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keouil · 9 months

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let me begin as a quiet thought

shoko fails her first board exam. 1k. gojo/shoko. fluff. also on ao3.

"No."

Gojo bristles, takeout bags falling to the ground in mock hurt. "But I haven't even said anything yet!"

They were in one of the hospitals Shoko was interning in for the summer, a respectable mid-size clinic doubling as a teaching school in the suburbs of Tokyo. The smell of septic and alcohol loitered around the halls, and Shoko was hyperaware they were having this conversation in full view of the transparent glass dividing the laboratory from the classrooms; that any of her superiors or colleagues could just walk in. It was the middle of the night and usually prime time for catching up on medical readings and backlogs, but evidently, Gojo didn't know the first thing about medical students and their near neurotic study routines.

"Exactly," Shoko eyes him with irritation. She can hear some of her classmates whispering behind the door and sharpens her eyes to a menacing glare. "And nothing good ever comes out of your mouth so I'm just gonna stop you right there."

Gojo blinks. "We haven't seen each other in weeks," he says pouting, an honest to god pout, and now Shoko is positive she's hearing squealing and howling and all she wants to do is incinerate herself in the crematorium. Gojo notices none of this because of course. "And already you’re being mean."

Shoko holds up a hand. "Save the dramatics for Ijichi."

She sidesteps in front of him, trying to conceal him from prying eyes and ears. It doesn't ever work because Gojo is a 6-foot attention magnet, but she can at least try to put up an effort. Dragging him out into the hallway, she added lowly, "I told you to stop visiting me in school. You know I hate it when you just show up like this."

"I left like fifteen messages!" Gojo points out, grabbing his phone to show receipts. Shoko doesn't bother looking to confirm, knowing he was probably right, but not wanting to give him more ammunition. "I asked you just this morning if you were free!"

"Gojo," Shoko began warily, keeping her voice to a minimum. She grabs his shoulder sleeve, bringing him down with her so she can say this part eye level. "I cannot stress this enough. I am in the middle of studying for possibly the most important exam of my life and career. You'll forgive me if I don't exactly have time to reply to any one of your million invites for coffee.”

"And you don't even drink coffee!" adds Shoko accusingly, punching him on the shoulder. She feels like a highschooler again chastisting him and Getou for making her late because of yet another off-campus expedition.

"Of course I don't drink coffee," Gojo parrots back to her easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Fixing the takeout bags under his arm, gestures to her, "You know this. Nanami the cafe-hopper knows this. The barista by the bistro near our school knows this and prepares milk tea for me instead."

Shoko has her mouth open ready to retort, but is stopped short by him hushing her.

"But you do, Shoko. You and the rest of the human population apparently. And since none of you ever want to go mochi shopping with me or go through Tokyo's must-try artisan shops, I have to make do and adjust, don’t I?"

"You make it sound like we're forcing you to drink the stuff," Shoko retorts. "But you're always the only one sending invites on the group chat."

"And none of you ever reply!" Gojo points out accusingly. "So really, you've kinda forced my hand here."

"I did no such thing!" Shoko hisses at him again, voice going up an octave. It was unlike her to lose her cool, but then Gojo always managed to grind her ears so easily like it was his birthright to annoy her. "And how many times do I have to remind you: I am normal here," she drops her voice to a hushed whisper, looking around. "I'm just a normal girl going to a normal medical school because it's the normal thing to do. Having my ex-classmate with white hair and blue eyes show up unprompted ruins all of the mystery I've built up!"

Gojo immediately splutters. "Mystery? And who are we trying to be mysterious for?"

He pokes his head up, trying to look around for the classmates he saw earlier: the same ones he asked for help in finding Shoko, the same ones who couldn't quite wrap their mind around who just showed up, and the same ones who were none-too-subtly trying to peer up at them from behind the glass panel.

"Show me the guy. I have to approve, of course. Unless it's a woman—then—ah, well, I trust your judgement."

Shoko wanted to split her hairs out in frustration. "There's no one, you fool!" she wacks him over the head. "And enough with that approval bullshit. Seriously, do you guys not remember how you scared Ijichi off his first year?" she shakes her head disapprovingly. "It was a fucking Valentine's card, not a bomb threat."

Gojo wasn't appeased, still craning his neck for potential culprits. "Can you really blame us? Yaga threatened us both with castration if anyone so much as damaged a strand of your hair." Shrugging, he adds non-committally, "It gets to you, you know."

None of this was helping her.

Gojo being there at probably the most stressful week of her life and being his usual Gojo self, so far removed from the reality of life outside jujutsu sorcery, and the meagre little things: taking entrance exams for colleges, choosing your top three universities, mulling over which specialization to take. Shoko knew this wasn't the kind of life meant to contain the strongest the world had ever seen: but for her this was enough. And this was it. And by and by she's finding it hard to reconcile herself with the version of herself that existed in highschool: the body bags, the loss, the total abandonment of a belief system that told her even the mighty could fall.

Because oh, what a fall.

"You okay?"

Shoko blinks, only just realizing there was a pregnant pause in their conversation. The teasing glint in Gojo's eye dulled now, so slightly, and because they were now each other's oldest friends: she could see, then, the thinly veiled concern. And that's how she knew.

"Who told you?"

Gojo just looked at her for a while, before sighing deeply. "Well," he starts tiredly. "Since you never talk to me about any of this, who do you think?" he pauses. "Utahime."

Shoko was going to kill Utahime.

Maybe. Not really. She's not quite sure just yet how to deliver corporate punishment on the one friend she did willingly keep tabs with, if only for the easy conversation about the lazy humdrums of Kyoto that Utahime was always more than happy to talk about. Utahime meant well, always did. And so Shoko was maybe just going to send a dead frog her way instead of flat-out murdering her.

Gojo, on the other hand. Well.

Shoko kicks him from under the table. "Spit it out," she says. "What are you really doing here."

They were now in one of the outdoor cafeterias of the hospital. It was mostly empty during this time of the night, save for the expanse of stars illuminating the open area and the welcome breeze of August evening ghosting on their skin. The entire area was cordoned off by a lake, white doves and swans loitering about.

“Ouch,” Gojo feigned hurt like he always did, rubbing at his ankles and giving her an accusing look. "Is that how you greet a friend who traveled nearly 3 hours just to bring you coffee?"

"No," Shoko says, grabbing one of the takeout bags he brought and rummaging through the pile. "That's how I greet anyone who shows up to my workplace under explicit warning not to—only to ignore it. As usual." Frowning, she clicks her tongue at him, "Where's my cigarette?"

Gojo shoves her hands out of the way. "And that is exactly why I drop by often. And unannounced. Who else is going to keep your smoking in check?" he winks at her before pulling out a can of mocha latte and an honest to god Lawson egg sandwich. "Try this instead."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Shoko deadpans.

Gojo ignores her. "No. On the contrary, I'm here to set your eating habits right."

"Says the guy who lives on a crepe and pancake diet."

Again, Gojo ignores her. "Like I said, I'm here to set your eating habits right. When was the last time you had a hot meal?"

"I eat just fine," Shoko quips back, stealing a pack of onion chips from his stash. He looks at her disapprovingly but just pushes more snacks in her direction. "And I'll have you know I don't smoke as much now. I took an oath, after all."

Gojo doesn't look convinced. "Right."

"Seriously," Shoko insists, head jutted up in pride. "Ask any of my classmates. I quit just before I started preparing for the boards."

"And who is this I'm going to ask?" Gojo looks her way, imploring. "This mystery man?"

Shoko gives him the middle finger.

And just like that, they slip back into an ease of conversation and dynamic that feels both weighted and thin as air. There was so much violence, Shoko thought, in their world: both when she had a scalpel in her hand or cursed energy flowing from the tips of her fingers. Sometimes she feels like she just traded another unbecoming for another. But maybe it was easier, this time, to divorce herself from the expectations: it was infinitely easier to put a stranger into a body bag if she ever had to at all.

And really there are still these little pockets of lightness, like when the stars hang low on an unassuming Friday night and her lungs aren't burning with gasoline to try to keep up with the corpses and she has never felt so grounded: that Shoko remembers, for the first time, how to breathe in.

Shoko feels a chill in the air. Gojo notices. "Cold?"

"If I was," Shoko says somberly, voice small in the stillness of the night. "Are you going to give me your jacket?"

Only before she even finished the question, a jacket was shrugged into her shoulders. Gojo fastens the top button before facing back to look at the lake. It smelled like fresh laundry and vanilla.

It's quiet for a few moments, with only the sound of crickets in the distance and the steady stream of the river blanketing the silence. So quiet, in fact, that Gojo needed to strain his ears to hear it:

"Thank you," Shoko says, and then: "For everything."

#satoshoko #gojo satoru #ieiri shoko #jujutsu kaisen #fic

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arwainian · 3 months

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Reading This Week 2024 #26

blah (having a slow morning because i drank a lot of wine with a friend last night)

Finished:

the road to heaven, as paved by bad intentions by ineffmoth on ao3 i enjoyed this svsss porn-y modern au way more than i think i had any right to, but i think it was exactly the amount of Being Weird About It that I was seeking in my tag dive

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon on ao3 as established in my notes last week, I think the first half of this is better than the second half, but I still had enough fun to finished it

"The Mermaid" by Kathleen Jowitt, narrated by Heather Rose Jones, aired on the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast

"Talking to Ghosts" by Caitlin Flavell, narrated by Heather Rose Jones, aired on the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast further historical lesbian short fiction that i get to listen to through a cool podcast I like. these little bites will simply keep showing up in my weekly recaps until I run out of backlog

"Historicizing Unreliable Narration: Unreliability and Cultural Discourse in Narrative Fiction" by Bruno Zerweck really interesting article about how "reliability" is culturally defined, and so the like label for a unreliable narrator comes out of differentiating it in a time where the narrator of a novel was not expected to be a character/expected to be objective, but now after like postmodernism took hold, "unreliability" in narration- ie. the representation of events within a text being from a particular perspective that lacks omniscient information and which is informed by the opinions of the protagonist, where we commonly understand that we likely wont get the full picture or a perfect recounting of events- is the norm

"The Empire Strikes Back: A Posttranssexual Manifesto" by Sandy Stone you saw me post an extended quotation from this, you know I liked it!

