@petite-carcajou Not too late to come along to the Brassau Gallery

@jubesters the cajun becoming more cultured. Come down to the Brassau and see for yourself

@petite-carcajou maybe we see something from home. they say all of it's "fictional" art.

@jubesters not even planning to steal a thing. just to look.

@petite-carcajou have to wonder if they get it from lau, like everyone else get things from home
@petite-carcajou let remy liveblog it for you, then, that's almost as good, no?

@jubesters not coming? let remy liveblog it for you, then, that's almost as good, no?

@petite-carcajou maybe some of this art meant to be smelled rather than seen
@petite-carcajou there's a gumball on a stand here labeled "the 1812 overture"

@jubesters one exhibit labeled 'edible fireworks'
@jubesters sure you don't want to come? not too late
@jubesters making some art of my own with dante, what you think?

@petite-carcajou this picture not actually an exhibit, just a pair of handsome men in coats
@petite-carcajou pretty enough to hang on anybody's wall, though, I think
@petite-carcajou maybe we try to sell it to them

@jubesters maybe I need a beret, if I'm an artist now
@jubesters who you think look better that way, remy or dante?
@jubesters what am I interrupting, anyway? nothing important happen this time of day

@petite-carcajou still there petite? you haven't answered in a while, starting to make remy worried
@petite-carcajou @jubesters threaten to block my cheeps because she say I talk too much
@petite-carcajou maybe you better recheep these at her, no?
@petite-carcajou you want any prints from the gift shop?
@petite-carcajou or maybe not from the gift shop, something really catch your eye
@petite-carcajou they have a Ben Grimm original from his french period.
@petite-carcajou not quite Jackson Pollock, I think.

Ah...

This is new.

Everyone, I can't wait to hear the voices of your Pokemon!

Aha! Ahahahaha! It's so nice to have thoughtful subordinates who send you on trips when you're starting to need them! I don't even feel any lingering nausea, it's like I didn't get here by flying, or moving at all!








Ah, but Mutsu—if you're hiding somewhere and told them to say I'm fictional, then I hope you'll be punished by God's wrath. It wasn't funny the first time, either, but I'll forgive you if you say you're sorry!

[Okay, you can do this, Rapunzel, you can do this. Just follow the directions, it can't be hard. Well, maybe not the saying hello to people part, though successfully turning on the odd communication... thing... is proving to be quite the challenge.

In fact, it may or may not have taken her tripping over her own hair to hit the correct button; inattentive pacing isn't conductive to grace, but it seems to do the trick in terms of technological difficulties.

She sits up and takes a moment of looking quizzically at the device, turning it around, peering at the screen from every possible angle. Behind her are trees and grass; it should be pretty clear she's calling from somewhere in the park.

But is it on? What is it doing? Does she have to press anything else? She talks now, correct?]

Am... am I doing this right?

Hello?

Och! I don't understand anythin'! "Fictional worlds"? "Fake people"? "Nothin' but stories?" It makes no sense! As real as th'sky bein' blue, Scotland is. Sure, a legend or two may have been a wee bit exaggerated, but this? This seems like th'unreal thing, not th'other way around!

It's not fair. I refuse t'believe any of this nonsense.

...So, if anyone could be so kind as t'point me t'the exit, I'd be much obliged.

Well, well, isn't this quaint.

I'd go on about being upset about being told the whole "fictional" spheal, but let's be frank here: I've been told that for years. It hardly comes as a surprise, though the city is a new twist.

For now, I'll just consider this a holiday, a vacation of sorts from the hum drum predictability of my world. After all, there are plenty of interesting individuals to amuse me, and Daddy Oberon can't speak a single syllable to the contrary.

[There's a bit of a dark chuckle.]

Let's begin, shall we?

[The first sound is of someone clearing his throat -- and it comes from every smartphone on the island as they all switch on.]

Mass broadcast function, okay, here goes. Good phone design, by the way, very intuitive. Especially the overrides.

[The volume scales up for a moment, until it echoes off building faces.]

If I could have everybody's attention for just a minute -

[Volume back to normal.]

Why is there a big building in the middle of town with my name on it? Usually I sign papers for those. Maybe draw up plans... the point is, I should have heard about it, and I didn't. Where am I now, Hong Kong? This looks like Lantau Island. Lantau Island? Everybody from Lantau Island, hands in the air.

Okay, now put your hands down and let me know where I am. I can't see you, I'm broadcasting.

Being a nurse, I get there are a ton of homeopathic methods that might be beneficial for getting a woman pregnant. I also get there are a lot more "natural" methods that won't do jack for helping put a baby in your belly, but will instead send you on some crazy acid journey like the super fun one I'm on now. Apparently.

Wait, can I say that without losing my job? Crap. Please don't let me be standing in the middle of the courtyard all tripped out saying this out loud. Kinda don't wanna be pregnant and unemployed, that's only cool for teens on MTV or whatever. I mean, not cool. For anybody.

The point is! I am going to ride out this fun little trip by the imaginary beach with my fictional self, and when I return to Earth, maybe have another discussion with Leslie about buying fertility "medicine" from guys who smell like Patchouli.

edit; Guy, I hate to say it.. But I think we've been Jammed.

[Smallish contraption? Toph has no use for it. It's foreign and she doesn't know how to use it so it's just going to get thrown on the ground.

That's when the video feed turns on, the angle askew from being on the ground. Toph's not throwing a fit; she's mainly got her hands on her hips, and she's frowning.]

Okay guys, not funny. This place is weird and it smells like Katara's cooking. Gross.

[Pause.] I swear, I'm gonna find you guys and catapult you into the clouds!

Well, this is interesting.

[Don't mind Zatanna, she's just going to take a look around. Someone told the girl who uses magic that she's fictional, which she thought was amusing. Most people think magic is fictional.]

I'd love to know what's really going on. Please?

Fictional. Ah, yes. As if I've not heard that one before in the past, oh, I don't know, two thousand years, give or take? Hardly a new thing to tell the Boogeyman. Oh, you're not real. I'm not scared of you!

[ The last bit drops down into a furious snarl. Then Pitch regains his composure and is all smiles again. ]

Funny, this ... little bit of technology. Letting us poor, sad, fictional people get acquainted with what it's like to be real. I suppose that means you all can see me. [ His voice drips bitterness. ] Well. I can't fault the situation for its convenience.

If there are any Guardians here, you'd best make yourselves known now. So we can all yell and scream about what a horrible bad guy I am and all the trouble I'm going to cause. [ Twirls a hand. ] Get it out of the way.

And then, well, I guess I could introduce myself. My name is Pitch. Pitch Black. And, yes, before you ask. I am the Boogeyman. [ Wiggles his fingers at the camera, grinning. ]

Boo.