#but at least some companies know how to organize their events and set up their websites

[plushie-lovey]

A few weeks ago I was nearly at 200 followers, now I'm back down to 165. Ik why you guys left but it was for a silly reason. To each their own

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 4

You and I are meant to be.

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You're set on leaving, but things never go like you'd wish them to.

WORD COUNT:  2.6k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tension and angst

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 This one is emotional, and if the last one was stressful, well...

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It was unusual that you were caught by surprise, but you would never be caught without a plan.

As such, even though yesterday you had been left bitter with shame, idiocy, and betrayal, the next morning, you were back on your feet.

You had allowed yourself to process the events during a shower in the early hours of the morning. Naturally, people didn’t flaunt their relationships, so there was no way you could have guessed. Jungk— CEO Jeon should have informed you himself, if not because of the way you interacted with each other, then at least the moment your skins touched while alcohol was in both your systems. It was not your fault for not knowing, but it was his for not honoring a prior commitment. The way he turned to you instead of diffusing Sunhwa’s screams did raise questions, but it was not up to you to wonder what it all meant. He said they had a contract, that was it. You refused to believe he wasn’t completely aware of being in the wrong, the same way you refused to continue whatever that was. You wanted to leave anyway.

So, instead of leaving with Mr Seung that day, you grabbed your luggage and walked out the front door with the sun finally starting to clear the night sky. A taxi was waiting for you to take you to the office, where you started a very early day with a game plan — you needed to wrap things up.

If CEO Jeon was correct, you’d have a reply from the American company today, and no other deal would need to be handled in person in Seoul. It did facilitate things, but it meant nothing else needed to be a priority. You organized your tasks and timings — with extra time and effort, you could be leaving on a flight to Busan tonight.

You were certain of your success during the morning, at least until CEO Jeon tried to attend one of your meetings. Dealing with his presence was harder than you thought — not just because he reminded you of how stupid you had been the night before, but because he tried talking to you.

But on that end, some things helped. Sunhwa was like a hound, constantly on him, even during the meetings you were present, making sure to drag him away by politely — and loudly — reminding him he had other places to be. To make your timetable work, you had delegated a few tasks, including going to CEO Jeon to iron down details and clarify any lingering doubts. You used a totally different office, having asked a colleague from a different department to use his instead. This meant no lunchtime, no opportunities to bump into CEO Jeon, and absolutely no distractions.

The stars seemed to align shortly after your midday sandwich — the American representative had a positive response, with only a few things left to handle. Details, which made you ecstatic. A few hours of work were all that stood between you and freedom.

The only catch was that the people you had delegated to couldn’t bring the final agreement to the CEO. You contemplated just sending an email, but knew that would be distasteful. There were also notes and considerations that were better off discussed verbally without a digital trail, and if it wasn’t for the previous night’s debacle, that wouldn’t have been an issue.

Your stubborn nature didn’t allow you to let something that embarrassed you affect you professionally, so you gritted your teeth through a workaround. You printed the fifty some pages of the agreement and commented on everything that required his attention, highlighting and adding sticky notes with considerations to each relevant paragraph and page. It was exhausting, but you felt like it was the right compromise.

Hours later, you had your flight booked, the agreement fully annotated, and your luggage as you neared CEO Jeon’s office. You braced yourself for what would surely be an unpleasant experience, but as you knocked, no one answered.

You dared to enter after checking your wristwatch; you couldn’t be late. His spacious office was empty, nothing but silence present inside those walls. There was a large desk at the center in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and that was where you decided to go after putting the luggage to the side for a moment. 

Every step disturbed you even more; his heady scent made your senses surge and your gut twist. You gripped the folder in your hand firmly; you didn’t want to enjoy his scent or any thought of him. You just needed to push through this to leave.

The door suddenly barging open startled you, but as quickly as it opened, it closed, leaving you nailed to the floor. Jungkook stood there with wide eyes, looking at you in a mix of bafflement and intention. Then, you dared to blink, and he stormed across the room to get to you.

“Thank fuck,” he let out as he neared you. “I need to talk to you; I thought you were avoiding me—”

“I’m just here to drop this off,” you interrupted sternly, waving the file in your hand. “Congratulations, you were right — we have a positive answer and a verbal commitment. All that’s left is for you to go over a few details and give me your instructions, and we can have this contract signed by the end of the month.”

His wide eyes only revealed disbelief until he snapped out of it, “What are you— I don’t care about that!”

You extended the file between you, “Please take it and revise it accordingly.”

He glanced at the offending folder and looked at you again, knitted eyebrows spelling confusion and hurt. “I can’t handle that right now!”

Still, you insisted, “Whatever happens in private, stays in private. Work ethic dictates—”

He snatched the file from your hand and dropped it on his desk, “Fine! Fine, I’ll handle it. Won’t you please talk to me now?”

You ignored the way he looked at you and spun to grab the file again, extending it in the same way, “Please don’t overlook months of work of dozens of professionals—”

“I don’t!” He couldn’t hold it any longer; he grabbed your shoulders. “I won’t! But please listen to me: she means nothing to me.”

It sounded crude to you, almost cruel, so you remained impassive, “She surely means something. You’re just confused.”

His fingers pressed through your coat, “I’m not confused!”

“You are. You have a commitment—”

“A piece of paper! A deal I don’t care about made before I met you, before I knew about you!”

You straightened your back, “My designation shouldn’t—”

“Fuck your designation!” You would have trembled if he wasn’t holding you. He raised a hand to your cheek, “You’re not an omega to me; you’re my mate. Can’t you feel it? The way our hearts align?” His eyes were wide, searching in yours, and you could barely breathe. “The way our souls sing whenever our eyes meet? You have to feel it too, please don’t deny it.”

You only realized your lips had parted in shock when you clenched your jaw, “It doesn’t matter. You have a commitment.”

“The only commitment I have is to spend the rest of my life with you,” his voice shook as he cupped your other cheek. “I’ve started the process to annul it, and I’m certain it will be approved because no one can come in between us. Fate…” he whispered, fluttering his eyelashes over watering eyes. “You and I are meant to be.”

Your heart was shaking with your emotions chaotically running rampant through you, but you were headstrong. You couldn’t think properly with his nose almost grazing yours, so you put a palm over his chest and pushed.

He let go of you, unable to hide the way it hurt him, but you weren’t looking. You couldn’t face him. You disliked running away, but you were overwhelmed and unsure that you could trust him. That you could trust your own heart.

“Let’s at least talk tonight,” he tried with a sobered tone. 

You raised your eyes to him, and your heart wept — he was trying. He was coming to you, talking, explaining, giving worth to the fact that you gave priority to work, but it didn’t change anything. Because you couldn’t trust him.

“I can’t,” you breathed.

“Why not?” His tone was grazing on a whimper, “For work? I swear—”

“No, I’m leaving,” you breathed it out before it got stuck. Your eyes landed on the luggage you left near the entrance, and he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “I booked a flight, I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”

He shook his head violently, and in a second, his strong hands were around your head, aiming to keep you still so that his lips could crash to yours. 

It was sudden and brave, and you said, “Don’t.”

He instantly groaned. His control might have flown out the window, but there was no way he would go against your wishes. No matter how much he believed that kissing you could make you see that he spoke the truth, could make you feel what he was talking about, he still couldn’t do more than ghost your lips, your taste less than an inch away. You, his soulmate, his fate, so close, yet so far.

“We both want this,” he reasoned in a desperate attempt to get to you. 

You held the power; you were judge, jury, and executioner.

When you remained silent, just looking at him with a line between your eyebrows, he had to insist. “Let me show you,” he whispered, ghosting your lips, the tension stretching so thinly he could swear it was about to snap. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

The desperation put a nearly sick glint in his eyes, and it touched you in ways you couldn’t explain. All you could do was nuzzle him and stay silent, fighting your heart with your logic with all your might.

You couldn’t open your mouth, or you’d do something you’d regret at the expense of your weakness, knowing you’d hate yourself for it. There was still the chance that it was all just to deceive you, to collect an omega like in the stories your mother used to tell you. The ones where evil alphas took pleasure in hoarding omegas and taking them from their mates and families.

Yet, it was true that you had never felt anything like it; a desire so strong burning through your veins, you could combust. If it wasn’t enough, his scent was addictive; his desire smelled exotic and spicy, awakening places you preferred to stay in slumber right now. You knew that if you let him, the want would consume you. You wouldn’t stop until he was inside you, keeping his promise and fulfilling your lust, your need to have his touch, his kiss, his everything as part of you.

And that was precisely why you couldn’t do it.

“I can make you mine,” he rasped, something akin to agony glistening in his eyes. “I can give you everything you ever wanted.”

The corners of your mouth twitched; could he read your mind? How else would he know that everything you wanted was him?

“Just let me show you.”

You finally took a deep breath, “No, I’m leaving.”

“No,” his expression morphed into anguish. 

“You have to let me go.”

“No no no no, I can’t, don’t ask me to, please. Please, just listen to what I have to say. Go with Mr Seung and let’s talk. Really talk, I’ll tell you everything. Everything, my whole heart, please.”

Your eyes observed every detail of his expression — his knitted eyebrows, glistening eyes, and pressed lips. You didn’t like to see him suffer; it was almost a compulsion just to acquiesce so he could feel well again.

“If you still want to leave after that, you can,” his voice gained a sturdiness, as did his expression, and it allowed you to breathe. “I promise, you’ll take my private jet and go immediately, and I’ll never— I won't—” Whatever he was trying to say didn’t seem to come out, so he shook his head. “So please say you will talk to me.”

Your mouth opened, but a loud knock on the door stole your words. You almost smiled as Sunhwa’s voice cut the silence, introducing someone important to see CEO Jeon right before coming to a stop.

You knew that she and whoever accompanied her were just standing by the entrance, witnessing something very odd: CEO Jeon standing stiffly next to his desk with his hands raised in front of him, unbeknownst to them, holding your head in them. You looked into his eyes, your eyebrow twitching, but his head only moved an inch to the side.

His eyes still begged, “Please.”

But your hand came to his arm to pull it, and he let go. You stepped back and said something polite as you dropped the file on his desk, then bowed deeply, bowing to the newcomers as well, before grabbing your luggage and going on your way. 

Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to function if he hadn’t received a message from Mr Seung about ten minutes after you left saying that he had you and was going to take you home, at your request. It filled his heart with such hope that he could barely contain the tears in his eyes. Still, he needed to during that meeting and the ones that inevitably followed. He counted the minutes, the seconds. If you left, he was certain that Mr Seung would inform him, but you wouldn’t. Because you agreed to talk, and that was all Jungkook needed.

He refused to take any more tasks, reports, requests, or last-minute meetings, and left the office exceptionally early before sunset. He entered his car and grabbed his phone; Mr Seung was not driving Jungkook this time, but he wanted to call and hear about you. He wasn’t ready to face you, but—

“Sir!” Mr Seung’s distraught voice instantly stiffened Jungkook’s neck. “I came to a few minutes ago, finally I have my phone so I can warn you!”

Jungkook’s grip on the phone tightened as he heard what had happened, and by the end he didn’t know if he was livid or enraged; he might have been possessed.

Things like getting hijacked at a red light didn’t just happen in the middle of Seoul in broad daylight to a car of the Family. Much less with Mr Seung in the hospital, having passed out from a drug, while you were taken. Fucking taken.

His first instinct was to call Sunhwa, “What the fuck did you do?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I swear that if you lay a finger on her—”

“On who? What are you talking about? What happened? I was with you the whole day. What could I have done?”

His stomach fell; she was right. He hung up the phone and groaned into his hands. He didn’t know who else could have tried to harm you. Even though you were a precious, rare omega, no one would go as far as to take you like that.

No one that he knew would, and in fact—

He pressed the speed dial on his phone, and as soon as the other side picked up, his heartache spilled out, “Hyung.”

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 15

In the following weeks, you saw Marshall often. You made a point not to avoid him, even though you were still a bit heartbroken over the fact that he was dating someone else. However, you tried not to let it show, and he probably didn’t notice anyway. You didn’t have too much information on Nicole or that date. To be honest, he didn’t seem too keen on sharing those details, and you weren’t really in the mood to ask either. Of course, if he decided to share, you’d be a good friend, but you didn’t really see the point in putting yourself in a position of being sad. You were only thankful that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to him. That would have been awkward to say the least. You got to spend time with him whenever you hung out at the studio (which was rather frequent) , when he visited Jamal and Talia or when you were invited to anything anyone from the group organized. The only thing that had really changed was that you were never alone and that you made a point of not being too close to him physically, but he didn’t seem to mind. You weren’t even sure he noticed any difference anyway… You thought it would be best not to be all over each other all the time. Once again, there was no point in setting yourself up for heartbreak. If he had asked that woman on a date, it clearly meant he didn’t like you as much as you thought he did, or as you hoped he would. On a Sunday afternoon, you joined everyone at Marshall’s to watch the latest Lions’ game on TV. Initially, you weren’t too keen on going, but Marshall had convinced you to come. For some reason, he was really intent on turning you into a football fan. You weren’t the sporty type and couldn’t really care less, but everyone would be there, so you figured that even though you may not really enjoy the game, you would enjoy the company. 

When you arrived at his place with Talia and Jamal, you were greeted by Hailie, who you recognized from pictures Marshall had shown you. 

Hi Hailie ! Talia said before giving her a quick hug. 

Hey guys come in ! The game is about to start, she said. 

She looked really good and, as you quickly looked at her, you could see she had inherited some of Marshall’s features. They looked a lot alike. 

Hi, I’m Hailie, she introduced herself. I’m the daughter. 

I’m Y/N, you replied politely. I’m Talia and Jamal’s roommate, you explained.  

You entered the house and greeted everyone. Marshall was dressed casually, with black sweatpants and a Lions hoodie that brought out the blue in his eyes. He was painfully attractive and you tried not to stare too much. Everyone was sort of matching his outfit, as they were all wearing some Detroit Lions merch. You were the only one who didn’t. You were actually dressed in leggings, UGG boots and your hoodie from University. 

You went to uni here ? Hailie asked as she saw the logo. I actually have the same hoodie !

Yeah. I’m a PhD student here, actually, you explained. 

What are you studying ? 

Communications. It’s my last year ! 

Are you kidding me ? She asked. One of my best friends is a PhD student in communications too ! His name is Josh. Do you know him ? 

I do ! You said with a smile. We worked together on a paper last year. He is amazing ! 

The guy she talked about was very nice. He started his PhD work in the same year as you did and you had a blast working with him. He was by far one of the smartest persons you had ever met. And it didn’t hurt that he was really attractive as well. You and Hailie spent some time talking in the kitchen. As it turned out, you were the same age, born six months apart and had graduated the same year. You actually knew some of her friends and had attended a few of the same events and venues on campus, though you had never talked or noticed each other. 

I can’t believe we never actually met before today, she said. We have probably crossed paths hundreds of times without knowing. 

I know right ? That is so weird. 

So, how come I have never seen you around here if you hang out with Dad and the whole team ? She asked with curiosity. 

Well, I only started hanging out with Marshall and the studio crew recently, you explained. I moved in with Talia and Jamal a few months ago, after I broke up with my boyfriend. 

It’s crazy, everyone seems to be breaking up, these days, she said. Josh broke up with his girlfriend of six months a couple weeks ago. 

Oh ? I hope he’s ok, you said with a smile. Although I wouldn’t be too worried for him. He probably won’t be single for too long… 

I know, right ? Do you guys get along ? She asked. 

Yes, you said. I mean, we don’t really hang out too often, but we’ve worked together in the past and it was great. He is really nice too. I really like him. I think he might actually be the person I talk to the most, on campus. 

We’re going for drinks to cheer him up tonight. You should come ! She offered. 

Oh, I don’t want to intrude, you said with a giggle. 

You won’t ! You guys know each other and… I’m not going to lie, you are totally his type, she added. 

Good to know, you said as you blushed a bit. 

I could gladly set you guys up on a date, she offered. If you’re single, that is. 

Uh… sure, I guess that could be fun, you said. I think drinks tonight might be a good start. 

The two of you kept on chatting for a while, and you couldn’t help but think that, if you had met earlier, you would have been the best of friends. After all, it wasn’t too surprising. She was a lot like her dad, only more cheerful. He entered the kitchen and smiled at you. 

Glad to see the two of you are getting along, Marshall said with a smile as he grabbed a couple of drinks in the fridge. 

We’re actually going for drinks tonight, Hailie said. 

So now you’re stealing my friends, uh ?  He asked his daughter. 

Well Y/N and I do have friends in common, Dad. And I’m sure she’d rather hang out with people our age instead of old crones like you, she joked. 

You have no idea, you said jokingly.

Very funny, Y/N, he said as he rolled his eyes. You girls better get to the living room, the game is about to start. 

You sat down next to him as you watched the game. He tried to explain the rules of football to you and you tried your best to understand, but it was all a bit blurry to you. You understood what a touchdown was, but there was something about the yards that didn’t make sense to you. You silently cursed the Americans for their misunderstanding of the metric system. Still, you had to admit that the game was entertaining, as well as everyone’s passion for it. They seemed excited about every move the players made, and they were so involved you could have sworn they were part of the team, especially Marshall. He promised to take you to see an actual game, in person, so that you would finally get the hype. You agreed but didn’t really count on it. In a matter of weeks, he probably would take Nicole instead… 

After the game, everyone hung out for a while. You were talking to Talia when he came to get you. You went for a walk in the garden. 

