radio414

nice but kinda just there 6.5/10OP Suggestion: Justice rereleased their † album and it's still great obviously. They also included some demos and some of those are great too 8/10

Z. noted Jirachi’s use of the word “person” instead of “Pokémon” as he answered Z.’s question just as much as they stored away Jirachi’s actual answer. The frequency part of the answer got stored away too. It sure said a lot that that wasn’t a common question, even if the world had ended in the meantime. So really, every part of the answer was useful, then, which made it a good question as opposed to all the other questions flying fast and furious around a Mythical Pokémon that flew fast and cheerily all around them. “Cool, gonna go do that now,” Z. said. “Talk shit, I mean, not the other thing. Make no mistake, I’ll help because, like, whatever, but my Maslow Hierarchy of Needs chart’s skewing pretty heavily towards the more primal sections like nourishment and shelter, maybe a hint of self-actualization as I continue to work my way around this body you stuck me in. Certainly not ready for any of this transcendental reshaping of the world stuff yet. It sounds like Ears and Clobber are figuring out one of those needs now, though, so maybe later I’ll get on that ‘saving someone else’s world’ thing.” As they spoke, the sound of a coconut splitting into pieces rang out from over by the river, and Z. gave a curt nod to Jirachi and almost everyone around him, and they wheeled around and headed over that way. “Oh, you actually got one,” Z. said as they surveyed the scene. They just managed to hold back a laugh or two at Clobber staring helplessly at his new shards of coconut, but only because they had another line come to mind that deserved the laughter more: “I could have thought they were date palms but you’ve probably never had a date in your life, huh?” Unless whatever they were interrupting counted as a date, but Z. could certainly make some fun out of that too if these two said as much. Wait, hold on. Something was off about the way Clobber was just holding the shard of coconut shell and doing nothing with it. “Do you actually not know how to eat these?” Z. said. “Here, give me a piece.” They didn’t actually wait around to be handed one, instead just sitting down next to one and balancing it in their paws. “You’re just after the white stuff now -- the ‘flesh.’ If we had a knife or something we could just scrape it off, but in a pinch, you can just…” They bit the shell and pushed it away with their paws, scraping off a bit of the flesh right into their mouth. It was not the most glamorous way to do things, especially without opposable thumbs, but it got the job done. “Yeah, just like that,” Z. said. “I mean, I guess you need teeth. You do have teeth, right?” There was almost a tone of genuine curiosity in Z.’s voice there hidden in the mockery. “I guess you can suckle a shard for a bit of juice that you haven’t wasted all over the ground yet. I dunno, figure it out.” They grabbed another shard and tossed it the Noibat’s way. “Hey, Ears, want to try?”

mimikyu zorua starly whimsicott torterra girafarig fennekin kyurem

“Oh,” Quinn said as Belladonna made her final clothing selections and as he returned the unloved and unchosen garment back to its place on the shelf. It was more an “Oh” of relief than one of disappointment. The shirt was too colorful for Quinn as well. Quinn, of course, wore only white linens, except for in cases where one had been stained by spirit wine or discolored through general use. Just because they were a being of the ether did not mean the clothing she wore was ethereal as well. Quinn did like to pretend, though. Perhaps an appreciation for muted clothing was something they could bond over. When Belladonna asked her question, Quinn held up the shopping bags. “We should have everything,” they said. “If we have forgotten something, it likely was not important in the first place, no? And we did manage everything Nathaniel asked for, so he should not be too disappointed in us either. Speaking of, we should probably go meet up with him. If he is finished battling, he will be waiting for us, and if the fight continues, some of our purchases may be beneficial to him.” It still took a moment for Belladonna and Quinn to find Nathaniel since following that train of logic meant it made sense to go all the way back to the docks first before looking anywhere else. Once they had made it and found Nathaniel absent, it stood to reason to look for the Pokémon Center, which was back across town again. The one saving grace was that there were signs all over town pointing in the Center’s direction, so there was no need for anyone to have to ask, they could just look up. Still, Belladonna had already requested a nap, and despite Quinn’s adventurous spirit, they were ready to join her, almost collapsing over eir own shopping bags. Cassiopeia did her best to keep at least one of the bags above ground by pulling up on Quinn’s wrist, but as full of hot air as she could be sometimes, she still only barely helped. Find Nathaniel they did, though -- they stumbled into the Pokémon Center and collapsed into some seats near the door right as he and his Bearble were checking out. Quinn pulled out a box of granola bars -- as a ghost, Quinn could not handle flavors very well so they were the nutritious kind, not the sweet kind -- unpacked one for herself, and offered another to Belladonna by shaking the box in her direction and staring at her until she took one. She did the same to Nathaniel when he and Peat walked over to meet them. “Consider this either a celebratory reward or an offer of commiseration, depending on how your battle went,” Quinn said. They paused for a moment, recalling something, then added, “I believe you said you would become a Gastly or some such Ghost-type Pokémon because you had not eaten in half a day. I would like to correct that assertion. I myself made it almost a full seven days before my passing, and I have heard tales of those who have pushed their bodies even further.”

