#intern ameliapod

[littlebookreader]

Intern: A while back I decided to start putting salt in Arthur's cocoa.

Intern: It was funny until Amelia told me that how he always drinks it?

Intern: *slurping* Well, now I know why it tastes so good!

[littlebookreader]

*On the first day*

Intern: What are the rules of Scrabble?

Amelia: If the game lasts over 4 hours you get the legal right to kill the person who asked to play.

The Interviewer and Alvina: *Secret hi-five*

[littlebookreader]

3am at the Amelia Project:

Joey and Salvatore: *in the bathroom dying each other's hair every shade of the rainbow, and cussing at each other loudly in Italian*

The Interviewer: *making cocoa but then deciding he wants Maltesers instead, making a mess as a result*

Alvina: *crying* just one night of peace, please-

[littlebookreader]

The Forking IHoP!

Some information first:

Summary: Intern comes to a realisation, as do Jeff and Gen.

Fandoms: The Amelia Project(Podcast), The Good Place (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen

Word count: 798 words

Relationships: Intern Ameliapod and Jeff the Doorman, Jeff the Doorman and Judge Gen

Characters: Intern Ameliapod(The Amelia Project), Jeff the Doorman(The Good Place), Judge Gen(The Good Place), The Interviewer (The Amelia Project, mentioned)

Additional Tags: Crossovers, Intern fic!, Ayyyyyy!, not many tags, Intern plus clarity my OTP, Jeff and Gen aren’t a thing in canon, so shipping if you squint, but for now this is all I have, part three hopefully coming up soon, Hellsite craziness makes an appearance, author regrets everything, author regrets nothing, no beta we connect the dots like ‘Harold’, here you go

Part 3 of The Good Amelia.

Fic:

Intern was always one for living in the present. Considering their job, they had to be.

Right then, standing in the Interdimensional Hole of Pancakes, they began to wonder aloud: “How DID I get here, what happened?”

The grumpy guy, whose name they’d assumed to be Harold(Harold? Yes, he looked like a Harold, so his name must be Harold, right?) implied that they were in the afterlife, that they were, in fact, dead, only for the judge lady(they couldn’t even BEGIN to guess what her name was) to tell them they weren’t.

Huh?

They shook their head, and began to wrack their brain, trying to understand the events of the day, the events that brought them to the afterlife. Or not….?

Before they could confuse themself any further by the sheer power of overthought, their mind went back to the start of the day, before all Bad Place broke loose.

__________________________________

Elsewhen, Judge Gen and Jeff the Doorman continued to discuss this latest anomaly.

“So, what are they doing here?”

“Oh, that’s easy, the IHoP is acting up. Someone has been making a mess on earth, and someone,” she paused to glare pointedly at the Doorman, who shrugged, not quite making the connection “has been authorising their entry on earth.”

Jeff frowned. “I don’t…I don’t understand. I thought Michael-“

She shook her head violently. “It’s not Michael. I’ve been logging those visits, Michael’s messing stuff up like you wouldn’t believe, but he hasn’t been anywhere near London. Kinda strange come to think of it.”

London? Come to think of it, the stranger he’d been speaking to HAD sounded European….

“Would this have something to do with some project? And a guy called The Interviewer?”

The judge frowned surprised. “How could you possibly know that? Have you been-”

Now it was his turn to look horrified. “WHAT? No, of course not!”

“Then, who could it be? I know it’s a celestial, they’d have to have passed through the IHoP. Man, I knew I should have investigated that further instead of rewatching Psych! Well, no, that was a pretty constructive use of my time, but you know what I mean.” She said the last bit in her usual singsong, slightly over-the-top manner, so typically Judge Gen, that he had to smile.

“Wait…..could it be possible that IHoP began acting up first, and then the celestials walked off to Earth to do whatever? We know that in those cases no one needs authorisation, so what if…?”

She looked at him, slightly awed. “I am the All-Knowing Judge, and even I never made that connection! Jeff, that’s genius!”

“So ask the stranger-“

“The Intern,” she corrected.

“Ah yeah, the Intern, how they got here in the first place?”

“Yep.”

___________________________________________

It was a duck. Of all the things that could get them into trouble, it was a forking duck. Ah, yeah, the filter. Stupid filter.

It had been strange, out of place, with the rest of the Project’s immaculate décor. So maybe they hadn’t told the Doorman the whole truth(they could have sworn at this point that his name was Harold) about how they’d landed up where they were.

