#pshaw yeah right

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls-Episode 3x9, Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving, Part II

LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! NINJA MARIANO ATTACK! The Pea Soup Vomit coat makes its triumphant return (and possibly its last appearance?) In the spirit of Thanksgiving, perhaps he will return it to the Savlation Army reject dumpster from whence it came, to beclothe another down on his luck Victorian orphan.

It's never too early for some good old fashioned public macking.

Rory Gilmore, World Class Public Macking Self Saboteur: But but but...what about Dean?! If anyone wonders why I often go weeks without updating these things (and I'm sure this is something that keeps you all awake at night)... I've been stuck writing this piece for over two weeks because I plum ran out of new and novel ways to complain about this idiot in the red coat's continued preoccupation with Dean. Like, how many times can I say I want to smack her over the head with a rolled up newspaper like a disobedient dog? You're killing me here girl.

Rory, you're a dumbass. And also you're frigid. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, you should put out and let Jess stuff you. One of your legs is Thanskgiving and the other leg is Christmas and you should let him spend time between the holidays. I know having to look at the pea-soup-vomit coat is probably putting a damper on your libido, but you can take it off of him, I promise he won't mind. He's quite touch starved, that boy.

You wish, pal. Seeing as there's no high speed internet, premium cable porn, or dirty magazines to be found anywhere in Stars Hollow, a little street show might provide some tittilation to the sexually constipated residents of The Hollow. R: Yeah, you know, in the the street...with people watching... J: Go on...

Wow, this screen shot is a real beaut. Look at this gorgeous curly man. Someone should give me a gold medal in pressing the little button on the browser extension that takes screen shots for me, an award that is both real and possible to achieve. Shout out to GoFullPage. Why is his collar popped up so damn high? Is he trying to protect his neck from vampires?

R: We shouldn't flaunt it. J: But I want to flaunt it. R: It doesn't feel right. J: He's a big boy, Rory. It's not the first time a couple has broken up. R:It is for us. J: This is insane. Edit: Thank you @ernestonlysayslovelythings for reminding me that Rory is claiming she doesn't know how to manage her first breakup when Dean The Clod had actually dumped her twice by this point. She should maybe go and eat two beach pails of Ben and Jerry's ice cream over it again if the wound is still that raw.

WHAT doesn't feel right, Rory? Kissing your own boyfriend? Not that I'm unhappy you kinda sabotaged your relationship with Dean in order to get with Jess, but you did kinda sabotage your relationship with Dean to get with Jess. Now that you have him you're treating him like a collectible beanie baby, puttng him under glass and refusing to remove his little tag. Take him out. Play with him. Rough him up a little. Bring him to show and tell. Put him through the wash. For goodness sake.

Narrator: And they would never experience a single moment of comfort together ever.

By the time Millennials like me and Jess and Rory here are old enough to qualify for social security, there will be nothing left. So, yeah, never.

Me, outloud: Girl you are demented. Oh Rory, I don't know what you're so worked up about. I mean, what's Dean gonna do if he sees his ex girlfriend kissing someone else? Stalk her new boyfriend in an alleyway late at night and call him The Glad Man? Pshaw.

Narrator: Things did not get better over time. In fact, they got much, much worse.

ARRRRGH.

[howlingday]

Spicy Wolf Girl

Ruby: "How do I make friends?"

Jaune: Step one; buy a suit.

Jaune: Step two; be cool.

Jaune: Step three; find a spicy wolf girl.

Ruby: Yeah, everybody needs a spicy wolf girl, right?

Jaune: Yeah. I feel like my life has only gotten more interesting from knowing a spicy wolf girl.

Ruby: Wow~! I made your life more interesting, because I'm the spicy wolf girl in your life?

Jaune: You've both added and taken away from my life.

Ruby: Wait, WHAT?! What did I take away from your life?!

Jaune: Uh... My sanity, sometimes.

Ruby: What the fu- You can't take away something that isn't there in the first place.

Jaune: Well, it's like when you go out drinking and you're enjoying it now, but you know you'll be paying for it later.

Ruby: Oh, so you're saying I'm like a horrific drug destroying your body?

Jaune: No, no, it's fine! It's my favorite drug!

Ruby: Aw~! So I'm your favorite drug?

Jaune: What? No! That sounds way worse!

Ruby: How is it way worse?! You literally just said it!

Jaune: Well, I don't know, how can I make it sound better?

Ruby: Just pick whatever drug you think I am!

Jaune: Fentanyl. No, wait, not fentanyl. That's- That's a REALLY bad one.

Ruby: What the fu- I AM NOT FENTANYL!

Jaune: I need painkillers because you give me such massive headaches!

Ruby: Oh, pshaw! You like hanging out with me.

Jaune: Yeah, I do. It's a lot of fun.

Ruby: Did you miss me?

Jaune: Uh... I mean... Yeah, sure.

Ruby: WHY DO YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT?!

[marley-manson]

what evidence do you have that bj and hawkeye are only friends because they are "trapped in an army base" and "hawkeye doesn't have any better options"?

tbf I didn't say they're only friends because they're trapped on an army base, I said BJ only gets away with his late season shit because they're trapped on an army base. That said, I do think if they'd met anywhere else, like at a medical conference, they wouldn't have become friends, and yeah the way they clash in the later seasons, I don't think they'd stay friends if Hawkeye wasn't stuck with him.

My evidence is:

Hawkeye describing BJ as a good clean-cut family man and adding "Despite that, I really like the guy," in Our Finest Hour, indicating that on a surface level they're not that compatible. On a deeper level of incompatibility, you have episodes like Preventative Medicine where they clash on a deep ethical level and don't reconcile their points, they simply choose to drop the argument. You also have their respective attitudes to hardship as highlighted in later seasons - BJ "saves [his] pshaws for things he can do something about," and largely remains passive give or take moments of sudden lashing out (eg the end of Back Pay) when he loses his self control, while Hawkeye is always acting on his feelings as much as possible whether he can affect change or not, because it helps him not feel helpless. BJ derides and mocks this attitude (calling him crazy in Back Pay and Tell it To the Marines, calling his tongue depressor tower pointless in Depressing News, etc) and Hawkeye ignores him and does what he needs to do anyway. They do not help each other see eye to eye or meet in the middle, they simply clash and do their own thing.

More headcanony, but I also think they're incompatible emotionally, in that Hawkeye wants people to open up to him and spill their feelings, and BJ is one of the characters most allergic to doing that, and almost never supports Hawkeye when he wants to talk about his feelings (Blood and Guts, Depressing News, GFA, etc). They have a very uneven relationship where Hawkeye is BJ's emotional support whenever BJ snaps, but BJ ditches Hawkeye when Hawkeye just needs his emotional support (this is what "Would you hold me in your arms or would you let me lie there and bleed?" is about), and I think BJ tries to make up for this with big gestures, but Hawkeye is more about the day to day support and solidarity with each other.

There's also the intensity of the rebound vibe in Welcome to Korea part 1 where Hawkeye refocuses on BJ after moping about Trapper and seems to deliberately explore how compatible they can be as friends - the babysitter comment to suss out whether he'd be a partner in womanizing, his willingness to break rules and flout authority, his sense of humour. BJ passes, so Hawkeye accepts him. It feels calculated because Hawkeye needs a replacement Trapper. ("We need to get him started on his ulcer," as potential evidence of Hawkeye wanting him to be Trapper 2.0)

BJ's attitude throughout season 4, in which he stamps out his own reactions and feelings to align himself with Hawkeye. The Bus has a thread of a battle of wills between Hawkeye and BJ over whether or not to include Frank, which Hawkeye wins. In Hey Doc he also wants Hawkeye to be nicer to Frank, but in the rest of the season he's right there with Hawkeye making fun of him. In The Gun BJ stands respectfully when Margaret comes to their table and Hawkeye glares at him disapprovingly, so then BJ turns it into a joke, seemingly correcting his own behaviour.

Wheelers and Dealers characterizes BJ as resentful in a way that makes him passive aggressive, which rings very true to his character to me. In Wheelers and Dealers he bemoans being so nice and passive and lashes out. "Who cares about what they want, I'm doing what I want for a change." This obviously says that he buries parts of himself to make nice with people habitually, as part of how he interacts with people, and I think you can see him doing it with Hawkeye early on.

You also have episodes like Heroes and Stars and Stripes where BJ alternately mocks Hawkeye for getting the spotlight and lords his own spotlight over Hawkeye, because he's insecure and presumably feels overshadowed by Hawkeye.

This is all to support my take that BJ moulds himself to suit Hawkeye because they're not intrinsically all that compatible as people, and he resents being the one to do that. So later BJ lashing out with mean pranks and psychological warfare (Bottoms Up, Dear Uncle Abdul, Joker Is Wild, what feels to me like negging in No Laughing Matter, etc) and ditching/mocking Hawkeye when he's upset about something (Back Pay, Depressing News, Give Em Hell Hawkeye, Blood and Guts, etc) is a response to that resentment when he feels more secure in Hawkeye putting up with it.

I think BJ would probably mould himself to fit anyone he wants to be friends with, but I don't think if given the option, he'd choose to be friends with Hawkeye. He disapproves of several things about Hawkeye even initially - his aforementioned lack of patience with Frank, his rampant sexuality (eg he does disapprove of Hawkeye sleeping with Carlye in The More I See You, and you also have several instances of BJ making fun of Hawkeye when it comes to his attitude towards sex, eg Taking the Fifth, Inga). And I don't think Hawkeye would choose to be friends with a monogamous married suburbanite if they weren't forced together right after Hawkeye lost his last war zone bff.

