#no location no character names just vibes still

[reidsmanuscript]

Meet the Minds

Summary: 4 years after that one time in a bar, on how your character Criminal Minds was born, and maybe how something else was also borned. Pairing: mgg x actress!reader Genre: friends to lovers?, fluff, mutual pinning TW: Public Scrutiny/Fame, reader has severally parents issues, plus they are passive aggressive but it's short i swear, brief mention of cheating, mgg takes a minute to appear i know im sorry, long introduction wc: 3.7k! A/N: hopefully someone will understand what I'm aiming for with both of my dear !readers, this is with the solely purpose to treat myself i fear Masterlist!

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Since that one time in a bar it has been 4 years. Your show City Lights has gotten big. And when you say big, it was BIG, and so did you.

You were wrapping up the third season of the show, with a renewed contract for the next season in hand and a few promising movie proposals. In the past four years, you and your friends have become famous. Not A-list famous, but enough that if any of you went out, someone would recognize you, or a few paparazzi might follow your every move.

The four of you had lived in the same apartment in New York ever since filming started on location. HBO wanted your friendship to feel authentic for the cameras, and boy, were you grateful for that… because they had become your true best friends—not just on TV, but in real life.

It was Ashley, Jack and Nathan. Something that always happens when you start a show and it gets views it’s that the whole crew becomes a big family. In the middle of the second season, you finally mustered the courage to ask the showrunner, Jeff Davis, if you could join the writers' table to pitch some ideas for your character. He agreed, and since then, some of the best storylines on the show had come from your contributions.

The thing was, your name brought in big numbers, and it had caught the attention of producers and showrunners alike. Criminal Minds had premiered a year ago, gained some traction, but they wanted to take it to the next level. So Jeff, the same creator of your show, called you and your agent to see if you could join the cast.

There were two problems. First, your schedule was already packed. Moving to L.A. for the shoot wasn’t an option—City Lights had you locked in for the fourth season, and there was a possibility you'd land the lead in a promising film. On top of that, you were still taking college classes from a foreign university at your parents' insistence. So, being a recurring character was out of the question.

Second, when they handed you the script, you hated the character. They wanted you to be the fan favorite, Spencer Reid’s love interest, and while you had no problem with that, the character itself didn’t sit right with you. She was this sweet, innocent woman, one who was a victim from one unsub, and Spencer, an addict, would find redemption through her. He’d get sober and everything would be perfectly happy. You thought it was dull.

For starters, you knew how controversial it would be for her to become his personal recovery center, but you also saw the potential in the character. So, you asked if you could rewrite her into something more dynamic, something with more depth. Given the trust Jeff had in you, he gave you free rein to make the changes.

“How’s it going?” Jack, one of your best friends and a Criminal Minds fan, asked, entering the living room.

“A surprisingly moving amount of absolute nothing,” you said jokingly, staring at the blank space.

“Oh, come on, dude! We’ve watched some of the episodes together! You know the vibe,” he said, sitting down on the couch beside you.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it.” you said throwing your hands to the air in a comically exasperated way.

“Well, I know the vibe, I just don’t know how to write it,” you said, dramatically throwing your hands in the air, exasperated.

“Guess who’s gone viral again!” Nathan breezed into the room, flashing you a grin. He played your love interest on City Lights, and the fans went wild for your on-screen chemistry. But the truth was, you two were nothing more than really good friends. There was no romance, just a strong, platonic bond.

“Ugh... please tell me it’s for the right reasons.” You shut your eyes and let your head flop back against the couch.

Nathan tossed you his phone, then leaned casually on the backrest of the couch, Jack scooting closer to get a better look.

“What is it? Another red sauce scandal?” you asked, scrunching your nose at the thought.

Let me tell you something: becoming famous at 17 or 18 leaves you with a digital footprint that you'll wish you could erase by the time you’re 23.

He handed you his phone, showing a new release from Austin, your ex-boyfriend. The song title was painfully obvious—"Still Stuck on You." The lyrics left no room for interpretation, and the message hit you like a ton of bricks. Austin had written another song about you, and this time, he made it clear.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me! This is like the third one this year!” Your mouth hung open in disbelief as Jack, who had burst out laughing, took the phone from your hands and started scrolling through the Twitter comments.

He had been your “boyfriend” four years ago, but only for PR purposes. When you found out he’d cheated, you broke up with him. He begged and cried, and it was pathetic. Since then, Austin had turned your brief relationship into his whole persona. He released songs that were painfully obvious about you, dated women who looked eerily like you, and spent interviews throwing shade, spreading lies, all for attention. The problem? You were skyrocketing, gaining fame in ways he could never have predicted, and he—well, he was still stuck on you.

Your phone started ringing somewhere around the apartment, a FaceTime call vibrating through the cushions. You rummaged through the pillows on the couch, cursing under your breath as you came up empty.

“Seriously, how do you always lose it?” Nathan said, appearing behind you with a smirk. He found your phone wedged between the couch cushions and handed it to you just as you answered the call. As he did, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out a dollar bill and placing it in his open hand.

See, you had a special talent for losing your phone around the house, and your friends turned it into a game. Every time you misplaced it and one of them found it, you owed them a dollar.

“Bitch have you seen it?!” Ashley squealed from your phone, her voice laced with urgency. 

“It's like jumpscare! you know it’s coming but it’s always surprisingly disappointing!” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Somebody said, ‘Are you writing a memoir or just trying to hit the ‘most dramatic ex’ award this year?’” You all chuckled at Jack’s reading.

“Gotta go, some stylist is calling me. Love ya, bye!” Ashley hung up quickly, going back to her photoshoot, leaving you to shake your head and wish her good luck.

Jack kept giggling at the comments, lost in the chaos of Austin’s latest stunt. Meanwhile, you stared blankly at your screen, the cursor blinking mockingly back at you.

Nathan gave you a playful shove. “You know what’s really offensive? The tempo on that track. It’s like he’s trying to be edgy but doesn’t understand how syncopation works.”

“Hmm, well, what else could you expect? Maybe you should make your own song about it, something with a real sense of rhythm,” You said absently, still staring at the screen, the cursor blinking in a never-ending challenge.

“And you should start writing that, maybe throw in a little revenge of your own,” he said, nudging his chin toward the computer screen with a grin. You frowned at him, your gaze drifting back to the cursor as you considered his words.

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You were studying—actually studying—sitting in the mini studio with notes scattered in front of you, calculator by your side, silently frustrated as you tried to make sense of the numbers. Ashley was on the other side of the desk in front of you, pacing and memorizing her lines, back and forth, her voice echoing in the room. Your grip tightened on your pencil, eyes flicking over the work in front of you, when your phone buzzed. Another message.

"We’ve heard about your 'plans,' but it’s hard to take them seriously when you can’t commit. It’s cute to 'explore options,' but at some point, you’ll have to stop playing around and think about your future. Don’t you want to be taken seriously?"

Maybe it was the sound of your phone tapping against the wood of the table, or the way your hand instinctively went to your eyes, trying to stop the threatening tears, that tipped Ashley off. She paused, looking up from her lines, eyes narrowing as she caught the shift in your mood, as she made it to your way, reading the message still open on your phone that had already sunk in, the familiar sting. 

Ashley didn’t hesitate. She pulled you into a hug, still standing while you were sat, one arm wrapping around your shoulders tightly as she murmured, "Fuck them. Seriously. You don’t need their crap." She squeezed you harder, as if to prove the point. "You're better than any of that. Don’t let their bullshit get to you." Her voice was fierce, a protective edge in every word.

The relationship with your parents was complicated, to say the least. You'd tried to make them proud, but it was never enough. Now, more than ever, you’d rebel when you chose to become an actress. It felt ridiculous—like you were still studying against your will, trying to prove something you didn’t even want to.

"I mean, what the fuck will it take for them to take me seriously? A fucking Oscar? Have some damn patience—I’m working on it," you spat, voice shaky, leaning into Ashley as tears threatened to spill.

She sighed, pulling you in a little tighter. “Fuck them,” she muttered, her voice low but firm. “They don’t get it, and honestly, they probably never will. But you’ve got this. You’re doing something they can’t even begin to understand. Don’t let their bullshit get to you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, at least it wasn’t a call. I swear it’s pathetic how every time I get mad, I just cry.”

Ashley pulled you into a tight hug, her voice soft but firm. “Forget about them for a second, okay? You don’t need to study right now. You’ve been working your ass off. Take a break. You’re allowed to feel pissed off without worrying about your grades for a few minutes.” She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “You’re doing your best, and that’s all that matters.”

With a last shaky breath and wiping away the tears that had escaped, you nodded. Ashley sighed, her voice soft but firm. “Hey, enough with the studying for now. You’ve been pushing yourself way too hard. Wanna get cute and go out for some coffee?” She gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You deserve a break.”

You chuckled, truly this time, and shook your head. "Maybe later. You finish with your lines, and I’ll… go grab some snacks," she nodded, giving you a smile, picking up the forgotten script.

You were still shaken, even frustrated at how powerless you felt around your parents, and how you reacted to your feelings. You cried, and sometimes words became hard to find. You wished you could scream and destroy everything, just let it all out, like those female rage characters, but for now, you were left in silence.

Which gave you an idea.

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That’s how you ended up creating your character—in a fully cathartic, all-nighter frenzy, shaping her with layers of meaning. Like her nickname, “Woody,” a nod to Nathan’s favorite movie, Toy Story—a little inside joke, a quiet way of taking revenge in your own way.

She was everything you weren’t, and at the same time, everything you were.

And then there was her best friend, Austin—played by Jack, of course, since he was a huge fan of the show—who you took every opportunity to be mean to, just for the fun of it.

You’d never admit it, but the line “Austin is not my boyfriend”? Yeah, that had a little extra bite to it. A double meaning, if you will.

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The producers loved it. The depth of your character, how dark her storyline was. Because if you really want to keep the audience engaged? Give them two characters who are absolutely perfect for each other—but can’t be together.

And when the idea of adding Jack came up, they agreed immediately. What’s better than one City Lights star joining the show? Two City Lights stars.

But they had asked you to keep the secret from everyone, including the current cast. Who you'll be meeting and revealing your characters to in the table reading 

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Jack and you were currently at ABC’s costume department, standing in front of a mirror while the costume designer and a wardrobe assistant made final adjustments to your outfits.

“Man, I’m boiling in here,” you groaned, peeling off the red shirt as the wardrobe assistant jotted down notes about the fit. 

Jack, meanwhile, admired himself in the mirror, dramatically flipping back the leather jacket he was trying on. “Do I look tough? Like, would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secret?” He smirked, striking a pose straight out of an action movie.

The costume designer, pinning a hem on your sleeve, barely glanced up. “You look like an extra in a bad '90s biker film.”

“You look like you're about to challenge a middle schooler to a dance battle,” you added, crossing your arms.

Jack gasped, clutching his chest. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

“More like zero intimidation factor” You said from the changing room, a few moments later, you stepped out  wearing a white shirt and black vest, and flashed Jack a playful grin. “So, do I finally look like the child my parents can brag about?” you joked, adjusting the vest slightly.

The wardrobe assistant shot you a thumbs up, clearly impressed with the fit.

“Are you maxing out someone's card again?” A voice asked behind you. 

You turned around to see Matthew grinning. You chuckled, scrambling for a response. “Well… I’m not legally allowed to talk about it,” you said, cringing internally.

Man, you were awkward without alcohol in your veins.

He chuckled, stepping closer to pull you into a brief hug in greeting. You’d already worked together on The Beauty Inside, so the familiarity was there—comfortable, easy, playful even.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked.

“Ummm well..” You turned to Jack with panic in your eyes. Jack, ever the performer, didn’t miss a beat. “We’re actually here to stage a heist. High-stakes, top secret.” He waggled his eyebrows.

You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “We’re doing costume fittings.”

Matthew raised a brow, clearly amused. “Costume fittings, huh?” His gaze flickered to the wardrobe racks surrounding you. “For something unannounced?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line. “I plead the fifth.”

Jack threw an arm around your shoulders. “She’s under strict secrecy orders, but between us?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It 's big.”

“Jaaack,” you warned, dragging out the 'a' in a clear sign for him to be careful.

“Well, if you’re in it, I bet it is,” he said, smirking at you.

You chuckled, clearing your throat. “Soo, what are you doing here?”

“Well, this is kinda where I work,” he said with a shrug teasing. Right. This was where the cast of Criminal Minds did their fittings, although the producers had made sure you were not scheduled together to avoid leaks.

You raised an eyebrow, looking around the room. "Here? In the costume department?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying your confusion. "Yep, I mean, what else would I be doing here? Getting my wardrobe ready for my big role?" he added, his tone mock-serious. “What are you supposed to be, by the way? A real estate agent? I bet you’re just one property listing away from a deal of the century,” he said, eyeing your clothes.

You chuckled again. “No, um… I’m actually a very boring banker,” you said, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. Like get a hold of yourself girlie, he’s just a tall, handsome man, with nice hair and curls and pretty eyes, and gentle. Somebody, hand me a glass of water, or wine, whichever is easier.

The costume designer called your name, already holding more clothes in her hands. "We need to finish these adjustments, sweetheart."

You nodded, trying to shake off the distraction. "Right, I’ll be right there."

Matthew smirked, taking it as his cue to leave. "I guess I'll let you continue. Good luck being a banker," he teased, giving you one last look.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Thanks, Matthew," you said, turning toward the designer as he walked off.

Jack, who had been quietly observing from the corner, chimed in with a grin. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘big role’ like a banker in slacks."

You shot him a playful glare. "Oh shut up, Johnny Bravo," you joked, laughing as he dramatically posed in response.

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The producers stood at the front of the room, their eyes scanning the assembled cast. There was a buzz in the air—everyone was settling in, ready for the read-through to begin. After a quick round of hellos and some introductions, one of the producers, a tall woman with a clipboard, stood up to speak.

“Alright, everyone, before we dive in, we have a very exciting addition to the cast today. You’re about to meet someone who is going to bring a lot of depth and intensity to the world of Criminal Minds.” The showrunner smiled at you, saying your names and introducing the new character you’d be bringing to life.

Jack, sitting beside you, was doing his best to keep his cool, but the way he gripped his script gave him away. His knuckles were turning white from how tightly he held the pages, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Leaning toward him, you whispered, “That’s not bubble wrap.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and he whisper-shouted, “That’s Mandy Patinkin sitting right there. Do you have any idea how my mom would react if she were here?”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the table. Across from you, Matthew sat diagonally, flipping through the script with a furrowed brow. When he glanced up, he shot you a mock-offended look and mouthed, “Liar.”

You choked back a laugh, quickly mouthing “Sorry” with a small shrug just as the producers began reading.

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The reading session had concluded, and you were chatting with Paget about how much you had loved her in Friends. Meanwhile, Jack was across the room, subtly—well, not so subtly—trying to get an autograph from Mandy.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Matthew making his way toward you, but pretended not to notice, keeping your attention on Paget. You had a feeling he was about to make some kind of remark, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of expecting it.

“You should be careful with her, she lied to me and told me she was going to be some boring banker,” he finally said, warning Paget with a smirk, 

You turned to him with an unimpressed look. “I’ll take that as I’m good at my job”

Paget raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Oh, so she tricked you? That’s embarrassing, Gubler.”

Matthew placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I was misled! Deceived! Here I was, thinking I had met a perfectly normal, unassuming banker, only to find out she’s infiltrating our world.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder before the showrunner called her, leaving you alone with him.

“Nice shoes, by the way,” he said, looking down at your mismatched Converse—one deep red and the other black, matching your red top.

You chuckled. “Thanks. People keep making fun of me on the internet, saying I must've rushed out of the house.”

He laughed and pulled up his pants, revealing his mismatched socks—one purple with yellow dots and the other blue with bananas. “Well, that’s because they’re boring.”

“Oh God, they’re so cool,” you genuinely liked how bizarre they were.

“Hey, I saw your name on the last page of the credits... Did you write those episodes?” he asked, kind of amazed.

“Well, I um... added some minor stuff, really,” you said, lying a little. “Just to make her more sarcastic and fun… like, I can’t wait to get covered in blood for the shots.”

He laughed just as Jack reappeared, clutching his freshly signed Mandy Patinkin autograph like it was the Holy Grail. “I blacked out for half of that conversation, but I think I played it cool.”

“Yeah, sure, if you say so.” You were about to say something more when a producer called for both of you.

With an apologetic smile, you said goodbye to Matthew, but before you turned around, he called out, “Can I get your number this time, or do I have to wish we get cast together again?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you handed him your number. “I guess I’ll wait for your call.”

“You better pick up. There are some scenes I think will need some rehearsal.” His words made your stomach flip, and a flush crept up your face.

Pressing your lips together to stop yourself from smiling too much, you retorted, “You better be quick. My schedule is full.” That made him chuckle.

The producer called for you again, and you made your way toward him and Jack, still feeling the warmth of the moment lingering. You once promised yourself to not-date-coworkers. Maybe if those coworkers weren’t so funny and handsome you wouldn’t reconsider your own words.

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If you want to find out more about the CM character click here!

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[salikawood]

💥RETURN OF SLACKJAW💥

[darkmatilda]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: two years ago, completely by accident, you helped catch a serial killer. now, as mysterious events start to pile up around you, you begin to suspect that someone is after you, seeking revenge. terrified, you're willing to do anything to save yourself—even if it means reaching out to your ex, who wants nothing more to do with you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: [these warnings only apply to part 1!] spencer reid x criminal(thief)female!reader, stalking, mention of dismembered bodies, serial killer targeting women, mention of abduction, mention of mental issues and addiction of the victim, reader is kinda morally grey

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

𝐚/𝐧: HUGE THANKS to my beloveds from the server who have been listening to me yap about this fic for the past few days!!! a few of my dear girls show up here as characters, in this part it’s @esote-rika i hope you like the role i chose for you <33

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

You hadn’t dreamt about it for almost a year now.

Before, that image had returned to your dreams regularly. A small, wooden vacation cabin in the woods—far enough from the bustle of the city to feel like a retreat, but close enough to avoid the unease that comes with complete isolation. An operation that had required you and your then-partners to meticulously study the owner’s weekly routine, gathering as much information about him as possible. There was no pressure of time—it was a place for vacations or lazy weekends, not for everyday living.

You had no trouble breaking in without even damaging the lock. You had your methods. The owner was due to arrive soon and discover that the painting in the small living room was gone. You wondered if he even understood its historical value. Wealthy people often liked to fill their properties with expensive works of art to catch the eyes of their guests and dazzle them with their price tags. But they rarely cared about the context or the circumstances of their creation. Often, if the artist was foreign, they could barely pronounce their name.

