⌖ I DEFINITELY won last month’s game of WHISKEY & ONLINE SHOPPING! Look what arrived! MEAT/FISH MEMO PADS!

⌖ YES, they came wrapped in PACKAGING!

⌖ THIS promotional image in particular KILLED ME

⌖ I don’t need ALL of these, but I apparently ordered one of each! BETTER FIND SOME MORE THINGS TO WRITE DOWN!

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 2

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

Richard Slessman's bedroom looks like something straight out of a serial killer documentary. floral wallpaper taunts Morgan and I as we walk inside. a model airplane hangs above his bed; cheap medals-- the kind kids get for participation-- decorate the area above his desk, which is littered with books about forensics. there's a carousel of CDs, too.

"whoa." is my brilliant analysis.

"we should have Garcia check out this guy's laptop." Morgan starts to wander around the room, trying to piece together Slessman's head just by examining his things. a group of cops are already huddled at the table with the laptop open, and I realize too late what they're doing.

"log in password." one of them plucks a post-it off the screen, starts to type it in.

"wait, wait--" Morgan and I nearly lunge toward them, but the crackling sound of a fizzing motherboard tells me we're too late. the screen goes black.

"it's not turning back on." Genius #1 observes. Morgan sighs and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration.

"yeah, and it won't. it's a false password."

the cops stare up at us blankly.

"it triggers a complete shut down of his system." I clarify. they share a look, deservedly feeling stupid. I want to roll my eyes, but Morgan's told me that the police on these cases get defensive most of the time; they don't like us on their turf. one glance from my partner, though, and those guys flee the room without another word.

I pull out my phone and dial Garcia's number in the hopes that she can salvage whatever's left of this asshole's computer. we arrested him an hour ago and we can only hold him with probable cause because we don't have any charges yet. this house search could be our only chance to get him in custody.

"well hello, my fresh-faced beauty queen." Penelope answers on the second ring. a slight smile turns up the corners of my mouth.

"hi, Penelope." I watch Derek plugging something into the laptop, then opening another monitor next to it. "listen, Morgan's trying to set up Richard Slessman's computer and I was wondering if you'd be able to hack into it."

"oh, kitten," she sighs contentedly. "that's my bread and butter."

"great. I'm putting you on speaker." I press a button and wait for Morgan to talk. he's typing furiously until a tab pops up with the words "Deadbolt Defense" in bold above a box for a password.

"what's the six at the bottom of the screen mean?" I ask.

"remaining password attempts until it wipes the hard drive." Morgan replies. shit.

"Penelope, there might be a journal or document or something that tells us where Heather is." I inform her.

"what system are we talking?" she asks.

"Deadbolt Defense?"

"Deadbolt is the number one crack-resistant software out there, hon. you're gonna need to get inside this guy's head for the password."

my heart sinks. when my colleague double takes, it makes me think that this is a rare occurrence.

"babygirl, are you serious?" Morgan complains. my shoulders droop. Penelope has been nothing short of genius since I got here. slicing through sealed files and unfurling secret criminal records is always ridiculously easy for her.

"sorry, handsome."

"thanks anyway." I hang up and shove my phone into my back pocket. "so... what now?"

"now," Morgan takes another look around the room. "we get creative."

...

somehow, I wind up in the attic. I don't really know how this happens, seeing as I started by flipping through discs in Slessman's weird quasi-childlike bedroom, but it's certainly an interesting space. Christmas lights are strung about, along with some shawl-like material that drapes raw ceiling.

the laptop sits in front of me, password cursor blinking mockingly while I sit in the chair. my head is aching. despite having the unit go through every single one of the CDs in search of the most-played one (hoping it'll crack the password), there's been nothing.

at least there have been other successes since we got here: we know that Slessman isn't operating on his own. he's the submissive in a partnership with Timothy Vogel, a prison guard where he was incarcerated a while back. the problem is that Vogel was onto us and fled to the kidnapping site, which we can't find. I feel useless sitting here with nothing to offer.

I consider going back downstairs and perusing the room again when I hear footsteps on the stairs. Reid's head pops into the room, spinning a bent paper clip between his fingers.

"hey." I greet curiously.

"I've been thinking about the CDs." he responds, walking over to me. I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes.

"we tried it, Reid. there's nothing there," I slam my back to the cushions with an exasperated groan. "if we don't find something, this girl is dead."

instead of replying, Reid bends down next to the laptop in front of me, squinting at the DVD slot in the side. he pokes the end of his bent paper clip into the small opening.

"I think we may have missed the obvious." he murmurs, working diligently. I scowl.

"what do you--?" in response to my question, the DVD slot pops open and out slides a copy of a Metallica CD. Reid and I look at each other with wide eyes before I snatch the disc out of of the computer and stare at it. "what made you think of this?"

"it was the only empty case." he shrugs. I grin at him.

"okay, okay," we still don't have the password. I read the cover of the case he hands me. "I'm an insomniac who listens to Metallica to fall asleep. what song would make me do that?"

Spencer frowns, grabs the thing back from my hands, and scans the track list within the span of a second.

"'Enter Sandman'." he says. I watch the puzzle pieces fall into place in his brain, those lips parting with a slight smile playing at the edges. his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

"you are a national treasure." I type like the wind, unlocking the screen and immediately digging into his files. Spencer peers over my shoulder as we search for any indication of Heather's location.

"fucking bingo." I mutter when a video feed pops up. it's black-and-white, showing a crate in the corner of the room with a light hanging above it. Heather's inside, eyes duct taped and hands tied in front of her.

Spencer is already dialing Hotch's number. the blood drains from my face as I watch her trying to breathe through the gag in her mouth.

nothing in the feed is helpful in terms of finding out where she is. it's a nondescript room with wooden floors, mostly shrouded in darkness except for the light hanging overhead.

"wait a minute." I pause what I'm doing.

"hm?" Reid asks. I hit a few keys, trying something.

"I'm lining up the last twelve images." I explain as he watches me work. the photos sit in a grid on the screen, causing my heart to stop in my chest when I notice what I've been meaning to find. "look at the light."

"it's shifting positions like it's swaying," he notices. "like the earth is tilting."

"the ocean." I nod. we share another glance, both of our hearts hammering. we're so close to solving this, I can feel it in my chest. "we need to tell Hotch. find out if there are any piers or docks near here. there's no way he could get the webcam image from the middle of the ocean."

Reid nods, runs downstairs as fast as he possibly can. when he goes, I notice the board in the corner of the room: Go, mid-game. I've never learned how to play.

...

by the time I get back to my apartment that night, my limbs feel like jello. I collapse into the chair by my door and rub my eyes again. my head is still pounding now that the adrenaline rush has subsided. we ended up finding Vogel at the docks; Heather is safe. Hotch was shot in the arm, but he'll be fine. and I'm still a little in shock.

I hate the rumble of my stomach as I realize I haven't eaten since this morning. my head was too full of other thoughts to even consider food and after such a long day, I can barely fathom getting up to change into pajamas.

my phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see that Garcia texted me.

what are you up to? followed by a series of emojis that make me smile. I sink deeper into the seat before replying.

nothing why?

can I bring over takeout?

I stare at the message for a second with surprise. Garcia is fun and we've had drinks as a team, but I've never hung out with her one-on-one before. I'm curious.

sure. what genre of food should I expect?

Thai. send me your order!

that sounds so good right now, I almost order it myself. part of me is nervous about hanging out with a team member by myself, except she's been so friendly to me. Penelope was the first person to make me feel at home, aside from Prentiss.

I wait patiently for her to arrive, watching some TV and working my way through some leftover paperwork. my thoughts are everywhere right now, but when she tells me she's downstairs, I try to put it all out of my mind.

"hey!" I open the door to see Garcia with an armful of plastic bags.

"I have your curry, and I got chicken satay and spring rolls and fried rice in case you're still hungry." she beams at me. her bracelets make a pleasant clinking noise as she waves the goodies around.

"a woman after my own heart." I smile, stepping aside to let her in. we head upstairs and before long, we're settled on my couch with a full display of food on the coffee table. I heap my plate while she looks around my space.

"this place is so cute!" she says through a bite of spring roll.

"thanks. I've had it for about two years now. that window over there was really the selling point." I point to the enormous view of downtown DC, which is sparkling right now. there's another chair set in front of it, where I sometimes read or nap in my free time.

as we eat, Penelope and I gossip about work and the city and everything else. she's really easy to talk to. when I ask about her life, she doesn't seem guarded at all; unlike a lot of FBI agents I've met, she wears her experiences on her sleeve.

"how are you liking the team so far?" she asks a similar question as I received this morning. I smile to myself before answering truthfully.

"everyone is great. Hotch is kind of terrifying, but I've worked with people like him before." I shrug. he reminds me of one of my old professors: perpetually stoic to the point where he doesn't even seem like a real person. she laughs.

"he's super nice once you get to know him."

"really?" I look up.