So, you finally met Hailie, he said with a smile. 

Yes, you said happily. Your daughter is really cool. 

I knew you’d get along, he chuckled. Are you sure about going for drinks with her, though? 

Do you have a problem with me hanging out with her ? You asked. 

No, not at all, he said. It’s great you’re getting along. But, you know, you’re sober and she and her friends… they’re not. They’re responsible but still, I want to make sure you’ll be ok. 

Worried much ? You said jokingly. 

Well, yeah, he admitted. I know this shit can be hard. Plus, you know… I’ve been worried about your sobriety when we weren’t talking. 

Really ? You asked surprised. 

Of course. I mean, me talking about you overdosing… that was a shitty move, he said sheepishly. Especially a week after a relapse. 

Well I think I did pretty well, you said with a smile. I don’t want you to worry. I think I’ll be ok. Plus, I’m often around alcohol, you know ? When there are events at university, stuff like that. So, really, I’m good. 

Good then, he said before kissing your cheek. I’m proud of you, Y/N. 

That evening, you joined Hailie and her friends for drinks. Josh was happy to see you and reconnect. The two of you talked a lot about your respective research and the struggles of being PhD students. The conversation was easy going and you really enjoyed the moment. Hailie and her friends were so nice too. For the first time in weeks, you found yourself forgetting about Marshall, even though it was ironic since you were hanging out with his daughter. 

The night came to an end and you said goodbye to everybody, especially thanking Hailie for the invite. Josh walked you out of the restaurant to get a cab. 

We should hang out more. I had a great night. Can I see you again ? He asked. 

Sure. Feel free to come by my office on campus, you said with a smile. 

I meant, like, on a date, he added. 

We can grab coffee on Thursday if you want, you said before kissing him on the cheek and getting in the cab. 

It’s a date, then.

He closed the door for you with a charming smile and you stared at him as the car started. You couldn’t contain your smile, on the way home. 

From M :  Having fun tonight ? 

Reply to M : Yes. Made new friends and drank mocktails :) you ? 

From M : Good. Hanging out in the studio with Dre. Working on a couple of songs. He flew in tonight, he’s going back to LA on wednesday. 

You smiled as you read Marshall’s texts. Even on a weekend night, he was working. You couldn’t help but admire his work ethic and dedication. 

Reply to M : Can’t wait to hear them. 

From M : You can come to the studio on Thursday if you want. I’ll play them for you. 

Reply to M : Can’t. I have a date :) Friday ? 

Josh took you out for coffee and a walk for your first date and it was as if you were in a movie. The conversation, the hand-holding, the flirting and the kissing… it was perfect. You were giddy as you got home and told your friends everything. Talia was nothing but supportive. If anything, she was just as giddy as you. Jamal, on the other hand… he seemed unimpressed. 

What about Marshall ? He asked. 

What about him ? You and Talia asked at the same time. 

You know damn well what I mean, Y/N, he said. There’s something between the two of you. You like him.

Yeah, I do, you said. I mean, he is amazing. But we’re good friends. That’s it.

Bullshit, Jamal said as he rolled his eyes. You aren’t fooling anyone.

I don’t know, Babe, Talia said. I mean, I thought there was something there too but don’t you think Em would have made a move by now ? 

Right, you said. 

Obviously, you hadn’t said anything about what happened between Marshall and yourself. Talia only knew what had happened during the first movie night, but that was it. The only things your friends knew, they got from watching your interactions. 

I’ve known him for a while and he’s never cared for anyone like that, Jamal said as he shrugged. And you, Y/N… I’ve seen you around him. All… cuddly, and flirty and shit. Everybody can see it. 

I think we’re missing the important question here : what do you want, Y/N ? Talia asked. 

Look… maybe I was a little flirty, you admitted. But there’s NOTHING between Marshall and I. He doesn’t like me like that and that’s fine by me. On the other hand, Josh IS interested in me and is taking me on a dinner date on Saturday night. 

It was true. As soon as your first date had ended, Josh had booked the next one. He seemed interested in you and not afraid to show it. It was something you liked, as it left no ambiguity as to whether or not he liked you. And you could definitely use some of that, instead of dwelling on Marshall...

On the next day, you visited Marshall at the studio after you were done with uni work, as planned. He was alone in the room when you arrived. Everyone else had already gone home. 

Am I too late ? You asked after you greeted him. 

It was unusual for you to see him alone in the studio. 

All good. I wanted to stay a bit longer to listen to all of the tracks anyways, Marshall said. We have produced about thirty so far and I’m not sure about some of them. 

You sat on the huge leather couch and listened as he played some of the tracks for you. You closed your eyes as you tried to focus. 

Thoughts ? He asked after he had played about ten tracks. 

I don’t have any, you said. 

Well that’s not good, he mumbled. 

He rolled his eyes and put his head back as he sighed. 

What do you mean ? You asked. 

I mean I played you about a third of what I have and it doesn’t even make you think of… anything ? Like, are they that bad ? 

No, you said with a laugh. What I meant to say is that I know nothing about music. I wouldn’t know how to differentiate a good song from a bad one. That’s kind of your job, you know ? 

Mmmh, he sighed, still not satisfied with the answer. 

There are some tracks I like more than others, you said. But that doesn’t mean anything. What matters is your own opinion. 

Which ones do you like ? He asked. 

Do you really want my input ? You asked in disbelief. 

It can’t hurt, he shrugged. 

You went over the songs together, as you gave him your opinion on the beats or the lyrics. It was kind of haphazard, as you didn’t know the right words to use. He sometimes proceeded to correct you with a chuckle. 

No, that’s not what « reverb » is. 

No ? You asked in disbelief. You know… that kind of … sound and the way it goes ? 

Yeah, no, I see, he said as he laughed lightly. 

It’s crazy. It seems so easy for you, you said. 

As you said… it’s my job, he replied with a smile. Like I probably wouldn’t know shit about your work. 

Maybe, you said with a chuckle. I think you’d find it a bit boring. 

Probably a bit, he admitted. But I know you’re crazy smart. 

Believe me, as I’m writing, it feels like I’m unable to string two sentences together, you replied. 

Maybe Jack could help you with that. 

Who ? 

You know… your date, Marshall said. You guys do the same thing, right ? 

Ah. Josh, you corrected. I take it that you talked to Hailie ? 

Josh, he repeated. Right. Yeah, Hailie might have told me a few things. You guys work in the same field, so maybe he would be able to help you ? 

I don’t know about that. I have worked on a paper with him before but showing him my own work and for him to critique ? It’s kind of… 

Intimate ? 

Yeah. 

He smiled in agreement. 

So. Are you going to tell me how it went ? He finally asked.

I didn’t realize you were interested in my date, you replied with a smile. 

I care about you, Y/N. You know that, Marshall said with a serious voice. 

Well it went great. We went for coffee and a walk. We had a great talk. He held my hand. And he kissed me, once. 

Once ? He asked in surprise. Just once ? 

Yeah. It was a goodbye kiss. 

He nodded in understanding. It was a bit weird for you to talk to him about your date. He looked in your eyes as he waited for you to say more. 

What ? You asked with an awkward laugh. Want me to describe the kissing for you ? 

I’m good, thanks, he said with a grin. 

He’s taking me out tomorrow. 

So soon ? Damn, he must really like you, Marshall commented with a chuckle. 

Well, I am kind of a catch, you said jokingly. 

Of course you are, he said with a smile. 

He looked in your eyes and he got closer to you. It seemed as if he was about to add something when his phone rang. He looked away as he answered it. 

Hey… thanks for calling. yeah, tomorrow is great for me… 7:00 ? … good. Me too. Bye. 

He looked back at you. 

Sorry, he said. 

All good ? You asked. 

Yeah. It was Nicole, he simply said, with a casual tone. 

You stared at him and tried to prevent your emotions from showing. 

I told you about my date. Do you want to tell me about yours ? You asked carefully. 

I’m not sure there’s too much to say, he explained. Hailie set it up. 

You let out an involuntary laugh. 

Your daughter should really start matchmaking business. 

You have no idea, he replied as he rolled his eyes. Ever since her mother and I got divorced for the second time, she has been meddling. I can’t count the number of times she tried to set me up with her friends’ single moms. I usually don’t let her but well… who knows ? 

He laughed at the memory. 

So… want to tell me more Nicole ? You asked. 

Actually, I know her from… way back. Her daughters used to go to the same primary school as mine. I hadn’t seen her in years when we ran into her at the hospital. We ran into each other again a few days later when I was out with the girls and somehow Hailie got her to call me. She’s nice. 

She’s really hot, you said. 

I’m not commenting on that, he said as he rolled his eyes. Is Jack hot ? 

Josh, you corrected. 

Right. Is he ? 

I’m not answering that, you replied with a grin. 

You stared at each other and burst out in laughter. Somehow, it felt good to be able to talk to him about it. 

So… you like this Nicole ? 

She’s nice, he said. 

I mean… she must be kind of cool if your own daughter thinks she’s good enough for you right ? You asked. 

I guess. We’ll see how it goes. How about Ja- Josh, sorry. You like him ? 

I do, you nodded. He is really smart. Kind, too. And… he is really hot, you added with a wink. 

Oh yeah ? 

Yup. 

That’s cool, he said with a smile. 

The both of you chuckled. 

For real though, how do you feel about dating ? He asked. 

What do you mean ? You asked back, puzzled. 

Recovery isn’t an easy time. Are you sure you should be dating ? I mean, I don’t mean to be an ass, or tell you what not to do, he said. But maybe you should focus on yourself a bit ? 

You stared at him and said nothing for a second. It seemed pretty ironic for him to say that when he had asked you out a while ago, shortly after your relapse, no less. 

I like him, you know ? He’s really nice, and, at least, it keeps my mind busy, you said. I think I’m ready to date. 

He nodded and smiled softly. 

You know… this son of a bitch better be nice to you, Marshall said.

And what if he isn’t ? You wondered. 

I’ll make sure he regrets being born, if he ever hurts you. 

He’s a gentleman, you reassured him. And Hailie likes him. 

Right. Must be a nice dude, then. 

You looked at each other, smiling. 

You know, if Nicole ever breaks your heart, I can make sure some hair removal cream ends up in her shampoo, you said with a smirk. 

What if I’m the one who fucks it up ? He wondered. 

I’m sure you won’t, you said. Though if you do end up being an ass… I’ll probably have to dye your beard green in your sleep. Or shave it. 

I’ll remember the warning, he said with a chuckle. And I hope it doesn’t happen… It took forever to grow this thing. 

You laughed as you gently scratched his beard. He pulled you in for a long hug. 

It’s good, he said under his breath. 

Yeah. It really is, you confirmed.

[moldycantaloupe]

Mushy May Day 18

Holding hands

Pairing; Swiss/Phantom

Notes; this one's a little awkwardly written, work was Work today and my brain's a little soupy. Also, I am diagnosed ADHD so a lot of traits Phantom has here are of my own; I want to make a fic one day going further into Adhd with them, but for now it just ensues hand holding! Thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for putting together the prompts list.

Phantom was considered scattered by the pack, and neurodivergent by Aether. Their mind was constantly at a hundred places at once, no matter the task or event. It would cause issues mainly to themselves; movie nights were a nightmare, upkeep on their room was a three day process, Mass was near unbearable to get by. The times it caused issues with the pack was during chores. Walking away from helping Mountain with the greenhouse because they needed the pliers from inside, but ran into Rain who needed help carrying pots to the storage shed, and that door usually doesn’t squeak, does it? Surely Swiss would have some oil for it. 

They found coping mechanisms that typically helped. Fidget toys for events and Mass, an organizing system for their room and chores, and movie night would always be a nightmare, but at least they had a toy and ghoul to keep them company and distracted.

Tour was another main concern. With the overwhelming cityscapes and things to do, their brain would go into a frenzy trying to decide what to do and where during their downtime. Everyone pitched ideas, some less extraordinary than others, but none were of Phantom’s interest. 

Swiss sat across the lounge area in the bus as he watched the young quint hop around the bunks, kitchenette, and bathroom, restless to get moving again. He smiled mostly to himself, an idea to help them stay on track bouncing around his mind. It was such a simple idea, he wondered why no one pitched it yet. But he wanted to be the first to try.

The bus halted to a stop and everyone began filing out towards the city’s downtown area. Swiss hopped out and immediately gravitated towards Phantom, who was already moving their head and eyes in a million directions. They fidgeted with their fingers, mouth set to a thin line. He poked their shoulder and their head whipped around, eyes curious.

Swiss gestured his head down towards his hand, which was palm up and wide open. Phantom blinked at it, confusion set in.

“What are you doing?” They asked.

“Hold my hand.” Swiss waved it around to emphasize his point. 

Once Phantom's hand was secured into his own, he squeezed and they squeezed back, a shy smile on their face as Papa began his safety talk. He finished with a vague wave of his hand and tired eyes, knowing anything that he said was said to deaf ears. Swiss whispered to Phantom of a place down the street as he began to walk and they nodded along, shoulders not as tense as before.

The night was mostly successful. Phantom would point to a place, Swiss would mentally mark it down as they made their way to their first priorities. When inside the two let each other go their own ways and make their own purchases, but found each other when they were both ready to continue. Swiss did lose them in a bigger shop, finding them just outside it trying to cross the street to the antique store. They giggled when he hollered at them and how could he be mad at such a cute thing? 

Back on the bus, Phantom still clung to Swiss as they began to journey to the next city. They played with his fingers still intertwined with theirs, only letting go when they had to get ready for sleep. Swiss huddled up into his bunk, ready to fall fast asleep after the day, but a quiet rustle of his curtain made him peak his eyes open.

“Can I join you tonight?” Phantom’s tail was idly swishing behind them, eyes wide enough to fool him that they were still wide awake. With a chuckle and a nod, he let them shuffle into the bunk with him, the space just large enough to fit them both snug.

Immediately they twined their hands together in between them, giving Swiss the opportunity to feel their steady heartbeat and deep purr. They wrapped their leg around his own and dug their face to his neck, breathing deeply. They were asleep in minutes, the purr only growing louder in their slumber. It was the fastest he’d ever seen them go under.

With a soft smile, he kissed the top of their head and closed his eyes shut, the warmth of them lulling him to sleep.

[avelera]

I've been talking with a few people irl about the TikTok ban and I was wondering if I could get your take on it? (iirc you work in election security). Mainly I'd like to know why TikTok/China is *uniquely* bad wrt dating mining/potential election interference when we've seen other companies/governments do the same thing (thinking of the Russian psyops here on Tumblr in 2016). It feels like the scope is so narrow that it doesn't come close to targeting the root problem (user privacy and data mining as a whole), leading me to think it's only point is "ooh China Scary". Thoughts? (No worries if you'd rather not get into it, I just thought of you as someone who might have more insight/informed opinions on the matter).

So I'm not really familiar with all the details of the case and certainly not all the details of the bill. But I will give my perspective:

TikTok as a particular threat to users' data and privacy has been known for some time in the cybersecurity world. US government employees and contractors have been straight-up forbidden to have it on their phones for some time now. I, for example, have never had it on my phone because of these security concerns. (Worth noting, I'm not a government employee or contractor, it was just a known-to-be dangerous app in the cybersecurity world so I avoided it.)

This is because the parent company, as I understand, has known connections to the Chinese government that have been exploited in the past. For example, to target journalists.

Worth noting, another app that would potentially be on the chopping block is WeChat, which also has close ties to (or is outright owned by?) the Chinese government. This is just speculation on my part but it's based on the fact that all the concerns around TikTok are there for WeChat too and it has also been banned on government devices in some states, so I imagine it would be next if the bill passes.

I think this is important to note because I've seen some hot takes here on Tumblr have said that the entire case against TikTok is made up and there is no security threat. That is simply not true. The concerns have been there for a while.

However, the question of what to do about it is a thorny one.

The determination seems to be that so long as TikTok is still owned by its parent company with its direct ties to the Chinese government, there really is no way to guarantee that it's safe to use. From that angle, demanding that the company sever ties and set up some form of local ownership makes sense.

I am not a lawyer, but, that being said, forcing them to sell their local operations to a locally-based buyer is a pretty invasive and unusual step for legislators to take against a private company, even in a clear case of spying. I'm sure TikTok's widespread popularity is a big part of the threat it poses, which lends to the argument used to justify such an extreme step. (Because it is on so many phones, it really could be a danger to national security.)

That said, at one point young activists on TikTok embarrassed Trump (lots of good context in this article) while he was campaigning in 2020, and there was some talk then about shutting it down which seemed pretty clearly linked to how it was used as a platform to organize against him. I'm sure there's at least some right wing antipathy towards the app that has a political basis going back to this event. Trump signed an executive order banning it, the ban going into effect got bogged down in the courts, and then Biden rescinded that executive order when he got into office, pending an investigation into the threat it posed.

Those investigations seem to have further confirmed that the Chinese government is getting access to US user data through the app, and further confirmed it as a security threat.

Now, to muddy the waters further, there's several dodgy investment funds including one owned by former Secretary of the Treasury to Trump Steven Mnuchin that are circling with an interest to buy TikTok if it does sell. That's very concerning.

