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tanix-dragon · 1 month

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Is That a New Guy or Am I Losing My Mind; or, A Beginner's Guide to Finding Headmates

Written by Roger de Camden of the Draconic Wizard Workshop

Hello, everybody! This is an essay for both plurals who might struggle finding, identifying, or confirming headmates, as well as people who are questioning whether or not they’re plural. Certain pieces of advice may apply better to questioners than established systems, and vice versa, but rest assured, it is intended for both!

This essay will be broken into several sections for various “phases” of discovery and working things out, but a disclaimer before we get to that: this is heavily based on our own experiences. This is not a one-size-fits-all kind of guide. I’m going to try to make it such, but, well, I can’t make any promises, because there are infinite ways of being a system out there, and everyone’s a little different. This is just what I’ve found works for us, and, to a large extent, many of our system friends! That being said, if you try to start syscourse or invalidate other systems for any reason in response to this essay, I’m going to block you and that’s that.

Also, sorry if I go between spellings for words. I’m English, but the body is American and that means that I don’t know how to spell certain words anymore.

So! Onwards, towards discovery!

Step One: Getting an Inkling

The first step to figuring out whether or not you’ve got a headmate (new or otherwise undiscovered; I’ll mostly be calling them “new” as in “new to you”) is having an inkling that one might exist. This is mostly a passive process, and you’re probably familiar with it if you’re reading this guide. Maybe you felt something scuttle through headspace (if you have one) or through the back of your mind. Maybe you felt a presence looming behind you, mentally, that bolted when you “looked.” Maybe you had a very strong emotional reaction to something that makes no sense for you to react to, but would make sense for a character you’ve been really attached to in a show. Or maybe you slipped into an unfamiliar accent, had a loss of memories and woke up with nail polish on in a colour you hate, or just felt an opinion about something that doesn’t match your usual one. Sometimes, you may even “hear” comments about things going on in your mind.

There are a lot of little things that can tip you off. Most of them are going to be things that are misaligned with your own perception of yourself, your opinions, and your behavior. This is usually a sign that someone is co-conscious or co-fronting with you without you being aware of it. Some headmates are very sneaky this way, and some may not realise that they exist at all while doing this! Don’t hold being hard to notice or get a hold of against your headmates—many of them don’t realise that they exist, don’t know how to not be this way, or are doing it for what they perceive to be a good reason (this last one is especially common in disordered systems). Maybe they’re scared, or just not ready to be confronted yet. Don’t worry—remember, you have your whole lives to figure out everyone who’s in there, and the time will pass anyways! Take it easy.

One specific thing that tends to tip us off to a new fictive is that we realise that… no one is aware of running a character that we’re playing in a tabletop roleplaying game. Maybe someone started off running them, but they sure seem to be doing their own thing now! That character may be hard to “turn off” or “put on the shelf” when you stop playing them—and they may continue to make comments and have opinions about things in your life. This is a dead giveaway! Sometimes when we think about a character, we feel a “movement” or interest somewhere in our mind that doesn’t match anyone else’s pattern of thinking or interests, which also can be a giveaway that they’re scuttling around somewhere. Also beneficial, for us, is our synesthesia—every headmate has a colour associated with them, and when we get a thought pattern that seems to match someone but the colour is off, it can make us realise that maybe there’s someone else in here. For example, if someone were to be really interested in jellyfish, we might think that it’s Caspian, but if the colour comes back as red and not blue, then we know for certain that it’s not him.

This first inkling of a new headmate may be obvious or it may be subtle. You may question yourself repeatedly, but remember: if you feel like you are “accidentally faking,” that’s not how faking works. Faking must be done intentionally and on purpose. You could be wrong, yes, but being wrong isn’t inherently bad. It’s just that you were mistaken about something. Nothing wrong with that! We’re all mistaken about all kinds of things every day! Be kind to yourself while trying to figure things out.

Step Two: Are You There, Headmate? It’s Me, Your Other Headmate

Steps two and three are interchangeable in order, but I thought I’d put this one first because it tends to be the one that’s hardest and most distressing, rather than step three, which is about identifying who the hell your headmate is. We’ll get to that, never fear!

So, let’s say you think there might be someone in there. How can you tell for sure? How can you open communication? How can you get them integrated okay?

The bad news is that this depends heavily on the system. The good news is that there’s no need to panic, rush, or be afraid, because once again, you’ll figure it out eventually, and it will be okay!

My first suggestion is to take note of everything that’s made you think there might be someone else in there. Write it down, if that helps! Write down everything that seems to get the entity’s attention, if anything. Write down anything that might help you identify who it might be! In some instances, you might have a character that seems a little independent but you can’t tell whether they’re really a headmate or not. In my experience, this is often how many non-disordered systems (but it’s not exclusive to them!) realise that they’re plural. Knowing who it is will make this step easier, but it isn’t necessary! After all, if you know who it is, you can also write down things that might bait them into responding. Interests and friends of theirs are good examples.

Your goal in this step is to try to draw them out into doing things, speaking, or acting in ways that will give away that they are for certain there. For systems with heavy amnesia or dissociative barriers, this might be significantly harder, but my best suggestion there is to jump straight to trying to communicate, however you can—and this isn’t a bad approach for other systems, either. You can try internal communication, although you might get no response, or an abnormal one, if the headmate is new. For example, with us, new headmates usually respond to direct queries with anxiety—which, while not good for communication and not ideal for the headmate in question, does help us key in on the fact that they definitely exist. You can also try external communication, if internal communication isn’t working or is difficult for you. Write a note in a journal or a sticky note, or even in a notes app or a private Discord server. Sometimes, headmates can find replying over text to be easier. If you’re a high-dissociation and high-amnesia system who is trying to figure out if it’s someone old or new who is fronting and doing things while you’re unaware, leaving sticky notes places asking people to write down who’s fronting when they see it (if they even know who they are) might be helpful. Keep experimenting, and do what works best for you!

As a last resort for uncertain, new, or inexperienced systems, you can try something called “puppeting” on a suspected headmate, especially if you know who they are and just aren’t sure whether or not they’re here. A warning: this is rude and not advised under most circumstances, but sometimes it’s the only way to make absolutely sure that someone is in there with you, especially when you’re not used to it. Have an apology ready and mean it. Puppeting is when you try to force a headmate to do something, especially something unusual or out of character for them. For example, if I thought I might have my character Gorka as a headmate, but I wasn’t sure, I might try to call up a scenario involving Gorka and then try to imagine her doing something wildly out of character, that she would never, ever do. If I couldn’t get a response out of that, or if I had no idea who this new headmate might be, I might just try to make them physically do something—strongly imagining them doing a stupid dance or similar! No response doesn’t necessarily mean you do or do not have a headmate, but a strong response—usually of anger, offense, or “slapping” your “hands” away—indicates someone separate from yourself! Apologize immediately and then attempt to engage in communication once they’ve calmed down a little, or try to transition into it through an explanation.

There are a lot of reasons that a headmate might not respond to puppeting, though. They might be non-confrontational, or hiding their presence from you intentionally for any number of reasons. (Maybe they’re nervous, not ready to exist yet, afraid of how you might respond, afraid of accepting that they’re in a system—it could be anything.) In cases like this, you might just get discomfort instead of a strong response, which is easy to confuse for being your own rather than theirs. Try to sort out whether you just feel strange doing it, or if it’s someone else’s discomfort bleeding through. I know it’s hard, but that’s a difficult thing to give advice for, I’m afraid! Other reasons may be that they just dip from the front when you try (removing themself from your sphere of influence completely), or if they’re a character you frequently play, they might be so used to being pulled around into doing things that it doesn’t bother them, or bothers them so little that you don’t notice.

Usually, if you’re at the point of trying puppeting, there’s enough signs that this person really is a headmate to dissuade you from trying it once you’re a little more used to it. It’s a temporary and unideal tool that should leave your toolbox as soon as you become confident enough to identify new headmates without getting grabby with them. Undoubtedly, trying to establish communication is a better approach, if you can get it to work.

Usually, once we’ve properly spotted a headmate and made it clear to them that we know they’re there, one of two things happens: either they come sit in the front for a few days or weeks to settle in, let us identify them, and get used to being a full active member of the system, or they realise that they exist and have a panic attack. This “new headmate panic” can last anywhere from a few minutes to multiple days, and may fluctuate in strength. Sometimes, a new headmate might seem fine early on, but have this panic after a few days, weeks, or even longer. Be gentle during this time, especially if you yourself have a strong reaction—be gentle with both, or all, of you! Realizing that you’re in a system can be very distressing, as can realizing you have a new headmate, so try to be gentle, let yourself feel what you’re going to feel, and work through it in the best way you have. Try not to direct any anger or negative feelings towards anyone else in your system during this time, and just let the storm pass before really trying to get to know each other.

Step Three: Who Is This Guy, Anyway?

Once again, you can do this step before or after step two, but I put it here because I decided to include some tips for getting to know your headmate, not just identifying them (if there is anything to identify). If your system is introject-heavy, or if you’re asking yourself if you’re just really interested in a character or if they’re a new headmate, this is an important step! Who is this? Are they an introject of some kind? Are they something or someone else? Is there anything to identify, per se, or is it just a situation of getting to know a whole new person? This is a very, very different step depending on your system, and is going to skew very much towards my own experiences. I’m sorry about that, but I will do my best!

If you’ve already established communication with this headmate, even if it’s shaky, you can try to get information from them that way. They might be willing to give you a name, a code name, a colour, an aesthetic, likes or dislikes, something you can use to familiarise yourself with them or identify them from a list of “suspects” if you have such a thing. (We always do, because we’re almost all fictives, and we know our own patterns at this point.) For us, new headmates almost never actually identify, and just sullenly sit while trying to figure themselves out and will only confirm who they are once we figure it out. It’s sort of like playing a mystery game, assembling clues based on a myriad of factors. If you have some suspicions, just like the previous step, you can try to bait out responses by doing things that might interest who you suspect this headmate might be.

Again, I suggest writing things down! Write down likes and dislikes, things that get their attention, interests, even things that make them anxious or afraid. Whether it’s a case of identification or just getting to know them, this is invaluable information for interacting with someone sharing a head with you, and it may even be helpful for them as they get their feet under them.

Another invaluable tool is talking to people outside of your system. They can help you identify when you’re acting unusually, when you might have someone unfamiliar riding co-conscious, and even who that person might be. You may be too tangled up in your own feelings, your dissociation, or the desperation to understand who is in your head with you. It’s easy to get lost in the weeds and lose sight of the big picture, but another friend, especially another system that knows you well, can be extremely helpful! One of our system friends has clocked many a headmate of ours before we were even certain they were there—just “hmm, you’ve been very much like X lately” and they were absolutely right.

Regardless, taking notes on your new headmate, asking them about themselves, and sharing things about yourself are all important steps to getting to know them! They may be uncomfortable, they may distrust you, they may be afraid—or they could be friendly and excited to be here! It really depends on who it is and their comfort level. Don’t push—if they’re not comfortable talking yet, don’t make them! Let them adjust at their own pace and get to know them as they’re willing to let you. I know it can be distressing to have a totally unknown entity co-fronting with you, but sometimes it’s one of those things that you have to take a deep breath and carry on through until they’re willing to talk. I know you can do it! Talk through it with someone outside of your own head if it’s difficult to give yourself some fortitude if you need to. I know it helps me.

Step Four: Now What?

Let’s say that you’ve confirmed that you do have a headmate, and either have or are on the road to identifying them, if applicable. Now what?

As I’ve said before: be gentle with yourselves! Especially for a new or inexperienced system, and especially for someone who is just realising that they’re a system, this can be overwhelming, distressing, or any other number of emotions. Remember that having or gaining headmates isn’t inherently a bad thing, and while this all might take some getting used to, it’s going to be okay. You’ll figure out an equilibrium eventually, and it is absolutely possible to live a long, happy life with your headmates. Remember that you’re all in this together, and you’re a team.

People may not want you to notice them, may not want to be in the system, or may avoid attention as best they can for a lot of reasons, and trying to make them feel at home, or at least more comfortable, is essential. It can be scary being in a system all of a sudden, especially if they’re an introject or otherwise had a life outside or before this one. Maybe they don’t like the body, or are afraid of another headmate, or are terrified of a negative response from you or someone else. Don’t force these people into situations they’re not ready for! If you’re looking for someone, trying to identify them, or trying to help them, and you’re just causing a lot of distress, back off for a while. Let them calm down and come to you in their own time. Sometimes, you have to do the system equivalent of leaving cookies out on a plate and turning your back to them so that your new headmate can take them without being watched. Take things at the pace that you’re all the most comfortable with, and as always, be kind.

I really do suggest talking to someone about this process, if you can. Journal if you’d like, especially if you can’t trust anyone with this, or don’t feel comfortable doing so yet. Getting your words out of your head helps you sort them out a lot, especially in the case of systems, where a lot of people’s thoughts can get jumbled together. Writing them all down, even if you don’t know whose they are, can be helpful. We find that talking to other system friends is of the most benefit, and our new members are far more likely to speak to them first rather than us, because there’s a degree of separation and that’s more comfortable for them. Whatever works for you, do it! The idea is to get comfortable with each other, and with being here together.

Find things that your new headmate likes doing. Goratrix has a whole panel about this aimed at fictives, but essentially, if your new headmate doesn’t have reason to front and isn’t interested in anything, you probably won’t see much of them, and they may end up miserable. Make sure you engage with them and their interests. Let them make friends if they’d like. Get them snacks. Again: whatever works! This is going to depend very heavily on your system, so follow your gut instinct on this one, I think.

Absolutely essential, though, is to not repress anybody. I know sometimes getting a new headmate can be scary, especially if they’re unfamiliar, frightening, seemingly monstrous, or a persecutor, but remember: they’re probably just as freaked out as you are, if not more so, and they need patience and understanding. Statistically, if they’re doing something troublesome, they’re trying to help and just don’t know how, or are misguided on what “help” looks like. Be kind, and try to find a solution that works for everyone.