They knew the duck was suspicious. Yet, they still tried to pet it.

“It was plastic, PA,” they scolded themself. “Why would you try to pet a plastic duck?”

They sighed, and slumped down on to a sofa that had just appeared, only to be startled by Harold(?) yelling: “No, don’t do that!”

They jumped back. They’d always guessed he was a bit loopy, but this was simply ridiculous. “What?”

“That is, uh, that is not a couch.”

“It is a couch, erm, sofa. At least, it looks like one-“

The Doorman shook his head. “Nope, stuff in the IHoP is never what it looks like! That may look like a harmless couch, but what is really is, is an eighteen foot tall dragon skeleton that, ever since it has entered the IHoP, had been permanently ablaze. The fact that you aren’t burnt to a crisp right now is…surprising actually.”

“Well,” they preened. “I am a lot stronger than I look.” MI5 and all that, they thought and then giggled.

“Ah, yeah, does look like it. Most humans cannot even comprehend the basics of the afterlife without turning to mash so you are taking this surprisingly well. Say, how did you get here anyway?”

“I think I may have an idea about that.”

“Go on,” the judge prodded. Intern mentally reminded themself to but here a bell for whenever they saw her next.

“There no time, we have to find out-“

The Judge cut him off. “There’s always time for a story, right?”

Intern smiled. Finally, someone who understood.

“It all started with a cup of cocoa, a rubber chicken and a computer.”

[littlebookreader]

Where do the Frogs Lie

Some information first:

Summary: Jeff the Doorman sees someone in the IHoP who doesn’t quite belong there. 

Fandoms: The Amelia Project(Podcast), The Good Place (TV) 

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen

Word count: 422 words

Relationships: Intern Ameliapod and Jeff the Doorman

Characters: Intern Ameliapod(The Amelia Project), Jeff the Doorman(The Good Place), Judge Gen(The Good Place), The Interviewer (The Amelia Project, mentioned)

Additional Tags: Crossovers, why am I doing this, I dunno, Intern fic!, Ayyyyyy!, not many tags, except sheer chaos, oh my goodness, what in the fork, really, will add more tags as this grows, but for now this is all I have author regrets everything, author regrets nothing, no beta we confuse like Intern, here you go

Part 2 of The Good Amelia. 

Fic: 

Ever since he’d become Doorman to the Afterlife, a title which was grossly overstated, thank you very much, Jeff didn’t see quite as many people as he’d like. Or frogs. His job simply included checking the permits and letting celestials cross over to Earth to carry out….what it was that they did.

Naturally the young, non-descript person showing up at his desk looking thoroughly confused alarmed him.

“Where the fork am I?” they blurted. “Fork. Fork. Fork. Why can’t I say ‘fork’?”

Jeff shrugged. The filter had been turned on a long time ago in the Interdimensional Hole of Pancakes, seeing how people were actually sensitive about that kind of thing, so naturally, the young person not being able to swear didn’t exactly surprise him.

“You’re in the IHoP, of course you can’t say ‘fork’.” Unlike the stranger, he’d deliberately said the word fork, knowing fully well that the filter didn’t work as well on him as it did the others.

They looked puzzled. “The IHoP? Like the pancake place?”

He shrugged again. “I suppose you could say that. Look, aren’t you supposed to be in the Bad Place? It’s where most humans go anyway.”

They looked horrified. “The Bad Place!”

“Yes, the Bad Place! Though, weirdly enough, I can’t see your point total…”

“My-my-my what?”

“What people get after they die? Did HR explain NOTHING to you?”

The horrified look grew even more intense as they added: “I’m not dead!”

Now it was Jeff’s turn to look confused. “How are you here then?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t know! One moment I’m fetching cocoa for the Interviewer, the next, I’m here!”

There wasn’t much he could say to that, really. What could he say to THAT? That the system was flawed, that he was actually terrible at his job? WHAT?

He sighed. “Look, I don’t understand how you got here, but you’re dead, and this is the afterlife.”

“No, no, no, no, no, this-this isn’t possible. The Project…they said I wouldn’t die. Not if I worked there.”

Jeff grew increasingly confused by the minute. “If you aren’t dead, then WHY are you here?”

“Again, for the millionth time, I. Don’t. Know!”

“Oh, Jeff,” he heard Gen’s voice call. “There’s something I need to ask to, you know, afterlife stuff, that the living can’t hear?” She gestured pointedly at the stranger, who was, evidently, too bewildered to care.