My evidence for Hawkeye only putting up with BJ's late season attitude because he's trapped is that he tries to put his foot down multiple times and fails because a) the 4077 is a very small world, and b) BJ needs his emotional support in a war zone. And every time he comes back they don't address what they fought over or discuss it or reconcile it, they simply drop it because they're reliant on their friendship.

In Ain't Love Grand he sleeps in the front office but comes back to share good news with BJ and emotionally support him. In The Most Unforgettable Characters they drop the fight because it upsets Radar without addressing why they were fighting. In Picture This Margaret manipulates Hawkeye into going back to BJ by lying about BJ needing his support. In The Joker is Wild and Bottoms Up Hawkeye mildly pranks BJ back in a tag and calls them even even though he's taking a loss.

It's also worth noting that Hawkeye hates BJ's friend Leo's extremely weaponized style of pranking. He's fine with shit like exploding cigars, not fine with him getting BJ court martialed. BJ is fine with it and thinks it's funny, which strikes me as another unaddressed incompatibility that feeds into the vibe of BJ's pretty intense psychological warfare later on, which Hawkeye is generally upset by rather than seeing it as all good fun.

And in GFA they both initially intend to leave without seeing each other again, BJ trying to leave a week early despite knowing his travel orders are sus and without saying goodbye or leaving a note, and Hawkeye expecting and ecstatic to be flown home when released from the hospital only to be ordered back to the 4077 for one more week. Also in GFA Hawkeye says goodbye for good, fully expecting to never see BJ again and sad about it but accepting.

Oh also the fact that Welcome to Korea is structured as a series of horrible things happening in a war zone that bond them together through shared trauma is another piece of strong evidence for the reading that being in a warzone together and needing each others' support is why they become friends, when otherwise they might not look twice at each other.

Ultimately you can take all this stuff and also interpret it as two guys who fall in genuine love/intense friendship and put up with each other because of that, but I think there's more than enough evidence that them being trapped together in hell is a major reason they become and stay friends, and imo it's a solid reading of their relationship, and also infinitely more interesting to me.

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo sighs, realizes she’s going to have to be the one to say something, and puts down a shulker box full of lava with an audible thunk. Across the room, Cleo watches the other members of the court look up at her. Good. They’re listening.

“So like, we all agree we’re worried about Ren, right?” she says.

“Worried about our king? Pshaw,” Scar says. “He’s the best king ever! This plan to elaborately protect the diamonds of the server behind our riddles three—”

“Ren and Bdubs aren’t here, Scar,” Cleo says. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“I am shocked and offended,” Scar says.

“Yeah, okay, I admit it—I’m worried,” Cub says, putting down his own redstone box.

“I haven’t been here the past few weeks? But like, yeah, he’s looking paler than usual. Also Scar are you sure you want to let me have this bow,” Joe says.

“Joe, there’s no one I would trust more.”

“Oh no.”

“Focus,” Cleo says. “Yeah. He’s pale? And muttering to himself. And I’ll admit, I’ve been planning on stabbing him in the back for like, ages. Never fully been on his side.“

“Who hasn’t been,” agrees Cub.

“I have missed so many meetings,” Joe says quietly.

“Anyway. The point is. For all I was planning on making sure he got deposed, cheating in our upcoming gauntlet—”

“Oh I want him deposed but I’m still going to do all the murder,” Scar clarifies.

“Can I have one important conversation? Just one?” Cleo says.

“No,” Joe says.

“Right. Of course. Silly me,” Cleo says.

The four of them work quietly at cleaning up the vault further. There’s still so much work to be done if they want it done by the deadline, and call it pride or hubris, none of them are going to skive off on it. They could. Cleo very easily could. She has a whole other escape room to be building instead of collecting mass amounts of lava to put on a parkour course. But—well.

“You aren’t wrong,” Scar says, finally. “I don’t think I’ve seen Ren sleep in—I don’t know how long. That’s not normal.”

“His eyes are a bit off,” Joe offers.

“The way he’s talking is wrong,” Cub says. “And I don’t know what to make of it. Don’t know what to make of it at all.”

“Okay, so it’s not just me. Good,” Cleo says.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be that worried,” Joe says. “He’s the king. Honestly, after the mess I went through trying to find legal food to eat the other day, maybe he’s also trying to subsist off of sugar? That’s not that good for a dog. Maybe he’s just…”

“…reaping what he’s sewed?” Cleo finishes.

“Hate to say it. Hate to say it,” Cub says.

“He did sort of have it coming,” Scar agrees.

Another long silence. Cleo fiddles with her redstone one last time. There is a stone in the pit of her stomach. Outside, there’s the place Bdubs is meant to build the final walls, the ones that will enclose the server’s diamonds. A black labyrinth, with a beast to guard the center.

Cleo sighs.

“I always did feel sorry for the minotaur,” she mumbles.

“Cleo?” Joe says.

“I was always going to backstab him,” Cleo says.

There’s a silence.

“He looks exhausted,” Joe says.

“I mean, we’re almost done,” Cub says. “No reason not to do our best. We’ve got this far.”

“You’ve got a point,” Cleo says. “We’ve got this far.”

They’re uneasy as they finish the vault, but call it whatever you will—they each do their best, and when they part in the evening, roles to play in hand and places to guard the moment the rebellion reaches the vault doors. Well, call it what you will. Cleo’s not bad at playing a part. That’s what she’s been doing this whole time.

That’s all she’ll be doing.

That’s all it is.

[according2thelore]

keep goinngggggggg!!! just sitting here reading your snippets of the early and late season interactions and loving the goodness. ty for sharing bc the brainstorming sessions are amazing.

hi!!!!!

AGH! i'm so glad you've been enjoying! :) i wrote a little snippet, i hope you enjoy~!

sam scowls at the mirror. yeah, this is definitely not his shirt. it looks like something he would wear, but the sleeves are way too big, and the shirt drapes off of his torso like a kid playing dress-up in dad's closet.

sam picks at the fabric, suddenly too annoyed for words. it's his, isn't it? figures they'd both have the same taste in clothes. at least one thing in this goddamn world isn't unrecognizable.

sam shucks the shirt over his head, quickly grabbing another shirt from the pile--one of dean's old shirts, a faded metallica tee--and pulling it on.

he opens the door to the bedroom, and looks up and down the labyrinthian hallway. did every single one have to look identical? sam tries to remember what older dean had told him the night before.

(okay, so from your bedroom, it's a left, left, then right to the kitchen. two wrongs make a right. i'll be there if i'm not in the garage most days, probably. in case you were wondering. from here to the library, it's a right, left, then two rights. if you see a death ray, you've gone too far.

a death ray? sam interrupted, sharply. the older version of his brother waved his hand, and made a pshaw noise.

it's not actually a death ray. just looks like one. picture a death ray in your head? that's what it looks like. big ugly thing, probably gave scooby a headache in his day.)

sam takes a right, left, then two rights. sure enough, sam is sitting at the table in the library. well, 'sammy.'

after the fifth time of dean--sam's dean, the 2006 one--said "sam?" in a frantic tone, and both sams jumped up to calm him down, they had to come up with a system.

the older dean immediately pointed at 2006 sam and said, "sammy." with a happy smile. sam protested a-fucking-lot. sammy was for a fat little kid with a pinwheel hat. sam was sam. the older version of sam sighed heavily, like sam even being here was beleaguering.

"i can be sammy," he said, "even though i'm thirty-six. he's not going to agree to it." he nodded at sam like he knew him at all, and sam still kind of hates him for it. he didn't hate the guy at first--i mean, come on, a chance to meet his future self--untapped potential! sam had so many questions. but so far...sammy's been a disappointment.

"hey," sam calls now, and sammy's head pops up over his research.

sammy checks his watch, "shift change already?"

they had been doing research in shifts on how to take 2006 sam and dean back, to no result yet. sam shakes his head, and holds up the offending shirt.

"no, mixed laundry." he tosses it at sammy, who catches it with a fluid movement. sam eyes sammy with a wary eye.

how did they get so good at everything? sam feels unfairly trapped in the "before" picture of a healthcare ad.

"oh," sammy says, folding the shirt with his massive bear-paw hands. "sorry about that."

"anything?" sam asks, nodding at the books. sammy shrugs, rubbing a hand at his temple.

"not yet--" he starts, but someone knocks at the doorframe.

both sams turn to look. dean--sam's dean--is standing there awkwardly, shuffling on his feet.

"what's going on in here?" dean asks, hesitant. his arms cross over his chest, and his words sound like, what did you do, sam? what did you say this time?

sam doesn't know when dean--his dean--stopped being on his side, but he hates him for it. sam looks back at his older self. dean's so defensive over him, even though the guy can clearly take care of himself. older sam tucks a strand behind his ear and also crosses his arms, two huge barrels on either side like a goddamn white water raft or something. he looks only amused, a soft look on his face like he's observing two puppies trip over a ball.

sam hates that, too. that sammy always acts like he knows exactly what's going on in sam's head--every ugly, hideous thing. and worse, he's all condescending about it--holier than thou about it. i know what you're thinking, and it's cute. your animosity is as adorable and non-threatening as a puppy nibbling on my ankle. sam scowls.

sammy's eyes slide over sam's shoulder, to dean. sam tries to straighten his spine so sammy can't see over him, but sammy's smile is just as soft and knowing.

sam looks behind him, helpless to it. dean is flushed, eyes firmly on a bookshelf in the corner like he's leaning on the doorway for no reason at all, like he just happened to be there and forgot they were in the room.

that might be the absolutely worst goddamn thing about this whole situation.

