#and then Tim would be back and they could have their long-awaited reunion

[villababes]

If we ever get an all-stars season (which for the record, I think it would be very difficult for it to be done well), it’d better have S1 MC

#she was an icon #and then Tim would be back and they could have their long-awaited reunion #litg #litg s1

[hsmtmtsnet]

Even a fictional high school – such as the one depicted in the Disney+ series “High School Musical: The Musical: The Series” -must reach a graduation point. The final season of the production inspired by the successful “High School Musical” film franchise is slated to launch Aug. 9 on the streaming service.

The final season picks up after the previous season that saw several of the East High spending the summer at Camp Shallow Lake. They return to the school hyped up to prepare a stage production of “High School Musical 3: Senior Year.”

Knowing that the end was coming has given cast members such as Dara Reneé, Frankie Rodriguez and Julia Lester an opportunity to reflect on what the series has meant to them personally and professionally.

Reneé has seen her time with the series as a period of growth both for herself and her character.

“Me, personally, not only as an actress but someone who loves theater, I have learned so much from the people around me and from the people who created the show,” Reneé says of the series from Tim Federle. “It has been such a magical experience and I could not have asked for a better one.”

Rodriguez is convinced that he learned how to act on the set of “High School Musical: The Musical: The Series.” His approach was to watch all the actors around him and absorb the best parts to build his own acting style.  

Lester looks at her four years on the series as what would have been her college years. She just got her education in front of the cameras.

“Four years is a long time where we have grown and championed each other in all of the different things we have been doing,” Lester says. “It is cool that we get to grow off-screen and get to watch our characters grow on-screen as well.”

A key part of the storyline for the Camp Shallow Lake season was a documentary of the group as they put together a stage version of “Frozen.” The season ended with some shocking revelations being made in the documentary. None were more scandalous than those surrounding Reneé’s character of Kourtney.

“All of those questions will be answered in season four and I love how we did it,” Reneé says.

Season four also will be where fiction and other fiction and reality begin to spiral together. The plans to do an original stage show are disrupted when Principal Gutierrez (Valente Rodriguez) announces Disney executives have decided to use the school to film the long-awaited “High School Musical 4: The Reunion.”

The final season means a return to very familiar ground for the cast. Rodriguez liked how the series moved off campus for a season but was happy to be back at the school.

“They are an equal amount of fun but there is something about returning home – not just to East High but to Salt Lake City,” Rodriguez says. “I think it is very fitting that we went back home for our final season.”

There is no way to shoot a sequel to the “High School Musical” franchise without some of the film alumni making an appearance. That includes Corbin Bleu, Monique Coleman, Lucas Grabeel, Bart Johnson, Alyson Reed and Kaycee Stroh.

The special guests could not just show up and try to fake their way through the high energy that is a trademark of the acting on the show. When it comes to acting energy, Lester – who plays Ashlyn – is a dynamo.

She initially credits Reneé with being the source of her energy as she loves energy drinks. Lester then gets to the heart of what makes her so energetic in front of the cameras.

“I have a huge passion for performing and acting especially with this show and these people,” Lester says. “Whenever I am around these people, this family, this environment, it brings out the best in me.

“I am so happy that it has translated on screen.”

#julia lester #frankie rodriguez #dara renee #cast #s4 press

[w00wzerz]

🚃Ticket back to Life🚃

(All that matters in Titans s3 ep 9)

There is so much to talk about, so without further ado, lets get into it!

The episode begins with a seemingly defeated Bruce scanning over his will for a few seconds - hinting at the fact that he will harm himself or is planning to soon move on to the “other side.”

At this moment I had crinkled my bag of Doritos, placed them in the crack of my lap and sat in silence for a few seconds. My mind was working overtime to try and piece together just what the hell was going on. These were my initial thoughts: I would like to sincerely apologize to Dick Grayson and Jason Todd for ever having to put up with Bruce Wayne’s crazy ass. The man is coo coo, he’s unhinged! He’s deranged!

However, upon further evaluation of the scene, I came to the realization that this was simply Bruce’s call for help. He had lived his entire life by attempting to mask his pain, using anything in the book to deter his emotions. Until one day, he ultimately settled on taking in kids who he presumed had developed under similar circumstances.

What Bruce failed to realize is that playing the role of a parent is an upmost emotionally draining task - just ask my mother… By raising his own kids with a shit ton of baggage he would also be signing up to mountain theirs atop his own, crafting an incredibly unstable terrain that would inevitably come crashing down.

Now we know where Dick and Jason get their compartmentalism from.

Moving on to my girl Rachel in Themiscyra! You know things are pretty bad when Rachel starts to complain about training too much, seeing as that was all she ever did over at Titans tower.

However, it seems that her hard work has paid off as she has awakened a heightened sense of urgency in her movements - her coordination skills have also improved significantly, as shown below.

Such a badass scene! ☀️

Upon their very first introduction, it is safe to say that Donna establishes an instant connection with the terrified kid who jumped from the train - Tim Drake. It could be the gravitational pull and familiarity with his fear that peaked her interest because of how similar it was to her own, or she could’ve just wanted to make sure that he was okay. And I am willing to bet on ALL OF IT.

Secondly can we all just take a minute to celebrate Donna’s long awaited return! I have never been more excited for the revival of a character. Now Kory can finally have some grown up friends 🥂

After Tim and Donna linger for a-bit in the woods, they meet up with none other than Hank himself. Of course he would be the one to appear out in the middle of nowhere, in an old fashioned car after his death. I wouldn’t have accepted it any other way.

I also have to admit that I was pretty psyched to see Hank again. Do not quote me on this, but a tiny piece of me had missed his annoyingly snarky ass.

Was anyone else feeling some serious 21 jump street vibes from this lttle road trip scene? No… just me? Okay.

Once they’re all familiar with one another Hank begins to take a subtle interest in Tim. As my senses began tingling once more, the pieces had somehow found their way together. Despite the tough ass persona he displayed for the other members of the Titans, Hank has always had a soft spot for kids. Which would also explain why he was killed by Jason in the first place - because he thought he could save Jason from himself. A part of him still feels like an idiot for falling for the false vulnerability that was expressed by Jason on the phone that day.

And no I wasn’t crying at Hank’s farewell, you were 🥲

I was disappointed at first after treading on the idea that they would all return back together. But after viewing Hank’s reunion with his brother, I think it’s safe to say that I’m pretty glad that he decided not to miss out on that drastic part in his journey. Plus who knows, maybe another portal will open again after a few years and they’ll both be back to kick some ass. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Below is another example of Donna’s rocky, yet emotional connection between herself and Tim. And I say rocky because it doesn’t seem that she even realizes it herself, but she loves my little Tim baby!

Tim just has a way of interacting with folks that evokes a sense of urgency to protect him. I also believe that it must be fate that is drawing them all towards each other, especially when taking into account that Tim has practically met almost every member of the Titans dead or alive - by accident.

As you can see below, a teary eyed Donna watches as young Tim fades away into obscurity from her very own finger tips.

And as his body slowly disintegrates she makes it her mission to assure him that he is fact not a coward and that above everything else, he is a hero in her eyes. Now if that doesn’t get the waterworks flowing, I don’t know what will.

————————————

A recurring theme that I’ve noticed throughout the past three episodes is the current writers obsession with fire.

Fire = destruction. 🔥

Even as Bruce set a flame to Wayne’s manor he intended to destroy not only his home, but as well as himself along with it. Could fire represent what is to come in the near future for the Titans? Or am I sipping too much gatorade? I guess we’ll have to wait and see folks. Until next time! ✨😙💜

#titans spoilers #long post #titans season 3 #titans #tv: titans #dc titans #titans hbo #titanssource #titansedit #dick grayson #koryand'r #kory anders #tim drake #donna troy #hank and dove #titansdaily #titans show #dcu titans #anna diop #brenton thwaites #koriand’r

[thebookwormfairy]

Captain the Retired Police Dog and His Puppies Part 2

Part 2 y'all! Get ready for a fluff attack!

Part 1

Captain Series Masterlist

Damian waited anxiously for the plane to land

He was so close to having his Angel back in his arms

He gripped the flowers he was holding in his arms for Marinette and her mother

All his brothers where there except for Dick who finally returned to his wife and team

Sadly Titus and Ace had to stay at home, but they were eagerly awaiting the return of their friend and mate, Captain

Bruce and Alfred was also there hoping to bring some sense of normality in the family

Jason: I can't wait to see Pixie Pop again

Tim: It'll be nice to have somebody intelligent to talk to again

Jason and Damian: Why you...

Bruce: Boys calm down

Alfred: Remember we must make a good impression on Ms. Dupen-Cheng's parents or she will not be able to stay all summer. So I suggest you boys behave

Jason, Tim, and Damian: Yes Alfred

Marinette leg bounced as she waited for the plane to land

Captian sensing his girl's nervousness rested his head on her lap

Captian got some stares as he entered the plane, but Marinette refused to have Caption ride in the cargo hold

She made sure to get a ticket for him so he could stay with her

Tom and Sabine slept soundly in the seats behind the human-K9 duo

The plane was going to touch down any minute and she will get to see Damian in person again

She couldn't wait to be back in his arms again

And she knew Captian was anxious to be back with Ace

She also knew that his missed Titus even if he huffed at her whenever she brought it up

Before Marinette knew it she, Captain and her parents we exiting the plane searching for Damain and his family

Damain *Yelling from a distance*: MARINETTE! MARINETTE OVER HERE

Marinette turned towards the sound and spotted Damian running towards her at full speed

Marinette ran towards Damian with Captain at her heels

Damain and Marinette finally reunites

They threw their arms around eachother, Damain lifting Marinette up and spinning her in circles before setting her back down but keeps his arms wrapped around her

Damian: I've missed you so much

Marinette: I've missed you too

Captain barked to remind Damian that he was there as well

Damian *bending down to pet Captain*: Good to see you Captain

Jason: PIXIE POP!

