#i'm just astounded by how consistent he is

[maximura]

[cupidkenji]

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves -  I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet. 

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach.  Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good. 

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask. 

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis. 

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.” 

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist. 

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents. 

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him. 

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out. 

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?” 

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.” 

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it. 

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up. 

No, it wasn’t. 

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room. 

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.” 

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job. 

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost. 

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder. 

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.” 

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.” 

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.” 

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

– 

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling. 

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed. 

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team. 

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.” 

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.” 

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.” 

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.” 

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief. 

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human. 

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours. 

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place. 

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass. 

“I’m Matthew.” 

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area. 

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink. 

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.” 

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.” 

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed. 

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored. 

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.” 

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.” 

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core. 

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke. 

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.” 

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately. 

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless. 

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden. 

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

 “He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if  I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past. 

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.” 

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes. 

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought. 

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own. 

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car. 

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car. 

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to. 

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you. 

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels. 

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

[erikagrape]

In regards to the "Send me stuff about Dan/Phil you love" thing, BOY HOWDY‼️

I'm obsessed with the way they're both so,,, idk, visibly so so so much happier now??? Dan especially, with the way he seems magnetically attracted to Phil every time he laughs, the fact that he's now crying of laughter in seemingly every new video, he's smiling so wide and it's so amazing to see because he quite frankly deserves it. He spent so long being unable to be authentically him and unable to be truly happy and now he's out and he's making progress and it's so palpable how much he loves doing what he's doing and I hope the best for him

Phil too!! I'm so astounded by how much more confident and happy Phil is now too, like he's got such an ease to him now? Like idk how to explain it better but Phil's clearly so full of life and excitement and joy and I'm so happy we've been able to see that consistent growth, like he's been uploading so constantly for 18 years and it's such a marked difference between how he holds himself in his first video versus in these new DAPG videos

everything you just said!! 🧡

[sonorousabyss]

Can i maybe get a xiao or tsukasa male reader x hashiras if your doing requests or dont mind T_T

Hashiras x Male! Xiao Reader

AN: Thank you for the request Swivy! I'm not sure what format you wanted the post in or who Tsukasa is so I settled for the Xiao reader concept and some of the Hashira that I'm more familiar with!

Request: Yes Summary: Rengoku, Tengen, Sanemi, and Shinobu's thoughts on a male reader with Xiao's general attitude/Personality. Reader uses some derivative of wind breathing because Xiao and Anemo go hand-in-hand. Warnings: N/A

Kyojuro Rengoku

Does not understand M/N at all, but doesn't let it phase him either.

What do you mean you want to stay away from the other demon slayers? Karmic Dept? Such nonsense! Just come with him and you'll make friends in no time at all! Kyojuro knows just how to help!

He met M/N by pure happenstance, passing through a village shortly after nightfall. The H/C-haired man was dueling with a demon not too far from the outskirts- and doing just fine by the Hashira's standards.

M/N ripped through the sick creature with clear and concise strikes, showcasing great skill in his breathing form as he jumped around the demon he was fighting, dodging attacks and almost seeming to dance in the air as he counterattacked, leaving gashes quicker than the beast could regenerate. Then, with one swipe? It was over. The head was sent toppling to the ground, and the body along with it.

Rengoku could only beam at him and clap as he approached, congratulating M/N on a job well done. He didn't notice the apprehension in his body language at all as he set his hand on the smaller man's shoulder, a giant grin on his face.

He'd already been impressed at the show of strength from such a young-looking member of the force, but to learn that this was the 5th demon he'd had to deal with in the past few days? The sheer dedication was astounding.

M/N did not appreciate this in the slightest and was blunt in stating so. Rengoku might've toned down on the physical contact that made him uncomfortable but didn't do the same for his volume or enthusiasm, much to his subordinate's chagrin.

This kept up well into the future as M/N climbed the ranks, with the Hashira asking about his exploits and how his missions had been going.

More than a few times he ended up comparing his breathing style to Sanemi's thanks to the wind aspect, which M/N could quite frankly do without. Couldn't the kind and energetic blond just leave him alone? He didn't want his karma to rub off on him. For demon slayers, dying was an occupational hazard. He'd hate to see such a skilled swordsman perish because he got too close.

Their relationship appeared to get better once the blond discovered M/N's love for almond tofu, which he proceeded to use to bribe him into coming out to eat with him. Things slowly progressed from there, and M/N became fairly comfortable with hanging out with Rengoku. He even stopped protesting! How shocking!

Missions with him were even more interesting, considering their respective fighting styles. By the time their bond of trust had developed, Kyojuro needed only to say his name and M/N would be at his side, hand on the hilt of his blade and ready to shed some blood.

Loyalty and consistency, as it appears, seem to go a long way. Even if his loud voice does tend to hurt his ears.

Tengen Uzui

Tengen... well let's just say he also had a favorable impression of M/N thanks to his fighting techniques.

Leaping into the air and plunging down, striking his enemy with such determination and impeccable form? Dodging quickly and dashing about like he weighed nothing at all? He had to say that his fighting style wasn't half bad. Even a tad flashy.

Of course, there's no way he could ever hope to rival a god such as himself, though... if he were to become his tsugoku...

Not in a million years. Or at least, that's the attitude M/N is rolling with. If Rengoku seemed pushy before, Tengen was going to be an entirely different story.

Rengoku... well... He means well, even if things don't register immediately. The Sound Hashira though? You could tell him to put you down when he's got you over his shoulder and he wouldn't hesitate to not follow that request. He's a whole different level of deliberate stubbornness.

Of course, it's not like he doesn't have his sweet side. He can be downright delightful if you get to know him in the right circumstances. It's just that M/N was never particularly interested in getting to know said sweet side.

Every moment spent in close contact with that man he either witnessed or experienced something disturbing against his will... not that his sense of disturbing was particularly normal, anyway.

For that reason (among several others) the man, though good at killing demons, tends to get on M/N's nerves.

M/N prefers to keep things more on the business side with Tengen. He has an immense respect for the technique and skill he harnesses with his blades in the war against demons. He's an impeccable Hashira, and a reliable comrade to fight alongside. In fact, it's not just him that's impressive. His wives are as well. And- his...mice?

Don't get M/N started on the mice.

They certainly have personality, but they're just one thing on the list of things he didn't know he didn't want to see until he saw them.

How did he even get them that buff?

What is he feeding them?

Is it edible?

Is it almond tofu?

He was hesitant about the wives (and their more affectionate and kind nature) until he tasted their cooking. M/N didn't know something could rival his favorite dish until he had it. Food is also how Tengen bribes him into staying around.

M/N tries to avoid these occasions as much as physically possible, despite how much the food tempts him. Uzui's wives were good people, and he didn't want to risk tainting them with his karma.

Uzui was debatable. He wouldn't mind seeing the man get knocked around by a demon just a little bit in combat to make up for the times he tried to get M/N to embrace a flashier lifestyle. But his wives? Nah.

Sure, they're perfectly capable of self-defense and would put up a good fight against him... but still. Too precious.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

No.

Absolutely not.

Don't get me wrong, Sanemi is strong as hell and good at killing demons, and they might have similar mindsets on things in a certain respect- *cough cough* demons being horrendous creatures that must be dealt with *cough cough*- but the firey ball of anger is just too unpleasant to be around.

Quite frankly Sanemi returns the sentiment.

As cold, distant, and aloof as M/N is, Sanemi isn't looking to befriend him in the slightest, and the same goes in the other direction.

Just because they're wind users and operate in the same corps doesn't mean they need to be buddy-buddy, and they are cool keeping their distance.

M/N is more or less neutral in Sanemi's respect. He'd take almost any other Hashira over him if they were in it for the long haul in terms of missions. In public it's always going to be strictly professional. Very much a "respect is there, but no feelings are attached" type of scenario.

Until M/N climbs the ranks and get's Hashira status, Sanemi is just a capable superior and a benchmark to surpass.

I wouldn't say the respect is returned, but eh. Does it really matter?

Kocho Shinobu

She's by far one of the only Hashira he's comfortable around.

While the others on this list are generally too physically or emotionally present or looking for connection, it's just so easy to be around Kocho and keep things how he's comfortable with them being.

She's level-headed, quiet, clear, and concise, impeccable in the medical field, is well accomplished in a fairly unique style of combat in comparison to the other Hashira, and so much more.

She doesn't need size or brute force to earn others' respect, fear, or admiration. She's just uniquely her... and disturbingly intimidating, in an uncanny valley sort of way.

M/N is of the opinion that if he had to work under any of the Hashira, or at least work with any of the Hashira, she'd be the one he'd want to work under. He trusts her judgment.

Given his occupation, he's likely gotten injured and had to deal with her and those working under her plenty of times as he perfected his combat style, so he knows better than to disobey the doctor's orders.

He doesn't need to look at her face to understand her intent and genuine feelings. He just knows.

Shinobu, I feel, doesn't exactly dislike him either. She's dealt with enough "interesting" types that I get the feeling she can read him fairly well too.

Streamlined. Respect. Loyalty. And Communication.

That is their bond in a nutshell.

They both also have an amusing habit of just.. popping up out of nowhere and startling people, so I think she's gotten a laugh out of that.

Patients have now become aware of the fact that if you're at her place, you now have to watch out for more than just the doc.

I like to think of this place as M/N's Wangshu Inn equivalent. Just a place he chills out playing distant from other people, waiting for the next orders from the top.

M/N also has impeccable hearing, which makes it much easier for him to appear when called.

He's more than likely been ordered to help with rehabilitation training for patients during the times he stays around too long. He doesn't offer up many objections.

AN: If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it! Apologies if I didn't get all the Hashira you might have wanted. I hope I did this somewhat justice?

May your day be as pleasant as the ocean's abyss is deep.

For those who are new here, I take requests. You can find my rules here.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I’m going to send emails out soon to finally try to find a willing rabbi to guide me in the conversion process. I’ve said I wanted to convert in December but was thinking about it even before then (that’s just when I told people). But I’m worried about not being Jewish enough. Like I want to convert ‘orthodox’ Sephardic, which ik is kind of redundant bc most sephardic ppl just say sephardic and aren’t rlly divided into orthodox, conservative, reform either due to historical reason, but like what if I turn out being not so orthodox after? Like I love the idea of being observant, but I know that I’m not someone to wear modest dress 24/7 (rn I only wear shorts like a handful of times of year but I’ll also wear leggings, and tights pants or v neck shirts that show cleavage). And I’m not a virgin and don’t really want to be celibate. Idk I just feel like if I go through the process of converting and being observant, I will be expectant to be fully observant and idk if that’s an expectation I can’t hold. Are there any other ppl that converted only to become ‘less’ observant after? And idk observance is a personal things, but many ppl will still look at you as less observant if you don’t follow every interpretation they do

I want to preface this by saying I hope you are able to find a rabbi who you feel safe to discuss this with. Oftentimes, you'll find that they themselves can empathize with you, even if they themselves are born jews. Jewish identity for all is complex. I also hope that, in answering this further, you might find comfort and know that you are worthy of converting.

I am in a mixed Ashki and Sephardi conservative shul, and my sponsoring rabbi is himself not conservative (I'm in a unique position). When he and when other rabbis ask about observance goals, I have noticed it is so they can anticipate how they can best help you. I myself want to be a 'typical' conservative jewish man, so I find some level of empathy with you! It's hard! And you're in what can feel like a raw and vulnerable space, one where judaism feels just out of reach, something you want or need. Trust me when I say I absolutely get it.

I felt the exact same as you before I joined my shul and later again when I found my rabbi. I worried about the fact that I didn't know how to daven, when to bow, the fact that the siddur is transliterated differently than what we say. It was overwhelming! But then... my community privileged me and truly put such an astounding effort in supporting my journey. It is by no means over, but they treat me the same as any other jew in the congregation. I'd feel weird if I pulled by phone out during shabbos because they hold me in the same light as them. All of this is to say that it is just as likely that you will find a community with whom you feel embraces you through this entire wonderful journey. It is entirely possible to marry your goals with judaism - it has been done before. How could a culture, a religion, a people have survived millenniums without someone like you having made a similar journey and made it as a jew? There will always be people like you, like me, who have made this journey and made it work for them, with others who loved them as a comrade, lover, friend, and confidant.