But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. -1 Corinthians 15:57 (NIV)Melissa made it over just in time to see Fen’s Rush Recklessly play, and she clapped her hands as soon as she saw it. “Well done!” she said. She also made a note of the Spike Brother’s Vorse Raider; it appeared there were still reasonable cards even in decks like these. Well, her deck had felt alright, but that was probably just because she had won with it. Even just recalling the list on the back of the box, she was pretty sure she could imagine some particularly clunky opening hands. That was something to improve on. She’d have to figure out just what cards were available to her in the first place, though, especially at her price range. She had an income and room and board, but it certainly wasn’t enough to justify some of the prices she’d seen already, and besides that, there were still so many other things to explore. She wanted to give advice. Melissa wanted to be as useful as she could be to Fen as she navigated her way through her first real test in this game Melissa knew. She couldn’t, though. For one, the sheer awkwardness of going up behind someone and looking over their shoulder to get a good look at all of their hidden information was too great, not to mention the nebulous nature of the sportsmanship involved. The stakes involving these Spike Brothers was a little nebulous in Melissa’s eyes. What was the nature of their challenge? If Melissa had somehow lost, would that have meant she got beat up? Mugged? Or would they have just laughed at her and continued to bully her for the duration of her stay on Prana? Both were equally bad options, but one of them was a little more open to “outside interference/win at any cost” than the other. Another thought Melissa had was one that had come bubbling back up to the forefront of her mind, pushed onward by one of the Spike Brothers making a comment making an allusion to the Brothers’ enigmatic “boss.” “How did your boss know we were coming?” she said before she started running after the Spike Brother she had just beaten, looking for more answers. “Hey!” she said as she got nearer. “Hey! Um, sorry but things are just going to keep coming up, I think. I know you don’t have to do any of this, but, like, how did your boss get our phone numbers? Or do they just go through random numbers and challenge whoever might pay attention? Are they just you but with a slightly different hairstyle? I'm not mad, just, like, it's kind of a freaky thing to do, right?”

It took some time and more than a little of Estellise’s magic to get everyone back to normal, but things worked themselves out in the end. Chris was glad to be rid of all those cultists and their massive undead spawn, even more than the other floors. Fighting was exhausting, he didn’t need to be made even more exhausted through magical means. They made do, though, and found themselves on the final floor of the run, once again, shrouded in fog. Chris instinctively got closer to his companions. He could still see them -- the fog wasn’t thick enough for that -- but he still wanted to feel their presence. He also kept his sword out, alternating pointing it at the room’s three big points of interest. Two out of three of them were things they had seen before, which was reassuring, though Chris didn’t like how the one he didn’t recognize was looking at them already, eyes piercing through the fog and right into his soul. No sooner could he make that thought, though, as he spotted one final creature walking through the fog. Chris immediately shifted his sword to point it out, though by the time he had done so, it had disappeared, and he started to doubt that it was anything more than a greyer patch of fog than the rest. Still, his intuition told him otherwise. How many times had he evaded a particularly dim-witted guard because they thought an errant heavy footfall was “just the wind” or “probably just a rat?” No, he saw something, and even more than the ghoulish creature, just a glimpse filled him with dread. They would probably have to fight it at some point, but for now, he just wanted to avoid it. He pointed back over toward the zombie. “This way, I think. Get them one at a time,” he said. “And watch out for anything that might come out and get us. One thing already disappeared, no reason to think there aren’t any more.”

oh are we just doing songs based on old starlets now 7/10OP Suggestion ooOOooOO oo oo oo oo oo oo oo barbra streisand 7.5/10

the moments where what i assume are the vocal track splits into chords are pretty strong but it's kinda forgettable otherwise 6/10 real video game soundtrack hours in the thread huh soundtrack really has a guy going popipopipopopipo in the background huh 7/10OP Suggestion: Had Jesus Christ Superstar on the brain again. 7.5/10