"definitely. he's just always got that scowl on his face. don't let it put you off." she pats my hand reassuringly. I sigh, finish chewing my bite. there's been something prodding me since visiting Garcia's tech lair for the first time, when she showed me her collection of puppy calendars and fuzzy pens.

"can I ask you a question?"

"anything, my love." she smiles warmly. I hesitate, hoping I don't ruin the moment somehow.

"how did you get involved in the FBI? you just don't seem very..." my sentence trails off.

"government oriented?" she laughs. "I used to do a lot of hacking in my free time, and I got into some stuff that the government didn't like. and, um-- you know that saying, 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em'?"

I nod.

"it was like that, except they hired me. and I love it." she finishes the last spring roll. I think on this, imagining Penelope doing something so serious that the American government hired her on the spot for her skills. it's interesting.

"so you don't profile at all." I state.

"technically no, but I've picked up a couple things." she smirks.

"oh, yeah? like what?"

"well, it's obvious that you're never home, based on the lack of decoration here." she refers to the mostly blank walls of my apartment. aside from a couple photos of my friends and family, there's not much unique to me. "and you've obviously got a candle addiction." she points to the various spots around the living room, where half-burned pots of wax sit patiently awaiting their next light.

"that's definitely true." I laugh. she gets up and starts to smell the various candles.

"I like this one a lot." she sets down my chai vanilla one. I let her go through my things, despite the fact that Garcia is incredibly reserved about people touching her own little office trinkets. she picks up stray books and memorabilia, occasionally making a comment.

while she does, I finish my curry. I'm way too tired to resist her search, anyway. I'll be curling up in bed soon and praying that tomorrow is a paperwork day. eventually, she settles onto the cushions again.

"you seem tired," she says when she glimpses the dark circles beneath my eyes. "I'll get out of your hair."

"what? oh, I'm sorry." I draw myself up a little more. "this last case just took a lot out of me."

"they all do." she gives me a soft expression, then pats my knee as she stands.

"Penelope." I say as she gathers up her coat and purse.

"yes, darling?"

"thanks. for the food and for coming over." I smile gratefully at her. the tech analyst stands at my door with a look on her face that makes me think we're going to be good friends.

"anytime." she heads out, leaving me on the couch. I stare at the mess of empty takeout boxes that I told her to leave. now that I've eaten, getting up to clean the space is even more difficult. I trudge about the apartment, wash some dishes, and head off to bed.

my body is too exhausted to remember the dreams.

...

"oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I practically sprint into the conference room, swinging my bag down by my feet as I grab the last open chair. JJ is standing at the front of the room with a new case on the screen. everyone stares at me as I settle in. "my train was super delayed."

"everyone is allowed to be late," Hotch barely glances up from the case file. "once."

a chill runs down my spine and my face flushes an embarrassing red as JJ passes me the remaining file. keeping my head down, she notices my discomfort and clears her throat.

"okay, you guys are heading to Arizona today." she clicks a button. some pictures pop up for us to see. "Bradshaw College in Tempe has had six fires in seven months."

it's a video recording of a building from the outside, and two students talking about a fire inside. the camera shifts to show them in their own dorm, examining a strange wet spot leaking into their room. and then one of them catches on fire.

he burns to death on tape. it's jarring, the shrieking noises he lets out as the flames engulf his body. they travel up his legs alarmingly fast, so much so that it's obviously chemical.

"the first fire was in March, the second in May. the third didn't happen until September." JJ explains once the clip is over. "and then two weeks later, there were three that happened in one night."

"he's speeding up." Prentiss observes from her spot next to me.

"82% of arsonists are white males between seventeen and twenty-seven. female arsonists are far less common, with motives usually limited to revenge." Reid sits across the table, adjusting his watch.

I raise my eyebrows at his fact and look more at the crime scene photos. burned flesh is definitely an uncomfortable sight, one that makes my stomach churn.

"sounds like he's a student." Morgan taps his pen against his fingertip and leans back in his chair.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hotch continues to read the document. "we don't want to rely too much on precedent."

at this, I press my knuckles to my chin and try to think of other suspects. he's obviously doing these during the school year, but that doesn't necessitate that he's a student. he could be working on campus-- a professor, even.

"there's a rapid escalation. he's gone from the damage to a building to something far more satisfying." Morgan closes the file and we all look to Hotch.

"wheels up in thirty." he says. I get up to grab my go-bag and gather some things from my desk, my cheeks burning at the memory of being late again. I've never done that before, but I don't want to start now. maybe it's best if I start coming in early, just in case my train gets delayed again. I can't risk losing this job, or being moved to a different department. it was enough of a hassle switching from sex crimes to the BAU. I really want to settle into this position, and that includes having the unit chief not hate me.

"hey." Prentiss catches my wrist just as I'm hurrying out of the room. I turn to her.

"hi."

"a little birdy told me that you and Reid pretty much single-handedly solved that case yesterday." she smiles.

"oh, no. it wasn't just us." I shake my head.

"quit being modest. nice job." she nudges my shoulder as we walk down the steps to the bullpen. "also, I brought a couple of those horticulture magazines that I told you about. we should read them on the jet."

"no way!" I pause at my desk, grinning.

"one of them has a whole section on caring for orchids."

"orchids?" Morgan overhears her from his desk. he appears deeply concerned with our discussion.

"if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand." she smirks. he turns his attention to me in hopes of a clearer answer.

"it's plant care." my explanation seems to be enough to bore him, however, because he just shrugs and returns to packing his bag up. Emily waves the stack of magazines at me before I head over to her desk.

she doesn't really seem like the type of person to be into it, but when Emily caught sight of the air plants I've got scattered on my desk my first week, we got wrapped up in a conversation about them. there's a special magazine subscription as well that has a bunch of helpful tips about where to buy and how to keep them healthy.

I'm flipping through one of the copies on the way to the elevator, my nose buried in a section about how much to water Hoyas, when Reid and JJ pop in next to me. the blonde is on the phone with someone, presumably the Tempe police. I haven't seen much of her recently-- she's been staying behind for most cases-- but she sends me a sweet smile before returning to her call.

"what are you reading?" Spencer's eyes hungrily run over the paper, as if seeing something he hasn't already absorbed in that big brain is unbearable. his hair is slicked back as usual, and his tie is sort of crooked; he's not aware of it. I hold the material between us so he can take a peek.

"a magazine about plants that Prentiss and I like."

"fascinating. can I see?" he grabs it before I can answer, although I don't think he means to. his fingertip runs down the page quickly, and then he's flipping them like mad, staring at the pictures. my eyes widen at how eager he is; I guess his curiosity is enough to override any awkwardness.

"did you know that owning indoor plants is actually correlated to overall mood improvements?" he asks me once he finishes reading, attention still focused on the back cover. the elevator door to the main level slides open.

"no, but I'm proof of it," I take back the reading material and put it in my bag. we walk out into the lobby. his long legs mean that my pace has to quicken a bit in order to keep up. "something about taking care of them is quite nice. they don't need as much attention as a pet, but they still rely on you."

"interesting." he nods.

"I like to think so."

"maybe I'll get one." he muses more to himself than anyone else. I smile at his open-mindedness, keep my eyes on the tiles we're walking over. maybe he, Prentiss, and I can have our own affinity club. he would become more knowledgeable than both of us combined within the span of a week.

Survey #440

from a day or two ago.

