#Reddit isn’t a hobby

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I think I’ve been horribly burned out for the past year ahaha

[smalltestaccount]

If you’re curious I stopped posting because people were being nasty to me and other Redditors on some posts because I was apart of the Reddit migration and I was not interested in an environment with those people. I have not gone back to Reddit since the blackout if you were wondering. I stayed off most social media.

The amount of attention my blog got from my posts about the Reddit migration caused a lot of growth that I was trying to maintain, and the possibility of the graphs trending down was a huge distraction and stressed me out, so I decided just to rip off the bandage and stop posting for a bit so I could let myself stop worrying about it. I know people who have been using tumblr for a long time will say that tumblr isn’t about fame or attention or whatever and that I’m missing the point, but in the end this is still social media. If I did keep posting I could get more notes but I don’t really want that, My blog is full of memes, most of which I did not make. I don’t want my internet presence about just curating other people memes or mimicking an internet community. I have plenty of hobbies that I much post about that are not nearly as popular as gay memes, and trying to make those compete with viral memes won’t work. I am going to start posting again now that people are forgetting about the Reddit blackout and stick to just talking about my hobbies and sometimes memes that I make myself.

In short, less memes, more computer graphics, game design, woodworking, and printing, less memes. Sorry if you only wanted the memes and not some autistic infodumping.

[foolishlovers]

SOCIAL MEDIA AUs: Below you'll find a list of Good Omens fics that contain elements of social media such as Instagram, Youtube & Co.

You can request more fic recs here.

twitter cryptids by doctormissy (T, 36k)

Crowley's latest brilliant idea involves ranting about his undying love tiny crush on Aziraphale on Twitter instead of actually dealing with his feelings now that the world didn't end. Because he will never find out, right? Right?

Press L in the Chat (for Love) by Djapchan, Phoenix_Soar (E, 29k)

Bickering fan-content creators Aziraphale and Crowley only have three things in common — they are both avid fans of a new revolutionary TV series about pirates, they are popular for their fantastic fanfiction and fanart… and they are members of the same discord server. Neither of them likes the other, but across the chaotic virtual world of a discord chatroom, who knows what can happen when these two unlikely fans are paired up for an exciting collaboration? Us. We know ;) Discord Server AU — a collaboration between Phoenix_Soar (fic) and Djapchan (multivoice podfic organization & editing) for Pod-Together 2022

Angelic Whispers by AppleSeeds (T, 20k)

Crowley runs a very popular ASMR YouTube channel, but is considering applying for a job at a real life ASMR spa. He books an appointment as a client to try out the experience for himself, but becomes completely flustered when he meets the ridiculously gorgeous ASMR therapist, Aziraphale, who will be spending the next hour giving him unrelenting personal attention.

No Picture Can Express by nutmeag83 (T, 12k)

Ezra Fell prefers books (and discretely watching the lovely florist down the street) to social media, but takes up the hobby at Madame Tracy's urging. Anthony Crowley has been pining after his neighbor for ages, happy to keep his distance until Ezra asks him to tutor him in using Instagram. They find they have more in common than just having shops on the same block in Soho.

your smile speaks books to me by laiqualaurelote (T, 5k)

Aziraphale's bookshop becomes accidentally famous on Instagram, to his great distress. Since Crowley invented Instagram, it's also his problem.

it's a new craze by attheborder (T, 5k)

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.   *** Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast. But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (M, 4k)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction. Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other. (A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

London Book Shop Recommendations? by nothankyoudear (G, 3k)

A.Z. Fell and Co. is recommended as a local London bookshop on a Reddit post. Chaos ensues when someone actually takes the recommendation and goes there, only to find that: 1. They don't get to buy books 2. The gentle bookshop owner apparently owns a giant python And 3. The bookshop owner is 100% in love with his best friend with the sunglasses OR Ineffable Husbands told through Reddit posts.

Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils by MostWeakHamlets (G, 3k)

Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse. _ “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping. Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon. Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to. It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse.

Crowley Invented Youtube Recommended (Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils remix) by flibbertygigget (T, 1.9k)

After Aziraphale's video on crêpes makes it into Youtube recommendations through a little demonic intervention, he quickly goes viral. Cue college students just trying to make it work, a bunch of young queers who see A.Z. Fell and his husband Anthony as "goals," and quite a few comments from one Newton Pulsifer.

Get Connected by AgentStannerShipper (G, 1k)

Crowley signs Aziraphale up for social media. Even if it's a slightly outdated one.

[lingerasthesmokeoncedid]

pairing: pattinson!batman x reader

summary: When her thread on r/GothamUnsolved (claiming that Bruce Wayne is the Batman) goes viral, an amateur sleuth finds herself at odds with both the man - and the Dark Knight.

wc: 10k+

genre: a romantic comedy between two deeply strange weirdos

warnings: canon-typical violence, bruce wayne is bad at google

“After the events of the Gotham Flood, the Batman has become something of a folk hero around the streets of our “fair” city. But what if I told you that the Batman isn’t all he seems? What if I told you that the caped crusader, the man who solved the Riddler and the masked menace of Gotham’s evil-doers isn’t just some guy? What if I told you…he’s Bruce Wayne?” -Excerpt from “Bruce Wayne is The Batman (NOT CLICKBAIT),” a forty-six part reddit thread by TheRealGothamGirl

Three years ago, after devouring a True Crime podcast about the Wayne murders, a nobody barista found her way to the r/GothamUnsolved subreddit.

It wasn't much of a hobby, just a forum dedicated to amateur sleuths attempting to piece together the perpetrators of crimes the Gotham PD was unable – or unwilling – to solve themselves. Ever since, in the hours between the dead-end job she worked to one day (hopefully) put herself through law school, she poured over the subreddit and its various threads, picking apart evidence and seeking it out herself.

Six of her own investigations had led to arrests, she was proud to say. Not that anyone knew who she was. The forum was entirely anonymous, and she wanted to keep it that way. The last thing she needed was some of Gotham’s criminal element coming after her for exposing their identities or that of their accomplices – if they did, she figured they’d definitely kill her, and considering that the Gotham PD solved fewer homicides than her favorite subreddit, her killer would likely never be found. 

But every amateur sleuth like her had a white whale – that one unsolved mystery that would haunt them for the rest of her days. In her case, however, the while whale was more of a dark knight. A Kevlar bat. 

She wasn’t the first to drive themselves basically crazy over the identity of The Batman. Many on the forum had tried, only to run into dead ends or talk themselves in circles or point the finger at plainly ridiculous candidates. ( Harvey Dent? Really? ) However, she was - she believed, anyway - the first person to get it right. 

So, after months of meticulous research, a few illegal dumpster dives outside of Wayne Enterprises, a few less-than-accidental run-ins with muggers so she could lure the Batman for closer inspection, and some incredible luck, she published her findings: a forty-six part reddit thread detailing most of her evidence, enough evidence that a jury of Bruce Wayne’s peers would have no choice to convict him, enough evidence to prove that the crown prince of Gotham was really its caped crusader, enough evidence to prove to anyone with half a brain that Bruce Wayne was unbelievably, irrevocably, incontrovertibly –

“Not the Batman. No. Definitely not.” 

All day, behind the counter of the shitty print shop where she scanned other people’s theses and endlessly shuffled corporate reports into bracketed binders, she’d had to listen and smile and push highlights while customer after customer snickered at the ridiculous theory that had gone viral last night – the “insane” “conspiracy theory” that Bruce Wayne was The Batman. Each of them totally unaware that they were talking to the woman who’d spent months of her life crafting it.  

All of that, she could have taken. But when the crackling television on the wall played a newscast with brooding Bruce Wayne snickering at the idea – staring into the camera as he said it, as if he were taunting her, specifically…that was the last straw. 

“I don’t know, Mr. Wayne, this online poster seems to have really gotten people talking. Are you sure you’re not The Batman?”

“Miss Vale, how crazy would I have to be to run around Gotham City dressed as a bat?”

Vicki Vale, GCN's resident Bruce Wayne stalker, accepted this with a giggle, allowing Bruce Wayne to disappear into his city offices so she might sum up her ambush interview for the folks at home. But the woman behind the desk at the print shop bit the inside of her cheek. 

What Bruce Wayne had just said? It wasn’t a denial. And she did think he was crazy enough to run around the city as a bat. 

In fact, she knew he was. 

Pinned Comment from Mod_GothamUnsolved: “Hey, Front Page! Due to an increase in inflammatory comments and threats against OP for this post, we are locking down our comments - approved users only for now. Sorry! Don’t be dicks next time! Keep an eye on our subreddit for more Bats-related content, though. OP claims to have more information forthcoming.”

That night when her shift was over, she tucked her keys between her knuckles, carried her umbrella in her free hand, and returned by the better-lit streets – basic operating procedure for anyone who wanted to live to see another day in Gotham – to the crappy loft in the crappier side of town where she lived. Every step was agitated agony. She knew it wasn’t literally true, but it felt as if everyone who laughed, everyone who smiled, everyone who glanced down at their phone, was making fun of her theory. 

But it wasn’t a theory. Bruce Wayne was Batman. He was. She just had to prove it–

When she slammed the door of apartment 1319B open, her blood ran cold. 

Oh, she was going to prove it alright. 

Because there, rifling through one of her cabinets as if it were his own home, was the short, gruff, stocky, suited man she’d seen in more than a dozen photographs of Bruce Wayne and his associates. 

“Oh. Mr. Pennyworth. Fancy seeing you here…” She closed the door behind her, rolling her eyes around the room to highlight just how supremely fucked up it was for him to be here. “...in my apartment.” 

For his part, Mr. Pennyworth did not seem fazed by the strangeness of his presence there.

“Hello there,” he hummed, perfectly pleasant as he finally closed a cupboard and crossed to face her in the corner of the room that served as what could generously be called kitchenette.  “I’m afraid we haven’t been formally introduced.” 

“No,” she said, “but I bet you already know who I am. Don’t you?”

No denial. Instead, he slid a file across the grotty, coffee-stained countertop that served as her cook surface, her mail table, her desk, and her dining room. With one hesitant hand, she flicked it open to find exactly what she’d expected: pages and pages of print outs. Not just of her online post history, but of everything else.  She couldn’t help but smile. No, beam . This was confirmation. She had found The Batman. And The Batman had sent his little minion to take her off of their trail. Only a truly threatened man would uncover the identity behind her online handle, break into her home, and present her with what looked like a blackmail folder. It basically screamed, “I’m guilty. I'm the Batman.” 

“You’ve caused a bit of trouble for my boss,” Mr. Pennyworth informed her. 

“And he’s caused a lot of trouble for the city.” 

The man sniffed. “Unless you call causing a shortage of black clothing and Radiohead records trouble , we’ll have to agree to disagree on that point, Miss.” 

Her lip twitched. The butler had jokes. That delighted her in a way she hadn’t expected. Still, she played dumb. “I can’t imagine what Bruce Wayne’s personal fixer would want with little old me.” 

