#annnd then i got my other accounts

[audioroleplayconfessions]

i dont want to reveal my identity (youll see why in a sec lol) so im saying this here rather than my main account cause im relatively well known in redacted tumblr (annnd im a pussy and this is sort of weighing on me a bit).

i dont know how to say it but there are these chats?? like mainly on discord and instagram and i think some other places too (idk i dont have twitter or x or whatever but i think theres one there too) where people have lists of these accounts they dont like and resolve to 'punish them'. im sure im explaining this terribly but i cant really say much without the people in these chats instantly knowing who i am and adding me to their insane hate pile puritan police bullshit.

i got added to one of the discord chats in august by a mutual from a redacted server i was in (not the main one like some fan one from tumblr) and genuinely? it is fucking insane. think genuine csi shit. like sorting people into who supports 'problematic ships' and 'supports problematic characters' or who are 'rape apologists' or even just 'icky' and genuinely allocating certain people to harass and threaten them. and i mean seriously organising. as in scheduling when to spam anons or making hate posts or trying to work out their real identities to 'drill the lesson in' (actual quote).

whats worse is that many bigger accounts in the fandom are in these chats. like people ive been friendly with for months (if not years) who i thought were cool, but then act completely different there. i wont name drop or anything, mainly to respect the rules of this blog and preserve my own identity (cause god knows they dont deserve that after some of the shit theyve said and done), but if youre in redacted tumblr, you defintely know at least some of them. 100% you do.

ive gone out of my way to warn some of these accounts ive seen on there frequently (so if you got an anon warning you about these chats hello!! its me!!) but i cannot understate how fucking crazy they are. not only do these supposed 'progressive accepting people' resort to misogyny, transphobia, homophobia and racism (esp this one, jesus the slurs) towards any account they dont like, they also genuinely view themselves as these insane moral authorities set on 'cleansing the fandom of the filth' (another actual quote from one of the discord chats. i genuinely had to take a lap after reading it bc it was so cringe and insane it physically hurt)

i swear im telling the truth with this btw, i know it sounds so stupid and unbelievable but i just needed to get it out of my system because ive been lurking in this chat and i feel kinda responsible for all the hate these poor people are getting, since im not standing up against them. so to anyone whos received heavy hate for 'problematic opinions' im really fucking sorry man. i shoulda tried to put a stop to it but there were so many big accounts there i was afraid of getting ostracised from the community or targeted myself.

anyway, point is. be careful. watch ur faves. and god, everyone in this moral brigade stop being so fucking demented. youre making this unfun for everyone.

(thank you for giving a space for me to speak about this btw bc i genuinely dont know how i wouldve told people widescale otherwise. i really appreciate the space you provide for us all <33 )

.

[ditzyredrobin]

(Not So) Minor Controlled Explosions

Annnd I haven’t posted ANY of my AIless Whumptober fics here yet. Life has been kind of a mess recently starting with my person being hit by a car a couple of weeks ago.

So, here’s Day 7 - Field Medicine

-

Tim chuckles, breathy and weak, but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Jason peels back the shredded remains of his suit. He hissed through his teeth, probing the wound. “You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that?”

“It’s really not that bad.” He tells him, lying through his teeth, because, yes, he knows it is just that bad judging by the cold, tingling sensation in his extremities. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes.

Jason looked up at him, jaw clenched. “You don’t even. I don’t want any of your smart mouth right now, because, this? We will be talking about later.” He enunciated each syllable by jabbing finger in his direction. “Got it?”

It took everything in him not to roll his eyes but Jason was pissed off enough as it is. Even bleeding out, he knew there were still some lines he shouldn’t cross with Jason, and he was half a step away from pushing him too far.

“Would it help if I said I didn’t mean for the explosion to be that big?” He really hadn’t. He had done his due diligence, carefully placing each charge, taking into account the size of the structure in conjunction with the amount of oomph it would have taken to bring it down.

He’d run through the equation multiple times, check and rechecking his math was solid. It should have been easy, a minor controlled explosion. Enough to bring the stores down and stunt the operation as a whole.

“But you meant to blow up the joint?” He asks flatly.

Tim grimaced, “Maybe?”

The vein in Jason’s forehead pulses angrily, sending Tim’s oh shit warning blaring in his head like a storm siren.

“We gave you three simple rules, Tim. Three! Regular check-ins, meaning no going AWOL for days at a time, semi regular rest breaks, and no unnecessary risks. How hard is it to follow those three rules?”

Tim swallows hard, “I didn’t mean to.” He repeats, this time softer. “I don’t know where I went wrong. I searched the warehouse for any surprises before I set off the bombs but must have had secret security features of their own that I missed.”

I’m sorry, he wants to add but decides against it. With Jason like this, any apologies would just be thrown back in his face.

No amount of apologizing would fix the hole in his side.

Jason opened his mouth to, no doubt, argue back but is cut off by his in ear comm. He presses the receiver, giving Tim a pointed look. “Yeah, I got him, but we sure could use a ride, asap. I’ve got Baby Bird’s bike, but we can’t get back to the cave like this.”

Baby Bird.

There’s only one other person who he uses that nickname with—Dick. If Jay was back in town, it’s a safe bet Dick had also found his way back to Gotham, too.

Shit.

Jason pauses for a moment, listening, but his hands don’t stop moving. He’s digs through his uniform, ignoring the fact that he has Tim’s blood on his gloves.

“He’s lucid enough to be a pain in my left nut, but I’m not sure for how long. There’s a lotta blood, Big Wing.”

He wants to argue because he has had worse and come out (moderately) fine but his tongue is feeling too large for his mouth, making it difficult to get the words out.

He’s not going to pass out, he needs to not pass out, he needs to stay awake enough to prove his point. He will be okay.

Jason manages to procure a wound dressing (Bat grade and better than they get in the army), quickly peeling back the white paper and he slaps it on his side with more for than was necessary. Or maybe it was a normal amount of pressure but one moment he was awake enough, and the next he’s out.

Tim’s body seizes and his vision grays out.

There is shouting and swearing that he can’t quiet track. Voices slur and blur together in a jumbled mess of sounds that his brain can’t equate to anything more than white noise.

More sound. More noise. And hands cutting and tearing through the Kevlar/nomac weave of his suit.

[tiredcrystal]

dont mind me, I’ll respond later <3

(I'm gonna respond to this in case you don't want the others to be public)

GOD pls don't read anymore or I might just die from embarrassment

I do remember having the habit of liking the response of any blog to my asks just so I could keep them within reach lol. It did cross my mind that you might suspect me but I just never payed it much attention and thought "nahh any random dude could like an ask right? It doesn't mean anything" I was dumb ok. But I still knew it was a possibility and didn't care because to begin with, my blog didn't have much and it was bound to happen one day or another. It's true I never told you in the end but it was never out of embarrassment or being uncomfortable, I just genuinely liked being an anon and the fun that came with it.

I could've also possibly sent an ask off anon, the phone I used at the time had like a virus that would like tap the top right corner randomly and repeatedly (I used to call my teachers and friends accidentally like A LOT on messenger💀) so it might've sent an ask before I could finish writing it or turning the anon but I don't remember it ever happening. Trust me, I would remember. I would've been the one disappearing from the earth.

(Btw I do not think this was creepy at all, I would've done so too if I were you but it's good you got it right lol we don't want you disappearing from shame either. Again, I'm grateful so be thankful for your detective skills!)

To answer your questions, I unfortunately do not speak 8 languages and I also do not live in Asia or any Middle Eastern country, that was all amazing sho lol. It's unfortunate you didn't find him but there's still hope, maybe one day we could reunite!

I think you had like 1k maybe 2k followers? I never really thought about it before so these are my guesses now but I'd assume that number since you were creating content and writers are like the backbone of Tumblr dot com.

It's true, your new blog, it's not a subject I've ever particularly sought out but if it's an experience my friend is going through?? Count me in. (If you're thinking but you didn't know it was me? Yes that's true but I trust in the words of mystery man, he said it's gonna be good so it must be. I wouldn't have followed the account out of my own volition if it showed up to me randomly but thanks to your ask, I took the time to skim through it and when I did, I thought it could be interesting after all) I know it's something else entirely but I never became your friend just to read your works. I knew you because of them but I stayed because I wanted to. (And because you're literally so fun to talk to) So, no matter what your blog will ever be about even when we're like 40 and you're showing like your pets or kids (if u want any) or your opinion on this or that or anything really, I'd wanna be there and see even if we drift apart along the way.

Annnd, you're not annoying, in soda's wise wise words "annoy me forever"

I'm glad you liked the nickname! I couldn't find the account but great move. What I meant was that when switching blogs, you never sticked to a specific name, even now on the newest blog (although I think Eti as a nickname of Etiènne is so cute) I'll definitely keep the tag for you! I invite you to come by my asks too, anytime!

As for me, ofc I'll be there, you think I'll waste all your effort for nothing?? No way. I'll spawn before you even realize it.

[sincelastsession]

Today has been fucking insane.

I had to call my uncle (who was very sloshed and mean abt my mom) and a friend in the military to prove to her that she was talking to a scammer and not the real General Ricky N Rupp who she believes is really real and going to wisk her away and shit.

Then I ordered us food and she complained abt everything and made faces.

Then my dad called and started screaming at her and instead of hanging up she put him on speakerphone.

He wants to tell you all about me by himself first and said some awful shit before I just walked outta the room.

I told my mom to tell him that you run the sessions, not me.

He wanted to basically meet and talk with you first I guess tattle on me and sus you out. He wanted to know what kind of person you were or something and I was just like....oh he's going to try to play games with Joshua.

So I'm just letting you know. I'll take accountability for the shit that's true that is reasonable to apologize for.

I know that you've been a therapist long enough to spot bullshit crazytown behavior.

He is very imo rejection sensitive and takes correction very hard. Moreso than I.

I don't know if we can get him to come to more than this session or if it's a good idea but I can't talk to him without a mediator because I'm scared of him. I'm also very hurt and angry with him.

If you want to see what sort off "oh I love my daughter she's not what you think" crap he's gonna say...it's up to you I'm letting you drive the parents sessions.

I'm honestly very nervous. He needs to understand that this is his last chance of having a connection with me.

He needs to understand threatening me and putting his hands on me etc...well he's lucky he's not in jail. If he hadn't had surgery that day I would have said "well I guess I'll be homeless" and just called them.

But it's not that instance. I actually did sustain an injury and my Rheumatologist has that on file. He fucked up some connective tissue in my neck. She said with my cervical spine issues if he'd yanked my hair harder that day he could have damaged me to a broken neck.

I was fully aware of everything that day and the other times he's attacked me. I remember it and I get anxiety.

Then I showed Mom places. We called an agent that was a friend of old friends and he was FUCKED UP and made an excuse to not talk with me about a rental he's in charge of because he had a stuffy nose...guy sounded like a spun out cokehead but Travis said "he's a weird guy" My mom thought he was rude as fuck.

Then I allowed mom to hug me which is rare and even asked for another hug and she had to tell me I smelled horrible...but I'd eaten like onions and garlic with my food and ofc my sweat wasn't great. Then she made a comment about my stomach "gut" and I told her "that's enough"

Annnd ofc the neighbors that were being quiet got loud after she left but it's a birthday for a kid so I'm not calling the security officer because I'm not a monster but it's past 8pm I hope they shut the fuck up soon.

I had to put my jacket on and curl up in bed and call Travis after allllll of this. I was getting the "in shock" tremor shakes in my stomach area and felt like I was going to pass out.

Other than typing I've gone pretty much nonverbal.

[fandomwritingbit]

Little scene post-What A Way To Make A Living.

This is just a little dialogue of William and Henry having a chat. Its sfw but takes place after the smut What A Way To Make A Living so has links to dirty stuff. Swearing though, as always and some English slang. Bit of mean spirited craic too. they/them pronouns used when referring to y/n.

Henry approached William who was sitting in his office, it’d only been two days since the bastard got back from Menorca but he was already getting up William’s skirt.

“What is it now, Henry? I’m trying to balance these expense accounts.” There was irritation to his tone, but truth be told he was glad of the distraction. These numbers were some of the most depressing shit he’d ever read.

“You really need to start being nicer to the employees, Will. They’re only doing their jobs.” Henry sighed, he’d come here after hearing another complaint against his co-owner.

“Here we go again. Get lost, you’re not my mam. You don’t get to tell me off for being mean to the other kids at school.” The sarcasm rolled easily from him, this wasn’t the first time they’d had this chat - far from it.

“Mean is precisely the right word. I heard from Paul that you were bollocking y/n in your office last week. Come on, they’ve not put a foot out of line since they started!” There was disbelief in Henry's voice. 

William couldn’t help but snicker, so it was a bollocking Paul had heard? His sniggering progressed to full on chuckling as he thought about that encounter. 

“It’s not funny.” Henry chastised. 

“Nah trust me on this one Henry, mate. This is fucking hilarious.”

His laughter dies down as he thinks for a moment, ignoring his co-worker’s head shaking in disapproval. 

“Seriously though, we should give them a raise. They’re carrying the whole floor staff at the moment.” 

“Y/n? I thought you didn't like them?” Henry’s eyes narrowed. “To quote you about a month ago: ‘all they do is bum off everyone and the whole lot of yous fawn over them” He mocked William with raised hands and a much heavier accent.

Will smirked, sometimes he could be fucking funny.

“Come on, Emily. I still think that. But if I’m being nice to everyone now, I might as well start rewarding the ones that work hard.” 

“Alright, fine. How much then?” He’d given up at this point.

“A fair bit, mate! Jesus.” Afton put on a condescending tone.

“Okay, if we’re giving out raises: Ishaan should get one too, he’s been doing all the-”

“Nah not him.” William cut him off. “He’s a right cunt. Rough as Hell too.”

Henry raised his hands in disbelief. 

“So, let me get this straight. You’re only giving raises based on the ones you find sexually attractive?” Henry had never been so done in his life.

“Bang on the money, Emily. Don’t know how you do it.” He replied sarcastically. “Actually, now that I think about it. Isn’t it about time you took a pay cut?” 

“Annnd go fuck yourself, Afton.” Henry left the room after he spoke, he’d made a bad decision hanging out this ponce at college. 

[chronicbatfictioner]

"Overall, it wasn't so bad..." Tim commented.

"Except for the fact that Bane roared like a constipated bear and literally lunged at Damian and Jason threw him out the window..." Barbara quipped, her face serious but her lips were still twitching. "I... am highly amused. Twice."

"You were laughing until you bent over double that if you weren't in a wheelchair, you've probably knelt on the floor laughing." Dinah deadpanned. "It was hilarious."

"Yes, it was. The fact that Jason could actually lift Bane and throw him out... Did you guys see Bruce's face, though! Oh my god! He... he looked at Jason as if he'd seen the lord savior Jésus Todd or something!" Tim crowed. "Like, the dude Bane got thrown out a bay window twice. I get the awe, I was a little star-struck myself. But I can't believe dude actually wanted to try the third time until Alfred pointed a damn shotgun to his forehead! I can't even!"

"This thus solidifies my thoughts that the Waynes may be trying to figure out a way to get rid of this... brute without... I dunno..." Barbara pondered.

"Gotten themselves broken in half?" Tim suggested. "He sure insinuated that he would do such a thing to Damian."

"Oh, gee, Tim. Which part of his speech insinuated that? 'You lying bastard!', or 'I'll break you in halves!'?"

"I'm partial to the 'bastard' remark, really. I mean, pot, kettle?" Tim replied, giggling.

"Technically," Helena Bertinelli - The Huntress - sighed as she chimed in; "and ironically, at that; the 'bastard' would be Bane since he claimed to be Thomas Wayne's son and is younger than Bruce. Which means he was 'conceived' while Dr Thomas was already married to Mrs Wayne..."

"Right? Bruce and Talia were two consenting adults, albeit under 20 years old; and were wed in a local ritual witnessed by locals, according to Jason. You should see Bane's face when Jason presented copies of the marriage's registry." Tim continued.

"Oh, we saw, all right. Harper's drones worked quite well." Dinah replied, snickering, referring to Harper Row, one of their tech 'consultants'. "Even at that height, it still delivered crystal clear pictures. I vote we use them again."

"No vote needed, the drones are on stand-by at the Wayne Manor permanently at this point. I'm more interested in his reaction when Damian offered them a DNA test." Barbara told her.

"I'm more interested in Bruce Wayne's reaction, really. He didn't seem too surprised, as if he was expecting this to happen or something." Helena pointed out.

