#I might get into the cultural implications of this later

[bitsbug]

this is so messy but here’s my interpretation of how cycles, reincarnation and death works in Rainworld

So the first thing to note is that I think it’s super.. timeline-y. Which is always a pain but whatever.

So generally, if you don’t die you progress through time pretty linearly, each cycle being a single day. However, if you do die, in your perception you wake back up at the start of the day alongside everything else. But really you’ve hopped sideways in time, to a new timeline starting at your death. In the perceptions of everything from the timeline you died in, you’re gone for GOOD, never to be seen again.

Also, though it may feel like a long time if you keep dying, the upward progression of time is actually consistent across all timelines. You can’t “lag behind” other timelines, just move horizontally away from them.

If you die of a more “permanent” cause, like disease or old age, this again works differently. You can’t just wake up in a new timeline, because you’d still be afflicted with the thing that killed you, so instead you fully leave your old life and reincarnate as a new being carrying the same soul. This can occasionally resync the cycles of beings that were alive together at some point, but one died before the other.

Ascension is when every alternate version of yourself, across every single timeline, bundles into a single point and gets cut off at once. The Ultimate Termination of the self. This is how I explain that part in the void sea where a ton of clones start swimming with you.

#rain world #rainworld #obligatory talk tag #rainworld spoilers #I might get into the cultural implications of this later #with the ancients #cuz that'd be cool to explore #but for now enjoy my bad diagram #long post #sorry i just realized how big this is

[five-flavor-soup]

i genuinely, really like aang, but keeping his writing in book 3 and his writing in the comics in mind, i don’t think it’s all that implausible for him to get the sort-of-antagonist role in fics depicting katara-ships other than KA.

reiterating, i like aang: he’s adorable, he’s funny, and he’s nice. but i believe there’s something to be said about how his ‘niceness’ is written and seen as being The Reason he ‘deserves’ a love interest. his thinking is self-centred, and though that’s a believable flaw for a kid who’s, like, twelve, we’re shown that it’s a consistent character trait which is never treated as an issue… even though it is. (and if he’s mature enough to start dating the girl he’s going to marry and have children with, he should also be mature enough to be criticised for his less-than-savoury parts of his personality, no?)

it’s not OOC to write him as being possessive of katara even when they’re not dating, because he canonically is. it’s not OOC to write him as not respecting and/or noticing katara’s boundaries, because he canonically blows past them. the ideas that he might not mature much later on, that he might be wilfully and forcefully oblivious to any discomfort in the KA relationship, that he might continue shoving katara(‘s culture) aside—none of that is necessarily OOC, because aang does not go through significant character development in book 3 + the comics.

in The Promise, there’s that weird moment wherein aang is briefly anti-miscegenation and doesn’t change his mind until katara reminds him supporting that would affect him (him!!! his relationship with katara alone!!) personally. in TLOK, there’s the suggestion that aang never actively pushed for bumi & kya to learn about air nomad culture and there’s the heavy implication that aang never told the air acolytes about bumi & kya’s existence. additionally, tenzin doesn’t even have a hint of water tribe heritage anywhere in his house to honour katara’s side: he’s all air nomad (though?? nuclear family dynamic), in spite of being mixed.

don’t get me wrong, i vastly prefer fic and hc’s in which aang is a katara supporter first and foremost, and that’s also how i prefer to move through a fandom space barring meta and analyses. but i also don’t think making him jealous and petty when she dates someone else is a misinterpretation of the text we’ve been given; canon!aang shows the signs to become that way, and it’s not wrong to read his future self that way nor is it incorrect fandom-ing to highlight these traits

#aang critical #anti aang #and #anti kataang #just to be safe #don’t wanna infringe upon anyone’s space ✌️ #do i adore aang? yes #do i think that KA could’ve been way way WAY better than the babysitting fantasy we got? also yes #in the very first ep he pops out of an egg and imprints onto the first person he sees idk how more clear this should be #for legal reasons that last tag is a joke

[myheadhurtscutely]

i'm craving some fluff with sam monroe rn. sharing my thoughts and curious for yours?? just rambling lol ❤️❤️❤️

listening to music in sam's room with him, maybe getting ready for something? a concert? and fixing his makeup, his hands unable to leave your hips as you work. ofc his eyes are glued to your lips (and occasionally drift down to your tits) and there's just a soft, unspoken connection between you two. i'm imagining he listens to The Cure (idk if it's really his type of music i'm not all into that culture ngl) and it's just a gentle scene. ofc later on after the concert is over (or whatever event) he can't help but wanna make out with you, maybe you're sitting on his lap in his car. maybe there's a bit of tension- but you two make out until the sun comes up, and return to your respective houses with the both of your makeup messed up. i also feel like he's the type to either be too nervous to hold onto you in public when he's sober, but if he's had anything at all he's all grabby and aggressive with it. I think he'd get jealous a lot when he's not sober too. Definitely the type to get into a fight if he thinks some guy is looking at you too much.

idk if it's too in character but i love my emo bf💋

friends to lovers?Sam Monroe x Reader

wc' 878

Warnings! mention of a tiny bit of violence, marijuana use, sexual implications but nothing crazy. crazy amounts of fluff tbh.

LORD HAVE MERCY THANK YOU

i love this.

you and sam are best buds, like comfortable silence type close. You have always gone to concerts together and what not. You were both the social rejects, and that was okay. Because you had each other.

whilst the friendship was cute and close, it was extremely abnormal in some ways like you laying on his chest after school in his room while he showed you some underground pierce the veil and souxie and the banshees. He knew you liked them so he would do everything he could to peak your interest. His odd fixation with your body, lips, and face was not a friend kind of normal either.

You and sam had eagerly been waiting for months. concert tickets ready. and outfits picked and packed. It was your guys favorite band and some how you had snagged tickets a couple months back for a birthday gift to sam. He obviously was overjoyed when you surprised him with this. it gave him a reason to be delusional. he'd often lie awake, listening to your breathing on the other end of the phone whilst you slept, practicing his confession.

Today was the day. Sam came over with his pre rolls, tickets, and his dingy old eyeliner stick. He tried to fix his hair up a bit so he could look good for you guys wouldn't have to loose anymore time getting ready.

You opened the door to your room, guiding him to your bed to sit where he's sat countless times before. "go ahead and light one while i get my stuff ready." Sam might as well been in a trance, not listening to a word you said. you looked perfect. You were already ready to go, make up, hair, outfit, all perfect in everyway.

Sam fumbled with his joint and lighter after finally coming back down to earth and recalling what you told him. You and him both took drags of it as you put your pallets near you on the bed, sitting yourself on sams lap. His head leaned back against the pillow to look at your pretty face hanging over him.

sams hands naturally rested on your hips, like every other time you did his makeup but this time was different. His hands drug up your sides, his mind falling between his imagination and reality. He had done this a million times in his head, though he'd never admit it. He couldn't fathom how soft and beautiful you were sat on his waist like that. He hoped you didn't notice the prodding object growing underneath you. He had always told you it just does that when he's high. You shrugged it off.

His lips were mere inches from yours as you gently smudged his liner, looking up closely to make sure your work was perfect. He couldn't do anything but smile. even with his eyes closed he felt your divine prescence warming up his insides.

Your lips quickly brushed his cheek as you excitedly praised your handy work, urging him to look at the mirror. His face was beat red, almost as if you smacked the fuck out of him and left the imprint of you. He smiled the whole way to the concert.

"have you ever shot gunned before?" you asked him in the back of the taxi with a plotting grin, joint slowly burning in your hand.

the ride back home after the concert was quiet. you and sam had gotten the both of you kicked out.

Some guy had tried to dance with you, and eventually went as far as to borderline grope you. In no world would sam let that happen, so in response, he busted him in the face. you were quick to follow with a swift kick to his gut as he was knelt at your feet. so now here you were. back in the taxi, already on the way back home

Neither of you knew what to say. You felt bad cause it was sams birthday gift, and he felt bad cause he couldn't imagine how distressing that must've been.. and did you see him differently?

your hand slowly slid over to his in the backseat. you both knew peace in that moment. everything was ok. tired eyes met the others as you both give crooked smiles, to further affirm your feelings.

you and sam took turns, brushing each others thumbs the rest of the way.

You and sam didn't wanna go home yet. The taxi driver dropped you off at your car in the lot near home, and you both escaped the frigid air by climbing inside. The backseat was pretty empty except for some blankets and a couple of sams clothes from the last sleepover.

The both of you climbed to the back, seeing as neither of you planned on getting home for the rest of the night, feeling too weary and disoriented to travel any longer, much less separate for the night.

A cold chill shook you against sam as your body laid in between his, propped up against the passenger door. "Cold?" Sam asked, rubbing his hands up your arms, sliding over your goosebumps.

Sam adjusted himself sliding off his oversized jacket, opting to make it a blanket for you instead. As the hum of cars passed you both by, and the rain pattered on the windows of the car, he pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head.

note' i know this wasnt exactly what you had in mind but i loved this idea and i kinda ran with it, tysm!

#sam monroe x reader #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen #sam monroe x you #sam monroe fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker

[possamble]

do you have any particular thoughts regarding marcille being a half-elf? its interesting to me considering the fact that she seems self-conscious about being a half-elf, but denies it when its brought up

i remember marcille looking visibly uncomfortable over laios simply asking her how old she is, which i think the only reason she might feel nervous about this is because it might reveal her as a half-elf to him.

she's never corrected anybody whose called her an elf either.

never mind the circumstances of the reveal, in which thistle goes on about how half-elves are inferior and accusing her of wanting to become full blooded elf, she seemed particularly upset like he struck a nerve-

i wish the half-elf thing was built upon more. also, underrated marcille line:

okay so i revisited this sequence just to make sure I could back myself up and it's just... man. there's a lot going on.

the first reaction we get from Marcille is this huge panel that takes up half of the page

she is viscerally affected. flushing to the tips of her ears with the intensity of it. and we see it again, a few pages later

so it might seem like she's embarrassed about it and lying to herself, but... I really think it's just that Thistle is accidentally hitting sore spots. If you really look at what he says to get these reactions

"you'll live out your entire life [...] and die that way too"

"a hundred years from now, nobody will be there"

Hear me out. I think, if he stuck to harping on about her inferiority without bringing up how terrifyingly long-lived she is, she wouldn't have been as bothered. But right now, Thistle is accidentally hitting all the marks on Marcille's deepest fears-- and this is after the Winged Lion promised her that her dreams could come true in an extremely vulnerable moment, so it also hits her slightly guilty conscience as well.

I do truly believe that Marcille isn't bothered about being a half-elf the way that people assume she'd be bothered by it. To her, the biggest problem with being a half-elf is that it's isolating.

On one hand, it's not hard to imagine why she'd distance herself from elves in the west. A lot of them can clock her as a half-elf on sight, unlike other races, and therefore she's always branded with this weird stigma of being Othered -- I would even say that she considers herself lucky for being born outside of elven culture instead of having to grow up in it. I mean, just... look at the way elves talk about her.

Skipping past the uncomfortable implication of what 'not tolerating the existence' of half-elves would actually entail, this is incredibly fucking annoying. You can see why she wouldn't want to be around elves much. You see a lot of Marcille reacting badly here, but honestly, almost all of it can be attributed to her freaking out that her bluff completely failed. She's honestly more paying attention to Izutsumi's footsteps and trying to coordinate an opportunity to escape.

And in the end, you see her built-up frustration at being asked if she wants to be a full-blooded elf like 2-3 times in a row.

Yeah, yeah, "the lady doth protest too much," and all. But we know Marcille. We know that she's a lot more embarrassed and horrendously unconvincing when she's being prodded about something she's actually self-conscious about.

Moving onto the flipside of things, it might seem weird that she "pretends" to be a full elf around other races, but it's not really that strange if you think about it. Again, people are weird about her being infertile or whatever, and a lots of them don't even know much about what sets half-elves apart from everyone else. I mean, look at how uncomfortable Laios is just asking her about it

and look at how exasperated and resigned she looks

And like... she's right. Where would that come up in normal conversation? Why would she go out of her way to tell them? She's functionally a normal elf to other races anyway -- got the ears, the abnormally long "childhood", and the huge mana capacity. Unless it's directly relevant or important for people to know, I don't think it's all that strange or indicative of insecurity that she prefers not to bother with it.

(This combined with her sense of being an "outsider" to elf culture also explains why she thinks elf superiority is embarrassing. She sees the way elves treat short-lived races from the "outsider" perspective nonetheless, and thinks it's obnoxious; especially more so because she usually has to play the elf around short-lived races and deal with the reputation of arrogance that elves have built up.)

The sad thing is, this all means that... she doesn't actually fit in anywhere. She doesn't like going out West much because of how elves treat her. But she's also an outsider in the continents she was born in, treated like this exotic long-lived alien choosing to live among short-lived races for some reason. She is always an outsider, the Other, no matter where she goes. Add in the fact that she'll live longer than literally anyone she knows, and it's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

And I think that's the crux of it. Marcille really doesn't act like she's at all self-conscious about being a half-elf because of any feelings of inferiority or being half-made or whatever. She considers herself a perfectly legitimate being and might even, in some ways, consider herself superior to normal elves because she's not blind with elf supremacy or whatever. (And whatever "elven biases" she displays, all of them are born more out of the fact that she's kind of bad at conceptualizing how other races age and mature compared to herself, not that she actually considers herself better or more mature simply for being an elf.)