“The living? Then what’s he doing here?”

“They,” she corrected. “And that, good Doorman, is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

[littlebookreader]

The Tale of One Intern and Their Rubber Duck

Some information first:

Summary: Intern tells their story, or rather, I tell it FOR them. A familiar face appears at the Project. 

Fandoms: The Amelia Project(Podcast), The Good Place (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Gen

Word count: 1304 words(Book is tired)

Relationships: Intern Ameliapod and Jeff the Doorman, Jeff the Doorman and Judge Gen, Intern Ameliapod and the Interviewer

Characters: Intern Ameliapod(The Amelia Project), Jeff the Doorman(The Good Place), Judge Gen(The Good Place), The Interviewer (The Amelia Project), Alvina Wright (The Amelia Project) , Amelia Earhart Jr. (The Amelia Project) , Joey (The Amelia Project, mentioned) , Salvatore (The Amelia Project, mentioned) , Donna Shellstrop, Little Book Reader(Tumblr, narrator)

Additional Tags: Crossovers, Intern fic!, this is the last part though, so enjoy it while it lasts, I make an appearance?!?!, wait what, fourth wall breaking, finally some actual TAP content, hehe, the little to no TAP in the first three was unintentional though I promise, since I’m narrating the filter is still VERY active, part five hopefully coming up soon, Hellsite craziness makes an appearance, author regrets everything, author regrets nothing, no beta we boggle minds like Jeremy Bearimy , here you go

Part 4 of The Good Amelia.

Fic: 

Hiya, Book here. The last time you left off, Intern was about to tell their story to Judge Gen and ‘Harold’, you know, catch them up a bit.

They’re a bit of a celebrity around these parts, and much as I adore them, they can get a bit….rambly, at times. Don’t worry, I got your back on this one. The reason I’m late with this whole thing is this: I couldn’t figure out how to put it. The rest of what follows is so wild, so mind-boggling, so long (nine more parts after this to be precise), it actually fried my brain for a brief second. It’s a relief that I managed to collect myself and grab a hold of the banana and the water I had kept on standby.

You know, narrator stuff.

Then again, the Judge had warned me of the consequences of looking into the afterlife, so that’s definitely been an issue. Still, I’m glad she told me.

Now, what was I talking about?

Oh yeah, Intern was telling their story to Judge Gen and ‘Harold’.

Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book

I guess you could say it was another day at the project. The team was bustling around, buzzing happily about yet another successful disappearance, when there came a loud knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Alvina, who was organising some of the random files lying on her desk, asked.

“Goodness me, Alvina, it isn’t as if I can see through the door!” The Interviewer exclaimed. Part of the reason why he was so high-strung was because I took away his swearing privileges for this fic; the other part was because his client happened to be the single most annoying person on this planet…..and also the biggest pathological liar he’d ever met.

Amelia thought she was perfectly nice, thinking that the primary reason he’d taken such a dislike to Donna Shellstrop was simply because she was an American. He’d then protested that that was FAR from the actual reason, but Amelia wouldn’t hear another word of it. That fight lasted two whole hours, and is currently, atleast, not of any significance.

Donna Shellstrop, why does that name sound familiar?

In any case, Intern didn’t really see how it all mattered. American or no, annoying or loud, she was till a client, willing to pay for a simple disappearance. Granted, she’d paid in IOUs, but again, that was none of their concern. Or so Alvina told them, anyway.

Joey and Salvatore had run off for an errand, or whatever it was they’d called it, leaving Intern all alone in the breakroom at the time Alvina approached them.

“Hey, could you get up a cup of cocoa to Arthur? I would do it myself, but I REALLY need to organise the files by tonight, at the latest.”

They nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s great.” With that, she left.

Ever since their arrival at the Project, Intern had always wanted to make that divine cup of cocoa, the one which would absolutely blow The Interviewer’s mind away. Not literally, oh no, they would never wish that.

They took their time with it, preparing it just like how Salvatore would, and adding that little secret ingredient I’d had the good fortune to decipher early into our friendship: the pinch of salt. Taking it all the way to the office was slightly trickier, as it threatened to spill over more than once, and possibly even cost them a job.

They didn’t knock; they didn’t have to.

“Come in!”

“I-I brought your cocoa?”

