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juliasgoodusername · 2 years

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Sometimes a girl has to go a little crazy. Sometimes a girl has to make a book-accurate floorplan for 300 Fox Way. These things just happen, sometimes.

Obsessive annotations under the cut ✨ but be warned, there's a LOT

Exterior

Okay first of all, I'm no architect, and my only knowledge comes from work experience in the real estate industry + a lot of Sims. The style is sort of neo-rural French colonial. I didn't set out to adhere to that standard so much as I made an amalgamation of homes in Blue Ridge Mountains-adjacent towns in Virginia. Specifically, my headcanon Henrietta template is Orange, VA (I'll save that explanation for another post) so I took inspiration from real estate listings from there.

Alright alright I know there is supposed to be one bathroom, but I simply can't tolerate that in a house with 6+ residents. I can't. There was a possible contradiction in the descriptions of "the single shared bathroom" that I used as an excuse to add a 3/4 bath, and I threw in a powder room for free. Because technically there is still only one full bathroom! But seriously with that many women over 30 most of them probably have IBS or chronic constipation and I'm not making them all share a toilet.

Officially we only have 4 bedrooms listed in text: Blue's, Persephone's, Maura's, and Calla and Jimi's shared one. Everyone else gets rooms that don't qualify as bedrooms via Virginia residential building codes (such as the attic, obviously, which falls below the combined ceiling height and square footage requirements). That really just leaves Orla unaccounted for but I'll get to that later. Other aunts and friends seem to visit during the day and live somewhere else, because in The Raven King only Jimi and Orla were described as needing to move out of the house during the demon stuff.

I designed the entire interior floorplan before I even touched the exterior, so there's a few issues, like how I'm totally missing shutters on the windows that functionally need them most. 🫶 I didn't feel like making the windows smaller to fit them, and I could have added faux-shutters but I think those are stupid. 😘

First floor

"This house is lovely. So many walls. So, so many walls," Malory said as Blue entered the living room a little later.

- Blue Lily, Lily Blue, Chapter 30

Right off the bat, we have an insane number of doors and walls. Old colonial houses are pretty much the opposite of open concept. Functionally I believe that's because it's easier to control heat with closed off rooms, but Virginia is not particularly cold so idk. As for the number of doors, I mean....😤😤😤 I prefer archways/doorless frames in small high-traffic spaces, but every time I thought I could get away with it Maggie would specifically describe doors opening and closing (For example BL,LB Ch 41 gives the reading room double doors, and even the living room gets one in Ch 11. What kind of living room needs a door???). I'm actually missing one of the doorways described in canon, but if you know which one I'm talking about I DARE you to find a place to put that thing!! But I digress.

“Mom," she said as she jumped down the crooked stairs.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 3

I'm liberally using "crooked" to establish the corner turn stairs. Blue steadies herself on the stair railing when she identifies Gansey for the first time (TRB Ch 15), so I wanted the stairs to have good visual access to visitors. It also sort of has a feng shui-ish effect of separating the public and private energy zones in the house. If that statement made zero sense, I think one of us doesn't know enough about feng shui 👀 and it might be me.

I'm also using that quote to establish Maura's room downstairs, if Blue generally expects to find her mother there, but mostly because everything else was upstairs and it was getting hard to fit. Granted, at one point Blue leads the boys "up the stairs to Maura's bedroom" (TDT Epilogue) but since they were just arriving at 300 Fox Way those stairs could easily be the outdoor ones. There's a handful of little things to support me here, such as Adam grabbing a scrying bowl from Maura's room to use in the reading room (BL,LB Ch 41) implying that her room was the closest place to find one. And speaking of Maura's room-

Calla was overwhelmed by how much shit Maura had in her room at 300 Fox Way, and she told Blue this.

... The mess was taking years from her life. ... Maura liked chaos.

... The psychic hotline rang in the room next door. Calla's concentration fluttered away.

- Blue Lily, Lily Blue, Prologue

Maura is my favorite hypocrite. She claims to detest clutter (TRB Ch 34) and yet her room is literally described as chaos. She probably treats her room like a college student and moves the furniture every time she gets bored/stressed. Thus, I gave her the most insane furniture configuration I could think of while still matching all the contents described.

The phone ringing next door might imply that she neighbors the phone/sewing/cat room, but that area is pretty well described and Maura's room is never mentioned there in any other instance. That leaves us with the kitchen phone (TRB Ch 27) which I put in the hallway with kitchen access as a compromise so it would technically still be in a room next to Maura's.

In the reading room, the man looked around with clinical interest. His gaze passed over the candles, the potted plants, the incense burners, the elaborate dining room chandelier, the rustic table that dominated the room, the lace curtains, and finally landed on a framed photograph of Steve Martin.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 13

There are so many quotes about the reading room that I just don't feel like citing them, but other details include the mismatched chairs, the shelves, doors etc. It's also described specifically as Maura's "front room" (TRB Prologue) so it's one of the cornerstones that I designed the rest of the layout around. Because of the plants, it makes sense that this room would be south-facing too. (Although idk how much light they get with the wraparound porch awning in the way. Oops lol!)

The outside suddenly seemed vivid in comparison to the dim kitchen. The April-bright trees pressed against the windows of the breakfast area, ...

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 3

Blue Stormed into 300 Fox Way's kitchen and began a one-sided interrogation with Artemus, who was still hidden behind the closed storage closet door.

- The Raven King, Chapter 9

Likewise, I'm using the particularly dim kitchen to place it on the north side, where we also know there's trees in the backyard.

I'll say the kitchen layout is weirder than it strictly needed to be because in the Virginia homes I referenced I adored all the strange kitchens, especially with old timey 'servants area' vibes where laundry kitchen and pantry are all connected. Instead of a kitchen island, they get one of those rolling kitchen carts which I doubled as a bar cart for the drinks they have in the living room.

The kitchen has a doorway to the hall (TRB Ch 13) and the living room is within view when Blue's on the kitchen phone (Ch 27).

Speaking of chapter 27, that's when we get the description "The morning light through the windows turned the drinks a brilliant, translucent yellow." So I put the living room on the east side of the house, where the rising sun would cast really strong light like that.

Second Floor

When she woke up, her normally morning-bright room had the breath-held dimness of afternoon. In the next room over, Orla was talking to either her boyfriend or to one of the psychic hotline callers.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 3

Blue headed toward the red-painted door at the end of the hall. On her way, she had to pass the frenzy of activity in the Phone/Sewing/Cat Room and the furious battle for the bathroom. The room behind the red door belonged to Persephone, ...

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 11

Blue's room and the Phone/Sewing/Cat room are our cornerstones for this floor. In several examples we know that the Phone/Sewing/Cat room faces the street and has a window (TRB Ch 15, BL,LB Ch 4). While Blue's room is "morning-bright," we also get descriptions of guests at the front door "backlit by the evening sun," (TRB Ch 15) so once again we're probably talking about south windows if it's sunlit at both times of day.

Adam sat awkwardly on the edge of Blue's bed. It felt strange to have so easily gained access to a girl's bed- room. If you knew Blue at all, the room was unsurprising - canvas silhouettes of trees stuck to the walls, leaves hanging in chains from the ceiling fan, a bird with a talk bubble reading WORMS FOR ALL painted above a shelf cluttered with buttons and about nine different pairs of scissors. Against the wall, Blue self-consciously taped up the drooping branch on one of the trees.

- The Dream Thieves, Chapter 49

We get some great descriptions of Blue's room (especially TRB Ch 43), although the above one is my favorite (#wormsforall). Every piece of furniture is accounted for exactly as described except the desk which I added because it seemed practical, and Blue is nothing if not practical™.

Persephone's room is also very well-described, all the way down to the furniture and lighting placement (BL,LB Ch 4 and TRB Ch 11) and it's surprisingly similar to Blue's room, if not a bit smaller. Her room gets strong afternoon sunlight, so I put it on the south too (BL,LB Ch 43).

Calla and Jimi share a room that's also upstairs (TRK Ch 16). Because they are the only two who have to share a room, I have justified that it must be the "master bedroom" (sorry for using that term) and is far bigger than the other bedrooms. I managed to fit two queen beds in there, but some scholars [me] would argue that Jimi and Calla might also share a bed because they are in love. Can you prove me wrong? No, you can't.

As for the bathroom, remember when I mentioned a possible contradiction? Famously, Maura draws the ley line symbol in the steamed up shower door (TRB Ch 1). However, much later we get Maura, Orla, Calla and Jimi all sitting in the bathtub for some kind of ritual (TRK Ch 9). No matter how I picture it, I can't put 4 full grown women in a bathtub together without someone partially sitting on/spilling over the side. But that would be impossible in a combo bath/shower enclosed by glass doors!! Thus, I gave The Bathroom a nice tub and put a small shower in the en suite of Jimi and Calla's room. I know this is a stretch but I don't really care.

Attic

Blue had never been a big fan of the attic, even before Neeve moved in. Numerous slanting roof lines provided dozens of opportunities to hit your head on a sloping ceiling. Unfinished wood floorboards and areas patched with prickly plywood were unfriendly to bare feet. Summer turned the attic into an inferno.

... In one of the narrow dormers, two full-length, footed mirrors faced each other, reflecting mirrored images back and forth at each other in perpetuum.

- The Raven Boys, Chapter 34

Trying to fit the attic access in after everything in the second floor was my biggest challenge, because stairs normally take up a lot of space and you have to be careful about head room. I'm the end, I decided it was one of those fold out attic doors that you have to reach from the ceiling of the hallway. We might get a lot of instances of the attic door being opened (😤 seriously, Maggie... 😤) but technically a trap door in the ceiling is still a door!