Past that… just get to know each other. Figure out how to live together and how to make your combined life the best life it can be. For us, there’s so many of us that someone new can almost always find a fast friend in someone else, and sticks with them for a while until they’re more used to the system and more confident fronting and doing things without their buddy. Other systems may be able to mimic this approach, or may need to do something very different. Again, again, again, do what works best for you! If parts of this guide seem unhelpful or counterproductive, ignore them! This is based on our experience of plurality, not yours. Always do what’s best for you, what helps the most of you, and what causes the least distress while still letting you function as much as you need to.

Being plural is a very personal experience, in a lot of ways, which is pretty funny because sometimes that personal experience is spread across two or twenty or five hundred people. It’s also a very personalized experience, meaning we’re all quite different. Your “now what?” might look very different from ours, and that’s okay. We can only do our best, and that’s always good enough.

I hope this is helpful to someone! If you have any questions, please feel free to ask, and I may edit this guide in the future if it seems that I left something out or think of anything to add. =)

#tans journals #de camden's essays #plurality #endo safe #i MEAN IT THOUGH. NO SYSCOURSE.#and i'm sorry if this guide doesn't apply to your system or is unhelpful!#i could never hope to write something that is helpful to all systems of all types #this is just how we do it and how a lot of systems we know do it #so hopefully this is helpful to someone!#this is also up on our website in a less shitty format as is goratrix's panel i mentioned

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concreteburialplot · 9 months

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VIRALITY // 11

11 - Peak Fashion

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc [vallie] 👀

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5k

warnings: angsty? but cute?, jealous nicholas, sassy but goofy noah, something revealed, very short time skips, 18+ MDNI

summary: vallie abruptly wakes to a million texts to meet for a last minute music video. upon arriving she discovers that the band is not at all prepared which sets her and noah on a mission.

Reminder: This contains the very mild crossover with Christian 'Kras' Anthony from Chase Atlantic ...... and introduces another extremely mild crossover 🫣 they are both merely for side character/reference purposes. Nothing huge, don’t worry lol just for fun

Disclaimer - This story is semi-AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

Sunlight warms my eyelids and gently lulls me awake. My eyes shoot open at the realization that I have once again fallen asleep somewhere that isn’t my home – well my pseudo-home anyway. It seems that anywhere else feels homier than my showroom-esque Airbnb.

This time I don’t wake up in a panic, the smell of Christian’s woodsy cologne reassures me that I’m somewhere safe. The last time stamp I saw on my phone last night was 4:30 am. We had spent the whole night catching up, watching our favorite comfort shows, and binging all his favorite American snacks that he can’t get in Australia.

I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone. A groan escapes me when I see that the time reads 8:47 am. My brows curve up at the ridiculous amount of notifications that fill my screen. While my job doesn’t really have “days off”, I had no specific plans or meetings booked for the day. So, it’s unexpected.

Most of them were from Bryan, the Omens’ photographer that I met at the warehouse with Noah. The messages flood my screen with missed calls and texts.

Bryan: Warehouse. 8 am.

Bryan: Hello? Are you awake?

Bryan: Music video. Today.

Bryan: I think you should be there.

Bryan: Hey!!! Music video !! Today !! 8 am !!

Bryan: Dude

Bryan: We’re starting. Show up whenever, if you want.

Fuck.

Kras continues to snooze next to me and I know that not even a plane crash could wake him up. So, I press a quick peck on his cheek before I roll out of bed and quickly begin gathering my belongings.

I’m rushing because well… Bryan seems like the only Omen who wants to cooperate or include me in any actual band activities. So, I have to be here. And I’m already an hour late.

I leave a small note on Christian’s dining table, saying how nice it was to see him, thanking him for the pep talk, and that I’ll see him and the rest of his band in a zoom meeting next Monday morning.

I’m still not sure if saying yes to his job offer was the right choice. I’m already stretched thin enough between my main client and now Omens, adding Chase might be more than I can handle. While my main client’s fanbase is much more… intensive, Chase Atlantic is still larger than both of them. And that swirls a terrifying pit of anxiety in my stomach because I’m not quite sure I’m equipped with enough experience to handle it all.

Gravel cracks beneath my tires as I pull up to the warehouse. I gather my bed head hair into the closest thing to a bun I can get it and try to rub off the slept in mascara smudged under my eyes.

My engine isn’t fully off for half a second before I’m out and locking my door.

I smooth out the exact same outfit I wore to Christian’s yesterday since I didn’t have time to stop home. Usually, I would never show up to a work event in sweatpants, a cropped cami, sneakers, and a flannel, but here we are. It’s not like the band is particularly formal anyway.

I see Folio and Jolly first, who both give me strange looks, like they’re surprised I’m here. Then, Noah and Nicholas once I get to the entrance. They seem equally as shocked too.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asks, lined with his usual snarky tone, seeming almost offended by my presence.

“I invited her.” Bryan speaks up from the background, adjusting the camera around his neck. “And you’re about an hour late by the way.”

Regardless of his criticism, he gives me a smile and a side hug – which surprises me.

Aside from Nicholas – for…obvious reasons – Bryan is the one who meets me with the most warmth out of the five of them.

I offer a closed lipped smile and a small awkward wave to the band. I wasn’t prepared to accidentally crash a music video shoot.

“Nice outfit, you just get out of bed?” Noah quips.

I roll my sleep-deprived eyes, “Nice to see you too, Noah.”

The rest of the band disperses into whatever they were doing before I arrived.

Nick walks up to me and I can tell he’s trying his best to act casual.

“Hey.” He says simply but quietly between us.

“Hey.” I match his somewhat awkward tone.

My gaze reluctantly meets his and I immediately regret it. His hair is pulled up into a fluffy ponytail with his hair flat against his head and he looks so good.

This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

“Val?” He asks trying to get my attention.

“Huh?” I shake my head from the fuzz sitting in my brain.

“Oh, I just said it’s nice to see you.” He says demurely. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I take note of the dullness of his normally bright eyes, and the dark bags beneath them. It makes me wonder if he got as little sleep as I did.

The energy of this whole ordeal is so… odd. It makes me feel as though I’m once again missing parts of a puzzle that I’m not aware of.

His gives me a once over and lingers a bit on my flannel.

“Oh! Right!” I set my bag down on a nearby table before slipping the flannel off my arms, giving it a lazy fold, and offering it over to him. “Here have it back.”

He instinctively takes the folded garment, looking at it like I just handed him the wrong Chipotle order. His brows furrow, initially in confusion then into something much different.

Before he responds it hits me.

I fucked up.

Fuck

“This isn’t mine.” He states in a slighted tone.

“Oh- Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night–“ I immediately realize that probably wasn’t the best thing to follow that up with. “I just need a coffee.”

“Right.” He lands the flannel back in my hands. He goes to pass me and stops as he’s grazing my shoulder. “And who’s ever it is, has shitty taste in cologne.”

My eyes widen.

Did I just put Kras’ proposed scheme into action by accident?

It’s fine.

It’s perfectly fine.

I’m fine.

I discreetly shake out the tips of my fingers and glance up to finally take in my surroundings fully. The floor is covered in a massive tarp, covered in… dirt?

I steal the phone from my tote pocket and carefully walk over to where Bryan is messing with some equipment. I shuffle right up next to him and whisper, “What…exactly is happening here?”

“I don’t know. Noah just woke us all up at the ass crack of dawn and said we needed to do this today.” Bryan shrugs, not stopping his actions for me, and continues walking carrying a large umbrella light.

“…and you all just went along with it?”

“Listen. I just work here man.” He sets down the heavy light and sighs dramatically.

I can’t help but chuckle at his verbiage.

“Okay… and why did you have to drag me into this?”

“Well, you have a job to do, don’t you?” He questions as if he doesn’t know the answer.

“I mean y-“ I begin but he cuts me off.

“Exactly.” He walks back over to a pile of equipment on a plastic table, and I follow him around like a puppy while he talks. “And you want them to like you, yes?”

“Well, I mean,” My eyes glance over at Nicholas who’s sat on a stool tuning a teal bass. The memories of our bodies entwined graze over my tongue and his working fingers sends a tingle between my legs.

Well, one of them likes me.

Is my first reflex to say.

But I’m not even sure if that’s true, especially not now. I should know better than to trust band boys anyway. I manage them, I’ve been around them since the start of my career. I’ve been best friends with Kras for nearly a decade. I’ve seen what band men do. How they treat the women they use to get off, even the ones they love.

“Look. They need you.” He says, his tone more serious than before and leans against the wall beside him with crossed arms. “Whether they believe it or not, they need you. You and I both know that. If Noah wants to be an arrogant, stubborn asshole, then let him. But don’t give up on them. They just need time.” His eyes drift to the four of them messing around with their instruments. “You’re stuck with them one way or another. And they’re not a bad bunch to be stuck with. Trust me.” He gives me a half smile before nudging my arm. “Loosen up a little, you might find that you like ‘em.”

Bryan pushes himself off the wall going to find some other task and I’m left with this peptalk I wasn’t expecting, especially from him.

I take the time to watch them, really watch them. Noah is well … Noah, so there’s some grumpy tension that follows him – but the rest of them, even while grumpy and irritated, flow together effortlessly.

Noah ripped everyone from their sleep and yet, they’re still all here. Sure, you could write that off as good work ethic, but I think it’s more than that. As unpredictable as he is, they let Noah lead them. At least for the most part.

They all showed up for him today and the whole time I’ve known them.

‘This band is all he has.’ Nicholas’ words echo in my ears from that rainy night in his car.

Maybe they all know that, and maybe they all honor it.

They all love him enough to show up and keep showing up.

Christian is right. I can’t let my feelings cloud this. If not for me, then for them.

As I clear from my dissociation, I realize I must’ve hyper fixated on their bustling about because the only thing I see now is their attire… or the lack thereof.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I cautiously step around the piles of dirt on a brown tarp to reach Noah. “Is this the whole outfit? This is what you’re wearing for the video?”

Noah sighs in exasperation and drops the corner of tarp he’s holding to face me. “Yes? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Problem with it? It is the problem.” I give him a once over, just black jeans and plain grey shirt with a faded CocaCola logo on it. I reach to his sides and give the seems a small tug to pull the logo taught against his thin chest. “You see that? What does that look like to you?”

Noah raises a snarky brow at me, “A Coke logo?”

“Wrong. That-” I drop the edges of his shirt and stab his sternum with my finger. “That is unpaid brand advertising.”

I can tell he immediately wants to roll his eyes but doesn’t when he realizes I’m right.

The rest of the boys wear similar outfits, jeans, t-shirts, hoodies.

“Okay, well this is all we brought last minute, and the house is like an hour away, I’m not driving back there.”

There’s no way I’m letting them shoot an entire video in dirt with such casual outfits. I tug at my lip and tap my fingertips on my arm in thought.

As if a lightbulb appears above my head, a possible solution crosses my mind.

“I think I saw a thrift shop in that strip where the bar is.” I shrug, “I can try to find something there. But I can’t just let you play around in dirt like this.”

Noah raises his brows and crosses his tattooed arms across his chest, “Well I’m sure as fuck not letting you pick out outfits for us.”

I walk over to my bag, picking up easily and walking towards the warehouse opening. “Then you better hurry up and get in my car.”

Noah and I had been looking through racks of dusty clothes for about 10 minutes without speaking to each other. I knew a thrift shop was somewhat of a risky choice, but after not seeing anything worth shit for a bit had me nervous.

I’m not sure why I’m nervous – but I shouldn’t be making risky bold decisions with them.

Across the racks I catch Noah picking up a thick peacoat. At first glance, I find it absolutely repulsive, but for a music video? It could be exactly what we need. At least it’d be better than a Coca-Cola shirt. For the vibe I think he’s going for, it might be perfect.

He lifts up the hanger and flips it around, his brows knitting intently at it. He likes it.

I haven’t known him that long, but he’s pretty transparent, no matter how mysterious he thinks he is.

I quickly divert my eyes back down when he goes to return the coat to its place on the rack. I know that if I say I like it, he’ll immediately be against it, so I keep my mouth shut.

“So, what kinda vibe are you going for?” I ask casually.

He glares over at me, “What do you care? Changing our clothes was your idea remember?”

“Whoa.” I put my hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I’m sure you wanna put us in the same preppy clothes you put your other big mysterious client in. Which I’m still convinced is Harry Styles by the way.”

I roll my eyes knowing which “client” he’s referring to since I haven’t mentioned that I took on a third one yet. He means the first one, the one that landed me here in the first place, my ‘big success’. At least that’s what they kept telling me when sitting in meeting after meeting getting pitched different ‘next big artists’. And somehow, I got stuck with Noah & friends™️.

“No, it’s not Harry and I don’t put them in preppy clothes.” I reply absentmindedly sifting through hangers.

“Them?” He picks up on my slip immediately and my eyes widen slightly. “It’s a band?”

I clear my throat and shake my head. “No – no that’s not what I–“

“It is, isn’t it?” His brows lower at me. “It better not be a conflict of interest, that would be a breach of contract and I-“

“Relax. I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t have signed contract if it was a conflict of interest.” I glare over at him with annoyed, tired eyes.

I sigh then allow my tense shoulders to roll back. “Yes. It’s a band. But they aren’t a heavy band they’re ehm…. more classic rock, hippie-ish?” I shake my head. “And trust me, I would NOT put you or the rest of you in any of their clothes.”

I press my lips together trying to stifle a giggle that threatens to escape at the thought of Noah in a glitzy jumpsuit.

“What’s so funny?” He furrows his brows at me in offense. “You don’t think I could pull off some hippie clothes?” He asks seriously, but I can tell he doesn’t believe it either, he’s just trying to be difficult.

Then it occurs to me that this reverse-psychology defiant behavior may work to my advantage.

“No, actually. I don’t think you could.” I shrug, sliding some clothes over. “Just like I don’t think you could pull off that hideous peacoat.”

His brows rise higher than I’ve ever seen them. “Oh really? Maybe that’ll be the one I choose then.”

Checkmate.

I ignore it to not put too much emphasis on it. “You never told me what’s the vibe you want.”

“Hm.” He pauses, maybe he doesn’t even know. “I’m not sure. Cult-y? Business-y? Underground elite secret society-y?”

“Wow.” I say with wide, surprised eyes and exaggerating my mouth around the word. “That’s… specific. And you planned to achieve that with graphic tees?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

“Would I know your other band?” He inquires, the curiosity obviously eating at him.