And when it comes to a varying of practice once you are jewish? It is only natural if that happens. A conversion is not an ever-lasting contract to stay stagnant in your practice - it is, essentially, formalizing that you are part of this people. I have been following plenty of jews who have converted and who have both become more observant and less observant. In fact, a ruling about this which has truly comforted me is from Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, a Sephardi chief rabbi who made a ruling about this:

You are human, and there are 613 mitzvot. Hardly any of us consistently follow them all - especially when many require the temple! We can only expect you to do your best, to live jewishly under your terms and readiness! It takes some of us years to work up to certain observances, and that is regardless of jewish status. It would be unfair to expect you to take on more than you are ready for, regardless of if you have immersed yet or not. Heck, I only feel comfortable observing a select amount of mitzvot because I want to understand all of them before doing them. I want my soul to yearn for an aspect of observance, because my personal goal is to fall hopelessly and madly in love with jewish life, judaism, and this wonderful people. I want to emphasize that we all come at judaism with a unique, interesting, and worthy background. Yours is no exception.

I hope that, maybe, you got something out of this rambling. You are worth it to convert if you have decided this is your desire, want, or need. I for one welcome you here, and hope that our paths continue to cross. Please don't hesitate to talk anytime - judaism is a communal practice. It is not something you can wholly do alone.

[firedragon1321]

Oh crusty 1999 Gary Oak I had to trace in Krita- how I hate thee. Let me count the ways.

His stupid fucking hand that looks so dumb I had to make a new one from scratch. Is there any reason for it to be in that position? It's technically facing the right way but looks backwards. Was he originally holding a PokeBall and they just...forgot?

Head is smaller in proportion to his body compared to Ash (and literally every other child character)

Forget Gorilla Glue- here comes Gorilla Arms. Like I know Pokemon characters have weirdly long arms and legs for ten year olds, but this is excessive- especially when lined up with every other character

Giant-ass nose (in comparison to other characters)

Tiny-ass eyes (in comparison to other characters)

There's no complaint here I just wanted to point out literally half my issues come from lack of consistency with other characters in case you didn't notice.

His smug stupid smirk that mocks me for daring to draw anything

EDIT: This 👏 bitch 👏 has 👏 no 👏 shading.

I'll overlook the ears not lining up with the eyes and how close the nose and mouth are because that's standard for this art style. But all the above shit? Nah. That's a no from me.

Maybe I could forgive this if- y'know- this was how he looked in the actual anime. But NOPE!

Head is the same size as Ash's

Arms are normal length compared to body

Completely different eyebrows (?)

"Use a different art!!!!" you might say. Uh...what different art? There is none. I'm using original series art only for consistency. I started with the OS and so I need to stick with it.

Gary's only other official art is for Journeys. Side note- it's astounding that it took as long as it did for him to get an updated art, considering he's Ash's main rival. And just to make sure, I dug into Bulbapedia's guts and only found the two official arts on his page. Plus this I guess.

Yep. Gary was here, and I'm really feeling like a loser.

(EDIT- Apparently I made two posts about this guy related to the trace for swap AU. Tumblr did a stupid and I thought the other one was deleted. But I needed to rant anyway.)

[judasgot-it]

Tecchou x Reader

"Really? Anything for 20 dollars?"

Scenario: You try not to vomit on Tecchou's shoes after eating one of his food combinations.

Warning: There's vomit. Also might make a part two? I don't know tbh.

As the secretary for the Hunting Dog's, you were privy to a lot of their personal lives. You had access to their medical records, taxes, personal files...as well as seeing just how downright weird they are.

It was no secret that they were bizarre, but the longer you were exposed to them, the more you realized that they were just...like that.

Somehow you still cared about them.

"Tecchou that is nasty, I would rather die than be around that." You could hear yelling from across the building, meaning that the group had come back from a mission.

Which was actually good news seeing as you had managed to finish your paperwork for the day, so you could take your leave without much notice. No one would mind if you left anything for the next day anyway, seeing as no one got much done in the building when they were around.

It wasn't their fault, they were just...loud.

"Why don't we ask y/n? They'll judge it fairly."

Oh great.

You started sneaking around the room, trying to find another exit other than the single door you had to your office. You really wanted to take your early leave without their shenanigans.

Surely there was a secret exit somewhere behind your desk?

Too late. It opened.

"Y/n, could you assist us?" Tecchou sounded far too calm and polite after slamming open your office door, causing another hole into your wall. Jouno followed, leaving the door open as if your privacy didn't matter.

It really didn't, not with this group.

You didn't bother responding, just waiting for them to explain what they were arguing about.

"Tecchou made the most disgusting drink and this time he is actually trying to convince me it's consumable. Please tell him even you won't try it." Jouno was ranting, standing as far as possible from Tecchou who was holding a gallon jug of some strange concoction.

Tecchou, to make a point, took a swing of it, drinking a third of the drink and making a loud noise of satisfaction. Jouno screamed in annoyance.

"OK. What's in it that's so bad?" If you were being honest, you tended to think Jouno was being dramatic sometimes. Soy Sauce Latte's weren't that bad - not a drink of choice, but not exactly worth a tantrum.

"Eggs, Ramen noodles, protein powder, monster energy, sour gummy bears and ginger."

He said it with a straight face as Jouno gagged. It was dramatic but it was warranted this time. You felt bile rise in the back of your throat at even the thought of that. You couldn't even move from your spot.

"Tecchou...what made you think this was a good idea?" You were having a staring contest as he swished his drink around, which you now noticed had a sort of mushy consistency. Did he put it in a blender?

"I combined my lunch with my pre-workout and my snack, it's genius. Now I can take it while I'm on the go."

He took another swing, face unchanging. It was a challenge, almost.

He was a smart man who has gone undefeated in battle, with unquestionable morals. But his idea of a 'genius' drink...

"I'm going to vomit..." Jouno was almost sweating.

"Why would you want me to try that?" You really did not want to try it. The gallon jug was halfway empty now, which astounded you. How did he drink it so fast?

"Please?" His face was genuine. Like a sad puppy.

You looked to the side, and then back at him. Maybe he was secretly a genius, able to toy with your emotions so easily.

His puppy eyes were very persuasive if you were being honest.

"20 dollars. 100 if I vomit. And I take only one swing."

Jouno gagged again.

"Really?! You can be bought out so easily?" Jouno wasn't even drinking it but he was suffering so much, his face red from being near the drink. How was he considered a super soldier?

"Anything for 20 dollars Jouno. Seriously, I did some crazy things before I had this job."

You weren't kidding either. This job payed well enough to keep you in the position, so you didn't bother finding a new one. You weren't exactly the most employable person out there anyway.

"Really? Anything for 20 dollars?" Tecchou walked over to you, handing you the disgusting mixture.

"I'm gonna have to keep that in mind."

His tone sounded odd. Did he really plan on using this against you?

"Please don't make me doing this a regular thing." You looked into the jug finally, seeing the weird piss color of the mixture as it sloshed around in the jug.

Tecchou just smiled at you. You didn't know what his intentions were.

Maybe 20 dollars wasn't enough.

You didn't bother prepping, just raising it up and taking a swing. As you did, you heard Jouno choke on air again.

You choked too as you felt the mixture hit your mouth. It was horrible.

First it was the texture. It was a mixture of liquid and some sort of mashed substance. The gummy bears and Ramen made it a strange mix of chewy and soggy. Then it was the taste. It was everything and nothing. But it sure as hell burned everything it touched. There was a lot of ginger, with a hint of artificial sweetness from the energy drink.

You kept it there, scared to swallow, before you tried to take it all in at once. You had to take the jug away as you choked with your mouth closed, trying not to spit everything out.

You closed your eyes and put a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to swallow anything left in your mouth. You felt spit quickly building up in your mouth. You swallowed it down, hard - allowing yourself to breathe air finally.

Looking at the jug, you barely had drinken anything. But your stomach felt disgusting, as there was bile building up in the back of your throat.

You felt a hand pat your shoulders, as Tecchou leaned over you. His other hand reached for the jug, now moving to set it aside onto the nearby desk. Thank god.

If you looked at that thing you might vomit enough to reach Jouno, who was practically hiding behind the doorframe in disgust.

"Are you ok?" What a stupid fucking question. You straightened your back, trying to compose yourself despite still feeling unease in your body. You managed to push it aside.

"Yea, I'm fine. But that's absolutely revolting, I have to be completely honest with you."

"I'm surprised you haven't managed to vomit yet. You'd get a hundred dollars out of it." Jouno's face was still red from the gagging he himself was doing, so you felt satisfied that you weren't the only one suffering.

"No, I wouldn't want too. Then I'd have to leave the office for a day while they do a carpet cleaning. I'd rather take the 20 dollars." You finally managed to smile, feeling the horrible sensation of bile and evil settle in your stomach. How it was digesting you didn't want to know.

You turned towards Tecchou, smiling as you held your hand out expectantly for your payout.

It was absolutely disgusting but 20 dollars? Was 20 fucking dollars.

He began reaching for his pocket, looking for his wallet, when you felt the uneasiness come back tenfold.

You put a hand over your mouth, and the next thing you knew, felt nothing but that same burning sensation come back out of your throat.

It was disgusting, and you could faintly hear Jouno leaving as you bent over to relieve some of the pain in your stomach.

As quick as it came it left, and you were left looking at a yellow mess over your pants and on Tecchou's shoes. Your chin was dripping wet and all you wanted to do was sit down.

There was a horrible, awkward pause where neither of you said anything to one other.

"You owe me 100 dollars now."

You were hoping to ease the tension, but you still were heaving after that small event.

Tecchou said nothing as he led you over to your desk chair. His face portrayed nothing to the disgust he was probably feeling at having been vomited on, which you really could commend him on. This was definitely not exciting or fun.

"Let's just get cleaned up right now. Do you have any wipes?"

"In the first drawer to the right."

He leaned over, pulling them out. As gently as a man like him could, he started wiping your pants down with them.

"You don't have to do that." You smiled a little, taking a wipe and wiping off the chunks that got on your shirt. You didn't even drink that much, how was it everywhere?

"It's fine, this is my fault. Let me clean it up." He took a new wipe from the box, wiping off your face. His eyes were concentrated as he wiped a little roughly, trying to make sure you were as clean as possible.

This was embarrassing, as well as a little intimate. You couldn't help the blush that spread across your face at how close he was. It felt nice to be taken care of, but really, like this? This was just gross.

"You know your shoes are still dirty, right?"

He looked down at his, sure enough, vomit soaked shoes. He hummed, cleaning them off as well.

"Sorry about that. Didn't think the drink would be that bad."

There was a pause. He stood up, throwing the dirty wipes into trash under your desk. He then turned to you, his face for once showing bashfulness.

"Is it really that bad?" His eyes were a wide, as if embarrassed at the notion that he might have been a little odd. This might really have been his first time noticing it.

You gave him a small smile, standing up alongside him. The calves of your pants were soaked, as well as the bottom half of your shirt. Thank god you were going to leave work after this.

"Yes. Yes it is. But that's a you thing, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You really did mean those words. He was odd to an extreme, but you wouldn't want him to change. You've grown attached to the odd behavior, it almost makes your day sometimes when it doesn't leave you vomiting on your carpet.

He deserved to know that you did in fact, care about him.

Tecchou stared at you, analyzing your face. You stared back, keeping your smile.

This went on for a while before he finally replied.

"Do you want a ride home?" His hand went to the hilt of his sword, thumbing the cold metal.

You simply nodded, following behind him as he walked out of the office. Tomorrow you could deal with it, as for now you just wanted to get home and change, maybe take a nap.

Tecchou giving you your 100 dollars you could also deal with later.

This honestly turned into something else? Idk, it's kinda gross and also NOT the best but I'm bored at work

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

WFA Jason has no clue how to shoot a damn bow. Like I know that most media doesn't get it right but this is... this feels worse than usual.

What the hell is up with that one panel? Why is his palm facing out like that? Never in my eight years of archery have I ever met anyone doing that without a release aid. Not even that one couple I had to stop from killing somebody because they decided to try to learn off of YouTube (yeah, great idea guys. Let's learn how to shoot the deadly weapon off of YouTube and then not follow range rules at all. These people were in their thirties. What even?). Did the artists even LOOK at a picture of an archer? Honestly I'm astounded and not in a good way.