You liked labeling every person you robbed as ignorant. It gave you more motivation.

Your partners had immediately located the painting, while you started looking around the interior yourself. There could be more valuable items—jewelry or antique furniture. Once, during a robbery, you had been about to retreat when you found a hidden door leading to a basement, which turned out to be practically a vault. That year, you booked your dream vacation.

This time, you were heading down the stairs again, shining your flashlight ahead. The beam of light didn’t fall on a bust, a leaning painting, or an Art Deco dresser. It illuminated the battered face of a woman, bound as though she weren’t a living being, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

The waitress set a plate of pancakes in front of you, but you suddenly regretted ordering them. Your stomach was still in knots after seeing that image again in your dreams. You’d gone out for breakfast because you had no plans for the day and didn’t want to spend it entirely cooped up in your apartment. You adjusted yourself in the leather booth. The place had a 90s vibe, with its black-and-white checkered floor, red seating, and curly straws poking out of milkshakes topped with double whipped cream.

A cop slid into the booth next to yours with a sigh, ordering waffles with bacon. Out of habit, you tensed up slightly. As a member of the criminal underworld—a thief and active dealer of antique goods—you weren’t a fan of even fleeting interactions with people who carried handcuffs on their belts. You much preferred gold bracelets.

"...abandoned body parts of an unidentified woman were found along the shore of Neabsco Creek in Prince William County. This exceptionally brutal crime immediately sparked panic within the local community, following a series of murders that had occurred here just two years earlier. It was right on this riverbank that the limbs of the last victim of the killer were found before his capture…”

“The Waterside Butcher,” the cop to your left muttered, mouth full of waffles. “I don’t know if you heard, but that guy’s a real piece of work. Fuckin' psycho. But it ain’t him now—they got him locked up good.”

Thank you for sharing that unsolicited nugget of information I didn’t ask for, officer, you thought, as you remained silent. You didn’t want to engage in any confrontational interactions with the police. In fact, you couldn’t physically speak—you had a chunk of pancake stuck in your mouth, swelling up like a soaked sponge, and you had to spit it out onto your plate.

The cop shot you a look of disgust before turning his attention back to the waitress, bragging about his knowledge of the crime details. He even mispronounced the killer’s name. Robert Miller, not Roger. The man whose vacation cabin you broke into two years ago. The one whose basement you found a woman imprisoned in. The one you reported to the police, even though that meant exposing what you’d been doing in his house. Your case quickly ended up in the hands of the BAU profilers, who used your testimony and connected it to a serial killer they had been hunting for a long time, one who always dumped his female victims along the banks of water sources.

They even offered you a deal. Your testimony, and in exchange, you were only charged with one burglary, one attempted theft. They completely ignored the dozens of others that had happened before.

So, it could be said that you helped them catch The Waterside Butcher.

The cop was right about one thing. Thirteen murders, and he was locked up for the next few lifetimes. So, it had to be either a copycat or...

But if someone like that escaped from prison, would the public even know about it?

Your nightmare hit again. Right on that night. A bad feeling?

Your phone rang.

"Hey, Mrs. Hemingway," you greeted your older neighbor from the floor below, the one you’d swapped numbers with when you were helping her settle in after her hip surgery and taking care of her poodle. You were surprised she was calling you. "Everything okay?"

"Sweetheart, I told you to just call me Erika," she said gently on the other end, her voice carrying a note of tension. "I’m just calling to let you know you're flooding my floor again. Haven’t you fixed that sink yet?"

"Shit," you muttered under your breath. "I’ll be there in a sec. Sorry, Mrs...Erika, that this happened again."

You left the almost untouched pancakes on the plate and walked out of the restaurant, heading toward your building. You’d been moving around a lot because of your line of work, and this place had been home for maybe three months now. For about two weeks, something strange had been happening with the sink in your kitchen. You’d return late at night to find the floor completely flooded, leaking down to the apartment below, where Mrs…Erika lived. It happened every few days, almost regularly. After the second time, you hired someone to fix it, but he said everything was fine with the faucet. Either you kept forgetting to turn it off, or…you just couldn’t come up with a better explanation.

Oddly enough, that wasn’t what occupied your mind on your way back to the apartment.

Your thoughts were consumed by the murder case. You couldn’t help it; everything related to it made you uneasy. During the trial, you’d heard all the details of the crimes he’d committed. You’d seen photos of torsos of women, abandoned in various places, along with their legs and arms. You’d listened as the handsome profiler explained the psychology behind it all. How he lowered his voice with a comforting care, assuring you there was no chance he would ever get out of prison. You nodded, having no reason not to believe him. It was him who proposed the deal you took – keeping your earlier crimes under wraps in exchange for your testimony.

You made a mental note to check in on how Rebekah was doing later. You were the one who saved her, though you didn’t particularly like using that word—after all, you’d ended up there by accident. You kept in touch, but it was hard to call it friendship. You were bound by the situation in which she almost became just another limbless victim. You didn’t have much in common, but she had struggled a lot after that event, and you wanted to make sure she was okay. It was kind of like womanhood. 

The first thing you did when you got back to your small but quite stylishly furnished apartment in a nondescript neighborhood was to turn off that damn sink. And then, you offered a heartfelt apology to Erika. In return, you promised to walk her poodle for a week.

“No need, darling,” she assured you, standing in the doorway of her apartment. She was an elegant woman, a fashion enthusiast. Dressed in a gray plaid skirt and a cleverly cut blouse with a tie at the neckline, large black earrings dangled from her ears. Sometimes when she went out, she wore a matching black bowler hat. Behind her, the poodle was frantically wagging its tail, excited to see you. “The doctor recommended I get plenty of walking. I take Coco out every day at eight for an hour. Just the cost for the flooded ceiling is fine.”

You agreed, silently promising yourself that you’d order her a massive bouquet of flowers in the coming days. But for now, you headed back to your apartment, walking straight to the bedroom where you kept a locked chest of drawers… and inside, an album of photos. And within those photos, a substantial amount of cash. Since your income didn’t come from legitimate sources, you steered clear of banks like the plague. You counted out the sum you planned to give Erika—more than she probably expected. But before you could lock the chest again, your fingers automatically grabbed the album. It wasn’t just money in there; you liked to capture moments in photos, and you had plenty of them. You always took them with you when you moved.

The first page showed several pictures from your early childhood, chubby cheeks, dreamy eyes. You quickly turned the page, then another…

Your fingers clenched tightly, even though your mind hadn’t fully processed what you’d just seen. You shook your head, thinking it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

A photo of a little girl on her first bike. Her face should have been expressing joy, a toothless smile. Instead, all that was there was white, emptiness. A cut-out section.

With furrowed brows, you continued flipping through the album, almost in a trance. If every photo had missing pieces like that, it would’ve been easier to understand. But this was just one photo out of hundreds, one little girl without a face…

A graduation photo. You should have been smiling, hugging your friends. But your face was missing. Your breath caught in your chest. A trip with friends—your face cut out. A beach day, devoid of your face. Not every photo had been altered, but almost every stage of your life captured in that album had at least one case like this. It was as if someone was trying to erase you completely.

You stopped at the point where you had stopped taking as many photos. The last few were from your previous relationship. It hadn’t lasted long, but you had particularly enjoyed taking pictures of Spencer Reid, the profiler who had worked on your case. His brown hair, wide eyes in surprise because he hadn’t known you were sneaking up on him with the camera, the dimple in his cheek when he smiled, filled several good pages. There weren’t many good photos. He looked amazing in spontaneous shots, but in posed ones, his smile was always awkward, stiff.

That photo wasn’t one of your favorites. It had been taken by some stranger during your little vacation in Rome. Spencer had been wearing a light linen shirt, his arm wrapped around your waist. You remembered exactly how you’d stood on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, only to cringe a moment later—having just slathered him with sunscreen, you tasted that bitter aftertaste in your mouth. A smile flashed across his face at that, and he adjusted his arm around you, smoothing your heat-fluffed hair behind your ear. So many perfect angles for a picture you could have stared at for hours, but that stranger had only snapped one. You both looked like an engaged couple who had never spoken to each other before, and to make matters worse, it looked like the family expected six kids from you both.

Your face had been cut out of it.

You slammed the album shut and tossed it into the drawer. A gust of wind blew the money meant for Erika onto the floor, but you didn’t care. What did you care about? There was nothing in your mind. A temporary, filling emptiness, growing with every beat of your heart.

Your body moved toward the window on its own, discreetly peering behind the curtain. A black car pulled away from the driveway, followed by a red one, and then a gray one. Could it be…?

No, you hadn’t looked at that album for several days. At least not to review the pictures. They might have been damaged before, and you only noticed it now. You didn’t know which version of events scared you more.

The voice of the news anchor played in your head like a true-crime podcast, describing a recently discovered body with far more gruesome details than in reality. The return of The Waterside Butcher, the one you helped catch. A break-in at your apartment (you hadn’t done it yourself, had you, in your sleep?) almost at the same time?

A twist of fate? A stupid coincidence?

For a moment, you paced around the apartment, thinking. Robert Miller was a serial killer of women, whose capture had been made possible by a woman who broke into his home. If—purely hypothetically—he escaped prison, wouldn’t he be driven by a certain kind of hatred directed specifically at her? A desire to destroy her, more important than anything else?

But that was absurd. You hadn’t cut ties with the case, but surely someone would have informed you if he had escaped. Though…Spencer had been your source of information, and you hadn’t spoken to him since your breakup, over a year ago. You hadn’t been in touch at all since then. So maybe…?

You realized you were standing in something wet. The floor was still flooded from a tap that had been left running.

For the second time this week.

The self-turning sink, this tension, this dream, the cut-out faces, the next murder.

Another brutally killed woman left on the riverbank.

The thought was improbable, yet it refused to leave you alone. It was far more likely that you were dealing with some deranged copycat—after all, it wasn’t uncommon for serial killers to have their admirers. However, that prospect didn’t fill you with nearly as much dread as the idea of being in the crosshairs of this particular man. 

You had to find out if there was even the slightest chance that he was out there, free.

*

“Hands up and turn around, slowly.”

Quick disclaimer—you and Spencer Reid didn’t break up on the most peaceful terms.

Aiming at your head was a bit much, though.

Without a hint of fear, you calmly closed the cabinet in his kitchen, from which you had just taken out a package of brown sugar cinnamon Pop Tarts. You immediately shoved one into your mouth, chewing the sweet bite while staring into the eyes of your ex, who was pointing a gun at you from about four steps away. His hair was longer than you remembered, and there was a trace of stubble around his mouth that caught you off guard. Or rather, how good he looked with it.

“I preferred your old place,” you declared, leaning back against one of the kitchen cabinets. Another bite of Pop Tarts, and a crumb fell onto your clothes. Oops. “Do you even have a microwave here? I could warm this up.”

“How did you get in here?” he asked, clearly irritated.

He still hadn’t lowered the gun, and you were starting to suspect he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you.

“It’s always how did you get in here?” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Never what’s up? how are you? your hair looks amazing, did you know that? and that outfit?”

"You wouldn’t be yourself without all that pretentious talk, huh?" he scoffed, finally easing up a bit. His stiff posture, caused by holding the gun, relaxed, and after a beat, he lowered it and tucked it into his waistband. He accidentally pulled back part of his black blazer, revealing a dark purple shirt underneath.

You shoved the rest of the snack into your mouth, wiped your hands off, and swallowed.

"I’d be boring without it. And you wouldn’t be yourself without this overdramatization, right? Aiming at my head like I’m some criminal..."

"You broke into my apartment," he interrupted, folding his arms. It was evening, and if you hadn’t turned on the light before coming in, the place would have been drowning in cold darkness. A little of it slipped through the window that wasn’t fully covered. "I think that’s a pretty good reason to point a gun at someone. So what are you doing here?"

"You were right," you said softly, helplessly spreading your arms. "The path of crime doesn't lead to anything good. I should have listened to you, thrown it all away, and become a model citizen."

Spencer gently nodded, listening to your words. Then, he let out a laugh.

"And seriously?"

"Was I not convincing enough?"

"Did you get yourself into something again and need someone to cover your back? Because there's no better alibi than the words of an FBI agent?"

"Stop acting like I ever forced you into it. You did it on your own."

"Because I didn't want my girlfriend ending up in prison."

A tired sigh escaped you, not expecting it to take just three minutes from the start of your reunion to begin bringing up things from your relationship. Well, the fact that you even got together two years ago still seemed incredibly absurd and enigmatic, especially to outsiders. Let's be honest. An FBI agent and a criminal caught during a break-in for theft. Then, still a criminal, though with good intentions.

You couldn’t help that you didn’t see an end to that career, and you were pretty sure Spencer secretly hoped you'd give it up. During the less than six months of your relationship, you felt as though you were constantly on the police radar, even though he’d never turn you in. What’s more, once or twice, he vouched that you were somewhere else when you weren’t. To put it simply, he gave you a fake alibi.

That was roughly when everything started falling apart, as it slowly dawned on him that he couldn’t change you. Things got even stormier, and one day, after one of the many unpleasant exchanges of words at that stage, you just walked out, slamming the door behind you, and you hadn’t seen each other until now.

 End of the story.

"Listen," Spencer began after a moment of silence. "You broke in here for a reason, and I highly doubt it’s to reminisce. I should just tell you to leave, but out of some remnants of respect for you, I’ll let you say what this is really about."

"Oh, look at you, how gracious," you scoffed bitterly. Remnants of respect. He was right, though. You hadn't come there to reminisce; you were only interested in getting an answer to one specific question. You cleared your throat. "I’m assuming you’ve heard about the discovery on the shore of Neabsco Creek?"

Spencer took a step forward, furrowing his brows slightly. He still kept more than a necessary distance, as if you were the one pointing a gun at him.

"Your assumption is correct," he replied slowly, cautiously. "I just don’t understand the purpose. Do you have any information related to the case?"

Although it didn’t quite fit the topic, the corner of your mouth twitched.

"Are you hoping I’ll help you catch another serial killer?" you asked, immediately shaking your head. "No, I don’t know anything that could be useful to you. But I do have some bad feelings about it."

You saw him gently press his lips together in thought. Almost immediately, he understood where you were going with this and gave a slight nod. His eyes were still analyzing you carefully and distrustfully. You also noticed how carefully he chose his words, as he always did in the presence of someone who could mean trouble.

"Spencer," you said his name for the first time during this conversation, pausing for a moment to think about how it felt on your tongue. You’d almost forgotten. "Is Robert Miller still in prison?"

 "He murdered thirteen women, of course he’s still in prison," he replied with conviction. "And he’ll stay there forever. The body we found... the modus operandi is the same, but only because we’re probably dealing with a copycat."

 "Copycat," you repeated. "And not an accomplice?"

"He didn’t have an accomplice. We figured that out during the investigation."

 "Are you sure?"

 "What exactly are you getting at?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine confusion, his brow furrowed deeply.

You set the Pop Tarts box down on the counter. You’d thought about it a lot. Few knew about your involvement in the investigation, it hadn’t been made public, just like the exact circumstances surrounding the capture of the suspect. He, however, knew. He’d seen your face in court, heard your name. The entire previous day you had been obsessed with the fact that he probably had the right to correspondence in prison. He might have found a way to inform his potential accomplice about your identity, convincing him to take revenge on his behalf.

"Someone's stalking me," you said casually, as if you were telling him about what you had for lunch that day. "It started right when that murder happened. Just before the body was found on the shore. Someone...cut my face out of photos in my album."

Spencer stood still for a long moment. A look of concern briefly flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something else—skepticism.

"No offense," he began, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "but are you sure it’s not just someone from your circles?"

"Even if it is, so what? I'm still being stalked."

"Then, that’s not my problem”

Okay, that was cold.

��If someone from my circles wanted to kill me, they’d just do it. They wouldn’t be sneaking into my apartment, cutting my face out of photos, and turning the water on in my sink. The Waterside Butcher, as the media's calling him,” you tried to sound calm and logical, but your heart began to race as the memory from the dream you’d had two days ago—and the one that came to you last night—hit you. This time, however, you hadn’t found Rebekah in the basement of the house, but yourself. “Something’s not right. I can feel it. You guys should look into this. I mean, BAU. But not as a copycat. As someone connected to Miller."

You could see Spencer mulling over your words. His jaw tightened slightly as he processed what you said.

“Are you getting any real threats?” he asked. “Or is it just a busted sink and…”

“It’s not busted! Someone’s turning it on!” you cut him off, irritation creeping into your voice. “And not just someone—a serial killer I put in prison.”

“And who’s still there.”

You could feel yourself losing track of your own thoughts. Well, you’d barely slept the night before, and your brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

“Or his accomplice,” you corrected yourself.

“Or?” Spencer picked up on it, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, frustrated by his calmness.

"Well, sometimes you catch the wrong person," you said uncertainly.

Spencer exhaled deeply, briefly staring at the ceiling. You didn’t see the seriousness, the readiness to act, that you’d expected when you showed up at his apartment. There was no declaration that they would take another look at the case, maybe reach out to Miller again and try to get more information from him. The thought crossed your mind—if something like this had happened two years ago, would he have reacted with more urgency?

“I interrogated him two years ago,” he began. “Personally, for many hours, even days. He confessed to everything, nothing in his behavior suggested he was trying to manipulate us. He had a motive—he selected his victims based on their resemblance to his mother, whom he also murdered by pushing her off a boat during a family trip. At the time, it was considered an accident.”

As he spoke, memories of the courtroom and the police station resurfaced, when everything was just starting to come to light. And as he slowly moved closer to you, probably unknowingly, you also recalled the first time you really interacted, when he drove you home. You weren’t innocent, but that day, you had heard some truly horrifying details of the crime, and you felt a distinct unease. For the first time, you talked about something other than the investigation. I’m like Robin, but not like Hood. I rob the rich, but I don’t give to the poor you said, making him laugh.

"Our profile didn't include a partner. Trust me, we've handled plenty of cases where there were two or more perpetrators, but this isn't one of them. One person is responsible for this," he continued, trying to catch your eye, making his words more direct, wanting to make sure they reached you. "If someone's stalking you, it's probably not even connected to this case. And normally, I'd recommend you report it to the police... but I get the feeling that's not really an option."

You scoffed, because he was right.

"Highly unlikely they'd do anything about it. You know, the faucet could always be broken, and the photos...that can be explained away," you said, sitting up suddenly.

"Are you calling me paranoid?" you asked sharply.