Funds like Mnuchin's interest in purchasing TikTok (even though they do invest in other technologies too, so it is in their portfolio) definitely makes the motivations behind the sale look pretty damning as momentum builds, that it could be some sort of money grab here in the US.

China has also pointed out that forcing the sale of a company because of spying concerns like this opens a whole can of worms. If China thinks that, say, Microsoft is spying on their citizens, could they force the US company to sell its operations in China to a Chinese investor? Could they force Google? Could they even further polarize the internet in general between "free" and "not free" (as in, behind the great Chinese or Russian firewall, as examples) if this precedent is set, so that no Western companies can operate in authoritarian states without selling their local operations there to a government-controlled organization, and thus be unable protect their users there? Or, if you don't have so rosy a view of Western companies, could it effectively deal a blow to international trade in general by saying you have to have to sell any overseas arms of a company to someone who is from there? Again, I'm not a lawyer, but this is a hell of a can of worms to open.

But again, this is muddy because China absolutely is spying on TikTok users. The security reason for all of this is real. What to do about it is the really muddled part that has a ton of consequences, and from that angle I agree with people who are against this bill. Tons of bad faith consequences could come out of it. But the concerns kicking off the bill are real.

[supercorpzine]

Over the years we’ve been asked many times about how to run a fandom zine, so to finally answer those questions here is our incomplete and rough guide/collection of questions to ask yourself on good practices for running a fandom event or charity zine. By no means is this an exact how-to, but we hope this will help answer questions and prompt you in the right direction for running a clean and organized event safely and responsibly!  

Purpose

What is the purpose of your zine (or event)? Why are you doing this? Is it for fun? Are you raising money for charity? Are you doing it because you just want to and because you love fandom and your ship? Is it a combination of all of the above? Will it be fan fiction? Fan art? Gifs? Video edits? Music? A combination of any? Are you going to run a big bang or reverse bang? Are you running a gift exchange for the holidays? These are all incredibly important questions to ask yourself when you first decide you want to lead a zine or event!

If this is for charity, decide your charities before you launch anything. It is good practice to have a solid plan on what you want to do and what you want to accomplish before posting an interest check. It is better to be prepared and have to postpone your zine or event than to try to run a project with no clear cut agenda. Projects that do not have a clear path or set agenda have a much higher risk of fizzling and falling apart.

When choosing your charity, make sure to research them first before making your final decision. To best protect yourself and make sure your money is going to a real cause your charity should be a 501(c)(3) registered charity and you should be able to view their IRS 990 form on their website, or on a helpful website called Charity Navigator.

WARNING. If you are involving money, it is in your best interest NOT to include photoshop manipulations, gifs, videos, or any other form of media that includes real photography or the voices of your characters (this includes voice actors). Actors and companies are very strict in their contracts about how their likenesses and voices can and can’t be used for profit. You would be risking the integrity of your event as well as financial responsibility. If anything, you could potentially receive a Cease & Desist with a threat of legal action.

If you are concerned about the safety of your money, draw up a contract with any partners that protect those funds from being stolen-or result in legal consequences if so. If you are running a non-fandom event and paying your artists, you will need to speak to a lawyer to make sure you safely and legally can compensate them for their work. Find and speak to a lawyer or financial advisor to see what your options are.

Audience

Who is your audience? Events and zines with narrower focuses are easier to maintain. Are you prepared to keep a close audience or are you going to go broader? If you are thinking of a broader event you should look and see if other people from different fandoms are interested in running a fandom project to help you organize the process and spread the word. Do your research on fandom relations. Some fandoms are often not held in favorable light by other fandoms and trying to marry two together may result in a failure to organize. If you are determined but may not have the audience, start small with something like a fic exchange and see how it goes.

Though not necessarily true, a good way to gain an audience is by generating content. Have you been active in the fandom you want to run your zine/event for? If so, how have your posts been doing and have you been interacting with other people? People are more likely to trust and join a project if they at least know of the person running it even if they aren’t a “BFN” (Big Fandom Name). There is no way to truly determine if you will even get an audience as much of fandom’s attention now is based on what’s the newest and what is going to bring the most instant gratification. Fandom events take a lot of time, how will you maintain your audience during the lulls?

Organization

How are you going to organize this? What social media platforms do you want to utilize? Will you set up a Discord? Only contact via Email? How will you collect and organize the contributions? Google drive folders or documents or an AO3 collection? Will you have your contributors email you word docs or PDFs if you are distributing? 

Is it a call for all admissions or will you have curated limited slots? Are you doing an invitation only event? If you are doing applications, what are the requirements? How will you vet people? Allowing transphobic creators into a zine raising money for trans charities is not ideal, which is why we encourage having the vision for your event before you put out an interest check. What is your schedule? How long do you want to dedicate to the entire process while still allowing adequate time for people to contribute? How are you going to share it?

What if it’s 100% digital? Will you do an online collection on AO3? If not AO3, how are you compiling it? Will you have the contributors send you a PDF that you will then stitch together? Will you find someone with design experience to do it for you?

What if you want to print? Who will you print with? How will you ship? Will you offer it internationally? It is possible some printers will not want to work with you if you are trying to do monetary sales on fan fiction and fan art for fear of copyright infringement. Make sure to do your research for online companies (Lulu does not like to do this, Smartpress is a decent option) or look around at a local printshop (tends to run more expensive, especially now with continuing material shortages). If you are doing print things get trickier, especially if you need to adhere to print specifications-usually CMYK, 300dpi, press ready PDFs following the printer’s templates for safety area and document bleed-at a minimum. You’ll have a smoother time if someone on your team (or you) have some sort of design experience. It’s easy to put words on a page to print. It’s hard to make them look good.

At a glance digital considerations:

Where to host (do not tie money to ao3, see note in Outreach & Promotion)

Create a visual standard (colors, sizes, ‘logos’, etc)

Create submission standard (word count or other content requirements, location, file type/size, etc)

At a glance print considerations:

Digital layout for print

If offering both digital & physical versions, you will want to have files tailored to each application (see notes about bleed & printer templates above)

Finding and working with a vendor

Shipping

-International packages come with their own caveats about where will accept what shipping companies -Physical items: generate labels, acquire boxes & protective stuffing, physically package items (where? Enough packagers?) -Schedule pickups -Size of product will affect size & therefore cost of shipping per item

At a glance overall considerations:

Sales vendor/storefront if applicable

Tracking sales items

Tracking costs & transparency documents

Tracking participant communications

Tracking customer communications

Upkeeping social media posts & communications (& generating content)

Tracking participant deliverables

With all of this considered, clear communication is key. Having clear expectations of deliverables, dates, and timelines for your participants and as well as clear responsibilities between leadership individuals will help you be successful.

Timeline

Your timeline is important and you should try your best to stick to it. Have it posted, have an FAQ, again be transparent about both internal scheduling for your contributors and public scheduling for those watching. 

When creating your schedule, it may be helpful to do a ‘workback’ schedule - pick an ideal final date, and working backwards, add in estimated times and dates for every single task and deliverable to see what is realistic to accomplish for contributors and for leadership. If you are ordering physical items, build in buffer times - particularly remembering that with today’s chaotic global supply chain, things may take more time. Required check-ins can be helpful for visibility and prevent procrastination.

Also do your research on your fandom. Have there been previous events? If so, are you potentially overlapping with other events? Potential overlap can harm both events, so look around and think about potentially starting when one is finishing up or has just finished so you can reach a bigger pool of creatives. Don’t be afraid to reach out and talk to other event organizers, they may be wanting to participate in other events that aren’t theirs but have been unable to due to scheduling. BUT, don’t let others’ schedule dictate your own, you need to stick to a calendar that you know you can abide by.

Quality and Curation

An “all welcome” zine or event is far different from a curated zine or event. What is the quality of work you are looking for? People are more likely to interact with work that is of better quality if it involves money, so if you are wanting to raise money or pay your participants (or have enough funds for production and shipping alone), then you might need to think about running a curated project. Even with talented contributors, if the time isn’t right or if something changes with the event leadership the quality can still be affected.

Another consideration when deciding on curation is physical (and to a lesser extent) real estate. If you are printing, costs of printing itself and shipping are affected by page size and number and weight, so remember to account for this when looking at curation, printers, shipping, and finances.

When thinking about curation and before opening applications, leadership should be in agreement on how many spots for each type of media are ideal, and what parameters the project is looking for ie x amount of fanfiction or fanart or both, certain styles, certain themes, certain content, certain subjective qualities etc. Those are qualities based on submitted work but there could be other factors you might filter your participants by, such as age if you have explicit content, previous participation in fandom work, etc. Having these clarified will help the team confidently select participants as well as give applicants better expectations and understanding of the decisions made.

Rejection, unfortunately, is the reality of a curated project. It can be difficult to turn an application down because you can see the passion and excitement, but the work isn’t right or ready for the project. Not everyone will be accepted if they don’t meet the standards that you are looking for, and not everyone has the formal creative background through school or career to teach them how to navigate these rejections. There will be some people who don’t have experience applying to something like this before or who won’t understand why they weren’t chosen or take a rejection as a personal attack. You must be prepared for upset or inappropriate responses and be able to act calmly and professionally while sticking to your decisions, and without lashing out. If you need someone on your team skilled in PR or customer service, this will be a good time for them to help you. This is your project, and you must stick by what you set out to do.

Outreach and Promotion

How are you going to find contributors? Are you going to rely on word of mouth or ask people to join? Do you have a minimum count of people you would like to join? How are you going to spread the word? Social media accounts? What kind of content are you going to generate to keep up the attention to the project? How will you get this content-yourself or asking those interested to help?

Find your core audience and cater your posts to catch their attention. Use hashtags, graphics, buzz words etc to bolster this. Retweet/reblog/share to your stories regularly a few times a week to keep the momentum. The more you put this on people’s radar, the better chance you’ll have at it stabilizing and gaining momentum. There is no “easy step” to starting and maintaining an event.

**Remember, please DO NOT use Ao3 as a platform for promoting a monetary project. You may use it as a means of distribution and sharing but be conscious of how that work is presented. Bringing money into Ao3 risks the legality of what the OTW’s legal team has fought and won for fandom.

Finances

Things get harder when money is involved. If you plan to sell your zine or raise money through your event it is in your best interest to make it 100% not for profit. If you are creating a fanzine it is highly recommended that it is solely for charity to protect yourself from copyright and receiving a cease and desist letter (and possible legal retaliation).

This means your contributors nor you will be receiving a single monetary amount for anything, everything will be going to the charity (or charities) you have chosen. If you choose to print, you will have to account for 30-50% of your gross going to production and shipping and any other materials you may need. If you are determined to raise money, offer your zine or the content as a limited exclusive offer for a few months before allowing your contributors to post. Doing so helps drum up excitement and generate sales therefore helping you raise more money.

An easy and clean way to raise money is either through PDF sales or a fundraiser where interested supporters share a receipt of a donation so you don’t have to touch a cent. Your gross profit would then become your net profit, and you can give the entirety of the funds raised without messing with the logistics of printing and shipping. Don’t get yourself in trouble. Account for every cent.

Taxes

Talk to a tax accountant for guidance for your state and country.

While you may not be planning on counting your raised money as taxable income and donate every cent, the IRS (or other government tax offices) may not think so. Make a financial plan that protects you from owing extra income tax as some charities don’t accept PayPal donations and you will need to transfer funds through a bank account-or plan to take a small percentage to pay taxes on or consider registering as an LLC depending on how long you want to be in operation. You can then of course turn around and donate the percentage taken to truly donate every cent. Don’t get yourself in trouble. Account for every cent.

Transparency

If money is involved you MUST be transparent.

This will not only protect you and your contributors in the long run, but gain trust. This means records of all receipts, record of orders, record of donations, EVERYTHING (with your personal information blacked out). Show a record for any reimbursement of materials if you choose to take that reimbursement. Not sharing the bare bones of your financial records can open you up to questions and criticisms and grow distrust-which would then hurt future endeavors. 

The first step is to open a new clean paypal account for zine-only transactions, this will help you with transparency. Don’t get yourself in trouble. Account for every cent.

Dedication

Here’s the kicker. If you don’t have the dedication to run your project, it will suffer and possibly even fail.

Running a fandom zine or event takes a lot of time and energy on your part. They simply don’t spring into existence just because you think it would be fun and you have the passion for it. Things would be so much easier if that were the case!

Some events will be easier to maintain than others, like fic exchanges. Big bangs can also be as easy or as hard as you want them to be depending on the number of contributors and if you are doing a regular-or reverse bang, or an open or closed big bang.

Zines usually require a lot more dedication and effort to complete because of printing, production, shipping, and finances. At the shortest, these endeavors can last from three months to six to eight months, with zines ranging up to a year or over depending on internal scheduling even if your supporters only see it publicly for a couple months. Even if you do try to do everything right, sometimes projects just don’t work out. Anything could happen to halt or slow down the process, but it’s up to you to keep it going if you can and if you want to.

In the end, this is a fun project that you can do. But there are many moving parts to make sure that it runs smoothly. In short: take your time, get your ducks in a row, and have a clear goal of what you want to accomplish because it will take a lot of work. Good luck!

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Chapter 2 - Anger

Force of Nature - masterlist

prev next

TW: death mentions, neither vampire hunters nor vampires having a great time, staking vampires, non consensual blood drinking

Julius stood in front of the mirror, contorting himself to be able to take a look at the scar over his spine. Fucking bitch. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the splinter out. He felt it move with every twitch of his body, it was lodged deep between muscle and bone. And it wasn’t like he ever owned any sort of instrument that can cut open his perfectly preserved vampiric skin; hunters made them hard to get, that was his bigger problem. He could technically use his nails that were sharper than a sword of the best human welder, but he wasn’t precise enough to get out the tiny piece of wood that was the size of a sewing needle. 

Fucking hunters. They didn’t just want to kill anymore as the honorable saviors of humankind as they used to back in the day. Julius didn’t know when that stopped being the tradition. Their stakes weren’t as smooth, made to splinter and lodge into vampire's skin. Make them weaker, easier to take to ‘study.’ He shuddered at the thought of more than one of the nasty needles being stuck in his skin. The one inside already hadn’t left the wound left after the stake heal properly. He has never felt more vulnerable in his life. Or death if he wanted to be precise. He has roamed the earth for over a thousand and eight hundred years, never once had a barely thirty year old human hunter come even close to hurting him. Sure he ran into a few humans with stakes, some managed to scratch him, those were the honorable times. Hunters were skilled and prepared, and he admired that, so he ended their lives with mercy.

When Carter drove the stake into his back, leaving him on the ground to kill the fledgling vampire he had mentored, he decided he would torture her for as long as he could, at least for the same amount of time the young vampire got a taste from eternity. He swore he’d make her suffer. That rage was all he needed to reach back, and pull the stake out. He tried to stand quickly, but he stumbled. He felt weak, so he ran.

Carter ran around like a crazy person all day. She presented her first independent kill for the family that day, and the celebration had to be perfect. It wasn’t customary for her to do anything really, but she loved the thrill of organizing the party almost as much as defending herself against the monsters. The dead creature was placed in a wooden box, tied down with silver chains, that proved it died. If it was alive the chains would burn it, but now it was a harmless carcass adorned in silver, the centerpiece of the event, after herself of course.

She instructed the caterers to follow her plan, she decorated the hall herself.

An hour before the event everything seemed perfect, she could finally take a few moments to slump down on a chair and rest.

Her friends were the first to show up, way before the rest of the guests and the extended family, they felt they needed to have a little celebration of their own. 

They weren’t the only ones who wanted to have fun as they quickly found themselves in the company of two uninvited guests.

Julius and his fledgling appeared among them going unnoticed for a few seconds. The older vampire thought it would be a perfect opportunity for the other to practice blending in and using charm. He never imagined it would go so horribly wrong. The fledgling couldn’t handle his thirst as great as he proved before, and standing close enough to the humans set him off. Still Julius trusted the hunters were distracted enough with the alcohol they were consuming to let them off in case of a mistake like that. He wasn’t quite lucky enough, and he blamed himself for it. 

He held out for as long as he could against the rough stakes and silver bullets raining down on them before deciding to retreat finally. They both turned their backs to escape and went down the exact same time. It was only luck that his attacker didn’t stick the landing too well.

His luck. Julius wished he died right then and there with another the stake forced through his ribcage than having to watch the young immortal flail and go limp with the hunter straddling him.

His luck that the other missed with their bullets. And his luck that he got to escape and the hunter's celebrated two kills in one night.

A couple times visiting Carter did its toll on her mind and he managed to make himself comfortable in her head, only then he made her remove the splinter from his back. The scar that bothered him for so long finally healed. Julius was practically floating from the relief he felt. And Carter’s blood never felt sweeter as when he bit down on her wrist the moment she presented him with the piece of wood.

[findingmelissa]

Saw this post on Instagram: "5 Self-Esteem Prompts That Will Change Your Life."

Write down the characteristics of your ideal self. What are the specific fears and self-doubts that make you feel like you're not that person?

I started this post with 5 or 6 qualities but the more I wrote, the more I realized that I really only need to focus on one: kindness. My fear is that I am not a kind or good person.

When did you start to believe those things? Try to pinpoint each one to a specific event or moment in your life. These can be beliefs you've inherited from your family or culture when you were a child, or beliefs that you picked up in early adulthood.