The rest of this is pretty typical for media to screw up but I feel like I'm this far into rambling I might as well discuss it.

Every archer has what's called an anchor point where the shooting hand makes contact with their head, typically around the jawline. For example, olympic gold winner Lim Si-hyeon:

Having a consistent anchor point is super important for aim, as it helps with sight reference. Jason's aim is probably so bad because he has no anchor point. His hand is just kind of floating in the air, which means his sight will be off. I wouldn't be surprised if the lack of steady contact also caused a bit of a bow wobble upon firing. If the bow wobbles, it can hit the arrow off its trajectory.

Also none of them are wearing any protective equipment! At the very least they should have arm guards to prevent string slaps, and if Jason is shooting like that, I GUARANTEE he is getting string slaps, and those hurt like a bitch. They leave big bruises and welts depending on how bad the slap is, and if anyone is using a recurve like Roy, Artemis, and Jason are, they more than likely will get them. I won't share photos on here, but go ahead and look up Archery String Slaps if you're curious.

Roy, at least, should know better.

[nailtagyuri]

Just Not's Burger King Bonanza

fics done! ao3 is cyberbullying me specifically so im posting it under cut until they reopen account registrations ^_^ [EDIT THEY DID YOU CAN CHECK IT OUT HERE GO GO GO!!] thanks to @/klonoadoortophantomile for reading the initial drafts!

If you need something here tagged as a trigger warning, please contact me via ask! This fic contains depictions of real life political figures, occasional graphic violence, and YURI!!! *thunder clap*

Morning descended upon the bathrooms-turned-hotel where TPOT was once held. The sun shone over the horizon and its light crept through the dust-covered windows, into the already noisy cafeteria smack-bang at the bottom of the tall building. Even if Two's "mandatory mealtimes" had ended along with the gameshow itself, the cafeteria still flourished as a regular gathering area for social interaction, at least to those who could manage a consistent sleep schedule.

Price Tag spotted their designated black and yellow table, where they always sat along with the rest of team-turned-friend group Just Not. They walked up to it, quietly asking Cake if he could move so they could take the window seat. He obliged. He knew Taggy liked absorbing the sunlight.

They :]'d comfortably as they eyed their companions. Book, Nickel, Cake and Bomby were eating with them this morning. Naily was still in bed and Pillow was probably also asleep, what with the obvious. They were glad the two had more time to rest than when they had things to wake up for, but a part of them missed the way Naily would sleepily stumble towards their table each morning, mumbling sweet incomprehensibles as she shuffled next to them and lazily rested on their "shoulder". Oh, how she struggled to stay awake in the brief moment before she guzzled down her dangerously acidic energy drink and shot straight up, bright and alert. But enough about her. They could talk to her later.

"So," Taggy perked, "What's been up with all of you?" "Crunklybrunkly zooper dooper," Nickel groaned, "don't even get me STARTED on this horrid excuse for a foodish substance." Price Tag saw Two cover their mouth with their paws from the other side of the room. They seemed extremely hurt. Nobody audibly got Nickel started but he kept complaining anyway. "Like, what's it supposed to be, melted yoylemetal?" He poked his dish, a gray, gelatinous, rectangular blob. It jiggled against his fork.

"I'd say it's Tofu," Book proposed as she took a bite of her salad. "Black bean. It's a bit gray, though. You should try it, anyway, if you want." "They don't call it gray bean, Book." Nickel rolled his eyes, sarcastically. Cake slid in. "You feeling alright, Nickel? You're not usually this grumpy." "WRONG ONE!?" Shouted Bomby, who gripped his head with his hands in sudden fright. "No, no, I'm not an impostor, I swear!" Nickel replied. "Ugh, sorry everyone. Just I wish the stuff we ate was… fine-er. The food Two makes is kinda mid."

"THE FOOD I MAKE FOR FREE, NICKEL?!" Two boomed from next to him. Nickel fell back in his seat, startled. His foot slammed his plate, launching the substance high into the air and directly onto his face. Everyone stopped for a moment to process what had happened. "Oh golly!" Book cried. "Your tofu…" "Uhh, ground sevruga, actually," Two corrected, raising their finger up nerdishly. "Only five spoons of one of the most expensive kinds of caviar on the market, condensed into a chunky rectangular delight and nuked in a microwave for 62 seconds. Better learn to eat it up, Nickel, the black sea can't provide these delicious tastes forever!" They walked away, smugly.

There was a brief silence, aside from Nickel's slurping. Taggy raised an eyebrow, astounded that a simple 'hello' could lead to such malarkey. "The heck did any of that mean?" They exclaimed. "Any of what mean?" Naily perked her lips to imitate Taggy's ,':{ as she walked up to the table. Upon seeing her, Price Tag's confused expression quickly morphed into a joyous :3. They felt their string begin to wag in excitement. It unconsciously thumped against the empty spot next to them repeatedly as if to gesture where she should sit.

Naily saw this and laughed. "Oh wow, so many choices," she teased. "I can barely decide." She crouched down before launching herself into a frontflip, barreling over the table and stabbing clean into her designated spot. "Nailed it!" She shouted, triumphantly. The rest at the table clapped. She pulled herself out and quickly grabbed her meal the others had been saving for her, unwrapping it hungrily and biting into it without thinking to take off the pickles. It was a cheeseburger, its buns dyed such an eye-burning tone of hot pink Taggy wondered how they hadn't lost sight just looking at it. Naily called it the 'Girlburger'. "But really," Naily asked as she took another bite, "what's going on, buddy? I heard someone scream from upstairs."

They turned to her slightly and explained what had happened. "I don't even know what cabby car is!" Nickel exclaimed through his loaf. "Hmm…" Naily put a paw on her chin thoughtfully, taking in all the information. "I think…" she spoke in a hushed tone, widening her eyes. The others moved in. "it's from the viewers' world."

Everyone gasped. Nobody among them had eaten food from, let alone seen the viewers' world in person before. Only Teardrop had gone when she was sent for a challenge, and they were extremely hesitant to discuss her findings. "That's nonsense!" Book cried. "Sorry, I mean… Naily, Two's a really thoughtful host, but are you sure they'd venture out to such uncharted lands just to make breakfast for Nickel, of all people?" Naily shrugged. "Yeah." "It'd make sense," Taggy chimed in. "They still have some of their limitless power, right? If they used it to easily come here from their home planet, maybe they could easily go from here to the viewers' world."

"Yeah!" Supported Cake. "Maybe they just like to travel, and that was, like, a souvenir." Nickel sat up. "Why don't we go there?" He asked, casually. "Y'know, see more food like this. It'd be a nice change of pace from all the Dragons and Dragons and Dragons campaigns." "You mean you liked it?" Asked Book. "Oh no, it was disgusting." He replied. "I just want more of it." "Oh. Well, that's a bit of a strange mentality- wha, wait a minute! We can't go! Are you insane?! We don't know what's out there!" She grabbed Nickel out of fear. "Well if Two can make it back in one piece," grinned Naily as she stood on the table, "then so can we, the 7th greatest team this side of Goiky! And I think I know just the guy who can help us…"

"I can't help you." Said Winner, dryly. "L." Shouted Price Tag, making a >:L. Naily grew upset. "But Winner, you're the only one with limitless power who isn't mad at us!" She pleaded. "Dontcha have a heart?" Winner frowned, slightly. She was right. Winner, after defeating Marker in a rather anti-climatic boxing match, had prophetically won the Power of Two and subsequently the grand prize. Being carried episode after episode through their loyal voterbase was a kind gesture, they knew that. If everyone was that nice, surely they'd be nice enough to not instantly kill a whole team with a woodchipper, right?

The thought of woodchippers reminded them of the British Exterminator Incident of '24, and they cringed. They shook their head. "I'm sorry, guys, it's dangerous territory out there, and I don't think you'd all fare well with that kind of responsibility. There's a good chance that if I let you lot go, you won't come back." They put their arm on their hip and closed their eyes affirmitively. Most of the group groaned. "THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!" Cried Book.

Taggy slid up to them. "C'mon, Winner, ol' buddy, ol' pal, ol' winner winner chicken dinner, you know I'd give you that kinda freedom if I were in your shoes!" "No you wouldn't." "Fair enough," they turned around and walked off. "THINK OF ALL THE FOOD!" Bomby cried. Nickel's eyes lit up. "Yeah!" He perked, as he scooched up to the defiant Winner. "Maybe they even have… purple tomatoes." Winner opened one eye. "The kind Two made for me back in the first episode?" They whispered. Nickel looked away playfully. "Perhaps."

Outside the hotel, Winner prepared to open a portal, waving their hand around slowly. "You guys owe me a real one." They said. "I'd get into a lot of trouble if Two found out I were using their powers to do this kinda stuff." Nickel got goosebumps. He and Two already weren't on good terms. "Oh, Winner, I'm sure we'll be okay!" Assured Cake. "So long as we don't, y'know… get lost. Or killed." Winner frowned. "Cake, you're a sweet guy, you don't have to be a part of this." He blushed slightly at the compliment. "No, no, really, we'll be fine! Book already told me all about how she escaped Evil Leafy, this should be no problem for her. Right, Book?" He turned to face her.

"Yeah, you could say so…" Book rubbed her arm nervously. Memories of her antics inside Evil Leafy were fuzzy after the 53rd puzzle or so, but from what she could recall she wasn't nearly as careful as Cake thought. Pits of spike and lava layered every corner of the dungeon and each obstacle grew more and more difficult for her to avoid; gruesome ends and embarrassing slip-ups were all too common and death became expected rather than feared, but at least back there she had some form of recovery. Who knew what this higher realm had to offer?

Winner shut their eyes as they began to conjure up the portal. Sparks flickered on their fingers as they moved hypnotically, a bright ball of energy starting to form on their rippling palm, flashing green and purple rapidly as it grew in size. The others looked on in amazement, gazing into the light as if they were challenging God to a staring contest. Naily, failing to break her stare, shuffled up on top of Bomby to cover up his fuse with her paws, in case a rogue flare set it on fire and blew him up. Besides the obvious, the last thing they needed was a loud explosion to draw attention to themselves, as if the electric crackling wasn't doing that already.

Winner clutched the ball with their fist. "So where are we going anyway?" Asked Nickel, choosing the worst time to ask a question. "Wh- I don't know!" Hissed Winner, hastily. "On the map, it looks kind of like a foot, if that helps!" They moved their arm back to aim. "You might wanna cover your ears…"

Two shuffled through their wardrobe, looking through their accessories before finding a large pink bow at the bottom of the pile. They brushed off the dust and slowly put it on, staring up at it to make sure it didn't fall. "How do I look?" They asked. Gaty finished her boba, slurping the contents at the bottom of the cup. "Absolutely fabulous," she complimented. "It suits you really well!" They smiled. Leave it to Gaty to give them a confidence boost. They sat down next to her, sipping their drink as they started to relax. "So what's been going on with Nickel?" Two groaned. "Ugh. It just feels like he doesn't care about all the effort I put in for everyone. He just casually criticizes my cooking like it's nothing, like I do it out of some sort of obligation! Like, I don't have to stay here, if I really didn't care I would've just up and left years ago! Why can't he see that?"

"Hmm." She thought for a moment. "Well, if I were you I'd show him the process of actually cooking the food rather than just giving it to him. It's easier for him to insult your creation because all he's seeing is the stuff on the plate, and not the hard work behind it, if that makes sense." Two swirled their tea like a wine glass. "Hmm… well, I guess it does. I'll see if it-"

The room suddenly shook violently, like a bomb had gone off and decimated one of the hotel's floors. The quaking lunged Two back in their seat, their drink splashing in their face and staining their bow. Whipped cream splutted like a cream pie in a circus act. "Oh shoot!" Gaty exclaimed. She stood up, hastily opening the closet. "You want me to grab a cloth, or some paper towels, or somethi-" She stopped when she turned back to look at them. She didn't know if their face had turned red from the sprinkles or the unbridled anger burning within them. It wouldn't take long for her to find out.

Winner stared at the portal, eyeing it to make sure everybody would fit, before hearing a flurry of muffled yet very loud curses from upstairs. "That's not good."