"You always have to label things so harshly," he muttered, shaking his head. "No, I’m not saying that. I’m just suggesting that the previous murder and the media panic could have influenced how you're perceiving things, making you more susceptible to suggestion. Your mind has connected it with past traumatic events and added..."

"So, you're saying I'm paranoid. Just in scientific terms," you shot back.

Spencer sighed in frustration.

"Call it whatever you want."

For a moment, you just stared at him in silence, a rush of angry words pushing at the back of your throat, but you realized they didn’t make any sense. Why had you even assumed from the start that he would believe you? Leaving aside the fact that your argument was admittedly a bit stretched, the truth was, you weren’t the person he chose to trust anymore.

You briefly lowered your gaze, letting out a sigh, then lifted it back up as you got closer. Spencer tensed, almost moved to pull away, but quickly realized you weren’t threatening him. You simply reached for his purple shirt, slipping something into the tiny pocket on his chest.

"My current phone number," you explained, tapping that spot on his chest. "In case you find out anything. Oh, and one last thing. Do you remember what shape my birthmark is?"

He tilted his head, surprised by the question, the sudden shift in topic. Without waiting for an answer, you pulled at your shirt slightly, exposing a patch of skin just below your collarbone.

"It’s in the shape of pi, like you once pointed out." It hadn't reminded you of that at all before, just a vague shape, but ever since he'd mentioned it, you'd seen it only that way. And from then on, every time he kissed you, he'd always lingered at that spot for a moment longer—it was his personal, favorite point. You let go of your shirt, and Spencer immediately locked eyes with you.

"I just wanted to make sure you remembered," you added, before turning to leave. "In case I end up dismembered on some shoreline and they need to identify my body."

Spencer’s mouth fell open, unable to say a word.

"You knew it very well," you added casually as you made your way out.

You didn’t need him to escort you. You had gotten there on your own, too. 

*

Three days later, when poor Erika was flooded once again, you decided to take action. You contacted the right people to have the locks in your apartment changed and to secure the place in a way that would make breaking in nearly impossible—at least for an average burglar. You knew, however, that someone with the right skills, like you, could still get in. With difficulty, but it was possible.

You also made sure to refresh your knowledge of handling a gun. 

And you called Rebekah.

You didn’t like scaring her, but you preferred her to stay vigilant. If someone was targeting you, they might just as well try to go after her too. The problem was, she wasn’t answering your calls, despite you trying every hour throughout the day. Shortly after being freed from the murderer’s grasp, she hadn’t taken up any work, and since you were doing relatively well, you had been supporting her financially. Recently, however, she had managed to find a steady job, and that could explain why she wasn’t responding.

Spencer was right about one thing—you were slowly becoming paranoid. That’s exactly why, later that evening, you decided to head over to her address to make sure everything was okay. It wasn’t just about outside threats anymore. It was simply that… Two years was a long time, but not when it came to rebuilding a life after being abducted by a serial killer. Those years had been especially hard for her—there was the added struggle of addiction—and you just wanted the reassurance that she hadn’t done anything to herself. At least then, you’d be able to sleep more soundly—as much as the circumstances would allow.

Her apartment was located in a truly awful neighborhood, on the second floor of a stairwell covered in graffiti. You knocked on the door several times, pausing between knocks, trying not to panic or come across as aggressive—you didn’t want to scare her.

"Rebekah, are you there?" you called out when no one answered.

You spent a moment leaning against a spray-painted cock on the wall, letting out a sigh as you reached into the pocket of your jacket. The lock on her door was a simple one, requiring only the most basic tools—tools you carried out of habit. You made a mental note to send someone over to replace it.

Even if she wasn’t home, you wanted to take a look around and gauge how she was doing based on the state of the apartment. It wasn’t exactly ethical, but sometimes our surroundings say more about us than words ever could. Besides, there was a good chance she’d never even know you were there.

You stepped inside, calling her name again. The light was already on. Her jacket was hanging on the coat rack, suggesting she was home—but it was also possible she’d just worn a different one. You slipped a wad of cash into the pocket of her jacket. She’d find it later and probably think she’d just forgotten it was there.

The interior had dark green walls, and the apartment consisted of three rooms: a modest living room, a tiny bedroom with just a bed and wardrobe, and a bathroom you’d never been inside before. When you glanced into it, your face reflected in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. You looked really sleep-deprived.

Finally, you headed to the bedroom, clinging to the faint hope of finding her asleep in bed. The fact that all the lights were on worried you—if she’d gone to work, she would have turned them off. Anyone mindful of their wallet would’ve turned them off!

The bedroom door creaked softly as it closed behind you, leaving just a narrow gap that provided a sliver of a view into the living room, specifically the apartment entrance. That was when you saw it swing wide open.

At first, you wanted to leave the bedroom, assuming it was Rebekah and that you could greet her. But it wasn’t the petite, feminine figure of your short friend—it was a tall man, or so you guessed from his stature, despite the hood obscuring his face. Instinctively, you leapt back from the partially open door, making sure you were out of sight.

Heavy footsteps cut across the apartment, heading, by the sound of it, toward the kitchen area. There, they paused for a moment.

You didn’t even try to convince yourself it was some friend of hers dropping by for a visit. Deep down, you already knew—instinctively felt—who it was. And that thought paralyzed you so completely that, despite the gun tucked under your jacket, you quietly slid open the wardrobe door and squeezed yourself inside.

The door creaked as it moved, and you cursed silently.

Whoever it was, you hoped they were too focused on whatever they were searching for to have heard it.

You listened closely to the footsteps in the room next door, your mind spinning with one relentless question: Where was Rebekah in all this? Was she at work, completely unaware that someone was in her apartment during her absence? You tried to recall the last time the two of you had spoken. Certainly not in the past few days—perhaps not even in the past week.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing your breathing to quiet, to steady.

Theoretically, her apartment could’ve been empty for days now.

But who was this man?

The footsteps suddenly grew louder. The bedroom door creaked open. You drew in a sharp breath and froze, halting your breathing altogether. You had no idea how much the tight, dark confines of the wardrobe muffled sound.

The footsteps stopped.

You could only imagine the figure standing in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping the room, taking in every detail. Did he sense someone else might be here? He couldn’t know for certain. But it was possible—likely even—that he subconsciously felt another presence, much like you did in your own home every single day.

Fragments of the nightmare that had haunted you over the past few days came rushing back. It felt as if you were descending those stairs into the basement again.

And then a smell wafted through the air—faint but distinct.

It was the same scent you’d inhaled back then.

Two years had passed, but you still remembered that mixture of dust, decay, and sweat.

Were you really smelling it now? Or was it just a cruel projection of your terrified mind?

The footsteps began to retreat.

You listened with your eyes closed, straining every nerve to track the sound. Your legs felt weak, and it took everything in you not to slide down the back wall of the wardrobe.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut echoed through the silence. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

And then your phone rang.

The sudden, sharp sound shattered the fragile quiet, making you choke on a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Your fingers acted on their own, quickly answering just to silence the noise.

“Hello?” someone said hesitantly, your name hanging in the air like a question. “...It’s Spencer. I’m calling because... something’s happened. And you need to know.”

No.

You tilted your head back, squeezing your eyes shut as if that could block out the reality creeping in.

The silence on your end must have encouraged him to keep talking. You heard the faint sound of him swallowing, the nervous gesture twisting your stomach into knots.

“Robert Miller escaped from prison”

You pressed the phone to your face, even though it was already on speaker. Words tangled in your mind, refusing to form. Spencer said your name twice more, his voice edged with concern, before you finally forced yourself to speak.

“You need to come here,” you croaked, your voice barely recognizable. “Please.”

part 2 soon

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[centrally-unplanned]

California Crisis: Gun Salvo

I watched the 1986 OVA California Crisis, and it was really good! This anime, if you have heard of it all (which is unlikely), is famous for two things. One is its look:

Which in anime form did not exist before, and has not existed since. When you research “California Crisis” in English the source everyone pulls from is this essay by longtime industry man Fred Patten, and he describes it as “the over-solarized art style most commonly associated with the commercial artist Patrick Nagel, who was very ‘in’ at the time.” I believe him on that being an influence - he worked with the creators after all - and my primary documents from said creators are quite limited; but those that I have never mention him. They certainly were aiming for Americana - but what is causing this unique look is the use of thick, black outlines on the inner shading of the characters (something Nagel doesn’t really do), which producer Yoshikazu Tochihira mentions as a common technique used on vehicles in anime at the time. Given how heavily cars and ‘copters feature in this, I think the look was also sort of its own idea to create stylistic cohesion between the key parts.

I am not going to say it always works - on our main girl Marcia it is sketch, those eyes man:

But for our boy Noera it comes out a lot nicer:

He has less demand to be “typical anime”; bishoujo can’t blend here but surfer bum absolutely can.

You get used to it over time though, and it excels at capturing the idealized West Coast aesthetic. In particular, by being “not anime” it really helps you feel like it is somewhere else than Japan. The OVA is filled with long panning shots of detailed Los Angeles streets and beaches, named restaurants and garbled English menu items aplenty. Our friend Fred Patton - who isn’t a fan - comments that “Animation fans at the time said, only half-humorously, that it looked like the main purpose of the video was for a handful of Japanese animators to come to California and take a road trip from San Diego to Los Angeles for location shots.” But that never happened - this was made on a shoestring budget, and according to the same source as before no such site visit occurred. Instead, reference material was gathered by “searching bookstores, travel agencies, libraries, and even the American Cultural Center”, and it was a lot of work to get the details even half-right from that. Stop spreading lies, Fred Patton! Wait until you get my strongly worded comment on your blog, I don’t care if you passed away 6 years ago (RIP an absolute legend), get your facts straight!

Aided in this sense of immersion is the OVA's second source of notoriety: the absolutely banging city pop soundtrack by pop star Miho Fujiwara. The OP, Streets Are Hot, lives up to the name, straight fire:

And while not as peak, the rest of the OST doesn’t disappoint. Anime Youtuber STEVEM has a video on California Crisis that digs into the music side, as the history of city pop is absolutely his jam; for me I will just comment that it is a little lost now how western city pop was in Japan. Today it is of course “peak Japan” after its 2010’s retro internet boom, but if you listen to pop music from 1970’s Japan you still hear a lot of blending of western musical sensibilities and more traditional Japanese vocal stylings and instrumentation. City pop was one of the earlier genres to fully shed the past and embrace synth instrumentation and modern vocal approaches. And the aesthetic often pulled specifically from California - these are not album covers that scream Tokyo:

All of this is to say that this OVA is not only of its time, but it also embodies its time - a paean to the California Dream of the 80’s Tokyo youth:

Fucking vibes, man, for this alone the OVA really hits for me. Though of course, for all the Americana it is still an anime:

(Which by the way, Marcia rides a motorcycle on the highway and is clearly like 17, so Noera's rejection of an offer of sex here is more linguistic evidence for the bifurcated meaning of the word “lolicon” to refer to both actual prepubescent eroticization but also any preference for “youth” over “maturity” in typologies of femininity, intersecting with the bishoujo boom of th- okay okay, put the gun down, I’ll move on, geez…)

Sadly for California Crisis, its contemporary audience disagreed quite strongly with this being a symbol of the era; it was a huge flop. The OVA was the flagship project of a new anime venture by producer Hiromasa Shibazaki called Hiro Media Associates, and that shoestring budget was some very thin string. Shibazaki was launching his own anime+ magazine at the time, Globian (as seen in the links above), which was used to advertise their works - but towards that goal California Crisis only ever produced a single promotional image, which you see utilized everywhere it is mentioned:

So it just didn’t have the resources behind it to draw in a crowd. And the crowd it did draw in, best I can tell, wasn’t enthused; the art style was off-putting, the plot itself is a bit of a meandering mess, the long panning shots are ~vibes~ yes but also ~budget~ and obviously so, and the ending is a bit of a vague question mark. It was supposedly going to have a sequel, but Hiro Media, and Globian alongside it, closed shop soon after it was released, leaving audiences feeling that it was unfinished.

I won’t begrudge anyone their taste, or pretend it is not a very uneven work. However, I want to redeem the OVA’s core narrative from its reputation; I think it is honestly great, and it absolutely does not need a sequel. So let’s get into the plot - this is a story of a 20-something bar hand Noera, who runs into motorcycle-riding teen Marcia alongside a quasi-sentient UFO orb that just crash landed on earth. It beckons telepathically to be taken to Death Valley, a call which Noera resists but Marcia commits to heart-and-soul. Along the way the military, the CIA, the Soviets, every deep state boogeyman you can think of, all try to stop them, car chases and gunfire akimbo. Our duo bond, eventually they succeed, and the alien gives off a Kubrickian abstract flash of light and then vanishes - roll credits.

Ignore all the details, the mechanics, the CIA, all that shit. Puzzling and unsatisfying when you are watching it as a 17 year old, sure, but you are smarter now, you can separate the wheat from the chaff. Instead, why does Marcia want to follow a random alien orb into Death Valley?

Hilarious levels of on-the-nose buzzword dropping, oh sure. But behind that? Marcia is a teen, looking for meaning. She watches TV, reads books, dreams of being a hero, a protagonist, and this is it - the call of adventure! She is being offered the slot of main character and she isn’t going to turn it down. She literally name-drops Close Encounters of the Third Kind as part of her motivation, she is story-brained. When you first hear this line, you are like Noera, you eye roll it. But on reflection there is nothing more American than being the center of the universe - it truly is the American Dream.

But Marcia is not the main character of this story - the singular promotional image is lying to you. Noera is as well, and he has wisdom she doesn’t. Noera lives in the city fringe on a low wage service job, driving a beat-up Chrysler he presumably maintains himself. A blue collar man of habit, a himbo before it was hip. He follows Marcia to protect her, he casually rejects her post-car-chase adrenaline-rush-induced sexual advances. And, while they are escaping the military by hiding in a bar, he runs into an old high school friend Jack - who happens to be one of those military agents!

We have been seeing this guy the whole OVA, running the entire alien hunt operation. Top of the class, super genius, going places. Noera is unphased, and he and Jack reminisce about gags and girls from the old days. Noera congratulates his friend for “getting out” of his hometown, as it were, and then plot-duty calls, Jack’s real life calls, and he has to leave. As he does, Noera calls out to him, “Come visit me!":

And Jack leaves without saying anything:

Because it isn’t highschool anymore, right? This guy is in the Big Leagues, he isn’t gonna schlep out to some podunk bar in Long Beach because a dude he used to help do his geometry homework offers him a dri-

Oh, nevermind! Because none of that shit matters, right? We are all just dudes, let’s share a beer.

Marcia stares unaware through the entire scene by the way:

This is Noera’s “culminating moment” for his story, and she doesn’t track it.

Chasey chasey fighty fighty Death Valley journey and Marcia delivers the orb, she wins, with Noera’s help she saves the alien. And so it pulses out a sparkly rainbow, something that could maybe be interpreted as a thank you, and then leaves - giving them absolutely nothing to show for their efforts. Marcia is left on a panning shot, shocked and disappointed, holding a now broken piece of useless glass. She was never the main character of anything. She just ran an errand.

This is such good American Dream commentary! It ends the way all stories about the American Dream end - with it being a sham. Because it is. It’s all narrative, all marketing, all the outside trappings of something disconnected from the inner reality. Since this isn’t a midcentury novel but an anime OVA, the trappings of success aren’t a detached suburban home and 2.5 kids - it's being the hero of an action adventure epic. But fiction is fiction no matter the genre. Marcia doesn’t get that yet - but Noera already did before the VHS tape began to play. And Marcia’s budding realization is paralleled with Noera's own showcase of the socio-economic dilemmas that more typically define the genre - success doesn’t change who you are or what you need.

Once you step back from the sci fi spycraft stuff - which admittedly trails off - and see the themes, the ending is perfect, a sequel would totally ruin this. This is the best 80’s anime OVA commentary on the American Dream done through an otaku lens around. Definitely beats all the others in that category, for sure. Totally.

Anyway if you wanna fight me about my hot take meet me at the Waffen SS bar in 1980’s LA where I will be getting the shit kicked out of me for yelling my center-left political opinions while tipsily standing on the bartop:

All that research and I still have no explanation for this shot.

[juliasmesmerized]

Conversations with You

pairings: Josh Washington x F!Reader, Chris Hartley x Ashley Brown (Until Dawn) type: fluff, too deep into the friendship, mutual pining, subtle flirting vibes intended: nervous - The Neighbourhood for the best experience: read part one of this dribble and use word replacer II as y/n will be used. (i can also make a you / y/n-less version, but i just prefer seeing my name for DR purposes) word count: 3091 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say." Josh smiled at her comment. He knew she believed in him. She definitely would believe in everybody in the group when it comes to things they're good at.

She laughed back as the match began. Their hands are all on the keyboard controlling their respective characters. y/n's specific character had her focus on one of her teammates, whoever is most probable to benefit from her presence. to boost their damage and keep their damage consistent. The other support would focus on the rest of the team, mostly Chris, to keep them alive. The other damage dealer creates an ice wall and a one way beam of ice, which means the soldier Josh picked would be the best to support.

He chuckled when they saw the second damage dealer being incompatible with y/n's choice. "Guess you're now truly stuck with me, ms. Support."

She smiled to herself at the fact she'd be with him, but she decided to tease. "I hate it."

"Sure you do." Josh focused on the incoming enemies as he bantered with y/n.

The battlefield was located in Germany. Chris's character was in the front pushing the enemies back under a bridge between two buildings, and Josh was on top while y/n hid behind the wall in order to stay alive; switching between the damage boost beam, being blue, and the yellow healing beam. Chris is the type of guy who shuts up to focus, and he was focusing as hell with the entire team in front of him. Josh and y/n had it quite literally easy.

Still having the blue beam stuck to Josh while he decided to relocate to be behind Chris, y/n sighed. "I kind of regret my choice of character now."

"Oh, why?" There was a little inkling of concern in his voice, but it wasn't a long match to begin with if they don't allow the enemy team to secure the area.

She expressed her feelings begrudgingly. "This is my first game with you both and I have nothing to show for it as this support is literally brainless to play, until you have the entire enemy team running to kill you. Then it's a wild goose chase to fly to your teammates and safety." y/n only remembered her side goal of beating the crap out of these two after joining it.

Josh assured her, he was glad it wasn't anything actually serious, or he wouldn't have known what to do. "It doesn't matter if this is our first game together, we'll have plenty more for sure. You do help the team a lot, regardless of actual kills."

y/n proclaimed in excitement. "Great! Then I'll beat your highest score and get more kills." Almost ready to flex her non-existent muscles, until she realized she was only faced by a screen.