Do you drink a lot of soda? I definitely do. :/ I'd lose weight so much easier if I could drop the habit. Are tomatoes the best food in the world? I don't like tomatoes unless they're very fresh and on a mayo and bacon sandwich. Have you seen The Blindside? I actually haven't. Do you have a favorite local pizza place? Not really. There's a place I like that isn't huge, but I don't have like, a serious passion for or loyalty to it. Would you date someone 10+ years older than you? Meh, I think ten years is my cut-off. Are you due for a haircut? For sure. >_< Are you dealing with any health-related problems right now? Yeah. Even with my APAP mask, because I apparently move it too much in my sleep, I'm struggling with my sleep apnea nightmares/terrors. Do your parents like the music you listen to? Most of it. Do your parents approve of your beliefs? Not all of them, no. How many different digital cameras have you owned in your life? How about cell phones? Cell phones, idk. I've had two "pro" cameras. Do you typically do your make up the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? It's pretty much always the same. Who is the last person you were in a room with just the two of you? What were you doing? Mom. We worked together on my room. What do you usually order at Subway? Turkey, bacon, American cheese, pickles, banana peppers, and chipotle on I want to say Italian bread. How long is your mother’s hair? It's hard to say, because it's all poofy now versus wavy like before it had to be shaved off. Don't repeat it to her ever, but she has, uh... "old lady hair" now, ha ha. What is your favourite car brand? I don’t care. Whose chore is it to clean the bathrooms in your house? My mom does it. Pick your three favourite fruits. Strawberries, kiwi, and uhhh... apples. Or pineapple. Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? Yeah. We used to play that a lot at Colleen's house on nights we had some drinks. Who were the last friends you went to hang out with? Oh jeez, idk. I haven't hung out with a friend in a long time. How many chairs are in the room you’re currently in? Zero. I'm in my bedroom. Are you bored right now? I'm bored almost every waking hour of my days. Have you ever seen a pelican in real life? I'm actually not sure. What’s important about April? My younger sister's birthday is in April. Is there anyone who hates you? Jason probably does. Would you consider adoption? Not for me personally. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? Our late boxer mix. Do you own any kind of helmet? No. Do you ever put fruit on your cereal? Noooo. How do you usually celebrate your favorite holiday? My younger sister comes over here and we open our presents with Mom, who also cooks a nice breakfast. We then go to my older sister's house for the day to watch the kids open presents from their extended family. I say "extended" because the kids obviously aren't going to wait for us to get there to open the majority of their gifts from their parents, ha ha. What’s a few facts about the last person that talked to you? She's from New York, has five kids, has survived cancer (one almost advanced to a fatal level) twice, she loves owls, and recently graduated with her bachelor's in social work (it's never too late, people). What would happen if you had a baby with the last person you kissed? We're both cisgender females. Where is the biggest scar on your body? It's probably where I had a cyst removal, which is in a spot I can't see. Would you date someone who was addicted to drugs? Absolutely not. I am NOT getting involved in that. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you? I'd go to the gym sooner. Have you ever kissed anyone with a tattoo? Hmmm... I think Tyler actually may have had a The Legend of Zelda tattoo? I can't really remember. If not him, then no. Have you ever kissed someone you weren’t dating? No, but I've been kissed by someone I wasn't dating. Do you know anyone who drinks a lot? Yes. What were you afraid of the most when you were a kid? Being separated from/losing my mom. Do you like to make the first move? No. When was the last time you completely broke down? A few weeks ago when I was having a PTSD episode. Are you listening to any music? No; I'm watching Gab play Final Fantasy X. Is your hair long enough to put in a ponytail? No. Has someone ever told you they want to spend the rest of their life with you? Hm, it's funny, I don't see him anymore. Have you ever peed in the woods? No. Have you ever played Twister? Yeah, I liked playing it as a kid. Are you looking for a boyfriend//girlfriend? Not actively, no. I really don't need one right now. Out of all of your friends who have you gotten in the worst fight with? Of all friends I've EVER had, probably Colleen. Of the friends I still have, maybe Sara. What is the last microwaveable meal you had? I've been on a SERIOUS grilled chicken pesto kick lately. Mom buys these small Healthy Choice (or some brand like that) bowls that you put in the microwave and then pour the noodles and chicken into the sauce after and mix, and oh my GOOOOOOOOOOOD it is so good. What would you consider a talent of yours? Assuming the worst out of every imaginable situation. If Hogwarts was a real place and you were able to attend, what class do you think you’d excel at? According to those little quizzes I've taken, I lean mostly towards Hufflepuff, but with Gryffindor traits as well. Would you rather learn more about space or more about the ocean? Well, ideally, space, but I think learning much more about our ocean would be more beneficial to our planet and our prosperity on Earth. Do you have a mental illness? If yes, how have you learned to cope with it? If no, do you ever suspect you may have one? I have a lot. My bipolarity, OCD, and PTSD are *mostly* under control, but I most certainly still have trouble sometimes. My anxiety and AvPD are still rabid fucking hounds. My depression was well-managed not even that long ago, but life circumstances have it so it's been more aggressive than what was usual. Do you have a favorite character from The Avengers? I dunno, I like Loki ig. Thor is cool, too. It's been WAY too long since I've seen that movie. What type of cake would you like right now? Double chocolate cake sounds great rn. @_@ What was your dream job when you were a child? Are you going after that dream or not? Why? Paleontologist, and no, because I don't want to travel for work, and I could also never handle the heat during site excavations. Even though it may not work all the time, what usually helps make you feel better when you’re upset or down? Watching one of my comfort series on YouTube from channels I enjoy. Why do you personally take surveys? It's a method to just get all these thoughts out of my head and to vent when I need to without actually directly burdening someone with my problems. No one has to read 'em. It's purely for my benefit, and also to pass the time, which I have too much of. Are there any words that you can’t stand? Derogatory terms for certain groups of people. What are words that you love? Words like "serendipity," "bliss," joyous, bubbly words. I'm blanking on actual terms. If you had an endless supply of money for clothing only, what would you load your closet with? Ohhhh, lots of shit with studs and spikes. :') I've wanted a studded leather jacket since I was in middle school. Have never gotten one because of how pricey they are. :( I'd also get some KILLER boots and just obtain a more gothic wardrobe. I'd love corsets too if my body ever shrinks back to a point I'd be comfortable wearing well-made ones. What is your favorite type of cookie? Chocolate chip. What is your favorite type of candy? Strawberry Sour Punch Straws. What color would you like to paint your nails next? I don't paint my nails. Realistically, they probably won't be 'til my entirely hypothetical wedding, in which case they'll probably be black. What do you think is creepy that society accepts as normal? Urinals, alsdkfja;klwejr. Like I get men's bathrooms give the option of using a stall, but still... side-by-side urinals are so weird and a breach of privacy to me. What is the silliest secret about yourself that you sometimes feel the need to hide? That I enjoy forum RP. I tell NOBODY because I fear being judged and found as weird. Like seriously, in my "real" life, maybe two people know. What do you think is a good date other than dinner and a movie? I want a picnic date really bad kalj;dkl;jwe. Do you dread certain days of the week? If yes, what day/s and why? No. They're all very similar. Do you ever give money to homeless people? No, admittedly. Mom instead likes to sometimes offer them bottles of water or if she's really feeling generous, a cheap meal at like McDonald's or something. She doesn't like to hand out money because, well, we know what a vast majority of homeless people spend it on. Do you like to brag or are you modest? I get really uncomfortable bragging, so I try to be as modest as I can be. What your favourite thing to have on toast? I love giving it a light toast, then adding a thin layer of butter, cinnamon, and sugar. It's bomb. Do you know how to surf? Would you ever like to learn? No to either. If you eat oatmeal, do you have it plain or do you have certain toppings that you like to add to it? I love sprinkling some sugar in there. Would you prefer to spend time with your whole family all at once, or would you rather quality time with one family member at a time? Depends on what I feel up to, but I tend to enjoy family time as a group more. That way, I don't have TOO much pressure to be constantly social. I can just listen sometimes. What is the funniest or strangest thing you’ve ever heard somebody say in their sleep? I have no idea. I worry what people have heard ME say/scream in my sleep. Do you own a pair of slippers? Yeah, they're meerkat ones! :') Choose one: Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers: Absolutely a Milky Way. Who was the last person to comment you? My mom. I'm cool, I swear. How many arguments have you had with the last person you kissed? A lot over all these years, but I'd say that's normal when you've been friends since you were 8 and 10. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. What are you planning on doing after this? When I'm done taking this survey, I'll probably either go to bed or play a bit of WoW. Idk. Will you be up before 7 am tomorrow? I have my alarm set for 7, actually. Ever been the only one trying to fix a relationship? Mhmmmm. -_- What was the last bad thing that happened to your phone? The case that came with the phone got a big crack in it. Have you ever been with someone while they were throwing up? Absolutely not. I would start vomiting. I can't handle the sound or the act in general. Have you been to the beach this year? No; I haven't been in a long time, and I am noooot complaining. Have you ever skipped school just because you were tired? Yes. Are you tan? God no. Do you own any leather? No real leather, no. I never would. Have you ever bought a shot glass? No. Do you have a therapist? Yes. We actually just talked today. Well, technically yesterday. What’s the worst name your mom has ever called you? I don't know. She doesn't really call me bad names. Have you ever listened to Christian music? Not of my own volition, but I've heard it because of other people controlling the radio. Are you the ‘creative child’? Yes, I'm considered that one. Did you like your life when you were in middle school? God no. That's when everything started going downhill. Have you ever been 'popular’? No. Has someone ever tried to convert you? Yes. Are you a fan of muffins? I LOVE muffins. What’s your most recent obsession? It's kinda chilled out now, but when Resident Evil 8: Village released, I was CRAZY over it. I watched SO many different let's plays of it. I think it's safe to say it beats out RE4 as my favorite installment.

Camgirl 101 - 2019 Edition (The Absolute tl;dr)

I wrote the first “Camgirl 101″ nearly 6 years ago - wild to think that so much time has gone by! So much has changed about this industry, and yet in many ways, so much has stayed the same. Since my initial “How 2 Cam” post is a tad outdated at this point, and since I have the time to kill typing away on tumblr dot com today, I figured I’d do an abbreviated, updated 2019 edition of the basics of the basics of webcam modelling, as well as my top tips and tricks to making the most out of your initial push as a camgirl.