"RUN!" Shrieked Naily, speeding into the portal like a mouse into a hole. Taggy followed suit, then Nickel, then Bomby, then Cake. Book trailed last but stopped inches away from the portal, still extremely hesitant. "I-I can't decide! It just doesn't feel right yet!" Winner telekenetically floated some parts toward them. "Well you're gonna have to be quick if you wanna join the other five, I need to cover this up!" Book stared back at the deep, whirling maw before her… wait, did they say other five? There weren't only five other people on Just Not!

"PILLOW!" Cried Book. She'd forgotten all about her! Her heart sank. Pillow was already a hazard with her teammates around, who knows what would happen if she were left alone? She ran back up to Winner. "Winner I need you to throw me up to Pillow's room so I can take her with me!" "Huh? Book, I really don't have the time…" "You have to! Th- the lives of the contestants are at stake!" "…Book, are you going to go or-" "THROW ME!" She snapped, overpowering anything Winner had said or would say.

Book barrelled through the window into Pillow's room. Her eyes dashed around the pastel walls and contrastingly bloody splatters before spotting her, to her left. She appeared to be polishing an inanimate object of some kind. "Pillow, you have to co-" "I don't have a weapon," Pillow said, calmly. She snuck whatever she had in her sheets before turning around, giving a suspiciously contented smile. Book stared. "…Uh huh. Pillow, you have to come with me!" She grabbed her and leapt back out the window, instantly regretting not thinking things through. "Are we playing Yoylebungee again?" Asked Pillow, naively. "You forgot the rope." Book screamed her lungs out as the two fell down, down, down… Winner rushed to catch them both in their hand, throwing them in the portal just in time for them to close it off.

Two stomped around the corner. "WHAT IS GOING ON- Oh." They stopped in their tracks when they saw Winner, resting their arm against a vending machine shakily. The discomfort in their wide, crooked smile could be seen from a mile away. It created an uncomfortable vibe topped off by their worried, dilating eyes and furrowing brows. The air whistled between the two for a good few seconds, leaving silence so loud you could hear their muscles contract.

"Oh, hey Two, didn't see you there," Winner spoke hastily as they paced toward them, "sorry if I made a racket, darn vending machines stealing your money, rah! rah! rah! Really tests your temper, don't it?" They nudged the number slightly with their hand, "Hahaha, I suppose you'll be leaving now." Two waved their hands in front of them. "Wait wait wait, it stole your money?" They noted. Winner's pupils shrunk. "Oh, uhh, Two, you really don't have to-" "Well why didn't you just say something? I'd be happy to help you get it back!" Before they could get a sentence out, Two was already inspecting the vending machine for issues. "Let's see here… ew, five dollars for vanilla Dr. Fizz?" They rolled their eyes. "Stop." Winner cringed. When this was over they were gonna be owed enough favors to speedrun ten birthdays.

Book felt her eyes open slowly. Her vision was a blur, her surroundings morphing into an abstract mush of colors and simple shapes. Her head was swimming in a pool of nausea and stress. Had it been a dream? Could all this talk of portals and higher worlds be blamed on unconscious neurons firing alone? Naily stood over her, frowning worriedly. "Gee whiz, are you okay?" Book groaned as she slowly rubbed her temple with her paws. Her head throbbed against their eyes so much she felt like they were going to pop out. Pillow rushed over to her. "Perhaps she's dead. Book, are you dead? Say 'yes' if you're dead." Book sat up, mumbling to herself. "AH! ZOMBIE!" Cried Bomby, as he grabbed a rusty hammer from beside him and swung hysterically. "ZOMBIEEEEEEEE!"

"BOMBY I'M ALIVE!" Shrieked Book, widening her eyes. She slumped over, eyelids squinting as she blinked repeatedly. "I'm alive," she clarified. "I'm awake… where are we?" Cake looked around. The seven were surrounded by large, worn-down buildings, covered with graffiti and offensive etchings. An opening in front of them gave way to what looked like a street; that and the blisteringly bright sun above them were the only sources of light in what was otherwise a dark open tunnel. He certainly didn't want to be here at night. "Looks like…" "It's an alleyway." Pillow interrupted. "I didn't know we were going to the real world." Book stood up. "No, the real world is back- whatever. We've seen it. Can we go home now?!" "What? No way!" Nickel perked. "We only just got here, let's have a look around!"

NO!" She shouted. "Err, uhh, I mean, what about all the fun things we can do here in the alleyway? Like calculating the total worth of all of its many things!" "Three dollars," answered Price Tag, who represented the value on their face. "Hahahaha, that helps!" Book lied, glaring at them. "or, we could play Interdimensional Red Rover! I'll start." She made a mad dash for the portal, speeding forward and crashing into the back of a machine.

Book felt her eyes open slowly. Her vision was a blur, her surroundings morphing into an abstract mush of colors and simple shapes.

Pillow was quick to interrupt her reverie, grabbing her and flipping her back into a standing position. "That's better," she hummed. Book was dazed but at least she was still conscious. "Urgh… Wait, what am I still doing here!?" She cried as her gaze met the portal. She fixated particularly on the giant contraption blocking her path. "Wh- what's THAT doing here?! Why is this happening!?"

"Your companions probably punished you for not following the rules," Pillow assumed. "They didn't even call you on over." "They didn't even call her on over," Naily whispered to Taggy. She walked up to the portal and threw a lone pebble at it. It banged off the back of the machine and flew threw a window. "Yup, that's blocking us off alright." "So we're trapped?!" Cake yelped, fearfully. Price Tag attempted to comfort him. "Aww, don't say that, Cake! I'd say it's more like very heavy encouragement to stay." "That's all we really can do, isn't it…" Cake conceded.

The group was silent for a moment. "Well…" Naily lingered as she raised a paw. "The only missed shot you can shoot is an unshooted shot, ain't it?" She started walking off, Price Tag following close behind. The others shrugged, following in her footsteps. Book was so distracted trying to interpret Naily's phrase that by the time she could muster up a response, she and the rest of the group had already left.

Book paced up to them, "Wait, you're all just leaving?" She cried. "You can't! Shouldn't you try and break the wall down, or something? We're gonna get lost!" "Don't worry, we'll go back," Price Tag assured. "We're just exploring first!" "No. Taggy, no! This isn't as simple as 'exploring', we have no idea what this place looks like, or where everything is, or how big everything is, if we lose sight of this alleyway we won't find our way back and we'll lose EVERYTHING! Cake, you just got back with Loser after years of not seeing each other and now you're willing to abandon him?!" The color began to drain from his face. Guilt began to wash over him. "Well…"

Naily stepped forward to interject. "Book, you couldn't even break it down with your full body weight. Would you rather invest all your time in a lost cause or use what time you have in this new world to take a risk? Look," she flipped Book open to tear off a blank page, "You can scribble important information down on this and when we find something that can break down the structure, we'll go back! It solves itself!" Book sighed as she rubbed her temple. If she was so sure... "I really hope you know what you're doing. Do you have a pen?"

Just Not walked casually through the street, Book sketching important details and sign names on her pages in case they got lost. Cake was quick to notice how uncanny all of this world's inhabitants looked: their faces had strange lumps beneath their mouths and eyes, and odd, patterned shapes on both sides of their heads. He assumed these were arms. Almost all of them towered over the group, some taller than Bomby and Book combined. Their eyes were rich with detail and color, almost all of them staring back at Cake with an atmosphere of judgement and suspicion.

He felt his cheeks turn pink. Did they hate him? Did he do something wrong? He'd clearly done something wrong. Why else would they keep looking at him?! "Looks like these guys haven't seen an object before," Naily hummed, derailing his train of thought. "Everyone looks so… same-ey." Nickel whispered. "How do they tell each other apart?" Cake sighed. At least his friends were somewhat on the same page, even if they didn't completely share his mindset.

"This place doesn't look like it has what we're looking for," observed Pillow. "Well maybe we just need to dive deeper!" Taggy eyed the crowd and picked whoever they thought was nicest. They scuttered up to them, making a ^.^ and striking a kind pose. "'Scuse me, sir! Me and my buddies were just looking for some caviar, and you look like the kinda guy who'd know their stuff about that."

"I don't," they replied, briskly. "Ah, well, we've all got room to learn. But could ya redirect us to someone who knows where we can find any? My gray weezerino over here could really go for some sevruga." They dragged Nickel towards them.

"Sevruga?" The man pondered. "Sounds Russian. You'll probably need a plane ticket, or something."

Nickel broke free from Taggy's grasp. "Does it cost money?" He said, playing along with Taggy's cool guy persona. "Because I happen to be pretty experienced in the field of things worth five cents or under, if you catch my drift."

The man was silent for a moment. "If you can't afford it, you can also drive," they muttered. "Through the sea. You'd have to hold your breath for a while, though."

Book cringed at the reminder. "Aaaaand that's where we'll end things for now! Thanks anyway!" She nudged Nickel, cueing everyone to speedwalk away.

The man was left with his thoughts. His inner monologue began to scold him. "Damn it, Barack, you should've gone with them. They seemed nice, even if they were cosplaying as random objects." He sighed as he pulled out a special red, white and blue senzu bean. You'd think a former president, let alone a Saiyan, would be better at talking to people, but here he was. Alone, and about as awkward as a worm in a spider club. "What an Obummer," he mumbled as he popped it in his mouth, letting the chemicals and sudden nutrition wash the regret and loneliness away.

Just Not walked for what seemed like ages, the ever-expanding list of turns, streets and stops growing harder and harder for Book to remember. Whatever part of the journey they were up to now, it certainly didn't look like the beginning. Most of the buildings now were more than two hotels high, a far cry from the quaint forts just a couple blocks back.

Book wondered if her team were actually serious about walking all the way out to the ocean just so they could go to this "Russia" place. Finally having enough, she decided to speak up. "Hey, guys, uhh… are we going to do anything other than walking while we're here?"

Pillow looked around, before catching something in the glimpse of her eye. "We can drive!" She chirped, pointing off to the distance. The others looked: a large, black vehicle stood before them. It was chunky, sleek, and surely big enough to fit everyone. It led a trail of multiple similar cars, all empty and parked in front of a beautiful hotel, one of the tallest in the street.

Book groaned. She had to start wording things better.

Price Tag inspected the vehicle. "Hmmm… doesn't look very seaworthy." "Plus, if we're going to steal it," Naily lowered her voice to a whisper, "we'd have to take out the guards first."

She pointed to two flags, waving proudly on the front end of the van. Nobody recognized either of them. Naily winked at Bomby, who raised a hand, gesturing everyone to stand back. The others were still, as he breathed in. He leapt forth, landing quietly in front of the trunk, before wiggling his fingers and slicing them through both flagpoles at once. The flags slid clean off, landing in his palms.

"THAT SHOULD BE BOTH OF THEM," He shrilled.

The others were impressed. Naily cheered eccentrically, whistling and wooing loudly like she'd just seen pigs fly. "Wasn't that the coolest thing you've ever seen!?" She yelled. "Alright, now let's get in the car!"

Everyone obliged, Naily hastily shuffling into the driver's seat and grabbing onto the wheel. "Oh, uhh, Naily, I think it would be better if I drive this time." Book cautioned, eyeing the pawless pedals. "Why's that?" Naily responded, smiling at her mindlessly. "Oh, it's just, y'know, I have…" She stopped herself before she could say "arms". She remembered a late night bar conversation she had with a very drunk Snowball, who was unfortunate enough to bring up that subject around her.

"It was terrifying," he moped as he chugged down another shot glass. "All I wanted was to join her team. I was nice. I did nothing wrong. I told them they seemed like nice people, even if they were weak and armless." His eyes widened with sorrow as they stared off into space. The memories hit him like a shovel, jabbing into the nerves of his emotions and digging tears out of his cold, almost dead eyes. "And then, out of nowhere…" He whined, his voice cracking in pitch. He turned to Book suddenly and grabbed her shoulders. "She owned me!" He cried, shaking her hysterically. Book could see the fear and vulnerability in his pupils as they dilated and shook. "She owned me! SHE OWNED ME! SHE OWNED ME, BOOK! I WAS OWNED! SHE OWNED ME!"

She didn't quite know what "owned" meant in this case, no matter how many times it was repeated. But if famous tough-guy Snowball was afraid to get on Naily's bad side, chances were Book should very much avoid that path as well.

"…a very strong drivers' spirit!" She finished. "Mine's stronger," Naily grinned. "C'mon, Price Tag, you take the pedals!" "On it!" They saluted, sitting comfortably beneath her. Book sighed as she moved to the back seat, while Bomby took passenger's. If anything went wrong she wouldn't be to blame.

