#so many people seem to have used the novel tag as a catch all tag

[eupheme]

— i’ll be seeing you | part i

[masterlist] | [playlist]

invisible man!alfred pennyworth x f!reader

rated e - 6k

tags: invisible man!au, age gap, holiday fluff, light angst, alfred is fully invisible/silent to reader, shared spaces, mutual pining, magical elements, bruce being bruce, mentions of food/eating, unintentional gaslighting and domestic (non-sexual) voyeuristic observation, the beginning of feelings

a/n: hi! here is part i! this was a one-shot that got a little long, so I am splitting into three parts. The rest are mosty written, I hope to have them up soon (and really hope you enjoy this little holiday au!) 💕❄️

There's something wrong with Wayne Tower. Doors creak open on their own. Your things move when you're not looking. It's not a far stretch to think that Gotham might be haunted, with all of the things you've seen over the years. And it will take more than this to scare you away.

But as the days pass... you realize that perhaps, that's not its intent. That there's kindness and thoughtfulness in those movements you catch. And when you have a literal run-in with the ghost, it leaves you suddenly wondering - just who or what have you been staying with?

The Tower must be haunted.

It’s the only explanation you can think of. 

You’ve been staying here for a little over a week now. A offer from Bruce that tips heavily in your favor - the use of the Tower for six weeks, while he is abroad. 

Glorified house-sitting, needing someone to keep an eye on things while he was gone. Pick up the occasional package from Wayne Enterprises. Use up the perishables in the fully-stocked fridge, before they are wasted.

For you, it’s honestly a no-brainer. The perfect escape, the solace you thought was so needed to work on finishing up and editing your novel. 

You jumped at the chance to help your friend, and privately, you’d always been curious to see just what lied in the penthouse. A chance to peek at the bookshelves and cabinets filled with curios. See how the hallways might twist and turn, to run your fingers over all the intricate wooden carvings.

But that has been before.

Before things started moving. Mail you had been so sure was left on the heavy wooden table in the open foyer, now on the desk. Those tall, arched doors that seemed to creak open on their own, just barely caught in the corner of your eye as you were passing. 

Footsteps, in the night. 

And then - turning even more peculiar, and more personal.

Your scattered research notes carefully stacked on the table next to you, when you woke from a lazy, afternoon nap. Some items in the kitchen never seeming to go empty, no matter how many times you’ve used them. 

It had been a mystery.  Unsettling, in the variety. 

What you knew of ghosts involved spirits, unable to move on. Beings who lashed out, sought to frighten its inhabitants away. Or possess them.

At night, when you’re alone in the guestroom, you think you ought to be nervous. Afraid that you presence might have caused it displeasure, that it somehow, would take that anger out on you. 

But, this is Gotham, after all. And with the hell the city has been through, you’ve lived through worse. The prospect of a haunting doesn’t seem as frightening compared to them. The creak of old floors is nothing compared to riddling clues and murdered politicians, thousands of people displaced from their homes as the city had gone near-underwater. 

No, it’s something more like curiosity that flickers through you. After all, these movements were almost… helpful.

Intentional, at least.

And with that thought - something Bruce had said nudged at you, from the morning he handed over the keys. 

But surely it had been a joke. 

An internal amusement, at your expense.

“I’ll be six hours ahead, but text if you need me. You don’t have to worry about the Tower or cleaning, Alfred will take care of everything.”

“Alfred?” You had asked him, frowning. The name tickling something in the memory of your friendship, but you thought Bruce had lived alone. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Bruce had coaxed, before changing the subject, “You won’t even see him.”

There had been no Alfred. 

You were certain of that - by now you’d know if you were sharing the space with someone.

The Tower was expansive, but it was impossible that if they did exist, that they would always be in the exact opposite room as you. That your paths surely would have crossed by now.

You thought that perhaps, it was some form of Artificial Intelligence. Parts of the house hooked to some sort of electronic device he could monitor - call in any fixes or deliveries from home.

Alfred was probably an acronym for something clever.

Artificial Life For Reliable, Effective Delegation

It would make sense, with Bruce’s knack for gadgets. His fortune. The hours he kept - not a lot of room left to keep up with a dwelling as large as this. Far too busy and focused to worry about the daily minutia of bill-paying and grocery shopping. 

Yes, surely - that was it.

And it had contented you, for a little while. 

Until now. Because it didn’t explain this.

The last thing Bruce had told you to do was not to snoop. Tacked on at the end while he buttoned up his dark peacoat, baggage in hand  - almost as if he had almost forgotten.

“Enjoy yourself.”

“But stay out of the west wing, alright?”

It had been on the tip of your tongue to ask just what you should be avoiding. Your interest piqued - all manner of thoughts of what he might be hiding springing into your consciousness - though you tried to forget it. 

Bruce had been far too generous already, in offering you his home. You would never intentionally disobey his wishes.

And you hadn’t meant to. Really. 

You had just gotten turned around in the mix of different rooms. The large split staircase had lead you upstairs, along a corridor of bedrooms - a narrow spiral back down popping you out near the kitchen. Around a corner, and you’d found yourself beneath an arched passageway that you haven’t been down before.

Intricate oil paintings lined the walls, ones you had ached to see. To examine the brushstrokes yourself, the splashes of gold and crimson against the dark walls. The shut doors flanked by suits of shining silver armor, and… was that a chain on the door, at the end? 

If you were just there, if you didn’t open anything…. then it wouldn’t be snooping if you just peeked around. Right?

You had only taken a half-dozen steps down the hallway, before you suddenly collided with something solid. A soft noise ripping from you as you had stumbled, knocked off-kilter. 

There had been a pinching at your elbow, a pointed pressure that steered you around. A feeling at the small of your back guiding you forward, as you suddenly found yourself facing the passageway you had just walked under.

It happened so quickly that you hadn’t been sure what happened. Startled enough that you abandoned your exploring, making for familiar territory instead.

But that night, the memory had kept you up. Replaying it over and over. Enough that you had texted Bruce, a quick message that had already made you feel foolish the second you had sent it.

Is your house haunted?

His answer coming some time later, your eyes heavy and red-rimmed with exhaustion. 

Isn’t everyone’s?

Leaving you to wonder if Bruce hadn’t really been joking, after all.

It doesn’t happen again for a solid week. Long enough that you had started to doubt that it ever did. That perhaps, you had just imagined it. 

Giving you time to turn the moment over again and again, in your mind. Picking at the loose thread thing together the pieces. Your writings sidetracked by searches for ghosts, of hauntings - you suppose it would not be unusual, in a place like Gotham. To have spirits attached to a city that feels so cursed at times.

But, you keep going back to that pressure. The feeling of a hand at your arm, though there had only been the walls and floors ahead of you. 

It had been physical. Corporeal.

You notice more, in that time after.

More moments that you had spared a quick glance and thought of, but figured it had been in your head. The occasional dirty dish left in the sink is cleaned and tucked away the next morning. The blankets on the couch neatly folded, instead of strewn across the cushions.

At first, you had thought you had just forgotten. That perhaps your mind had just wandered, that you had been unintentionally tidying up as you mentally worked through your next task.

It wouldn’t be unusual - since you arrived, your sleep schedule had twisted. Mornings becoming afternoons. Night becoming day, with no one’s responsibilities to manage but your own.

Running on auto-pilot and simply not realizing.  

If it is a ghost, it is a tidy one.

It's that thought that begins to cement your earlier suspicions. That their identity just might be the one that Bruce was hinting at, when he said you didn't have to worry about the Tower.

Some small comfort in knowing that he would never leave you in any danger. That you might have been on edge - with the creaking of doors at night - but that harm would not come to you.

That hypnosis’s tested as time passed - there were no threats, smeared with jagged letters in the fogged-up mirror after your shower. No swinging chandeliers, loosening on their own to crash down against your head.

That whatever it was, it kept its distance. 

An intrigue slowly forms, that only grows with time. A urge to find out more - determined to see something, to make contact, again.

Even if you can't help being annoyed, as well.

Trust Bruce to let you think your mind was playing tricks on you, instead of telling the truth.

And with your now-careful surveillance - you finally catch when they slip up.

Your chin has been propped on your hand for some time now as you think - staring out of the tall, arched windows in one of the alcoves of the foyer. Head tilted to the side, so you can watch the small cars below - the tiny movements of people as they scurry into stores, to escape the cold wind that whips through the city streets.

There's a movement, then. Not outside, not below.

A flickering out of the corner of your eye you almost miss, near the coffee table you sit in front of. No more than a glint of silver in the light.

The faintest sound of pouring, which would have been drowned out by the ambient music trickling from your laptop, if you had not become so suddenly focused on the source.

It’s pouring you more coffee.

You're careful to keep still - your head fixed in place as you glance surreptitiously towards the movement. The silver coffeepot you've been lugging around tilted just enough to let a stream into your near-empty cup.

There can't be many ghosts that would choose to help, instead of scare or harm. That wiggle of curiosity surges into something more - a need to understand.

So, you try. Carefully, and unmoving.

"Are you Alfred?"

The coffee sloshes against the rim of your mug, dripping down the side. Startled by your words, so certain he had slipped past you, in your reverie. The carafe still hovers aloft, as you slowly turn your head.

Thinking that he might bolt. Hoping that he wouldn't.

Your eyes meet open air, swooping over the space - although you don't know where to look.

"Bruce mentioned you.” You try, settling on the area that you guess might be eye-level, on a man. "He said you'd be around, that I-… well, he must have thought he was being funny."

Teeth bite into the edge of your tongue - your head shaking at the half-truth he had given you. An omission, but still leaving room to argue later that he hadn’t been lying.

Your attention focuses back, again.

"But you're real, right? That was you, in the hallway?"

The coffee pot lowers to the table, then. A clunk against the heavy wood, just as you twist fully around. Your hand darting out to keep him there, curling around something solid. A wrist?

There's a tension as if he's about to move but then, at your touch, - he goes still. He's warm and solid beneath your palm, excitement sparking in your belly. Your other hand rising, index finger extended as you gesture for him to wait. 

"Please don't go. Just let me-" Your hand slips from him as you bend, looking for the bag propped against the wooden legs of the velvet settee. A second of rooting around before you find what you're looking for - a capped pen, and your spiral-bound notebook.

A page is torn from the end, and then ripped in half. You scribble down two words before flipping them around - setting them on the top of the table.

Yes and No rest there, scrawled in thick purple ink. A simplistic system by all means, and you're not even sure if he's still there or if he slipped away while you searched.

"You're Alfred, right?" You ask again, quietly - hopefully.

A fluttering in your heart at the idea of communicating. Unable to help the way you lean towards the words, as if willing them to move.

And after a long moment… they do.

The slightest flutter, a nudge to the word marked Yes.

A grin splits your face, hands clasped together, "It was you in the hallway? You this whole time?"

His answer comes more quickly now, another nudge. A sort of relief washes over you with that confirmation. No ghost lurking in these halls - just an unexpected and unusual sort-of roommate.

You had thought the solitude would suit you, but as the days pass, the interaction now feels welcome. Too many silent hours in such a big penthouse, left to your own devices for hours on end. 

"And is that your collection of tea in the kitchen, or do they belong to Bruce?" The tease comes without thought, though you belatedly realize that it's not a binary question. A heavy pause hangs in the air, before there's the slightest tug at your fingers.

You let the pen go, as he pulls it from you. One of the torn pieces flips over, the writing that appears much smaller and neater than yours.

Mine.

He plays along, to your amusement. Enough so that you're not quite ready to let him go.

"Will you have a cup with me, then?"

The paper flips back over, before it's nudged back your way.

Yes.

He hadn't been sure what to make of you.

A prickle of irritation when Bruce had informed him - yes, informed - of the arrangement. Visitors had never bothered him in the past, he was always grateful for any opportunity that meant Bruce felt comfortable bringing someone into his home. That he was spending time in the company of another, and not stuck lingering on what could never be changed. 

But that was before.

With Bruce gone, what was he to do? Pretend he doesn't exist, skirting around a stranger in the Tower? Unable to rest, too worried that you would disturb the sanctuary he's spent so long protecting?

"You know you can't go out." Bruce's eyes had been downcast, peering beneath the hood of his car. Alfred's own finger's streaked with grease, with his constant and silent aide.

Down beneath the guts of the Tower, in the Terminus. Another place to keep secret in his absence. A few years ago he would have considered caving it in while Bruce was away, but they've both come a long way since the days of the Riddler. Managing to meet somewhere in the middle, even as difficult as the journey was. 

"She's doing us a favor."

He could go out, if Bruce needed. Yes, a floating parcel could be problematic - a car driven with no owner - but he could get around that. It would be far from the more difficult things he's had to do over the course of his lifetime.

But before he knew it - you was there, and Bruce was gone. 

Alfred had never intended to interact with you. He had been all but a ghost for some time now, silent and invisible. It would have been too easy to keep to the shadows. 

To avoid you completely. 

But that wasn’t quite how things had turned out. 

You were fascinating, in your novelty. Beautiful, though he tries not to dwell on that particular observation. Keeping a schedule much like Bruce’s - all odd hours and self-directed patterns - though you couldn’t be more opposite.

Alfred would never dare step into your room, or encroach upon a private moment. He did not seek you out. But if he was already up, and you wandered into the kitchen to make pasta in the middle of the night, then sometimes… he stayed. 

Watching you move about the space. Resisting the long-engrained urge to nudge you out of the way, to cook for you himself. 

Forcing himself to linger instead, listening to you hum along to music only you could hear. Opening all the cabinets each time, until you found what you were looking for. A coffee mug, the deepest bowl you could find. 

He’d rearrange them later. Bring them to the shelf closest to you, so you didn’t have to search so hard. 

That he could do, at least. 

And when you had grown curious - wandering about the Tower, down the very hallway Bruce had told you to avoid - he had been unable to avoid you any longer. 

It had been all too easy to catch you off guard. Ignoring the spark that jolted through him when his hand had wrapped around your elbow, swiftly guiding you back the way you came. Away from the entrance to Wayne Terminus.

The expression of shock on your face still makes him smile, though he took no pleasure in frightening you.

He still manages to do so, though. Your hand flattening across your chest, a muffled shriek when his fingers stretch out to carefully tap your arm, announcing his presence. 

You were open like that - smiles and frowns and everything in between, worn so plainly and unfettered across your face. Another source of intrigue. 

So different than what he was used to. Interpreting the minute frowns and sighs and ticks of Bruce’s jaw, as if he was in the circus again - solving a codex.

He thought he was starting to be able to read you. Annoyance and boredom and that laser-focused look you got when you were working - hours passing without notice. 

And now, he watches as curiosity blooms. 

Directed at him, no less. 

It was an unusual feeling. No one he was used to - there were few secrets between himself and Bruce, especially over the recent years. A promise made that he would do better, even though he's still wracked at night with worry. 

He's not a spectacle. You don't push - though surely, you must wonder. It's not as if he doesn't himself, even though he's long been resigned to the feeling of merely existing, instead of living.

And when he finds that your routines slowly start to include him - an extra mug of tea made, the paper set out where he usually spends the morning - that wish that he had been left alone slowly begins to slip. 

Alfred finds himself thinking that perhaps, perhaps, these weeks won't be so bad, after all. 

Or at least - not quite so boring. 

In the days that follow, a semblance of a routine is formed.