When I was abused and no one told me it wasn't my fault. When (and I am sure now as a result of that first thing) I spent the better part of my teens and 20s lying, cheating, and controlling and manipulating people. When I gave my older cat Loxy to the shelter when we moved because I gave up on her (terrible behavior) and she probably ended up euthanized. When I let my sister take care of my other cat Andy and she ended up neglecting her and letting her dog terrorize Andy into stress-induced sickness and ultimately her death.

After every single mean or impatient word I have ever spoken to Steve, my mom, my coworkers, strangers. After every time I have thrown a tantrum. When I have been gossipy or judgmental behind people's backs.

I am carrying a heavy heavy burden of guilt and grief over not being a kind or good person. (*tears*)

Write a brief letter to that past disempowered version of you and empower them to feel good about themselves. For each of their limiting beliefs, remind them that it's not based in reality — it's just a fear - and create a list of 3 pieces of evidence that contradict or challenge it.

A letter... well, I would have to go all the way back to 12-year-old me and tell her everything I should have been told back then. That speaks for itself. I would tell me in my 20s you don't have anything to prove. Stop manipulating everyone, especially men, just to prove that you can, to prove that you are not powerless but powerful. I would tell the me of my 30s and 40s to stop fearing vulnerability and let people love you, let them help you, you are lovable just as you are. Which would kill a lot of the mean and impatient behavior.

As for contradicting my fear, looking at all of that stuff I wrote in Question 2, it feels like my thoughts are based in reality. :( But I will try to challenge this with some kind of logic and evidence, or at least things I know about myself now.

I love my friends with all my heart and I will (and often do) give them whatever I can - attention, time, money, meals, help with kids - to make their lives easier or happier. No hesitation. They are my chosen family.

I am compassionate toward the entire world. What Buddhists call metta. I know in my heart that even though I have spent a lot of my life not behaving this way, that I have this and I feel this toward every living being. I want to cry typing that. Because deep down, I know this is who I am. And I feel it on a daily basis (So, maybe I am a good person?)

I don't have a third piece of evidence. This will have to do for now.

Make a list of your strengths or unique qualities that set you apart from others. These can be physical traits, skills, or aspects of your personality. For each one, write about a time that you've shown up with that quality and describe how amazing it felt to embody that energy.

Household management/budgeting - this impacts my and Steve's life almost every day and I love that my abilities make our lives so much easier.

Highly efficient/organized - this is more about work, where I do all the things no one else wants to do because I keep detailed checklists and documentation that helps the entire company.

Physical strength - every time we work on our property and I am able to do all the hard things, I am reminded how strong I am. I feel so useful and competent and helpful. I love it.

Cooking/food preparation - similar to Item 1, I feel like I take care of myself and Steve in a very important way. I have also food prepped for friends who needed it and love being able to provide for them in that way.

Can't think of more. But I notice that all of these really have more to do with helping others than anything else. Apparently that's what truly makes me feel good about myself. That's very telling.

Make a list of affirmations that encapsulate your strengths and represent beliefs that you CHOOSE to have about yourself. Write them down on Post-It notes and stick them everywhere you'll see them often to remind you that this is your new self-concept.

I am kind

I am compassionate

I am beautiful

I am enough

I am writing these down right now on little post its and putting them right here on my monitors so I can stare at them every day. Hopefully until I believe them.

[zuzsenpai]

I'm honestly so furious right now. I work in a video and photography department for a large healthcare organization. We're a department of 9, plus an intern. We're under the "marketing" umbrella, though we do a lot more than marketing for the network (for example we also make patient and employee education videos/photos/animations).

Yesterday the social media department (also part of marketing. We supply photos and videos for them to post) posted an AI generated image on our company's instagram page. It was a photorealistic AI image of a baby, used to promote our pediatric cardiology service line. The image is so ridiculously obviously AI, it makes me want to puke. It's uncanny, too smooth with zero skin texture, the eyes are messed up, and the "baby" literally has full eyelashes on one eye and none on the other.

I'm livid because it's like... what the fuck do they need OUR department for if they're going to be using AI now?

To our knowledge, this is the first time they've done this. I get that there's an "argument" to be made that it's incredibly difficult and time consuming to set up a photoshoot with a real baby, and they wanted something fast and easy because the marketing service line directors are constantly on social media's ass to push out abhorrent amounts of marketing content on social media. This culture will never change. We've tried to explain that people don't like seeing constant mediocre ads for healthcare service lines when they are on social media. But the higher ups won't listen to that AT ALL. So... AI generated gross ass baby it is (I cannot stress enough how creepy this "baby" looks).

But it's a slippery slope. Because first it's a baby. Next it'll be a fake orthopedic surgery patient because who has time to find a real patient for our photographers to shoot? Never mind that people on social media actually DO like seeing real patient stories. Next it'll be a billboard on the highway with AI generated doctors because who cares to know what their real doctor looks like, right? This is making me so mad for the photographers in my department who work so fucking hard to shoot and edit stunning, quality images. Their jobs will be relegated to event photography until someday an unmanned robot can set up their own camera and do that too (they probably already can?).

Recently one of the service line directors in marketing asked me to use an AI voice for an animation I'm making. I had to put my foot down and say that we have three fantastic local voiceover artists who we use for these kinds of projects. One of them is a retired gentleman who went to school with my dad and is always extremely happy to get work from us. Sometimes I think these marketing people just want to use AI because it's trendy.

I understand that there are other industries and individuals who are already being massively affected by AI to a much larger and much more detrimental degree. And that my problems are largely me spinning out of control. I figured AI would hit us eventually, and there's really nothing I can do except continue to put my foot down about the voiceover thing. I can't do much for the photographers, sadly. I'm too nervous to get mad at social media, though I really wish I could at least point out how disgusting that baby looks. But I'm worried that I'm going to be some sort of pariah if I voice my opinion on it. I already get paid peanuts and there's really no way for me to advance my career here. So being the "person who shits on social media for using AI" might be detrimental to me in the long run. I really DO want to advocate for our photographers, but is it my place? Idk, it's complicated.

[peskellence]

Law & Mistletoe

Explicit content (18+)

Pairing: Tina Chen/ST300, Tina Chen/OC

Tags: F/F, Christmas Party, Fluff and Smut, Oral, First Time

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: At the yearly DPD Christmas party, Tina Chen is desperate to find company in someone other than the precinct Grinch.

This comes in the form of Jasmine, a charming ST300 who works at reception. Following a kiss under the mistletoe, things quickly begin to escalate - with the night concluding at Tina's apartment.

(Set before the events of 'More Than Our Parts' - featuring cameos from Gavin, Nines, Connor and Hank)

Word Count: 6.4k

Written as a request for @youbelongwiththecompany - any fans of hogwarts legacy, please be sure to check out her work! she is a very talented writer :)

Tina was sat at one of the fold-out tables that had been set up around the precinct, nursing a glass of mulled wine. Gavin Reed, her best friend - and front runner for the least jolly man she had ever met in her life - was slumped in the chair beside her. His arms were folded over a garish sweater she had teasingly insisted he wear, with a face comparable to someone who had just necked a mug of curdled eggnog. 

"You could try faking some holiday cheer, you know." 

Gavin sneered at the prospect, shooting her a withering look. "Why bother? Everyone knows office parties are the worst. It’s an unwritten law". 

"Maybe you’d be having more fun if you did something other than sulk." She took another indulgent sip from her glass, savouring the spiced warmth. "How about karaoke?"

He glanced at the makeshift stage set up by a stack of desks. A pair of junior officers fought for control over a microphone as they stumbled over the lyrics of a cheesy ballad. Their off-key chorus bellowed uproariously, causing him to wince. 

"I’d rather shoot myself." 

Knocking back his umpteenth whiskey, she noted how the alcohol was doing nothing to levy his cynicism. If anything, it was making his complaints louder - and more challenging to ignore. "Why couldn't we go to Broncos? Then we could actually be enjoying ourselves."

"Because we need to get you socialised with people that aren't me."

"Like who?"

Her eyes scanned the bustling room, across the groups of bright-faced people exchanging pleasantries. It made her a little bit envious as she found herself saddled with the precinct Grinch. While she loved Gavin dearly, it was an open secret that everyone possessed a 'Reed Tolerance Gauge'. While hers was considerably higher than most, it was currently ticking over its limit. 

She was happy to usher her friend along to the next willing victim. If only so that she could indulge in some festive ambience without his disparaging running commentary. After a while of hopeful searching, she spotted a figure of interest. His large brown eyes shone exuberantly as he chatted with a pair of coworkers. A subtle blue dusted his cheeks, complementing the gentle glow on his temple.

"What about Connor?" she suggested hopefully. "Everyone loves Connor, he’s a sweetheart." 

The ‘curdled egg-nog expression’ worsened as Gavin glared over to the android in question, nose wrinkled in disgust. "I hate Connor."

"Yeah, but you think he’s dreamy", she teased, batting her eyelashes.

Gavin recoiled with such ferocity that he almost tipped off his chair. His eyes were bulged comedically wide, almost threatening to pop from their sockets. "No, I fucking don’t!" he hissed. "He’s a little lap dog who spends all his time sniffing around Anderson - and his face is goofy as shit."

"Sure it is."

Tina scrutinised the officers that Connor was speaking to. Despite having their backs turned, she could identify the first of the two from his distinctive mop of grey hair. Hank was giving Gavin some competition in the ugly sweater department - a chaotic jumble of colours bright enough to halt traffic. 

The second individual had neglected to adhere to the festive dress code. He was wearing a CyberLife-issue jacket accented by hard blocks of black and white. The lettering below the lapel informed of his model: RK900. 

After a few more minutes of chatter, Connor reached over to place something on RK900's head - a set of novelty antlers. The other android thwarted his efforts, harshly swatting them away. Tina watched as the vibrant felt flapped back limply, falling in line with Connor's expression. 

"How about the new guy?" she suggested, encouraging Gavin to look over with a subtle nod of her head. "You can bond over how much you both hate fun."

He was far from subtle in stealing a glance, squinting dubiously as he leaned across the table. It just so happened that RK900 had begun to turn around, seemingly trying to escape Connor's reach, and caught a glimpse of the man flagrantly gawking at him. His steely eyes narrowed in a mixture of confusion and judgment. 

The detective refused to avert his gaze. If anything, he doubled down, accentuating the pointed glare with a belligerent puff of his chest. "The fuck is it staring at?"

"You - because you’re staring at him, genius". Tina sunk back in her chair as she wilted from secondhand embarrassment. 

"Hey, jackass!" He cupped his hands to his mouth as he shouted across the precinct. The address earned more than a few puzzled looks from their coworkers. "Got somethin’ to say to me, tin can?"

The RK900 blinked wordlessly before turning his attention away without so much as a twitch of acknowledgement. Gavin sunk back in his seat, muttering obscenities under his breath. "Yeah, that’s what I thought, fucking prick".

"Smooth" Tina rolled her eyes, miming a silent round of applause. "I don’t know how he could possibly resist your rugged charms."

She took another sip from her glass, wondering if she ought to concede and take Gavin elsewhere. If they went to Broncos, she would, at the very least, be able to enjoy a drink in peace. There would also be the added benefit of saving the man from another disciplinary. Just as she was about to pose the suggestion, she felt a light tap on her shoulder: 

"Hello, Officer Chen. Great party, isn’t it?" 

As Tina swivelled in her chair, she felt her mouth go dry. Standing by the table was Jasmine, one of the ST300’s who worked at reception. Her glossy brown hair had been fastened into an elegant side braid, and she was dressed in a stylish red dress that hugged her figure beautifully. 

"Hey, Jas. How’s it going?" It took a great deal of restraint not to rake every inch of her svelte body, trying to keep focus on her doe-like eyes. "It is a great party; I’m glad someone’s noticed". 

Gavin made an exaggerated gagging gesture, accompanied by a retch. Jasmine seemed taken aback but smiled cordially regardless. "Hello, Detective Reed. Are you enjoying yourself?". 

"I’m out". He slammed his hands on the table, rising to his feet with a grunt. "If you need me, I'll be having a smoke, and then I’ll be heading home to party it up with my cat." 

He stomped off towards the exit without so much as a backwards glance as the two women watched on with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

"Did I…say something wrong?" Jasmine asked, nibbling her lower lip. 

"That’s pretty standard for him, you’re fine." Feeling emboldened by the alcohol, Tina gestured to the chair beside her before giving it a gentle pat. "Seems like there's an opening. Care to fill it?"

A cool-toned blush peeked through a prominent dusting of freckles before Jasmine slowly nodded, perching herself on the end of the chair and crossing her slender legs. "Thank you."

"No, thank you. It’s nice to enjoy some company that doesn't need to be kept on a leash."

Jasmine giggled at the mocking statement before covering her mouth to disguise it, seemingly out of respect for the contentious 'company' in question. "Well, I'm glad I could help. I’d hate to think that you were missing out."

"Don't worry, now that Scrooge is gone, I can appreciate all this". Tina smiled warmly, gesturing her arms to their exuberant surroundings. 

Tinsel and fairy lights had been strewn across every available surface, bathing the room in a pleasant glow. A life-sized Father Christmas stood peering from Captain Fowler’s door, his jolly smile beaming out as he held up a 'Nice List'. It detailed the names of everyone who worked at the precinct. Except for Gavin, whom Tina had scribbled off. In the corner of the office was a Secret Santa drop-off. A desk adorned with presents had been enclosed with sheets of cardboard, skillfully cut and positioned to resemble the sides of a sleigh.

"Seriously, you girls at reception nailed it. Last year, we had some candles, and I think a garland in the canteen. It was a bonafide winter wonderland."

Jasmine giggled again, less inclined to mask it this time. "Well, for myself and a lot of the others, it’s our first ever Christmas…" She paused, a flicker of unspoken emotion passing across her face, "At least the first where we could participate - so we wanted to make it special."

Tina winced at the unpleasant implications as she traced a finger along the rim of her glass. Staring into the dwindling liquid, she tried to change the subject. "Did you want me to get us some drinks? My treat."

"It’s an open bar, Officer Chen", the other woman replied, tilting her head. "I don't think you need to pay."

"Yeah, I know, but I’ll get it for you. What do you say?"

"That sounds lovely", she agreed, folding her hands over her lap. 

Tina shot Jasmine an affectionate wink before standing up and making her way towards the bar. As soon as her face was turned, the confident facade dwindled, as she found herself silently ruminating in all of her bundled-up nerves: 

oh my god this girl is so out of my league she's so sweet and sophisticated and hot and shit what do I even say to her -

When she reached her destination, the VS400 working the bar politely greeted her before gesturing to the row of bottles above his head. "Same again, ma’am?". 

"Uh, yeah, please, and can I get one of those Thirium cocktails for my…" She paused momentarily, stealing a glance at her table, and the elegant woman sat in wait. Her warm eyes twinkled serenely in the glow of the festive lights as she watched a group of officers clumsily enjoy a dance. The passive joy she exuded was heartwarming, inspiring Tina to ensure she received her own moment in the spotlight.

"..friend." She punctuated the word with a sigh, dreamy smile plastered onto her lips. 

"Okay, and what cocktail would your friend like?"

The moment of relaxed contentment dissipated as she turned back to the VS400 with a baffled expression. "Beg pardon."

"We have several options to choose from in various synthetic flavours. There’s Strawberry, Raspberry, Apple, Kiwi, Guava, Orange, Passionfruit, Lemon, Lime, Peach, Pear, Apricot, Blueberry, Blackberry, Cherry -"

Her brain whirred from the sudden onslaught of information. He's still going. Why is he still going? Make it stop. 

"- Mango, Melon, Nectarine, Pineapple, and Plum. Each drink also has the option of a festive spice or syrup and an edible garnish." 

By the time the man had finished speaking, Tina's brain was utterly fried. Her mouth gaped open and closed dumbly as she tried to answer the question. Do androids even have taste buds? How do they process flavours? Do they download a databank of human descriptions and then just upload that into their - 

"I don't think I actually said what I wanted." Tina snapped around and saw Jasmine standing beside her, an apologetic half-smile tugging her lips. 

"You didn't - and I didn't ask," she said, feeling a small rush of relief as she rubbed the back of her neck. "I just assumed there was only one option."

"New advancements are being made constantly in Android-safe consumables. It can be hard to keep up." Jasmine glanced at a chalkboard behind the bar, detailing the extensive list of options. Her LED cycled to yellow as she processed the information before quickly flitting back to blue. "I'll have Apple with Cinnamon Spice. No garnish."

When their drinks were ready, Tina ensured she was the one to receive them from the bartender. She glanced curiously at Jasmine’s drink: A blue, iridescent liquid filled with tiny bubbles. Handing it over, she felt their fingers lightly brush. It ignited a small charge of excitement before swiftly petering off as the other woman failed to react. 

"There you go - as promised."

The android raised the glass to her mouth, taking a small, tentative sip as though testing the flavour. She then tilted her head and knocked back the rest in a single unbroken gulp.

The dissonance Tina felt was staggering. Watching such a poised, dignified woman effortlessly shoot an entire cocktail like it was whiskey. She let out a low whistle as a rising heat crept to her cheeks. "Oh wow. You can really put 'em away, huh?" 