Quarters! Vambrace flew parallel to the floor but not too far above it before lowering himself to the ground a good distance away from Aeon and pushing himself to his feet. The first thing he did was check his equipment. It wouldn’t be good if she broke it with just one punch, but she also stated her intentions of doing just that the second time it got in the way like that. Its thrusters had activated properly and the diagnostics he could run in what time he had were coming up green, but it was better safe than sorry. What did he know about Aeon? Only what he had heard, and the rumors were various. He’d had her wiki page once upon a time while waiting for a new update to compile, but hundreds of years of history would not fit in his brain no matter how much he read so he mostly skimmed it. Everything else he knew, he learned from Legion and his recounting of Aeon’s meeting with Caesar, which was not exactly helpful from a combat perspective. For fighting, he just had to go by instinct. "Punching’s going nowhere," he said to himself, which was a problem since punching with a tinker-tech gauntlet was his thing. "Just going to get grabbed and thrown or who knows what else. But she is still just a Brawler at the end of the day." He pumped his fists, boxing the air a little as he turned back towards Aeon, who was still standing there, patiently waiting with a goofy grin on her face for him to return to the fray. "Trust the plan," he told himself. "At least keep her busy." And he charged back in. Names, to Arcturus, really did matter. To have a cape name taken directly from the stars only meant one thing in Scarlet City: an affiliation with The Zodiac in general and Ophiuchus in specific. To keep it after defecting, as she had, was a massive insult, and a calculated one at that. Arcturus wanted that fucking snake to know exactly how much she despised him. It was smothering, working for the Zodiac. Everything had to be done just so, exactly the way Ophiuchus wanted, and if it wasn’t, then you might as well not exist to him. A small-time group might be assimilated all at once only for Ophiuchus to, despite the group's natural chemistry, tear the group apart because he "knew better." It was like buying a car, a perfectly good automobile, just to scrap it for parts. To continue the metaphor, she was like the catalytic converter. Maybe it was the pride talking, but Arcturus had been the most valuable member of her gang. Ophiuchus saw her as valuable by herself. A car can still run without its converter, of course, but not as well, and after everyone else went on a fatal mission she wasn’t there, well, it was a pretty heavy last straw. Caesar, though, let her do whatever the fuck she wanted. Some of that, she was pretty sure, was just so she could parade around wearing her newfound allegiance on her sleeve -- her name was as much Caesar’s insult as it was hers -- but also, as long as she did the occasional errand like this, she could fly up as high as she could and mourn absent friends in silence for all Caesar cared. Override’s threat was empty. He was clearly grasping at straws. It was almost a pity. She could have stood to play with him a little longer, but no, now was the time to go on the offensive. She sent her next ball of energy up to the ceiling. The ball’s shunt was targeting the rafters, breaking off one of the church’s many support beams, and, with accuracy only someone who had done this all her life could demonstrate, she sent it and some of the nearby ceiling crashing down on Override’s head. Hellhound and Censer found themselves in quite the predicament, or Hellhound did, and Censer wasn’t about to leave her teammate behind. “More smoke,” Censer said. “Better smoke. Uh.” She threw out some more, but it still didn’t have much effect on Sibyl’s shadowy appendages whipping around Hellhound’s dog/cat/thing. “Give me a second. Uh.” “You don’t really have a second, but I’ll do my best,” Hellhound said. They let out a little whistle, reverting their dog back to his normal, diminutive size, but at least without tentacled appendages interlocking and throwing everything into chaos, he and Sibyl were separated, and the dog was safe to recover for a moment at least. “Take cover behind the pews then, just buy whatever time you can!” Censer wasn’t exactly hiding as she let out the occasional “Uh,” or “No…” and shot up the occasional cloud of smoke behind one of the church’s many pews, but Hellhound did indeed do their best. It only took a second for their dog to leap out in a new form, full of confidence and without any of the damage Sibyl might have inflicted on him by swinging him around as she had. The dog still flickered in and out of reality, though; it appeared he had not entirely left the world of illusory tricks behind. “Nice place you got,” Lucky Cat said as Lailah picked herself back up from Arcturus’ shunting. “I was never really a church person, but I might change my mind if these are the sorts of hangout spots you got. You hiring?” She was still sitting back in one of the pews, legs propped up on the one in front of her, not making a move toward fighting at all, but it was still quite clear to both parties that the question was rhetorical at best. Still, Lailah responded as best she could. “It’s… I am sure we could find a congregation who would welcome you with open arms if you wanted,” she said. “It would be no trouble at all.” “Mm, I dunno.” Lucky Cat stood up and stretched, rubbing her shoulders and twisting around. “I’ve got a pretty sweet gig going on right now with the Gibbons, would hate to give that up. You know Caesar’s posts little bounties? Want to bet who’s gotten most of them?” Lailah didn’t respond. She was trying to access her power, but Lucky Cat’s aura was throwing a wrench in things. It wasn’t that it was completely disabled, no, the little balls of light were still there orbiting around her, she wasn’t cut off, but the mental effort required was more than she was used to. Every so often, an angel would flicker into view, but it was only for a moment, it was never long enough for it to actually do anything. Lucky Cat only laughed. Lailah switched tactics, giving up on her power and instead running in, but as soon as she took a few steps, her foot got caught on her dress and she fell back down to the ground. “Ooh, bad luck!” Lucky Cat said. “That seems to happen often to other people, but never to me. I guess a cat always lands on her feet, you know?” She made a little cat paw motion with her hands and walked forward towards Lailah. Despite her bravado, her steps were shaky too. “But this is fun! What do you think’s going to happen next?” OOC

Quinn was confused by Belladonna’s insistence on staying. Not that there was anything wrong with cheering on a friend, of course, especially on a momentous occasion such as this, but there were so many extenuating circumstances that called them elsewhere. “Nathaniel has already given us his purse,” he said, naming one of them as they held up the Snorlax bag. “It would be rude not to at this point.” Quinn grabbed at Belladonna’s wrist and tried to guide the girl along, ignoring her flinch as their skin made contact. And yet, pulling still got them nowhere. Belladonna had proven herself to be not only sedentary but the stubborn sort of sedentary as well. A second tug on the wrist proved to be equally ineffective, as did a third. “Come, Belladonna,” Quinn said. “You will feel much better with some fresh linens on you. I know this from experience; it is the first thing my parents did when I was brought back down the mountain.” That finally did it. Belladonna’s shoulders drooped down to a surely-uncomfortable posture even by her standards. “Fine,” she said. “I do need new clothes.” As Quinn found out, this was easier said than done. New Point Landing was very much a tourist town, and most of the stores they could find were targeted towards that demographic, so while the Poké Balls, Potions, Antidotes, and, yes, even stamps (with a fancy stamp book provided for purchasing a set) were easy finds, clothes proved a bit more difficult. The bags full of stuff weighed on Quinn as it looked. She had had Cassiopeia wrap her tethers around her and Belladonna’s wrists to free up a hand for shopping bags, but eighty-some pounds of ethereal presence could only do so much. The Korova region, it turned out, or at least the New Point Landing part of it, only really had two shirt designs. They were plastered on all different kinds of shirts, sure, from sweatshirts to long-sleeves to tees and every other kind a merchant might think would sell but they were these: The first had a lavish design (even if it was still clearly printed on) of a lush and wild landscape capped off with a rainbow arching over it all. Within the rainbow were words, printed in nice big friendly letters: ~KOROVA THE RAINBOW~ and then below the design, in smaller yet no less friendly letters, just in case somebody didn’t get the joke (over the rainbow) The other shirt was much simpler. It was only text, so no big fancy image getting in the way of its message, and the letters were blocky and firm. i visited the korova region and all i got was this dumb t-shirt “Oh my,” Quinn said upon realizing just how limited things were. They held up the two options to Belladonna. “I might suggest alternating between the two? That way neither gets too dirty, and I am sure we will be able to find hostels that can provide the right amenities to clean them.”