“This is all very embarrassing for Mr. Wayne, as I’m sure you can understand. Being associated with some kook–”

“Isn’t it more embarrassing to actually be that kook?” She mused. “Maybe if he didn’t want to be associated, he would, you know, stop being Batman?”

The slightest flash of annoyance crossed Mr. Pennyworth’s face. “–But he understands that you have a keen investigative mind and admires your tenacity. Even if it’s turned up the wrong result. He thinks he can help with that.”

And here it was. The only logical conclusion of Bruce Wayne discovering her identity. He was going to bribe her. Well, he could have her killed, but that would be so sloppy. These rich guys. Always the same. “Oh, yeah?”

“The Wayne Foundation would like to make a donation to your education,” Mr. Pennyworth said, passing another envelope across the desk, this time, sealed and check-sized. “A fully funded scholarship to Gotham University’s law program. You could train your mind. Put that tenacity to good use. Make the world a better place.”

“And stop pursuing this Bruce Wayne as Batman thing all together, I guess?”

“Well, I imagine you won’t have time,” he said, the implication clear. Her silence in exchange for this money, for her future. “What with all of that coursework you’ll be doing.” 

She picked up the check, toying with its weight in her hand. How strange that something so small could have such power to change her life. A deep breath, then: “I appreciate this. I hope you tell Mr. Wayne that.” 

“I will–”

With three easy gestures, she ripped the check into pieces and resigned them to the nearby trash can. “And you can also tell him that the next time he wants to intimidate me, he should put on his little costume and do it himself.” 

UPDATED TO ADD: Today, I had a visit from Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Bruce Wayne’s personal fixer (mentioned in sections 1, 2, 4, 7-45 of my investigation). He very politely invited me to cease my investigation into Bruce Wayne. And told me that if I did, the Wayne Foundation would happily pay for me to finally go to law school, something I’ve wanted to do but never have been able to afford. For anyone who still doubts my theory, I think Mr. Pennyworth pretty much proved it. Why would Bruce Wayne need to buy me off if what I said wasn’t true?  Don’t believe me? See the security camera stills below - taken inside of my apartment. That’s Alfred Pennyworth, going through my cabinets. Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Pennyworth, but I’m here for the truth. Bruce Wayne’s money may be able to buy a lot of things in this town, but it’s not going to buy my silence."- Excerpt from “Bruce Wayne is The Batman (NOT CLICKBAIT),” a forty-seven part reddit thread by TheRealGothamGirl

Every Tuesday, on her only day off, she had a little ritual. First, she went to the Gotham Public Library to sort through the public records and pick up a new smutty romance book to read before bedtime over the next week. Then, she went to the courthouse and police station to pull any reports she might have needed for her research. And finally, she would go to the deli behind the police station, order the cheapest sandwich on the menu (usually given at a discount, as she requested day-old bread instead of fresh), and sit on her favorite park bench to enjoy her paperwork, her sandwich, and - on rare days like these - the sunshine. 

However, on her walk to the bench today, a long, black coat wearing a tall, imposing man knocked her off of her path when their bodies accidentally collided. As she stumbled back from the force of him, her papers flying everywhere and her sandwich bag tumbling into the nearby grass, a brittle, soft voice reached her ears: 

“Excuse me, miss–”

Familiar. She’d heard that voice before. 

Crouched down to grab her papers, she looked up to see that the voice belonged to just the man she’d suspected – or feared. 

It was Bruce Wayne. In the flesh. Without his armor or his mask. And when their eyes met, he smiled at her. Not a big smile, not anything he might have flashed in the papers, but something softer. Almost genuine. Almost good enough to awaken a whole sea of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. 

“Oh,” he said, wincing his greeting. A little shy. A little awkward. “Hello. I'm sorry about that. Here. Can I...?” 

He crouched down to help her. For a moment, she lost her breath and every word she’d ever learned. There was nothing but him. She’d been close to him before – once. But other than that fleeting exchange, one she was sure he didn’t remember, she only knew him from photographs and archival footage. In those videos, he’d always seemed…

Well, not to be rude, but a little bit like if the sickly orphan boy in a Charles Dickens novel had been cast in a 90’s grunge band’s music video. 

In person, though, so close, he was something completely different. Sure, the basics of him were still the same, but there was an intoxicating indirectness about him – as though he didn’t understand the basics of human interaction…but something about her made him want to try. 

She shook off the feeling almost as soon as it occurred to her. 

There wasn’t anything special about her. This wasn’t a chance meeting in the park. It was another attempt to con her into dropping her Batman posts. 

“That’s cute,” she muttered, attempting to pile her papers back into some semblance of order. 

Bruce Wayne offered up stray pages as though he weren’t a billionaire crouched down in the middle of a public park. “What is?”

“This isn’t some chance meeting, Bruce Wayne . You’re pretending to run into me just a few days after your bruiser broke into my apartment.”

She glanced up to check out his reaction. A muscle in his jaw tightened and he looked anywhere but her. 

“I didn’t ask him to do that. And–” 

He stopped himself short, as though he’d caught himself almost saying something he shouldn’t have. When he handed her the last of her papers, she prodded: 

“And?”

“And he didn’t break in,” Bruce mumbled. “He said the door wasn’t locked.” 

“I notice you’re not denying the fake run-in.” 

“This isn’t fake," he protested, at last. "I don’t even know you–”

Lie. How was a man with a whole-ass double life so bad at lying?

Maybe that was why he barely made it out of Wayne Manor or his offices. Maybe he was such a bad liar that if he showed his face in public too much, the whole world would see through him. She fought to fit her folders back into her bag, her sandwich quite forgotten nearby. 

“Bruce. I discovered your super-secret identity. You’re not fooling me with this whole innocent guy act.” 

Dropping the pretense of this meeting being an accident – thank God, she was glad he didn’t see fit to insult her intelligence any longer – he leaned forward, lowering his voice as though they were sharing a confidence. “I don’t have a secret identity.” 

He’d gotten closer to her than he’d probably meant, but she could tell he wasn’t going to back down until he had his answer. So, for a moment, they shared the same air, huffing out cold puffs of powdered breath onto the frigid afternoon wind. His lips – so easily identifiable by anyone with eyes as the Batman’s lips – were pink from the cold. She dragged her gaze from them, then met his. 

“Okay, then,” she said, squaring up to him. “Prove it.” 

“Prove what, that I’m not Batman?”

“Yes. And you can do that by taking me to dinner.”

404. Batman error. 

The man blinked, apparently not expecting her to ask him that question – or, more bafflingly to her, shocked that any woman would want to go on a date with him. 

“I…” A muscle twitched between his eyes. Confusion. “I’m sorry?”

She practically sang her answer, quite pleased with herself. How wonderful to play with him this way, to tease him with a challenge she knew he would never meet…to taunt herself with a date she knew she would never get. But it was fun to pretend, just for a second. “The Batman goes out every night between eleven forty-seven and and eleven fifty-two. He doesn’t disappear until sunrise. Take me to dinner. If he’s out tonight and you’re with me, that will prove that you’re not The Batman.”

It would have been so easy for Bruce Wayne to turn on his heel and abandon her. To call a full-court press assault on her character, to degrade her as a crazy conspiracy theorist and resign her silly little theory to the pages of one of those tabloids that had gotten rich off of smearing his dead parents with horrible theories of their own. 

But he didn’t. And she wondered…

She wondered if maybe he wanted to have dinner with her.  

“Eleven forty-seven is a late dinner, don’t you think?” He asked, a cooly conspiratorial glint in his eye.  

“We’ll go to a diner.” She shrugged. “I like waffles.”

“Dinner,” he repeated, confirming. His lips tipping up again in that nearly-smile of his. “I’ll pick you up at 11:45.” 

Going for her forgotten sandwich, she rolled her eyes. It was a fun game while it lasted. But she wouldn’t be falling prey to his promises. She wasn’t a fool. “Sure you will, Batman.” 

“I’m not–”

But before he could finish that protest, she disappeared around a nearby tree, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing. 

COMMENT FROM @ BALLCHUGGER 69: Batman is the greatest hero. I don’t care who he is. Leave him alone, whore. 

That night, she didn’t even bother to get dressed for a date. Didn’t even pretend it was a possibility. No, if anyone had come to pick her up from her shitbox apartment on the wrong side of the city, they would have found her sprawled on her couch in a pair of sweats and a sports bra, stealing internet from her next door neighbor so she could scroll reddit’s latest Bruce Wayne as Batman megathread and listen closely to a livestream of the Gotham PD scanner. 

Sure enough, about ten minutes after Bruce was supposed to meet her for dinner, crackle-voice cops informed their comrades that the Bat had just strung up three low-level mob figures up by the ankles from a lamppost. 

Ten minutes after that, a knock on the door drew her to it. But when she opened, there was only a small, weighty eggshell envelope waiting for her, taped just beneath the peep hole. When she opened it, a handwritten letter under Wayne Enterprises letterhead informed her that Bruce regretted his absence, but had been called away on an urgent matter. 

She smirked as she tossed the letter carelessly into the trash. She’d always known he wasn’t going to show up. The Batman was never going to ignore the city when it was in danger – even if it meant protecting his identity. 

She had to admit: she admired him for that. 

REPLY TO @ BALLCHUGGER69: I never said he wasn’t a hero. I think he is. In fact, I know he is. So we agree there. But as to the whore comment…if Batman is so heroic, I don’t think he would like you talking to ladies like that.

Sometime around midnight, she decided - for no particular reason - to go for a little walk down to Bowery. The Batman’s main territory. She’d seen him here more than once - and she wanted to see for herself that Bruce Wayne wasn’t at some high society dinner or in his Wayne Enterprises high-rise, but out there, on the streets. Doing what he did best - hunting. 

She stuck to the shadows, one hand on the pepper spray in her pocket and the other on the heavy handle of the umbrella she always carried for protection. But soon enough, she found him. Guiding a frightened woman to the safety of a police car, while her three assailants scrambled away. 

When Batman turned, his glazed eyes caught hers in the shadow. She smirked. He could run after the bad guys, or he could confront her. 

Again, he chose the noble thing. He ran after the criminals. 

Admirable. And fortuitous, as the mud from last night's rain left perfect copies of his boot prints behind. Boot prints that she meticulously photographed for later examination. 

@ CKent_DailyPlanetNews: After independently verifying recent revelations regarding Wayne Enterprise Employee Alfred Pennyworth and the reddit user who asserts that Bruce Wayne is Batman, I have agreed to cover this story for The Daily Planet. More developments to follow. 

For the next few days, after Clark Kent reached out to her anonymous account on Reddit and they set up a time to discuss her Batman finds, she went about her normal routine and tried not to think about Bruce Wayne or his dark knight counterpart. She did her job, raced home, and dove into the other outstanding amateur sleuthing cases that had been piling up during the whole Batman thing. 

But she should have known that once the Clark Kent news broke and the internet exploded over it, Bruce Wayne would not be far behind. 