I think that whatever self-consciousness Marcille has about being a half-elf is, instead, related to terror and loneliness. The reminder that it ensures she'll never truly belong anywhere for the rest of her very long life. The reminder that, in truth, even she's not actually sure how old she is by other races' standards (hence the discomfort when asked how old she is). She doesn't want to not be a half elf, or be a full elf or full tall-man-- in her ideal world, she's still a half-elf. She just gets to live out her life at the same pace with the people she loves and doesn't have to say goodbye again and again and again until she dies.

and one last very important panel, right after Mithrun tells her that all her desires would be devoured

In her ideal world, she's still a half-elf and reality magically starts marching at her pace. But failing that, the second best thing is that she's still a half-elf-- but one who is able to accept reality and let go of her fear.

(But the rest of the story pans out the way it does because, to Marcille, taking reality apart and reshaping it was less scary than simply and fully reconciling with it.)

#asks #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #marcille donato #manga panel analysis #this is probably riddled with typos sorry #readmore cut bc it got long lmao #i ended up babbling about it bc it's such an important character detail to me #bc like... wow. she's so normal about it. she's literally just chilling. #the only thing that really bothers her is the material reality of it and how people treat her #the stereotypes the stigma etc. etc. #otherwise it just.. #literally doesn't factor into her criteria for self-worth at all #the basic truth is that marcille likes herself on a fundamental level #she's not plagued by a deep and festering self-loathing the way a lot of characters in her archetype are #she likes herself and is proud of her successes and accomplishments #its just that shes terrified of failure and can have *episodes* of self-loathing when she fucks up #but who doesn't yknow #i know its a very slight nuance that makes very little difference in how her 'overachiever' problems manifest but its there #the sword of abandonment issues that hangs over her head has nothing to do with her self-worth or self-esteem or meeting her own standards #it has to do with the fear of not living up to *other* people's expectations and not being useful enough to be worth keeping around #she's good enough for herself but she's always so so so scared that she's not good enough for other people #i wont say much about what ryoko kui is saying using this as an allegory for real world racial biases but #dungeon meshi's treatment of marcille's relationship with her being half-elf is so incredibly important to me because it gets it so right. #a trauma about inferiority or being a half-being isn't inherent to the experience of being 'of two worlds' at all #that's something that's unfairly drilled into people by their environment #the *inherent* anguish is the loneliness. the constant longing. the fact that you are always homesick no matter where you are #always just a little bit of an outsider and never fully at home #and dungeon meshi gets that. #edit: cleaned it up a little

[directdogman]

hi dogman! i just picked up dialtown recently and haven’t finished the game or started the dlc, (so this stuff might be answered later in the game and i just don’t know yet, sorry) but i do have a bunch of questions about the science of dialtown that have been plaguing me since i started the game:

are all the people of the dialtown universe (sans gingi ofc) still classified as human, or are they another species? object heads are implied (as far as i can tell) to be man made creations at some point, but no one but norm has an actual human head. have they mutated to only have object heads? are they born with object heads? if they are born with the ability to get an object head, are they born with no head, or does the doctor cut it off and install an object head, are object heads technological or biological (or magical)? are they biologically capable of changing their object head from birth? the objects are clearly still made of plastic/metal/glass etc, and they’re fully integrated with the “human” body systems- the ability to blush means blood cells circulate through the non-organic (non-meat?) parts of the head, and they can feel pain inflicted to the mechanical parts just as easily (shoutout to randy for being so unfortunate). so are the mechanical parts of the objects, like wires, integrated into the human parts of the body as well? are the object heads a completely scientifically separate thing to the actual body, like prosthetic? if so, how does blood and nerve pain transfer? where are their brains? is the canonical consciousness and memory of a person in their body, since their heads can be swapped (especially when most of the objects are not capable of storing memory at all?) furthermore, since the object heads can function like the objects they represent, do printers and typewriters require ink, or have they developed ink cartridges/sacs like cephalopods? similarly, are object heads with LCD displays (like cellphones, the teleprompter, TVs etc, if those even exist in this universe) bioluminescent and/or chromatophores, since they can light up (i think) and change color? if the object heads are mostly technologically developed, and Dialtown takes place in the present, why are most object heads deeply outdated technology (typewriters and analog phones, with the most modern tech being randy’s Nokia and Karen’s printer, both of which are still incredibly outdated?) are object heads considered a completely different technological process from the technology they resemble, or is this of a cultural anachronism, (like cpu mice being called mice because their cord resembled a tail, even though they no longer have the tail at all)? is it a cultural thing?

tl;dr: how does biology work in dialtown? people can change their heads if they want, but the objects are still treated like part of the person. are object heads at all a genetic feature of the people of dialtown, or purely a technological thing, or both or neither?

apologies if i’m looking into everything too deeply- but i am fascinated by the scientific and biological implications of object heads. also, the game is great. karen is the only printer i have ever loved.

are all the people of the dialtown universe (sans gingi ofc) still classified as human

Yes, to the point where flesh heads are considered an inhuman trait now. To the point where some beloved historic figures (like Washington) are often depicted with phone heads, despite never having one.

are they born with object heads?

They're born with an adapter, and the heads are added immediately after birth.

are object heads technological or biological (or magical)?

I'd argue they're technological and biological. It's a bit like asking if a hermit crab is biological or mineral.

[] parts of the head, and they can feel pain inflicted to the mechanical parts just as easily (shoutout to randy for being so unfortunate).

Our brains have no pain receptors, but the areas around them do, so brain swelling is indeed unbelievably uncomfortable. I see object-head pain as a similar phenomenon. It's the biological pieces that cry out when the mechanical parts fail.

if the object heads are mostly technologically developed, and Dialtown takes place in the present, why are most object heads deeply outdated technology

I've answered this question before, but the long and short of it is that most modern devices aren't easy to swap individual pieces out of, while older devices (with vacuum tubes and basic transistors) can be swapped out. Imagine having to replace your entire head every time something screwed up, or having to get your repairs from a single company who makes the device. You think dealing with Apple support is bad, imagine if you HAD to go to them for healthcare!

Also, there's a cultural inertia. Crown's memory being bricked meant that his plan essentially halted and it's not like anyone had the will/ability to continue it.

are object heads considered a completely different technological process from the technology they resemble, or is this of a cultural anachronism [] is it a cultural thing?

That's complicated and to answer this question completely, I'd have to delve deeper into the rationale of the Dialup affecting non humans. The answer is it's a bit of both.

but the objects are still treated like part of the person?

They're considered part of the person, though with the acknowledgement that they can be swapped out and aren't a part of the person anymore if lost. Like teeth for us.

are object heads at all a genetic feature of the people of dialtown, or purely a technological thing, or both or neither?

Head choices are cultural, and the only genetic link to headtypes is based on how genetics influence cultural norms. EG: the tendency to give people phones or typewriters depending on the gender given at birth.

[secret-engima]

I have tea and a soap box let's spill something shall we (Wakfu Rant)

*sips tea*

I've been in this fandom for like. A month? more? Depends on how long it took me to work through the show. I've not actually interacted with the *fandom* at all, just the canon stuff and my own spiralling insanity. But while I'm here I might as well make enemies /s. Therefore:

Oropo is a much more compelling character deserving of redemption than Qilby. Qilby:

Had a loving literal goddess mom and a bunch of loving siblings.

A beautiful planet and thriving culture he could go anywhere and do anything on

The capability of going into space without any technological aids once he got bored of the Eliatrope world and started to suffer the effects of his eidietic memory thing. We know for a fact that Eliatropes and their dragon sibs literally don't need so much as a helmet to vibe in space, they could have gone out there any time, explored the cosmos a bit, found cool things as souvenirs and brought them back to show off to his siblings.

While this is very clumsily and blatantly retconned in s4, in s2 Qilby is very open and blatant about the fact he willingly picked a fight with Orgonax with the INTENTION of forcing his entire people to flee their world into space just so he would have more company than Shinonome. An entire world and no doubt thousands of Eliatropes and who knows what pieces of their history and culture were lost because this man, and I remind you again that s2 Qilby taunts Yugo with this fact no matter how s4 woobified him, wanted to FORCE his people to join him in space rather than just let manning the fuck up and going out there with his sister on a buddy roadtrip.

Seems very convinced that some or all of his specimens in his lab are the last of their kinds, which at best means he intentionally targeted dying species on alien worlds to capture and put into jars for literal eternity which is all kinds of animal cruelty (assuming some of them aren't sentient!!) and at worst means he is the reason they are the last of their kind because Qilby wanted his souvenir to be Unique.

when his people finally found a new world to settle on and be happy and try to reclaim their culture, he instigated a SECOND GENOCIDE, this one taking out not only their home world but literally every. living. adult Eliatrope (and dragon considering the propensity for dragons to have Eliatrope twins as stated in s1). Literally thousands if not millions of people are dead, thousands of children are orphaned and left trapped in a realm where they cannot *grow up*, the vast majority of his own siblings are dead and oh look at that. He's stuck in sensory deprivation hell. Man. If only there was some course of action he could have taken that would not have led to him fighting his own siblings, losing his arm, and getting stuck in the white void of horribleness. Man this truly is a tragedy of fate. Definitely no way he could have gone back into space without the Zinit. Definitely could not have just hopped on Shinonome's back with a packed lunch and gone out there on his own knowing he would have a loving family to come back to whenever he got lonely. Man.

upon breaking out of the White Void Of Horrible he is even more mentally unstable (and yes I know he's mentally ill during the above events, that does not excuse his actions when he is aware enough of them to gloat about them to yugo later) and immediately decides that he's going to kill this entire world in order to leave and he's going to take his siblings and the few surviving eliatrope kids with him by force.

has ANYONE other than me noticed the incredibly dark and horrific implications of him apparently planning to kill Phaerys and Yugo (and Adamai likely). Yugo says he couldn't go through with it and I'll believe that, but the fact he apparently consciously PLANNED it. Am I the only one who saw that scene and went "if he kills them, then they go back to the dofus and hatch without any memories, which means he will be able to RAISE AND GROOM THEM in the Zinit to believe that whatever Qilby says is right and do whatever he wants, like galavant in space for eternity".

S4 can retcon as much as it likes to make the Orgonax thing an accident and Qilby a mama's boy (which I freely admit was funny and I would have enjoyed in any other villain), but going off s2 and moving into s3 I REALLY cannot see why people like him more and hate Oropo.

And even if we DO count s4's retcon that made the first incident an accident the SECOND WAS STILL DAMN WELL INTENTIONAL. And Qilby is still responsible for the death of thousands twiceover on top of the death of an entire culture. All of Eliatrope history, culture, science, medicine, *music*, *STORIES*, it's all gone save for whatever the Emrub kids happen to remember (and the kids will not remember it accurately because they are children). All their architecture is destroyed, all their native cuisine is GONE and so are the ingredients to make them. All because Qilby wanted to force them into space WHEN THEY DID NOT WANT TO GO and HE COULD HAVE GONE ON HIS OWN AT ANY POINT WITH SHINONOME.

Speaking of Oropo! Let's look at what we know about him for comparison!

Was created by accident and is intimately aware of it.

was thrown back in time and lived most if not all of his life perpetually terrified of changing history or accidentally erasing himself and his siblings

Not only saw all of his siblings die off over the years but had their energy absorb into him in something that is no doubt extremely traumatizing to undergo. if any of you have watched the Oropo-centric ova, man for a mastermind manipulator he sure do look like he wanna cry and throw up and curl in a little ball when two of his siblings die in front of him and he is forced to assimilate their life energy.

"Supposedly" staged several key villain creation events which I personally press x to doubt because it's so clunky when mixed in with s1 and s2 lore BUT if we graciously assume that he did then gee. can't possibly be a factor of the third bullet point and his terror of erasing the timeline with his own existence can it? Can't possibly be Oropo falling into Every Heroic Time Travel Trope Ever where the hero ensures a certain event happens in order to maintain the timeline in key points hm? Even if it's a bad idea?

Has been successfully and lovingly married? partnered? mated? to a badass half-dragon wife for literal centuries and every time they are on screen together before the Dramatic Amalia Bullshit they are loving and balanced and give off so many Old Married Vibes and then THEY RESUME that dynamic for the few seconds on screen they have before they both die.

Adopts and raises hundreds of orphaned demigods who apparently were more than happy to live in the Tower and follow him throughout their lives, and in fact show no sign of abuse or manipulation in their behavior until the finale when Anakam decides it's time for everyone to think Oropo is horrible

is actively DYING when we meet him and not just dying but faced with the prospect that there is no happy ending for him. He will never see his loved ones in the afterlife, he will never know peace, he will be assimilated by his creator Yugo and at *best* be essentially digested into raw wakfu and at *worst* be a ghost stuck in the head of a man he has extremely complicated and negative feelings about for the above time travel and sibling trauma.