His presence is announced by a touch on your shoulder - a soft tap, as not to scare you, like he had before. The questions you have about the manor, about him, answered with more of those touches.

One tap for no. Two quick ones for yes.

Or written on pen and paper like your first meeting, when you have it.

You take to carrying a pad around in your backpocket. A pen tucked behind you ear, as you grow more brave - emboldened by the fact that he does answer. That they are short and succinct, though you think, not unwelcome.

For if he had wanted to stay out of your sight, it would have been all too easy. If he stayed - sharing the space with you, steam rising from his teacup as the newspaper turned - then surely, it would mean that he did not mind.

Notes passed back and forth as you work - the heavy velvet curtains in the foyer pulled back to let the daylight in. Giving you a view of the Gotham skyline, how untouched it feels from so high up. Rows and rows of buildings, each climbing taller.

Have you always worked for the Waynes?

Your question is folded up, flicked across the table. A old trick from school, the triangular shape soaring to where the papers are sorted in neat stacks, the click of a calculator as sums are added and marked down in a ledger.

His answer comes in neat, uniform letters. Carefully written on the sheet below your looping scrawl.

Not always. I met Thomas after my days in the military.

Another small detail you hoard like a magpie, this new piece weaving its way into the shiny pile of treasures you've collected. It explained a little - the tidiness of the kitchen, the way he moved through the morning like clockwork.

So unlike your own schedule, tied to the whims of your creativity.

But you've been with them since?

Yes.

Have you always been their Butler?

It seems like a strange course to take after his years of service and you think he must see the way you frown, as you think it over. His pen hesitates, before he answers.

In a way.

His answers are as cryptic as Bruce's could be. You wonder which one had begun that way - who had learned from the other. The thought of the connection made you smile.

In these moments, you find you work well together. He’s a busy man - the ambient sounds of his fountain pen scratching over papers filling your afternoons. The notes shared a welcome reprieve, when the hunch of your shoulders and twist of your hips start to ache. 

Trading pieces of each other across the hours. Favorite books. Foods that remind you of home, ones that are sometimes ordered and shared over the course of the next day.

Memories, carefully inked down - feeling like confessions. 

Your eyes are bleary when you finally glance up from your laptop, the mid-morning light somehow slipping towards evening before you could blink. The room now eerily silent, and you wonder if he is still here. Or if he moved on without notice, as sometimes did.

“Alfred?”

You voice is quiet in the large room. It’s not like you need him for anything but you still can’t help but wonder where he is - not minding the moments where you share the room together. 

Still getting used to the fact that he exists, and yet is always unseen.

He appears before the sound has faded, his name still hanging in the air. A brush at your shoulder, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the thought of being caught, sounding so needy.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” You admit, with a scrunch of your nose, “I wasn’t sure, I-”

Words cut off by the plate set down next to you. Dinner - the meal still warm, fresh from the kitchen. You’d worked through lunch, too caught up to notice the time. The ache that had formed in your belly as the time passed now making itself known. 

It has you wondering if he had been on his way back, or whether he had heard your call. He seemed to have a habit of that - appearing just when you’re looking for him. As if he had an innate sixth sense for knowing when he was wanted. 

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do this, you know.” You protest, and your refilled coffee cup rattles as it’s set down next.

The movement almost indignant.

A quick jotting on the back of a printed article he’d been perusing, the ink still glossy when it’s rotated your way - the last word underlined for emphasis.

You are our guest.

It’s hard to hold back the smile, as you read. You wonder when it became “our” and not just Bruce’s guest - if the exact syntax held anything in it’s arrangement.  

Would it be strange that you think you want to find a deeper meaning in his words? That assurance that he wasn’t inconvenience by your presence? That the hours spent together were more pleasure than mere obligation?

You push the thought away from now - unable to examine your inner feelings with the source of them being so near. Dipping into the food he brought, instead. It’s good - a twist on a quick meal you’ve made a few times since you arrived, but much more delicious. 

The thought of him watching you unawares, sends a little jolt crackling low in your stomach. 

But you realize - it’s not one of discomfort.

Something else to contemplate, later. 

“Did you already eat?” You ask, between mouthfuls. 

The answer comes with the movement of his pen, nudging the plate closer. 

Over time, you’ve found he can tips towards bossy. Insistent. Amusement at the thought of him trying to keep Bruce in check - hiding your smile as you shut down your laptop in favor of concentrating on your food. Savoring it, a certain luxury found in a hearty meal that was not made with your own hands.

Something you’re not used to, something you certainly and wholeheartedly appreciate. 

When your belly is full, you lean back against the cushions. Thinking about how often you find yourself here, in this cluster of alcoves off the large, open foyer. Leaving you wondering about the rest of the Tower, as a sip of coffee warms your belly.

“Do you have a favorite room?” You ask him, with a tilt of your head.

There is no written answer. It comes instead with the pushing back of his chair - a hand that rests on top of yours, squeezing twice as he coaxes you out of your chair.

Alfred guides you down halls you've explored before, though you were never brave enough to peek into any of the closed rooms. The thought of getting a look inside one of them thrills you, a hand gently touching between your shoulder blades to steer you towards a set of the doors at the end of the hall.

The closer of the two opens with his touch, the room brighter than you're expecting as you slip inside.

A beautiful study, the walls and built-in bookshelves stained a deep brown that tips towards gray. An antique wooden desk takes up the middle of the room - a closed laptop resting on top, next to piles of neat manila folders. 

The heavy drapes that embrace the arched window behind are cracked open to let in the setting sun - and as you step into the room, they open wider.

The view is stunning. 

Looking out across Gotham River instead of the streets of Midtown, clogged with buildings and the never-ending traffic. Framing the lazy rush of the water that had caused so much destruction in the years before, softened by the glitter and glint of the sun as it dips below the horizon.

Unmarred by man-made buildings and dark shadows.

"It's beautiful," You breathe - only just now noticing how close you've moved to the window, skirting around that old wooden desk, "I can see why you love it."

You can feel him next to you, at your shoulder. That sort of heavy presence that you've started to sense - nearly well-enough that you've gotten good at hazarding a guess where he stands.

Lingering just a little longer in the silence, watching the crash of the waters against the floodwalls. But your insatiable curiosity eventually piques at you, unable to help the twist of your head as you take in the surroundings.

Seeing more from this side of the room. The cracked door from off to the side, leading to a darkened bedroom in shades of charcoal and silver.

A buttery-soft leather chair tucked into the desk, where a sterling silver teapot sits on a folded newspaper. You've seen it before, in the kitchen, on the hexagonal table in the foyer.

"Is this your room? Your study?" You ask, piecing things together. Wondering how it took you so long to realize how it feels like him. The sort of him you’ve come to picture - tidy and proper.

Thick-bound books tucked neatly into the shelves that reach towards the ceiling, sculptures breaking up the space. The wooden floor covered in a thick rug, soft against your toes. A warmth brought to the space, in spite of all the sharp stone and dark wood.

Yes.

And then your eyes are snagging on the desk. Where two photos lie overlapping, unseen from the other side. Ones of people, their edges creased and well-worn with touch - two men flanking a women, a child in her arms. For a moment you almost think one of them is Bruce, with his sharp jawline and dark hair.

As you step closer, you realize it's not. You recognize the Waynes from the newspapers, both beautiful and elegant - their son a perfect mix of both of them. Next to them, standing close - just as much as part of the family, is another.

You don't know the man on the right. He is striking - broad-shouldered and dressed just as well. Dark hair that is carefully combed back, just starting to lighten at the temples. Eyes bright and blue, his smile framed with a neatly trimmed beard.

But maybe... you do.

"Is this you?" Your fingers reach out, nearly touching. Hovering, instead.

The second picture lifts, pressed into your hand. Just two, now. A small smile at Bruce, clad in a cap and gown, a golden stamp at the corner edge that notes Yale University. The tight-lipped smile of a young man, exasperated at the prospect of a photo.

The man - your Alfred - is here, too. Older, his hair more gray than black now. Still smiling, though the expression has faded, as he stands next to Bruce.

"You look..." The words trail off. Something lodging in your chest, stealing your breath.

Handsome. Happy. Just like I imagined you.

None are appropriate to say. Eyes quickly soaking up the photos, trying to picture him now. Not that much older, certainly less than a decade. Distinguished, the salt-and-pepper tones only complimenting his already attractive features.

Your thumb traces the edge of the photo as you find your voice, "Proud."

Yes.

It hits you then - the mystery of him. You head suddenly jerking in his direction, the frame setting back down on the desk as you turn, "You haven't always been like this?"

There's a wave of your hand, gesturing at his situation.

You hadn't known what to think. You lived in fiction and you lived in Gotham - the world twisting and turning dark in front of your own eyes. Countless ideas had flitted through your mind, a topic you had come back to frequently. 

Whether he was born like this, never seen by human eyes. Truly a ghost, haunting the halls - unable to leave. Or even just a figment of your imagination - a dream that you haven't woken up from yet.

None of them had made sense. Not with what he had told you of his past. But the ideas had started to dry up, leaving you with no answers. Until now.

His hand squeezes your arm. No.

It sends your heart tumbling, as a drawer in his desk opens. Digging down deep, an article tucked beneath layers of folders, as if untouched for years. Worn and paper thin from where it had been clipped from the Gotham Gazette, carefully held out to you.

And as your eyes flick over the headline, you remember. The sorcerer who had sold his soul to the devil, wreaking havoc throughout the city. People had disappeared, plucked from the streets. Tricked by their own eyes by his illusions, in his quest for dominance over the city. 

Your parents had called you - begging you to stay inside, to stay safe, until it was over. A shiver racing up your spine at their worry, how it still lingers in your memory.

Alfred must have been caught. One of the many affected by the spells. Cursed.

"This was years ago," Your voice was hushed, "You've been this way for that long?"

Yes.

The thought makes you ache.

"Can you fix this? Is there a way?"

You think surely there must be. There had been others, brought out of months of sleep. Turned back into their human forms, from the animal they had become. It has you clinging to a spark of hope that had long been extinguished in these halls. 

A pen from his desk lifts, an answer slowly inked in the margins of the article.

I cannot not tell you.

And then two words, written below it.

Ask Bruce.

You text Bruce that night.

In the glow of your laptop - the scene you're working on left hanging, open-ended as you're unable to resist any longer. Late enough now for you that for him, it's morning. 

I met your butler.

Your phone is still glowing when he answers. Barely a minute passing before the bubbles appear, just two words popping up.

Did you?

He never makes it easy - a sigh slipping from your lungs as you lean back into the plush chair, a knee pressing into the edge of the desk.

I did. 

A second, as you wonder if you should dive in. If you should just ask what you want to know - if Bruce would entertain the thoughts and questions swirling in your mind.

You decide you should. That he's busy, and blunt. No reason you can't cut to the chase.

He said you could tell me about the curse.

Interesting. So you didn't just meet him. How long has it been?

That has you pausing, your thumb tapping a quick response.

What do you mean?

Alfred would never just tell that to anyone.

Even someone like you.

You scoff.

Meaning??

A pause hangs. Minutes passing, before an answer appears.

Meaning someone I trust enough to leave in my home.

His answer mollifies you. A friend, you think. Something he would never say. On anyone else you'd comment on the sentiment, but you think bringing attention to it would only push him further away.

We've been talking for a little while. Written notes, stuff like that.

The touching is innocent, but you feel protective of it. Like the brush of his hand is private. That aspect remains unmentioned, something just for you.

I'm impressed.

Your eyes roll with impatience. Impressed that you'd find a way to talk to him? Or impressed that you'd even noticed?

Thanks, I guess. Today he told me about the curse. Said I could ask you. Can I?

You haven't told me what he's told you.

You take a second then, to recollect. Typing slowly and then erasing, until you get your thoughts down.

He showed me the newspaper. I know about what happened, and when I asked if it could be fixed he said he couldn't tell me. That I could ask you.

You can.

I am???

Fuck - he's infuriating. Your jaw grits, as you flop sideways - twisting on your back. Hands held above your face as you type out your answer with a little more force than necessary.  

I'm asking right now. Could you please tell me?

From what we've gathered, his curse will be lifted when he gets what he truly wants. Which might be impossible, considering.

This is something. A tangible goal, something you can really work towards. Your heart kicks up a notch, as you murmur the words while typing.

Considering what? What does he want?

That depends. Why do you want to lift it?

That has you pausing. Why do you? Is it because it's what any decent person would do?

Perhaps if it was the first day, that would be your answer.

But over the course of the evening and the time that had passed, it's become more. 

It's hard not to think about how lonely Alfred must be. Half a lifetime spent with just the two of them. Now - left utterly unseen. Not even a ghost, but someone trapped as time still moves on without him. Forgotten. 

And yes - lately, selfishly, you want to see him. Deep down, you’re realizing you want him to see you, too. Though it’s more than just that.

You need to break it.

To help him, because Alfred deserves it.

You can't tell Bruce this. It feels too new, too tender. Something still half-formed, even to your own mind. 

So you send your own half-truth in reply.

Because it's the right thing to do.

Bruce’s response comes quickly.

If that is your answer, then you should give up now.

It leaves you frowning, a pit forming in your stomach.

Bruce.

???

What do you mean?

No other answers come, though it doesn't stop your eye from wandering the rest of the night. That urge to check for a more substantial answer. Frustration bubbling in your stomach, acid in your throat. Hurt and confused by his words.

Leaving your mind swirling - an irritation in the way your mind has now split. Words no longer flowing from your fingertips - your manuscript left frozen in place, as you try to puzzle out his meaning. Reading and rereading his messages.

That so-very human urge to help turning into something a more.

A desire. 

Your jaw grits as you decide that don't need Bruce's help. You can do this yourself.

For Alfred.

thanks for reading! 💖

[ultfreakme]

So one of my fav fic author, just wrote a non-power AU of GoYuu (gojo/yuji) & SukuFushi (sukuna/ fushiguro) and...... I don't know what to feel. Like, have you know someone who ship them (it's the first for me) ? The fic's not underage, yuji's and megumi's age had been aged up by the author, but still the age gap, the dynamics, right? Can you think the reasons to ship them? Well, creativity really knows no bound.....😂😶

Oooh I have actually come across both of these ships very often on ao3. The ItaJun tag has a bunch of them on top hehe. I actually used to ship Sukuna and Megumi a little back when the anime was first airing(not anymore though).

For Gojo/Yuuji I think the first episode scene where their faces are super duper close probably kickstarted it

(Gojo: tf is personal space??? what's thaaaat???) GoYuu has a very popular ship dynamic I've observed in many fandoms; Student x Teacher. There's always a kind of jaded, aloof and distant teacher-figure who's shipped with the cheery, open-minded and sunny student-figure. I've heard that dynamic is really popular in East Asian fandom spaces(it appears a lot in danmei novels I've read). GoYuu was apparently the most popular ship in Japan (it beat out SatoSugu). Gojo argued to keep Yuuji alive and gave him time, so that's probably a point of appeal too. Gojo usually has no serious reactions to anything, he could have easily killed Yuuji and been done with it but he wanted him to live(Megumi did but eh, technicalities). What made this distant and carefree person take interest in the well-being of this stranger? Why would he risk the world for this one boy? That's probably the start of it. And then in the development, it's probably about how Yuuji can break down Gojo's walls and make him be more honest in his emotions.