Not wanting to seem like a bad sport, she decided to follow suit. The wine flowed smoothly at first, gently warming her neck, until she realised that the action may have been somewhat ill-advised. Struggling with the last few glugs, the unsunk liquid pooled in her throat, causing her to cough and splutter. 

"It doesn't really affect us", Jasmine explained, sliding her now empty glass back to the bartender. "It increases our Thirium flow, making us warm. Like a little buzz of energy. It doesn't last very long before our systems regulate, so there isn't a need to pace ourselves."

Tina sunk into herself as she silently chided her own overzealousness. The android, sensing the change in demeanour, was quick to offer reassurance. 

"You couldn't have known, don't be embarrassed". Jasmine seemed to experience her own moment of self-introspection as she began to chuckle sheepishly. "Since I deviated, I've lost touch with certain social cues. How about I get us another round so we can both try again?"

"It's an open bar", the officer reminded.

"Yes, but I can hand it to you." Jasmine leant in a bit as she said this, her dark eyelashes fluttering in such a way that Tina couldn't tell if it was deliberate or not. Is she flirting with me? Or is she just being nice? She's always so nice. I can't tell. 

The next drinks were paced decidedly better. Rather than return to their table, they opted to remain at the bar, which proved an opportune spot for people-watching. 

Jasmine was chattering pleasantly about her affinity for the holiday season and complimenting the festive attire of their coworkers. Tina could feel herself drift as she spoke - still listening to every word but through a haze of trance-like captivation. She only realised how far she'd been lost when the android addressed her directly.

"So, decorations aside, how does this party compare to last year?"

Tina jolted to attention - as though being woken from a nap - and hurriedly started talking. "Well, it's better than last year, for sure…but once you’ve been to a few of these, you start to notice trends. I wanted to do a Christmas Bingo with Gav, but he was too salty that I made him come."

"What was on the Bingo?"

The officer lit up at the question, happy to divulge the details, "Well, you've got the easy wins: someone dancing on a table, someone trash-talking the Captain, and, of course, someone - or someone’s - hooking up."

Jasmine perked up at this last point, seeming genuinely intrigued. "As in pairing off? Romantically?"

"Feel like romance is a bit of a stretch", she said with an impish grin. "Unless a fondle fest in the janitor's closet is your idea of Love Actually."

"I wouldn't really know what I consider romantic. I've not had much experience."

"What?" 

The exclamation came louder than Tina had intended. The VS400 visibly startled as he handed a drink to a nearby officer. Rogue droplets painted the bar, and he promptly scurried away, garbling something about a towel.

"You seem a little surprised", Jasmine said, politely downplaying the outburst. "I've only been deviant since the Revolution. That hasn't given me much time to explore the dating scene."

"Oh...right…yeah" You're blowing it, Chen. "I'm just struggling to make the connections, you know? Looking at you, it doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

Tina felt any of her lingering confidence abruptly crumble away. "Well, obviously, you're really pretty, but I'm sure I'm not the first person to tell you that."

She noticed a subtle shift in the other woman's expression. The soft lips that seemed tugged into a near-perpetual smile suddenly evened out, creating a tense line. 

"I was designed as a customer-facing model," the android stated, sounding oddly detached. "I've been told I'm attractive many times. Same as the other ST300s. It doesn't make me special."

Tina attempted to reassure the woman, almost like a reflex. "Hey, there's plenty of sexy people out there. It doesn't make it any less great." 

The comment was not received well. Jasmine looked down at her hands, silently picking her nails. The officer cringed at her own heavy-handed wording before choosing to opt for a softer approach:

"Seriously though, it’s the little things…like how you’ve done your hair and the clothes you’ve picked out." She struggled to hide her appreciation as she said this, looking the woman up and down. "And then there's the bigger things, like the way you move, and talk, and smile. That's all you, Jas, and it's beautiful."

The android seemed genuinely touched. She glanced back up, her lips curving back into their usual smile."Thank you, Officer Chen. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"Please, call me Tina. Officer Chen was my mother". 

"I didn't know your mother was an Officer."

Tina winced a bit before swiftly correcting herself. "She's a Florist. I don't know why I said that." 

To her delight, Jasmine seemed to find this endearing as she erupted into warm, melodious laughter. She quickly decided that she wanted to hear much more of that sound. As well as to explore all the other sounds that the woman was capable of making.

"You're funny." The android wiped a rogue tear from her eye, careful not to smear her mascara. "I like that. It's nice."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they took some time to enjoy their drinks. Jasmine's attention had flitted back to the dancers as her passive joy seemed to turn to a quiet longing. Not one to miss the obvious cue and determined to fulfil her earlier intention, Tina tentatively opened her mouth. "Hey, did you want to -"

"Whoooooaaaaaa, mistletoe!" a voice called out, cutting her off. 

Nicola Denver, a forensic analyst in her late forties, came stumbling towards them, teetering precariously on her high heels. Her smeared lipstick stretched halfway across her face, and she held a small sprig of mistletoe between her fingers. As she dangled it above their heads, Tina and Jasmine watched on, bewildered.

"Come on, ladies, 'tis Christmassss." 

"Nic, how much have you had to drink?" Tina sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Get out of here."

"Not until you do it". She dangled the plant from side to side, wiggling her eyebrows in time with the movements. "You know you want to." 

Tina scoffed at the gesture, playfully shoving the woman away. She then turned her attention to Jasmine to see what she was making of the shameless display. When she did so, she noted the android was staring upwards, entirely transfixed. 

"...Do you not know about Mistletoe?"

Jasmine tilted her head to one side, lips pursed thoughtfully. Her LED spun yellow until a look of recognition crossed her eyes. She had just begun to open her mouth when Tina continued speaking:

"So there’s this old tradition where you hang it up in doorways or ceilings, and if two people stand under it at the same time, they have to kiss". Her excitement bubbled over, bolstered by her inebriation. She seemed entirely unaware how Jasmine’s gaze had softened affectionately whilst she spoke - before sharpening at the word ‘kiss’. "We don't actually have to do it, though. If you don't want to".

"Yes, you do", Nicola interjected. She leant further across the bar, practically draping over it. "It's the law". 

"I said get out of here, woman. Don't make me arrest you." 

Nicola pouted for a moment before she seemed to spot something of interest over Tina's shoulder. Blue eyes sparkled mischievously as she broke into a large, ruby-smeared grin. "I wonder if Hank might be interested". 

Her gravelly voice simpered sweetly as she said the Lieutenant's name, causing Tina to shudder. "Only one way to find out", she replied, half out of self-preservation and half out of curiosity. "Go and get 'im, ya filthy animal." 

She gently clapped Nicola on the shoulder, watching her pull herself up and gracelessly flounder away. It wasn't long she was propelling herself at her intended target. Hank cried out, tipping from the unexpected weight, as Connor hurriedly tried to steady him.

"I'd love to say she's better sober, but this is her on good behaviour."

"She seems nice", Jasmine said diplomatically. "Even before the Revolution, she was always so kind to me." 

"Yeah, she's a doll. Can't handle her drink, though," Tina shifted her attention away from the heavily intoxicated Nicola and back to the dancefloor. She slowly cleared her throat, ready to get back on topic. "Anyway, like I was saying -"

"Should we kiss?"

The words died on her tongue, fizzling away as she looked at Jasmine in slacked-jawed bewilderment. "Hmm?"

"The mistletoe", she clarified, gesturing to the now-empty space above their heads. Her realisation caused her to deflate slightly as she lowered her hand with a bashful grin."Well, I suppose it's gone now, but we were sitting under it."

"Seriously, Jas. It's not really a rule that anyone follows." There was a loud thud in the background, followed by twin yelps of pain, suggesting that both Hank and Nicola had lost their footing. "Unless you're a horny forensics officer."

"I wouldn't mind", Jasmine said back, quicker than Tina had anticipated. "If you wanted to kiss me."

The officer felt her mind race with a myriad of things she wanted to do, ranging far beyond kissing. However, she quickly dismissed the thoughts, not wanting her salacious fantasies to detract from the current situation. Slowly, she began to lean in, subtly wetting her lips. "Okay then."

Their lips met in a tentative kiss, and the fleeting connection sent eager shivers down Tina's spine. She withdrew shortly after, not wishing to overstep any boundaries with her newly established friend. Jasmine seemed visibly disheartened by the brevity of the contact. There was a subtle dimming of her eyes as her shoulders stooped limply. 

The reaction did not go unnoticed by the other woman, who made a hopeful mental note. Maybe she’s into me? 

With all other distractions cleared, she could finally proceed with her half-delivered invitation. Rising from her seat, she extended her calloused palm towards Jasmine, accompanied by a playful wink. "Would you care to dance, madam?" 

The words were delivered with comedic ostentation as she attempted to placate her anxiety. A little part of her still believed that she had misread the situation and was currently making a fool of herself.

She was soon proven wrong, however, as Jasmine enthusiastically nodded. Her delicate fingers wrapped themselves across her hand as she happily allowed herself to be led away from the bar. 

By the time they had reached their destination, Tina was making a concerted effort to ignore the frenetic thump in her chest, focusing instead on the beat of the music. Their movements started off casual, with a respectable distance between them. 

Hands remained loosely clasped as Tina stepped back and forth, guiding Jasmine's movements. She seemed happy to let her lead, fluidly matching the steps. Every time she pulled in, the android seemed to inch a bit closer. 

Then, dainty digits started to stray away from her hands, tracing patterns across her forearms. There was an air of intimacy to the gesture, and as Tina looked up, she noted Jasmine was focused solely on her. Carefully studying her reactions. 

Then the song was over, and a tuneless rendition of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You' quickly took its place, blasting from the karaoke stage. Amidst the crowded room, a gruff voice loudly objected, followed by a tirade of obscenities.

"Huh, guess Gavin’s still here."

"Does he not like this song?"Jasmine asked.

"He doesn’t like anything," Tina replied before being struck with a sudden inspiration. She glanced back at Jasmine as her mouth stretched into a broad, mischievous grin. "Hey, if we really want to rile him up, I know just the song to pick. What do you say, up for some fun?"

Jasmine looked to the karaoke stage, and her eyes lit up with excitement - albeit with less nefarious intent. "It does seem like fun."

They had to wait for a while longer - as Connor was quick to secure the next spot on the stage. Tina took some solace in knowing that the development would be pissing off Gavin immensely, proven by another thunderous yell of protest. The android took position, pulling Hank with him as a notably sullen RK900 trudged along behind.

His rendition of the song was pitch-perfect, as though his voice was tuning itself autonomously to the frequencies. Whether his successor shared this skill remained a mystery, as RK900 refused to participate, save for a couple of weak-willed grunts. Hank mirrored the reluctance, but his reservations seemed to melt upon witnessing the pure joy exuding from his partner. Much to the shared dismay of everyone in the room, he began to harmonise in a loud warbling drone. 

Before the mic could be snatched up by anyone else, Tina dragged Jasmine along, nodding to Connor graciously as their groups swapped places. Combing through the extensive song list, her eyes lit up in delight at one specific option: "Found it". 

A jazzy piano riff boomed from the speakers, set to a sultry beat. Lyrics scrolled across the screen, prompting both women to sing along. The lightly flirtatious lyrics sounded almost pornographic, coming from Jasmine's mouth. Tina was quickly mesmerised by the movements of her soft, pink lips as she flawlessly enunciated each word. 

She was so hopelessly captivated that it took her a while to notice the large eyes fixed upon her - dark and wanting. As though each flirtatious line was being sung directly to her.

Through the haze of her inebriation, Tina had a moment of clarity. Okay yeah. She's definitely into me. The song came to a close, and once they had left the stage, she quickly concluded that it was time to make her move. 

"I'm, uh, gonna head to the bathroom." Tina gestured her head to the nearby toilets. "Wanna come with?"

Despite her shameless flirting during their performance, Jasmine seemed a little perplexed by this. "Tina, I'm an android. There's no reason for me to go to the -" She cut herself off, seeming to realise the hidden implications. "Yes, of course."

They entered the bathroom in silence and softly closed the door. The vibrant noise from the party became distant and muted. The air around them was charged with unresolved tension as their eyes locked onto each other.

"So…here we are," Tina began, awkwardly raising her hands. The casual front did not last long as she swiftly abandoned pretence. "I don't actually need to pee."

"I know". The other woman ran a hand down her face, delicately stroking her cheek. "Do you remember what you said about your Bingo? The part where colleagues get together?"

Tina felt her breathing hitch as she nodded in anticipation. 

"I want us to be the reason it gets crossed off."

Jasmine closed the gap between them. The kiss was gentle at first, resembling their encounter at the bar, before building in intensity. Hands explored each other's bodies as soft touches quickly turned to fervent caresses. A gentle chorus of moans escaped from between their parted lips. Before they could get too lost in the moment, Tina firmly reminded herself of where they were - and how easily their actions could lend themselves to accidental voyeurism. 

"We should go somewhere more private", she whispered, almost like an apology. 

"I agree". Before Tina knew what was happening, she was being guided backwards until pressed against a nearby stall. She felt the taller woman deftly close the gap between them, placing a slender leg between hers. She then began to roll her hips, moving in enticing circles. 

A feathery touch trailed its way down the front of Tina's blouse, teasing the buttons. While she felt an overwhelming desire to let the actions play out, her rational mind won out. With reluctance, she captured the android's wrists, gently pulling her away.

"Jas, I really like you", Tina assured, not wanting the action to be mistaken for a rejection, "but I don't want your first time to be in a communal bathroom."

"It wouldn't be my first time", Jasmine fired back, pouting her lips in protest. "I've had limited experience - that doesn't mean none."

"Doesn't matter." Tina brought one of her wrists to her lips, marking it with a kiss. "A girl like you deserves to be treated right. Let me take you home."

Bringing Jasmine back to her apartment felt like a daydream. It was surreal - to observe the stunning woman carefully slip off her heels and hang her faux fur coat next to her own weathered parka. If Tina had known she'd be expecting such refined company, she probably would have tidied. As well as hidden the polar bear slanket openly draped across her sofa.

Jasmine didn't notice as she occupied herself with the many trinkets that littered her windowsills. One in particular seemed to catch her interest, garnering a slight hum of amusement: "World's Okayest Officer". Carefully pinching the handles on the small plastic trophy, she held it above her head before dipping into a gracious courtesy. 

Tina scoffed. "I'll give you three guesses who bought me that," She took their discarded shoes and placed them on a nearby rack. "...We don't have to rush into this, you know. I can get you a coffee?"

The android responded to the offer with a puzzled expression, causing Tina to shrink back in embarrassment. "Right, I guess I can't do that. Sorry"

"I don't see why we need to waste time." Jasmine set the trophy down before sauntering her way over. The gentle sway of her hips conjured up all manner of sinful promises. "How about you show me the rest of your apartment?"

"Right. Yep. Sure," Tina said, each fragmented word spoken a little too quickly. "Follow me."

She guided Jasmine out the entranceway and down a narrow corridor, drunken mind reeling, as she clumsily planned her next move. Does she really want me to show her around, or does she just want me to take her to the bedroom? It's probably the bedroom. 

She guided Jasmine to one of the doors, turning the tarnished handle and gently pushing it open. As she flicked on a light, an unbed bed came into view, with a heap of unfolded laundry carelessly strewn across it. 

"So yeah, this is my room -" Jasmine draped her slender arms around her shoulders, guiding her across the threshold. Tina, happy to conclude the tour, gestured vaguely to the open doorway. "- and there's everything else."

Hands were on her again, the vivaciousness of the movements sending her mind into overdrive. Never could she have guessed that the polite ST300 who would greet her at reception every morning was secretly so insatiable. Lips trailed across her neck, peppering it with kisses, interspersed by the occasional nip. 

"Will you let me take off your shirt now?"

Tina felt her breath hitch, the request igniting a fire in her stomach. "Yeah, I think you're good."

The buttons of her blouse were skillfully popped before the plaid material slipped from her shoulders, falling to the ground. Jasmine raked her eyes appreciatively across her chest and the white t-shirt bra that held her breasts. She gave one of them a testing squeeze, causing Tina to shudder in appreciation. The experimental squeezing soon turned to a gentle massage as her thumb flicked over the still-clothed nipple. "Can I take this off?"

"Please", Tina gasped, feeling excitement pool between her legs.

Arms wrapped around her back as surprisingly adept fingers released the clasps of her bra. The off-white material fell to the floor, joining her blouse, as Jasmine cupped the now-exposed skin, softly massaging it.

"It seems a little unfair that you're still dressed", Tina joked, her laughter trembling in response to the movements. She reached a hand forward and brushed her fingers along the front of Jasmine's chest. 

The android pulled back with what appeared to be a subtle flicker of hesitation. A sobering realisation hit the officer. Jasmine wasn't a pleasure model. She didn't possess intimate anatomy. The human had inadvertently called attention to this, no doubt making the woman feel deeply uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry, you don't have to if it makes you -" 

Then, Jasmine reached down, finding the hem of her satin dress, before deftly pulling up. Tina could feel the excited quivers of her arousal mount in intensity as she was greeted with an expanse of smooth, olive-toned skin, with only a lacey set of underwear preserving her modesty. Through the sheer material, she could see the distinct outline of nipples, suggesting that Jasmine was more anatomically correct than she initially anticipated. 