Adamai EXPLICITLY MENTIONS THAT OROPO IN S3 IS ACTING OUT OF CHARACTER when he goes into his more Blatant Villain Moments. Which sure, could be "the mask" falling to reveal someone "oooo evil" but isn't it far more likely he's acting out of character because he's dying and having a crisis about it.

canonically hates violence, but was so desperate to ensure his loved ones would have a better world he was willing to resort to turning himself into a suicide bomber to "create a better world". Was this a good idea? no. but ppl apparently love to point out how Qilby is mentally unstable to justify his behavior soooooo like. Why is that excuse not applicable to the guy who's literally spent his entire life being uncertain he's even real and has a right to exist but is real enough to DIE and never see the people he loves again and therefor go off the rails in his attempts to make something better for them?

in s4, the same season that makes Qilby sympathetic so if you count that as canon then by gods you better count the Oropo moments as canon, Oropo gives Yugo a reprieve from the literal life sucking torture he's in, helps him get a new outfit, and lets Bouillon play fight him (because again, Oropo hates Doing Violence) to keep him distracted and SANE while his body is being horribly tortured. In the end Yugo even confirms they are real and a part of him which is literally all Oropo wanted in his dying speech if you rewatch the finale and boil down his fury to its bullet points (he is a clone without a future and literally says stuff along the lines of just wanting to be REAL and wanting Yugo to ACKNOWLEDGE him).

For a supposed mastermind villain who wanted Yugo dead Yugo sure does seem Super Duper Alive in the months/two years/whatever timeline Ankama is using this hot second since he created the clones and was therefore *no longer necessary* for Oropo to keep alive.

At the end of the day Qilby actively chose HIMSELF over the wellbeing of others and got multiple siblings killed as well as two worlds and an entire civilization/culture wiped out. OROPO set himself on a path of similar destruction and then ACTIVELY TURNED BACK because he was faced with the choice of his ambitions or HIS LOVED ONES and he PRIORITIZED THEIR LIVES OVER HIS OWN AND HIS OWN GOALS where as Qilby not only did not do that, he didn't do it TWICE. TWICE. Oropo's death count is miniscule and he chose to sacrifice himself rather than lose the people he was doing this for and Echo knew he would make that choice, which means she also knew his love of them was genuine. You cannot compare that to Qilby and tell me Qilby is in any way better.

Okay rant over I'm going back to planning my wakfu canon rewrite and my various Echo/Oropo oneshots thank you and good day.

#Secret Engima Rambles #wakfu #Oropo #wakfu oropo #wakfu qilby #SE rants #if anyone comes in here talking about the manga or the games don't even bother #if its information that the writers of the show cannot be damned to put IN the show then it does not count for the purposes of this compari #also if you like qilby that's fine? #s4 qilby was entertaining #but Oropo is best boy and Imma kill canon on this hill #thanks #long post

[saintsenara]

I’m curious why you loathe the implication that wizards are immune to muggle diseases. Is it because it reinforces the idea that they aren’t really the same species as muggles?

thank you very much for the ask, @urupotter!

and the answer is - yes, pretty much.

how the body is understood, how illness and disability are thought about, how the medical system works etc. are all questions that i am primed to obsess over in any piece of media - even when they're not actually significant parts of the story.

which is to say, i completely understand the reason why the harry potter series treats these topics in the way it does. magical medicine isn't one of the themes the story is designed to focus on - which means that its purpose is as incidental worldbuilding detail which reinforces the whimsical vibe of the earlier books and the darker vibe of the later ones, and which means that its treatment in the text makes sense within the setting and genre conventions of canon. harry being able to take a bludger - a cast-iron cannonball moving at speed - to the head and living to tell the tale is the same as john wick being able to fall from a great height, land on his back, and then get up and walk around: he's an action hero in a fantasy.

and so wizards being more physically durable than muggles - and also wizards having their own magical diseases, and being immune to muggle ones - all makes sense within the context of the books as literature. kids don't want to read about harry having a cold. they want to read about him being a wizard.

but when i'm deciding to enjoy myself by taking the question of just how fucked-up wizarding society is much more seriously than canon does... the implication that wizards are immune to muggle diseases and that they are broadly unaffected by physical trauma unless that trauma has a magical cause really bothers me. entirely - as you say - because it directly undermines the series' thesis that the purity of magical blood is irrelevant and that the wizarding world's dehumanisation of muggles and muggleborns by treating them as, essentially, separate, lower species is wrong.

the main canon example of this which i detest is dumbledore's suggestion in half-blood prince that merope gaunt could have survived childbirth if she'd simply "raised her wand to save her own life". after all, if a little bit of magic makes one immune to experiencing complications during childbirth [unlike thousands upon thousands of muggles throughout history, who would probably have very much liked to have lived to see their children grow up]... then voldemort is completely justified in thinking merope's death was a selfish, shameful, deliberate choice.

[i do understand that the idea merope chose to die is primarily included in the text so dumbledore can segue into saying that lily "had a choice too", contributing to the gradual reveal in half-blood prince and deathly hallows that she's the key to the whole mystery. but i still think that jkr could maybe have though a little bit harder about what she was suggesting with this than she evidently did...]

and so i think in fandom it's both fun and important not to accept the idea that wizards are automatically resistant to anything which might kill, injure, or disable a muggle - especially because it lets us really play with some of the big worldbuilding questions surrounding the conventions and institutions of wizarding society.

what do disability rights look like in a world which is so rabidly intolerant of difference, and which appears not to have any sort of welfare state? the nhs is a recent invention, created in a muggle britain which is culturally and institutionally separate from the wizarding one: so is treatment at st mungo's free - and, if not, what happens to those who can't pay? how is queerness understood in a society which appears to have views on sexual expression which are fairly conservative - and how does this mean the wizarding state responded to the aids crisis? what do reproductive rights look like in this kind of society? if the dementor's kiss results in - essentially - a vegetative state, what is done with the people the kiss has been performed on? what might it be like for your relative to develop dementia at 100... when you know they might live to 250? what impact do biases about blood status have on how muggleborn patients are treated?

i just think it's interesting!

#asks answered #on medicine

[hockeyisforthegays]

you know that thing people make fun of in fandom where people create intensive backstories for bit characters as long as theyre male. well sometimes that is a subconscious (or not) aversion to female characters sure but sometimes its just a bit that goes too far. sometimes youre watching shibuya incident with friends and that old seance lady's grandson, you know, the one that gets toji'd, is there, and someone asks what his name is, and you just blurt out he strikes me as an Andrew. and your friend says but he's japanese. and you're me, so you double down and say sure but he might be an Andrew. prove me wrong.

so someone else looks him up and you find out he has no canonical name so you're like, see, he could be an Andrew. and your friend says but he's japanese. and someone says "maybe he just loves american culture. like a reverse weaboo." and someone says "so he just straight up changed his name? for that?" and you say "he's trans." and they say "oh he's trans. i shouldn't have doubted you."

and then later youre thinking about how it woulda been cool if gege had any interest in developing the idea of curse users beyond 'people who do crimes Just Because.' (which seems to be the main reason most of their antagonists do anything.) so you're thinking over everything we know about the world of curse users (very little) and then you think about andrew and how by all implications he was raised in curses and crime by his grandmother and how that could have been like a really cool thing to explore. so you think a little bit about what it would have been like to grow up in the world of Magic Crime. (as a trans man.) (who is a reverse weaboo.) and you're almost tempted to write that story.

and then you realize youre doing the thing. the thing people do to bit characters. so you decide you have to complete the cycle and ship andrew with the first available male character he has shared any single moment of screen time with. so he's shipped with ino, you guess. inodrew. and you're like you know what, you wouldn't be too surprised if someone has done this already, if there's at least 1 piece of cracky ship art or fanfic of inodrew, so you almost go to check if there's an inodrew tag

and then you remember that no one else knows his name is fucking Andrew.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Happy Holidaze║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| HAPPY HOLIDAZE | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor (Roxy)

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 9.7k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), struggles of body image and self-worth, diet culture, awkward conversations and situations with your parents, fluff with dash of smut at the end, two idiots in love who are disgusting sluts for each other

| SYNOPSIS: You and Joel finally meet each other's families.

✧this is the fifth installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 1 ║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

nail color? You text the question along with a picture of the wall of options in front of you. getting a pedi too so pick two The text bubble pops up then disappears for a moment before reappearing again.

You want it to match holiday stuff or whatever? I’m not an expert at this stuff. Don’t know if there’s unspoken rules or something.

You roll your eyes and smile down at your phone. Joel was older, old enough to not always get the social implications of certain situations, especially in the dating world - not that the two of you were officially dating or anything - situations, like asking a man to pick out what color you should get your nails done.

don’t need an expert

A playful grin warms your features as you type out a few extra snippets and hit send.

just need to know what color you wanna see on my nails 

you know, for when you’re watching me grab your dick and stroke it later

You bite back a smile, teeth tucked into your bottom lip, as you wait for a reply. As expected, the text bubble flashes and disappears on the screen repeatedly. You can vividly picture Joel texting you back in a frenzy over your flirty message. You relished in getting him worked up sometimes, knowing you could get him absolutely feral to the point that he’d just rip his clothes off the second he got through the door and fuck the living daylights out of you.

You stifle a laugh when his contact picture takes up the entire screen. Of course he’s given up on trying to text you back and is just calling you instead.

“Yyyeesssssss?” you draw out in an innocent voice.

“Goddamn you can’t just send me shit like that when I’m at work, baby.” His husky voice is clear even as it passes through the somewhat scratchy receiver.

“What’s the matter, Joel? Those big ass Wreck It Ralph hands of yours couldn’t type the words fast enough?” you tease. Joel’s deep laugh on the other end of the line makes your belly feel like a swarm of butterflies are about to burst through your throat.

“How the fuck did I end up with a brat like you, huh?” he chuckles.

You hum a laugh in reply and wait patiently for him to answer your original question.

“Alright, brat. Lemme think.” He makes small, thoughtful noises as you tilt your head and scan the wall. When he makes a low, throaty noise, you sniff a laugh through your nose.

“Okay, if you are actually picturing what the color will look like while I’m … doing that–” you pause, glancing around the nail salon as if an eavesdropper would somehow immediately know what sort of filth you were exchanging “–you’re gonna get sent to HR when somebody sees you all bricked up at work.”

Joel laughs again. He’d laughed every time you said “bricked up” since you taught him the expression several months ago.

“Alright, alright. Red. I want ‘em to be red,” he decides.

“Okay. And my toes?”

He makes a weird noise on the other end, and you roll your eyes. You know exactly what he’s thinking about.

“No, you will NOT have to picture what color my toes would look like wrapped around your–” you cut yourself off when you catch a curious, disapproving look from an older woman in a chair nearby getting a manicure. Joel busts out in a belly laugh, understanding that you were probably talking too loud and got a look from somebody.

“Hm, I dunno, baby. Never been into that, but who knows. Might be my new thing if you’re the one doin’ it. I like everythin’ you do,” he murmurs. It sounds like he’s cupped his hands against his mouth and the microphone so he could talk without getting noticed like you had. 

“Joel,” you warn with no real weight behind it.

“And besides, even if it ain’t a footjob situation, you know I like gettin’ those things up on my shoulders when I’m fuckin’ you senseless.” His voice is quieter now, but it’s less to do with volume and more to do with the raspy, lewd bend to his words.

“I just know I’m going to regret teaching you this, but there’s actually a name for that,” you say low, cupping your own hand into the receiver now so you could speak without catching another disapproving glance.

“Oh?” He sounds excited, as he always does whenever you introduce him to these kinds of things. Slang. How to hide photos from his main camera roll. How to work the remote on the TV. Turns out dating someone younger had its benefits - not that the two of you were dating or anything.

“Mmmhmmm. It’s kinda like the one I told you before. The ‘your hands would make a nice necklace’ thing. So yeah, you’d say ‘I wanna wear your ankles for earrings’ or, like, ‘I’m gonna make your ankles my earrings.’”

“Damn, maybe your generation ain’t so bad after all,” he chuckles. “Certainly come up with some handy terms, I’ll give ya that much.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you giggle. “Like you’re that much older than me. Give me a break.”

He chuckles. You hear some yelling in the background on his end and then his muffled response to whoever it was that he’d “be right there.”

“Alright, honey. I gotta go. Lemme see. Alright. Toes. Hhhmm. How ‘bout blue? Like those one pair of panties I like’a yours,” he decides.

You smile. You know exactly the pair he’s talking about.

“Mmm’kay. Only ‘cuz I like you so much,” you hum.

“Yeah, you sure do like me ‘n these Wreck It Ralph hands. Don’t mind ‘em when they’re fingerin’ your–”

“Hanging up now,” you snip playfully.

“Don’t wanna hear you complainin’ when I yell ‘I’M GONNA WRECK IT’ when I’m balls deep in you tonight,” he hurries out before you can end the call.

“GOODBYE, JOEL. And you better not!” you snicker. “Talk about a turn off. I’d cut you off for a month.”

“Bullshit. You couldn’t go a month without me. Without my–” he laughs, not getting to finish before you cut him off.

“GOOD. BYE.” you huff in a giggle.

“Bye, baby. See you tonight,” he laughs easy before making some exaggerated kissy noises and hanging up.