"The Rise of Fictionality" by Catherine Gallagher a good read in combination with the Zerweck article above, telling a history of the rise of novels as fiction: texts that are neither true histories, nor fully fanastical stories that aren't mean to be taken as truth, defining fiction in the novel sense as stories told to be realistic and believable, but which the reader is still not meant to be tricked into taking as fact

"The Right Language for Rape" by Nina Philadelphoff-Puren like a linguistic analysis of how victims of acquaintance/date rape defined their experiences in the moment and afterwards, coining the term "discourse maintenance" to describe the ways victims chose to act as if they were not about to be or being sexually assaulted in an attempt to resist the transformation of their situation from "bad date" into "sexual assault". i have a lot of notes on this one. i'm not sure i agree with some of the conclusions in its final paragraphs but the body of the text I think was really well argued/explained and gave me a lot of thoughts to work with, primarily the way testimony obliterates that transformation, reading the discourse of rape backwards over the original discourse of romance, rather than demonstrating the temporal shift between them. i'd recommend it?

Frequency by cryptocism on ao3 and now for something completely different! finally finished reading this longfic about comic book characters that I don't know much about, but that's okay because the end notes of every chapter literally cite every comic event that it is referencing and building the canon of this Inertia redemption arc around. it was very good

Started/Ongoing:

We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian this is All Vibes. not extremely compelling to me, but I do enjoy a Cat Sebastian romance so I am reading it at the pace that feels right for it, which isn't too fast

Reading Plans: pretty much the same plans as last week: articles, queer lit book club pick, stuff i need to grab from the library hold shelf in the next two days, etc but I'm also going to make an attempt to read through the fanfic tabs I have had open on my phone for way too long this week, which I already made some progress on with Frequency?

#cal reading log #arwainian princessoid decrees

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mmx-code-crimpphire · 10 months

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Headcanon - Xev and Axl headcanoned as autistic

AND A LITTLE MORE ON AXL IN THIS!!

I'm struggling coming up with headcanons lately and wanna write other things, so I might stop for a little bit after this one. My backlog of headcanons are a little short right now, esp ones that aren't spoiler heavy, so I'll stop for the moment and focus on writing other fics

Once I'll have more headcanons, you'll know when I post a new one!! Especially the world building headcanons when I write more for the towns!! I might post something I'm planning on writing today which I can finally post a new series on AO3 I've been meaning to make for the past few years!! I'm excited!!

Anyway, have this lengthy headcanon I have a lot of thoughts on~

Half a headcanon for Axl and half not for X just yet, I’m still deciding but

I wanted to talk about this primarily because I wanted some characters I can relate to in regards to this topic. Plus, either one has tendencies in one having the potential and the other having that kind of vibe period. At least to me, in most regards.

NEW CHAPTER ON AO3

I pretty much viewed Axl mostly with the autism I had in mind. Pretty much similar abilities and disabilities to mine- basically kinda projecting from this character but also making him his own, pretty much canon in his own right, and also kinda tweaking him to what I personally view him as.

We all know Axl is the young and ambitious but risk taking and noble hunter we've known up to X8. But that's basically all we know about him. I'll touch on his backstory sometime when I finally start the bio series for these characters.

But point is, that's all we know, and we don't have anything else to go off of except for our headcanons of him and depict it best we can from the source material. And this is my take on him besides the autism headcanon: He's a young adult and very ambitious, but from what he's learned from Red himself and his team of wannabe Maverick Hunters, he learns to adapt to his delta nano powers, gain close friendships and learn what his goal and purpose would be in life. Especially after certain events in his life that change it drastically. One that brings him into Red Alert into the first place, and years later after something happens to his found family.

He had to rush to the Maverick Hunters and rush for help in a panic when he couldn't face whatever was happening, and he was torn apart until he got to meet X and Zero in person. Except they're going through something themselves that he eventually had to get into the middle of. Especially bonding with Zero and trying to talk to X, which doesn't work.

Basically kind of a reverse scenario with Iris talking to Xev while Axl talks to Zero more in depth. And I do mean the key words being "kind of". Since Zero briefly talked to Iris, and he didn't need much talking to, for Xev, he needed budging. Whereas with Zero and Axl, he definitely needed that push as well down that time in the main story.

And he helps bring X and Zero back to their realities they needed to face and they, of course, face the big baddie head on. Which won't be Sigma, but I won't spoil who else ;3. Especially after this, he starts gaining a heart of gold and has another found family he can protect once he takes his powers and training more seriously. So he won't lose that second found family like he did his previous one.

Anyway, yeah that's what his general character is like in the AU, now for the Autistic headcanon. I don't know exactly where I got it from, other than I KNEW he had the vibes for it. So I slowly implemented what he would want as a stimulant, what he hyper focuses on, what his hyper fixations will be, what his sensory issues are, etc.

To which, I list that he stims with rubbing his thumbs, squishing things, vocal stimming and rocking. Either in a rocking chair or swinging. He gets a swing later on when his autism is being made more aware of in Hunter Base. He hyper focuses on what he vibes with and what he wants to do in that moment.

Anyway, what his hyper fixations/special interests would be, is he would wanna write music and play on his electric guitar. He loves stimming to softly playing and hearing the electric chords, btw. He loves doing it. He also hyper fixates on German Rock and hard rock from the 80s. Such as Def Leppard. he's a HUUUUUGE fan. Rick Savage, the late Steve Clark, and Joe Elliot are his favorite band members. He feels connected to them, and sometimes feels sad that he can't meet them, being he's in 21XX/22XX, and they're all long dead by then. Unless someone makes reploids out of them if their minds are preserved in data ;3. But, continuing on, he is OBSESSED with music theory and wants to write his own songs. Zero wants to write songs and has music theory down to an absolute tee- however, he won't know how to condense his deep love and feelings for Xev. He asks Axl for help, and they both collab and write a song together, which helps Zero gain an extra boost of experience in writing songs, which gives him the chance to write another song condensing his feelings for Xev for their wedding by writing "Only One Blue Jay in the Sky". What they both write together is called "Bird Wings Glide".

I’ll probably make another headcanon when I get the details down on the songwriting process of the two and Zero’s feelings and possibly the lyrics to what they’d be like in another post, maybe.

Another special interest he has is squishies. He loves to squish things, as stated previously, and squishies are his number 1 go to for that. He also loves pushing buttons or tapping on things. Especially when he loves making certain noises that tickle his neurodivergent A-Chip. He also loves remaking them. Repurposing them into something and making them into his own style he loves to make into art. Yeah, if you couldn't tell, Axl actually loves watching Moriah Elizabeth on Youtube lol. Don't worry about if youtube's still a thing or not, idk if I wanna figure that out for the AU at all yet lmao.

His sensory issues would be with smell and texture from coconuts, human bones (like basically touching them, especially the marrow), soapy water with grease, seeds in jam (yes, I said jam, not jelly), large crowds (especially when they touch him unprompted), sitting still without able to stim at all (I'm debating on headcannoning him with ADHD as well, haven’t decided yet), textures that feel rough (in his words, "icky", which I feel that, man) when rubbed the opposite direction of a texture he loves feeling. It's a very complicated one we both feel tbh haha

Anyway, that's all I can name at the top of my head, I'll probably make a list specifically to both his and Xev's things they have troubles with.

Which, speaking of Xev, it's still a more up in the air kind of thing, since I'm still not sure. This headcanon kind of spurs from a friend's headcanon I got from, @curtashiism specifically. They had an X that was headcanoned autistic and I really liked it cuz he had the potential to have autism, and it made the most sense to me so I figured I'd think about if I wanted the same thing for mine.

But I'm still unsure about it, really, even if I'm leaning towards wanting to do it. So, if I ever fully decide to go that route, I'll post the list of stuff he has trouble with, as well as his strengths in terms of what he loves doing, etc.

I hope y'all liked this post/chapter and felt connected in some way, cuz I def sure do~. Anyway, that's it!! Hope this was also a fascinating read~.

#vincent rambles #code crimpphire headcanons #headcanons #curtashiism #ayyyyyy friendo it's been a hot minute since I tagged you!!#headcanon - axl being autistic and xev having that potential

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authoralexharvey · 2 years

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Writer Tag Game

It is once again the hour upon which I procrastinate editing go through my incredibly long backlog of tags and try to do some of them now that I have the mental wherewithall to do so... So uh. Here's this to start with.

Tagged by @andromedaexists and @ceph-the-ghost-writer so thank you my buddy o pal. This one's simple: answer the questions lol

Do you write in order?

If I don't, I lose my mind. That said, i do occasionally jump ahead to pick at scenes I really want to get to. I've also started doing something where, if i'm stuck, I just mash out things in the general timeline I need them to happen in and then go back and connect the dots.

Do you start with something particular?

I start with an idea, which may necessitate building setting and characters around it but not always. Then I... sometimes make an outline, and sometimes I freeball it instead. If I'm at the very beginning of a draft, I almost never have an exact opening scene in mind and instead am spending some time making potential openings (not long, a few paragraphs at the most tbh) until something sticks.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try?