"Can't wait to see-" Josh was cut off.

Chris screeched on the other side. "JOSH!" The second damage dealer and support died and there was only Josh, Chris, and y/n on the map currently. "STOP FLIRTING AND HELP ME! WHERE ARE YOU GUYS? THERE ARE TWO SUPPORTS AND ONE DPS AFTER ME!"

y/n flew to Chris as soon as she could get him in her field vision and Josh used the running ability to get to him faster. "You're a big guy, Chris, you can handle them. We're coming."

She spoke up as soon as the beam connected. "I'll try to heal you up, bring your shield up. When you got enough health, I'll damage boost you to help with attacking against them." Chris obeyed and slowly walked back as his shield was up.

Chris weighed his options and shared his opinion on the current situation. "We gotta wait till the rest of the team comes back. They're also going to regroup."

Josh decided to weigh himself in to allow them information they may have not caught. "y/n, after healing him, come with me. I have my ultimate."

"That's great! We'll just have to wait for our team then so I could be taken care of while y/n's away." Chris cheered, feeling the tide could be pushed against the enemy team.

y/n decided to demonstrate the difference between them newbies and her knowing her way around the map. "Do you know where we could go to catch them off guard?"

Josh took a second to think as he was attacking the enemy team to push them back from Chris as he was being healed. "I was thinking atop the area Chris was?" She linked her beam to Josh signalling that it's time for them to go.

She walked ahead to a secret passage way into a building that led them behind the enemy team. "No, we could actually get behind the enemy team and use Chris and the rest of the team as a distraction."

"Smart thinking, doctor." Josh referenced her character choice in complimenting her.

Josh was getting ready by hiding behind a building along side y/n's character. She still spoke up to prove her superiority. "Mhmm. You can finally see the difference between you and I. I can think of things you wouldn't imagine!"

"Hold your horses, we'll see when you play DPS or tank." Josh pressed the key to use his ultimate, and walked into the battlefield behind the enemy team as she instructed. A full team kill thanks to y/n's boosting and Chris already damaging the entire team.

"Sure." It was long strung from y/n. She took a breath. "As if that wasn't from my critical thinking." y/n sarcastically kept a monotone voice.

Josh began to tease her, but he decided to go a little farther than what he usually would. "I couldn't have done it without you! I will kiss and worship the ground you walk on, you mastermind! What could I do without you, my dear princess?"

She decided to answer without thinking. "Hardy har. That wouldn't even be enough after I scored you the play of the game, lowly peasant." If she let his words sink in, she'd go against his earlier comment and she wanted to be special in his eyes. If staying strong during his playful flirting and jokes means that, then so be it.

Behind the screen, the facade, she was on the brink of shutting the game off. The winning message showed on all three of their screens. Chris began to chuckle and went to message Josh after that comment. Y/n's cheeks flushed and she grabbed her phone straight away.

y/n: AAAAAAASSSSHHHHHLLLLEEEEYYYYYY Ashley: WHAT? y/n: HE CALLED ME PRINCESS? Ashley: HUUUUH? IM GONNA TALK TO CHRIS RIGHT NOW

"Oh, hold on guys." Chris absentmindedly spoke as he closed his microphone. y/n absolutely knew what that would be about.

"Do we wait for him or let the queue going?" Josh almost sounding like he'd peek into her door to ask this.

She thought about about it as on one hand, he could come back super quickly and we'd have found a match, but on the other he could take long and he'd have to reap the consequences of being away. "That's a hard question, I guess the game has been going harder on people who get away from the keyboard in a match. Let's wait for him."

Josh, as if a light bulb came on, put two and two together. "Right, I remember reading that update."

"Mhm." She hummed back, still thinking of their earlier conversation and what Ashley might be doing right now.

Ashley: He'll be you guys' wingman and leave y/n: what? Ashley: I'm making him hop off and sit with me to tell me everything he knows about Josh

y/n jumped at the sound of Josh speaking up, as if he fucking knew what Ashley and herself were up to. "y/n." It's fucking as if he was right behind me as he spoke as soon as i read ashley's message. She thought to herself. Eerie as fuck. y/n: DONT LET HIM LEAVE ME ALONE??? Ashley: oh I heard him call you since Chris put down the headphones Ashley: thisll be interesting y/n: oh my god Ash

"Yes, Josh?" y/n responded, trying her best to separate her current nervousness and his conversation with her.

"Chris told me something a bit back that really had me thinking." He spoke while taking breaths and thinking his words over, which makes his argument more stretched out than it has to be.

y/n responds, waiting for more. "Right..."

Ashley: Im having him explain what Josh is telling you right now y/n: i don't love the fact you guys are talking about us while hearing us Ashley: Im doing it with love I promise y/n: liar ure especially NOSEY Ashley: what can I say? WHAT CAN I SAAAAYYY???

He continued after he trailed off last time. "Yeah, I used to pump him up all the time to speak to Ashley and confess to her, right, and now he's saying I should listen to my own advice." He sounds oddly genuine, something the group doesn't see from the playful flirt.

"Okay?" Still not seeing his point, y/n doesn't comment much.

Josh still puzzled about it, genuinely unsure how to move with his friend's words weighing on his mind "The problem is, I don't get what he means? I go for everything head on. Chris has been busy with Ash and I wanna give them space to adjust, you know."

"You do, but I don't think Chris meant it in that sense. It's sweet you allow them space for them, by the way. Not a lot of people would notice those little things." She spoke up, now mirroring his realness as she realized he was being serious. He seldom opened up about anything at all, and she jumped at the chance to support him.

Ashley: chris says ur right. y/n: what the fuck Ashley: he says he didn't mean it in that sense and josh misunderstood him y/n: omh yall nosey asses i swear Ashley: teehee js ur friendly neighborhood wingman and woman

Josh was kind of taken aback at her comment responding to his question; completely glossing over her compliment. "What?"

y/n explained herself. She placed her hands on her face as she sighed at his emotional immaturity. "Josh, are you inadvertently telling me you like somebody? What you told Chris is really specific to context of love, and if he's telling you the same then you're now in what used to be his boat?" How could somebody be that flirty and that beloved by many girls that he rejects be so oblivious to themselves. Her thoughts were rushing, but she knew she had to focus.

Ashley: HE SO DEFINITELY IS YOU HIT THE NAIL IN THE COFFIN y/n: IS THAT ASH TALKING OR CHRIS CONFIRMING Ashley: oh i told chris to explain later, i wanna hear this. Ashley: update: chris is snickering at joshs stupidity i think he knows that we know that you know ur right y/n: im killing you both istg

Josh sounded a bit over it. "I think I'll call it a night."

"W-What?" y/n stammered in confusion, she was expecting being on for a very long while on this game.

"Chris isn't coming back, if he takes this long then it means goodnight for us all." Josh decided to excuse himself with Chris's impromptu leave.

She didn't know how to explain herself without being vulnerable with him. "Josh-" y/n could see her phone buzz multiple times, but she ignored it to focus on his voice. Her eyes are on the screen, but unfocused.

Josh pushed her away, as he often does with people anyway, keep your friends close from a safe distance. "Forget it."

She blurted out. "No it's fine, I get it."

"What?" Josh's jaw tightened.

"You could be the best person for advice for a certain situation, but literally when it comes to yourself, you are unbeknownst yourself. You helped Chris get her, now it's time somebody helps you. If you try at it without support, you might just lose her." She didn't even know what she was letting slip, but she went with the flow.

Josh groaned. "Goodnight, y/n."

"If that's what you'd like. Goodnight." y/n didn't want to push him, she knew of him well enough that it wasn't safe to temper with him when he declines. He knows himself best, pushing him will make things worse.

Ashley: NOOOO MY RADIO ROMANCE DRAMA y/n: its the fact u listened to all of that Ashley: of course I would what if he confesses to u right then and there y/n: huh Ashley: oh yeah after all of that u think he doesnt like u? y/n: we cant js assume that Ashley: ok im asking chris

As Ashley stopped typing, presumably to speak to Chris, she grabs a box of cookies her mom ordered to her dorm. They travelled without her as per usual, so she's stuck in the university dorms for the break. At least she get free food and free time away from people. A message notification popped up on the top part of her phone and her phone buzzed on the table. It was Josh.

Josh: sorry for cutting you off like that y/n: no harm no foul josh im sorry for pretending like i knew Josh: ironically its the fact you were so correct that made me upset y/n: oh. sorry? Josh: im not here to ask for apologies

She took a bite of the cookie in her hand, and since she was typing with one hand, she was unbearably slow. Fortunately, Josh was also slow in his replies. He was probably thinking through every word sent to her beyond this point. Josh: do u think u could leave ur dorm and we could walk for a bit? i think ill take u up on ur offer to talk things over y/n: sure, its a bit late tho u sure? Josh: yeah ill keep u safe dw, im the one who brought u out anyway. y/n: alr sounds like a plan.

She took out a pair of jeans and a fuzzy jacket. The cold weather of the outdoors was not welcoming of anybody used to the warmth of the indoors. It could be snowing, she thought to grab a few more things that would warm her up including a hot coffee. A 'bzzzzzz' sound filled the room as she changed into the improvised outfit. 'Beeeeeep.' She picked up the drink and took it with her.

Y/n stepped outside and walked out of the dormitory walkway to find Josh sitting in the common room.

He stood up and looked at her. "You ready to go?"

"Yep. Let's go." She nodded and walked right behind him.

He was wearing a flannel with a vest. The flannel was pulled up to his forearms. She spoke up. "You are oddly under dressed for the weather."

His hair was messy, he definitely ran his fingers through it whenever he reached a dead end in his thinking. She could imagine him sighing to himself and playing with it to try to take his mind off of things, messing it up further unintentionally. When she came to, they were now outside on university grounds. The place was gated and open for students during all hours of the day.

Josh looked down at the snowy ground and placed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah I didn't really think it through."

y/n smiled sweetly at him, she knew him to be rash at points where he needed to decide on something. "That's alright, here-"

"Truth is!" Josh perked up, cutting her words like a knife and louder than he initially wanted. Causing her to stare in silence, her eyebrow raised. She'd never be upset at somebody cutting her off once in a while, we all have our moments.

Josh cleared his throat and took a moment before deciding to go through with it. "Truth is, you caught my eye a while back. Chris figured it out first and then he became my confidant in this... weird situation." Y/n's mouth went agape, thinking of saying something, but she closed it to listen to him first.

He continued, still looking away from her. Focusing on his surroundings was his best bet in saying all of this. "He tried his best to convince me, but we were friends for a while, it's best to stay that way. I liked our banter." Telling his therapist his woes was already pushing it enough. This was ten times worse and she could tell.

"You joining us without me knowing you would had me appreciating your presence a lot more." She focused on him, his words, his stature, his walk, and most importantly his mannerisms. She knew he had to let this out it seems evident.

He took a shaky breath and y/n took her scarf off. "It made me need to think. If the people around me knew, then I needed to have a reason for it all."

Once he stopped to breathe, she lent him the scarf. He accepted reluctantly, but appreciated the gesture. He whispered a "thanks" and wrapped it around his neck. He closed his eyes to focus on its pretty scent for a moment. "I started regretting all the times I played with Chris alone. I hated thinking this way because of a lot of things. You getting my situation immediately caused my thoughts to go on overdrive."

She caught him between his breaths, now regulated from the warmth of her scarf. "Josh." y/n stopped in her tracks.

He walked a few steps before realizing she stopped, and turned around to her. "Yeah?"

y/n contemplated her words, but since he already confessed at this point, she had nothing to lose. "The reason how and why I joined you guys tonight was because I wanted to get closer to you. You were special from the moment you entered my life." Once he heard her reciprocation, his eyes focused on her moving lips.

"The amount of times you made me nervous-" Her voice, music to his ears, was stopped by his lips meeting hers. He placed his hands on her cheeks to lift her head slightly up. The cold was quickly replaced by imminent warmth. As much as he wanted to be reckless with her, have sloppier kisses, touch her in places that allow him to explore her curves, he didn't like the idea that they were outside. The kiss was short but desperate, she realized he was waiting for this for a long time.

i wanted to end on part two, but i feel like this def needs a third part. im now going to read this with my word replacer. i love this MAN I NEED HIM NOW. id really appreciate opinions on how the characters were written, i never really wrote fanfiction seriously till now. i usually write original work hidden in my endless google drive lol. thank you for reading!

[somehow-a-human]

GO Filming Tidbits - Lens Filters

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

After reading through this lovely article, which Neil shared and specifically mentioned, has many secrets in it, I was definitely drawn to the descriptions of the different filters used to characterize people and locations in the show so I decided to do a little digging on them and their effects! I think it's so interesting to give characters their own filter, a lens for which we're seeing the world through their eyes! So let's take a look at the three filters mentioned in the article below:

Tiffen Bronze Glimmerglass - Bookshop Scenes The bronze tint provides additional warmth, and softens skin details and blemishes, it gives a slight reduction in contrast for a more ethereal image appearance.

The bookshop scenes look warm, & hazy. You might think of the look as a bit of a sepia effect. There are soft halos around light fixtures and the filter provides a warm toned pop to yellow, gold, and orange colors. This filter is really helping give the bookshop its cozy, safe, and welcoming vibe.

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Tiffen Black Pro-Mist - Hell This filter reduces highlights and lowers contrast, softens wrinkles and blemishes, and creates a soft quality of light.

Very similar to the Bronze glimmerglass, the Black Pro-Mist filter provides scenes with a very intense 'hazy' effect, but we're missing that warm tone that you see in the bookshop. It makes hell seem cloudy, like maybe you haven't quite wiped the last bit of sleep from your eye, or the air is just so thick and gross that its visible. Fitting for hell. We also see the effect when demons attack the bookshop, and whickber street becomes a green hazy hellscape.

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Tiffen Black Diffusion FX - "Crowley's Present Day Storyline" Diffuses strong light entering the lens and produces a glowing effect, the resulting image appears soft and ethereal, there is little loss of clarity or detail and the image does not lose saturation.

This filter was the most interesting one to me for sure. First of all "Crowley's Present Day Storyline"? Why not just Present Day Storyline, or Crowley & Aziraphale's Present Day Storyline, or Whickber Street's Storyline? I know we're already questioning timelines and narrators so that wording definitely made me raise my eyebrows. The effect keeps the shots very saturated, compared to the others we've been introduced to, and very clear, but there is still a magical ethereal quality to the picture. I think the effect is painfully obvious in Episode 1 scene of Shax and Crowley meeting on the park bench. No shortage of people have pointed out how saturated this scene is, and now I think I know what filter to thank by name.

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[galamalion]

┈ ✧.* 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary﹕you experience a shameful hangover after you night out at the baratie, then go get breakfast with your new friends. how could anything bad happen at breakfast?

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing﹕one piece x fem!reader

┈ ✧.* chapters﹕[i] [ii] [iii] [iv]

╰┈➤ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ w/c﹕3.1k

┈ ✧.* chapter ii﹕drunken memories

Your first night at the university was a rough one.

Upon waking up in your bed—and thankfully not the street—you immediately felt sick. You threw your blankets off and looked around the room, standing up to see Vivi and Nami still lying in bed, the latter looking rather worse for wear, tossing and turning with her blankets.

You threw open the door to the bathroom and sprinted inside, leaping across to hunch over the toilet to puke your guts up. Your stomach was never the strongest, and unfortunately neither was your alcohol tolerance. Speaking of, how much did you drink? You only got a small glass of wine to fit in with the Italian vibe, and you hadn’t even drank half of it! But—oh, that’s right, Nami was there. 

A memory—or rather, memories— came flooding back in an instant, all of Nami ordering small little fruity drinks. She insisted you tried all of them, ‘just a sip!’ she said. Well, all those little sips clearly did a number on you.

“Damn you, Nami…” you grumbled, stumbling back to bed.

After exiting the bathroom, you picked up your phone from your desk, noticing it had been charging. Did someone do that for you as well? It would have struck you as kind if you hadn’t been hungover. All you could think about was your pounding headache and upset stomach.

Before inputting your password, you noticed you had a text from one ‘Mr. Prince,’ a name and number you hadn’t recognized. 

| Mr. Prince: Hello Sleeping Beauty!! &lt;;333 | Mr. Prince: I hope you slept alright, you got were pretty smashed after Baratie  | Mr. Prince: but not in a bad way!! in a super cute tipsy kind of way!!!! | Mr. Prince: Also it’s Sanji!! I put my number in your phone so you wouldn’t be confused or anything!! | Mr. Prince: Luffy saw and also put his, and then Usopp wanted to put his, and then Zoro decided to put his…… | Mr. Prince: Anyways, just text me when you wake up Sleeping Beauty, just want to know that you’re safe!! <333 ^3^

Were you really the drunk one in this situation? You were pretty sure you hadn’t even spoken to him, only remembering his flirty attitude and writing him off as a playboy. But if the name in your phone was anything to go by, he seemed more like a Prince Charming-esque character. 

| You: i’m ok | You: thanks :)

You hoped the smiley face would help you sound like less of a prick. It was hard to be friendly after years with no friends, and you were doing your best to adjust to the sudden change. 

Before returning to bed you chugged a glass of water for your nausea and headache, praying the pain would go away after your short nap. Nami and Vivi would probably be awake by then too, giving you an even better reason to take this nap. And maybe your dreams would be more pleasant than your current state of consciousness. Nausea doesn’t follow you into sleep, right? Right?

“‘m not drunk…” you mumbled, staggering out of the restaurant with your new friends in tow. 

“Come on, ____!” Luffy begged, trying to drag you down the sidewalk. “It’s time to go home!”

“No use arguing with a drunk, Luffy,” A voice chimed in, slowly getting closer to your location.

“This isn’t home~” you hiccuped, “‘is college!”

“Alright, let’s go…” the voice spoke, leaning down near you. “Arms around me, darling.”

You felt yourself being hoisted up, and despite your drunken flailing, your front fell firm against a solid back.

‘Smells good…’ you thought, laying your head on the warm structure before you.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” the voice whispered to you. “Just keep everything inside and we’ll have a wonderful conclusion to this wonderful night.”

“Yer’ warm…” you mumbled, snuggling your head into their neck. 

For a moment you were able to focus, seeing the bright lights of downtown flicker all around the streets, as well as the blonde head of hair directly in front of you. It looked soft, like that Chinese cotton candy stuff you’d heard about. What was the name again? Would his hair taste like it? No, better not to try now…wait for later, when he’s not looking.