"Maybe he did," Barbara replied absently. "Dude has been swingin' more than the roarin' 50s, there has got to be some juniors out there that even he didn't know of."

"Ugh, while I'm not a fan of Bruce Wayne's womanizing ways, I personally don't think he's that reckless. He's not a drinker or a junkie, as far as I know. He has virtually no vice other than extreme sports." Helena argued.

"I agree," Selina, who has been quietly watching from the corner, chimed in. "This is a guy who got visibly antsy when some sexy girls in bikinis come up to him - I thought he was gay. But if he'd been... wedded to Talia Al Ghul all these times, that would make sense. He knew exactly where he stood, and what would come up if he screwed it up."

"Has Jason or Dick said anything of the Doc and Mama Wayne's reaction?" Helena asked.

"They seemed truly confused, a little apprehensive, but didn't seem to be opposed to the idea that Damian is Bruce's child. Dr Wayne said that a DNA test wouldn't be necessary, but Jason insisted it." Tim replied, and added a little absently a few heartbeats later. "But why would he, a physician with more specialties than a truck stop, would not question the biology of anyone claiming to be his biological descendant?"

Barbara glared at Tim, "excellent question, Tim. If my dad has someone coming out of the boonies saying he's related to me, the first thing dad would do is draw blood."

"They... don't care?" Dinah suggested. "Maybe the Wayne men were less... chaste than they appear?"

Barbara glared at her this time. "Of all the women Bruce Wayne has dated, I've only recorded a handful who would end up in a second date. Less than a handful who were actually mentioned beyond social media photos; and you know how I feel with social media photos: generic, unverifiable, and showoff-only. Dates with Bruce Wayne generally would start with the pick-up, dinner, and then some form of jewelry. I..." she looked at Selina and Helena, "you've both dated him at one point or the other."

Selina shrugged, "I went for a gala dinner, and was honestly there to scope the homeowner's safe, really. I wasn't interested in a follow-up date." she replied. "Helena?"

"Social arrangement. My people called his people and boom, we were on a red carpet." she elaborated. Helena was a part of a mafia family, until she decided that the mafia way would not be the best way to make Gotham a happy place for all, and donned the costume of the Huntress to hunt down wrongdoers. Barbara had decided to let her join to prevent her from going over the line and murder anyone out of overzealous-ness; but also in order to get a line-in into the mafia families.

"No second dates, either, huh?"

"No, I'll have to check, though. I think his people called me again, but I wasn't interested in a vapid playboy, even if he has more money than Jesus."

"Vicky Vale," Selina reminded. "She has had a... somewhat lengthy relationship with Bruce some years ago."

"Sooo... the next answer in our mystery could probably be answered by interviewing an investigative journalist." Tim commented.

"Oh, no..." Barbara grinned mischievously. "Not this investigative journalist. I know just the journalist to talk to when it comes to gossip among themselves."

Dinah snorted a laugh. "I thought you didn't like her."

"I liked Vale less," Barbara griped. "Plus, Vale is already getting news on Bruce's probable child; why shouldn't I send Lois Lane the allegations of the Bane Conspiracy?"

"Conspiracy with who?" Dinah asked curiously.

"Oh, the Waynes, of course, to get rid of the Court of Owls," Barbara smirked. "Why should we be the only ones racking our respective and collective brains when we can have someone else on the ground doing the grunt work?"

"Babs, you can be... pretty evil sometimes," Selina remarked. "I know there's got to be a reason why I like you."

"I'm also awesome with technology and can launder your ill-gotten money and make it legal and undetected." Barbara pointed out.

"Oh no, that's why I liked you." Helena quipped smirking. "Seriously, how many mob family can say their ill-gotten money is accountable by law?"

"As long as it is within the facets of the law, and so on and so forth... Anyway! Tim, you're quiet for more than two seconds. I'm always nervous when you're quiet."

"Just thinking..." Tim said, looking a little lost in his own brain. He often does that when he has at least a dozen scenarios running through his mind. Through the time of Barbara knowing him, Tim would probably be the only person whose claims of 'just thinking' wouldn't immediately be picked on by anybody.

"Care to share with the class, kitten?" Selina prompted.

"It's not fully mapped yet... but I was thinking. What if the Waynes aren't... didn't cooperate with Bane in order to destroy the Court of Owls, and they're literally being hostages in their own home? What if Bruce Wayne has predicted something like this could happen, and has gotten himself all prepared all the way to ten years ago when he wedded Talia Al Ghul? I mean, who would have had enough firepower to defeat Bane other than the Al Ghuls? Look at Jason," Tim pointed out. "He threw Bane out the window as if he was a fly. While Jason is as solid as a rock but isn't a metahuman - Bane is. He was assigned by Talia herself - out of Gotham - to protect and guide Damian-- why? What's so special about Jason Todd? Why did Talia choose him? Why didn't Bruce Wayne - at least - act shocked when Damian said he was his son? Surprised, sure. But not shocked or in denial.

"Who's gonna win if Bane turned out to be Dr Wayne's son? Who's gonna lose? What will they lose? Who is Bane accountable to? If none, who planted the idea of him being Dr Wayne's son? Because from what I've read about him, he was born and raised in a prison with his mother - no mention of a father. His mother was an insurgent of Hasaragua, fighting against US-condoned democracy. And while there was a record of Dr Wayne being there, there was no exact date and length of stay, because he was there privately and not as a part of Médecin sans Frontieres or something like that.

"What about Mrs Wayne? She wasn't a poor or uneducated woman, since she was a Kane. Society-wise, do you think she would have tolerated her husband's indiscretion, both then and now? Yet she kept quiet for nearly two months. She has a Ph.D. in psychiatry, and would she be the ones to keep quiet about DNA testing and all that? Personally, I don't think so. If my mother - a little 'lesser' society lady compared to Martha Kane-Wayne - ever got a word of a child that 'probably' got fathered by my dad, she would have demanded a divorce right away without bothering with a paternity test, sure. But my dad, who was also a society man, would have at least attempted to convince her that it was a mistake and/or it was a lie. What best method to decide a child's paternity than DNA test?

"The criminal front in general - especially the costumed criminals - has been pretty quiet since Bane eliminated the Court of Owls. Why? That's rather stupid since we know that the Court's Talons were the ones who made moves to 'discourage' the costumed freaks. Annnd... that's where I couldn't map out things further." Tim rambled.

"Keep talking, even half sentences are better than none, Timmy." Barbara prompted. Tim might have had a brain that worked a mile a minute, but he was still very young and would often get flustered with himself. Barbara, on the other hand, has an eidetic memory, and things Tim said tend to stick to her brain and would fill the gaps in any puzzles she might be thinking about. Even half sentences.

"Right, I do the fact spreads, you do the jigsaw-puzzling." Tim nodded. "The murders of Talia and Ra's Al Ghul. Jason said they were deliberately murdered in a way that they would never be able to be resurrected through the Lazarus Pit. The perpetrators would be the League of Shadows, a rogue splinter of the League of Assassins. Lead by Lady Shiva. Why? Why were they murdered? Why now and not - say - next year or last year? Who benefited by their death? Aaand... I'm done, for now, I think..."

"I... can feel a headache brewing," Dinah admitted. "You and your conspiracy theories." she rubbed Tim's head fondly. Tim gave her a half-smile, still trying to articulate the thoughts in his head.

"That's why we need him, he takes the most random input and makes a theory out of it, and some of them would actually make sense. I'll start a search string based on some of your questions. If you have more, don't hesitate to tell me, Tim." Barbara realized belatedly that her tone sounded dismissive, and turned to Tim. "Want me to call up for Chinese and powwow a little more?" she added.

Tim shook his head, still glaring blankly. "Thanks, I gotta go... I've some... things to look into. Thanks, Babs," he replied, ending it with a genuine smile as he got up.

"Want to come home with me, Kitten?" Selina asked, worry for Tim apparent on her normally-blank face.

"No, thanks, Ma. I gotta go back to the mansion, just in case, right?" Tim pointed out.

"Then Dinah should go with you," Selina decided.

"She's coming there later, right, aunt Dinah?" Tim asked. Dinah nodded.

"I'll get home with food, so don't worry about that, kiddo." she said. Tim waved them all and then walked out.

Once he was out of the door, Selina sighed. "Ah, young love..."

"Right? Remind me to check in on him before going to the House. I don't want to walk in on something and have him traumatized." Dinah agreed.

Barbara glared at them quizzically, and then at Helena, who shrugged. "Grayson said it first, I think. Our kitten is growing up. I just hope that Jason guy is worth his firsts..."

The memory of Tim gawking at Jason when he thought Barbara wasn't watching flashed in her mind.

Oh.

And then of Jason blatantly checking Tim out just before Oracle made her appearance, and at times when her Oracle projection was turned off.

"Oh boy," she sighed.

"That's about it in a nutshell. Good thing I've told him of the birds and the birds..." Selina grinned slyly.

"Millennial parenting at best, Ms Selina Kyle." Dinah grinned. "Come on, let's go patrol and induce the fear of goddesses to Gotham's low-lives before inducing maternal fear to our little kitten."

"...or to the big tabby. We'll see," Selina added, waving as she and Dinah walked out of the room.

Suddenly Barbara felt a little sorry for Jason. Just a tiny, teensy, weensy bit of sorry.

[plush-anon]

Ask meme!

tagged by @lethotep, let’s go!

Name: plush-anon/Plush

Pronouns: they/them

Zodiac: Aries, but everything from Taurus fits me WAY better

Height: 5 foot 9 inches babyyy

Nationality: Texan. (hey, gotta lean into the stereotype sometimes)

Favourite band: Before them, I would have said it was too hard to choose. Now tho? The Mechanisms, 1000%.

Favourite artist: Monet, I guess, idk.

When you created your blog: May 2013

Last thing you Googled: scotland’s most isolated pub (it’s Inverie, btw)

Lucky number: 8, 14, 27

Other blogs: I have two sideblogs, mostly for salty opinions/critical analysis on more specific fandoms, and image posts for if I ever write the massive sprawling ideas I had for one specific Fanfic AU in said fandom

Why you chose your URL:  It was my handle on the ROTG Kinkmeme - I didn’t want to make an account, so all of the prompts I posted on Anon comment were signed ~Plush, after my Leroux!POTO Erik plushie. And here I am!

How many blogs are you following? 246

How many followers do you have?  696

How many average hours of sleep? 6, but I’m working on fixing that (mostly thru impromptu naps I take by passing the fcuk out after I walk my dog after work. She’s an excellent cuddler)

Instruments you can play: uhhhhh, recorder, some piano, xylophone a little bit. Had drum lessons as an elementary school kid but damn if I remember anything (the self-loathing perfectionism caused me to break down crying CONSTANTLY whenever I got something wrong/didn’t get it immediately. And my parents said I wasn’t neurodivergent! Ahahaha *bitter*)

Currently wearing: A formless black dress that ends at the knees (very loose and with POCKETS baby!) and a loose chiffon jacket/covery/drapey thing with moons and suns on it (in black and white). Also black sneakers.

Dream trip: Train trip across Europe, to EVERYWHERE (tho Loch Ness would be a blast, same with Ireland)

Favourite food: Goldfish crackers, I guess

Favourite song: Can’t pick just one mate

Tagging... @returning-on-tuesday, @crypticauthour, @michi0no, @ksclaw, @phantoms-lair, annnd anyone else who’s interested!

[lacrow]

SxF Collaboration Story (Part II)

@sxfobsessed- Annnd it’s done

@nagy-bari - Hope it lives up to the hype

@nonokoko13- I went easier on Franky for you lol

Title: Cabernet Makes Her Clothes Fall Off

Rating: T

Part I: tumblr, ao3

Part II: ao3

Updated Objective(s): host a dinner party for friends and acquaintances, maintain a professional relationship with Mrs. Forger, set a reminder to do the laundry Reporting Status: mission failure, inconclusive, no idea

ADDENDUM 5 [NIGHTFALL]:

You're not seriously considering this Millie woman's proposal, are you? Do you think she might be an enemy agent trying to sabotage Operation Strix? Do you want my assistance in dealing with her?

ADDENDUM 6 [TWILIGHT]

Of course not. She's Yor's co-worker and likes to give her a hard time. It was just harmless party-talk, nothing more.

ADDENDUM 7 [HANDLER]:

Noted, although I'd have to side with Millie on this one and agree that it would indeed be very adorable.

ADDENDUM 8 [NIGHTFALL]:

I fail to see how that has any relevance to what we're discussing.

ADDENDUM 9 [HANDLER]

I'm your boss. Babies are cute. End of discussion.

Part II

The clock ticked. Time passed, as did worries about Yor.

All according to plan. Loid was fairly good at deflecting and keeping the party occupied, even as he himself started to become concerned with how long Yor was taking in the shower. The sound of running water had long since ceased, and he kept secretly eying the door in anticipation to see it open. Loid stood off to the side as everyone else sat around the coffee table. Food had long since been eaten. Wine flowed, and they were firmly at the point in the party where multiple conversations coalesced into a singular, alcohol-fueled mess. Admittedly, it was fun to watch them. Loid smirked; aside from the wine incident, the rest of Yor's party was going rather smoothly.

Camilla gave Franky crap for his earlier display, by all accounts standing up for her self-proclaimed friend despite always acting like she couldn't care less. Millie chimed in as well, though more for the love of chaos than actually agreeing with Camilla. Sharon stayed completely out of it, and instead sat next to Dominic and Yuri as the two got into a loud debate about the results of a recent sports event. She offered her absent husband's two cents on the matter, which only reignited their fervent opinions. The three of them became lost in discussion, as did the others.

Loid stood. He watched. He waited. Then, out of nowhere, a voice called out to him from beyond the bathroom door.

"...Um, Loid? Could...you please come in here for a moment?"

It wasn't loud. If anything, Yor's voice was soft as a whisper, and yet somehow the entire party heard it. That of course included Loid who, as all eyes turned towards him, suddenly found himself frozen in a mild panic. His eyes shot wide open. She wanted him to come into the bathroom? While she showered? But the water wasn't running? It hadn't been for a while, actually...had she just been standing there the whole time? Loid's lungs emptied; he suddenly realized she'd went straight to the bathroom and hadn't bothered to gather any clothes.

Yor was stranded in the bathroom. Nothing else would explain why she'd ask him to come in while she was...well...

Focus, Twilight. This wasn't a big deal...or at least he had to pretend like it wasn't, anyway.

"C-coming, Yor!" Loid answered back. He smiled to his guests politely before taking off quickly towards the bathroom.

He tried his best to avoid interested stares and raised eyebrows, though there was no escaping Yuri's own loud, public dilemma as he practically died knowing Loid was about to see his sister naked (he wasn't). Without hesitating, Loid ducked into the bathroom with nary a sound. The door opened, then closed, and before he knew it he was standing in the remnants of Yor's shower; a light mist lingered, though it was by no means enough to veil her from him. Thankfully, their shower curtain was thick and colored solid. He could see nothing.

Trembling fingers clutched the side of it, as if Yor were hanging on for dear life. "...Loid! We've got a big problem!"

"I know, you didn't grab any clothes," he nodded. Loid averted his eyes despite not being able to see her. Red dusted his face. "I'll get you some."

"N-no...it's worse than that," Yor revealed after a moment of silence. Loid could practically hear her shudder. "I was so preoccupied with the party, I forgot to do laundry...!"

Loid paused. The cogs in his head turned slowly, as if the moisture in the room was sapping his ability to think properly. "So...what? You're telling me-?"

"-I don't have any clothes!" He'd never heard her voice that shrill before. She'd practically squealed. "Nothing!"

"Nothing?" Loid repeated back to her; he found that hard to believe, and yet the curtain shook anxiously as Yor confirmed. "Not even some PJ's?"

"I can't go out there in a nightgown, Loid!" Her voice was high-pitched again. "Besides, I told you, everything's filthy! Today was supposed to be laundry day!"

Loid scratched the back of his head. Now that he thought about it, pajamas in front of her coworkers probably wouldn't go over well, anyway. "Alright, well...I'll just think of something else, then?"

There came a panicked sigh behind the shower curtain. It was followed by the sound of a body sliding against tile until finally landing in porcelain. Water splashed as Yor sat hunched over in the tub, legs curled up into a depressed ball so as to take up as little space as possible. Loid had no way of seeing any of this, but Yor made it so obvious that there was nothing else it could be. He couldn't help but to frown. His usual list of reassuring words and phrases didn't seem like it would help much at the moment. He stood there, silent.