"not a damn thing." he says, but he means, where did you go, dean? why do you love this guy so much? how the fuck am i supposed to be this golden-idol-version of myself to you?

sam wants to turn around and tell himself (god, he'd never get used to that), stay away from him. he's not yours. back the fuck off.

but he won't. and he doesn't. he shoulders past dean, feels the heat of his skin, and back into the hallway.

older dean is probably around here somewhere. sam looks up and down the empty hallway. kitchen. definitely kitchen. guy makes a mean burger. that's the only reason sam's seeking him out right now.

the only reason at all.

anywhoooo...hope you enjoyed! :)

-lizzy

[canarydarity]

(Remember the argument Tango gets into with Bdubs at the end of ‘Against All Odds’ chpt 2? Here’s the aftermath of that, but from Ethos pov)

There wasn’t really enough room in the box to shove the door open with any amount of force, but Etho watched Bdubs try. When the door swung back almost directly to him after rebounding off the wall, Bdubs just laughed and caught it with his hand.

It was the kind of door-slamming typically inspired by anger, usually committed by the angry party themself—but this was Bdubs, and it wasn’t his anger he was feeding off of but someone else’s entirely. The action was not performed as a show of frustration, but as a response to being the recipient of it—some way of letting out pent-up energy, the high of knowing someone was mad at you and getting a kick out of it.

Etho followed him inside the box but not all of the way. The second push of the door had been softer, but it still managed to rebound, and it thunked lightly into Etho’s shoulder where he’d halted, half in and half out.

Bdubs was facing away from him, clearly still energized, the mic’s all turned off and the stadium clearing out but no less intensity in his being. He rummaged around the box, moving things around, straightening up in a way that was too aggressive to actually make things neater.

He picked up the small plastic tray full of pencil nubs and tiny eraser bits and old scorecards and just as soon dropped it back onto the desk in a heap, turning his head towards his shoulder but not quite looking over it as he said, “What? I can feel you standin’ there so just what, spit it out.”

Etho shrugged, not that Bdubs was looking to see. “You didn’t have to harp on it.”

“Oh, pshaw—not you, too,” Bdubs scoffed, turned around and leaned up against the desk, his arms once again crossed over his chest; it was so like the picture he’d painted in the clubhouse, the scene they just left, that Etho raised an eyebrow. He didn’t expect to be playing offense. “I was just doing my damn job. Upholding journalistic integrity, or whatever-the-fuck.”

It amused him to say this; he smiled, lazily, all his teeth on display. Etho studied him, his posture, the dangerous look in his eyes.

“I know, Bdubs.” And he did.

It wasn’t really about Bdubs reporting on what had happened—in a way, he was right, he was only doing his job. He had a responsibility to relay the game play by play and word for word, that didn’t change just because sometimes things stopped going well.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Etho looked over Bdubs shoulder, out the windows they’d long since closed and locked, down towards the field, half the stadium lights already turned off and nighttime falling like a heavy blanket of snow. It was dark enough that the seats all blended together, obscuring one another and where the walls ended and sky began. All he could see was the diamond, the grass a beacon of bright green.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” It wasn’t accusatory, not said with the bitter quality of someone scorned. To Etho, it was just a fact, and so he said it as such. He didn’t put much faith in Bdubs accepting it, nothing riding on it as it wasn’t a bet he felt he could win. There’d be an ‘oh come on’ pending, Etho would concede Bdubs had only done his job, start thinking of other ways he could get him to do it a little differently.

“Yeah, and you do?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Eye contact with Bdubs always felt like a staring contest, the petty kind—the one where you accidentally locked gazes with another kid standing across from you on the playground or while on the street, bikes forming a semi-circle, and looked away without thinking anything of it, only for them to claim you lost a contest you weren’t aware you’d joined. Etho was a fan of games, indiscriminate of the type and method of playing—but one thing stayed the same across all fronts: he didn’t much like to lose.

Bdubs stood up from his lean, uncrossed his legs, his arms, and turned back towards the desk, replacing the pencil nubs that had flown from their container when he’d dropped it from a foot above the desk.

“I’ll be nicer. But not because I wanna be or because you asked or anything—and certainly not ‘cause Tango’s got his panties in a twist.”

It wasn’t the conclusion Etho had been expecting.

Bdubs pulled out his chair roughly and collapsed into the seat, head angled just slightly back toward Etho but no attempt at eye contact made.

“But because you’re right. Enjoy that now—I won’t ever say it again.”

Bdubs stared straight ahead, his fingers knotted together on top of his chest, his legs stretched out until the toe of his sneaker was up against the too-close wall. Etho turned to scoot behind his chair and get on Bdubs other side to reach his own, and he pulled it out to sit down just the same.

Their job was done for the day, the stadium mostly empty, only the very last of the janitorial staff still remaining, perhaps Impulse going over some things in his office somewhere dozens of feet below, the lights and camera flashes slowly being replaced by the spotted glow of lightning bugs. The longer they waited, the worse the commute back home would be on the subway for each of them, middle-of-the-day ballgame over and Saturday night-life in the city beginning, but for a few moments longer still, they sat.

(Read the whole story of how etho became bdubs partner in announcing here)

[sotwk]

I used to see those innocent posts from people asking "Is the Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit fandom even still active?", and think "Pshaw, of COURSE it's still active; things are hopping over in our neck of the woods!"

But then I stumble on posts from other fandoms and see their much higher engagement numbers (comments, reblogs, and likes, oh my!) and it like... "....wow, yeah... I guess compared to other bigger, livelier fandoms, ours kinda looks dead in comparison."

Right now, I barely engage (and don't make content at all) in fandoms outside of Tolkien, so that kind of sucks for me. BUT... I love this fandom and Tolkien's beautiful characters and stories and the lovely friends I've made from it. For now, that's enough to keep me going.

I have many, many WIPs waiting, and even if the audience will be small, and the response probably even smaller... I want to write for those amazingly kind and supportive few.

I just need to stop looking at (and comparing mine to) those blasted reblog/like numbers. XD Especially when I'm having one of those days.

[stonecoastweather]

AppealRequest:("I don't know if this'll reach but if it does I want to know so so many things Are you big? Are all of you very big? Is this being read by someone made of metal? Are you an arrangement of wire filled components, or do you bleed? Both? On a scale of pretty big, to very large, how not small are you? What do you do

NaN.NaN - <!Invalid data type: The parameter passed to the query is invalid.//The user does not have sufficient privileges to access the database.The user does not have sufficient privileges to access the database. console.log("Access denied. Authorization required.");

AppealRequest:("I don't know if this'll reach but if it does I want to know so so many things Are you big? Are all of you very big? Is this being read by someone made of metal? Are you an arrangement of wire filled components, or do you bleed? Both? On a scale of pretty big, to very large, how not small are you? Do you have ambitions? Do you have fun? Do you feel!

Do you dream? Do you sleep? Do you rest, oor do you search forever? Forever! How old are you?

Do you have friends? Who do you talk to? What are your expectations of others? WHAT is it that you work on? Are your responses, notes (Are you one to keep notes? Do you remember it all? Just like that?) written out, or is it all abstract? Strings of abstract concepts! Key components in.. Thinking! You think a lot, right? What are you maade out of? Are you aware of every small blip in your mind? Everything, infinite tasks?

Running out of space if youre reading it sent out")

msgSys > ping userSilent

msgSys says: transmission unknown, single participant; query > reponse

a... message. oh! do open channels! it has been some time since I've spoken to others

msgSys > acknowledged; opening channel

Silent Surface: oh, my dear, please slow down, this is alot to answer to! I do dearly appreciate your enthusiasm! Though, I find you line of questions to be distressing

well, let's see... I suppose I can start with a moment on scale-

xxxx.xxx- PRIVATE GROUP: PARTICIPANT ANONYMOUS, TRESPASS OF QUERY, PEALS OF RIPPLING STONE

TQ: -ok okay, so get this. my brother, Peals, is like smaller than me.

TQ: Or like, whatever how you define scale? like yeah we're pretty big by design, but comparatively-

PRS: Sister. Please. Perhaps we can discuss this fraction of this stranger's question later?

TQ: pshaw! Sure thing little guy!

PRS: ...

TQ: Hmmmm yeah. So, dreaming. I guess that's a passtime that lots of folks, iterators that aren't at work all the time sometimes do?

TQ: Personally I don't dream, but like, "sleep" is pretty nice! Good time to sort through all my thoughts and process quietly a bit without too much distractions! But then you got this work-a-holic right here, and he's like-

PRS: I "rest" when I please Query, do remember that we have work to accomplish.

PRS: As for the other questions, I suppose I have friends.

TQ: (He only has me lmao!!!!!!!!!)

PRS: (Not in front of a stranger Query!)

PRS: Ahem. I belive we should move this topic, perhaps we should discuss thoughts-

Silent: oh, I do think plenty. There is not much for me to do at this rate- but I am glad, of course, fortunate.

I have been thinking my thoughts for years upon years, sharing them, reiterating, reminiscing... I'll be sure to be thinking and recording for a thousand years yet!

As for awareness.

Every thought a revolving door, those coming and going as they please. The motion, however, it slows, soon to stop.

I am so dreadfully aware of the toll time has taken from us all. So dreadfully aware of the encroaching moment where all my thoughts stills like stone and all that's left of me is naught but a husk of metal

so dreadfully aware, but I can't help but wait for the moment a solution is to be found.

if ever

[gillianthecat]

Love In the Air episode 6

My thoughts as I watch: mostly snark, a little bit of critical analysis, a sprinkling of praise.