You shake your head, trying to keep from erupting in laughter. This man was an absolute mess and full on dork, and you loved every second of it. You nab a seasonal red and a panty blue and wait to be called. You dutifully ignore the eavesdropper from before as she glances your way a few times. It wasn’t very hard to divert your attention with all the giddy, bubbly feelings surging through you. Joel made an outstanding distraction in plenty of ways, and you find yourself smiling like a love-struck puppy most of the time because of him. He really felt like the best thing that had ever happened to you.

He was wrong when he’d said “you couldn’t go a month without me” during your call. The truth was, you couldn’t go without him, period. He had become so naturally ingrained into your life that it felt strange to think of what it had been like without him. It just felt right that you existed in tandem. It was hard to separate how you felt and what you “knew.”

You knew you were in a casual “situationship” that neither one of you sought to define in any certain terms. You felt as though spending practically every night together, going on a weekend getaway together, and neither one of you pursuing anything outside of each other was decidedly more in the “serious, committed relationship” category.

You knew that it was a “textbook mistake” to jump from an almost decade-long failed relationship into a new, serious one. It wasn’t in line with what you were “supposed to do” after such a big change, which conventionally involved something along the lines of “playing the field for a while” and “just having some fun” while getting back out there. But your heart had decided that you were going to abandon all sense and become involved with the first guy you had a meaningful interaction with post-breakup.

So, here you are, just several months out of a heartbreaking split from somebody you were supposed to marry, and completely head over heels with someone new who felt too good to be true. You can’t think of a time in your life that you’ve been happier, so why did it feel so petrifying to just lean into the obvious? Why couldn’t you just yield to the undeniable, consuming magnetic connection between you and Joel?

He so often seemed to hold back for your sake, never wanting to push you past your comfort zone or ask too much of you too fast. Biting his tongue at times that you could’ve sworn he’d nearly slipped and said the “big L” to you and caught himself at the last moment. Just a miracle of a man who was patiently waiting you out, waiting for you to give in to it all and accept what was clearly happening. Admitting that, as crazy as it seemed and felt, the two of you were in love, and one of you needed to make the first move towards the next step. The definitive kind of step that makes this “casual fling” into a real relationship.

Something or someone was bound to give, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready for what that brings.

Your parents had booked the cruise long before your engagement was broken off. It was a dream of theirs to go on the two week long journey, spanning several continents and all of the major winter holidays you celebrated. Naturally you’d insisted that they don’t cancel on account of your bad bit of luck. At least somebody’s year was going like they thought it would, and it felt wrong to ask them to cancel the vacation they’d been talking about since forever.

That, and the fact that you were relieved to have a valid reason for attending Thanksgiving with your parents instead of going with Joel for a quick trip to see Sarah during her college break. Even though he’d asked in an offhand way if you’d want to go with him and meet her, you could tell he’d very much wanted you to say yes. Of course you wanted to meet her and share in Joel’s life that way, but it was a major shift into the “real, defined relationship” category – the kind where you had a title attached to your name when you were introduced to their family. 

It’s how you found yourself currently sat in your parents’ kitchen, poking around on the appetizer tray, while your mom busied herself with the normal fare in addition to “lower calorie alternatives” you were no doubt expected to choose if the quantities of each offering was anything to go by. You watch your mom slice impossibly thin pieces of cheese for the crackers and wonder if you should’ve just sucked it up and gone with Joel. Then again, you’d have to offer some sort of reason for missing out on a major holiday with your family. It was a catch 22.

“Roxy, don’t eat so many appetizers. I know it’s a holiday and all, but don’t go overboard,” your mom offers with genuine kindness that stings just as bad as if she’d meant to hurt you. You set the cheese slice and cracker combo back onto your plate. You knew you were stress eating from all the nerves about the possibility of the “how’s your love life”  conversation, but you surprised yourself by only realizing you were taking so many bites after your mom pointed it out.

You’d stopped being so vigilant with every morsel of food that passed through your mouth. You ate most of your meals with Joel, and you weren’t self-conscious about eating around him or in front of him like you always were with most people. It was a hard habit to break, to not be so focused on pacing yourself, matching your rate of intake with others so you didn’t look like a pig chowing down and wiping your plate clean before everyone else had finished.

Joel was a good cook, and he often brought you bites to test or little plates of this and that to tide you over before the whole meal was done. You weren’t even embarrassed when he’d feed you pieces of popcorn while you watched movies together, snuggled up together on the couch. He’d chomp a few pieces down himself and then pop a few kernels into your mouth, always attentive. Just like he was with everything when it came to you.

But here in your childhood home, listening to your mom’s offhand comments about your intake, it brought you right back into all those years of shame and guilt. You knew she meant well. She always had. Never wanting you to struggle the same way she did, years and years of diets and exercise regimens and restriction. She’d dropped a lot of weight since taking up Weight Watchers, and you were happy for her. She was always nicer and more relaxed when she’d hit those lower ends of the yo-yoing. All the more uptight and anxious the moment her weight crept back up again.

Your dad didn’t seem to care either way what she looked like, but it was a bit of accidental negative reinforcement that he liked interacting with her a whole lot more when she was nicer to him and everybody else. It just so happened that was only when her jeans didn’t fit so tight and the numbers weren’t too frightening on the scale. She’d no doubt come to internalize the dynamic and equate her lower weight with better interactions and a more fulfilling relationship with your dad, never even realizing it was the way she interacted with him and others that brought about those pleasant times and not what size she had to pull from the rack.

“Awfully quiet, Rox,” your dad notes.

You look over to find him studying you with those astute eyes. He was never much of a talker, but god could he communicate so much with a look or a gesture. Your mother on the other hand–

“Yeah, hon. Please don’t spend the day thinking about that awful, awful man.” You suppose your unusual quiet could most readily be explained by all the feelings that might come about spending your first major holiday out of a relationship for the first time in almost ten years. You aren’t sure which is worse: that hypothetical explaining your silence, or the truth, which was an over the moon sort of romance that you couldn’t talk about yet.

“I’m not thinking about Michael,” you mumble petulantly. You didn’t want to give him any sort of win, even if he wasn’t around to know about it.

“Y’seem distracted,” your dad says plainly.

He’s watching you with those eyes that say he already knows something is up, but he doesn’t know enough to speak on it yet. Your gut pinches. It won’t take him long to figure it out. It never does if he’s got his mind set to something. It was a trait you’d always admired and envied. You shrug off his observation, but your mom isn’t so quick to let it go.

“You’ll get to a place where you can put yourself back out there, hon. I just know it. You’re a resilient girl, and you’re not going to let that loser change that,” she sniffs with an air of indignation. It’s hard to imagine this was the same woman who this time last year had been so effusive with compliments and general praise to the same man she was now deeming a loser. Still, the sentiment that he had kneecapped your entire romantic life annoyed you more than it should’ve.

“Who says I’m not ‘back out there’ already?” you grumble to the half empty tray of appetizers.

Your mom jolts like she’d been doused in ice water. Your eyes flit to your dad who gives you a knowing grin. Even though you hadn’t even actually said anything, it felt good to talk about Joel, to acknowledge his existence at least. You feel a sudden urge to just tell your parents everything about Joel. You chug the rest of your red wine to reign yourself in and wait for the onslaught from your mother.

“You’re seeing someone?” she breathes, excitement boiling over.

“Well, I mean… I guess I’ve been, you know, like, talking with somebody,” you say as casually as you can manage.

“Oh? REALLY? Oh! That’s-That’s wonderful, Roxanne!” your mom exclaims, rising to the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together quietly. “How long have you been seeing each other? Why haven’t we met him yet?”

“Take it easy, will ya, Melissa? She didn’t say it was anything serious,” your dad mutters. 

For all his faults, your dad at least grasped the concept that the dating world had changed significantly since he and your mom got together, and it was no longer the kind of landscape where you were “going steady” with the same person after two successful dates. Your mom, on the other hand, struggled with the concept of casual anything when it came to relationships.  A romantic at heart, she was always the type to believe in the sorts of things like twin flames, finding your soulmate in every universe, and so on.

You snort to yourself, considering how you were a perfect blend of the two. The logical, practical side of you knowing that you and Joel hadn’t defined your relationship with any specific terms, but you were mutually exclusive. A noncommittal sort of committal. The bleeding heart side of you knowing good and well that you were in love with him. It was the stuff of romcoms, the type that you’d make Joel watch with you on the weekends when it was your turn to pick the movie. The kind that he pretended to be annoyed by but never truly complained about and never made you feel like a mawkish idiot when you’d cry at the sappy payoff in the overwrought finale.

“Oh, shut up, Robert,” your mom snips. “I just meant I wanted to know more about him. Don’t act like you don’t, either.” She did her best to be annoyed with your dad, but she broke almost immediately when he smirked at her and poked her sides teasingly.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t. Just wasn’t gonna push her, dearest,” he mocks half-heartedly. He swigs a sip of beer and turns back to you.

“Of course we’d love to hear about him, Rox. Wanna know who’s got my little girl’s attention, ya know?” He smiles, mood and tongue steadily loosened by the beer in his hand. Your mom makes a low sneering sound. When you and your dad both look at her curiously, she sighs and shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s just- Yes, of course we want to hear all about him, serious or not. I want to know who’s got your attention, too, but I-I just…” she trails off, suddenly seeming uncomfortable as she and your dad exchange a loaded look.

“What? What is it?” you demand.

“I think what your mom is tryna say, Rox, is that we want to know more about him for the sake of knowing about him, but also because we’re both… we both hope whoever it is treats you better than.. what you dealt with before,” he finishes clumsily.

Your dad wasn’t the talkative type, but he was always better at expressing himself when he did decide to speak. Choosing his words more carefully than your mother ever did and communicating clearly despite not offering up much conversation very often. It felt odd to hear him stumble over his words, but it went hand in hand with their shared look moments ago.

They’d obviously talked amongst themselves about your complete failure of a relationship with Michael. It had been humiliating to tell them the truth of the situation, why you couldn’t “work it out” and why you had to move back home, but they were ultimately supportive.

It felt all the more humiliating on your end because your parents had been madly in love and happily married for decades. It was the kind of relationship you didn’t hear about much anymore, the childhood sweethearts who were destined to fall in love and be together forever. You’d thought that you were going to have the same thing, just a little rougher around the edges. Instead you’d ended up with a mockery of a relationship that you’d wasted years of your life on and would never get back.

“Maybe somebody closer to your age would be better, too,” your mom’s third glass of wine said. 

Your dad didn’t say anything, but his face spoke all the agreement in the world with the sentiment. Your stomach flipped. Great. Of course they were going to write off anyone with more than 5 years of seniority on you after Michael had so dutifully upheld the classic trope of “older man divorces his wife for his younger girlfriend and then repeats the cycle when she ages out of his desired demographic.” Yet another aspect of your life that he ruined despite not having spoken to him since before you left Colorado and came home.

“Maybe you should meet him before deciding you don’t like him,” you gripe defensively. The urge to defend Joel was strong, but you regretted your words the moment they left your lips.

“What a lovely idea!” your mom practically sings. Your dad’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise at your quick to defend attitude for this “casual relationship.” Right off the bat and you’d shown your hand. You wonder if your dad will clue your mom in that you obviously had strong feelings for this mystery man. You pour another glass of wine and resign yourself to divulging the bare minimum of information about Joel to your parents.

You don’t give a specific on age – “he’s older than me” – or when you met – “he lives next door.” Your mom was biting back annoyed sighs at how you danced around questions. You’d finally had enough to drink that you promised to talk with Joel about the four of you meeting up for dinner sometime in December before your parents left on their cruise. You hope that Joel will help you concoct some sort of excuse for not scheduling such a dinner, but your instinct tells you that he would probably be even more excited about it than your mother, if that was even possible.

“Joel, I don’t think this is structurally sound,” you half-joke.

The gingerbread structure, which was really just a bunch of graham crackers stuck together with store bought icing, was definitely leaning towards the left, but there wasn’t any discernible freefall motion to it. Just a slow, sinking slant towards the dining room table surface.

“Just leave it to the professionals, huh?” he snips back playfully.

“I knew I should’ve gotten a second opinion,” you theatrically mutter under your breath.

Joel pops a marshmallow into his mouth and chews loudly just because he knows how much it annoys you. “You got the best right here, baby.” He smacks his mouth in big gnawing motions. “Can’t get any better than this.”

His goofy grin is endearing, and you focus on that instead of the voice in your head readily agreeing that, yeah, you couldn’t do better than Joel and you might not even be good enough for him in the first place. 

“You up for a lil friendly competition?” he suggests. 

You shake off your negative thoughts with a loose shrug and smirk back at him. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Whoever makes the best gingerbread house person wins,” Joel proposes in a borderline smug tone . You’re about to agree when he holds a single finger up. “But wait just a minute, let’s make it interesting. You make me, and I’ll make you.”

Your mind is already going into overdrive producing hilarious confectionary Joels, and you don’t even waste any time offering up a verbal agreement to the challenge before diving right in. It’s only a minute or two later that cereal boxes have been erected between the two of you as “anti-cheating shields.” Sprinkles and icing cover the surface of the table everywhere you look. You’d both worked in near silence as you diligently crafted holiday candied versions of each other. 

You give your creation a once over and beam at your work: rice krispy treats mashed together with extra marshmallows for a broad, strong body, brown and black sprinkles mashed into the “face” to make a patchy beard, little red licorice pieces for the mouth, a chocolate candy smeared with marshmallows for his “salt and pepper locks,” and two mismatched sprinkles for eyes.

