2022-03-31 - The Gay Rave Mafia Needs to Have a T-Shirt-Sale, Please

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Do you know, when I suggested you embrace colour, that wasn't precisely what I had in mind. Still. Marks for commitment.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : But the glitter and the bucket of dicks were?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : No, I can't say those were on the intended list either. What happened? Did the Gay Rave Mafia make you an offer you attempted to refuse?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Should we be on the look out for a unicorn head in your bed?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Let's keep it fairly simple and say that one of those statements might be not too far from the truth. I don't think anyone's about to behead Rosencrantz, though.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Might be prudent to suggest he keep an eye out around neck level just in case.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : (Gay rave mafia sounds more fun than the real thing, honestly).

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : (Where do I sign up?)

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : (Do we get t-shirts?)

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Oh, the Gay Rave Mafia is buckets of fun. Did I say fun? I may have meant confetti.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : There are t-shirts, but one's required to get them soaking wet at the first opportunity and remove them at the second.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : At least, that's how I remember it. But I've said too much.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : So whom did you irritate enough to actually provide you with the entire bag of dicks to eat, and how? Or was this one of your housemate's art projects?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Hey, it's more action than I usually get. Are there rainbows or cats on the t-shirts? Sign me up.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Seth Monaghan. I'll get his Irish backside back some day.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Plain white for preference, but frequently rainbows everywhere else. You seem to already have that bit covered, however.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Or vice versa.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : ... I don't think Monaghan actually wants my backside. That's not the meaning of the dicks. Though I might pretend I thought so, just for shit and giggles and giving his girl a laugh.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : This was an unprovoked attack then, was it? I do notice you only answered half the question.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : More a matter of maybe it's best to leave well enough alone. I did fuck up. Sometimes, it's better to let a dead horse lie, you know? And maybe plot revenge on the coachman.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : In unrelated news, your croissants are a hit with the new barista at Espresso Yourself. Thought you might like to know that.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : As long as the dead horse's head isn't staining your sheets, I suppose. But generally when one does fuck up the most important thing is to repair it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : No, I lie; the second most important thing is to repair it. The most important thing is to tell me all about it.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : -laugh-

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Well, turns out Monaghan and Della next door both decided to tell the entire town about it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I'm also intrigued by this potential revenge plot so do keep me apprised.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Oh? Have you been bribing the barista or did she discover them herself?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Look, there's finally a barista who will slip me actual coffee, what do you think?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I think you both have wholly acceptable taste in bribes. Well done.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I'll put my Gay Rave Mafia shirt on and bring her croissants. She'll know I'm harmless and full of baked goods. This is a plan that cannot fail.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : (Seriously, I should get a shirt like that. I feel like Oak Avenue is becoming a mine field. Do you know a lot of single blokes? Send them over. I have new neighbours on both sides, and they're all single women).

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : You say harmless, but you've clearly never seen the devastation left by a fully armed and operational rave team. Like particularly festive locusts. Glitter and foam and glowsticks as far as the eye can see.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I can't say I've checked the status of most of the single blokes in my phonebook lately, but I suspect they might not be quite as useful to your aims as you'd hope in any case.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Look. Is that distracting?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Are you being vigorously wooed?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Is there video?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : IT IS DISTRACTING.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : No. I want a distraction so I don't need to watch other single blokes watch me to tell whether I'm competition.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Surely if everyone around you is a single woman, this oughtn't be an issue.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Nah. There's a couple of blokes as well. Lend me a Gay Rave Mafia shirt, I'll give them something else to worry about.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Let me into the treehouse, man. It looks safe up there.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Darling, what precisely do you think is the likelihood that I would own such a t-shirt, that I would admit it if I owned one, and that I would loan it out if I did?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Fair point. Can I borrow Grant's?