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

We continue to mind our own business in our individual searches while early 2000’s pop plays through the small, dingy shop.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Noah lifting up an obviously homemade PitBull t-shirt.

I can’t help but let out a loud laugh.

He snaps his head over at me with a goofy grin, “What you don’t think Mr. Worldwide is peak fashion?”

I shake my head laughing, “No, I definitely wouldn’t say he is.”

“I think this might be the most badass piece of clothing I’ve ever seen.” He seems half serious and half trying to hold back a cackle.

“It’s a… choice. But you know what? It might be perfect for you.”

He feigns offense, “Why because you think I’m so badass?”

A laugh erupts from me. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Well, I’m getting it. I might wear it in the video.” He throws the white shirt into his cart.

“Great.” I reply sarcastically.

The search seemed to be going a bit better the further we dig. I found a couple pieces that might work for the rest of the band to fit into Noah’s vaguely hyper-specific theme. He’s done the same, just not as successfully.

Across the aisle I notice his hands grasping the sides of a hideous white puffy jacket with patches of sherpa all over it and an oversized hood. The nylon material rasps as he rubs it between his inked fingertips. My brows curve at how he looks at it like it’s some lost treasure.

He pauses before turning to me, lifting it up to showcase its entirety.

“What do you think about this?” He asks genuinely, which throws me off. It sounds so authentic, so real, and not hidden behind any sort of sassy, crude walls, or ulterior motives. I don’t know if he’s ever truly talked to me like that before, especially not sober.

I’m still cautious since he’s fooled me before, so I stay neutral by lifting my shoulders to a shrug. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try it on?”

He eagerly scoots past his cart that takes up the entire aisle and walks to the mirror. The thick zipper hisses at how quickly he undoes it, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

I watch him in some form of awe, maybe it’s more curiosity of his behavior. The more I get to know him, the stranger he seems.

He slips his skinny arms through the sleeves, and it fits him loosely but just right, like it’s made for him – though that doesn’t detract from how it still looks a little ridiculous, just less so now that it’s on him.

He turns back to me and spreads out his arms like a child showing off a Halloween costume.

“Well?” He questions.

“I mean the jacket is still pretty silly.” I chuckle. “But it looks nice on you.” I compliment honestly.

A toothy grin spreads across his mouth and turns back to the mirror, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Quiet falls between us again and we move on to different sections. I get so focused on rifling through the clothes that I realize I’ve lost track of Noah. I scan the small store and can’t spot him.

“Noah?” I call and as if right on cue, I feel something dropped around my head followed by a scurrying Noah.

“What the hell?” I reach up and catch the edges of the large hat pulling it off and finding that he’s dropped a massive sombrero on my head. “Hey!”

He chuckles and pulls his shoulders to a shrug, “Might be perfect for you.” He mocks my words from before about the Pitbull shirt.

“Ha-ha very funny.” I roll my eyes playfully. “I’ll get you back.”

“Bring it on.”

What follows is a series of us trying to find the most ridiculous shit to throw on or at each other.

First, I got an ugly, dusty, grandma shawl that I threw on Noah’s shoulders as best as I could before quickly walking in the other direction.

Then, when I wasn’t paying attention and with great stealth, he was able to drop a yellowing Disney rain poncho over my body.

Now, he’s stood in front of a full-length mirror holding up various different pieces of black clothing. In my stroll through the hat section, I found a leopard print fedora perfect for his big head. I sneak up behind him, making sure not to get in frame of the mirror. I reach up on my tip toes to somewhat reach his head, tossing the hat up to bridge the rest, hoping that it would land.

It does land, crooked atop his head.

I cover my mouth to hide a chuckle before backing away slowly. Before I can make my escape, he snaps his head over in my direction, jostling the hat to fly off his head. In a swift move, he catches it with fumbling hands.

“Hey that’s not fair! You’re tiny and fast!” He plops the leopard fedora back on his head and anchors a fist at each hip playfully.

The goofy sight of it all makes me double over nearly cackling. “It’s not my fault you’re big and clunky!”

He pulls the flimsy hat off his head, squishing it thin between his fingers pointing at me. “You better watch your back, Thornhill.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary, Sebastian.” I tease with raised hands feigning fear.

“You think you’re so funny huh?” He speaks directly at me probably trying to distract me, but I catch him snatching another random hat off the rack while he slowly makes his way towards me.

My eyes glance at down at his actions and I make a run for it. I don’t know what I expected but, he chases me around the thrift shop like we’re little kids in a toy store. I stealthily weave through metal racks full of musty clothes trying to lose him, giggles pouring from both our mouths.

I ignore the judging looks from the employees and the few patrons shopping around us. It’s a blessing that I can’t hear the murmuring around us. My ears are full of only my own heartbeat and the sound of his playful and competitive laughter.

It’s then that I realize I hadn’t fully heard him laugh before, not sober anyway, and it’s so… endearing. It’s one of those laughs that’s contagious and only makes you laugh harder. Which isn’t something I expected from him. None of this is really what I expected.

He finally corners me in the scarf section. I spin around in the tiny space between us and within that split second he’s snatched a bizarrely colored thin scarf and throws it around my neck like a towel, keeping hold of each end.

Just as fast, I grasp a similar scarf and match his actions, throwing the scarf up around his neck. With the speed and rush of the motion, I accidentally tugged him closer and lower to me.

My eyes flutter up and the edges of his laughing grin shorten when his eyes meet mine. Unexpectedly, my breath hitches in my throat. I never noticed just how chocolate-y brown his eyes were until now. Normally his eyes are so serious or angry or… drunk, but right now, they’re wide and warm and just as confused as mine. His eyes shift side to side seemingly searching mine for something I’m not quite sure of.

Being this close to him really emphasizes just how tall he is, the top of my head barely meets his shoulders and for some reason, that realization makes my heart thump harder against my ribcage.

I’m frozen where I stand, I should pull away, but I can’t. I shouldn’t enjoy the butterflies that run rampant in my tummy. It’s just Noah after all. The asshole that somehow always ends up drunk on the floor. The one that tells me how to do my job and how not to manage him. The one that told Nick that I’m a ‘stuck-up corporate bitch’.

But, that’s the same Noah that’s chasing me around this store like we’re playing tag on a playground.

My tummy twists and my breath sharply lodges itself in my throat when I catch his eyes dart to my lips – once.

Twice.

He moves closer, just marginally, and then again – eyes, lips.

I mimic his actions, my eyes flicker from his brown eyes to light pink lips.

Then he’s even closer – so close I can feel his exhaled breath brush past my nose.

Again.

Eyes, lips.

I feel his knuckles just graze my shirt where he’s still holding the scarf at either end and it sends electricity down to my fingertips.

Then, a strand of his long brown hair falls from behind his ear, and it seems to snap him from our daze. He lets out an awkward chuckle, steps back and slides the scarf off my neck by one end.

“We should probably wrap up here… I’m sure the guys are sick of waiting for us.” He scratches the back of his neck and diverts his eyes from me.

It seems like the right thing to do, but for some reason it leaves me a little disappointed.

Disappointed in what exactly?

What the fuck just happened?

I pull the scarf off of him in the same manner and hang it back up on its hook. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Checking out is hushed and awkward as we stand next to each other in front of the workers that had to watch us nearly destroy the store.

We walk out silently until I notice that he’s walking out with the leopard print fedora proudly plopped on his head.

“You really bought that stupid hat?” I chuckle calling after him carrying 2 heavy, giant bags full of clothes.

“Yeah duh-“ He begins looking back but trips over his feet across the exit door frame.

I bring a plastic bag-occupied hand up to cover my mouth to hide a giggle.

“Shut up.” He directs me with a pointed hand even though I hadn’t said anything.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kinda goofy?” I laugh, shaking my head and clicking my key fob to unlock the car.

“Goofy?” He gasps as if he’s offended. “Valerie this is peak fashion.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes, “Get in the fucking car, will you?”

He laughs and matches my actions of throwing the heavy bags in the backseat. He slides in the passenger of my blue Mercedes rental and the clunky weight of his lanky body shakes the small car. He stuffs his legs into the tiny, allotted space for them. I would make a comment about how large he is, but I’m not in the business of boosting men’s egos.

I press the push-to-start and begin navigating my way out of the parking lot. It takes a bit for my phone to connect and begin playing music, but when it does it fills the car with a familiar tune.

Noah reaches over and spins the dial to turn up the music. It doesn’t fully register in my mind what song it is until Noah speaks up.

“Is this the hippie rock band you’re representing?” He asks, a bit of sharpness to his voice.

“I-I well, no, I just-“ I’m caught off guard and stutter. I’m new to handling more than one client and having them not know about each other seemed like the best course of action. But I particularly didn’t want Noah to know since I knew he’d compare what I do with others with what I do with them.

“It is, isn’t it?” He snaps. “You manage Greta Van Fleet?”

“I… well,” I pause then sigh out of pure exhaustion. “Yes. I manage them.” I say flatly, somewhat annoyed. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business though.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly just taking in the song – Lover, Leaver.

“You’re right. They’re nothing like us.” He announces simply. “The voice on that singer is insane though.”

I can’t stop my brows from furrowing, and from one abruptly propping up.

He’s not upset.

He’s not upset?

“Yeah… I know.” I reply cautiously, glancing over at him to decipher the unbothered look on his face.

“Well, don’t look so surprised, they’re good. I can appreciate good music, can’t I?” He lets a few moments pass. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. They sound so familiar…” He trails off in thought.

“I know, you were expecting Harry Styles.” I joke. “But it’s not, so you can chill.” I tap my fingertips across the leather steering wheel.

“I knew it wasn’t Harry.” He shifts in his seat, crossing his arms across his skinny waist with his hands draping over his sides. He rests his head on the door looking out the window. “If it was, you wouldn’t have taken us.”

“I bet you wish it was Harry Styles then huh?” I say as a somewhat half joke and glance over at him while mindlessly tapping my fingertips on the steering wheel. He stays silent, just watching the trees go by. I can’t tell if the silence is intentional or if he’s just zoned out.

Some time passes before he returns to the conversation.

“Well, I don’t care if you represent them. Just know that I’m not dressing up like some wizard man like your other singer.” He warns firmly with a playful pointed finger.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sebastian.”

Next Chapter -> 12 - Liar, Liar*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo @thebadchic @the-hell-i-overcame @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @cncohshit @dominuslunae [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: Thank you if you've made all the way to chp 11! lol thank you for reading anything i write. thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 🥺)

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procrasimnation · 1 month

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Tips on how to build ancient village on a lot. Working a doing a version of the exodus in sims 4. But not sure how to the egyptian/hebrew quarters

Hello! Sorry it has taken me an incredibly long time to answer this, I'm in the middle of changing jobs and my brain is mush.

Full disclaimer: I'm not much of a builder. These are all things that works for me, but YMMV.

So, for basically any large historical lot, I use this broad principle:

In the main lot, I always build the stuff I actually want to use - normally with bb.moveobjects off as much as possible - then clutter the shit out of the edges. Some recent examples:

This street looks really cluttered, but it's all against the walls and doesn't impact on routing. There's a progress shot here which shows the progression of this.

This lot has a clear route down the middle of most fields, then a bunch of clutter in areas that sims won't be walking in anyway, then a wall obscuring the view of the edge.

At the edge of any lot, basically the only thing I care about is how to most effectively disguise the fact my sims actually live in a world set in a North American desert - e.g. the blue area here, which is a load of nonsense from any other angle.

Inside, I try and (a) use the minimal amount of space possible, partially because the vast majority of houses were very small back then but mainly because I hate decorating big rooms; and (b) keep it incredibly minimal, because otherwise I will get bored and give up.

If they aren't grotesquely rich - stone floor, some kind of plaster wall, minimal wooden furniture and some relevant clutter. I think this formula broadly works for numerous geographic locations and time eras.

If they are grotesquely rich - same thing, but with more colour, rugs and pottery. I'm not a huge stickler for historical accuracy within certain limits (because it is simply not feasible for this time era in this game), but you'll find a loooooot more CC specifically built for rich Egyptians!

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feedthefandomfest · 8 months

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I have a question because I want to comment but I feel nervous. It is very foolish but it is seriously something that prevents me from commenting-

So English is not my first language and I suffer from a disease known as 'fuck you all English leaves your brain when you tap on the comment box'. Like I'm fluent enough to write a fic but the comments break me and I can only do basic 'subject verb complement' and forget half my vocabulary because I'm so nervous, so it often ends up being broken English.

I back out of posting comments except 'i love this this is amazing thank you for writing I love it' because I'm too scared the author will take it badly ? Like, what if they find it annoying ? What if they believe I think they write bad English and I'm mocking them and they don't want me to ever read their works ever again ?

Anyways, my question is : Does it actually bother anyone to receive broken English comments? Do people find it annoying ?

I would never be annoyed by such a thing and I'm positive that's true of others as well. On the contrary, it kinda blows my mind whenever I stop to think about how members of fandom for whom English is not their first language are so often working in translation. Like the trickiest barrier I have to contend with when writing anything is sleep deprivation and your average writer's block 😅 so to imagine also rendering those words in a different language?? 🫠

To varying degrees, the tragic disease of "empty comment box = empty brain" can strike anyone, regardless of language. On the plus side, some of the tricks to break through the blankness are also broadly applicable, such as

drawing from a list of sentence starters like the ones offered here or here (the beginner bingo card also has similar tasks!!)

installing this handy script that generates a positive comment on demand, which you can modify or expand on as needed

using the floating comment box to track moments or quotes you want to compliment specifically, even with just a string of emojis 💕💕💕

I can recall a couple comments I've gotten where the person apologized or gave a sort of disclaimer that English wasn't their first language, and honestly it just made me even more appreciative of the comment? Because there are so many reasons that a reader doesn't comment, and a language barrier is the most understandable!! And yet here they are, making me smile with their words. I always want to reassure them in my reply that an apology/disclaimer isn't necessary, but I don't always know how. (And there's nothing wrong with acknowledging something you're self-conscious about, after all.)