You start to peek around the boxes, but Joel is quick to block your line of sight. “Hey, no looking until it’s done!” You put your hands up in mock surrender and giggle uncontrollably at how serious he’s taking the task. He grins big and wide before nipping at your bottom lip, cheek, and earlobe in quick succession. “Absolute brat,” he breathes out a laugh. His eyes slide to your making of him, and his smile goes even wider.

You pick it up gently and present it to him. “Ta-da!”

He wheezes in laughter as he produces his version of you, and you’re quick to join him when you see it. Two jumbo marshmallows shoved together, some sort of pink taffy crammed into it near the bottom to represent what you can only assume is your vagina, two smaller but still sizable marshmallows attached by toothpicks for breasts – pointed ends of the toothpick still visible, of course, for your nipples – and random bits of icing and sprinkles mishmashed into a face.

“Oh wait wait wait,” you giggle like a maniac. You shove three mini marshmallows onto a toothpick to give your candy Joel a penis. He arranges the two of you against the lopsided graham cracker house, marshmallow penis situated crudely into your pink taffy vagina, and you both take in the completed scene.

“Never seen a better lookin’ gingerbread family,” he chuckles.

You nod, enthusiastic with agreement at the deformed but lovable pairing. You want to shove down the urge to mention the impending dinner with your parents, but you can’t quite manage.

“Speaking of family,” you awkwardly lay out, “you sure you’re still up for meeting the folks?”

Joel only looks a touch more serious when he answers. “Wanna meet the people responsible for creating such a beautiful thing like you.”

“Can’t promise they won’t make you pay for all of Michael’s sins,” you mutter.

He just smirks back in response. “If they didn’t give the next guy shit after that colossal failure of a man you were with, I’d wonder if they actually gave a shit at all.”

As usual, Joel brings everything into focus and props the situation up on a patient, flexible perspective for everyone involved. If he was in charge of the narrative, maybe the dinner wouldn’t be that bad afterall.

The pretty green satin dress you’d finally worked up the courage to buy and wear suddenly felt three sizes too small and ten times too revealing to wear for dinner with your parents. You smooth over the already smoothed fabric, hands gliding freely over the swell of your hips and belly where the light catches, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Joel groans from the doorway.

You twist around awkwardly to find him staring at you. His eyes roam back up to your face, and he shakes his head with a small, incredulous laugh. His grin etches out little grooves of joy around his eyes. “You look incredible.”

And it’s as simple as that. Joel looking at you how he does and saying the things he does, dispelling those nagging, intrusive thoughts in a moment’s passing. You turn to face him directly and do a bit of admiring yourself. Crisp, neat gray slacks paired with a nice button up shirt, hair lightly gelled back, scruff a little less scruffy. Joel looks devastatingly handsome, and you tell him so.

It’s an easy atmosphere for most of the car ride to the restaurant. It’s the kind of familiarity and comfort that comes so easy that it ends up being difficult to explain to people. A sort of if you know, you know energy, and the closer you got to the restaurant, the more you were scared your parents weren’t going to “get it” at all. The nerves crept up and tightened like a vice squeezing around your chest. Your dress feels too snug and inappropriate again all the sudden.

“Hey.” Joel’s voice plucks you from your mini spiral. He’s glancing at you while he waits for the light to change, but you hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped at all. “It’ll be good. It’s gonna be a nice dinner, okay?”

You shake your head. “No, I know. I know it’ll be alright. I’m just–I don’t know why, but I guess I’m just nervous.” You give an apologetic shrug as if you might offend Joel for feeling anything less than ecstatic for him to meet your parents.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about. If you get too nervous at dinner, I can handle it. I know how to steer a conversation, baby,” he assures you.

“But it’s not fair to ask you to take charge of the conversation just because I’m being overly anxious,” you grumble. “Especially since they’re my parents. I should be the one fielding questions and directing the conversation to pleasant chitchat.”

“Well, I guess that’s just one of the many things that makes me such a catch,” he teases with a wink.

You can’t help but smile a little at his attempts to keep you level headed. “Can’t argue with that.”

You focus on the lazy circles his wide hands draw on your thigh for the rest of the drive. You keep a flow of steady breaths as you pull into the lot and tell Joel not to worry about paying for valet. He grins knowingly at you. It was always a good sign if you were focused on economics and prudent money practices. His arm wraps across your back like a stabilizing bracket. The hostess informs you that the rest of your party has already arrived and is awaiting your company. Your heart jumps into your throat when you spot your parents seated in the middle of the restaurant.

It’s a bit of a blur as Joel introduces himself, offering a firm handshake to your dad and a friendly kiss on the cheek for your mother. He’s not even batting an eye as he prompts you to take a seat in the chair he’s pulled out for you. You plop awkwardly into your seat and feel like a deer in headlights. You realize now you probably should’ve prepped more for potential conversations and what sort of cohesive statements you and Joel would make in return. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, and your mother has to ask her question again when you realize you’ve missed it.

“I said, are you feeling okay? You’re just staring off,” she repeats with an edge of worry.

You snap into “fake it until you make it” mode and laugh it off. “Yeah, sorry, mom. Just realized it’s been a while since I ate something. Guess I’m a little hungry.”

It was the first thing that came to mind for a flimsy but passable excuse, and you want to launch yourself into the sun for immediately inviting the topic of food and appetite to the table. Even your dad pauses for a split second to squint at you as if he’d misheard. Your mom doesn’t take note of it, too delighted by your choice of topic. 

“OOooohhhh, is it intermittent fasting? I’ve heard a lot about that. How long have you been doing that? I’m so proud of you!”

The unspoken “I’m so happy that you’re finally trying to lose weight again” hangs in the air and makes your cheeks start to burn. You’d rather shrivel into a ball of mush and seep through the cracks in the floor than have Joel bear witness to one of you and your mother’s back-and-forths over eating and body weight.

Joel barely finishes his sip of water before wading into the disaster of a conversation you’ve started. “Intermittent fasting? Ain’t that what you do before a doctor’s appointment?” You appreciate his willingness to throw himself into whatever awkward bullshit you’ve managed to whip up in such a short amount of time, but he’s truly not well-versed enough in your mother’s history of food and diet culture to really understand just what he’s getting into.

“Oh, I guess, but this is a real winner from what I’ve heard. One of my girlfriends just switched to it from keto, but she’s still quite plump, you know? It’s supposed to do wonders for cutting back on calories and weight loss, ” she reports with glittery, tired eyes that shift to you for a split second at the word plump.

“What? Like a diet or somethin’? You tellin’ me people just cut out whole chunks of time and won’t let themselves eat?” Joel’s misgivings with the entire concept is obvious. Your mother of course further ensnares her victim into the conversation, knowledgeable or not of the verbal intricacies and diatribe lures that await them. “It restarts your metabolism,” she explains excitedly to a further perplexed Joel.

At least she was trying to salvage the discussion and didn’t seem put off by Joel’s less than stellar reception to her passionate opinions.

“Sounds a little strange to me, but I guess to each their own,” he offers, noncommittal and not entirely convincing.

Your mom deflates a bit but takes it in stride. It was more than what she normally got in those types of conversations. You thank the high heavens when the waiter comes to start your orders. You fumble with the menu and mentally thank Joel when he casually suggests something for you, exactly what you would pick for yourself had your brain not been in panic mode. Everyone is focused on their menus for a short time, muttering here and there about which special looks good and what the house favorites are. You spend the entire time dreading the thought of your mother talking about your weight, dieting, and body in front of Joel and haven’t picked a dish by the time the waiter returns. All your brain can do is hammer thoughts of the night ending badly one way or another.

Before Joel can step in and just order for you, your mother supplies you with her ever helpful suggestions. “You know, there’s a lot of really delicious looking salads. And it’s easy to get the dressing on the side to save yourself some Points.”

“Salad? Points?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I guess intermittent fasting wouldn’t be Points,” she laughs at herself like she’d just made a funny joke. “Weight Watchers does Points. You know, tracking your calories through Points. Makes it so easy, especially during these cooler months when everybody just starts letting themselves go and eat anything they see!” She’s nodding with an enthusiasm that no one else at the table shares.

Joel glances at you with a look of why the fuck would anybody waste a nice meal out being worried about calories? but he doesn’t say that – thank god. You order a pathetic sounding salad just to move things along, and you ignore Joel’s bewildered expression over your dinner choice. Your mother makes a face – over what you can only assume is the fact that you didn’t order your dressing on the side – before she orders a smaller, even more pathetic sounding salad and a bowl of glorified bone broth. It’s steaks and seafood for the men at the table, and then you’re left with the expanse of time between ordering and the food arriving.

“So, Joel,” your mother starts up again. “You’re quite the mystery man! It was a pleasant surprise when we found out our little Roxy had made a nice friend.”

Joel’s face radiates warmth and pride at the mere allusion of being yours, being your mystery man - a “nice friend.” He gives a breezy explanation of how it’s been nice for him to have such an intelligent, funny companion that’s just a stone’s throw away from his own house. Things get a little rocky when he mentions his house being more quiet since his daughter went away to college. Your dad all but freezes on the spot and pins you with a look that you can’t place.

By some divine nature, your mom doesn’t say anything and opts to just blink repeatedly at Joel with a blank stare. Sensing he might’ve opened a can of worms with the innocent comment, Joel looks to you with uncertainty for the first time this evening. Something in his search for the right thing to do at this moment gives you the drive to speak up.

“Yeah, it’s been nice for me, too, honestly. It’s the first time I’ve lived alone in a really long time, you know? And I think I would’ve been doing a hell of a lot worse if I hadn’t met Joel,” you attest.

He gives you one of his shy, goofy grins, and part of you wonders why you would ever feel nervous when you’ve got someone like him by your side.

“Well, it certainly sounds… convenient,” your mother notes with a questionably loaded emphasis on the word convenient.

Ah, yes, there’s the other part of you screaming and hopping up and down that says THIS is precisely why you would feel nervous, even with Joel by your side.

“Maybe it was destiny. Aren’t you always going on and on about that sort of thing, mom?” you shoot back with a glare. Heat prickles on your neck at the insinuation that you and Joel enjoy each other’s company simply because it’s easy and right in front of you. Your mom huffs a little at your pointed tone, but you don’t back down. 

“I never said it was a bad thing. I just think it’s certainly an element that’s made things more… speedy. But that’s neither here nor there, I guess.”

“Oh so now it’s not just because it’s easy but it’s rushed, too?” you scoff.

“That’s not what she’s sayin–”

You cut your dad off before he can jump in to defend your mom’s rude comments. “Sounds pretty clear what she’s saying, dad.” When you catch a “just so fast” and a “the whole Mike situation” muttered under her breath towards your dad, you feel on the verge of screaming. A large, firm grip on your thigh snaps your attention to Joel who levels you with a look – no, a silent request to let him take this on for you, to make good on what he’d promised in the car: ain’t nothin’ to be worried about,  I can handle it, I know how to steer a conversation.

“Hey,” he bids to you, tender but firm. “Let them say their piece. This is all new to them, alright? They’re just wantin’ to protect you is all.”

“I’m not going to let them disrespect us– you,” you grit out.

“I can handle myself, sweet girl,” he reassures you with a lopsided grin. He motions for a waiter and orders a bottle of white for the table. The brief pause has deescalated some of the tension, but you’ve yet to look at your mom for fear that you’ll want to snap all over again. Joel turns his full attention to your parents.

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything bad from what I was saying, it’s just—” Your mom is rushing to appeal to his understanding, easygoing nature, and you think to yourself she doesn’t much deserve it right now.

Joel waves a dismissive hand - water under the bridge. “Pardon me for the interruption, but you don’t need to explain yourself to me. If somebody did to my daughter what that prick did to yours, I’d probably be behind bars,” he says plainly. You swear your dad smiles for the briefest moment at that. “So I don’t take any issue with y’all wantin’ to keep her from gettin’ hurt again.”

Your mom frowns and drops her gaze. A spark of guilt nips at your gut. Maybe you weren’t being fair. Maybe you were just so keyed up from the start that any little thing was bound to set you off. When the waiter appears with the wine, you happily gulp down the entire pour. Your mom sips at hers and avoids your eye.

“Here’s to new beginnings, yeah?” Joel offers with a lift of his glass. You clink your empty cup with the rest of the table in a muted cheers. “And to the love and happiness that we all deserve,” your dad adds with a soft look in your direction. The conversation shifts to meaningless chit chat, anything safe and tame to avoid another labile interaction.

You’re happy when dinner arrives just to have something else to focus on. Without a word, Joel takes your salad and scrapes half of it onto his plate before doling out a large portion of the steak he’d ordered. He nestles the bowl back in front of you and bites back a devilish smile.

Your dad is definitely sporting a tiny grin now, no mistaking that. Your mom of course looks puzzled but thinks better of commenting. When the table is quiet long enough for it to start being awkward, your dad steps up to the plate. “Pretty dress, hon. Don’t think I’ve seen you in it before. Don’t tell me you went and bought some new digs on account of this little dinner,” he teases.

You smile softly at the compliment and taunting. “Glad you’re sitting down already because I actually did buy this not too long ago. Realized I didn’t really have any going out clothes I actually liked.” You relax into the ambiance a little and cut through Joel’s – your – steak. 