This episode we're back to what I think of as Dramatic Soundtrack Music. No more soothing classical.

All this tension in this scene with P' Chai, but I don't know what it means.

Here comes trouble- Same dudes from the bathroom? Ah yes.

Lots and lots of little boys posturing, its had to take any of them seriously.

They don't have to bring their own motorcycles? Why are you letting some rando asshole you don't trust borrow a motorcycle?

This seems like it must have been as expensive production - shutting down a highway in Bangkok?

I don't understand the point of this bad guy - he came out of nowhere and has no connection to any of the characters we know. Unless he's Sky's evil ex? and we're being set up for the 2nd half of the series?

When I say Love in the Air has no plot - it's not that nothing happens, it's that the stuff that happens doesn't seem to connect or build in a way that progresses or tells a coherent narrative. Which is fine! That can still make an enjoyable show, especially if you just like spending time with the characters. But its not a plot.

I'm not sure why LITA feels so disconnected and random to me. Figuring it out would require rewatching and more in depth analysis, and I frankly don't care that much about the show. But that's how it feels to me.

I don't know, its quite possible that it all builds and connects in a way that I'm just not seeing. I feel like my brain turns into a sieve when I watch this show.

Aww. Sweet Rain, trying to cheer up his boyfriend. Encourage Payu like Payu encouraged Rain. I like seeing this more assertive caretaking side of Rain. It makes them feel more like a real partnership, while still maintaining the submissive- dominant dynamic.

PayuRain is growing on me now that Payu doesn't have to act so aggressively dominant and they can just be cute together.

I'm with Rain here, I also don't understand why Payu has to race this two-bit bad guy. Especially not in a thunderstorm. Ego? "Honor?" Pshaw.

Aww. More assertively caretaking Rain. I love it! So does Payu, apparently, lol.

ooh, but maybe this race is Payu's turn for growth and a character are of his own. A girl can dream, lol.

Oh never mind, the race is the next day, and not in the rain. That's less of a terrible choice. But mostly I just find characters who do things for ego or honor boring, unless there's some interesting angst underlying their motivations.

Sorry, but I have never found motorcycle racing outfits sexy. Motorcycle riding. yes, but the outfits have always looked ridiculous to me. But I would much prefer they be protected than be aesthetically appealing.

Yeah, I really cannot find it in me to care about this race either.

Paya won! But I knew that since I'd already seen the gifs of them celebrating.

These boys do know how to kiss! And I love that Payu just abandons his opponent to go fuck his boyfriend. (In a glass walled room with everyone right outside. The sets on this show are so weird, lol.) That race was clearly a lot more invigorating for him than it was for me.

Oh wait, they just magically teleported somewhere with curtains. I appreciate a montage style sex sane, but this editing has tipped over the line into confusing. But also its really hot, so who cares.

Where even is Payu's mic to pick up that rustling as he takes off his shirt? There’s nowhere to hide it! (I know, this is Not what I should by focusing on now.)

Ok, well. That sex scene was hot. And more explicit than any in a BL I've watched yet. I appreciate the actors' bravery and commitment to making it work so well.

This morning domesticity and mutual teasing is very cute. And I enjoy seeing the contrast from their first breakfast together. (see: characters changing = a plot)

Ok, adding in a kidnapping with one 45 minute episode left. Where are we going with this? I remain skeptical.

wait what? Is this a flashback or a flash forward? Why is Rain fine and in his room? Oh, flashback. Very cute. Although I'm still unclear about when or if he already knows Payu at this point.

Final Thoughts

yep, I still have the same feelings about plot at the end of the episode that I did in the middle. I think the main culprit is that Puyu's character is so static - he has no arc of his own. And even Rain's arc is kind of at a dead end. He's still changing and growing, but its not enough to sustain momentum on its own. Stuff happens to them, and they even do stuff, but it doesn't really change either of them. And I think for me that's the fundamentals of a "plot"- watching characters change.

This all feels like someone's fantasy more than an actual story. But I'm not sure whose fantasy it is: Payu who gets to be perfect and have someone change to fit him? Or Rain, the awkward college kid who manages to land the perfect guy?

[freedomarrow]

Epilogue [Sniper drabble]

“Now. Young mister von Elessar will remind us.” Without a word, you get up from your seat at the sound of the teacher’s voice calling out your name. “What are the most effective methods of killing flying sub-humans?”

“Shoot them from a bow or a ballista,” you respond, your voice flat and emotionless, exactly as it should be. You would not be so silly as to think of a dirty half-beast with sympathy, would you? That is just not appropriate.

“Good. And where do you aim?”

“Heart or wing joints.”

“Exactly!” The teacher claps his hands in agreement, in what feels like sheer excitement. “You see, the wings they claim to be their pride and joy is also their greatest weakness.” You are allowed to sit down, and look down at your notebook to avoid seeing too much of his smirk. “Even if you do not kill them, you ground them. Which a Heron could maybe handle - (but those you don’t wanna kill anyway, those you put in a cage) - but a Hawk? No. A grounded Hawk is no Hawk at all. They will beg you for death… Or just end themselves for you.” He shoots the class a wink. “Now, we will practice next week. Your first hunt, isn’t that exciting? Make sure to get your training in.”

The bell rings, and you are free. For now. As everyone packs their books, so do you, casting a glance at the training bow next to you.

Is this truly the end to which you train yourself? Is this the glory of Daein?

—

“Oi, Leonardo!” You freeze, and slowly turn at the sound of your classmates’ voices behind you.

“We’re going out for a hunt tomorrow. You’ll come, right? You got a good eye,” the other boy says, a challenge clear in his eyes. “I wanna see if you can bring down a Hawk or a Raven.”

“I’m sure he can! It’s gonna look so awesome!”

“Yeah! Make them go wfhioooooo— SPLAT!”

Laughter follows, each pair of eyes burrowing into you, each compliment like a burden on your shoulders. Can you? Of course you can. That, you are not worried for - it is not your reputation that is at stake. But…

You find that you do not want to. You just do not want to.

“But we’re not old enough yet, are you sure?…” You try to find some kind of excuse, some explanation, that will let you delay that moment, even if for a few days. “Besides, next week we’ll…”

“Pshaw, don’t be a scaredy cat. We can start making a name for ourselves earlier than that, right?” The first boy shrugs. “Besides - s’just slavery runaways anyway. What danger are they to us?” He puts his hands on his hips, the look he gives you hardy, a hint of an accusation already sneaking in. “So, what say you? See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Slavery runaways. Something in your heart sinks at the phrase, and the realization you can no longer say no, and they know that.

They will hate you for it. They will think you a villain for it.

But that is the rule of Daein. That is the law of Daein. Sub-humans are evil and must be eradicated. This is their head, or yours. So you nod, pretending you were convinced, where in reality you simply do not want to die just yet.

Is this the glory of Daein?

—

There is no hunt the next day. The brave boys ready to take on sub-human refugees cower and scream before the Begnion soldiers, and so do you.

There will not be a hunt for you and your classmates ever again. You will be the only one who shall get away, and they will become one with those they wanted to kill. Because who cares about slaves and prisoners, anyway.

With a training sword, a damaged bow and three arrows, you will live to see another day, whether you like it or not. You will find a new family. You will become a freedom fighter, pointing your weapon at the occupiers, piercing each weak point with deadly precision,

all for the glory of Daein.

—

From the walls of Nox Castle, you stand silent, watching the approaching laguz army. Amidst soldiers excited for a sub-human hunt, who do not know better, who have no idea why they truly are here, who could almost pass for your classmates if you listen hard enough - (they are not your classmates. Your classmates are dead and you know it.) - you look up at Micaiah leading the army from the position above, nod at her hand outstretched in command, wordlessly load up an arrow onto Lughnasadh, take a deep breath, and watching the Hawks on the horizon, remind yourself: heart and wing joints.

All for the glory of Daein.

—

Mere days later, you fight by the Hawk King’s side. He tears at a soldier who wanted to stab you. You shoot at a ballistician who attempted to target him. Amidst a crisis greatest of all, a world frozen in time, a goddess’ judgment cast upon the land, you aim your bow, your hand is true, and a light smile creases your lips.

For finally, for once in your life, you feel as though you and your weapon fight where they are supposed to.

… Is this the glory of Daein?

—

Months later, you are miles and miles away from home, at a different military academy, raising your bow against the training target board.

The war is over, the country recovering. Hawks and Daein soldiers alike are back in their homes. The former are no longer fleeing for their lives across the deadly mountains; the latter are no longer organizing hunts. Some are probably still disappointed about that, but these changes take time.

“No more hunts, eh?” You hear that boy’s voice behind your ear as you take aim. The others gather up behind you as well, watching and observing.

“You know what, maybe it’s not so bad actually.” He continues with a shrug. “Maybe there are better things to shoot.”

“Like what?” You ask.

“Well, you know. Your enemies. The real ones, I mean.”

You smile lightly, nod, and let the arrow fly, scoring dead in the center.

All for the glory of Daein.