He? Oh, that’s right, Sanji’s blond. Or did he have red hair? You were having a difficult time remembering. But you did know he was a flirt, and not a good one. It wasn’t gonna work on you, even if his hair smelled delicious…

Thousands of thoughts raced through your mind, and their constant thrum slowly lulled you into sleep, head still resting on Sanji’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, that happened,” you mumbled drowsily, half asleep.

The conclusion of your dream-memory had roused you awake, your muscles slightly achy after only an hour of sleep. You really were that drunk, and not the ‘cute tipsy kind’ like Sanji said. But college was supposed to be a learning experience, and last night you learned the valuable lesson of watching your liquor.

You hoped Sanji didn’t take your drunken rambles the wrong way. But you didn’t voice all of your thoughts, just that he was warm! He didn’t know that you thought he smelt good. Unless your sniffing was really loud…

Oh God, what if you were sniffing him really loudly? At that point he probably just thought you were weird. But he called you a cute drunk, right? That meant something! But then again, you hardly knew him. And yet you had his number!

Your obsessive pondering was interrupted by another text, and from Sanji no less. Was he going to confront you? He seemed so pleasant in his last texts, what more does he have to say?

'Just stay calm, stay cool, and stay casual,’ you breathed, ‘if you pretend like you don’t know, maybe he’ll pretend like he doesn’t know!’

| Mr. Prince: HI | Mr. Prince: GOOD MORNING | Mr. Prince: WANT 2 GET BRAKFAST?

‘What the fuck?’ you thought, quickly typing a response.

| You: breakfast? | You: also why are you typing in caps lol | Mr. Prince: IT LUFFY STOL SANJI PHONE RUNNING

‘Well that explains it,’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

| You: didn’t you also put your number in my phone?

A moment passed without a text back, leaving you anxious for Luffy’s safety. Sanji wouldn’t hurt him too bad, would he? You soon got your answer through another text.

| Straw Hat: Hi this is my phone want to get brakfast? | You: lol brakfast? | Straw Hat: Ya you want? | Straw Hat: Zoro and Sanji and Usopp and Chopper too | You: chopper? | Straw Hat: New friend!!  | You: nice, can vivi and nami come? | Straw Hat: Ya!!!!!!!!!!!! | You: will be there soon! | Straw Hat: Attachment (1) Image

The picture in question was of Luffy holding a much smaller, cheerful boy who looked to be about 13, but if Luffy just met him, he had to be a college student. Unless Luffy kidnapped a local child, which you wouldn’t put past him. Luffy looked worse for wear despite his classic grin, having a large bump on his head and a very angry Sanji behind him, mid scream.

You giggled at the image and got out of bed, preparing to wake Nami and Vivi up. But after standing up, you noticed that both of them were gone. Did they leave without you? How long were you asleep for? It was just a small nap, you woke up in the middle of the night, after all. They probably thought you were weird after that night out, saw you still asleep and snuck out without alerting you—

“Good morning, ____!” Vivi’s voice called out as the door swung open.

You jumped backwards at the sudden intrusion, subsequently tripping over your feet and falling flat on your butt.

“Oh my gosh,” Vivi rushed over to you, “I’m so sorry, I thought you’d still be in bed! If I had known I would have—”

“What’s done is done, Vi,” Nami stepped into the room, “one apology is more than enough…”

You glanced up at Nami, noticing her familiarly sour expression.

“Hungover?” you asked.

“Hungover,” she sighed, fumbling over to her closet to change.

“I made some tea for Nami to help her,” Vivi offered, picking up the small pot of hot tea. “If you would like a cup, I can pour you a cup!”

“Thanks, Vivi…” you smiled, accepting the fresh cup from her. It tasted sweet, with just a slight tingle of mint within the brew. Even if it didn’t cure your headache, at least it tasted good.

“Hey,” you stood up from your spot on the floor. “Luffy texted me and asked if we wanted to get breakfast with the guys again. Are you guys cool with that?”

Nami immediately sprung up as if she wasn’t hungover two seconds ago. 

“Sure! Anything to get to his brother!”

“How about you, Vivi?” you asked.

“I would love to,” she replied gracefully.

With that matter settled, the three of you prepared for the day and left together towards the dining hall.

The three of you entered the dining hall, grabbing breakfast and reconvening at one of the numerous tables. You didn’t see Luffy and company when you walked in, and you didn’t see them after sitting down either. Maybe they were at one of the outer tables?

| You: u here luf? Delivered 9:34 | You: earth to luffy? Delivered 9:39

Memories of Luffy’s carefree nature danced in your head, and with that in mind you decided to text a different member of the party. One with more sense. The question, however, was who?

Despite your pleasant conversation with Zoro, you felt like he might leave you on read, and not because of his stoic attitude, no. He gave you an archaic vibe, like your grandparents asking you for help sending a text. So he was off the list.

Usopp was your best bet, but after careful consideration you decided against it. You hadn’t had a conversation with him, and despite his seemingly more mature attitude—at least compared to Luffy—he gave you a cowardly vibe. 

And that left Sanji. The most sensible? Maybe, maybe not. But, you were nervous to text him. The texts he sent you made you feel tiny butterflies in your stomach. It wasn’t his flirting that caused that tickling, it was the care he put into contacting you. He didn’t have to text you, but he chose to.

You felt stupid, like the kind of childish stupid where you have a crush on the kid who lets you borrow their pencil. But you were older, more mature. You knew not to read into every little message and movement of a person. So you could text Sanji, easy peasy!

| You: hey sanji, u guys at the dining hall? Read 9:39 | Mr. Prince: I’m sosososo sorry my Princess!!! | Mr. Prince: We let moss head lead us to the dining hall and we got lost ;o; | Mr. Prince: Lesson learned!! heading over asap!!! ^3^

“Alright, looks like they’re on their way,” you sighed, looking up to your friends.

“Are you kidding me? They’re the ones who wanted to meet!” Nami grumbled, “what gives?”

“According to Sanji, they let Zoro lead them here, but then they got lost.”

“What the hell? Their dorms are, like, fifty feet away?  How the hell do you get lost?” Nami scowled.

“I believe that’s a question for Zoro,” you replied, taking a bite of your toast.

Ten minutes later and your rag-tag crew of misfits barrelled into the dining hall, almost knocking over a dozen students on their way in.

“____!” Luffy called out, heading spinning around as he searched for the three of you.

“Over here,” you yelled, raising your hand up.

You should have realized the consequences of your actions sooner, as Luffy hurled himself at the three of you at full force. There weren’t many options to ensure safety, besides cover your heads or duck under the table, which you and Vivi immediately did. 

Nami, on the other hand, stood up and pulled her fist back. Luffy was going too fast to avoid her punch, and knowing how powerful Nami could get when she was angry, there was no way he’d be able to tank it without injury.

It passed by in slow motion, you and Vivi peeking up to see the collision, Usopp yelling in fear, Zoro and Sanji running to try and stop their friend, and the remaining student population watching in horror.

And just like that, it was over. Luffy laid on the ground, utterly defeated by Nami’s strength. A small bump arose on his head, slowly growing in height.

“Jeez, Nami,” you coughed, “nice…shot?”

“Thanks!” she giggled, flexing her surprisingly muscular arm. “I like to keep people on their toes. If you two ever need a strong-arm, just call me, ‘kay?”

“A-alright,” you stuttered.

Why did you stutter? You weren’t scared of Nami, were you? No, this wasn’t fear, it was more like awe. But not the kind you feel when you see someone do a card trick. More like when—oh, dear. The butterflies were back, fluttering around in your stomach, bouncing off the walls of your intestines, scattering through your body and hitting all of your nerves—

“Luffy!” Usopp and a boy—Chopper, if you remembered correctly— screamed, rushing over to cradle the body of their companion.

“You killed him!” Usopp declared, pointing an accusatory finger at Nami.

“Actually, he’s alive,” Chopper chimed in, “he’s just sleeping.”

“He’s what?” Nami and Usopp deadpanned.

Luffy shot up like a zombie rising from the grave, earning a shriek from Usopp. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a long yawn.

“Oh boy, what happened?” Luffy asked, looked around at the crowd of spectators before he landed on you. “Hey, ____!”

You gave him a small wave, trying to keep your horrified expression hidden behind an apprehensive smile. Before you could get a word out, however, Luffy was quickly sent back into the ground by a punch from Sanji and Zoro.

“You idiot,” Zoro growled, “way to cause a commotion.”

“You scared my lovely ladies!” Sanji hissed, turning to flash a reassuring smile at you three. “I hope you’re alright, my Princess!”

“I just wanted to say hi to ____…” Luffy croaked, eyes falling shut.

“Oh my God, he’s dead!” Usopp wailed.

“Nope,” Chopper reassured, checking Luffy’s pulse. “He’s just asleep again.”

“Again!?” Zoro and Sanji yelled, staring shocked at their sleeping friend.

Vivi slowly uncovered her head, looking at Luffy, “Maybe we should stop hitting him…?” she offered.

The two men huffed, stuffing their hands in their pockets.

“Perfect,” she sighed, doing her best to smile. She turned towards Chopper, who was doing his best to tend to Luffy’s injuries. “And what is your name?”

Chopper looked up, startled before stuttering, “C-Chopper, miss! I’m a medical student who is staying on the same floor as Luffy!”

“A medical student?” Nami asked, “but you’re…”

“I know, I know,” Chopper sheepishly grinned, “I was able to skip a couple grades when I was younger, so…”

“Wow, you must be smart,” you blurted, peeking from under the table.

“N-not really!” Chopper reassured, “I just know a lot of medical stuff! I had a teacher when I was younger…”

“Meat…” Luffy muttered, drooling in his sleep.

Zoro sighed, “Well, you heard the man, let’s get some grub.”

“He didn’t mean you, idiot,” Sanji argued.

“The hell?” Zoro barked, turning to face Sanji.

“Now now,” Usopp interjected, separating the two men and walking off with them, “I think there was wisdom in Luffy’s words…”

The three of you—not including a sleeping Luffy and attending Chopper—sat back down, saying nothing for a minute as you all processed the events that occurred.

“Well,” Vivi finally said, breaking the silence, “I’m grateful that our friends are quite energetic! Back in Alabasta, I would have been escorted to a bunker if this happened!”

“I’m glad you got something out of it, girl,” Nami groaned, eating a tangerine slice.

“I kinda get Vivi,” you replied, finishing off your slice of toast. “It’s an exciting change of pace compared to my life before.”

“Alright, I get it,” Nami mumbled, “maybe you two have a point…”

Suddenly, Luffy arose from his slumber, awaking with a cry.

“Meat!” he howled, rushing to the lunch line.

The four of you watched helplessly as Luffy ran over the entire line of students, piling his plate full of meat, so much so that there wasn’t room for anything else, much less more meat.

“Do you think every meal will be like this…?” Chopper whispered, horrified by the display of gluttony before him.

You stared at your table, seeing Vivi’s intrigue and Nami’s curiosity. Then you turned to watch Zoro and Sanji argue, a moment away from turning into a full on fist fight. Finally you looked at Luffy again, seeing the joy in his eyes as he not-so-carefully maneuvered his giant pile of food.

“I can’t say for sure,” you sighed, a smile gracing your face, “but I’m hoping they’ll be similar to this.”

“Look!” Luffy shouted, slamming his plate onto the table. “They let me have all of this! Isn’t this place great?”

“I doubt they let you, Luffy,” Sanji said, approaching the table with Zoro. “More like they were powerless to stop you.”

“Shishishi!” Luffy chuckled before diving into his mountain of meat.

Before long the dining hall’s aura returned to normal as students resumed eating, only glancing at your table occasionally.

‘Probably to make sure they’re at a safe distance,’ you thought, finishing your food.

But after a while the chatter once again died down, only a whisper being passed along tables as an odd air filled the hall.

“Well,” Nami huffed, “you five took so long that we’re all done with our food, so you better hurry!”

“Go get more, then,” Zoro retorted, earning him a bump on the head.

“That’s a good idea!” Luffy cheered, “let’s all go get more food after—”

A small black blur zipped across the dining hall, barely scraping by the top of Luffy’s head and bisecting his plate of meat. You all turned towards the source, shocked at the blatant murder attempt, with hundreds of witnesses no less. But Luffy was furious, standing up and turning towards the culprit.

“What’s the big idea!” he yelled, clenching his fists.

“Oh, come on now, Luf! That’s no way to greet somebody!” a voice called out, stepping through the crowd of students, wearing the most ostentatious outfit you’d seen during your time here and carrying a hockey stick, clearly his weapon of choice.

You watched as Luffy’s fists unclenched and his expression changed to one of brief confusion, quickly morphing to one of insurmountable joy.

“Ace!” he cried out, sprinting away from the table.

“Ace?” Chopper questioned.

“The hockey player?” Sanji gaped.

 “The brother?” Vivi asked.

Ace grinned, tucking the hockey stick behind his shoulders.

“The one and only!”

tag list: @sylum , @dimplewonie

[regular-samdragon]

More tfa Reverse au sketches and rambles. Here's the first post for the initial info on all of this

I dont exactly have a plot idea for this au yet, just mostly silly interactions between the characters. I'm still a little lost on what to have the decepticons doing in this. I have some slight ideas though, just might change up some details later

It makes sense for the decepticons to also be humans in this au. The initial idea I had was that Megatron owned the corporation that paved the way for technological developments in the city. Of course, Megs isn't the scientific mastermind behind it all. He just happens to own the company. Starscream and Blitzwing act as the head scientists, and Barricade is head of security. Starscream is constantly trying to think up ways to take over the company himself while the others are content to keep working under Megs. After all, he doesn't restrict them on how ethical their experiments have to be.

Sumdac himself, I haven't quite decided on yet. The lot that Ratchet's and Prowl's establishments are located in definitely has more than one store, so one idea I had was for Sumdac to stay human and own an electronics repair shop. Perhaps he misses Sari's initial landing, but the gang ropes him in when she ends up needing specialized repairs. Or, alternatively, he could be Sari's cybertronian dad, stuck back home and worried over how his daughter's first mission is going. Although he wouldn't be super involved in the au if I went with that idea.

Swindle is the owner of the local pawn shop, also in the same lot. He rarely seems to ever show up to work, leaving the shop closed for several days in a row. Sometimes even for weeks. It's a wonder to everyone how the pawn shop still manages to make a profit when Swindle is constantly on his 'overseas trips'. Bee and Bulk have swapped plenty of theories on what they think Swindle really does for a living, such as being a secret agent, or his store being a front for secret military experiments.

Thinking more of the lot they all work in, I'm calling it the Tower Plaza. Sort of drawing off the idea of Sumdac Tower from the show, and yeah a little inspo from OK KO I have to admit. The Tower Plaza gets it's name from a tall, abandoned clock tower that stands as the icon of the area. The clock hasn't worked for years but no one can afford to own or repair the building. This ends up becoming Sari's main hiding place. Bulk and Bee help her to spruce things up inside, making her a real home away from home. There's even a big basement door she can hide out in when Meg's men start poking their noses around.

Speaking of Megs again, his goal in this au would primarily be to capture Sari and have his scientists reverse engineer her for their own advancements in tech. Pretty much exactly what Sumdac did in the show with Megatron himself. Although while Sumdac had empathy for Megs when he was found to still be alive, Megs in this cares not what happens to Sari in the process. He doesnt see her as a living being (yet), and mainly just wants to advance his company for even higher profits.

And thus comes the conflict between the Tower Plaza gang and uhhh whatever I end up naming Megatron's company as.

Smaller notes:

•Folks on discord helped me out to find the PERFECT alt mode for Sari. That is, a Folland Gnat fighter aircraft. It's small and speedy and just really fits Sari's vibes

•Bee personally takes it on himself to teach Sari as many human curse words as possible. Orion nearly has a heart attack the first time he hears Sari swear

•Bee is also the one who came up with nicknames for everyone. Although Bulk is the one who came up with 'Bee' for him

•Orion was a second lieutenant before he was discharged

•Orion doesn't like to talk to anyone about why he was discharged from the military. Uncle Ratchet knows it involved another lieutenant and an intelligence officer, both friends of Orion. He doesn't know anything past that.

•Cybertron is not at war in this au, meaning the factions of autobots and decepticons don't actually exist. The need to hide the Allspark was more to keep it away from other alien races who would like to steal and misuse it

•Sari is only minimally trained for combat scenarios. With the occasional battle while on Earth, she asks Prowl to teach her some hand to hand combat. After an incident where she nearly took out a building, they now train far out in the woods

[dragons-and-ages]

I am well aware that I’m delusional, but here’s how Varric-mancers can still win in 2024

But he’s not a companion.

Yeah, so? While he may not be an active companion, he appears to be taking an advisory role. Perhaps he’s a liaison between the Veilguard and the Inquisition remnants. If he is an advisor, that wouldn’t preclude him from being a romance option. See: Josie and Cullen.

But BioWare is going to kill him off.

ngl this prospect scares me.

I’ll admit that he is giving one-week-to-retirement vibes. But maybe he’s just tired of being in the field after so many years. He’s getting older; He doesn’t need to be slogging through the muck with us when his most formidable weapons are pen and paper.

But if he was going to be romanceable, he’d have been an option in an earlier game.

Not necessarily. Again, see: Cullen. It took three games for Cullen to be romanceable, which made sense! Cullen, as a character, was very much NOT mentally in a place that he would be open to romance in DAO and DA2. I’d argue the same for Varric, which I’ll get into below.

But it makes more sense for Varric to romance Hawke.

It’s true that Hawke and Varric are besties. Varric is clearly ride-or-die for Hawkes of all flavors. Varric has also known Hawke longer than any of the other protagonists. However, during those formative years in Kirkwall, Varric was very much still stuck on Bianca. (And let’s not deny that Hawkes of all flavors are also messy). Varric built an intentional wall between himself and Hawke or, you could argue, between himself and the character, the Champion of Kirkwall. See, Varric is a writer and he has a way of idealizing and romanticizing life and the people around him.

Being the teller of the story allows him to be in some kind of control.

Ok, but Varric couldn’t romance the Inquisitor.

That was even more implausible than Hawke. Again, Varric seems to see the people around him like story characters. The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, is this big, potentially tragic, hero figure. DAI takes place over a shorter period of time than DA2, and while you may be able to build a friendly relationship with him, there is still clearly a wall there. Not to mention, he’s still comfortably pining for Bianca until the ‘Well, shit’ quest.

But Varric is in love with Bianca.

