Your Move ┃ An Hfjone Reader Insert + AU

Freefall

The backpack did have a point though, seems like a weird title to not be an acronym.

The disembodied voice—which you now know as "Airy"—answers, "Yeah, it stands for—" before getting interrupted by the soda bottle asking, "Where are we?"

You're not surprised you haven't even gotten a word in yet. You can't think of words to say quickly, and even then you still just prefer to listen rather than talk.

Airy responds in the most obvious way possible, "Uhh, you're on the plane, in my competition. Called... ONE."

Apparently that's not good enough for the soda bottle, since they continue with the questions. "Why are we here?"

You're a little annoyed, since Airy did, just now, say why, but you can't really judge.

Airy, again, states: "You're here to compete in my competition. Called ONE." Good for him. He's really good at just selling the idea.

Soda bottle, clearly, is not having it. "No, I get that. But why us? Specifically?"

You're starting to get a little tired of the soda bottle's barrage of questions, since they're all pretty much ending in the same thing. Kudos to him for trying? It's clear, though, that's the only answer he's going to get out of Airy.

Speaking of Airy, so kindly, again, gives the soda bottle his answer: "You seven, are here specifically, to compete in my competition. Called ONE."

It looks like the soda bottle is getting fed up with this. They give an irritated glance to the moldy slice of bread. They've seemingly agreed on something, and the slice of bread speaks up.

"Are you gonna give us a straight answer or not?" You almost chuckle at the wording, but hold it in and try to look normal, hoping nobody saw that. This was serious.

Airy changes the topic almost immediately, "Enough chit-chat, let's take a look at your new names." New names? Seriously? It wouldn't just be easier to just learn everyone's names?

The backpack seems to have the same idea. "Wait, new names?"

Suddenly, a table falls from the sky, shattering into pieces when it hits the ground. Name tags slowly float down behind it. You all gather around the table's remains, and the name tags.

"...I should probably drop it softer next time." Airy, by the looks of it, loves stating the obvious. Of course he should "drop it softer next time!"

You grab your name tag along with everyone else, scrunching up your face at it.

"These are your names for the competition. Please call each other them accordingly." Airy so helpfully informs everyone.

"My name is Taylor," the magazine replies, sharing the same attitude with you on the matter.

Airy, who you thought might be obtuse, asked, "How do you like your new name, Magazine?"

You weren't quite sure what to call them, you didn't want to disrespect them in any way, but you also didn't want to potentially pay for it later. You all were at the mercy of Airy, to be fair.

"...What is wrong with this guy?" Taylor—or Magazine—asks nobody in particular.

"'Soda Bottle'—is he serious?"

"'Moldy'? Hmph, Creative."

"Muggy? Seriously? If you're going to call me something based on my object just call me Mug," you chime in, disgruntled. Everyone else looks just as displeased with their "new names."