Depends what you mean by "first try". If by "all the way through" then yeah it looks pretty formed. Debatable if it makes sense/I've focused on the right things, though.

If by "first try" you instead mean "how far I get before I give up and start another draft*", the answer is "it is as formed as I was able to get through before some glaring plot hole/bad plot direction/something major starts bugging me and I start a new draft to untangle my ball of yarn"

How many drafts do you go through?

Short stories typically require three drafts at minimum, which looks like:

One draft to get it out of my skull until I think it's done

One draft to sort it so it makes sense, cut out subjects or scenes that I shouldn't have included, etc.

One draft for minor, minor revisions and editing.

Longer projects, however, get messy. See my answer to the previous question. TWEfA, for example, is on draft 7 and I have finished that bitch exactly 0 times. ASMLP is on draft 2. I think I was on draft... 3? of Lilium and need another one to revise and edit it and bring it up to my current writing standard.

Tell me about your process ?

Get idea

Develop idea

Figure out my starting point

Start drafting

Cry

Draft again

Get internet randos to read it

Cry again

Make another, better draft

Edit

Make more internet randos read it.

???

Profit.

Tagging: @linaket, @alistonjdrake, @faelanvance, @aninkwellofnectar, @ozcrowrites, @mr-writes, @nanashi23, and @redotter

#tag games #writeblr #alex has the floor

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mitzirockerextendeduniverse · 9 months

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[Hi! For... god, years now, I've had this massive Spreadsheet (yes, it requires a capital letter) of retro JRPGs I've wanted to (1) play my way through and (2) blog about. (1) was fairly easy after I stopped trying to play on original hardware, but I found it surprisingly hard to do (2) without it devouring all my free time. So instead of a dedicated blog, I'm just gonna do these short summary posts here whenever I beat a game. There's two in the backlog right now, starting with...]

What it is: The Tower of Druaga (ドルアーガの塔 Druaga no Tō) for Famicom, released on the 6th of August, 1985, developed and published by Namco. Based on the arcade game of the same name from June 1984, also published by Namco and chiefly designed by Masanobu Endō, creator of early scrolling shmup Xevious, it's the first game in - the Spreadsheet as a whole, yes, but also the Babylonian Castle Saga, a collection of (for the most part) vaguely RPG-like action games that tell the story of a prince named Gil, his lover, the priestess Ki, and their quest to restore peace to their loosely-Babylonian fantasy world.

What it's about:

I think the attract screen puts it pretty well! There's some more wrinkles to the backstory, which I mostly got from a strategy guide released at the time - an invading empire, the goddess Ishtar, the precise mechanics behind why, exactly, this is our heroes' last chance to save their kingdom - quite a lot for a mid-80s arcade game. It's pretty thin by RPG standards, but as a setup, it works, and I found it surprisingly engrossing.

How it plays: How do you make an RPG work in the arcade? Apparently, you turn it into a Pac-Man clone. Okay, that's a little flippant; Druaga may be a maze chase game, but there's a lot more going on in it than in most arcade games of its day. On the surface, it's a game about running around mazes, killing monsters, and grabbing keys to get to the next floor, until you defeat Druaga and rescue Ki on the top of the tower. All you have to do is fight your way to the sixtieth floor, right?

In any other arcade game of its era, maybe, but not here. Almost every floor of the tower also contains a hidden treasure that can only be revealed by performing a specific action unique to that floor. The higher Gil gets up the tower, the more he'll need them, from books to reveal the layout of darkened floors to a series of items that turn the increasingly common dragons from the most dangerous enemies in the game to an easily ignored afterthought. Pretty much every useful item in the game (there's several duds and a few traps) is needed to defeat Druaga, so knowing where they are and how to reveal them is absolutely key to beating the game.

The catch - because of course there's a catch - is that neither the treasures' locations nor their revealing methods are signposted at all. Every single one has to be trial-and-error brute-forced out, and they can get pretty arcane - entering a fairly long cheat code, defeating several enemies in a specific order, walking over a particular tile in a particular direction... The intent was for arcade-goers to 'solve' the game together, figuring out all its secrets over the course of weeks or months, but when you don't have a friendly mid-80s Japanese arcade crowd to help you out all you're left with is a mountain of guesswork. Or a walkthrough, which has been a standard bonus feature on its Namco Museum rereleases since the mid-90s.

What I thought: I had a lot of fun with this game! Admittedly I was using a walkthrough (in Japanese, because part of the purpose of the Spreadsheet is to practice my language skills) to bypass about half of the Intended Experience™, but the other half, the straightforward arcade action Pac-Man-with-a-sword gameplay loop, was engaging enough in its own right. Gil controls really well, you never feel like you're fighting the programming instead of the monsters, you can always tell why you died even if the game took a cheap shot, and its insanely generous continue system lets you jump right back to the level you were on with all your items intact when you run out of lives. It's still tough, but it's tough in a fair way, breaking up its fast-paced action into discrete digestible chunks with a chance to breathe between every floor. And frankly, though it is 1980s quarter-muncher hard, I've played indie puzzle platformers that were much worse.

And I do think it succeeds at distilling the RPG into an arcade format, though the result is only an RPG by the loosest possible definition. Despite the lack of numbers and exploration (well, in a sense) there's a distinct feeling of progression to Gil's journey up the tower, a kind of character growth uncommon to - basically any genre outside the RPG in 1984. As Gil collects treasures, he grows faster, stronger, better at navigating the labyrinths, to the point that, despite the increasingly tougher challenges the game throws at you, it almost gets easier the further along you get. With the continue system I mentioned, you can even jump back to floors you've already cleared (mostly to replace a particular item that occasionally breaks) and breeze through the monsters that once gave you so much trouble. It's this kind of thoughtful design that makes me really appreciate Druaga, more than I honestly expected to when I first booted it up. Give it a try, it's pretty good!

#tales from the retro jrpg Spreadsheet #babylonian castle saga #the tower of druaga #famicom #1985 #namco #retro rpg #true story: in the time between starting this post and finishing it i have beaten a third rpg #it's the original zelda. fuck you that's an rpg #but yeah by the standards of modern games druaga (with a walkthrough) is... moderately hard but not severely so #you ever play cuphead? it ain't as hard as cuphead #we'll next see gil and ki in the quest of ki (1987)#but the next game on the Spreadsheet comes out in december 1985 #called bokosuka wars. see you then!

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pbandjesse · 1 year

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I am not feeling well at all. Which sucks because it is for nothing! I just feel so bad!! I don't know why and so I don't know what to do about it. Very frustrated. Looking forward to going to sleep.

We got home last night within the hour. I was a little miserable when we got back and desperately wanted to sleep. We would bring everything inside. James brushed their teeth while I took a shower. And pretty quickly we were in bed. I fell asleep pretty quickly. And I slept well.

I don't remember James leaving for work. And I slept until around 9. When I woke up I just laid there for a while. Not even looking at my phone yet. Just being there.

James said that we were just a little zonked. This is the best way to describe it. Just creaky and tired but mostly fine. I would wash my face and get dressed and felt alright.

I would focus on some cleaning this morning. I vacuumed. I moved the couch and shifted our rug. I changed the kitty litter. I was really happy with myself. Accomplishing something.

I would empty the dishwasher. And make some outfits for the week. And then decided it was time to go for a drive.

I would head over to Glen Burnie to go to value village. I haven't been in a thrift store in like forever. And I had a lot of fun. I had some excellent finds today!

I found two dear america books. Which is always great. I would loop the store a few times. I found a plaid soft dress and a sweater dress and I think both will be great for the winter. I also found a striped shirt for James that I think makes them look like a masc lesbian and that's all they ever really want so it's perfect.

I found a beautiful pearl frame. And some fun goofy wall pieces. One is a really neat piece that's made of silk flowers.

I would head down the road and decided on five guys for lunch. Me and another woman were both trying to do pull through parking and it was totally fine but when we both got out of our cars she apologized and I was like nah we're good we were like ships passing. She told me to have a nice day and I told her it was beautiful out so I will and she got a big smile on her face. It was a nice interaction.

I enjoyed my lunch. I was listing to last podcast on the left which I haven't been for a while. So it's nice to have a backlog to listen to.

I kept going down the road to go to goodwill. I don't really like that goodwill much but I had two excellent finds. First I found the perfect snoopy plush. This felt so serendipitous because I have been looking online for a few weeks for a plush textured snoopy with almond eyes. And this one is exactly that?m incredible. I had a snoopy plush when I was a kid who has been lost to time and I am very pleased to have a new one. I have always really loved snoopy but I'm also very picky about him.

I also found an incredible fleece with a silk lining. But the best thing is it has a built in scarf! I literally was just looking at a jacket like that last week and thought it was so smart and now I have one! And I love it. It feels so elegant but not fussy.

The nice man at the cash register let me know there were more Snoopy's if I was looking for them but I was good with just this one. And then it was time to go home.

It was a pretty okay drive until right before I turned on our street. When someone who was clearly nodding off something drifted into my lane and almost slammed into me and I was so angry. They looked up with me with like no recognition that something had happened and then they were basically diagonal on the road. It was crazy. I was so heated. He was so lucky I did not come after him because he shouldn't have been on the road. It was insane and I was so mad I had to take deep breaths as I got home.

When I got back I put my new things away. I hung up my two frames items. I decided I would play a game. I haven't done that in forever.

Dad called me and we talked for a little bit. About visit next week. About some other small things. It was mostly just really nice to what both my parents for a little while. I love them both very much.