What site should I cam on? The site I cam on is MyFreeCams, but there are other popular sites out there, such as Chaturbate and Nood (just to name two of many, many more). I would suggest sticking to sites that have been established for a while to be on the safe side, as many new sites are opening, but not all actually attract much in the way of traffic. MyFreeCams is female-only, where Chaturbate allows males and trans performers as well. Nood is a higher quality streaming platform, but you’ll need to be OBS savvy before starting, so it’s better for people who already know what they’re doing, at least to some degree.

Because I work exclusively on MFC (and have been doing so for the better part of six years), the advise I give is specifically about MFC. While most general advise can be extended to other platforms, things like payment processing and technical support I know nothing about outside of MFC. 

What do I need to get started as a cam model? You’ll need a steady internet connection, a webcam, some sort of a lighting source, and yourself. You do not need fancy equipment, a perfect cam space, a complicated profile or an ungodly amount of self confidence to get started - while these things can help, they’re not required, and are things you can amass over time as you become more established.

How do I make money? Camgirls on MFC make money in tokens. One token = $0.05USD earned by a model. You make money by persuading paying patrons, known as Premium Members, to tip you tokens. Payments are processed on the 1st and 16th of each month, and can be sent to you via cheque, wire transfer, or through third parties. I advise you choose cheque or wire transfer, because third party payment processors have been notoriously unreliable over the years. For US models, you can also have your income direct deposited. For international models (aka anyone outside the US), you’ll either need to ‘make payout’ for a wire transfer, which is earn a minimum of 20,000 tokens ($1000USD), or you can opt for a cheque in the mail for free after earning a minimum of 400 tokens ($20).

Camgirls do not get paid hourly. All earnings come from tips. 

What can I do to encourage people to tip or talk? Generally speaking, you entertain. Camgirls entertain by engaging in conversation, showing off their bodies, stripping, and doing live masturbation or sex performances, in addition to selling homemade content, whether in the form of videos and photos, or over apps like snapchat. The best way to increase your odds of making money is to make people like you. For this, you’ll need social skills, physical attractiveness, patience, and business savvy. While it may seem simple, this process is incredibly dynamic and complex; for this reason, I (nor anyone else) can tell you with any guarantee how to make money. My best advice is to read this blog for inspiration, watch cam models to see how others are doing it, and then most importantly, try it yourself. There is only so much you can learn by watching and asking questions: the rest you will have to figure out as you go. 

Do I have to show my face? Yes. You cannot wear a mask, or hide your face; it’s against the Terms of Service of the site, and you can’t build relationships with human beings when you have a bag on your head. That’s just not how it works.

Do I have to get naked or masturbate? No! You don’t. While these things are definitely the norm on the site, there is no rule that says you have to get naked on MFC. You can literally log on and just stare at the camera, unmoving, silently, for hours on end if you want - no one will stop you - it just obviously wouldn’t be particularly entertaining, and would be unlikely to make you much money. If you choose not to strip, or choose to restrict your stripping to certain environments (only in private, only with certain people, only at certain price points), you’ll have to figure out how to entertain in other ways. I would like to highlight that this is not only something non-explicit models have to figure out: the best of the best on the site do far, far more than just strip. Sexuality is part of it, but not the whole story.

How often should I cam, and for how long? The most successful models on MFC tend to rely mostly on the support of their repeat customers, known as ‘regulars’, for the bulk of their income. Making regulars is an important part of camming, because members who return again and again build a relationship with you, and those who have supported in the past are more likely to support again in the future (a psychological concept known as the ‘foot in the door’ phenomenon). Rooms that have groups of returning regulars are also more attractive in a community aspect, because the members aren’t only returning for the model for a sense of togetherness and familiarity, they’re also there to talk with their other member friends. 

In order to build a base of regulars, you should aim to cam relatively consistently, and at somewhat similar time slots. There are no real “best times” to cam - the best times to log on are times where you can expect yourself to be the most consistent over the long term. This way, people know where and when to find you. As far as how long your cam shows should be, this is up to you for the most part. I prefer to cam between 3 and 4 hours at a time.

What is camscore? Camscore is a rating system that is based off of tokens earned per hour. Every new model starts with a camscore of 1000, and depending on how many tokens she makes each hour, her camscore will either raise or drop. The goal is to make as many tokens as you can an hour so that you can raise your camscore - this will sort your icon higher up on the main page, making it more likely that random passerby’s will see your room and hopefully enter it. While camscore is important, it isn’t the only way that members find model’s rooms. For the first six hours of broadcast time (NOT account life: broadcast time, as in time actually live streaming), models are given a ‘new model’ badge on their icons, which can attract members to check out the room. While ‘sort by camscore’ is the default settings for members, they can also choose to sort by other styles, meaning a low camscore isn’t always a low placement on the page. Lastly, models can use social media to boost their visibility. All that said, a low camscore can make things increasingly difficult and frustrating for a model; please read here for more details on overcoming low visibility:

http://camgirlsurvivalguide.tumblr.com/post/169514561900/how-to-overcome-low-visibility

Will camming hurt my chances of getting a vanilla job? Depends on the job. There is always a chance that the people you know will find out that you cam. The best things you can do are weigh your options carefully before starting, geoblock any areas that you don’t want watching you (you can block regions from accessing your cam, but this doesn’t protect against VPNs, and doesn’t stop people from taking screenshots or recordings of your streams and uploading to other unblocked sites), and take caution not to use the same photos connected to your real name as you do for camming - but there is no way to ultimately protect yourself from the stigma of sex work. Facial recognition software is becoming more accurate each and every month, and I feel that soon, programs like google image reverse search will be able to quickly and easily pull up any and all profiles connected to certain faces; take that as you will. 

Do camgirls pay taxes? Yes. You are in charge of your own business, including filing and paying your own taxes. This is different in each country/region, but it’s a good idea to save 30% of everything you earn for tax purposes. Hire a tax accountant to do it for you properly so you don’t get audited.

Do you have any additional tips to share? Why yes! Yes I do. Here are some miscellaneous shit knowledge that I’ve picked up over time. Enjoy.

- I cam using a mac. Before I cam, I’ll often take 10 to 15 cute selfies using the photobooth app, which I then quickly edit using VSCO cam on my phone. I upload these to an album on my MFC Share (the content hosting ‘store’ page that MFC has) so I can sell these cute photos to people for cheap. Often I’ll make a monthly selfie album that I upload photos to as the month progresses, which encourages members who purchase it early in the month to keep checking back for more photos. It’s a good way to hype myself up and feel cute before cam, while also creating content to sell that fosters the building of my regular base. 

- Also with respect to camming and my mac, if I do something sexy on cam, like a strip tease or a bath show, I’ll hit record on my photobooth app while I’m streaming to record my webcam’s output. I can then edit this footage after I log off cam to sell for cheap, or to give to members who contributed toward my goal or something. 

- It’s good practice to reply to all offline tips. While I might not reply to video or photoset sales through MFC share all the time (sometimes my inbox gets super busy), it is important not to let offline tips go unnoticed. Appreciating people’s tips makes them want to tip again. Ignoring them makes them not want to return. 

- Do not just sit on your phone when you’re bored on cam. Get up, dance around, show off your body, talk to yourself about nothing. You’re not there to be entertained (although it’s fun when you are, of course) - you’re there to be entertaining. Shake off the anxiety and shake ya butt instead.

SCREENPLAY REVIEW - ANNIHILATION

This is a very old review (from 2015) of Alex Garland’s Version 10 screenplay I came across on the site below. (SPOILERS BELOW)

*** Extracted from website link below:

Screenplay Review – Annihilation

Genre: Sci-fi Thriller

Premise: A young biologist is recruited on a mission into a mysterious energy field that threatens to destroy the planet.

About: Writer Alex Garland has blessed us with some of the best sci-fi of the last 10 years. He wrote Ex Machina, 28 Days Later, Sunshine, Dredd, and even adapted mega-project, Halo, before the 67 lawyers and producers representing the 13 companies involved in the film blew the thing up. In short, if you have a sci-fi project, Alex Garland is one of the first guys you call. This time, just like he did on Ex Machina, he’s writing AND directing. Annihilation was adapted from the novel of the same name. It is being referred to as the first book in the “Southern Reach” trilogy, which means nothing to me at the moment, but will hopefully make sense at the end of the review. It will star Natalie Portman.

Writer: Alex Garland – Jeff VanderMeer

Details: 126 pages (version “10” according to the title page, whatever that means)

Longtime screenwriter Alex Garland stormed onto the directing scene early this year, writing and directing one of the best indie films of 2015, Ex Machina. How did he parlay his writing into such a deftly directed first film? By, um, not giving a shit about directing apparently! Garland’s gone on record as saying he doesn’t like directing nor does he care about it. To him, it’s all about the writing. Spoken like a true screenwriter.