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I'm fairly sure you could find something suitable online, however. Or possibly Itzhak has something handy? Might have one of the shirts from August's stag party left over, in a pinch. Though I will of course have to disavow all knowledge of you if you're going to wander about in that sort of thing in public.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I'm not asking Rosencrantz for a make-over. I love the man but he'd deck me out in something like a pink mesh wifebeater and painted-on leather chaps for shit and giggles.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Give it a day or three more and I'll be back on my boat on the marina, and Oak Avenue will probably have sorted out who's romancing who when I get back in fall. And maybe even found out what to do about our eternal summer and faeries in the backyard situation too. Man, I miss living on my boat.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : On the one hand that's inarguably a crime against humanity or at least anything resembling taste; on the other it would likely accomplish your goals and it would be extremely amusing.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : That said, it sounds at least as amusing to just make them squirm.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Look, I haven't even met one of these blokes yet, and I'm already hearing about how territorial he is about people looking at his girlfriend-to-be.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Oh, yes, that sounds dreadfully healthy and promising.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Hi, my name is Ravn, I don't even like people.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I'm sorry, did I give the impression I hold a constant warm glow in my heart for all mankind?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : No. But you also never gave me the impression you worry I might steal Grant's attention.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : That's because I'm not worried.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : My point.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I hate this part where people are trying to figure out who's going to end up boning who, and everyone is acting half jealous just in case they might get lucky. It's tedious. It's anxiety inducing. I have exactly two relationships under my belt. One didn't happen after all and the other might still send a dead fiancee with Opinions at anyone getting ideas.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : So if anyone wants to assume I got a rainbow paint shower with glitter and gummy dicks because I'm flaming gay and probably spoken for by some boyfriend who goes to another school in Canada, fine by me.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I'd endeavour not to give that impression even if I were. Insecurity's neither dignified nor sexy. But yes, all right. Tedious is tedious. You do know you could probably manage it without downgrading your wardrobe, though, yes?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : What, passing for gay? I'm largely joking, though. Couple of folks have asked if that's what it was about, that's all -- which isn't surprising, rainbow, glitter, dicks and all. I'm not actually going to pretend I have a boyfriend in Canada. I am going to whine about pointless posturing and waste of energy, though, and be happy to remove myself from the scene entirely next week.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : That, or having a friend of whatever gender in Canada or any given other non-GH spot, or any other ruse you were inclined to deploy. I'm not championing any of these options, mind, I merely point this out.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : You're remarkably optimistic about the effects of moving more or less down the road, you know.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Only ever interact with any of these people over the garden fence, do you?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Well. If someone walks down to the marina to specifically look me up, then it's not coincidental strolling past. In which case somebody else doesn't like it, they can have that argument between themselves. I know I'm being silly. I don't like being in this position. People get weird about things, and a certain ghost of mine can get unpleasantly weird about things.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I haven't forgotten how she tried to kill Gina Castro for looking at me.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : You and I both know Gina Castro is not interested in anyone that way, male, female, or hamster.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : And that is another thing you still need to tell me properly about -- not Gina's proclivities, though possibly it's worth taking a page from her book somehow -- that incident with your ghost. Apparently along with eternal summer, fairies in your backyard, and why Seth Monaghan decorated you like a low-rent Pride float.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Long story short: Only one of us think we're not still engaged. And that one of us does not approve of cheating.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Eternal summer is... There's a faerie circle in my backyard. And my neighbours on either side somehow managed to negotiate a trade deal of good summer weather for large amounts of baked goods and milk. I'm not asking.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Seth Monaghan -- look, I'm just glad it's paint. His cousin would not have used paint.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : There are reasons people have not given up the novel form in favour of tweets.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : And how are you surrounded by people making deals with the faeries and not asking?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Why would I want to ask? They've got a good deal going, and everyone seems happy with it, fairies included.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Why would you want to ask anything? To know, obviously.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : As for Benedikte, look -- I told her I wanted to break it off. She died. Her take is, I wanted to, but I didn't, so we're still engaged. Just inconvenienced slightly by her being a little bit dead.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Well, that sounds solvable. Though I suppose possibly with backup, if HOPE's basement -- and apparently the inicident with Gina? -- are any indication.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Oh, it got solved all right. Røn, Castro, Rosencrantz sorted her out so bad I needed a mop and bucket. I'm just -- it's hard to explain. Maybe it is just anxiety. But we're in bloody Gray Harbor, and people (Castro included) keep telling me that ghosts aren't real, they are Veil creations. I know my ghost is real. So was that the real thing? Or is anyone looking at me that way going to end up with a very angry dead woman to the face? I'm not going to take that chance unless that person looking at me a) knows what they're signing on for and b) actually is looking at me that way.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't there been a non-nil number of women not named Gina Castro who have in fact looked at you with Intent since you arrived? I'm quite sure I recall this being a topic of conversation. And I believe a non-nil number of men, for that matter.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I think the issue is more whether I look back with Intent. Which, as I know you know, I take a hell of a lot of care to not do.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : But I feel fairly confident that you weren't radiating Intent with regard to Gina.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Of course not. I think that was just ... that she was there. And that's the other reason I have to be careful with this. I don't need misunderstandings getting people killed. I don't need to deal with others thinking I'm eyeing up the woman they're after, and I don't need ghosts thinking anyone is eyeing me or I them. So I joke about it, but it's not actually very funny at all.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : So either that was the real thing, in which case it sounds to be no longer a problem, or it was a Veil creation, in which case there's absolutely no way to predict when or if it might arise as a Dream again. It didn't matter whether you were eyeing someone up or not. It didn't matter whether someone was eyeing you up. Neither of those things were in fact happening when it occurred, and it hasn't occurred when, presumably, one or both of those things were happening. There isn't even a correlation, let alone causation.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Stop being logical at my anxieties.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I keep my path clean and don't give anyone ideas, at least the odds are in favour of nothing happening because I provoked it.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I will not. I realise that in a place like this 'magical thinking' is a phrase with entirely different potentials, but you might as well decide that wearing purple underwear on Tuesdays will prevent it. Either it was an actual ghost you've just said you're sure was destroyed, or it's in the same basic class as suddenly waking up as a merman or finding yourself attending a high school you never did.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : It's just done a much better job of getting under your skin.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Well, with the exception that before I came here, I never woke up as a merman or a high school student. Whereas some woman misunderstanding a look did in fact prompt the appearance of ghostly presences a few times. You're not wrong, but -- that actually doesn't help either, since the Veil excels at using the things that get under our skin. This is a war I lost in 2015 when she died.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : So to answer your question: Yes, I joke about it but it does actually scare the hell out of me when people start to assume I'm a participant in that whole mating ritual affair most people seem to have going on when moving into a new town.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Of course I'm not wrong. The logic doesn't really change: either what you saw here was the same ghost and you've just said it was clearly destroyed, or it wasn't and it neither manifests when there is flirting nor fails to because there isn't. But from what we think we know, as far as the dolorphages are concerned, not being interested in the whole coupling to-do is one thing, but arranging your life and behaviour based on fear is presumably a much tastier one. Even if the actual behaviour were exactly the same. I'm not particularly suggesting running out and sticking your tongue down someone's throat. But I am going to point out what current evidence supports.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : And yes, I am also aware that for some reason logic rarely instantly vanquishes fear. I'm fairly sure I've lodged an official complaint about this somewhere. But it's the most effective weapon I'm aware of bar directly messing about with someone's mind, which I'm fairly sure Emily Post had some harsh words about.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : I am going to point out that if you run out and stick your tongue's down somebody's throat at random, you're likely to end up either arrested or mourning your family jewels, depending on their reaction. 😆