“Thanks,” Lana said. “Welcome,” Chris said. He was so drained, he couldn’t manage much else. Now that all the cultists were dead, leaving just that one bloodhulk still rampaging around, it was a lot easier to let that come back to the forefront. At the same time, he wasn’t in immediate danger, so he had some time to catch his breath. He did not want to fight this thing. He’d tried already and each sword stroke didn’t seem to affect it at all. Estellise had come the closest with her magic, but her best strike had still needed Ziun to distract it first, and there was no way the bard was going to be able to do that forever. He still felt like he had to fight, though, for that very reason. Maybe one more swing was all it took. Maybe they needed to aim somewhere specific. His sword still felt heavy in his hand, but he could heft it now. Before he charged in, though, he saw the open door at the other end of the dungeon out of the corner of his eye, and he remembered why he had directed everyone at the start of the fight the way he had. The door had always been open. And yeah, they’d been waylaid when the enemies in the room proved faster than, say, the mushroom people a few floors back, but that had always been the goal. With his current fatigue, the door seemed so far away, but they could make it. They had to. “Come on,” he said to himself. “Just one more burst.” Chris took a deep breath, gathered what little energy he had left, and called out to Estellise and Ziun. “Hey, the door’s open! You don’t need to kill it, just stun the thing and let’s get out of here!” Estellise’s bow immediately disappeared, replaced instead by the magical ball of light she’d used to distract the village full of goblins which she threw at the monster’s face. It didn’t actually manage to stun the thing, but as she got out of the way and headed towards the door, the magical enchantment encouraging her own movement working double-time now, the bloodhulk still charged towards where she had just been standing a moment ago. The thing was blinded, at least for a little bit. “Come on,” Chris said to Lana, “we need to get going before it figures itself out again.”