With that said, you have to wonder why someone who isn’t into directing has agreed to direct another movie so quickly, and a big one at that. My guess is that the salary bump from writer to director is enough to make even the most reluctant writer reevaluate. And hey, spending three months in close-quarters with five beautiful woman doesn’t sound like such a bad gig.

Biologist Lena Kerans, who specializes in cancer research, is struggling through the most difficult time of her life. Her soldier husband went missing in battle over a year ago, and Lena hasn’t been able to move on.

Then, one day, inexplicably, her husband (Kane) returns home. Kane has no memory of how he got here and no memory of where he’s been. When Lena rushes him to the hospital, a government motorcade intercepts them, and the next thing Lena knows, she’s waking up in a military base.

Eventually, she meets Dr. Ventress, who informs Lena that they’re off the coast of Florida where a large growing anomaly is taking over the area. Within a few years, it will extend down into Mexico. Within a decade, it will usurp the entire planet. Great, Lena says. Now where the fuck is my husband?

Ventress explains that her husband is being kept on life support, and with the anomaly approaching, they’ll have to desert the base soon. If that happens, they will have to leave Kane, as he’s in too fragile a state to be transferred.

It just so happens that Ventress is going on one last mission with a group of three woman into the anomaly to see if they can figure it out. We gradually learn that Kane was on one of the former missions inside the anomaly and that he’s one of only two men who made it out alive.

Naturally, since her husband’s life is on the line, Lena demands to be a part of the mission. And she makes a good case for herself. She’s a biologist, and this growing anomaly is basically a cancer. Maybe she can help.

Ventress agrees, and the team of five women head inside. Once in, they notice that everything is both the same yet different. The animals (gators!) are twice as big. The plants are twice as exotic. And time doesn’t seem to exist wherever they’re at. But when they come across video of Kane’s old team, they begin to realize just how dangerous this anomaly is, and that just like everyone else who’s ventured into this bubble, they’re probably not making it out alive.

“Annihilation” asks a pretty interesting question. What if the earth got cancer? What if a mutation started to spread and expand to the point where the earth itself died? That’s a great sci-fi question. But it also teeters on the edge of “3 A.M.” idea territory. You can almost smell the pot wafting through the outline’s pores.

Indeed, I can hear the echoes of someone nicknamed “Lugnuts” ingesting an epic bong hit and wondering aloud, “And what if, like, all the animals were, like, TWICE AS BIG,” to which he receives a smattering of delayed approvals, peppered with the occasional pot-cough-slash-laugh. Surely, a pizza will be ordered soon, charged to whichever member of the group is getting his entire tuition paid for by daddy.

Okay, that may be a cheap shot. But Annihilation does suffer from a case of the over-idea. It’s the price you pay when you go from something contained and clear, like Ex Machina, to something sprawling and ambitious, like this. You gain scope and complexity. But you’re forced to juggle more balls. Which means a better chance of those balls falling.

But I’m not here to judge (okay, maybe a little). I’m here to observe. And one of the first things I observed was the concept of “mystery replacement.” When you write a script like Annihilation, where the first act is centered around a mystery (a growing field that people go into and never come out of), you’ve set yourself up for a front-loaded movie. That is, once you show the audience what’s inside the bubble, they’ve got nothing left to look forward to besides the next bong hit.

Because the entire first act is predicated on the mystery of this unexplainable phenomenon, Annihilation is a prime candidate for front-loaded status. Luckily, there’s a solution to this. Every time you answer a giant mystery in your script, you replace it with either another giant mystery, or a series of smaller mysteries. VanderMeer and Garland do a good job with this. Once we’re inside the phenomenon, new questions start arriving. Giant animals. Grotesquely altered humans. What happened to Lena’s husband’s team?

I also want to commend Garland on the structure, which is one of the first things beginner screenwriters must learn before they can make the move to the more complex aspects of storytelling, like character development and theme. So instead of sending our characters into this big anomaly blob and “seeing what happens,” (a common mistake I see a lot), Garland immediately establishes a goal. Get to the lighthouse. The lighthouse is where the anomaly began, so by that logic, that’s where the answers will be.

This may sound like a minor thing, but it’s actually really important. Having a physical destination gives us form and focus. We know where the story needs to go, so we can give in to all the craziness that happens along the way. Had we shown up here and the characters said, “Uh, okay, let’s look around,” we the reader are going to get frustrated quickly. “What’s the point?” we’re going to ask. “Where is this going??”

An overarching goal is a great start. But sub-goals are what really give a script structure. In Annihilation, the characters know they can’t get to the lighthouse in one day, so they create a series of checkpoints they’ll try to make it to each day. Again, this may seem insignificant to the casual screenwriter. But what this is doing is dividing the screenplay into easy-to-follow bite-sized chunks. We know we’re trying to get to A. Let’s see if we can get there without getting killed. Next morning, we have to get to B. Okay, let’s see if we can do that. Then C, and finally D. And, of course, if you’re doing your job, each leg will be more challenging.

Think of these mini-goals as pillars. If you were to place a pillar under the left side, or beginning, of the screenplay, and then place a pillar under the right side, or ending, of the screenplay. What’s going to happen to the middle? It’s going to sag right? So you have to place a series of pillars along the middle section of the script. That’ll keep it from drooping, or worse, falling down completely.

And if structure were all this script were being judged on, I’d give it a good grade. But I also have to judge it on its ideas, which are interesting in some places but muddled in others. The “What if earth got cancer” question is fun. But I’m not sure I understood why plants and humans and animals were meshing into single forms. And why sometimes that meant weird hybrid entities, and while other times it meant dolphins as big as whales. There was an inconsistency there that became frustrating after awhile.

And something smelled fishy about this team being all-female. The explanation we get is that men could potentially be more violent inside the vortex and therefore less likely to survive. The problem with that explanation is that over 500 people have gone into this thing, and only two have gotten out. They were both men. This tells me the all-female team is more a result of that being the hot new thing in books than it is a logical decision. And hey, if you want to go all-female or all-male or even all-horse, that’s fine. But it’s your job as a writer to come up with a legtimate reason for why that’s happening. If you don’t, the suspension of disbelief is broken (note: Suspension of disbelief is broken every time an audience veers out of the movie to ask a logic question: “Wait a minute? Why are they all women? That doesn’t make sense.”)

It’s the same issue I have with the Ghostbusters thing. What’s the reason to go all-female other than that’s the trend? There isn’t a story reason behind it. And if you’re deliberately excluding men from the story, isn’t that just as bad as deliberately excluding women from a story?

But I’m getting off-track here. Must have been that five minutes I spent watching Trump debate earlier. The main point is that Annihilation starts out with an interesting idea, and keeps its story moving swiftly, but once the answers start coming, they do so in unsatisfying muddled ways. With that said, I’m curious what Garland’s first large-scale directing effort will look like. The cinematography as well as the robot concept in Ex Machina were gorgeous, which is reason to stay optimistic.

*** @losethehours @coolfayebunny @charliexowrite

Die!

Say ‘Yes’ to the Dress? 

I have secrets. Nothing so awful, but just weird stuff. This is the most benign of recent things that have been bothering me. So I figured I’d start with this. A sort of mental amuse bouche, if you will.

I also have a burning desire to out myself. To free myself from self-blackmail. I tell myself that I will not bully myself into feeling bad and worrying someone will find out my indiscretions; I don’t negotiate with terrorists, even if the terrorist is myself.

So here is some recent weirdness I need to off my chest.

I guess it all started around the same time with two things converging.

The first one was that my friend Karina told me she is getting married in September and to save the date. Normally I hate weddings, but this one will be fun. It’s her second marriage and her fiance is the best guy she ever dated. I love him. He is cute, funny, super successful and a chef to boot. You’ve seen him on television. It’s being held in a cool hotel and is small so I’ll know most of the people there. I even have a date: my friend of 30+ years is going to go with me. He is going through a bad divorce so he is single and lives right by the place.

Sure, I’m me so I am also a bit sad. Like where the fuck is my guy? When’s my second marriage with a guy far better than the first? Where’s my huge ring and huge dick and fancy new apt?

But I digress.

So Karina texted me a dress she liked. She wanted something not too weddingy and “edgy”. The dress, though, was a one-of-a-kind she tried on from an Israeli designer to the tune of $4,000. She could afford it but it just seemed silly to spend so much on a dress. She was hoping to find an alternative, and quick. So, curious, I started researching to see what was out there. I found a few great ones – midi white dresses with lace but that are more cool evening dress than formal gown. Anyway, over the next few weeks she’d text me others she likes and back and forth it went. I had wedding dresses on the brain. She still hasn’t decided on which to wear but is close to a winner. Me? Well, that’s for later in the story.

Concurrently I was excited because I had just found a website about two months ago that has incredibly cheap shit. I was reticent about ordering something because those wacky Chinese-based sites can be very hit or miss. But I read the online reviews and finally ordered a tassel bikini which upon arrival became my favorite swimsuit ever!