The concept of "broken English" has also got me thinking, though... And since it turned into a bit of an essay I'll leave it under the cut. 💛

Because the term "broken English" has a lot to unpack, seeing as it's always unfairly positioned those who speak English as a second language imperfectly as lesser (broken = defective). And that strikes me as a bit ironic, considering the degree to which English is a Frankenstein's monster of a language—this conglomeration of every language it encounters and subsumes. In that sense, English itself is a broken language? Or rather the shards of numerous languages held together with duct tape and gum and a whiff of imperialism. Its usage is always in flux, always evolving as speakers adapt it to new circumstances, and those adaptations become dialects in and of themselves. There is no one English language.

I teach high schoolers, and I'm consistently struck by the growing chasm between the kinds of English I can speak and the kinds of English they can speak. And technically my job is to train them in how to use American Standard English and read literature written in American Standard English, but really I find that pretty limiting.

Take the tone of this response, for instance! The more I've leaned toward trying to articulate these complicated issues of language, the more formal my speech has become. Contrast that with the first paragraph, where I'm trying to get across this awkward earnest admiration for the extra effort required of some fans just to engage in fandom, and so I ended up using more casual phrasing and emojis in a way that (hopefully) conveys a certain warmth and self-deprecating humor and whatnot.

If I were to leave a comment on a fic that blew me away, left me in a state of awe or delight or anguish—just a puddle on the floor—I'd find American Standard English quite lacking. Downright restrictive. The unique jumbled babble of fandom-speak functions on breaking the standard rules in order to evoke an intensity of emotion that meets the demands of the moment.

Another thing about commenters who really commit to throwing the rules out the window in favor of vibes is that I get such a strong sense of personality beaming through. A distinct voice that's generated, an intense impression of there being an individual on the other side with a particular shape. And there's something delightful about that.

...I suppose this is all a very roundabout way of saying that if there's anywhere to just unleash, vocab and mechanics be damned, where it's more than okay to string together whatever words you can in service of how you're feeling, it's the AO3 comment box. 💛

#sorry this turned into a book!!#language is fascinating #i really appreciate the ask and hope this helped #just know that even an “i love this this is amazing thank you for writing I love it” is a JOY to receive #the only comments that have ever annoyed me are the few and far between that complain about the story #and even then it took a couple repeats from the same commenter to really irk me #ao3 comments #thank you for feeding the ask box

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frevandrest · 6 months

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There had been a number of questionable takes recently regarding the Frev in the past few days that came in succession . Do you reckon if works in the past decades or so that were published in France and were made available to English readers would it may have at least mitigated such thing to ever happen or is the black legend so ingrained that even with the idea of an era where works by Belissa et Al were in circulation in English to people outside France, the result would be the same?

Before I reply, I need to make a disclaimer that I am not the best person to answer this question. I arrive from a very different educational tradition (neither Anglo nor French), and I actually discovered embarrassingly late about the whole black legend and the fact that, among some, the French Revolution was considered a horrible event (that failed). I was taught it was an event that changed the world forever (and helped shape the world today, mostly in a positive sense) and that it has to be studied to understand our world. So I am not the best person to judge the effect of the black legend vs new historiography. If others have more informed takes, please tell us; I am super interested. Now, the bad (as in, incorrect) takes we get here. They happen periodically, and they tend to be very similar, often by people claiming (and I have no reason to doubt them) that they are taking history courses on frev, typically in the USA. So these takes tell me about the state of teaching frev in the USA (Anglo?) sphere. Which is not necessarily the same as "what experts publish in academic articles", because - not sure if people are aware of it, so I need to emphasize - you do not have to be an expert on a topic to teach it at the university level. You typically need a PhD in the discipline, but not necessarily on the topic of the course you teach. I can imagine that they won't give a frev course to someone with a PhD in, say, antiquity, but "early modern period" is good enough, even if you are not an expert on France or the revolution.

Sorry for this preamble; I swear it is related to your question. What I mean is that these specific takes we saw here seem to me (though I could be wrong) not necessarily a product of current English-language academia on frev, but what students are taught. So yes, it is a good question on what kind of books students are given on the mandatory readings list, and if those teaching are even aware of the most current English-language books on the topic (let alone French). I swear most of this stuff is so dated and proven to be incorrect over and over again. We had someone a few months ago saying they read Carlyle for their frev class. ?? This is really strange to me, especially in the North American academia, where even books that are considered new-ish elsewhere, are seen as old, so why teach something published in early 19c? Unless you want to demonstrate changed attitudes about frev and discuss historiography, propaganda, etc. which doesn't seem to be the case. Those assigning such readings are teaching what they feel is true. So I can only guess that they never bothered to read newer stuff. Look. I am all for authors not liking the French Revolution or specific things in it (I am critical of many frev stuff myself), but you have to use current sources that go through earlier misconceptions. We can't still be stuck at "dictator Robespierre who ruled France", a thing that was disproven so long ago and no credible historian believes in (even if they hate Robespierre).

Now, this is about teaching history at the university level and not about experts in academia, because I do think most incorrect takes we get here on tumblr are from students. Experts sticking to the black legend and "horrible horror of the revolution that failed anyway and didn't achieve anything" are a different group. Though I am not an expert on the current historiography to judge it in detail. So, if someone reading this knows more and can explain, please share!

#ask #anonymous #frev #french revolution

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catghoulz · 10 months

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DISCLAIMER: im a tranny mystic not a historian so probably dont take this az rigorous academic analysis or w/e

ykno. ive alwayz been bothered by ppl saying tht dragonz are this universal thing in all culturez bc like. bro ur just applying th modern western conception ov the dragon to any large folkloric reptile. & i stand with that but the corollary im arriving at az i get more autistic abt world mythology iz. on the other hand the motif ov a large serpent who createz and/or holdz the waterz ov the world, often a primordial being and/or killed with the assistance ov the incarnation ov stormz IZ really fucking common in culturez around the world, with strikingly specific similaritiez between even thoroughly geographically isolated culturez.

i mean my analysis iz certainly colored by a lil ov teh ol mysticz psychosis but like. imo the modern western princess/treasure hoarding dragon iz just a local variation on the water serpent motif, swapping itz valuable possession ov the life-giving rainz for the contemporary european valuablez ov gold & women.

while one must stretch hard to see winged fire-breathing lizardz in world culture, belief in water-giving serpentz seem to me so abundant az to have either come with the initial continental migrationz or to have independently arose many timez in many placez. either possibility fascinatez me honestly. the chinese long, mesopotamian tiamat, many ov th supposed derivativez ov the proto-indo-european *H₂n̥gʷʰis, the various rainbow serpentz ov australia & africa, indigenous american horned serpentz, probably many more tht i or th historical record have forgotten

anyway in conclusion uhhhh. letz all love teh water serpentz from whose body the waterz ov our world flowed everyone. to be perfectly honest the water serpent iz still in there AND that includez the water in the sink. by the way. and our bodiez but also a variety ov other thingz. so i think we should be very grateful. o also by filling a serpent with poison we are not hurting her but we Are hurting ourselvez. but thtz prety obvious

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maybeimamuppet · 3 months

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Use this post as an excuse to dump all your Cady headcanons into one post. Go nuts dude.

Love your fics btw :)))

ayyyy thank you nonnie!!!!

i for sure have more but i’m just gonna post the list of headcanons i made to base her on when i first started writing

and usual disclaimer this is her 2018 musical version i have not used some of these and they may not still apply etc etc ANYWAY

tw for death mention

-autistic

-special interest in math, specifically calculus

-polyglot, fluent in english, swahili, french, german, spanish, italian, swedish, and american sign language

-can say any word or sentence backwards, taught herself to read backwards when she was first learning

-sensitive to noise and touch

-swears in different languages when frustrated or hurt

-loves skincare, will pin janis down to make her let her do it to her too

-loves to stim with janis’ hair

-loves janis’ jackets

-and shirts

-steals them whenever she gets the slightest opportunity

-weird medical knowledge

-overly prepared for every possible scenario

-love language is touch

-loves to be snuggled

-tries to touch janis at all times, janis just goes with it

-doesn’t like soft touch, too tickly

-teaches janis asl for when one of them is nonverbal (or just for fun)

-loves fruit

-loves tea

-fascinated by american culture

-name is spelled because her dad was trying to be a musician when she was born and wanted to give her a musical name like harmony or rhyme, mother agreed to cadence if it could be cady on her birth certificate

-middle name is allison

-had an older brother named rhys, ten years older, died at 20 in the military

-he joined the military to pay for college, wanted to be a doctor

-was born in oregon

-aquarius, acts more like pisces, birthday february 11

-bisexual

-very organized but has terrible handwriting

-janis buys her chewy necklaces and stim toys and she loves and uses them all

-comes up with a code to help both of them whenever she has a sensory overload or other meltdown

-blunt as hell, honest to a fault

-tutors janis in math for payment of kisses and time as little spoon

-loves all animals

-kind of like a disney princess, can also befriend any animal

-loves to play animal crossing, designs her island to look like kenya, fav villager is rex

-afraid of the dark and big storms

-takes a sleeping bag and camps in the backyard whenever she’s stressed

-loves to let janis paint on her, the texture of the paint gives her good sensory input

-barefoot whenever possible

-hates being tickled

-tries to learn art to impress janis, it doesn’t work but janis loves what she makes anyway

-loves holding hands

-whispering irritates her

-shifts her lips side to side when she’s anxious

-keeps in touch with karen and gretchen throughout senior year, becomes friends with all plastics again once they become decent people in college

-keeps in touch with aaron, decided they were better as friends

-teeny tiny. 5’3 and 120 pounds

-will throw hands for janis

-vegetarian when she can

-sleeps on her tummy, janis thinks it’s adorable

-valedictorian in hs, fast tracks through getting her bachelors and masters in math , gets her phd really young

-becomes a math professor and tries her best to be understanding and fun, channels ms norbury

-they still meet for coffee sometimes

-used to go for walks in the woods alone when she got stressed until she learned how dangerous it was

-can play a little bit of guitar

-sings to herself a lot without realizing, janis is 😍

-goes to all of janis’ art shows and panics if she’s even a little late

-front row at all of damian’s shows too

-loves disney movies and makes janis watch them with her after they watch horror movies so she can sleep

-can and will sleep anywhere but pretends to have trouble sleeping sometimes so janis will cuddle her

-loves having her hair played with

-hates crowds

-certain textures put her off, janis thinks it’s odd but protects her from them nonetheless

-allergic to pollen, spends most of spring sneezing and with a stuffy nose (janis also finds this adorable)

-never wears matching socks

-said i love you first during a tutoring session with the equation thing

-finds signs easier than talking aloud most of the time

-knows all about space and the stars

-doesn’t understand sarcasm or most figures of speech unless it’s very obvious or intuitive

-janis gets her a bunny in college

-she tries to name it janice (but it’s different!)

-janis says no

-she names her pickles instead

-invents names for things and comes up with new swears

-drops shit all the time

-discovers crocs and causes chaos

-has frecklessssssss

-likes mornings, hates waking up to see them

-does not like eye contact but could stare into janis’ for hours

-janis helps her with english, she doesn’t like it because there’s too many exceptions to all the rules

-avoids alcohol at all costs

-can do really good impressions once she’s familiar with how they sound, learns a lot of social stuff through mimicry

-cannot do fashion at all

-doesn’t like surprises, gets anxious if her routine changes or if she doesn’t have enough information about a new situation beforehand

-hyper fixated on the lion king for a while after janis showed it to her

-has little plants she named after her friends, when one isn’t doing well she checks on them

-wants and loves to travel

-weirdly strong opinions about stupid shit

-says little things in her sleep sometimes

-will tell africa stories to someone on the sidewalk if they’d listen to her

-excitable

-lived in kenya from 3-16

-watches inter-species friendship videos all the fucking time

-loves riding in shopping carts

-soft spoken. so soft.

-smells of rose water and cherries

#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#hope this appeases lol #enjoy the cringe #but yeah my bby i love her sm <333 #also sorry for the number of these that are cadnis related i v clearly had no plans to branch out at the time lmao #mean girls #cady heron

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gaysindistress · 10 months

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Things that I think would happen if Bucky dated an Egyptian!reader

Based on this request from @aesthetic0cherryblossom

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

1. Bucky has always been fascinated with Ancient Egypt

American Egyptomania is what they call the time of renewed interest in the culture of ancient Egypt that happened in America in the late 19th century and early 20th. Like I mentioned in my first Arab reader headcanon list, with Bucky being from Brooklyn it’s likely that he experienced more diversity than most. Also with how social he was, I genuinely believe that he would’ve experienced more than Steve. Anyways his exposure to ancient Egypt would have come from the many museums in New York that were a part of Egyptomania however his knowledge about “modern” Egypt would have stemmed from his interest in the first world war. Egypt had a significant but forgotten role in the war and with his dad dying during basic training, I can see him having a special interest in it and thus learning more about Egypt.

Now, fast forward to 2023 a form of self-care for Bucky would be going to museums and essentially re-learning everything that he spent years reading about as a kid. And we know that he was a reader because he read the Hobbit when it first came out in 1937. It didn’t become mainstream until almost 3 decades later in the 60s so that would lead me to believe that he read literally everything that he could.

Back on track now, these museum trips are a way for him to catch up, as well as feel connected to who he was before.

Since he is tied to D.C. thanks to his government mandated therapy, he goes to the Smithsonian more than any other ones. He loves the Eternal Life in Ancient Egypt exhibit more than anything, and he visits it all of the time.

Once again, this is where you come in. You two didn’t meet at the museum but instead literally ran into each other as he was leaving therapy. He was in a terrible mood and ran straight into you, spilling your coffee all over your white shirt. He felt awful and apologized profusely but you weren’t concerned.

“I don’t even like this shirt anyways,” you told him with a smile that made him swoon.

After that, he’d see you every week after his appointment and he slowly started to look forward to Dr. Raynor. She made a comment about it which he quickly shut her down saying that “maybe our sessions are helping or maybe I just want to get out of here.” She reminded him that she could extend his court mandated appointments if she thought it necessary.

Finally he worked up the courage to ask you out and offered to buy you a new shirt. You accepted and told him that lunch would be a better replacement. He let you pick the place and you took him to Fava Pot, the only good Egyptian restaurant aside from your kitchen.