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. -Deuteronomy 31:6 (NIV)Melissa bit her lip as Fen made her first turn. It wasn’t the play she would have made. She didn’t get a good look at Fen’s hand to see the rest of her options, though -- maybe it was the only play? The biggest worry in her eyes was the eight hundred attack, but then again, it was a card Fen probably wanted to get into the graveyard anyway, and if cards like those in her starter deck were common to all decks -- if this version of Duel Monsters was actually balanced around starting with four thousand life points -- Fen couldn’t even be punished all that hard for it. The Spike Brother wound up having to equip an otherwise normal monster just to crack through, confirming Melissa’s suspicions, so while Melissa did make a mental note to go through the differences between combat with Attack-position monsters and those safely in Defense-position, she didn’t want to keep her opponent waiting. He said he had a movie to catch, and there was a competition between the two brothers besides. The least she could do was be courteous and respect that. “You know, there were legends back home of people with multiple consciousnesses inside them, switching personalities the moment they started dueling,” she thought to the computers in her head. Would you like us to try this activity for you? It would require some reconfiguration on our part to avoid our manifestations, but it could be done if- “No, no,” Melissa thought. “I was just- I don’t know what I was doing. I should be fine.” It was all coming back to her. She liked to be like the Brothers, at least in the “wanting to finish duels quickly” way, anyway. In her case, it was so she could get it over with and move on before she could get trapped in a rematch. She’d end up a bit reckless and uncaring about the result. But she was still riding a familiarity high with the confidence to match. “Before we start, I worry I haven’t made something quite clear,” Melissa said as she drew her first few cards, cradling them in her left hand like she was used to back home. “I have played this game before. I don’t want to shark you into thinking our duel is going to be easy. I want to be upfront about that.” She surveyed her hand. “I, um, I suppose I will play this Spirit of the Fall Wind.” It was a different Fairy than the type she was used to, this one more pagan in its inspiration, but it was the face card of her deck, and with an apparently hefty eighteen hundred attack points, she was happy to have drawn it so soon. “It also has an effect that lets me add a monster with a FLIP effect to my hand,” Melissa said. Now she just had to remember what was all in there! As the Spirit waited patiently, Melissa tried to go through the list of cards on the back of the box in her head, making sure that she didn’t include any of the cards she had cut in the meantime when she was slimming the list down to forty. None of the cuts had been flips, right? One card stood out in her mind, and she settled on that out of want for anything else. “Magician of Faith, I suppose,” Melissa said. The card popped out of her deck and she shuffled it in with the rest of her hand. “Now, Battle Phase. I’ll have Spirit of the Fall Wind attack your face-down.” And just as she spoke it, it occurred. The Spirit took a deep breath and blew a gale out ahead of it. The wind picked up the Spike Brother’s monster and spun it around briefly before it finally shattered into pieces. “Okay, okay. Maybe your monsters are a little bigger than I expected,” Spike Brother Eight said, “but how about this!” He held the card up for just long enough for Melissa to vaguely recognize it before two more cards popped out of his deck and he slammed them into play. “I get two more of these D-boyz out onto the field! I guess I take damage or something, but prepare to be outnumbered!” Suddenly, Melissa wished Jun were here. There were obviously ways to deal with a D-Boyz, especially two that had been summoned in Attack position -- they only had one hundred Attack! -- but Melissa’s mind still drifted to the Masked Piper incident. “Civil servant and God’s little chosen,” she muttered under her breath. “The real deal, a darklord that ain’t posin’.” She was in a bit of trouble, though, from what being outnumbered represented elsewhere. Two monsters that she couldn’t attack and didn’t want to spend cards removing could be turned into one big monster, and if it was the right big monster… well, she supposed she’d have to get to that if it got to that. She had tricks still, and the D-boyz had dealt two thousand damage to the Spike Brother in the meantime, halving his life total. “I will, uh, set two cards and end my turn,” Melissa said, and the face-downs materialized behind her. “Ha! That’s all? Alright, draw!” Spike Brother Eight said. “Now, check this one out. I’ll sacrifice one of the Boyz to bring out this bad boy!” He did just that, and out came a hulking machine with flails instead of arms. It was a Spikebot, and Melissa noticed that it, like her Fairy, had eighteen hundred Attack. The Spike Brother had done all this with much more confidence than he should have, though at least he wasn’t finished. “I’ll equip it with this Big Bang Shot and attack your weak little spirit. Crush it, bro!” One of the flails on the Spikebot’s arm glowed with power. It was only four hundred Attack’s worth of power, though surely the additional piercing added some aesthetic when the only attack target wasn’t in Attack Position already. The Spikebot whirled its flail around and around, then above its head before crashing down on Melissa’s Fairy, who bravely tried to guard against it, but couldn’t stand up to the extra energy. “Losing four hundred life hurts, but I have a response to my creature getting destroyed,” Melissa said. “I’ll activate Setup- er, cut? Set uppercut?” She got it on the third try. “Setuppercut. Because a monster of mine was destroyed by battle, I can Special Summon a monster from my hand or deck in face-down Defense position. I’ll choose…” This one she remembered. There were only so many tribute monsters in the deck, and not all of them could even be grabbed by Setuppercut most of the time. “uh, Nobleman-eater Bug,” Melissa said. The card briefly flashed on the field before folding down in front to guard its controller. “Tch, fine, guess D-Boyz don’t get to attack. Guess I’m ending my turn, then.” One thing Melissa noticed was Spike Brother Eight actually pronounced the word “Tch,” he didn’t just tisk as some sort of interjectory sound. Another thing was that he didn’t switch his one hundred Attack D-Boyz monster to defense position when he had the chance, so maybe Fen really was okay even with her Interceptomato play. She’d have time to check in just a moment, the writing was on the wall over here. Melissa drew a card and said, “First thing: I would like to Flip Summon my Nobleman-Eater Bug. It destroys two monsters, so I’ll choose your two.” The description of a giant bug devouring a group of gangsters and their pet giant combat robot was too graphic to comprehend, much less put into words, but the end result came out as expected. “The other thing I would like to do is Summon another monster,” Melissa said. “This one’s just a Normal monster. It’s Shining Friendship.” It was another Fairy-type, this one even less like the ones Melissa was used to. Shining Friendship was more of an abstraction of what it even meant to be a Fairy-type monster. It was a small little blob with wings and a friendly smile plastered across its body. What mattered here, though, was that it had thirteen hundred Attack, and that combined with the Nobleman-Eater Bug’s… “I would like to go to my Battle Phase now,” Melissa said, “and I will have my monsters attack your Life Points directly.” If the Nobleman-Eater’s attack was indescribable, Shining Friendship’s was even worse. Spike Brother Eight reeled as the two attacks struck home and the holographic images of the cards fizzled and went out. “I can’t believe you. You got so freaking lucky!” he said. “What the freak are those crappy cards doing winning, huh?” “Um, good game,” Melissa said. “I hope you enjoy your movie.” She couldn’t stay to do much more than that, though. She had to go check on Fen.

Belladonna was staring at her, so it was only natural for Quinn to stare back. Quinn had always been good at staring contests, even before their death, and he was pretty confident he could win this one too if push came to shove. That was to say, if it was a staring contest, anyway. It was also quite possible that zey just had something on their face. Quinn wiped her mouth with her arm but maintained eye contact all the while. Even as Belladonna took a few careful steps, Quinn kept at it just to make sure. Cassiopeia was staring too. She was mostly hiding behind Quinn just peeking out over the ghost’s shoulder but Quinn could feel her stare all the same. Really, Quinn was not sure what to make of Belladonna. Even besides the times Belladonna pretended to be dead, which was always confusing -- who could pretend something so terrible? -- what struck Quinn the most about the girl was how she seemed entirely unprepared for any of this. Did Belladonna not know what she was signing up for when she came aboard the SS Rising Sun? Was she cognizant of what awaited her in the future? She was quite inscrutable, or perhaps that was just her ragged, seasickness-stained attire. Still, she was nice to be around, if only because she seemed more accepting than most about Quinn’s… condition. Nathaniel was too. Most people would have at least asked to hear an explanation a second or third time, but these two just went along with everything Quinn said without even a single question. “I need to buy stamps,” Quinn said, repeating himself a little bit as they finally broke eye contact to give Belladonna a once-over, “and you need to buy new clothes.” Quinn’s first sign that there was one more person on the docks was feeling Cassiopeia jerk suddenly, alerting her companion to the young girl with shorts and the attitude to match. The youngster was actually much more polite than Quinn had been expecting of rival trainers. The way her parents had put it, it was frequently a dichotomous choice between two different types of violence, the Pokémon kind or the physical -- a physical kind that, to their parents’ insistence, could even affect ghosts. It was nice to see that the first encounter was with someone who was a bit overly excited at most. Fae was ready to accept, but Nathaniel got the jump on them. “If it’s a battle you want, I’ll take you on,” he said, but then he seemed to hesitate. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to just claim dibs on the first battle.” “No, it is alright,” Quinn said. “Just because this is your first battle does not mean you are superseding my own. I can have my first some other time. Here, I will pre-emptively call ‘dibs’ on the next battle, and Belladonna and I can go prepare for the odyssey ahead while you two scrap. You said Poké balls, antidotes, potions, and what else?” That plus clothes, plus the other miscellanea, they would likely go clean through the small stipend Quinn had received as part of winning that art contest, but they could pool their resources, could they not?