Bianca Davri. Gorgeous and brilliant dwarven woman voiced by Laura Bailey. It’s hard for my bi ass not to love her on those points alone. She has an amazing mind and is the only surface dwarf ever to be nominated for paragon status because of her inventions. She and Varric had a romance and were forced apart by the Merchant’s Guild before she was betrothed to a guy in the smith caste. And in the years since, the two of them have kept up a secret correspondence. Tell me all of that doesn’t smack of tragic storybook doomed romance. Of course Varric was stuck on her. Not to mention, he has carried around one of her inventions ever since; one that he named after her.

I think that, in the years since they were forcibly separated, Varric built up an idealized version of Bianca in his mind. You can see he does that to a certain extent with everyone. He separates himself, the writer, from the characters. Sometimes an old hurt is safer than opening up again and Varric has been safe and comfortable with not entering into a new romance. And there’s always that sliver of hope, fed by secret letters, that he and Bianca could be together in the end.

But then ‘Well, shit’ happens in DAI and Varric walks away angry with Bianca after it is revealed that SHE is responsible for leaking the location of the red lyrium. I think (I hope) that this event has shattered the idealized version of Bianca that lives in Varric’s mind. I don’t know how much time has passed since DAI, but I hope that that revelation has started a chain reaction where Varric has reevaluated his relationship with Bianca and is finally ready to put that chapter behind him.

And here’s where my batshit delulu theory starts:

I propose that Bianca the crossbow breaks early on in the game. This would be symbolic of Varric moving from active companion to an advisor status. It’s a sign to Varric that it’s time for a change. On the romance front, it’s the final nail in the coffin of his pining after Bianca.

Rook and The Veilguard are a smaller group than the Inquisition. Stakes are still high, but there’s not this strange reverence for Rook like there was for the Inquisitor. And the group is small and intimate, not a massive, world changing machine like the Inquisition was. I can see Varric being surprised, but cautiously open to flirting overtures from Rook.

It has been so many years since Varric has really allowed himself to love and be loved. It’s been too long since he allowed himself to be a part of the story rather than telling it. He’s getting older now, maybe it’s time to let that chapter close and really try to live and love again.

It has the potential to be a very mature, slow burn, beautiful romance and I know I’m deluding myself but I want it so bad.

[flowerandblood]

The Vanity and Variability (2)

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, mention of trauma, violence ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother’s debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & VhagarMoodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When their father received a letter of marriage proposal from Otto Hightower he was furious. He thought it would be humiliating for him to give any of his daughters away to a proud, vain bankrupt who would choose any of them by grace, just for their vast fortune.

He decided to create a small domestic gathering and called her, all her sisters and their brother into their living room.

They sat at the table listening with attention and surprise to what he had to say to them. Their father was met with a completely different reaction than he had expected.

"Please, father, he is almost like a prince. I would live in a palace!" Exclaimed Maris, already imagining in her mind how she would walk through the grand chambers of their gigantic mansion located in London.

"The Targaryens are one of the most important names in our country, it would bring great honour to our family. Your grandson would have royal blood, father. What harm would it do for us to have him come here to determine if we would like him?" Cassandra asked, and their father could not find the right answer to this question, so he finally gave in, recognising that it was nothing official for now.

He replied to Mr Hightower that his grandson could come to his estate to get acquainted with his daughters under his watchful eye to decide if they liked each other.

She had no idea what she thought of the arrival of someone like him; her sisters lived only for his person, counting down the days until his arrival.

One evening they sat all together in their nightgowns in Cassandra's room, which she was entitled to as the eldest daughter and was the largest, talking animatedly. It was good custom for it to be the eldest daughter who was married first, and it was clear that she was concerned about what Mr Targaryen would think of them.

"When he arrives here, we must all behave with decorum and maintain good manners. Do you hear me?" She directed her words at her and she swallowed quietly, nodding and lowered her gaze, fiddling with the fabric of her chemise.

She was the youngest of them, standing next to them looking less like a real, full woman and more like a child in her eyes.

Although the shape of her breasts and hips were outlined under her chemise, she didn't look as serious as they did, she still tied her long hair up with a ribbon at the back of her head instead of forming it into an exquisite bun like they did.

She tried once to style her hair in such a bun, but found that it completely didn't suit her. She looked as if she was just trying to disguise herself as a grown-up woman, a wife and mother, which she was not, and she gave up sadly, telling her maid to let her hair down again.

She had never thought about marriage or love before, being far in line behind her sisters, but one day she realised that since it was not agreed that Mr Targaryen would marry Cassandra and that he could choose any of them, he could choose her too.

The thought terrified her.

"But what will I do if he chooses me?" She asked one day on a walk, walking with them leisurely into town to see the new hats in the shops, and Floris laughed out loud at her words.

"Don't bother, you look like a child and you're unkempt. You have nothing to worry about." She said lightly, and she felt burning tears of humiliation under her eyelids, slowing down and following them completely behind.

Although she did not want a husband at all, it hurt her cruelly that they thought he would despise her not only as a possible future spouse, but as a person in general.

She confided her worries to her father, standing before him and weeping, struggling to put her distress into words, and he looked at her with paternal concern, running his hand over her chin. When she had finished speaking he stood up and walked over to her, catching her soft cheeks in his large, rough hands.

"My dearest, why do you need the attention of someone like him? A man who only wants your wealth, who I am sure will not respect or value you? I hope that after his visit your sisters will change their minds and no marriage will take place, and you will pay no attention to him at all when he arrives here. Even if he wanted you for a wife, I would never give you up to him for the devouring of those vultures of London with only vanity and volatility in their hearts." He murmured lowly and leaned down, kissing her forehead, and she felt an immense sense of relief.

Her father, as well as her brother, were always able to comfort her.

When the day of Mr Targaryen's arrival came, her sisters had been dressing up all day, shouting and running around the house, accusing each other of stealing jewellery or dresses, losing something every step and crying. She watched this with amusement, dressed in her everyday summer gown, looking calmly out of the window, thinking only that this commotion did not concern her.

She had stopped feeling bad about the thought, but she was curious to see what kind of man he would be.

When his carriage finally arrived outside their manor house everyone, according to good manners, went out to meet him with their father in the lead. When the carriage door opened a large, beautiful white dog, looking like a fox, suddenly jumped out of it.

She thought it was love at first sight.

She immediately ran towards her despite her father's calls, and the animal jumped on her, putting its dirty paws on her shoulders, licking her face. She laughed, embracing her around her waist, dishevelled by how sweet this dog was.

When she finally jumped down she stroked her soft fur and raised her head, noticing the man looking at her out of the corner of his eye, pale, his lips tightened into a thin line expressing impatience and embarrassment, his gaze piercing, cool and uncomfortable, the black ribbon bow tying his almost white hair into a long ponytail.

He pulled off his cylinder, tucked it under his arm and it was only then that she noticed his famous black eye patch, the long scar stretching across the entire left side of his face.

She thought that, contrary to what she had imagined, he was not scary, but, according to her father's words, he seemed to her infinitely vain and distraught at having to be here, even though they were doing his family a favour.

She decided not to think about him and leave the conversation with him to her sisters, leaving all her attention and love to his dog, whose name, as it turned out, was Vhagar.

Taking advantage of her owner's absence, she decided to lock herself in her room with her along with a piece of roast on a plate and practice tricks with her.

"Sit." She said lowly, and Vhagar immediately sat down, looking greedily at the piece of meat she had in her hand. She handed it to her as soon as she followed her command, and she devoured it greedily, licking herself with a loud click.

She also appeared to be able to lie down and stand still on command, as well as running up to her leg.

"Give me your paw." She said, extending her hand to her, and she sat up, wagging her tail, looking with big eyes at the next piece of meat she was holding, panting heavily.

She sat down next to her on the floor, still holding her outstretched hand in front of her.

"Give me your paw." She repeated, and she began to squirm and bark, not understanding what was expected of her, what she had to do to be able to eat this delicious piece of chicken.

She took her paw in her hand and shook it, showing her what she was supposed to do, then placed a piece of meat in front of her, which she immediately swallowed.

"Good doggy." She praised her and stroked her, taking another piece from her plate, again extending her hand to her.

"Give me your paw." She said softly, Vhagar twisted in her place and barked. She repeated the command and she scratched her thigh with her paw, checking to see if this was the movement she had in mind.

"Good doggy! Such a good doggy!" She said happily, letting her eat another piece of meat, stroking her fur, praising her wisdom.

They both jumped when she heard a quiet knock on her door. She opened it and was startled to see the silhouette of their guest, looking down at her as if he was about to kill her, Vhagar threw herself at him cheerfully, longing for her owner.

"Vhagar! Calm down! Sit." He commanded her coolly, clearly frustrated, and she pressed her lips together, deciding that she would share the rather pleasant news that his dog was able to perform a new activity thanks to her efforts.

"I was just teaching her a new trick." She whispered, not wanting to wake the sleeping family members and was already about to explain to him what the trick was specifically about when he spoke directly to her, looking at her disapprovingly.

"Don't come near my dog again." He hissed and whistled at Vhagar, motioning towards his room.

She pressed her lips together, feeling a sting in her heart at his unpleasant and cold words, but thought she might have expected it. She saw to her surprise, however, that his dog turned towards her every once in a while, standing and apparently considering whether she felt like continuing to play with her instead of going to sleep.

Despite her owner's efforts, she refused to budge and jumped up when he suddenly grabbed her violently by the fur on her neck, pulling her forcibly towards his room, as if he had completely lost his temper, furious, she pulled in the air loudly and squealed in despair at the sight, hearing her whine full of pain and terror.

"− no! − please! − wait −" She called out pleadingly, and suddenly, as if he realised what he was doing he looked at her surprised and let go of Vhagar, who immediately ran away from him, hiding back in her room. She looked at his face and was surprised to find that he was broken, she had a feeling that he was about to cry.

What was the matter with him?

She swallowed loudly, wanting to quickly alleviate the situation she ran into her room and picked up a piece of meat, shoving it under Vhagar's nose. She immediately followed her, curious, and they both left the room, but when she saw her owner standing in the same place she panicked and lowered her tail, fearing that he would do the same to her as he had a moment ago.

She approached his stony figure, she had the impression that he had completely frozen absorbed in his own agony at the thought that his dog would now hate him.

"Hand it to her and call her out, just don't get angry." She whispered to him pleadingly, handing him the meat she held between her fingers. They both crouched down, looking at Vhagar, who watched them with lowered ears, alert. He held out his hand to her, she could see that his fingers were trembling.

"− come, Vhagar − I'm sorry − it's all right −" He whispered with difficulty, brokenly, no longer resembling at all the man she had seen getting out of the carriage. He seemed suddenly human to her, full of some cruel contradiction she could not comprehend. She felt the pain pouring out of him, the fear of rejection, and involuntarily felt sympathy.

She realised that he had probably been forced to come here, exposed as if in a market to be watched and judged by her sisters, all the time in the limelight, having to make a choice even though they, in his eyes, were not worthy of him in status.

She thought he had no right to feel superior to them, coming here only for their fortune, but she couldn't help seeing him now as just an ordinary man, terrified by the vision that his beloved pup would be afraid of him.

Vhagar approached him slowly and hesitantly took from his hand what he had on it. She saw his fingers stroke her white fur with tenderness and gentleness, and then her head snuggled against his chest, his face pressed against hers expressing something like relief, his lips tightened, his eyes red.

She smiled at the sight, feeling at the same time remorseful at the fact that all this had happened because of her, because she hadn't asked his permission if he would mind if she played with his dog.

"− I'm so sorry −" She whispered softly and he looked at her, she noticed with surprise that his gaze was not cold and chilly. It was focused, uncertain, filled with feeling, suffering and loneliness, depth and emptiness at the same time.

He did not answer.

She stood up and called out quietly to Vhagar, heading for his room, and she immediately moved to follow her. She wanted to lead her to his bedroom and force her to stay there to end this whole unpleasant situation.

She sat down on the floor and reached out to her. She immediately laid down next to her and put her paw on her thigh as she taught her. She smiled and stroked her soft fur, then lifted her gaze and saw that he was standing over them, looking at them as if they were some amazing creatures, in his eyes surprise and shock that she dared to enter his room in the middle of the night in just her nightgown.

The realisation of this gaffe hit her with redoubled force and she stood up quickly, explaining that she only wanted Vhagar to go in there after her, leaving quickly and closing the door behind her, running to her room and sighing heavily, feeling her heart pounding fast.

She thought that this was not a good start to their acquaintance and that he probably hated her for sure now.

However, she decided that since he wouldn't consider her anyway it didn't matter, she was more worried that by her behaviour he would have a bad opinion of her sisters, and she knew how Cassandra cared about this marriage.

She was the eldest and felt time was slipping through her fingers, many men had asked for her hand because of her father's wealth, but they were too old for her or unpleasant to look at.

It appeared that she might have been too fussy, and now someone from a royal background almost their own age had come to their house and it seemed the perfect opportunity for her.

She didn't want to ruin her happiness.

However, as always, Floris was unable to restrain her nosiness even at breakfast, pestering her with questions and accusations that she did not have the strength to answer. She felt Mr Targaryen's eye on her, and if she didn't know him she would have thought she saw a hint of sympathy in his gaze.

"My dear, apologise to Mr Targaryen for your behaviour and for taking his dog for yourself." Her father finally said to her, and she swallowed loudly, lifting her gaze to him.

She could see that he was looking at her uncertainly, terrified of what she might say, of what she had seen, which could reflect badly on his reputation.

"I am deeply sorry for my behaviour and all the unpleasantness that came with it." She choked out with difficulty what she really wanted to say to him and saw that he swallowed loudly, lowering his eyes and hummed under his breath as if in thought, running his fingertips over the table top.

"I also apologise, miss Baratheon." He said lowly, startling her completely, and as he lifted his determined, burning gaze to her she understood that he wanted to tell her that he was ashamed of his behaviour.

She felt a warmth in her heart at the thought that he had decided to apologise to her even though the fault lay with her.

She heard Floris snort at his words, displeased that he had not rebuked her.

"Mr Targaryen, do not apologise to her. She is like an animal herself." She said with amusement, looking her straight in the eye, and she felt humiliation spilling over her body, her cheeks red.

She swallowed hard, breathing unevenly, lowering her gaze, repeating to herself that she couldn't make a scene and start crying in front of him, that Cassandra would reprimand her again, saying she was acting like a child.

She felt she was losing to her own distress and got up at last, apologising quietly and left quickly, running out into the courtyard. She heard quick footsteps behind her a moment later and didn't even have to turn around to know it was Royce.

"Wait." He called out to her and she stopped, looking at him with parted, trembling lips, tears streaming involuntarily down her red face. Royce put his arm around her waist and she embraced his as they moved ahead, looking forward, saying nothing.

"Don't mind her. She can't bear the thought of not living in a grand palace. Unfortunately, I can't say she's the smartest of my sisters." He said amused, and she burst out laughing through her tears, hugging him, as usual feeling relieved in his company.

"What was he apologising to you for?" He asked after a moment, and she grunted quietly, unsure if she should talk about it.

"He was angry that I locked myself in my room with his dog. But he was right. That's all." She said briefly, figuring she would skip the details, not wanting to put him in a bad light in front of her brother, recognising that she had known him too briefly to judge him so quickly.

Royce already wanted to go home, but she said she wanted to continue her journey and walk to the lake to calm down completely. She loved listening to the quiet sound of the water sitting by the shore and had no desire to look at Floris for the next few hours.

So she moved ahead alone, taking comfort from the beautiful summer views all around her, the fields surrounding her green and full of flowers, the air clean and crisp.

She shuddered when she suddenly heard a loud barking and saw Vhagar running quickly towards her. The dog pounced on her and started licking her face, and she laughed out loud.

"What are you doing so far from home?" She asked, stroking her snout as she fell back onto her four paws, and it was only when she looked around that she noticed Mr Targaryen's silhouette sitting on the shore, his impenetrable gaze directed towards her.

For a moment she considered returning home, but realised she didn't want to go back there. Even more so if he wasn't there now, her sisters would lash out at her with questions and accusations, keeping at least a hint of civility in his presence.

Only Ellyn was being nice to her, Cassandra tried to fight the feelings warring within her, but she could see the frustration on her face.

No matter how hard she tried to stay away from him, she kept running right into him.

She thought that maybe if they had her attitude they would experience the same thing.

She sighed heavily and started walking towards him, recognising that it wasn't just his shore, that she was the first to discover this place and had as much right to sit there as he did.

She sat down beside him on the sand, a safe distance away, which Vhagar took immediate advantage of to lie down between them, laying her head on her thighs.

She was sure he would get up and go somewhere else, discouraged by her presence, he, however, seemed to make nothing of it, sunk in his own thoughts. She closed her eyes and began to listen to the sounds of the wind and water, the pleasant breeze wrapped around her face. She felt sleepy.

She opened her eyes after a few minutes, looking around as if half asleep, and saw to her surprise that Mr Targaryen had fallen asleep beside her, his head settled on his shoulder, his face unusually gentle and calm.

She thought he needed a moment of rest and solitude too, and smiled at the thought.

With some strange warmth in her heart, she lay down next to Vhagar and wrapped her arms around her, wanting to fall asleep next to them.

After they had returned to her mansion, after what he had said when Floris had assaulted her, she herself was not sure what she thought of him.

On the one hand, she felt grateful because he had stood up for her, refuting any rumours or conjecture about the nature of their walk, but on the other hand, his words were so cruel and insolent that she thought he would never have referred to a woman of his status in such a way, that he was showing how much he despised them, that he did not regard them as equals.

The next day they were all due to go to church, and as it was literally a five-minute walk from their property, they decided to go there on foot.

She wore her bonnet on her head, so she tied her hair up in a bun like her sisters to make the whole thing look right, the colour of her headdress warm cream, just like her dress.

She did not know if the form of the walk made Mr Targaryen happy or not, his expression remained invariably indifferent. He walked at the front with her father and Royce, Royce telling him something with amusement and he seemed to be partially listening to him.

Further along walked Cassandra, Maris and Floris, adding a word or two to their brother once in a while, and she walked at the back with Ellyn.

"Floris is very jealous." She told her quietly, clearly wanting to comfort her. "She teases each of us behind closed doors and says very nasty things."

She did not feel surprised by what she heard. Floris always cried when her father refused her, loving to point out mistakes to everyone but herself.

She thought that she had felt overlooked all her life and was now trying to make up for it by getting everyone's attention, the higher-ranking person it was, the better.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a beautiful little brick church surrounded by a stone wall and orchard. They went inside, their father greeting everyone, the presence of Mr Targaryen sparked great interest and everyone wanted to shake his hand.