"I've had upgrades", the android explained, as though it were inconsequential. "Would you like to see?"

Of all the questions Tina had been asked in her lifetime, the answer to this one seemed the most obvious. "Yes, please."

The heated fondling resumed as their lips moved in increasingly frenzied motions. Tina began to fumble with the delicate lingerie. As pretty as it was, she quickly concluded it belonged elsewhere - on the floor. The bra silently fell to the ground, joining the growing pile of clothing. With a blind sweep of her arm, Tina cleared a space on the bed. She did not wish to detract her attention from Jasmine for a second longer than she needed. 

Sitting together on the edge of the bed, Tina began to pepper kisses along the expanse of her slender neck before moving down to her collarbone. The trail of her lips descended lower before finding one of her nipples and taking it indulgently into her mouth.

The android arched her back in response, and Tina could see a faint glow of red cascade across her face. It was far from her subject of focus as she continued to run circles with her tongue across the sensitive bud. 

Jasmine panted her name through pleading gasps, accentuated by a faint crackle of static. It was desperately arousing to hear how much the android was coming undone. She gently cupped the neglected breast, rolling the nipple between her fingers. 

"T-Tina…" She felt a hand stroke itself against her own. It was guided away from the breast and down the expanse of Jasmine’s soft, heaving chest - towards her navel. It was then encouraged further until her fingers gently grazed her clothed arousal. "Touch me." 

The request did not need to be repeated as the officer carefully hooked her fingers beneath the lacy material, pulling them down, as she felt for her eager warmth. There was another low, static-filled moan as Jasmine allowed herself to flop back, indulging in the touch. After a few minutes of teasing, Tina began to inch her way down the willing body until she was kneeling on the floor beside the bed. 

Lifting her partner’s legs onto her shoulders, she watched in delight as Jasmine’s LED cycled an anticipatory yellow - before she returned attention to her arousal with a delicate flick of the tongue. She explored her keenly, finding that the android was stimulated by all the same movements that a human would be. 

It wasn’t long until Jasmine was reduced to a panting mess, hips bucking wantonly as she desperately sought out the contact. Tina stared up at her face, indulging in how her delicate features contorted in pleasure. Her mouth gaped open and closed, but incoherent babbles were all that escaped. These built into long, heated moans before a metallic screech tore from her throat. 

Tina watched as her LED ignited like a flame before slowly returning to a steady blue. The android lay there for a moment, trembling, as her eyes twinkled from the high of release. Slowly, she sat up, a shaky hand reaching out to cup the other woman’s face. 

"That was wonderful", she sighed, caressing the burning skin beneath her thumb. "Let me return the favour". 

As Tina was gently coaxed back onto the covers, Jasmine eagerly switched their positions. Nestling between her legs, the android quickly unfastened the button of her jeans - before proceeding to pull down the zip with a torturous lack of urgency. She clearly knew what she was doing, smiling in satisfaction as the other woman desperately squirmed.

"You're killing me here", Tina complained before erupting into needy whines as Jasmine applied pressure with the heel of her palm.

"It makes me feel good," she replied breathily, "knowing how much you want this."

The teasing ended soon after, with Jasmine looping her fingers into the now unfastened jeans and gently pulling them down. Her underwear quickly followed as lips gently brushed themselves against her eager heat. A tongue peeked out from between them before tracing her with gentle stripes. 

"Oh fuck", Tina curled into the sheets, enveloped by a wave of euphoria. "Don’t stop - Please", she begged. 

Jasmine eagerly continued the movement. Wisps of brown hair tumbled loose from her braid as she continuously adjusted her pace in accordance with Tina’s vocal responses. As she approached release, her legs quivered involuntarily as her thighs drew it to cage her face. 

"I’m coming", she whimpered before her voice erupted into a long, guttural moan. Jasmine continued to pleasure her through the waves of her orgasm, nails digging themselves firmly into her thighs, preventing her from wriggling free. 

As the blissful sensations waned, Tina desperately struggled to catch her breath. She peered down at the other woman, who wore an innocent, doe-eyed expression that should have been illegal from her current position. 

"Are you ready to go again?"

Tina’s laughter came out more like a groan as she considered the possibility she might have died and gone to Heaven. "It’s getting pretty late. How long do you wanna go for?"

"Until you need to rest - and again when you wake up, if you’ll let me."

As their passions rolled into the break of dawn, sunlight filtering through the curtains, Tina suspected this Christmas would leave her with a newfound appreciation for mistletoe.

[thebaffledcaptain]

For writing purposes, have you any anecdotes from battle reenactment, or references on the battle of Yorktown (1781)?

Oh that's a fun question… my first disclaimer is that I only started reenacting fairly recently, so I only have so many anecdotes. My second disclaimer is that I definitely know more about the British side of things than the Continental side, but luckily most of the military organization and conduct was virtually the same on both sides. My last is that I am no particular expert on Yorktown specifically—I've heard they've done huge reenactments there in the past but I have not been in the hobby long enough to have gone to one, unfortunately. However, what I would be happy to talk about are some historical details you could use in setting up your scene and kind of bringing it to life, most of which only occurred to me after experiencing them firsthand!

“The Fog of War”

Which is to say, powder smoke. Great white plumes of it, tearing from muskets on every volley, drifting across the field and saturating the air with the bitter smell of sulfur. I find myself holding my breath on every volley just so I won’t inhale a big lungful of it—at certain points it’s like marching through a cloud, and humid weather can exacerbate that even further, since it won’t dissipate. And it lingers. I remember standing up at the very top of the valley at Monmouth in the evening after the first day and you could still see that smoke blurring the horizon, hours later. We tend not to think so much about it as a modern audience, but it was a huge factor in these historical battles: you could write about how it obscures the visibility, how the smell lingers, the terrifying sight of an enemy battalion emerging from the smoke with bayonets fixed…

The Scale

Let’s be honest, reenactments don’t tend to be really massive events—some events are bigger than others but overall it’s a niche hobby and even our best turnouts are nowhere near the size of these battles in reality (my regiment requires a minimum of a mere 8 members to commit to an event for us to go…). Historically you’d be having somewhere between roughly 500–700 men per regiment, divided into ten companies. As a field musician, since it would have been my job, I’m always thinking about how it would have been to actually communicate with and maneuver a group that large with only a handful of drummers and fifers per company, especially with that many other companies on the field—it’s hard enough playing for 20 something reenactors across two units! And Yorktown was one of the biggest conflicts in the war, both literally (with regard to number of men involved) and figuratively, given how decisive it was; I can only imagine how much pressure it would have been on the commanding officers as they actually made those decisions for dozens or hundreds of men. Being on the battlefield is actually rather isolating, in a way—I’ll see certain regiments in camp and then never see them on the field because we’re in completely different places, so, you know, could make for some dramatic Character Worrying in the story if you're so inclined.

Last but not least, because I’m a little biased but still feel it’s important:

The Music (and other Sounds of War)

Being on a battlefield is loud! You’ve got men roaring as they head into a bayonet charge, drumbeats punctuating shouted orders, volleys firing, the shrill sound of another company’s fifes playing on the advance. When you've got artillery you can literally feel the shots reverberate through the ground beneath your feet, even across the field. Occasionally muskets don’t fire the first round, so they get double-loaded with gunpowder on the second—the 54th had this happen at my last event and when the shot went off it was so loud it temporarily deafened the two men closest to it. War is noisy. And of course I can’t not talk about the music—you could mention the musicians switching tunes to reflect a different maneuver, or mention listening across the field, hoping to hear the Cease Fire from the enemy. Fifes are loud instruments, designed to carry across these wide-open spaces, so often you’re hearing multiple companies’ musicians on top of each other (and even on top of that, some light infantry and dragoon companies were actually using bugles instead of fifes!). On bayonet charges we play the Reveille, on the advance we tend to do British Grenadiers. When men are aiming and firing there’s a different short drum beat for every command (make ready/present/fire). Obviously it’d be a bit much to write in every one of those instances, but it kind of puts it in context how frequently you’d be hearing music on the battlefield.

Anyway. If you can’t tell I love talking about reenacting. Thanks for letting me infodump to you and, though it’s not Yorktown-specific, I hope this maybe gives you some inspiration or some contextual material to work with while you’re writing!

[farolero-posting]

Waiting

Summary: Rue stays by her tree, waiting for the right chance to set things right. Cedric makes company.

Words: 1,895

(full work under the cut)

The first time, the end was instant.

The tree Rue sat against was among the first things to corrupt. Its leaves lost their texture and collision, becoming flat oval disks that wouldn't react to her touch. Soon, the disks became simpler polygons, and in no more than a minute, the room she hid in was only a map of coordinates, with barely enough capacity to support her.

If it wasn’t because this outcome had been one of the possibilities that her creator had accounted for, she would likely have disappeared along with the rest of the world. Non-generated rooms were not easy to navigate, however. While the silhouettes of rooms were preserved, and lines were drawn to define each chunk of space, any of the landmarks that would have given her a sense of direction were gone. 

Perhaps all that was left was to wait. Wait for someone beyond the bounds of the world to find the clues. It was unwise to focus her motivation on events that may never take place, but perhaps the eventual full shutdown of the world would give her the mercy of not thinking at all. 

If she thought again, at some point in the future, then it would be a confirmation that a path may be possible. That a future for her exists, despite everything.

Maybe she —the one that she was before this world— felt this way when her time came.

She thought of the other two. Cedric was placed in one of the apartment buildings at the top. As eager as he was to set the plan in motion, it wasn’t safe to do so yet. She missed his presence. At the very least, they could keep each other company…

Prototype, meanwhile, was inside the deep mines, waiting for the messiah to find their way inside. He was placed with a back-up power cell that would keep him functional while the Barrens’ generator was empty. Most of his key memories were removed, as an extra layer of safety from corruption. She knew he would still recognize them if contacted, but she was unsure of how much of the situation he was aware of in that state.

She curled up by the tree, doing her best not to think.

She woke up in a world that was reconstructed as it was at the start. Her tree sat on its usual location, its leaves casting a slight shadow on her.

She… woke up! She stretched her legs, looking around her as if to make sure this was real… as real as anything could be, in this situation.

She felt her energy renewed, as if her body had forgotten the waiting and wandering around it had done before. Her mind remembered, however, as her memories persisted despite the system’s reset. It confirmed the realness of her self. The rough surface of the tree was also as real as it could be, just as she remembered it.

Father put a lot of attention on the details. He would make the plan work out, she could trust him.

When the messiah passed by, She was ready to get in motion. She spoke to the child and the one watching over them equally.

“So you found a way back after all.” 

The savior raised an eyebrow. “Eh? But I've never been here before…”

“That means..” Rue chose her next words carefully, not wanting to concern them with the implications that were running on her head. “Have you… met the others?”

“Others? You’re the only fox I’ve seen…” The child tried to make sense of her words.

They were not ready.

Rue looked down, the image of her brothers waiting without knowing what to do on the back of her mind. “It’s not time:” She sentenced, then added: “We will meet again,” directed at the one watching.

The messiah left soon after that, continuing on their journey.

Rue wouldn’t stay put this time, however.

She walked out of her spot, eyes looking for the crack on the walls that she used to find her position. She made a turn to the south, reaching the elevator in a few minutes. She tried reaching for the button, using boxes left by a delivery robot nearby.

Before she could reach the panel, the doors slid open, a familiar voice startling her.

“Rue? I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“Cedric! You’re here? Is everything alright?”

 “Uh… oh…” The boy placed his hand on his chest, taking a deep breath as he tried to form a sentence. “Well I… I wanted to check on you. Since…”

“I know, I was actually thinking of doing the same thing.” She sat on the top of the box pile, her eyes fixed on her brother. “I didn’t want you to be so exposed.”

“Rue, I’m fine. This area needs to stay anomaly-free. Besides, with the messiah here the rate is slower. You and Proto already make enough sacrifices to keep us all safe as it is. I can take responsibility.”

Rue sighed, “I know I can’t stop you,” she conceded. The fox leaped down, circling around Cedric. “We should go to my place, don’t you think?”

“I suppose that’s a good idea.”

“Follow my lead then.”

Rue walked around the simulated streets at a slow pace, her eyes taking a close look at the details of the neighboring buildings. The area didn’t have a lot of residential buildings, but it didn’t make them any less interesting to look at. The streets were mostly empty at the moment, with most of the residents inside the buildings. Rue wondered if they were generated at all or if the World Machine was saving on resources.

Maybe her father wanted to keep as many people safe as possible.

When they reached the tree, Cedric sat down by the roots, carefully setting a leather bag he carried on the ground. Rue sat in front of him, her tail curling up around her.

She spoke first:

“I always have faith in our father’s ideas, but I was still worried about not being able to return,” Rue confessed, looking down. “I still wish that this time would have been the successful run.” 

“Were you here when it… You know.” Cedric averted her gaze, tugging at the bag as he fidgeted,

“I was. I knew any of the two scenarios could happen, so I just focused on waiting for it.”

“I was reading when the choice was made”, Cedric commented. “It’s the only thing I could think of doing to pass the time.”

“Was it one of our father’s books?”

“Yes. One of his last travel logs. It was about the Barrens.” He pulled out a thin book with a clover on the cover, titled “Industrial zones and their interaction with nature”. 

“Is that the only one you brought?” Rue inched closer to get a better look on the boy’s bag.

“Not really. I have one for you too, if you wish. I thought you would like to have something to read for.. however long we have left in this iteration.” He took out a second book, titled “A hundred interviews, a hundred lives”. He set it on his legs. ”Here, give it a look.”

Rue chuckled, content. “You knew I would like that one, didn’t you? It’s very kind of you”

“I… thanks? It was just a quick idea.” He shrugged.

“Cedric?” Rue’s eyes were locked on his face.

“Y-yeah?”

“Did it… scare you? The corruption.”

“Umm… it’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s fine, I won’t push it.” Rue’s ears moved down. “I wasn’t scared, personally. I guess I was just a little… disappointed, but resigned.”

“I can see why they did it… As far as we know, it could have been an effective way to let the messiah go home.”

“It’s true… but they’re back now, and the session was rebooted, so that doesn’t matter much anymore. The restriction is over.”

“Did you… already meet the messiah?” Cedric asked.

“I did, in both iterations. They didn’t know what I was talking about, so I assume that for now their guide is sticking to the protocol.”

“What are they… like?”

“They’re a child, Cedric. They may be around half your age.”

“O-oh. I wasn’t expecting that. I can understand the choice better now… I wouldn’t want to put someone like them at risk. Their world must be so much safer…”

“That’s a possibility, yeah.”

“Did you get their name?”

“I didn’t… they never stay for long.” Rue closed her eyes, as if taking a mental note. “I’ll make sure to know the next time.”

“Hopefully, that’s when we will set the plan in motion. As long as they manage to find Proph— Proto.” Cedric looked down, eyeing one of the pages on the book he had marked down.

“Has he contacted you?” Rue tilted her head to the right, curious.

Cedric made a fist with his hand and then extended two fingers. “He sent a short message about seeing a glimpse of them, during the first iteration. And a second one during this iteration. He didn’t comment on the blackout, however.”

“I’m not surprised he didn’t…” Rue shook her head.

“I still hope he’s okay.”

“You can contact him too, can’t you? He removed most of his memories, but according to father, he should still be able to remember us. At the very least, we can let him know we’re here.” 

“We shall attempt.”

Cedric took out a communication device, calibrated to connect to the mines. The signal wasn’t the clearest, and they had to be careful with what information they shared through it, but it was the only way to reach outside of the bounds of the map and avoid other signals disrupting them.

“Any message you would like to send?”

“That we saw the savior, and want to know if he is okay. That we are both doing well and we hope to meet again soon.”

“Huh, very concise.” He nodded as he wrote the message down. “I think that will have to do for now…”

They waited in silence for a minute, before Cedric’s device lit up with an answer. Cedric read it aloud: 

“I am fine, nothing new to report. For now, all we can do is wait. We will meet again.” Cedric paused, catching his breath. “We will see the Sun be returned.”

Cedric flinched, wishing to add more, but knowing there wasn’t much any of them could say in this scenario.

“Ah… that makes sense.”

“Doesn’t that hurt the savior?”

“Not really… It binds them to the world but… I don’t think the programming will allow harm.” Then, Rue tensed. “Though, it will probably put us into a stasis…”

“I guess it’s true that all we can do is wait and hope for the next time.” Cedric looked to the side, watching a leaf fall by the corner of the room. 

“Everything will work out, Cedric… We can do this.” Rue rested her head on his body, doing the closest approximation of a hug she knew of.

“If it doesn’t… at least we can still preserve these moments.” Cedric placed a hand on Rue’s head, looking up at the tree branches and the way they twisted above them.

“That we can.” Rue nodded, sitting by the boy’s side, returning to their books in a warm silence.

They could only wait, and hope.

[foundtherightwords]

The Road Forgotten - Chapter 7

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London.