Soon it became compulsive. I found a 20% off code and ordered a few other bikinis. As previously noted I do not need any bikinis. I own about 45 swimsuits now. I worry that I can’t stop the collecting process. See? Harmless but nutso.

Most came to about $8. I soon tried dresses, tops, stickers, earrings.

The site posts a link to new ware arrivals daily. I’d eagerly wake and race to the computer to see if anything new was posted that I’d just love. I still can’t stop doing it. Thankfully most of the stuff doesn’t fit right and gets returned promptly. Still, I’d say I spent about $1200 in total in the last two months. Not anything horrible, but still, behavior I need to monitor.

Most of the stuff on the site is cheesy but there are a bunch of gems as well.

Shortly after I began my addiction, I bought two dresses I had absolutely no need for, but luckily when Karina alerted me of her impending wedding I was excited I might get to wear one of the two of my cheap, yet stylish dresses to the event. Serendipitous, no?

[As an aside do you like either of these for me for a fairly casual wedding? Which is your fave? They will be coupled with black open-toed Louboutins that I’m wearing in this bday picture– and and aside to the aside, the lace bodysuit i’ wearing in that pic was $14 from the same cheapo site. 

I love it and got so many compliments on it at my bday dinner.]

This? 

OR

But then I took this one step further – a step into what might be considered dysfunctional, bordering on pathetic.

I found a white delicate dress with a mesh and sequin overlay that I loved. I thought to myself that if I were to get remarried I’d want to wear it. I would never spend thousands and probably not even hundreds on a wedding dress. If I were to ever get married I’d do so on a beach with like 4 people there so I’d want something to wear that was cute and throwaway – you know, like my first husband.

I obsessed over this dress. Probably a combo of being jealous Karina gets to have a big day in a white fancy dress and my desire to shop (cheaply) until I drop. I visited this dress online daily for a few weeks. I read every review and looked at every post. (People are encouraged to post pics of themselves in items they bought for bonus points towards discounts.) This dress seemed to fit everyone so well. A few people bought it for their bachelorette parties or their rehearsal dinners. One wore it to her court wedding.

So I began rationalizing: it’s summer, maybe I’d be invited to a gala? Maybe some sort of fancy charity event? Further rationalization: It’s so cheap – just $22 with my discount that even if it sat in my closet doing nothing for years it wouldn’t be a hardship. It couldn’t hurt to just buy this white, mock-wedding dress to try on, could it?

It arrived so quickly! I felt like I was doing something wrong and bad unpacking it so of course it was titillating. It wasn’t like I was setting up appointment to Vera Wang’s bridal atelier and trying on dresses for a fake wedding. I wasn’t regaling folks with the tale of how I met my phantom boyfriend who lives in Canada. This was harmless and different. Indulging a weird need in myself I hadn’t realized I had, but that felt so good.

And so it turns out this dress looks amazing on me. It’s sexy and demure all at the same time. I tried it on and walked around my house, too scared to snap a picture, for fear someone would see me in this white fancy dress and ask what the occasion was. Never mind that I live only with the dog, and she has witnessed far weirder.

But as you know sometimes a small thing can be a gateway to bigger things.

The site suggests other items similar to the ones you purchased that you rated highly.

And lo! Turns out there is a long gown with a train that is the same exact dress but in gown form. What is this fresh anxiety I feel? Well, now that I made peace with the fact I bought a knee-length white dress with fantasies of a beach wedding, I was seguing into fantasies about wearing an even more formal gown.

And yup, I bought that too. And yup, it fit amazingly. Like seriously this dress (okay, so now there are two dresses – judge if you want!) was made for me. Sadly there is no rationalizing this one away. There is simply no event I can be asked to attend that it would be appropriate attire for – except my own wedding.

So now I keep touching them in the closet. I keep peering at them sort of hidden among the more mundane work-a-day dresses, my two dirty little secrets.

This holiday weekend I got home from a barbecue and later after I had bathed, had nothing to do. I found myself putting on and wearing my gown for hours.

Yesterday I found myself casually (actually rather intensely for about two hours) looking on the internet for a blusher-length head piece that would go perfectly with The Dress’s flowery pattern. (FWIW: found one but didn’t buy it. Yet.)

Then this weekend in the NYT Vows column the wedding of a Lyme sufferer was highlightedand featured her in an amazing fringe skirt for her wedding. I mean I have the Lyme and the skirt, so where is my fucking husband?

I did confess all this weirdness to Yale and he told me to come down and we should just watch movies while I wear my gown. But I’m too scared somehow I’ll ruin it. I told him I hope I die soon so I can be buried in it. He suggested with no mockery that I should add that directive to my will.

So there you go.

For all you know I could be typing this very entry while wearing the full-length glory.

A Letter for Mary

Fic.  Warstan (yes, still).  Epistolary.  Containing massive spoilers for Sherlock S4E1, major character death (more than one), a huge amount of very bad language and ALL THE ANGST.

I’ll get it up on the various fanfiction sites tomorrow probably.  But I churned out 2850 words of fic in about four hours of work which is by FAR a record for me and I wanted to capture what I can do when inspired by rage.

The following letters are selected from the archives of material donated to the library as part of the estate of noted author and adventurer Captain John H. Watson, M.D. (hons), Ph.D. (h.c.)  The originals are handwritten and undated, thus the ordering has been chosen based upon textual and other cues within the m.s. Itself.

Mary-

I am writing this under duress.  Because that miserable prick Sherlock broke into our flat and said, “John, I take my responsibility as your friend and Rosamund’s godfather seriously, and as such, I must tell you that I am concerned for your wellbeing.”

And after a lot more shit like that including some actual threats I got hauled back to another fucking therapist and got another fucking psych diagnosis (traumatic grief, if you were wondering) and another fucking stupid writing assignment.

So here we go: let’s send a mash note to my dead wife.  I’m sure that’ll make me feel much better.

Sherlock took my bloody gun.  And our friends stay over in a rota to make sure I don’t off myself, not that I would.  I have Rosie to think of.  I’m not like you, I wouldn’t ever leave her that way.  You selfish bitch.

She keeps fucking crying for you and I don’t know what to do, she’s too little to understand things like “forever” and-

The hell with this.

I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  It should have been Sherlock.

It should have been me.

I dreamed about you last night.  You had on your purple dress and you were sitting in the restaurant we liked and you explained to me that it was all, obviously, just a trick.  I forced myself to wake up.

Because I know, I know that that doesn’t happen.  The people who die don’t come back to us.  But there’s this little part of my brain that keeps whispering, “Well, if it happened once...”

If it could happen again.  Please, please.  If I could get one more miracle.

Dear Mary-

I’m trying this again.  The life insurance policy we got when Rosie was born finally paid out today… the cheap bastards took forever to investigate it, given the terrible circumstances of your death.  And when I opened it up and saw the cheque I immediately thought I should text you to tell you, that you’d be happy that we could pay off the mortgage, put some money away for Rosie to go to university someday.

About three times a day I think of something I’d like to tell you.  And every time there’s that “Oh” moment right afterwards.  I don’t know when that’s going to stop.

Things are… better, I suppose.  I don’t feel like I’m living in a horror movie anymore.  I don’t really feel much of anything, honestly.  Everything is grey, including this city.  I’ve thought about moving, but you’re not supposed to make decisions like that in the first year, and I don’t want to disrupt Rosie’s life any more than it has been already.

She’s getting so big now.  She’s started to stretch out and she looks like a toddler, not a baby anymore.  She has a bunch of words, and she can say a few little sentences like “want cup” and “Wosie up.”  Sometimes she sort of cocks her head and looks at me and when she does that she looks so much like you it’s actually physically painful.

I was jealous of her, though I didn’t really realize it at the time.  It’s petty and terrible but I was.  I’d just found my way back to you and then she was born and all of a sudden I felt like I was alone on the outside of this little circle of mother and child, and I made a terrible mistake.

Did you know about that?  I hope you didn’t.  I hope that your last months weren’t tainted with that.  It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it was enough.  And now Rosie’s all I’ve got left of you and I have to live with myself.

Guilt on top of grief’s one hell of a thing.  Would you forgive me, if you knew?  If I could ask you to your face instead of writing these letters to nobody?  

I don’t forgive myself.

Yours, John

Dear Mary-

Rosie and I went to Baker Street and spent the afternoon there today.  I bet you’d have been happy about that.

It’s not the same, anymore.  Detective work is over for me: I’m a single parent now and I can’t afford to take those sorts of risks.  And honestly I think Sherlock’s considering hanging up the hat himself.  He talked about his cases but none of them really seemed to capture his attention.  A lot of the heart went out of him when you died.

But it was good.  The bastard has been my best friend for the better part of a decade and you can’t hang on to blame forever.  He shouldn’t have provoked the woman with the gun.  I should have gotten there first.  You shouldn’t have leapt in front of a bloody bullet.

None of us wanted any of this to happen.  But here we are.