Dormers pretty much cemented the French colonial style for me. And you know the drill by now: a hot room probably means a lot of sun, which means I give it a south facing window!

Mud Room/Cellar/Basement

This cellar has absolutely zero mention in the text, but my justification is based in the architecture. So far we've got a funky old colonial house, built without a garage, lots of walls etc. Especially in a low-income/semi-rural area, it's not crazy to assume that 300 Fox Way was built before most residents had refrigerators (1930s-40s). Besides iceboxes, a major way to keep food fresh was root cellars. Modern renovations for old homes convert these to concrete basements, but that's why the basement is so small and connects to the kitchen.

My headcanon is that Orla originally shared a room. Pick whoever you want: Maura, Blue or Persephone, any of them would easily be such a chaotic roommate that Orla snapped and in a fit of teen girl rage moved herself down to the crummy dark basement. Over time, she made efforts to glamorize it, such as a vintage dressing screen to hide the flood drainage pump. The privacy also allows her to bring boyfriends over, even sneaking them through the mud room.

This is really just my artistic license, but I swear it makes a surprising amount of sense in context. There's cases of Orla sneaking into the kitchen (easier if she has a back entrance) and she's almost always using the phone upstairs or in the kitchen (because a basement would get bad reception) even though her calls get kinda ~intimate.

Aaaaaand I think that's everything. Sorry it doesn't look like the photo from the wiki at all, but I couldn't find a source for it and Victorian style wasn't super common in the areas I researched. Let me know if I missed anything major! I'll probably cry myself to sleep if so.

#happy hyperfixation friday everyone #January was a weird month for me ngl this was one of my more hinged projects if you can believe it #please don't let this flop tho like this definitely took longer than any drawing I've ever posted here #trc #the raven cycle #the raven cycle fanart #300 Fox Way #Blue Sargent #the raven boys #my art #trc unraveled

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jarate-pissman · 8 months

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Silly Doodle of TF2 if they were dogs. I wanted their accessories to resemble their human counterparts, but it can be difficult because putting a dog into human clothes is hard to draw.

Scout: A Boston Terrier. A breed known for being lively and happy, it's friendly and open to strangers. Scout as a guard dog would show you where his owners keep the valuables if you give him even a crumb of attention. Also, they can be bug eyed and derpy at times.

Pyro: A Dalmatian. Duh. With a bag on their head that resembles pyro.

Soldier: Solly is an American Pitbull Terrier. The fact that it's a controversial breed makes it an even better fit! ABPTs were used in combat missions in WWI and II. In WWII they appeared often on war propaganda posters. One of the most well known ABPT was named Sgt Stubby in WWI, and he earned himself numerous medals. Stubby is probably the deciding factor. Soldier has an American flag bandana and his food bowl over his eyes. He smells faintly of rotten bbq ribs.

Heavy: An Ovcharka (Caucasian Shepherd) while originally the breed hailed from Georgia, the USSR pushed to have the breed standardized. The huge dog breed was originally bred for guarding purposes, and has a serious and protective nature. Perfect for guarding his medic. He greatly treasures his Sandvich, a stuffed squeaky toy from the bargain bin at the pet store.

Demoman: A one-eyed Scottish terrier with a sturdy body and a manly beard. My personal experience with Scotties as a dog groomer is that they are absolute assholes who are wary of strangers squeezing their ass glands. I'm pretty sure Demo would bite me too if I touched his asshole. Demo has a squeaky bouncy ball that resembles a sticky bomb, one eye, and a hat that looks like a beanie.

Engineer: An American Bulldog. Mainly this was influenced by their stocky body and their friendly personality. Bulldogs are also a very intelligent dog breed that possess high endurance, agility, and strength. American Bulldogs were bred with the intention that they would be a farm dog. I would have gone with the Blue Lacy, but it didn't feel very Engie, despite being the only breed outta Texas. Engineer dog has doggles.

Spy: A french bulldog. Both the French Bull Dog and the Boston Terrier both descended from the Bulldog, so in a way they are related. While a poodle would have fit Spy as well, Frenchies are pretty expensive in their own right, and the cost of their medical bills might as well cost 5 poodles. They're like the luxury bulldog, and I feel like the fact that Spy and Scout's breeds resemble each other makes it better. Since dogs don't usually wear balaclavas, Spy-dog got his face stuck in a pair of red/blu underwear and started wearing them ever since.

Medic: What dog is more demanding, bratty, and sadistic than a Pomeranian? Pomeranians are extroverted, lively, alert, and highly intelligent dogs of German origin. They can be aggressive to humans and dogs to try and prove themselves. They don't seem to realize how small they are, and somehow wind up ruling the house anyways, even if there are other dogs. I can just imagine Medic-dog commanding Heavy-dog, and Heavy-dog going along with whatever he says. Medic has tiny glasses and a stray hair curl.

Sniper: A dingo. Aloof, mysterious, and a bit scrawny for his size, he's an excellent hunter who can brave the scorching bush and all Australia has to offer.

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thearchercore · 3 months

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the dynamic between charles and the other drivers fascinates me. We notice that despite Charles' personality and his social side, he is very selective with the drivers with whom he interacts and most of whom he ignores. The people he interacts with the most at the moment are Pierre, Max and Lewis. He got closer to Oscar this year (I think the anon is right, the fact that Oscar already has a connection with Arthur helped the interaction and we can see that Charles has taken Oscar under his wing a bit. He does it often with the young people, liam has already said that charles was one of the drivers who helped him the most with max). We know that Charles is close to Georges and Alex too. These are the drivers with whom he interacts the most, he is rather indifferent to the others. what i find fascinating is that max and charles act differently depending on the personality they seem to have. We might expect that it would be Max who would be the most indifferent to others when we can clearly see that he tries to interact with several other drivers, that we see him more often in groups than Charles. While Charles is very selective, he doesn't necessarily seek the presence of others, he really doesn't care 🤣. This is also in the fact that he ignores most of the drivers and teams who interact with him on the networks 🤣. I don't know if I'm expressing my thoughts well but I really have the impression that Charles is very disconnected from others, in the sense that he really doesn't care about what they do or say even when it's about him . For example, I think he is aware that some drivers are very mocking with him or when they talk about him, but I have the impression that the guy doesn't care about them so much that it doesn't matter to him, we have the impression that he prefers letting them think he's a little naive when it's just that he doesn't care. I don't know if I'm expressing what I want to say well, sorry 🤣🤣

i think this could be charles' personal trait, as you can see his inner circle of friends/work team is also very close.

charles is very picky about who he trusts so it could translate to his "colleagues". you have pierre, childhood friend and other french speaking driver on the grid (also, i still stand by what @valyrfia said that charles wouldn't be that close to pierre if he was a better driver with a better car and was an actual threat). lewis, who is his new teammate (so its a game of getting to know someone before you work together, but also establashing good public connection for pr purposes). george (and alex) who are his childhood karting friends. recently oscar, you know the prema arthur connection and i think he has similar mindset to charles so they're quite similar. and then, obviously, max. who seems a bit like an odd one out but i think they hold each other to such high standard that they became close just because of that - they have the same racing mindset and shared history and instead of beefing it out forever they ended up in each other's personal bubble.

with other drivers, charles barely interacts. (carlos has the teammate immunity but watch next year how charles drops him inevitably).

#grid dynamics

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youaresimplylovely · 5 months

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“Fast and Fabulous: A Driven Love”

---- A love story between a Formula 1 Driver and a Supermodel

Chapter 5 (Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz!Formula 1 Driver x Famous Supermodel!Reader

Words: 1,448 words

Warnings: humor, playful teasing, translated filipino and spanish, fluff and very sweet at the end <3

Proofread!!

Summary: Boys Night

A/N: oop we're already at chapter 5!! Thank you guysss for all the support and here is chapter 5. Once again if you want to be added to the taglist you can reply here or my other post about the taglist. Happy reading lovelies ! <3

After your short but meaningful stay in Japan, you were back home. Sweet Los Angeles, Pao picked you up from the airport, now driving you back home. Honestly, you were surprised that he knew how to drive. Well, closing the fact that he does have his license, it's just that he's growing too fast, and you missed it when he was a baby. Nevertheless, you were happy that your baby boy was big now.

Hours later, you and Pao arrived back home. Pao parked the car with you in your garage, which was filled with many other family-owned vehicles. After parking, you guys head out to go inside the house.

Meanwhile, your father invited not only the drivers but also some of their families. Boy, were you in for a surprise? In the living room, the drivers were already comfortable. The drivers invited were Max Verstappen, Check Perez, Lewis Hamilton, Valterri Bottas, Carlos Sainz, Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Sebastian Vettel, Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso, Esteban Ocon, Pierre Gasly, Yuki Tsunoda, Kimi Raikkonen, Antonio Giovinazzi, Nikita Mazepin, Mick Schumacher, Nicholas Latifi, and George Russell.

Along with them, Carlos' father, Charles' brothers, and your grandfather from your father's side, Grandpa Bernard, and your grandfather from your mother's side, Grandpa Diego.

You underestimated the number of men coming for a boy's night.

"You know Daniel, a big congrats on your race win. It was spectacular." Your father chuckles, opening a beer bottle as he sits on the sofa beside his dad, your grandfather, Grandpa Bernard.

"Thank you, Jean, it was nice. It was also nice seeing your family there too. Although I didn't see your daughter, though." Daniel smiles at your father.

"Yeah, we had a fun race; Pao was quite upset about Max and the crash." Your father grins at Daniel, eventually looking at Max and Lewis.

"Awful, but we're still best mates." Lewis laughs it off, wrapping his arm around Max's back and patting it.

"Jean, the boys have been asking if Y/N is single." Kimi laughs hysterically, telling on your father.