After a bit of fumbling with the ignition and figuring out how four people would fit in two seats, the car started and the group were off. Nickel could barely make out someone glaring at them from inside the building, but he didn't care. This was a whole new experience for him! He shuffled his feet, making sure that they didn't damage Cake's frosting as he sat on top of him.

Book, meanwhile, sat directly in front of Pillow, whose arms wrapped around her in a spooning position. Pillow, ironically, was very passionate about keeping herself safe. She was the only one in the car, aside from Cake, who had strapped themselves in, and had even encouraged Book to share the seatbelt with her. She denied, nonetheless. She didn't need it on such a casual drive, and would hate to make either of them uncomfortable with a tight squeeze.

Naily stared at all the viewers, and they stared back. They'd been doing that a lot, hadn't they? Was it the van this time? She couldn't understand why it'd be such a spectacle to them, what with its all black coloring and rather uninteresting interior. Perhaps these viewers were just very easy to excite. Their brains would probably implode if they saw something with as much visual noise as the Freesmart Supervan, she thought.

Her brows quickly furrowed into a frown when she saw a series of billboards looming over the rest of the town. They all had the same image plastered over them: a creature, presumably a viewer, smiling smugly at the camera, in a confident, commanding pose. Underneath them, a series of stripes and a string of bolded, instructional text:

"Vote Ron DeSantis for presidential reelection, November 2028. A stronger government, a stronger America."

Naily scoffed. She hadn't even made it past her own team's first elimination, and here this guy was, plastering their mug everywhere trying to get people to vote for them twice? As if one victory wasn't enough? Something about it made her blood boil. It wasn't like their silly campaign would even work, anyway, none of the billboards even had letters or square brackets.

She saw some viewers in blue uniforms ripping a much smaller poster off a building: it had similar messaging, but the colors and figure looked different. Most likely it was endorsing someone else, encouraging viewers to vote for an opponent or a teammate. The blue uniformed viewers tore it off, ripping it to bits, before throwing what was left on the ground.

Whoever these contestants were the prize they were battling for must've been really elusive if it meant they were willing to hire their own personal goons. What prize could somehow be more enticing than limitless power? Why were these people so desperate to win it? Just a viewer thing, she guessed. As if object traditions were any less weird.

"So what do you all wanna do first?" Nickel inquired. "Ooh, let's see if they have a beauty salon!" Taggy smirked. "I'd personally LOVE to get my nails done." "That's funny," said Naily. "Thank you. But really, wasn't the plan to get something to eat?" "Didn't you hear the guy before?" Cake butted in. "The caviar we're looking for is probably 2763 canals away." "That doesn't mean we can't try something else!" Nickel replied. "Yeah! Let's see if they have any cool restaurants 'round here." As if on cue, Pillow looked out the window, immediately noticing a sign that stood out from the others. "How does Burger King sound?"

The rest of her team turned their attention to the restaurant. The bright and colorful branding of the logo enticed all of them. The word "burger" implied food, meat. A meal they could all share; the word "king" implied either medieval decadence or supremacy, as if the cooks here were the metaphorical kings of all burgers, delivering quality unmatched by any other chain.

"Don't mind if I do," Naily muttered under her breath as she turned the car around and moved into the Drive Thru. She knew how this kind of thing worked from her team's many late night visits to Gelatin's Steakhouse, but the experience of being in the driver's seat for once was almost surreal in a way. "So what do you all want?" She asked, flinching at the unnatural feeling of those words spilling out of her own mouth.

One by one, everyone listed off what they wanted. Being the only photosynthetic creature among them, Price Tag jokingly asked for a torch.

Naily rolled down the window and forwarded the message to the speaker, whose gritty and bitcrushed voice directed them to the next window. She did so, reaching what appeared to be the restaurant's kitchen and playing Where's Woody with her order as she stared through the window.

"Oh, there's other cooks. Do you want me to take care of them?" Asked Pillow, innocently. "No, it's fine." Naily replied, not knowing exactly what that meant. She tapped the wheel mindlessly as boredom began to set in. The group was left in awkward silence for a brief moment. "Let's listen to some music!" Pillow chimed in, again. She shoved Book off her and reached into the front seat, clicking the radio on. The scratchy, radical voice echoed through the car's walls. "And next up on our totally tubular 2000s throwback, 'This is Such a Pity' by Weezer!"

Pillow appeared to recognize the name, and showing more emotion in that moment than throughout the rest of the trip, she frowned slightly and clicked the radio back off. "Silence also has its perks." As awkwardness descended upon the vehicle, each member of Just Not silently waited for another to speak up, spark a conversation and break the tension.

"How would we kiss?" Price Tag inquired.

Naily raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What? M…me?" "Yeah," They looked up at her and smiled casually. "How would we kiss?" "Uhhh…" She was confused more than anything. Hadn't she already kissed them plenty of times before? "You mean…" She moved to give Price Tag a casual yet loving smooch on their forehead. They chuckled as their face began to warm slightly. They didn't expect her to demonstrate, but weren't complaining. "Oh, nah, heheheh, I mean more…" Their voice grew quiet. "more deeper than that, if that makes sense."

"Oh." Naily's face lit up. "OH, you mean, like, you wanna make out? Like…" She looked out the window, then back to them. "…like now?" They silently nodded, making a bashful <:].

She frowned, sympathetically. "Oh, Taggy, sweetheart, I'm sorry, but you don't exactly have a… 'mouth' mouth, do you? There's not much for me to work with…" They matched their expression, a disappointed :(. She was correct. Price Tag did technically have a mouth but it lacked any depth and couldn't be used for anything other than talking and making faces. The closest thing they could get to tasting anything was their antennae, which they used to drink water and absorb light energy for nutrition. Using that would be unbelievably awkward, though…

"If there isn't a way," they technically lied, "can we at least pretend?" Naily smiled. That she could do. Turning them down at this point would just be cruel. "Oh, alright," she grinned, playfully rolling her eyes. "C'mere." She pulled Price Tag towards her for a kiss. They let out an adorable EEK! as their "lips" met Naily's.

Within seconds the LARP kissing session was in full swing, much to the chagrin of Nickel who looked on in partial disgust. Despite being on their team, he hadn't seen the two interact much, especially not with such blatant intimacy. "Ugh, somebody needs to get a room. Are they always like this?" He hissed to Bomby.

"YEP," he beamed. He could confirm what with how close the three had grown since Naily's return from years of separation. The long-distance relationship they were forced to adapt to after TPOT 5 didn't exactly scratch their mutual itch to be in each others arms. The current sight brought back a particularly pleasant memory from more recent times:

When the show ended and they finally had a chance to reunite, the three had all built up such a desire to give affection to one another that the first thing they did as soon as they made physical contact was hug for three straight days. Sometimes, Bomby would do some footwork, carrying them into their room and grabbing drinks or food, all while not breaking the hug of course. But for the most part, those blissful 75 hours were spent doing nothing but chatting, snuggling, relaxing, and watching random shows on TV. Oh, the way they all cackled watching the Exitors' real time fandubs and hilariously bad reruns of the Object Bang Theory…

Since that faithful day, one would rarely be seen without the two others. The closest they got to splitting was when they chose to sit at different tables, over an argument regarding how to spell fortnite, a period of two weeks, which was resolved later that morning. But aside from that, they were strung together like a sowed blanket. Or, rather, welded together like three small Lego pieces, pressed together with ease and virtually impossible to be separated from that point onward.

Naily slowly moved backwards as she stared into her lovers eyes. "You're so beautiful," she hummed. Price Tag chuckled sheepishly as their blush deepened, before gazing off to their left. "Naily…" "Yes, honey?" She pulled them closer. "She's here…" "Yeah, I'm here…" She wrapped her paws around them in a hug. "I'm so sorry I ever left you…" "No, I mean…" They frowned. "At the window. Our order's here." Naily looked to see someone with bags of food. "SHOOT!" She cried as she dropped Price Tag and scrambled to look natural. "We'll, uhh, be taking our food now, thanks!" She smirked, nervously.

The worker was uninterested. "Uh-huh," She muttered tiredly as she handed the bags of food over to her customer, who grabbed on to them with what she thought were really large gloves. She didn't know what it was with these kids and their weird ass fashion trends but at this point she was so exhausted that she couldn't bother to care. Working 16 straight hours without a wink of rest had taken its toll and all she wanted was to get this last bunch of customers over with so she could end her shift. "Will that be cash or credit?" She sighed.

Naily blinked. "What?" "Cash or credit?" The cashier repeated. "How are you going to pay for your order?" Nickel stood up and slid over to the front. "Oh, I think I see what this guy's deal is. Check this out!" He flopped face-first onto the counter. The cashier stared down at him, then up at Naily, who stared back with an inattentive grin. "…Is that a nickel?" The unamused cashier mumbled. "The one and only!" She confirmed. "Okay. This is five cents," she said, blankly. "Your order is $104.86." "Uhhh, actually it's worth much more than meets the eye!" Book interjected, trying to stop a conflict before it could begin. She scrambled to make something up, "It's a one of a kind, uhhh… Nicko…min…ator, the last of its species!"

"What? No I'm not!" "Oh yeah, you are!" Price Tag >:]'d, sticking to the bit. "He's only one of the highest priced thingamajigs on the market!" They wrapped their string around him and fibbed the highest value they could count to. "check it, 8 whole bucks!"

Book facepalmed. Cake grew worried. "Wait, are we really gonna just leave him here?" "It's fine," said Pillow. "There's other ones." The cashier raised an eyebrow. "So he's not one of a kind? W-Whatever, we can't accept this. If you can't afford to pay for your order I'm afraid you'll have to return it." "Well," sighed Nickel as he stood up, "I know when I'm beat."

"Now just hold on, Nickel…" Naily flicked him back over on his back. "I think I can make this work. Here, I'll write you a check." She opened the glove compartment and grabbed a paper slip. She scribbled something down and slapped it on the counter, sliding it over to the cashier, who was too tired to realize she couldn't accept that as payment either.

She picked up the slip and was met with a crudely written note, "Distraction". "DRIVE!" Shouted Naily. By the time the cashier had realized what was going on, her group of dine-and-dashers had already sped off, with the food, but without the odd nickel cosplayer that still lay on her desk. "They're gone, aren't they?" He asked. Wendy sighed. Trillions of entities in the universe and none of them wanted to give her a single fucking break. She pressed a button at the top of the room, "Code 2762 at 1:15," before resting her chin on the bar and waiting to be allowed to leave. "You got anything you wanna kill time with?" She slurred to the coin costumed fellow. "Uhhh…" He thought of an interesting conversation topic. "I cranked a machine once."

"What are you doing?!" Cried Cake as he watched the Burger King fade away from his vision. "He's still in there! NICKEL'S STILL IN THE RESTAURANT!" "Oh yeah… Well, the only option to get him back I can think of is to go through the Drive Thru again, and that's gonna need a lotta quick maneuvering now that we've burned bridges." Naily searched through the bags for some fries. "How about we eat first? Can't have good reflexes on an empty stomach!" Price Tag looked up at her. "I thought you already ate?" "But these are better for the brain," replied Naily as she stuffed a pawful of fries in her mouth. "Potatoes and all. Not as high in mercury." "Ah, that's fair."

Naily handed a fry over to Book, who handed it over to Cake. "You want this one, Cake?" "I'll eat when we get home," he muttered, quietly, as Book took the fry back and ate it. He was too pertubed to dwell on food. How could anybody not be pertubed knowing one of their friends was accidentally left behind? How was nobody freaking out?! Book could see he was fearful, almost to the point of tears. "Cake? Are you feeling alright?"

"We left him behind…" He weeped. "We abandoned him! We're never gonna see him again!" Book felt guilt wash over her. "Oh, don't say that! You know he's just a few blocks away." She rubbed his back. "Look, I know our teammates are a bit… erratic, at times, but they still care deeply about their friends, don't they? They'd never do something that out of line if they weren't sure it'd end up alright in the end." He sniffed. "But what abo-"

"Shh," Pillow hushed as she slid into the front seat, pointing onto the window. "Look over there," she exclaimed, cueing everyone to look in her direction. It was the same hotel where Naily had found the car. Pillow was particularly fixating on a suited man standing outside, who appeared particularly livid for whatever reason. He was kicking and screaming, jumping up and down in unabashed fury. "Isn't that the guy from the poster?" Taggy pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Naily replied. "Ron whacha call it. Gosh, his face's practically turning red. Pillow, try reading his lips!"