After I got off the phone I sat down with a lemonade and played animal crossing. I built a curry restaurant with the owners living upstairs with their baby. It was fun. But by the end I just desperately wanted to lay down. My head was starting to hurt. Sweetp has been sitting with me the whole time and while that was nice, my allergies were staring to kick off.

I took some medicine and laid down. I would watch a video but eventually would fall asleep. I woke up at 530 when I heard James. James says they kissed my forehead like 6 times but I never knew!! I texted them hello but didn't move or anything until after 6. I felt horrible.

James would try to make me feel better. They made us spaghetti for dinner. Which did help a little but I still was doing very bad.

I took a long bath. And the hot water was very nice. I kept joking to James I wish I was able to bath in warm gel. Like hair gel. I think that would fix me.

I still didn't feel great after the bath. James pulled out another blanket for our bed, per my request. And now we are in bed. I think I would like a snack. I wish we had cereal but that's okay.

Tomorrow we have a nice day tomorrow. Maybe well go get a pumpkin. I have my rhumatologist appointment for the month. I am going to tell them my neck and lower back are still hurting me a lot. See if they have something else they can give me besides the muscle relaxer that I did not like.

Sleep well everyone. I hope you are feeling well.

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aethernightmare · 4 days

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Weekly schedule for September 2024.

Wednesday → Honkai Star Rail.

Thursday → Zenless Zone Zero.

Friday → Final Fantasy 14: Heavensward.

Saturday → Genshin Impact.

Sunday → Dot Hack 2: Mutation.

I really wanted to get started on some mainline Final Fantasy games, but it's been too hot this summer and my schedule has been too packed with IRL work to expand any further than this (I'm struggling to keep up already). So it may have to be after .Hack// finishes.

My PC has also started having some noise issues (fans? AIO cooler? hard drive?), that I've still yet to fully diagnose, and could end up being outrageously expensive to fix depending on the source. So that plays a part in my delay as well.

So far Heavensward has had a ton of FF12: Revenant Wing references, and I feel bad not being able to give viewers the same context that I have. Supposedly there's going to be a fair bit of FF6 references as well, and I'd like to replay that for my own context eventually.

But there's only so many hours in a day, so I guess I'll just do what I can. It's not like I'm a professional streamer by any means. And sometimes I think I need reminded that I shouldn't push myself so much. As I don't exactly get the viewership justified for pushing myself or my equipment to their limits. And I'm not actually that entertaining, as I mainly only stream to justify my "wasting" time on my days off, and to force myself through the backlog (again, to not feel guilty).

I'm going more casual with some of the liveservice games as well. I'm not keeping up with Zenless' timed events at all atm, and only do story-based stuff in Genshin anymore mostly. I'm just too burned out otherwise, and have so many other games I want to get to.

This could also mean I might skip updates of some games during some weeks. I'll still try to stick to the schedule, but there might be some times where I just randomly, with no explanation, skip an episode that week.

It could also just be the seasonal depression, but my brain has been going through the "why bother?" motions again. I know growing an audience takes time, but in the current internet climate, I don't even know if I want one. As that degree of attention comes with a lot of negativity. But it's also not worth doing all this entirely for myself either, when I'm trying to get even minimally monetized as a partner. So I'm torn on my feelings.

I also make so much hype about stuff I want to work on in the moment (like right now), but six-sixteen months later when I can actually get to it, my feelings are often totally different. Or I end up not having the time I wanted to devote due to other factors (PC scuff, outdated equipment, terrible neighbor drama, family issues, health stuff, extra work loads, dead internet becoming more real by the day, really nasty attack campaigns online towards people similar to myself, etc.).

Idk, sometimes I'm just tired and want to take a hibernation nap for like a year so I can wake up to all this stuff having gone away. But it never seems to stop.

Sometimes I think streaming would be more fun if it was something I did for a rare game here or there once a month, but I also know then I'd be streaming to no one. And the few IRL friends I used to stream to/with aren't a part of my life anymore. (Not that they even really participated back then, they just lied and said they would one day).

Basically I'm only on this road because it's what's familiar at this point, and I don't want to deviate into the woods with nothing else going for me and no other plans. Since I don't have any other clear life paths atm. I'm kind of just going with the flow unless another road appears out of the fog.

Heck, the internet / social media could be dead in the next few years and that'll make the decision for me. Who knows.

Idk, I'm just really tired. Sorry for rambling under the schedule.

#bren streams games

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 3 months

Text

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 41 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

It takes a few weeks for things to get back to normal... or the closest to normal that things get in Spring Lakes.

A good night's rest is all I need and Ingrid bounces back just as fast 'though she says she'll be happy to get back to New York, now'.

Fortunately, Danni recalls little of their ordeal and Savannah remembers nothing.

Erickson, while shaken, has emerged more or less unscathed, though Coleridge has taken my advice and placed him on paid leave.

I have a feeling he might reconsider his calling.

Coleridge herself has taken the supernatural revelations surprisingly well, having always suspected there was more to what went on around here than met the eye.

She promises to help us ensure the caverns are permanently sealed and has already put a motion before the town planning committee to have the old buildings brought up to code, which would include new, very solid foundations.

Meanwhile, an investigation has been opened into Rian Halloran's 'disappearance' and his colleagues in Ireland notified.

I've notified Leon Marsh, my accidental contact in the FBI, as well and he's already moved to have the case quietly shelved.

Officially, the burglaries and the deaths of Jeffrey Lagrange and Stephanie Wong remain unsolved, filed away in a drawer full of many others in the same category.

Coleridge has asked me to take a look at the backlog, just to see if any fall within my 'wheelhouse' as she says.

Of all of us, Julian is the slowest to recover and as usual, he's the one that worries me.

As the days pass, he remains quiet and withdrawn, eating little and sleeping a lot.

Most of his waking hours are spent staring out the window, lost in thought.

After I come home from a trip to the store and find him exactly where I left him hours earlier, curled up in the window seat, I confront him.

"Hey, Jules," I say, rubbing his shoulders as I sit at his side.

"You gotta let it go. I'm sorry about Halloran and about Rhiannon and sorry for all the shit that happened in the past but that's where you gotta leave it. At least for now."

He nods.

"I know. I'm just worried I made a mistake," he says.

"Giving the book to Eirnín. I just can't put it from my mind. Rhiannon said to guard it but in the moment..."

He bites his lip.

"Who could it be safer with than her own mom?"

His blood relatives don't have the best track record for trustworthiness but I keep that thought to myself.

"You couldn't read it anyway," I say.

"You still have the pictures you took of the pages, though, right? We'll send them to Noah. He likes puzzles. In the meantime, worrying about it won't do any good. It's a problem for another day."

He turns to me with a soft smile.

His guard is down and the full blast of his beauty makes my breath catch.

"Here's to another day, then," he says and presses himself into my arms and kisses me.

I hope it's because I got through to him and not because it's what I want and what he is but either way he does as I ask and let's the matter lie.

********

A month later, another full moon rides high in a clear sky and bright stars bless the night.

I stand in Wolf form... not upon the highest ridge or at the standing stones but in the open meadow right outside my front door.

A sense of peace fills my heart... the quiet confidence of knowing I am right where I belong, that I have conducted myself well and that my mother and father may be proud to call me their son.

The ritual is nearly complete, my life now wed to the land as much as to the life of my mate.

He stands at my side, his hand resting lightly on my back, while my sisters 'also as Wolves' look on as witnesses.

One last thing remains.

Tilting back my head, wolf-song rises from my throat on a ribbon of sound... a long ululation of praise to the lords of the hunt and to the Moon Goddess above, as well as a summons to any who would challenge me.

Three times, I fill and empty my lungs and three times I wait for a reply.

None is made and in the silence, the ritual is done.

The land is mine and I belong to the land, as Alpha.

I tip my head back one last time and let forth a different sort of howl... deep and long and filled with triumph.

My sisters join in with joy and Julian adds his voice as well, light and musical.

And so, with the strange yet fitting combination of a Wolf and a Fae at its head, the Spring Lakes Pack is born.

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jerricocreates · 11 months

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All right. I've been thinking about this for years now, and I'm not going to be okay until I write this diatribe somewhere. If you see this, please ignore it. This is purely to get it off my mind, like a parasite eating away at a corner of my think centers.

In recent years, there have been a lot of opinions on Paper Mario, many of them lacking in nuance. You either love X and hate Y with some love for Z along the way. I, personally, don't think there is any game without some kind of merit, even the ones I hate. So, I'm here typing about a theory for a game I don't like and how I would like it more in a different world.

This isn't exactly an uncommon opinion, but I do not like Paper Mario Sticker Star and the subsequent games that continued in its footprint. To those who enjoy it, I wish you the absolute best and I'm very pleased you are able to find joy in something I do not. I hope you continue to enjoy it forever more. That said, I think Sicker Star has poor game design, mediocre art direction, and its choice to forgo any sense of story in favor of eventually becoming an admittedly funny joke machine was a poor decision. I'll say this right now, as much of a fan I am of Thousand Year Door, I do not think turning Sticker Star into another one was what it needed, even if I would have enjoyed it. Sticker Star was another attempt to try something new with a formula after it had already reached what I think is its peak, and I respect that. However, I think there is a world in which the game and its next entry wouldn't be so hated if it had a better battle system. That is what I wish I could fix.