"Oh well, don't worry, she's been single for the past two years." Once the other drivers heard that, their eyes shifted to your father, giving them a look of "I can take good care of your daughter, sir." Your father laughed once he saw the looks.

"Ay, no, she is picky with men, though. She has high standards, but I don't know what her type is. Surely Pao knows they're very close." Mark says as he grins at everyone.

"You know, sir, Dutch people are very husband material. I'd very much like to." As Max tried to convince your father, Pierre's whimsical French accent cut him off.

"Ay no, monsieur, the French people are very good with women. Surely, you know that you're French too." Pierre gives your father a charming look, smiling eagerly

"Oh god, stop it, you people!" Fernando rolls his eyes at them, groaning. He was your godfather, so he is protective of you, especially if his co-workers are interested in you.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm good with Y/N dating an F1 driver." Your father chuckles, amused that the drivers were very interested in you.

Moments after that, the front door opened. Pao came in.

"Oh hey, bud, how was the drive back home?" Your father lights up, seeing Pao back home.

"You know the guys." Your father smiles as he eyes the drivers.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Pao smiles at them, greeting them warmly.

"Max." He smiles, reaching his hand out to shake it.

"You cried." James teases Pao, laughing at the fact Pao did cry.

"Oh, shut up." Pao rolls his eyes, smiling that Max shook his hand back.

"Hey, Pao-" Before you could finish your sentence, your eyes widened as you saw the drivers. You didn't know when they'd come and were caught off guard.

"Dad! You didn't tell they were coming!" You settle your bags down, whining at your father as you look at him dead in the eyes with your hands on your hips.

"What do you mean, honey? I told you right last Saturday." He smiles at you softly, worried at your reaction.

"Yeah! But you didn't tell me what time! Our house is a mess, lo siento. (I'm sorry)" You chuckle nervously as you apologize to Carlos' father and everyone else.

You hurriedly clean up some of the mess on the kitchen counter as Pao sits on one of the stools. While doing so, you couldn't help but feel Carlos' longing gaze. You couldn't see him, but you thought it.

"Now, this is what I mean when her Spanish-Filipino side comes out." Pao Snickers is watching clean up the mess.

The drivers smile as they chuckle at Pao's joke.

"Ay pao! No shoes

You said it without realizing your mother said it to you. Laughing as you see your mother glaring at Pao. You decide to let her do the scolding.

“Ano ba yan Pao! How many times! No shoes! Hindi ikaw ang naglilinis ng bahay na to, baba hanggang taas. (What’s that Pao! How many times! No shoes! You’re not the one who cleans this house from bottom to top.” Your mother glares at Pao, with her hands on her hips.

"Yes, ma." Pao chuckles nervously, immediately removing his shoes.

"Good. Now I have to go. Have a great night, darling." Your mother grabs her purse, quickly kissing your father's cheek as she leaves.

"So Pao, tell us. What's your sister's type in men?" Sebastian chuckles, asking on behalf of the others.

"Tall, handsome, great hair, older Spanish man currently driving for Ferrari, whose teammate is Charles Leclerc and ex-teammate is Lando Norris." Pao smiles brightly, standing up from his chair, and gives Carlos a pat on the back.

Your eyes widened at Pao and what he said. You stuttered, and so did your face. You stood next to Pao as you blinked at him endlessly.

"Um! So not true.”

You chuckle nervously, and it is clearly apparent that you are lying and denying it.

"You know, Y/N, lying is a sin, and you believe in God, right?" Pao smirked at you, causing the other drivers to chuckle. They weren't jealous of Carlos, but they were amused.

You couldn't reply, baffled at the fact he was right. Pao chuckles at your reaction, patting your shoulder as he points his finger up and makes a sign of the cross. Eventually going upstairs to his room. You stare at the drivers and at your father, still speechless, but you pick up your things and walk out. The drivers couldn't help but giggle at you having a crush on Carlos cause Carlos himself was amused.

Hours later, you were hanging around in the lounge area watching TV. Suddenly, your eyes shift behind you, and you see Carlos staring at you in the doorway. Eventually, he approaches you with a smug smile as he sits next to you.

"So you have a crush on me?" He stares at you, obviously with love in his eyes, leaning in closer, making the air thicken each second. You could feel and hear his warm breath against yours.

"Well, I- I'm sorry!" You couldn't help but say sorry; you looked down at him, embarrassed at the fact that you had a crush on him. Well, for so long now.

Carlos smiles softly at your cute behavior; he gently grabs your chin, lifting your face up as he stares at you. He smiles, putting the strand of hair on your face behind your ear.

"Que para mi amor? You know you're a very beautiful woman, and I appreciate you liking me. Because you know? The moment I saw you in that hotel, and I saw your confidence, braveness, and beauty. I fell in love with you. (What for my love?)"

You couldn't help but blush at his words, smiling happily as you put your hands on his hands, still in your chin.

"Can I court you?" He smiles softly, gently taking your hands and holding them in his.

"You're the first man to ask that." You giggle as you leave him holding your hands.

"And I'll make sure I'll be the best cariño." He lays his forehead against yours, still smiling.

"Then you're welcome to." You smile at him, giggling at how sweet he is.

"I can't wait to be there for you, mi amor, I'll wait a thousand lifetimes for you."

He kisses your forehead softly, smiling at you. He was like a teenager in love again. You were so happy that you may have found the man of your dreams, not "may." He really was the man of your dreams.

TAGLIST

@xoscar03 @sugarvibez @nikfigueiredo @itsjustkhaos @d3kstar

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #formula 1 au #carlos sainz x reader #fast and fabulous: a driven love

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murfpersonalblog · 1 year

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Thanks for tagging me @little-desi-historian! ❤️

YES, all of this takes me back to something I wanted to touch a lot more on in my original post when it comes to the historical male image, Percy, Lestat, and Matadors; because it truly does link back to how AMC is playing with dandyism and society's expectations about effeminate men.

Dandyism is a form of resistance culture. As I've said before, Lestat flouts gender norms because HE CAN do whatever he wants & get away with it. His androgyny's on a different level: effeminate or masculine, he's still a vampire, a SUPERnatural creature elevated beyond the bounds of social mores that determine what men & women could or SHOULD act/dress like. MANY people across social media have pointed to Lestat's limp wrists, long blonde "Barbie" hair and ESPECIALLY him dressing in drag in Ep7 as proof that he's the "wife/mother/woman/femme fatale" in Lousta's relationship, and THEN claim its either gender essentialism or homophobic/racist to say Louis is CANONICALLY female-coded one in BOTH the books and show (as AR said so). But no, Lestat in drag was a power move, because he doesn't care what anyone thinks/says/does--he'll just eat them. Mockingly eating the baby in a dress was a deliberate bastardization of motherhood/womanhood. Louis is called every homophobic name in the book by those expecting the black man to just take being insulted, but MARQUIS de Lioncourt DEMANDS being crowned KING of Mardi Gras, Krewe of Raj, & he'll show you exactly what he thinks about your silly homophobic hypocritical human society: You're just "the MEAT," let them eat KING Cake--you're his FOOD. Eff y'all, I'm dressed to KILL you, & laugh doing it.

Lestat's behavior is not only derived from the time period he was born & raised in (the Rococo era of so-called "effeminate" high class dandies--a la Percy Blakeney, etc). Lestat is the embodiment of PRIVILEGE: a powerful rich white male vampire, who leans into being foreign/French White to excuse anything he does that people find strange/off/unnatural/dangerous--all the red flags. 🚩🚩🚩

And red flags brings me directly back to matadors/toreros.

@toscrollperchancetomeme

😂 TYSM! Sam Reid dropped so many juicy deets; I couldn't resist! There's so much depth to the Matador outfit, beyond the gendered aspect of bullfighting that I discussed before. Let's go back to what Sam said about Lestat, and delve deeper into matadors:

The most iconic apparel worn by toreros ("bullfighters") / matador de toros ("killer of bulls") in Spanish bullfighting is the Traje de Luces, the "Suit of Lights." The colors are usually bright & vivid, as part of the showmanship & pizzazz. Darker palettes are less common, as shiny sequins (the luces/lights) became part of the standard fit.

However, Lestat's all-black Matador outfit from what Sam called the "villain sequence" in Ep5 seems to be loosely following the style of a different but very closely related outfit, the Traje Campero "Rural/Countryside Suit" aka Traje Corto ("Short Suit").

(These costumes are typically worn during ceremonial parades and a very specific festival I'll get back to in a moment, cuz it's important.) Unlike the Suit of Light's sequins & silk, the Rural Suit is made of suede, leather, or velvet, in dark muted colors. The pants can be light or dark, striped & patterned, with or without chaps (also found in gentleman's uniforms of military officers and cowboys).

The trajes originated from "the flamboyant costumes of the 18th-century dandies and showmen involved in bullfighting, which later became exclusive to the bullfighting ritual." (Wikipedia)

The ancestor of both trajes (luces/campero) is traditional 17th-19th century Andalusian clothing (Andalusia being the home of Spanish bullfighting), closely associated with a very particular type of masculine dandyism. (The campero/corto is also the costume worn by Andalusian male flamenco dancers.)

"Before the 17th century the profession of bullfighting did not exist as such, and the fighters did not wear luxurious & shiny trajes de luces, but instead normal clothes of the time according to the social class to which the bullfighter belonged. The first bullfighter trajes de toreros appeared in the 17th century, when professional bullfighters from Navarre & Andalusia wore characteristic garments with their gangs to participate in performances and thus differentiate themselves from other bullfighter bands." (translated/truncated from Spanish website)

In the mid-1700s, Francisco Romero revolutionized professional bullfighting by establishing the first matadors who fought on foot, heroically fighting the bull face to face with swords & the muleta (iconic red flag) in a dance-like performance, dressed in a suede/velvet coleto (jacket), a precursor to the traje campero. Romero (from a carpenter family) wanted to show off & stand out from the nobility, and changed the game entirely, through a form of social resistance-turned-innovation.

