stay at home parent with too many chores to do and an obsession with reading and writing daredevil fic.  cis, het, prefered pronouns: she/her


!!!! MOAR prompts!! You once wrote a Sherlock and Joan meet Leverage team (with Tara as one of his irregulars, I think?) drabble that I adored, and anything in that vein would be fantastic~



(I think I said all I had to say on that particular version of this crossover, but I will try a different one!)

“Hold up,” says Eliot halfway through the mission briefing. “If we’re dealing with something in New York City, we have to talk to Sherlock Holmes.”

Hardison stops and frowns at him. He really hates being thrown off his groove. “Yeah, and who’s that? One of your weird underworld contacts?”

“Detective. If this is as big as you say it is, he’s going to figure out something is going on. Better to have him on our side.”

“Holmes is in the States now?” Sophie asks, her eyebrows raised, because of course she knows him. Between she and Eliot, they know the whole criminal underworld. “Yes, we’d better talk to him. I’ll take that on, if you like. I knew his brother, back in England. We had a lovely dinner, and I got some state secrets and a healthy earful about his brother.”

Hardison sighs and starts looking up this Holmes person, who definitely cannot be half as smart as either of them says.

(Turns out he’s wrong, but that’s probably a good thing, because everything goes a lot faster when they’re both worrying about the Reichenbach problem.)

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“But if the only approach to your lair is a road of trials which imperil not only the body and mind, but also the soul, how will you buy Girl Scout cookies” like, buddy, have you ever met an actual Girl Scout?

I once carried two cases (cases, not boxes, about 40 boxes) of Girl Scout cookies a mile to school while wearing full goth makeup because, depressed weirdo or not, my English class had supported me by ordering cookies and they were going to damned well get them.

From context it’s not clear if the goth makeup was specifically for the delivery of the cookies so I will assume yes it was.

No, it’s because we were performing a reinterpretation of Antigone in class that day and the reinterpretation I’d written was a mashup of Antigone and Interview with the Vampire but because that was a Pep Rally day it was the only day with a schedule that meant I wouldn’t have to carry cookies around for 4 hours before delivering them.

Which does mean that later in the day I ended up at a compulsory pep rally dressed like a character from Interview with the Vampire.

I’m frankly shocked this didn’t end with a cease and desist letter from Anne Rice’s lawyers.

Better Anne Rice’s lawyers than Sophocles’ lawyers, though.

Anne Rice / Sophocles legal team death match.

Please do not give Sophocles a legal team

Sophocles can have a little legal team, as a treat.

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Being weird together in museums is a love language

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TOS Kirk: Space Golden Retriever, the alpha dog but in a super chill and loyal way, looks at everyone with heart eyes, would like to friend the entire galaxy

AOS Kirk: Space Australian Shepard, alpha dog with perhaps too much energy and a very strong pack mentality, Blue Eyes™, requires affection… aggressively

TOS Spock: Space Abyssian, has adapted to life with space golden retriever but it still a cat, friendly but plays favorites

AOS Spock: Space Shelter Cat, plays favorites harder, resting bitch face, screams™, random outbursts of violence

TOS McCoy: Space Bulldog, tired, resting angry face, employs nihilist humor to cover the fact that is actually a nihilist

AOS McCoy: Space Toy Snchnouzer, yappy™, also angry but in a more tightly wound way, will not be denied or ignored

(the images are all screencaps of the characters mentioned with a photo of their respective animals next to them. The facial expressions match up pretty well)


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Pro-tips for rookie academic writers after grading about a quarter of the midterm papers for my undergrad Shakespeare class:

  • If your entire argument can be made in one sentence, it’s too simple. 
  • If your argument cannot be summarized in one sentence, it’s too broad.
  • If your argument can’t be argued with, it’s not an argument.
  • Teachers don’t want you to fawn on the material; they want you to engage with it. Just fangirling over Shakespeare isn’t going to get you an A.
  • Avoid big sweeping generalizations in your opening sentences (and everywhere else). “Since the dawn of time” or “Of all the playwrights who have ever lived,” etc. etc. are superlatives you can’t possibly prove.
  • If you’re going to say that an author/text does something, you’d better be ready to demonstrate how. 
  • Your opinion is not analysis. Learn the difference. 
  • “Interesting” and “intriguing” are useless words that tell a reader nothing about the text. Be more specific.
  • Don’t assume you know a character’s motives without evidence from the text. Don’t assume you know an author’s motives, full stop.
  • If you’re a man making an argument about female perspectives in a text, have a woman read it before you turn it in. Just trust me on this one. 
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some fanfics shouldn’t even be called fanfics that shit is classic ass literature

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Please go watch Sex Explained on Netflix. Not only is it a great resource for the basic sex education that is sorely lacking in the U.S., but some of ya’ll need to take a deep breath and remember the difference between fantasy vs reality. This purity culture thing that we’re going through right now is directly harmful to responsible, healthy sexual expression.