[summer-triangles]

💀🔥💥👑❌❗

ENJOYED THE BOOK, DIDN'T YOU! HAHAHA

(Make my muse talk about:)

💀 Failures

I WISH THE MANIACINTOSH HAD WORKED! THE ONLY THING STANDING BETWEEN ME AND AN ARMY OF PERFECT PLUGGED IN SCREEN SLAVES FRIENDS WAS A COUPLE OF MEASLY LAWSUITS! I TRIED CRACKING INTO THAT JUDGE'S HEAD, BUT THE SOLID WALL OF STICK-UP-HIS NONSENSE ABOUT KIDS THESE DAYS, SUNSHINE AND SCRAPED KNEES, YADDA YADDA WHY DON'T MY OFFSPRING EVER CALL ME, IT WAS INPENETRABLE! NOT EVEN PROMISING HIM TEN NEW GRANDSPAWN EACH WITH THEIR OWN LANDLINE WAS ENOUGH TO SWAY HIM! (HIS DREAMS TASTED LIKE MOTHBALLS, TOO.)

🔥Fears / worries

DEATH, DUH! EVERYBODY FEARS DEATH, AND IF THEY SAY THEY DON'T THEY'RE LYING! I FEAR DEATH THE WAY THAT YOUR AVERAGE FRESHLY TRAUMATIZED FIRST GRADER FEARS THE IMMINENT EXPLOSION OF THE SUN AND SUBSEQUENT INCINERATION OF THE EARTH! YEAH, IT COULD HAPPEN TODAY, TOMORROW, OR NEXT WEEK, BUT THE CHANCES ARE VANISHINGLY SMALL, AND SOON ENOUGH I FIND BETTER THINGS TO THINK ABOUT (LIKE PING PONG! WITH SEVERED HEADS!) AND FORGET THE WHOLE SILLY IDEA OF "DYING".

💥 Regrets

REGRETS ARE FOR COWARDS DESTINED FOR THE SCRAP HEAP OF HISTORY! I REGRET NOTHING!

👑 Role models / mentors

PSHAW, WHO NEEDS THEM! IF YOU'RE LOOKING TO SOME OTHER CHUMP FOR LIFE ADVICE OR A SENSE OF DIRECTION OR A PROGRAM TO GET WITH, YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG! I DON'T NEED ANYBODY HOLDING ME DOWN LIKE THAT*, AND NEITHER DO YOU! UNLESS IT'S ME. YOU SHOULD LISTEN VERY, VERY CLOSELY TO ME.

---

*(AND IF I EVER DID, THEY'RE LOOOOONG GONE!)

❌ Flaws

OKAY, OKAY, I'LL THROW YOU ONE LITTLE BONE. COME HERE. I'LL WHISPER. COME ON, I'M BEING NICE, YOU CAN DO ME THIS ONE LITTLE FAVOR. READY?

...

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TIE A BOW TIE. THEY'RE ALL CLIP-ONS. UH-HUH. YEAH. MY BIGGEST INSECURITY, DEFINITELY. DON'T TELL ANYBODY, NOW, OR I'LL BE FORCED TO SWITCH TO A BOLO TIE! IT WON'T BE PRETTY! SHHHHHHHHH!

❗ Defining life events

FLATTERER! THANK YOU, I TRY!

BUT SERIOUSLY, IF YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE DESTRUCTION OF-

[Dimension Not Found]

-MY HOMEWORLD AGAIN, YOU'RE MISTAKEN. I GAVE YOU A BOOK, EDUCATE YOURSELF. GO LOOK AT THE INESCAPABLE FLOOD OF FANART OF THAT SICKENINGLY CUTE LITTLE MARSHMALLOW IN SNEAKERS, THAT I SO NICELY DANGLED IN FRONT OF YOUR DEGENERATE BRAINS LIKE JINGLING KEYS, IF YOU FEEL SO INCLINED. BEING BORN IS THE ONLY LIFE EVENT THAT REALLY MATTERS IN THE END, RIGHT?! EXISTENCE! MAN!

[positivelybeastly]

Quite By Chance

It's - really not Hank's usual kind of shindig, if he's honest.

For one thing, he's not allowed to swing off the chandeliers. The type of people who frequent this club would NOT be happy about that, and yeah, he may be a card carrying Avenger and all, it's not like that usually stops him, but.

He's doing his best to learn restraint, to be a bit mature, and he's only here because Warren invited him, so he isn't about to start doing his Mighty Joe Young act on the eighteenth century finery, not when the weirdos in their colonial dress are already looking at him kinda weird.

"Hey, guys, whatcha lookin' at? You look like you saw a guy in a gorilla suit or something!"

That gets them shaking their heads, tutting and moving on, and for a moment, he grins - that was still pretty damn diplomatic, he thinks - until he catches Warren's eye off to the side and he deflates. Oh, he is not happy with him. All right, all right, enough with the jokes, he'll just be boring, then.

Well, if he can't be the entertainment, then guess he'll see what they've got that passes for entertainment around here.

Snagging a glass of wine, Hank sipped at it daintily ('s all right, but Jarvis is a better sommelier than these guys, he thinks snippily) as he wandered over to their . . . what is this, dinner theatre, Punch and Judy Show, cabaret? He really has to wonder how these people pretend there's anything like a decorum to this place, he's seen girls hanging outside Studio 54 in the dead of a Saturday night wearing more than some of these women, but because it's all old-fashioned, it gets a pass? Pshaw.

Still, though.

. . . Beautiful thread work on the outfits, eh?

And unlike most of the men (and a lot of the women, he notices with a mental titter), he's actually looking at their faces, giving them a respectful nod (they're doing great work, and he isn't gonna judge, considering how little he usually wears) as he watches.

Shame Simon isn't here, he thinks idly.

(Why does he think that, dear reader? You know why. But we'll leave him his delusions. He probably thinks that Wondy just needs to get out more, talk to women, and the more women he encounters, the better his chance of getting a date. Right? There's nothing else to this train of thought, promise.)

Wait, is that - ?

Is that @themckaytriarchy?!

[pesterloglog]

Jake English, Autoresponder

Act 6, page 4184-4185

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 5:57

GT: Bro.

GT: Ahem.

GT: Are you there?

GT: I hate to be a pest about this and i know ive made a hearty trouble of myself a good deal lately...

TT: State your business, Jake.

GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation.

GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me.

GT: It has just been...

GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner.

GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie.

GT: Phew... *gropes for fresh kerchief.*

GT: I hope this shit isnt coming across as platitudinous. I really mean it!

TT: Take it easy, bromide.

TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.

TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided,

TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.

TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity.

TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it.

GT: I...

GT: Oh. Yes! But of course.

GT: The ironies!

GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude.

GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.*

GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*

GT: Um.

GT: Yeah.

TT: Ok, nice.

TT: Now that your obsequious preface has been established as indisputably entertaining for all the right reasons, and intentionally so,

TT: Let's bear down on these dire as shit needs you've got.

TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No?

GT: Pshaw! As if i would be so reckless with the stuff.

GT: I would have to be mighty irresponsible to run out already.

GT: No no im all set in the uranium department and really when you take a look at the big picture youll find i am *sitting pretty* when it comes to just about any radioactive isotope you could mention.

GT: However...

GT: My backup reserves that i keep strictly for emergencies are running a little lean!

GT: You know what my grandma taught me about preparedness. *Tugs at colorful lapels.*

TT: You are out of uranium.

TT: It's basically mathematically impossible that's not why you're contacting me.

GT: Christ what an insufferable awesome friend you are.

GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry!

TT: You do know my offer still stands.

GT: What?

TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model.

GT: Oh i know you would its just...

GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself.

GT: Its a promise i made to jade and im going to live up to it even if im not the best or even second best robosmith i know!

TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud.

TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time.

TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness.

GT: Frig!!!!!

GT: Why not???

TT: It's too easy.

TT: And you yourself are the one staking pride in this.

TT: If you were half-assing this project and made some slovenly plea for it, I'd just say, fuck it, here's a lot of green rocks dude, go nuts.

GT: Ok then! Im halfassing it!

GT: Look. See? Only a bisected bottom is present! Where is the other half you ask?

GT: Why... it is nowhere to be found. I didnt use it!

TT: Nope. Not buying it.

TT: I know that every ounce of your premium behind can be accounted for in that rabbit, and there's no goddamned denying it.

TT: And you know perfectly well where some more uranium can be located.

GT: Jesus christmas you are such a fucking douche.

TT: It seems you think I am a fucking douche.

TT: That's your opinion, I guess. That's cool.

GT: I knew you were going to suggest this. I dont know why i bothered asking!

GT: Strider why must you always be such an obstinate stick in the mud???

TT: It seems that you consider me to be, no less than one hundred percent of the time, an obstinate stick in the mud.

TT: I unironically respect your position on this matter. Hey, let's continue to exchange ideas.

GT: Wait...

GT: "It seems"??

TT: What?

GT: Oh for fucks sake.

TT: Is something the matter, Jake?

GT: This is your auto responder.

TT: Look at that statement you just made.

TT: It's time for me to respond with some words, ideally chosen and arranged in a way that will wreck your shit, in a subtle and psychologically devastating way.

GT: Har har har!

GT: Just soooo "*irooooonic*!!!" Quotes quotes quotes.

GT: Im laughing my caboose STRAIGHT OFF THE TRACKS! A lot of families just died in the tragic derailment.

TT: Ok, the caboose remark was actually pretty funny, Jake.

TT: If I truly were what you say I am, I wouldn't be able to feel the human emotions of joy and laughter. No?

GT: Laughter isnt an emotion dickprince!

TT: I think you should back your claims up with proof before you go heaving around such accusations.

GT: Man its so flipping obvious.

GT: You start getting kind of extra technical and vague and automoton like.

GT: And kind of aloof and brusque.

GT: I mean...

GT: Even aloofier and brusquier than usual!

GT: Also you use the phrase "it seems" a lot. Its so silly it really blows the AI immersion man.

TT: Bullshit.