2. Sukuna/Megumi: I used to ship it because I thought Sukuna was interested in Megumi as a person, assumed he'd be someone who can give him a good fight or wanted him as an ally.

Also this probably, look at that aesthetic appeal:

(Damn Mappa had a thing for these, ItaJun also had this. Why???? Fuel fujo-bait??? I thank them for the ItaJun version)

Right before this Sukuna's all giggling laughing asking Megumi to give him more(to fight against, but like, SukuFushi enjoyers probably enjoy taking that to mean something different). I think we all assumed he was interested in Megumi's evolution as a sorcerer. He takes joy in fighting and if anyone can catch his interest, it'd be someone who's struggling to get stronger and sees him as a rival.

It seems like he doesn't give a shit about anyone but Megumi. Like that one time he verbatiom said "Aside from him, I truly don't care". Also in Shibuya arc he heals Megumi and fights Mahoraga and everyone though it's because he cares about him(I was a fool).

On Megumi's end, okay idk what the current SukuFushi shippers expect but I personally wanted Megumi to kill Sukuna even when I was shipping them. Enemies to lovers except one of them is permanently in the enemies phase. As far as I've seen, there's always this non-con element to it? Like Megumi is extremely reluctant, Sukuna is unrelenting in pursuing him, and Megumi goes through a bit of a corruption arc and Sukuna.....well he isn't redeemed but he tones down because Megumi asks. A Beauty & The Beast situation.

I was talking about it to my bff and she was (rightfully) roasting me like we were joking around. Me: "Sukuna wants him for his body.....but like literally he wants to be inside him." My friend: "You mean possess him???" Me: "That's the word yes!"

The age-gap thing for SukuFushi feels more okay because I grew up on a bunch of fantasy shojo manga where a high school girl fell for an ancient spirit with a minimum age of 100. This isn't even an animanga thing, it's there in western media too(....Twilight). A lot of people just don't see the point of mulling over age gaps when the differences are centuries, even if the other half is a minor.

As for GoYuu, well I guess it's fiction, they're just lines on a page at the end of the day and it's less about the legalities of the gap and more about the dynamics it brings to the table that people can find interest in. The power difference, the difference in ways they view the world, the younger one is always more innocent, etc.

I personally don't find these to be my interests 99% of the time but I get why others would enjoy it (my few exceptions are Scum Villain and ErHa but if I start trying to explain THOSE messes we'd all lose it).

I guess people would be confused why I'm still hung up on ItaJun too huh? XDXD But as you said, fanon and creativity has no limits and people do as they like and enjoy.

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 35

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: only mild swears this time (boooo)

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @wordspin-shares @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @starryeyes2000 @kmc1989 (please lmk if you would like informed of my sporadic updates)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 34 | Chapter 36

Should I Stay or Should I Go - The Clash

As the skipper steered away from the dock and out into the fog bank that filled the ocean passage between InGen sites, Lori Ruso only managed to keep sight of Muldoon and Armstrong for a few seconds before they disappeared completely.

In less than a minute, there was no sign that Isla Nublar even existed.

A productive site visit indeed.

She hadn’t made the journey with high hopes, but the sombre man and his that’s-not-my-girlfriend-she’s-just-a-colleague had turned out to be decent people. Lori had no interest in screwing them over, and nothing she had told them was a lie, per se…

But Muldoon’s proposal of a meeting couldn’t have come at a better time. The residents of Nublar had no idea that the “site visit” was the perfect cover for something else altogether.

Unbeknownst to John Hammond’s company, Ruso had received a rather intriguing phone call several weeks prior. It was from a man who seemed particularly interested in her position as a disgruntled current employee, and was offering her a lot of money for-

“That’s all? Just information?” Lori had shivered as she remembered how tight of a leash Ingen currently had her on. “You really aren’t asking me to do anything more…invasive?”

“No-” Lewis Dodgson had replied. “-I got another guy for that.”

***

”You’re panicking about Kathy leaving, aren’t you?” Lizzy felt compelled to say so.

”Panicking?” Muldoon turned to make his way back down the dock. “Hardly.”

“The raptors are coming-” Lizzy thought of the Scotswoman, the Kenyan and the Texan holding down Fort Nublar by themselves. It sounded and felt like a terrible joke. “-and you think three of us alone can handle more than one of them? What if they all turn out like…her?”

“I think one of us alone could handle three of them.” He called back to her as she struggled to catch up without slipping. “Though I’d rather it doesn’t come to that.”

“You may have to-“ Lizzy gasped, mock-dramatically. “-recruit!”

“Hope not. I’ve been lucky, the Team I ended up getting.” Muldoon admitted. “Never expected to get along with, let alone actively like any of you.”

He about-turned so abruptly that Lizzy misjudged her steps and had no choice but to collide head on to keep from swerving off the edge of the algae-covered boardwalk. He caught her around the waist as Lizzy huffed in surprise.

Muldoon didn’t even sway at the impact, so familiar with the shape of her. “Especially you…”

Lizzy wondered if he was also still thinking about Lori’s suggestive comment. Or if he was planning on doing anything about it.

”Even Tom?” She asked dazedly, spouting the first unfortunate words that entered her head. She could picture Arnold eye-rolling and dry-heaving if he were to snoop on them now, images blown up fullscreen on his monitors for the entire workforce to see. “Not just a pretty diversion if things go sideways?”

Muldoon looked down at her sternly.

“Don’t say things like that.” Then, somewhat reluctantly: “Yes, even him.”

”Would it kill you to mention it once in a while?” She asked quietly.

He only stared at her, and Lizzy persevered.

“He has a problem with male authority.” She didn’t have the guts to utter the words father figure.

“So; I’d like to point out, do you.”

”You know what I mean.”

She could see it, crystal clear. Muldoon couldn’t, not yet.

Tom’s past life, why he was that way, made Lizzy desperately sad. She’d already found her own mentor, someone to stick the broken pieces back together stronger than before. Tom’s mentor, standing in front of her now, remained unwilling. “He trusts you. Can’t you see he so badly wants your approval?”

“Suppose.” He was turning sullen, approaching blood-from-a-stone territory, and Lizzy backpedaled in a hurry.

“I’m not asking you to call him son, play catch in the yard and take him on fishing trips!”

“I should bloody well hope not!” He looked horrified. “It’s still asking a Hell of a lot, Armstrong.”

“Even if it’s me that‘s asking you?” She looked up from under her eyelashes, in a way she knew he found disarming.

Rico’s accident had put her on edge, worrying about things left unsaid in case the worst should happen.

”Hmm…think about it.” He finally said begrudgingly. “Don’t get your hopes up-“

The radio crackling surprised them both.

“-uldoon?” Muffled, no doubt by the perpetual cigarette. “-rmstrong? Come in, for the love of Christ-“

Arnold.

“We’re here.” Muldoon didn’t hesitate to answer, reflexively dropping his hold on Lizzy in case of prying eyes.

“-ig trouble.” The engineer was hurrying, not waiting to start talking until after he’d pressed the call button. “-uge. They’re maaaaad.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“-need to get back to base…-better hope to God you find Regis before they do.”

“Why?” Muldoon and Lizzy looked sideways at each other. “Who’s they?”

***

”Mr Hammond, I have a, er-“ Regis fumbled nervously with the telephone handset. “-an angry mob situation.”

“Oh, really?” His employer sounded only mildly concerned.

”They know about the deal with that Rico kid.” Ed hissed quietly, trying to remember if he’d locked the office door in his panic. “Operation Backhoe.”

“I am in my car-“ Hammond replied tersely. “-en route to collect my daughter from the airport. This is not a good time, Regis.”

“But-“

“You are public relations. This is your job.”

“These are not the public! These are a bunch of very pissed-off animal hand-…hello? Sir?”

Regis was on his own.

They were drawing closer, he could hear lots of cursing in various different languages, and overriding them, loudest of all, a women’s Scottish brogue.

Oh Christ, no.

Hanmering fists on his door.

“Open up, Ed. We just wanna talk.” Baker’s level voice held a lot more venom than usual.

“Go away!” He yelled back, somewhat childishly.

”Why’d you cover it up, pal?” Armstrong demanded.

Kennedy followed suit. ”Yeah, why’d you lie, brother?”

Regis had a hunch that pal and brother weren’t to be taken as friendly terms. At least his life insurance policy was pretty damn watertight, from the looks of things they’d be paying out soon. Death by misadventure.

His boss had abandoned him, and the only way out was through a crowd of angry colleagues.

You got this, Eddie-boy.

Customer service was his niche. He had faced down plenty of entitled middle-aged women in his career. He could do anything. Time to pacify the brands and pitchforks.

“Okay, folks-“ He spread his hands wide, begging forgiveness as he opened the door. “I can explain.”

***

”Right, let’s make this quick.” Muldoon strode into Regis’ office, with only a cursory nod in Wu’s direction. “Remember, we have a funeral to get to.”

It was in fact a memorial service. The funeral itself had been in Portugal, already missed by several days due to management’s erasure, but the animal handlers decided they wanted to remember Rico in their own way regardless.

Muldoon didn’t agree with funerals. For him, it never make the inevitable goodbye any easier, just prolonged it. And he’d attended far too many in recent years. A stark reminder that he himself was getting on a bit. He had less friends above ground than a decade previous. But his team wanted him there. Lizzy wanted him there. His presence mattered.

That was why this end-of-day “urgent” meeting had wound him up so much. A few more minutes and he was in danger of being late, something he couldn’t stand, not at the best of times. Certainly not now.

“Oh, that’s still going ahead? Uh-“ Regis stammered. “I wasn’t planning on-“

“You’re going.” Muldoon ordered bluntly. “Least you can do. Find a clean shirt and get down to that beach.”

Regis nodded mutely and avoided eye contact.

“This better be good news, Wu.” Muldoon quickly got back to the reason he’d been summoned.

“Seven bouncing baby velociraptors are being delivered to you tomorrow.” Wu announced. Then, somewhat condescendingly: “Congratulations!”

Muldoon could already envision the animal handlers taking the news rather poorly, seeing it as an insult to Esteves’ memory. Stiff upper lip, and carry on. Get back to work.

”Seven?” He frowned. “Were we originally planning on that many?”

”Dr Ruso’s department seems to have had a long overdue stroke of luck.” Wu clarified. “A higher than average number of juveniles survived the last incubation cycle.”

”Out of how many viable embryos?”

Henry Wu cast his eyes to the ground; Muldoon shook his head in exasperation. “You don’t know?”

How many had hatched and suffered before finally succumbing?

“Ruso has the numbers.” Regis waved a hand.

Numbers. Was that all they were reduced to now?

”And another thing, that paddock you’ve had built is far too small for seven juveniles, plus an unexpectedly big one. Is it too late to change the itinerary?” Muldoon criticised, scanning the blueprint on the desk, looking for any labels that indicated a perimeter large enough to house eight (eight?!) adult raptors. “Can’t we move them straight into their permanent enclosure?”

He couldn’t see one. Maybe it was unmarked?

Regis and Wu exchanged a glance.

“That is their, er…permanent residence.”

“You have got to be joking.” Wu looked unhappy, Regis was grinning sheepishly. “That’s a holding pen at best.”

Straight up cruelty at its worst.

InGen hadn’t bothered to consult him. It somehow felt personal, this time. Muldoon wasn’t one to network, ever, but didn’t they know who he was?

He sighed deeply and ordered. “Get me Hammond, now.”

***

Muldoon had seen some remarkable things in his lifetime, but the animal handlers clamouring for Ed Regis’ blood while he wrung his baseball cap in his hands was one of the ugliest.

Baker was telling everyone within earshot he lied, he lied to us over and over.

The handlers began demanding to know what had really happened, Regis had cowered before them, then finally lost his marbles and yelled for quiet.

Why didn’t you tell us?

There followed directly from the mouth of Regis some convoluted; and, Muldoon suspected; untrue in parts, though he couldn’t prove it, tale; about how InGen hadn’t wanted word of the incident getting back to the investors, the paperwork (folks, honest to God, the amount of paperwork, you’ve got no idea) of a foreign worker being injured on a privately-owned island but kicking it- er, passing away on the mainland…

Regis had talked for a long time. Until the anger had subsided and the grief had taken over for his audience. Nobody was level-headed enough to question him further, coming to terms with the notion that whatever he said couldn’t change the cold, hard fact that Rico was dead.

That night had been all sorts of messy, Muldoon recalled. Nobody had really known what to do, himself included. Richardson had vanished, and was no use whatsoever.

Armstrong had been struck practically mute, Baker had a constant stream of tears for hours, soundless crying until raw tracks had been worn into her face. He’d finally convinced her to go to bed for Christ’s sake, pretending to ignore that Kennedy had quietly followed her.

He’d wanted nothing more than to disappear, hide from all of them, even Lizzy, with a bottle of the highest proof he could lay hands on because he couldn’t do this again.

The sports fan would have a tough job getting his respect back, not that he’d had much to begin with.

Especially when he said things like-

”That’s not possible.”

Sensing trouble brewing, Wu had quickly excused himself from the office. Meanwhile, neither Regis nor Muldoon was all that happy about being left alone with the other.

“Why isn’t it possible?” Muldoon ground out.

“Time with the family, I’m afraid. Mr Hammond simply cannot be disturbed this week.” Was the infuriating reply.

Regis was assertive, for once. The lad might be somewhat wary of him, but the trembling of his voice meant that he was clearly more afraid of the park‘s creator.

Although, there was another who was capable of making him sweat bullets…

Muldoon very deliberately reached for his radio and pressed down the call button with a crackle.

“Armstrong?” The ginger head jerked up in alarm, remarkably like a meerkat. “Stop whatever you’re doing and come to Regis’ office.”

”Okay, okay, fine!” Ed looked pained, reaching for the phone. “Please, don’t let her in here.”

His eyes darted to the door, windows, ceiling vent, as if he were afraid of any potential entrance Lizzy might suddenly jack-in-the-box from.

”That’s better. And Regis?” Muldoon waited a few moments until he was certain the US mainland number had been input. “Radio was on the wrong channel. She didn’t hear.”

Ed’s mouth fell open in surprise. But it was too late, the phone was already ringing, and with a click, Hammond’s housekeeper answered.

His mind went blank, his entire vocabulary far out of reach.

“Go on.” Muldoon urged.

Ed considered hanging up before it was too late, then reminded himself that the park warden was actually there in the room with him, and readily had access to a shotgun, and a Lizzy.

So he meekly whispered Mr Hammond please.

“Very good.” Muldoon nodded.

“Hello?” Impatiently. Then irately. ”Hello!”

“H-how are you, John?” Golly, he was sweating in places he didn’t even know he had. “It’s Ed.”

“…who?”

Was he serious?

”Ed R-regis. From Jurassic Park, sir.”

”My grandchildren are here, dear boy.” This time around the moniker didn’t sound quite so sincere. “Twice in one week, Regis? Really? Can’t you handle a bunch of zookeepers?”

”Mr Muldoon wants to speak to you, sir. It’s-“ Ed glanced up. “-quite important.”

The park warden nodded reassuringly again, mouthing very important. He straightened up from leaning on the wall and began to stalk slowly around the back of Regis’s desk. Ed tried to swivel his chair to keep him in view, but quickly ran out of telephone cable.

“I told you how to handle Muldoon.” Hammond was beyond exasperated. “Just keep the bottles stocked and he won’t bother you. Not unlike you’re bothering me now.”