One afternoon, in the print shop, she was five paragraphs into a really good sex scene in her book when a hand appeared on the desk in front of her, opening and closing into a loose fist - uncomfortable, not threatening. She glanced up to find Bruce Wayne standing there. As unbearably awkward in real life as he was confident and dangerous as Batman. 

She waited for him to speak first. When he finally did, it just came out: 

“...Hi.” 

“Hi,” she said in her best customer service voice. Trying to ignore how his unbroken stare made her want to melt into his stupid, sexy arms and act out one of those romance novel scenes she’d just been reading. The only thing that stopped her from doing so was the knowledge that she’d gotten him right where she wanted him. He was panicked. And panicked men always made mistakes. Mistakes that could lead to him outright confirming his real identity. “Can I help you?”

“Could I…” He swallowed, trying to strengthen his weak voice. “Can we talk?”

“As opposed to what we’re doing right now?”

“Alone, I mean.”

With a flourish, she rose from behind the printing desk and breezed past him to straighten the already-straightened display of staplers and graphic calculators. 

“If you’re here to ask me out, I’m sorry, but my schedule is all full. I don’t go on second dates with guys who stand me up, Mr. Batman.” 

“ Don’t call me that .” 

It was a growl, the closest she’d yet seen to The Batman flashing past his Bruce Wayne exterior. A thrill shot up and down her spine. Keep him talking . She didn’t want to let him go. She loved this dance that they were doing, this go away closer they played. “You saw Clark Kent’s tweet, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this–”

“Of course you don’t,” she mumbled. “You never even asked.” 

“--But please. Stop. The city needs Batman–” 

Clearly, he thought speaking faster and clearer and something approaching a big businessman voice was going to spook her. But she would not be deterred. She’d thought this through a million times. “And they need Bruce Wayne, too. I agree. I just wonder why they can’t have both at the same time.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” He still hadn’t asked her why she was doing this. And every time their eyes met, she waited for some flash of recognition that she now knew would never come. Even if she told him now what she meant by that little comment, he wouldn’t listen. Why waste her breath? “Nothing you’d be interested in hearing, anyway.” 

Rounding one of the shelves she stocked, he came face-to-face with her. The rack was the only barrier between them. 

“I am asking you to stop this,” he pleaded, low and gentle.  

“Or what? You’ll make me stop?”

“What do you want? What can I give you?”

Her lips tugged. Smug. “I told you, Mister Wayne. I want to go to dinner.” 

“That’s not possible.” 

“Well, then. I think we’re done here. As it happens, I have a meeting with Clark Kent later this week to talk about my findings.”

“You’ll be making a mistake.” 

“Why?”

“Because one day, if you do this, maybe you’ll need Batman, and I won’t be there.” 

That felt like a threat. It felt like a slap. He instantly recoiled, as if ashamed that he’d said it. But when he opened his mouth to no doubt apologize, she beat him to it. 

She’d caught him. The harder he tried to deny the truth, the more he kept showing his hand. “... You won’t be there? Sounds like an admission to me.”

Bruce adjusted his coat, drawing the collar up around his neck. He ignored her question and took to convincing her – which sounded more and more like he was convincing himself.  “This conversation is over. I’m not your Batman. Your ridiculous post is only going to get people hurt. No one will believe you. And you don’t have any proof, just conjecture and speculation and probably some very flimsy ‘evidence.’ Nothing can link me to The Batman. Nothing .” 

She could have laughed. She almost did. But she managed to stop it. Laughing would have given away her whole play. Adopting a fake serious tone, she nodded solemnly. “Of course. Yeah. Silly of me. You . Batman. It’s ridiculous. I’ll just go ahead and cancel my meeting with Clark Kent.” 

Something flashed in his expression. Relief? Gratitude? A tint of regret? “I…Thank you.” 

With that, he went for the door, but only made it two steps before she called him back. 

No proof, he’d said. Please. As if she would accuse the most powerful man in Gotham of being The Batman without any actual evidence. 

“Just one more thing, Bruce.” 

“Yes?”

When he turned back around, he found himself face-to-face with her phone screen, which flashed a perfect picture of Batman’s boot print, which she’d snapped during their last encounter. 

The blood rushed from Bruce’s face. She smirked. 

“What size shoe do you wear?”

COMMENT BY DENT4PREZ: Yo, GothamGirl, any more Batman updates?

REPLY BY TheRealGothamGirl: I’m working on another case right now. The world does not revolve around Batman!  

She wasn’t sure what made her hold back the boot print picture. Considering Bruce Wayne’s shoe size was a matter of public record thanks to some particularly freaky BW TikTok stans, it would have been a significant piece of evidence to add to the pile currently being combed over by dozens of amateur sleuths like herself. 

Maybe it was the slight panic she’d caught in his expression when she showed it to him. Perhaps it was the fact that if he did fully prove him without a shadow of a doubt…he’d have no reason to find her again, ending their brief flirtations. 

Maybe she didn’t want to lose him, something she knew would happen if she pushed the truth any further. 

It was selfish, she knew. To want to keep him. He belonged to the people, and so did the truth. 

But another day or two couldn’t hurt. Especially now that he seemed to hate her. 

One day, maybe you’ll need Batman and he won’t be there . 

It was those words ringing in her ears when her latest cold case investigation took her to The Narrows, one of Gotham’s worst neighborhoods. The evidence had led her here, to an abandoned warehouse where she believed someone had stashed the trophies of the murders they’d committed, so a bit of light breaking and entering was on the menu tonight. But she wasn’t worried. She’d done this a dozen times. Narrows or no, it was an abandoned warehouse. What were the odds that anyone would –

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in there?”

She was halfway out of the window when a man staring up at her from the street caught her. Damn. She was nearly homefree. 

Adrenaline kicking into action, she threw herself out of the window, careful not to jostle the bag slung across her body – the one containing the killer’s treasures. The man was on her in a second, lunging with everything he had. All of her self-defense training flooded back to her. She dodged him at first, then knocked him back with her umbrella. The next time he approached, though, he caught her on the back foot, and before she knew it, he had her pinned against the wall. 

Something sharp pierced her side. 

She screamed. 

The edges of her world went fuzzy. 

Fuck . Had he stabbed her?

The blood loss was swift. His rancid breath on her cheek turned her stomach. But with one last flurry of energy, she emptied her pepper spray into his eyes, and he scrambled out into the darkness. Probably convinced that she wasn’t a threat to him anymore anyway. After all, he’d stabbed her . 

When he abandoned their little drama, she crumbled down the wall, pinning her hands to her wound. She had to get out of there. Had to fix herself up. But she was…so tired. Down to her bones. The kind of exhaustion that made sleeping on the ground of a dark alleyway in The Narrows with a bag full of a serial killer’s treasures seem appealing. 

Shock, she realized vaguely. This was shock. She was in shock. That’s why the wound didn’t hurt. That’s why she wanted to sleep. That’s why she didn’t notice – not at first – when a cloaked figure stalked into her line of sight. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she groaned, lolling onto her side at the sight of him. 

The Batman. Of all the dark alleyways in all the world, he had to walk into hers. 

“Were you following me?” He growled, eyes darting up to the warehouse, where he instantly spotted the window she’d broken to force entry not twenty minutes ago. 

“No,” she spit, tasting blood on her teeth now. 

“Then why were you–”

“I was on another case.” She followed his line of sight as it traveled from the window down to her bag, which had sprawled open during the scuffle. With those weird shades in his mask, his expression proved unreadable, but she spotted the slightest tensing of his jaw. Ah, so she hadn’t followed him and he hadn’t followed her. They’d just both been hunting the same criminal and gotten here at the same time. “It just happened to be yours, I guess.”

It was only then that he looked at her – really looked at her, not in panic, not in rage – and noticed the red blooming behind the hands clenched at her stomach. His jaw parted this time, but he made no move to approach. 

“Leave me alone. I can–I can–You already said what you would do if you found me in trouble. And I assume you’re a man with, like, a code or whatever. It’s what I deserve. Besides,” she wheezed, indicating the police sirens that had just gone off somewhere in the vicinity. “You have bad guys to catch.” 

God , she was going to die here. She was going to die here and Batman was going to leave her to do it because he had more heroic things to do and also because she’d been threatening to expose him and also he was angry with her and–

Suddenly, he was all she could see. Kneeling at her side, arms at the ready to collect her. 

“Can I touch you?”

“I bet you say that to all the criminals,” she snarked, the blood loss finally getting to her head. 

He remained still. Stoic. He would not be touching her unless she gave her consent. Slowly, very slowly, she nodded.  “Yeah. Fine. Go ahead.” 

No sooner were the words out than he scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and walking her out of the alley. 

She tried not to think about the firm warmth of his chest or how right it felt to curl up in his arms. Tried not to think about the easy way he picked her up – as if she was nothing, rather than the generously curved woman she’d always been. 

When he lodged her in the back seat of what appeared to be what she’d pejoratively termed in her reddit post, “the Batmobile,” they were silent. He worked quickly, positioning her so he could withdraw a first aid kit and set to stitching up the wound gushing onto his smooth leather seats. She watched him with hazy vision – cataloging the precision with which he sank a needle into her ribcage and filled her with morphine, the way he cooed quietly when she hissed as he began stitching her up, the delicate care he took with picking the fabric of her clothes out of the gash in her side. 

“I could blow up your life tomorrow,” she muttered. Though whether she was speaking to the bat or the man behind the mask, she didn’t know. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You could.” 

“But you’re still doing this. Why?”

“You have your reasons for doing what you’re doing.” His hands were gentle. So gentle for a vigilante. She was struck by the urge to rip those gloves off and see if those hands were as gentle as Bruce Wayne’s had been when he’d first touched her. “I have mine.” 

“I hope I get to hear them someday,” she mumbled, teasing. “Maybe at dinner.” 

“Batman doesn’t do dinner,” he said, apparently still trying to engage in his little game of pretend. As if he hadn’t just as good as admitted who he was. As if this night didn’t change anything. 

The last thing she remembered, before she passed out from the drugs he’d given her, was the chuckle he rewarded her with when she replied, “Maybe not. But Bruce Wayne might.” 

SIGNAL MESSAGE FROM CLARK KENT: Are we still on for our meeting tomorrow? I’m flying down tomorrow morning. 

SIGNAL MESSAGE FROM ANONYMOUS: Flying? It’s like an hour drive. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of environmentalist fighting Lex Luthor, Mr. Daily Planet? 

SIGNAL MESSAGE FROM CLARK KENT: Typo. Damn autocorrect. Are we on? 

SIGNAL MESSAGE FROM ANONYMOUS: Yeah. 

SIGNAL MESSAGE FROM CLARK KENT: Make sure to bring the documents you mentioned in your posts. 

The next morning, she woke up in her apartment. The wounds were the only proof that the night before had even happened. The Batman had saved her life. And according to the police blotter, he hadn’t stopped there. He’d taken her evidence and caught that killer – and on his way out of The Narrows after that, he’d apparently had enough time to stop two muggings.