Pillow rolled down the window and peeked her head out, curling her hands around her eyes to mimic binoculars. She spoke in a monotone voice. "-idiots, I don't care who you are, I am the President. If you don't get it back in five seconds, you can tell your kids they won't be having a christmas… look, there they are, that's my car, those assholes stole my car, shoot them, shoot them."

"PILLOW!" Cried Book, who pulled her down just in time to miss the flurry of bullets coursing through the windows. Everyone followed suit as gunshots flurried through the car; the bullet-proof glass was strong, but the government's exclusive top-model NERF guns were stronger. When the noise fell silent, Naily perked back up. "Whew, that was close. You guys all good?" "Not mentally," Book whimpered. "We have one casualty…" Cake spoke, crestfallen as he held up a soda cup. Liquid bled out of the gaping bullethole in its middle, pouring through the front and back ends. Taggy giggled. "Heh. Well, if an object got shot today, I'm sure glad it wasn't one with a face. Huh, Naily?" They looked up at her, frowning when she didn't humor their playful quip.

"Naily? Are you OK, buddy?" Her eyes were wide, blank, empty, yet filled with despair. Invisible tears fell down her face, sliding down to the corners of her mouth, a small frown with lips that covered her clenched, grinding teeth, as if to give but a glimpse at her interior rage. Price Tag's face formed semicolons. They'd never seen her like this. "Slow down." Naily hissed at their partner, who understood quickly. They eased pressure on the pedal as Naily slowly turned around, the vehicle creeping onto the sidewalk.

"Wait for my signal…" She carefully waited for non-target pedestrians to clear the runway. Book began to connect the dots. Her heart sank. "Naily, it's just a cup, whatever you're gonna do, don't do it!"

"Brake…" Bomby fastened his seatbelt. Those gunmen had really done it now; there was no stopping Naily at this point. Whatever was about to happen, was about to happen. "RAM IT!"

The car shot forward. Onlookers screamed and leapt out of the way as the vehicle sped towards the clique of suits. The self-proclaimed President's jaw dropped in horror as the cadillac careened towards his body. His ear-splitting scream was cut off with a loud, painful crunch, his body crashing into the windshield, his nose breaking and his arm bones forced to twist into unnatural angles. His face flattened from the sheer force, like something one would see out of a Tom & Jerry cartoon. It quickly slipped downwards leaving only a trail of blood, which was quickly cleaned off with the wipers. The body fell under the tires as they crushed out what little life remained in the corpse.

"Aw yeah!" Cheered Taggy as they gave Naily a high-five. Book's jaw was agape. "That was… you just…" "Now that Big Red's been taken care of, let's get Nickel back!" She flicked the radio back on instinctively, and like something out of a cheesy movie, a song began on cue. "Look at this photograph," the speakers blared. Pillow barely bat an eye. She clearly didn't mind this song as much.

Nickel flailed his legs around. "And it's just, she does nothing, while I toil and toil and toil for some stupid recovery center that doesn't even work after a while!" Wendy was attentive to the story the stranged coin costumed fellow was telling. She didn't think it was real, at all, but anything to keep her awake while she waited for management to let her leave.

He stood up and started gesturing wildly with his feet, "Flumple dumple smordledorf, it was degrading! Like, I was reduced to a cranking slave, crank crank crack 'till the sky goes black." He sat back down with a huff. "Why didn't you just, like… stop?" Wendy asked. "What?" "Like, just stop cranking. If you feel, like… degraded, or whatever it was, why keep doing something you hate, y'know?"

And let his friends die? He quickly grew defensive. "Oh yeah, well…" He stuttered, struggling to come up with a comeback. "Why don't you… stop… your thing?!" She fell silent. Nickel's response was cheap, and poorly delivered, but something about it resonated with her in a way she couldn't describe. Could she really do that? Just stop doing her job for a while because it strained her mental health to the point of splinters? Then again, money was tight… She furrowed her eyebrows. "You do your whatever, I do mine," she dismissed vaguely.

A car swept by, as the dine and dashing group from before grabbed Nickel by the foot and pulled him back into the car. Taking back a tip? Now that was low… not that he was, actually, a coin of course. Was he? Whatever, he was gone anyway, but his idea remained…

Cake grabbed onto Nickel and hugged him tightly, as he sobbed hysterically. "NICKEL I'M SO SORRY I MISSED YOU SO MUCH I WAS SO WORRIED I'D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN," He spouted, as he peppered him with platonic kisses. Nickel shut his eyes, shielding them from the brown smooch marks appearing all across his body. He was glad Cake loved him enough to fear for his safety, he just wished he wasn't caught so off guard. "Thanks, but I was kinda in the middle of something…"

"Well that doesn't matter, now," Naily said as she swung the car back onto the road, then into the nearest parking lot. "You must be starving after all that waiting! Here…" She took the items that weren't fries out of the bag. Those were for later. She threw a cheeseburger at Nickel, some nuggets at Cake, a 'whopper' at Bomby, an ice cream at Pillow, a salad at Book, and took the kids meal for herself. The plastic toy inside, presumably inedible to her, was given to Taggy; an astronaut of some kind, with Toy Story 7 branding, they were merely estatic that it eminated light of any kind for them to, quote unquote, "eat".

Nickel stared into the burger, his focus blotting out all other senses. This was it. The purpose of the entire trip, to get at least a taste of viewers' world food. With great carefulness, he moved the food toward his mouth and bit into it, his teeth digging into the papery outer layer, the soft, warm bread, and the juicy, succulent meat. He thinks he forgot a step, but it doesn't matter. He's eating now, and he can finally taste the higher realm.

But something about it feels off, artificial. Less personal than Two's cooking. It tasted better, obviously, but what it had in flavour it lacked in heart. There is no love, no passion to be tasted, rather, homogenized corporate fluff.

His train of thought was derailed by a series of blasting sirens, fading in from in front of him. "W…what's that?" Pillow looked to the front window for the source of the noise. There, crawling over the horizon, were a flock of cars speeding their way. Atop their rooves were sirens, flashing red and blue. "Oh, I know these guys! They're feds." She turned to Naily, smiling. "They're probably angry at us because we killed their leader. We should drive. Now." She got the memo, forwarding the message to Taggy, who floored the pedal and swerved the car onto the road. The chase was on.

The car bulleted down the path, dashing away from the persuing police. Onlookers gasped as sirens whined throughout the street, dispatch after dispatch chasing the rogue presidential cadillac. Many scrambled for their phones to take pictures of the incident, eager to document perhaps one of the strangest events in U.S. political history.

One enemy car managed to catch up with Just Not, preparing to throw them off course. Ram! Nickel flew off Cake, hitting the back of the driver's seat before collapsing onto the floor. "Oh dear!" Book cried as she stood to pick him up. Ram! The car surged forward. Book was thrown out of her seat, pages aflutter. Pillow, who was restrained by her seatbelt, took notice. "You seem to be having trouble with one of the drivers," She observed. "Do you want me to take care of them?" "Y-yeah, sure, do what you can!" Book groaned as she rubbed her temple. Ram! The car swerved from left to right. Naily struggled to keep balance, frantically trying to stop the car from spinning. Taggy twisted into awkward positions in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pedal. Bomby gripped onto the grab handle, failing to curb his panic. "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" He screamed. Ram! Like a kick in an already bruised chest, the car was shoved again. "HURRY!" Cried Bomby. When Book finally managed to regain composure she could make out Pillow reaching for the back of her covers, pulling out a large, black shape. Her eyes widened. "I-is that a…" Ram! Book shrieked as she fell back onto the floor. Pillow rolled down the window, unfazed.

"I lied, earlier." She said, as she unbuckled, and took aim. "I have a gun."

Right as the car was about to ram again, Pillow fired a spray of bullets, which burst through the enemy's windshield and caused the car to swerve away in surprise. It turned sharply to the left, spinning directly into a building, which collapsed on top of it in a fiery explosion. "BURN IN HELL, YOU CAPITALIST PIG DOGS!" Cried Pillow.

Naily saw the car fade away, and sighed in relief. The feeling vanished as she saw a sharp curve in the road. "We're about to turn!" She shouted. Pillow noted, grabbing onto the grab handle and using the velocity from the vehicle's swing to fling herself onto the back trunk. She used one hand to cling onto the window, and the other to hold onto the gun. Bullets fired hysterically at the cops as they swerved, desperately trying to dodge the storm of gunfire while keeping chase with the criminals.

"How are we going to get home?!" Cake panicked as he pulled Nickel in for a protective hug. "I don't know!" Naily snapped. "The alleyway could be anywhere!" Book facepalmed. Her cover was starting to redden from the amount of times she had slapped it these past few hours. Taggy made a <:[. "Book, weren't you keeping directions?!" "Me?!" Book replied. "Oh, yeah, me, uhh…" She scrambled across the floor. That page couldn't have gone too far, could it?

After a few seconds of searching and a quick buildup of fear, she finally found the page. She sighed as she sat back in her seat and buckled up, scanning the pages for any valuable information. In spite of how rushed it was, it felt surprisingly comprehensible. "Okay, do you know where Barnes Street is?" "No!" Naily responded, before seeing a street sign. "Yes!" "Okay, turn right there…"

Pillow felt herself slide sharply to her left, flipping over onto her front as she struggled to maintain her grip on the rim. She found herself awkwardly shifting onto her right as she tried to get a good look at the pack of feds, still following her with intent to kill. If they didn't recognise her before, they certainly recognised her now.

She was running low on ammo, and if she wanted to permanently get rid of the threat, she'd have to change tactics. She looked up. A helicopter flew above them at an almost safe distance. She assumed it belonged to a news station, of some sort. Stupid spies, probably broadcasting this live for the whole world to see, like it was any of their business. At least in BFDI there was a chance to edit some of the more personal things out. She took aim.

She unexpectedly swerved back to her right, this time almost falling off the car. Her feet slid off the trunk, and for the moment, she thought she would end up skidding onto the road, meeting an untimely end as her cover was ripped to shreds. Yet, thankfully, a swift swerve sent her back to the uncomfortable, yet safer position she was in before, and she, once again, took aim.

"OK, now you're gonna wanna stick to this road for a couple more metres!" Book instructed. Naily obliged, using this time to glare at the car coming up to her right. It slowly gained on her, and she anticipated another ramming. But instead, the driver rolled down the window and poked their head out to talk to her.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA," they shouted, over the unending howls of the wind. "HOW FAST YOU'RE GOING?!" Naily rolled down her window. "NO," she remarked, "I CAN'T READ." "I'M GOING TO NEED TO SEE YOUR LICENSE AND REGISTRATION!" She rolled her eyes, pulling out an I.D. from who knows where and sticking her paw out to give it to them. They grabbed it and read its label, a single, crudely written word: "Distraction". Looking up from the note, they were barely given enough time to react to the car in front of them, and with a painful crash, they demolished the entire front of their car, and practically their entire body. "Naily 2, Viewers 0!" Cheered Taggy.

After skillful shooting at the helicopter's rotors, Pillow watched the fireworks. The machine barreled down uncontrollably, spiralling into the police herd and colliding with a loud, dramatic explosion, which sent debris flying even in her close vicinity. The bright orange light soon faded, leaving only piles of rust and rubble. Pillow sighed in relief, and swerved back into the car. That spectacle was worth the world. "Uhh, guys, I think we missed," Cake muttered as he pointed to the bright neon "alleyway" sign that they had just sped past. That must've been where we came from, Book thought as she facepalmed.

To make matters worse, Bomby could see another herd of cars speeding towards them. "TURN! TURN!" He shouted. Naily swerved around, this time heading in the opposite direction. Her stomach dropped when she saw a pile of cars blocking her path. "Well, we're done for." said Nickel. "Taggy, brake!" Naily commanded. Much to her surprise, they didn't. "Price Tag, brake!" "No, we can't!" They snapped. "You can make it through this, you ran over that guy, you can run through a couple cars!"

Their words were kind, if not poorly timed considering the circumstances. Nethertheless, she trusted them enough to play along. She angled herself towards the alleyway and shut her eyes, hoping with all her might that they were correct and she would push through the piles of cars. It was either that, or nothing.

