#Base Post

[youvebeenlivingfictionalnbcyoa]

It'll Be Fun

Notes: This is the first post of the Nathan Bateman Choose Your Own Adventure for the Youvebeenlivingfictional 5k Follower Celebration! Just a heads up about a couple of things:

All CYOA paths are complete. If you hit the gif that says it's the end, it means that it's the end.

There is one (1) spicy chapter within one of the paths. If you cannot see the chapter, you need to update your content settings. Find the instructions to do that here.

This is not beta-read. As always.

The links to other paths are at the bottom of posts

If there are any broken links, please let me know!

Warnings: Cursing; angst; fluff

Summary: You’ve heard stories about how Bateman…Operates. You’ve only met him in person once, shortly after you’d been hired as Chief Knowledge Officer. It had been brief, perfunctory: Hi, how are you, happy to be here, love it, thanks for the money, enjoy your plane and helicopter ride back to your fucking remote, subterranean, in-fucking-sane facility you billionaire hermit whackadoo—

You had an idea of what this would be like, of course, but the reality is…Absolutely insane. You’re tired, you’re sweaty, and you are so, so happy that you fucking packed light. You shift your bag on your shoulder, glancing around. Follow the river. Follow the fucking river? You’re not a goddamn girl scout. You pull in a deep breath, then let out a relieved sigh as you finally spot the house…Up a rather steep incline. Son of a bitch.

You puff out an irritated breath as you bend forward a touch, resting your hands on your knees.

“Ohhhkay. Okay,” You mutter, straightening. Fuck, you hate team building. Hell, you hate it even more when it’s in such limited quantities of people—this way, there's nowhere to hide, you're easily missed. It’s barely half the C-suite: just you, Bateman, the CFO and the CMO.

It’ll be fun.

Bateman had slurred that across the phone on a status nearly two months ago. It’ll be fun.

The CFO and CMO had signed on enthusiastically; you’d been a little more hesitant to speak up, but had reluctantly agreed—and been met by an cheery, Yeaaah! from Bateman. Maybe that should’ve spurred you to be just a touch more excited, but you’ve heard stories about how Bateman…Operates. You’ve only met him in person once, shortly after you’d been hired as Chief Knowledge Officer. It had been brief, perfunctory: Hi, how are you, happy to be here, love it, thanks for the money, enjoy your plane and helicopter ride back to your fucking remote, subterranean, in-fucking-sane facility you billionaire hermit whackadoo—

Beyond that, you’ve hardly interacted with him outside of meetings, briefings, emails, what have you. You do a good job. You get your shit done. He doesn’t call you out because you've never given him a reason to.

You huff softly as you begin a long hike up the fairly steep incline. Alright. Pace yourself. No need to fuck your knees or ankles or anything up right before you meet your boss—

You wince as your foot slips, your knee skimming against a sharp rock. You groan, looking down and eyeing the throbbing spot. It hasn’t torn your leggings, but you’re willing to bet the skin’s a little torn under there. Damnit. You push on, righting your footing. Come on. Arrive in one piece. You don’t want the fricking sun to go down before you get there, and you really don’t want them to have to come looking for you.

(Though if you’re being honest, you’re not sure that Bateman would go out of his way to send out the search party. You can see the article on Wired now—BlueBook Chief Knowledge Officer Gets Eaten By Bear On the Way to Corporate Weekend Retreat. Said Bateman, “She knew she’d have a hike through challenging terrain. She should’ve brought her bear repellent. Frankly, we can’t tolerate that kind of narrow-minded unpreparedness at BlueBook. We’re already looking to hire her replacement. Our front-runner has climbed Everest.”)

You snort to yourself at the thought. You can practically hear Bateman saying it—with that damnable smug curl to his lips; you can see his hand drawing out of his pocket to adjust his glasses; to pass his hand over his closely shaved head, his palm loosing a rasping little shush against his cropped hair; his shoulder shrugging dismissively before he impatiently waves the reporter on to their next question. Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t put it past him. You’re only useful to Nathan as long as you suit his needs. You’re certain that if your visions for the company didn’t align with his, if you didn’t fall in line with what he wants for BlueBook, he’d drop you without a second thought. 

It would only be right, of course. It’s his company, not yours. 