As someone without health insurance who lived in the most dangerous city in the country, she was pretty used to attending Youtube medical school. Because of that, she had no trouble cleaning out Batman’s tidy stitches and keeping the bandages clean and dry. What she did have trouble with?  Not thinking about him every time she moved. When the pain made her twitch, when the scabs begged to be scratched, with every bandage change, she couldn’t help but think about those warm, gentle hands against her skin. The easy, uncomplicated way he’d saved her. Those quiet words they’d shared in the dark. 

It made her interview with Clark Kent, conducted in a small coffee shop off the beaten path, one where neither of them would be recognized, a little awkward. Every time she breathed too deeply, she was reminded of Batman – and the potential consequences of being here with a powerful journalist, her arms full of proof that would link him to Bruce Wayne. 

“Miss–”

She shook her head as Clark fumbled with the recording app on his phone. “I think it’s better if I don’t use my name. You know it. You’ve confirmed my identity. That should be enough. Anonymous sources are still a thing, aren’t they?”

He flashed a grin. Friendly. Wholesome. Thoroughly un-Bruce-like. “Certainly. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Anonymous.” 

The Muzak in the coffee shop stretched between them as he flipped through his pages of notes. For her part, she stared blankly into the distance past the nearby window. Her hand drifted to her ribcage, pressing past her coat and her shirt and the bandage straight to her slow-healing wound. 

“What do you think will happen?” She asked, vaguely. 

Clark adjusted his glasses. “What’s that?”

“When the people know, for sure, I mean, not just my speculation or whatever, that Bruce Wayne is Batman? What do you think will happen?”

“I can't see the future or anything, but I guess he'll be arrested. He’ll have to be, if there’s ever going to be any faith in Gotham’s institutions again. If my article has anything to say about it, that’s where he’ll end up. Isn’t that what you want? For the Batman to stop terrorizing the streets?”

No. No, it wasn’t what she’d wanted at all. She’d never wanted that. Clark Kent seemed like a decent enough guy, but… no . 

Leaping to her feet, she grabbed at the briefcase of Wayne-related documents. 

“You know – I forgot – I have a work thing.” 

Nearly choking, Clark gawked at her. “But I came all the way from Metropolis.” 

“I’m sorry, I just –”

“Leave the documents, at least.” 

He bolted up from his chair, grabbing for her.  

Too fast. Inhumanly fast. 

She tried to wrench out of his grasp. “No–”

“Wait–”

With a twist, she stumbled back. Clark remained unmovable, but his head tipped suddenly, knocking his glasses clean off of his face. Giving her a perfect look at him. 

It was just a split second, but a split second was all it took for an idea to plant in the mossy soil of her mind and take immovable root. Then, when his eyes focused on her bag, it already began to sprout. 

“Sorry. You’re right,” he said, straightening, as if he’d already gotten everything he needed from her in that single look. 

Which, she suspected, he had. 

@ CKent_DailyPlanetNews: Confidential sources have withdrawn from the Bruce Wayne story. However, with the help of newly uncovered documents, I will diligently follow the truth wherever it takes me. 

After Clark tweeted about her withdrawing from the story, she went home and deleted all of her threads on the Gotham Unsolved subreddit. She’d kept the evidence in a sealed locker in her house, and the digital footprint would surely live on forever, but at least she’d done something . Once she’d closed the book on Batman, she turned her attention to other matters, other cases that needed solving, other unsolved mysteries she hoped she wouldn’t screw up as royally as she had this one. 

The Batman case was the first time she’d ever regretted solving one. She needed another win, anything to remind her that she was on the good side of this city, that she was contributing to its salvation rather than its decline. 

Which is how, on a particularly snowy Tuesday afternoon, she found herself hunched over a cup of coffee (bought in place of her usual sandwich, because it was too cold to sit out here without coffee and she couldn’t afford both) and her records on her park bench when a shadow passed over her.

Not just any shadow. Bruce Wayne’s shadow. 

“Oh. Mr. Wayne. I didn’t - I didn’t think I would -” the stammering continued a minute more before she finally slammed the folder in her lap closed and tried again: “How are you?”

“This is your spot, isn’t it?” He asked, not answering her question.

No wonder. He looked like shit. The bags under his eyes had gotten darker and more bruised. His coat engulfed him. She tried to tease some life back into him – anything to stop staring at the snowflakes currently settling on his eyelashes and melting into his lips. 

“Spying on me again?” 

He shrugged, but it worked. He smiled – just barely. Like most of his smiles. “My office is just up there." He pointed to the Wayne Enterprises building towering over the northern stretch of the park. "I see you down here sometimes. Just like I saw that the Batman threads have all been taken down. And that Clark Kent lost his source. And that someone solved the Kyminsky murder.” 

This time, it was her turn to shrug.

“I just figured it out. Batman brought the guy in. I don’t deserve any credit.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But you might deserve dinner.” 

Against her better judgment, her heart fluttered. A traitorous hummingbird trying to get free and fly straight for him. “Really?”

“Really. But at eight. Not eleven-fifty. I have a lot to show you and I can’t do it in an all-night diner.” 

Intriguing. She probably should have said no. It was undoubtedly better to keep her distance from Bruce Wayne, especially after all that had transpired between them. But he had to know she couldn’t resist a good mystery. “Where, then?”

“Wayne Manor.”

APARTMENT 1319B RECENT SEARCH HISTORY:

What to do if you have weird feelings for a vigilante?

What to do if a billionaire invites you to his house?

What to wear if a billionaire invites you to his house?

Do billionaires brick their enemies up in amontillado cellars anymore?

How to escape bricked-over amontillado cellar

What do rich people serve at dinner?

How to eat lobster without looking like a poor person

Wayne Manor was everything she’d expected. A gothic mansion set out past the edges of the city, it filled in the picture of what she believed about Bruce Wayne. It was sort of a reflection of him. Locked up, crumbling, defiantly enduring, and impossibly beautiful. 

The place was so grand that the second she stepped up on the grand marble steps, she felt underdressed. A feeling that only intensified when Mr. Pennyworth opened the door and snarked at her. 

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss. I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.” 

Behind Alfred’s tuxedo-ed back, she could hear the tinkling of fine music and the pop of a champagne bottle. They’d been originally supposed to go to a diner . How was she supposed to know that Bruce wanted her to dress formally ? She flushed. “He didn’t tell me what to wear, and wouldn't you know it? All of my gowns are at the cleaner’s.”

Alfred scoffed. “You’re–”

But the arrival of his master cut him off. Bruce Wayne stepped into view, looking like an evening star wrapped up in a ten-thousand dollar suit. He still hadn’t gotten the hang of styling his hair like a normal human being, she noticed, and there were several bruises beginning to surface just beneath his collar and at the skin near his shirt cuffs, but even so –

He was so handsome. Especially when he assessed her like he did now.  

“You’re perfect,” he said simply, finishing Alfred's sentence. 

Having handed her coat to Alfred when he waved for it, she gestured down to her jeans and flannel combination. He was in a goddamn tux and she was in jeans . “I don’t feel very perfect.” 

“You are exactly who I’ve been looking for.”

That sounds like something a murderer or Batman or a guy in love would say – dear God, please be the second one. 

“I hope you’re hungry,” Alfred said. “Master Wayne doesn’t eat much, but–”

The tops of Bruce’s cheeks flushed. “– Alfred –”

“But he insisted on only the best. I’ll just be in the kitchen, preparing.”

Without another word, the man was gone. She’d done so much research into Alfred and Bruce, but none of her documents ever could have taught her this: they cared about each other. Almost like father and son.  It was cute, the way Bruce ducked his head, embarrassed, and apologized for Alfred. Domestic in a way she hadn’t expected. 

There was a lot she hadn’t expected, it turned out. The living room of Wayne Manor was well-appointed, but clearly weathered from lack of use. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet and despite the obvious attempts to spruce the place up, she couldn’t help but notice that the entire room, while it glittered from golden candle light and smelled like the fresh, home-cooking wafting from the nearby kitchen, carried with it the oppressive weight of grief. 

Suddenly, so much of Bruce made sense. He was not some playboy who masqueraded as Batman to make meaning out of his useless life. He was not doing it for the attention. He was not a man with a death wish. 

He was just…so, so sad. And so very lonely. And trying to right a wrong for the universe that had never been righted for him. Saving other people so they’d never have to know what he’d been through. 

As she leaned against a nearby window and watched him pour champagne for them both, she blinked away tears at that revelation. She’d always been on Bruce’s side. But now? Now she actually understood him. And that broke her heart a little. 

“I really am sorry about my clothes,” she said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “I thought this would be, like, a casual thing, not a–”

“A date?”

A date. Even after the tuxedos and champagne, it hadn’t even occurred to her that this was a date. 

She’d thought….

Well…

She’d thought…it was, like, a detente. A cessation of hostilities. A friendly armistice. 

But a date…?

Once more, she swept the room. Champagne. Music. Lights. A home-cooked meal. Bruce doing that almost-smile thing he did whenever she was around. Color and life back in his face, something that had been sorely missing the last time she’d seen him. 

Yeah. A date. That checked out. Heat flooded her cheeks. She stared down at her shoes. 

“Yeah.”

“I understand,” he said, handing her a champagne flute. 

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He clinked their glasses together. Sardonic and self-deprecating. “I wouldn’t want to go out with the Batman either.”

Her eyes widened. This was not a mistake. This was not a slip-up. It was purposeful. He’d invited her on a date, invited her to dinner, and was telling her the one secret he’d been trying so hard to keep. Retiring her glass to a nearby table, she repeated the word, “...Batman.” 

He nodded once. At last, a confirmation. “ Batman .”

Before she could think better of it, she charged towards him, to ask him more questions, to probe him for answers – only for the aggressive action to tug at her stitches, causing her to painfully twist and stumble…

“ Shit –”

“Careful there–”

…right into his arms. 

Suddenly, the pain in her side was the furthest thing from her mind. 

Even if he hadn’t just confessed the truth to her, she would have known it was him just from this embrace. It was the same one she’d experienced in the alley that night – the one where he saved her life. It was an awkward hold. Soft in some places and stiff in others. Close but not close enough for her liking. Unpracticed. As if he hadn’t known the non-violent touch of someone in too, too long. 

It washed her in peace from the flushed crown of her head all the way down to her untied shoelaces. 

For a breathless moment, neither of them moved. But the music from the old stereo played something soft and lovely…and before they knew that they were even doing it, as if twisted in some magical spell cast by the speakers, they were swaying. 

“Do you like to dance?” Bruce asked, his breath tickling her neck. 

“No.”

“Me either,” he agreed. 

And yet…there they were. Dancing. Each of them equally unwilling to let the other one go. 

She didn’t know what that meant. Only that it felt right, being there in his touch.