gonna be in a car for like six of the next nine hours for a concert ama

Dearest Mother and Father, By the time you read this, the SS Rising Sun will have arrived at New Point Landing of the Korova region, and my grand excursion will have properly begun. I do have to thank you again for your care package. I have already made great use of the stain remover, and the contents of the little pill bottle have proven very helpful in adapting my corporeal form to the ocean waves. Cassiopeia enjoyed the candy you packed for her as well. I worry you spoil her even more than I do! I tried to find you in my dreams last night, were you looking for me? I could not find you, and you have my apologies for that. I could not help but return to the more abstract and dreadful regions of the astral plane. I have described to you before, I am sure, the various dangers I have encountered, but what struck me this time was the utter lack of sound. It was a deafening silence, the kind that can strip away the ego and leave nothing behind but an empty shell. When I returned to the material world, I had to spend several minutes lying motionless just listening to the water crash against the boat before my wits returned to me. I do not mean to make you worry, though. I am handling it well. You will be pleased to learn that I have already made new friends who are also undertaking adventures of their own. I met each of them individually, and it turned out by fortuitous happenstance that they had already acquainted themselves with each other! My encounter with Nathaniel was so marvelous the margins of this letter are too narrow to contain it, but I will describe my meeting with Belladonna as you may find it entertaining. Cassiopeia and I were wandering one of the decks of the ship. It was midday, but the clouds had just parted after a particularly violent storm, so there was hardly anyone else around. The crew had only just put the chairs back out. We were looking out at the horizon and experiencing the sublime vastness of the ocean beneath our feet when we noticed the body of a woman lying in one of those chairs. I thought she was dead! I thought the storm had proven so exhausting for her that she had either left for new worlds or joined me in the interstice between them. I poked her. I had to. My curiosity would not allow me otherwise. My cheeks flush just recalling the moment, because, of course, she was not, even if she said she wished she was in that moment. Thankfully, we are already past the point of grudges and on to what I suspect will be gentle ribbings where appropriate. I am sure someday I will have similar gaffs to make about their behavior too. The horn has just sounded announcing our arrival at the docks, and Cassiopeia is looking at me with an antsy expression on her face. I will have more for you soon, but I must be going now, first to find my companions, then to a mailbox, and then, adventure! Sending love, even in death, QuinnQuinn looked over their letter with quite a sense of satisfaction over how it had all turned out. The way he saw it, people either had very good handwriting or very poor, with no in-between, and Quinn was proud to be of the former category. “See? All done,” she said, showing the letter to Cassiopeia. Either the Drifloon could read or she made a very strong impression of doing so, and gave off a happy sort of hum when she had finished regardless of which it was. “I knew you would approve,” Quinn said. “Come now, we really must be going. All right, then. Now, just to double-check…” They made one final loop around their cabin, making sure they had everything a good ghost needed to go on a Pokémon adventure (or at least everything that they had packed to take along with them. All the clothes had been cleaned, toiletries were all put away, ze had either stowed or put on any personal effects… it all seemed just so. Once hir pens had been put away, the only things left loose in the cabin were the letter and Cassiopeia herself. “Would you like to be in your ball?” Quinn asked, “Or would you- Oh!” Cassiopeia had refused, instead nuzzling right up to Quinn and looping her strings around its wrist. “I was only asking in case it was windy, you silly balloon. We do not want a repeat of two days ago.” Again, Cassiopeia made a noise and rubbed her face on Quinn’s. “Alright, you win,” Quinn said. “But we really must be going.” Their cabin was pretty far away from the gangplank, which made Quinn worry that they might be keeping the rest of the group waiting, though that turned out not to be the case. Quinn and Cassie stood just off to the side, scanning everyone else coming off, looking for the two familiar people on the whole ship, listening to the dockmaster give a welcome to each and every passenger with the same laugh every time. Fortunately, it was not windy, even if that meant Cassiopeia got to float around all vindicated and full of herself. It was quite a while before Belladonna and Nathaniel stumbled off the ship, and Quinn rushed over to meet them as soon as she spotted them. “My friends!” she said. “Hello! I just have to purchase some stamps and a few other supplies and then-” For the second time that day, though, they were interrupted, as Belle broke from Nathaniel’s shoulder and collapsed onto the dock. She had seen this before, of course. In fact, Quinn remembered doing similar things when they were alive. Sometimes, when you did not want to do something, the only recourse was to not do anything. But that would not do for Quinn. They did not just go through the effort of making new friends and explaining their condition to them enough times until they accepted it, just to abandon them as soon as they were off the boat. Quinn could not help himself. While Nathaniel desperately tried to tempt Belladonna with lemonade, Quinn kneeled down next to her and, for the second time this trip, gave her a good poke in the arm.

