#island of the gays

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Island of the Procrastinating Brain

I swear, my brain is actively trying to drive me insane.

Back in 2022 it came up with a plot for @alex51324 's "Island of the Gays" where the Duke of Crowborough comes to the Island because, well, by this point the man's less of a human being than he is a walking bundle of neurosis. I got through a couple of scenes before my brain got tired and stalled out, but I still have a good frame work. Every once in awhile, I come back and poke at it and get out a few more sentences. Maybe even a paragraph or two.

Yeah, have I mentioned I'm not a fast writer?

And Phillip does NOT want to deal with his issues and Thomas does NOT want to deal with Phillip, which, okay, FAIR, but that's kinda the point of the whole thing. But in the meantime my brain still wants to write Phillip on the Island, so what's it done?

Come up with a sequel, naturally!

And it really, really wants to write this sequel despite the fact I can't do it properly until I've written the first piece, which neither my brain or my characters seems interested in, because they are all PUNKS, but my brain will NOT stop thinking about this hypothetical sequel which, at this point, will never be written.

So I'm just going to write out the summary for the thing here, in case anyone's curious and wants a laugh, because I can and maybe it'll galvanize the lump of grey cells in my skull to be productive. Maybe. Not holding my breath.

Things you need to know before going into this:

Random.org has decided that Thomas is married to Peter Fitzroy for this one, which is kinda important for Thomas's characterization.

Phillip only kinda counts as human at this point, but he's actively trying to fix that. The results are mixed.

It was inspired by a couple of polls I ran when I was trying to figure out where I was taking the first piece (hey! I have the last scene written!) and the suggestions that Phillip might like working in some sort of architectural field (believe that was from @o-rchidae) and that he wind up married with an older working class bloke who would not take his shit.

Right then. Let's go.

-

Okay, so, this takes place a couple of years after the Walking Disaster of Crowborough arrived. At one point he was tapped to help with building or repairs or some such and he realized he liked it, so he's taken to studying books on building and architecture and has joined up with the local work crew. The problem is, he's basically teaching himself out of books and then applying it to real life, so he keeps getting ideas about "Say, why don't we do this thing THIS way?" and while it'll seem like a reasonable idea, there is, in fact, a very good reason NOT to do it that way, but because a) he's a Duke and b) a bunch of people hate him, on general principle if nothing else, everyone just goes "Oh, okay, sure" and the do it that way and…it fails. And the people who hate him laugh and it's obvious that EVERYONE knew it was a bad idea and he gets frustrated, but he wont' say it, because a) Duke and b) boys don't cry.

And this goes on for awhile.

After a bit, though, a new guy shows up who has lots of experience building things. It was kinda his job before he got here. He is educated in the ways of Building Things and knows what's up. He's also at least ten years Phillip's senior and has limited patience for upper class twits, so when he joins the crew and is informed there's this know-it-all-Duke who's always demanding they do things his way (by which we mean 'making suggestions that everyone just goes along with'), even though it's stupid and wastes time and resources, this guy goes "Pff, not on MY watch!"

And sure enough, the next time Phillip makes one of his suggestions, instead of "Yeah, sure, okay" he gets "We're not doing that." Why? "'Cause it's a stupid idea that won't work." WHY? "Because (insert full explanation of why the thing wouldn't work)." And Phillip stops asking and the rest of the crew cheers and laughs at how the old guy sure showed him and they anticipate an end to the questions.

THIS TOTALLY BACKFIRES.

Instead Phillip, who had actually been kinda slowing down on the suggestions over time, is making ALL of the suggestions, ALL of the times, and arguing every last aspect of the suggestion with Old Timer before giving up. The crew can't put up a fence without an argument. Old Timer starts calling Phillip 'Phil'. Rather than tell him to stop, Phillip just starts calling Old Timer by a similar nickname, which Old Timer ignores, because not giving in to his own trick, oh no. There's talk of starting a police department in case they murder each other.