What a miracle – that her life would bring her to this place, this time, this man. All because she nearly died one night six months ago - not that he knew about that yet.   

“Why did you do it?” He asked, melting into her touch. 

“Do what?”

“Try to expose me. And then stop.”

She tilted her head until their eyes met, giving him full, silent permission to survey her. When nothing sparked in him, she asked: “You really don’t remember me, do you?” 

No answer. She tucked herself back into the crook of her body, enjoying his touch while she still could. 

“I had my suspicions about you before the flood. But it seemed so impossible. Bruce Wayne, the Batman? Of course not. But then…I was in that stadium. And those things you put in your eyes when you wear that mask, the things that keep people from seeing your eyes? They shorted in the water. After all that research I’d done about you…when you pulled me out of that water, I recognized them. You have very distinctive eyes, Mr. Wayne.” 

Did he notice that he’d tightened his grip around her waist? As though he were now the one drowning and she was the only thing holding him above the swells? 

“I know you think I wanted this city to destroy you. But I don’t. I think you’re a hero.” She was digging her fingers into the soft fabric of his suit jacket now. Hopefully, he thought she was just holding onto him for support because of her injury – not for the reason that being this close to him made her knees weak and her heartbeat at a rate she considered medically unsafe. “And for awhile, I believed that if the world knew that Bruce Wayne and Batman were the same guy…you could be even more of an inspiration. Someone with everything trying to do something for those who have nothing . The man everyone knows, fighting for the forgotten. The Crown Prince of Gotham saving us peasants down below.” 

She teased him with that last bit. But he was as serious as he had been the moment before. 

“And now?” He prompted, pulling away so she could no longer hide in the crook of his neck. Under his stare, she knew she couldn’t falter. 

“Now, I just want you to keep fighting - even if you have to do it in the shadows.”

Their breath intermingled. It felt like the start of something. His attention flickered down to her lips – 

“Master Wayne.”

The sound of Alfred’s voice made her twitch. She moved to step away, but Bruce held her fast, even as Alfred raised a judgmental eyebrow at their romantic clinch. 

“Dinner is served,” he said, lingering in the doorway. 

Through it all, she realized that Bruce had never looked away from her. And he didn’t when he spoke again. 

“I’m sorry, Alfred. I think we have something else to do first.”

BRUCE WAYNE RECENT SEARCH HISTORY, SCRUBBED at 7:58 PM: 

Ethics of hiring woman you’re attracted to

Can you kiss someone at a first date/job interview?

How to confirm a secret identity?

How to hide bruises from a fistfight you got into the night before a date?

Romantic Covers of Nirvana Songs

How to reveal secret location without seeming like a kid showing a girl your treehouse?

There wasn’t much Bruce Wayne cared to examine in himself. He knew, in vague strokes, that he was obsessive and driven by pain, and desperate for justice in any form it could take. He knew he didn’t want to be the monster that stalked the shadows anymore, but a hero who actually helped people.

And he knew that from the moment he met this strange woman in the park, something within him shifted. She was a threat to him, an existential one he should have done everything in his power to destroy. He was a billionaire, after all. It should have been easy to tie her up in legal battles for the rest of her life, to pay for bots to drown out her posts, to keep upping the ante of Alfred’s bribery until she had no choice but to accept.

Still. He didn’t. She was brilliant and infuriating and matched him turn-for-turn. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she dodged in the exact opposite direction. Whether she was relentlessly taunting him about his secret identity or flirting or asking him to dinner or sneaking pictures of his boot prints or crumbling under his hands as he healed her or giving up the story with Clark Kent or doing that scrunching thing with her nose she did when she was thinking too hard or fiddling with the handle of her umbrella she uselessly kept nearby for protection or flashing those intelligent, sharp eyes of hers…

He was fascinated. He couldn’t remember the last time something other than the underworld of Gotham had fascinated him. Maybe it was this new change in him, the one that had been brewing ever since The Flood. Maybe, as he returned slowly from Vengeance back to his humanity, maybe his heart was slowly awakening, too. Maybe all of those feelings he’d chained away for so long were resurfacing.

In any case…something shot straight through his heart when she stepped down the stairs into The Cave and her lips parted in a wondrous smile. Only, for the first time in his life, a sudden bolt to his chest didn’t hurt. It blossomed into something warm and unfamiliar. 

“What is this?” She breathed, eyes wide and uncertain. “Why have you brought me here?”

“It’s my headquarters,” he said, leading her down the rickety steps until he reached the floor of the spotlight-illuminated tunnel. He suddenly found it impossible to look at her. As if he were afraid she would suddenly pass judgment and he would be found wanting. He steeled himself for what was to come.  From the start, she’d known the truth. He knew she knew the truth. And she knew that he knew the truth. But this was a final confirmation. An admission of guilt, undeniable, that could not be retracted once made. “And I’m showing you because… Because I’m Batman.”

Miracle of miracles, she didn’t run out of the door. She didn’t scream and throw things at him. She didn’t even feign surprise. Instead, she chuckled. Bruce felt his own lips twitch. When was the last time anyone had laughed in this house? “Yeah, no shit. I already knew that. I mean why are you showing this to me?”

That was the question Alfred had asked about a half-dozen times since Bruce had decided to bring her here – a decision he’d made the moment he found out she’d scuttled Clark Kent’s Batman story. And the answer he’d given Alfred was the same answer he’d give her now.

But it wasn’t the whole answer, not really. The whole truth would have been you’re a damn good detective and I want an excuse to get close to you – to stay close to you . Instead, he edited the truth, tailoring it for this moment: 

“Because you’re a damn good detective. And I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.” He paused. “Or maybe I don’t want to.”

Her skepticism was immediate and apparent. “You want me to help you?”

A wash of insecurity snuck up on him all at once. “It would be a good job. I’d pay for law school. You’d have a generous salary. Benefits. The hours aren’t great, but–”

She spun around, and suddenly they were very close. He had her pinned between his desk and his body, but she didn’t seem to notice–not in the way he did, anyway. Her eyes shone. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll take the job.”

“You will?”

“But first –” A hint of exasperation and delight mingled in her tone. “I need you to tell me why the hell you thought it was a good idea to put your paramilitary headquarters under your own damn house , Bruce.”

Oh, she was so smug. She’d finally won, hadn’t she? She’d confirmed that Bruce Wayne was, indeed, Batman, and now she got to lord it over his head.

Bruce didn’t mind. Not if she kept smiling like that. 

“I see. So, you’re not going to stop bullying me now that we’re working together?”

“Stop? Oh, no. It’s going to get worse. So much worse.”

He liked the sound of that. 

“Are you ready to start, then?”

“I am,” she said, as confident and sure as she had been from the moment he met her. Despite the blistering lights he set up all around the cave, the work lights that broke through the oppressive darkness here, she outshone them all. “And I know exactly where I want to start.”

“And where is that?” he asked. 

She smirked mischievously, and he knew in that moment that this was the beginning of something new. Something exciting. Something like a sunrise over his long, lonely, dark night. 

“...I think I know Superman’s secret identity.” 

[cr-pisacs-evil-brother]

To search for clues in the ARG, I’ve been doing an academic deep dive into the languages, history, and cultures of the indigenous steppe peoples of Central Asia and Siberia; essentially I want to get into the mind of Fyodor Vitin. This isn’t an unprecedented research endeavor, though, this is an extension of a lot of the studies I’ve been doing as a college student and someone that does academic research as a hobby. Most of my notes right now are just scratched into various notebooks and annotated in books I’ve been reading, so nowhere near cohere enough to post, but these are some notes I took a couple weeks ago on a particular phrase Fyodor Vitin used in his most recent Reddit post. I will hopefully be posting more soon with some other findings.

[comfy-whumpee]

@bbu-on-the-side​ Day 10 is in-universe media.

BBU Refurbox customer service emails

https://comfy-whumpee.tumblr.com/post/663240950611574784/birdhouse-inbox

Subject: My box boy

Hi

My boxie dropped a plate because of us saying the word ‘refurbished’. Every time we say this he freaks out and starts crying. We have started doing furniture upholstery as a hobby and we have to use this word a lot.

Please fix this!

Bani

BBU Help At Home social media

https://comfy-whumpee.tumblr.com/post/692669181476438016/the-feed

James @spoonboy22

Help at home claims to be sooo ethical but my mom’s domestic is terrified of knives

Help At Home @helpathome ✅

@spoonboy22 Sorry to hear that, James! Do you have the product number? We will look into it further for you 👀 Our pets are never physically harmed in training, so we are confident it isn’t from us!

BBU “pet lib call for action to desperate owner self help reddit thread”

https://comfy-whumpee.tumblr.com/post/702293736225488896/the-forum

r/boxieadvice holepunch5309 two hours ago

Office pet beat up by other staff (advice)

Posting this from a throwaway so I don’t get fired. My company is a small business that has a boxie in the head office. He technically belongs to the manager but he was bought with company funds. He does hospitality, cleaning, filing and stuff. But recently the heads of department have started hurting him.

And I haven’t posted this on its own before:

BBU Refurbox Christmas holiday ad!

(Refurbox and Help at Home are both my creation but questions welcome!)

[becauseplot]

it feels odd to draw cellbit without the white streak. this isn’t very au but i was definitely thinking of the ordem au. so the cellbit of relative and a bagi (not of relative, or she’d obviously be more disheveled and bandaged, but i was trying to feel it out)

it didn’t come out clearly in this, but i felt like giving this bagi previously bleached hair, now partially grown out so she has long light tips to her brown hair.

anyway. please accept this drawing in trade for a few paragraphs on the au perhaps? some bit of it that’s particularly stuck in your head. i want to know more

boops you :)

the enigma twins!! love them, ty for the sketches <33 the bleached-to-grown-out is vvv inspired. Bagi has been part of the Order for mmm a certain amount of months. definitely not a year yet. in any case, neglecting upkeep on her hairstyle due to stress about you know, helping protect reality, is definitely feasible for her character. might fold that in there as a canon characteristic tbh.

ok, so now the au. right now for characters with official major roles, we have: Bagi, Cellbit, Felps, Forever, Pac, Mike, Phil, Missa, and Fit! we also have some kids, too: Richas, Chayanne, Tallulah, Ramon.

so the big baddie of the "main plot" is the Ender King, an entity from the Other Side seeking to cross over and take control of our world because, you know, greedy guy. Phil and Fit are veteran members of the Order who were part of the team that dealt with the Ender King last time he tried to cross over. they succeeded in stopping him, but not without the rest of their team being killed and Missa (Phil's partner, non-Order) being cursed and scarred. Phil, after doing a lot fruitless research on the Ender King to see if the stuff that happened to Missa could be reversed, decided to retire from the Order---not something that is easy to do, but he managed it---while Fit stuck around to help train new recruits and assist on occasional missions.

but then Fit starts to see signs in recent missions that the Ender King is trying to come back via the work of some very committed esoterroristic cults. so, after putting it off as much as he can, he decides he has no choice but to call Phil (experienced, and the leading expert on the Ender King's magic that's currently alive) to ask if he'll lend them a hand. Phil's response is a firm but burdened yes.