By now, a crowd of almost every object in the hotel had gathered around the vending machine. Green tape was set up near the area, so nobody but those willing to try and fix it could cross. Surprisingly, after so many hours, nobody could seem to understand what was wrong with the vending machine, or how they could get Winner's "money" back. Not even Golf Ball could fix the issue.

Snowball, one of the only objects who hadn't previously showed up, stepped proudly in to the fray. He strutted down the cleared line, "You're all stumped by a vending machine? Pathetic! I can fix something like that in seconds," He boomed, shoving Golf Ball out of the way, "because I have arms!"

"No, stop, don't." Said Winner, sarcastically. He breathed in, then out, as he stretched his arms towards the vending machine. "Open sesame!"

Nothing happened. Everyone was silent for a brief few seconds. Snowball took another deep breath. "Open sesa-"

The car burst through the machine, flattening Snowball in the process. It flipped over repeatedly as the other objects rushed to get out of the way, Winner particularly growing afraid as their once dimmed fears were quickly rekindled. Finally, it settled, resting on its back.

One by one, Just Not climbed out of the vehicle. Naily, realizing that she wasn't dead, leapt around in celebration and cheered. Seeing Taggy, she leapt into their legs estatically, giving them multiple swift kisses and thanks. Their string began to wag again as the affection extinguished their uneasiness. They made a ^w^, their voice cracking as they cheered giddily that they were both okay, and they didn't think twice before reciprocating her hug as they wrapped their legs around hers tightly. Soon afterwards they were joined by Bomby, who pulled both of them in for a group hug. "OHMAGOSH! NAILY! TAGGY!" He cried, as the group barrel-rolled forward in excitement.

Soon after they were joined by Cake, who was glad to see his friends were alright, then Nickel, then Book, then Pillow…

"Just Not?!" Cried Two, as they all stopped to look at them. "Where have you been? We've been trying to fix this ve-" They froze when they turned around to see a giant, green portal. They were left in a paralyzing state of shock, their jaw agape as they stared at the wormhole.

"The real world," they slowly turned to the team. "You went to the real world."

Price Tag sighed, as they stepped forward. "I guess there's no denying it any longer." They shut their eyes into a U_U. "It was Winner. Winner forced us to go." They recoiled. "T-Taggy!" "Winner! You mean you were in on this?!" They began to sweat. "Well, I mean-" "Yeah, totally! We were just trying to keep to ourselves, but they threatened to terminate our cable subscription, it was horrible!" Naily put a paw on her forehead melodramatically, playing along with the bit. "Book, you can back us up, right?"

But Book was already running off. She held up a finger, likely to indicate that they had taken things 'one' step too far, before disappearing into the distance. The joke was on her, though, Naily thought. She was holding up the wrong one.

Either way she couldn't keep up the act. "…It's just a prank?" She shrugged.

"I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS A BIRTHDAY GIFT OR ANOTHER TRIAL FROM GOD!" Two yelled, "I AM BEYOND ANGRY AT ALL OF YOU! Winner, I gave you clear instructions to not randomly create portals to the real world without my permission."

"I'm sorry!" They sighed. "N-Nickel said there were purple tomatoes, and I was hungry!"

"You eat those literally every other day! Nickel! I tell you to be more grateful for what you have, so you run off into another dimension?!" "W-well, yeah, but the food they have there doesn't really taste- have the same heart that yours does."

"…YOU ATE THEIR FOOD?!" They cried, taking personal offense. "Look," said Naily, "I'm really sorry if we did something wrong by running off. We just wanted to find more of the exotic caviar you were talking about!"

They frumped. "The ca- Is that what this is about?" Nickel's eyes darted around. "Well, yeah, where else would you get it from?"

"Nickel." Two said, bluntly. "Nickel, look at me. We have a canal, with fish in it. That lay eggs. Caviar is fish eggs."

"Oh." He tapped his foot, awkwardly. "Well that's why we didn't really… find any, anyway. We mostly just ate burgers."

"Whatever you ate, it wasn't worth violating one of my clearest rules!" They sighed. "Look, I'll let you all off the hook this time, since clearly none of you had any malicious intent." They walked towards the portal, while eyeing Winner, "and using your limitless power irresponsibly, even for just a minute, is admittedly tempting," before standing in front of it. "But you all could've gotten very hurt, and for that risk alone, I don't want you ever sneaking out like that again."

They turned around. "Now I'm going to go get some stuff for oh MY GOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD!" They screamed as they saw a flurry of tanks, helicopters, and police cars aiming directly at them. They hastily ripped the portal off the wall, folding it into a bite-sized piece before swallowing it with a quick gulp. They breathed heavily for a few seconds. Winner raised their eyebrows. "That's impressive." "WHAT DID YOU- Thanks, by the way, thank you for noticing, but WHAT DID YOU DO!?"

Pillow pulled out some shoelaces. "We also killed the president."

Nickel bit into his fried caviar. It was crunchier, and more bitter than his previous feast. "Well, maybe two week house arrest isn't that bad after all!" Naily perked, kicking her feet against her assigned bed as she switched on the TV. "Yeah," Taggy said as they huddled under the blanket. "We get room service and everything!" "AND, THANKS TO DOORDASH, 4% CASHBACK ON EVERY PURCHASE." Cheered Bomby. Naily awkwardly nodded. Perhaps exposure to the viewers' world had gone to his head.

She looked up at the roof - gray, like the rest of the room - and silently sighed. While she appeared about as optimistic as the others, secretly, Naily couldn't wait to get out of here. The room's dull coloring was nowhere near as visually stimulating as her walls, which were somehow littered with bright neon blinkie gifs and other animated posters. She stared enviously at the bed which would've been assigned to Book had she not been pardoned by Two. Stupid justice. She was probably being rewarded with a nice, tropical vacation for her efforts to stop the situation from escalating before it began, while the rest of the team lounged in prison.

Naily was right: but in actuality, being separated from her friends even for a little while was perhaps just as punishing to Book as this ordeal was to Naily. The friend group they shared was tight-knit: nobody could stay mad at each other for long, and even if they didn't think it, they longed to see each other again and quickly reconcile.

"Well, Burger Kings come and go…" Cake stated as he ate a fry, whose recipe had been copied from the titular restaurant after much research, "but you're all the only monarchs I'll ever need."

Awkward, yet sweet. That was Cake. He huddled up with the rest of his team in a hug while thinking about how Loser would be the royal jester in this metaphor.

Ironically, Nickel thought to himself as he took another bite of his caviar, Two perhaps did need to go to the viewers' world to make proper ground sevruga after all, before the incident made it too dangerous for anyone to venture into again. Except it wasn't the caviar that was obtained from the viewers' world.

It was the microwaves, delivered by Black Sea Shipping Company.

Pillow crept into her room. It had been vacant for the past fortnite on account of her house arrest. Her friends were currently having a reunion party downstairs to celebrate finally being able to interact with the outside world. How naive, or rather, ignorant. They had finally taken a step outside of their little bubble and were still perfectly content with staying inside? Their loss.

She bit her fingernail into the shape of a key, and unlocked her drawer. Two had confiscated her gun after finding it during the car inspection. They didn't, however, think to search her room. Searching through her pile of backup weapons, she found another: a ray gun. Smaller, and with a much slower firing speed, but it packed a punch if you had good aim. Perfect for what she was trying to achieve.

She switched it to "Portal" mode. The incident was probably all over the news by now. It would take a lot of work to cover it all up, but if Pillow had her heart set on fixing what was broken, chances are it wouldn't take more than a few hours. If all went well she would be back in time to catch the end of the party.

She aimed at the floor.

She breathed in.

She fired.

[froldgapp]

We Need a Hero. Ladybug Ain't It

In a July 2023 interview for the Guardian, creator of the Bechdel test, Alison Bechdel, bemoaned the toothless response from big media properties to demands for more complex female leads:

Is it dismaying that so many films continue to fail the test?

What’s really dismaying now is the way so many movies cynically try to take shortcuts and feature strong female characters – but they just have a veneer of strength and they’re still not fully developed characters.

I won't argue that Marinette/Ladybug isn't developed, but rather, that in Astruc's pursuit of a Strong Female Lead, we have a character whose strength, agency, wit, grief and elation, is most often at the expense of the cast around her.

We see this most clearly in her relationship with Adrien/Chat Noir. Here is a boy who is controlled, neglected, (arguably) abused, lied to, used, and weaponised by his sole guardian; his father. This has resulted in a sheltered and naive character who canonically has a desperately conditional understanding of love and loyalty. Most if not all of the displays of love Gabriel shows Adrien rest not on Adrien the person, but on Adrien the asset. His life is not his own, and as is revealed in very literal terms in Season 5, nor is his body.

The Gabriel and Adrien dynamic echoes through the Marinette and Adrien relationship. We are shown, explicitly in canon, that Marinette doesn't really know Adrien. He's a heartthrob and she understandably has a crush on him. But while in later seasons she casts aspersions at his army of adoring fans who go to any length to be close to him, she herself is clearly no better. Evidence says she's much worse actually. She takes astounding liberties with his day to day life, she lies to get closer to him, she polices his relationships with specifically other female characters, she delights in his sadness as seen in Glaciator 2:

Marinette: Oh, Adrien! Fancy seeing you here! And you look so sad, that's good!

Marinette as hero even abuses her position as Ladybug to break into his room, rifle around his things and even sniff his pillow. The show seems to make some attempt to explain away her behaviour in Derision by telling us that, in fact, Marinette does all this because she is the wounded party. Even if we accept for the moment that Derision wasn't a lazy retro-justification in service of Marinette's poor behaviour, her trauma does not trump Adrien's right to privacy.

Except, in-show, anything Marinette wants or needs trumps anything anyone else wants or needs, including Adrien–her ostensible partner. Adrien feels left out? Actually, this is more stress for Ladybug. Adrien dates Kagami? Actually this is competition for Marinette. Adrien is locked in a near-sensory deprivation chamber by his super villain father and feels forced to relinquish his miraculous? Actually this is bad news for Marinette.

If she's a hero, then she's one that comes with a price–one far beyond what I'm willing to accept as audience. I want a flawed hero. I don't want perfection. But equally, I don't want to be force fed the notion that this girl's dominant flaw is being a clutz. We get a few brief glimpses into the cost of her controlling behaviours but generally we suffer almost the entire cast telling us she is the Most Wonderful and Supreme Being That Has Ever Existed, all this while she consistently excels within the narrative through the diminishment of others. Need we remember her acing the gamer competition having never displayed a previous interest? How she surpasses even Joan of Arc in all matters miraculous?

Marinette the knight and Adrien the supposed Princess in the Tower: on paper the concept is a little tired but interesting, worth exploring. The role reversal that Astruc aimed for fell short though, and what we have instead is a role amplification. As I write, I struggle to think of a piece of media where the romantic interest has been quite so violated, lied to, limited and enfeebled.

Why did Bechdel's quote ring so true with how Marinette/Ladybug is drawn? That I feel cheated. That the potential for greatness was there, but instead we have a character who from a slightly different angle looks like a hero from wow-heroes-are-jerks juggernaut, The Boys.

I hope Season 6 interrogates Marinette's issues of control and denying agency more. I hope we see consequences beyond what is now a tedious series of panic attacks from Marinette when she's caught short. I hope real contrition and growth are modelled and that real, impactful, damaging character flaws aren't swept away by a cloud of narrative magical ladybugs.

[leggerefiore]

cw: 18+ content, afab reader, zoroark ingo, knotting,

Minors DNI

----

There was a time of year that you enjoyed more than anything since living here in the village.

Every autumn, the seasons shifted from the vibrant greens of summer to a brilliant variety of reds, oranges, and browns. It was a time for slowing down and relaxing for most people. The year was winding to an end, so spending the days peacefully was common.

Except here.

Here, it was a time of excitement.

You giggled as the Zoroark hybrid let out a whine when you moved. He sat stiffly on the futon and grasped at your hips desperately. Ingo always lost himself in the woes of his rut. Your first one shared with him may have been one brought on by desperation that was simply impossible to understand, but the future ones were simply some of the best sights of him.

You held on tightly to his shoulders as you felt him fill you while sinking back down his cock. His sharp claws dug slightly into your hips. Heavy pants came from his as you rested your forehead to his. You had little on your mind but teasing him as much as you could. Raising yourself back up, you felt him grip tighter. A clench around his dick sent him into a shiver as a groan wrecked his throat.