“Uh…” The urge to mutter I’msorrysirwon’thappenagain and slam the phone down before scurrying off to hide was unbearable.

“That’ll be all, Regis.” Came the voice from behind him. “Move.”

***

“That is brilliant.” Lizzy exclaimed.

She found Muldoon’s threat of setting his dog on Regis hilarious.

“He’s scared of me. He’s terrified of you.” He had told the story to cheer her up after the memorial, when the news of seven raptors arriving the very next day was not well received, as he’d expected.

“Move.” She mimicked his stern tone and faintly began to chuckle. The relief and finality that follows the wake began to wash over her. Awkward jokes to break through the gloom.

Lizzy was still hurting, and would be for a long time.

“Drink?” Kathy had brushed her elbow, as she turned to follow the rest of the crowd to higher ground. “Food?”

She’d refused.

“It’s what he would have wanted…” Kathy had murmured softly, trying for humour.

Lizzy just shook her head and her friend gave a sad smile before taking Tom’s outstretched hand and letting him lead her away.

She stayed on the beach long after everyone else had left, sitting cross-legged with her toes buried in the sand, watching the waves roll in and wash back out again until horizon and water were merged, the same exact shade of inky blue.

Goodbye, Rico.

When she’d finally stood up and turned around, Muldoon was just there, still waiting patiently to give her a lift back.

She trudged bare-footed up the beach and slumped into his arms.

“Sorry, love.” He muttered against the top of her head. “I ended up running late.”

Blame Regis.

“At least you made it in the end.” Lizzy said simply, just grateful he’d shown. More effort than some.

Hammond’s absence had not gone unnoticed and would not be forgotten, nor this time forgiven.

On the beach at sunset, Kathy had sang in Portuguese, accompanied by Tom’s guitar, her voice rising like a siren over the soft crashing of the waves. Isaac had stood to give his part of the eulogy, faltered while his shoulders heaved, and Lizzy had gently taken the notes from his hand and read out his words, as well as her own.

She was both sad and grateful to have closure. Mostly, Lizzy just missed him, found it unbearably hard to believe she would never see his face again. Just a kid, someone for whom the awe of dinosaurs had truly never got old, the same childlike wonder on the day of his death as of his arrival to the island.

Gone.

“But I hope your tardiness was worth it.” She shrugged off the last of her remorse, trying to find herself again. “Good news?”

“Not really.” He filled her in.

”Seven?!” She was horrified.

”I, hm-“ He had debated telling her the full story when she was less fraught. No point. “-may have played all my cards in one go.”

”What do you mean?”

“I threatened to leave the park, and go to the press about what’s happening here.” He turned to look at her. “I wasn’t bluffing.”

“You-“ Lizzy shook her head and blinked. “I’m sorry, what?!”

”I think Hammond knew I meant it.”

“Oh.” Lizzy’s expression plummeted. Quickfire shock, worry, then anger. “I didn’t realise that leaving was ever seriously an option for you.”

“I said I felt responsible-“

Lizzy’s stomach dropped from sickening heights.

”Do you, for real?”

Why would he accept any form of blame? Why hadn’t he told her he felt that way?

“Of course not-“ Muldoon replied too quickly. “-we all wish that night had played out differently.”

Lizzy felt his fingers tighten on her hip, and wasn’t sure if she was in the place of a subconscious Scotch glass or the stock of a gun.

“Kinda seems like the sort of thing you should have talked to me about first.”

”Seems like the sort of thing you should trust me to handle.” His hand fell away from her side. “I’ve known Hammond for a very long time. You need to make everything seem like it’s his brilliant idea. He gets the hump if it’s your idea.”

“Uh-huh.”

”I do know what I’m doing.” She was hiding her face, resolutely staring downwards. “Lizzy?”

“Yeah?” She was tired, and it took all the fight she had left to not turn her shoulders and face away from him.

“He compromised. I’m getting weapons that will actually stop a dinosaur in its tracks. About damn time.”

Surely, that would brighten her otherwise terrible, getting-worse-by-the-second day?

“Compromised…” She fixated on the word. “Are telling me you asked for more and didn’t get it?”

Muldoon paused. “The raptors won’t be getting a bigger paddock. Not anytime soon.”

”Well, at least you got what you wanted.” She murmured bitterly. She might need Lori’s help with welfare requirements sooner than expected. “Screw what I want.”

“Listen, I want the best for these animals too.” Enough of the hiding, she would bloody well look at him. “Do you have any idea how concerned I am about integrating twenty-three-oh-eight with the younger ones in such a small space?”

“It’s an ethological nightmare.” Lizzy agreed, her voice flat. “I honestly have no idea how we’ll do it safely. I don’t think we can.”

“Tomorrow’s problem.” He shrugged. “And it will definitely be a problem.”

They both stared out to sea, listening the the water, the seabirds, and the sound of Lizzy’s nostrils flaring as she angrily breathed.

“You could have come with me, you know. Left. Back to Africa.” He said gruffly.

Lizzy blinked. Back? With him? Like…together?

”Oh-…it’s not that simple-“ Her voice was gentler. She reached up and tugged at her own hair in frustration. “I can’t just go. Hammond’s funding the elephant project, back in Namibia.”

Muldoon’s daydream of having Lizzy move in with himself and his daughter was raptured away. He had let himself hope too much.

Her research was in danger of drying up. If dinosaurs existed in captivity who would care about wild elephants when a couple of years down the line they could just make some more?

Extinction was no longer final.

“They really can’t lose that funding.” She explained. “They only get it if I stay here.”

She was thoroughly wrapped up in InGen’s web. A financial decision that had seemed like a godsend at the time but now only made her ties to the company that much harder to sever. Muldoon wondered if her lawyer man had taught her well enough, if she had read her contract in full before she signed the dotted line, or if things were about to get messy indeed.

“Sod it. I bet they’d rather have you than the money.” Tomorrow’s problem. “I know I would.”

“Stop it.” Half-heartedly swatting him away, she was only pretending to be mad, now. “Oh, please. They couldn’t wait to see me out of Africa.”

Peace at last. Muldoon smirked. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

”How many of them have called me, hm?” She demanded. “Or wrote?”

“Well, none. Because you aren’t a soldier gone off to war.”

“Feels like it sometimes.” She reeled off her long list of injuries in her head, not even counting the emotional damage she’d incurred.

And yet, Lizzy wondered, if she was truly free to go, would she really want to leave? She might not be able to return.

No, not yet.

At least, not by myself.

“I can think of at least one person who misses you.” Muldoon added.

”At least one.” She quoted. “Great. That’s…great.”

They stood, watching the stars appear one by one, the odd meteorite whizzing overhead through the clear skies, sauropod lowing and the odd Tyrannosaur rumble echoing over the island.

”But would you go? If you could?” He asked, somewhat awkwardly. “…with me, I mean?”

Lizzy quashed her eyebrow-raise. As if he still doubted her feelings towards him after all this time.

”I would.” A no-brainer really. “Of course I would.”

***

“Weapons, Robert?” The Animal Supervisor sniffed. “Getting rather Lord of the Flies in here, isn’t it?”

The ever-present, ever-demoralising Richardson. Always a joy to be in his presence.

Muldoon recalled a particularly unpleasant conversation with Armstrong’s main antagonist, tacked on at the end of yet another pointless meeting that could have been a memo.

“Isn’t Elizabeth a little above you, education-wise?” Gammon-faced Richardson was belittling as usual. “Remind me, what’s your doctorate in again?”

The portly man really couldn’t resist trying to draw a reaction out of him every chance he got.

“Well, is she beneath me or is she above me, which is it?” Muldoon made the mistake of entertaining his drivel by replying. “Make up your mind.”

“No need to snap, Robert! I’m just saying it's a bad idea to get involved with a woman who has more letters after her name than you.” Richardson preached smugly. “They start having opinions. Thinking for themselves.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Muldoon shrugged. “All I’m hearing is you still can’t control her, and you don’t like it.”

“Neither can you. That one does what she feels like.”

“At least she respects my orders.”

“When it benefits her!” Richardson countered. “She’ll get what she wants and then drop you, mark my words.”

”Then she’s playing a very long game.” He pointed out. “I’m not sure L-…Armstrong has the patience.”

Nor the capacity for such a detailed lie.

“Ask yourself, what does she see in you, apart from the salary and benefits?” The man just wasn’t letting it go. “And more importantly, what do you see in her?”

Sometimes she does seem too good to be true…

Nope, we’re not doing that. Not today.

”None of your business.”

”Go on. There must be a reason, and it can’t possibly be as stereotypically bland as ‘her mind’.” Richardson had noticed his hesitation, and his tone was loaded with disdain. “I genuinely can’t understand why you’re so useless when you’re around her. You let her get away with murder, Robert-“

”I wasn’t paying into my pension-“ He muttered.

”What was that?” Richardson interrupted.

“I wasn’t planning on living long enough to need it.” He said uncomfortably, though he’d gone with something factual. “But my feelings on the matter have recently changed.”

“My God, that’s nauseating. I suppose there’s ways of getting them to be quiet. At least she’s decent-looking, though that won’t last.” Richardson dismissed him.

Muldoon felt his patience running out exponentially. “Watch your-“

“You’d do well to not get caught doing anything…untoward.” He interrupted smugly yet again. “If I catch you I’ll have no choice but to report you to Palo Alto, and Hammond. Something I will take great pleasure in doing.”

“Nothing to catch.” Muldoon grunted.

”Good. Remember; InGen can separate you, quite easily. I hear she’s wanted over on Sorna.”

How was everybody hearing things all the time? Who ran the Nublar gossip column?

Face it, probably Arnold.

“And they’re even stricter about visitors over there.” Richardson prodded further. “Restricted access for conjugal visits.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Muldoon shook his head. “Nobody’s moving to Sorna, and I told you, nothing to catch.”

“At least it’s a warm body.” Richardson hesitated, savouring the moment. “That’s probably good enough for you, given your circumstances.”

Muldoon didn’t have the words or the ability to hold his temper any longer.

He chose to leave the room before he did anything rash. Not that he’d regret it, but because Richardson would likely never recover from what he had in mind.

***

Thanks for reading!

I always choose the chapter titles/songs very carefully. I originally picked Fado Português by Amália Rodrigues, a beautiful sad song which is the one I imagined Kathy sang on the beach, but The Clash seemed more meaningful/ominous from Muldoon’s point of view. “If I go there will be trouble, if I stay there will be double”.

Also I was rewatching Stranger Things S1 while I was editing this. Again.

[uroboros-if]

Whats your advice for other wip ifs on tumblr? Ive got my intro post and everything but it seems like no one is seeing it :(

🥹😭 I'm flattered you think I'm qualified to answer this, especially as I don't consider myself wildly popular or anything! I wouldn't call myself an expert on this, but I'll tell you what I know:

Tumblr's tagging system / Discoverability

Make sure you're searchable! If your blog is too young, or if you have links in your post, or too many pictures, etc. etc. anything can trigger Tumblr's alarm bells. What this means is that your post won't show up in the tags, aka won't be shown when people search it up. Here is a post about actions you can take to prevent it and another one here. Generally you want your blog to be older than 2 weeks, and to be posting a few times on it before it gets any searchability. (This sideblog used to be an old fanfic blog that I've repurposed for the IF for this exact reason!). If you'd like, copy and paste your intro post, and re-post it (if you don't mind losing too many notes on it), or you can just experiment with another post. Tag it with the appropriate tags, and then wait 2-3 minutes before searching Recent posts on the tag (like #interactive fiction). If you don't see it, your posts aren't showing up!

Make sure you're tagging your post. Bigger one of them, I think, is #interactive fiction (since that unifies CS, Twine and visual novels together). You can, however, add things like #twine/#choicescript, #twine fiction, etc... Any tags you personally might use to search posts up. Just make sure people can see your post in the first place with the first bullet above!

Timing. For whatever reason, I get a good amount of traffic around 9PM Pacific time/5-7AM in Europe (UK to Greece)/12-2PM Eastern Asia (Philippines to Sydney, Australia). I have friends from those places, so I memorized the time difference. For reference, this is 4PM UTC time. My guess is that Europeans are waking up a couple of hours around that time, and some Americans and Asians/Australians are active around that time as well. You should experiment with timing with your posts!

Submit your post to Interact-IF. I got more notes when I submitted mine through their blog! They have a page called, "Are you an IF author looking to promote your project?" and they'll put yours through the queue. Here's the link!

Formatting

Make sure your post is eye-catching, and a pleasure to read. I think what catches the eye is

A header and a title. Find a header that conveys your IF's atmosphere/mood/vibes/aesthetic. Then as far as making it a pleasure, make sure the text guides the eye smoothly. This means:

Organizing your post logically. Synopsis->features->characters makes the most sense to me, as these are the top things people look for besides the characters, which you have to contextualize before you introduce them! You can also...

Mix up formatting--synopsis can be a wall of text, then features can be a list format, and then characters can be a list in prose format, etc.

You may also include breaks, like using a header or line with a title to signal a new section, e.g. the start of the Synopsis, the start of Characters, etc.

Just don't make it hard to read for whatever reason! Your goal is to make the process of learning about your IF digestible and smooth.

In fact, I made a point to make this post itself as a teaching lesson! It could have all been a wall of text, in paragraph/prose form, but it isn't. I organized the sections in a logical sequence, titled them and grouped them, and used a generous amount of formatting available to me (but not too much to hurt the eye).

Intro Writing

Just to discuss certain sections you should pay particular attention to, and what you may want to include in them!

Check for errors. Minimize any typos, grammatical errors, etc. It's totally fine if you're a beginner writer! Just make sure it's polished, lest it may disrupt the flow of reading.

Write an interesting synopsis. Your idea could be the best, but you need to put real thought into how you introduce it to other people! For me, I read other people's synopses for inspiration. You generally want to a) describe who your MC is, b) describe the setting, c) "Everything used to be..." d) "... Until the fire nation attacked!" -- meaning, describe how life used to be for the MC, and what threw all that off-balance, hence revealing the conflict of the plot or the disruption in the story. You can make this section show your writing abilities, but I constrained myself to shortening mine as much as possible (digestibility).

Features. Again, look at other intro posts! Outline what can be customized about your MC (appearance, personality, sexuality, etc.), a brief mention of the ROs (without names) that can be romanced if there are any, cool features your IF may have (a codex, a dice rolling system), a sneak peek into what readers may expect to do in the story, and more!

ROs!! You'll want to tap into what personally inclines you to liking an RO right away, and include that. You can make this section as detailed as you want to be or as brief but effective. Some include character appearances, some don't. All of them mention who they are in the story, and a description of what they are like. Maybe you can hint at their deeper, individual character subplot! Hitting upon keywords of certain archetypes as well may make it easier for the reader to go, "Ah, so this is the X character," in the story. Leaning on tropes a little isn't bad, especially to play it up for the audience to know "this is the cold one, this is the flirty one, etc." so long as your characters aren't merely their trope.

Your Story

Did you notice this is the last thing I'm discussing? Before you change your actual story, you want to make sure you've considered every reason why your intro post isn't very public, which may have NOTHING to do with how interesting or appealing your story is. Think of it like chess--the last thing you want to do is move your king. It's also just simply harder and disheartening to change the vision of your story.