Marinette: Jason

As Marinette ran over to hug the rest of the Waynes Damian walked over to the Dupen-Chengs

Damian *holding out his hand*: I'm Damian Wayne it's very nice to meet you two. Marinette has told me not about you

Tom gives Damian a hard stare

The boy stared up at the much larger man for a minute fear pooling inside him

Tom *suddenly brightening up*: None of the nonsense Damian! Bring it in

Tom pulled the poor young man into a bone crushing hug

Sabine: That's enough dear your crushing the poor boy

Tom: Oh year of course

Tom lets go of Damian only for him to be scooped up by Sabine in a long hug

And some how the small women's hug was even stronger than her huge husband's

Marinette finally intervened after a couple of minutes making sure her parents didnt kill the man she loved

The Waynes took their guests back to their home

The reunion between Titus and Captain was a bit chaotic

Titus charged Captain and jumped all over him

Titus: OH MY DOG CAPTAIN!!! YOU'RE BACK! MY BEST FRIEND IS BACK!!

Titus ended his speech with a big lick to the side of Captain's head

Captain: It's good to see you too my friend. Where's Ace?

Titus: Oh she's been locked up in my boy's room for a while now won't come out

Captain: Thanks my friend I'm going to go see her we can catch up later okay?

Titus: Of course best buddy

Captain ran up to his girl's mate's room searching for his own mate

Captain nosed his way into the room where he found his mate resting in a nesting box

Captain: Hey Ace

Ace *looking up*: Hi love

Captain climbed into the box with Ace rest his head on tops of hers

Marinette still in the front hall: I guess Captain was eager to see Ace again

The Waynes showed the Dupen-Chengs to their rooms

Tom and Sabine would be near the beginning of the hallway by the stairs

While Marinette would be staying in the room next to Damian

Damian *whispering in Marinette's ear*: So you can come to me if you need me

The Dupen-Chengs visit started out great

The bat fam were able to space out who went on patrol when so that they wouldn't expect anything

They were also able to avoid all major villians

They made sure to show Tom and Sabine all the highlights of Gotham

From the Museums to the best restaurants

Tim even took them on a walking food tour of Gotham

Something Damian thought was idiotic, but Tom and Sabine loved it

Tom did give Damian a long hard talk about how he expect his baby girl to be treated

Damian agreed whole heartedly with everything that Tom said

To him Marinette deserved the world if not more

Alfred and the two bakers even exchanged a few recipes

Marinette was have the time of her life with her family and her boyfriend

Every night Marinette would sneak into Damian's room past midnight to make sure her parents or Damian's family didn't find out

The couple would cuddle together on the couch

And bake sweet treats in the kitchen

Marinette did have to slip away once to portal back to Paris to defeat an Akuma

Luckily it was a quick one that Ladybug was able to handle on her own

Captain spent most of his time with Ace, but he made sure to set time aside for his girl and Titus, but for now Ace was his number 1 priority

Ace was going to give birth any week now and Captain wanted to be their for the birth of his pups

Marinette started to have her suspicions that the Waynes were hiding something, something big

She would notice that they would sneak back into their rooms late at night

And whenever a villian attacked one or two of them would disappear

Marinette decided to not dig into it at this point too scared that her parents would not let her stay if the Waynes were whi she thought they were

On the last night of their visit Tom and Sabine agreed that Marinette could stay until school started again long August 15

And as Marinette waved goodbye to her parents she has a feeling that her summer adventures were only just beginning

@felicityroth @northernbluetongue @mystery-5-5 @sidefrienda @tbehartoo @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @sonif50 @t-nikki10 @dawnwave16

#Captain the Retired Police Dog #Puppies #daminette #maribat #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #pet headcanon

[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter 2

Next chapter for my Duke Thomas Big Bang fic is up!

(Once again, a hearty thank you to my betas @queerbutstillhereand @theycallme-ook)

Read On Ao3

It was four am on a Friday morning, a week after Duke had decided he’d had enough of Bruce’s - and the other’s - incorrect opinion of him.

It was so early in the morning, that the main group of bats had been trickling back from patrol over the past hour or so. Stephanie and Cassandra had arrived first, followed by Jason ten minutes later. Then Tim had gotten back from his route with Harper, and Kate and Bette had stopped by for a bit (but eventually left for their own homes). Dick came home next, and Bruce had returned last with Damian.

Everyone was in varying states of winding down, with Stephanie at one end of the spectrum wearing silk pajamas, a fluffy robe which Duke was sixty-seven percent sure was Bruce’s, and bright pink bunny slippers Duke was positive were Dick’s. On the other side, Bruce hadn’t even pulled off his cowl, and was sitting down in front of the Batcomputer to work on a case.

Though Duke thought that Tim deserved his own category, dressed in a strange combination of disco track suit and kevlar body armor, and was hunched over three cans of energy drinks and a quart jug filled with espresso shots.

Duke leaned down to double check that his boots were laced up - one time he hadn’t, and had then proceeded to trip and fall into a garbage pile. Not. Fun.

He looked up, however, when Bruce clicked open a case file. So did everyone else, as if drawn by some invisible force.

They all clearly saw as Bruce hovered his mouse over a link which had been typed in sometime while the big bat had been away. The only hint to what it could be was the note reading “New Evidence.”

Bruce grunted in what for anyone else would be an exclamation of curiosity and went to click the link.

Which clearly went to YouTube.

In unison, all the bats’ eyes widened in realization. You see, in a family such as this one, pranks abounded. So they all had painstakingly memorized that series of letters and numbers.

They all knew what it meant.

Suddenly, the Batcave lit up with the dancing form of one Rick Astley. It was everywhere. On the several large monitors that made up the Batcomputer. The various screens spread across the caves. Everyone’s phones somehow were affected. As well as the X-Ray machine in the med bay, which was showing a skeleton dancing.

Bruce jumped up, rage full on his face. “Who did this? Make it stop!”

No one answered, all too frozen in shock at what had happened.

“Who…” Dick whispered from beside Jason, “Who would be that brave?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back, “Rick Rolls were banned at the 2015 family reunion after you played it two hundred and thirteen times in a row.”

Dick grinned, “those were good times.”

The two eldest boys began to bicker, Jason complaining that Rick Rolls were a part of the war crimes banned by the Geneva Convention, and Dick saying he “liked it: so there.”

Meanwhile, the song was reaching the chorus, and the other bats finally began to react. The three girls were dancing on top of exercise equipment, popping bottles of sparkling cider - or was that champagne? For their own sakes, they should hope it’s the former - they had pulled out of what seemed to be thin air.

Damian was in the corner, trying to get Titus to dance to the music - though he glanced around every so often to make sure that no one was noticing his moment of fun.

Tim was still nursing his collection of drinks like an alcoholic nursed a bottle.

Bruce was practically foaming at the mouth by that point.

“This is NOT FUNNY!”

That, of course, made everyone just start laughing harder. In the corner, Steph started to do the macarena completely off-tempo from the music. Cass seemed to be chugging the cider that Harper was pouring into her mouth.

Just then the holographic training simulations lit up, and Rick Astly began making his way across the cave, dancing all the way.

Bruce glared up at the semi transparent form of the singer, as if trying to force him into submission.

“T-pose to assert dominance!” Jason called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Yeah, that’ll totally work, B! Trust us!” Dick called as well.

Bruce took a moment to turn his head and glare at the two former Robins, who only smiled like the angels they clearly thought they were.

The image was not aided by the two giant stuffed swordfish just pulled from Jason’s utility belt.

“En guarde!” He cried, and tossed the one in his left hand at Damian, who had been trying to reassure his dog that the giant man wasn’t real.

The thirteen year old screeched, but caught the four foot long fish by its fin.

“This is animal abuse!” He cried.

“It’s not abuse if it’s dead!” Jason countered, and attacked the youngest bat with a passion.

As the duel progressed, Cassandra tried to raise her hand and gurgle out a bet on who would win, but began to choke on the liquid.

Harper cursed as she tossed away the sixth bottle of cider and tried to give Cass the heimlich maneuver.

Dick, meanwhile, pressed a button on one of the many consoles spread around the cave, and several stripper poles came out of hidden storage via hydraulics. He grabbed the nearest one, and began to dance.

“I THOUGHT I DISABLED THOSE?!” Bruce bellowed, as Dick began a twirl.

Stephanie, however, didn’t seem nearly as dismayed at the sight of the poles. She herself smacked a button next to her, and several disco balls dropped down from among the stalactites to join the fun. She then began to morph her macarena into an epic macarena. A few flips here, and a few pantomiming choking your enemies there. And a whole lot of randomly throwing glitter bombs at, well, everywhere.

But especially at the nearest authority figure.

Damian tripped over a bucket during his fight - apparently left over from Alfred’s earlier cleaning spree - and the soapy liquid spilled across the floor.

But, of course, them being the bats, Alfred didn’t use normal soap.

Huge bubbles began to farm from the liquid, the longest almost three feet in diameter, and rise up to the cave’s ceiling. The suds spread around, eagerly began to mingle with Stephanie’s glitter.