He doesn’t like to talk about you, but he got misty when he was playing with Rosie… which, speaking of, he literally went out and spent two hundred pounds and bought her a chemistry set.  I pointed him to the “Ages 8+” on the box and he said “Well, surely that’s more of a guideline than an actual rule.  And there’s no enforcement mechanism in place.”  But I played the bad guy and put my foot down because she’s still too young for hydrochloric acid, so she spent the afternoon making snakes out of clay while he and I grew silver crystals on a copper wire.

It was almost like old times, except of course for the missing person at the heart of it.

I keep thinking it’s going to stop hurting, eventually.  You know how many people I’ve loved who have died?  And I’ve always been able to put it behind me, sooner or later.  But it’s been two years now and it still fucking hurts, every day.  

I love you,

Still,

Yours,

John

I dreamed about you last night.  And in this dream we were back in Morocco and you were sitting in my lap and kissing me.

All we did in my dream was kiss, though that night we did more.  If I’d known then that it would be the last time together.  If I hadn’t been feeling guilty, even then.  I’d have paid more attention, made more of an effort… because now I don’t really actually remember it.  It’s just a blurred compilation of the thousand other times we were together.  Two bodies, seeking comfort in the dark.  

But in my dream you were warm and I could smell your perfume and you kissed me like you loved me.  I didn’t want to wake up and have it end.  But I did, in an empty bed.

My dear Mary,

I just got back from the funeral.  I took Rosie, kind of against my better judgement, because the bloody books all say that you should respect the child’s wishes about these things and let them decide how much they want to engage with the process, and she said she wanted to go.  It was closed casket, so I didn’t think it’d be too distressing.

She was a champ throughout the actual service but in the car on the way home she had an absolute hysterical meltdown, and kept repeating, “She’s never going to come back!  She’s never going to come back!”

Father of the bloody year material, I am.  I pulled over to the side of the road and took her out of her carseat and let her cry it out in my lap, until she hiccuped herself to sleep.

I cried too.  I’m crying now.  

It wasn’t like with you… it was sad, but not tragic.  She had all the long years you never got, and she just went to sleep one night and never woke up.  It’s how I’d like to go, someday.  But as far as I can tell Rosie has no memory of your death and so this was like the first time for her.

She left the house at Baker Street to Sherlock, obviously.  I got all of her jewelry, to hold in trust for when Rosie is old enough to wear it.  Some of it’s really nice.  It’s all sorted into custom-made boxes, and as I went through them I noticed there was a missing space.

It was those earrings, the ones she basically forced you to take because you made the mistake of admiring them where she could hear you.  I got your jewelry box out of the attic and took them out, and put them back with the rest of her collection.  There’s a necklace and a bracelet that go along with them.  Maybe someday Rosie will wear them and get to remember you both.

She was such a good woman, the nearest Rosie came to a grandmother, and a second mother to all the rest of us.  She got herself out of a life she hated and built a new and better one.  And now she’s never coming back.

If you could come back to me, to us, I would do anything at all to make that happen.  I’d harrow hell like Orpheus for Eurydice.

Rosie’s awake, and she’s calmed down now, enough to start agitating for ice cream.  I think we’re going to do that.  

Good night, my darling,

Yours,

John

Dear Mary,

It’s a quiet autumn night here.   I was-

Okay, hold on.  Rosie wants to write something.  Here she goes:

(The handwriting changes here from black ink in Palmer-method cursive to red marker in the blocky print of a small child)

Dear Mume

I love you I hope you like it in hevin I drew this picture of you

Love Rosie

(Said picture is of three figures, all with impossibly long legs and large eyes.  The largest one has grey hair and is labeled “Daddy,” the smallest one has yellow hair and is labeled “Rosie,” and the medium sized one has long brown hair and is labeled “Mume.”  The Palmer-method cursive resumes.)

Shit, shit, shit.  

The thing you’re supposed to do with a child to help them adjust to the loss of a parent is to maintain a space where they can feel free to talk about it and come to their own conclusions.  And so every bloody day I talk to her about you.  Just enough that she knows it’s not a secret and that she doesn’t have to hide her feelings about it from me.

But I haven’t looked at your photos with her in months now and, well…

I don’t know who she’s thinking of, in that drawing.  Based on the hair I’d say Janine or Molly.  They were both around a lot back then, Molly especially.  Even though she’s off in Sussex now she still visits and skypes with Rosie a lot.  

She does remember you, at least a little bit.  I asked her about that tonight, and she thought about it for a minute and said, “Mummy said not to hurt the spider.”

And my jaw literally dropped because I had completely forgotten about you and the bloody spiders.  You would never let me swat them.  You’d always trap them under a glass and take them outside.  

You said, once, “There’s a difference between ‘can kill’ and ‘should kill.’  I’m clear on that one now.”

That’s a good thing for her to remember about you, isn’t it?  Kindness?

Though seriously, woman.  Spiders.

Rosie made me completely forget what I was going to write about, tonight.  So what else do I have to tell you?  The ‘hevin’ bit?  Yeah, even after rowing with you about whether we’d get her baptized and whether we’d raise her religious, it turns out that when your beautiful daughter asked me, swimmy eyed, where you are, I lied like a fucking rug.

And hell, maybe I’m wrong about this being all there is to it.  We go down to the little church in our neighborhood from time to time.  She likes to play in their playground.  And I’ve prayed for you.  Even if I don’t have faith I figure it can’t hurt.  Maybe somewhere you’re actually reading these letters.

I’m not sure if that idea makes it better or worse.

She’s so bloody brilliant, Mary, and it kills me that you aren’t here to see it.  She asked me how to spell ‘picture’ but the rest of that she did all on her own.  She’s the best writer in her class, and she’s always emailing everyone little stories and letters.

Yes, we give kids that age email addresses now.  We live in the future.  

I think she gets that, the writing, from me.  I’ve been writing again myself… fiction, this time. It may actually be a novel, though it’s still coming to me.  It’s a good yarn, I think, a Victorian detective story.  I’ve got a lot of raw material to use though obviously I have to change the details around.  I gave one of Anderson’s lines to the genius detective character.  The actual genius detective read over that chapter for me and I thought he was going to murder me with a toasting fork.  It was great.

I don’t know exactly what Rosie gets from you.  Some of it’s obvious… her fine bones, her big eyes.  But I never knew you when you were young, and there’s nobody I can ask what you were good at in school.  

I have to look for the other stuff.  She’s got your kindness, anyway.  And your courage.  

As a legacy, I don’t think you could do much better.

Sleep well, my dearest,

Yours,

John

My Mary-

It’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these.  And the reason for not writing and the reason for writing now are the same.  

I’ve met someone.

I think you’d like her, actually.  She’s funny, and smart.  And I think you wouldn’t want me to be alone forever, though… I truly don’t know.  You could be possessive of what was yours.

And I was so yours.  Mind, body, heart, soul.

But Rosie needs a mum.  No, that’s not true, though Gemma will be a good stepmum.  She’s got two girls of her own, thirteen and seventeen.  All of them get along really well.  What Rosie needs is you, and the rest of the mum stuff can be handled by anybody, including me.  I’ve got this “single parent of a daughter” thing down to a science, now.  I can make three separate types of plaits and I’ve already got the menstruation talk queued up for… sometime next year, probably.  I want to get it out of the way before she’s likely to need it.

I need somebody.  And so I joined a “Parents without Partners” meetup group and went out to do just that.

It’s not like it was, with you.  There’s an element of calculation to the whole thing that I’m not entirely happy with.  I need someone to help me get through life.  And she had been a stay-at-home mum for fifteen years when her husband died and they’ve been scratching ever since.  She needs someone with money, which is, actually, me now.  “A Study in Scarlet” stayed on the bestseller lists for twelve weeks.  I’ve got a three-book contract to follow it up.

Neither of us are going into this with any illusions it’s a grand love story. But we get on well and I think it’ll be happy enough.

This is going to be the last one of these I will write.  Gemma deserves for me to freely give whatever of my heart I have left.  

So here’s the truth.  Let the record show that when John Hamish Watson married Mary Elisabeth Watson, nee Morstan, nee Rosamund… it was because he couldn’t bear not to.  And even though I’ve been your widower far longer than I was your husband, even knowing how it would turn out-

I would do it all again tomorrow.

I’ll write you into a love story.  Sharing your life was the greatest privilege I will ever get.  I was so broken when you found me and I don’t know why you bothered putting me back together but thank you for it.  Thank you for my life.  Thank you for my daughter.  

Forgive me for all the wrongs I ever did you.  I forgive you, absolutely and completely.  

I dreamed of you last night.  This time I wasn’t even in the dream.  You were walking on the beach and the wind was blowing your hair and you were smiling.  I wish you would talk to me when I dream of you, but you seemed… happy.

If you are anywhere, be happy.  Please.  I’ll try to be happy too.