"At that time, bullfighting on horseback was more important, which was considered a sport and not a show. Bullfighting on foot was not yet widely recognized." (translated from Spanish website)

Bull-killing on horseback was practiced by Spanish noblemen, attended by lower class assistants on foot. Romero was the first to make on-foot matadors the stars of what was increasingly becoming a dandified show/performance/dance. Matador Joaquin "Costillares" Rodríguez introduced even more showmanship, competing against Francisco Romero's grandson Pedro Romero (famously painted by Goya--bottom right).

For his matches, Costillares (middle) dressed in flashy silks, threaded in shiny silver braiding; the precursor to modern traje de luces. Like Francisco Romero (left), Costillares wanted to show off & stand out; and revolutionized the male image of the bullfighter through clothes.

In 18th-19th century Andalusian Spain there were 2 types of dandy: the French-imported upperclass petimetre (effeminate dandy), and the indigenous working class majo (masculine/macho dandy).

Noyes, Dorothy. “La Maja Vestida: Dress as Resistance to Enlightenment in Late-18th-Century Madrid.” The Journal of American Folklore 111, no. 440 (1998): 197–217. https://www.jstor.org/stable/541941

The majo, like many dandies, became the peak of Andalusian fashion, across all social classes; and torero/matador outfits weren't the only ones to take cues from them:

18th-19th century majos "distinguished themselves by their elaborate outfits and sense of style in dress and manners, as well as by their cheeky behavior. The majos outfits were exaggerations of traditional Spanish dress. The style stood in strong contrast to the French styles affected by many of the Spanish elite under the influence of the Enlightenment. Majos were known to pick fights with those they saw as afrancesados ("Frenchified" – fops)." (Wikipedia)

The majos' flamboyant/cheeky/saucy/exaggerated behavior was aggressively masculine; a lower/working class resistance to social mores imposed on them by (foreign) elites, whom they saw as more feminine, and FOUGHT against, to reaffirm their masculinity. These dandies were violent, brazen non-conformists; as beautiful & stylish as they were dangerous. And matadors/toreros knew that the bullfight was the perfect arena to exemplify the spirit of the majos through the dandified performance art/sport of killing bulls--a universal cultural symbol of masculine prowess & strength. Spanish bullfighting used to belong solely to the aristocratic equestrian sphere. Lowly pages/assistants like Francisco Romero (dressed in the precursor to the Rural/Countryside Suit), were the first to buck the system by killing bulls on foot--he likely didn't own a horse. The Romeros were from a carpenter family. Costillares was the son of a butcher. But through bullfighting they gained social status and became icons of masculinity--and dandies.

Lestat--the nouveau riche son of a poor country marquis--insists on being all the beautiful things he is without apology: masculine & effeminate alike. But like I said, it was no coincidence that Carol likened Lestat's Ep5 villain outfit with matadors--he's fighting Louis for dominance in their household, and reaffirming his place at the top of their very gendered social hierarchy, as a warning to BOTH "the housewife" AND "the prodigal daughter" he feels are threatening his authority as their Maker, so he defeats them BOTH.

Carol Cutshall initially designed Lestat's matador pants as pajamas--loungewear. (Lestat's CASUAL & comfortable in his ability to KILL--matador means "Killer" in Spanish--and remember what I said about Louis & Claudia being put on the same parallel level in Ep5, when Claudia's attacked by "Killer" aka Bruce.) Sam said Carol made several versions of the pants; and yup, they're foreshadowed in Ep5 when Lestat first starts arguing about Louis' depression, then they pop up again in Ep7 during the Murder Plot--two instances @dwreader brilliantly linked Lestat (& Stanley Kowalski) wearing wifebeaters. (Listen, Carol, I just wanna talk.... 😅🔫)

And here's my last points about Lestat's matador outfit. First there's the irony of Lestat (who grew up poor in rural France) wearing the something very similar to the matador/torero's Rural Suit, traje campero (aka Short Suit (traje corto)). But what's more interesting is that that type of Short/Rural Suit is usually only worn during special festivals called the Tienta ("trials"), not the regular corrida ("bullfights").

These Tienta are trials for young and immature bulls to be tested in the ring, to see if they're fit for breeding/fighting. 🤯 FLEDGLINGS. And who's Lestat's young bull? "Built-like-a-bird" Claudia. Who's the immature bull? The "biggest rat eater of them all," the under-developed "botched" vampire Louis. During these trials, veteran matadors can show off their skills; and novice bullfighters are shown the ropes and prove themselves. Like I said: the matador wins again.

God, even the way Lestat dragged Louis' bloody body out of the courtyard by the jaw/neck resembles the way the defeated bull--bled out & stabbed in the neck--is dragged by the neck out of the ring.

And remember what I said about Lestat and FOOD. Cuz what happens to the bulls after the matadors kill them? They're sent to the slaughterhouse to be butchered for FOOD. People EAT the bulls.

So yeah, my whole point in this post and my first one is not to sleep on guys like Lestat, Percy--or even other famous dandies like Valmont from Dangerous Liasions/Cruel Intentions (mentioned by both @little-desi-historian and @dwreader)--just because they're effeminate--especially when they're emulating mannerisms from a time period where the model of what made a fashionable gentlemen/good breeding/elite society did NOT match modern expectations about gender. People are getting distracted by Lestat's yaasified manner, not what the show itself is signalling through the relationships he has with others.

This show is deliberately painting Lestat as a villain through Louis' & Claudia's perspectives, as they were the ones who suffered under his Reign of Terror. The symbolism behind the matador-inspired costume used in Ep5 reflected gendered social hierarchies embedded within bullfighting culture (in Spain, women only started being allowed to fight in the 19th-20th centuries). Dressed in clothes resembling that of a matador, Lestat beating & defeating Louis mirrored the defeat of the emasculated bull, and the reification of the victor's masculine prowess at the top of the foodchain.

#the vampire lestat #male fashion #fashion history #gender inequality #read a dang history book #operation matador #iwtv tvc metas #lestat de lioncourt

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thefandomdirtymind · 1 year

Text

Masterlist and Coming Soon !

SFW:

Shiny Offering

The Mermaid Dream ( Request)

The Magic of a Kiss ( Request)

I though I knew love ( Request)

Trust Issue (Request)

Wait for me (Shanks Request)

The Haircut

His High Standard Princess ( Request)

Stand by Me

Better late than never ( Request)

Ice cream ( Request)

Oregano and other things (Request)

You left me ( Request )

NSFW

The Small Favor

Casual Part 2 Part 3 (Finish serie)

Under his touch ( Request)

SANJI SPEAK FRENCH EVENT

The French book

Let's make a deal

The many way to say I love you

TAZ AU

Christmas Tradition

COMING SOON

I though I knew love (Request)

Trust Issue (Request)

High standard (Request)

Better late than never (Request)

Shank ( Request)

Origano and other things ( Request)

When you left me ( Request)

Casual Part 2 ( Request)

Love is caring (Request)

Safe Word (Request)

The Haircut

Ice cream

Casual Part 3 NSFW (Request)

Under his touch NSFW (Request)

I see you (Request)

Tell me i'm wrong (Request)

The sound of my heart (Request)

Safe with me now (Request)

Cherry lips NSFW ( Request)

Mine NSFW (Request)

Through his eyes (Request)

The titles aren't totally fixe and I still add some title if I have other ideas.

#opla!sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece netflix #opla #opla sanji #vinesmoke sanji x reader #one piece #one piece sanji #opla vinesmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #request #OPLA masterlist #Taz Sklyar

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magicalgirlsandcerulean · 2 months

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Comments from Boueibu VAs regarding 10 year anniversary/movie

Can't remember who exactly was asking for a translation of these, but if no one else has tackled them yet (as of posting this)...see under the cut.

Kazutomi Yamamoto (Yumoto's VA):

Everyone! Have you been well?

Already, 10 years have passed since we first yelled, "We are the heirs to the throne of love!" The days we spent with Yumoto, with the Defence Club! The days we conveyed love with the anime, the days we made merry with Nico livestreams, the days we shared the love with events!

Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu...whatever it might be, it's nostalgic.

At this turning point called the 10 year anniversary, a decision has been made to make a movie! There'll be stuff like the Ikaho collab, stuff where I play Yumoto, but speaking of the new movie, I look forward to being able to meet everyone as Yumoto again! Again and again!

Yuichiro Umehara (En's VA):

I am amazed it has been 10 years.

I played this role in the early years of my [voice acting] debut, so I'm very happy to play him again. Chikyuu Boueibu is an unpredictable work, so at the present time, I don't know what kind of story will be depicted. However, I am looking forward to it.

I think it'll be a story where we'll certainly laugh and be emotionally moved, but because it is an unpredictable story, at the present time, I don't know what kind of story will be depicted.

I look forward to Love Making for the first time in a long time, but because it is an unpredictable story, at the present time, I don't know what kind of story will be depicted.

But it'll be a work you'll be able to enjoy - make no mistake.

Thank you in advance.

Kotaro Nishiyama (Atsushi's VA):

Congratulations on the 10 year anniversary!

Being able to celebrate the 10th anniversary like this makes me happy from the bottom of my heart. Then a decision was made to make a new movie. I'm really happy to be able to meet them [the LOVE! Defence Club] in animation again! Please look forward to their powered-up activities and unchanging vibe.