Did it hit different, to be called pathetic and insufferable in real life as opposed to in a direct message from some nobody author who was upset Z. had revealed their fanfic -- about how, say, some nameless character from panel number seven of strip four hundred and twenty-three of some mid-tier fantasy webcomic was the true daughter of the empress and heir to the throne, for example -- was maybe, just maybe, a bit too niche to work as a joke and too much of a joke to work as anything else? Yeah, it did. Obviously, it did. Z. was still too mad to be actually hurt by it, though, and was about to fire back when Jirachi said something about not being able to take back anything, and as loathe as Z. was to take advice from random strangers, being quiet for that extra amount of time it took for the mythical pokémon to speak was enough to at least reconsider their approach. “Sure,” Z. said. “Yeah, Let’s not going to say anything you’re going to regret. I won’t say anything, even, just for you.” That was that matter settled -- to Z., at least -- which got Z. to calm down a little bit more, down to just their usual level of ornery, just in time for people to start asking some real stupid questions. Hector, for example, well, first it took him a moment to even piece the voice thing together, even after Z. had called Jirachi “star command” like a minute ago, and now he was insistently crawling towards some point in his ill-remembered life, something Z. was very sure was never mentioned on the forum, so why would he even try to claim it now? And Chester was trying to sus out their location, which was almost smart for a moderator, even if something more past-tense like “Where were we? Where is that mystery dungeon in relation to us?” would have been more to Z.’s taste, more helpful in getting a mental lay of the land than just a solitary point. Ears and that Clobbopus were still fucking off somewhere. Z. almost wanted to go join them instead of all this nonsense, but they did have an actual question for Jirachi that would be useful instead of all this noise. “Yeah, okay, sure, get called to another world to save it,” they said. “Hey, out of curiosity, when I go to talk shit about you later, what pronouns should I use? How should I refer to you? I know you said we could call you Jiji but no, that’s not going to happen.”

“Double-teaming the ghost, huh?” Brian repeated Carmen’s words back at her, a wry smile on his face. “Maybe you really are a pervert. Alright, well, that’s fine with me. Men’s restroom it is.” They marched back into the school- well, Brian marched anyway. He didn’t look behind to see how Carmen followed. The bathroom was back to how one might expect it to be. Brian wasn’t sure what Carmen assumed a men’s bathroom would look like, actually. “Hope it’s to your liking,” he said. “Dunno what you expected, really. Anyway, the haunted one is over there.” He stuck a thumb towards the corner. Now that he was here, though, he wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. Like, did they just rush the toilet again to draw the ghost out? Just because the ghost had only demonstrated a trick or two so far and a(n admittedly unnerving) face didn’t mean that it didn’t have more tricks and was just going with what worked in the meantime. He rubbed the bottom of his shoe for a rock that had gotten stuck in there and tossed it the toilet’s way once he retrieved it. The way it bounced and clacked felt wrong, but that was more a him problem than it was a ghost problem. Brian gripped the flashlight and handed it over to Carmen along with another handful of seals. “I already know what you’re gonna say,” he said. “But it’s either you keep a light on the toilet and run in with the seals after I draw the ghost out, or you do the ghost wrestling. Though you might have to stick some on the ghost too, I dunno.” He clicked the flashlight on and off a few times, partially out of nervousness and partially to reiterate who was taking what. He also looked at the toilet, looked back at Carmen, and sighed. Even if he were having second thoughts, he’d already brought her in here. He’d already foisted the “pervert” label on her. She’d talked about not leaving behind a body and here he was getting real close to letting himself end up just like that. These thoughts cumulated into a simple set of five or six words. “God, what a job, huh?” Brian said. “Ready?”

All This I Do For Glory “It’s alright,” the Archangel Lailah said. “These things can always be rebuilt. There are crews, artisans who can restore everything to its original state if you pay them well enough, and I am sure that the Church could find the necessary funds if asked politely. I hear there is even a woman who can reshape whole buildings to her liking now, though I believe she is currently a Gibbon if I remember correctly.” “I wouldn’t go speaking even more ill of Babs,” Lucky Cat, the woman who had burst in behind everybody, said. “She’s already panicked hearing about that shitty mural last week… feeling threatened… nearly inconsolable. If she starts to worry more, won’t be able to be held responsible for our actions.” Lucky Cat had taken a spot in one of the nearby pews and had propped up her feet, clearly not taking any of this all that seriously, though a closer inspection revealed that she was generating a dreadful sort of aura, expanding outwards from her and increasing at a noticeable pace. “Alright,” Lailah said. “Well, I am sure it doesn't mean anything, but you have my apologies. For both this and what happens after.” She raised her voice and mirrored what Thessa had just proclaimed. “Carol, my friend, perhaps it would be best to get the Union on the line? And stay right there, it may get a little hectic.” Not that Sibyl probably needed to see it, but The Fates had sent her a slew of messages as well. sup gamerrrr hey just to let you know got an all hands on deck thing going on at goodale so you know bring all four hands or as many hands as you cna manage these days lol see you soon bestie *can It may have been for the best if she didn’t see it, since Hellhound and Censer were already charging in. Censer threw down another layer of smoke and Hellhound and she burst through it once again. The two were almost upon the group, now. Hellhound’s little dog was running alongside them, though “little” was becoming less and less of an accurate descriptor. The beast that used to just be carried around in a satchel of sorts was now waist-height, and had grown a few extra appendages out of its back that had what looked like feelers at the end of them. The dog was starting to look more like a cat, too, and it was still changing, growing bigger still. The biggest worry for the four in the middle, though, was Arcturus. She had risen back up into the air, hands in front of her stomach, between which she had developed a little ball of wind, a little gust of energy, and, when she was satisfied, she sent it into the middle of the group. It was not aimed at anybody in particular -- that wasn’t the point of it. The point was to separate them all, a force- a shunting that drove the four capes apart, one in each direction. Victor to the east -- her way -- the Archangel northward towards Lucky Cat, Sibyl down towards Censer and Hellhound, and Thessa westward away from her towards Vambrace who was charging up the machines on his wrist and ready to strike. OOC