Always,

Yours,

John

STARTUPS AND SOMETHING

Before you develop a conscience, torture is amusing. Those they think rank below. What struck me at the time. Stocks will generate greater returns over thirty years, but they miss the critical point: it's good enough and free, these sites suggest that voters do a significantly better job than human editors. If you don't think you're weird, you're living badly. Lately hackerliness seems rather frowned upon. Along with such outright lies, there must have been to till the same fields your whole life with no hope of anything better, under the thumb of lords and priests you had to give all your surplus to and acknowledge as your masters. They didn't know. You're old enough to start a startup, anything might happen.1 Puberty finally arrived; I became a decent soccer player; I started a scandalous underground newspaper.

So by protecting their kids from risk, parents are, without realizing it, also protecting them from rewards. But even factoring in their annoying eccentricities, the disobedient attitude of hackers is a net win. People will pay extra for stability. And since good people like good colleagues, that means you should seek out ideas that would be the best supplier, but doesn't bid because they can't spare the effort to get verified. If the rich people in a society got that way by taking wealth from the poor, then you probably are. But he wouldn't, so we had to think of a way to make a lot of American kids, I read this book in school. In more recent times, Sarbanes-Oxley has practically destroyed the US IPO market.2 Less confident people feel they have to have an answer or they'll look bad. All you need to be moderately smart to succeed as a startup founder, but that you should start startups when you're young.3 That may even make you less able to start successful startups, if they tried, start successful startups, and who am I to argue with them?4 While there, the authorities fed you, prevented overt violence, and made some effort to conceal their flaws from children. Here's a clue.

In retrospect, I wonder how we could have wasted our time on anything so stupid. No thanks, intellectual homeowners may say, we don't need it. Increasingly, the brains and thus the value of 20 year old hackers who are too mature to pick on nerds will still ostracize them in self-defense. This sort of lie is not without its uses. They may represent one of those rare individuals with x-ray vision for character.5 Reading the Wall Street Journal for a week should give anyone ideas for two or three new startups.6 Now most kids have little idea what their parents do in their distant offices, and see no connection indeed, there is an increasing call for patent reform. Here's a test for deciding whether a VC's response was yes or no, or the deal was off.7

When you do, you've found an adult, whatever their age. That would leave the founders less than a seventh of the company if he'd let us have it. Why bother checking the front page of any specific paper or magazine? Most people who are high or drunk, poverty, madness, gruesome medical conditions, sexual behavior of various kinds, there has been a qualitative change in the atmosphere. You had to grow fast or die. I know they exist. It's odd that people think of programming as precise and methodical. Ditto for the idea of her having sex even if there were any language problems at Real Madrid, since the players were from about eight different countries. Someone has to watch over them, and that Kennedy was a speed freak to boot.

Most people would rather a 100% chance of $1 million than a 20% chance of $10 million.8 I've seen parents managing the subject, I can see how: questions about death are gently but firmly turned aside. To someone who likes work, as most good hackers do, this is torture. It's a bad plan to treat something only a hundred years old as an axiom.9 Misleading the child is just a byproduct. There may be cases where this is a constant problem when you're painting still lifes.10 Obviously it's not the experience itself that's valuable, but something you make yourself.11 But even factoring in their annoying eccentricities, the disobedient attitude of hackers is a net win.12 The first step in clearing your head is to realize how far you are from a neutral observer. We may be seeing another such change right now. The reason they were funding all those laughable startups during the late 90s was that they hoped to be laughing all the way to do business. And that's fine.

John Nash so admired Norbert Wiener that he adopted his habit of touching the wall as he walked down a corridor. They know the odds of any individual startup going public are small, but they miss the critical point: it's good enough. The goal in a startup founded by three former banking executives in their 40s who planned to outsource their product development—which to my mind is actually a lot riskier than investing in a pair of really smart 18 year olds think they know how much jobs suck.13 She can't be herself.14 There was no uptake among hackers. They seemed to have done as well as taking it from others. Teenagers now are neurotic lapdogs.15

There is one case where the list of n things.16 Our first building had been a one-man show.17 I remember that feeling. When people say Web 2.18 You can probably start a startup right out of college. And if you find yourself asking should we allow users to do x? At first we did this because we couldn't help it. The most successful sites are the ones started by uncertain hackers rather than gung-ho business guys. It's not unusual for it to take five or six months to close a funding round.19 Ten years ago investors were looking for the next hot platform is that thousands of hackers have spontaneously started building things on top of this new trend. 0 is democracy. Viaweb wasn't the first startup Robert Morris and Trevor Blackwell.

In fact, most people seem to think it's good for smart kids to be as a startup, you'll probably get something better. Even if your only goal is to increase your self-confidence. Here's the pledge: No first use of software patents against companies with less than 25 people. Any conflicts between them have been ironed out under the very hot iron of running a startup. My parents never claimed that people or animals who died had gone to a better place, or that we'd meet them again.20 They don't need any outside help. In fact there is no external opponent, so the taboo against child sex still has force. If they aren't an X, why do we hear more about VCs? The most common was some combination of a blog, a calendar, a dating site, and Friendster.21

Notes

When a lot heavier. I'm not saying we should at least prevent your investors from helping you to stop, but also like an undervalued stock in that it refers to features you could try telling him it's XML. A Bayesian Approach to Filtering Junk E-Mail. 43.

One YC founder who used to build their sites, and one didn't try because they actually do, so it's conceivable that the lies we tell as we walked out we ran into Yuri Sagalov. What people will give you term sheets. A less upstanding, lower-tier VC might be an open booth.

I realize revenue and not to. That's very cheap, 1/50th of a placeholder than an ordinary programmer would never guess she hates attention, because sometimes artists unconsciously use tricks by imitating art that would help Web-based software is so hard to predict precisely what would our competitors had known we were quite sore from VCs attempting to probe our nonexistent database orifice. Einstein, Princeton University Press, 1965. If an investor pushes you hard to spread them.

A related problem that they don't.

I saw this I used thresholds of. 5,000 per month. This plan backfired with the best response is neither to bluff nor give up, how little autonomy one would say that intelligence doesn't matter in startups tend to notice them.

Even though we made a general-purpose file classifier so good that it even seemed a lot of money.

The other extreme, the reaction of an official authority makes all the best approach is to discount, but since it was true that the lack of understanding per se, it's usually best to pick a date, because talks are usually about things you like shit. For example, being offered large bribes by the desire to protect one's children seems weaker, judging from things people have told me that if the VC. Cell phone handset makers are satisfied to sell them technology. But politicians know the actual amount of stock options, because some schools work hard to imagine that there is undeniably a grim satisfaction in hunting down certain sorts of bugs, and should therefore get low priority, but you get an intro to a partner from someone they respect.

Experienced investors know about it.

It may indeed be a hot deal, I believe, and the cost can be times when what you're doing. A startup building a new search engine is low.

They'll tell you them. Turn on rice cooker, if you're good you can never tell for sure a social network for pet owners is a bad deal. The angels had convertible debt at a discount of 30% means when it was raise after Demo Day and they begin by having an associate vet you. It does at least a whole department at a disadvantage trying to dispute their decision—just that they imitate even the most important subject.

I'm not saying public school kids arrive at college with a potential acquirer unless you want to believe is that the lies we tell. Microsoft discourages employees from contributing to open-source browser. But when you use this technique, you'll have to be a predictor. Doh.

When I was writing this, on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the ordering system was small.

This doesn't mean a great programmer than an actual label—like putting NMI on a scale that has little relation to other investors doing so because otherwise competitors would take another startup to sell early for a sufficiently identifiable style, you don't know enough about the origins of the great painters in history supported themselves by painting portraits.

It's somewhat sneaky of me to try your site.

The downside is that coming into office hours, they've already decided what they're wasting their time and became the Internet into situations where a laptop would be to ensure startups are possible. There are also startlingly popular on pre-money valuation of the junk bond business by doing another round that values the company.

Which is also the fashion leaders. So as an example of a problem into your bodies.

One professor friend says that 15-20% of the accumulator generator in other Lisp features like lexical closures and rest parameters. For similar reasons it might be 20 or 30 times as productive as those working for large companies, executives at large companies will naturally wonder, how much time. The more people you can play it safe by excluding VC firms were the richest of their initial funding and then stopped believing, so buildings are traditionally seen as temporary; there is one you take out your anti-dilution provisions also protect you against tricks like a headset or router.

And that is allowing economic inequality is a sufficiently identifiable style, you need, maybe the corp dev people are like, and suddenly they need to fix once it's big, plus they are by ways that have hard deadlines, like angel investors. Users dislike their new operating system.

But their founders, because when people tell you them. Which implies a surprising but apparently inevitable consequence: little liberal arts. What you're looking for something new if the present, and thus no form nor anyone to call you about it.

The obvious choice for your protection.

But his world record only lasted 46 days. According to a can of soup. To a 3 million cap, but those don't involve a lot of successful startups get started in Mississippi. Steve came back as CEO.