BTW this woman, Lisa Diamond, is a noted psychologist and has been pushing for greater understanding of womens sexuality as a whole.

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potentially controversial opinion incoming

sam vimes’s natural anti-drunkenness (being knurd) is described as seeing the world the way it actually is, without all the comforting illusions people have for themselves. having a witch’s First Sight means that “you can see what really is there.” granny weatherwax says that evil starts with treating people as things, and, often but especially vividly in Feet of Clay, sam demonstrates repeatedly that he will not stand for the golems being treated as less than people, for the poor being treated as disposable by the rich and powerful, for anyone thinking that anyone else doesn’t matter. the hiver gets inside tiffany aching and reveals the Chalk in her soul. the summoning dark gets inside sam vimes and finds a city in there. and sam vimes knows how to be selfish, to claim his city and his people as his, to protect them. witches watch over people who are frequently small-minded and ungrateful and stubborn and they do it anyway because it’s what you do, because it needs to be done; and sam vimes says pretty much the same thing every time he considers the people of ankh-morpork. and you can call him mister vimes, but only if you’ve earned it.

doylist conclusion: terry pratchett knew what his taste in protagonists was

watsonian conclusion: vimes is an urban witch and ankh-morpork is his steading gods damn it

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“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.”

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo: A novel by Taylor Jenkins Reid

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I hope in 2020 you get to write that thing you’ve been wanting to write, and you write it amazingly.

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i'm so sorry if this is offensive, but how old are you actually?





I think of anyone over 40 as tumblr elderly, which is not human elderly. So I’m tumblr elderly. I’m not offended at all. I poke fun at myself on tumblr for being old a lot, but it’s kind of like a bell on a cat warning small creatures that death is coming.

This is perfect.

“a bell on a cat warning small creatures that death is coming” 

that line deserves, like, whatever the Tumblr version of a pulitzer is

also yes seconded, I joke about being an ancient hag but children, I am exactly 40 human-Earth years old, which in the real world is barely classified as middle-aged, please love yourselves and understand that a human being has a lot of lifespan left after one’s twenties and you will get there someday and a) it will be pretty awesome because it’s astonishing what bullshit you can discard by then and nobody notices, I haven’t had a haircut since 2004 and b) you will be filled with the uncontrollable urge to say the exact same weird shit “old” people said to you when you were 20 to the 20-year-olds you meet now and you won’t be able to stop yourself and it’s the most hilarious and uncanny feeling. Look forward to that, kiddos. 

And to everyone older than me: yes I’m aware that 40 is baby and I don’t know shit yet, this is all just as hilarious to me as it is to you.

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Wut-In-Tarnation is really What-In-The-Entire-Nation with southern accent

It’s time for the fascinating history of the word tarnation, which has nothing to do with the word nation

In 18th century America there was a trend of finding nicer ways to say curse words so they could shout exclamations without committing blasphemy. “Heck” and “gosh” originated at this time. “What in Sam Hill” was just a censored way of saying “What the hell?”

Damn and damnation became darn and darnation

At the time the word eternal was mostly associated with God and heaven, so the slang term “tarnal” was created to speak about eternity without invoking God

The new soft-curse word darnation sounded a bit like the slang word tarnal so people mashed them into tarnation (source)

“What in tarnation” means “What in eternal damnation” which also means “What the hell” which also means “What in Sam Hill” thanks to a bunch of Americans in the 1700s wanting to say bad words without incurring the Lord’s wrath 

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Things I am tired of today:

1. Money going into mental health awareness campaigns and not into mental health services, as though the problem were solely stigma and never inability to afford treatment.

2. Blaming the opioid crisis on Big Pharma as just an updated version of, “Drug dealers are evil!” without talking about how banning and criminalizing drugs is wrong in the first place, or addiction is hugely correlated with adverse early childhood experiences, especially abuse, neglect, and trauma.

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Sometimes I have an entire conversation with Ripley before stepping back and realizing how cool that is.

I arrive home late from a potluck and the house is dark. From the bottom of the stairs I say, “Hey Ripley, I’m back.”

“Wanna come out,” he answers, which is a pretty standard reply when I first get home. It’s midnight, way past his bedtime, but he hasn’t been out of his cage at all today because we’re dog sitting my mom’s very untrustworthy dog (with whom Ripley is unfortunately fascinated). So I say, “Sure.”

As I walk into his room he lifts up a foot in a way I recognize as meaning “I’m ready to step onto your hand,” so as I open his door I say, “Let’s go in the kitchen.” I offer him the chance to poop in the trash can, but he declines with a small clicking noise. I ask him if he would sit on a chair, but warn him that first I need to move Coat Shirt off of it (shirt is his catch-all word for clothing), and he makes a little “hm” of acknowledgment.

After he steps onto the back of the chair I say, “I’ve gotta go downstairs, can I leave you up here for a minute?”

“Okay,” he answers as I leave the room.

Upon returning I say, “Thanks for waiting in here.” It’s taken years of practice for me to talk to Ripley like he’s a person (he is), but now it’s second nature. He gets insistent if I’m quiet for too long.