It hurt to breathe, but in a different way from, say, a broken rib or some other physical ailment that Chris had experienced before. It hurt to breathe because it took energy to breathe, and he had lost a lot of it just then. Thankfully, there weren’t many things left out to kill them, even if one of those things had proven to be the hardest thing to kill thus far. Chris wondered how good Estellise was good at healing magical damage. He hoped it was easier, like, good magic just cancelled out the negative stuff. That made sense to him, at least. The thing that he had to deal with in the meantime was the spectral hand floating toward him. He stabbed it with his sword. The sword passed right through the hand, though, crawling up through the blade like it wasn’t even there. Chris almost let out an annoyed chuckle at that, but managed to contain it before it turned into a coughing fit. He stepped back and tried a few more times, just in case it was just a one-time deal or something, but no such luck. The hand wasn’t about to be stopped by anything Chris had up his sleeve. He looked to one side, and there was a cultist stabbing Lana in the arm, but it was casting magic still so maybe- wait, no, that first thing was more important. Lana had just taken a dagger to the arm, and was in severe danger of taking another. Even in the state that he was in, he had to try. It felt like he was running in slow motion, and he had to get around the hand still locked onto his position, but he wasn’t that far gone. He had his sword arm outstretched, even if he couldn’t manage an actual thrust, at least he could let his momentum carry once he started going.

“There is something strange about me? What do you mean? We all die, do we not?”

Z. stared at Hector like the Falinks had grown a third eye, or a thirteenth eye, as the case may be. It wasn’t that they were unused to receiving compliments or thanks (even if the whole “Pokémon” thing meant they couldn’t remember times they had), but Z. hadn’t woken up the Jirachi for anyone else but themselves. They certainly weren’t doing it to save a washed-up ex-mod who had run into them and pressed them against a wall only a few hours earlier. Being right about everything had put them in a good mood, though, so they didn’t do more than that. “Yeah,” they said. Hearing the Jirachi’s voice was where things started to sour. It was a sing-song sort of voice and it talked in a way that implied it wasn’t about to take responsibility for any trouble it caused -- past, present, or future. It was also the sort of thing Z. just knew would be transcribed with a little tilde at the end, just to make sure everyone knew exactly how to read it as if actual god-given adjectives and learning how to write a proper patter weren’t enough tools already. For one particular sporking, Z. wrote, “The author has placed a marker in the dialog letting you know that this character is practically singing their lines. Unfortunately, like the character, the song only has one note.” Healing everyone was a first step toward getting over some of that, but Z. was pretty sure they could do that too now if they tried, so they just found the associated spectacle unnecessary. And things just kept going wrong. Z. had still been ruminating on Jirachi’s non-forgiveness, responding to a potential apology from Z. that would never come when Es decided to continue the introductions -- when Es decided to reveal to the world that she didn’t actually know Z.’s name. “My pal Zed,” Es said. “Zeddy here.” Okay. So. It was probably unhealthy, or at least said something about Z. that they saw so much red now instead of during one of their several fights, both as a Pokémon and as a human, but see red they did. Old forum drama came to mind. Four months after coming out as nonbinary, Z. had announced their name change, which reignited the drama that had flared up when they’d actually come out. It didn’t need to be relitigated here. They didn’t need to think about it again, but they’d had to fight for their name. They didn’t remember doing it in their human life, but they could feel it in their bones. It translated into a different sort of Z. than they had been the past few hours. They were quieter and more deliberate as they spoke. “Cute trick,” they said, looking straight ahead -- not at Es or Jirachi or anyone else, “pre-empting me, saying I give out insults as a sort of compliment, daring me to respond with something else. I do threaten and insult a lot. Maybe they lose their effectiveness with each new jab. Sure. Alright. I’ll work with that.” They turned to Es and looked the Rotom square in the eye, catching her at the end of one of her zips. “Starting now, I will mean what I say. I will be exact, so you know if I say I’m going to hurt you, I am going to hurt you. My name is Z. It’s spelled with a z and then a period after that. If I ever hear you say otherwise again, I will seize upon you, find your asshole, and demonstrate why most things with a head like yours need a flared base. If you don’t have an asshole on account of being a ghost or whatever, I will give you one with my own claws.”

what do you mean it's not summer yet