A solitary bubble, relatively small, floated over to Bruce’s head, and popped on one of his cowl’s ears. He was not amused.

*****

Five minutes later, everyone was lined up next to the Batcomputer with heads bowed in either shame or disappointment.

Bruce walked up and down the row, the perfect imitation of a drill sergeant. His glare matched as well.

“This is an outrageous breach of protocol,” he was saying, “the Batcomputer is not a toy, nor something to use for your own amusement. It is a serious tool-”

“Then why’s it called the Batcomputer?”

Bruce froze and whirled on Dick, who had chosen that inopportune moment to speak up.

“Because you were nine years old and saying no to you would have gotten me a meltdown.”

“It seems to me, Bossman,” Stephanie began, tenting her fingers in an attempt to act serious (the effect was strange combined with her bathrobe and slippers) “That you are perfectly happy to let Dick get away with things. But in this situation, with women present, you are strangely cold. This shows blatant sexism on your part and in this essay I will-”

“That’s enough, Stephanie.” Bruce cut off as a round of snorts and giggle erupted from the group of bats.

“You do realise that no one here is going to speak, right?” Jason asked, “You did teach us to resist torture. And - pardon my french, Alfred - but you are no fucking way close to the level of torture I’ve gone through. Namely waking up to Batcow sitting on top of me.”

“Are you commenting on her weight?” Damian demanded, glaring daggers at Jason.

“I said no such thing.”

“ Boys .” Bruce demanded, rubbing his temples. “Jason is right - not about Batcow’s weight - but I’m not going to get any of you to talk willingly.” He paused and made eye contact with every single bat present, trying to reach into their souls.

“Therefore,” he continued slowly, “I’m giving you one last chance. Otherwise: No one gets cookies from Alfred for two months. ”

The shock was immediate. Alfred’s cookies, of all kinds, were worth more than gold in the Manor. The ability to not have them? And for two months? Bruce truly was a cruel hearted tyrant if he was willing to go to such lengths.

Duke gulped.

“Fine, then.” Bruce said simply when no one answered. “I guess we’ll just have to check the security footage of the Cave.”

Why didn’t Bruce think of that earlier? He clearly wasn’t trying to give the kids an easy way out.

Bruce stalked over to the computer and began to furiously type at the keys, pulling up the footage for the past few days. The group watched in a tense silence as Bruce rifled through the multiple recordings, searching for the culprit.

“AHA!” Bruce grunted, upon finding a specific time stamp. There was a figure emerging from the shadows. He paused and then slowed down the video so they could all see who it was.

There were several gasps as the figure came into the light, looked around, and made his way to the computer. They had shown their face, not even bothering to hide.

Everyone whirled to Duke, then back to the screen.

“No way,” Harper whispered under her breath.

Because the person on the footage, who was now adding the link to the case file and hooking up bluetooth speakers, was Duke Thomas himself.

Bruce’s eye twitched.

There was a general consensus among the resident vigilantes in the cave at that time: Duke wasn’t going to live to tell the tale.

Duke felt uneasy under their scrutiny, unsure of what to do. This was his plan, after all. To be seen differently. But so far the lack of accusations or uproarious debate was disconcerting.

He looked up at Bruce, awaiting his reaction. Bruce didn’t meet Duke’s eyes.

“Hrn,” he grumbled angrily instead and whirled on Tim. Said teenager was barely standing up straight - well, he was leaning on Steph heavily - and blinked wearily around the cave. He didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a long moment before he whipped around and furiously began to mess with the playback settings on the footage. Everyone stood still, not daring to move while Bruce grumbled under his breath.

Finally Bruce straightened and pointed dramatically toward the screen.

“There,” he grunted out, and everyone subconsciously leaned a little bit forward.

They didn’t see anything different from before, though Bruce’s finger did bring their attention to one of the bats that flew across the upper left hand corner. A few seconds of footage later, and yet another bat flew across in a similar pattern. Not exactly the same, so it wasn’t really out of the ordinary. Lord knows the bats would randomly fly out and into their hair much more than necessary.

“Note how the figure is disturbed when each bat flies across the screen,” Bruce said in the same voice he used when talking about a case - cold, impersonal, and yet like he was giving a college lecture.

No one spoke, not really sure what to say. I mean, what was the correct course of action when your father figure suddenly refuses to accept reality, and is grasping at the most unlikely of straws?

“I know this technique anywhere,” Bruce said more to himself than the line of vigilantes. He turned, completely passing over Duke, and set his sights on Tim.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” Bruce growled, stalking forward, “What possessed you to doctor this footage?”

Tim didn’t respond, only mumbled incoherently and leaned onto Steph some more.

Bruce was furious, bearing his teeth as he spat out his response: “Now is not the time to use the anti-torture training I’ve given you.”

Tim nodded slowly and draped his arm on top of Stephanie’s head.

“You should know better than this,” Bruce began, “pranks are strictly forbidden in the cave, as you very well know. And in addition, I taught you better at framing than this. You choose a victim that could actually be considered as a suspect. Trying to pin the blame on Duke was your undoing - he would never do something like this.”

Duke cringed slightly, as the rest of the bats glanced Duke’s way. All were a mix of confusion and awe.

This … was not how this was supposed to go. No, screw that. That was an outrageous understatement. Things ‘not going according to plan’ would have been Jason randomly blaming Harper for the mess on no grounds - or maybe Bruce not bothering to check the cameras, opting instead to just ground everyone.

But blatantly ignoring evidence and then lecturing someone completely unrelated? No, this was too much. It couldn’t be real. This was some kind of scare-tactic wasn’t it? Duke was too much of an adrenaline junkie to be bothered by the usual ‘hanging upside down over a busy road’ schtick.

But then Bruce moves on to possible culprits Tim could have chosen instead - did he seriously think that Ra’s Al Ghul would Rick Roll them?! - and Duke lost hope.

“Uhh, Bruce?” Duke asked after the ten minute mark.

The Dark Knight turned and faced Duke.

Duke scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think I could head out for patrol now? It’s getting light out, and since you’ve clearly got this covered… I thought I could scoot out?”

Bruce was nodding before the end of Duke’s request. “Yes, go. I’ll deal with Tim. You don’t need to worry - you won’t be blamed. It clearly wasn’t your fault.”

Duke nodded slowly, and covered his disappointment with a small smirk. “Thanks, B.”

He jogged over to the edge of the platform and dropped down beside his Signal-Cycle. A routine mounting, a quick putting on of his helmet, and he was off.

Duke was scowling as he left, wondering what on earth had gone wrong.

*****

“Did you see that smirk?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Did he blame Tim on purpose?”

“How, though? To make such a tactical move -”

“It would have taken a shit ton of planning.”

“Can we get back on the fact that Bruce was fooled?”

“Or who fooled him?!”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #fanfiction #my fanfiction #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #harper row #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batfamily

[weshallc]

Thank you so much for putting up with me, I feel back in a Bernie state of mind now (I was far too chilled). Let’s see where we go from here.

BERNS NIGHT (revisited)

This has been a Poplar-on-Tweaven production brought to you by the Crown Inn and sponsored by Mount Busby Farm based on original characters from Call the Midwife.

CHAPTER FIVE: Ae Fond Kiss.

“Who Shall Say That Fortune Grieves Him. While The Star of Hope She Leaves Him?” Ae Fond Kiss, Robert Burns 1791

“I Pictured A Rainbow, You Held It In Your Hands.” The Whole of the Moon, The Waterboys 1985

Bernie grabbed Val’s arm to steady herself. Paddy stood in front of her fidgeting with the cobalt blue fabric with a wide green check overlayed with a thinner gold and black one. His fiddling pulled at the kilt pin weighing the piece of cloth down at the knee. The tiny silver dagger bearing his clan crest caught the light from the hall where Bernie remained stood stock still in the doorway.

Paddy then reached for the frilly white lace jabot fastened around his neck, pulling at the lace with one hand, as if it was choking him. The other hand straightened the black waistcoat with the three silver buttons, matching the three on the sleeves of the Montrose jacket. They in turn matched those perfectly polished down the front of both sides of the centre of that waist length black jacket.

Bernie’s dropped jaw started to quiver as a chuckle threatened to emerge. Paddy shot a look of accusation at Val who intern nipped Bernie’s arm. Her friend regained her composure.

“I told you she would think I look ridiculous,” Paddy spat at Val as if Bernie wasn’t in the room. It was however Bernie who responded as Val’s confidence appeared to waver.

“No, you don’t. It’s just a bit of a shock. I am not quite sure what’s going on.”

“We..well some people thought it might be nice to put on a Burns Supper. Like we used to...before-” Paddy started to falter as he noticed Bernie’s eyes mist over.

“For your birthday.” Piped in Val, trying to help Paddy out and regaining her confidence. “I will leave you to it, I’ve left Jack behind the bar and well he is still pretty green, if anyone asks for a cocktail we may be in danger of losing our licence.”

On Val’s departure, Bernie moved towards Paddy. The forgotten scarf Trixie had placed around her friend’s shoulders fell to the floor. Paddy bent down to pick it up.

“Oops, be careful, good job there is no-one stood behind you.”

Paddy straightened up swiftly and stroked down the back of his kilt. Bernie allowed a relief filled giggle as she saw Paddy’s frown soften. Taking the scarf from Paddy, she sighed. The pattern matched the tablecloths downstairs. “My mother’s tartan, they haven’t missed a trick, have they?”

“Trixie was most put out when her attempts to discover the Mannion tartan drew a blank.”