This was supposed to be her party. He remembered when she first told him about it; Yor came home that day a nervous wreck, convinced he would be cross with her. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, she said. She just wanted them to look like an actual married couple so no one would get suspicious. Initial hesitance aside, Loid played along; not necessarily because he thought they needed to host a party in order to convince everyone they were married, since they'd done a good job of doing so up until then, but because it was something Yor had come up with on her own. She was always following his lead (admittedly because he asked her to most of the time), and this was the first time she'd taken things into her own hands.

For the most part, it had all paid off, too. Loid briefly turned his attention back to the party outside. Their guests had resumed conversation once more, and if there was anyone who wasn't having a good time (aside from Franky) they were drowned out by those that were. Maybe Yor couldn't see that at the moment, but as her husband it was his job to make sure she did.

"I'll loan you some clothes," Loid spoke up. "I've got a button-up and some shorts you can wear in the meantime."

Silence. Loid waited for a response, which he most certainly got after Yor had time to process what he'd just said. "W-what?!"

"It's either that or a dirty nightgown," he reasoned. A distressed groan came from behind the curtain, and Loid nodded. "That's what I thought."

"Fine..." Yor relented. Her feet scraped the tub as she pulled her legs more in defeat. "...Mine as well try and ruin this party as spectacularly as possible..."

Loid smiled sympathetically. He gave her a second before speaking again. "For what it's worth, I'm enjoying myself. And I know for a fact that everyone else is, too."

There came no response, at least not with words. Maybe it was because they'd lived together for so long or because Yor was just really easy to read; regardless, Loid could tell her mood had improved somewhat at his reassurance. He informed her he'd be back in a minute, and promptly left to go fetch her some clothes. The sound of the door closing signaled to Yor that it was finally okay to breathe again. She'd held it when he admitted to having a good time, though for what reason she couldn't say. It mostly had to do with the fact that Loid had given her some form of approval. That, and everyone was having a good time despite all the setbacks. Like the wine, and...the...?

...Really, what other setbacks were there?

The clothes, of course, but other than that...what exactly made this party a disaster again? Yor thought about it real hard for a moment. Why was she stressed out to begin with? This whole thing was just supposed to be a cover for her and Loid, at least originally. It wasn't meant to impress anyone. It wasn't suppose to prove to anyone anything, save that they were an actual (fake) couple. The only thing she set out to achieve she did, so...what was all the fuss about? Her and Loid were married. Everyone knew that. No one questioned it. So...mission accomplished, right?

The fact that everyone was having a good time made her smile, though it was technically just icing on the cake. A bonus. If anything, the only person that Yor really wanted to enjoy the night was the same person who made it all possible in the first place. The food. The drinks. The pleasant conversation. Loid took care of it all, and as the door opened again upon his return Yor's face became red at the thought of him cutting loose for a change. No one deserved it more than her husband. As a change of clothes were draped over the side of the shower curtain rail, Yor affirmed to herself that she'd get dressed as quickly as possible. Go outside. Get back to the party. Continue to be a good host, and finish the night off strong. For Loid's sake.

"Let me know if you need anything else," he offered from the other side. "I'll be waiting just outside the door."

"I will," Yor answered back. She smiled, even though Loid couldn't see it. The door closed behind him as he left, and she soon rose to her feet with newly-found confidence.

/*\

"Yor forgot her clothes?" Dominic asked with a chuckle. He approached with a hand in one pocket while the other carried a glass.

"Sort of," Loid smiled hesitantly. He stood dutifully next to the bathroom door. "There was a bit of a mix-up with the laundry. We had to...improvise."

Dominic took a sip of wine before nodding. "Happened to Camilla once. Forgot to drop her clothes off at the cleaners. She had to walk around in nothing but one of my sweaters all day."

There came a loud whoop from Millie, and Camilla immediately lost it next to her. Clearly gassed, Dominic offered his girlfriend a giant grin as she marched over to rip into him. Sharon also had something to say, and soon the apartment erupted in a chorus of words. Loid was thankful for it; the heat was off him and Yor for the moment. It couldn't have come at a better time, either. As Camilla dragged Dominic back towards the others so she could publicly reprimand him, the bathroom door suddenly creaked open. Loid looked over right as his wife emerged. Mist rolled out behind her.

"...So, how do I look?" she asked while turning towards him. Yor held her arms out a little to show off her outfit.

She got no reply from Loid. He just stood there and stayed completely silent. He scanned her, up, down, then up again.

Yor's hair was down. She was smart and hadn't washed it, though it was still a little damp at the ends. Her long, raven locks draped over her shoulders, and they contrasted sharply with the white button-up she wore. Loid was several sizes larger than Yor and his shirt left her a lot of room, save of course for the chest area...that part she had no trouble filling in. She also rolled her sleeves up a little in order to make it look less big, though there was nothing Yor could do to make it any higher. His shorts almost disappeared completely underneath it, and the only reason they didn't was because they too were oversized. Yor was practically smothered in his clothes, though with that said...she wore it well.

Yor waited, but the longer Loid say nothing the redder her face became. She flinched. "S-should I put on something else? Is it bad?"

"N-no!" Loid shook himself out of it. He felt his face grow hot, and he coughed to hide it. "It looks fine. It'll get you through the party, at least."

Yor stepped back. She held an arm across her chest, something she tended to do whenever she was flustered. "Really?"

"Yeah." That's all he would say. Loid wouldn't look at her. If his intent was to put her at ease, for once he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

Loid motioned for her to go on ahead. She hesitated, and only did so when he finally spared her a glance. A tremulous smirk twitched across his face, and the sight of it only reaffirmed Yor's fears; this whole thing was a bad idea. It would have been better to just disappear into her room for the rest of the night, though Yor had already told herself she'd see things through till the end. With a sigh of uncertainty, she steeled herself as best she could and walked into the living room with Loid right behind her. The moment of truth was upon her.

She emerged. Yuri was the first to notice. He happened to be facing her direction when she arrived, and whatever word was on the tip of his tongue mid-conversation quickly became lost at the sight of his sister. His very being stopped in time; mouth agape, he stared emotionless as Sharon continued to talk in his ear about something unimportant. Yor, meanwhile, flinched at her brother's obvious stare. She put her arm across her chest again, as if that would somehow spare her from further embarrassment. Both Briars held their breath.

Yuri looked at Loid. Loid raised a brow. Yuri then looked at Franky. Still emotionless, his eyes zeroed in. "I'm gonna fucking kill him."

Franky didn't notice there was murder aimed towards him until Yuri suddenly got up from the couch and tried to pounce the half-pint from across the room. He yelped in terror while at the same time Dominic ran interference once more. Yor protested angrily as her brother fought to kill one of their other guests, though Loid wouldn't be bothered to so much as shrug at the display. As far as he was concerned, whatever pummeling Franky got that night was warranted. Besides, he'd stop things if they got out of hand...probably.

While the boys were busy being savages, Millie turned her attention to Yor. "Ooh! Look at you!"

Yor's lips squiggled. She held her cheeks. "Please don't say anything, Millie...I didn't have anything else to wear..."

"But you look good!" her coworker giggled, causing Yor's to eyes widen. "You should wear your husband's clothes more often!"

Millie's comment incited another ruckus from Yuri. The youngest Briar sibling spun around and gaped incredulously. "You take that back right now!"

"Oh, come off it, Yuri," Sharon added. Yuri huffed in exasperation. "Your sister's been married for a year. What are you gonna do when they finally have a kid together?"

Millie's face lit up. "A babyyy~! Maybe a little brother for Anya? Could you imagine how adorable a little Loid would be running around? That's it, you two need to get to work on that, pronto!"

Loid closed his eyes. It was the only thing he could do to keep his composure, even as his wife's entire body turned beet red next to him. Yuri's did, too, but for obviously different reasons. Yor's brother started to mount another argument, though was promptly cut off by Camilla from the other end of the table. She rolled her eyes and took up her wine glass before scoffing.

"Can we please not talk about the Forgers' bedroom affairs?" Camilla shook her head. The thought alone was enough to give her heartburn. "I'd really appreciate it."

"Seconded!" Franky chimed in. He figured agreeing with Camilla would help stop Yuri from killing him, seeing as how they were both on the same page.

It ended up working up well enough, surprisingly. Yuri narrowed his eyes, and after a moment he finally relented. "Right, yes. Thank you!"

Conversation erupted once more. Dominic commented off from the side, though was drowned out by his girlfriend as she again told him to drop the subject. Millie and Sharon made snappy comments to one another, mostly at Yuri's expense, and the latter suddenly found himself trying to justify his actions to them. Franky meanwhile stood off to the side and snickered at his counterparts, finding their small arguments to be far more entertaining when they didn't involve him. And away from it all were Yor and Loid. The latter stood behind his wife as she took up on the love seat while he leaned against it. They remained quiet as their guests carried on without them, and for a moment they simply watched.

Loid looked down at his wife. She was busy paying attention to Yuri and the others and didn't sense his staring, at least not at first. He couldn't stop himself, even as a small voice in the back of his brain told him to cut it out. There was nothing to look at it. It was just Yor...wearing his clothes. There wasn't anything inappropriate about that, per say. Plus it wouldn't have been the first time one of his partners thought to don a shirt of his, although that was always with women he'd gotten close with for the sake of past missions.

Loid supposed Yor also fit into that category, but...clearly not in the same way. He shifted wearily at the realization that his so-called wife, the one woman it would make sense to become intimate with for appearances sake, was the only one of his partners that he'd never, well, done it with. The thought alone made him flinch, even more so when Yor caught on to his staring. He looked away the moment her head titled backwards to look up at him, and he tried his best to play it off. Loid knew such an attempt would prove futile, though; Yor was hard spy on.

She was much more obvious with her staring than her husband. Yor reined in some loose strands of hair as she rested her head against the back of the chair. Red tickled her face, as it always did, and she tried her best to hide it. Loid would know anyway; he could always read her like an open-book, or so she thought at least. Even so, Yor pretended like she was stretching when his eyes glanced down at her for a fraction of a second. An earnest attempt to hide her thinly veiled gaze, or at least it would have been if she didn't melt beneath him.

They were hopeless. Such was the thinking of Franky as he watched in secret from afar. At that point he'd broken Loid's rule and had dipped into the wine, though it wasn't like Twilight was paying any attention. He was too busy acting like a teenage boy, and the sight was enough to make the scruffy man shake his head. From his secluded spot, Franky watched his friend play tag with Yor; the moment one looked away, the other would look back a second later. Everyone else was too tipsy or involved in conversation to notice, but Franky picked up on it no problem. He knew what to look for and even then it wasn't hard to figure out. He'd known Twilight for years. He knew how he operated. Worked. Thought.

The idiot wasn't taking his own advice. All these years he'd gone on about not getting attached to people, and yet here he was flirting with his wife.

Was it innocent? Maybe. Were there feelings behind it? Franky hoped not, at least for Twilight's sake. He liked Yor; she kept Twilight on his toes and was much more pleasant to talk to than him. If it were a different time, in a different place, Franky would have shaken his buddy and told him to marry her for real a long time ago. But this was Ostania. She was an Ostanian citizen, and they were from Westalis. Such a relationship would never work, not even taking into account that...well, relationships always ended badly for people with jobs like theirs. They just never worked.

Franky frowned. He took a sip of wine and kept watching the Forgers. Even taking into account everything he'd just said, all the things he knew, and every justified fear he had about this whole thing...even Franky had to admit they seemed happy. Go figure. Grumpy ol' Twilight, venom-tongued and no-nonsense, and by all accounts a downright asshole at his worst, was softer than fresh-baked cookies whenever Yor was around. Not all the time, but even those rare moments when he genuinely let his guard down were always because of her. His fake wife. Fake mother to his child. The means to an end. By all accounts a huge mistake to develop feelings for, though Franky knew that was way out the window at this point.

He shook his head, yet still a grin etched into the informant's face. Twilight was hopeless; Franky's job was information gathering, not babysitting. Still, he supposed he'd hold his tongue in the meantime. Watch from afar, like he always did, and reel his buddy in if things ever went too far. Or...maybe not even then, Franky mused as Yor and Loid eventually caught each other staring and turned red from embarrassment. They both looked away and stopped their little game, both too shaken to continue.

Franky took another drink of wine and his grin got even bigger; knowing Loid, he'd be too hung up on Yor to remember to kick his ass later.

/*\

"Bye! Thank you for coming!" Yor waved off the last of the guests; Camilla and Dominic politely waved back as they walked down the hall. "See you on Monday!"

They couldn't leave fast enough. Once it was just her and Loid, Yor immediately darted back inside and closed the door behind her. She collapsed against it and breathed a huge sigh of relief. The sound of running water in the kitchen and lovely silence throughout the apartment signaled the end of the Forger party. By all accounts it had been a huge success; everyone, even her brother, voiced their approval before leaving. There was talk of getting together again at some point in the future and Yor agreed; at someone else's house, of course.

"Mission accomplished," Loid called out over the chorus of dishes.

Yor stayed against the wall for a moment and nodded. "No more parties for a while."

"Agreed," her husband sighed. They were exhausted, and had been even before Camilla and Dominic left.

Who knew hosting could be so tiring? Certainly not Yor; she figured with her athleticism and unique set of skills, such a small thing like running around their apartment for a few hours would be a piece of cake. If anything, it was the most draining thing she'd ever done before. Yor couldn't help but to admire Camilla for putting on such a wonderful party all those months ago, and vaguely she considered putting something together for her upon returning to work on Monday as a sort of late token of appreciation.

Such a thing would have to wait till tomorrow, though. Yor was pooped.

After catching her breath, she went to the living room and started to gather trash and dishes. Both she and Loid fell into a malaise as post-party brain wracked them both; they spaced out and went on auto-pilot of a little while. Neither said a word and simply went to work on their respective cleaning duties. Loid handled any leftovers, cleaned the kitchen, and rearranged the dining room table. Yor picked up and started to gather all the dirty laundry that she had inconveniently forgotten to do earlier in the day.

"You're doing laundry now?" Loid raised a brow as he spied her through the kitchen window. It was close to midnight.

Yor tilted her head. "Not that I particularly want to, but we don't have anything to sleep in...or at least I don't."

"Just wear my night-shirt," he replied tiredly. Yor immediately gaped at the suggestion, but Loid didn't care. He was done for the night.

Yor went to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Despite clearly not being comfortable with the thought, Yor had to admit Loid's offer sounded way better than staying up all night doing laundry. Besides, there was no point in cleaning her nightgown when she'd probably just pass out on the couch waiting for the dryer, anyway. Even then she'd still be wearing Loid's clothes, and at least if she wore his night-shirt then she could fall asleep in the comfort of her own bed. For once, she was too tired to be embarrassed.

"...Alright," Yor agreed. She still pinked, however; Yor was convinced this entire night was some test to see how many times she could blush.

The water stopped as Loid paused on the dishes. He dried himself off before walking past Yor on his way to fish out what few clothes he had left. She waited patiently, and a minute later he returned with the t-shirt in his hand. He handed it off to her, and she likewise went into her room to go get changed. A heavy yawn tugged at her lips as she left him alone with the after-party mess. Loid looked around him and his face fell flat; there was no way he was cleaning all this right now. He'd knock out the dishes, and the rest could wait till tomorrow.

The remainder of the plates and silverware were washed and put away. Everything else would be left, untouched, until the morning. Loid walked past it all and shuffled into his room, while at the same time Yor came out of hers to go brush her teeth. They missed each other; neither saw the other come or go, not until Loid got changed and he too went to go take care of his nightly affairs. They crossed paths once he entered the bathroom to wash up, and it was at that point Yor nearly spit out her toothpaste.

She stopped. In the mirror beside her stood her husband; tall, tired and shirtless.

He didn't pay her even the slightest bit of attention. Loid's eyes were fixed entirely on his toothbrush, and even after he went to work cleaning out the lingering taste of wine from his tongue Loid still didn't seem to notice her next to him. She, on the other hand, noticed him. Yor's face was hot, frozen, and everything else in between. She dared not turn to look at him, and instead just stared through the bathroom mirror. He stared back, though his attention wasn't on her. It wasn't anywhere, really. Truly he was in his own little world.

The water ran. He rinsed his mouth, then leaned over to wash his face, and Yor looked down at the muscles on his back. Her toes curled.

She looked away when he popped back up. Loid dried off and quickly left her alone. With a tired good night, he waved behind him and suddenly Yor was left alone. Standing there breathless, her eyes lingered on the spot in the mirror where her husband had been standing. It was almost like he'd never been there to begin with; just a dream that had paid her a visit in the night. Maybe she was asleep? Yor pinched herself for a second and squinted. Nope, still awake. Yor looked down at herself and immediately became red again.