“Oh, Intern!” To their immense surprise, The Interviewer beamed upon seeing them. “Put it on the table, and come here quick. There’s something I would like to show you.”

Hesitant, they wondered what it was exactly that could get such a reaction out of him. Then again, he was of an excitable nature, so this didn’t surprise them as much as it probably should have.

“Ta-da!”

“I do apologise, Arthur, but….what exactly am I looking at?”

Their confusion was perfectly understandable. Now, we, the audience already know that it was the rubber chicken, but at the time, Intern saw what was easily the ugliest drawing in the known universe. It was a splash of yellow, with red tips, a horribly contorted form and a walnut-shaped…thing around the region that vaguely resembled its mouth.

This surprised them dearly. They knew the Interviewer was perfectly capable of drawing, and drawing REALLY well, at that, the fact that he could possibly make something THIS ugly was truly beyond comprehension.

“It’s a rubber chicken, of course. Donna, or rather, Diana, I should be calling her now, left it behind. I suppose it’s collateral, but I honestly do not see its value!” He let out a bark of laughter as he said this, as Intern recovered from their initial shock upon seeing the monstrosity.

“Well, maybe she meant for it to be a gift of some sort?”

“True, that could be. Thank you for the cocoa, Intern.”

They bowed dramatically, being the dear that they are. “Happy to be of service, Arthur.”

He shrugged and turned back to his screen, devoting all his energy toward finishing that ugly drawing. Intern sighed contentedly, opened the door and walked out, only to find a rubber duck lying at the foot of the door.

“Ooooh, what’s this?”

That was the last thing they remembered before everything began to spin.

Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book Book

“And that,” they summed up. “Is how I got here.”

“Well,” Judge Gen mused. “That does actually make a fair bit of sense. Also would probably explain how Donna Shellstrop actually dropped off my radar for a couple of days.”

A couple of- “I’m sorry?”

“Time passes differently in the afterlife, buddy. Jeremy Bearimy and all that.” Harold supplied helpfully. None of that made any sense to them whatsoever, though considering that they were still ALIVE and somehow in the afterlife, they weren’t exactly the best person to question it.

Judge Gen, on the other hand, had a different agenda. “So, this project of yours-“

“The Amelia Project, yeah.”

“Don’t interrupt the All-Knowing Judge, dude,” Harold grumbled as she brushed it off and continued, as if Intern had never spoken.

“-how is it that this is the first time I’m ever hearing about it?”

“I’m-I’m not sure?”

“They seem discreet, somehow. And I don’t just mean humanly. I mean, even in the afterlife, I’d be willing to bet that nobody knows it exists.”

“I can get you back home, Dorothy,” the Judge joked. “But you will have to give me every single bit of information that you have on The Amelia Project, capisce? Every. Single. Little. Teeny tiny little. Thing.” She jabbed them in the chest with each word to emphasise a point. “The Burn Notice reruns can wait, I think.”

Intern knew that she was important, more than they could even begin to imagine, but seeing her desperation to glean any bit of information about the Project from them reminded them painfully of Cole and Haines. It was almost strange, and apart from the shirty coffee, they actually missed the place.

The clenched their jaw, determined not to let their fear show. MI-something-or-other training had taught them something, after all.

Of COURSE they weren’t going to tell her everything. Just the bits she needed to know.

“Deal,” they said.

“Good,” she smiled. “Start at the beginning.”

It’s a long story, and I’m sure you know most of it. The Dictaphone has gained a sentience of its own and made a whole podcast of it, which people like you and I can listen to, just to clarify the details.

I’m not going anywhere, I promise. But for now, here you go, and good luck ahead.

[littlebookreader]

Cocoa Theory

@ameliapodcast is gonna kill me for this.

At the Golovin, the Interviewer perpetually complains that the cocoa ‘isn’t quite right’ and is ‘rather dreadful’.

My theory: Amelia hates sickly, tooth rotting sweetness, which is why, when making cocoa she adds a tiny pinch of salt, just to balance it all out.

The Interviewer is sworn to secrecy and does not share the complete recipe as a result. Either that or he forgot, take your pick.

(Note: This is actually inspired by that scene from Modern Family where Manny’s mom and girlfriend compete for his affections via hot chocolate.)

Well, it’s either the salt, or Amelia goes the full ‘boozy lady’ and adds a bit of alcohol to the cocoa. (To be honest, I actually prefer the salt theory, but with TAP, you can never be sure.)

Intern, what do you think?