Cellbit, meanwhile, is you more-or-less average guy living with his four other friends and raising a kid they've acquired. after discovering that strange, vanished Reddit post, Cellbit continues to do casual "hobby research" into folkloric and paranormal conspiracies found online, despite Bagi's "nonbeliever" attitude and his family's light-hearted teasing.

surprisingly, this isn't what drags Cellbit into the paranormal---the paranormal comes for his family before he can even stick his nose too deep when Felps disappears on his way to work one morning. Cellbit strikes out on a solo investigation, of course, but once he starts to consider that there might actually be a paranormal angle to this, he begins to cross paths with Phil, and thus, Fit and Bagi too. and so, realizing that Felps' disappearance is somehow linked to the Ender King's return, the four of them team up to stop the esoterroristic cults in the city from bringing a powerful, wrathful entity from the Other Side to Quesadilla's doorstep.

[aitavoting]

AITA because I don’t want to share my art commission money?

My husband works full time and I am a stay at home mom. Sometimes I work twice a week during the school year at a daycare. The income all goes to our joint account and we both get an allowance each paycheck.

On the side in my free time I occasionally do commissioned art work. And when I say occasionally I get maybe four a year. I wouldn’t consider it income because it isn’t consistent in the slightest.

My husband says we should split it because he doesn’t have a hobby that gives him extra income. I said I use it for art supplies so I can continue to do my hobby. He wants either 50/50 or 80% goes to my art fund and we split the rest 50/50

I don’t want to share my commission money. I only make between $20-50 each commission and I don’t get them very often. Maybe 2-5 a year.. Husband says it’s no fair I get extra money to spend and he doesn’t.

[view this story on reddit]

Feel free to make your opinion be heard in the comments/reblogs but keep it respectful. For detailed information please read the guidelines for commenting. Violations will lead to your comment being deleted and you potentially being blocked.

[allen309]

My nighttime meds decided not to work last night, so I spent part of my night revisiting my identity. It’s been about a year since I discovered myself. Dropping out of college and having my mental health being better-ish, I thought it was time to revisit. I found out that Gender Apathetic is also known as Apagender (which I have no idea how to pronounce at the moment).

This is more of a general ranting post (if that’s the right term). There’s only so much that I autistically can talk to myself about, especially when it’s the same conversation over the course of a year. I don’t have answers for everything and there’s only so much Reddit reading that I can do… I promise this isn’t my autistic hobby. I was doing research on the LGBT for my OC’s, and that’s how I discovered myself. Now that my characters are mostly developed, I have no use for all the research that I did except for being more aware of other gender identities and learning more about the LGBT community.

I’m closeted except for online and a few close friends. I don’t feel the need to come out to people that I personally know, since I don’t feel that my identity causes me any issues. I’ve been way more open about my identity with my closest friend (friends for about 8 years) and vice versa. Because my other two friends are straight and my friend of 8 years is still figuring themselves out; not my story to tell. But they’re the only other LGBT member that I know, and we’ve never interacted with members of the LBGT on a large scale, only close friends or family. My friend has a bit more exposure than me; I have no family that I know of who are LGBT.

I live and grew up in a small town that doesn’t have any LGBT groups. There are people from the LGBT community that exist in the small town, but you have to know them to find them.

Yeah, I was excited to finally meet and talk to another member of the LGBT who is from the city. YouTube is great and all, but being autistic it feels better to talk to someone in person or directly to someone in some way. Although, I didn’t initiate the conversation that was my friend because I wasn’t sure how to bring up the conversation without being too… abrasive. Tho I never brought this up with my friend, so I was actually very surprised when they brought up the conversation, but since the conversation it kinda feels like it never happened. It was only a few days ago, almost a week.

This individual is a member of the LGBT, but isn’t as active within the community. They’re just living their life and being openly LGBT when they want others to know. But if asked any questions regarding who they are, they are not afraid to answer and talk about who they are.

Being able to talk and connect with another member of the LGBT in person, especially outside of our small town, felt really nice. Tho I felt like I was being rude, bombarding them with so many questions, especially ones that I felt could be personal, but they were very polite and open and made sure that all of our questions were answered. They also enjoyed talking and asking me questions about what it is like being gender apathetic and what is pan aro/ace.

Like I mentioned above, my friend was also talking and asking questions, but that’s not my side to talk about. Just want to clarify that it was a conversation between three people and me and my friend’s identities are different... I wasn’t just being asked about my identity, my friend was also talking about theirs.

Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m making this post. Kinda just want to talk. Living in a small town can be tough, especially when I’m autistic and have mild social anxiety. I don’t feel like there’s enough people to just rant to.

[darktr1ad]

Random James March Headcanons

WARNINGS: nsfw mentions, gore

• he’d be in the r/guro subreddit

James gets off on torturing people, so when he finds out that there is an entire community dedicated to that online, he’s thrilled. Sally probably introduced him to Reddit, though, and had to help him figure out how to use it at first since James isn’t connected with all of this modern technology.

• he listens to Lana Del Rey

He didn’t discover her by himself which is for sure. I like to think that it was The Countess who did. James heard it playing from her room one time and immediately demanded he know who was singing, and thus began the obsession.

• he’s always the submissive one with The Countess

James is overall a really dominant man, but something about her just makes him fall to his knees. Since The Countess isn’t interested in James, really, I have a feeling he begged her to stay, saying he’d do anything which is when they agreed upon something; James would have to be her slave. He didn’t mind it though, since he’d do nearly everything for that woman.

• he doesn’t know how to do laundry or cook

Since James was incredibly wealthy, he hired maids and other women to do things for him so he wouldn’t have to lift a finger. After he died, Ms. Evers was always eager to clean his sheets and to cook for him. After he banished her from his presence he had the realization that he didn’t know how to do these basic things because it had been so long, and he was embarrassed to ask anyone.

• he knows how to tie all kinds of knots

When James agreed with Tristan that bondage was boring, he was only half being serious. At first, the man was intrigued by tying women up and torturing them, but after a while it got boring. This is when he discovered the different kinds of knots you could tie and things of the sorts. It sparked a new interest for him, and he became obsessed with the idea. Spending eternity in the Cortez, he literally had all the time in the world to learn how to tie women up in different ways. He thinks of it as more of a hobby than he does a kink.

• he doesn’t like to confront his emotions

James is a traditional man, and he believes that crying or showing a deep, meaningful emotion is emasculating. Normally if he ever gets sad, he’ll bury his emotions away in a deep part of his mind. Sometimes all of these emotions he shoved away come back to haunt him, and he acts out, which is part of the reason why he kills.

[mistresslynndramione]

Lynn’s FAQ’s

Bookbinding/Translations/Podfics: 

I’m fine with all non-profit endeavors. 

And there is a podfic of From Wiltshire, With Love up on spotify by the amazingly talented AutumnFoxWrites! Somehow she manages to do different voices/accents for all the characters and keep it up throughout the story.

https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/autumn-fox2

Where is the title of From Wiltshire, With Love from? 

It’s a play on words from the James Bond spy movie, From Russia, With Love. Malfoy Manor is located in Wiltshire.

Do you have any recs? 

Absolutely! My tumblr is chock full of recommendations and mini-reviews of underrated writers and their stories. Feel free to peruse. The Dramione subreddit also has the What Are You Reading? thread, Self-rec Sunday, the WIP Wednesday thread and the Underrated Fanfic Friday thread which are goldmines.

Where do I post? 

Archive of Our Own and Fanfiction.net, although lately I haven’t posted on ff.net. I posted FWWL on Wattpad, I don’t know if I’ll post anything else there.

What are you working on now? 

I’m finishing up an extremely niche birthday fic for Bek. I may or may not post that third epilogue to Blackmailed. I’d like to continue Draco’s Body, for another chapter. Long fic: I’m also working on Butterfly, my evil author’s day submission.

Are you writing any original fiction? 

No. I love my day job and fanfiction is purely an escapist outlet for my creativity where I am beholden to no one but myself. Writing original fiction would defeat the purpose.

Hey! You make art! 

Yes, sometimes! I post here on tumblr, and I post my art on AO3 and instagram.

Your parents really read your smut? 

Yes. Yes they did. It was a very wholesome experience and I live blogged it! My kids also know that I write fanfiction, everyone is very supportive. It feels good not to hide my hobby! (that being said, no one at my work knows, that’s a bridge too far)

Why don’t I see you on the Room of Requirement discord? 

When I was new to fandom and social media and still figuring things out, I got cyberbullied by those authors and a couple of the admins, artists and podficcers highlighted there. After taking my words from (what I thought were) interesting, friendly conversations out of context, one of the soon-to-be RoR admins incited a cybermob with those authors. They targeted me on the Dragon Heart String discord server and ostracized me in the few weeks following in an attempt to push me out of fandom. But I didn’t leave, I stood up for myself and explained how my words were misconstrued. 

After the initial shock, the mods and those that unwittingly participated in the cyber mob apologized. The one that instigated it all was a DHS mod at the time. She never apologized and her mod status was removed. In an attempt to understand server dynamics, the other DHS mods surveyed the community, and it quickly became apparent that bullying was a rampant problem. Many server members were targeted before me, there and on other platforms. To try and stop it, the DHS mods closed down the author-based channels since the bullying stemmed from those authors and their friends and fans. 

Many disagreed with the decision, and the RoR discord opened up a month later with those very same author-based channels that you see today. If you’re wondering why there isn’t much overlap between DHS and RoR, this is why. When I spoke up about my experience on reddit before, I didn’t want to name specific people and I still don’t. But I do think there’s value in warning folks off in a general sense. It’s truly appalling when adult women use their internet clout and lack of consequences to recreate the worst of middle school behavior. Like most moderated spaces, RoR has an anti-bullying policy, but the popular members behave as they choose. None of them have apologized to me or anyone else for their behavior.

Even to this day, they gossip about readers, writers, artists and each other. They bully people on RoR and other platforms. Their behavior has caused many artists, writers and readers to delete their accounts or leave the fandom. Some of the folks bullied by that group reached out to thank me for posting about my experience. 

On to the happy stuff:

A Guide to My Fics 

Innovation, E, WIP, 2/3 chapters posted, a short story written for Bek’s birthday full of snark, banter, sexual tension and hate sex

Summary: Draco and Hermione make each other miserable. But they come to an arrangement eventually.

Escape From Malfoy Manor, E, 70-100K, Choose Your Own Adventure, war AU.

Summary: Hermione wakes up in a prison cell with no memory of how she got there. Will she make it out alive? A fic/art collab with some friends designed to make you laugh, shriek in terror, bite your nails, cringe, and ponder your life choices. With over 35 delightfully gruesome ways for our favorite protagonists to die, this is a great Halloween read.

