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The birthday of your wip’s protagonist has arrived!

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Your wip’s villain is pulled into a world that follows the rules of Dungeons & Dragons.

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Your wip’s protagonist is forced to attend high school.

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It has somehow only just occurred to me that Jimmy, as a queer British man living prior to the decriminalisation of homosexuality, would undoubtedly be using Polari in his day-to-day life. Perhaps not overly much in his plot-related dealings with Isabel, and certainly not so much as to distract a reader (I'm not writing A Clockwork Orange), but as the narration is in his perspective I really ought to put a few words in.

Especially where a certain fortuni constable is concerned.

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Reblog if it's OK for other artists to draw your OCs

Sometimes I get too timid to send asks to ask. I want to see how many people are ok with artists drawing their OCs!

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A fun writing game!

Share one of your characters' name and a quote from them with zero context and let your followers (or other people who stumble upon your post) make assumptions about said character. You can post about more than one character but only one quote for each one for things to stay out of context.

Thanks to @happypup-kitcat24 for tagging me on my main blog!

Isabel Mortimer, concerning Jimmy

"I don’t think I’ve see you so taken aback since Bobby Whats-his-name started chasing you at that party Mother threw to celebrate the armistice.”

Jimmy Howard, concerning Isabel

“Look, Constable Doyle, I know she’s not weeping and wringing her hands or whatever it is you expect women to do in these situations, but that’s just not what she’s like. She’s a problem-solver, like those indomitable aunts for whom Sunday dinner must go on rain or shine or bloody murder."

I won't oblige anyone by tagging them, though feel free to pretend I did so if you like. I will, however, tag #1 fan @dragonatthedinnertable, who will enjoy this.

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LITERARY DIGEST, August 27, 1927

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Jimmy loves to go to the theatre whenever he can manage it, but Isabel generally abstains for the most part, except for the odd stage drama.

However.

She knows by heart all the patter for "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General".

It's all Jimmy's fault, really. As children, they had seen Pirates of Penzance on multiple occasions, and Jimmy had gotten hold of some music for a couple of songs somehow. He tried to learn the song himself, but the fast-paced, complicated lyrics proved to be more than he could manage.

"No, no, no, no!" cried Isabel every time he fluffed a line. "That's not the right rhythm at all. It isn't 'animal, vegetable, or mineral'; it's 'vege-table, animal, or mineral'! Can't you hear it?"

"Why the hell would it be pronounced 'vege-table' with four syllables?"

"I don't know, do I? It fits the metre, that's all."

And Jimmy might then remember that line, but it wasn't long before he needed to be set to rights again. And so, by complete accident, Isabel learned all of the correct lines to the song. Over the years, Jimmy's already fuzzy memory of the words faded, but not so for Isabel, oh no!

Even now, a decade and more later, Jimmy knows that if he catches Isabel at a familiar gathering with a couple of sherries in her and plays his cards right, he can cajole her into giving a recitation—no singing, mind, she doesn't sing, she just recites at pace—of "I am the Very Model of a Modern Major General". Jimmy makes up for his sister's reluctance by leading the rest of the onlookers in a rousing chorus of the bits in between the patter.

Isabel would never admit it, but she enjoys being talked into it.

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Happy pride month to all my characters and all the other queer ocs (+ writers) around writeblr! Would love to know about them <3

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1925-28 c. French-made evening gown of black georgette, a soft, silk crepe material. Lavished with glass bugle beads and features swirling Italianate patterns as well as a radiating sun-ray in the center front and back. From the Chertsey Museum, England.

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Being the worlds worst bisexual older brother is hard but someone has to do it

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Young woman drags her brother into crimesolving efforts

Hey writeblr! Here's a challenge: can you summarize what you're writing in one sentence?

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I was thinking this morning about Jimmy and Isabel being taken on holiday to the seaside as children, and what their poor mother would have had to deal with. So, in Mrs Howard's own words:

"Oh, let me tell you, taking these two on a family holiday was one of the worst ideas I've ever had. I thought it would be nice for us all to spend some time together as a family before Jimmy went off to boarding school. As it happened, we spent very little time together at all.

"I couldn't take the children anywhere. First, Jimmy would start dawdling, and Isabel would start getting bored and complaining that we were going too slowly. Then she would simply decide that she had something better to do, and dash off down the path to do God-knows-what. Oh, no, she'd tell me where she was going—Isabel was always very responsible about that—but, of course, she was still young enough that understanding her took a bit of work, and so she'd be long gone before I had a chance to decipher what she'd told me.

"Naturally, I'd try to catch up with her, but you know how fiendishly quick children are. I'd give up rather quickly, and turn around to find that, at some completely unknown point, Jimmy had vanished. Yes, vanished. I know you wouldn't think it, looking at the two of them now, but Jimmy was absolutely the stealthy child. He wouldn't say a word, just silently wander off to look at something. At least there was an even chance you'd be able to hear where Isabel went.

"So I spent most of our lovely beach holiday trying to track down one or both of my wayward children. They didn't go terribly far, thank goodness, though I did have to stop Isabel before she toddled into a busy street once.

"What's that? Was George any help? Oh, goodness me, no! He'd always gotten up and wandered away to inspect the local flora long before the other two. It must be in the blood, I swear—I'm the only person in the family who can stay seated for an entire hour, really I am.

"George did take the children for me one morning, though, when I nabbed him early. I had the whole morning to myself, and it was lovely! I took a chair down to the beach and found a nice, sheltered spot to read my book. Then, of course, George appeared again a couple of hours later, alone. He really did try, the dear, but the children managed to slip away from him too.

"After all that, we decided that family trips were perhaps not much of a priority after all. The next time we went to the seaside, it was a few years later, and George and I went on our own. Much more relaxing, that trip."

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The going has been slow and patchy, but I've just finished the scene where Jimmy meets a very pretty constable and makes such a good first impression of himself:

Suddenly faced with meltingly gorgeous brown eyes, Jimmy was momentarily dumbstruck. “Sir?” “Sorry?” “Who should I say wants to see the inspector?” enquired the constable, with a soft southern burr.

The constable exited into an office, and Jimmy breathed the smallest of sighs as he watched the man go, wishing that standard-issue police jackets were just a little bit shorter.

With a greater show of reluctance than he was feeling, Jimmy got up and approached the desk once more. Constable Doyle looked up and into his eyes. Oh dear. Clearing his throat and momentarily darting his own gaze away, Jimmy took a moment to compose himself. This, however, allowed Doyle to take the conversational initiative—not the best start.

"So please, if not for your own sanity then for mine, please give her something to follow.” Jimmy paired this last plea with his puppy-doggest eyes, and it seemed to be working—Doyle was softening.

“This is my landlady’s telephone number. Much better for undercover work, I reckon. Just leave a message for Tom Doyle, and she’ll make sure I get it.” He handed the paper to Jimmy, letting their fingers and gazes touch for a beat, then two. “You need help with anything, you just ring me up, alright?” Jimmy could feel the corner of his mouth twitching upwards of its own accord. “I’ll do that, Constable.”

At least it seems to be working for him...