Well, let's go have chicken curry with added spinach! [1]

Yusuke Shirai (Io's VA):

Congratulations on Boueibu's 10th anniversary and Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu ETERNAL LOVE! ＼(^o^)／ Boueibu is a work which I have a lot of emotional attachment to and it was a huge launchpad for me. I'm happy to play Io-kun again because this is the first time in a long time I've been able to do so. ( ´∀`) I want to meet them [the LOVE! Defence Club] again soon!!!

Toshiki Masuda (Ryuu's VA):

Congratulations on the 10 year anniversary and movie!

It's already been 10 years, huh? It's a work where we had this, that and a lot of experiences. If [Boueibu LOVE!] were to be made into a movie, I can't imagine what form it would take. I have high hopes for the fact our paths have successfully crossed again - Ryuu Zaou, who might have been changing in the work, and myself, who was changed by his influence in those days. I wish for this work to be one a lot of people can love, both for those who were cheering them [the LOVE! Defence Club] on in those days and those who've known them for the first time just now.

Mugihito (Wombat's VA):

Well well, after 6 years(?), Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu has been revived.

Really, whatever will become of the existence of the mysterious outer space lifeform, Wombat...?

Battle Lovers, let's do our best-maccho!! [2]

[T/N 1: For the unaware, epinard = spinach in French.]

[T/N 2: Ganbattemaccho instead of the more standard ganbarimashou.]

#boueibu #Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu LOVE!#Binan Koukou Chikyuu Boueibu Eternal Love!#Yumoto Hakone #En Yufuin #Atsushi Kinugawa #Io Naruko #Ryuu Zaou #Wombat #Kazutomi Yamamoto #Yuichiro Umehara #Kotaro Nishiyama #Yusuke Shirai #Toshiki Masuda #Mugihito #(Honestly I was pretty moved when I read Ume's “first time in a long time” comment.)#(Yoroshiku onegaishimasu is no longer slippery for me - Coto Academy has a good page explaining it.)

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strawberryfairi · 7 months

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Haruchiyo Sanzu | Date Night!🩷

Haru X Black Fem! Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️)

You had a special dinner date tonight with your boyfriend Haruchiyo, and you wanted a different look now that your french curl braids were taken out. Deciding for the quick and easy route, you get out one of your special occasion wigs, a deep midnight blue body wave wig with curtain bangs. You loved the way this hair framed your face, and the midnight blue was such a unique look as opposed to the standard 1B (black) color.

You're getting ready in the bathroom, all your wig products and makeup items splayed across the sink and even the closed toilet seat. Your date night playlist was blasting, an excited smile plastered across your lips as you prepare for a fun night.

Suddenly your phone rings...

Haru💖

Your smile widens as you reach for your phone, the music turning off as your phone was connected to your speaker.

"Hey baaabe! What's goin-

"What happened to your hair!?" He cuts you off, mouth hanging wide open as he gawks at you through the screen.

"What'chu mean? I'm doing it right now." You furrow your brows, trying not to laugh at the expression on his cute face.

"But...you had-..why'd you go and re-dye it? What happened to all your braids?!" He asks completely bewildered.

"Stop...." You deadpan, "Do not start again with this."

"I-..."

"Now Haru..." You warn, narrowing your eyes as you still try not to laugh.

"Babe, you know damn well this is a wig! I took my braids out-the fake hair-and put my hair up for this wig you see me with right now." You explain slowly, giggling a little as you watch the cogs turning in his head.

Somehow even after all this time together (a year and seven months), Haru still hasn't fully clicked into how versatile and changeable black hair really is. It throws him off when you go from faux locs to your natural afro, then suddenly bust out a wig like right now. He tries so hard to keep up too, it's so sweet.

You remember the days where you had to start with the absolute basics. The day you two met he'd spoken to you first, complimenting your hair and wondering how you got it to be so "fluffy". It was in it's natural state that day, a simple high puff ponytail with your edges laid. You tried so hard not to laugh at his awestruck expression when you explained it's naturally "fluffy". Then the rest was history...

"So...you didn't dye your hair?" He asks, raising a brow.

"No baby, none of this is mine. I haven't had my natural hair out since last month." You explain with a smile, setting the phone down on the sink to continue with your hair.

"Well shit, I like it! It frames your face well." He compliments with a proud smile.

"Thank you!" You grin, giving him cheesy air kisses.

"I'm gonna pick you up soon; be there around seven thirty."

"K!" You beam, heart fluttering in excitement.

"I love you baby! Oh, I'm takin' you somewhere new this time; you'll love it." He grins.

"Aaaaw ok! I love you too, Haru! See you soon."

#sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #haruchiyo #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #akashi haruchiyo #black fem reader #black female writer #black y/n #sanzu #sanzu fluff #fluff #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x black reader #sanzu x black fem reader #sanzu x reader fluff #strawberryfairi🧚��‍♀️

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ahungeringknife · 1 year

Text

365 May 3-6

After a point Desmond just came to the understanding that his life was weird and he really didn't feel like arguing with it anymore. Coming back from the dead? Near death? Limbo? Whatever did that to a person. He was so beyond his life throwing arguably impossible shit at him.

"I'm home," he said looking at the living room of his apartment that absolutely should not fit as many people in it as it did. And yet.

The first week it'd happened he was sure he was having a new mental break down. But no. That'd have been a reasonable explanation for a bunch of murderers showing up at his door looking like people out of a ren fair. He didn't know why they were there. They didn't know why they were there. When Desmond asked they just grabbed his blackened hand or arm. They were drawn to it. Somehow? For some reason?

Seven languages all roughly saying, "Welcome back," came in a chorus. They could all understand him at least. Whatever fucked up magic or whatever had given him that at least so he didn't have to sift through seven different tongues in his head to pull out the one he wanted.

"I brought bread," he said which got everyone interested. He didn't anticipate people from previous centuries to be picky eaters but they absolutely were. And that didn't even cover Ezio's insanely high standards for olive oil, which he basically drank. But everyone ate bread. Thank god. He always had to go down a few blocks for an actual bakery because of course they wouldn't eat store bread. The bakery knew him on sight now since he'd been going there every other day for a month and bought the exact same arrangement of bread. When they saw him coming in they just packed up his order for him.

"Everyone get their shit done while I was gone?" he asked amid some talking. Some of them could communicate but it was a near thing. Some of them even spoke English, which was cool.

"It was boring, but yes," Ezio said.

"Good. Who wants to make dinner?" Desmond asked, going into the kitchen and taking the bread out.

"Everyone stop looking at me," Evie said. "Just because I'm a woman."

Desmond didn't engage while Jacob was defending his sister's honor, or whatever. After a bit of bickering he called out, "Fine then we're all going to be unhappy and Altair will cook." There was some groaning.

"Fools," Altair said and Desmond was the only one who understood. He got up from where he was sitting on the floor and entered the little kitchen with Desmond. "My cooking isn't that bad... now," he added. Altair, like the rest of them, were not how Desmond remembered them from the memories as mostly wild and blood thirsty twenty-somethings. They were all older. In their thirties or forties. It was still weird seeing Altair in a beard. At least he wore it better than Ezio.

"Yeah you don't burn my pans now," Desmond said. Desmond still helped him figure out what to do. They all knew how to use the appliances by now but other than Connor, Bayek, and Evie none of them had ever had to cook for themselves until they'd shown up in Desmond's life. But like good Assassins they all took to instruction quickly and Desmond just had to tell them what to do and they figured it out.

"How much longer are we staying here?" Arno had come around to the kitchen while Altair was cutting onions with freakish laser precision. Desmond wasn't sure Altair couldn't understand French but he always acted like he couldn't so he didn't push it.

"I dunno. Until you guys fucking leave?" Desmond said. Who knew when that would be. Who knew why that would be or how!

Arno gave him an annoyed look. "I know that. But this is unsustainable," he motioned to the living room which had all the furniture shoved into the corners to make enough room for everyone to sleep. Desmond's bedroom also had some sleeping space on the floor. "Even at our lowest this is too much."

"Well if I want to break my lease I need to pay a fee. And then I have to find a new place that I can afford. And if you guys all fucking vanish one day I'm going to be in a big place all by myself unable to pay. I don't mind having roommates from former head mates but actual normal people? I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged," Altair said behind him.

"Shut it, you," Desmond frowned at him but Altair wasn't even looking at him.

Arno was also frowning. "Well perhaps it would be more useful if we put our minds to figuring out what happened to bring us here instead of what you have us doing."

"If you want to go ahead but I can't afford to feed someone who isn't helping," Desmond said, folding his arms. Because magic that they could all understand his spoken English they could also understand written English. Desmond had found all of them some reasonable paying translation gig work. Desmond knew they all hated it but also had no idea what to do in this century, let alone how to cross a street without almost being run over by a car.

Arno also folded his arms and mirroring Desmond. "I am not a stranger to hardship. But I'm tired of waking up with someone's feet in my face. Also Jacob snores; loudly," he put a pained look on his face.

Desmond grimaced. He could sympathize. Before he could keep going with Jacob Altair tugged his sleeve. He turned around. "Is this right?" and it was still so baffling hearing a hard ass like Altair ask him something so kindly.

Desmond looked over the chopped vegetables Altair had in the pan. He'd added raisins. Always with the fucking raisins with Altair. "Looks fine. Don't cook it too long or it'll turn to mush." He turned back to Jacob. "Look I'm not unsympathetic. I just don't know what to do myself," he said.

"Can we help you? Clearly we're supposed to be here? So we should help you."

Desmond sighed, "I would love that but none of you know how to use a computer."

"... A what?"

"Exactly."

"Is that the little glass tablet you carry around with you?" Arno asked.

"Yes."

Arno looked conflicted. "It seems... confusing but I'm willing to figure it out if it gets me into an actual bed."