From Wiltshire, With Love, E, 350K, spy/handler war AU

Summary: Hermione convinces Draco to spy for the Order and she becomes his handler. But what are his true motivations? Hard to say when he's still figuring that out himself.

WINNER: 2022 Top Dramione Fics on Reddit 4th Place Wartime 2nd Place BAMF!Hermione

Shivering With Antici - SAY IT! - pation, E, 20K, smut and snark, an AU in the FWWL universe

Summary: Spying for the Order is taking its toll on Draco. To cheer him up, Hermione brings him to a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show to participate in the virgin induction ceremony. 

Draco is not amused.

Blackmailed, E, 48K, smut and snark, 7th year, a surprising plot and gut punch at the end

Summary: Draco finds out something pertaining to the war that Hermione would do anything to prevent from getting out. How far is she willing to go to protect her secret?

WINNER: 2022 Top Dramione Fics on Reddit 2nd Place Dom!Draco (but he's totally a switch here, as is Hermione)

Draco’s Body, E, 11K, demon!Draco, war AU, co-created with art from the amazing @doodleladi 

Summary: The war rages on and changed Draco into something evil.

They All Taste the Same, E, 77K vampire war AU, this one has two endings, based on Hermione’s decision to become a vampire or not. One is MCD, one is HEA. Written in 2010, finished during the pandemic.

Summary: Draco has always wanted Hermione, but a recent change has him wanting her even more.

A Dish Best Served Cold, E, 56K, 8th year, smutty, trope-busting whodunnit, my first ever fanfiction, written in 2010. 

Summary: Somebody is out to get Hermione. Draco gets caught in the middle, and doesn't mind at all!

The Gods Must Be Crazy, drabble collection for the Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition, Greek God prompts, each drabble has a different theme, plot, topic, genre. I highly recommend this competition. It’s good for meeting new friends, and improving your writing!

[grilledsquids]

venting here bc i would like to shout into a void. I am genuinely concerned about the number of clueless adults on reddit. i’m in a couple of subreddits for different hobbies, like pottery, baking, gardening and painting; there are so many posts with absolutely moronic questions, from full-grown adults, that should already know the answers from 1) reading instructions thoroughly, 2) asking the instructor that is right there in the class they’re taking, 3) practice? observing results? I wanna call it common sense, but I no longer know what is common.

I cannot emphasize my first point enough. the lack of reading comprehension is horrifying to behold. if you don’t understand a word or phrase, it is okay to research it instead of skipping it and hoping it isn’t important. the worst part is that, when questions are posted on reddit, they get answered thoroughly and correctly—and most of the time, op doesn’t like the answer and ignores it.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Writer of the Month - Inlocusmads

Each month CFWC highlights one of our many talented fanfic writers and this month’s writer of the month is @inlocusmads! We hope you will enjoy learning more about her and her work below! Writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

BLOG: @inlocusmads

Quick Links: BLOG MASTERLIST

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Just Mads is fine!

1- When did you start playing Choices? What's the first book you played? 

I started playing Choices back in 2018-ish (??) after getting recommended by a friend to play Visual Novels. My first ever book was Most Wanted and from then on, set a pattern in me getting absolutely obsessed with action/adventure books. You can imagine my disappointment after I found out, 2-3 years later that MW 2 is cancelled.

2- When, and why, did you join Choices fandom?.

I joined the fandom officially in April/May of 2022. But I was familiar with a Choices “fandom” way back at the height of the pandemic. I just didn’t find the reason to join and chime in and just read meta discussions and commentary on Tumblr & Reddit. But after Crimes of Passion was Wide-Released, I was so invested that I had to join and write my fics. I was happy to know that I wasn’t the only one who found CoP so refreshing from the other books.

Back then, I was only interested in writing theory posts and reviews, but then the whole fanfiction obsession took over and I just went with writing it instead.

3- How did you pick your url name? 

Inlocusmads is my Tumblr User. Locus is a mathematical term defining a set of points following some specific equation in geometry. I picked it because it translates to “In Mads’s territory/set of points” (in-locus-mads) AKA, my blog being a culmination of my works in one place.

4- Go back to your archive and tell us about the first post on your Choices blog. 

My first post was an introduction one! (Link) And I remember being so enthusiastic like a kid on the first day of school. It still gives me that vibe. I even promised to write WTD (Wake the Dead) fanfiction, because WTD was finally wide-released, and people were talking about it. Back in May, I had my exams too, so I had absolutely no idea how I managed to juggle exams and fanfiction.

I do not recommend mixing academics with hobbies under any circumstances lmao. But it all worked out! 

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Since I was 6 years old. I know, crazy, but back then I remember our elementary school teacher reading us stories and I wanted to write one. So I picked up an Aesop’s Fables book and adapted a story from that on a piece of paper. I never knew it was called “fanfiction”. I just liked it!

My official “start” to writing proper fanfiction was in middle school, when I wrote a Harry Potter “Next Gen” AU spanning 40k words. Never finished it and it’s been 6 years since then.

6- What is your favorite Choices book to write about?

Crimes of Passion! It’s the one book I’ve written consistently about. Obviously I will expand to other books (Like ES, OH, WTD) in the near future, but currently, I operate from this home base, if that makes sense. Crimes is awesome!

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it or would you change anything about it?

My first fic is no longer on Tumblr because I took it down. It was called Bulletproof, and I didn’t like various aspects of it, especially how I handled emotions (They’re definitely not my forte). I didn’t want it to be the first impression I give people. My second fic was Something Like Love (but isn’t), and it is so much better than the first thing I wrote! I would never change anything about it. 

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Trystan Thorne & The Holy Grail! It’s got everything I love- chaos, pointless action for a pointless reason, Nora facepalming for the 100th time, coffee drama and I remember staying up all night to watch multiple Monty Python skits to jazz up my humour-writing a bit. Of course, all the stuff I’ve written so far are some of my favourites, but this takes the cake!

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be, but it could use a little more love?

It has to be my 2-part series on Nora’s Bisexuality - titled Nora’s College Stories (Angler On A Boat ||  Waiting For A Train). I was afraid that I’d not be impactful with my writing and pass it off in a humorous style, but I’m glad it didn’t turn out that way! I’m proud of the positive feedback it has received since then.

As for the stories that could use some love, fortunately, I’ve never had such an experience. I’m so grateful to have wonderful readers. It blows my mind when people reblog my work with memes, gifs, and “asasdfghj!!”. I don’t mind if a fic has 3 or 15 notes, as long as people who’ve read it enjoyed it enough to use a ton of heart emojis and memes. (Looking at you, Max! You’re the best!)

10- What is your specialty as a fanfic writer?

I would say it has to be action/adventure or something more adrenaline-y. Most of my works involve a sprinkle of simulated gore, a bit of dry humour and some peak self-deprecating jokes. I don’t have a proper style or speciality yet, but taking into account my past fics and my overall trend of writing things, it has to be something that’s thrilling to read and write. 

Sometimes the thrill is executed poorly. Sometimes it radiates pure power and heaps of fun. I wouldn’t know if I didn’t write it down. 

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

Ugh, this is hard! I would say out of these options, I’d write fluff. Fluff is comforting, like “oatmeal, which sustains you” (B99 reference!) and I think it is a fandom classic at this point- a norm in any community of writers. Fluff is also miscible and adaptable in any situation and there is no one way to write it; while angst and smut are both unidirectional, in my opinion.

12- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MC’s or in your writing?

I would say I don’t. Nora and Jane and my future MCs aren’t based on me, nor do I write them after my personality. But the one thing I did incorporate into my characters’ personalities has to be their love for novelty and adventure. I love some novelty in my life, and I hate mundane days. Nora expresses her love for that by taking on challenging cases, and Jane loves rapid change in her life to learn to let go of old wounds.

13- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Emotion. Especially romance. Don’t rotten-tomato’ me-to-the-face just yet! I’m still getting the hang of writing romance besides incorporating it in action and treating it as a separate entity. As a hobbyist writer who wrote a lot of original works, I never really thought to include romance. It was just a lot of bantery friendship and casual mentions of romance. I do want to get better at it! But, of course, as usual, the journey can be quite difficult.

14- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Currently I have a now-untitled (but previously called “Dr Whodunnit”) project with a crossover featuring characters from OH and CoP. Most of you will most likely be familiar because I advertised it as my “biggest project yet!” and didn’t live up to it. Sorry, guys!

I took it down with the sole intention to improve the writing because I found it rushed and hasty in several places. I don’t want to give out a tentative date just yet, but it’ll most likely be revised in about a month or two : around August of 2022. 

I love my readers so much and I want to give them my absolute best work possible. 

15- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Sure! I mean, none of my works are extremely explicit. I would be embarrassed because fanfiction-writing is usually frowned upon/heavily stigmatised, but I will recommend them to read anything that interests them. If they’re into romance, maybe A Second Chance and if they’re into friendships, I’d direct them to my general fics that only feature some good old teamwork!

16- Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

Growing up, I read a lot of Neil Gaiman, Rick Riordan and Lemony Snicket and I loved their writing styles a lot. Recently I’ve taken a liking to screen-writers and producers (I know screenwriting ≠ actual writing) but it takes a lot more effort to translate written work to a full fledged production. 

There’s Baran Bo Odar and Jantje Friese, the creators of Dark .The writers behind Brooklyn 99 and Parks & Rec. Erin Kelly and Chris Chibnall, writers of Broadchurch. I’ve always wanted to blend longform writing with exciting conceptual-style building-up and some of my favourite shows and the writers behind them have inspired a lot of my works.

Some of my favourite shows such as Adventure Time, Gravity Falls and Gumball have such a fun and innovative way of expressing unique, chaotic ideas. I’ve always looked up to that!

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

Definitely my untitled-formerly-titled-project-named-”Dr Whodunnit”. I think it’d make up a fun crime TV show. 

18- Do you write original stories?

I definitely have, in the past! I wrote a time-travelling story and I guess one about engineering humanoids. There was also a really, really old work of mine featuring dragons and young teens battling an evil Dark Lord. So yes, I do write original works, but at this point in time, I’ve taken some time off from them.

19 -  What other hobbies do you have?

I play a lot of online chess, read books and solve puzzles- be it Sudoku, crosswords, (even my very morbid obsession with Wordle) or solving a Rubik’s Cube. I’m also a tired student, so most of my time is either writing fics or catching up on academics. I also bike. The lockdown has clearly converted me into a couch potato, so I could definitely use some daily exercise. 

20 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

This one: 🐍 Nora’s birthday falls in January 1989, aka the Year of the Snake and I sometimes sprinkle it across my fics and headers so much that I got attached to it really quickly. 

21: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

A huge huge thank you to the team at CFWC for this wonderful opportunity! I absolutely love the initiative of conducting weekly events and bringing more fics into light. It’s so heartwarming to see a diverse pool of fic writers, and I’m very fortunate to interact with all of them.