She could see the tension on his face, the enormity of his discomfort in the presence of so many strangers, and she thought he was in constant pain, forced to be polite and courteous when he felt like running away.

One by one, they all began to sit down in the pew where their family always sat, but when she wished to take her place at the end, Floris placed her hand on the seat.

"This seat is for Mr Targaryen. After all, we won't let him sit at the back." She said lightly, and she felt a tightening in her throat, tears of humiliation filling her eyes once more.

"There's enough room for everyone." She whispered, her father leaning over, looking at her concerned, not understanding why she and Mr Targaryen were not yet seated.

"There isn't."

She looked at her with red eyes, feeling her clenched lips tremble, but there was not a trace of hesitation or sympathy on her sister's face.

So she turned back, swallowing loudly, sitting down in the empty bench behind them, her father turning his head after her, startled.

"What are you doing?"

She did not answer him, for she looked shocked sideways when she saw that Mr Targaryen had stepped into her pew following her, placing his cylinder on his free side, undoing one button from his tailcoat, sitting down beside her with his legs crossed.

Floris turned towards him, apparently wanting to announce to him that there was a place for him on their bench, but before she could open to say anything, a single, cold sentence left his lips.

"Please attend to your prayers, Miss Baratheon."

Floris turned pale and pressed her lips together, turning away, pretending nothing had happened. She looked at him sideways and swallowed loudly as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, frustrated.

"Can't you concentrate on prayer in the house of God either, Miss Baratheon?" He growled and she shook her head, pulling out her prayer book from her small pouch hanging on her hand, not daring to turn her gaze to him for the entire liturgy.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't concentrate on what Pastor Thomson was saying, thinking only of the fact that he had given up the seat he was entitled to by his status and sat next to her.

She thought he did this because he wanted to avoid her sisters, because after their nap at the lake he knew she would not torment him. That he sat next to her because he wanted to show Floris again what he thought of her.

She figured that perhaps he wanted to comfort her too, that he didn't want her to sit alone away from her family, rejected and abandoned.

The last thought filled her heart with gratitude and warmth and she found herself thinking that he was a more complicated man than she had originally assumed.

As they stood up to receive the eucharist, Mr Targaryen let her go ahead and, squeezing between him and the pew, she involuntarily brushed against his body and heard him quietly gasp through his nose, all tense.

She knew he was standing behind her in line, she could hear his breathing behind her, she could feel his gaze on her. This was a test, he wanted to see if she would get distracted again, if she would think about him, if she would end up pestering him like her sisters.

She thought he didn't deserve her treating him so objectively.

She preferred to think of herself as his friend who, understanding his needs, would not impose on him, allowing him to remain comfortable in her presence.

She didn't look at him as she passed him in line or as she sat back in the pew and they both listened to the psalms, waiting for everyone to take communion.

She swallowed loudly as she felt him spread his knees, sitting down more comfortably, his leg rubbing against hers and pressed to her barely perceptibly.

She felt a pleasant shudder and swallowed loudly, running her fingers over the book lying on her thighs, but she didn't dare to look at him, not wanting to give him satisfaction.

She gasped, her heart starting to pound like mad as he righted himself on the seat and grunted, leaning back with his shoulders against the rest of the bench, his knee pressed almost painfully hard against her leg now.

She felt herself breathing through her mouth, droplets of sweat running down her neck, her fingers tightening on her prayer book.

She felt him looking at her.

She felt his breath directed towards her, enveloping her face.

She glanced at his hand lying on his knee pressed against hers, his pointing finger tapping restlessly against the material of his trousers, as if impatient.

What did he want?

Why was he doing this, playing with her, putting her in this position?

She drew in the air in horror when his hand suddenly pulled away from his knee and moved over her thighs towards her fingers, as if he wanted to grab them.

She clutched her book, terrified, and heard him hum under his breath as he grabbed her prayer book, sliding it out of her hands in a slow movement.

She felt her whole body quiver, her fingers trembling as they lay numbly on her lap.

She knew he had seen it.

Was he deriving some kind of dark satisfaction from it?

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he looked through her prayer book page by page, even though he had his own lying on the backrest in front of him.

Hers was older, had belonged to her mother, was her only memento of her after her death, and she felt uneasy seeing it in the hands of someone else.

"Please, sir, give it back to me." She whispered quietly and heard his murmur expressing surprise or displeasure.

"What harm am I doing? I am merely looking at it, Miss Baratheon." He hummed low, licking his finger and turning the page, something about the gesture seemed inappropriate, ungodly to her and she thought he had done it on purpose.

"Please. This is my only memento of my mother." She mumbled helplessly and felt him suddenly freeze.

She didn't look at him but she could feel the atmosphere of discomfort between them, his knee pulled away from hers as he grunted, swallowing loudly, pointing her book towards her, holding it in his hand.

She reached for it with a trembling hand, and their fingers involuntarily touched, she had the feeling that his thumb had purposely run over her skin, as if in a gesture of apology, of comfort that made her want to cry, she felt goosebumps on her cheeks.

She put her prayer book back on her thighs, clasping her trembling hands on them, breathing hard, feeling as if he was mocking her, taking pleasure and satisfaction in what he could do to her, in how naïve she was.

She felt as, despite her mind's tremendous efforts, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly with her thumb, but they kept flying.

She saw his hand, which again laid stretched across his knee clenched into a fist, his fingers moving restlessly.

He knew she was crying because of him.

When the liturgy ended she stood up first and headed quickly for the door, not looking at him or her family.

When she turned into the field corner and knew no one could see her anymore she burst out into a loud sob, tired of her sisters, tired of this strange, variable men who played with her, who would never look at her or her family as equals.

She drew in a loud breath when she heard quick footsteps behind her and, thinking it was Royce, turned hopefully behind her. She turned pale and parted her lips with a sound of mournful despair when she saw him, breathing loudly, his hair in partial disarray, slipping out of its ribbon.

"Miss Baratheon. Forgive me." He mumbled, not believing himself that these words were coming out of his mouth, clearly surprised and ashamed of his own behaviour. "I have no idea what has gotten into me."

They stood before each other in silence, looking at one another with wide eyes, she struggled to calm her breathing, her trembling lips slightly parted in disbelief.

"I don't understand you, sir. I try, but I don't. You are cruel. You humiliate me and my sisters knowing that we do not stand in a position to oppose you. I would like to be your friend, but I am not sure you could be a friend to anyone, let alone a person of such low position as myself." She almost wailed, shaking her head, looking at him with anguish, something flashed across his face, his brow furrowed, his lips tightened, he swallowed loudly, her words hitting something deep inside him.

She did not give him a chance to reply. She turned her back on him, seeing her family approaching, and set off towards her mansion, thinking with despair that she already felt sorry for whichever of her sisters this man would choose as his wife.

______

Taglist 1 @its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[aislingsurrow]

My GPose Wrapped! Organized by when I finished the piece (when I saved it out to my EDITED folder in Google Drive)

I want to thank you for joining me on this journey! Getting a better sense of Aisling as a character is very fun, and getting to take cute pictures of her rocks.

Month by month commentary under the read more!

January

I actually finished and posted a lot of stuff in January but this was one of my favorites. I had to do a few tries with this pose shape and placement- originally I had her in a gazebo in the Grand Cosmos, doing a a spin. This final version really is stronger!

February

I was saving up energy for Lalapril! I knew the prompt list would come out early March so I waited… and bided my time…

March

I worked on Lalapril prompts through March and April, so these two months feature Lalapril posts. I finished Soul in March… I always knew I wanted Aisling’s sin eater future to look over her, and originally it was more of a canted angle and framing. But then I landed on this flatter framing, more tarot card like, and I knew I had a winner!

I originally wanted longer hair on Aisling, but I couldn’t find anything that worked right that I liked… so I went shorter, and I think that helped emphasize the right shapes in the piece more.

April

I’m really fond of the Zephyr photos. I just think the colors turned out sooooo nice, and it was the first time I fucked with color set editing. So this was a learning moment, too!

I tried a few different locations for these but found this one suited Aisling best.

May

I remember getting the ask I posted this with aaaaaaages ago. I think I may have actually also technically finished this piece ages ago, too? It was the part with Lamitt in the other sequence that was holding me up because the expression didn’t read right. Or it didn’t match the cutscene. Or both.

I overlayed two shots of this one with different shaders to get the impact I wanted. I like doing that. A big part of my process is getting the angle and pose I want and THEN going through shaders to get the right Look. So I wind up taking a lot of screenshots that no one will see because I don’t like the color balance. So it’s nice when I can use more than one.

June

Another relatively busy month according to my Google drive??? But I really liked this pose in particular. It’s a great outfit - (I forget the mod name rn but if you want to know I WILL look it up just ask)

I think I got a great side of Aisling. It gives me a lot of fun vibes- a lot of childhood shapes and inspirations in a piece.

I really like La Noscea- solidifying Aisling as a Limsa Girl and exploring her physical relationship with the area has been fun. It’s nice digging into the place as part of her story. Maybe I try to do that in the Black Shroud or Thanalan this year!

July

Bwaaah! Gampy! Midgardsormr has been a Big part of Aisling’s story since Heavensward. She’s formed a close relationship with him, despite him trying to ensure that Doesn’t Happen. But grandpa can’t help himself, not really.

So when I saw the Midgardsummer mod I knew I had to…. I HAD to….. SUMMER VACAY GAMPYYYYYY

yeah this was also a fun way to test the new face bones! My first time really working with them. I’m still learning a lot about them now!

August

As I was going through Dawntrail, I wanted to try and capture moments that captured me. And though Dawntrail as a whole failed to capture me (JUST got to the last area and stalled out loooool) I really liked the build up to Ja’Tiika. The colors we saw through the rocks really captured me, and this scenario came to my head immediately!

September

Summer came to an end and I managed to snap this picture before all the Moonfire Faire decorations went away! These little cauldrons are actually filled with water, but I couldn’t resist posing Aisling on them. All of the little bombs around her kept floating even when the world was frozen, so I had to time the shots lol. But she fit right in! And I like the angle I got on it.

October

Glamtober! It was fun to piece through Vanilla items. I managed to find a few new ones I liked, and I am really fond of all the pictures I took. But the Unsounded ones are my favorites because Unsounded is my favorite comic. Go read it! The climax is climax-ing.

November

I joined the Popoto Patch discord a while back. I’m not very active in it as big discords are hard for me ): the biggest one I’m active in, I’ve been in for years and was there when it was much smaller. I’ve tried joining a few big discords for 14 and not all of them have been great- there’s just so many people so I find it…. Haaaaard ):

I’m going to try to challenge myself tho! I wanna try to do as many Popoto Patch zines as I can this year, and try to go to an event! Or two! It’s possible! Ganbatte!

Anyway, cyberpunk was the theme for this shot, and it’s a lot less punk than most of the other entrants, I think. But look, if Aisling were in a future city, THIS is what she’d wear!

I really like the outfit of this mod, as well as the glasses I found. Suuuuper sharp. And I couldn’t resist adding some bokeh bubbles to pump up those colors…. If I could just live in the rainbow of this picture I’d be happy.

December

I’m soooo glad I got around to doing this. I’ve wanted to do more with this outfit since I took only first shot with it a year or so ago, and when I saw that Sailor Moon art again I knew…. I knew I had to do it with Aisling….

Sailor Moon is near and dear to my heart and the aesthetics inform sooooo much of my tastes and what I love. It was hellish posing this (the camera and big mounts are NOT friends) but I managed to make it work, and I’d do a lot different now….

Fun fact this is in Halone’s cave in Coerthas. The blurred out crystals really make a perfect backdrop.

And that’s it! Thanks so much for joining meeeeee! I’m bad at ending things sooo

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2024 Megaman Summer Fanart Contest - Category 1 Results!

Sorry for the delay, but without further ado, here come this year's wonderful creations and our winners. Thank you all for your patience! Due to both the number of entries and the amount of reference images I'll be attaching here, I will have to make a separate post for the humor (Cat. 2) results. Please check that out here as well, after I post this! All winners will be contacted shortly.

Take a walk through the newly opened wing of the Kattleox Art Museum to see all this year's fabulous entries after the break...

CATEGORY 1 (Talent): Pallette Pastiche

The talent category this year focused on creating a parody or imitation of a famous work of art by using Mega Man characters in the place of what was originally drawn. Didn't have to be a well-known famous piece, but still had to reference some piece of art, regardless. And you all certainly made both Ms. Museum Curator and myself proud! It was very hard to choose placement, let alone who would make the Top 3. Plenty of fantastic character choices to match the vibe of the original pieces. For the full gallery of pics, click here. Links to each individual full size image is after each entrant's name as well. 1.) @sylviidaee [Pic] (*175 USD Prize Winner!)

Sylviidaee's reference was Michelangelo's Renaissance piece, "The Creation of Adam."

The shading and detail in your painting efforts for this piece are remarkable! Flawlessly fitting in each Robot Master, along with Blues and Roll, to represent the angels, worked out great. This pic deserves to be a featured museum piece, with replicas hanging in the homes of every Megaman fan!

2.) @purplerubyred [Pic] (*$100 USD Prize Winner!)

Ruby's reference was the cover of the Capcom Design Works artbook, by Kinu Nishimura.

Just even attempting to replicate the sheer amount of characters in this piece had to be an enormous undertaking, and I commend you for spending part of your August month of Elec Man love crafting this! There is so much to take in with this piece, with all the various versions of Elec Man and his related family. From background locations like MaHa Ichiban to the super great white angel/devil chip artwork on the railcar window, there are tons of little cameos to catch as you look across this art. Wonderful job!

3.) @DWN-059 [Pic] (*$75 USD Prize Winner!)

Beebs' reference was Rococo artist Jean-Honoré Fragonard's "The Swing."

While the lush forested background draws my attention for it's whimsical beauty, and huge amount of detail, I loved the little touches you brought to make this have a Mega Man feel. Such as the Guts Man and Anko statues to replace the angels, and adding the cute 'lil Friender. While Planty can't kick off his boots, the Plant Barrier petals were a perfect replacement for the shoe. Beautifully and accurately painted! _____________________________

And the rest of our amazing entrants, in alphabetical order by alias:

ArtisIan [Pic]

ArtisIan's reference was Grant Wood's "American Gothic."

Nothing more 'gothic' than a guy obsessed with skulls, building dark, brooding, black-clad robots, owning a homely Skull Castle with tall walls and large windows, am I right? Bass with the daughter's glare is actually rather fitting here, as well! XD Now, if Wily always carried around that pitchfork, wouldn't he be able to defeat Mega Man a lot easier, on account of sharp points?

@aw-colorcat [Pic]

AW-Colorcat's reference was a piece by seafh that was used as a popular Youtube BG image back in the 2010s for the Nightcore (sped up version/remix) version of the song "Angel with a Shotgun."

The bullet holes through the single wing sure makes it look like Mega Man has gone *pew pew pew* through it. But I think an angel with an all-powerful Metal Blade could be a little more deadly accurate.

@digitallyfanged [Pic]

Tabby's reference was Auguste Rodin's sculpture, "The Thinker." (To which, somewhere out there, Sigma Posting is ready to dub it "The Sig-ker.")

Contemplating his status as the most advanced Reploid of his time, his next strategic action against the Maverick Hunters, or how to change/destroy the world? Sigma certainly could be looked at as someone who could be rather philosophical and get deep in thought. And wouldn't be afraid to show off artwork of himself in his fortress. Hatching detail is nice, and helps give that statuesque, worn and chiseled feel.

Ivo [Pic]

Ivo's reference was Impressionist Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida's, "Italian Girl with Flowers."

Fantastic job at replicating the paint on canvas look, I truly can't tell if this is just a digital filter or if you physically painted it! Extending the green curls of hair outside of his helmet helped mimic the girl's original hairstyle even more. Really pretty, and his color pops nicely against the smaller flowers he's enjoying!

JazzmanZ [Pic]

JazzmanZ's reference was Roy Lichtenstein's Pop art painting, "Stepping Out."

Steppin' out to fight Doc Wily tonight! Honestly amused at how just a few little line alterations were needed to easily transform this couple into Rock and Roll. Like the little nose bridge line above his eye easily morphing into the peak of Mega Man's helmet. Excellent eye for parody in choosing this. No Roll, I didn't mean anything by that...

@nightopianfoxgirl [Pic]

NightopianFoxGirl's reference was "Circe Invidiosa," from Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood artist John William Waterhouse.

Another brilliant choice in characters having Iris represent Circe, who was known for turning her enemies into animals. And having the Cybeast duo of Greiga and Faltzer as the sea monster beneath her connects to the allegory of her role in the Beast anime with the Synchronizer, Trill. She too probably wants to poison/destroy the beasts, and can be seen as a bit of a tragic figure herself.

@puyonlilah [Pic]

Puyonlilah's reference was the Romanticism era painting "Ophelia," by Sir John Everett Millais.

Yet another tragic take, with the X version of Iris filling the role of Ophelia from Shakespeare's Hamlet, who is seen singing before she drowns herself in the river. Forgive her Zero, she just wanted to live in a world where only Reploids exist! You certainly portrayed the grief and emotional stress on Iris' face nicely, as well as the effect of her barely keeping afloat, with the water ripples.

@vogler-art [Pic]

Ryan's reference was Romanticist artist Caspar David Friedrich's painting, "Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog."

In a world covered by endless water, there's bound to be days of endless fog affecting your sightline, aren't there? Very nice contrast of light and dark in your colors. There's something that just feels so fitting for Mega Man to be looking out from on high, to give a sense of adventure, venturing into the unknown, or even alluding to X looking off the cliff during X1's ending. How long will he keep on fighting? Maybe only the buster on his hand knows for sure...

Tori Campan [Pic]

Tori's reference was Leonardo Da Vinci's famous Renaissance painting, "The Mona Lisa."

Miss Tori got the most important thing right in her parody by making sure The Rolla Lisa had no eyebrows, because those have disappeared from the painting over time. Roll's green bow stands out in her hair even more with the beautiful green forest in the background. Wonderful job getting her pose and that slight, mischievous smile on her face to match the original!

Thank you to everyone again who participated this year! Each artwork was fantastic!

[gotinterest]

I Want To Watch Kamen Rider, Which Season Do I Pick?

I'm going to focus on Heisei Era shows because those are the easiest to access and the ones most fans have watched so it's easy to find people to talk to about them. Every season of Kamen Rider is a different story with a different cast and vibe, so determining which season you should start on is largely dependent upon your personal taste. This list is based mostly on the shows I have watched or know a lot about, so it's not exhaustive. Some shows will be listed under more than one category, just depending upon what might be most important to you. Guide is located under the read more!