“Mannion is an Irish name, sorry.” Bernie wasn’t quite sure why she was apologising for her name, but it felt appropriate.

“We all know that now,” laughed Paddy.

“How did you find the Home clan tartan?”

“Violet and Evie poured over hundreds of samples and narrowed it down to a few which they matched to old photos of Wilf’s kilt. They figured that was how the wily old bugger had got round it, using your mam’s tartan.”

“Everyone has gone to so much trouble, I feel like such a fraud. I just wanted an evening alone with you in Appleby Thornton.” Bernie blushed, feeling even more guilty.

Sensing her confusion, Paddy cupped her cheeks in his hands. “We can go out any night.” 

Bernie raised an eyebrow at Paddy’s optimism. Even though Jack had turned eighteen and could now serve behind the bar, Paddy still found it difficult to let go. Most of their evenings were spent working or propping up the bar.

Any further discussion of their work-play balance would have to wait. The sound of familiar footsteps running up the stairs alerted them their presence was required in the bar. Paddy and Bernie followed Tim into a cacophony of noise, the sound of fiddle, banjo and accordion mixed with laughter and the pounding of feet on the wooden floor.

Tim grinned and nodded as Bernie asked, “Isn’t that the Bridges that come in on a Thursday night?”

“Apparently, before they were married, they used to go to Scottish dancing on Thursday nights.”

Kevin and the Tweaven Folk band sounded like a group of musicians who were enjoying a successful long awaited reunion, rather than strangers that had only met a few days ago. Apparently Kevin didn’t just play the Bagpipes but was going to town on the harmonica.  Mac had found refuge in Reggie and had settled on a bench seat with the dog's head resting on the lad’s lap.

Alan Bridges and his wife Yvonne broke from each other and flew off in different directions to persuade, grab and drag the people sitting at the tables onto the makeshift dance floor. Fred was up first, taking hold of Vi who had pushed her nose out of the kitchen to sneak a peek at the fun. She protested, explaining she couldn’t leave her post, but Evie chased her onto the dance floor with a tea towel.

Bernie smiled at Patsy and Delia. She had never seen anyone quick step to the Gay Gordons before. Phyllis’ face was flushed as she tried to stay in time, partnered by a very light on her feet Lucille. Bernie grinned as Paddy dug his son in the ribs and Tim scowled, shaking his head in protest. Her smugness was short-lived when Alan Bridges took hold of her hand and dragged her onto the floor. She groaned to herself, realising she should have seen it coming. But she knew she wasn’t the only one who had been distracted and let their guard down. As Alan swung her around, she glimpsed a determined Yvonne pulling a very reluctant Paddy to the centre of the room. A massive cheer went up, and it wasn’t for his dancing prowess, but the first view of the crowd of Paddy in his Highland Dress.

Bernie couldn’t deny she felt a tingle as the lights dimmed and Paddy stood behind the tressel table. She could see how nervous he was, his thumb working against the forefinger of his left hand, the right hand turning over his phone on the table. Voices were hushed, sensing a level of anticipation in the air. She hoped he could see her reassuring smile. When he returned her wink she knew he understood.

Everyone instinctively got to their feet as the sound of the pipes flooded the room. Kevin slowly marched into the bar from the kitchen playing, Mac following at his feet, ears pricked. A few steps behind walked Violet, beaming proudly, carrying a silver tray with her pride and joy in prime position. She placed the dish in front of a very pale but focused landlord. Bernie noticed Vi gently touch Paddy’s hand after she had laid down her burden.

Paddy cleared his throat, and everyone sat. Bernie held her breath, she was relieved when he started reading from his phone in his own soft Northern English twang and didn't attempt a Scottish accent. He did struggle a little with more than the odd word and she noticed it was in parts an English translation of Burns’s Address to a Haggis. She did think her dad would be shaking his head and laughing if he was watching these antics held in his memory. As a shiver left her, she wondered if Marianne was also looking down with pride and amusement.

Bernie bit her lip. This was the difficult bit, if trying to read a 18th century Scottish poem out loud wasn’t hard enough. She knew from years of experience Paddy had to keep reciting while removing the Sgian-dubh from his woolly knee-length socks. He then had to pull the small dagger out of its black leather holder and plunge the blade into the Haggis at just the right moment in the text. She went to hold on to her chair but was surprised when a long thin hand grabbed hers. Tim’s hand was cold, but sweaty at the same time, and she squeezed it back.

The verbal response of the audience to Paddy whipping the blade out of its sheath made Bernie giggle, and she heard a snort from her neighbour. The following stab and slash into the unsuspecting pudding received equal responses of gasps and murmurs. She felt the boy’s hand slacken in her own and his breath released from his chest at the same time she let her lungs relax. Bernie felt Paddy was doing the same, pausing as the crowd regained its collective composure. He dared to give her a quick glance, and she beamed in approval. She wished she could go over to him and push back the wayward kink of hair that had fallen over his face during the dramatics.

Paddy finished the poem with ease following the tricky bit. He didn’t seem to mind stumbling over some of the unfamiliar words. It wasn’t like anyone was going to correct him. There was much relief all around when he finally toasted the Haggis, and everyone could raise the complimentary whisky they had been nursing since the beginning of the festivities. Not everyone had been patient and some found they were toasting with an empty glass, supping air. A nervous Bernie would have been included in this number, but Trixie had passed on her dram so she could at least properly take part in the toast. Paddy received a standing ovation. He wasn’t deceived it was for his faultless performance, but more for effort or maybe they were just hungry and glad it was finally over.

The assembled guests ate their fill of Scottish Fayre. The whisky sauce may have proved more popular than the spicy offal and oatmeal pudding. Although Violet did remark that Poplar’s vegan population had seemed to increase dramatically overnight. Buckle’s Breweries Burns Bernie Beers proved very popular. Ale Fond Kiss, Red Red Rose Ruby Ale and Auld Lang Stout all sold out.

The dancing recommenced to the Tweaven Folk band and its newest member. The Bridges and the lead singer tried to engineer a ceilidh of sorts. This resulted in a room full of mostly English people flinging themselves and each other about in an attempt at the longest communal twizzy world record. The highlight being every time Paddy spun around in his kilt, a large cheer went up as it splayed out.

Eventually he refused to dance and Bernie gave up too. She found him outside smoking one of her roll-ups. She just grinned, knowing he deserved one. Bernie hugged Trixie’s scarf around her.

“Aren’t you cold in...erm that?”

Paddy smoothed the kilt under him, between his bare legs and the cool wood of Peggy and Frank’s memorial bench. Bernie grinned and went back indoors.

She returned with two Abhainn Dearg malt whiskies and one of the tartan tablecloths. She wrapped it around Paddy’s shoulders before perching herself on his chilly knees, flipping his sporran up out of the way. Paddy took over the blanket duties and wrapped the cover round her.

Cold fingers fumbled over sharing the dying cigarette and they sipped from the same whisky tumbler. From where she had placed them, Bernie could only reach one glass without leaving the warmth of the tablecloth and Paddy’s arms. Paddy had long since dispensed with the faffy lace ruff and wore a cream open neck Jacobite shirt, again courtesy of connections of Patsy. As Bernie playfully twisted the string ties around the fingers of one hand. She slowly ran the fingers of her other hand along the hem of the kilt.

“Is this Turner tartan, then?”

“No, the Turners are from Liverpool, probably some Irish in there somewhere too, but my mother’s family hailed from Fife.” Paddy softly answered.

Bernie wriggled on his knee, trying to gain a bunch of the fabric of the kilt in her hand, as the band broke into Deacon Blue’s, Dignity.

“So which clan...ayyyyyeah!” She quickly jumped up vigorously rubbing the flesh between her boot and the hem of her dress on her right thigh. Paddy stared at her in confusion and concern.

“Something bit me.”

“It’s January.”

“Am I bleeding, is there a bump?” Bernie turned her back to Paddy and lifted up her skirt. Paddy started to wonder whose birthday it was. He used his phone as a torch and took his time giving a thorough examination of her right thigh. The eventual diagnosis was no injury to her person, but there was a nasty snag in her new-on tights.

Paddy also identified the culprit pointing to the clan dagger attached to the front of his kilt. “I think you sat on this?”

“You stabbed me.”

“You stabbed you.”

She leant down and carefully unfastened the pin from the front apron of the kilt. She recovered her position now free from hazards. Scrutinising the tiny weapon in her hands under the light of Paddy’s phone,

“Aww, the crest is the world below a rainbow between two clouds. What does the motto say?”

“At Spes Infracta.”

“Oooh, you're getting the hang of these ancient tongues, aren’t you?” Bernie giggled, “what does it mean in boring old English?”

Paddy, who had been laughing with her, fell serious.

“It means Yet My Hope is Unbroken.” He gently tipped her chin forward with his thumb and forefinger and kissed her.

“That’s beautiful.” Bernie caught her breath. “What was your mam’s maiden name?”

“Hope.”

“Home and Hope,” smiled Bernie, partly to herself.

Paddy reached inside his sporran and handed Bernie a small tartan box with a gold bow on top.

“But this was my present.” She smiled, pulling on his shirt strings.

Paddy shone his phone torch on the box as Bernie opened it and carefully took out a silver brooch. She got hold of Paddy’s hand and shone it on a silver V bending inwards to make the shape of a heart with an emerald at the base just below the Home clan crest.

“That is a very fierce looking lion, why am I not surprised.” Bernie didn’t need the torch to see the glint in Paddy’s eye as he spoke. “I nearly got you the Hope rainbow one instead....but I wasn’t sure.”