“You got my daughter out here acting strange, Joel,” your dad jokes. “Can hardly convince this one to spend a dime on anything, let alone herself. Good man.”

Joel chuckles goodnaturedly. “She’s been a good influence on me. Taught me a thing or two about finances I’m ashamed to say I prolly shoulda known at this point in my life, but better late than never I guess.” He gives you a playful nudge, and you feel like melting into a happy puddle. This is really happening. You and Joel, out and about as a legitimate, bonafide pairing, having dinner with the parents. It might be the entire glass of wine you downed on an empty stomach, but you’re pretty sure Joel is what’s got you feeling so intoxicated and fuzzy brained.

“Can’t work a lawn mower worth a damn, though,” he taunts. You groan and hide your face under your palm. Your mother zeroes in immediately on the inside joke and manages to convince Joel to tell the story. He sugarcoats none of the language or tantrum involved, and your parents both crack up at the telling. “Wish I could’ve snapped a picture of her face when she came back out to see me pushin’ that thing around without a problem.”

You’re a good sport, knowing Joel somehow finds all those less than flattering aspects of your personality more endearing than damning. He seems happy just to be talking about you so freely with others who know you and know how you can get. Joel can’t help ribbing your dad about the time you called a screwdriver a “screw gun,” and you can only laugh and shrug innocently when he claims they’re gonna “take his man card” for having his daughter out here misnaming basic tools.

You’re struck by how comfortable and confident Joel seems, how effortlessly he commands the attention of the table with his amusing storytelling and magnetic charm. Your parents are both genuinely smiling and engaged with him, and your eyes start to prick with the realization that this might actually end up okay. You and Joel stepping into this serious, committed territory might be nothing more than a no brainer, a path set in motion and followed with ease because it was just waiting for you to take the step forward and begin traveling.

You feel floaty by the time Joel excuses himself to the restroom. He plants a small peck on your temple before walking towards the back of the restaurant. You know you should gauge your parents’ impression of him before letting yourself just sit there in an unmistakable, lovestruck haze, but you can’t quite find the will or the concern to do anything else but bask in it. Joel just makes it around the corner and out of sight when your dad turns to you with a shrewd stare.

“He makes you happy. Doesn’t he?” he posits.

You blink back tears and nod with a watery smile. Your dad clucks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and nods back. “You know, your mom earlier… I think she was trying to broach a subject that we– to keep from making the same mistake twice. Her and me both—” you gently shake your head, not following the train of thought “—We had our reservations about Mike, and we didn’t say anything at the time. We didn’t want to rain on your parade, you know? But, we should’ve– we both should’ve shared our concerns we had about him from the start. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but we regret it, hon. We really, really do. Feel like we let you down. Like we failed at being your parents.”

The blissful tears inching towards the front of your eyes were blurring into those of rueful retrospection. Of course it made sense that they hadn’t been crazy about the freshly separated, not entirely divorced, and notably older coworker you’d found your heart embedded in. He’d lived an entire life before you’d come around, and then he’d thrown all of your pivotal young adult years down the drain like you were nothing.

“Joel’s nothing like him,” you blurt out.

“And we can see that, hon, we really can,” your mom adds quickly. Her eyes are glossy and entreating, and you sniff back the impending outpour hot along your lashline. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt you, too. And we just have to be honest with you this time around, okay? If we see something, we’re just gonna have to speak on it, and I’m sorry if that’s upsetting to you.”

“We aren’t looking to make Joel pay for anybody’s sins. We just– We owe it to you to do it right this time around, Rox. Can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror if you got hurt again because we didn’t say something when we should’ve.” Your mother’s hand stays cupped in his when he reaches across the table to hold onto yours.

“It’s not your fault,” you sniff. “The only person who should be feeling bad right now is that scumbag back in Colorado. I deserve better than him, and I’m not going to let him hold me back from finding that person.”

“Of course not, of course not,” your dad agrees. “We just felt it was only fair that we be upfront with you about where we’re coming from this time around. Thankfully Joel seems like a great guy, so there’s no need to get the pitchforks out just yet.”

You snort and roll your eyes at the much welcomed turn to levity in the conversation. “Yeah, well, he’s a really good guy, and I know the more you get to know him the more you’re gonna love him.”

“Like you do?” your mom presses.

“Like I do what?”

“We’ll love him, like you love him?” she probes.

“I-I… um… I need to use the bathroom,” you announce as you stand and skitter the direction Joel headed what seems like 400 years ago. Without a second glance, you round the same corner he’d taken and make a beeline for the women’s restrooms. You’re not even cognizant enough to be startled when Joel pulls you into him.

“Where you runnin’ off to?” His smile falters when he sees the barely contained tears, and then his hands are cupping your face until you tell him what happened. You give him the quickest recap possible - dutifully excluding the part where you’d run off before having to answer your mom’s question about whether or not you were in love with Joel - and promise it’s nothing major. After the fourth time of asking if you were sure you were okay, you turn the questioning onto his whereabouts during the whole thing. You’re prepared to be annoyed with his answer, but the wind goes right out of your sails when he reveals he had given his card to the waiter to handle the bill and placed a to-go order for some dessert “in case you weren’t full from the half steak half salad.”

You don’t even allow yourself to sit with the genuine kindness and thoughtfulness oozing from Joel right now. You’re about two seconds from an emotional whiplash cry session, and you want to finish the night on a good note. Joel kisses you lightly across the forehead while he brings you into his embrace, and you take the opportunity to talk low and private.

“When we get home, I want you to turn my cervix into a dick punching bag,” you rasp. You meant for it to come out more joking than it did, but your abrupt detour into sexual frustration turned that intention right on its head.

Joel groans and sneaks a handful of your ass into the hand closest to the wall and out of sight of passerby. “Fuckin’ nasty. Baby needs some stress relief and it gets her talkin’ real filthy, huh?”

You look up to him with wide doe eyes and nod urgently. He sucks in a breath and looks to the ceiling like he’s collecting himself. He adjusts the crotch of his pants and crowds you against the wall. His breath is hot against your cheek when he murmurs, “Don’t wanna hear it later when I’ve got you pinned down with nowhere to go but to just take it, you understand?”

You gulp back a moan and bob your head yes. “S’good. S’real good because I ain’t gonna let up until that pussy is all beat to hell and raw from my cock, you hear me?”

“Oh my god,” you whimper. You rub your thighs together at the mental images he’s conjuring.

“See you back at the table, baby,” he toys. He waggles his eyebrows and is gone with the turn of a heel. You practically sprint into the bathroom and slap a towel drenched in cold water around the back of your neck. When you finally calm down enough to return to the table, Joel helps you into your chair and informs you that your parents will be joining the two of you at his house for a home cooked meal after they get back from their cruise. He manages to keep the mood friendly and light for the rest of the dinner, and your dad doesn’t even get weird about the bill when he’s informed Joel has already taken care of it.

By dad code, that has to count for something, right? Not turning it into a pissing contest over who’s going to cover the tab was as good a sign as any that he definitely liked Joel. Your mom’s full on squeeze hug and cheek pat settled any lingering doubts. Your parents like Joel. You think Joel likes your parents, too. Despite a minor hiccup at the beginning, everyone had come out unscathed. Hell, you already had plans for them to spend more time with you and Joel as a couple.

You say your goodbyes to your parents and wave them off as their valet arrives. You’re awash in the swell of your successful night as Joel walks you to his truck. You’ve got that silly, happy smile plastered across your face. You can feel it pushing your cheeks against your temples with the intensity of it. You’re brought back to earth when you see that Joel has not only opened the passenger door for you but has the rear passenger door opened as far as it will go without hitting the empty car next to his truck. You’re boxed in by the doors and the cars. Joel tosses the container of dessert onto his dash and flings your purse onto the floor of the passenger seat.

“Hey! I don’t even think it’s zipp–”

The sheer heft and heat of Joel slams into you from the back and pins you against the seat. Your arms fly up and onto the seat as you try to catch your balance. Your next round of indignant complaint is halted when Joel curves himself flush against you, arms resting atop your own. He grinds slow and steady against your backside. Your breath hitches at the feel of him fully thick and hard for you.

“You see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he grunts against the side of your head. “Wearin’ this pretty thing. Bein’ so goddamn beautiful all dinner. Then seein’ me in the back and beggin’ me to fuck you so hard your pussy goes all bruised from me slamming my cock into you. Gonna fuck you so hard I gotta kiss it all better after, huh? S’that what you want?”

“Oh sh-shit,” you gasp.

Without waiting for your stunned response, Joel shoves your dress up to your hips and kneels between your legs. His mouth is on you in seconds, and you bite into your arm to stifle the surprised sound trying to claw its way out of you. He licks into you with blinding need and only stops working you with his fingers just long enough to free his dick from his pants and start jerking himself off.

“Fuck yeah, all mine,” he growls into your sloppy wet heat. He smears some of the mess from his mouth and chin onto his hand and tugs himself harder with the added lubrication. He slips two fingers into you and works them in tandem with his stroking. You bend your head as far as it will go and drink in the sight of Joel crouched on his knees in the middle of a parking lot with your slick glistening all over his face in the dull glow of the streetlight. He locks eyes with you and grins like he knows a secret.

“You’re mine now, yeah?” He hooks his fingers and plunges them faster. Your legs start to tremble.

“Y-Yes! Mine. Yours!” you choke out.

“Gonna let me have this pussy all out in the open if I want it, huh? Got me so wound up I can’t even wait ‘til I get you home. Bet you’d like it if somebody came walkin’ by right now and saw me claimin’ this pussy all to myself.”

You sob out a moan at the thought. Joel buries himself between your legs again and sends vibrations through you with every grunt and growl. You tense against the seat when your orgasm comes barreling out of nowhere, and you cling onto the truck for dear life when your legs start to give. Joel shoves his head up into you harder, licking and slurping up your cum at the same time he presses you against the car for support. He pulls back with a heaving inhale and grips at the fat of your ass as he erupts between your spread legs and onto the concrete in thick splats.

He stands and meets the heavy rise and fall of your chest with his own. “Goddamn perfect,” he pants. You reach a hand behind you and scratch against his scalp. He leans into your mouth and kisses into it like he’s putting the final mark of his claim onto you. He tucks himself back into his trousers and rights your dress before helping you into the truck. You can feel your arousal wetting into the fabric of your dress beneath your ass in the seat, another indication of who you belong to - officially.

That little mark of pleasure had ruined your dress. You cast a pitiful frown to where the still visible line of demarcation had resisted all intervention the dry cleaners could muster. You were supposed to be meeting Sarah in a few days when she got into town, and now you had no cute evening dress in the event you went out together. You make it through a few household chores and a handful of work calls before calling it a day an hour and a half earlier than usual. It wasn’t like you to dip out before you were scheduled, but you didn’t have anything as pressing as your ruined dress.

You drag your feet the entire 2 minute walk into Joel’s house. “Joellllll,” you call out. His truck was in the driveway, wasn’t it? So he should be here. You call out for him again with the added news that he “officially owed you a new dress after ruining the green one.” Just as you’re starting to get concerned with the silence, the stairs creek. You round the corner with a heavy pout. “You ruined my dress!”

The bright set of eyes and impish smile that greeted you were an echo of Joel’s but not quite his own. You recognize her from the hundreds of photos Joel had shared with you. Sarah. Days early and looking increasingly amused and curious at your presence.

“Ruined your dress, huh?” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. Her grin spreads the longer you blink silently back at her. “Should be an interesting story.”

Your cheeks burn, and you don’t think she’d be as amused if she knew just how right she is.

part 2 coming tomorrow :)

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[slayerkitty]

Voyeurism in Only Friends

In previous discussions of themes in Only Friends, we've discussed Voyeurism as something present in the show on both a textual and metatextual level a few times. @rabbiitte posted an amazing run down about Perception in OF, specifically with Mew and Top that got me thinking about other voyeuristic moments in this episode.

Here are the voyeuristic moments in episode 5:

Nick walks in on Sand and Ray in the kitchen

Mew and Top and walked in on Boston and Nick at the hostel pool

Nick and Boston walked in on Sand and Ray on the balcony

Boston revealed to Nick that a previous hookup tried to blackmail him with a sex tape (most of us are assuming it was Drake's character due to the camera pointed at the bed as pointed out by @plantsarepeopletoo)

Nick was clearly thinking about how he has the sex audio of Boston and Top even if it wasn't actually discussed aloud.

Boston admitted to photographing Ray and Mew making out

@rabbiitte's post about perception really made me want to examine the other voyeurism moments in the episode, because it all has to do with one of the couples being walked in on while attempting to have sex. The first thing I found interesting was that even though couples being walked in on seemed to be a theme of the episode, Mew and Top are the only couple who do not get walked in on and therefore, are the only couple who has sex in the episode (that we see onscreen. I kind of feel like Nick implies he and Boston might have finished what they started after Mew and Top left because he says that Boston usually bolts the minute they're done. There's that controlled voyeurism again).