She was wearing the top half of Loid's sleep attire. Him, the bottom half.

She still had on his shorts from earlier (thankfully). His shirt fit more snug than his button-up, but still covered her down to her thighs. All things considering, it was quite comfy, though there was no getting used to this clothing situation no matter how hard she tried. Yor shook her head and sighed deeply; the sooner she went to bed and got up to do laundry, the less chances of her dying from a heart attack. Between Loid and everything else that had happened that night, Yor didn't think she could take any more surprises.

Teeth brushed. Face washed. Nature, answered. Yor took care of everything and turned off the lights behind her. Loid had long since retreated into his bedroom, and she quickly did the same. Yor hopped straight into bed and immediately lost herself in the cool feeling her pillow. She curled up nicely in her sheets and closed her eyes. Thoughts of the party were soon replaced with that of her family. Anya would be dropped off in the morning, likely early, so she needed to be up and ready at a decent time to receive her.

Loid would need help cleaning. Maybe if she got up before him, she could knock everything out before he awoke and surprise him. It was the least she could do after everything he'd done for her that night. She smiled as the lingering image of her husband and daughter became etched into her mind, and it wasn't long before she fell asleep peacefully to it.

Her family. A fake one, yet even still she was dearly fond of it.

/*\

Loid staggered into the living room as he scratched the back of his head. His alarm had failed to go off. Maybe the fact he'd knocked it off the nightstand in a half-wake stupor had something to do with it. He'd intended to wake up early and get a head start on all the cleaning, though supposed that option was off the table now; even more so when he realized that there wasn't anything dirty to clean. He blinked while scanning the living room and was surprised to find everything back in order as it should be. Yor must have gotten up before him.

As if on queue, his wife greeted him pleasantly as she crept up behind him. "Morning, Loid!"

"Good morning," he replied back. He turned around and found Yor with a basket of clothes in her arms. "Thank you for cleaning."

"Of course!" she beamed back. "I needed to get to work on laundry, anyway. Anya will be home any minute and I want to make sure she has clean clothes."

Loid nodded. He'd nearly forgotten about their daughter. Neither he nor the Blackbells had agreed on a time frame of when to drop her off, but seeing as how it was a Sunday and close to noon Loid assumed it would be soon. He didn't know if they'd fed her or not, though even if they had he and Yor still needed to eat. Loid informed his wife he'd get to work on breakfast and she nodded. They both went to work on their respective chores and kept quiet for a time. Dutiful silence. A far cry from the chaos of last night. It was relaxing.

Eggs and sausage. Simple, quick, and if Anya wasn't hungry it could be fed to the dog. Speaking of, Loid glanced over and found Bond sitting attentively at the end of the kitchen. He was ready to carry out his sole duty as the Forger hound; should any stray food drop to the floor, it was his job to clean it up. Loid looked over his shoulder. His wife was nowhere to be found and, once he determined the coast was clear, he promptly flicked a chunk of sausage off the pan with his spatula. It fell, and Bond went straight to work. He waddled over and made the mess disappear in one gulp.

"Tell no one," Loid instructed.

Bond complied. He was good at keeping secrets.

Breakfast didn't take long to make. Loid barely finished by the time a knock came at the door. Most likely Anya. Yor called out to Loid and asked him if he could answer it. Seeing as how he was done cooking anyway, Loid turned off the burner and made his way to the door. He looked down as Bond followed beside him and very quickly he realized he wasn't decent. His shirt situation hadn't changed since last night. Loid failed to notice before, but even so his apathy had also carried over with him; he just flat out didn't care at the moment.

With a sigh and a shrug to himself he opened the door. In front of him stood his daughter, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and next to her were her friend Becky and who Loid assumed was the Blackbells' chauffeur. The two men nodded to one another and exchanged pleasantries, while at the same time the two little girls stirred at their knees.

"Papa! Where's your shirt!" Anya pointed up at him. It was less a question and more an incredulous statement; papa was always well-dressed.

"It's a long story, Anya," Loid shook his head. He promised to fill her in later before turning his attention to Becky. "Did you two have fun at your sleepover?"

Becky was silent. She stood stiff as a board and stared up at Mr. Forger. If he bothered to look hard enough, he could've seen the hearts in her eyes. "I-I-I...! Y-you-!"

"We really must be going, Ms. Blackbell," Becky's chauffeur informed her. "Your parents are both off for the first time in weeks and they wish to spend the day with you."

"B-but I don't wanna spend time with them! I wanna stay here!" Becky exclaimed. She continued to gape at Loid, even as her chauffeur started to drag her away. "Wait! Nooo-!"

Both Loid and Anya raised a brow as the little girl struggled in vain to break free. The latter had the unfortunate ability to read her friend's mind, and she wished nothing more than to scrub Becky's version of papa from her own. She could be weird sometimes. Loid found that out, too, though he had no way of knowing what his daughter's friend was thinking. He just waved politely as Becky and her chauffeur walked down the stairs and disappeared. The sounds of her struggling could still be heard as Loid and Anya retreated inside. Only the door closing behind them could silence it.

"Mama! I'm home!" Anya called out. She let her backpack fall to the floor next to her as Bond came up to lick her face.

Yor appeared around the corner immediately. She gaped ecstatically at her daughter's presence and ran up to hug her. Anya made the same face, though it quickly shifted when she realized what her mama was wearing. Her smile morphed into confusion as she felt Yor's arms wrap around her; she still hugged her mama back, but looked up at papa as she did.

"...Why is mama wearing your shirt?" Anya asked him pointedly. Loid immediately straightened.

Yor hugged her daughter tighter, if only to hide the sudden redness in her cheeks. "Um, I forgot to do laundry yesterday..."

"...So she borrowed my clothes," Loid finished for her. His eyes narrowed uncomfortably as Anya gave him an inquisitive look. "Nothing more."

Anya blinked. It was a reasonable answer, but somehow it seemed a difficult concept to wrap her head around. Anya didn't particularly know why it was a big deal, at least...not until she read her parents' minds. Unbeknownst to them, she got a crash course in almost everything that had happened last night. Franky. The wine. The clothes. Everything save for what happened before they both went to bed, as she didn't have enough time to gleam that off of them before Yor broke away. She smiled at her daughter, and Anya smiled back to cover her tracks.

Papa minus shirt, plus mama with shirt, equaled...something. She was pretty bad at math, but knew that equation amounted to some sort of change in her parents. That much was obvious, even to Anya. She looked up at them as they exchanged glances and smiles before separating once more; Yor to go finish turning over the laundry and Loid to start serving breakfast. She scrunched her face up and tried to mull over what exactly was going on, but ultimately was unable to as the smells of eggs and sausage wafted into her nostrils. It was time to eat.

She'd already had breakfast at Becky's, but...it was nearly noon. Second breakfast, she thought to herself in satisfaction. With a big smile she rushed over to the dinner table and took up a chair as Bond followed behind. He sat at her feet as Loid came into drop off a plate in front of her. She immediately gathered her knife and fork, though waited for mama to arrive as papa called out to her to come eat. He then took off to go find a shirt to put on in the meantime; even if it was the same one from last night, it was better than nothing, at least until Yor was done with laundry.

Speaking of, he walked past his wife on the way to his bedroom. They side-stepped one another, and spared each other a glance before walking away. Loid stopped at his door and looked over his shoulder to catch Yor right before she turned the corner.

She'd put her hair up in a ponytail, but it was her figure that caught his attention. It was painfully noticeable from behind. The house-sweater she usually wore always covered it up, but with her new outfit there was no hiding it. Loid stared as long legs walked away from him, and he was left reminded of the night before. When he left Yor in the bathroom and pretended not to notice before leaving for bed; the way his shirt hugged her chest, and teased the rest of her like some kind of cruel joke. It was all he could think about for the better half of the evening, and the sole reason why he passed out late and subsequently slept in. Then and now, as Yor's curves disappeared from sight, all Loid could do was remind himself of Operation Strix. His mission. The sole reason he was there in the first place.

He sighed. Long, steady, and deep.

Best to let her keep the clothes...just in case she ever forgot to do laundry again.

[chat-noir-always-here]

I rewatch Miraculous—Mr. Pigeon

Behold!!! The episode that almost made me stop watching Miraculous.

No for real i think i got up and left the room first time around, this episode was so ridiculous.

• “You only have one day to work on your fashion piece.” Only a day? That seems kinda unrealistic when you take into account designing, gathering materials, whether or not you need to go out and buy any materials, the amount of time it takes to actually put all that together...

•WHOA Gabriel’s actually smiling in that pic Mrs. Bustier shows. Er, smiling-ish

•Pure cinnamon roll child seems proud this peppermint frappucino dickhead is his father (Gabriel ur hair looks like whipped topping and that tie doesnt help). BE GRATEFUL FOR SUCH A CARIBG CHILD YOU PRICK!!!

•Maaaaaariii chill the fuck out your overactive imagination and severe anxiety are getting the better of you.

•AHEM Gabriel has a purple bowtie in Mari’s imagination instead of that ridiculous peppermint scarf he uses to hide Nooroo’s broach???

•Adrien: appears out of nowhere

Marintette: jerks and flops away like a fish on dry land

Me: lol bye Marinette

• Adriens beuatiful face when Mari is talking to him (before she blunders and stumbles with her words) is beautiful

•Mari’s beautiful face when Adrien is telling her “you’re so talented Marinette!” and the subtle tremor in her eyes as they widen with her smile...☺️😊😘i love my beautiful, anxious mess of a daughter

•Mari: Follows Adrien with her eyes like an owl. LMAO.

•Chloe does not deserve Sabrina 😒

•Whereas Gabriel resembles a peppermint frap, Hawk Moth/Papillion appears to be the result of what might happen if Batman and the riddler had a baby

•Ramier, bruh, there is like. Zero. Fucking. Reason to be that upset over not being allowed to feed pigeons. For real. Go feed them on some rooftop somewhere if you must. No reason to let Hawk Daddy akumatize you over it...

...

...

...You know what? We’re not calling Gabriel “daddy.”

EVER. Again.

•Also Hawk-shitface, pigeon dude is your worst idea and you keep coming back to him. Seriously at least put some effort into your champions’ outfits. Youre a fashion designer for petes sake!

• wow this show really loves its skin-tight body suits, huh? Even when they look ridiculous.

•Sabrina how the hell much did you have to pay for a cellphone that lets you zoom in on a fucking sketch from dozens of feet away and score yourself a crystal-clear image???

•Sabrina: “We’re soooo awesome!”

Chloe: “We?”

Chloe does NOT deserve Sabrina.

•Arent real bird feathers full of germs and bacteria that cause diseases? And Marinette “im immune to bird flu” Dupain-Cheng just plucked that shit up off the ground and put it on her hat of all things. I dont know whether to be fisgusted or impressed.

•Chat “paint me like one of your French girls” Noir for the win everybody

• “Im allergic to feathers.” I came across a theory on tumblr once (cant find the OP) that this coulda been caused by Emilie wearing the damaged Peacock broach when she was pregnant with him. If thats true i would be pleased😏

•Allow me to channel Chloe for this comment: LB, CN, that disguise is about as convincing as Mr. Pigeon and Bubbler’s get ups are appealing. In other words, NO.

•Chat Noir moonwalking with a hat on—booiii got some moves. 👌👌👌👌

• “You’re the cat dont you eat [pigeons] for breakfast?!” No LB, Kitty Boi is a domestic kitty otherwise he’d present to you little dead things like my cat used to do before we stopped letting him go out. This is an awful joke but SPARE THE BIRDS, theyre just like Ramier—being controlled by a monster.

• “On the count of three my beloved pigeons will commence fire.” As disgusting as pigeon poop is i think they’ll live. Cant you come up with a better evil plan? Threatening to break the glass floor at their feet by having the pigeons stomp on the cage would be more effective. I’m not trying to help the villain, kaay? I just prefer my villains to use their head. Honestly Team Rocket is more intimidating than Pigeon Dude.

•is it just me or is kitty boi especially adorable in this episode??? 😻😻😻

• flock of pigeons put a dent ten times the size of kitty boi’s head in the door

Okay thats actually kinda terrifying. What woulda happened if that attack hit a normal person wearing no magical armor??? They’d be pecked to bits...

• CN: “I gotta get outta here before my secret identity is revealed!”

LB: “Yeah you wouldnt wanna let the cat out of the bag!”

CN: “...Haha very funny.” 😾

Dont dish out what you cant take, handsome boy.

•LB’s look of amusement as CN starts running in place for fear of detransforming in front of others is hillarious

•kitty boi if this hotel takes tips you should really give Jean-whatshisname one. That was the speediest, life-saving room service ever.

•isnt this just Chloe’s room??? Theres a ladybug pillow on the bed and everything. Why did the mayor send CN to Chloe’s room???

• “i cant wait my dear pigeon.” Hmm reminds of later on when Hawk Moth calls Nats “My dear Mayura.” Bruh if you INTO Ramier just ask for his phone number like a normal person, quit akumatizing him and eat a damn snickers

•LB: Time for a sneak attack! Oh no, my sneak attack failed cuz my partner couldnt help but sneeze with all these FEATHERS around.

HELLO, he just told you he was allergic to feathers???

•ugh them censoring out the punches with flashy screenshots is so LAAAME show me the VIOLENCE.

• “Cat Noir! Grab [the bird call!]” AGAIN he’s ALLERGIC TO FEATHERS. Just tie that yoyo to something to keep Pigeon dude in the air and smash it yourself.

• Gabriel is that teacher from Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide who was never physically present in class and was only ever seen through a tablet or some nonsense

•Chloe getting busted my Marinette in front of the principal, Gabriel and Adrien is a great example of how PLAGIARISM DOESNT PAY are you listening art thieves lurking on tumblr, instagram and elsewhere???

•ahem Gabriel that sympathetic look you give a weeping Chloe is very out of character

• “youre the winner Marinette.” Not gonna check out Kim and Max’s hat? You could at least look at it, doesnt seem very impartial to pick Mari without looking at ALL the hats

•siiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhh

Girl they are BOTH allergic to feathers. How many blonde teenage boys walk around with a feather allergy? Quantum Masking or no Quantum Masking, c’mon you should be at least considering the idea theyre the same person from that knowledge alone.

Annnd thats all for now. This episode is more of a vent-inducing hate sink than enjoyable, save for the gushing waterfall of cute kitty boi moments it provides. I may do Stormy Weather later today to make up for it.

[randomrosewrites]

Often, not many people see or know about what writers do behind the scenes, so here's a small list of notes/ things I took to give you a glimpse (heh) of what it was like to write/ think of "a glimpse of paradise"

spoilers for the fic under the cut!

I looked up the actual city Hawks' agency is located at in the manga and looked at some of the streets for reference

I also looked up how long a flight would be to fly from Fukuoka to Tokyo. It's a little under 2 hours by plane. I made it 4 for hawks and the reader, to account for him having to carry them and for the breaks he'd have to take.

How the fic turned out was different than what I originally had planned. I planned for it to be around 5-10K words, with the plot being focused more on the missions Hawks and the reader do. Endeavor’s agency and Vulture and Burnin’ just kinda happened. 

This fic took ages to write. seriously. I spent half a month writing and rewriting stuff until I finally took two days to sit down and edit the 47 page monster.

Editing and editing and editing...most of my time as a writer is spent editing and this fic was no exception. @firein-thesky was a great help on picking up on my mistakes and polishing areas of it. (If you’re reading this Belle, thank you again, you’re a life saver)

Now for some story related notes. 

I tried to put the ticking of the clock in as much places as I could. It serves as a reminder that the reader only has 2 months at Hawks agency and time is continuity slipping through their fingers.

Speaking of clock, every single scene in the fic has a purpose (which is what most stories should have) but for this fic, there isn’t a single scene that doesn’t have a reason for being in the story. I’m always trying to explain/ make/ introduce something with each scene, signifying how ‘every second counts’

I tried to make the food hawks and the reader eat accurate to what Japanese people would eat. (It's a small thing, I know, but I had fun looking up dishes and food)

Hawks and the reader are meant to parallel each other in the story. Hawks is weak to fire, the reader dislikes fire, they’re both sent to work by the HPSC, they’ve both got great ‘hero’ quirks, they both are passionate and invested in their works etc.