Bernie smiled, “Maybe next year?”

“You are still very presumptuous after all these years. This was a one night only kinda thing,” Paddy choked, then swiftly changing the subject, “I liked the motto on the Hume crest, anyway.”

Bernie was impressed with his correct Scottish pronunciation of Home. She read aloud the words around the lion's head A Home, A Home, A Home, that is the slogan, but the motto is actually True To The End .”

“Well, I think the matriarchy has it tonight.”

“Do you know Robbie Burns was a great supporter of women's rights as well as being a romantic? He wrote a poem about it.”

“From what I’ve heard, he was very fond of women indeed. Counting the number of children he fathered.”

“Yes, that as well,” muttered Bernie, “but just for tonight I am going to be Shelagh Bernadette Mannion-Home and you can be Patrick Turner-Hope.

The traditional music of the Corries was now interspersed with more recent Scottish poetry, as the band played tunes by the likes of Travis and Franz Ferdinand. The Proclaimers, I’m Gonna Be 500 miles, filtered through the door leading to the beer garden. The accompanying laughter, the sound of leather and man-made sole stomping on polished oak convinced the two in the beer garden they weren’t being missed.

“One thing I can’t get my head around is how Val convinced you to do this?”

“She just reminded me of every time you have stepped out of your comfort zone for me. How many times you have had to embrace a part of yourself that you didn’t know existed or had thought you had left behind.”

Bernie rubbed her thumb over the slogan on her new brooch as Paddy continued.

“Basically how many times you have put me, us, our hope of a life, a home together before the person who you thought you were and believed yourself to be.”

“Val said that?”

“Sort of, maybe a bit more colourful and there was some violence involved, but I did agree with the sentiment.”

“I think our mams would have approved of Val.”

“Are you true to the end, Shelagh Bernadette?”

“Well, you just better hope this isn’t the end, Patrick.”

The sounds of Auld Lang Syne filled the night and Paddy leaned forward for another kiss, suddenly aware Bernie had very cold hands and had chosen not to replace the kilt pin.

#call the midwife #berns night revisited #to be continued #soon hopefully #home and hope #bless them

[iwritethat]

Fantasy AU

Tim Drake: Dungeons & Outlaws

A/N: So Dick and Damian are left, wonder what to do for them.

>>>>—————————>

Anyone would have said wandering through your own castle under disguise was unnecessary, doing so and avoiding the royal guard was even more incredulous. Yet here you were, edging past cells, hungry prisoners and the wardens as you disobeyed orders. No matter what you could not allow righteous inmates to starve when they had yet to be proven guilty, punished for something they'd possibly never committed based on the accusations of the rich. You hated the way the kingdom divided wealth and as a result you did as much in your power to aid the people either overtly or covertly.

.

During your escapade, a sudden hold caused you to withold a scream in fear of being discovered, that and the hand clamped over your mouth with a knife to your throat.

"Quiet and I won't have to hurt you." Despite his warning, you continued your struggle as you couldn't risk exposure either, but the fact intruders were lurking in the dungeon concerned you more.

"Stop struggling or - wow..." As he pulled you back toward him, your fallen cloak revealed your familiar features, more beautiful than the last time he'd laid eyes on you.

"My lady..." His voice was breathless, fingers moving to remove his own disguise allowing to face your apparent captor.

"Timothy?!" Despite the surprise in your voice, he managed a brief admiring smile, relishing in the missed company.

Tim Drake, rebel of his family so much so you were sure he'd become Tim Drake-Wayne now, a notorious outlaw of the kingdom with good intentions. A living tale of Robin Hood if you will, you'd spent your childhood together but your paths drifted only to cross again many years later here of all places. However, with the commotion of the guards rebounding on the damp brick your reunion was unfortunately disturbed, clusters of shadows loomed as the flaming torches advanced leaving you with few options. You figured you could buy Tim more time, whatever he was doing here must be for a righteous cause and losing the peoples champion simply wasn't considered. Tim had other ideas however, grasping your wrist then pinning you in the darkest alcove to aid concealment. There were pros and cons to this predicament, the latter being that the veil of shadow heightened your senses so you could hear his whispers of silence, feel his warm breath fanning against the shell your ear as he spoke and the racing of his heart under your palm but regardless of this he remained calm. Pros to being hopelessly besotted in a compromising position included the dark concealing longing glances and flushed features to lessen embarrassment.

"(Y/n)... (Y/n)..." Hushed calls raised an octave as they passed, Tim giving you a curious but amused expression as you shook yourself from your previous flourishing thoughts.

"Mm, right. Distracted."

"I couldn't tell, my friend was captured on our last mission and I’m here to rescue him. I know you aren’t like most nobles so I trust you to help." He retained his sarcasm, but the soft laugh he gave encouraged you to follow him until you reached a particular cell and the prisoner was more than pleased to see his comrade.

"Knew you'd come Robin Hood, I'd have been faster though." The brunette happily bragged, Tim shook his head with smile before lock-picking the cage.

"Don't call me that, Red Robin is fine Bart."

With his freedom given, it was then that the quick witted stranger noted your presence.

"Bartholomew Allen at your service lady." The brunette cheerfully introduced, quickly placing a kiss to your knuckles.

"My lady." Robin amended from beside you, underlying scolding present. Upon hearing him Bart instantly dropped your hand and held up his own in surrender as he released a sheepish laugh.

"Oh I didn't realise, sorry bro."

"No-no, that's how you say it respectfully - (Y/n) isn't mine." Tim on the other hand flushed a deep crimson, correcting Bart once more with a hint of nervousness as he studied you for a reaction only finding an embarrassed smile.

The moment was interrupted as guards shouts echoed down the hallway fuelling your adrenaline once again.

"You can escape from my room, they'll have all of the dungeon exits blocked by now trust me, I know. Follow me." You hurriedly rushed pulling the two outlaws along with you before they could argue against getting you involved with them but a friend of Tims must be worth it. You were alert of all surroundings as you silently danced through the maze of your castle avoiding guards as you went and hiding in the shadows of torches with the two tracing your movements as you slipped into your private grand chambers with a flood of relief.

"Ok they'll check on me after discovering an empty cell. They don't care if you guys were trying to help people, we've got to get you out of here!" Came your knowledgable voice, pulling Tim's hand and guiding him to your wardrobe offering rope and a grapple (you had your own means of escaping home).

.

Rushed knocking echoed throughout your chambers silencing the three of you whilst making preparations, you awaited some form of giveaway as to who it was before announcing your presence.

"My love, are you alright?! There's intruders in the dungeon, we're tracking them down but I needed to check on your safety first!" You could hear the confidence in the Princes voice, the mere sound enough to make you wince.

“Please give me a moment Sir!” Tim shot to you instantly, look of confusion and hurt briefly crossing eyes as he silently questioned you with his exasperated hand gestures.

"It's an arranged marriage, besides it's not like you don't have your fair share of lovers outlaw!" You whisper yelled, Bart attempting to hide his chuckle from the window ledge where Tim was giving you an incredulous glance.

"Do you love him?" The knocking persisted, Bart taking the initiative to slide down to the ground below as Tim continued this untimely conversation.

"What him? The handsome, charming Prince? No of course not! It's always been... nevermind go!" Your hand went to Tim's shoulder, urging him to follow his comrade against his stubborn nature. His hand wrapped around your wrist bringing your attention back to him and the close proximity caused you to falter for a second.

"(Y/n), who has it always been?" His tone was more serious, despite the worried voice of the Prince his hushed one was much more appealing to your senses.

"If I don't answer he's-"

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me, whether I get caught or not because it's you."

At that moment your only thought was getting him out, but saying what you felt wasn't as easy as it sounded. Actions speak louder than words right?

Your fingers grasped his scarlet scarf to bring his lips to yours softly, gently, as if savouring the moment but it wasn't the gentleness he wanted, not after all this time so he pulls you against him harder, deepening the kiss with a fervent need you'd only ever read about. As much as you'd have liked the moment to continue you lowered your head simultaneously ending the embrace despite burning desire, you felt Tim smile against your skin before placing a soft kiss to your temple.

"For me, it's always been you." His voice was nothing more than a meaningful whisper that brought him back into your focus, his gaze avoiding your own.

"Tim Drake-Wayne..."

"...?"

"That's the answer to your question before." Your tone was smug yet kind, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he gripped the rope and held out his other to you from his position in the window ledge.

.

"Then are you coming with me my lady?"

#tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #dc #dc imagine #fantasy au #alternate universe #au #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin x reader

[baiwwnsn]

Some of the most vivid memories and significant season’s I think about, are the different boyfriends I had and the boys I shared time with, and the time we spent together. Welcoming Nolan, Felt new. I couldn’t quite figure out what the hell I was doing or how I was supposed to do it. I was naive, kind of dumb too. However, he gave more than I gave him. I was selfish and did what I’ve always done - what’s best for me. I was certainly convinced that no matter what kind of storm I caused, he’d want to stand in the eye of my hurricane. Uh, I, myself, wouldn’t even want to. I lost something, yet gained another. In exchange for my first ever “heartbreak”. I learnt how to overcome an obstacle in a relationship, big or small. I learnt how to forgive, others and myself. I learnt that after a storm, it’s quiet. I learnt that causing your own storm, only ever comes back to rain on you. Season’s changing. Having been younger, I chuckle at what we once shared - it makes me smile, he makes me smile - as I once thought my first boyfriend was the biggest deal since sliced bread. He taught me a friendship in a partner, and that the compatibility of two people doesn’t matter. Theres plenty of fish in the sea. Forgiving Tim, Took me two years. He made me I understand the iciness of not feeling good enough for somebody. I remember introducing him to my Dad, and boy, my Dad was not having it. Now, I don’t blame him. I felt robbed to an extent, somewhat diminished. Constantly taken advantage of and walked over, I remained as his door mat. Come and go as you wish. Sneaking out and getting myself involved with the wrong people, ending up in the wrong places at the wrong times. The furthest thing from myself, is what I offered to him. I wasn’t ever much to him, until he wasn’t anything to me at all. I reflect on how I allowed myself to succumb to that certain level of self respect and confidence, a season of shivers and shallowness. I used to contemplate on whether or not he truly ever taught me any valuable lessons on love. ONE. Taught me one. Love yourself. If you don’t love yourself first, nobody else will. The way you carry yourself, is how others will admire you. I can’t seem to say that I’m grateful for constantly being cheated on, having relations when I didn’t want to, and allowing someone else’s insecurities to become my own. But, I say I am grateful, as I now know to never change for another again. I will never put someone else before me, if they wouldn’t do the same for me. I am not a fucking second choice. There was Anthony. When I think about this season of my life, I think about road trips, driving up to his cousins place. Always doing something. I loved driving with him - I sat shotgun and sang my heart out as he’d unforgivingly insult my singing and laugh with, and at me. Every time he would come to pick me up, I could never drag him away from chatting my mom’s ear off. I adored that about him though, he blossomed in conversation with anyone he encountered. He had a good head on his shoulders, his Mother did well. I loved his Mom. I loved his entire family, as I did my very own. They humbled me in a way, I felt comfortable in their home, they always made me feel at home. I loved our life together. Spontaneous Sunday trips, new restaurants, new places, something new. It was an entire adventure in whole. We went away for Christmas together, Disneyland, surfing. Future plans and trips seemed to become dreams we’d pitched together. It was pure romance, the type you’d always hope it to be. A candles, cuddling and a rolled one kinda comfortable. When I think about that phase of life that we were together, I think about breakfast. I made him Hazelnut French Toast often, and I’m pretty sure he thought it was terrible, yet ate it anyways. Although we were very much or own people, we meshed together, strangely but so easily. My dreams weren’t his however. Wanting my first love to be my last, I clang to the hope of ‘near or far’. We were different worlds, having being almost five years younger, I felt distant to him in ways. I can’t recall how many episodes I had, getting angry at him for drinking too much or him throwing my bullshit right back into my face ; but I couldn’t imagine anyone else replacing him. I felt God damn married. Apologies for using the Lord’s name in vein. It became routinized. I was too comfortable, and although I loved him so deeply, I craved something more than easy love - I wanted something to work for - and maybe I’ll regret not appreciating the warmth he did give me one day. I look back and can see where I could’ve worked on myself. In segments, and large portions. I could have limited myself in the tears department also. I cried for three weeks straight, well, I cried at least once a day for twenty one days after we broke up. I found myself struggling to get out of bed, crying at practice, eating nothing. I admit, maybe I drowned myself in my own sadness - yet, I knew of no resources to get over it. The way we parted still stings a bit today, although everything happens for a reason - I wish that reason still could make a little more sense to me. Forgiving actions and words, neither of us two dealt with our situation in the most appropriate way. In fact, I lost myself. They must come to an end eventually, but I do believe that even the hardest relationships leave a ray of sun. In Titus. I found myself. Yet, at first; I was scared, somehow very uncertain too. Coming out of a long term relationship, my vulnerability had thickened and I was convinced that it wouldn’t truly turn into anything. He proved me wrong. After awhile, and his awaited patience - I fell in love; with Tanner, him and I as one, and myself. It was light, and cheerful. Constantly goofing off and laughing at little things - he made me giddy. His smile, always undeniable - I could never not smile back. He drew everything I lacked in myself, out of me. I found myself appreciating life more often, and taking the time everyday to make myself and someone else - feel appreciated. When I relapse to this season I think about Winter, the childishness we brought out of one another similar to a snowball fight, and the colder feelings that we hid from each other, getting hit with multiple snowballs at once. We often felt each other pulling away, and one would have to give on our rope a bit more, or pull our link to bring each other back. Our game of tug war. I’ll always love Tanner, but to say I loved all of him would be incomplete - as I never truly knew all of his deeper and darker corners. Nor did he know all of mine. We remained with few doors shut on each other; my reasoning was as I wasn’t ready to let someone open the doors that I hadn’t even begun turning the knobs on yet. I wanted it to work, it seemed so perfect to me. He caught me by surprise from the get go, I played it up to be the sorta ‘ it was when I was really not expecting it’ kinda thing. We gave each other so many things, yet we walked on eggshells with each other. Falling for one another so quickly, we never really stood our ground and set our boundaries. We were constantly crashing into one another, and thinking we’d fixed all our problems by fucking each others brains out. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but that’s one thing we were getting right. Tanner was a gift to me, a present inside a present inside a present. He always kept surprising me, keeping me on my toes. It was the first time in my life that I had ever wanted to give someone the world - I just didn’t know how. I constantly felt protected and admired. Like I belonged to someone, a passion truly irresistible. With T, I had never been more curious about the world, and what I could truly do in my life. I frequently dipped my mind in different waters. The season where we started to fight more than usual. Nothing was going according to plan. I thought I had my entire life planned out, but things were spiralling out of our control. Timing was so off and we didn’t know what to do. He picked up his things and walked to the outside of my gate, still feeling us gripping to one another as if it maybe wasn’t a good idea to part ways - I stumbled inside and fell to the ground. Walking back outside minutes later and seeing him still in his car - head on his steering wheel, crying. Good things fall apart so better things can come together, for new things to inspire - and in our case, we needed to inspire ourselves, on our own. Now, not either of us are holding either ends of our rope. One day, maybe I’ll have the pleasure of being ‘his’ again. As I would be lucky to share those moments of wonder, humour, passion and curiosity with no other. “If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were.”  Richard Bach.   When a season of life ends  - specifically with a boyfriend - it’s usually harder than any other season you will live. Because those are the ones you really don’t get back. It’s different than graduating from high school, or moving away from home. You don’t get to revisit your old relationships like you can by going back home, or a 10 year reunion. You don’t get to stay best friends with your exes like you can with a friend from grade school. You say goodbye to your routine, your favourite places, your favourite songs. You say goodbye to their family, their cats and dogs, their living rooms, their bed’s. You say goodbye to who you were as a person when you were together - because you’ll never be the same version of yourself again. There’s a lot of goodbye’s including obviously, the person you loved. And wow, is it painful. Because when it’s over - it’s really over. It ends. It ends. It always does. It wont ever be that kind of same. Coming back to Kace every time, Having lived through countless seasons together. He’s been a starring role in more “seasons” than anyone else in my life. Like a tv show run. The season when I get a boyfriend and tried to forget about him. The season when I cried every night because I couldn’t. The season where I almost allowed myself to go after him, yet I was always too scared of the outcome. The season of what if’s. The season when we waited a year and a half to love on each other. The season of I wish I would've. The season of I wish I would’ve let you hold me a little longer. The season of you telling me to stop worrying all the time. The season where I was happy, living an entirely separate life from him - for an entire year. But deep down I missed him every single day. And then, the season where we hadn’t seen each other in a year but, coincidently ended up in the same place. Visiting, and I can still feel the feeling that only you can get me in. Opening my door to such a familiar face in a new place. Laughed, and bothered each other - melting into each other like no time had passed. I was begging time to stop. Then there was the season where he turned cold and refused to talk to me, in his defence, I was always with someone, it was just never him. There was the time when I told him I loved him and he didn’t, maybe couldn’t, say it back. There was the season when things were so good, it felt like the universe was just begging us to be together, but I ignored it. Seasons of him being that constant motivator, friend, support system and secret lover. Seasons of him questioning me, as he had every right to. From pep talks to holding me on a bathroom floor. Seasons may change, but you stay constant in a way. Maybe one day I won’t ignore it, or maybe I’ll never accept it, as I just don’t want this to end, too. They say nothing truly great can stay in one’s life, although we all have an expiry date - I don’t think that’s true. It is a constant to be saying goodbye to phases of your life. Those moments will fade, but with that brings a new season right to your doorstep. It is true that it ends. But I think that if you are always aware of life as it’s happening, if you’re always fully present in the now… something great will always stay.

Seasons

[bthenoise]

ICYMI: Here Are Nine Newsworthy Items You May Have Missed Over The Holidays

Hello everybody and happy new year! While getting back into the swing of things here at the office, we noticed a handful of exciting things have been announced while we were off celebrating the holidays.

So, instead of pumping out article after article for you to comb through and catch up on, we thought we’d compile all the things you may have missed into one, easy-to-read post.

Let us begin:

Bring Me The Horizon, Dance Gavin Dance, Asking Alexandria and The Acacia Strain Drop Surprise Releases 

In case you weren’t paying attention to streaming services and social media sites over the holidays, four very well-known acts decided to end their 2019 with brand new releases -- those being Bring Me The Horizon, Dance Gavin Dance, Asking Alexandria and The Acacia Strain. 