After this has gone on for awhile there is a Big Dramatic Plot Twist and the Old Timer goes out into the woods for something and…doesn't come back in a timely manner. He stays gone long enough for people to get worried and mount a search. To everyone's shock, Phillip wants to come. He's quite insistent on the point. They finally agree to put him in Thomas's party because he and Thomas "get along now" (read: Thomas has spent enough time with Peter talking him down that he can tolerate Phillip's presence under the right circumstances as long as he doesn't say anything). The parties go out and before long, Thomas and Phillip's party has the good luck to find Old Timer. He's accidentally been injured badly enough he can't walk and crawling through the woods is not easy going. The manner of this accident wasn't a super obvious bad idea, but that could maybe have been avoided with a bit more thought, perhaps, with luck. Most of the party just nods and goes "Yeah, sounds about right, could have happened to anyone."

…Phillip flips straight out and starts screaming at Old Timer for being an idiot who could have got himself killed. And then storms off a ways into the woods, back toward the village, leaving everyone else wondering a) the best way to get the injured man back home and b) what the heck just happened with the prissy little Duke. Thomas gets deputized to go find out what Phillip's problem is. There is protesting involved, but he finally gives in because he'd like to be home by dinner, thank you very much.

Phillip has, by this point, stopped to have a smoke, which both gives Thomas an opportunity to catch up and, thankfully, a scent to find him by. Thomas asks him why on earth he's so upset that Old Timer is hurt since the two of them hate each other and everyone figured Phillip would LOVE it if the other man died…

And that's when he finds out that everyone's had that relationship all backwards. Phillip doesn't hate the Old Timer, oh no! He loves being called 'Phil'. He absolutely adores the fact that when he asks "Why don't we do this?", rather than just go "Yeah, okay" and waste time and resources doing something HE KNOWS WON'T WORK, the Old Timer says 'no' and, over the course of the argument, actually EXPLAINS why not, which means Phillip ACTUALLY LEARNS THINGS. The more he argues, the better he becomes at building things and he doesn't have to try and decipher what some book is telling him or guess what the book might be leaving out and he LOVES IT and if the Old Timer had died, how would he learn things then? When Thomas points out that he'd learn just as much - maybe more - if he just asked the Old Timer to teach him things rather than argue, Phillip low key panics because what if he figures out Phillip WANTS to learn and stops talking to him or refuses because he doesn't like him at all?

By this point Thomas is a) trying to remember if he was ever THIS paranoid, and praying he wasn't and b) wondering what on earth to do with a Duke who is clearly in love with a crusty old working class codger, but hasn't figured it out yet.

He decides to tell Rouse and make it HIS mess to deal with.

Phillip and the Old Timer eventually get married and get a cottage of their own and Phillip about dies happy at the idea of a home that he actually owns instead of something that he's the custodian of for the next generation who will be the custodians for the generation after that and so on.

[moskafleurart]

Hallowed, but hesitated

Shallow, but full in all your veins

Shadowed by every other weight

— Post-Winner Island

On twitter, on instagram, on redbubble

[bobdylan-n-jonimitchell]

Joan Baez & guest, Newport Folk Festival, 1964 © Gai Terrell.

[bundeadly]

worst date ever

[thesecretw0rld-blog]

Look over there

[kimpuntoexe]

Here, my interpretation of my girls

[tarrantsanalcavity]

Leaked Sandy Hook Elementary School camera footage including Lanza's "Suicide"

[samualcheese]

(REALLY OUTDATED) its ironic on how i hate actual math irl

Been wanting to do a lineup of my designs for a while... all designs here are subject to change by the way (specially one...i struggle a little with her)

[ash-and-starlight]

what if we eloped in the earth kingdom 👉🏼👈🏼 and we were both girls 🫣😳

for mailee week day 2 // post canon

((heavily inspired by Uemura Shōen’s whispering beauties <333))

[ID: a colored digital drawing of Mai and Ty Lee. they’re drawn from the thigh-up, standing. Ty Lee is behind Mai and leaning close to her, tucking a white magnolia flower behind her ear. Mai’s head is slightly turned, and she’s looking softly back at Ty Lee. they’re both wearing kimonos in tones of green. the drawing is colored to resemble ukyo-e prints]

[guhitsaglit]

we rely on each other

[chuuowos]

sighhhhhhht...

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP WTF My Brain Insists It's Wednesday

I took an extra day off this week, and then it snowed so I went home after less than an hour on Sunday, and so now my brain is all discombobulated and, after a day of furious writing on a short thing that is not short enough to actually be done (and which it keeps trying to lose interest in), it's insisting it's Wednesday.