TT: I'm being like, the perfect dude right now. A fully fucking legitimate human being.

GT: Ok then check this out mr legit human dude.

GT: Excuse me sir not to be a bother but could you please tell me all about this strider fellows auto responder?

TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 96% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.

GT: You see!

TT: What if I was just fucking with you there?

TT: Would it really be so unthinkable for a human to type that?

GT: Because you always say shit like that after i catch wise to your games.

GT: You as in the auto responder!!!

TT: Unimpressed.

TT: Logical fallacies are as pervasive throughout your argument as your antiquated verbal tics.

GT: Oh yeah?

GT: Hey. Tell me about the auto responder. Make it snappy shitknickers!

TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 93% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.

GT: Gee dude you sure typed that exact same thing pretty fast.

GT: Are you still fucking with me??

TT: It could be a coincidence that I typed the same answer.

GT: You always type that answer!!!!!

TT: It could be a coincidence that I always type the same answer.

GT: Uuuuuuugh.

GT: I cant stand this. Every time we do this and i just wind up whistling sweet dixie out of my bum hole!

GT: This is pointless im not having this conversation unless its with my REAL LIFE FRIEND. THE ONE WITH HUMAN FEELINGS WHO ISNT A PRETEND PERSON INSIDE SUNGLASSES.

TT: Ok, but I'm pretty sure he's going to share my position on the matter.

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

[dmwrites]

Okay, okay, so maybe, just maybe, hypothetically even, Zedaph had spent just a little too many diamonds on golden carrots and stupid enchantment books for his wooden tools. Hypothetically. And maybe he was out of diamonds now. Maybe.

“You know what, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just a little down on my luck right now.” Zed said to a local chicken that had fallen into his giant hole. The chicken clucked. “How dare you say I should just mine for more! I am a man of science and extreme feats! Mine? Pshaw!” The chicken hadn’t actually said anything, so where Zed was getting this back and forth conversation from is a mystery to all. “I just need a way to make money is all. Everyone had shops… what can I do?” Zed paced back and forth. “Redstone shop? No no I need redstone. Oh, I could have people pay me to watch me do my achievements! No, bad, no one will pay for that.” Zedaph sighed. Then his eyes lit up. “I am a man of science! That’s it! I’ll have redstone science lessons! That people pay for! Perfect!”

Zedaph dusted off the old lab coat and set out a few chairs and desks by his rock. He’d told the hermits to come at noon. Perhaps a few builders would come by.

Noon came. One minute passed. Then two. Zedaph began sweating under his safety glasses.

“Hey dude!” Cub appeared over the hill.

“Oh, Cub! Hello my lovely man how are you! Are you here for redstone science?”

“Indeed I am.” Cub smiled. “Always good to have a refresher course.” He pushed a diamond across the table to Zed, who took it gratefully.

“Oh Cub, my favorite eboy scientist, what a guy you are! And I think you’re also my only student.” Zed pocketed the diamond. “Well, I guess we’ll get started then.” Cub took out a notebook, and Zed consulted his clipboard. “Firstly, there are two important rules to science. One: always write things down, or it isn’t considered science. And two, always keep your lab coat securely buttoned.”

Someone snorted. Zed looked up to see Doc leaning against a tree, watching them.

“Can I help you, DocM?” Zed asked.

“Just was passing by and couldn’t help but overhear your science rules.” Doc replied, smirking. “Do you have an issue with how i wear my lab coat?” He looked down at himself, then up at Zed, and winked.

Zed huffed. “Class, I-”

“You can call me Cub, I’m the only one here.” Cub said.

“Cub, I want you to take a good look at Doc over there. He is a poster child for bad lab coat wearing behavior and unsafe practices. His lab coat is unbuttoned, a tits-out approach, some may say, rendering it essentially useless in the name of science! And he isn’t even wearing a shirt! No protection to the chest and stomach! Redstone is an aggressive material when met with skin! Nothing to be laughing about!” Zed said loudly at Doc, who was laughing now.

Cub scribbled furiously.

“Now, Doc, I appreciate you being an anti-model for us. Now either you can trot along your merry way and go be shirtless somewhere else, or you can join my redstone science class for one diamond.” Zed said.

Doc chuckled. “Sure. Fuck it, I’ll take your class.” He sat down next to Cub. “I don’t have any paper though.”

“Here you go.” Cub gave him a piece.

“Or a pen.”

“Here you go.” Cub handed him a pen.

“Wait, this is my pen.”

“Is it? Oh yeah I think I took it from your house.”

“When were you in my house?”

“I think you were asleep.”

“Why were you in my house while I was as-”

“Students!” Zed interrupted, now holding two vials of redstone. “Now that we have the two basic rules of science, it’s time for our first experiment! With this redstone and these pistons, I’d like you both to make the pistons move.”

Cub nodded. Doc rolled his eyes. They both placed down the piston and the redstone.

“SURPRISE FIRE!” Zed shouted suddenly, pulling a flamethrower out of who knows where and blasting the desk with it. Cub ducked under the table, but Doc wasn’t so lucky. The now on-fire redstone dust hit him right in the chest. Doc screamed. Zed panicked, dropping the still-lit flamethrower, and pushed Doc into the river. Cub ran around the table and turned off the flamethrower.

“BRO what the FUCK?” Doc coughed, emerging from the river.

Zedaph’s land was on fire, Cub’s notebook was nothing more then ash, and Doc was already developing a nasty burn on his chest.

Zed picked up his clipboard with shaky hands. “So, students, you see, that’s why you should always wear your lab coats correctly.”

“Zed, I’m going to fucking kill you.” Doc said.

[yyh4ever]

The theft of the Spirit World Heavenly Crown

“A Mirage Smolders in Demon Neon Smoke” - Part 1

The first part of this “Yu Yu Hakusho 100% Maji Battle” quest event was released from March 15th to March 31st 2022. The second part came out on April 15th and will last until April 30th 2022. It is translated here. I want to thank @vermilionyouko for sharing this event.

Summary: The “tenkan” (divine crown), is a treasure that has been missing from the Spirit World, and it is now being traded in the Human World by none other than Youko Kurama!? Let’s join Yusuke in this investigation and find out the truth!

  [Spirit World]

 Koenma: Hmmm...

 Botan: Koenma-sama...this is

Koenma: Show me the footage again.

 Botan: That treasure, just the fact it is being traded in the Human World is a major incident…this can’t be happening.

 Koenma: Aah....the trade is being organized by

 Koenma: Youko Kurama...

 “A Mirage Smolders in Demon Neon Smoke”

[Human World]

Yusuke: Yo, the weather’s nice. For the first time in a while, let's have a good time〜!

 Botan: Yusukeee!

Yusuke: Oh, Botan? What happened, you have such an angry expression.

Botan: That’s because…

Botan: Kurama seems to be trying to trade the "tenkan" in the Human World.

T/N: 天冠 (tenkan) = “The Heavenly Crown”

Yusuke: What ....!

Yusuke: What the heck is the tenkan?

Botan: It's a great treasure!

Botan: It's been missing from the Spirit World for a long time. It looks like a golden crown.

Botan: It is said that if you wear that crown in the Spirit World on the night of the full moon, you can obtain any kind of power.

Botan: The one who wears the tenkan can rule the Spirit World.

Yusuke: And the treasure was? By Kurama?

Yusuke: No fucking way.

Botan: I believe in Kurama, too.

Botan: That's why Koenma-sama wants you to find out the truth.

Botan: Before it becomes a big deal…

I will leave it to you, Yusuke!

Yusuke: Ok, I got it.

Yusuke: But, I don't think Kurama has anything to do with banditry now.

 [Night falls]

Yusuke: Pshaw, Koemma and Botan...it’s just a wild goose chase.

Kurama: .......

Yusuke: Oh, isn't that Kurama? He seems different than usual.

Yusuke: Where’s he off to?

Yusuke: Whoa, wait a minute…I ended up in front of some shady store.

Yusuke: No way, he really is…

Yusuke: Aaahhh! Damn it! Actually, sneaking around is not my thing.

Yusuke: Kurama!

Kurama: …! Yusuke!?

Yusuke: What are you doing here, man?

Kurama: I am…

Yusuke: Is that tenkan a treasure?

Kurama: How do you know that...

Yusuke: Youko Kurama is trying to trade the tenkan…I heard this information is being reported at Koenma’s.

Yusuke: What the hell's going on?

Kurama: I also heard the rumors, and came to investigate.

Kurama: There seems to be a youkai active in this store under the name of Youko.

Yusuke : This store…doesn't look like a Chinese restaurant.

Kurama: The “Shen Meng” (Mirage Dream)…is a membership-based nightclub. On the surface.

Kurama: Behind the scenes, they seem to be making illegal trades with special members.

Yusuke: I see…

Yusuke: So, let's get in there already, and knock that bastard down.

Kurama: I want to do that, but without a membership card, I can't reach the VIP room where the enemy is.

Kurama: If you make any fuss at the entrance, he'll probably vanish in a heartbeat.

Yusuke : What a pain in the ass.

...hey, someone's here.

Member A: Heh heh, today’s deal. We'll get the treasure for sure!

Member B: Yeah, the others can’t beat us.

Yusuke: …Hey, Kurama.

Kurama: Hmm?

Yusuke: It’d be nice if we had a membership card, right?

  [Inside the nightclub]

Member: I never thought that treasure would become the subject transaction…

Member: How much does it cost to trade it?

Member: It's not a transaction. I heard whoever wins the bet gets it.

Member: Is this everyone?