You come to another stop once you reach the top of the hill, bracing your hands on your lower back and giving it a bit of a stretch. Fuck. You need a shower. A long, hot shower. You straighten up, and are set to go full steam ahead to Bateman’s when you hear your name called. You go still, dread trickling into your chest, your eyes squeezing shut. Maybe you can pretend you didn’t hear him? 

But you’re not on some crowded city street, or office hall, and you’ve stilled for too long. You turn, slapping on a smile at the sight of the CFO, William Ellis, at the bottom of the steep hill. You force a smile, raising a hand to wave. You’re fully intent on turning back around and heading toward the house, but he calls out, “Mind giving me a hand with my bags?” 

Yes, you do mind. You’re not a fucking bellhop. You don’t want to help him with his bags—you don’t even want to be here. You want to stomp back to that field and camp out until that helicopter comes back to take you home. 

Instead, you turn around, measuring and bracing your steps as you trudge back down the hill. 

-- 

“Damn good luck running into you.” 

It's the third time he says it, though he’s run out of breath more and more as he did. Ellis is a short, stout Englishman. His typically fair, clear skin is ruddy and red from exertion. It probably doesn’t help that his voice seems to come from his nose, and is pushed out of the narrow purse of his lips with his rarefied Oxbridge snobbishness. “Sure,” Is all you offer now. The first time, you’d said Isn’t it; the second, you’d chuckled lightly, offered, Guess so. Maybe if your responses become monosyllabic, he wouldn’t bother. You shift your bag on your shoulder, moving Ellis’ duffle bag from one hand to the other as you deftly avoided the rock that you’d slipped on before.

“Nice of Bateman to have us along,” He adds. 

“Yep.”  

“Don’t get to see much of the old sport these days.” 

The Old Sport. Christ. This man is one off-white jacket, gin rickey, and Dead Man’s float away from being an F. Scott Fitzgerald character.

“Well, that’ll happen,” Is all you offered in turn. You fight the urge to drop William’s duffel on the doorstep as you approached the house. Instead, you still, watching William approach and draw his phone out to check the instructions. 

“Now let’s see…” He mutters. “The instructions did say that the…Keycard pad was around here…Somewhere…” 

“William Ellis.”

You glance over as a robotic voice draws your attention to a keypad.  It's just another moment before it instructs:

“Please approach the console and face the screen.”

William wanders closer, eyes still set on his phone. You bite your lip, choking down a laugh as a light flashes, taking a picture of the top of William’s head. 

“Take your keycard.” 

You step closer as William took his, and the same robotic voice said your name. You step in front of the camera, forcing your face into a neutral expression. 

“You ought to smile a bit,” William chuckles. You tighten your hands on the straps of his duffel as irritation pulses through you. You have half a mind to drop this duffel bag right on his foot—knowing full well that his work and personal laptops are in here. Instead, you reach out, taking the card from the slot. 

“You may now enter the residence.” 

William doesn’t hold the door open for you. He doesn’t even gesture for you to be the first one in. You’ve already had enough of this man’s shit—and you haven’t even seen Bateman, or the CMO. You don’t want to see them in this state anyway. The CMO, Dan Marshall, is one of your better workplace friends. And Bateman—well. Either way, you’re not sure you’re ready to see him yet, for all of the hell he’s already put you through with this little hike. 

“So? Shall we?” William nods down the hall. 

Shall you? 

Go With William to Find Nathan and Dan

Go Off On Your Own and Find Your Room 

[torra-and-the-toons]

Welcome to Torra and the Eds’ Friday Night Sleepover!!

I wanted to interact with the fandom more, but I’m way too shy and socially anxious for Discord, so I figured I’d set aside a day where I let people come to me to chat! I’ve seen other blogs do these “sleepover events,” So I figured I’d try my hand at one! Right now it’s going to be every Friday unless my job changes my days off.

Also, if this isn’t your thing, and you don’t want your blog cluttered with my chatty nonsense every Friday, you can block the tag ‘#friday night sleepover’

Don’t know what to ask/talk about? Here’s some things to consider! 

my favorite “___”’s (characters, gags, ships, places etc.)

Headcanons

Opinions

Analysis

Ask me about my projects and/or my art in general! 