And I'm randomly in a high-anxiety mood for no damn reason what so ever I was fine until an hour ago wtf, so I'm going to humour it. Because why not? And maybe it will focus and not insist we need to pack our things and run to the hills.

(No, it is not the news. I avoid the news. It's not ostrich syndrome, it's basic survival necessity. Besides, Mum's retired and does pay attention to the news and can pass along the parts I need to know without the copious fear mongering. I seriously don't know what my brain wants right now.)

Anywho! While this is not an Island piece, it's sort of...Island adjacent? While doing set up for the infamous Phillip on the Island piece, I kinda worked out with @alex51324 what our dear Duke would have been doing in the war for this sub-reality-of-an-au and the other day my brain decided we should explore that a bit, just so we have his thinking down 100% in the other piece. .....I don't trust this to work, but don't fight inspiration, right? Right. That is not how we get our WIP folder to grow.

And since my brain's calendar says it's Wednesday, I thought I'd share a bit, in case anyone was curious. Also, because I'm not sure that what I'm doing with certain of his relations is clear or if I need to make them more obvious. The fine line between trusting my readers to be able to think and obscuring details, ya' know?

Anywho, for the curious: have Phillip, July 1916, failing to get to sleep.

-

Next to the bed was a small nightstand that held a book, an alarm clock, and a stack of letters. He looked at the white paper, visible in the moonlight that seeped through the curtains.

The top one was from his mother. She informed him that his wife, Charlotte, was taken with the flu, and the doctors were quite concerned that she might die, leaving little Cecily as their only child. He could always get another wife, of course, if absolutely necessary (they’d have Charlotte’s money after all, and wasn’t that the important thing?), but it would be better for all involved if he would stop being irresponsible, leave the fool’s game of playing at soldier to other men, come home at once, and be by Charlotte’s side. The war office would find a place for him, if he truly felt the need to involve himself.

As if his presence could cure disease. If anything, his being home would raise his own chance of dying. One of the senior officers had taken him and some of the others out to the nearest trench once, to be saluted by the men and sneered at behind their backs. Outside of that, the most danger he faced was a paper cut. If he died of the flu, the title would revert to the crown, and then where would they be? There would have been no point in his marrying in the first place. No point in having lived at all, really.

Beneath the first letter came two from his sisters. Louisa, still single and living at home, repeated his mother’s news about Charlotte, but added that little Cecily was walking quite well now and had said her first word, which was Mama. Surely Papa couldn’t be far behind! She liked being read to, although she wanted to turn the pages herself. How bright she was! How clever! If only he could be there to see her.

He thought of the photograph he kept in his cigarette case, a baby in swaddling clothes, gazing curiously in the camera as her mother held her. He remembered holding her, hours old (one of the advantages of being a duke was arranging home leave). He remembered the weight of her, the way she smelled, and the odd sense of pride he felt at her being a born a girl, regardless of what the world wanted. He caught himself on the verge of pushing himself out of bed, packing his things and demanding to go back to England and a nice, responsible job in the war office, and hang anyone who thought him a coward for it. He forced his muscles to relax and lay back down. Duke or not, he couldn’t just leave France when he wanted. There were jobs in the war office if he wanted them, yes, but it would take his mother pulling strings to make it happen.

Louisa always had been the cunning one of the family.

Florrie took after their mother and did not bother hiding her scorn. It made her easier to resist. She talked about her own son, little Edward, and how her husband, Charles, had made certain the line and the title were secure before he’d agreed to go off to France. Once again he heard about Charlotte’s health and the available jobs in the war office. She mentioned several of her friends whose husbands hadn’t come back, simultaneously reminding him of the danger and presenting him with a list of eligible replacements, should Charlotte die. Florrie and Charlotte had never got on.

That was it for the day’s mail. Next came a letter two weeks old already which had passed through the army’s censors. It was from Charles, at the Front. The trenches were worse than he’d imagined, as was the food. He’d give anything for boarding school food, even if it was cauliflower cheese. At least that hadn’t been tinned. He said Phillip was well off where he was, and that he’d be well suited for the job he’d left behind in the war office. Phillip would have thought his mother had put the man up to writing that bit, except Charles had never been clever enough for even that level of subtlety.