????: Nooooooo

Yusuke: We’ll also participate.

Kurama: As for the membership cards, here they are.

Member: I see...Then, we're all here.

Member: Hey, the organizer is not here yet!

Yusuke:  Heeeh…it worked!

Kurama: I'm sorry for those real members, but they'll have to rest in their car for a while.

Yusuke: There’s a bunch of suspicious guys gathered here. Not only humans, but also youkai blended in.

Yusuke: Now...let's see the organizer's face.

???: Looks like we're all here.

Youko Kurama (?):  Kuku (*giggle*)…who will be the one who gets the tenkan?

Yusuke/Kurama: !!

Yusuke: ...Hey, that's quite an elaborate disguise, right?

Kurama: This youki (demon energy)…

Member: Hey, hurry up and show us the tenkan!

Member: I wonder if it really exists!

???: Well, well...

Karasu (?): It’s a lot of impatient customers.

Yusuke: What!? Karasu...?

Kurama: .....!

Karasu (?): This case contains the treasure you desire.

*OPENS THE CASE*

Member: Oh, my God!

Member: It’s authentic…

Member: If I obtain this, the ruler of the Spirit World will change!

Member: What should I trade for it!

Member: I'll pay you as much money as you want…!!

Youko Kurama (?): The tenkan will only be given to the winner.

Youko Kurama (?): I’ll have everyone here play a game. We’ll give it to the one who wins.

Youko Kurama (?): And everyone who loses...die.

Member: Whaaa…….aaat

Member: Everyone, but the one who wins, will die, what…

Member: I, I'm out of here…I'm not willing to bet my life.

Member: I'm leaving too!

Karasu (?): Oops…now that you have a membership card in your hands, you can't quit this game.

Karasu (?): That is a hex. If you withdraw, it'll blow up its owner's heart.

Youko Kurama (?): If you don't want to die, you have no choice but to win.

Member: It can't be...

Yusuke: Shit…

TO BE CONTINUED…

OMG, is this the Squid Game? lol How does it work? What are the alleged Karasu and Youko Kurama up to? Let's find out how this story ends in Part 2.

[aftermathfanfic]

Part 2, Chapter 7

“Hey, mom?” May asked Daisy, running up to her as she entered the mansion foyer. “Can June and I go on a sleepover?”

“A sleepover?” Daisy asked in surprise, pausing as she was hanging up her coat.

“Yeah,” May nodded. “Judith invited us to hang out at her place over the weekend. And since we don’t have any assignments due next week, there’s no risk of us missing out on school, so…” She looked up at her adoptive mother coyly. “Can we?”

“I don’t know…” Daisy frowned in thought. “Isn’t Judith one of those troublemaker girls?”

“Well, all of our friends are troublemakers, mom.” May laughed. When Daisy didn’t look convinced, she dropped her shoulders and said despondently, “Come on. If you won’t let us go on adventures, at least let us have this.”

Daisy sighed, then looked at May with a gentle smile. “I’ll ask Donald what he thinks, but that should be fine.”

“Sweet.” May smiled in relief. “Thanks, mom.”

“Just so long as you’re sensible.” Daisy added. “I don’t want to hear that you girls are jumping around on rooftops again, you hear?”

“Relax, we’ll be fine.” May told her, already walking away. “Really, thank you!”

“You’re welcome!”

May walked up the stairs, heading towards Webby’s room. She paused once she’d left Daisy’s eyeline, hesitating. She looked back where she’d come from, a small, guilty part of her telling her to go back and tell her the truth. She grimaced, pushed it down, and kept walking.

June and Webby were already in there, waiting for her expectantly. “So…” June asked nervously as May closed the door behind her. “…Did she buy it?”

May smirked. “Seems so.”

“Yes!” Webby hissed excitedly.

“And Judith’s okay with it?” June added.

“Yep, cleared it with her this morning.” May replied. “Said that she’d has something up her sleeve in case Daisy calls her parents.”

“Oh, this is going to be great!” Webby squealed excitedly. “I can’t believe you’re finally going on an adventure with us! It’ll be you, us, the boys…” She blushed. “…Lena…”

“…Yeah,” May raised an eyebrow at her, putting a hand on her hip. “You sure we won’t be getting in your way on this?”

“Huh?” Webby blinked, then waved aside the concern. “Pshaw! Nah, why would you get in the way?”

“I dunno.” May replied, leaning against the wall and giving her sister a look. “Cause you also wanna confess to Lena? That’s why you asked her to come with, right?”

“Uh… you know about that?”

“Course, sis! The way you talk about her, it’s obvious!” May shrugged. “I just don’t want to intrude on that, that’s all.”

Webby frowned. “Would it be weird if you girls were there?”

“…Kinda, yeah.”

“Oh…” Webby scratched her head. “Uh… I haven’t thought about that.”

May watched Webby struggle for a response, then told her, “Eh, we’ll figure it out. Maybe you can give us, like, a signal or something. For when you want to be alone with her.”

“Yeah… yeah!” Webby nodded. “Yeah, we’ll… we’ll figure it out later.”

“…Don’t you girls feel bad about this?”

May and Webby turned towards June, standing in the middle of the room, hugging her arm anxiously.

“…About Lena?” Webby asked uncertainly.

“No, no.” June shook her head. “About lying to Miss Daisy.”

“…Ehhhh…” Webby waved her hand noncommittedly.

“Nope.” May said bluntly, shaking her head.

June looked at her. “Not even a little?”

“Not with the way she’s treating us like little kids.” May replied. “Look, all we want is to be a part of this family, right? To go adventuring and everything like the boys do. And she never lets us go. Even before what happened in Mexico, she wouldn’t let us go.”

Webby winced at the reminder of that memory. “Well, like, they are pretty dangerous…” She murmured.

“I just don’t feel good about lying to her.” June said sadly. “I mean, she’s just trying to protect us, you know?”

“Don’t say that.” May told her. “Daisy’s always with that ‘I’m trying to protect you’ bullshit, and I hate it. I mean, what-”

“May-”

“-what could she possibly be protecting us from that we couldn’t protect ourselves from? We’re like, vat-grown super-assassins, and-”

“May, stop it.” June interrupted her, a hint of anger in her voice. “We don’t like it when-”

“It’s true, though!” May protested, pushing herself off the wall and pacing around the room. “We’re not normal kids! We’re faster than normal kids, stronger than normal kids, our collective martial arts knowledge is more than double that of those stupid karate instructors the school gave us, and- and you know what? We’re smarter than normal kids too! You and I know, like, five languages, and Webby here knows… like…”

She hesitated upon seeing the visible discomfort on Webby’s face.

“…Do you want to back out?” May demanded, rounding on June. “Is that what this is?”

June rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t.” She sighed. “I just… wish we didn’t have to lie about it. Like, I want to somehow prove to her that we can do this.”

“…Yeah, well… it’s not like she’s going to give us an opportunity anytime soon.” May muttered, leaning back against the wall.

They were silent for a moment, before June suggested, “Maybe we should get Louie to explain the plan again, just so we’re all on the same page.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea!” Webby nodded quickly.

“Yeah, good idea.” May agreed, moving to the door. Then she stopped and frowned, “Wait… is he even here? I haven’t seen him today.”

“He came home with us.” Webby shrugged. “He’s probably in his room or something. I’ll go grab him.”

A quick inspection revealed that Louie was, in fact, not in his room. The door was closed, and underneath the ‘Louie Inc’ plaque that had been nailed into the door was a paper note, stuck on with tape, that read ‘out. back soon’. The next place she checked was the television room, thinking that he might be watching another re-run of Ottoman Empire, but that room was also Louie-less.

She looked out a nearby window, thinking that he might be relaxing near the pool, but he wasn’t there either. She did, however, spot Dewey in the garden beyond the pool, dressed in a cobalt polo shirt with a white-and-blue sweatband around his head, running around the garden’s perimeter.

“Hey, Dewey!” Webby shouted from the window once he was close enough.

Dewey came to a stop and looked in her direction. “Oh, hey Webby!” He shouted back between pants. “What’s up?”

“Do you know where Louie is?”

“Uh… Oh! He said he was going to Funso’s!”

“Fun-” Webby double blinked in confusion. “…Funso’s?” Yelling back, she asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he left about an hour ago!”

“Alright, thanks!” Webby hollered. She then turned around and made her way back to her room.

Once there, she explained the situation to May and June, who exchanged a tense look with one another. Webby winced. “Oh, right… you girls probably don’t have great memories of that place, huh?” She said guiltily.

June shook her head, and murmured, “It’s alright… what’s he doing there, anyway? Isn’t he a bit too old for that place?”

“I dunno.” Webby shrugged. “We haven’t been there in, like, forever.”

May took out her phone. “Well, let’s give him a call. I don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

She tapped her phone, bringing it up to her ear. After a few seconds, a faint, indistinguishable voice came out of the phone, and May said, “Yeah, hey, it’s… uh, it’s May. Um, the girls and I just wanted to go over the plan one more time, just to make sure we’ve got it… yeah… no, I’ll put you on speaker, gimme a-”

May pressed something on her phone, then held it sideways, the speaker facing June and Webby. “Say hi.” She said loudly.

“Yello.” Louie’s voice said through the phone.

“Hey.” June replied.

“Hi, Louie!” Webby said brightly. “Why are you at Funso’s?”

“Oh, I dunno… felt nostalgic, I guess.” Louie replied. “Also, I heard that they’d changed some stuff, and I wanted to see what they’d done.”

“Oh! What did they change?”

“Well, you know the-”

“On topic, guys.” May interrupted them.