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Yet more reasons not to particularly suggest it!

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Except to people I'd rather enjoy seeing arrested or mourning their erstwhile heirlooms, I suppose.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : And hence, this whole dance is just plain tiresome to me. I know, I know. I'm a spoilsport with no sense of humour. A stick in the mud know-it-all academic and so on. Still glad to be back on the water soon, because out of sight does tend to also lead to out of mind.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : ... I'm not going to tactically kiss people you don't like, sorry.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : No, no, you'd be the one tactically pressing charges or kneeing them strategically in that case.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : After I presumably particularly suggested to them.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : ... Please do not suggest to your competitor that he try this approach. He already threw plates at me once because he thinks Kailey's interested in me.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : I won't claim I'm not suddenly tempted, but you don't deserve to endure that.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : Really, threw plates?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Thank you. Woods is really not my type. He's got the hair about right but the rest....

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Well, Woods was staring at me and a plate from his shop went flying at my head. I was actually kind of grateful for the interruption since at the time, I was on the pier with the ADA. She had this thing going on where she acted like she liked you to flirt with her so she could tell you no. I don't like those games. For obvious reasons, see above.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : One would think an ADA in this town ought to have rather more to do with her time. As jobs go it seems well placed for finding games to play.

(TXT to Ravn) Vyv : ...'Competitor' is rather an overstatement in any case. One can ride and even win L'Etape du Tour but it still doesn't qualify one for the yellow jersey.

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Arch-enemy? Pet aversion? Favourite foe?

(TXT to Vyv) Ravn : Also, personal observation -- a certain type of young, blond career woman takes a hell of a lot of pleasure in that game, and I'm not playing.