Building off on the last point, they also contrast each other in opposite ends. The reader faces their fears (fire by going to endeavors agency) wheas Hawks runs away from them (inability to commit to a relationship)

Also, this isn’t mentioned in the fic (though I think it’s rather obvious) but Dabi is the one who causes the fire partway through the fic. Which is why Hawks was so stressed that the reader went because he realized ‘Shit. Dabi’s probably gonna kill them’ Which...he didn’t, but he did hurt the reader. :p So that’s something people will pick up on if they can put two and two together. 

Annnd that's about all I had for this one! It was fun to write, but oh my god it ate up so much of my time. I’m satisfied with how it ended, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. 

[solitae]

Not Nothing - Part 1 - Janaya Fic

x-posted on my AO3 account, link on my main page

Summary:

What exactly did it mean for them to hold hands like that? So far Amaya and Janai had avoided any real discussion of their interest in each other, but maybe it was time to figure it out.

Notes:

These two have captured my imagination, and the tiny detail of Amaya still wearing her burned glove pushed me to start writing about them.

I've made a few assumptions about how much sign language Janai can understand. Since they've been traveling alone together, I have assumed that she knows some simple practical phrases as well as finger-spelling. In general, I am trying to be mindful of the communication barriers there, but I also feel like Amaya tends to be good at making herself understood.

Also, this was meant to be a one-off ficlet, but it got away from me. Rather than chasing the whole thing down the rabbit hole, I decided to post this first part, but there may be more to come! (Annnd it might be a touch steamier)

The battle was won, the Dragon Queen was awake, and they finally had a chance to breathe. The happy chaos of relief swept them up, everyone catching up with everyone else. Callum had discovered he was a mage, which felt both strange and right. He was truly Sarai’s child. And Ezran. Ezran ...she wished her sister could see him. He tumbled with the tiny dragon, still able to take pure delight in that connection. 

Her focus on her nephews had allowed Janai space, but now Amaya began to wonder if it was too much. Or perhaps it was the raucous crowd or Gren’s cheerful attempts to make friends with the elf. More likely, it was her still-fresh grief. Janai had retreated into quiet as much as was possible on the crowded spire, and they had not spoken since she’d given in and held Amaya’s hand. 

When she asked Gren to keep an eye on the boys, he gave her a knowing look. 

“Later,” she signed. “I want to know everything.”

“So do I.” 

His cheeky grin made her snort, and she punched his shoulder before making her way out of the main cavern. Night had fallen while she was inside, but sleep felt days away.  

She found Janai grooming the mount they’d flown to the spire. The woman fumbled with the brush and jerked her head up at Amaya’s approach.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Amaya lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to go?”

Janai met her eyes for a heartbeat then shook her head. The general felt a smile curve her lips, but it faltered as they both studied each other for a moment. It had been years since Amaya felt that flutter in her stomach, and something in Janai’s expression said she was as unfamiliar and uncertain about it as well. 

“Let’s fly,” Amaya offered. Whatever came next, it was unlikely to be made easier by someone disrupting them, and their journey to the boys had proved they could manage to communicate on their own.

The relief on Janai’s face confirmed her instinct, and they worked together to get the fire gryphon geared up. Amaya swung up behind Janai in the saddle. The woman stiffened when Amaya’s arms slid around her, but then they were off, lifting into the night air. 

Perhaps she had pushed too hard. Perhaps the glances exchanged in the heat of battle had merely been ...but as they turned away from the battlefield, she felt Janai sink slowly back against her. She let her arms tighten fractionally around Janai and was rewarded with a small press back against her chest.

With her arms devoted to keeping her from falling off, Amaya simply rested her chin on Janai’s shoulder. As Janai let out a long breath, Amaya found her resting almost fully back against her chest, her body heat seeping through Amaya’s armor, leaving the rest of her to feel chilled. She could not stop her hold from turning protective, and they simply flew like that for a time.

Janai eventually brought them down to land on the bank of a small lake. With some reluctance, Amaya slid off their mount then held out her hand to help Janai. The elf studied her hand for a moment before reaching out. Instead of taking it though, she brushed her finger over the hole burned into Amaya’s glove, just grazing her palm still raw from the burn. The contact sent a shiver down Amaya’s spine, and she looked up at her.

“I owe you a new pair of gloves.” 

 Amaya blinked and shook her head. “You owe me nothing.”

A faint weary smile touched the corners of Janai’s lips, and she took Amaya’s hand, using it to swing down from the mount. When the elf kept hold of her hand instead of dropping it, Amaya closed her fingers around her hand in return. It felt ridiculous that simply holding the Janai’s hand sent warmth through Amaya’s whole body, but there it was.

Janai sunk down on a low flat rock, and Amaya sat down next to her. She found herself watching their hands together as Janai stared out over the lake. With a little squeeze, Janai let go of her hand and tapped Amaya’s shoulder to draw her gaze up to her face. In the dim light offered by the gryphon’s tail, the elf’s eyes seemed to glow. 

“So what happens now?”  The question tumbled out so quickly that Amaya struggled to catch it, and they ended up staring at each other for a moment before Amaya worked it out.

She lifted one shoulder. “Everyone is still working to-” 

Janai shaking her head cut her off.“No. I meant...” 

Amaya tilted her head at Janai’s hesitation, watching as the elf worked her lips. Finally, she just gestured between them. 

Heat rose in Amaya’s cheeks, and she couldn’t help grinning. She lidded her eyes and gave Janai a sly look. “What do you want to happen now?”

It was Janai’s turn to blush, and she ducked, looking out at the lake again. Wordlessly, she shifted closer, pressing her shoulder against Amaya’s. The warmth of her made Amaya sigh softly, and she returned the pressure, letting their silence hang for a few moments. 

“There’s no hurry.” Amaya glanced up at Janai to make certain she was watching. As usual, she’d focused on Amaya’s hands the instant she lifted them. “We held hands. We’re not betrothed.” 

Confusion crossed her face instead of the laugh Amaya was hoping for. “What is-” Janai copied the sign for betrothed, fumbling a little with it.

Amaya slowly finger-spelled it for her and watched her lips as she spelled it out.

“Be- oh! Betrothed!”

“Not. Not betrothed.” Amaya corrected quickly with a laugh. Janai, however, still wore a serious look, and Amaya settled as the elf searched her face. The familiar feeling that she had missed something crept down her spine, and she lifted a questioning eyebrow at Janai. “We’re not. Right?”

Janai quickly shook her head. “No, but ...”

Amaya narrowed her eyes. “But?”

“But holding hands for the Dragon Queen also doesn’t mean nothing either.” The way Janai’s brow creased spoke of real worry. 

Amaya slid her arm through the elf’s and squeezed it against her side. It was still hard to wrap her head around all that the Dragon Queen meant to the elves, but Janai was right. It was more than nothing, and the tension of not knowing held Janai rigid.

Amaya glanced up at the elf, her eyes sliding over the set of her jaw before she met Janai’s eyes. They way they glittered in the dim light made her breath catch, and she signed again, more slowly this time, without a hint of teasing. “What do you want to happen now?”

The moments that Janai studied her face stretched on, and the elf’s lips worked a little without forming words. Finally, she dipped her head forward, her eyes closing as she brought her forehead to rest on Amaya’s. 

Amaya’s eyes slipped closed too as she let out a shuddery breath. All the tension of the last weeks suddenly dissolved, and tears burned behind her eyelids. She could feel Janai’s breath hitching too. Her hand shot up to cradle Janai’s cheek, and the elf instantly leaned into the contact, pressing her cheek against Amaya’s ragged glove.

Janai’s hand sought hers, their fingers tangling together against the elf’s cheek. They rested there together. There was too much. Too much between them, too much behind each of them. They could find the words and signs later.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Director’s Cut 3: Danny Rayburn

* Well it’s more a focus on our Reader character, but, Danny.

“What was the inspiration behind Liliana and her family? Because they’re all so amazing 😭🙏 and how did you choose the name Devan?” 

Liv, bless you for asking the difficult questions! Now you get a look inside my crazy mind (as if you hadn’t all already with Andrew.)

So, If you thought Andrew was a long post you better grab your favourite drink and your Danny playlist and settle in!

The following specifically refers to our reader character and her family, and the events of Sway and it’s spin-offs, which I will obviously always encourage you to read! 😁 Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6  / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Sweet Spot  /  All I Want For Christmas / Good Woman

What was the inspiration behind Liliana and her family?

Before we go into too much detail I want you to imagine 1st January, 2019. And then a girl who had recently purchased Camila Cabello’s first album - late, after being super impressed by her performance opening for Taylor Swift - and watched the first episode of Bloodline AND Dirty Dancing 2 (the trade off for having your mum watch Rogue One with you) in one single day. Anyone who hasn’t listened to Camila’s album, this is essentially Danny’s dance playlist, I don’t make the rules

I had ideas for Danny before I even started to watch. Mostly because when you’re first immersed in the world of Ben Mendelsohn and trawl through blogs, you can’t help but notice Danny. Annnd found out a lot about the show, which caused me to have a BUNCH of misconceptions and create a story in my head that was just... not even remotely close to what Bloodline is.

So here’s the deal, I occasionally like thinking about some of Ben’s characters gender bent, and how that would make them different/similar and affect their stories. I did this with Andrew and Gerry before I did it with Danny (because can we just think about Animal Kingdom if they were female?). And then armed with my assumptions, I came up with a story for Bloodline. “Linzi, why are you telling me this-!?” I hear you cry, but don’t leave the post just yet! Just keep in mind that Jack Ervin was (female) Danny’s restaurant accountant and also will they / won’t they love affair, that uhm. Well they didn’t, because Danny dies.  For all intents and purposes a lot of Jack’s plot points became Lily’s (including bringing back the restaurant). Also I had a great character with a great name that I didn’t want to waste. Jack became Liliana’s dad - and therefore we got: Jack and Liliana Ervin. 

Back to Dirty Dancing 2 - set in Havana, complete with its ‘will they/won’t they’ love story (of different social classes!) and of course, Latin American dancing. To say I borrowed a lot of ideas from this is probably an understatement - but Danny is a Miami boy, and Miami has Little Havana. Quickly it all kinda fell together.  But in this case, Danny is the out of his element American and Liliana (given that her parents are both from Latin American backgrounds) is the dancer. Added to that in DD2 the girls parents are both dancers, I was happy to keep an element of that for our girl too. Jack remained Jack Ervin, with his name actually being Juan Ervin (American Father, Argentinian Mother) but changing his name to Jack to fit in with his Miami high-society persona. Maria (American Mother, Puerto Rican Father) basically has a super cliche Hispanic name, I know (well both of them do but Juan is the equiv. to Jack so that’s how we ended up there) but it worked for me. Liliana’s name... I don’t even know where I got it from - sometimes names just come to me, sometimes I spend hours finding a good one on all these naming sites! 😅 Lily just came to me, I certainly wanted something that could be shortened Liliana->Lily but also something that went with Danny’s name. Liliana Rayburn is a great name. (I know the irony of that, you don’t need to tell me twice!) I need a ship name for them.

Let’s take a little look at their character for a second though: Jack and Maria are meant to be parallel to Robert and Sally. But also the complete opposite. Jack is described as a ruthless businessman who doesn’t care to much about his reputation in business. He’ll just get the job done no matter what the cost. The catch being of course that really Jack is a lovely guy, he cares very much about his family (+ extended family!) and is a well respected member of Miami society. Ruthless yes - but Maria and Lily mean more than the world to him - and eventually Danny too. “No man is good enough for your daughter until one is. And he is.” and also “He would have given you the world, and I would have let him.” Just sayin’ he’s a good father and a good man.  Maria is mentioned a little less than Jack is but I think that’s because I basically want to compare Jack/Danny to Robert/Danny. I also think that Jack has more to do with the overall story; he’s the one with the well known construction company that everyone recognises Liliana’s last name from, the reason that everyone is all over Danny with the “You can’t get involved with Jack Ervin’s daughter!!” spiel. Maria is the quieter character, but spends a lot of time showering Danny with love when she is around. Lily’s parents were all about giving Danny family that loved him unconditionally. A real family. She’s... probably a little more on the ‘stereotypical’ side of Hispanic parents, but there’s a reason for that-! One of my very best friends is Peruvian, and every time I visit him it’s like visiting my second family. Like from the very first time I met them his parents were SO kind, like above and beyond... and so adorable... oh my gosh, I love them so much and they are 100% inspiration for Jack and Maria. Maria is basically his mum. 😁 But more than anything I wanted Jack and Maria that wanted nothing more for their daughter than for her to find someone who loves her. No matter who he is or his background or anything like that. Which was important to me, especially having been through a relationship myself where my family didn’t really approve of him because he wasn’t from the same social class. I’m certainly not about that.

As your tags put it - Jack and Maria are the biggest Danny/Liliana shippers! 😁 (With Javi and Jason a close second! And I won’t leave out Evie and Amanda either!)

Liliana Oh my gosh. My love for her can’t be overstated. I say it every time, but I’ll say it again. When I started her and Danny’s journey on that dancefloor in January 2019 I never would have dreamed I’d be still here now nearing fic number 200. I wasn’t even sure if anyone would have been interested in them enough for me to ever write more than just Sway 1. But, when you’re asked to write a second part then you know it’s got traction and you end up with 10, of course!  Inspiration for Liliana? Good question. A little like I said for Elaiyna with Andrew, I needed a S/O that fit with Danny and his story. I say at the start of part 10 that really it’s her story. And it is, Danny takes her from one night stands with men she meets on the dancefloor to mother of 2 kids in a loving relationship where it’s clear that she will never love anyone else. And it’s his character/personality, being as in character as possible, that leads her there. Liliana never runs out of chances, she forgives Danny for everything he does because she loves him so much. Because she can’t bear to think of life without him, nor what his life would be like if she left. Liliana is... a strong woman who doesn’t know how strong she is. She loves unconditionally and she doesn’t care that Danny is not on top of his game - he’s struggled his whole life, but he does not have to struggle with her. She’s meant to be the easiest thing about his life - home, a safe place, strength and stability.  Danny is her adventure - with all his secrets, and his past, and how much he suffers she’s presented with a problem that she can’t solve, she can’t save,but loves him anyway. Lily will never give up.  The contrast between the two worlds they are in when they meet, and then the one they build together as they grow which takes that contrast and just makes it work. Like they just work - sure I made it that way, but I tried to make it realistic. Love has no barriers, right? It shouldn’t. To quote my characters again: “There’s one fairytale here, and it’s yours.”

I wouldn’t give her a pushover title - sure she never runs out of chances for him (perhaps its arguable that she could walk away but it never occurred to me that that was her personality.) but like, screw his family. She won’t ever forgive them for what they’ve done to him, she won’t ever trust them.  So why does she forgive John? Because that’s her character. That’s what Danny made her. John and Danny’s relationship always fascinated me in the show and it just strikes me that Danny and John were close, even with all that happened. Danny would want Lily to forgive him - and maybe Lily only forgives him FOR Danny, but it’s in her character. She’s tired of all this conflict and all she wants is for John to confirm he did it so she knows for sure.  Liliana has elements of me in her, perhaps a little more than most of my other OCs, elements of my feelings towards characters in the show as I continued to watch, elements of other OC’s of mine (and physically too. Her Psalm tattoo I directly lifted from someone else. Hey, it be that way sometimes!) and elements of all these pieces that inspired me to write her in the first place. 

I mean I don’t know if that really explains it clearly. Because there’s not really one clear inspiration for them - but from a range of different sources and elements. I hope that it even helps explain it a little though! 😅

How did you chose the name Devan?

Oh my gosh, okay. Liv why did you have to ask this question!  So, oh god this is so stupid.  Basically, although I knew that they would have a son, because our characters didn’t know that they were going to have a son, I wanted to give the baby a unisex name. Because I ALSO knew I was going to follow Bloodline canon it was also important to me that Danny be the one to chose the name.  Added to that, like Nolan, I knew that Danny and Lily’s baby was going to keep that Rayburn last name.  Devan Rayburn and Devan Ervin both sound pretty great to me..!

Obviously, it should be Devin. And the only reason I think I chose Devan was because a) I actually thought that was how you spelled it... (I mean I guess so, there’s no other logical reason I can’t have called him Devin... unless I looked at Devin Ervin and thought... ‘that’s basically the same’ and so changed the spelling but it was definitely always written Devan in plans etc) and b) a singer called Devin Dawson.  When I was on my year long internship in the USA I was able to listen to country music radio - specifically the station a family friend worked on. And they were obsessed with a song called “All On Me” by Devin Dawson. (actually it’s a good one for this series, but that’s beside the point!) So I heard his name all the time, and I’m 99% sure that I got it from him. (Also fast forward and I’ve actually now seen the guy in concert and was like “Oh yeah I named a character after you.” so yeah it’s probably Devin Dawson’s fault. )  At the end of part 8 I left a note that says “Devan isn’t easily explainable but I hope you like it.” and honestly, if there’s a bigger story I can’t remember it. I know that ‘Evan’ was another character in my genderbent story but I don’t think I just added the ‘D’ to that... Maybe that was an element of it though?  