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst, guilt, revenge, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide/suicide ideations, some violence, a bit of smut

Chapter word count: 4.2k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Elsie cursed under her breath while she moved through the rooms of the gambling house, hanging on to Markam's arm. Three nights she and Arthur had gone to Staverley's, throwing away money at the hazard and roulette tables (she thought it safer to stick to the simpler games of dice and chances, rather than cards), suffering the dull company of Markham, who was a deadly combination of arrogance and stupidity, and still they were no closer to finding out anything about Compeyson. None of the gamblers even knew his name, let alone where he might be. They were told that Lady Staverley knew every gambler who ever set foot in her club, so if anyone had any information on Compeyson, it would be she, but their hostess remained reclusive and their request for an audience with her was met with shock. "Nobody sees Lady Staverley unless she wants to see them" was the consensus, often followed by "And those that she wants to see better pray." And now she couldn't find Arthur.

Something had changed in Arthur in the past few days, since the night they first went to Staverley's. For one thing, he no longer asked her to share the bed with him; instead, he insisted on her taking the bed for herself while he slept on a pallet, which he bought from the landlord and put on the floor by the fireplace, away from her. She could hear him toss and turn all night, but he didn't seem to be bothered by his usual nightmares, so she didn't press the matter. And she would often catch him staring at her with a curious look, a mix of sadness and longing, only for him to avert his eyes when she returned his gaze. And he was positively beastly to Markham, who thankfully was too much of a simpleton to catch his barbed remarks. If she hadn't known any better, she would've said Arthur was jealous.

But he couldn't be, could he? What would he have to be jealous about? She hadn't given him any encouragement. Of course, she had gladly shared a bed with him, but there was nothing romantic or sexual about it—in fact, that was precisely why she'd gone along with it. It was nice to sleep—or, in her case, lie—in a bed next to someone with no expectation of anything other than a good night's rest. She wasn't sure how she would feel if there was something else between them. It was true that he had endeared himself to her a great deal in the past few weeks, not least because he had willingly put her up, but a more intimate relationship would be... No. It would not happen. It would never happen. It was ridiculous to even entertain the idea, so she refocused on the task at hand: finding Arthur.

The rooms of Staverley's were a maze. They were no less lavish than the entrance hall, with the same dark, rich colors and an overabundance of gilt and glitter, but the lights were much dimmer, so that the longer one spent in them, the more one would lose all sense of time, of space, and eventually, of oneself. It took Elsie forever to find her way past the elaborate card and billiard and smoking rooms and into the buffet room, where she saw Arthur slumped in a chair in a corner, drinking glass after glass of wine, the old bleary look back in his eyes. The buffet was free after midnight—she and Arthur had made use of it by surreptitiously stuffing pasties and pastries into her reticule—but Arthur had been very careful about the wines and liquors. Yet there he was, drinking like there was no tomorrow. The sight made her angry. She extracted her arm from Markham's, made up some excuse to send him away, and approached Arthur.

"What do you think you're doing?" she said, careful to keep her voice low.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I think you've had enough." She pried the wineglass out of his hand, but he wrenched it away from her grasp.

"Leave me alone," he grumbled. "You don't need my help. You said you needed me to get you into places, but you seem to manage that perfectly well on your own. You have no use of me. So leave me to drink in peace."

Elsie gritted her teeth. So he was feeling useless because their search had reached another dead end, wasn't he? Did he think about how she was feeling? Of course not. How typical of men, always thinking they were the only ones suffering. But she couldn't make a scene, not here. So she swallowed her anger.

"Come, let us go. We're not learning anything tonight anyway."

"What, and deprive yourself of Mr. Markham's company?" he said, mockingly. "Why don't you unleash some more of your charm on him? Perhaps you might learn something then. That's what you do, isn't it, charm men into doing your bidding?"

His words stung. A red haze of anger rose within her, making her itch to reach for the knife in her reticule and show Arthur what kind of "charm" she could unleash on him. But another emotion surfaced, dampening the fire of anger. Hurt. She'd thought he knew her, understood her, but it turned out he only saw her as another whore. It hurt more than she wanted to admit.

"Do you think I enjoyed that?" she hissed, hot tears springing to her eyes. "That I enjoyed having those men... ogle me, like I was a dish they want to devour? I've had seven years of it! But I had to, since you're just a useless, miserable wretch!" The moment those words left her mouth, she regretted them, but not enough to apologize. She wanted to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her. Gathering up her dress, she swept out of the room, ran all the way down the grand staircase, and was halfway down the street when Arthur caught up with her.

"Elsie, wait," he panted, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Wait. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please—"

She tried to twist herself away, but his hold was too strong. "If you don't let go of me, I shall scream," she snarled, and he dropped her arm as if it was red hot.

"You were right," he said. "I am a useless wretch." There was no piteous note in his voice, only a resigned, infinite sadness. "I can't do what you're doing. I don't know why a remarkable woman such as yourself would wish to remain with me, so here—" He held something out, and Elsie realized it was her cape, which she had left in the cloakroom of Staverley's in her hurry. She looked at his plaintive face, his trembling lips, and found her heart softening despite herself. He did call her remarkable. And she had remained with him because she was alone and afraid, and because he had reached out for her and held her and kept her from flying to pieces. Because she believed that he needed her. And because she thought she might need him as well.

But she would not let him off that easily.

"Talk is cheap, Havisham." She was trying to sound icy, only for her sniffles to ruin the effect. Arthur rummaged for his handkerchief, but Elsie found her own first and wiped her eyes with it.

"I know that," he said. "I wish I could—"

"Could what?"

He lifted his head, and there it was again, the look of sadness and longing, except this time it was directed straight at her with an intensity that quite took her breath away. "Could what?" she repeated, more softly. She didn't realize she had taken a step toward him until she felt her skirt brush his knees. He was still gazing at her, his lips quivering with words that were fighting to get out, or perhaps with a different ache that she couldn't name but could feel, echoing deep inside her.

Then Arthur broke the gaze and looked down. "I wish I could show you how sorry I really am, for saying those horrible things," he said.

Elsie let out a breath, feeling rather deflated.

"Just stay away from the drinks next time," she grumbled, to hide how flustered she was.

"I will."

She gestured at the cape. He obligingly put it on for her, while she tried not to notice how his hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment longer than necessary.

"Though I don't think there is going to be a next time," she said, resuming her walk down the street. Arthur held his pace next to her. "This has turned into another dead end."

"Ah, about that, I might have learned something," Arthur piped up, excited at a chance to prove his worth. "It appears that Lady Staverley likes to deal with blacklegs and sore losers herself."

"That's all well and good, but we don't know if Compeyson has gotten into trouble at the club. Besides, we're not allowed to see her," Elsie reminded him. "No one is."

"No, I'm thinking that it may provide us with a means to gain an audience with her," Arthur said.

Elsie paused and stared at him. "Are you suggesting that we—"

"Cheat, yes." He nodded, a wild glint in his eyes. "And try to get caught."

***

 It took them several days to put their plan into action. First, they had to go back to Staverley's another night so Elsie could make a careful study of the dice at the hazard table, their dimensions and weight and feel. She knew there were places where she could buy loaded dice for the right price, but she didn't want to go out more than she had to—that prickling, nagging sensation of being followed never really went away, though it had been weeks since she last saw Cyclops and the Chimney. So, armed with some clay, some lead shavings, and paint, she made the replica dice herself, with a few more sides containing six dots. Her handiwork was not the most skilled, Elsie had to admit, but the replicas would be passable in the dim light of the club, and when she put them in a wooden bowl and rattled them, they made the correct sound as the real dice would in the dice cup. They weren't trying to win, but they also wanted to make their cheating convincing and serious enough to warrant Lady Staverley's attention.

Even so, Elsie's hands were shaking as they entered Staverley's. "Are you sure this is going to work?" she asked Arthur. "Or are we going to get thrown out, or worse, taken into some cellar and beaten senseless?"

Arthur looked worried as well, but he squeezed her hand. "If anything happens, I shall take the blame," he said. "I won't let you be harmed. I promise."

Elsie wanted to point out that he was in no position to make such a promise, but she was touched by his gallantry and didn't have the heart to dissuade him.

By the time they entered the main room, the hazard table was already quite full. As Elsie steered Arthur toward the crowd surrounding the green baize, she saw Markham from across the room, his moon face lighting up at the sight of her, but she ignored him. She had to concentrate.

They waited for a long time, but eventually, it was Arthur's turn to cast. Elsie gave him an encouraging nod. He placed his stake—a moderate sum Elsie had withdrawn from her bank earlier that day—in the center of the table and picked up the dice cup.

"My dear brother," Elsie exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of not only the croupier but other players as well. "May I blow on them first, for good luck?"

"Of course, sister," Arthur said, suppressing a grin. "You always bring me luck."

He handed her the cup. She brought it to her lips, and then, with a fumble that wasn't quite exaggerated—for her hands were shaking terribly with nerves—she dropped the cup, which tumbled onto the carpet and rolled—with a little nudge of Arthur's foot—under her skirt.

"Oh dear, how clumsy of me!" she said in her silliest voice and dove beneath the table. While groping for the cup and the dice, she reached into the top of her boot, where the replica dice were stashed. "Where on Earth could they have gone?" She made the switch and strengthened up just as a footman approached. "Thank you, everything is perfectly all right," she said and handed the dice cup back to Arthur.

He shook the dice and threw them. Nine points. An excited murmur went up around the table, but the croupier frowned at the dice and raked them back for a closer inspection. Elsie eyed Arthur excitedly. The croupier signaled to the footman standing just behind her, who placed a respectful but firm hand on her arm and said, in a low voice, "Ma'am, would you mind coming with me please?" Another footman arrived to escort Arthur, and they were ushered from the table in front of the bemused eyes of the other players.

The two footmen took them on a circuitous route through the various backrooms and corridors and staircases that left Elsie completely disoriented, until they ended up in front of a door in some recess of the building. One of the footmen knocked, and an imperious "Come" replied from within.

They were led into a smallish chamber, decorated in the same deep red tones as the rest of the house and so filled with dark mahogany furniture that it took a while for them to notice a high-backed chair in front of the fire, turned toward the door at such an angle as to completely conceal the person seated in it. A footman went to the chair and, bending down to it, whispered a few urgent words. A hand wearing a black lace mitt appeared from the depth of the chair, gripping the top of a cane in the shape of a lion's head. "I see," a voice said, the same imperious voice they'd heard from outside the door. Then Lady Staverley turned to face them, and Elsie's mouth fell open.

From the grandeur of the gambling house, the fear in people's voices when they spoke of the proprietress, and the dark mystery of the room, she had expected someone regal or menacing, full of subtle threats, like Mrs. Hill. What she saw was a little old lady in a widow's cap and a simple black gown, with a cat sitting on her lap. Elsie and Arthur exchanged a look. Was this grandmother the fearsome Lady Staverley?

"Who do I have the honor of addressing?" Lady Staverley asked.

They gave their real names.

"Now, may I ask, why were you trying to cheat in my house?" the old lady asked, sounding as if she were offering them tea and sandwiches.

Her friendly tone emboldened Elsie. "My lady, I do apologize for that, but it wasn't our intention to cheat," she said. "Rather, it was the only way for us to get an audience with you."

"And why were you so desperate to speak to me?"

"We are looking for a man named Compeyson," Elsie said. "Meriwether Compeyson. We were told he often frequented your establishment, at least until about six months ago."

At the mention of Compeyson, Lady Staverley's eyes hardened, and Elsie had a brief glimpse of the cold, powerful matriarch underneath her warm exterior. "Mr. Compeyson was, indeed, a member of my club," the proprietress said, stressing the past tense. "Until he suffered a big loss and tried to pay it off with a forged check. Unfortunately, by the time I discovered the forgery, he has vanished. My attempts to discover him have been futile."

Another dead end. All that effort had come to nothing. Elsie could feel helplessness and devastation pooling in her abdomen, weighing her down like lead. But Lady Staverley was not finished with them. "Since you are also looking for him," she said, "perhaps you would care to share your findings with me."

"Ma'am," Elsie replied, "we have found nothing. He is our enemy as much as yours. That is why we came to ask for your help."

"Oh?" Lady Staverley sounded genuinely regretful. "That is too bad. You probably thought 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' and all that, didn't you?" Then her voice changed, the grandmotherly tone replaced by a sharp edge that brought goose pimples to Elsie's skin. "Unfortunately, I do not believe in that. Your business with Compeyson has nothing to do with me. Your attempt to cheat, on the other hand, must be punished."

"But we didn't cheat!" Arthur protested. "We didn't win anything!"

"That is beside the point, young man." Lady Staverley stood up. It seemed to them she was expanding like a dark, terrible cloud. "You were seen trying to cheat. You entered my house under false pretenses. If I do not make an example of you, my reputation and the reputation of my club will be ruined." She nodded to the two footmen.

"No, wait!" Arthur held up a hand, the other reaching for Elsie's. "The cheating was my idea. Leave her out of it."

Elsie's heart thumped. She didn't expect the dear fool to actually keep his promise. He had no idea how ruthless such women as Lady Staverley could be. "Stop trying to be a hero!" she whispered, pulling him toward her.

Lady Staverley's smile was like a knife. "Ah, young love. How touching." She signaled to the footmen again, who stepped forward and seized Elsie and Arthur in their iron-strong grip.

Just then, a bell over the door started clanging, followed by a cacophony of voices. Only one word came to them, ringing loud and clear over the bell's frantic jingling:

"Raid!!!"

Lady Staverley immediately jumped into action. She moved to her desk with a litheness that belied her frail appearance and swept all the checks and promissory notes there into a safe hidden behind a portrait. "Get them out of here!" she shouted at the two footmen. "And thank your lucky stars," she added to Elsie and Arthur before they were dragged out of the room and deposited roughly at the bottom of a back staircase.

The footmen disappeared through a door leading into the main card rooms. Following them, Elsie and Arthur were greeted by a scene of complete pandemonium. Police officers, some uniformed, some in plain clothes, were swarming through the doors. The patrons were running in all directions, ignoring the servants' attempt to guide them toward the exits, while the croupiers hurried to cover up the tables and fought off the opportunistic or desperate players, who were trying to make a grab at the piles of counters. The officers' shouts mingled with terrified screams from the patrons and the sickening, cracking sound made by truncheons connected with bones.

Elsie tried to fight the panic rising to her chest. She had not just escaped from Lady Staverley's threat only to end up in a jail cell. Her eyes spotted several patrons, more sensible or experienced, headed toward a doorway hidden behind some drapery. She found Arthur's hand and dragged him along. "Come on!" They threaded their way through the crowd, dodging fallen furniture, ornaments, and bodies. Something sailed through the air over Elsie's head and crashed into the chandelier. Elsie stumbled as broken crystals rained down on them, but Arthur shielded her from the pieces and pulled her to her feet. Somehow they managed to make it to the door, follow the other patrons down a damp cellar, then up some slippery steps, and finally emerge into the cool night air behind the building.

It was slightly quieter here, though they could still hear the uproar from inside. The other patrons slipped off one by one, some into waiting carriages, some crept down back alleys and side streets. Elsie was ready to follow them, but she suddenly felt faint. Her corset was too tight. She leaned her head against the wall and tried to draw a few breaths as deeply as she could.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked. She waved at him to say it was nothing.

"I've seen plenty of raids at Mrs. Hill's, and I never thought I'd say this," she gasped. "But thank God for the police."

"I know," he said, leaning against the wall and letting out a breath as well. "I'm sorry for suggesting the cheating. I didn't realize Lady Staverley would be so—"

"No need to apologize," she said. She was only sorry they didn't learn anything new other than why Compeyson disappeared, which was of no help at all. But it was no use mentioning that now. "It was the best idea you had."

"It was, wasn't it?" Arthur said, chuckling. "Though I was half afraid your terrible acting might have ruined it."

Elsie gave him a sideway glance and was met with a grin. He had dimples. She wondered why she never noticed them before, and realized it was because she had never seen a real smile from him until now.

"We were trying to get caught, remember?" she retorted. "I have no ambition of treading the board in the West End." Now that they were away from immediate danger, the whole thing sounded rather absurd. She started laughing.

Arthur put out a hand. "Shhh! The police may hear us!" But that only got Elsie laughing harder, and soon they were laughing together, giggling so hard they almost bent over, holding on to each other to stop themselves from falling down. Then suddenly Elsie became conscious of how close they were standing, their faces barely inches apart, how their hands were entangled, how their laughs had trailed off and they were smiling at each other like two idiots, not quite knowing what they were smiling at except for the fact that they were here, together, and nothing else seemed to matter.

A shout went up from inside Staverley's, and a flock of officers burst out of the cellar door, chasing after the straggling patrons. Elsie only had time to grab Arthur by his coat and pulled him into an alley between two houses. The police ran up and down the street, shouting, dragging anyone they could find out of their hiding places. Any minute now, they would come upon the two of them...

Desperate, barely knowing what she was doing, Elsie took Arthur's face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. Hopefully, anyone passing by would think they were two lovers snatching some alone time together, or perhaps a prostitute and her john conducting their usual business.

But after a moment, all thoughts of the police vanished from her mind, because Arthur's mouth had moved under hers. Slowly, hesitantly, he parted his lips and fitted them to hers, dip for dip, curve for curve, while his arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer. For a breathless, endless moment, she was aware of nothing but the darkness and him, who was both Arthur and not Arthur, not the pathetic creature who shook at a mere suggestion of a shadow, not the man who had tried to protect her, not even the boy who had laughed with her just a moment ago, but transformed into some seductive stranger, ready to sweep her off her feet with his passion.