In fact, the vast majority of things covered here are only points to consider, rather than things to actually change.

Do you have a demo? People want demos before investing into a story! a) They want to know if they will like your writing at all, b) demos give a good look into what they may expect from the story overall, and c) it's more promising for an IF to have one, as far as actually finishing the story!

And if you do have a demo, is it polished? Is it short? Does it actually introduce the conflict or any of the characters people are interested in? Does it look good?

Who really is your target audience? Your story is probably written for yourself, but you may want to understand what generally appeals to people. You can't please everyone, hence mainly appealing to a certain audience. If your story is high-fantasy, people want you to mention all the fantastical things your MC can do, see or experience in your story! If your IF is a revenge story, make the MC feel dangerous, and capable of exacting their plans. Mention everything people would WANT to know about your brand of story.

What's the gender ratio of your ROs? The fact that your story may be exclusively/vastly heterosexual, or your story may specifically be a wlw or nlw/mlm or nlm story may influence how much reach it has. I hate to say it, but IFs with mainly male characters are in abundance compared to female interests. However, this doesn't mean you should change your ROs, especially if you intend the story to be heterosexual/lesbian/gay--this is just a factor to consider.

Consider other factors. Does your story have any actual romance? (People really like romance.) Is it only going to be short? (People like long stories generally.) Are you using Twine or CS? (Most people like both, some may have a preference. I almost exclusively read Twine.) Will it feature very disturbing content? (If it does, it may appeal only to certain people).

Closing Thoughts

I am flattered you asked for advice, so I took the time to exhaust everything I know! Of course, again, I am no authority or expert on the subject, so do with this as you will. Either way, I'm happy you asked ! 🥹💕 Thanks for asking!

P.S. If you want, my messages are open on my personal blog! You can send me a DM if you want feedback or an opinion :)

[aziraphales-library]

Hello,

I was wondering if you know any fics with A and/or C as detectives? Preferably in a historic setting but I’d be fine with any time period if that’s what’s available.

Thank you for all your hard work!

Hi. You might be interested in the kind of fics on our #spies and #murder mystery tags. Here are some detective fics...

You'll (have to) do. by Beautyandlove (T)

In light of the murder of six UK nationals at a resort in Calais, France, D.I Fell and D.I Crowley are sent there to catch the seemingly invisible killer.

The only pickle, really, is that they have to pretend to be married.

Which is fine. It’s not like Aziraphale sometimes wants to smother Crowley with a pillow or kiss him senseless, or anything.

Tadfield Heat by Shampain (M)

The scene is Tadfield, at the beginning of another perfect autumn. The cast? Two surly detectives, one MI-5 analyst, and a trigger happy CIA agent. The problem? Sergeant A. Michael won't shut up about the graffiti the village just can't seem to get rid of.

If you're looking for intelligent people doing intelligent things, maybe don't click here. For the Good Omens Big Bang!

yours in black lace by okapi (E)

Hardboiled, hell-fried private investigator Anthony J. Crowley is just trying to survive a hot, boring August, but a new case and a series of anonymous naughty letters signed only 'yours in black lace' are about to make things interesting.

Chapters 1-3 are case fic. Chapter 4 is smut.

For the 2020 DW Unconventional Courtship challenge based on a summary of the Mills & Boon novel Yours in Black Lace by Mia Zachary.

the many-venomed earth by curtaincall (T)

It’s the trial of the century: bestselling mystery author Anthony Crowley stands accused of poisoning his former lover. He’s got means (arsenic), motive (the breakup), and opportunity (a meeting the night of the murder); his guilt seems certain.

Certain, that is, to everyone except Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, rare book collector and amateur detective. Aziraphale’s not sure why he’s so convinced of Crowley’s innocence, but he’s determined to save him from the gallows--by finding the real murderer before it’s too late.

Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E)

The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so.

It's A Hard Life by Krisdaughter_of_Athena (M)

“Crawly” was the best delivery man in the whole city of London, and everyone knew it. Whether it be books and flowers, or narcotics and guns, Crawly was the one for the job. Easy enough for Crawly to slip in and out of tight spaces, and easy enough to keep his real name off the police radar.

Detective Constable Aziraphale Pritchard is used to being told he is not very good at his job. He is as surprised as everyone else when he is the officer to catch Crawly, the Devil’s infamous delivery driver, in the act. He is the only officer to figure out Crawly’s real name. But no one else knows that, otherwise they’d also know that the DC tends to get drunk with this particular member of the notorious Demons every other Thursday, and would also know of the fragile Arrangement between the two. Aziraphale knew it couldn’t last.

However, what are the two to do when Crowley is given an extra special delivery, one which places the two unlikely allies alongside each other for the long haul? How will they keep the delicate balance of their arrangement from their respective sides? And how will they keep one boy from bringing destruction to the entirety of London?

- Mod D

[2baddiesfanfics]

Time is Relative, Love is Eternal

Pairing: Ei x Miko

Tags: Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Elemental Magic, Vaginal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Banter

Summary:

Ei is back, and Miko is conflicted. Wasn’t this the moment she had been waiting 500 years for? If so, why does she feel so…upset? In an attempt to keep things professional, she agrees to a meeting that ends slightly differently than what she may have been expecting.

Read on Ao3

Yae Miko was not typically the sentimental type. As editor-in-chief of Yae Publishing House, she had read so many light novels centered around fairy tale romances that she thought she had become immune to the way her heart would race when she thought of…the Raiden Shogun.

At times she despised hearing the woman she knew intimately as Ei be called by that damnable title - one that should be reserved for someone more…responsible. Someone who actually thought of the well-being of her people and hadn’t run away and left duty to a puppet, of all things.

Miko thought she was over it. That she’d be so filled with gratitude to the Traveler for bringing back the woman she would have gladly waited 500 more years for if she had to. Perhaps it hadn’t fully sunk in at the time. When their eyes finally met in the Plane of Euthymia, Miko was…frightened. Frightened by what she felt at that moment. These were eyes that had a soul, unlike the empty vessel that had been sitting in Tenshukaku doing the dirty work.

As she walked the streets of Inazuma City, she couldn’t help but wonder: Now that the dust had settled after their whirlwind of a reunion, where did it leave them? How, after centuries of not so much as a proper goodbye, could her heart betray her like this? The mere thought of seeing Ei’s gentle smile directed at her once more made her chest throb.

And yet…she had agreed to an audience with her. There was much to discuss, and Miko planned to keep things strictly professional. Above all, they had a country to run. Personal feelings aside, they both had a duty to the people of Inazuma.

“Guuji Yae,” the guard at the gate addressed her with a deep bow. “The Shogun has been expecting you.”

“Oh, dear. Hopefully I didn’t keep her waiting longer than 500 years,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Unsure of how to respond, he wordlessly moved to the side and opened the door. She swiftly made her way to the inner chamber, took a deep breath, and entered.

Ei glanced up as she heard her enter. “Leave us,” she instructed the two men serving as her personal guards. They didn’t hesitate to remove themselves from the premises.

Miko took a seat in front of her. “Stoic as ever, I see,” she commented. “I’m sure you didn’t call me here just to catch up on the latest gossip. Can we get to the point? I’ve got manuscripts piled on my desk that need my impeccable eye for detail.”

Ei’s expression softened. “Miko…we must talk. Ever since I returned you’ve seemed…distant.” The kitsune felt every hair on her body stand on end. She rose to her feet in fury.

“I seem distant? ME? Distant! Hah! Imagine that. It’s not like I haven’t seen the woman I swore to serve in centuries. Heavens, no,” she strode over to the archon and brought her face closer than she should have dared to. “Tell me, oh great and mighty Shogun, why might that be? Hmm?”

“Miko…I-I don’t understand. Aren’t you happy we can now pick up where we left off after all these years?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Do you hear yourself, Ei? Are you really that naive? I spent the last 500 years loyally doing my duty as best I could. Unlike you, I didn’t run and hide from my responsibilities.”

Ei narrowed her eyes. “Hold your tongue, Miko. You have no idea the weight I hold on my shoulders in this position. The responsibility, the suffering, the losses I’ve faced…”

Miko felt as if she’d just been slapped across the face. “The suffering? The losses you’ve faced, Ei? What about the losses I’ve endured?” Despite her attempts to remain strong, tears began to fall.

“Were you truly so terrified of change that you would hide for all eternity? That you would take advantage of the knowledge that I’d wait for you as long as it took? I loved you, Ei! I loved you and would have done anything to keep you here with me, but you ran like a coward. Eternity may have seemed like heaven to you, but it was hell for me! Do you still not understand?”

Ei stared wide-eyed at her. “Miko…you…love me?”

Miko stared past Ei, focusing on the pattern of the walls behind her instead of the god - her god - before her. She didn’t mean to say those three words…they’d just slipped out.

“Miko,” she whispered as she reached for her hand. “I swear I never meant to hurt you. If I would have known…”

“Ha! Hurt? What clued you in? I’m not just hurt, Ei. At first, I was hurt, angry, frustrated…but at a certain point, I….” her voice trailed off, not daring to give her the satisfaction of knowing there was a different emotion that emerged stronger than any of these.

Miko had already said the words she could never take back. She wasn’t going to tell her about the loneliness she felt across those endless years. How she longed for their playful banter. How she yearned for her late at night when she looked out at the Inazuman sky. How she wanted to feel her soft lips brush her own under the Sakura trees of their home country. But no. Ei wasn’t entitled to these thoughts and feelings. She had left her with instructions and a puppet in her place, lifeless compared to the woman she thought she once knew.

“Miko,” Ei whispered, “I was selfish…I know that now. But you must understand - I lost the person I cared for most and was uncertain of how to handle living in such despair.”

Miko’s ears folded back and she began to cry harder. “I just confessed that I love her, and she has the gall to tell me I’m not the person she cares for most,” Miko thought as her vision blurred.

“I understood your need to grieve. But I was still there for you. She was your twin; that is a bond not easily broken. I understood needing to go to a quiet place for a while, but when days turned into months turned into years…,” she choked on the last word. “You abandoned me, Ei.”

The Shogun stepped close, placing her hands gently on both sides of her face. Her thumbs wiped at the tears Miko had tried so hard to keep bottled up inside.

“During those centuries in isolation…” she paused, thinking of how to word what she was trying to convey. “At first, all I thought of was my sister. But as time ticked on, I realized she wasn’t who my heart was truly longing for. While I will always love and miss her fiercely, it was your voice I would hear and your touches I’d think of to help bring me back from the abyss of despair I found myself in.”

Miko looked up at her and rolled her eyes, desperately trying not to cave. What she wanted more than anything was to collapse into her arms. “You don’t have to say those things just because it’s what you think I want to hear,” Miko whined, her bottom lip quivering.

“The funny thing about trying to run away from your feelings is that you’ll always be fighting a losing battle. Try as I might, I was never able to escape them. It was always you, Miko. By the time I finally came to my senses, I was ashamed and didn’t know if you would ever want anything to do with me again. Yet here I am, baring my soul as you did to me. To hell with eternity. Eternity without the woman I love by my side is not somewhere I ever want to be.”

Miko broke. She had gone into this resolutely thinking she would make Ei regret leaving her behind, but now that she was here in front of her admitting she reciprocated her feelings, there was no need to play games. They had 500 years of passion locked inside of them, and it was high time they acted on it.

Miko leaned in further, close enough that Ei could feel her breath on her lips. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to swear on your life you’ll never leave me again, Ei. I can’t give you my heart if you’re just going to shatter it.”

At that point, no words were needed. There was zero hesitation in the way their lips met in a searing kiss that sealed the promise between them.

Miko’s ears pricked up at the sound of her soft moan of appreciation. She became hyper-aware of the sensation of Ei’s hands entwined in her hair as she drew her closer. Testing the waters, Miko took her bottom lip between one of her sharp canines and bit down lightly. Ei let out a noise that encouraged her to proceed, her tongue flicking out to lick her fang. The kitsune elicited an animalistic whine at the daring move.

“Ohhhhh Ei…that’s dangerous…you better watch it or I might not be able to control myself,” she whispered threateningly.

Ei opened her eyes and met her challenging gaze fearlessly. “Don’t hold back on my account. I can handle it, I assure you.”

“Is that so, dear?” she said as she moved her hand to Ei’s neck to keep her steady. Shifting to whisper in her ear, Ei could feel her nails dig just a bit deeper into her skin, enough to make her wince in what a weaker woman might feel as pain. “Then I hope you’re prepared to make up for lost time because we aren’t leaving this room for a while.”

Ei felt her march her back until her shoulders hit the nearest wall. “Since you’re so tough, I don’t think you’ll mind standing for this,” Miko said, a wicked grin appearing on her face. “Let’s call it a test of endurance. But first, we’ll need to do away with this…”

She reached down and undid the belt of Ei’s kimono with one swift pull. Miko’s eyes went wide as she took in the sight of her. How she longed to mark her unblemished skin with signs of possession that only she could leave behind.

Ei let out a soft chuckle. “My, what big eyes you have.”

“Oh hush,” Miko chastised as she rolled her eyes then leaned down to bite her shoulder. “You humans and your silly little fairy tales. I may be a fox rather than a wolf, but that only means I’m more cunning. Now open your legs for me,” she commanded.

A deep scarlet blush spread across Ei’s face as she did as she was told. Miko continued to nip and lick down her chest as she brought her hand lower. Ei’s hips twitched in anticipation.

“That desperate, hmmm? Tell me, what kind of sounds does an archon make when they come? I suppose I’m about to find out.”

She dropped to her knees in front of her and Ei was thankful she had her back against a wall for support. Miko grabbed and spread her thighs further, inserting herself in between them. Staring up through her lashes, she directed, “Look at me, Ei. I want you to watch me.” She did so defiantly until Miko’s tongue met her sex in a long, languid swipe.

“Ah…Mikooooo,” she hissed.

Savoring her taste, Miko hummed in approval. “You’re going to need to be louder than that. Am I really doing that poor of a job?” she said with a mock pout. “Perhaps I need to be a bit more…forceful.” She pressed her face in deeper, her nose now hitting her clit as her tongue thrust inside of her.

“Fuck! M-m-miko!” Ei shouted as she gripped her head just above her ears. A pulse of pleasure shot through Miko at her touch, but she wasn’t quite ready to let her in on that little secret of sensitivity.

Instead, a muffled “that’s better” came in response. She continued to lap at her folds until she could feel her begin to shake. Shifting her tongue to focus on the bundle of nerves at the top, she began to suck just hard enough so Ei’s grip on her hair intensified.

“Miko! Agh! I’m coming…” she moaned as her knees buckled. Luckily Miko was no weakling and caught her with ease, cutting off her scream of ecstasy with a deep kiss. Despite being depleted of energy, Ei showed her appreciation by delving her tongue into Miko’s mouth once more to trace across both of her fangs.

Miko’s moan reverberated against her lips. The fact Ei cared enough to show some love to her non-human side made her melt into her arms. The two pulled apart, gasping for air. Ei’s index finger slid across Miko’s lips wiping away a string of saliva that still connected them.

Running her hand through her pink hair, Ei’s fingers once again grazed Miko’s ears. This motion earned her a soft whine from the kitsune and she made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“Ei…I need you,” Miko whispered, her eyes sparkling with lust.