I saw in an interview somewhere that when they made Sticker Star, they wanted to try an RPG battle system that does away with Experience Points and combine it with your money. Okay, let's take that and run with it. Your money is now your progress in the game. Mario is now Mr. Moneybags and uses his coins to solve all his problems. This comes to us in the form of purchasable consumable attacks in varying degrees of flavor and damage. As you play through the game, your bottom screen inventory fills up with these consumable stickers and you use them to earn coins to also buy more stickers. However, what this works out to be is a horrible case of inventory hoarding. Players in every game hoard the strongest items in their inventory in case they may be more useful later, and then show up to the final boss with 99 max heals and revives and doesn't use them or use them to steamroll the boss. Their minor fix to this was to give bosses stupidly long health bars and obscure weaknesses that you need to prepare ahead of time. Add in the fact that you can run away from battles with no penalty and enemies disappear if you do this. This turns into players with too many stickers, too much money, who only fight bosses, that are frustrating to figure out.

Here's what I think. I don't think they took this Coins are now Exp far enough. I think they should have pushed this to its logical extreme. Would it be befitting of Mario to Scrouge McDuck his way through the world? No, but it would make a better game, so let's imagine for a moment.

Big Step 1. Change the bottom screen from an inventory that holds all your collected stickers into a shop. Is there a reason Mario holds a shop in his pocket? No, it's Mario, don't question it. Now instead of pulling from your backlog of stickers you've harvested in the fields it's directly spending your money that you've collected from prior fights and found in random bushes along the way. This changes the game balance from, how do I get away with keeping my sticker collection into how do I win this fight by spending as little money as possible. Enemies give coins when beaten so winning replenishes your stock.

Have the weakest stuff be dirt cheap but the strongest stuff unlocks as you get further in the game for more and more money. That way, if you're struggling, your not screwed. There's always an option to attack, but beating enemies more efficiently drains your wallet. I've even considered making it so that you can sacrifice health for coins in battle if you somehow run out of money. Maybe have a loan spot back at town that gives you a set number of coins to get back on your feet if you're failing.

Have each sticker show clear damage numbers. Sticker Star as it is doesn't tell you what kind of damage you'll do, so you just kind of have to throw stuff until enemies die. Showing clearly to the player how much health an enemy has and how much damage you'll do when you hit it helps players be strategic with their resources.

Running away costs money and enemies don't disappear from the field when running from them. I think later games fixed this point, but they still didn't make battling fun to do so it's oddly more tedious.

Swap out all the stickers littered through the world with hidden coins and other stuff that is secondary to the main battle system. In this hypothetical game, I'd love to see a badge system similar to the first two, but I can see they were trying to get away from those comparisons. Even still, you need secrets to find in the overworld and goodies to collect, but you don't have an inventory to hoard stickers in, so you've got to come up with something secondary to put out there. Giving out too many coins in every shrub you risk making the game too easy. Health upgrades, items that let you use more stickers in a turn.

Balance your game. Look, I'm not a game designer. I've never made a game in my life. I'm just a passionate DnD Dungeon Master with a love for studying game design. I know in a game like this, if your players have too many resources, you've got to drain them. If your players are dealing too much damage, you've got to give enemies more health. Make sure it's possible to beat, not possible to cheese. Give the weaker enemies diminishing returns on coins as you unlock stronger stickers. Could you grind for money in this hypothetical coin game? Yeah. Is it going to be more fun to go through a well-paced game without the boring act of grinding? Absolutely.

Toll booths. Alright, this one is a long shot, but I'm imagining a game like this would be hard to balance. At some points where to think players might have too much money, you're just going to have to put a toll booth. You don't get in to Bowser's Castle unless you pay X amount of coins. Every player is going to play a little differently, so having a variable on the toll so that it evens out your wallet is wise. Players struggling with money it takes less from while players that are having it too easy have some of their riches removed. That way, for bosses, everyone has an similar playing field. Just don't abuse this concept too much or your players are going to develop a hatred for the toll booth and its operator.

As stated in the balance section, I'm not a game designer. Does all of this make sense to me? Absolutely. Are there oversights in this hypothetical system? I'm certain. Would this "fix" the game? Possibly. It would at least make it fun for me. Most importantly, does any of this make sense for Paper Mario? Overall, I'd say "No". There isn't a world in which I can see Mario, nor Paper Mario, solving all the problems with money. Bare in mind, I don't think the Coins = Exp was a smart idea in the first place, but when I heard the idea while I was lamenting the loss of a Paper Mario I enjoyed, I thought about a world in which I could enjoy the gameplay of one I didn't. I had this idea long before the remake was announced. It was a shower thought back when Origami King came out, a game I also didn't enjoy because it's battle system has its own heap of problems. If for some bizarre reason an actual game designer sees this post, you can have it. It's yours. Don't even worry about crediting me. This hypothetical "good" Sticker Star has been plaguing my thoughts and occasionally dragging me away from my DnD planning for so long. I want it out of my life. Just tell me if you do make it a game because I'd genuinely love to play it.

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embeanwrites · 3 years

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Enjoy your relaxation time! I don't want to swamp you with prompts (cause five is still heaps wow) but I'm so excited to see mine backlogged eep! Took me a while to come up with one, but how about reader and Artemis go to an opera? And Artemis is all excited and bouncy and emotional because we all know he's a nerd. Also secret handholding? Thank you:) and pls take time to relax and get ready for when your classes start again! That's more important! -Ari💖

Masterlist

A/N: Have I mentioned that I am an absolute slut for period dating tropes? Secret hand-holding? A flash of ankle? A dance at a ball? I am so here for it! Pride and Prejudice mini-series from 1995 with Colin Firth is one of my all-time favorite shows! Ari, you always have the most wonderful prompts! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this one!

Artemis was a difficult person to birthday shop for, anything he wanted he pretty much already had, and you didn’t want to buy him ties and clothing like he normally asked for. He wasn’t necessarily picky, but he wasn’t the best at lying if he didn’t enjoy the gift. This was your third year together and you were determined to knock this year's present out of the park.

You spent months debating the best way to go. A private vacation for the two of you? No, Artemis wasn’t a big fan of surprise vacations. He enjoyed planning out everything, so the two of you got to do everything your hearts desired. A new book collection? The Fowl manor library was already bursting! You had been sitting across from Artemis when the idea hit you. He was listening to music, which he rarely did, but even more rare did he listen to music with words. After slyly checking what he was listening to you knew exactly what to do for his birthday.

You had woken up a 4 am to log into the ticket site and sat in a virtual waiting room for hours, but you did it. You scored private balcony seats to see The Magic Flute, an opera by Mozart in Salzburg Austria. Mozart’s birthplace. It was perfect, not only would Artemis get to see the opera, but the two of you could hit all the museum and honorary spots for different parts of Mozart’s life. You felt extremely proud of yourself and even more so when you handed Artemis the tickets. For the past six months, he had brought up the show at least once a day and was ecstatic.

You weren’t sure how he would be able to sit in his seat the entire show, even right now on the plane he was practically bouncing up and down.

“Can you believe we’re going to hear Diana Damrau sing Queen of the Night? Live! In front of us! And we have a private balcony seat, this is going to be amazing!” Artemis gushed, causing you to laugh and lace your fingers together.

“I know, Arty. It’s going to be great.” You said in between giggles. It was rare to see Artemis act like a kid in a candy shop, but here he was practically vibrating with excitement. His excitement was contagious. You knew you weren’t going to understand most of the show since it was in German, but at least Artemis was going to be in heaven.

Once the two of you landed and freshened up in a hotel the two of you made your way to the opera house. It was clear to you Artemis was trying to hold in his excitement, but as the two of you waited in line to get in, he kept squeezing your hand and occasionally rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. It was extremely endearing to see him nerd out about something that wasn’t necessarily science or math-related.

After waiting 30 minutes the two of you found yourselves in your private balcony overlooking the stage. The show was completely packed, and you thanked your lucky stars that you were able to score such great tickets. You smiled and looked over at Artemis, who was already looking over at you with a lovesick smile.

“This is the best birthday present I have ever been given. Thank you so much, my love.” He murmured right before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you.

Even though you didn’t understand half the show, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as Artemis held your hand through the entire show.

#artemis fowl x reader #artemis fowl #x reader #opera #request #anon #thank you ari!

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growing-yet-into-magic · 3 years

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I am about.. six days late to the discussion, but here is my adition to your 'I have a feeling that being queer, mentally ill or in chronic pain etc, helps draw out your witchcraft' post: I feel as if that post was worded very wrong, as if to point out that it's specifically the bad -and what a society of arses sees as bad- aspects of a person's life is what makes the witchcraft, and not the work these people put in.

As soneone with PTSD, witchcraft did come to me in a time of stress, but it was the work I had put in that made my craft grown back then. It helping my pace of work through my problems just as sports might be someone else's way of working through the same problems.

Right now I don't practice anymore, so take that as you will. But in witchcraft it's the effort these people put in and the experiences they've had in their lives, not the illnesses that they have or how "they aren't normal" (I wasn't quoting anyone in perticular on that quote, it's just to point out that it's not something a person should think about anyone else within reasonable terms).

I feel as if the truth is witchcraft hasn't exactly been accepted enough at large for people to think 'oh, this is just someone others do' and it interescts in this and the fact that witchcraft is about making life better for yourself -and others- with people's need to be accepted and helped as they are.

Both of these lead to a mentality of 'I've had people be unkind to me so I know how awful it feels, so now I am going to be kind to others' that appears in less known groups, and that I have as well, and this gives the people that need help an easier time coming into witchcraft and working within it.

Of course, none of what I said here is global, I realize it's not all sunshine and roses in the witchcraft community. It was just my take on that whole thing.

Also apologies for the long ask. -Five Crows (supposedly in a trenchcoat)

Hey. I'm going to try to address your points one at a time, but I have to be honest, everything after the third paragraph is pretty unclear, and clarification may help make my response more coherent.