“Do want a carrot,” Ripley says, leaning toward the fridge.

“I can get you a carrot.” My usual reply when he asks for a healthy food. I hand him a baby carrot from the fridge.

He takes a couple bites and shakes the carrot around gingerly in his foot. “I like it.”

“I’m glad. Can I touch you?” I reach out to pet his back but he gives me a subtle look: a twitch of his pupils and a fractional declination of his head that means “no thank you.” Ignoring this is a serious offense.

“Okay, no touch. A kiss, then?” He leans toward me and squints: an invitation. As I lean back, he makes a trilling sound and smushes the top of his head against my face. “Thank you,” I say.

After several more kisses I ask him what kind of bedtime treat he wants. “A peanut.”

A lot of our conversation is verbal, sure, but a good deal of it is also nonverbal. Most parrots don’t talk, but all of them communicate with their flock in very precise, intentional ways.

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[Image description: a tweet from The Hungover Pundit:

“A friend once shared what she called the Parable of the Choir: A choir can sing a beautiful note impossibly long because singers can individually drop out to breathe as necessary and the note goes on.

“Social justice activism should be like that, she said.

“That’s stuck with me.”

Timestamp 9:12 pm, Jan 14, 2020. /ID]

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People can decide to forgive and forget. Limbic systems take considerably more persuasion.

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Americans are so competitive. Even with people that they like. We ought to start a propaganda campaign like “Sweden has a higher voter turnout rate than us! Are you going to let them win?”

“Britain has better class mobility than us and they literally have a queen! Are you gonna let some corporations stop us from being wealthier than the British, you pussy? Vote for politicians that put higher taxes on the rich and we can beat them!”

“The United States has the worst healthcare of anywhere in the world! Are you gonna just stand by and let that happen? Vote for universal healthcare! Make us #1!”

And then put like some explosions and patriotic music in the background. Get some super famous football players to yell it at the screen. People will listen then. Get a skinny white lady in a stars and stripes bikini holding a big gun to sensually say it to the camera. Slowly create a culture where being a conservative makes you a weenie.

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i love one (1) disaster wizard

It’s a good metaphor tho, because the situation is never going to get better if you don’t eventually pull the door. And afterwards, no matter what the damage was, you’ll have a working cabinet, whatever plates you could salvage, and a place to start putting new plates.

Reblogging for that comment ^

Hats off for negative jokes turned to wholesome posts

So this was me for a long time. Afraid to open the door, certain that all that I was would crash and break. That I could never be repaired.

But I opened the door.

And what fell out and crashed to the ground was not me. They weren’t my dishes.

They were other people’s dishes.

Put inside we without my permission, when I was too young to know that I could not hold them all.

I opened the door, and I’m still here.

It turns out, I’m not that fragile.

Oh damn it got better


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If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)

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This is a thing that makes me grit my teeth a bunch at Instagram advertisements. I even saw a WhateverBox-style subscription service whose entire premise was that it’d send you a random box of Green Lifestyle Implements every month. More stuff, shipped to you through the mail, whether you needed it or not, to give you that Green Lifestyle. There was another one too, that was for secondhand clothing, they’d just mail you a box of new-to-you clothes every month or whatever, so that you could have new things but it’s green because they’re secondhand.

The greenest thing you can fucking do is not buy anything. There’s no money in that, though, so they’re not going to be selling you that– but. oh my god.

I actually do have a friend on Instagram who was talking about that; she had a picture of a bunch of plastic quart bags and was like “I’ve decided to cut out my plastic use and I’m excited for that but first I have to use all these plastic bags until they fall apart because otherwise I’m just generating a mound of trash for the aesthetics of a plastic-free kitchen, so, here I’m labeling them with Sharpie so that I won’t cross-contaminate when I reuse them, and in four to six months I’ll have used them up and I’ll be using glass instead.” Like, you go girl, that actually means something, and the post wasn’t just performative it was actually informative. I do that too now, it was useful.


Reminder that the aesthetics of green living aren’t the same as actually making good ethical decisions about the resources you have access to.


Also, durable plastic is not nearly as much of a problem as single use plastic.

Many people can’t afford a wood and bristle hair brush anyway…they’re like six times more expensive.


Why do I have a plastic hairbrush?

My friend was visiting me the other day and as she sat in my living room she noticed my plastic hairbrush on the table.

“Why do you have a plastic hairbrush I thought you care about nature and you try to avoid plastic!”

Why? Because I can still use it. I have had this brush for cca 12 years. It is not broken. It’s fine. And I will have it for as long as it works and then buy a good alternative. We don’t throw away things that work perfectly fine just to prove to other people, that we care. We use the things we have FIRST!

There is no need for buying a stainless steel lunch box if you can still use an old plastic one. It’s fine.

USE WHAT YOU HAVE FIRST and when it no longer works like it should, dispose of it responsibly and then get a good alternative. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.



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