The two of you talked for hours about everything and nothing at all. Slowly the topic of you being Egyptian came out and it took everything in him to not lose his shit. Before he could stop himself, he told you all about how he’d loved Ancient Egypt growing up and how he’d go to the Smithsonian almost weekly to look at the exhibits. At first you did say a word but then the giggles erupted for you, causing everyone to look at your table. You grabbed his arm and drug him out of the restaurant without a word about why and the poor guy was so confused.

You finally explained that you would give him a real tour and alas your weekly museum dates were born.

2. Your culture is hard for him to grasp at first.

Important note for this hc": there is a very old and heated debate about whether or not Egyptians are Arab. While I’m Arab, I’m not Egyptian and not at all qualified to even touch that debate. With that being said, the cultural differences were specifically requested so my hope is that this section comes across as neutral in regards to that debate. If it doesn’t or i get something wrong, please correct me. Everyone deserves accurate representation.

As I said in my first Arab!reader list, there is a lot of misinformation about the Middle East and North Africa which makes research very difficult. The above debate is a prime example of this. Bucky tries really hard to do as much research as he can on his own so that he can surprise (and impress) you but ultimately has to ask you. He takes it as a personal hit that he can’t do everything in his power to understand you better because you’ve done that for him. However you remind him that he’s an Avenger and literally has biographies written about him.

“Rouhi, no one is expecting you to be a walking encyclopedia. Let me help,” you said in a gentle tone one night when he was getting frustrated with whatever show he was watching.

“That defeats the purpose of me learning about your culture. I should be able to do it on my own,” he threw back from the couch where he’s laying with the cat that he definitely didn’t want on his chest.

“You can do a lot of other things on your own. You’re a big boy, you’re 107! This, however, is difficult for anyone and I’m more than willing to help.”

He glared at you for calling him that and for pointing at his age but his gaze softened when you dropped onto the ground next to him with a plate of food. After that, in addition to your Arabic lessons, the two of you play trivia so he can learn more. It’s really you quizzing him on flashcards and every one he gets right, he gets a kiss. The arrangement works out in both of your favors really.

3. The more serious your relationship gets, the more Egyptian traditions/norms he incorporates into your life.

This starts out with little things like taking his shoes off when he walks in. With time he’ll start adding more things like visiting your family as often as you can as a couple and bringing some sort of gift, usually sweets or the chocolates that your dad loves. During dinner, he’ll make sure to get a second plate and leave a small amount leftover. He’ll change how he compliments you by making an effort to compliment specific things like how your hair looks that day or how he likes when you wear black. He’ll also start showing gratitude when you compliment him by responding to a compliment on the same thing. For example, if you tell him how good he looks that day, he’ll tell you that you look radiant. If you’re Muslim, he’ll add “Allah Yen’im ‘alik” which is how you wish someone Allah’s blessings (from my understanding).

Eventually he acts more Egyptian than you when you’re with your family and your mom will not let you forget it. She’s always telling you that Bucky is such a good man and how he’d be the perfect son in law. Those conversations are usually followed by her asking when you’re going to get married and looking him dead in the eyes to make her point clear; hurry up and propose. Ever the charmer, he’s able to rely on that Brooklyn sweetheart that lives inside of him and move the conversation to something else. Of course, your mom knows what he’s doing but she’ll allow it because she can feel the proposal in her bones (and it never hurts to have that brilliant smile directed at you.)

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #egyptian #Egyptian reader #Bucky x Egyptian reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel

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icallhimjoey · 2 years

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Easier In Greece

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe's in an interesting stage of life when he's offered an equally interesting project. You whisk him off to Greece and spend eight days together on a boat with high expectations of which none turn out to be true. CW / disclaimer: rpf (don’t read if this makes you uncomfy), fem!reader, brief mention of claustrophobia, dead octopuses, fish touching you, Joe loses those sunglasses - no nvm its all silly shit, you'll be fine

Author’s note: this is so completely out of my comfort zone, and i felt weird all throughout writing it, but i had kind words of @ghostinthebackofyourhead to coach me through - hope you liiiiiike, replies and reblogs are appreciated!

Wordcount: 7.9K

Again, Joe and love didn’t meet, even though he so desperately had hoped that this had been it.

The one.

It very muchly hadn’t been, and in hindsight, he didn’t really know why he’d ever thought it was.

Now in his late twenties, Joe decided to stop and have look at the stats. Maybe an industry party wasn’t the best location to take time to reflect, but the stunning woman who just shot Joe down forced him into looking inwards for a second.

What am I doing wrong? Joe thought.

Unsurprisingly, Joe concluded that the stats weren’t good at all.

So, just for now, for the foreseeable future, the summer at least, Joe was done with women. Sure, they’d be all shiny and smiley in ads, on Instagram, in films… but those same women would never come over to his flat and just sit on his Ikea sofa with him after a long day’s work.

Looking back, Joe realised that he’d chosen a tactic that felt oddly similar to what American boxers call dope-a-rope; no matter how hard your competition, or even yourself, tries to get you down, you won’t actually get down until you hit yourself in the face. At least, that’s what Joe thought dope-a-rope meant, anyway.

Failed first dates, failed second dates, situationships that never turned into relationships, relationships ending over all sorts of different reasons – Joe forgot about them fast, in hopes that he’d know exactly what to do when he’d finally run into her; the one.

Joe was young still, you know, if you asked anyone older, but he already had enough of all of this bullshit.

So. Bye, ladies.

That’s what he decided would be the right plan for him that night. Tell love goodbye. Easy enough to say it aloud, and it was a decision that after four drinks felt totally right, but Joe hadn’t anticipated what it meant to actually try to stick with it.

He felt a bit like a mad, distraught toddler whose balloon had just popped.

When he saw the head of Olivier Magazine walking up to him, someone he met previously and wouldn’t really consider a friend, but he had some pictures to show that they at least knew each other, he decided to take it all out on him.

“Matthew,” Joe started when he walked into earshot.

“Joe,” he replied, unaware of Joe’s intentions. “Good to see you, mate. I’m going to call you tomorrow with a real fun project for you.” And then Matthew walked right past him, leaving Joe without words.

The next day, hungover-Joe got the phone call.

“Joe, it’s Matt, say… you’re a single man, aren’t you?”

“… yes.”

Then the conversation had taken a surprisingly strange turn. A journalist had a spread in mind for Olivier Magazine with a very specific focus: tour companies for single people who invite ambitious travelers on somewhat of a budget who are looking to meet and connect with like-minded people while exploring new and exciting places along the way. She really wanted to focus on single men. The trip abroad would more so just be the background for it.

It sounded like an accumulation of every nightmare Joe had ever had.

“I’m sure you’ll appreciate the break, and we’ll get some fantastic photos taken!”

Joe listened to Matt’s pitch as he swiftly opened his laptop where he googled the name of the journalist that he’d mentioned. It only took a couple of seconds for Joe to find himself staring at a picture of you. A pretty girl, around his age, smiling at him like those women did in the ads, and on Instagram.

“You-” Joe interrupted Matt who still was in the middle of talking about how beautiful the Mediterranean Sea was this time of year. “-are not being serious, are you?”

About a week later, Joe got an e-mail from you. “Hey Joe, have you heard? We’re going to go on a trip together.”

Day One: London to Athens

Greece was where you were taking Joe. The place where Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, left her footsteps in the sand. It was precisely the wrong thing to tell Joe upon first meeting him, but you didn’t know, and he also didn’t let on.

You were looking at an eight-day boat trip with Joe, and you still weren’t sure how you’d gotten Olivier roped in on it. The idea seemed too bold to even be taken seriously at all, but maybe that was exactly why Matthew had decided to go for it. And he knew just the guy for it too.

Had Joe not accepted to go on this trip with you for you to write about single men on trips designed for single people, you probably still would’ve been sat at home, hoping that maybe another magazine would have only even considered listening to you talk about your ideas for original spreads to grace their pages.

But Joe had accepted, and now you were both on a boat from the organisation One Wave that was a lot smaller than you had expected. The captain of the boat, nicknamed Mr Wave by you, but never when he was around, had told you about the 2500 Greek islands and about the same number of singles that had been on the very boat you’d be staying on.

You had only just met a couple hours earlier, a quick handshake before boarding the plane in London. There had been some pleasantries e-mailed back and forth to at least try to get some knowledge of who either of you were before venturing out across Europe together, but it had all been quick, shallow words on screens. It was entirely different to be able to look into Joe’s eyes when you spoke to him.

Joe was charming.

Maybe not exactly your type, but... something oozed from him that you hadn’t been able to witness through his e-mails.

You were relieved to find out that you weren’t sat together on the flight. There was no need for small talk, or other awkward conversation. And from your seat, you had a pretty good view of him, which was even better. It gave you a chance to scope him out a little, see how he treated the flight attendants, the people he was sat near, what he’d do if the plane was to plummet over France somewhere and crash… all for the article you’d write, of course.

When Matthew said that Joe Quinn was game for your plans, you’d silently cursed at him.

An actor?

A single actor?

One who was on pretty much every guest list of every award show right now?

Big ask for him not to be absolutely full of himself.

But so far, he seemed fine. Normal. Almost a little boring.

To be able to take off on the boat, you were going to have to find it first. A difficult task on the first night in a country of which neither of you spoke or could even read the language.

It was dark and the harbour was larger than you thought it’d be. Joe was using the flashlight on his phone to shine at every boat’s name in hopes of accidentally finding the right one within the first few minutes.

You were surprised that you felt a little responsible for your travel buddy – this whole thing had been your idea, and had you had more time to prepare, you’d have taken Joe to the right boat immediately.

Joe had been gracious enough during your search to offer to carry your bag. He immediately regretted helping out when he felt the weight of it as he threw it over his shoulder, but he didn’t mention it.

Joe was happy you weren’t as shy as he would’ve been in this situation had he been in your shoes. You had no issue asking for the right way a million times, using hands and feet to signal what you were looking for, until you finally pinpointed the correct boat.

When you finally set foot on board of the boat named Paris – named after a Greek Prince that seduced the beautiful Helena, or kidnapped her, depending on how much of a feminist you were – you met the other travelers.

Tim, who brought his six-year-old son, which was weird. It made Joe and you look at each other funny, clearly thinking the same thing.

Dan, a guy from Manchester who kept saying, “Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but,” before everything he said.

And Martin, the owner of the boat and thus your captain for the week.

There were other guests, more of them, who weren’t sat on deck; either already asleep inside, or still on their way over.

The two of you would obviously also be sleeping on the boat. That led to one of those things Joe hadn’t even fully thought of yet: sleeping arrangements.

Did you want a small, tiny room with bunkbeds originally designed for two children? Or did you want to sleep in the one double bed left located in the front of the boat?

Joe swallowed hard when he looked at you, the choices echoing in his mind. Stay in a bed, with you? Joe might have bid farewell to love, albeit temporarily, he was still a man.

“Joe?”

“It’s your call.” ever the gentleman.

And after a quick tour and a swift look at the options, it was an easy choice to make. There was no way the bunkbeds were going to fit Joe’s legs.

“We’ll take the double bed.”

Day Two: Athens to Epidaurus

The mornings were busy on the boat. Besides the guests you met the night before, you got to meet the other passengers of the Paris. Charlie, Martin’s son Jesse, who happened to also be Charlie’s best friend, and two older lovers, Daisy and Frank.

It’s entirely not the vibe you thought you’d find on this trip, island hopping in Greece, being amongst travelers on the lookout for other singles to meet and mingle with. There was a child and a couple within your group, and it threw you for a loop.

This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for your multiple page opinion piece that would feature stunning photographs (you imagined, they hadn’t been taken yet) of a bronzed Joe Quinn, an open white shirt loosely hung over his shoulders, billowing in the wind on a luxurious yacht, with a deep blue sea and Grecian islands in the background.

The mental image of it had been so dreamy, but this felt a bit like a weird family trip with a bunch of relatives who had seen you last when you were in diapers still.

You learned later that the couple was only there because the divorced Frank had already booked the trip before he’d met Daisy through online dating, and he hadn’t been able to get a refund. They were very apologetic about it. What was worse, and not entirely clear to Joe and you just yet, was that Frank and Daisy had immediately taken a liking to the both of you because they thought they weren’t the only couple there.

There were other boats from One Wave, and when you bobbed out of the harbour onto the open sea, you could see that there were at least eight of the same boats, traveling alongside you. There wasn’t enough wind to let the sails down, but that was alright. Slowly hours passed as you passed the islands, sun beaming down, sunscreen thick on your nose and tops of your shoulders.

As a journalist, you’d decided to use your skills to get Joe talking.

When you sat down next to Joe on the edge of the boat near the front, legs dangling over, catching splashes of the seawater below, Joe hadn’t expected your approach to have been teaching him an unasked lesson about time and space.

“So, think of this,” you said. “There’s no time. It’s not there, doesn’t exist.” Your facial expression was utterly serious as you rambled about past, present and future all stacked on top of each other. You tried your hardest to get a reaction out of Joe. “Really, the universe just has its way to take care of you, trust me.”

Joe wasn’t convinced. What you’d hoped would’ve happened was that Joe would’ve either outrageously agreed or disagreed with you. It held the opportunity to either dive deep into a philosophic chat or would have the two of you bickering. Either one would’ve given you food for thought for your article.

What you hadn’t anticipated is where Joe took it.

Humour.

After three minutes you had to ban him from making further jokes about it.

After a full day of getting to know everyone, you all stepped off your boats in Epidaurus around four in the afternoon. Adding all the other boats and their passengers to your group, you ended up in a company of about thirty people.

The group held more men than women, but to your surprise, there were also women in their thirties who had brought their children along. And over dinner and drinks you learned that Dan, from your boat, also had a son around the same age as Tim’s he had wanted to bring along. It was due to a miscommunication with his ex-wife that that hadn’t happened.

Joe caught Dan looking at Tim’s boy with sad eyes and had cleared his throat loudly before changing the subject over to Jesse and Charlie, the two lads in their earlier twenties.

Unbeknownst to you, Joe found himself to have a lot in common with them when they talked about girls, and how they had given up on them for a bit. The chat at your table turned almost therapeutic; everyone shared why they were single, and it was all different, but all complex.