Coming in all different types of records, Bring Me The Horizon dropped a spiritual and experimental EP aptly titled Music to listen to~dance to~blaze to~pray to~feed to~sleep to~talk to~grind to~trip to~breathe to~help to~hurt to~scroll to~roll to~love to~hate to~learn Too~plot to~play to~be to~feel to~breed to~sweat to~dream to~hide to~live to~die to~GO TO, Dance Gavin Dance released yet another impressive instrumental album -- this time for Downtown Battle Mountain -- Asking Alexandria shared a new deluxe version of their 2017 self-titled LP featuring demos, remixes and more, and lastly, deathcore champions The Acacia Strain debuted the first of two new releases with their bruising EP It Comes In Waves.

The Coachella 2020 Lineup Is Here Featuring Rage Against The Machine, PUP, Code Orange And More      

As many expected when they announced their long-awaited reunion, political rap-rock activists Rage Against The Machine will be one of the main headliners for this year’s Coachella festival. Along with the “Guerrilla Radio” penmen, the annual Southern California music and arts fest will also feature -- as far as our scene is concerned -- King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, IDLES, The Chats, PUP, the HU, The Regrettes, Beach Bunny, Snail Mail, Emo Nite LA, Mannequin Pussy, Yungblud, and most surprising of all, hardcore outfit Code Orange. This year’s festivities will take place April 10th - 12th and 17th - 19th. 

Silent Planet To Release New Re-Recorded Version Of The Night God Slept

Starting off what should be a busy 2020, metalcore maestros Silent Planet are planning to release a newly re-recorded version of their debut album The Night God Slept. The new re-tracked, remixed and re-mastered effort is due out January 24th via Solid State Records. Along with the exciting news, the band also released a sample of what’s to come sharing “XX (City Grave) Redux” and “Wasteland Redux.” To check out the re-worked tracks, be sure to see below. Afterward, make sure to pre-order The Night God Slept here.  

Ice Nine Kills Made A “Merry Axe-Mas” Video Game 

To help make everyone’s Christmas as fun and evil as possible, horror-obsessed outfit Ice Nine Kills debuted a new online video game based on their  music video for “Merry Axe-Mas.” The game, which can be played on a desktop computer or mobile phone, stars an evil Santa Claus delivering green skulls to unsuspecting children. To check out the free game, head here.    

Set It Off Share New Surprise Single “So Predictable”  

Just days before kicking off their tour with Sleeping With Sirens, Belmont and Point North, Set It Off shared their second new b-side taken from their recently released album After Midnight. Titled “So Predictable,” according to frontman Cody Carson, the new track comes from a place of total frustration. “We've all been there before — same argument, same issue, same nonsense, different day,” says Carson. “This is one of those songs written out of complete frustration of those kinds of moments — whether it be someone you love who you butt heads with or someone so irritating yet you can't avoid them. We had a blast making this song because of the overall attitude that surrounds it.” To check out the new track, see the video above. Afterward, make sure to grab tickets to see Set It Off out on tour here.

State Champs, Simple Plan and We The Kings Share New Music Video For “Where I Belong”

Hot on the heels of wrapping up their massive winter tour together, pop-punk acts State Champs, Simple Plan and We The Kings shared a brand new music video for their collaborative track “Where I Belong.” Featuring all three bands performing their infectious single together, the high energy video also showcases what it’s like to be on tour with the fun-loving musicians. To check out the video, see above. 

Watch Some Of Metal’s Best Come Together For “The Biggest Shred Collab Song In The World III”

Last week, acclaimed YouTuber and diehard metal fan Jared Dines returned with his annual “Biggest Shred Collab Song In World.” For 2019′s version, Dines enlisted help from some pretty big names like Animals As Leaders’ Tosin Abasi, Trivium’s Matt Heafy, Polyphia’s Tim Henson, Megadeth’s Kiko Loureiro and more. To check out the nine-minute shred-fest, see above. Additionally, you may notice something off for Jason Richardson’s (All That Remains, ex-Chelsea Grin, ex-Born Of Osiris) solo. Dines commented on that below.   

“Hey guys! Unfortunately, I am a dumb dumb and put Jason Richardson’s part over the wrong backing in the final file for the big shred collab video this year. I know I know.. you’d think I’d have my act together by now…  WELL, here is what he actually intended for you all to hear haha merry Christmas everyone! (Tbh, Jason could play over dumpsters fucking and it would sound good). My deepest apology to you Jason, please don’t SLAPP me at namm.”

Attila Recap Ragefest 2019 With New “Toxic” Music Video

To help highlight just how much fun they had on last summer’s Ragefest, deathcore/metalcore party-starters Attila debuted a brand new music video for their Villain track “Toxic.” Mixing chaotic live footage with non-stop party antics, Attila’s new video shows just what it’s like to be on tour with Fronz and company.  

Danny Worsnop Shares Bluesy New Solo Track “Another You”

Finishing up his very busy year fronting Asking Alexandria and releasing a new solo album called Shades of Blue, the outgoing Danny Worsnop released a brand new solo track titled “Another You.” Talking about the bluesy new tune, Worsnop said, “Beyond excited to finally have this out. ‘Another You’ was the first song I recorded in my home studio when I finished building it. It might have even been before it was finished! But either way, it was a great sense of accomplishment, and it instantly became one of my favorite songs I’d ever written.” Worsnop is currently on tour now and tickets can be found here.

#Asking Alexandria #Danny Worsnop #Attila #Jared Dines #Simple Plan #State Champs #We The Kings #Set It Off #Ice Nine Kills #Silent Planet #Coachella #Code Orange #Rage Against the Machine #Bring Me The Horizon #Dance Gavin Dance #The Acacia Strain

[fyccb]

One For the Grandkids: TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN

"I should follow YOU?" - Miles Davis, to a fan expressing his wish that he go back to playing ballads At the end of Episode 16 of Showtime's TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN, we saw Audrey Horne (Sherilyn Fenn) briefly rescued from mid-life marriage to a man who was something less than the man to whom she once aspired by an invitation to dance. She then returned to her husband's side and a reality-shattering crash through that illusion into what appeared to be a confrontational collision with her own makeup mirror. I spent the past week wondering where this scene would take us. In a way, it took us nowhere, because we don't see Audrey again in the miniseries' last two episodes; then again, this scene tells us exactly where we are headed. The last two episodes, or hours (if we accept - as I think we should - David Lynch's description of this latest collaboration with Mark Frost as "an eighteen-hour film" rather than a miniseries) of this story suggest to me a one-hour or 90-minute story with a 15-16 hour prologue and a one-hour epilogue. It does not accommodate traditional narrative structure, and therefore is doomed to disappoint most audience expectations geared to that experience. Many times as the weekly chapters rolled out, I found myself responding to them not as narrative, not even as cinema, but as digital painting - making use of live actors selected much like emotional colors. As some others have observed, the quality of the digital effects suggested an unusual transparency that might look bad or cheap to those whose standard of measure was reality; but I always felt the point was never to suggest reality but different graphic ideas put into motion. A noble attempt to reclaim the viewer's right to suspend disbelief with their own senses, rather than have the technology rob them of that privilege. As the entire arc of the program is revealed, this level of artifice has a point to make. As with the original series finale, the general response I've been seeing has been disappointment, even anger, sometimes followed by a slowly blooming acceptance and enthusiasm. The disappointment, I believe, comes from a thwarted authorial impulse: it didn't go where we wanted it to go. But as characters in the story have been saying, "The past dictates the future." Therefore, any attempt to return to the past is a sentimental urge, a romanticism doomed to failure or, if indeed such contact is made, we run the risk of monkeying with our present vantage point in the future. Which is exactly the trajectory of the final chapter. In the last moments, when Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) asks "What year is this?" I don't think he's asking which year he's inhabiting. Rather, he's questioning our expectations of the narrative, our demands for clarity and a happy ending - even a satisfying reunion. Why did we want to go back to a murder scene? What did we want to undo? Or do? Were these characters not supposed to change - though we, their creator and television itself has? And finally, Cooper is also asking the wrong question, which points to a suggestion of his condemnation to another long detour through mystic circles - his penance for his ego in assuming superhuman responsibilities and a god-like role in setting everything right. When Cooper and Diane (Laura Dern) risk "changing everything" by riding the electrical coordinates to new identities, they soon lose each other and Dale finds himself alone in the American west, in the city of Odessa. It's not only the name of a Ukrainian city, but the feminine form of Odysseus or Ulysses, the hero of Homer's THE ODYSSEY, and finally a Greek word meaning "full of wrath." (The ODYSSEY connection to Cooper is quite interesting, particularly if we consider the interpretation that it took Odysseus so many years of wandering to return home because he didn't want to go home.) The Cooper whom we see cruising the streets of this melting pot American city is neither the all-good Cooper of the original series, nor the Bad Cooper, whose negative energies have been conquered by this point, or at least redistributed. As earlier events have shown us, Cooper's efforts came very close to saving Laura retroactively - indeed, he does seem to prevent her murder, at least on one plane of existence - but in doing so, he interfered with her own karmic destiny and sent that compulsory drama elsewhere to find its fulfillment. But he has not yet learned this lesson, and when he sees the fateful name Judy on a restaurant sign in Odessa, he follows the sign to a breakfast interrupted by the modern-day equivalent of an Old West shootout, as he butts in to save a stranger's honor. The melting pot signs (Odessa, Maersk, etc), the open carry laws, people living in accordance with romantic ideas of freedom in a conspicuously unfree word...  Lynch's purpose here is plain - this is the America we now inhabit, viewed through a pair of THEY LIVE eyeglasses, as it were. Cooper continues to take lawful responsibility for Laura Palmer's metaphysical fate by tracing Judy to her lookalike counterpart - an apparent kook and murderess whose name is not Judy but rather Carrie Page (Sheryl Lee) - and hoping to discharge the evil energies riding her existence by introducing her to her mother (Grace Zabriskie), who is dealing with devils of her own. But it's no longer her house... for the rather obvious reason that "You can't go home anymore." What Cooper may suddenly be inhabiting outside the Palmer house is not a different year, but a different tense - namely, reality. (This reading of the ending would appear to be supported by the casting of Mary Reber, the real-life owner of the Palmer House property, as its present owner Alice Tremond.) In short, David Lynch and Mark Frost have addressed themselves to the fact that art is a thing of process and progress that does not move in reverse; only the longing of the human heart does that. In so doing, it may well motivate the creation of art, but such art is usually wrenching in its torment, bringing us to terms with more innocent times that were never really so innocent, the nostalgic songs that closer scrutiny reveal to come from places of real pain, the high school sweetheart who got away and fired a bullet through the brain of the fellow lucky enough to catch her. Because what such investigations usually signify is that the present, our present, is in some way unsatisfactory - but if we dare to move back, we risk changing or losing connection with where we were. The original TWIN PEAKS series still exists, and that experience can be repeated to the heart's content, leaving THE RETURN to warn us of the myriad dangers awaiting anyone careless enough to rifle backwards through the spent pages of life. (c) 2017 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.  

