t even hesitate to agree.