"Fine," Desmond said and already knew it was going to give him a headache. "This weekend when I'm free."

Arno smiled. "Great," and he walked off.

Desmond sighed dramatically. "Punk," Altair grumbled, or about as close an approximation as Desmond could translate out.

"I knew you could speak French," and Desmond punched his arm.

"My wife is French, of course I can," Altair said with a grunt. "His accent is so snooty. I hate it."

"He's Parisian," Desmond said.

"No wonder he sounds like a prick," Altair grumbled and Desmond laughed.

--------

Having seven people crowding your space while trying to use your laptop was... something. It sure was something. Somehow they all managed to perch around him without getting in each other's way too and were all staring intently at the screen. Desmond had been talking to them, very slowly, for about three hours now explaining how a computer worked. He typically had all their translation work printed out and then on his days off typed it all into the programs or emails for the clients.

Surprisingly the one who seemed to understand it the best were the two old guys Altair and Bayek. Bayek was especially insane because he was from before the common era. Like the numbers ticked down on the grand time line of human civilization from where Bayek was from. Desmond wasn't particularly surprised by Altair who'd had his head in the future through the Apple for decades. That didn't mean either of them were good at it but they asked the least questions when he asked if they understood.

"I think that's about as much as I can just explain. You have to try it now. Who wants a go?" Desmond asked. He expected Arno to immediately volunteer. Hadn't he been the one excited to help him find a new apartment?

"I do," Bayek said.

"Weren't they still playing with sticks and rocks in your time?" Jacob asked, not knowing what Bayek was saying but getting the idea. Evie smacked his arm, hard, making him complain.

"Sit," Bayek sat. "It's light, hold onto the keyboard area so it doesn't fall off your lap," Desmond said and put the laptop on Bayek's crossed legs. There was a moment of confusion as Bayek figured out how to use the touch pad but then he got it. "I'm surprised you're at all good with this," Desmond said casually.

His answer absolutely floored Desmond. "This is nothing compared to the Isu ruins." Desmond hadn't personally lived through Bayek but he'd been told the story. Bayek was really good at telling stories. "That is actual confusing shit."

"What'd he say?" Ezio asked.

"He said it's nothing compared to Those Who Came Before," he said. "Didn't know Egypt had that sort of tech involvement with the Isu," he said thoughtfully.

"Ask him if it's as easy as it appeared when you did it," Arno said.

Desmond did and relayed it back while Bayek was clicking around on the computer and internet. "He said it's like reading a scroll where the words and pictures move with your thoughts."

"How poetic," Arno said.

"I also wanna try," Evie said.

"Yes, and I," Ezio said.

"Give him a few minutes," Desmond said.

"The keyboard is... confusing. I know what these letters mean but their arrangement is-- quite stupid," Bayek said.

"Yeah, basically," Desmond agreed.

"It also hurts my eyes."

"Yeap. It'll do that too," and he took the laptop back. Then Evie got to mess around with it while Bayek rubbed his eyes. He hadn't blinked the entire time. Then it was Ezio's turn once she'd had a go at it.

"Is there a way to see these mmm- webbed sites in Italian?" Ezio asked.

"Sort of? Just type into the text box in Italian. It should pull up Italian sites."

Watching Ezio pick and poke through what he wanted to ask Google was excruciating. "Ha! Italian," and he scrolled through the search results. Desmond leaned over to see what he was looking at.

"Hey!" Desmond snatched the laptop away. He switched into Italian himself to scold him and god he sounded a lot like Claudia by the way Ezio wilted. "Don't look up boobs on my fucking laptop. Of course I leave you alone for a minute and you're trying to see some tits. What are you? Seventeen again?"

He was going to have to put child locks or something on this thing so these Assassins didn't give his laptop a fucking virus looking up porn. "What can I say. I'm a man of simple pleasures?" Ezio said with a wry grin.

"Banned," Desmond pointed at him in annoyance.

He let everyone try out the laptop. No one was as taken with it as Bayek and Connor somehow almost broke it. Arno at least came away from the lesson and hands on part being slightly confidant in using it. Everyone also complained it hurt their eyes. Because none of them blinked while using the laptop. Blue light was hell of a thing.

They dispersed after that. Bayek, who still sat next to him, said, "Can you show me more things?"

"Sure? Like what?"

"I want to know what happened to Egypt," he said. "And the Romans. And the Greeks. Are they still around?"

"Well Ezio is what you could call Roman," Desmond said slowly. "He lived in Rome, the city, for a while."

"Is Rome no longer an empire?"

Desmond chuckled, "Buddy, they wish."

"... I would like to see what made Rome fall," he said, not in a sad way but rather he was very interested. "And what happened to Julius," his eyes narrowed.

"You're going to love what happened to Cesare," Desmond said and pulled up some wikipedia articles. He showed Bayek how to navigate the site, what the colors meant, what the little numbers next to words meant, and the sources at the bottom. After that Bayek was glued to it. "And make sure you blink," Desmond added. Bayek nodded.

Desmond got off the couch and wandered into his room, flopping down onto his bed. That had taken so long. He picked up his phone and looked at it. It was only mid afternoon. He had a few missed texts. It looked like they were from work. He ignored them. He wasn't paid enough to answer texts on his day off.

----

Desmond was used to being watched at this point even if he couldn't see them. Didn't bother him. This time when he looked across the Goodwill it was Jacob staring right at him looking like he was dying while Evie was trying to find some clothes. Seemed that even after a few hundred years brothers still would rather die than shop with their sisters. He chuckled to himself and went back to ignoring him.

Desmond was more concerned with convincing Bayek and Connor that no they couldn't just walk around shirtless or tank tops all the time.

"But it will get in the way of my movement," Bayek said about the long sleeved shirt Desmond was trying to get him in. It was summer so was pretty warm and Bayek had never existed in any sort of cold weather in his life. His logic was sound for Egypt.

"Yeah but you can't enter most stores without a shirt, dude," Desmond said. Connor was more accepting of full shirts having grown up around Westerners but Desmond remembered being in his head. He always felt too big for in his clothes. Especially Achilles' old uniform that he'd nearly ripped several times from just how thick his arms were.

"But it's hot out. We don't need sleeves until later in the year," Connor said.

"What'd he say?" Bayek asked and Desmond repeated it. Honestly a lot of the time he was just repeating what everyone said so any two of them could hold a conversation. "Why would the time of year matter?"

"Winter?"

"... What is that?"

Desmond pinched the bridge of his nose. "Think like the flood season but instead it gets cold."

"It would get cold in Egypt sometimes," Bayek said.

"No like water turns into ice," Desmond explained.

"But it's not like that now? And there's so much clothes here surely I won't want for them," Bayek said. Everyone had been pretty stunned when Desmond had brought them to Goodwill and it was just filled with more clothes than any of them had seen in one place.

"In winter cold weather clothes tend to go quick," Desmond said.

"Hmm-

"Desmond," he looked over at Evie's voice as she came through the aisle. Jacob was sulking a ways away.

"Sup."

"My brother is useless as ever. I need input on these modern clothes," she said.

"Sure."

Evie showed him two shirts. They looked pretty nice and were fairly subdued, which he expected. One was a feathery blouse, the other was a thin sweater. They complimented her skin color. Desmond didn't know a lot about fashion but he'd seen enough women come into a bar to know what was good. "Which one?"

"I like them both," Desmond said.

"That is not helpful," she said.

Desmond reached over and grabbed the tags. They were both five bucks each. "Do you like them?"

"Yes."

"Then you can get both-

"What?" she asked, confused. "But these are so fancy and high quality," she said. Desmond knew the Industrial Revolution had been going on during Evie's time but fast fashion was a hell of a thing.

"It's fine, they're just a few dollars-

"That's expensive! Are you sure?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Yeah. If you like them we can get them. Make sure you find some bottoms you like too to match."

"Are you really sure?" she asked.

"Yes. And tell your brother to stop looking like a creep and pick out some clothes too," Desmond said.

She rolled her eyes. "He knows no other way. But yes, thank you," she held the clothes to her and walked off.

"Those are expensive though, are you sure?" Connor asked. He understood modern money better than Bayek who was ignoring them and looking at clothes.

"It's about the equivalent of fifteen cents," Desmond said, knowing Connor would understand that.

"Oh! Really?"

"Yeah. Inflation is hell of a thing-- don't worry about it, it's economics," he told Connor who just looked so confused.

"I think I like this one," Bayek said and Desmond sighed when he pulled out the most Dad shirt he could have found. It was a tie die tank top. "Finally something brightly colored. This time is so drab," he scoffed. The worst part was Desmond knew he'd absolutely wear it.

"Okay," Desmond said, defeated. Then he groaned at the sound of some very angry Arabic a few rows over. "Now what?" he looked and saw Ezio harassing Altair about... something? "Excuse me. Before Altair kills his biggest fan boy," Desmond said. "Find a shirt that fits you, Connor," he told Connor and went over to where Altair very nearly had his hands on Ezio's neck.

Desmond easily slotted himself between the two of them. "What's this about?" he asked.

"Ezio says I dress like a woman," Altair pointed at Ezio furiously.

"... What? Also how do you know what he's saying?"

"He's just speaking a different version of Latin," Altair said. "That isn't the point!"

Desmond turned to Ezio. "Did you say he's dressing like a girl?"

"I said he'd look like a fancy lady with his dress," Ezio said and yeah Desmond got why Altair was about to kill him.

"Take like twenty steps back while I defuse this bomb you made," Desmond told Ezio.

"I resent that," Altair growled at him.

Ezio did step back and Desmond turned around to him. "So what did he get you about?" Altair raised a shapeless dress that was very much a dress but it was also shaped like a thobe which was traditionally exactly what an old guy like Altair would wear. "Looks like a thobe to me," Desmond said, realizing what Altair was going for.