Bringing yourself just below his cockhead, you slammed back down. His eyes were tightly closed as his pale skin grew more and more coloured with each moment. “D-dearest, please,” Ingo begged, “More! I need more of you…” You chuckled at his plea and began a consistent bouncing up and down his cock. With every movement, you were careful to clench around him tightly, and judging by the lovely noises that came from him, the effects were astounding.

Each thrust was quickly met by his hips as he tried to fuck up into you the best he could. You felt yourself lose a bit of control in that moment, letting out soft curses and moans yourself. It was addicting to see how he reacted to every little thing like this. Even as you shifted around a bit to stimulate your clit against his pubic bone, he still let out such sweet sounds. The stoic expression he held was clearly gone and replaced with flustered cheeks and lidded eyes.

His knot began to swell at his cock's base and while the stretch felt wonderful, you slowed yourself down. Ingo desperately attempted to keep up the pace you had previously set by lifting you up and bucking up into you, but your snail's pace seemed final. “P-please! I'm so close… Just a bit more, love,” his voice was more akin to a whine, “Dearest… Please! Just a little more!” You sat completely still soon with his cock buried inside of you. Going to raise yourself off him completely, you planned your next course of action.

This, however, never came to fruition. Ingo suddenly pushed you over into the futon and started to fuck into you in a vigour. Judging by the slight growls and groans echoing from him alongside the distant look in his eyes, you felt his instincts had overtaken his brain. Everything grew hotter and hotter as he humped into you like, well, a dog in heat. Your arms locked around his neck while you pulled him into a heat kiss. His tongue darted into your mouth and worked to massage yours. A free hand of his carefully moved down to where you both met and rubbed eagerly at your clit, eliciting a moan that Ingo happily ate.

Your body soon twitched a bit before a certain pleasure took over and emptied your mind. Ingo gave a few more rough thrusts before he, too, joined you. The pleasant warmth poured inside of you as his completely swelled inside you. Your kiss ended as he laid himself against you for a moment, panting as he had before. You took in heavy breaths, too. A laugh nearly escaped you when you felt his tail swishing back and forth.

Soon, a few kisses were pecked around your face as Ingo came down from the high. “M-my apologies!” he spoke in a quiet tone, “I… I completely lost myself there for a moment. Have I hurt you?” You let out another chuckle and reached up to scratch his ears.

“Mmm, I'd say you were a good boy, actually,” you teased him and brought him in for another kiss, “I liked that. A lot.”

“A-ah… I see…” his face was bright red when he pulled away from the affection. You just felt completely entranced by the change he exhibited.

“Well, how should we spend the next…” you gave genuine thought to how much time his knot would take to go down, “Like, thirty minutes?”

His arms quickly pulled you into a tight hug as he shifted your positions to your sides. The pillow was pulled from where it had been knocked off the bed to a place that you could each rest your heads on it. “We should spend it cuddling… I just wish to be close to you,” Ingo nodded and rested his forehead against yours.

Well, you thought, it was not like you had much of a choice in the matter. Still, you laid close to him.

He was nothing if not warm.

[formulatrash]

the trouble truly is, is that people disliked lando before any of his trump comments, when he was making supportive statements regarding blm, refusing to engage with his twitch chat’s sexist remarks, and saying that the fia ban on political statements is trash. trump comments were wild and worthy of criticism, full stop, and yet, charles’ liking comments about blm being a “marxist cult” (a white nationalist god whistle) or lewis being pal’s with a rapist are never cited as reason for disliking them. guys, all of f1 drivers are not great people. they are millionaires, most born with a golden spoon, men, and, worst of all, european (the racism here is astounding). my comment btw isn’t meant as a whataboutism, or stating that lando is actually a misunderstood communist, but rather, if to dislike one, it’s to dislike all of them, or be transparent that it really ain’t about the comments, but just not liking them as a personality. there is a way for us progressives to be fans of, let’s be real, the worst sports regarding equality, on the lines of gender, race, sexuality, tackling climate change, but we’ve got to be honest and consistent.

yeah I'm gonna publish this one - you're right. remember I worked in this sport, I fucking know how dogshit people in it are and I also know Lando, he's not shit.

Lewis being friends with Brad Pitt makes me so angry I can't fucking think. I still like him. I still think he's generally right.

[justagingerwithredhair]

The Blue Moon Ball: Feast

Oh food glorious food, how I've missed you so. My mind tells me to try and maintain my composure, but my body has already taken off to the nearest spread. It looks like cheese, grapes, crackers, veggies, pinwheels, dip, all the typical light snacks one would find at a party. I begin to realize the severity of my starvation when I completely disregard the silverware, electing to take matters into my own hands by skewering the snacks with magically made icicles. Absolutely barbaric, I know. I end up crafting a chilled charcuterie kebab and scarfing it down. Did I look refined? Probably not, but at this point I'm too hungry to care much for manners. Ivory must also be starving because he detaches from my staff and starts picking at the vibrant berries. Where we live, our diets typically consist seafood, root vegetables, grains, and magical flora adapted to the climate of a frozen coast, so this dinner will be a welcome change of pace. After satiating ours stomachs on a base level, I can begin to truly appreciate the spread. The variety is astounding! I start to search for a real meal. I look at the dining table and see it stretched the length of the hall to an almost imperceptible length. At glance, it looks to be an enchantment that causes the room to loop on itself to accommodate every guest. How clever! I walk past the chairs and benches until I can find a spot that is open and somewhat close to Lurien. I let him get away once, not again. After walking for a bit, I finally spot him. He is surrounded by friends, all laughing while eating away merrily. It doesn't seem a seat is open in that particular circle, but one is available close enough to get in his sight. Moving quickly, I slide onto the bench next to a stranger.

My my mouth waters as I take in the options: chicken, pork, beef, lamb, fish, vegetables of all kinds, exotic fruit slices that look perfectly ripe, bread rolls of every variety and, oh be still my heart, CALAMARI! Ivory and I notice at the same time and immediately snatch the plate. Such golden crispy chewy goodness paired with thick zesty sauces. As we bite down, that oh so satisfying first crunch is enough to make the whole night worth it. Forget the waltz music, this is the real symphony we needed. The squid's flesh gives way to our teeth and we munch away blissfully. Calamari has always been our favorite. I'm not much of a chef, so making it ourselves has been... difficult, thus we typically depend on restaurants to get our fix. However tonight has increased my standards tenfold. No calamari will ever top this, not in a million years.

After I scarf down the last piece, I scan the table for something more novel but catch the gaze of the woman to my right (@these-detestable-hands) . She wears some brilliant combination of pirate apparel and ball clothes with a red and white polka dot sash. Though that isn't what stood out to me first. As I locked eyes with her, a horrified visage burned into my memory.

"You monster!" she shuddered in a low and tense tone, "That was my sister you just ate!"

Confounded my eyes finish observing her and spot her hair. Well, it isn't so much hair, but red octopus tentacles growing from her scalp. I immediately put the pieces together, and throw myself into a coughing fit out of shock.

"I'M SO SORRY-- I DIDN'T KNOW--"

As profuse apologies tumble out of me, her shell shocked grimace turns into a delighted grin as she begins to laugh unyielding. She pats my back saying,

"Oh calm down red-head, it was just a joke."

My horror subsides and I begin to chuckle a little which then grows into a contagious laughter I must have gotten from her. We both revel in the absurdity of the moment. As we calm down, she introduces herself,

"The name's Haley."

"Ah! A pleasure to meet you, Haley! My name is Seros. I apologize for the whole 'eating your sister' debacle. Think you can forgive me?"

She expels another hearty laugh. We have a delightful conversation over our meals and the time flies. It's not until we say our momentary goodbyes when I realize I have yet to meet with Lurien. I think I still have time. He seems to be up and mingling now! Ok, time to get some answers.

[anewbeginningagain]

In addition to all of the Green Parsons discourse, I would just say that Scott knows the pitfalls of training with your biggest rivals (specifically Meryl and Charlie). Even if Green and Parsons want to go to IAMO (I’d guess IAM over IAMO if at all) they will have to contend with more change and with being the newbies to CPom who have spent time establishing a relationship with Scott etc. I don’t think IAMO is a big enough or elite enough school to support the kind of “we’re all friends” vibe that you can get from IAM. All that’s to say Scott may say no if they approached him bc of CPom. But also! I would say that Scott needs another 1-2 really elite teams in the near future to keep building his coaching brand and IAMO. Other than CPom, he’s got some mid to lower tier top Canadian teams and then a handful of other countries? It would be good to have one big name that helped him and also pushed CPom. Who would that be? Not sure.

I agree with everything you said. I think that everyone watching CPom in the past 4 years has been astounded by the transformation they went through. There's the obvious - packaging, programs, basic skills, but then there's the confidence and how Christina is a new skater. And one of my favorite things - CPom have been consistently getting the highest levels in every competition they attend, I'm not sure they got any step sequence lower than level 3 this entire season. That's Scott IMO, the ability to get your levels while still staying in character and performing the hell out of your programs? Scott.

[wutheringmights]

Ok an extra little kudos on ur last chapter as usual (WOW ur ability to write so much so consistently yet with such high quality is literally astounding and insane)

Just wanted to say that Spirits is mentioned to be taller than Twilight which I find sooooo interesting. Plus Spirits being older than Legend and finding it amusing that a teenager would boss him around. God these small details make the characters that much more lifelike. Hey so actually can we get a general height for the cast—specifically I want to know if Spirits is taller than TWILIGHT he’s taller than Warriors now right? But is he taller than Time or Lincoln?

Thank you!! I try my best to write the best that I can (ironically, that sentence? not my best).

I'm a bit lame in that in my brain, the age of everyone in the Chain is more or less how tall they are. Things get a little funky with some of the other members of the larger cast, though.

Nonetheless, here's everyone from tallest to shortest:

Midna

Lincoln

Time

Warriors and Spirit (they are about the same height, but Warriors just barely has a few centimeters on him)

Twilight

Wild

Lana

Sky

Legend

Hyrule and Linkle

Wind

Four

[hiro-of-hyrule]

I had a dream last night about Master Kohga (which is a testament to the condition of my brain i think)

There was this monster in the desert that looked like a big lizard that was destroying basically everything in its path. The Yiga Clan tried to stop it, with Sooga leading the charge, but it ate all of them. Link tried to kill it with a squad of Gerudo soldiers and it ate them too, leaving the only people who could defeat the thing to be Riju and Master Kohga.

They made this plan to launch Kohga's spike balls at it using the power of Riju's lightning (at some point a cannon was made for this exact purpose, I wouldn't be surprised if Kohga had a hand in it, but that gives me a lot of questions. This dream was not as "thought out" as some of my other dreams)

Anyway, before they decided to make their last stand, they decided to just talk. They talked about their motivations as leaders and realized that they were pretty similar. That both of them were just trying to protect the people that they loved. They went silent for a bit, watching the big monster in the distance. Riju told Kohga that he was a good leader and he said something like "you're not so bad yourself kid" before they set out to destroy the giant lizard.

(I won't bore you with describing the conclusion, because I don't have many details, but they won and it turns out everyone was okay. I think they bonded over being swallowed by a giant lizard or somthing because everyone was very buddy buddy with each other afterwards)

vvv--- thoughts under the cut ---vvv

I'm going to be thinking about how it took a massive disaster and a lot of people "dying" for Riju and Master Kohga to get along with each other for a while.

Also, the cannon thing? I know it's a dream, so I don't have to flesh it out, but I really love the idea that Kohga spends time building contraptions that could work maybe one day but only under very specific circumstances.

A device like that cannon, which was powered by lightning, would almost never be able to be used, even in a thunderstorm. The only reliable way for that thing to work is to be allies with whoever has inherited lightning powers at the time, because that's the only way they could get that much power behind the cannon, despite consistently being enemies with people who have lightning powers. Maybe the plan was to trick them into blasting a specific spot by wearing the thunder helm and standing where it needs to be zapped??? Which is also not a great plan Master Kohga I hate to tell you-

I mean, it's not the only way to get that much power behind a cannon, Shiekah tech is crazy powerful. But! The cannon was specifically made to be powered by lightning and nothing else, which is why I'm so astounded by it