The Shogun spun her needy lover to sit facing the wall she was writhing on just moments ago and pulled at the belt that held her kimono together. With a snap of her fingers, a mirror appeared in front of Miko. Ei leaned down and kissed her cheek before settling behind her and placing her between her legs.

Kissing down Miko’s neck, her lips grazed her shoulder as she strategically selected where to stop to nip and suck. Sharp red marks rose to the surface of Miko’s skin as Ei’s hands massaged her breasts and played with her nipples.

“Ah…ahhhh…it’s been so long, Ei…”

“I know. I’ve missed this, my little minx,” she said as she smiled against her shoulder.

Ei removed her hands, deciding instead to place them on Miko’s thighs, slowly parting them. “Now, be a good little fox and stay like this,” Ei instructed.

Miko raised her hooded gaze to see herself in the mirror. Her reflection revealed flushed cheeks still damp with traces of Ei’s sweet nectar, her spread legs exposing her own arousal dripping onto the floor.

“My, my. Look at you, all needy and ready for me in no time at all,” Ei cunningly said as she took in the beautiful scene in front of her. Moving her hands back to Miko’s breasts, she continued her ministrations.

“Ooooo Eeeii…I want more,” Miko whined turning her head to seek her lover’s mouth.

“Patience, my love. We’ll get there. I promise not to keep you waiting this time,” Ei responded as she placed her lips on hers.

Ei’s eyes glowed a deep violet and Miko could feel sparks prick at her skin where her lips and hands touched. Her fingers now slid from her chest down past her stomach to rest on her hips. The other hand followed suit, but traveled further south and parted her lips with two fingers, spreading her open to an even greater extent. With the pulse of her abilities still coursing through her fingertips she moved the other hand to the bundle of nerves and lightly rubbed it.

“Unghhhhhh!” was the only sound Miko could muster. Ei toyed with her as her moans became louder.

Ei’s lips brushed against her ear as she whispered, “Now watch.”

Miko focused on the mirror as she watched two of Ei’s fingers disappear inside of her. She let out a sharp gasp as Ei started to pump and curl her fingers inside her. Slight jolts of electricity pulsed in time with her rhythm.

“Oooooooh Ei! Yes! Fuck! Right t-t-there!” Miko shrieked.

Ei quickly moved her other hand to Miko’s mouth. “Shhhhh. We must be quiet; we don’t want the guards to think something is amiss now do we?”

Miko shook her head in the negative as she moaned into Ei’s hand. With a few more thrusts, Miko threw her head back onto Ei’s shoulder shaking as she came. Ei kissed the side of her forehead in reassurance before withdrawing her hand.

As Miko’s panting slowed, she could feel the beating of Ei’s heart where her chest met her back. This wasn’t just a dream. She was here again. A living, breathing being, not some puppet with a faraway gaze who acted on orders without argument. After 500 years, the woman she would have waited a millennium for was finally back where she belonged - by her side.

[13eyond13]

Hi I have a question was there any deathnote ship wars (misalight vs lawlight or something) when the anime came out?

Hmm! I was not in the fandom early enough to see the very earliest stuff going on. I got into it close to 2008, and by then the anime was already out (though the English dub was not available to me to watch yet); the volume 13 behind-the-scenes book was out, the two novels L: Change the WorLd and Death Note: Another Note were out, and the first two Japanese live action movies were also out, too.

HOWEVER from what I recall the same main ships that are popular now were the most popular ones back then (Lawlight and M²/MattxMello), and the "wars" were usually more around whether or not people liked characters or even wanted to see them shipped at all, or even included at all in stuff? Misa was probably the one who got the most hate and most pointed exclusion from fan content, followed shortly by Near. People often said they didn't like Misa or didn't want to see her included in fan content because she was annoying and got in the way of Lawlight. It was almost like you were just asking to be flamed by even daring to put her in a fic – you didn't even have to be shipping her with one of the guys in it. And many didn't like Near because they thought he was a more boring version of L, or not hot enough to ship.

I guess M² was probably at odds with Meronia even more back then than it sometimes is now, too – Meronia content was very rare to find in comparison to M² content back then. And I distinctly remember an email from my first fandom friend in 2008, who had been in the fandom a while longer than me and was explaining some of that drama to me – both of us were mostly into Lawlight and not that interested in the successor arc, but even she told me she secretly found M² and Matt's immense popularity in the fandom a bit stupid, because she thought Matt was too irrelevant of a character for all the fuss he gets, and that Meronia at least seemed more interesting to her based on how the story goes. I would say I see the most "shipping war" type behaviour over whether people like shipping Mello with Matt more or with Near more still even now.

People also liked to argue a lot over whether or not they saw the characters in gay ships as tops or bottoms (though they'd usually say "seme" or "uke" back then instead) - in the 2000s you didn't have catch-all ship nicknames like Lawlight, and you had to tag the top/bottom very carefully in fics by the order you tagged the names in the ship (eg. "LxLight" if L is the top, and "LightxL" if Light is the top - they were treated almost like separate ships, and I don't think there was an easy way to talk about the ship without making a statement about their position preferences when you did). You can probably see what I mean in the older fics in the fandom that are still available on fanfiction.net (as this fandom pre-dates AO3 by quite a bit, so many of the fics from the height of its popularity in the 2000s were posted on fanfiction.net or LiveJournal and other such sites instead).

Overall I'd say though many things now are still vaguely similar in the fandom to how they were back then, people have gotten a little less dramatic and more "to each their own" about not telling other people off for being into DN characters or ships that they personally don't enjoy. And I feel now there's a lot more rare pair appreciation and appreciation of the female characters and more minor characters, and of ships that are interesting to explore more because of the writing possibilities than just because they make for the hottest stereotypical yaoi, if that makes sense. 😆

[fallenhanari]

Ask WIP Game

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you @rjthirsty for the tag~

This is gonna be a doozy y'all, I make WIP files at the slightest hint of an idea sometimes lol. Some of these are bare-bones descriptive file names while others actually are potential titles. Broken down by fandom since I'm spread across multiple and throwing this under a cut because it stretches out a bit long haha.

Dead Friend Forever

For Us

Ghosts

Jin After Phee

Nightmares

PheeNonJin Post-6 Pre-7

KinnPorsche

ABCs of KimChay

Interview Reconciliation

Kim Headache Fic

Kim Whump Aftermath

All in His Eyes

KimChay PostCanon

Sleep

i'm fine (save me)

Wisdom Teeth

kimchayPossible.jpg

Rest

To Be Loved Is To Be Changed

Touchstarved Kim

Vulnerability

Mobile Otome

Gil/Rod/Emma??

Heat Event

Luka/Alice/Jonah Potential

Victor's Hair

Yves/Licht

Hiding Hurts

PC/Console Visual Novels

First Times

Math Fools

Not Even a Real Idea TBH

Shin/MC Sequel

All These Things

Day 3 Missing Moment

Grim Smut

ShiraChizu Part 1

Trio Flash Fic

Qiu Ramblings

Outsider POV Flash Fic

Blindfolds

Puppy

Phew, I think that's everything!! If anything catches your eye, my ask box is open~ Including for anons if anyone would prefer!

As for tagging, I feel a bit awkward to tbh, since I haven't interacted a lot with most of my writer mutuals on here ;;; so please take this as a blanket tag to play the game too if it seems fun to you!

[agent-troi]

20 fanfic questions

thanks for the tag @randomfoggytiger!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

95.

2. What’s your total Ao3 words count?

368,619

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files, Star Trek: TNG, Star Trek: Picard, the Star Trek novel-verse, and I just posted a fic for The West Wing

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Platonic Procreation, Eden, The MSR Files, Mother Knows Best, and Though the Heavens Fall (also I need to mention my current WIP Security Questions bc it's only three kudos away from a tie with fifth place!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Most of the time! I usually respond to friends/ people I know well, or if someone pointed out something specific in my fic they liked. And I responded to every comment made on my West Wing fic so far bc I want the fandom to notice me😅

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lol I don’t write many fics with angsty endings (I do like writing angst sometimes but I need things to end happily😅) but I guess this would be Baby Blue, If I Could Only Break the Sky, or When We Were Whole (not sure which one would be the most angsty)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

so many! lol but I wanna single out Coda bc it was my attempt at wrapping up the mytharc and giving Mulder and Scully a happy ending with William (and giving Samantha’s storyline some actual closure lmao) and I think I did a decent job of it🤗

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did get a hateful comment on a fic not long ago (ironically, it was and still is my most popular fic by almost every metric so someone was clearly jelly lmao) and I’ve had a couple of comments in the past on different fics that weren’t quite hateful but more like critiquing/nitpicking character or writing choices.

9. Do you write smut?

no absolutely not never ugh

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t think I’ve ever written one! But I have ideas for TXF/Star Trek and TXF/SVU crossovers that I might write someday if I ever find the time/energy/inspiration😅

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so but I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No idea!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! The gang and I have co-written quite a few fics, which can all be found in this collection🤗

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

MSR of course!! But I will always have a soft spot for Riker/Troi and joshdonna is beginning to take up more and more space in my brain lmao

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have a Riker/Troi amnesia fic that has been sitting in my notes for three years, every chapter either written, partly written, or outlined, but I just can’t make myself sit down and sort it out😫 also I used to start publishing fics before I was certain where I was going with them, and For War Alone is a relic of that (and it has also been sitting there since 2020 lol)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have been told I’m really good at dialogue, and I choose to take people at their word😅

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m addicted to adverbs, also I just love reusing the same words and phrases over and over- one time in a first draft I used the word ‘actually’ four times in a single paragraph!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love reading that! I feel like it makes the setting and characters and everything seem more realistic, but for writing it I pretty much need to rely on google translate or multilingual moots lol

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote a LotR fic a long time ago! But the first fic in my modern day stretch of fic writing was for the Star Trek novel-verse: Psi-Ops

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh gosh this is so hard but I’m gonna say Where A Million Stars Catch Fire bc I put in a lot of time and effort carefully constructing it as a tribute to Mulder’s birthday this year, and I’m really proud of how it ultimately turned out🥰

Tagging @tofuttim @katy-kt-katie @incidental-ao3 @cutemothman @mollybecameanengineer and whoever else who wants to do it!

[sherrysicle]

on bows etc.

2023 was the year of putting bows on everything. Labels like Sandy Liang gained immense popularity and designers charged extra for tying ribbons onto everything from bags to jeans. Like many other trends, this was popularised on TikTok, with millions of videos of bows tied on everything from toilet bowls to the muscled arm of someone’s boyfriend.

A year later, most people have moved on. But what seems like just another microtrend on the surface is really just a part of a larger story in fashion, and coquette, the style the trend originated from.

I’ve been around long enough to remember it being popular on Tumblr where it went by “nymphet”, famously from Nabokov’s Lolita. Teenage girls would post carefully curated pictures of cherries, heart-shaped glasses, and retro summer outfits of gingham and denim, along with musings about older men and Lana Del Rey lyrics. The style was very centered around the 1997 adaptation the book, with an obsession around american symbols and being a young, teenage girl. This was until the platform’s NSFW ban, where the tag was banned and users came up with dolette and the more popular coquette, also distancing itself from the controversial novel and film.

With its new name christened, coquette continued on, but it was undoubtedly changing. Many of the original members, now grown up, had mostly abandoned their blogs. Its new home on TikTok, Pinterest and Instagram were more image based and less community focused, so its original culture had been lost. Interestingly, this parallels alternative subcultures. Punk was a movement about primarily music and being anti-establishment, which led to styles like goth and grunge which largely lost the political aspect, or even steampunk and mall goth which is solely fashion based.

Many people look at coquette’s evolution (or devolution, depending on who you ask) negatively. As more people adopted this aesthetic it has lost cultural currency and its status as a niche community. The term itself has been diluted to the point of meaninglessness, and is a catch-all term used to describe an impossibly broad range of feminine aesthetics, from dark and ironic waif style to bright and shiny y2k inspired fashion or even blokette, which adds the contrast of masculine athletic gear.

However, this might not necessarily be all bad. The expansion of what it means to be coquette also means more people are welcomed to this once almost exclusively thin, white, teenage style. 20 somethings wishing to reconnect with their girlhood are dressing in delicate pinks, and as an Asian woman I’ve never felt more included. Original coquette blogs also frequently included posts encouraging disordered eating, and problematic messages romanticising age gap relationships with minors, which was very damaging to the impressionable girls who made up the community.

What remains constant however, is the appreciation of the hyper-feminine in a world that often prioritises the masculine. Whatever you call it, and in every reiteration of the style, I will always be inspired by coquette and numphet aesthetics, and I, for one, will be keeping the ribbons in my hair.

[cantsayidont]

In many respects I think THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING is the most cohesive of the Peter Jackson movies. It cuts or rearranges a lot, but generally in ways that are at least defensible, and a couple of its changes are significant improvements. For instance, it streamlines the clumsy bit of business of Frodo putting on the Ring in the Prancing Pony, which in the book is awkwardly handled, and having Aragorn actually witness and bless Frodo's departure at the end sidesteps a lot of the indecision that follows in Book Three (where Aragorn spends many pages agonizing over whether to follow the orcs to save Merry and Pippin or to try to find Frodo, which is wearying because the reader already knows where Frodo and Sam have gone). The movie also picks up the pace to useful effect.

However, the script does introduce a couple of avoidable story flaws:

Having Bilbo visibly aged when Frodo sees him again introduces a plot hole: If age catches up with a Ring-bearer fairly quickly once they no longer possess the Ring, one would expect Gollum (who is over 500 years old) to have crumbled to dust long ago!

It really does not make clear that the Elves are concerned that the destruction of the One Ring will cause the Three to fail, leading to the end of Rivendell and Lothlórien. This might have been dispensable were it not for the fact that the movie version of Galadriel is much more antagonistic to Frodo than she is in the book for precisely that reason (she still refers to his arrival as "the footsteps of doom"). People who aren't familiar with the books are often confused by why Galadriel seems so mean, which even in the Extended Edition relies too much on familiarity with the novel. This wouldn't have needed much to make it clearer, but it needed something.

The fact that Merry and Pippin are Frodo's cousins gets lost (it's mentioned only in passing in the Prancing Pony scene, where it's easily missed), which often leaves new viewers wondering why these two idiots are tagging along. If it were up to me, I'd have Bilbo mention it in his party speech; I think for most viewers, simply stating more clearly, "These are Frodo's younger cousins," would do wonders to clarify their relationship. (Ironically, if the movie had retained the "conspiracy" subplot — where Merry and Pippin actually know about the Ring thanks to Sam and come up with a plan to help Frodo in a reasonably sensible way — this would be less of an issue, since it would be clear that they are his good friends. However, the first movie consistently presents them as obnoxious silly asses, so one might reasonably wonder why Frodo is putting up with them even before they're all running for their lives!)

[readyforthegarden]

2022 Writer’s Tag.

I think it might be fun to look back on what we’ve all achieved this year, let you give yourselves a well deserved pat on the back and also share what you love. When you’re done maybe tag someone else so they can share too?

1. How do you feel 2022 has gone in terms of writing?

On one hand really well!! On the other hand, looking at all my WIPs and drafts.....not as well as I hoped? But I'm so astounded that I haven't been writing a full year on here and it's taken off and so many people like it!

2. What piece are you proudest of this year? It can be a shot/blurb/headcannon, a whole series or even a specific chapter.