You can ask for WIP shots if you want but I won’t do too many from the same page/chunk of pages for “In the Ed.”

It doesn’t have to be EEnE centric either, ask me random or personal questions! (but not too personal please lol) 

Tell me about your day

Show me some pictures that made you happy

Show me your art! 

Really, anything is game as long as you aren’t blatantly rude, I’m down to talk about whatever y’all want! 

[bluuscreen]

one of the chocolate guys videos appears on your dash. you pause your scrolling to watch it, trying to guess what he’s making because this doesn’t seem to be one you’ve seen before. as the video goes on you get more unnerved and impressed — he seems to be making a whole human being this time, and it’s uncannily realistic. it’s even filled with candied fruit and sweet pastries in place of organs, red velvet cake and a cherry reduction making up flesh and blood beneath the chocolate. but something feels off. the person he’s making seems strangely familiar. upon the final reveal, you know why. amaury guichon has created a perfect replica of you

ETA:

[chongoblog]

[lokh]

communication is key 💪

[redactedrem]

Headcanon where after so many arguments between the batkids and Bruce over his paranoia and complete disregard for his kids privacy, the entire family had compromised with (in the healthiest way possible) downloading life360 on their phones and that's how they all keep track of each other.

Now Bruce knew that this is mostly for his benefit and is supposed to be a healthy alternative for his unhealthy paranoia and helicopter parenting, but what he wasn't expecting was for his kids to start keeping track of him.

He's putting gas in his car and Dick calls him because apparently Dick has been watching him drive around on the app? And Bruce is currently at a gas station thats right around the corner from a Taco Bell and now Dick wants him to get food for everyone since he's already there.

He's driving home from a meeting and Steph calls him because her and Duke were shopping in the area and wants to know if he can pick them up, when he asks how she knew he was on the same street, he gets a "Oh I just like to stalk everyone on the app for funsies." as an answer.

Jason calls him and he can barely get out a hello before Jason cuts him off, "Bruce why the fuck is your phone battery on 5%, charge your damn phone" which completely stuns him because why does he know that. He clears his throat before answering. "Jason, what?"

"Everyone can see each others phone batteries on '360, now charge your phone." Is all he gets before Jason hangs up on him.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them

People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human

“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”

“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”

“Yeah!!”

“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”

“Mostly just my dish but yeah >:(“

“How illogical”

“That’s what I’m saying!!!”

[voidoffline]

!This is a drawing! Not a screenshot!

This is nineteen hours of work. (Not the build I based this off of- it only took me like a few minutes to build it XD)

(This is the next build of mine that I will draw)

[thenightisland]

people trying to insist a fandom is tiny when it /only/ has a few thousand works on ao3 meanwhile my current fandom is a sixteen book series and has several hundred fewer works than goncharov, a movie that, and i cannot stress this enough, doesn’t even exist

[disasterdandelion]

First base is violence second base is convoluted codependence third base is applying pressure to the vulnerable parts of their body to keep their entrails from spilling out

[offonaherosjourney]

Last night I dreamed that someone invented a new version of chess called Rookmeo and Juliet where two rooks are in love and trying to run away together. To achieve this they have to make it to the other side of the board, but these rooks don't have any visible signs to differenciate them from the rest, just a small mark in their base. Neither of the players knows what rook from the other side is in love with their rook, so they have to play a regular game of chess, fully aware that they might unknowingly kill the lover of their rook. If they kill it, the game keeps going, but their rook betrays them, switches sides and turns into a second queen for the other player. People wrote a ton of essays about the symbolism and metaphors of that version of chess and the creator didn't have the heart to tell them that he simply invented it because he thought Rookmeo was a great pun

[fillianore]

kill them with kindness? wrong, eldritch blast

[lylahammar]

skinny ppl learn to shut the fuck up when the conversation isn't about you challenge

[assassin-artist]

"Let us go together, my dear Consort eternal."

[abd-illustrates]

👻 Nerdy Prudes Must Die! 👻

Some art from yesterday’s video; where, as per tradition, I made illustrations based on some spooky musical tracks! 🎶First up is this one inspired by Starkid’s new show!

[DO NOT EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES / ACCOUNTS]   ♻️reblogs are lovely tho!♻️

[kewpiekills]

gross old man drinking problem