You didn’t share, and neither did Joe. No one pressed it, which was nice.

And then it dawned on you.

People go on these trips more so to avoid couples all together.

To not be surrounded by public displays of affection from lovey-dovey coupled-up friends and family.

To be on a trip where you’re not the third or fifth wheel amongst them.

To be in a group of like-minded people and to just hang out together.

It’s why there were children there too – how lovely must it be to take a trip with other single parents who share the same hardships as you? The whole world suddenly seemed to be catered towards couples only, unfairly so.

You felt like you discovered a secret treasure not meant for your eyes. Your revelation blew fresh air into your passion project, right there at the dinner table, and you tapped away in your notes app on your phone to capture as much of your trail of thought as you could.

When you noticed Joe peeking over you shoulder, you shoved him away.

“Are you not meant to be writing about me?” Joe smirked, having caught some of what you were writing down.

“I was.” You said pointedly, closing the app and putting your phone down.

Day Three: Epidaurus to Poros

For the second time, Joe woke up next to you which ultimately wasn’t as weird as he thought it would have been.

Should have been.

You both were very adult about it together. But sometimes a bigger boat would pass, and it’d make your boat dance over larger waves. Not an issue, maybe a little nauseating, but it meant that you’d accidentally touch a lot in the night. You were both level-headed about it though. Definitely well-trained professionals. Joe tried to think of another job where people had to sleep in the same bed, for several nights, in sticky Mediterranean heat after hanging out in swimwear all day.

Nothing came to mind.

It hadn’t just been the sleeping arrangement that had helped grow the sense of familiarity between the two of you fast. Standing in one of the tiny bathrooms of the boat, you were both brushing your teeth, and Joe wasn’t sure why or how he felt this was a totally normal thing to do, but he’d lean over your shoulder to spit into the sink for which you would then turn the tap on to wash it away.

Professionals.

You started that day with a big sigh. There was a bus excursion planned to a museum in Epidaurus, but you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I’m not a huge fan of seeing things,” you protested with a shrug. It was a weird hill to die on, entirely made up of lies. You were just moody. “Things are places. I get it.”

It made Joe remember why he’d sworn off love.

“So, don’t come then.” Joe tried.

“No, no,” Another sigh. “I’ll come.”

Women.

When you got to the museum, Joe didn’t understand how you were still fun to be around when grumpy. He wondered if he was fun to be around, just so that this trip would at least be a little bearable for you, but you hadn’t mentioned anything to Joe about it yet, so he figured he was fine. You seemed the type of person to tell him straight away if he was boring, and he kind of liked that about you.

Because the old Greeks didn’t have microphones, obviously, the museum you had set foot into was known for its acoustics. Every room had been designed for sound to travel. When Charlie and Jesse had gleefully decided to test it by singing Sweet Caroline, they had your entire group join in within seconds.

“Hands… touching hands… reaching out… touching me… touching you…”

They became louder and rowdier, dancing now too, arms reaching and touching each other. Smiles grew bigger when no one seemed to stop them. The other tourists there however did not seem very happy with the disruption, and Joe saw you take a few steps away from the group.

“Having fun?” Joe yelled, trying to speak over the echoing voices practically shouting the chorus, half of them adding boisterous ‘so good, so good, so good’ whilst punching the air to fill the short silence in between. Meanwhile Dan had found a table to drum the beat onto as others clapped.

“This is really embarrassing,” you mouthed at Joe, seeing the judgmental eyes from strangers that hurriedly left the room you were in. It only prompted Joe to be more embarrassing as he tried to rope you back into the group with cheesy dance moves and singing in a comically deep voice.

And you couldn’t actually believe it, but something about the joy that Joe could let shine from his eyes made you give in and join them in their antics.

After that, things got better.

Your mood got better.

Especially when you found a hotel where everyone was allowed a five-minute shower. It was likely to be the last good shower that you would get for the week.

That afternoon you sailed your way over to Poros, and you were struck by how much every single place you visited looked like it wasn’t real. Too picturesque. As if built for multi-million Hollywood films.

Poros, Martin told you, had a boulevard, so you could go shopping if you wanted to. Immediately excited, you helped dock the boat, having learnt a thing or two by now. You managed to jump of the boat swiftly, and caught the ropes thrown at you with ease, quickly tying them onto the thick hooks meant for them.

When Joe helped you get back onto the boat, something happened that made him feel for you: your sunglasses fell into the water. Joe watched them slowly sink deeper, and he was touched by how much the two of you were alike. Losing your sunglasses in the water was something so typical for Joe to do.

“Quick! Get them!” you called out, but Joe looked into the clear water and saw how they were already so close to the bottom. The two of you just watched as they hit the sand.

“Shit,” you muttered. “Those were such a good pair, too. Now you’ll have to get new ones.”

Hang on a minute, what?

Confused, Joe reached for the top of his head.

“Oh.”

Those sunglasses weren’t yours.

They were Joe’s.

Losing sunglasses in the water wasn’t something Joe would do. It’s something he did.

You spent the afternoon walking the boulevard and perching pairs of sunglasses on Joe’s slightly sunburned nose, in search of finding a pair that you both liked on him.

“What about these ones?” Joe asked you and turned his face so you could see.

You looked up from your phone at him shortly.

“Those are nice.”

And to be fair, you liked most of them on Joe, but Joe wasn’t as easy. He was after a pair similar enough to the ones he’d lost and took the job seriously.

“Listen, I know you’re here to do a job,” Joe placed his hand over your phone and pushed it down slightly. “But right now, your job should be to tell me how beautiful I look in these instead of writing about it.” Joe joked, and it was enough to make you laugh and slide your phone back into your pocket.

“You look stunning.”

“Okay, I’ll get them.”

Day Four: Poros to Vathy

“You’re single because you don’t know how to have a proper argument,” a friend of Joe had told him before he’d gone on this trip.

Joe had heard so many sentences start with “You’re single because…” but this was a new one. And Joe had agreed. Joe was quick to admit he’d been wrong, even if he hadn’t been, would just listen to complaints and then adapt, giving the other person no pushback. It was just easier that way.

This trip, however, wasn’t the time to practice arguing for the sake of getting better at it and perhaps enhancing his luck in relationships.

On the boat you laughed a lot.

The way you’d envisioned all of you to be a weird make-shift family had kind of become reality in the best sense of the word. You had revealed to be a journalist who was merely on the trip to write about it, and it had intrigued everyone.

Charlie and Jesse had immediately come up with pseudonyms for themselves: Charlie would be Jesse, and Jesse would be Charlie. It was such a stupid joke; it had left you giggling just thinking of it hours later.

Joe had then also told them that he was there as your subject, which made it sound as if you held full power over him. You realised then that you sort of did and wondered if that was how Joe had felt the whole time you’d been around each other. You hoped he hadn’t, knowing it would be so much nicer if Joe would just be fully himself without also keeping busy doing guesswork as to what you’d write about him later. Plus, you’d kind of grown fond of the Joe you had gotten to know, so imagining him not being fully himself stung a little.

Once you got off the boat and stepped into Vathy, your legs felt wobbly stepping onto land. “Sea legs,” you said when grabbing hold of the closest thing to you to find your balance.

“Here.”

The closest thing had been Joe, and he held out his arm for you to link yours through for your walk.

More of your company felt their legs had to get used to being on steady ground again, and Martin had given you the advice to go for a run around the island. It would get jitters out, but more importantly pump oxygen into your muscles which would prevent funny legs later in the trip.

The sun was high in the sky, and Joe really didn’t want to work out, but after lunch you managed to talk him into it by challenging his ego. He threw it right back at you; there was no way you would be able to keep up with him, that’s obviously why he hadn’t wanted to go running with you at first, but if you really insisted on learning how slow you really were, you were Joe’s guest.

Joe mentally took back every joke he made when he later saw you fighting up a hill in the blearing heat of the late afternoon.

On your run together through winding, sandy lanes you were stopped twice by sheep and cows crossing the street. It was almost ridiculous how cliché it all felt, but Vathy really was more beautiful than you’d seen online. On your left you were looking down at the sea where the light was dancing on the waves like liquid diamonds.

Far from the harbour, more out to open sea, a dozen or so shapes bobbed up and down on the water, and with their shiny black bodies, they could easily be mistaken for seals. But if you looked closer, you’d see they were surfers waiting, watching for their next wave.

You had pointed them out to Joe, but secretly, Joe only had eyes for you.

Maybe it was just the air up there, Joe hoped, but you were so pretty like this.

Sweaty cheeks, lips flushed, chest heaving.

Joe didn’t mind you taking the lead, running two, three steps ahead, turning into side roads and deciding which way to go. It gave him all the more opportunity to look at you.

When you stopped for some water, body pumping with endorphins, you noticed how Joe’s white T-shirt was drenched in his sweat, its white fabric now translucent enough for you to see his nipples through.

Seeing them like this was inherently funnier than seeing them when Joe would be topless, swimming, diving off the boat and climbing back on only to dive off again.

You smiled through heavy pants and after screwing the top back onto your water bottle, you used a finger to poke him right in one of his nipples before scurrying off, continuing your run.

Day Five: Vathy to Perdika

Today you were harshly reminded you were on a business trip instead of a family holiday when you were called by Olivier Magazine. There was only just enough reception for you to take the call and talk through the material you had so far.

You’d snuck into the bedroom for it, so others wouldn’t hear, but you’d forgotten the hatch window in the ceiling that opened to the deck where Joe was laid out to sunbathe.

“Not yet, I don’t want it too forced, you know? I’ll have to sneak a few,”

“I could just use my phone,”

“Yea, I have it, it’s just huge,”

“Not really… but, yea, no, okay,”

“Okay, I will.”

Joe didn’t like how you sounded defeated as you ended the call, but moved over quickly, away from the hatch window.

When you stepped out in a shy-making short dress, carrying a big camera, Joe understood you’d been given an awkward task. It was absolutely impossible to sneak pictures of him with that, so he decided he’d help out.

“Ooh, give that to me!” he held out a hand from all the way across the boat, encouraging you to make your way over and hand him the camera. Joe took it like a child would take a toy, turned it on and immediately started playing with settings, taking test shots of his feet dangling over the edge.

You internally sighed with relief and thought of what else your writing should include. Joe’s helpful demeanour, for sure.

You let Joe play with the camera, warning him not to drop it from the boat like he had done his sunglasses, forcing him to wear the strap around his neck at all times, and you made your way back into the cabin.

It was time to get some words out, from your phone and from your brain onto your laptop and hopefully in a coherent enough manner to get some of it over to Olivier for feedback.

So, you sat down opposite the kitchen and organised everything you needed.

You could hear people laugh up on the deck, and you imagined them posing for photos Joe was taking of them. It took some pressure off, knowing Joe had fun without you meant you could just sit inside for a bit to get work done.

It had been over two hours when you heard the camera’s shutter a lot closer to you than you felt was possible with you being the only one inside. You looked up from your laptop to see a hand holding it stuck through a hatch window in the ceiling, lens pointing at you. You smiled but said you’d delete that later. It was met with loud groans from the deck, followed by Daisy who told the boys to leave you alone. Another 45 minutes passed.

“Jesse, you’re lowering the anchor in three minutes!” Martin called out as he stepped down the ladder into the cabin.

“Have you ever snorkelled before?” he asked you as he reached for a cabinet, revealing a pile of different kinds of goggles inside.

You didn’t think you’d ever felt more claustrophobic in your life, breathing through a tube with your face down under the water. The fact that the water was clear enough for you to see how deep it was really didn’t help.

And even though very pretty, fish would get very close to you and you didn’t want to touch them.

“Come here,” Joe swam over when you’d sputtered and coughed again as you attempted another go at it.

“You know how to float on your back, right? It’s the same, but face down.”

And Joe’s hands guided your body as his legs kicked underneath him to keep himself above water. He placed one hand on your stomach that pushed up slightly.

“That's it.”

His other hand was for you to grip onto, because panic hadn’t left your system yet and Joe held onto it until you’d gotten the hang of it.

Day Six: Perdika to Korfos

Joe was sixteen when for the first time something happened in his life that was love-related. He was sitting on a bench and had been inches away from kissing a girl. He could still see himself sitting there, but strangely enough he really couldn’t remember for the life of him if he got to actually kiss her that afternoon, or not.

It was a thought that was wrecking his brain whilst laying out to tan on the Paris.

You were next to him, and you were reading – or at least, holding onto a book, but away from everyone else, you fell into easy conversation together.

Joe talked about the girl on the bench when he’d been sixteen.

Your chats had been borderline forgettable on day one, but nearing in on a week later, your chats had gotten deeper, and Joe fed you information for your piece.

You wondered if you should mention that nothing was off the record with you as Joe’s chats got more private, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment and shut him up.

Joe talked about the women from the ads, Instagram and films and how none of them ever found themselves sat in his living room. How he’d been shot down as he had tried to flirt with someone at an industry party where he’d ran into Matthew.

You were at that party too, but you refrained from telling Joe.

You hadn’t seen him, but it stung a little that he’d been there and had been willing to flirt with strangers. You could’ve been one of them. You remembered Matthew telling you that night that he had green-lit your pitch, and you’d gotten plastered.

Who knows what would’ve happened had actually ran into him that night.

To break the tension a little, Joe pointed a passing boat.

“Look,” he said. “That’s what I think–” and then Joe looked at you before sarcastically adding a side comment, “way, way, after you of course,” you raised your eyebrows and looked in the direction of Joe’s pointing finger. “– is a pretty lady.”

“Are you joking?” you couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was entirely too predictable.

Joe’d pointed out a gorgeous blonde girl who couldn’t have been older than 20 at most, wearing a bright pink shimmery bikini with a huge sunhat that shaded her face perched on top of her head.

Of course he thought she was beautiful; she was textbook pretty.

“If that’s your type I want to formerly apologise for you not having met any on this trip.”

You turned over onto your stomach, letting the sunbeams dance along your back to even out your tan.

“Dolphins!” Martin suddenly shouted, making Joe eat whatever his reaction to your comment was going to be.