Also I’m a sucker for ‘weird’ names or weirdly spelled names - a lot of my OCs fall victim to this - sorry girls! 😅 So it’s unsurprising that he ended up Devan, not Devin. Also I’d pronounce it “Dev-an” with a soft ‘a’ sound... 

Interestingly it took me a little longer to decide on his middle name being Daniel. I guess I’m not sure how good “Devan Daniel Rayburn” sounds... But then I wasn’t about to resist it, and it seems like the kind of decision that Liliana would make.  

I hope that answered your questions Liv! 🙏💜💙 You’re always welcome to ask for further clarification! 😁

---

Thank you as always for being interested in my work! Just gonna remind you all that you can ask for a Fanfic directors cut ! I would love to answer any questions! 🥰😘 

I mean it, I’d beg. Don’t make me get that Danny gif.  

[pynkhues]

I remember you saying that you don't torrent much and it made me curious (sorry if you've answered) but where do you buy your movies and shows from? are they digital or physical? (and also I'm curious about how you might store them)

Ah! That’s a fun question, anon! I watch movies and shows in a lot of different places.

This question is totally giving me the opportunity to share my fave cinema in the world too, so I hope you don’t mind!

(I’ve included a few pictures, so am putting behind a cut!)

The Last Picture Show

I’ve mentioned it on here before, but pre-pandemic, I used to go to the cinema every week! That cinema was almost always (although not always-always!) The Classic at Elsternwick which is probably in my Top 10 places in the entire world. I. love. it.

(I’ve done so much writing in this foyer as I waited for my movie to start :’-) ) 

The building itself was built in 1888 and in its lifetime, it’s been a: skating rink, a Jewish community centre, a theatre, and a dance palais, but it’s been a cinema now since 1969. It has an amazing history, and it’s an amazing place to watch movies! 

Since the pandemic started, they’ve launched a little virtual cinema called Classic at Home and have kept one of their physical windows open on the weekend at the cinema itself with a few staff members still making popcorn and choc tops which you can go pick up and take home. It’s extremely fun, and it’s a great way to support them during this really challenging time. They’ve got lots of LGBT+ and Jewish and Israeli movies on their virtual cinema in particular, but also loads of other things. Tonight, I’m watching Amazing Grace, the Aretha Franklin documentary! 

Streamers

I stream a lot too! I share the costs of that with friends and family, so I have a lot of shared accounts basically, but I have access to: Netflix, Amazon Prime (which I keep wanting to drop because fuck Jeff Bezos), Stan and Binge (the latter of which gets all the HBO shows here in Australia). I also watch things on ABC iView (Killing Eve!), SBS On Demand and I get Kanopy through my local library which is amazing for classics and documentaries in particular, and are all legally free, or free-with-ads (never forget that with libraries, the artist/author still gets paid every time their work is borrowed! It’s an amazing system! You get it for free, they get paid!).

Rent or Buy

If I can’t find something on any of those, I typically rent or buy. Usually I do this via Google Play or the Microsoft Store. I like Google Play, because you can just play the movie through YouTube, and if you buy the movie, it stores it on the YouTube account tied to your Gmail which I find pretty convenient overall. 

If I can’t find it to rent or buy digitally, I either buy the DVD or I torrent. If it’s something I already know I love and will want to watch again, or if it’s something I’m using as research, I’ll typically buy the DVD, but if not, I’ll usually download it. 

Where I store my DVDs

I used to have a wildly big DVD collection, but I sold or gave most of it away when I moved to Melbourne almost two years ago now. As a result, I’m pretty selective about the ones I keep, and it’s usually because they’re not available on streaming services here, or just because I bought limited edition ones which I love.

My special edition pop art Mad Men DVDs for instance!

But yes, haha, I store them in my coffee table! This is my lounge room (pls ignore the reflection in the TV of the messy cushions and the sleeping cat): 

Annnd in my coffee table drawer:

(The other drawer is similarly packed and has less Studio Ghibli movies, hahaha).

So yes! That’s how I watch things :-) 

[cat-brodsky]

The Secret History: Abridged (part 1)

Fair use disclaimer: The following text is intended as a parody and literary commentary of the published book “The Secret History” by Donna Tartt. Some direct quotations from the book, constituting a very low percentage of the original, have been integrated in the parodic text where appropriate. The author of this text neither profits nor intends to profit from it.

Dramatis personae

Richard Papen, the narrator, a perpetually starry-eyed youth with all the agency of the proverbial sexy lamp

Julian Morrow (played by King Julian of Madagaskar), a Greek professor who doesn’t actually teach

         The Toffs, as viewed through Richard’s rose-tinted glasses:

Henry Winter, a young genius, deeply devoted to Julian

Bunny Corcoran, an uncouth older student with a heart of gold deep inside

Francis Abernathy, a refined yet sensitive youth

Charles Macaulay, a young man who sometimes has a bit too much to drink

Camilla Macaulay, an exquisite beauty, the only girl in the clique

Judy Poovey, the only character in the book with both brains and heart

Georges “I told you so” Laforgue

the greek chorus (played by a person in a floral bedsheet toga with two sockpuppets)

The Fans, seated in the front row of the audience

The farmer, brutally murdered by four rich kids on a drug trip

     Chapter 1, in which Richard joins a cult (and the greek chorus monologues)

Richard: My name is Richard Pipen and I like pretty things. Maybe that’s cause my childhood was real poor and real awful.

Richard: I even picked Hampden College cause it looked pretty in the recruitment brochure. I have no friends, I failed pre-med, and the only thing I’m okay at is Greek language. …Guess I’ll take Greek.

Georges (the French teacher): Monsieur, I’m afraid zat will be a problem. You see, ze Greek teacher is incredibly… selective about his students. And by selective, I mean on a personal level.

Richard: oh, so he’s gay.

Georges: Non! He isolates his students, he grooms them to have ze same views as himself, and ze only reason ze school puts up with him is because he refuses his salary!

Richard: I dunno, my dad beat me before and after dinner, so this sounds perfectly healthy to me. Guess I’ll go knock on his door.

    Richard: knocks on Julian’s door …Please let me study Greek.

Julian: Why, that’s rather quaint of you, young man, but I’m afraid my class is filled to the brim. Only got space for five people, you see. Very rigorous, that. Anyway, excuse me, I have a princess to tutor. Istrami royalty, though I don’t assume you would know. pauper

Richard: But-

door slam

    Henry and the Four Toffs: stroll the campus, looking pretty

Richard: drools

But I watched them with interest whenever I happened to see them: Francis, stooping to talk to a cat on a doorstep; Henry dashing past at the wheel of a little white car, with Julian in the passenger’s seat; Bunny leaning out of an upstairs window to yell something at the twins on the lawn below. Slowly, more information came my way. Francis Abernathy was from Boston and, from most accounts, quite wealthy. Henry, too, was said to be wealthy; what’s more, he was a linguistic genius. He spoke a number of languages, ancient and modern, and had published a translation of Anacreon, with commentary, when he was only eighteen. The twins had an apartment off campus, and were from somewhere down south. And Bunny Corcoran had a habit of playing John Philip Sousa march tunes in his room, at full volume, late at night.

Not to imply that I was overly preoccupied with any of this.

the greek chorus: yeah riiight

Richard: totally not eavesdropping on The Four Toffs studying Greek

Bunny: Ablative!

Charles: That’s Latin, you dumb-

Richard: Excuse me? I’m sorry, but would the locative case do?

Bunny: Thanks, man, you helped a lot. Wish you were in our class.

awkward silence

Henry, appearing out of nowhere: Ah, yes, the archaic locative. Are you a Homeric scholar?

Richard: …I like Homer.

Henry: Oh, you “like” Homer? Name all the 1,186 ships in the Catalogue.

Henry: fake fans smh

    Richard: All my life, I’ve dealt with poor jerks, so dealing with rich jerks sounded way more appealing. I figured I’d do what worked with my old man - lie my ass off. Excuse me, Dr. Roland, I need uh two hundred dollars from my financial aid? It’s for my uh car, it’s the uh transmission.

the greek chorus: that’s 548 dollars in 2020 money. also, is everyone in this book named after a historical figure?

Richard: knocks on Julian’s door again, having bought one hundred [274] dollars’ worth of expensive clothes

Julian: Oh my, and to think I mistook you for a peasant the first time. Come in, young man - any relation to French kings? Are you from California? What do you do in California?

Richard: Oh, you know… money, orange groves, money, ennui and more money - wow, he’s actually buying it.

Julian: Even Plato knew that class and conditioning and so forth have an inalterable effect on the individual. cough that’s why I only tutor rich and classy students. cough I’m afraid my students are never very interesting to me because I always know exactly what they’re going to do.

the greek chorus: fly, you fool

Richard: listens with stars in his eyes

Julian: Young man, I will take you on as a student, but you must take me on as your academic counselor, drop all your classes and pick up the ones I tell you to. Most of them are going to be with me - you know, a great diversity of teachers is harmful for the young mind.

Richard: Oh wow, that sounds elite and exclusive and totally not like a weird cult.

    Georges “The Voice of Reason” Laforgue: Mon Dieu, are you serious? Do you understand how isolated you’ll be from ze rest of ze college? What if you have a disagreement? What if he is unfair to you? And this man is so elitist - why, that’s ze first time he’s accepted a student on financial aid! …Does he know you’re on financial aid?

Richard: I’m not gonna tell him.

the greek chorus: annnd he switches majors

    Francis: Cubitum eamus?

Richard: what? who?

the greek chorus: did he just say “Wanna fu-”

The Fans: oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohh!

Bunny: Get a load of this guy. Henry actually bought himself a Montblanc pen just cause Julian loves them. And he used to say they were ugly. What was it, three hundred [822] bucks?

Henry: You “studied” Greek? Recite every single Greek poem.

Henry: fake fans smh. Now I’ll speak Latin and flex on you some more.

Bunny: Don’t be a prick, Henry.

Julian, coming in fashionably late:

He was a marvelous talker, a magical talker, and I wish I were able to give a better idea what he said, but it is impossible for a mediocre intellect to render the speech of a superior one – especially after so many years – without losing a good deal in the translation.

the greek chorus: do you know what it means when someone talks big and beautiful and yet you can’t remember the talking points? means they’re talking nonsense

Julian: Though after all your Xenophon and Thucydides I dare say there are not many young people better versed in military tactics. Because, as you know, ancient Greek battle tactics are still valid in our modern age! Do you feel sufficiently special and superior, my lab m- lovely students?

Henry: The six of us could conquer Hampden town!

the greek chorus: this is new england, you’d get shot like deer

Richard, stars in his eyes: Awwwww he said six of us!

Camilla: recites from Aganemnnon

How quiet he sinks now - his soul starts from his mouth:

with one jerked gulp he brings up his own blood,

spatters me dark with the scarlet dew in his breath.

And that dew falls on me as the gods’ spring rains

fall and bless harvest back to the long-parched earth.

Julian: Now, why is this so beautiful?

the greek chorus: cause there’s no mention of the dying king voiding his bowels

Francis: It’s the meter - iambic pentameter.

The Greek Chorus: In a way, the discussion that follows is some pretty hefty foreshadowing. The subject is horrible - a dying man gurgling, choking on blood, spits it out all over his killer - but the way it’s described is poetic and makes the reader enamored with the act of murder.

This is exactly what Tartt does later on.

Five rich, entitled young people have a drug-fueled orgy, trespass, and beat an innocent farmer to death. But call an orgy a bacchanal, and it’s suddenly classy and beautiful.

Henry: Death is the mother of beauty.

The Fans: oooooooooooohhh!

Julian: And what is beauty?

Henry: Terror.

The Fans: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!

the greek chorus: this toxic belief is so not gonna backfire

“Are we, in this room, really very different from the Greeks or the Romans? Obsessed with duty, piety, loyalty, sacrifice? All those things which are to modern tastes so chilling?”

I looked around the table at the six faces. To modern tastes they were somewhat chilling. I imagine any other teacher would’ve been on the phone to Psychological Counseling in about five minutes had he heard what Henry said about arming the Greek class and marching into Hampden town.

the greek chorus: richard, you idiot sandwich

Julian: The Romans’ genius and fatal flaw was their obsession with order! The Greeks knew not to deny the irrational! This is why Romans, usually so tolerant of foreign religions, persecuted the Christians mercilessly – how absurd to think a common criminal had risen from the dead, how appalling that his followers celebrated him by drinking his blood. The illogic of it frightened them-

The Greek Chorus: The Romans valued loyalty to the state, which meant practicing the state religion. Local beliefs were okay as long as they didn’t contradict that.

Christians placed their god, monotheistic God, above the emperor. The First Commandment forbids the worship of other gods, and this includes refusing to take part in feasts, to offer incense to the emperor - this was disloyalty to the Empire. Judaism, it seems, got a pass on the same because of the ancient origin of the religion.

Furthermore, the persecution of Christianity was sporadic until Decius’ decree mandating participation in public sacrifices, and even then this edict was not universally obeyed - the Empire was far too large and too diverse. Not to mention, a lot of the accounts of persecution and martyrdom were invented by Christian historians.

Julian is full of it, and a five minute Google search can tell you as much.

Richard: wow, #deep

Julian: …And that’s why Bacchanals are good fun for the whole family!

    Chapter 2, in which Bunny invites Richard to dinner (and then nothing happens)

Judy: So you’re hanging out with those posh guys now?

Richard: What if I am

Judy: I don’t know, they’re bad news. Like, I was at a party, everyone was slam dancing, and this girl was walking across the dance floor for some reason and got mad when I slammed into her. And like I threw a beer at her, it was that kind of night, and this Henry guy and her brother Charles came to yell at me? And my friend Spike saw that and came to defend me, and then Henry and Charles beat Spike to a pulp. Those people are crazy.

Richard, stars in his eyes: Gee whiz, Henry is badass.

Judy: Aren’t you hot in this tweed jacket? Like, here, you can have another one for free if you like it.

    Bunny: Nice jacket, dude

Richard: Thanks, it’s a family relic

Bunny: Anyway, why are there so many [slur omitted] working in restaurants? Oh man, I remember when we pulled a dine and dash here, all in good fun, and then Dad took us here for drinks and it’s a good thing he was so soused he didn’t notice the waiter putting it all on his bill.

the greek chorus: boy, it sure is a good thing the cops don’t get called on rich people

Bunny: And Henry’s so damn smart, you know? He was in a bad car accident, had to stay in bed reading all those old books, and now he’s really into it and he speaks seven to eight languages, even reads them hieroglyphics.

Richard: well, Bunny’s kind of an ass but he’s not an ass to me, sounds good

Bunny: Whoops, forgot my wallet.

Richard: …never mind

the greek chorus: the bill is, quote, two hundred and eighty-seven dollars and fifty-nine cents [786 dollars]. without the tip. twenty percent more is about tree fiddy [950 dollars]

Bunny: …I’ll call Henry. He’ll be chuffed to bail us out.

Henry: is not chuffed Bunny freeloads off people all the time.

Richard: wow that’s… imagine doing that haha

    Richard: totally not eavesdropping again

Henry: Should I do what is necessary?

Julian: You should only, ever, do what is necessary.

the greek chorus: this will definitely not be taken at face value

    if richard had a tweeter

“Reading The Great Gatsby. #relatable #billionaire-life”

“Attended a party, mingled with the hoi polloi. Plebs. How I long to be elsewhere.”

    Camilla: Come to the country house with us

Richard: totally not freeloading

    if the secret history was a movie

Happy times montage. Classical music plays over the country house; it is revealed that Charles, quite drunk but still composed, is playing the piano. Henry and Camilla are in a rowboat together, with Henry monologuing, unheard to the viewers, as she listens with rapt wonder. Bunny is pouring champaigne from a teapot. Occasional moments of foreshadowing in between the happy times - a pot of laurel leaves boiling on the stove, Richard wandering the house in the middle of the night and finding that everyone is gone - and back to happy times, playing cricket, fancy dinners with Julian. Everything looks pretty, classy, and expensive.

    Chapter 3, in which Richard is more an idiot than usual

The Five Toffs: leave for the winter holidays

Richard: I need a place to stay. Henry’s place is empty, I could ask my other friends to sublet to me, or split the bills with somebody… Nah, there’s this hippie who lets you live for free in his warehouse. I’m in.

