MeggieJolly

Cliff buys Ilya's house off him when Ilya moves to Ottawa -- mostly furnished, because Cliff needs pretty much everything (bad breakup, she kicked him out and somehow got his condo out of it) and what is money to Ilya Fucking Rozanov? As he settles in, Cliff starts to notice little...curiosities. The smart TV is still logged into Roz's YouTube account and the guy watches a LOT of Shane Hollander highlight compilations? And interviews? And shirtless ads? But whatever maybe it's chirping material. But also there's a ton of ginger ale in the fridge and Cliff has literally never seen Roz -- or, like, anyone -- drink the stuff. Well, he's heard Hollander does. He keeps finding more and more random but extremely telling clues like a fucking Hollanov scavenger hunt and by the time Ilya and Shane get outed, Cliff isn't even surprised, he's just glad his best friend isn't a stalker.

If you're one of the 50k (!!), thank you sm and extra special thank you to @diabolicalworldwriter for recording the amazing podfic of I'll be Jane and @mintsunshine105 for designing a beautiful cover for it!!

To commemorate this deeply specific accomplishment, I posted a new silly sexting oneshot (a handful of times Shane and Ilya send sexts to a group chat by accident, +1 time they sext in a group chat on purpose). It's unrelated to I'll be Jane though, as evidenced by the lack of the word cockslut

Hopper has grown to accept that he will not have an uninterrupted lunch until this unattended five year old goes to college because, "Hello?"

"Hi," Steve says. "I went to your house and I didn't see no microwave. Did you know I went to your house?"

"Yes."

"You weren't there 'cause you were at work," He informs him. "I think you should get a microwave."

"I got this for you," Steve says before dumping what looks like six dollars and some change on the table. "It'll help."

Hopper frowns, "Help with what?"

"Getting a microwave," He sighs. "Do you know how to listen?"

"Kid-"

"Baby Sara is too little to use the stove," Steve says. "I know that 'cause I’m not allowed to use the stove and I’m bigger than her."

Well. "...What?"

"Tommy - he's my best friend, 'member? - he's older than me and even he's not allowed to use the stove," Steve continues. "And Tommy don't have a microwave neither but it's okay 'cause his mom lives there all day and he's got a lot of big brothers that can use the stove. Sara doesn't have a big brother 'cept for me, kinda, and I can't-"

"Can't use the stove, got it."

"Right," He nods. "That's why you need a microwave. So Sara won't be hungry."

"Sara is never hungry," Hopper says slowly. "If she is, I get her something to eat."

"You work a lot."

"She also has a mother."

"Well, sometimes mamas heads hurt and they can't make food or they'll throw up," Steve says. "Sometimes mamas are busy too and then Sara's gonna be really hungry. She might cry."

Hopper pushes the rest of his fries across the table to the kid before asking, "Are you hungry a lot when you're at home?"

You know that thing where a story is written in tight third person limited — we’re meant to be inside someone’s head, seeing the world through their thoughts — and then suddenly the narration says “the blond frowned” or “the shorter woman sighed” about a person the POV character knows really well?

That’s called antonomasia — using a descriptive label instead of a name. And it’s fine when we’re talking about strangers: “the cashier handed her the receipt,” “the tall guy blocked the door.” The POV character doesn’t know their names, and we just need a quick way to tell people apart.

But the moment it’s used for someone the POV character already knows, it breaks immersion. Because that’s not how our minds work. We don’t think “the older man smiled at me.” We think “Mark smiled.” Or maybe “my boss” if that relationship matters in the moment.

Third person limited means the narration sits inside someone’s perception. Their inner monologue is the story’s voice. So when you switch from “Mark smiled” to “the blond smiled,” you’ve pulled the camera away from their mind and turned it into an outside shot.

If you want to create distance or irritation, you can do it on purpose —

“The idiot from accounting emailed again.”

That’s character voice. That’s judgment. That works.

But otherwise?

As soon as your POV character knows someone’s name, use it. While we do tend to worry about repetitions, names rarely register as such to the readers.

If you need variety for rhythm, use relational or emotional identifiers that make sense in their head: her friend, his partner, their teacher, the person they loved.

Because inside someone’s thoughts, there are no “blonds” or “brunettes.”