It was also interesting to me where the characters were when they got walked in on. For a show that has put emphasis on the public nature of queer culture in the past, all of the couples were somewhere relatively private when they got walked in on. Sand and Ray were in the kitchen and then later the balcony. Boston and Nick were in a slightly more public place as they were outside, but they were in a location where no one else was supposed to be there but them. In fact, the one public sexy moment that Ray and Sand do have in the dressing room is their only sexy moment in the episode that is not interrupted in some way. Sand indulges Ray in some "assistance" changing his clothes but is mindful of where they are and stops. Ray is completely down to get dirty regardless, which is just another way in which they're different.

With regard to Boston's sex tape and sex audio, it seems very clear where we're going with this (especially with the return of Boston's Hookup aka Drake next episode). Nick is going to end up releasing the sex audio which will have far reaching implications, given that Boston's father is running for public office.

I found it really interesting that Boston admitted to photographing Ray and Mew kissing. I think this might be an indication that whatever else Boston "has" on his friends, he might start revealing it soon too (or it gets revealed in the fallout of Nick's reveal).

@lurkingshan suggested after episode three that surveillance would be what caused this friend group to implode, but I'll counter and say it's more than that. It's voyeurism. Voyeurism is going to make this group implode and we're all going to watch.

#only friends the series #only friends meta #that bl #I HAVE TOO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS SHOW #I HAVE NEVER THOUGHT SO MUCH ABOUT VOYEURISM IN MY LIFE OH MY GOD

[senkusphone]

Dr. Stone chapter 3D trivia post

Hello, um. I hope yall had a pleasant solstice celebration of your choice- I've been pondering whether what we just saw merits a triva post, but let's try to squeeze some for the sake of completion, shall we?

Check out also my trivia posts for chapters 1D and 2D.

They're the same picture.

It took me way too long to notice what was off in this cover, it seems to be nothing but an aesthetic choice. Other than these off colors, this specific suika melon design first appeared during the Treasure island arc, right after Ryusui punted her off the Perseus.

To directly quote what I wrote at one time on the wiki:

Too bad, the ship Chelsea shows up in is not the Perseus D. Monkey from chapter 214 (which itself is a One Piece reference, as Boichi is a big fan).

Interesting that we get a nearly identical shot, instead of Kohaku standing behind her, it's Ruri and Matsukaze.

This posture done my Matsukaze is called Namaste (with other names such as Namaskar), which is used both as a greeting and as an indication of reverence all over the southern parts of Asia, along with other similar gestures. I know this is familiar to many myself included but I had never looked into the deeper details until now.

Figurines showing this pose have been excavated from the Indus valley civilization dating to between 2700 and 2100 BCE, making this piece of cultural heritage at least 7800 years old by the time of this panel.

Xeno has clearly had his hand in the architecture of the Japan side of the KoS, with some new constructions resembling his own Evil Disneyland back home.

Hold back yer tears

Kaseki has lived well. It's hard to tell how old he is now, he lived longer than the timeline's consistency thats for sure, I blame time travel.

At the time Taiju got wed, he was around 70 years old.

Kaseki and Chrome go back way further than the KoS, the fanbook tells us that Kaseki helped Chrome build his shed when he was just a boy.

Feel your heart a bit shakey? hang on there, we now get to talk about whyman's sorrow, and a small observation that I've made

Whyman can have emotions, the circuits that process that can be switched on and off, but the fact that a message can, or needs to be "left" for themselves, as well as his farewell for all eternity, has an interesting implication: once switched off, whyman loses the recollection of any experience they had in the meantime. These circuits allow whyman to feel, and also to then forget. This is useful, as emotions help them survive, but forgetting prevents the emotional baggage from growing infinitely over a virtually immortal life.

"If we remembered every single parting person, it would only be a few generations before the sorrow would pile up to the point it became unbearable. Maybe it is a blessing to forget. Forgetting allows us to get even. Forget sorrows as new ones replace them. Life can go on, if tragically. No accumulating loss that would one day make everyone struggle to survive and eventually pass on; though that last thing does also sound very much like today."

(10B points to the ~2 people who know where this quote is from, I digress)

So that's cool, and heartbreaking, but so what, does it connect to anything we've seen before?

Well...

In ch. 232 we see that Whyman does not know what created them.

How could that be, if they can remember things over deep time?

Maybe it is that Whyman chose to forget their creators, and everything they felt about them. Beings that they may even have loved in the deep deep past, and could not cope with yearning for.

The blonde, bangs & ponytail lineage.

The village graveyard. Last time we saw it, Byakuya's gravestone was opened to reveal the glass record.

A lot of recognizable headstones are still up now, some appear to have moved.

Other headstones might be gone or be different... The one with four dots that was there originally can't be seen in this new shot but it can be seen later in the chapter.

Also, I hate to break this to you, but there's more headstones now than there were before.

I counted 45 in the original shot, 50 in the new one, not including any that Chelsea and Senku may be covering. Granted this is likely just an oversight.

(I should mention that in order for them to match bottom to bottom, the top image is flipped horizontally).

(omg look at the babiesss)

What Xeno is telling Chrome is that if whyman went and altered their own past, then what they are seeing currently is the result of that, since whatever changes they made, are in the past after all.

They already happened and they are part of the timeline that leads them to where they are now.

Assuming they actually found Byakuya (or a petrified time traveler) means that either whyman created some sort of causal loop that is self sustaining (ie, the ramifications of the changes in the past include whyman going back to do them in the first place), or more in line with the many worlds hypothesis, that going back to the past and changing it creates a new parallel timeline where the repercussions of that happen, with no effect in the first one.

In the latter case it means the timeline we see now was altered by the whyman from a parallel universe.

The stone axe is a bit dissonant with where they are, technologically speaking, yes? Thing is, that's the one Senku took to the moon with him.

He's had it since chapter 1.

A few people I've seen mystified about this structure they unearthed at the cementery:

This is a collapsed building just like the structures that the Tsukasa empire occupied.

(shoutout to that guy about to die in the back)

Interestingly, this means that Ishigami Village is established on top of a once urban area.

I am always pumped for any extra bits of village lore I can get.

Did Suika's handwriting trigger your AI generated image senses? it did for me.

We were bamboozled again. If it ends up happening it's gonna be like the tale of the wolf. The moment we stop taking it seriously, Inagaki is gonna smack us across the head with it.

We were actually preparing for the poop on a stick to hit the f.a.a.n on discord. What do I make about the ending? I don't know, I got no big analysis this time around but I believe it's very likely we'll see more at some point.

#dr. stone trivia #dcst #dr stone #dr. stone #drstone #dcst whyman #dr stone whyman #whyman dr stone #dcst suika #dr stone suika #suika dr stone #dcst chelsea #dr stone chelsea #chelsea dr stone #chelsea childe #dcst kaseki #dr stone kaseki #kaseki dr stone #dcst chrome #dr stone chrome #chrome dr stone #dcst senku #dr stone senku #senku dr stone #senku ishigami #dcst byakuya #dr stone byakuya #byakuya dr stone #byakuya ishigami #dcst ruri

[starplusfourletters]

I read specter of the past (hand of thrawn book 1)

This turned into a liveblog srry

Me, reading the Thrawn trilogy: Okay obvi Mara/Luke is a slow burn

Me, skipping to the duology set 10 years later: GUYS YOU’RE LOSING DAYLIGHT

Oh no they have a passive aggressive “may the Force be with you” / “good luck” thing oh no I might ship it

Also the small existential crisis that ensues every time I remember Luke is (checks Wookieepedia) THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. I cannot picture Luke Skywalker a day over 22 I think my brain would explode [actively represses the sequel trilogy]

This book is absolutely crawling with badass female smugglers and I’m living for it

Oooh proto-convor! [two pages later] OH NO PROTO-CONVOR DEATH ☹

Mara Jade, Force sensitive specializing in precognition, former Emperor’s Hand, second-in-command of the most powerful information dealing organization in the galaxy: Runs into a wall and spends the rest of the book knocked out

Lando “Could I Please Get Back to My Day Job It Has Been Two Decades” Calrissian. Just let the man mine in unlikely places it’s all he’s ever wanted

I got way too happy about the implication that the Imperial whose name I've forgotten figured out the tractor beam thing. He solved Science! Good for he!

Loving how everyone’s opinion on Karrde is basically “nice guy; sus that he insists on getting paid, though.” Like yes this is still a capitalist economy and he runs a business with a large number of employees

We interrupt your space fantasy to bring you a “Chicken Fried” music video with clone sleeper agents

Okay everybody place your bets is Car’das a secret brother, secret father, or ex-boyfriend (hype for some Karrde backstory and realizing the extent to which my brain has decided he and Kaz Brekker are the same person is Extensive)

Legit starting to feel sorry for Gilead “Sad Fascist Grandpa” Pellaeon. Somebody give this guy a peace treaty and a hug. Also more and more irked about No Prisoners why did that need a retcon

Really enjoyed the book’s interrogation of the premise “how do we actually make a galactic organization that includes cultures with mutually exclusive legal and ethical codes WITHOUT being fascist.” Felt very Trek. Actually went further toward radical inclusivity than Trek usually does; the Federation does have an element of “you must be this close to 20th-21st century American values to ride” which is its own kind of cultural imperialism and in this essay I will -

I simply cannot get enough of these books’ “protagonist stumbles, Kramer-like, into the Site of Maximal Galactic Importance Du Jour.” I will let you know when it stops being funny to me. Also really like how the villains are starting to learn to use it to their advantage; like yeah it DOES look like a conspiracy when you think about it

#star wars legends #timothy zahn #specter of the past #hand of thrawn #mara jade #talon karrde #gilad pellaeon #lando calrissian #long post

[thetrueweaveroffate]

So big news… And major panic, but I feel like we jumping to conclusions too soon.

I feel like the statement that they are brothers are taken too literally and that Ed Boon only said that specifically as an example of how certain rivalries and relationships are no longer the same, but it doesn’t necessarily change the character. At least not too much. Can we imagine a Scorpion that doesn’t have a family? I don’t know, that factor feels close to the center of his entire character that changing it makes him a different character entirely.

Plus I feel like the implication that they are brothers adds more complications than intrigue. What is Bi-Han now, Bi-Han Hasashi? That sounds like a name someone who doesn’t understand the convention of separate Asian cultures, and frankly I feel like Netherealm Studios is better than that.

Plus I don’t think Hanzo’s and Bi-Han’s facial structure look similar enough for people to see them as brothers anyway.

Hanzo’s GET OVER HERE still sounds like his, and if we go by the rest of the trailer chances are he still has the same voice actor.

I don’t know, I think I’m starting to ramble, but to me this feels like a repeat of that time when the live active MK movie came out and the actors claimed Liu Kang and Kung Lao were cousins. Who the fuck believed that in the long run?

It certainly can be possible, but the writers are going to have to go through some logistical gymnastics that ultimately may not be worth it.

I might change my statements later. I want to analyze the trailer a bit more when I’m not busy, but so far these are my initial impressions and ideas.

#subscorp

[itsclydebitches]

Hi, I stopped watching RWBY midway through volume 5 and basically only keep up with it through your blog which has made volume 9 quite a trip. Anyway, I've got to ask what the fuck is going on in episode 9? The team is happy about Ruby drinking the tea???

I literally cannot imagine being you right now lol. Experiencing RWBY solely through this blog?? Absolutely wild concept. How does it feel being blindsided on a weekly basis? XD

But to actually answer your question... yes? The tea is heavily framed as a suicide attempt, given that Ruby drinks it after a physical and psychological beating from Neo, with the intent of not being Ruby Rose anymore, after Neo herself entices her with it because, as we know, she wants revenge on Ruby for (in her mind) killing Roman. There’s no version of Episode 8 in which this is framed as a positive action. However, at the same time the show has been pushing the idea that Ascension (AKA what Ruby has done by drinking the tea) is ultimately a good thing; a way for those who have fulfilled their purpose to finally move on and achieve something new. Now, however harmful a message that might be from our perspective, the show has made it clear that this is natural for an Afteran, so I could sort of buy it as a cultural difference...

Provided the show had explained how losing your memories/even your physical body isn’t a "real" kind of death.

If we hadn’t seen a character dragged off against their will, forced to Ascend despite clearly being opposed to the idea.

If our “best” version of the journey didn’t come from the Paper Pleasers, a group with cult-like undertones that are so obsessed with Ascension they orchestrate daily attempts at physical harm/suicide in order to achieve it.

If any one of the characters had bothered to consider whether this would be good for Ruby, a human who does not come from this world, especially after it’s explicitly pointed out that she shouldn’t be able to Ascend.

If any one of the characters had considered that Ruby doesn't have a defined purpose that she has completed and thus has no need to undergo the Be Assigned a New Purpose Ritual.

And if most of this information hadn’t come from the Cat, a manipulative (according to the heroes) party later revealed to be a Super Duper Evil Villain.

So even within the realm of ‘This is a good thing, just a cultural difference!’ there is a LOT of negative implications that the story hasn’t bothered to unpack. But here, in Episode 9, the group continues to ignore all of it. They see that the Paper Pleasers, after drowning themselves, have come back as the Genial Gems. Does it matter that they had to undergo such a horrific event in order to achieve that upgrade? No. Does it matter that they no longer remember Jaune, a friend who lived with them for years? No. Does it matter that they found Ruby beaten and bloody, being given the tea by Neo while a fake Roman talks about how the world would be better off without her, after she ran from them all post-meltdown because she (rightly) believes that no one cares about her mental health? No! All that matters is that the Gems came back “better” - with “better” defined as now being impervious to water and fire - so that means Ruby will definitely come back “better” too. Hurrah!