My favorite Lynch critic, Tim Lucas of the recently late and very lamented Video Watchdog magazine, sums it up.  If this interests you at all, please check out their website here.  Lucas literally wrote the book on Mario Bava, and has been writing about Lynch for at least thirty years.  Would have posted this as a link if I could have figured out how.  

#tim lucas #video watchdog #twin peaks: the return #TIM I'LL TAKE THIS DOWN IF YOU WANT THO I DOUBT YR LOOKING AT TUMBLR

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

The email problem no one is talking about: mistaken identity

This post is part of Me, online, Mashable's ongoing series digging into online identities.

In 2009, a San Francisco web strategist named Tim — last name withheld for reasons that will become clear — opened his Gmail to find a message from a Build-a-Bear workshop in St. Louis. The email was addressed to someone called Tamara. 

That's odd, thought Tim, but thought little more about it. Days later he received an email directed at someone called Toby. It contained photos of a family eating an Easter meal with, his correspondent assured him, "lots and lots of BACON!" 

SEE ALSO: Everyone's getting new Gmail — and old Gmail will soon go extinct

So far so mundane. But the misdirected emails — for Tyrells, Terrys, Thomases — kept coming at an alarming rate. They often contained the kinds of things you really don't want shared with strangers: hook-up notes ("I got a bottle so we could drink and I'm putting on a dress"), medical records, divorce papers, real estate deals, demands from a debt collector, a request from a police officer for his license plate, even an autopsy report. 

Tim keeps a folder in his Gmail now, purely for the more random, weird, indiscreet ones he's received over the last nine years. The folder currently contains 1,355 messages. 

"At first I would write back and say 'you have the wrong email,'" says Tim. But sometimes the correspondent would keep bugging him: Okay, what's the right email? The debt collector kept hounding him regardless. These days, with the misdirected emails coming at the rate of one a day, he simply deletes or sends them to spam.

Cases of mistaken identity like this are becoming more common as more people around the globe acquire email addresses — and more of their correspondents misremember or mistype them. But so far as we know there are no email providers, much less startups or security researchers, working to solve the problem. Unlike with spam, there isn't even a catchy name for it. 

For many recipients, the problem is amusing at best and irritating at worst. Some misdirected emails can even be useful. (One Mashable editor receives regular discount coupons from a liquor store intended for someone else; she invariably uses them.) 

a funny thing unconnected to anything else i have tweeted about this week is that someone named Alexis Mull apparently used my gmail (amull85) to purchase a background report on someone named Tiffany from a sketchy people-finder site and it got emailed to me today

— Amanda Mull (@amandamull) June 7, 2018

Yet the risk is real. Not just the risk of personal embarrassment when a stranger sees your family photos or love notes, but the risk of identity theft when they see your bank records, mortgage application, divorce decree, or any other of the astonishing amount of personal documents we send via the internet these days. 

Examples are everywhere. You don't have to look very far on message boards for Microsoft or Apple to find people locked out of their accounts when a security code was sent to the wrong address. In 2016, the National Australia Bank admitted sending emails containing account numbers for some 60,000 customers to the wrong address. The cause? "Human error."  

No confirmation required

I could empathize with Tim's problem because it was mine, too. We'd both heard about the arrival of Gmail before it launched in April 2004. We'd both rushed on day one to grab Gmail accounts based on our first initial and last name. We both celebrated our good fortune at the time, not realizing the tangled web that would await years later when you have a common initial-last name combo.

For me, it's been a long decade and a half of fielding emails for what seems like every Chris, Charles, Cynthia, Claire, Clare, Christian, Catherine and Cheryl Taylor on the planet. I'll often wake up to discover a flurry of follow-up emails from auto dealerships in North Carolina — this seems to happen in the Carolinas more than other states, for some reason — and surmise that yet another Charles Taylor has gone car shopping and misremembered his email address. (Or worse, he deliberately fobbed those pesky salesmen off with a Gmail address that sounded like it could be his.) 

Like Tim, I've given up trying to respond and mark most of these emails as spam, even though that doesn't quite describe what they are. And even that doesn't fix the problem, because there are invariably more email newbies making fresh mistakes. It isn't the greatest thing for productivity; I probably spend a good half-hour of every day extracting misdirected missives from my poor beleaguered inbox.

If that's all it was, I'd be relatively fine with it. The even larger problem is this: Many popular online services don't require proof that your email says what you say it is — or they treat "ctaylor" and "c.taylor" as different addresses, whereas mail providers like Gmail treat them as one and the same. 

That means you can sign up for Instagram, say, with someone else's email address, and they'll be hit with annoying messages from that day forward. Years ago, someone signed up for Instagram with my email address — or at least, the c.taylor version. Occasionally they'll try to log in, and guess where the reset code is sent? 

PSA: My actual Instagram account is @futurechris.

Image: gmail

Meanwhile, someone named Lloyd Taylor successfully signed up for an Apple ID using my Gmail address. (I used a pre-existing account for my Apple ID.) He requests a password reset that gets sent to my email with such regularity, about once every two weeks, that I assumed it was part of some elaborate phishing expedition. 

To its credit, when I contacted the company for this story, Apple was able to confirm that Lloyd is for real. As I write, Apple reps are going through the process of disentangling my address from his account. 

How common is this problem? I asked Twitter, and 56% of those who replied said they'd never encountered it in their own digital lives. But that means a whopping 44% did. 

[POLL] Have you ever received a private email intended for someone else with a similar name or email address?

— Chris Taylor (@FutureBoy) June 14, 2018

Granted, it's not a scientific poll, and more study is needed. But given that there are an estimated 4 billion email accounts in the world (owned by roughly 2 billion people), if 10 percent of people are encountering this problem "all the time," that's up to 200 million people affected. This is a hell of a problem for something that doesn't even have a name. 

I’ve written back when I received an email about a job offer for another Heather, emails where a woman with a catering business thought I was her colleague; emails regarding family reunions; and one time when I got a very personal email with an apology meant for another Heather.

— Heather Lynn Weaver (@HeatherWeaverDC) June 14, 2018

I also get a lot of order confirmations from various websites for Heather Weavers across the country. I don’t contact the companies when i get those (though they often have personal info like address and phone). I also got medical records from a dr office once. I wrote back there

— Heather Lynn Weaver (@HeatherWeaverDC) June 14, 2018

I didn't even have to look that far. My wife Jess has a similar issue, even though she doesn't have a common last name like me or Tim. And she was smarter than both of us, reasoning at the time that merely using her first initial in the account would bring her more misdirected email than she bargained for.

Then in 2010, a woman with the exact same name in Vermont, evidently disappointed by being beaten to the account, signed up for an email using "Jes" rather than Jess. Ever since, it seems, almost everyone emailing that Jess reached my Jess by mistake — especially since the rise of autocorrect. 

West Coast Jess has received dozens of wedding planning emails, job applications, rental contracts, Comcast logins, orthodontic and hospital appointments for Vermont Jess' kids, and a hospital ID login. She emailed "Jes" directly, who didn't seem to see the problem. She tried emailing her correspondents, but found the same thing that Tim and I discovered: Whereas you can say the words "wrong number" and people will understand you when they call, you don't get the same reaction when you write back and simply say "wrong email." 

"People think you're crazy for pointing it out," Jess says. "They're adamant that they've reached the right person."

This is where technology could help. Gmail has a button that lets us easily report spam — and unsubscribe from annoying lists — with two clicks. How about a button that will have Gmail write a form letter back to the correspondent, explaining that they have not reached the person they think they've reached, to check their records and try again, and maybe don't hound this person for debt payments?

It's an interesting concept, but we're going to have to wait to find out whether Google is interested in implementing it. When I contacted the company for this story, I was told that the Gmail product team is "all heads down" in advance of Google Cloud Next, a conference that isn't happening for another month from now, and an official "no comment." 

If and when Gmail and other email providers get around to implementing a fix for the mistaken identity problem, let's just hope those press releases make their way to the intended inboxes. 

WATCH: Screen name confessions: Our most cringe-worthy online handles

#_author:Chris Taylor #_uuid:abd0ae84-6db4-3830-af45-a4b7012913b5 #_lmsid:a0Vd000000DTrEpEAL #_revsp:news.mashable