Firstly, I didn't say that any of the potentially traumatic events or conditions I mentioned "draws out witchcraft from you". I said that under certain conditions that make you cement your identity, you may find witchcraft to be easier. I explicitly said that it was "not because any of those factors make you any more magical" (this is the original post, for anyone else reading this). I have made it clear on other posts that I don't believe that inherent qualities are something to be looked for in witchcraft over your individual effort; you'll have to forgive me for not carrying my backlog of posts with me when I draft things while sleep deprived after work. You may be good at this task if you worked on the same underlying skill in other contexts. That's it.

Although you led with the point that you thought my post was badly worded, I included phrases specifically to clarify that I do not think that any of these qualities in someone or any experiences that they have gone to makes people better at witchcraft. Your lack of clarity on what you think was worded wrong tells me that it likely wasn't the post itself that was problematic, but your interpretation of it beyond the literal meaning. You point out in your ask that you don't have an actual quote to point to that led you to the conclusion you drew. I do resent when people read more into my posts than what I have actually written and then blame me for it.

What I said, on a very literal level, that I had a suspicion I had been thinking over, which wasn't even a fully formed thought yet; I named popular qualities in the peers one often runs into in witchcraft circles; I explicitly mentioned that these qualities are not inherently magical, because they're not; and that I believed that it was due to both qualities in their own ways adding to the similar skillset of finding and maintaining your individual identity. That was the extent of the post.

I can understand that as someone with PTSD, you likely felt worried that people were possibly delegitimizing your work or downplaying your condition. I would appreciate a little more attention to the letter of the post, though, if someone wants to sling accusations of glorifying something I don't into my inbox. If this was your take on the post, I would ask you to read it again. It sounds like you and I have slightly different ideas, but that doesn't mean that my post was somehow then damaging.

I think people forget that this is a personal blog. Not everything is going to be a five page essay with sources. Sometimes I take my meds and put weird shit in the queue.

#growing's nonsense #If I keep this going I'm going to make myself more sick than I already am.#I am so close to calling this an anon but at least you left your url

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vanquishedvaliant · 4 years

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what's your opinion on arknights storytelling? I heard there are some people who don't read it because it's too "wordy", sometimes just going around in circles or just plain covering stuff that's not important to the event that's happening in the story. Though a portion of the same people also said it picks up around ch 5 and the events aren't all that bad. Do you find it weak and only made decent or good with the help of its lore? Or is it good as is but the flaws just can't be tolerated?

“Didn’t read because it’s too wordy” and “Nothing important happens” are two sides of the same coin. I can’t do anything if other people simply don’t want to read what’s there, or if they can’t interpret it’s depth, but Arknight’s writing is the kind that tends to not overstate the obvious and gives it’s readers the benefit of the doubt, not insulting their intelligence by directly telling you what it would much rather infer and let you conclude. Those kind of moments are much more powerful.

I think that if you’re paying attention to the story and giving it a fair chance you’ll find that while Arknights likes to indulge in lots of hinting about fringe events, it very rarely takes the time to cover anything that isn’t important or thought provoking to some degree; honestly, I think Ancient Forge is the first time a side-story has really mostly just been a set of gags (consequently, it’s also my least favourite event so far)

I think chapter 5/6 just gets the most attention because a) it’s newly released story so people have been experiencing them as a new event and not as backlog story while they learn the game and level up, and b) because it’s a higher point of tension and raising stakes than the previous chapters, broadening the scope and introducing more key players and political intrigue.

Does that make them better chapters overall? Perhaps. Chapter 6 was definitely a massive stinger that drew a lot of emotion and engagement from the fandom. So it’s good in that sense, but that doesn’t make the earlier chapters weak. Especially when you consider the work they have to do in developing the setting and characters in order for you to care about them enough for Chapter 6 to be meaningful.

Chapter 4 for example has plenty to say about the world and characters too, and while the tragedy of Misha may not have hit quite as hard, it served just as much a purpose in setting the stakes and tone of the story and establishing Amiya’s character.

Some people think Arknights isn’t saying much because it rarely makes clear, matter of fact statements; but that’s exactly why I find it so compelling. Arknights usually gives you all the variables and then drives you to ask complicated questions. It delves in grey morality, multiple perspectives on an issue, and conflicts where both sides are in the right. It delivers it’s information subtle and in multi-faceted ways; teaching you about the world and its characters through every bit of text; description boxes, character bios, menu text. Everything informs the atmosphere of the world Arknights is trying to describe.

Now I can’t read the story for people if they are belligerently avoiding it, but what I can do from time to time(and have before) is over breakdowns and meta analysis that help explain the nuances that many people are missing. If they still don’t like it, maybe it’s not for them.

But in just about every metric that I care for, Arknight’s writing is top-notch and keeping me highly invested in theorizing, analyzing, and waiting for more. It’s perfectly good as it is, and any of it’s perceived flaws are not found within the text itself (save for perhaps a few translation slips), but within the engagement of the reader.

#arknights #Anonymous #TFWI

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kassandra-lorelei · 4 years

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Hey! I don't know if you still do these but would you be able to write an n/cc fic where instead of proposing in The Producers, Niles tells CC the play was for her ? Thank you and I love your writing!!

I absolutely still do these, Anon - I have no idea how long you have been waiting now and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long! I have quite a backlog to get through, with full-time work and general adult life (as well as some executive dysfunction), but this one is all ready to go. I really hope you enjoy it, and I will get on the next one on the list as soon as possible (it may happen quicker, considering we’re on lockdown for at least another two weeks, but we shall see how these things go) ❤️

@missbabcocks1 @holomoriarty

“You finally pulled off something bigger than your shorts!”

The zinger, alongside the accompanying gleeful laughter – asexpected as this package would normally have been – utterly blindsided Niles,given that Miss Babcock had only just told him how impressed she was. Impressed.She’d actually used the word “impressed”, to talk about this entire play thathe’d produced! The play that now this entire room full of people werecelebrating, at an afterparty he’d never before imagined could exist.

It had been like music, hearing the words from her lips, rubyred and curved into a smile that looked far softer and friendlier than normal…

He should have known she was setting him up. Why wouldn’tshe be? Since when did they ever do anything that wouldn’t somehow lead to the (atleast) momentary downfall of the other? It was all they ever did.

And his only hope of salvation at that moment was to thinkup a snappy retort that he could fire back at the back of her golden head,where she’d crushingly turned away.

But even though words and phrases and colourful insults of allshades and hues danced through his head, urging him to continue the wargames, everysingle one of them died the moment he attempted to let them fall onto histongue.

It was useless. The entire idea of having her as his enemy hadno meaning to it.

What was the actual point, in letting it go on? In allowingthe cycle that ran a far-too-thin line between hurt and fun to just…run theirlives? Would it go on forever, him never admitting how he felt and neverhearing what she really felt, either, whatever that was? As terrifying as itwas to think that they might be nothing otherwise, this all currently felt likea twisted Purgatory; one where the stranded soul could experience both Heavenand Hell in equal, random measure.

There was only one thing he could do. Only one, if he wantedto take a shot at reaching paradise.

Even if he fell on the way, at least he would have tried.

And, after a moment in which he had gathered his courage andhad dumped a few phrases from his mind that would either scare her (“Marry me”;who wanted to immediately be asked that?) or come across as peculiar (“I pulledthem off for you”; what was that even supposed to mean?!), he finally knew whathe had to say.

“And it was all done for you.”

He wondered, for a moment, if she hadn’t heard him. If hewas about to have another moment like he’d had in the kitchen, where he hadbeen able to swiftly back out the second he’d realised it had been a bad idea.

But she turned, eyes wider than before and lips slightlyparted, as though she were holding herself back from simply letting her jawdrop.

“What did you just say?”

Her tone told him she wasn’t asking because she hadn’theard. She was asking precisely because she had heard. She’d heard, and shecouldn’t believe any of it.

Niles, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot and hastily tellingevery panicked thought in his mind that he wasn’t about to turn and run away.

There was no point in backing out now. No chance to, either.

He pulled another breath into his lungs, making it deep. Hehad a feeling that it could be one of his last, anyway, so he might as wellmake it a good one.

“I…I said that this show was…made for you,” he explained,finding it a gargantuan effort simply to not swallow his own tongue in theprocess. “I produced it for you. As a…as a token…of my affection…”

He trailed off as Miss Babcock took a step in his direction.But it wasn’t a ‘happy’ step, or even a surprised one (though she’d have everyright to be surprised, if she was feeling it underneath the apparent anger); itwas more the sort of march forward one might expect of an army captain whohad just heard a war prisoner speaking out of turn. The sort of step that commanded,while ordering an explanation the person most likely would no longer know howto give.

And it made Niles suddenly very aware of the fact that he’djust told this to her in a room full of other people, both friends andstrangers, all of whom had already been to see a show that evening. As thebutler wasn’t keen on the idea of them seeing another one, he directed his gazeall around them, indicating the fact that they weren’t alone and any sort ofscene made would have witnesses.

“Should we perhaps…go somewhere else to talk? I know thatthis must be-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Miss Babcock hadalready gotten close enough to reach out and grab his wrist, dragging him outof the room.

“You’re damn right we’re going somewhere else to talk!”

……………………………………………………………………………………….

The journey she took him on through the building seemed to goon forever, neither one of them speaking a word until Miss Babcock finallysettled on a small room which appeared to be used to store props and a few racksof costumes. Again, it wasn’t exactly the stunning Hollywood setting hiswildest fantasies conjured up in the dead of night, but this was reality.