He’d replied to the letter, but it had been returned, undeliverable. Apparently he’d learned his brother-in-law was dead before his sister had.

For all he knew, Charles was being buried under his window.

With a sigh, Phillip rolled over and tried to get comfortable. The bed was too narrow and the mattress too hard for a truly good night sleep, but he was exhausted enough that surely he could get a few hours rest, despite the heat. If only the damn shovels would stop.

He idly wondered how his brothers were doing. Of course, no one thought to tell him that. True, his family hadn’t been close to the Salbergs since death had ended his father’s affair with Miriam Salberg, Lady Stockbridge. Still, his mother hadn’t discouraged the connection, and Phillip had certainly danced with Harriett at plenty of balls. Before his mother had insisted he become serious about finding a wife, the two of them made a grand joke about how they might one day be married, as if the likeness between them weren’t something people avoided commenting on. They delighted in batting their eyes at each other and watching the older aristocrats look uncomfortable. John at least looked like his mother. Phillip did the sums in his head and came to the unavoidable conclusion that the younger man was, beyond a shadow of any doubt, old enough to enlist. Lord Stockbridge was only a baron. Had he been able to keep John out of it? Had he even wanted to? While Phillip didn’t know of any ill will between the baron and his youngest children, he still had to know John wasn’t actually his.

Perhaps he would write Harriett. She had moved to Derbyshire, having netted herself an earl, but she would certainly be able to tell him if their brother was at home or in the trenches.

Geoffry, of course, was only seventeen and still in grammar school. Even if the war went on long enough for him to join, their mother would move mountains to keep her darling ward out of it. Phillip supposed he couldn’t be too bitter about it, given that she’d have done the same thing for him, if he’d let her. She still would, her letters made that clear. But with Geoffry it wouldn’t matter if he was married, or if he had sons. Whoever the boy’s father was (probably the Earl of Carton, whose wife stubbornly refused to die or demand a divorce, but it was difficult to say. It might just as well have been a visiting valet, for all Phillip knew), she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted his child, where as Phillip had been a duty for both of his parents, and the girls had been a failure. And while he told himself that it didn’t matter…

Well. It was difficult not to envy him. It wasn’t that their mother dotted on him, particularly, any more than she had her legitimate children. She was too clever for that. But she found other ways to spoil him. He had freedom of a sort Phillip could only imagine. He’d had his choice of schools, his choice of careers to pursue (he was interested in law). He’d be allowed to marry whomever he pleased, no doubt, since the estate and title were Phillip’s responsibility. No matter how tight money was, he was certain that the Dowager Duchess would leave him a tidy amount upon her death (and Phillip wouldn’t dream of saying no. If the girls didn’t murder him, his mother would haunt him), and then he’d be able to go wherever he pleased. He could move to France or Spain or America, if he liked, while Phillip was stuck maintaining the honour of the family.

There were days he wished the Germans would drop a bomb on him. Then the honour of the family could go fuck itself, and take the honour of the Empire with it.

[ed-recoverry]

Shoutout to all Pacific Islander LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Native Hawaiian LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Samoan LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Tokelauan LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Tuvaluan LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Tahiti LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Tongan LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Guamanian LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Chamorro LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Mariana Islander LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Carolinian LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Palauan LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Yapese LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Chuukese LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Pohnpeian LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Kosraean LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Marshallese LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Fijian LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Papua New Guinean LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Solomon Islander LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Māori LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Rapa Nui LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to Uvean and Futunan LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Cook Islander LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all Kiribati LGBTQ+ folks.

Shoutout to all West Papuans LGBTQ+ folks.

Take pride in it all. Your culture, your identity, it’s all so beautiful. Celebrate where you are from and who you are. It makes you you, and that is something to be proud of.

Post for Asians, post for Middle Easterners, post for Oceanic folks, post for Hispanics , post for Africans, post for Native Americans, post for Caribbeans

[andaniellight]

Zoro you literally have the safest, most secure job position slash title in the straw hat crew are irreplaceable to Luffy, no need to be so fucking jealous and dramatic smh

[raiyndeere]

[onyx-collective]

The most unique Jane Austen adaptation film has ever seen 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