Shoutout to Max from @pixelatedhayes (go check out Max’s art!), Lin from @ofmischiefandmedicine (Laura Levchenko for the win!), Kate from @quixoticdreamer16 (Incredibly supportive and such a shining gem to this fandom!) for being super supportive and tuning in to read my works and literally every other reader/creator/fanartist/fic-writer out there on Tumblr, contributing their part to the fandom. 

If you’re there, I’m so happy and please keep doing what you love.

I’ve heard that the community has grown smaller since the early days and I’m glad that even though there are a few of us, we’re doing our part to support each other.

To quote Captain Holt and sum it up: “Every time someone steps up and says who they are, the world becomes a much more interesting place.” Thank you so much :) Hope you have an incredible day ahead!

[cometcrystal]

monster high (2022) review

SPOILERS AHEAD OBVIOUSLY. SCROLL PAST IF U DONT WANT EM.

and don’t ask me for the movie either, i’m not gonna share it cause i made a promise to the person on reddit i got it from

i probably won’t bring up the lightwashing in the review proper much since other people have said it better than i could. but here’s my mention of it: clawdeen and cleo are both lightwashed and whitewashed, respectively. and we know it’s not like they’re not capable of hiring actors with the proper skin tones/races because bloodgood is a dark skinned black woman (and she was great tbh). so it’s just really disappointing and i will not be supporting the movie financially when it comes out because of it.

okay first off i wanna talk about the characters themselves. there’s a lot of weird things they did that aren’t Bad changes but they’re just bizarre and idk where they came from. like some people said it was like they were mixing and matching character traits and that feels pretty spot-on.

clawdeen - half human half werewolf as we already know but i’m more concerned about her personality. this clawdeen is more...generic? generic nice girl? she’s not a pushover but she also isn’t nearly as headstrong as og clawdeen. and the only hobby we see her do is skateboarding.

frankie - this frankie RULES. they are constantly bringing up which famous person their body parts belonged to and saying random weird facts. theyre a huge socially awkward weirdo. they still have the patented frankie stein friendly to a fault optimism. they probably are the most similar to their original version and are 100% the main reason to watch this film.

draculaura - she’s very dry and crabby?? not bubbly at all. and she does witchcraft which i will talk about more later. unclear if she’s still vegetarian or not: she threatens to suck the blood of frankie and clawdeen if they dont stay out of her side of their dorm room

deuce - you can see his eyes. his shades look like they’d be useless. also apparently used to be a big troublemaker and is trying to turn over a new leaf. still very chill and nice. has a bit of human hair in addition to his snakes. gorgons are apparently feared in the monster world and he’s insecure about that

cleo - she is not a character in this movie she is just a Mean Girl prop. exists to look pathetic trying to get deuce back and to be mean to the main 3 ghouls. the biggest disappointment to me, both for personal reasons (i love her) and for subjective reasons. it’s like they took every ounce of depth that every preceeding mh media gave her (her love for her friends, her trauma, her reasons for doing things, the fact that she’s not a cruel person) and put a cookie cutter in her place.

lagoona - she isn’t Blue anymore i guess but that doesn’t bug me. she only has a couple lines. other than that she just stands next to cleo. personally i think her outfits are very good but i wish they had found an indigenous australian actress to play her

abbey - i think she has like 2 lines and then she screams at something. doesn’t appear to have the same personality as og abbey, but it’s hard to tell. she seems more preppy and more influencer-type. also doesn’t have her accent and speaks fluent english

ghoulia - she speaks fluent english as well. huge L for autistics. she’s kind of the Quirky weird one who tries to scare the new students so i like that direction for her but my god i wish they had her still speak zombie.

heath - he doesn’t get to do a whole lot but he’s probably the 2nd closest to his og character. i liked him alright he was fine. comic relief guy character. nothing much more to say

now let’s talk about The Good

like i said, frankie is great. they stole every single second of their screentime. theyre an angel and i love them. had the only genuinely funny lines in the movie

bloodgood was mostly good. but we always stan bloodgood.

some of the outfits were KILLER. i will definitely be giffing a few.

a couple of the songs are boring but true monster heart and the three of us both BANG and they will be going in my playlist as soon as theyre released. if nothing else the people they hired to act in this movie can SING

speaking of the songs i loooove the lyric “i see the monsters, they look like family” especially coming from frankie. i love u.

the friendship between the main 3 ghouls is really sweet and feels organic

they/them frankie real

MONSTER HIGH THE SCHOOL IS ALIVE!!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW SICK THAT IS!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i liked clawdeen’s dad apollo a lot he was sweet

draculaura talks to her dad thru a moving painting. im scraping the bottom of the barrel but i thought that was cool.

i LOVE getting a new universe/canon to play around with. we’re up to 4 now, possibly 5 with the new animated series, and i couldn’t be happier.

this isn’t related to the plot itself but watching the unfinished vfx version adds a layer of joy to the experience. maybe once the movie’s out it’ll be widely available for people to watch. seeing a terrible animation of png clipart spiders crawl on abbey’s cup of coffee is so so so special to me.

ok now The Bad. i’m gonna do a read more here because this is already long and the most spoilers will be in this section.

clawdeen’s supposed to be hiding the fact that she’s half monster from humans but her house has a family portrait with her and her mom’s wild ears completely out just. on the mantle in full view

i’m so confused on the status of witchcraft in this mh canon. some characters call it a filthy human hobby. then draculaura says that vampires and witches have been at war for centuries. and then later, lala is still able to use witch magic even after her vampire monster powers are taken away from her. she says witch magic is different from monster magic. but if witchcraft is a human thing, why are humans scared of monsters? what is the truth.

mr komos is the villain, surprise surprise. but just wait til you hear this: he’s hyde’s SON and is trying to get revenge on monster high for not accepting jekyll/hyde. he drinks a Monster Potion that jekyll/hyde made and turns into a big muscle version of himself with giant horns. what really gets me is that HE is the one who led the students in a song about how humans suck and thus contributed to the prejudice against human/monster hybrids. this guy is a complete dumbass. also there is no mention of jackson/holt BTW and i dont really miss them but its just a weird choice to make

for the whole movie, the school is like. reacting badly. and everyone’s like it’s because there’s someone without a True Monster Heart in the walls of monster high. and clawdeen thinks it’s her but it’s komos ofc. and hes 100% a dumbass but he had the motivation of hating the fact that mixed human/monsters weren’t allowed to attend and were hated by humans as well???? god this plot sucks.

i wasn’t expecting anything different but all the prejudice is solved by the end of the movie, both against human/monster people and against witchcraft. i just mention it because every kid’s movie does this and it never stops being funny. racism RESIGNED!

NOT A MODICUM OF CLEUCE TO BE SEEN. cleo and deuce interact twice. the first time, she tries to make him want her back by saying she’s moved on, and he calls her self-absorbed. the second time is just her telling him to get help because komos hulked out (and he ignored her 6 calls before that one). deuce gets his powers stolen by komos and TURNED TO STONE and cleo is just standing 5 feet from him watching like :///. honestly what an absolute disservice to both their characters. the reason i love both of them so much is because they’re both constantly defying what viewers expect from a popular girl/popular guy couple and this is just back to square 1. this is worse than square 1 actually.

yes, deuce/clawdeen is a thing here. i didn’t want it to be true because i thought surely NOBODY IS STUPID ENOUGH TO DO THIS but here we are. she’s the one at deuce’s side during the aforementioned stoning and he says “at least i got to stare into your eyes.” before he is Stoned. he unstones later dont worry but this scene sucked. but other than a song together + the eyes comment it doesn’t amount to much. they talk about insecurities together ig.

i mentioned this earlier but it truly feels like the writer’s room for this movie was given only pictures of the characters to work off of. nothing else. at least the lisi harrison appears to have been given character blurbs for her books. there’s so many bizarre choices in this film that it would literally make total sense if the writers had never actually watched monster high a day in their lives. they just got lucky with frankie and heath.

like i said before, ghoulia talks, and all of the characters lose the accents they had before. the only one with an accent that isn’t Generic American is lagoona. and for some of the charas it’s not the biggest deal in the world but for charas like ghoulia it takes away some important representation.

they/them frankie is CANON which is a GOOD THING!! but i’m mentioning it here again because i can’t think of a single instance where they refer to them as anything but “frankie”. it might just be my memory so correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think it happens. the only time their pronouns are used is when they’re introducing themselves. and its like. what’s the point if youre not gonna use the pronouns lmao

bloodgood being a part of excommunicating hyde. it’s only a picture in a slideshow but it still sucks. it’s the only part of her character in this movie i don’t like.

anyway. i give it a 4/10. might skim thru it once the official release is out so i can see what the final effects look like. but if you end up watching this, do so illegally and do it for frankie

[emblazons]

I know you don't like answering these sort of asks lol, but i just gotta say that the last day's twitter discourse really proved that Mlvns really do not get El's character or her arc. That discourse was really... something. And some of the responses like 'El doesn't need hobbies' or 'her hobby is Mike' or 'El does save the world everytime ofc she doesn't have hobbies'. Like... idk what to say, lol. It's like they completely miss El's arc and development over the course of the show and the necessity for her to come to her own as a PERSON and a girl rather than ''superhero'' who tries to save the world everytime, and the fact that they are so AGAINST El having a deserved development? Because I think they deep down realize that El getting development would mean that Mlvn is bones (which... yeah, it is bones) it's like they don't even like El as a character so it is just rather more IRONIC when they blame us for supposedly disliking El's character.

honestly I don’t mind these kinds of asks? I just don’t spend any real time on ST Twitter / Reddit outside of stuff people bring here, so I don’t feel qualified to comment on those corners of the fandom—and everything I see makes me even more keenly aware that they are fighting less for any canonical idea of stranger things, but this…strange in-group who act self-righteous while being loudly wrong about a crumbling ship.

I don’t find any amusement in arguing over it, the same way I would get no thrill in trying to win an argument with someone who thinks the earth is flat—they are so deep in their group + the idea of something rather than the truth of it that me trying to pull any evidence to the contrary will just be met with vitriol and nonsensical arguments, so…I just let them be lmao.

I do think they’re mischaracterizing her (and everybody lmao), just as you say—but the show itself will do them enough damage when the time comes, and…I’m not really an “argue over a ship war” kind of person, though I am admittedly a little amusedly petty when I see how insane some of their tales are….and when they see that even the actual general audience isn’t a fan of mlvn lol.

Thanks for the ask!

[alfryco]

I’m probably stating the obvious here, but the AH reddit fucking sucks. Like I was just going through it today, because I was bored, and low and behold mostly every post is how AH isn’t doing as good as they used to or losing viewership and all that crap (just like any other day on reddit tbh). Or that shit is actually scripted or feels weird? Like if you feel that way then why ARE YOU HERE? Go find a new hobby or something to get into if you’re not interested in it anymore instead of bitching about it on a page that we all know the members of AH frequent. 

I get that criticism in regards to what you love is important but good lord people this horse is well beyond dead, quit beating it. Move on.