DO NOT START HERE: Kamen Rider Decade, Kamen Rider Zi-O, Kamen Rider Gaim. Decade and Zi-O are anniversary shows that lean HEAVILY upon Rider lore and referencing past seasons. You don't need to watch those seasons to understand the story, BUT you may get spoiled on key plot points from past seasons by watching them. Gaim is on here because it is almost universally hated and thought of as a terrible show.

WARNINGS FOR THE SHOWS RECOMMENDED HERE: Kamen Rider Blade is heavy in the flashing lights department and the opening in particular is known to bother photosensitive folks! All the seasons have flashing lights, but Blade is the one that people have straight up said they couldn't watch through because of how many flashing lights there are.

Kamen Rider Kuuga has a pretty gross transmisogynistic caricature in two of the episodes.

Kamen Rider OOO has a cafe that is nicknamed the "cultural appropriation cafe" by fans because the servers are frequently made to dress up in outfits from other cultures and it can be a bit offensive from time to time. It's not the worst I've seen in terms of "people dressing up as other cultures" and there isn't any black face or brown face but I still felt it worth mentioning since the cafe is a major part of the show.

Kamen Rider Faiz has a black character in it for a few episodes who is written in a way that gives "big dangerous strong black guy" stereotype. It's uncomfortable to watch.

RECOMMENDATIONS:

I don't really like kid's shows and I'd prefer something a little more mature: Kamen Rider Kuuga, Kamen Rider Ryuki, Kamen Rider Hibiki (eps. 1-29 only). If you are looking for a show that feels more mature, these are where you should start. The pacing of these shows is a bit slower and more thoughtful. Kuuga and Ryuki are both HIGHLY beloved. Kuuga is good if you really like monster of the week shows, Ryuki is more for you "overarching story driven" types. Ryuki is a bit more silly in places than Kuuga, but largely maintains a serious tone. Hibiki is very creative and experimental, but it doesn't really give you an accurate picture of what most Kamen Rider seasons are like because it is very different. BUT if you can't stand musicals do not watch Hibiki. ALSO stop watching Hibiki on ep. 29. After that there was a show runner change and the end of the show sucks. Ep.29 is largely considered a satisfying enough end to the show.

I like mature themes and concepts, but I'm fine with kids show silliness: Kamen Rider OOO, Kamen Rider Build, Kamen Rider W. If you constantly feel guilty for wanting things and taking up space, watch OOO. If you had a rough childhood and complicated feelings about your family watch W. If you want to watch a show about war, watch Build.

I love kid's shows give me silliness and fun!: Everything recommended in the second category + Kamen Rider Den-O, Kamen Rider Fourze. Den-O is a time travel story that is heavy on slapstick humor and has a lot of heart. You may have seen a a red horned guy named Momotaros dramatically swing his leg up to rest it on the bench of a booth- that's from this show. Fourze is a high school story about friendship and space!

I like to watch things that are bad but also good: Kamen Rider Blade. You can basically ignore almost the entire lore built up in the first half of the show. The writers certainly do. If you've seen people memeing on a guy named Tachibana... this is that show. This show is very easy to post about. Deeply funny but not on purpose in many places.

I want to watch one of the ones that are especially known for homoeroticism: Kamen Rider Kuuga, Kamen Rider Ryuki, Kamen Rider Blade, Kamen Rider OOO, Kamen Rider Build, Kamen Rider Faiz. Blade isn't initially very homoerotic until it very much is. Kuuga is for you if you want a more sweet and sincere vibe. OOO, Ryuki, and Build are more for if you like watching men bicker with each other homoerotically. Ryuki also contains a couple of side characters who read very much as a domestic couple (if you are big into the "loyal dog" type dynamic you will enjoy these two). Faiz is for you star-crossed lovers enjoyers that can also tolerate a stunning amount of heterosexual love drama (Blade is also a bit star-crossed). Watch Blade if you want to have a very personal grudge against a bench for the rest of your life. Kuuga and OOO are the most homoerotic.

I like weird shows where I don't know what the fuck is going on: Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Blade. If you watched Hannibal and were really into the way they talked and made a bunch of food, watch Kabuto.

I want something that leans more into horror: Kamen Rider Kuuga, Kamen Rider Agito. Kuuga can lean pretty hard into horror in places. Agito is a bit lighter, but still has more of a horror vibe to it.

I like mystery stories: Kamen Rider Kuuga, Kamen Rider Ryuki, Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Build, Kamen Rider W. There are other seasons with elements of mystery, but these are the ones where the mystery really takes more of a front seat. W in particular is actually a noir-inspired.

I want to watch the one with that blond curly haired Ankh guy that I keep seeing on my dash: Kamen Rider OOO

I want something that's a bit artsy and I also like or don't mind musical numbers: Kamen Rider Hibiki (eps. 1-29 only). The only Kamen Rider season where characters regularly break out into song. The sound track, editing style, and aesthetic of the show are so unique. Really strongly written. Do not watch past ep. 29 because of studio mandated changes ruining everything that made it worth watching.

I want to get a good intro to Kamen Rider: Kamen Rider W, Kamen Rider OOO, Kamen Rider Build, Kamen Rider Agito. Kamen Rider W and Kamen Rider OOO are considered great starter seasons. They give you a pretty good feel for Kamen Rider's formula while overall being pretty solid shows. Build gives you a good vibe for how Kamen Rider seasons with bigger casts feel while giving a good balance of serious and silly. It also gives you a bit of a better feel for what some more recent Kamen Rider seasons are like stylistically. Kamen Rider Agito is just a solid early Heisei show that gives you a feel for the tone of a lot of early Heisei shows WHILE also being a good starter show for you to dip your toes into the works of the infamous Toshiki Inoue. Inoue is a prolific writer of tokusatsu shows that most fans have a love/hate relationship with. He is the main writer for several Kamen Rider seasons, specials, and movies and has written several episodes even in shows that he wasn't the main writer for.

WHERE TO WATCH:

Legally: Ryuki and Kuuga (along with the original Kamen Rider from the 70's which is good cheesy fun) can be streamed on Tubi (at least in the US). If you understand Japanese and have a VPN (or are in Japan) I believe most of the seasons are on Hulu.

*I actually wouldn't recommend watching Kuuga FOR THE FIRST TIME on Tubi because the Grongi subtitles are baked in and you can't turn them off. I strongly believe that a key part of the first watch experience is not being able to understand the Grongi, as was the original intention of the show's creators. You can buy the blu-rays for Kuuga and toggle the Grongi subtitles if you really think its worth it to spend the money*

Alternative: You can watch them on most illegal streaming sites, lol. The only season I've seen where that has been an issue so far is Den-O, with the uploads being kinda wonky and partially missing.

There is... another source but I shan't link to it directly here (loose lips sink ships!) Please reach out to your nearest Kamen Rider blogger for the goods.

[hermit-permits]

About This Blog:

Welcome to the Tumblr Hermit Permit Office! This is a gimmick blog is centered around handing out permits for different posts, such as cataloging crimes or selling virtual flowers!

It is important to understand that this blog is distinct from the Hermitcraft Hermit Permit Office and should not be held to the same standards. We do not currently employ Permit Office Enforcement (AKA POE-POE) and strive for only the best experiences while issuing permits, unlike that sister location.

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FAQ and taglist under the cut.

FAQ

Who runs this blog, and what are their pronouns?

Hello! I am the Permit Maker, the sole runner of this establishment of the Hermit Permit Office. You may refer to me using she/her. I may refer to myself in first-person plural (we/us); this is to mimic actual corporations using first-person plural in reference to themselves.

What is a permit, anyway?

A hermit permit is a concept introduced in the tenth season of popular Minecraft YouTube series Hermitcraft. The owner of the permit is able to sell whatever is permitted by the permits they own. On the server, these permits are categorized into three ranks--diamond, gold, and iron--based on demand of the item permitted.

Here at the Tumblr Hermit Permit Office, things are run a little differently. Permits are still ranked from iron to diamond, though in this case it's far more subjective, based on the Permit Maker's perception of its "demand" and general vibes. At the end of the day, iron permits just tend to be more specific than diamond permits. Additionally, permits that are collective are usually owned by gimmick blogs (e.g. the Where-Is collective, the fanblog collective) and contain similar permits to each other.

What do you tag each permit with?

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Why are you so inactive?

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Where's your Where-Is blog masterlist?

While in the past this has been linked under every Where-Is permit, each permit will instead direct the viewer to this pinned post. This does not have every Where-Is blog, but it contains a good deal of them. Deleted blogs will be pruned as necessary.

Tags Used:

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Tags will be updated as needed.

[aro-geo-turtle]

MALEVOLENT PART 48 LETS GOOOO

Oh boy coughing up blood! That’s funnnnn

New characters: Barnabus and Gerard…and the absent Lord Everard. And now Friar Halbrook and Langward.

I’m worried about that “lesser house of god” comment. Alter to the great old ones hidden away somewhere maybe??

This feels like the start of a murder mystery, is this about to turn into a modern mystery?

I vibe with this Barnabus guy, I like him.

Lol cartoon villain beard

Alia Showl—don’t like that comment about her “maintaining decorum,” just what is she capable of?

Has…has Arthur just accidently joined the proto-Order of the Fallen Star??? That’s what this sounds like

Halbrook’s first name is Dorian, oooh he’s a polymath and scientist? That’s rad

Oh no now we find out what kind of person Arthur’s impersonating, what’s it going to be? “Aristocratic, captivating, and clever, your ability to fit into most any situation and do whatever you see is necessary…debate, beguile, manipulate.”—well that’s not too bad. Arthur certainly is clever and the people constantly becoming obsessed with him would probably call him captivating. He’s also very adaptable. The one thing I’m not sure about is the manipulation part, Arthur doesn’t usually think things through enough to really manipulate, lol.

The French guy, Gerard, is an architect. Reminds me of TMA’s version of Robert Smirke. Langward is a doctor, maybe he can help out Arthur! Barnabus is an astronomer and an alchemist??? RAD. And he apparently has…visions?

This is definitely the start of the Order of the Fallen Star

BLACK STONE! Well our quest just got a hell lot easier.

Wait no ok, I was wrong. The Order already exists, Langward is involved with it.

…but we’re not going to see the stone until tomorrow. Somebody’s about to get murdered and/or steal the stone for themselves and this is going to turn into a mystery. 100% certain on this.

Hmm yeah the ring thing is an interesting dilemma. That’s going to come into play later

I love how comfortable John is when giving confident advice and instructions to Arthur about what to do and say

Ahahahha what god do you follow Arthur? which one? One’s certainly been giving you instructions that you’ve been automatically following this entire time! I’m so curious about what John would have wanted him to say. …I’m not so sure saying that you’re an atheist is going to go over very well in this time/place/with this person.

…yeah, about what I expected.

Hah, maybe John can make up for Arthur’s lack of manipulative instincts

This is a murder mystery, this is a murder mystery!!! It’s been too long since Arthur got to be a proper detective, this is going to be funnnnn. Arthur’s picking up my vibes. Love this analysis

Aaaaand there it is! Here we go folks!

The friar was probably in bed at the time of the crime, but Arthur and john can’t confirm it! John you should have let Arthur confirm his location. …though waiting longer before going to the scream for help might cast suspicion on Arthur himself.

Oh yeah the death vision power! Honestly its been so long since that came up that I forgot it was something that they had. But they’ll still have to prove to the group that whatever they see is true

Langward is the victim, that’s interesting. And the friar is deeply suspicious. I look forward to whatever excuse Arthur is going to give for why a prince is also an excellent detective and why he should run this investigation

So Gerard is with the Order as well, and by Everard’s smile, he knew this, but didn’t out it to everyone earlier. Why? Seems almost as if he wanted Gerard to admit it himself. Now there’s two rings in play! Check the corpse for the order ring.

I’m with john, having the ring is way too dangerous. Still, having dallied that long is also dangerous, especially if anybody finds it. Arthur’s best bet might actually be claiming to be an order member himself or coming up with another excuse for having it

Of course there’s no ring, that’s what makes this mystery so interesting! The best way forward for Arthur is to be as honest and open as possible.

Arthur’s trying to piss off Barnabus for some reason, see if he slips up and reveals something in his rage? Arthur definitely can be manipulative sometimes actually, he just doesn’t get much opportunity to show it in this show

Oh that’s despicable Arthur. poor Barnabus. Still, it’ll buy Arthur time to figure out what really happened and they aren’t going to do anything to Barnabus on that much evidence.

Yeahhhhh Arthur! rally everybody, organize them! you’re the expert here, even if they don’t know that

I’m worried about Everard stepping out for a moment, even if he has the excuse of going to get Alia.

“Do you believe you are a decent man?” UH THAT’S OMINOUS.

Ok Everard exposition time I guess. OH is the black stone gone? Is this why he’s acting weird? …ewwww.

WAT. Okay she’s telekinetic I GUESS?

Okay maybe the stone isn’t gone, but that doesn’t explain why he’s acting like this. …it sounds like he gets something about of showing the stone to others and that makes me anxious that he’s planning to sacrifice them to it

DAMN EVERARD JUST DUMP THAT ON EVERYONE. …why is Barnabus smiling?

NOW I HAVE TO WAIT A MONTH TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY! I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH AT MYSTERIES TO FIGURE IT OUT NOW! Ahhhhhhh noooooooo. I love this episode. Glad to see Arthur doing some detecting again.

[kfkr1ze]

Escape from S - Chapter 1

Characters — ✈︎ Renga, Ten

Location: Cheap Izakaya

Izakaya Waiter: Apologies for the wait, here are your drinks. I’ll be taking away the old glasses!

Ten: Yup, thanks.

Renga: It seriously tastes so good… The combo of the cold sake and the hot Atka mackerel… I can’t stop keep my chopsticks still.

Ten: Please drink in moderation. The Pres will chew me out if you get drunk this time.

Renga: I get it, I get it, I won’t get dryunk. I’ll make sure to protect your livyer, Ten…

Ten: Yeah, it’s about time for some water. Here.

Renga: Ngu…

Ten: Y’know, the Akta mackerel really is better here than anywhere else. They’re soft and packed full of flavor.

Renga: I never had anything like it!

…But, I really wanted to eat it in a prettier way. I always end up making a mess out of things.

I know I have to remove the spine already, but I’m just not good at it.

Ten, you seem to know how to eat well.

Ten: Well, I am the son of a sushi chef.

(ーーAnd I’ve had plenty of experience taking out “spines”.)

It doesn’t really matter how it looks. As long as it tastes good, it’s fine, right?

Renga:  Y-Yeah, right!

This sake’s also good…! Thank you for taking me to such an amazing restaurant!

Ten: No prob.

Renga: The thing I really love from this store is this. The point card!

Ten: Aah, this is…

Having something in paper form like this is rare nowadays huh.

Renga: The more times you come here, the higher ranking fish you get stamped on the card! There’s something exciting about it!

I didn’t even know some fish have different names when they get bigger.

Ten: They’re like promotional fish.

Renga: I have 3 left until I move up to a Tsubasu yellowtail! And then like ten more after that…? Let’s go here a lot so we can be Buri yellowtails, Ten! Let’s aim to be Buri yellowtails!

Ten:  Congrats～.

Renga: Congrats…? We always come here together, so you should be the same ranking as me Ten?

Ten: Nah, I lost the card. Accidentally.

Renga: Again!? The last time you said that, we came and asked for a new card with the same ranking as before though!?

I guess I have no choice. I’ll just request a new one for you!

Girl with a strong Gyaru vibe: I feel like I just heard a familiar voice.

Girl with neat black hair: If it isn’t Ten! What are you doing here?

Renga: Eh? Who’re they? Do you know them?

Ten: Aah… We kinda know each other from the past.

Renga: ??

Ten: They’re my ex-girlfriends.

Renga: Ex-girlfriends!? Both of them!?

Ten: Yeah yeah. Back when we were freshies in college, I stayed with them for a while.

Uh… You’re the one that likes the fish soup I make, and…

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: …! You remembered? It was super good to have that after I came back from my Gyara drinking party![1]

Ten: (I’ve actually made that soup for multiple women though.)

And you are… the girl who focuses on her natural beauty and drinks a lot of smoothies in the morning. The one who likes afternoon tea activities.

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: I have a bunch of a cafes I’ve been wanting to go to together with Ten. If we don’t, I won’t have anything to post to dazzle.

Ten: (Oh. I vaguely remembered, but I didn’t really expect to be right. I have a really good memory, huh?)

Renga: H-Huhh… You’re on good terms even with your ex-girlfriends…!

Ten: My bad, did you guys happen to contact me? I’ve been super busy so I haven’t been checking PeChat. I’ll check it later.

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Uu… Just as I thought, his face is… the best…

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: OK, we’ll wait for you…

Not! Did you really think I’d say that!?!?  You’re the one who said “Thanks for the drink. Should I pick you up?”! You sent the last message!

Ten: Huhh? Is that so?

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Ehh～? When Ten can’t come to pick me up, he always tells me it’s because he’s working on reports and he has to focus on his studies, so shouldn’t we be more considerate of him?

Renga: (I’ve never seen Ten work on reports or focus on studying though…?)

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: What’s with that? I never heard anything like that myself.

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Huh, I guess he just felt like he couldn’t confide in you whenever he has issues then?

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: Hah? What? Are you trying to pick a fight!?

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: You’re the one who started it with the whole “Should I pick you up?” message from Ten though!?

Renga: E-Excyuse me…

(T-This feels kinda bad! If things stay like this, I’m sure they’ll explode on each other…!)

(I’ll help him out… as Ten’s… f-friend…!)

Hey, calm down you two! Why don’t we just talk about this first…!

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Now that I think about it, isn’t this just Ten’s fault for not being unreliable!?

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: Right!? He only shows up when it’s convenient for him!!

The Ex-girlfriends: You think so too, right!?

Renga: Hgyah!?

Renga: T-Ten…! It might be best if you should say somethiーー

He left!?

The Ex-girlfriends: TEN～～～～!!!!

Ten: … Phew, that was good…

Location: Back Alley

Ten: (It kinda got complicated at the end, but smoking after I finish working is the best～)

Now then, what should I do?

(The “drinking with friends” job finished quicker than I expected, so I probably have some time to do a quick one time job for some cash. In that case…)

…Ah.

Ten: (It’s the point card from the Izakaya.)

…I thought I threw this away, but I guess it was in my pocket the whole time. It makes my wallet bulky.

Ten: Alright then, bye bye～

Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

Gyara drinking is when the host, typically a man, of the party pays its participants, typically girls, to drink