"Yes. That's what I tried to tell him."

"But it's a dress too."

"So?"

"Look I don't care," Desmond raised his hands before Altair bit his head off. "You'll get looks if you wear that though and I know you hate being perceived." Altair grimaced at that. "If you want a thobe I'll order you one or find one at a Middle East bodega or something but you should just find some pants and a shirt." Altair huffed in annoyance. "Yeah I know, you hate rules. Get over it," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"I am more annoyed you know me better than myself at times," Altair grumbled, arms folded. "Same as the rest."

"Trust me I really wish I didn't. Either way, we can still get it if you want but I would suggest pants."

"Fine," Altair huffed.

"Connor, Connor," he heard Bayek calling from the end of the aisle. At the least that was something they could do. Desmond watched Connor join Bayek down the aisle and Bayek triumphantly held up an old sleeveless Laker's jersey. Desmond snickered imagining Connor's face of horror at the yellow and purple monstrosity. Connor for his part waved his hands like he didn't want it.

An hour or so later Desmond was finally in line for check out with the others. Evie had taken what he'd said to heart and found a bunch of stuff but everyone else was still too stunned by the variety to pick more than three or four pieces. The cashier was pleasant and had clearly seen weirder shit than a guy like Desmond shepherding a bunch of adults forward to have their clothes rung up and then put into individual bags. The total wasn't even that bad for buying clothes for seven people. The more modern Assassins still gasped or gagged at the price but Desmond didn't flinch at the hundred and seventy dollar price tag.

"That had to be wrong," Connor said once they were leaving.

"What was?" Desmond asked.

"The price-

"You said not to worry. That was a fortune!" Evie cried.

"It was like five dollars," Desmond said.

"That's not what the cash register said," Evie insisted.

"It's the equivalent of five dollars," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Seriously?" Jacob asked.

"Yes. Seriously."

"That's still a lot of money," Arno said.

"For seven people buying clothes that is a steal. I've seen people buy a single shirt for five dollars," and he chuckled when Evie, Jacob, Arno, and Connor looked appropriately disgusted. Bayek, Ezio, and Altair just looked confused.

"Are these dollars worth a lot?" Ezio asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"I do not have the brain power to convert to florins," Desmond groaned. "Or dinars or deben across like a thousand plus years okay?" he asked. "Like a shilling?"

"Ah," Ezio nodded.

"If you aren't worried about it neither am I," Bayek said.

"Sounds like a bunch of poor people to me," Altair said, specifically in Latin.

"I would agree," Ezio said absently. Desmond slapped his hand over his face.

"I wasn't poor. That's still a lot," Arno said in something recognizing Latin. Both Ezio and Altair laughed at him. "What?"

"Your accent," Desmond said.

"What of it?"

"Sounds like he's talking without moving his lips," Ezio chuckled. "Open your mouth when you speak," he said loudly. "Or speak with your hands. I can understand you better if you do," and he did indeed wave one hand while talking.

"Can we not do this?" Desmond groaned as they got to the parking lot. He'd rented an actual van for the day just to avoid public transport. He'd gotten them all on a bus or subway individually as they'd appeared but he didn't want to have to watch all of them at once on a subway. He knew somehow, someway, someone would get lost and he didn't want to hunt down an Assassin in a big city. Especially not these guys who could be... a bit stab happy if you bothered them too much. Well except Connor.

They all loaded into the van and Desmond reached into the center console to grab the single dose of pain killers he'd made sure to bring with him. Because he knew and had been right; by the end of this shopping trip he could feel the start of a headache. "Okay everyone buckled in?" Desmond turned around once he'd taken the pain killer. There was still some confusion about buckles for Bayek but Jacob had gotten it for him. They all gave him a thumbs up to cut down on the cacophony. "Great. Who wants lunch?" More thumbs up. "How about McDonalds?"

"What's that?" Jacob asked.

Desmond chuckled. "You'll see," he said and backed the car out of the parking spot and drove off from Goodwill.

-----------------

Desmond was looking over rental listings drinking his morning coffee in bed. Altair and Bayek were both on a blow up mattress on the floor. He'd bought a few over the past month but there was still only so much room. It was going to be so expensive to move. Thankfully now that everyone could operate the laptop or tablet now they could input their own gig work so could do more so long as they weren't blinded by boredom. A single bedroom apartment wasn't enough for eight full grown adults.

There wasn't much reasonable in the city itself but outside the city he could rent a full house. That was doable. And about as expensive as his current apartment actually. He scrolled listings on his phone but did consider just picking a neighborhood outside of the city and calling a realtor to find him a rental house. He didn't even care what it was.

He knew it was light out because Bayek woke up. He was punctual and even with the curtains over the windows Bayek always woke up at dawn. He sat up blearily. "Coffee?" it was the one English word he could say because the word didn't exist in any language he knew. It wouldn't have been invented for another sixteen hundred years for him. Didn't mean he hadn't immediately become addicted just like everyone else.

"Full pot in the kitchen," Desmond said, sipping his mug.

Bayek got off the inflatable gingerly and left the room. Desmond didn't have the heart to tell him no matter how careful he was about it Altair always woke up after he left. On the bed Altair huffed, awake now as well. "You could just go back to sleep," Desmond said.

"No," Altair said softly and that tracked. He sat up. "Do you ever worry?"

"I grew up in the twenty first century, my entire body is just made out of anxiety," Desmond said.

Altair grimaced. "I mean why we're here?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"After the shit I've seen this isn't even the worst of it," Desmond said, sipping his coffee, barely paying attention to Altair.

"How is that possible?"

Desmond looked at him now. "I died, you know," he said casually, like discussing the weather. The only indication that had actually happened was his left arm was fucked up beyond belief. "And coming back from death? Nothing really bothers you," he shrugged. "Certainly not some old head mates."

"Which you won't tell us what that means," Altair said.

Desmond shrugged. "Better that way."

"So you really don't care? Why we're here? Where we came from?"

"Not even a little," Desmond was done looking at rentals. He'd just call a realtor, get them to find him a three bed two and a half bath with a yard. He switched over to Twitter. Perfect turn your brain off activity.

They sat in the dark quiet of Desmond's room for a bit. "What's it like, being dead?" Altair asked after a few minutes. Desmond didn't answer him. "Desmond?" he looked over because Altair's voice was close. He had moved to be next to Desmond's bed.

"You should know what death is like, you've killed more people than me," Desmond said off handedly.

"I've sent people to the afterlife. I've never been to one. The others have grand Catholic ideas. Bayek said he fought gods in his afterlife. But you've died. What's that like?"

"Nothing," was all Desmond said.

"It was nothing?"

"Sure. We'll go with that."

Altair scowled at him. "You're being annoyingly obtuse, young man," he growled.

Desmond looked right at him. "Don't with me," he said in a serious way. It must have been plain on his face because Altair didn't press the subject.

Light spilled in from the living room when Bayek opened the door but it was Ezio behind him who spoke up, "Desmond, Jacob drank all the coffee and there's no more left."

"I made a pot. How'd he drink an entire pot?" Desmond groaned. "Also I know you idiots know how to use the coffee machine."

"No powder," Bayek said in his Dad tie dye tank top.

Desmond sighed. "Okay I'll go to the store," he got out of bed and rummaged around for some pants. Ezio and Bayek left the doorway. "Jacob," he yelled into the main room, "you're coming with me for drinking all the coffee."

"I didn't do shit!" Jacob yelled back.

"You better be dressed when I get out there or I'm dragging your ass to the corner store in your skivies!" and it was a real threat. Desmond changed his shirt and his dead beat dad would have been so proud of him tucking his long sleeved shirt in all the time now. He didn't like it rising up when he lifted his arm, you could see the death damage on his flank too, horrible thick black veins and old burst capillaries. He also always wore a glove now.

Jacob was fuming standing in the living room when Desmond came out of the bedroom but he was fully dressed. The inflatable mattresses had been put away already and the only person with coffee was Bayek since he'd woken up first. "I didn't even drink it all," Jacob complained. "Ezio just says whatever he wants and you believe it."

"Contrary to what he thinks its because the guy can't lie to save his life. Least of all to me," Desmond said. "Now stop complaining," he pulled on his shoes.

When he opened the door to walk out he almost bumped into someone. It was a woman. She was tall for a woman with ash brown hair and old eyes wearing an insanely sharp pant suit. "Veronica?" Jacob said next to him.

"Jacob?" she said with an accent Desmond couldn't place.

"Holy shit what are you doing here?" Jacob asked.

The woman, Veronica?, looked at Desmond, then at Jacob, "That's my question." She looked over Desmond's shoulder then back at Desmond, her eyes wide in an expression just from the way she held herself Desmond took as she wasn't surprised easily. "What are they doing here?"

"Uh... they're my friends?" Desmond said, confused by the line of questioning also who the fuck was this lady? For a moment he thought she was like the others but there was no befuddlement to her, no wide eyed bewilderment. They'd all appeared looking out of time and place. She was not. She was something else.

"Who's at the door?" Ezio came around. "Ah? Maria?" he asked.

"You also recognize her?" Desmond asked.

"That's Veronica," Jacob said. Now the others were coming around.

Desmond looked at the woman who was looking right back. "You also shouldn't be here," she said and it stuck him right in the chest.

"Well that's rude," Evie said. "Don't be mean to our friend, Veronica."

"Do you all recognize this lady?" Desmond asked the Assassins and stepped back into his apartment. He felt better being surrounded by them. Whoever or whatever she was wouldn't be able to fight off seven Master Assassins.

"Of course."

"She was our friend."

"She helped me."

"She knew my father."

"She helped me complete my mission."