The characters don’t care about the horrors that it took to get Ruby to this place, or that she committed magical suicide in front of them, or that Neo helped orchestrate all this, or that Little was lying dead in front of her. All they care about is how this was supposedly Ruby’s “choice” and if she doesn’t come back as the same Ruby they knew, that can only be a good thing because - again - she chose to do this.

(I need to make a separate post on how no, this is not a choice in the way RWBY is framing it. There's a reason why we discuss depression as an illness. You don't "choose" it any more than you choose to die of cancer.)

I can’t emphasize enough that the message of Episode 9 couched in metaphor is, “Yes, if you hate yourself dying is an option. Agency is the most important thing, so if someone wants to die, you need to let them die and accept that fighting for them is selfish (remember Penny?). Lucky for the heroes, they exist in a magical world where death has a reset button, so choosing suicide is an even smarter choice because then you can reflect on that choice and possibly come back with a cool upgrade!”

Yang has one (1) moment where she freaks a little after seeing Ruby encased in the tree, but Blake, Weiss, and Jaune talk her down because remember Yang, your sister chose this. It’s a good thing.

The rest of the episode is this vibe. Behold, the team literal minutes after watching a psychologically terrorized, physically beaten Ruby try to kill herself:

#rwde #rwby #suicide tw #mymetas

[gggoldfinch]

Genuine questions I have about my dear Swedes, and I think you're the best with the headcanons about them.

• How were they recruited?

(I wondered about that.)

• What era are they from?

(They look old-fashioned for even the 60s, they seem to have come from a much older time considering the family photo and also the outfits and the "strangeness" they have with the 60s and America.)

MY FRIEND YOU CAME TO THE RIGHT PLACE for I am the keeper of the Elder Knowledge and the Mind-Vault of Fanon (aka I've been rotting about these guys since the ikea fam was live and kicking circa 2020 and haven't let go). I am TICKLED to finally be asked about them because they are My Guys and i love writing exorbitant amounts of information about them!!!! Especially their clothes!!! Needless to say I will not be brief, so strap in 😁

(PS Tumblr ate my first draft of this after hours of research and paragraphs of writing so I had to rewrite all of the content here from memory 🥲) (PPS I used this as an excuse to talk about their clothing for 3 hours. this is the most deranged I've been in ages ! )

First off: there is no canon information regarding either of your questions. So let's just put that out there. They are tragically underdeveloped for being potentially some of the most interesting characters on the show (or maybe i'm just biased because I prefer the Commission characters lol). Basically everything we know about them is based off inferences and vague canon implications, and everything aside from that is widely-accepted fanon that we discussed way back when + my own personal headcanons (which are basically canon to me). I might have to do some deep-diving into the tumblr archives of my old blog or my mutuals for the information I'll get into here, but all of it will be stuff I either came up with myself or bore witness to the research of & agree with.

1. How were they recruited?

Generally, the accepted theory is that the brothers were recruited young, likely after some sort of event which resulted in their first kill. From what I recall, several fandom authors (myself included) have incorporated this storyline into our own work, roughly following the same theme of capable woodsmen Axel & Otto protecting Oscar and killing someone as a result, hence inviting attention from Commission recruiters who trawl the timeline for skilled individuals.

Also, I believe it is fairly accepted within the fandom that the Commission seeks out and hires people who are down on their luck or in otherwise bad circumstances, then organizes them into employment statuses from there (office workers, hitmen, etc.). I tend to think Axel & Otto were recruited first, then Oscar was roped in later on, playing into my theory that they are triplets, just separated by large periods of time-travel.

2. What era are they from?

YIPPEEE you came to the right ! person ! because actually lowkey I kinda perpetuated the headcanon that the Swedes are Victorian-Edwardian back in the day (on a prev blog). I personally hc they were born ca. 1880-ish, with their “natural” timeline falling somewhere around 1901-1910 (Edwardian period), and picked things up from different decades along the way, as is the way of time-travel. However, I know others preferred the idea that they were from ca. 1930-1950, which is also fairy plausible.

Now, time for me to be insane:

I have a copious amount of proof that they are from the early 1900's ! based on their clothing + the photograph Axel carries. It’s also worth nothing that their clothing is visibly that of working class men, which makes it slightly more difficult to research (because the working class always gets the short end of the stick). I base most of my research & beliefs on cross-examining Edwardian photographs of workmen, as well as my own knowledge of historical fashion. I won't delve that much into their culture as Swedes and the fashion implications of that, since it honestly wasn't taken seriously enough in canon to be visible past Otto's haircut.

Proof in their regular clothing:

Trousers: Otto’s high-waisted trousers & suspenders are Edwardian, down to the very patterning. Oscar’s too, to a less obvious extent. It’s also worth noting that according to bts images, Axel also wears suspenders. His pants with the laces at the shins are baffling though...

Shirts: Oscar's turtleneck isn't not Edwardian; men have been wearing collared knit shirts like that as winter wear for a long time. Otto's green shirt, though it has those odd clasps, is somewhat reminiscent of arrow collar shirts worn in the Edwardian period. I have also found proof of three-button wool undershirts similar in style to Axel's henley, though these were more popular towards the 20's

Shoes: While Otto and Oscar's steel-toed boots weren't invented until the 1930's, Axel's boots are at least somewhat more reminiscent of those worn by workmen in the 10's. Though, the side zip and weird flap are… not.

Outerwear: Axel's blue vest is more akin to a double-breasted waistcoat, though it doesn't have lapels and the buttons are too large; it is... an outlier. Likewise, his canvas duster has a zipper and no lapels, and the pattern cut of it makes me think it's fairly modern, just like Oscar's canvas/corduroy jacket which is practically a Carhartt. Oscar's vest is baffling bc it looks different in every shot of it I analyze. Otto's trench coat is the oldest style. (Fun fact, the modern zipper was invented by a Swede in 1913)

Misc: The union suit was popularized in the 1860's (as women's wear, actually!), so Otto's wearing of it would be believable for the period. All their clothes are patched up, implying years of wear and tear.

Misc Pt 2; Weaponry: Though ofc I'm a gun girl, I have already spent 3 hours writing about clothes and cannot make myself research weird weapons. So if you're interested in their guns, PLEASE read this post by my old fandom pal!!! It's much a more intelligent and in-depth analysis than I can manage rn, and also discusses the context of weaponry within the Commission.

Proof in the photograph:

They're really a ragtag crew, which makes it hard to date any of their garments. Here's some things I've noted though:

Headwear: Newsboy caps (which are what Oscar and Axel are wearing) were at their peak around the late 1910s, especially with working class men. Otto's hat looks like it could be an oilskin fisherman's hat, which were popular in 1880s America, though his looks more like the later 1950's design of the hat. Additionally, workmen in the Edwardian period often wore neckerchiefs, not unlike what Oscar wears around his neck in the photo.

Shirts: Oscar appears to be wearing another knit sweater. Axel's blue shirt appears to me to have a band collar, which was a style popular in the 10's (from what I can tell one of Otto's shirts also has a band collar). Beneath that, his undershirt (likely linen) has a string closure, which was popular even earlier than the Victorian era

The Woman (mother? grandmother?): Historically, older women tended to wear headscarves/ head coverings. The style of her dress/smock/apron is hard to determine because of its concealment beneath her cardigan. She's got a sick rifle tho

Misc: Oscar's workman's gloves aren't inaccurate; leather gloves like that were worn in the Victorian era. So have leather belts. Like I said earlier, from what I can tell from my cursory search (after sifting thru dubious "Viking" hairstyles), Otto is sporting a fairly historically/culturally accurate he-man haircut from the Nordic area. Oscar's hair is the second-most historically relevant, as most men in the Victorian/Edwardian era had short, groomed hairstyles (though perhaps his is a little messier than usual). Axel is the outlier here with a modern slick-back.

ANYWAYYYYYYYYY

yeah. yeah. if you couldn't tell I am. fucking insane ? about them ?

since you're still here, you survived this long, have some bts stuff I dragged from the trenches:

#goldfinch reveals terminal brainrot for dumb hitmen on main #not exaggerating. this took 3 hours of research #tua the swedes #tua axel #tua oscar #tua otto #ikea mafia #ask

[fitzrove]

Rant vaguely related to my previous rudolf post & academic history (delete later) (WAY too specific)

The way people talk about historical research fields and topics sometimes (online and irl) is honestly Really Stupid aihoådögltslhlgl. In designating "old white men history" (= political, military, macroeconomic...) and white men historical figures obsolete and unworthy of any further study, people are robbing themselves and others around them of greater understanding of phenomena that have real and ongoing consequences/effects upon the present day.

I told a former classmate I was studying abroad for a more varied perspective (instead of the boxed-in provincial narrative you get from just using sources, lit and theories from your home country) and that my new thesis was going to be about a ww2 topic. She made a disgusted face, glibly going "Ah, as if that hasn't been researched enough!". She wouldn't hear me out when I said that my topic actually has real life implications for politics, memory culture and international relations today lol.

To some people, just because a field has been researched a lot (and often with outdated methods, by white men in the 1950s etc), it becomes worthless and you should rather look at unexplored territory: people "forgotten by history", marginalised groups, new approaches, big emphasis on the social, cultural, personal, individual. But for a few reasons, claiming that studying "old white man history" in the 2020s is "useless" is very flawed lol. Because:

In a lot of cases, The Book on something (be it a specific aspect of a topic, an individual person, or just a topic as a whole like WW2 for instance) will have been written in the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s... Research methods have evolved a LOT since then, and the demands on researchers to reflect on their biases are a lot stronger now. Historical research doesn't exist in a vacuum and is never completely objective - it's a self-correcting field, though, and new studies aspire to build on and improve upon previous ones. You wouldn't trust medical research from 50+ years ago to be the best possible knowledge on a given topic to be trusted forever and never re-examined, would you?? Why would you a history book, then?

Old white men are the ones who had power for vast lengths of time in history. In many countries old white men are still the ones in power. Political and military history, as well as macroeconomic history, are (in summary) about the study of power. You can't gain knowledge of how "the enemy" (or: those holding the power in society) operates only by studying the way their "victims" experienced their influence. You need to look into the people in power themselves. And someone needs to do this now, with modern research methods, so we have the best possible knowledge of the subject! Additionally, modern old white men often stan historical old white men and might make rhetorical references to them in speeches etc... It's important to know how they conceptualise the world and its history, because so far they're not going anywhere...

People are so dumb akgösphkpd like they will hear "political/military history" and not even know how much the fields have changed and evolved in the last 30 years 😭😭😭 Its based on this stock stereotype of what those fields are, when in reality the sharpest criticism of previous approaches comes from within the field - which seeks to self-correct. Again, you wouldn't assume that physics ended with Einstein...... why assume that historians can never improve their methods or reach new conclusions based on already-studied sources??

Putting pressure on women specifically to only study social/cultural/microhistory, and insinuating that they're betraying their gender if they don't, is just straight up sexist lmao. You don't expect this of Matt age 21 who loves tanks and literally just wants to study idk tank formations, why do you expect it of me?? Ditto for queer people and any other marginalised group you could think of.

As for Rudolf specifically? Yes he sneaked in again fkflld. It's worth it to point out his problematic relationships with women, yes, and SPECIFICALLY the historical agency and existence of those women outside of him lol. (Which is still a bit lacking.) But it's not smart or feminist or even morally right to avoid looking at where the Mayerling obsession as a whole comes from. The fact is:

1. Rudolf had very specific unpopular political opinions, and suffered from mental illness (a kind of disease poorly understood at the time but also still decades after the fact and even today)

2. These two factors led society to perceive him in a certain way, and influenced the way newspapers wrote about him after his death. Conservatives put huge emphasis on his womanizing ways - as part of his general depraved evilness, incl irreligiosity, liberal politics and lack of respect for traditional values - to influence their audience to believe that violence and insanity are what social liberalism leads to. They also used the events of Mayerling to say that the scandal is the only thing that ever mattered or ever will matter about Rudolf, that it tainted his person to such a degree that considering anything else is moot. This is the starting point for the most common Mayerling narrative that has literally barely changed for 135 years... it still crops up in media today!!

So um yeah anyway,,,, I guess I'm sorry for being specifically interested in war as a culmination of international political crisis & historical eras seen as formative to current political culture & 19th/20th century opposition to and manifestations of political nationalism & the way in which seemingly apolitical things are actually used to shape public discourse... instead of idk queer history or women's history or historical dress or microeconomic family history 😭😭 I just think there's enough people studying those latter ones and doing a much better job of it than I could - because they're genuinely passionate about them and hence have the right skills to actually study them well. I still believe that the way I'm studying and talking about the stuff I'm interested in has a lot of value, even if it's not contributing to Good Representation or aligned with my modern political views in any obvious sense. (Well, a constantly recurring theme is my distaste for overt forms or nationalism/(proto)fascism lol but we don't need to tell people that 😌 esp not the current Finnish government)

Also rudolf was irl bisexual did you even read eine orientreise (JOKING)

#history #jfc this is long akksldldld #delete later