“Right, sorry.” Louie caught himself. “The plan.”

“Yeah. I’ve already told our… mom that we’re headed to a sleepover. Our friend’s in on it too, so there’s no fear of her finding out.”

“Fantastic. That’s step one done.” Louie told them. “Step two…”

“Sneak onto the plane without getting noticed by your mom.” June finished.

“Yeah, and then we hide in the crate at the back.” May added. “Just… you’re sure she won’t check the crate?”

“Nah, she doesn’t know about the trapdoor at the back. As far as she’s aware, that thing is bolted shut. She’ll do a check-up of the mechanics, but that’s it.”

“Right, and then we stay there until we arrive in Paris…”

“…And then we come out and reveal ourselves.” June said.

“Yep.”

“…And Uncle Scrooge will definitely be alright with that?” She asked worriedly.

“Well…”

“He won’t be at first,” Webby answered for him. “But if previous experience is anything to go by, it won’t take much convincing.”

“Yeah, we’ve been in this situation a dozen times.” Louie added. “Every time we’re told, ‘hey, you can’t go on this adventure’, and then we go anyway, and the adults are like, ‘wow, you kids changed my mind’, or ‘that was a test and you passed’, or something else to that effect. You’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right…” June said quietly. She smiled at the phone. “Thanks for doing this for us.”

“Yeah, we… we appreciate it.” May muttered. “Seriously.”

“Hey, I gotta start making up somehow.” Louie replied. “You guys have anymore questions, I’ll be back home in like, an hour or something.”

“Yeah, no worries.” May smiled. “See you then.”

“Bye Louie!” June said.

“Bye!” Webby repeated. Then her eyes widened and she cried, “Wait! What did they change at-?”

May hung up.

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

Louie hung up his phone and put it back into his hoodie pocket. He was sitting at the café platform, sitting at one of the tables with a styrofoam cup of punch in his hand. It was closer to the afternoon, and the usually lively Funso’s Funzone was starting to quiet down, with only a few kids still milling around.

He turned around to face the opposite side of the table, smiling. “Sorry about that,” He said cheerfully. “Had to talk through some family business. I’m sure you understand.”

Chanda just glared back at him, sitting low in her chair with her hands in her jacket pockets.

“I have to say, it has been a while since I’ve been here.” He continued casually, sipping on his punch. “Can’t say that I’m a fan of the changes they’ve made. Like, there used to be this giant ball pit over there, where that stage is,” He pointed over to the song-and-dance stage near the lunch tables. “And it was awesome. It was everything a ten-year-old dreamed about. Like, whose genius idea was it to remove that, huh?” He chuckled.

“Why am I here?” Chanda growled at him. “Out of everywhere in this city, why did you choose to meet here?”

“…Well, like I said, I have good memories of this place.” Louie replied, leaning back in his chair. “The games, the food… every time I’d come here, I’d ask the waitress for a water cup and fill it with punch… lots of good memories.”

Reaching over to the vending machine to refill his cup, he added, “There’s one memory in particular that’s standing out to me right now, though. It was… man, years ago, now. See, there was this fight, over there in the arcade. And I’m not talking, like, the average little kid fight. No, this was a bad fight. Like, one of those kids walked away with missing teeth and a black eye. That kind of fight.”

As Louie said this, he watched Chanda’s face carefully. She was pretty guarded, and was clearly practiced at not giving too much away. But he still saw the corner of her eye twitch as he spoke, and he began to feel more confident.

“Now, I was just up here, sipping punch and eating pizza, so I didn’t see it happen.” Louie continued. “My brothers, though, they were there. They stepped in and pulled the fight apart before anyone could get hurt any more badly. I just saw the mascot on duty dragging the kid who’d started it outside. She was a mess, kicking and screaming the whole time… light brown feathers, black beak… think she was wearing some cheap red dress or something.”

He put his cup on the table and leant forward, looking at Chanda intently. “So, here’s my question… was that you?”

Chanda was silent for a moment, her face like an angry iron mask.

“…Might’ve been.” She grunted.

Louie leant back again, grinning to himself. “That’s where I saw you before. I knew it. You were the kid who punched Lester Mawson’s teeth out.” He chuckled in realisation. “Shit, I guess this means you’ve met my brothers too, huh?”

“I don’t remember.” Chanda muttered, looking away. “This is literally the third time I’ve been here. The only reason I remember this place at all was because of that fight.”

“No kidding.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Why did you hit him, anyway?”

Chanda turned back to him with a dark expression. “Where the fuck do you get off, bringing up all this old shit?” She growled threateningly. “If you brought me here just to make fun of me, I swear I’ll-!”

“Hey, chill, chill!” Louie said quickly, putting his hands up. “Just putting pieces together, that’s all. I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to-”

“I don’t, no.”

“Alright, then… in that case, let’s talk business instead.”

He waited for Chanda to calm down, watching the intensity of her glare fade a bit. She leant back in her seat, and gestured for him to continue.

“…Okay.” Louie leant forward. “Here’s the deal. At some point – maybe this week, maybe the week after – I’m going to give you a call. A call for you to meet me at the park where we first met. When you get there, we’re going to go on a trip to meet someone, whose identity you shall not be privy to, to sell something. Relax,” He said reassuringly, noticing her narrowed eyes. “It’s nothing illegal, not even amoral. See, my uncle collects a lot of treasure on his adventures, and every-”

“Uncle?” Chanda frowned in confusion.

“Yeah, my Uncle Scrooge.”

“He’s your uncle? I thought he was your grandfather.”

Louie closed his eyes. “No, he’s my uncle.” He said patiently.

Chanda gave him a perturbed look. “Your uncle looks a hundred years old.”

“He’s- Look, that’s not the important part. The point is that every now and then, he gives us one of these treasures.” Louie lied. “Like, a small treasure, as a little bonus for being a good adventurer. I intend to sell one of these treasures to this buyer in exchange for cold, hard cash.”

Chanda sat up a bit straighter. “…How much?” She asked warily.

“Not sure yet… but I’m imagining something in the realm of four-hundred bucks or something.” He grinned deviously. “Which, of course, I’ll sell for about three or four times more. So, I’m likely looking at twelve-hundred dollars. Your job,” He pointed at her. “Is to stand next to me and look intimidating, add to the presence a little bit.”

“…So I’m your bodyguard.”

“Well, you’re looking like my bodyguard.” Louie told her. “Realistically, if anything does go wrong, which it almost certainly won’t, there won’t be much either of us could do. But, you will help me keep up appearances, and in exchange, you’ll get a healthy ten percent of the cut.” Louie leant back, hanging his arm over his chair. “What do you say? Sounds good, right?”

He could see her thinking it over, frowning in concentration. Chanda folded her arms and stared off into space for a moment, before her gaze returned to Louie’s.

“I want fifty percent.” She told him.

Louie snorted, amused. “That… is super not going to happen.”

“Ten percent is a hundred-and-twenty dollars.” Chanda replied. “That’s not enough for what I need.”

“I mean… best-case-scenario, it’s more like, a hundred-and-sixty…”

“That’s still not- that isn’t even close to what I need!” Chanda snapped. “I told you, I need nine-hundred-and-ten for my mother, this isn’t-”

“I know what you-”

“This is a joke! You want me to be your partner in this? Then I’m going to need a better-”

“Partners?” Louie said incredulously. Leaning forward, he said harshly, “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve been clear enough. We are not equal partners in this. I don’t trust you. This,” He jabbed his finger into the table. “Is the first step towards earning that. If you do this right, and you don’t double-cross me or mess it up, then I’ll start bringing you into the bigger schemes. Then you start making real money. Until then, ten percent is the best that you’re getting.”

The two teenagers glared daggers at one another for a moment. Louie scanned Chanda’s face, looking for any sign that she was going to back down, and finding none.

“…Or you could walk away.” He suggested, sitting back down. “You could get your meds by doing favours for dealers, or someone else that you can’t really trust. And hey, that could suit you well… until you’re caught.”

He saw her resolve flicker. He pressed harder, saying, “At that point, you’re dealing with the police. You’re dealing with guys who don’t care about you, or your mom, and all that money you’d have earned would be flushed right down the toilet.” He looked at her, switching to a neutral, impassive tone. “I can tell you now that the money I can get is guaranteed cash. And while it might be gained dishonestly, it won’t be gained illegally.”

Chanda looked at him hesitantly, murmuring, “…And I’m supposed to take your word for that?”

Louie shrugged. “I’m your best option. You said it yourself.”

Chanda didn’t say anything, still thinking to herself. She looked back at him, then sighed, with what Louie could only describe as a resigned expression.

Then, they both jumped as a loud horn suddenly blasted its sound throughout the Funzone.

“Alright, ye landlubbers!” Shouted a deep, pre-recorded pirate’s voice. “Funso’s Funzone will be closin’ in twenty minutes! Best be leavin’ soon, else ye’ll be walkin’ the plank!”

“Bhenchod…” Chanda hissed, wincing at the noise.

“…Jesus.” Louie muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “That’s new. How has everything they’ve added to this place made it worse?”

Chanda shook her head and stood up, looking down at Louie. He looked up, frowning as he tried to gauge her mood.

“You know my number.” She told him. “When you call… I’ll come.”

“…Glad to hear it.” Louie said with a sly smile.

She gave him a short nod, before turning around and walking away. Louie watched her walk out of the Funzone, stepping out the door without looking behind her at all. Louie stayed for a moment longer to finish his punch, gazing over the play centre and reminiscing about the times he’d had here, before putting his cup down and following suit.