He’d be a fool to really think they’d go to some privateterrace overlooking the city, where all the feelings would come out as themusic rose to a great crescendo, whereupon they’d immediately fall into eachothers’ arms.

He was, in truth, lucky that she hadn’t simply laughed athim before walking away, back at the party.

On the other hand, the look on her face as she closed thedoor behind them, standing between him and the only available exit, made himthink that there were still far more fortunate people out there than he was.

“Alright, Butler Boy, you’d better start going against yourbetter drinks-pouring instincts and spill!”

On any other day, and in any other place at any other time, Nilesmight have considered turning that demand into a zinger. But as thingscurrently stood, he couldn’t even work up the nerve to think of one, let alonesay it out loud.

All he had was what he had worked up all this courage totell her.

With no idea of where to begin, if he was honest. There wasso much that he wanted – had – to get out, that it all wanted to come rushingout at once! But that wouldn’t work; it would just get all jumbled up andconfuse Miss Babcock at best, or make her angrier than she already was, atworst.

Maybe it was best if she decided what he started with? Thatway he could focus on one thing at once…

“Where would you like me to start?”

The question came out much meeker and softer than he’dwanted it to be, and that want quickly transferred to the idea of kickinghimself. He didn’t exactly sound like James Bond, this way. More like the guywho never made it through basic spy training because he cried whenever the timecame for interrogation practice.

If he could just be calm and rational about it all, it mightnot be so difficult.

Not that the producer made it easy, simply by being there infront of him. This was different from his many awkward-but-at-least-practicedattempts at telling her, done in front of the mirror at the mansion. He didn’thave anybody glaring at him, for a start.

Further emphasising the point, Miss Babcock also folded herarms, “I don’t know, maybe on that word you used – you know the one; affection.”

Niles silently held his breath before even trying torespond.

“What about it?”

“Where the hell did it come from, perhaps?! Just to startoff with,” she shouted in return, sounding equal parts bewildered and enraged. “Andthen maybe why you thought you could just say it like that?!”

“I didn’t think I could just say it like that!” he foundhimself arguing in return, sadness and fear giving way to his chest starting tocave in. “I…I had to get it out before I lost my nerve.”

““Lost your nerve”?” Miss Babcock echoed, scoffing at thesame time. She then folded her arms. “That makes it sound like this wasn’t somesort of practical joke on your part!”

Niles’ jaw dropped of its own accord, words tumbling outbefore he could stop to think rationally, “Why on Earth would you believe thatit was a practical joke…?!”

“Isn’t everything else you do to me a prank, or a practicaljoke of some kind?!” the producer snapped. “Why would this be any different?”

The butler let his mouth close again. His mind was warringover whether he could scarcely believe what he’d heard, or if he was justshocked and upset because he knew that she was right. He supposed it was amixture of both, along with the realisation that that really was what was goingon – if they both thought it, separately, without any input from the other, howcould it not be true?

There had barely been an interaction between them whichhadn’t started with some sort of practical joke, from one side or the other. Andhe had started it all. In his foolish – and perhaps insane – attempts to benoticed by someone who would otherwise never have much of a reason to even lookat him for more than a few seconds, he had started their rivalry.

Miss Babcock had simply retaliated; given back as good asshe’d gotten.

She must’ve mistaken his horrified silence for an admissionof guilt in the present moment because she continued. Only this time, shesounded…almost resigned. As if she believed the whole evening had been leadingup to this very second, and she was upset that she hadn’t seen or understoodthat fact before now.

Niles didn’t know why that would be the case. It was justhow she appeared.

The producer leaned on the nearest prop crate, arms stillfolded and now looking at him with more than a mild degree of expectation, aswell as annoyance.

“So come on and own up; what was the punchline in this latestand greatest trick of yours? Or did I spoil the whole thing, by not letting usbe in a room full of people who could hear it?”

The butler silently swallowed before he answered. This wastruly it; there was no going back from this moment on.

“There is no punchline.”

Miss Babcock scoffed again, rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, Niles, of course there’s a punchline!” shecried out in disbelief. “That’s like saying that there’s no-”

“There is no punchline, Miss Babcock!” Niles was moreforceful in his insistence, this time. It was as though something in him hadsnapped, at last – as though it had gotten weary or sick of backing down, ornever even speaking up in the first place. “It wasn’t a joke. I produced thatplay for you, as a token of my affection.”

“What the hell do you mean, “affection”?!” she shouted back.

That was more than enough to open the floodgates.

Scratch that, actually; opening the floodgates might implythat they could be closed again and something could still be held back. Thiswas more like someone had taken a giant wrecking ball to the wall of the dam.

“How can I put that word any more simply than you alreadyhave it?! Affection! Caring! Fondness! I am in love with you, you stupidwitch!”

For an instant – a point suspended in time which might’vebeen minutes, or just mere seconds – Miss Babcock looked amazed. Her eyes wentwide with shock, but no horror, and she appeared struck by the notion that hehad opened up beyond all measure. She actually looked quite a bit like she hadin each of Niles’ fantasies, just before the point where she would quietly ask“Really?”, before he’d say yes and they’d embrace in whatever fanciful or over-the-toplocation he’d picked for his mind’s outing that particular evening.

But, as he’d noted when they’d gone in, this was real life,taking place in an unimportant prop closet that didn’t even have so much as awindow to let in light, let alone provide Oscar-worthy cinematography and mise-en-scène.

And the instant ended as quickly as it had begun, when theproducer seemed to shake herself out of it and spring right back into anger.

“Oh, baloney! Since when have you ever displayed one iota ofinterest in me that could’ve come across as being in love?!”

Whatever had snapped in the butler before, could only havesnapped partially. He knew this because he felt the rest of it go and his ownanger – built up over years of frustration, pain and sorrow – flared to life.

“Whenever would you have let me?! Would an ordinary servantwho barely uttered a word and whom you would only see when they brought you teaor took your coat ever have stood a chance?” he took a step forward, letting gocompletely as the feelings took over. He jabbed the air in between them,pointing at her accusingly. “Be completely honest with both me and yourself,just this once, and tell me; would you have even seen me as a person if Ihadn’t gone further?”

There would almost have been another silence, had he notsworn he could hear the resounding slap to Miss Babcock’s face that his wordshad just produced. Even if she was trying to hold it together, he could tellthat the hit had landed – he saw a light dim in her eyes, that he had never,ever seen get even slightly dull before. Even in their worst moments, thosesapphires had never been anything less than bright, whether they were sparklingwith delight or burning with fire.

The guilt started in his throat and burrowed downwards,hollowing him out into the pit of his stomach. It was more than enough to makehim duck his head away in shame.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he bit the insideof his lip, every awful feeling word churning up his insides. “Just as Ishouldn’t have said or done a lot of things. I felt as though I had no choice;I could either stay an active part of your day-to-day life, albeit one that stuckin your craw, or I could just…blend into the furniture, like all the otherservants your family has ever known.”

He found himself leaning on his own crate and stared a holeinto the floor, the weight of everything coming crashing down on him, from thenotion of his own worthlessness in life to the knowledge that he’d been a foolto even try and attempt this.

“I suppose this play was just yet another desperate butfailed attempt at being more.”

“Desperate and failed”, indeed. The two words summed him upperfectly. He was nothing more than a stupid butler, who’d done too much damagein a place where he just simply wasn’t wanted. And even if he had had a chance,how good would those chances have been against someone else’s? That slimpossibility that she might look in his direction was nothing, compared to whatwould happen if some rich, handsome, charming fellow passed her way.

He couldn’t even begin to hold a candle to what she couldget. Or what she deserved. The chance was nothing, and so was he.

There wasn’t anything else to it, then. He had to leave – he’dapologise for even bringing this entire business up, promise to never let it affecthis work or hers (there would be no more pranks, to start with) and then hewould go. As he had no way of obtaining a new job, he would simply stay out ofher way at the mansion, as best he could. The entire afterparty was over forhim, too, so he had no qualms about leaving it. He wasn’t in much of acelebratory mood.

He was about to start with the first part by getting up fromhis temporary perch, when Miss Babcock’s voice cut through the still, slightlystale air.

“You’re right.”

He knew he was; that was why he felt so terrible. But hecouldn’t help being curious about which bit in particular she wanted to bringup and discuss.

“…About which part?”

He never expected the answer he got.

“All of it. All the stuff to do with me, anyway,” she mumbled,before shifting in chosen seat to apparently get more comfortable. “Ever sinceI was a little girl, my family always taught me how to act around servants.“They’re there to give you what you need, you don’t have to thank them!”, “It’stheir job to look after us, we don’t mix with them for pleasure!”, “Stoptalking to them so much, they’re not your friends!”…but I couldn’t help talkingto you. As much as you’ve always been a pain in my ass, I’ve never been able tohelp stopping whatever the hell I’m doing and talking to you. Paying attentionto you. My mother would probably say it was you “stepping out of line” that haddone it, but you know what?”

Niles had been slowly looking up even as she’d spoken, but itwas obvious that she had his full attention by the time she got to thatquestion. The pit in his stomach seemed to have – at least temporarily – filleditself. He didn’t dare call it hope, even if that was what it was.

He had to wait, and find out what Miss Babcock said nextfirst.

Her words came out like she felt liberated.

“I…I don’t really think I care. All those times that we’vehad – the fun ones, especially, like your friend’s wedding, or the BroadwayGuild Awards…they didn’t feel bad or wrong. My mother would’ve called themthat, but they weren’t. I liked doing those things with you, and I don’t feelembarrassed about them, even though God knows just saying it out loud iskilling me, right now…!”

It was her turn to look away, towards the floor. Even in thelower light of the storage room, Niles thought he could see a tinge of pink inher cheeks.