You both sat up immediately and saw them shooting over the water. It was a perfect image: the calm blue sea, green mountains from the islands you were passing and the stretched out blue sky with dolphins playing along the side of your boat.

It felt like a fairy tale, and you were lucky someone handed you your camera in time for you to capture it.

Sailing led you to a new island and a new village.

Korfos was a place so small, there wasn't even ATMs there, and Martin only knew of one restaurant for you to go to. There you were greeted by something you’d never seen before in your life. Outside, bordering the seating area where you all sat down, there was a tight twine bound between two trees that was filled with hanging octopuses, drying out in the sun side by side. You learned it was a traditional way of preparing them, but that didn’t take away your slight alarm at the sight.

At dinner Martin told old sailing stories, you pointed at blonde girls for Joe which you found a lot funnier than he did, and Dan got drunk. When he, at the end of dinner, helped two young children buy ice cream, he looked back at your table and shouted, “Just like old times! Kids, man, they’re the best thing that can happen to you!” And no one poked fun or told him to calm down. The sheer acceptance felt ‘round the table could’ve make you cry.

When back on the boat, all tucked into bed, Dan was still drunk.

“Ay, ay captain!” he kept yelling from his bed, and the both of you were doing a bad job stifling your laughter. It had you rolling into each other in between the sheets.

“Hey,” Dan yelled, and the both of you froze in anticipation of what as going to be coming next, big eyes looking into each other’s.

“I might be old-fashioned,” his catchphrase made laughter escape Joe’s throat loudly.

“But don’t put me on the cover of your magazine, alright?”

You could go into detail of why what he just said was wrong, because you didn’t yield that power, the magazine wasn’t yours, and he was just Dan from Manchester, a single dude who missed his son. Why would he be on the cover of Olivier Magazine?

But obviously, you didn’t do that.

“Okay, Dan, I promise.”

Day Seven: Korfos to Athens

You had been woken up by Joe carefully peeling your arm off of his chest and sliding away from your embrace.

It was almost painful when you realised what he was doing, and the gentleness of his fingers that tried their best not to wake you made it worse.

Your arm must have snuck its way over in the night, and you hadn’t been aware, but it left you embarrassed enough to avoid Joe’s eyes during breakfast.

While the day had started with a beautiful sea for all of you to dip into before setting of back to Athens, it wasn’t your day. Which was a shame for your last full day in Greece.

You thought it might have been the looming end of your trip, or the pressure of finishing up writing that you really should have done so much more of. But you kept mulling over the fact that Joe had moved you away from him in bed that morning, and ultimately, that was what had affected you the most.

At noon, when there was time to walk into Athens and have some fun, Joe pressured you to join him, which you felt you couldn’t.

Also, he couldn’t, because you needed photographs of Joe on a boat with an opened white shirt that billowed behind him in the wind, like you’d envisioned when you booked this trip for the two of you.

But you weren’t going to ask him to pose for you, because you felt dumb for having to do so.

And Joe’s chest was peeling because he hadn’t been using sunscreen properly.

None of it was right.

Suddenly, you were fighting. And as friendly and professional you’d been all throughout the week, so mean were you towards each other now. You were all biting remarks, scratchy words, and angry tones.

“You can’t not come, it’s our last full day!” Joe had roped Dan and Martin in on it too. Three against one, entirely unfair, especially after his rejection of you that morning because that's what it had become in your mind.

“Wanker,” you muttered before shutting the flimsy door to your bedroom and shutting him out. Joe thought you were being absolutely ridiculous, but it really pissed him off when you shouted, “Yes, I’m a horrible person!” putting words in his mouth.

“God, you’re not a bad person! I never said that!”

You were still hissing at each other when you joined Dan and Martin, piling into a taxi together to go and climb the Acropolis of Athens. Martin had managed to talk you into it and you’d angrily given in. When Joe looked surprised, and offered to help you get off the boat, you’d refused and had taken a big jump.

Joe pretended he hadn’t seen you almost fall over and scrape up your knees.

The climb to the top had been a silent one. Dan would stop to take photographs with your camera, and you were glad the task of capturing Joe was in someone else’s hands.

At the top of the Acropolis, you thought to yourself that more than only the Parthenon had been damaged.

And for what?

Stress over work?

From up here, you looked down behind you and felt silly at the problems you’d created for yourself down there.

Dan passed you your camera, and you caught Joe looking over at you.

“Do you still like me?” Joe asked when he started growing doubtful if your friendship was still mendable, to at least finish the trip nicely.

“No,” you answered, but you smiled.

The sun within you had risen. “Can I take your picture?” you asked, the source of the initial problem now out of you.

“Of course, go ahead.”

Back from all the ruins, you put Dan and Martin in a taxi back to the harbour and decided to go for dinner and drinks in Athens. To see what the night life was like here.

“And we’ll see if we can find you a nice blonde girl!”

You laughed at the fact that what you had originally thought this whole trip was going to be, the great purpose of going on a trip designed for single people, got boiled down to this last evening on the last day of the full thing.

But first, there was dinner.

You found a cosy little restaurant tucked away in an alley and Joe knew that the connection he felt to you then was much stronger than before because of the fight you’d had earlier.

“They all thought we were a couple, hey?” Joe said, speaking truths that had been left unspoken up until then.

“Yea,” you nodded. “Made me feel a little proud on our first day here,” you confessed, and you saw Joe bite the inside of his cheek.

Joe thought that was the nicest thing you’d said to him, and it was going to be weird that he wasn’t going to be seeing you anymore in two days. Because you weren’t his, he knew that. It felt a little like, how the classic Paris had kidnapped Helena, Joe had kidnapped you for a week.

“You know,” you started. “You don’t have to be so mythical about women. Really, it’s all way easier than you think. Sometimes just ‘are you free tonight’ is enough if it’s the right one.”

Were you flirting?

“Easier, huh? I’ll try and remember that. Can I tell you something crazy?”

“Sure,” you had your doubts about how crazy whatever Joe was going to tell you was going to be.

The Joe you had gotten to know wasn’t crazy at all. He was kind, soft, funny, and caring.

You’d formed a weird friendship, where sometimes you’d catch him staring at you and he’d look away quickly.

The boundaries you had initially felt between the two of you that served its purpose for you as a journalist to keep at least a little distance had been completely shattered on that first night in bed together.

“When I agreed to do this trip with you, it was only because I’d sworn of women.” Joe started, not making the best case for himself.

“Interesting, is it men now?” you joked, before pointedly adding, “Everything’s on the record here, choose your words wisely.” which made Joe laugh.

“I’m sure you have those moments where you’re just exhausted with the whole premise of dating, right? Especially in London.” Joe relayed it back to you, which was smart. It instantly meant that if you were going to answer, you wouldn’t want to include it in your piece.

So, you shrugged in a non-answer.

“I made a pact with myself that, for at least the summer, I wouldn’t try to chase it.”

“Chase what?”

“Love.”

You froze for a second and looked up at Joe.

“And how’s that gone so far?”

The air felt charged and you could see the straight path you wanted Joe to walk right towards you, but with every word Joe’d say, there was the possibility that he’d stray off of it.

Every next word out of Joe’s mouth was either going to be terrible or magnificent.

“Oh, it was so effortless for the first few days.” Of your trip, Joe meant. “You’ve seen our group.” Joe then stated, and you laughed.

“We’re not exactly surrounded by temptation, are we?”

A silence lingered, and you tried to imagine what Joe was thinking. Did he disagree? Were you temptation? Had Joe not removed your arm from his body because he felt disgusted by it, but because it would open doors he didn’t feel he could open? Should open? Or, had he been just hot and uncomfortable under your sticky limb? You just realised that had been an option too.

“I didn’t think I’d have so much fun on this tip, though. I think I’ve come to love all of you a bit.” Joe then smiled, and you copied it.

Yes, he was right.

Tim and his kid had become your somewhat distant uncle who relished in teaching his son how to play sudoku.

Dan was the drunk uncle who had so much weight on his shoulders, it had turned him funny.

Martin was the father, and not just because Jesse would call him dad all the time.

Jesse and Charlie were your younger brothers, maybe even twin brothers, who were annoying sometimes but hilarious always.

Frank and Daisy felt like grandparents, even though technically they weren’t old enough unless a string of teen pregnancies tied you together.

You weren’t sure who you and Joe were in this family, or what you were to each other for that matter.

“Me too,” you said. “It’s going to be a weird couple of pages in Olivier next month.”

“Yea?”

“It’ll have your face on, I’m sure it’ll do good, but it’s absolutely not what I expected it was going to be beforehand.”

Joe just looked at you.

“Which is probably good, if I had found exactly what I thought I was going to find, I might as well not have gone.”

“What did you find?” Joe pressed.

“Ah, you’ll have to read that in the magazine like everybody else next month, I’m afraid.” You teased.

And so, he did. Joe’s management had received a copy of the magazine about 4 days before its release date.

Summer was over, and the autumn issues were about to come out. It graced Joe on the cover, sat on the side of the boat, legs dangling over the side, arms and head resting on the metal bar that prevented him from falling into the water.

You could see his peeling chest and his sunburnt nose, and with the sun shining bright, Joe hadn’t opted to slide the sunglasses from his hair, but instead he had shut one eye and squinted at the camera with a smile. It was very boyfriend of him, entirely too dreamy not to have been chosen as the cover shot. You hadn’t taken it, and it had cost you precious company time to figure out who did, feeling like proper credits were in order.

It had left you with contact details to every single person you’d gotten to know on your trip, and you’d promised yourself you’d share all of it with Joe once the magazine would be out and you’d have a reason to e-mail him.

You’d managed to get twelve pages in. Twelve! It was double the amount you’d ever gotten in a magazine before. It was nine pages of photographs, and three pages of writing. You were nervous of what Joe was going to think of it, not even knowing if he was ever really going to read it.

Joe did read it, though.

Turning pages of photos, he was sad there hadn’t been any of you in them.

Some of the others had made it in; there was a smaller picture of Joe, Charlie and Jesse as they posed near the bow of the boat as if they were Greek Gods; a photo Daisy had taken of them. Martin was there too, sat behind the boat wheel wearing a captain’s hat that you hadn’t seen him wear for the full trip.

Joe was surprised by how much he missed it all; it truly felt like he was flipping through a family photo album and his chest filled with nostalgia.

“Got a copy. Need to call you. I don’t have your number, and Matthew won’t give it because he says I’ve got your e-mail.”

Joe sent an e-mail and had to wait entirely too long for you to reply to it.

“What a way to induce an anxiety attack on a Tuesday afternoon.” You’d e-mailed back, followed by your phone number.

It only took seconds for Joe to call.

“Sorry, no need to panic!” were the first words out of his mouth before you’d even gotten the chance to say hi.

“Bad choice of words on my part, sorry, but I’m looking at Olivier now and, I know it’s probably not customary to ring the writer with some feedback, but... it’s beautiful.” he followed.

“Hi,” you grinned as you got the word in.

“Hi,” Joe replied, sighing a laugh.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You’re not in it.” Joe meant with a picture. He’d taken many of you, so he knew there’d been options for you to try.

“I am. Just in the words.”

“I like that you got some of the others in. Have they seen it yet?”

“No, but they will. I’ve gotten my hands on everyone’s details.”

“Is it weird that I miss them?”

“It’s not,” you laughed. “I miss them too. Especially Dan.”

“Especially Dan.” Joe agreed.

“So, summer’s over.” Joe closed the magazine and looked at his own face on the cover of it.

“It is.” You confirmed, unsure where Joe was going.

“I erm… I took your advice on not being so mythical about women.”

“Oh, good!” you were genuinely happy for Joe, and thought that maybe he was going to say how your trip had fixed him and he had now found the one woman who did look like the women do in ads that would also sit on his sofa in his flat with him.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

Oh.

“I- …. Yes. I am.”

---

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fountainpenguin · 1 year

Note

Who are some of your favorite FOP characters and why? Or more specifically, what is something they character did that made you like them?

For the sake of rambling on about some of the convoluted reasons why I love these children, here's the upfront disclaimer that I'll be referencing a few of the early draft episode scripts (from Fred Seibert's Scribd); that's where the wordy screenshots are from.

[ Tagged as "long post" but same deal as usual - if I put a Read More on it, it'll crash and delete :') Sorry ]

Imaginary Gary was my first true love in terms of FOP characters. He's such a brokenhearted little 5-year-old trying to play with the big kids. His debut episode starts out so lighthearted and silly with Timmy talking about this imaginary friend who used to attend therapy with him play with him when he was 5. The tone shift you get punched with after Gary realizes Cosmo and Wanda have to grant his wishes too because "he's a part of Timmy" just hits so hard.

I also just love his debut episode because it speaks so much to me about what the show is really about at its core... Timmy got physically and emotionally wrecked by Vicky as a kid, and that's a trauma he's still recovering from. The boy is not okay.

Fanart I made the first time I watched FOP, circa 2016

"Escape from Unwish Island" is very good too, such a fantastic episode in both context and execution.

I think Mark was the second show character I fell in love with, namely around "New Squid In Town" and "Five Days of F.L.A.R.G." There's something so incredibly charming about a teenage alien prince who flees his fiancée at the altar and seeks protection from a scary rival boy... and then just, like, enjoys being human so much that sometimes Timmy shows up at his house and Mark is just hanging out in his human 10-year-old disguise. By himself. Because he likes to be 10 and human. Love that for him.

His entire character type of "surfer dude alien prince" is so funny and creative. Mark is the guy who suffers physical pain when he's hugged, but he'll hug Timmy anyway in an attempt to show Earth affection. He has such a good heart. I also enjoy his dynamic with Vicky, like how he still wants the real girl even though his parents cloned her for him in Season 2, and how he keeps making attempts to be physically affectionate with her according to American culture even though things are drastically different on Yugopotamia.

They break up at the end of "King Chang" because she finds out he's an alien, then a few episodes later in "Wishology" they're hanging out again and he tries to put his arm around her while in alien form and she's like "Don't even think about it" and he respects her rejection, and then they still get back together in Season 9 even though she blatantly knows he's an alien and she decided she was okay with it, and he just adores her so much and has ever since Season 1... he's a sweetheart.

Also this early "Foul Balled" script hits the right spot for me-

Sob... they are in LOVE, your honor.