The warehouse: literally has a hole in the roof

The Hippie: It’s all a metaphor, man. The situation is obviously dysfunctional, but Richie boy just assumes that it’s normal and he’s gonna be fine. Deep, man.

Richard: I’m sure I’ll be fine. gets pneumonia

Henry: Good thing I came back early, or you’d be dead.

Richard: Y-you saved my life, man. …Can you please bring me a mag to read?

Henry: …You must be raving. Here, I brought you a Pharmacology Update from the lounge.

    Bunny: comes back

Henry: is avoiding him

the greek chorus: that’s all, really

    Chapter 4, in which something finally happens

Bunny: Richard, man, Henry is not who he pretends to be. Be careful.

Richard: You mean, he’s gay? That can’t be right. My gaydar says it’s Francis; Henry’s straight. And I’m not gay, but if I was, Bunny wouldn’t be attractive. I mean, he’s handsome, but he’s rough trade, you know what I mean. Not my type.

    Richard: Oh no, I left my book in Henry’s apartment. I’ll have to find it there. …Weird, why does he have a flight to Argentina reserved? And why were the four of them, minus Bunny, absent from classes?

cheesecake in the fridge: please don’t steal me, I’m on financial aid

Bunny: Mm, too lemony but tastes better flavored with tears.

Richard: Haha, screw the poor

Bunny: Man, Henry’s a bit of a Jew. I like him tho.

    Bunny: keeps making weird crime-and-punishment jokes before class

Richard: Good old Bunny, such a jester.

The Toffs: tell a weirdly rehearsed story about their absence

Julian: notices absolutely nothing

    Henry: Don’t you want to know about our trip to Argentina? By which I mean, I know you snooped.

Richard: Man, why the secrecy? It’s not like you murdered someone.

Henry: Yeah, about that...

flashback time

Henry: The four of us must flee to Argentina. But there’s no way I can get my hands on more than thirty thousand [80,418 dollars]. Francis, you have a trust, right?

Francis: Yeah, I can withdraw one hundred and fifty thousand [402,090] a year. ...Bad news, my mum cleared it out.

The Toffs, in unison: What? Do you mean we’d have to live like the poor? Or worse, resort to menial labor? That is inconceivable.

the greek chorus: and they didn’t go to argentina.

Henry: We had but a meager five thousand [13,403 dollars] between us. Anyway, why did you cover up for us?

Richard:

Henry: So yeah we decided to take drugs, party, and fornicate, like everybody else in this college does. Except we’re rich and smart and we’re calling it a bacchanal, because it’s classier that way.

Henry: Julian knew and approved, by the way, but you’re not gonna learn this until chapter five.

Henry: And Bunny just wasn’t taking our posh rave seriously. I caught him eating when he was supposed to be fasting. Barbarian.

Henry: Anyway, when we all came down from our trip, we were drenched in blood and there was a corpse of a middle-aged middle-class man with his neck broken and his brains splattered and a huge gash in his stomach. And worse, he was wearing an ugly plaid shirt.

Henry: I haven’t been so upset since I hit a deer with my car. Oh, hi, Francis.

    Chapter 5, in which we forget about the farmer

Francis: oh no did you just tell him

Henry: Oh yes I did.

Richard, still starry-eyed: Why didn’t you call the police?

Henry: Yeah, right. We’re too rich to be judged by poor people.

Francis: It was just an accident, a little harmless fun.

Henry: Imagine being tried for my life by a Vermont circuit-court judge and a jury box full of telephone operators.

Francis: They’d just say that we are a bunch of rich entitled kids who got high and trespassed on private land and tore an innocent man to pieces.

the greek chorus: THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID

Henry: If Bunny snitches, we’re dragging him in too. He has no alibi. Can’t prove he wasn’t with us. He saw us dressed in bedsheets and covered in gore and got upset for no reason at all. Dropped a pint of ice-cream on my antique rug. Honestly, that was the last straw.

Henry: I paid for our trip together in Italy to shut him up, but then he found my diary - in which I happened to write a poem about our Bacchanal in iambic pentameter. I didn’t think the rube could even read. I slapped him rather hard, and he took offense to that. And now we have no choice but keep letting him mooch off us!

Francis: It's a terrible thing, what we did. I mean, this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It's a shame. I feel bad about it.

Henry: But not bad enough to want to go to jail for it.

Francis: snorts No, not that bad.

Henry: So... wanna play cards?

    the greek chorus: here comes a turning point in the story. will richard do the moral thing, will he turn his friends in?

the greek chorus: yeah, right

    The Toffs: Time for a road trip!

Richard: It’s odd how little power the dead farmer exercised over an imagination as morbid and hysterical as my own. Oh well, nobody cares about poor people.

Julian: In America, the rich man tries to pretend that the poor man is his equal in every respect but money, which is simply not true. A poor man who wishes to rise above his station is only making himself needlessly miserable. And the wise poor have always known this, the same as do the wise rich.

Bunny: You don't care about a goddamn thing, do you? Not a thing but your own self, you and all the rest of them!

the greek chorus: edmund corcoran, the bigot, the idiot of the group - the only one who cares about the murder

  Richard: And now Bunny’s acting like a huge ass to me and to my friends. Gee, that’s no fun at all.

Richard: He’s nagging Charles about him being a drunk, Francis about him being gay, and me about being poor! And Camilla about being a girl, but women are inherently inferior in Greek language, nothing personal. And he’s implying the twins sleep together!

the greek chorus: all of these are true

    Henry: I know! I shall poison my traitorous friend with death cap mushrooms mixed in with fun trip mushrooms. The ancient Arabic treatises on poisons must still be relevant.

the greek chorus: textbook high Intelligence low Wisdom

Henry: Richard, my friend, weren’t you in pre-med?

Richard: Uhh I guess, let me just... add the number of mushrooms, carry the one - jeez, that’s some advanced calculus...You know, the concentrations in chemistry are measured in moles, so we have catch a mole first...

Henry: I tested it on two dogs. Sadly, one lived.

Richard: Oh, Henry, you’re such a rascal. First a farmer, now a dog? Anyway,   those mushrooms are just too funny-shaped. It’s just too hard.

Henry: Why don’t you weigh - you know what, nevermind, I can see I’m dealing with a genius.

    Julian: I’m so concerned for young Edmund! He’s such a lovely and smart boy...

Richard: yeah, right - I mean, bright. Very bright.

Julian: I fear he may be about to convert to Christianity! Not even Catholicism, but something plebian. He keeps asking me about sin and forgiveness - how very... not Greek of him.

    Bunny, piss drunk in the middle of the night: Richard, man, I can’t take it, I just have to confess - they killed a man! Tore him to pieces!

Richard: Guys, this is bad, Bunny just told me.

Henry: Welp, got no choice but to kill him. He’s acting so irrational.

Richard: Yeah, and he’s been real racist and bigoted lately -

Charles: I know, right? Why can’t he be more like us and hate on poor, classless people instead?

Henry: re-rolls wisdom We’ll push him into the ravine in the forest he conveniently loves hiking in. Piece of cake.

     Judy: Rich, there’s gonna be a big party, come have fun!

Henry: Who’d have known there would be a party? Aside from, I mean, everyone who doesn’t live in their own Greek bubble. Oh well, guess I’ll dig for ferns instead.

Bunny: Hey, guys, whatcha doing?

Henry: Oh, you know... killing time. Now, who wants to see a flying rabbit?

[designsfromtime]

A Frank Conversation About Selling on Etsy:

So, you have a hobby. Your friends and family LOVE your work and advise: “You should sell your stuff!” Maybe you need some extra income and you hope you can supplement your bank account with a side hustle. So you open an Etsy store, spend hours wording your “About Me” page, upload some pictures, and then you wait for that first sale…annnd…crickets.

This is a scenario that is repeated thousands of times every day.  I hear it constantly from disappointed and angry Etsy shop owners. So what do you do?  Blame Etsy? Pay money for one of those “opportunists” who promise more sales if you buy in and follow their model with little to no success? Get angry and give up?

This isn’t a post telling you “how to be successful” on Etsy. Rather, it’s a very frank conversation to help with your “expectations” and, yeah, maybe give you a little advice.

Before you open your store answer some very frank questions:  Did you do your homework? - Did you go on Etsy and search for items similar to yours?  Is the market already saturated? – or do you have a unique item that isn’t available? If there are items similar to yours are they of better quality and workmanship? - or poorer quality than your work?  Answering these questions is ESSENTIAL and it will take total HONESTY and objectivity on your part, as well as from your friends and family who are advising you.

The first step is to self-assess your quality of work and your business model, as well as your expectations. The raw truth is, I don’t know ANYONE who has quit their day job and is supporting themselves through their Etsy store – Including ME!!

So let’s talk about each of these topics individually.

DID YOU DO YOUR HOMEWORK:

Whether it’s bath bombs or historical gowns, you have to research your target market. You cannot skip this step!

For example, my daughter recently started a side-hustle making all-natural stain-free bath bombs, sugar scrubs, body butter, and whipped soaps to help with her Bachelor’s degree. Before she began, she purchased items from the most successful company offering bath bombs and tried them out. Turns out, they weren’t the same quality as hers – just mass produced. She researched the pros and cons of bath bombs using the feedback from those in her inner circle. What did they like or dislike about the competitor’s product. The biggest complaint - - they stain the bathtub and they weren’t hydrating! So, taking that feedback she played with her recipe and came up with bath bombs that are not only moisturizing, but DON’T stain the bathtub. She also offers themes and scents inspired by books or movies such as Harry Potter. That’s her hook! That’s what makes HER product stand out.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/NightMareBathandBody?ref=pr2018_faveshops

It’s essential that you do your research before you open an Etsy store - or move to the on-line market in general.

To use historical costuming as an example. Let’s say you bought a slanted riding hat pattern and made yourself a ridding hat to wear at renfaire. You got lots of compliments on your hat and some of your fellow Rennies asked, “Where did you get your hat?” You tell them you made it, and they ask you to make them one. In consequence you decide if “so-and-so” liked my work, maybe I can parlay this into a side hustle?  But before you make that leap, have you researched how many 16th Century riding hats are available on Etsy?

Let’s say there are quite a few listings already on Etsy. Let’s say you look up the seller who has the most sales of that particular item. So, how does your work compare?  Is your fabric smooth on the base, or are their visible puckers? How is their hand-stitching? – are your stitches as small and even as your competitor? How much are they asking?  Be objective! It can be painful to compare your work, but it’s important if you want to be competitive.

Let’s say, your work is passable. Maybe it’s not exactly the same quality as your competitor, but pretty darn good in your opinion, so you decide that your way “in” is to undercut all those who are selling similar items. This is a tactic I see ALL THE TIME. But have you actually calculated your costs?  How many hats can you get out of one yard of fabric?  How many hats can you make with a yard of trim?  Are you buying your bases ready-made, or making your own?  How much does it cost for you to make your base versus buying ready-made? How much is the millinery wire you need to use? How much wire do you need to use for one hat?

All these questions are essential to calculate your TRUE costs. In addition, have you factored in the fees Etsy will charge you once a sale is made – to include the actual listing fees, as well as the cost of shipping.

When you undercut your competitors you cheat yourself, and then wonder why you aren’t making a profit! I’m not talking a few dollars. I’m talking about setting your prices so low you are barely making a profit.  You say: “But, I’ll raise my prices later after people get to know my work!”  Yeah - - I actually did that. BIG MISTAKE! I started off at a competitive price and the orders came pouring in. It felt great! I felt validated. But when I factored in all the extras I was offering that made my work stand out, and was not charging for, guess what happened?  When I started charging what my hats and headdresses were actually worth, and factoring in my actual costs, I saw a drop off in sales. Did I lower my prices again? NO! Every bead, every piece of trim, every stitch has value. So does your time!!!! Value your work and value your time. If it is quality it will stand alone among the hundreds of others being sold.

When you value your time and price your items accordingly, you will attract a caliber of customers who recognize the quality of your work. But your work needs to hold up in terms of quality. This is where you will need to be objective. That process can be painful. Trust me, I know!

I randomly run searches on Etsy to gauge what’s selling and what’s not – what’s available, and how they are similar to mine, and how much they are selling it for. What I often find are sewists selling items at ridiculously low costs. So low, in fact, I often wonder how in the world they can justify selling a gown for $200 when fabric and supplies make up 75% or more of their total listing price. I know what fabric costs. I know how many hours it takes to construct that item, and when I see shop owners selling items at ridiculously low prices the first thing I do is check where they are located. Many times they are over-seas sellers. The US dollar is worth more in many countries, but there are HUGE risks buying from over-seas vendors. I’ve heard too many horror stories, and quite frankly their work just doesn’t stand up to my standards for historical accuracy. But that’s another story for another time.  

NEVER price your items based on the lowest prices! Figure out your costs, to include your Etsy fees, and pay yourself a FAIR wage. Ignore, the bargain basement over-seas sellers. What you need to be putting your energy toward is honing your skills and making your items truly competitive. If an item is of the highest quality, people will recognize it and they will remember you.

If you cannot self-assess your work honestly and be objective and see where you need to improve, chances are you will be disappointed in the outcome of your shop. Just as important is to VALUE your work. If your work is not the same quality as your biggest competitor, you are setting yourself up to fail. Yes, there is a market for everyone’s work, but here’s the honest truth:  Just like you “get what you pay for” you attract a certain caliber of customer by what you charge!

Here’s an example for you! I have a young friend who likes to sew. She made an Outlander costume for her mother for Halloween using the American Duchess pattern. At her mother’s encouragement, she decided to open an Etsy store and she listed the costume she had made for her mother, and set her price at a ridiculously low cost, at least in comparison to mine. A woman who “claimed” to be a reporter purchased an item in January 2019. She ordered a pair of stays and a bodice and skirt. She claimed she wanted to wear it because she was going to “interview” the cast of Outlander. (I called bullsh*t, and her behavior only validated my prediction). My friend followed the same procedure I do, making the stays first and sending them to her, because you need measurements wearing your stays in order to construct the gown and have it fit properly. After multiple messages to the buyer, in which she tried to get the buyer to give her correct measurements, the buyer wasn’t responding, or was avoiding it claiming she was “too busy.” I saw my friend the following AUGUST and the woman still had not complied with her request for proper measurements!! She sent her a picture wearing her stays and expected my friend to figure out her size by the picture!!

My friend asked me for advice on how to handle the situation. With my assistance, we wrote the buyer on Etsy and explained IN DETAIL what she needed and WHY, and informed her that because she had not complied with getting her the specific measurements needed to complete the commission she would place the order on hold until the woman had time to provide her with what she needed. The woman tried to wiggle her way out of the commission after nine months by stating how busy she was in her work, and how she didn’t have a measuring tape and how inconvenient it was for her to find someone to take her measurements, and that maybe my friend should just cancel the order and refund her deposit as she didn’t want to keep “her” waiting. Yeah – Nice try, right?

Well, my friend had used the deposit to purchase fabric and supplies! – Not to mention, after NINE months it was too late to issue a refund. After 60 days PayPal won’t issue a refund.

Come October, two months after she reached out to me for help, my friend was still battling with this woman for the measurements she needed, and the hateful snit complained to Etsy, and then tried to open a dispute with PayPal! She claimed she didn’t believe her deposit had been used for supplies! I instructed my friend to send the woman the unfinished gown and ALL the supplies she’d purchased, stand her ground and NOT issue a refund, and chalk it up as a lesson learned. Bottom line? If this gal really WAS scheduled to interview the Outlander cast, she would have made more of an effort I’m here to tell you! But this client more than likely saw a seller who was just starting out, had only a couple of items in her Etsy store, purchased the costume on the cheap, and then tried to get one over on my friend.

This example is something you need to be prepared to deal with. You will need to be comfortable setting boundaries and being assertive! You need to be able to intuit when someone is trying to scam you, and you also need to know PayPal and Etsy’s policies. One of the mistakes my friend made was taking her conversation off the Etsy site and emailing this client. Communication on Etsy is a pain in the arse, but you CANNOT take your discussion off site! Doing so is against Etsy’s policies. Why? You need a paper trail, so to speak, of your communication. You need to document your conversations in an Etsy thread so that if a dispute is raised, Etsy can review your conversation. In this instance, my friend had documented her difficulties through the Etsy thread and they saw the efforts she had made to gain the client’s compliance and they ruled in my friend’s favor. But this is not always the case!