Then her reflex kicked in. She pulled away. Arthur leaned forward, as if chasing after the kiss, but she put a hand on his chest, keeping him at arm's length so she could look at his face. All she saw was his huge brown eyes staring at her, looking as confused as she felt. His heart thundered beneath her hand, echoing her own. Perhaps that was it. Just the excitement of the night getting to them, nothing else. But surely, she hadn't imagined those lips trembling against hers and his hands on her back, just as she hadn't imagined the look in his eyes when she first emerged from the dressing room, or the way they had held on to each other, again and again and again...

"Are they gone?" he whispered. She put her hand over his mouth to shush him, and the feel of his lips beneath her fingertips almost sent her back into his arms. To distract herself, she edged to the mouth of the alley and risked a look outside. The street was clear.

Or was it? The last of the officers were running down the street, away from the alley, except for two men. And they weren't the police. As Elsie looked again, her heart stopped cold in her chest. Cyclops and the Chimney, one at each end of the street, were converging on the alley where she and Arthur were hiding, and Cyclops's remaining eye was fixed on her.

Chapter 8

[coutelier]

Here's the whole first 2,000 words of a new short story, which does contain spoilers and bit of a summary for what happens in Irongate (on Kindle, and next month will be released on many other stores through Draft2Digital) as its set shortly after:

A graphic on the news showed a green cloud spreading from Irongate, like the tendrils of some vast eldritch terror gripping the Earth. A ‘terrorist’, as it was reported, had turned synthetic organisms intended to purify pollutants in our atmosphere into a mutagen intended to destroy all humanity. An anonymous source had leaked details of a vaccine to every lab and university on the planet, but much of the mutagen had ascended to the mesosphere, could descend anywhere, potentially mutate and evolve unpredictably. The source of it all had been the company Stag Corp, a subsidiary of Meridiem who had promised a full investigation into the rogue CEO and were offering whatever aid they could to governments and militaries to contain any outbreaks. They had acted quickly to capitalize on the situation, almost as if they’d known it would happen. The only thing certain was that the world would never be the same, but life - in whatever form it took - would go on. The advice for now was to stay indoors.

So it was that even as the networks competed to be the first to report the fall of civilization, Jennifer Airhart reassembled a music box amid the clutter that spanned the circumference of her workshop. The fair haired lighthouse keeper had been alone since the disappearance of her parents - while working for the aforementioned companies - but recent events had left her with an eleven - nearly twelve - year old ward. Tenley Tych flitted side to side of her, asking every minute, “is it fixed yet?”

“Almost,” Jenn sighed wearily each time, adjusting her magnifying lens as she tweezered another cog into place. Yet she smiled, in truth enjoying this project. Usually she tinkered with robots, computers, other devices much of whose operations were invisible to the naked eye and for all most knew might as well have been powered by pixies. There was something very satisfying about being to see how every part of a machine fitted, how every component worked together. It felt so much more real. For the first time since her parents had left her, it felt like there was life here.

Tenley did another circle of the room, curiously regarding the other contraptions inside. The most recent - that Jenn had just started that day - was a metallic ring, a couple of feet across, stood vertically on one of the benches. Stag Corp and Meridiem had been hiding many things, including the existence of a type of hyperspace - The Witch Way. But exploring it had been slow since anything from our realm that went in was instantly crushed and annihilated. The one being they’d created that had survived and learned to navigate that space they couldn’t control, and now she was gone and her secrets with her.

Still there was no need to rush with that. At Tenley’s insistence Jenn had prioritized the music box and at long last began closing it up, the black haired tween practically bouncing as she waited to see if the operation had been a success.

 Tenley piped excitedly, “you need to wind it up!”

“Oh,” Jennifer nodded as if she’d been expecting just to push a button, “all right.” She cleared her throat, looked sternly down on the box, and began wagging her finger, “you miserable music box! Bet you couldn’t play a tune if it was just one note over and over! A singing sea bass has more artistic merit than you!”

Tenley’s head tilted, dark eyes glowering at Jennifer who pushed on undeterred:

“Your mother was a shoe-box, and your dad was a glass armonica!”

The tween blinked at her three times then stated flatly, “you’re not funny.”

“Aww, come on,” Jenn inhaled, glancing up at the growing tendrils on the monitor, “who knows if there’ll ever be a chance to use that one again.”

It would all blow over soon, she was sure; or at least the news would lose interest once it became clear it was going to take a much longer time before anything really dramatic happened and they went back to animals on skateboards. Sighing she wound the box up again - this time using the key - rolling her chair back to allow Tenley to see as the lid popped open and a blue fairy stood up and danced, pirouetting round and around to the dulcet chimes.

An immediate change came over Tenley; every muscle in the child’s body loosening at once, eyes drooping as she cradled the box, slumping into a swivel chair as the fairy transported her to another realm where the troubles of this one couldn’t harm her. It was still strange to Jennifer that Tenley really was just a kid, yet a kid capable of punching a hole in her chest, grabbing her spine, and pulling her inside out in under a second. Therefore although it warmed Jenn’s heart to see the girl so peaceful, she resisted the urge to hug unbidden.

She did ask, “why is that box so important?”

Tenley rolled her head back to rest on the pad of her chair, nostrils rising and deflating before she softly answered, “I just can’t sleep without it.”

Of the things Tenley had taken from her old home to the lighthouse - the box, a couple of Dinosaurs, one doll, a few books - it was clear the box was very special to her. Jenn didn’t push to find out why, knowing the girl felt a jumble of sometimes contradictory emotions about her old life being raised alone by a militant mother. She instead relaxed into her own seat, reflecting, “I used to have a teddy bear to help me sleep. One that would play tunes when you pressed her paw. I called her Candy because she had a scarf with red and white stripes.”

“What happened to her?” Tenley yawned.

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I suspect, well, mother was always trying to get me to throw things away. She thought I collected too much junk.”

Tenley’s dark eyes surveyed the interior of the lighthouse; benches loaded with bots in various states of repair, tools, microscopes and other devices whose function she couldn’t even guess at, monitors on every wall, thick wires and cables dangling everywhere. “No? Really?”

“Hm-hm. So, when I was ten a lot of my old toys started disappearing. I fear poor Candy was just one of the casualties of my mother’s purge,” Jenn sagged sulkily, still bitter.

“I don’t ever want kids,” Tenley admitted, “it seems moms always just end up hurting them.”

“I’m sure they mean well. Usually,” Jenn spun her chair around, peering through one of the monitors. There were already people blaming what had happened on everything from aliens to trans rights activists. It would have been a sad, disheartening indictment on the state of humanity, but Jenn’s glassy blue eyes narrowed as if trying to focus on something far more distant. “But I suppose that wasn’t really my family,” she whispered, “I’m not really me.”

Then Tenley peered confusedly and a little bit annoyed at her, “what are you going on about? Of course you’re you. Who else would you be?” In her mind it was that simple, and after all this was the only Jennifer she had ever known. But her adopted adult continued to stare away.

“I was just made to replace someone else.”

Which was sad - that a kid had died a long time ago - but Tenley didn’t see how it made her Jennifer less of a person. She did see, however, that Jenn was likely to mull on it for a long, long time, unless someone stopped her. “Alright,” the music box snapped shut and was put aside, “that’s enough, okay? Let’s go get ice cream.”

Jenn shook her head, unclear if she even heard Tenley at this point. “Years I spent waiting for my parents to come home, but all those memories might have just been a lie…”

Tenley groaned in growing frustration, “you’re just making yourself sad.”

Jennifer still only saw fog. “Did they really care about me at all, or was I just an experiment…”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Tenley sprung to her feet, and in a desperate bid to pull them both back from an evening of maudlin existential anguish, grabbed a spanner and threw it at the metal ring.

She didn’t think she had thrown it that hard, but for Tenley ‘not hard’ was a knock-out blow to a heavyweight boxer. The metal ring clanged and hummed, and like a bubble bursting in reverse a sphere formed inside it. Tenley quickly took hold of a desk as loose wires whipped up and small and the very air in the room began being sucked into the portal. This emergency did grab all of Jennifer’s attention, as she had to duck to avoid a hammer whizzing past her, so in that regard the plan had been a complete success.

As Tenley held on, Jenn pulled herself along the floor by a cable until she could reach the switches and yank out the wires powering the device. It was to no avail. “What?!” She blinked in astonishment at a monitor, straining against the wind, “it’s drawing power from the other side! Maybe if I invert this waveform…” a little keyboard tapping and the bubble popped out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. With a relieved sigh Jenn stood, patting down her loose messy hair and blouse. “Please warn me if you’re going to do anything like that again.”

In her old home Tenley would have expected a far harsher response. She opened her mouth to answer, perhaps even issue an apology, only to be interrupted by a muffled trilling ring. Scrunching her face she asked, “what is that?”

Jenn squinted confusedly at a spot under the lighthouse’s winding stairs. “The telephone?” She wondered. It definitely was, but, “the old telephone…” pushing aside some junk she revealed a dark box attached to the wall with an old dial and handset hanging on the side. She then stood back, twiddling her fingers as it continued to ring and shake, seeming unsure what to do. Eventually she turned to Tenley, “I-I suppose you’ve never seen a phone like this. To call someone you had to put your finger in there and spin it around to here.”

“I know how a phone works,” Tenley puffed, folding her arms over her chest, “I’ve seen old movies. And you’re not actually that much older than me, you know. Trying to act like you’re some wizened old crone who rode to school on a Woolly Mammoth or something.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you going to answer it? The noise is really annoying.”

“I didn’t know it was still connected,” Jenn bit her lip, now tapping her fingernails, “I mean, it’s probably just scammers or telemarketers. There’s no one else who would have this number.”

“But you won’t know unless you answer,” Tenley pointed out.

“You don’t understand - those people are pushy! It can take hours to find a way to wriggle out of the conversation.”

Tenley was continually baffled by how someone as clever as Jenn was also completely hopeless. “If it’s a scammer,” she sighed impatiently, “you just tell them to get lost, then hang up.”

“I-I,” Jennifer flushed and shifted nervously, aware that she was by all appearances the adult, but, “I just can’t do that. I can’t be rude to strangers. It’s just not how I was raised, I suppose.”

“What’s rude is people calling you at home to try and trick you out of money.”

“I’m sure they don’t really want to. They’re just forced into it by their economic circumstances.”

“And they’ll be used to people hanging up all the time. Why do you worry so much about everything?”

“I-I—”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“W-wait,” Jennifer meekly lifted a hand, but there was no stopping the determined tween. “Don’t be rude!”

Rolling her eyes, Tenley lifted the handset and politely spoke, “Airhart Retirement Home. What the hell do you want?” The response was silence. Tenley thought the ancient thing must be broken, until she saw Jenn making circular motions with her fingers.

“Other… other way round,” she muttered, “the wire should be at the bottom.”

With another eye roll Tenley turned the handset the right way up. “Hello—” she leapt back, dropping it as a high-pitched whistle pierced her ear. Even Jenn had to cover hers as shrieking filled the lighthouse. Since its construction all the systems in the lighthouse were connected to Irongate University’s AI experiment - HULL - so although struggling once again to reach a screen, Jenn was able to analyze the signal.

“Looks like whatever’s coming through is unusually high energy,” Jenn winced, unsure if her ears were bleeding as she rapidly tapped keys, “trying to compensate… there!”

[metalphoenix]

Gotham Pride

Ok so I know Pride Month is over but I was reflecting on what pride means and the issues I have with current day pride and decided to make this post anyways

I have decided that Gotham Queers are militant they take "we keep us safe" to a whole new level. Like of course the bats and most of the rogues are there and would step up in case something happened but they've never had to because the queers WILL sort it out.

Cops won't get within three blocks of any pride event. They know better than that. If one of them is stupid enough to try the Gotham Gays will kindly give them a one way ticket to the ICU. If a cop wants to come its out of uniform or not at all.

The parade isn't so much a parade as a march. Its not like, formally organized or anything. Everyone just knows to gather in central Gotham in the morning of June 28th (its always on the 28th, doesn't matter what day of the week it is. Its basically a city wide holiday at this point.) (also for those wondering why its the 28th its because Stonewall happened on June 28th, 1969) There not contingents like there are at other prides people who wanna march show up and march with signs. There are groups who will organize to go together but its not anything formal.

In that same vein the festival isn't a formal festival either. People will just hang out in some area of the city. Small queer owned businesses will put up tents. People will bring food and drinks (always enough the share). Everyone is fed.

Doc Tompkins clinic has several tents and is giving info on STDs, administering Monkey Pox vaccines, doing testing, passing out safer sex items, helping people get on PrEP, etc.

At least one stage will be set up (often more) and drag queens and queer bands will all take turns preforming. Theres at least one stage where anyone can get up and sing a song or do a dance or whatever they'd like.

Kink is very much at Gotham Pride. There is leather and people walking around naked. (the whole kink doesn't belong at pride thing is absolute bullshit. Queer liberation was started by kinksters, sex workers and drag queens. The mother of pride, Brenda Howard, was literally a bisexual, polyamorous kinkster. Kink belongs at pride and I say this as someone who is very much not kinky)

This is like the one day of the year that all of the bats and most of the rogues get along publicly. They are all on the same page here. Similarly this is the one event of the year that Joker will never attack because while most times Gotham Citizens will just go about their daily business during one of his attacks but during pride he will get put in the morgue and he knows it.

Gotham Queers do not fuck with rainbow capitalism and pink money. If a corporation wants to sell pride merch it better be in collaboration with queer artists and they better actively be allies to the community. Everyone remembers that one time LexCorp tried to set up a booth and got molitoved. If a company in Gotham does the publicly an ally while actually being homophobic song and dance that shit is getting leaked by an anonymous hacker (Barbara) and, well that company isn't gonna last long in Gotham.

Customarily the event lasts five days (the Stonewall Riot lasted 5 days)

Anyways I'm just tired how pride seems to have strayed so far from its roots. Why are there cops at pride. They are literally the reason Stonewall happened in the first place. Why do we allow corperations to make money off us while giving nothing in return. Why is there so much discorse about who is "allowed" at pride when it has always been a place for the freaks and outcasts of society. Pride has always been about unity why do we seem to have forgotten that.

[bingobongobonko]

Hi! I'm here to ask you about your friend's Lancer campaign. What's the premise? Is there a big bad? What's the setting? On a scale of "This Slaps" to "Gay AF" how would rate the campaign?

HI TY FOR ASKING!!!! Basically we were Union types (false actuallly... only Yves was a member of Union, everyone else is nonaffiliate i think. this is a tangent im sorry). But anyway, we sent to a charity event on a dying planet, mostly as a diplomatic measure between the Union and the various karrakin barony houses that're on Bo as they try to raise money to afford en masse evacuations. The planet is dying, and they're running out of time, so this charity event's a BIG deal. Just to keep the peace, is what we were told. Until that's the exact opposite of what happened because the charity got hijacked, people fled the scene in panic and trampling ensued, AND hostage situation held up by an extremist group bound to the demands of the "Oracle." It's a cult. It becomes very obvious this is a cult to all of us. For the most part, they, Helios, can be considered the first big bad but they're not THE big bad. That's the Oracle itself, which at the time we had no fucking idea who this Oracle was. They suck though, just awful. TLDR they ruined Bo's first chances of evacuation, brainwashed the NHP of a certain Egbert Station and ultimately we were forced to kill them before the station was destroyed, and even then, we had to reroute the explosion from the station to down under, where an evacuated city lay. And in that moment, it's all gone. Millions of people displaced and tbh. I still feel guilty about that. We all fumbled the rolls to stop the explosion so it's like.... damn.. But yeah this is the kind of people we're dealing with, they're obsessed with a prophecy that involves the damnation of this planet. I said we were Union types in the past tense because after all of this happens, Union breaks official ties with the group and essentially leaves us to our own devices. Which I think my character is the only one who takes personal offense to that, it's just like. Are you serious. I've worked up in your organization for years.... but yeah besides the point. Now, we're Bo's designated Lancers to uncover the whole Helios issue and to buy Bo some more time before shit goes south. We're in lategame campaign, shit has GONE south. Yves, my character, has personally met the big bad, the Oracle, and even before that, we found out just why the planet is dying. 50 years ago, something landed on Bo. Ever since, the Oracle has been in the backdrop as its nanites continue to eat the planet alive, and Helios is convinced this HAS to happen. We have to relive this again. SURPRISE!!! This is a repeat, we're in a timeloop and the whole prophesy is that time and time again, the same events will unfold on repeat til end of days because there is nothing outside of this loop. And that's why Helios exists. People are afraid of what's beyond this timeloop, and Yves has seen it personally, in the metavault that the Oracle sent him to. Said some gnarly shit to Yves and just was like. Fuck off! I hate you! before it sent him to superhell. Or more accurately, sent to nothing. Suspended in a shattered reality. Where there is nothing. Some crazy shit I tell you. Oh and sorry ok a lot of details I'm missing out on but this is pretty important, the Oracle itself? Manmade. We made that, a long time ago. It was originally developed by Halcyon, a weapons subsidiary company on Bo, but the project was ultimately discontinued when they realized having nanites pilot a mech all tuned in to a hivemind (the Oracle) is a bad fucking idea. Do You See Why. so the big bad is manmade horrors!!!!! ippee!!!! As of right now, we know HOW the Oracle is doing what it does but we don't know why. At least I don't.