AHHHH!! This is so hard...I think I'm really proud of Summer in the City. It was something I'd never really written before, and I stressed about making sure the details for the time period was right. I would love to go back one day and rewrite it and improve it, but it's my baby and I'm really proud!!

3. Is there anything you posted that you wish had reached more people? (No such thing as a flop here!) Shout it out, it might catch a new pair of eyes!

Mmmm, I try not to focus on numbers too much, I don't want to take away from the happiness I find in writing, but most Danny fics don't get the recognition they deserve in general, and a lot of times Sam fics don't. And this Jake fic which I forgot and just realized isn't on my masterlist (18+ ONLY)

4. Can you give us a hint of anything coming before the end of the year? Maybe even a little taster?

Oh, I'll tease the Jake holiday fic coming out this friday, since we don't have much else before the year ends

“I am sleepy.” you replied. “It’s been a long day. Fun, but long.” Jake smiled down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“It’s been a perfect day.” Jake adjusted his position, sliding down so you both were laying down and you snuggled into his chest.

5. Are you setting any writing goals for next year, or just going with the flow? If you are, what are they?

I have my Josh fic, A Novel Idea, coming out, and it's gaining speed in my doc for it, so it should be out fairly early, but honestly I just like going with the flow. If I get an idea, I shove it my drafts and work on it when I feel like it. @lunaindigoraven and I literally talk all the time about ideas and she's truly a great friend and helps me workshop things. Sometimes we're just talking and then it's like OOH that's a fic! and I also really love writing little blurbs from prompt lists, it's really fun and great writing exercise!

6. Do you have any one shots or finished pieces you’re tempted to expand on or revisit next year?

I have a few one shots I have a part two for in the works, no clue if they'll get done next year...again I might play around with Summer in the City and expand it.

7. Is there anything new you’re tempted to try out? A new style/trope/AU/another person in the fandom?

I have a couple AUs in the works, soulmate, supernatural, and i'm trying to work out the kinks in another historically based fic!

8. Now to hype some other writers! What’s a piece you read back in the first half of the year that you can shout out?

Always the first on my mind is A Tattoo Artist Walks into a Flower Shop by @garagebandvanfleet it's my favorite Danny fic EVER.

And then the Indecent Proposal fics by @gretavanfleetposts got me through a rough patch back in the spring and took my mind off a lot and they're AMAZINGLY written (so is the rest of Em's work!!!)

9. And how about something you’ve read more recently?

This isn't news to anyone following me for the past month, but Perfidy by @earthlysorrows is phenomenal!!!! and Valence by @gretavanfleetposts is wonderful and they're both such amazing and immersive stories!! @jake-kiszkas-smirk has quite a few amazing fics (babes, I have so many of your fics in my drafts to save to read/react/reblog if it seems like I'm not in there I AM!!) and honestly, not doing bc they tagged me, The Dead Don't Die, Jake Kiszka by @highdefkiszka Percy writes so descriptively and you can really feel the characters emotions and feelings!!

10. A fun one to finish...If you could insert yourself into any fic in the fandom, which would it be and what do you think would happen?

Oh god...oh...this is so hard omg....you know what, I wanna be in Perfidy. Madi insert this reader. I wanna be the lovable normal neighbor who notices all the magic but is just like eh none of my business and has a big fat crush on the guy who water bends and bakes him cookies and treats "just because" 😌😉 and then I think Madi would kill me off (lovingly and hopefully dramatically) for the angst.

I was tagged by the wonderful and incomparable @highdefkiszka and I am tagging anyone who wants to do this bc I think everyone else has already done it!!!

[avemstella]

Tumblr only just showed me that @ksjundel2003 tagged me with this just now, as technology does. I'll always take the chance to ramble (also thank u for the compliment ahhh :D). These ended up being essays hahahaaaha

1. Three Ships: Uhhh so I'm in a weird place where I'm not actively shipping anything. Like don't get me wrong I still love many ships (I'm a super multi shipper, I have no idea how people dedicate their online everything to one ship) I'm just currently not actively pursuing certain ship tags rn... Hmm hxh's return reminded me of how much I love Leopika, I got into fe3h in this last year and I've read a silly amount of dimiclaude. Also finally got around to getting into mp100 and Terumob is so cute.

Genshin thats what people are here for but if I'm honest while I still am very into the game, I haven't read genshin fic consistently for a while and thats how I interact with shipping the most. Like I love Chili, theres a reason I have plans for that ship, but I haven't read a fic with them in forever (and in the more recent examples it was me searching for found fam harb content). I also adore Kaebedo but same story. I love a lot of genshin ships, many 'contradictory' (love Zhongven as well for example), I just haven't been brainrotting about any of them for a while. God that sounds so morose pfft, its really me just letting my brain take a break and experience other things! Also just know I do think about the final planned Zhongli and Childe scene in this fic (well for the main fic at least) every once in a while and grin like a loon. Hehehe I love it so much and rip its so far away (though also once I get there it'll be right near the end and that thought makes me sad).

Also I think about my fic specific ships a lot too. Sandy and Nella for example have a scene that brings me much amusement in a couple chapters (those 2 always bring me joy). Also I've been recently thinking about the ot3 that's a big old spoiler. There's this angsty but also hopeful romantic scene that's been banging around in my head that I literally can't use in my fic it doesn't work with the timeline. But I love it, maybe an eventual bonus chap. (all I'll say on this ot3 is that at least 1 person is a harb). And taras x any harb that isn't his bro, my favorite running gag I take too seriously. Also Madame Volkov x Tsar, I can't wait to reveal why that ship cracks me up (also weirdly angsty).

uhhh that was way too long of an answer um sorry.

2. First ever ship: God I don't know. Probably amuto from Shugo Chara (I was elementary/middle school, the age gap did not clock as weird then). However my first ship with taste was Soulsilvershipping from pokemon (god we need to bring back that ship name format, so fun). I didn't have fictional crushes the same way most seemed to, however what was close enough was Silver Pokemon my beloved. He spawned my love of grumpy long haired red heads so when I saw Diluc for the first time I remember going fuck I'm gonna love him (and I did haha).

3. Last song: uhhh fun fact I'm not a music person at all. As a child I hated it pfft, while I grew out of that I still have no idea what I'm doing with it. 90% of the music I listen to is from animatics (and back in the day from amvs) or musicals because plot. And u know u find a lot of musicals because of animatics its a cycle. However saying that I was listening to Ricky Montgomery, idk why.

4. Last movie: my parents were like we're watching a movie as a fam and in true Christmas spirit we watched Top Gun Maverick pfft. tbh the movie was fine but not the stunning piece of cinema everyone seemed to be saying... also super military propaganda but we all knew that

5. Currently reading? I'm catching up on the Ascendance of a Bookworm Light Novels (I'm on the last book in part 4 and I have part 5 #1 ready). I've also been really slowly reading through (and got back into after almost a year accidental break) Lout of the Counts Family. Also hunter x hunter (my brain is filled with Sheila theories, despite being the Harbinger found fam fic writer I don't care about the troop lol, just Sheila). I also have some DC comics open in my tabs because I want to watch the newest comicpop back issues episode. Its sort of strange I've been on a reading fan fic break of sorts haha, reading lots of original stuff.

6. Currently watching? uhhhh Mob Psycho though that just ended. Also me and my sis are watching Miraculous together. We used to watch it years ago and we are watching all the stuff we missed and cringing. I also am constantly watching lots of video essays, love a good video essay to put on while doing other things like playing genshin/art/etc

7. Currently consuming? We have a holiday party every year and my dad makes his amazing to die for lasagna (we are not remotely italian, but everyone we know says its amazing). So I've been eating those leftovers and having a time.

8. Currently craving? validation uhhh free time maybe. I had so much free time while I was away at school (well more like I should have been working on stuff time, but it was time I could organize myself). I'm home and between Christmas and parties and my grandparents/Cousins/feels like everyone visiting I've had no time for myself. I love seeing my cute baby cousins I don't get to see too often but its a lot. Also a job, I don't want to have to job but it'll get my mother off my case.

Well that ended on a too serious note haha. Also this was way too long and I have no idea who to tag and I'm anxious so uh, no one I guess. I must now return to my chaotic life, as one does.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Building cute mechanical robots to bring a smile to someone's face

I can’t remember the last time we had a crafting event related to mechanical stuff, specifically robots. Daisy Jane and I were just visiting to catch a performance at the opera house when Connie managed to snag some tickets for us. It was done by a local theater troupe, which was why that was possible, though just barely.

Seems like they weren’t exaggerating about how just putting Madeleine’s name on something will make crowds instantly flock to it. In other words, if it was a larger scale sort of thing, like the more renowned and well known theater troupes, they would be sold out in an instant, so getting tickets would be near impossible, especially if you’re not from these parts.

The show is called A Butterfly’s Rose, a loose adaptation of a mystery romance novel. According to Aurelie, who has tried to read the book several times, the story has a good premise, but the writing makes it difficult to follow. She said the best way to describe the author’s writing style is superfluous, which she finds a shame as it could’ve been good. A lot of people felt the same, and so it’s been adapted to theater multiple times in hopes of making a coherent story.

Prior to Madeleine and the Allaire theater troupe’s version, the last adaptation was done about 50 years ago. What makes this current adaptation different is how much it strays from the source material - in a good way. Basically, Madeleine took a lot of creative liberties and managed to condense the story by only focusing on one aspect and expanding on that.

What’s interesting is that the characters she chose to zero in on were Bea and Florentin as their parts are often left out of most adaptations. From my understanding, they’re more like supporting characters, but they kinda set the stage for everything else that’s going on, so they are important. Madeleine says she gets why they’re cut, and that’s why she wanted the spotlight on them because, like many aspects of the book, there was potential, but it all got lost in the chaos.

Since I know absolutely nothing about the source material, I find the play a good standalone kind of thing. I mean, I’ve been told that it’s a very loose adaptation, so the source material isn’t essential to know. Rather than going for a faithful adaptation, which sounds impossible and probably wouldn’t translate well to theater anyway, they went for the inspiration route, which they pulled off well.

I found the drama and musical numbers engaging, and based on the standing ovations, so did the audience. Pai did say that getting Madeleine involved is sure to elevate things, not because she’s practically a celebrity, but because she knows what she’s doing when it comes to the arts. The others note that she’s a lot happier working behind the scenes, especially now that she’s free to do whatever she wants without being burdened by her past.

While the show was the main reason why we’re up here, we also wanted to come to chill and hang out, as well as explore more of Marippe. Now that the cleanup is done and reconstruction is almost finished, things have been pretty much back to normal. Aurelie’s hometown, Marillon, was hit pretty hard, so they still have a bit of work left there, though it’s nothing they can’t handle, she says.

Compared to the last time I visited, the difference is like night and day. Sure, it’s a busy city, but things were a lot quieter back then, mainly because a lot of places were closed. It was also cold and rainy because it was winter, so obviously there wasn’t gonna be a lot of people outside. Plus, there was the fact that I didn’t really spend a lot of time at the city as we were underwater exploring some ruins.

We didn’t really have anything planned after the show, so we tagged along with Connie and Pai. Well, mainly Pai because Connie had some important matters to attend to outside of the city. It ended up working out well because Layla, Melody, and Bennett are visiting too because they were dispatched on missions here.

Then we tagged along with Topaz as he was commissioned by someone to make toy robots for a pediatric oncology ward. I remember Beryl saying that Topaz often works with mechanics and occasionally takes commissions for custom stuff.

Apparently, he often gets mistaken for an engineer from the research institute, and when they find out he isn’t, they often ask why. Truth is, Topaz doesn’t really have an answer other than he’s not the studious type, so he just says he doesn’t have time, which isn’t completely far from the truth. After all, he’s said that mechanics is more of a hobby for him and he wants to keep it that way.

Since this is a special commission, Topaz is looking for help, so this is where we come in. He wants to make it special for the kids, so he’s going above and beyond not just to make toys, but companions for these kids. Like, for example, one kid wants a koi fish that sings their favorite song, while another wants a penguin that can act like a pet - unique stuff like that. Obviously, Topaz wouldn’t have given the kids the options to personalize like that if he couldn’t do it, so I guess that says a lot about his abilities.

Along with me, Daisy Jane, Pai, Layla, Bennett, and Melody helping out, Topaz also found another helper, a visitor from abroad who’s in a bit of a bind. While the rest of us handle tasks like gathering materials and some basic crafting, Topaz and Misha did the more technical stuff. I’d say it’s not that much different than gyroid events, maybe just a bot more intensive, which I found refreshing.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen Bennett and Melody, so it’s nice to catch up with them. Bennett’s visited Marippe a few times and actually met the toymakers Topaz occasionally works with. Apparently, one of them was so inspired by him that he made a limited edition board game based on his adventures in Marippe. However, the gameplay was said to be a bit confusing and it didn’t really sell. Still, it made for a nice collector’s item if you’re into that sort of thing. Now I’m kinda intrigued.

Melody’s been busy doing doubles for Connie by going on various missions abroad, research on the side, as well as training Aurelie and Coralie, another new member of Connie’s ever growing adventure party. She’s one of the few members who’s on call, meaning that anyone in the group can call her over and she’ll be there, even if it’s overseas.

Even though she’s part of the same guild as Bennett, her job’s more of an office type thing where she doesn’t have to come in often, leaving her with a lot of free time on her hands while still being paid really well. Some have actually accused her of being paid to do nothing because of her hotshot adventurer parents, which is obviously not true. In a way, they did kind of hand that job to her, but they wouldn’t have recommended her to reconnaissance if they didn’t think she was up to it, nor would she have decided to stick with it.

With the process of getting clearance to travel to Sazona about to begin, Melody’s prepared to begin gathering information to prepare for what’s ahead. She did a thorough job with Adrikha and Marippe, and so by now she’s got a routine down. It’s a lot of work and someone has to do it, so why not her? She finds the work engaging, not to mention that she’s one of the first to travel to a new place. Sounds like a good deal to me!

Along with just wanting to travel and adventure more, another reason why Melody’s doing doubles is because she just got her own place, which happens to be in the same building as Meggie’s. She still has a lot to do, and part of it has to do with her not being home a lot, but since moving is expensive, especially when you’re starting from nothing, she just wants to be safe in terms of finances. Thankfully, the rent is low, which is why Meggie’s able to stay there.

Living on your own for the first is exciting and scary, so I wish her the best.

Speaking of new living situations, Layla’s on the search for a new place too. She went from living in the dorms to a campus apartment because it was cheaper. However, she’s not too satisfied with the housing arrangement as she’s living with four other people. Her roommates aren’t bad, but she’s more of an introvert, so having to share a space with them has made her feel kind of cramped.

What prompted Layla to move was that a couple weeks ago, one of her roommates got doxxed. Basically, a neighbor of the roommate plagiarized one of her short stories by tweaking some things and submitting it to a magazine for publication. The roommate considered suing, but then decided to talk things out with the neighbor, who was uncooperative and basically dared her to sue.

Roommate decided not to press the issue further as she saw it was pointless. Then for whatever reason, the neighbor decided to dox her and now he’s in a lot of trouble obviously. After all, he didn’t put her at risk, her housemates are also affected by it. Damn, fuck that guy.