The moral of the story: If you price your work at bargain basement prices, you will more than likely attract clients JUST like this person. Now that’s not always the case. There are shady people out there, and even if you charge what you’re worth you will find clients who test your patience.

For instance, I had a client order a riding hat from me a few years back. She had a short deadline, so I went to JoAnns and purchased the silk and began construction. After two weeks she tried to cancel the order stating she found a hat to borrow and didn’t need to buy one at this time. I told her it was too late to cancel as I had already purchased fabrics and started construction, so she opened a dispute with PayPal and told them it was a fraudulent purchase! – claiming someone used her PayPal account without her permission. I supplied PayPal with documentation of our conversations, but they ruled in her favor because it fell within their 60-day deadline! It turned out I had another client who wanted a hat in the same color and was the same size, so I went ahead and issued her refund, but I told her that because of her shady behavior I would not accept any commissions from her in the future. She actually had the audacity to become highly insulted that I would refuse any future commissions and actually made ME out to be the bad guy for setting boundaries with a client who had wiggled their way out of a commission by lying!! Yeah…There are some “special” people out there, and it’s all part of working with the public, so be prepared!

I’ve also had people contact me to request I sell them one of my headdresses, but they only wanted the base. They didn’t want me to cover it and decorate it. I’m highly intuitive and I smelled a rat. I knew instinctively that what they wanted was to take my base and replicate my pattern, because I have created my pattern and it’s not for sale - anywhere! Working with the public can make you question the future of mankind, because there are some shady creeps out there with zero integrity. You will need to be prepared to bite the bullet and deal with them if you plan to work in customer service.

IS THE MARKET FLOODED:

There are a TON of historical costumes listed on Etsy.  Your first step is to evaluate what’s being offered and judge whether or not you are offering something that is actually needed. When I have an idea or find an item I want to make, the first thing I do is run a search for that item. If there are tons of the same item, here’s where you need to be objective and realistic. What’s going to attract sales to your store if there are dozens and dozens of shops offering the same thing?

I participate in some of the groups Etsy offers just for sellers. We try out new functions offered on Etsy and discuss our experiences as a seller. I hear people complain ALL the time about their items not selling. But let’s get honest. How can you expect to be competitive if your product doesn’t stand out from all the others? What makes yours unique when dozens of sellers are offering the same thing? Lowering the price isn’t a strategy that is recommended. Running sales and promotions are fine, but as we’ve already discussed selling yourself short may only be a temporary boon. It’s just not a sustainable business model. Not when you are selling your items for less than what your supplies and labor costs.  Find your niche!

If the market is already flooded, perhaps you might reconsider offering that item or reconsider opening a store all together. Chances are, if you ignore that advice, you will not see any activity in your store. That’s probably not the advice you want to hear, but wouldn’t you rather someone be honest with you?

Also, and you’re gonna hate this one as well – Your family and friends are NOT objective! It’s human nature. What might look great to them, might not attract attention in a larger market. That’s a painful truth.

ARE THE ITEMS SIMILAR TO YOURS BETTER QUALITY?

Being objective is painful, but it’s necessary.

If you’ve decided to press forward and offer items that are already being sold on Etsy, the essential next step is to assess the quality of your work. Before you enter the retail arena, take the necessary time to hone your craft. Quality is the ONLY way you will attract attention when you are offering items that are already flooding the Etsy or on-line market.  Again, undercutting costs is not a sustainable business model, so take the time – however long it takes – until your products are comparable and marketable. If your workmanship isn’t on par, then work for the next year or so to hone your skills and find people who can be kindly objective that can counsel you on where or what needs improvement. Don’t take that criticism personally. We all start somewhere.  I wish you could see some of my first corsets!  God, they were BAD. I mean – REALLY BAD!

One of the things you can do to hone your craft is to AVOID commercial patterns! These commercial patterns are not always historically based – In fact, most are not even close! Some are pretty good but DO YOUR RESEARCH. Read books on costuming. Invest and develop your reference library. Participate in historical groups on social media – hopefully you find those who are inclusive rather than snits who pick apart others’ work, and admins who DON’T participate in the petty drama. Unfortunately, that has not been my experience, so I avoid these groups. But for those who are just starting out, they can be helpful to lurk and absorb information. Ask questions if you participate in groups. BUT be prepared to deal with the costume nazis who hide behind the anonymity of the internet and are hateful and judgmental.

Rather than commercial patterns like Simplicity or McCalls, I recommend you purchase patterns that are more historical. Yes, they are expensive, but you need to invest in your craft and having the proper patterns are just as essential as your equipment. If you cannot tell the difference between Medieval, Elizabethan, Tudor, Rococo, Colonial, Regency, Victorian or Edwardian – You need to start studying! – Starting with underpinnings! There are subtle and not so subtle clothing style differences in each era. Nothing drives me more crazy than Etsy sellers or those on Ebay who buy a commercial pattern that isn’t fit for anything but a Halloween costume, and label it, “Renaissance” when it’s a mish-mosh of colonial and medieval eras.  PLEASE, take the time to read and study. Do your due diligence. I have been creating historical costumes professionally since 2012 when I retired early, but I’ve been studying historical clothing since 2001 and I learn something new ALL THE TIME! I push myself and tackle new eras to hone my craft. There will always be someone who knows more than you do. Just keep learning!

I am always available to give feedback, but actually teaching construction techniques over the internet is a challenge for me because I’m generally pressed for time. Watch You Tube tutorials, take sewing lessons, learn how to drape and draft patterns, but along with all of that…Practice…Practice…Practice. I learn something new every time I tackle a new project or venture into a different era.

MANAGE YOUR EXPECTATIONS:

I am busy all year long with commissions, but most of the time we don’t get paid until a commission is complete. I also have expenses such as fees for an upgraded Etsy store, Etsy fees to list items – plus the percentage they take from each sale, as well as website fees – all of which are necessary to get your brand out there.

Aside from operating fees, I have equipment payments – because just ONE of my embroidery machines cost me over $5,000! But you see, my niche is historical embroidery and highly embellished work. I also have material fees, and repair fees on my equipment. You will need a quality sewing machine that is gear driven, rather than belt driven in order to make corsetry and to sew through layers of heavy fabric that you use in historical costuming. I have two embroidery machines, an air threading Serge/overlock machine, and a Juki semi-professional straight stitch sewing machine, as well as a smaller Brother sewing machine that we use for shirts and thinner fabrics when we both need to do machine work. I also have a cutting table with fold out eaves and cabinets that cost me $1200!! All of these tools of the trade costs MONEY.  You will also need dress forms in various sizes for both men and women. The cheap ones that are adjustable are too flimsy to hold up to these heavy costumes. Dress forms can cost anywhere from $300 to $1000. If you plan to compete, you need the tools of the trade.

There are hundreds and hundreds of hobbyists who are attempting to use Etsy as a platform to sell historical clothing to supplement their income, but there are VERY few shops that offer quality items with quality workmanship. If your work isn’t a cut above, you will find yourself disappointed when your expectations fall short of reality.

Even though we stay busy all year long, I don’t make enough to support myself just on my costume commissions alone. After my husband passed away in 2009, I was fortunate enough that he left me and the kids financially stable. Without his retirement income (he was a police officer who died as a consequence of his job) I could not pay my monthly bills on my commission income alone. Lalana works three days a week doing hair and works three days a week with me in my design studio. We do this more for the passion and the creative outlet, than we do for the money. Neither of us are rolling in it!

I have had young mothers approach me about advising them on how to do costuming so they can stay home with their kids. First of all, costuming is production work. When you have a deadline to meet your clients aren’t going to understand when your kids are sick or when your husband wants to spend quality time with you, or your house is filthy. Self-employment is NOT the answer to staying at home and earning an income. Unless you have extra household money to invest every month to keep you afloat and purchase supplies while you’re waiting to be paid for a commission, you’ll be working at a deficit.

There is also the issue of taxes. Etsy collects sales taxes on your behalf, but they don’t collect your federal income taxes or state income taxes, if you live in a state like California. Working under the table is a risky endeavor! Do you really want to risk being audited for income you didn’t report? My advice: Just don’t do it!! It’s not worth the risk. So, be prepared to hire a tax specialist to do your taxes every year. You will need to keep good records of all your expenses and income. Every spool of thread, every yard of fabric needs to be accounted for in order for you to have a REAL picture of your profit and loss. The purchase of equipment will help, but there again, you need to be able to afford to pay the monthly payments on equipment loans.

In conclusion, there are more CONS than pros to self-employment and opening an on-line business, not just on Etsy. For me, I found Etsy to provide me more traffic in my store than a high-priced website. Unless you have a website manager that constantly monitors your Search Engine Optimization and other such tech stuff that is beyond my comprehension and skills, you won’t get enough traffic to your website to make the expense worthwhile. This is exactly why I switched my fancy-schmancy website to a “Pattern” website via Etsy. It allows me to keep my domain name, while using Etsy’s platform to funnel traffic through my page. I get about 10,000 hits per month in my Etsy store alone.

The bottom line is that Etsy has worked for me, but it may not be a platform that works for you. There are tons of variables – as I’ve addressed above.

So, before you jump into the pond, make sure you know the temperature and depth of the water! Trust me, you’ll thank me for being honest with you.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Date: Wednesday, August 14, 2019 Time: 11:56 pm

I’m curious. Does anyone look forward to reading my letters? -calls out- “Anyone?” -dead silence emits so deafening, I stop talking-

So.. I was reading letters I have sent you. And, shit. The people who take the time to read these letters must think I am selfish.

All I talk about are men, my attraction to men, my desire to have a girlfriend, or whatever.

Which, if y'all know me, you KNOW, I’m going to get back to it.

But for a short bit, let’s talk about things that aren’t guys or girls.

Here are a number of facts about me you, Charlie, and other people reading this may not know about…

I’m very unsatisfied with my weight. I weigh about 195 pounds, and am working to drop to 120 pounds. I don’t feel attractive in my skin. I can’t see my vag anymore.

I haven’t orgasmed ever. I am 24 fucking years old. Why the fuck haven’t I cum yet? God..

Happier topics, Mare. Okay. There is this app I use called SLOWLY, where you create a username, and bio about yourself. You can start sending letters to people across the world. I’ve had letters coming in from China, India especially, the U.K., Australia, Taiwan, Russia, Portugal, tip of Africa. So many letters. And, you do get standard. ‘Yo baby. Send me nudes.’ This one guy got clever and asked me for nudes in Morse Code. I kindly sent him back to go fuck himself. The only person who gets to see my beautiful breasts is me, and the barren vag, cause I swear to myself, I never ever see Nic. (<– Sorry. No talk of guys for the next few paragraphs). The issue is.. like, there is an option where you can send three letters at a time. With an intro letter. One night, I thought it would he fun (WORST. MISTAKE. EVER.) to send 15 letters. (Keep in mind about 4 of the many letters I have sent, do I keep up a regular correspondence with. So, add 15 potential regular friends, and you have a recipe for disaster). Omgosh, Charlie + readers: I never have time to respond to these letters. Damnit, me. Why the fuck did you do that?

Okay. I started a new job. Yeah. You heard right. The ever so fucking afflicted depressed, intoroverted, frustrated, book crazy, bisexual who cant hold down a job, found a new one. Through a temp agency. I work with ______ _____ ____, at _____ _____, which is just 10 minutes from my house. The job is way better than the piece of shit I put up with for 6 mths. I love the different calls we get. But the mother fucking training at this call centre was mother flipping shit. There are so many 'processes’ you have to remember when helping a 'guest’ with a request that I want to cry. (I hope I keep at the job). Please fucking pray for me.

Did you know I didn’t always used to curse the way I do? Throughout high school, I would only curse when I would get hurt (like for example that time an anvil crushed my toe. Lol. This totally didnt happen. Though, this one time. I cut myself on this chunk of thick glass from a broken lamp at 12 urs old, that I was taking to the dumpster. It sliced my thigh, blood was gushing out I imagine. I started screaming. My mom, uncle, and cousin freaked the fuck out. I obviously lived to tell the tale. Y'all should see the scar.) And then I was influenced by boys (since I only hung out with guys through the last two years of high school) to curse. And now, I can’t seem to stop.

I make weird posts on Whisper. My username is ______ For anyone who wants to chat with me about my crazy life, follow me on ____ at @_______. Lol. (I hope y'all know when I include the blanks I’m being funny).

What other facts to share.. I made a friend on Slowly, but work really got me busy, plus I am always freaking tired. I didn’t respond for nine days with a letter, and I noticed she deactivated her account. It really hurt. Her name was Becca. She was trans, but didn’t tell her crazy conservative family. 19, super sweet. Liked video games and Eminem for a bit. I seriously miss her.

Other facts.. Did I mention (no, of course you didn’t mention Mare. All you ever talk about are failed relationships, current relationships, or almost relationships), I’m looking to learn Italian AND Spanish? Of course! Why the hell wouldn’t I try to influence my American self with my Mexican self? (Totally Hispanic in case y'all cohldn’t guess. My mom says I speak Spanish like a white girl. Well, shit… Time to go to Mexico and get ridiculed for being too white and not knowing Spanish or customs) Joking aside, I’m looking forward to teaching myself Spanish and Italian. (Don’t tell the family, but I prefer Italy over Mexico).

Y'all ready to get to the real reason why y'all stick through my letters?

Nic doesn’t want me to explore my bi side. Ken hasn’t been on Skype for a month. I miss him.. (Great, conflicted Mary is back again). Did I mention that today is my 3rd year anniversary with the Nicholas? Totally is. What did we do to celebrate? I woke up at 5 in the morning, waited for him to show up at 6, and ate tacos in my apartment parking lot. Then, I went to work, and he went home to sleep. We are going to Bastrop for the weekend which is just 20 minutes from my grandparents. Maybe I should go visit. (Why the hell don’t I call my family? Am I really that fucking self absorbed? Family trumps dudes any fucking day..) and I hope the trip is nice. I just texted him like 45 min ago of us drifting apart. Because… he will talk about things that seriously, Charlie, I could give two fucks about, then we will talk about ice cream, for example, and he goes off on a tangent about something little do with ice cream. Sometimes, I feel like I guilty stay with him because I do fucking love him, but I could be holding myself back from experiencing new things.

I want to write more. Bare with me for a moment, Charlie. Okay, I’m back. (That was a second break, in real time in case y'all were wondering)

My thoughts aren’t flowing as well. I wish I knew a friend who was bi or a lesbian who would like to explore with me. And not have it change things.

So, I have a shit sleep schedule. I’ll come home at 5 ish in the evening. I’ll sit in traffic for twenty min. Come home. Eat something. Fall asleep by 7. Wake up at 10, and stay awak indefinitely. Then wake up at 6, and start over. (What is wrong with me?)

Oh. More breaks from relationship shit. I saw a therapist. Three visits. It was nice. His name is Tim. (Had to stop because I literally have no fucking time to see a dr anymore psychologist or medical, because my schedule is a fucking bitch). He graduated from Harvard! That is awesome. His attire was well groomed, always. I never told him he intimidated me because of that. But he was a nice guy. Time to go to psychologytoday.com to look for weekend available therapists who take my insurance. I hope if I am to become a psychologist, that I’m a tiny better than Tim. He was lovely, I was just unnerved by someone focusing such time on me. But, that is kind of what he is paid for? So….

Oh. Have I mentioned at all to you, Charlie about how I want to start a YouTube channel? I want to read stories I find on the internet. Annnd, I’m pretty excited. I get my mic maybe with next weeks paycheck.

I feel like there is more to add. For anyone you may have lost touch with over the years, Charlie, does the thought of that person and the memories you shared together ever make you cry? I found a CD an old friend left to me for my birthday. And it broke my heart that we aren’t close anymore. I feel like I .. let my true relationships go in my worst state of mind.. And, I miss her so much. It really really hurts. I’m crying just thinking about it.

Also, I’m not sure if I mentioned, there are rare cases where I will laugh so hard at something I found to be funny, that I make others worried or uncomfortable. But the laughter turns to sobbing (sobbing such as my mom dying, or my brother getting hit by a car, or someone killing me) just as severe. I tried asking like crazy, and no one seems to know. That is, until a month ago, a friend from the meetings I go to (please tell me I’m not so vapid that I forgot to tell you I go to Monday meetings with DBSA for my depression) showed me what I have.. which I forgot the name of. But it is a treatable condition. Something to do with sensitivity.

I can’t hear well out of my right ear. I need to see a doctor.

Thanks to those who stayed with me this far.

I hope to have more news on my relationship status.

I seriously have like two friends on Tumblr. Why do I use this app again?

I love you, Charlie

Always,

Mary