The not-hope feeling in his stomach faltered betweenstrengthening and shattering. Was she really blushing? She couldn’t be, couldshe? C.C. Babcock, Ice Queen of New York City and the Bitch of Broadway, wouldnever dream of blushing! Especially not over all the times she’d spent withhim!

But…if that wasn’t the case, then what else could she bedoing?

Did he have to test the waters and find out? Some might saythey were shark infested…

But how could he leave it all where it was, either? He’dcome so far, with so much courage plucked up that if it had been feathers froma bird, it would’ve been bald and ready to be stuffed for Thanksgiving by now.

He’d done all of this – nearly bankrupted their boss, gottenone of his closest friends into trouble with her husband and somehow pulled offa spectacular Broadway show – simply to tell her how he felt. Could he reallylive with himself if he let it all go to waste, because of a moment’shesitation at the last second?

Niles honestly didn’t think that he could.

So, he did what he might have imagined unthinkable, at onepoint in their relationship. He got up from where he was sat and walked overto sit down on the crate next to her. She looked at him the entire way over,and she didn’t stop even when he was sat down, barely half a foot of space betweenthem.

“I enjoyed those days, too, very much,” he said. “I’vealways wanted more of them…”

“Yeah. Me too,” she replied quietly, biting theinside of her lip as though deciding whether or not to say anything else. Then,she made up her mind. “To be honest, those times have been some of the bestI’ve ever had. Better than anything I could ever even dream of with…”

Her eyes dropped back to the floor again, clearly even moreembarrassed than only a few seconds ago, when she’d told him that she’d likedspending time with him.

It didn’t take a genius to work out which name would’vefilled the trailed-off silence.

Mr. Sheffield. She was talking about Mr. Sheffield…!

And…and she was saying that all the times they’d spenttogether – the nights out, the dancing, drinking, having fun – all meant moreto her than…than anything she’d ever imagined in her head!

He, the real-life butler Niles, had somehow managed to beatout the idealised version of Maxwell Sheffield. The one person he never thoughthe’d ever be able to compete with, in looks, or charm, or money, and yet he hadcome out on top. And not even some fantasy version, where he could hope to holda candle to their employer – just…regular old him!

It all sounded like a complete and utter dream come true;the kind that was normally heartbreaking in reality because you knew it neverwould, and yet here he was, living it out!

He even thought that he could feel the not-hope changing itsname.

“You…you really do mean that?” he asked, in awe as much ashe was in disbelief.

Miss Babcock looked at him briefly from the corner of her eye,then nodded, “Guess I finally figured I’ve been getting my priorities allscrewed up. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s ever happened.”

The butler frowned, his previous worries now turning to thefact that she was beating herself up over what she’d felt was right before.Hearing what her life had been like, when she was young and was being strongly influencedby her mother, somehow it all made sense that she would look for a rich man. Anyrich man, as long as he could prove his wealth and his connections. Mr. Sheffield had simply been the perfect candidate for a long checklist that theproducer had been given to carry around her whole life, whether she cared aboutwhat was on the list or not.

She’d probably convinced herself that she did care, simplyto make it easier. Not that it had turned out easier, but that was anothermatter entirely.

He let his hand slide along the prop crate, so it was closerto hers, “There’s no reason for you to be harsh with yourself over this.”

Miss Babcock sighed, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to make me feel better about it, Niles. I’mthe one who got it all wrong,” she said, shame permeating her tone. “Worst partis, I wouldn’t have even thought about it, if it weren’t for…all that stuffthat happened, back at Hanukkah…”

Niles winced minutely even at the mere thought of thatnight. The hours had stretched out for him in a way he’d never imaginedpossible, and the terror of it possibly turning into the worst night of hislife had hung over him like a curse. It was a curse that hadn’t been brokenuntil their nearly-lost loved ones had all piled in through the door, cold,hungry and exhausted, but mercifully alive.

Between the two of them, there had been a sort of unspokentruce that night. But even in a time when they probably could have spokenfreely, they had almost deliberately held back. They probably thought they wereprotecting themselves – protecting the game they had going on.

Now wasn’t the time for holding back, though. And the gamewasn’t worth protecting in that sense anymore, anyway.

“What did you think, that night?” he asked quietly.

“I was…scared. Well, more like terrified, actually,” sheadmitted, sounding like the words had been aching to come out of her mouth eversince she’d had the feeling. “I thought I was going to freeze to death in theback of that car. I gave it my best shot to act like everything was just fine –that everything was normal and okay. But the moment Maxwell and the Little One gottalking about what would happen if the car wasn’t found, it made me think.Hard. And don’t you dare say that’s a dangerous occupation for me.”

Niles shook his head, “I wasn’t going to.”

Miss Babcock looked uncomfortable for a moment, shufflingand shifting on the spot.

“Sorry; force of habit, I guess,” she said, beforecontinuing her explanation. “It…it made me think, and it made me realise that Iwasn’t thinking about…anybody in the car.”

Again, that was another blatant reference to their employer,quickly followed by her turning her eyes up and truly meeting his gaze for thefirst time in this conversation.

“But I was thinking about what I could be losing.”

It was obvious what she meant, even without her actuallysaying it. The words needed to tell him were probably too monumental, toosignificant and weighted with meaning in her mind to get out right then andthere. She needed time to process them, and he realised now that he understoodthat. He’d had far too long to mull over his own thoughts and feelings, but herswere only just starting to dawn in her conscious mind.

He wasn’t going to overwhelm her any more than she alreadyhad been by saying more than he needed to. He’d use her language – theirlanguage, perhaps? – and take it slowly.

“That was how I felt, that night. It accidentally slippedout, while we were on the phone to the police, looking for you all,” he toldher. “I covered my tracks, of course, but there was no coming back from it forme.”

He thought he heard the producer make a noise in the back ofher throat, but she gave no other reply. Instead, silence overtook the littleroom again.

Before it could drag on too long, the butler spoke up again,the last of his thoughts coming together in a way that made coherent sense, foronce.

“Maybe this play – for me, in some ways – wasn’t just about stayingnoticed. It took it further than that. Perhaps…perhaps I was worried about whatI could lose, too,” he said. “We’ve been going at this a long time, withoutreally talking or trying anything else. I knew that eventually, it would haveto end. You would find someone, like Chandler or…or Colin. Only they’d be evenbetter, this time, and all my chances, however slight, would’ve been used up. Andwe’ve already lost enough before now…”

His confession made him wonder if he’d tipped the scales toofar in the opposite direction, and he shut himself up as he waited for herreply.

Not for the first time that night, what he heard in returnwasn’t what he’d expected.

“We haven’t lost anything tonight.”

That made him look directly at her, “We haven’t…?”

“I don’t think so,” she turned herself – her entire bodythis time – so that she was facing him more directly, her leg leaning on theedge of the crate. “I, uh…I actually think it might be nice, to try somethingnew. To stop getting hung up on stuff that isn’t right, and going around incircles because of it. If we try to move forward, maybe we’ll reach a point wherewe both end up winning.”

Niles didn’t know if time had slowed so much that it feltlike his heart had stopped, or whether it had just exploded in a sort of silentfirework that burst in the feeling equivalents of bright reds and pinks, turningto vibrant greens and yellows, before sparkling away in glitters of gold.

His not moving (which came from shock and awe, nothing else)clearly sent off the wrong signal to Miss Babcock, because she cleared herthroat, looking awkward and embarrassed.

“If you still want to, obviously.”

That was when his hand finally dared to hold hers, whichsent her gaze straight back to his.

The butler’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I neverstopped wanting to.”

He didn’t know if he had leaned in first, or whether she wasalready there when his lips met hers. He didn’t particularly care, either. Allthat mattered was the feeling of her in his arms, which made their way aroundher lower back, as hers pulled him in for the kiss to deepen. He felt her arms wraparound his neck, and she moaned into his mouth as she let his tongue start toexplore, hers leaving him groaning as she started her own discoveries.

But it was only a start. They had to pull away for air far soonerthan either would have liked, but they stayed with their arms around oneanother, and it wasn’t long before Niles felt ready to go back in for anotherkiss.

Miss Babcock stopped him, however, teasingly placing afinger on his lips.

“We’re gonna have to get back in there sooner or later,Scrub Brush,” she said, her voice low and her eyes dark. “After-afterpartieshave to wait.”

Niles tried not to deflate too much; he knew she was right,after all. They had a whole room full of people who would have noticed thatthey hadn’t come back in by now. And even if most of them weren’t concerned forone reason or another, he could very easily imagine Fran coming back there tolook for them (read: to find out if her plan had worked just as she’d wanted).And the things he had in mind were the last thing he ever wanted her to see.

But he couldn’t help taking a particularly interested note atthe idea of the producer saying their “after-afterparty” simply had to wait. Forhow long? Did she want to test the waters more before they made the leap? He’dwait for as long as she wanted, obviously, but he also wanted to ensure thatthey were completely on the same page.

They’d been reading the same information in such different waysfor too long, now.

He kissed her fingertip, before pulling away to speak.

“For anything in particular?” he asked, taking her hand andkissing the palm.

“To see how the rest of the night goes,” she answered,getting up and pulling him to his feet playfully as she did. “If it turns out asgood as the play was, you might want to stick around.”

Niles’ eyebrow quirked, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

“And if it’s duller than dishwater?”

Miss Babcock started to grin in return, and she looped herarm in his to lead him out before she gave any sort of reply.

“Then we already know there’s an empty storage closet backhere, don’t we?”

#anon asks #the nanny #niles and cc #niles the butler #cc babcock #otp: butler bitch #otp: always been bitter together

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