Campus security has been helpful in terms of keeping everyone safe as well as trying to help those who want to move. Since Layla’s a student, her options are kind of limited at the moment, but she’s on the waitlist for a single dorm. She literally got an email this morning that there will be an opening soon as someone’s moving out, so that’s good news. That means when she gets back in a couple days, she’ll have a dorm ready to be moved in. That’s a relief!

Topaz’s assistant, Misha, is from overseas, though his mother was from Marippe and was actually a research engineer from the institute. He had hoped to follow in her footsteps, but realized early on that he wanted to branch off. As for what exactly that is, he’s still trying to figure that out. In short, he’s made some bad investments for some sort of project and is trying to dig himself out of that hole without having his family involved. Apparently, the last time that happened, his mother had to intervene, which I can imagine was embarrassing, and his reputation took a hit because of that.

It’s a good thing he ran into Topaz, who was looking for an assistant with specific skills. Pai says it’s not uncommon for her and Connie to run into people like Misha who are stuck in bind and need help. While getting paid is a factor, Misha also hopes this experience will help him bring some insights he can use to hopefully salvage the project. As for what it is, he says it’s hard to explain in layman’s terms because it’s super technical, but to put simply, he might have been too overambitious.

The reason why the painter, Desiree, commissioned Topaz is because of her son, who passed away a couple months ago from cancer. She had talked about her son as if he was still alive and really wanted to make something special for him. We later found out that her son basically grew up in the pediatric oncology ward and was said to be inquisitive and artistic. All he wanted was to be healthy enough to run around and play like other kids his age. Such a simple thing to ask for, and yet it was basically a fantasy for him.

About a year ago, his cancer became terminal. which made him depressed and withdrawn. Desiree tried her best to lift his spirits up, even giving him the possibility that despite his grim prognosis, maybe a miracle can still happen. In the end, however, that was not meant to be.

How sad it is to watch your child slowly wither and die in front of you? It’s not fair for a kid whose life is just beginning to just be taken away like that. No wonder she chose to live in a fantasy world where her son’s still hanging on for a miracle. I remember hearing something about how some people would rather believe a beautiful lie rather than confront the ugly truth, and honestly, who can blame her?

I think talking with the kids at the cancer ward was an eye opening experience for us, one that Desiree really needed. A handful of these kids are sadly terminal and they have their ways of coping with their futures, which is basically making the most of whatever time they have left. It can’t be easy, especially for those who have been sick for most of their lives, to live with the fact that your life is ending before it can begin.

So, along with making toys for the kids, we were helping Desiree deal with her grief. Misha seemed to be right when he realized that she was dealing with a lot of regrets, which isn’t uncommon. He was close to his mother, who died unexpectedly not too long ago, and that was what prompted this project, which was based on her research. In a way, he wanted to sort of cement her legacy, though he doesn’t think he’s doing a very good job of it considering the predicaments he’s in. Sounds like he was close to his mother and understands what Desiree’s going through, so it makes sense that he was able to reach out to the grieving mother.

After learning the full story, Topaz and Misha decided to go all out to create something special for Desiree. She had requested a heron and gave them her son’s illustrations as reference, which look like they came out of a fairy tale. According to one of the nurses who took care of him, he wanted to be a painter like his mother. Since he was often in bed, he would make up fairy tale stories with his paintings. Unfortunately, as his illness progressed, holding a paintbrush became difficult for him, and when he could no longer do that, it seemed like he lost the will to fight.

The heron took Desiree by surprise, especially since Topaz did a really good job of turning a painting into a physical object, like it was taken right out of the paper. He also gave the heron a voice, using various quotes from the story. Maybe for a moment she thought that her son really was right there with her, and because she could feel his presence, she could finally say goodbye to him. A bittersweet ending all around.

Of course, the kids enjoyed their companions, and now Topaz has more requests from other floors. Since he has the time, he’s gonna work something out. Misha’s not planning to go home anytime soon because of his predicament, so he’s happy to help out too. He said that he mainly tagged along in hopes of finding a distraction, but instead, seeing Desiree’s ordeal made him confront some things he’s been trying run away from, like his own grief. Despite the challenges he’s dealing with now, Misha’s determined to honor his mother’s memory like the heron and Desiree’s son. I wish him luck.

No matter how long or short your life is, it’s bound to leave an effect on someone. Regardless of what you might think, your absence will be felt. I know it’s hard to believe, but as I got older and experience more of the world, I realize how true it is. As insignificant as you think you are, as long as you exist, you’re still leaving footprints regardless of how much or little of an impact you think you have. And I think that’s what makes being alive worth it.

Now that I think about it, these robots aren’t simply just companions for these kids who are fighting tough battles with uncertain futures, but they’re something for them to leave behind, a reminder to the world and to their families that they once existed, that they will never really be gone. A lot of the more complex requests came from those who know their time is limited, so they want to offer a parting gift to those closest to them. I can imagine how special these companions will be long after they’re gone.

[astrophyta]

Reading rambles?

so uh I’ve been among other things catching up on a very long to-read list of fiction that’s sitting in my apartment cluttering my space up and I do kinda want to just talk about some of the reads to the void instead of on a platform like goodreads so that’s what this tag will be for, I suppose? my reading speed is pretty slow so these won’t be frequent

Flight Behavior by Barbara Kingsolver

This book has a pretty bad rep for being preachy about climate change amongst a lot of reviews I’ve seen, but tbh with the exception of maybe one scene I read last night where Ovid has an Ecology Professor Meltdown in front of a newsreporter who felt more like a caricature the second time around than in her first appearance, I have to say I disagree, and the aforementioned scene is probably my biggest gripe with the book so far (with less than 40 pages to go, though).

A lot of people do not like Dellarobia either. She is emotionally cheating on her husband for the majority of the work, the novel opening with her attempt to flee her family life to go be with some younger guy she doesn’t seem to know very well. No one has to like a character, even when their flaws are addressed and fleshed out and the author makes no excuses for them, but for me Dellarobia’s response to her lot in life makes perfect sense even if it isn’t pretty or likable. She was smart and curious enough to have gone to college, something unheard of in her small hometown, but she got knocked up by her now-husband and failed her ACT. Her parents are both dead and had very little money to their name despite her mother (iirc) running a successful business of making and mending clothes in town. Her husband’s family are farmers. Until meeting Dr. Byron, she is a stay-at-home mom pinching and scraping pennies to feed her family and literally keep the lights on. It is due to an ecological disaster that she is given her first job, one that pays more than what her husband makes - serving as a lab technician for a make-shift research group operating out of her family’s barn, the best spot in town to be close to an unusual phenomenon of a monarch butterfly migration wintering in tennessee when they would normally be in mexico.

Dellarobia loves her children. she tries her best to love her husband. she plays wife, daughter-in-law, and mother as best as she can, but she knows her life is also the result of a mistake she made as a teenager and that it might not have been so hard if she hadn’t made that mistake. you can come to love another person despite these truths, but this is not enough to surmount the chasm between her and Cub. so, her eye wanders, and she indulges in her delusions of these feelings being reciprocated, not because she truly knows these men well enough to love them but because it is a distraction from the disappointment she feels from her own life. it’s not pretty, it’s unlikable, but I find Kingsolver’s portrayal of Dellarobia to be very honest, and I appreciate when authors are not too afraid to write women like her.

I also feel like there’s so many ways that you can write about Dellarobia that this brief summary feels so grossly inadequate to convey all of the different roles and expectations she deals with in her community and from outside of it. Kingsolver handles these tensions beautifully. She is a celebrated and accomplished author who I had honestly never heard of before picking up this book from a neighborhood little library box while on a pandemic walk three years ago. I consider it serendipitous.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

Now this book is highly acclaimed, and despite a rough start for me initially, I consider myself no exception to the hype. It is well-deserved.

I’m reading this as an audiobook and still have about half the book to go, so it’s not yet time to write at-length about it, but Zevin already accomplishes so much in the first half that I’m on my toes thinking about how long she will keep us with Sadie, Marks, and Sam. Also, I am convinced that it is not possible to read this book and not get an itch to delve into game development yourself. I’ve seen a couple of tutorials for creating very very simple games with python on freecodecamp’s youtube channel, and I was interested in those before even touching this book but now I’m like…is it too late for me? Maybe I’ll make a game too when I’m 60 and retired.

Misc. other reads

I started a third genshin account for a lore post I wanted to make (my zhongli sq 2 screenshots are lacking, also just need an interactive refresher) and so I’ve been passing the time grinding by listening to audiobooks. I listened to Broadband: the Untold Story of the Women Who Made the Internet by Claire L. Evans, which was wonderful and illuminating. I also listened to Life in Code: A Personal History by my programming idol Ellen Ullman. She has the most compelling argument against AI and machines as analogous to the biological (and vice-versa) that I’ve seen, of course illustrated through a history of her domestic companion Sadie, her cat. I was making my way through Artificial Intelligence by Melanie Mitchell, but the book lends itself better to reading a physical copy rather than passively listening while playing a video game. It utilizes a lot of diagrams to illustrate its points, and it expects you to view these diagrams as supplemental pdf’s delivered with the book as you listen to it. Nope, not for me. But I was thoroughly enjoying it before deciding to put it on-hold.

[dieeinsamkeitderprokrastination]

I don’t think I spend a lot of time in the now. Sometimes I catch myself drifting away, but most times I don’t even realize it until I’m a novels worth deep into some story in my mind. I tune out everything while still thinking I’m mentally present. I don’t think I have been mentally present for much of my life. Even now as I am writing this my mind wanders to the times where I caught myself slipping away.

Consciousness is truly a strange thing and I have to say I don’t really know what it feels like. What does it mean? Does it mean not having any other thoughts while listening to a person? Like, my skin is itchy, this tag is bothering me, am I making the right faces? what did I eat yesterday, what would my character do in this situation.

My characters. None of them really are me but all of them are what I want to be. It seems I have started to give them a personality that closer resembles mine then I used to. They used to be broody and mysterious, cold and not very talkative. All things I am not.

Hot headed and can’t seem to keep my damn mouth shut. At least that’s what I’m often told. It all seems pointless sometimes, but truth is I like hearing myself talk and sometimes others just don’t have anything interesting to say. That’s not my fault, not everyone can be worth my time.

See, now I have done it again. Switched topics without a second thought didn’t even realize it. Fun. Weird. I don’t get myself. Not entirely. I think I’m close though. I’m getting older and I’m scared of that but its getting to a point where I think I’m okay with it.

I still have a lot of dreams and wishes and I hope I get to fulfill them all one day. Maybe not as soon as I had hoped but hey, what gives?

I don’t spend a lot of time in the now because the now scares me, it overwhelms me and I am bad at being in the now. No one understands how I emote and it feels like pressing buttons in an aliens spaceship without knowing what they do, setting off random torpedos. Sometimes they hit and I’m not always sorry, because like every human I think I’m right.

I hate quickly and love slowly. There are people out there I would kill for but not many I would die for. I hope that makes sense.

The now. Now. NOW. What does that even mean. Isn’t the little world inside my head also now? Is it so bad to go there? To just flee? I guess at least it’s what the internet tells me and people around me get creeped out by my vacant stares.

I’m not fully there. Never. CONCENTRATE! How? There’s a lot going on and I’m busy. Not really busy but you know busy in my head. There are thoughts to be thought, stories to build, dreams to be had. If I concentrate I’ll just realize how boring everything is and difficult and I’ll cry again. Close to crying right now. Very close. Any moment now. Now. Now. Now.

Still not here yet. My mind is preventing it. If I catch myself I try to return but it gets increasingly difficult. There now the first tear has dropped. I think this is just PMS mania but still.

My IPad is close to dying which is frustrating I still want to write. I always want to write but I never really can. I’ll probably never finish any of the books and stories I have started. It’s frustrating but…well it’s just that actually.

Now I’m in the now? No, not really. My head hurts a bit actually as if I was raising my eyebrows but I’m not. It feels like someone is trying to pull my brain back out but they’re only semi successful. It hurts. Physically. Which seems impossible, no?

I miss my friends. I’m happy where I am now, at least it feels like that and everybody tells me I look so much better which is telling of how awful I must’ve looked these past years. I felt awful. I wanted to kill myself.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking it. I. Want. To. Kill. Myself. But it’s not really true anymore. Now it feels more like a reflex to get out of difficult situations I don’t wanna do. Laziness if you will. More than that I guess.

Has anybody killed themselves out of laziness? I don’t think so. I guess it makes you feel stuck and by taking your own life you don’t have to disappoint people directly to their face. Just Irish goodbye the whole shit show.

Please don’t do that by the way. It takes away your only chance of finding happiness. And yeah I know what you’re thinking but no I’m not gonna give you the whole spiel of “it will get better”. I didn’t believe it either when I was stuck in the murky waters of depression. Heck I’m still kinda stuck in them or at least I find myself crossing through sometimes. Just like right now. Live with it, embrace it and get through it. That is the only way there is no other. Get help. I did and it changed a lot for me.

But you know, I’m sure you’ll find a way. I hope you do.

Still stuck. But maybe that’s okay for now. I made it half out of murky waters, next will be dreamland. I just need to get rid of this feeling that dreamworld is my personality. Because I’m afraid it’s not. It’s probably some misplaced coping mechanism I have learned as a child to escape difficult situations or something. Man, I should really be seeing my therapist for a session.

The art of escapism. I used to dive into books for that until they couldn’t give me what i wanted and needed anymore and my brain decided that reading was entirely to exhausting. I cant really read anymore without throwing a tiny tamper tantrum. I always give up then.

It’s exhausting having to fight your brain for the most simplest things. I guess that’s why I don’t fight and just let myself slip away. It’s sad really. I don’t even get to live my life I just get to watch from the sidelines. It feels like my life is the commercial breaks in an endless stream of thoughts and nonsense.

It’s noisy inside my head and cramped. There is not a single second where there isn’t anything going on up there. Many people say their brain turns of during sport or their favorite activity but mine just keeps on babbling. There is no activity, no place, no song where it’s just off.

I long for silence but it is not given to me. I have to live with myself and my constant world building and if I’m not doing that or working I’m scrolling through endless hell.

Quick consumer of videos and garbage. I buy so many things to fill holes that i don’t think exist anymore, but it used to be a quick fix to my troubles so I still do it. I buy toys mostly, shiny things to fill my room with and keep my brain momentarily entertained. Surprise toys, miniatures, dolls. My room looks like that of a 10 year old. And I feel like one most of the time.

I don’t feel like a grown up. Not at all. I do things grown ups do, like work but still. I feel like a child and my needs are that of a child. I want sweets and toys and stories and constant entertainment. My mother said she cant remember the last time she was bored. I am bored constantly.

It feels foul and heavy and is just so annoying. Tings bore me pretty quickly and I never learn. I spend money on all the items of my newly found obsession only to throw it all out three years later at max after half a year minimum. I lose interest just as quick as I gained it.

I am a consumer. I am the consumer. Every corporates wet dream. Buy all our shit! Yes! Wait no boring! No problemo, here’s that new shit! Nice! And it just goes on and on and on. I like things I am a material person but I also hate things and the chokehold it has on me. But I’m to stressed to rid me of that habit now. But my time will come where I will purge my shopping addiction.

I have been writing for a while now. I should head to bed. I am sorry. I hope your doing well. Don’t be like me and hydrate properly or whatever you say as encouragements for mentally ill strangers on the internet. I am such a stranger. But don’t bother. I am fine, it’s all working out and things are moving. Have a good one, see ya.