They all said almost at once. What the actual fuck? He'd never seen this lady in any of the memories he had but apparently they all knew her. She was a friend. They all knew her by a different name though. "What are you doing here, Melite?" Altair was the only one asking a serious question.

The woman just sort of smiled apologetically. "My name is Kassandra actually," she said. Then she looked at Desmond. "I think we need to talk."

---------

And… that’s it lol Oops sorry If you want to see other scenes maybe suggest some? We should talk about it

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renthony · 2 months

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Hi! Could you talk about what it’s like being an independent media researcher and how you became one? Did you go to school for communications or media studies? How do you make money?

I’m about to graduate college and I really want to go into the media studies field but I haven’t really figured out what the best way for me to do that is. I have a lot of similar research interests as you (animation, censorship, media analysis, queer media) and I’m disabled so I’ve been worried about not having the energy for a traditional 9 to 5 sort of job, so I’d love to hear more about how you’re able to do the research you’re passionate about!

Honestly, I got here by accident, and I'm still figuring things out as I go. I don't make much money and right now I feel like my work is in a period of transition. I have plans, but some days it feels like I'm barely making baby steps.

I started writing when I was pretty young, and I read every single "how to write" guide I could get my hands on via the library or bookstore. I wrote constantly. Short stories, various false starts at baby's first novel, even newsletters for school activities and community clubs. I was most focused on fiction at first, but I learned a lot about nonfiction as well.

I got involved in online writing communities back when forums were still a big deal, and I joined Twitter back in 2009 when it was still new and there was a massive author and freelancer community. (Anyone else remember before retweets were a thing? We had to copy, paste, and manually type out "RT @[user]" like barbarians.) I learned an absolute fuckton about the craft and the industry by talking directly with other writers, literary agents, editors, and various other people in the field. From the time I was like 14, I was interacting with professional writers, sharing my work for feedback, and racking up rejection letters from magazines and literary agents (which was a badge of honor in the communities I was hanging out in, because it meant you were working hard and refusing to quit). When I was 17, my best friend even scraped together money from their shitty fast food job to pay for us to attend a major writing conference in Denver, where we participated in all kinds of classes and panels with industry professionals.

My mother was also writing at the time, and I got a lot of support from her. She had a blog that got a decent amount of interaction, because this was right around the rise of the Mommy Blogger and my mom wrote from the perspective of a socially-isolated tattooed punk mom who never planned to have kids (which was unusual in a landscape of perfect housewives with perfect photogenic babies with weirdly-spelled Mormon names they chose when they were kids). Eventually my mom started writing for a website owned by Yahoo, to supplement the household income while staying home to care for my little siblings. When I decided I wanted to take a whack at freelancing, she gave me a lot of advice on how to get started. I also had a writing class at school taught by a teacher who made it a class project to submit to magazines, so I basically got a head-start on freelance life. I wrote a lot of random articles for a website that's since gone defunct, and I submitted a lot of short stories to contests and magazines. Didn't really make a lot of money, but I learned a ton and got a lot of experience.

When I made it to college, I studied anthropology and French. I'd planned to study history, but switched my track after a single semester because anthropology suited me better. I took a lot of AP classes in high school and did well on all the standardized testing, so I managed to get a full academic scholarship and skip right past a few of my gen eds. Unfortunately for me, I had a lot of difficult life experiences during that time period, and I started to struggle in pretty much everything that wasn't directly related to my degree. I failed Latin so bad I didn't bother to go to the final exam, because even a perfect grade wouldn't have saved me. I fucked up my algebra grade beyond salvation. Those two classes alone tanked my GPA enough that I lost my academic scholarship, and I wound up dropping out entirely. Grades in my required courses were solid, but the scholarship requirements meant I had to do well across the board or lose my funding.

My mother still has debt from getting loans to pursue a master's degree, and I knew damn well I didn't want that kind of student debt piling up on me, so I opted for dropping out. Sometimes I regret it a little, but I honestly think it was the best option. I was having so much emotional upheaval on top of the academic stress that I needed time away to figure myself out. I graduated high school early, so I was like two years younger than everyone around me, and I didn't have many friends. I lived at home and came to campus just long enough to go to class, so I had nothing in common with my classmates who lived in dorms and participated in campus activities. I missed orientation because I registered late, the administration sent me to the transfer student registration day instead of the new student registration day, and I didn't get any "here's how you navigate university life" support. I didn't know I was supposed to have a one-on-one academic advisor for a year and a half, and when I finally met him, his only comment on the matter was, "wow, I wondered why you hadn't come to see me yet!" without any sort of inquiry into how a fuckup on that scale was allowed to happen in the first place. I wasn't set up for success by university administration, and I burnt out hard. I dropped out.

My wife encouraged me to do what was going to be best for me mentally instead of letting finances dictate my next step. She had a steady job, and even though we were still pretty broke, her support let me drop out of college and focus on recovery. A lot of people gave me shit because their perception was that I was dropping out of college to become "just a housewife," and they couldn't fathom why. From my perspective, I'd been given a lifeline.

I took care of our shitty little one-bedroom apartment. I read a lot of books and played a lot of Minecraft. When I felt up to it, I did some more freelancing. My wife was working unholy hours in a factory and we didn't get to spend much time together. I started doing tarot reading as a side hustle, and we started making vague plans to move somewhere better for us, but saving up was hard.

Things felt stagnant for a long time. I didn't write very much, I wasn't really doing anything related to my studies. I wrote when I had energy, and I kept scraping together extra cash doing tarot readings while my wife started working a new job in a lumber yard. Her support is the only reason I was able to recover and figure myself out, so big shout-out to my beloved working woman wifey. God, I love her.

Eventually we packed up and moved to a different state so we could be closer to my family. I got a job baking for a coffee shop. I wrote whenever I could. When I got laid off from the coffee shop, I realized there was no way in hell I could keep working a regular job without sacrificing my health, so I went back to writing full-time. (The Queen of Cups was written during this period.)

At some point I started getting back into anthropology and history research, just for fun. I didn't have money to finish my degree, but I had enough academic experience to know how to track down and evaluate good sources. I wasn't really trying to do anything for career purposes, I was just incredibly bored and wanted to study something again, so I got really, really into studying local history. Once I read everything I could about that, I jumped to another topic I was interested in, and then another. Media studies became my biggest focus as a natural outgrowth of my interests in speculative fiction, animation, and the history of the entertainment industry. I studied anthropology in school because I loved learning how and why humans do the things we do, and media studies always felt like an obvious facet of that. It's part of why I was always obsessed with cave paintings and paleolithic sculptures--people make art! It's what we do! It's what we've always done!

Anyway, I now live in a university town that has resources available to the public, and I have friends who work in various university libraries or as professors. I started making use of whatever I could get access to. I read a lot of nonfiction books from independent researchers pursuing their own passion projects, I got really into video essays on YouTube, and I had the epiphany that you don't actually have to finish college to study and write about things as long as you put in the quality research and source all your information. At some point I started calling it my "DIY academia," which my university-employed friends found utterly delightful.

Honestly, I credit my formal-academia friends with a lot. They've all been an incredible source of support and reassurance, and have helped me track down quite a few sources I was having trouble getting my hands on. Everyone do yourself a favor and make friends with someone who works in a university library.

I started a Patreon several years ago (in like 2017 I think?), primarily for my fiction writing, but there's plenty of other things that have shown up there over the years (art, cosplay, essays, etc.). As I started getting more into my DIY academia, folks started expressing interest in seeing me write about it. My tumblr posts about media generated a decent amount of attention, I'd managed to build up a platform, and it wasn't hard to say, "okay, screw it: I have freelance experience and I know how to write a paper, does anyone want to pay me for it?"

I haven't been submitting to existing publications like I used to, mostly because I don't have a decent portfolio assembled. My old freelance work in high school and college was for a platform that closed down a decade ago, and no matter how popular they get I can't bring myself to include tumblr posts alongside professional credits. My current plan is to build a portfolio on my website showing off the commissions I've been taking, and then start submitting to magazines and newspapers again between my other work. I'd love to eventually write for something like Polygon or IGN.

It's hard. I love research, I love writing, and I love sharing information with people, but having to DIY everything is really, really hard. I often feel like I'm just throwing nonsense into the void in the hope someone will like it and leave a tip in my Ko-Fi. I don't have formal academic credentials beyond "I was planning my senior thesis about the ethics of investigating ancient burial sites, but then I dropped out." I just have a neurodivergent brain, a handful of special interests, a wife who works the graveyard shift in a lab to pay our bills, and the ability to hyperfixate on research for absurd lengths of time.

The most common advice I used to get about freelancing is that you just have to keep throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. It's been years since then, but I think the advice still applies. Read a lot, learn a lot, and write about the things you're most interested in. Search around and look for magazines and newspapers and websites that accept unsolicited freelance submissions. Read the other articles they publish to see how your work stacks up. Submit, submit, submit. Rake in rejection letters and keep them as a reminder of how hard you're working. If you're up for it, start a Patreon to post the things you don't submit elsewhere. The worst thing that can happen is that people don't give you money, but maintaining it still helps you lay the groundwork for a portfolio and a reader base.

I deal with a lot of hellacious impostor syndrome. I worry a lot that I'm just a hack who doesn't actually know what they're talking about. Like I said, I got here totally by accident, but whatever I'm doing seems to be working for me. I'm broke, but my work is being read, and opportunities for more work show up when I least expect them. I'm not sure what's next for me, but I'm excited to figure it out. Money's tight, but I keep enduring despite the chaos. I throw things at the wall, I see what sticks, I clean up whatever flops and then try it again later. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's hard, but so is everything else. I like it better than a lot of other things I could be doing.

#original post

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