Mark's journey to being a terrifying prince who feared a human boy to becoming Timmy's biggest fan and best friend is just really sweet. I like to imagine they become roommates later in life. Timmy has to say good-bye to Cosmo and Wanda someday, but Mark stays in touch forever.

Flappy Bob has always been a favorite of mine. The man played the perfect role of an untouchable antagonist while simultaneously doing nothing wrong. Worked hard in school, started a business, did his best to make it a pleasant place to be. Stood up for Betty when she told Gary to respect her touch boundaries, straight up chased him down to make sure he didn't cross a line... all-around great boss.

Got handed magic and wished to make the world a safe place where people could feel loved and not get hurt. After his world of peace was in effect, he walked around, did his own research, and came to his own conclusion that this wasn't working out. Apologized to Timmy for being wrong and did all he could to fix the situation. Sold his business to Gary and Betty, then left town to live his dreams.

The clown theme was a lot of fun to see in a movie, and I'm glad it was acknowledged since it would have felt weird to see him namedropped in Season 2 ("Totally Spaced Out") and then not have the clown aspect be followed through with... The Musical is my favorite episode for good reason. Absolute sweetheart, 10 out of 10. This man can do no wrong.

I don't have much to say about him beyond that, but he's a fantastic character I adore. I would have loved to have seen more of him, but he did all that he needed to do and he's perfect. Also, big shout out to Timmy for handling the interactions with Flappy with grace even though in this same season, he revealed he has a clown phobia.

H.P. is just a funny guy. He's the big boss of a race of clones who file magical paperwork and he really just wants to swing by the club and dance and hang out. Incredibly sarcastic. He'll call you "Dude." Teamed up with Anti-Cosmo and immediately dubbed him with a nickname. Successfully took over two worlds in a single day (after planning this for 37 years) and just wanted to chill in a hot tub tbh.

He's a big, sassy goofball who likes to party and he shouldn't be brushed off as "just an old guy who speaks in monotone and does dull and boring paperwork and nothing else." He is very much Not That. Fairies canonically get drunk off soda, which means we've literally seen H.P. drink on the job. Slaps high-fives and fingerguns his underlings. Smirks and snarks constantly. Respects contracts even when they don't go his way. Keeps detailed files about members of another species. Supports his employees when they join music competitions. Gave his godson a nice car and flowers and sent him on a date with a girl he'd already screwed up with.

Literally gambled all of Fairy World in a bet against a 10-year-old boy and then almost quit after like 30 seconds because he wanted to go to a rave instead. Laughs at his own jokes. Complains when his employees suck up to him. Dressed in drag to flirt with Jorgen. Straight-up lost a golf game to Timmy despite the fact he was cheating in an attempt to win. As in, like... even before Cosmo tipped the scales back into Timmy's favor, H.P. was straight-up losing slkdjfs.

He golfs in his full-on business suit. Twirls his club like a baton. His head will stick in a dartboard if you throw him hard enough, and when Jorgen used him for darts the only thing he said was "You can only imagine the joy I feel in my heart right now." He has a laser cannon in his head. Jabs his elbow into you for attention. Always being snooty with hands on his hips. Used a newborn as a yo-yo. Kidnapped a baby, then announced he wanted to name the child Bill because "Bill's a guy you'd trust with your insurance portfolio."

Went out and bought office supplies in the middle of the Fairy World Games. Won a footrace against Anti-Cosmo. Uses dollar bills as pizza toppings. Keeps chicken drumsticks in his ear. Will flap his arms and make chicken noises at you. Monotone "Go me, go me, it's my birthday." Literally makes you use enormous microscopes just to read the fine print in his contracts. Will hand you a cell phone and then call you even though you're standing in front of him. Once wore a bowler hat on top of his already existing hat.

Keeps his golf club on the table during board meetings. Likes to breakdance. Anti-Cosmo started taunting him and H.P. jumped on a scooter and said "The only thing you'll be eating today is my dust! Later dude!" and peaced out. He might be one of the oldest and most "professional" characters in the series, but in his heart he's like 21 and a total party-loving dork. He's all business on the clock and he might even pay attention to you for five minutes, but honestly he just wants to drink soda, attend raves, and do the worm. H.P. is my dear beloved and I just can't imagine not adoring this perfect man.

And he really is just Like That:

I love him so much...

I like how H.P. was totally okay with splitting the world with Sanderson when they take over... When asked WHY he wants to take over, his reply is "I'm not a hater, but I must cater, to my mission, my ambition, to be the world's administrator" and I like to interpret this as "I don't hate Fairies, but their world is disorganized and I have OCD." Oh no. His hat is also a pen.

Also the OG script shows Jorgen, Anti-Cosmo, and H.P. each choosing a contest for Timmy to judge them on so Timmy can name one of them the "best in the universe." I am obsessed with the sheer confidence of H.P. selecting one task in the universe he knew he could beat Jorgen and Anti-Cosmo at, so obviously he picks:

(Anti-Cosmo wanted to play cowboys)

This early script also depicts H.P. and Anti-Cosmo getting in a magic fight and exchanging insults like "Bring it on, meat" and "Oh no you didn't" while they shoot each other with duckzookas and magic and I need everyone to understand how much I treasure the bitter frenemy silliness that is... Them™

Idk, I feel like if H.P. had been portrayed as a younger character with the exact same personality then he'd probably be more popular in the fandom, and that's really too bad because he's freaking hilarious. He is just a guy. A dude. He's here to party and make it everybody's problem. We need way more H.P. content out there, I adore him.

Sanderson I like for many of the same reasons as H.P.- I've always loved dorky suck-up characters. Plus, Sanderson blatantly cheating at every competition he touches is funny to me. He has a similar goofy attitude to H.P. except he's also like, more vulgar and easily distracted and it's hilarious. My boy really broke a rhyme scheme to compliment his boss on the same hat he's been wearing since forever. In his mind, H.P. is just really really cool and he'll say it.

Sanderson loves music, but when he had the chance to describe himself in song form, his response was basically "Lol, I'm about to end Fairy World's whole career; bite me" and I respect that. He is just the perfect embodiment of "that suck-up who likes to drink and party with his boss, but oh wait! He also has a lot of genuine affection in his heart! But oh wait! He'll also screw you over :)" He's great.

I very much enjoy the fact that when Gary called for Pixie backup in the Musical, it was Sanderson, not H.P., who got the call. I like to think Sanderson took Gary and Betty under his wing and might be a little more attached to his dorky music-loving "godkids" than he'd like H.P. to know. H.P. gets to call the shots, but Sanderson will sneak them candy. As Gary starts sliding off the deep end in my 'fics, I think Sanderson's slowly breaking heart is one of my favorite parts of the whole arc. He really likes Gary, but his hands are tied on how much he can interfere even when his mental health comes crashing down. He's a high-up at Pixies Inc., but still can't overrule the boss's orders. It's lots of fun to play with characters who have power, badly want things, but can't take the risk to use power for the things they want.

I just love my little dynamic of Happy Peppy "I'm a pawn who can't cry in front of my godfathers" Gary and Mr. "I can't express affection in front of Gary or I'll get fired" Sanderson. There's just so much pain there to play with if you jump into FOP canon, point at Gary's call to the Pixies, and say "And I took that personally."

I also enjoy the fact that Timmy was extremely insistent that Poof needed to score "perfect 10s" on the gymnastics course in the Fairy World Games and the Pixies bribed the judges to take 1st place, which implies that it was the Pixies, not the Anti-Fairies, who scored a 10-10-9. Sanderson and H.P. are the only pixies seen on the field in that event and I would have loved to see that. Sanderson likes to be where the action is. He is hanging out.

Happy Peppy Gary and Betty are just inherently fascinating. It's pretty obvious that they know about the magical world. Even if we wave off their weird laser tech and overlook the fact that they got teleported from California to Florida, then made it back before the end of their work shifts in "Baby Face" and didn't even question it... there's a scene in the Musical where Gary picks up a phone that is blatantly labeled "Pixies" and calls Sanderson directly. My boy really went "Dad pick me up, I'm scared" slkdjf I love him.

Actually that's not true, his actual words were "Kids just being kids; they could all get hurt!" and honestly my heart. Like, I'm a full believer that the Happy Peppy duo were in on the Pixie takeover scheme even though Flappy wasn't, they are miscreants, but still... Vote Happy Peppy duo some of the sweetest and most innocent characters in FOP canon, please and thank. Ignore the times they launched babies off-screen, used lasers to cage infants, stuffed a child in a box in front of his horrified peers, and all that other stuff, that's not important. My children did nothing wrong.

I just really love thinking about all the different backstories you could write about these... extremely intense teenagers getting mixed up with magic. I favor the idea that the Pixies have always raised them the same way they raised Flappy Bob, but I think the concept of these two showing up for work one day and accidentally walking in on Pixies scheming to take over the world is equally hilarious.

I want what Gary has- I want the absolute confidence to look a crowd of kids and adults in the eye after they've just been tormented - after I'VE just been tormented - and say "Welcome back, give me money." The extent of the brand overhaul he did on the Learn-a-Torium was slapping his and Betty's names on the side and investing in giant images of their heads. He changed nothing else, not even the uniforms, and just decided to shoot his shot. I love him.

It's also VERY cute that we saw a cardboard "You must be this tall" Gary standee in "Baby Face" and I'm obsessed. This is before Gary and Betty took over, so why isn't it a Flappy standee? For some reason this cracks me up because the implication is that either Gary loves his job so much that he volunteered to be a standee model or someone else took one look at him and knew he was destined to be the smiling face of the Learn-A-Torium so they made standees of him. I love it.

I adore Gary and Betty because they make me think... To me, they're not easy to brush aside and overlook because I have a million questions, and they're cute and fun and I love them. I wonder if Vicky runs in their social circle. They probably cross paths in the babysitting field sometimes.

Also the fact that Betty is so physically affectionate with Gary on a daily basis, but the moment he turns to her for genuine comfort, she bolts out of the room, always gets me laughing. I guess it evens out, because Betty passed out in front of him once, yelling about her heart and clutching her chest, and Gary just covered his ears and screamed that the world was falling apart sdklfj. My babies.

I talk about this all the time, but Gary and Betty also have some fantastic scenes in early episode scripts that were cut from the final versions, like this gem from "Totally Spaced Out":

I love them.

Also in the early days of planning, the Musical's antagonist was actually Imaginary Gary.

While it's not confirmed that Gary and Betty sing this song since unfortunately there's no full script for the Musical available, just the first song drafts, the lyrics for the OG version of "Get Flappy" remain almost identical to the final and it's said to be sung by "Clown cheerleaders," so it seems likely that this refers to them.

I think about this a lot. I mean, if Gary and Betty are singing while Imaginary Gary reveals himself, the implication is that they found out their boss Flappy Bob was actually a 5-year-old in disguise who came out to them as an imaginary friend and they were like "Yeah, that's cool with us." For obvious reasons I don't treat the Imaginary Gary plot as canon in my 'fics, but like... They accepted him. Man.

Like... I can never express how much I enjoy the BFF dynamic that is "I'll keep working here even though our boss is 5 and imaginary, I'll run away to Mexico with you, I'll run a business with you when our boss skips town, I'll catch you when you jump in my arms, but if you want genuine comfort then BOI I'm walkin' out." Betty sdjklf

On that note, I feel like something does need to be said about Gary seeking comfort from Betty when scared and her response is "But I don't like you like that!" She obviously felt like she needed to clarify that and I have so many questions about their relationship. Ignoring for a moment the obvious need to transition to a new scene, it's just not a good look for Gary that Flappy felt the need to chase them and mediate. Is Gary okay. Does he need to be held. My son.

Anyway Gary and Betty have my heart and they know it- they fascinate me and I love them very dearly. I feel bad for the fact that literally every fanfic scene I've put them in is just a horrible downward spiral of their relationship and sanity; I'm pretty sure I've never actually been nice to them, and honestly that's terrible slkdjf

Foop will be ranked at the top of my fave characters for forever and a day. He's just a messed up little sweetheart ping-ponging between being socially awkward in school, hanging out with his loser friends, and struggling against the desire to consume the world in a black hole. He's just struggling so hard and there's, like... no one giving him actual help and it's heartbreaking, but also you don't feel too bad for him because he also has a healthy social life and he's doing okay.

There are something like... 5 or so episodes where you can see Foop's alternate personality take over and I'm just happy that the alt personality thing wasn't pushed as a reason for his destructive behavior. The alter is focused on a little when Foop is freshly out of solitary confinement, comes up again when he's going to school, but all the other appearances are a lot more subtle and just showcased in later episodes by Foop getting that extra highlight in his eyes and gushing over things ("Oh, goody! I found a spot on my body where I wasn't bitten by a spider!" which... isn't the same way Foop speaks when he's in pain any other time in the series, because usually when he's hurt, he'll moan, grump, or panic). It is interesting to me.

Anyway I'm just very happy that the alter wasn't a one-episode gag "played for laughs" who then got thrown aside like nothing happened. Rather, the alter features majorly in two episodes (or three if you want to make an argument for "Terrible Twosome"), then quietly becomes part of Foop's character in a few episodes after that.

We saw extremely valid reasons for where this alter came from. Foop was locked in solitary confinement from the day he was born, developed claustrophobia, accidentally yeeted himself into an alternate dimension for an unconfirmed amount of time while the timestream was frozen for 50 years, and although there's a certain humor in his alternate personality (like when said alter rigged the class president vote for the wrong person) there's also just... this quiet melancholy to the whole experience, this very legitimate childhood trauma that Foop is recovering from... Yikes.

Also this comes later in his life, but he also experienced other fun childhood events such as being tortured with magical shocks while trying to escape a bully and also that one time in Season 8 when the Fairy Council ripped him out of reality. Foop is not okay.

Anyway, Foop's alter is there for him while he adjusts to life outside of solitary confinement and again when he starts a stressful first day of school, and after that he becomes a smaller aspect of Foop's attitude that you can still see in later episodes when he's stressed. Like yknow, that time he literally saw the Grim Reaper and got told how he'll die, I also would probably struggle emotionally with that.

Foop is great- he'll bribe you to spare his life with a dollar bill and he'll still ask if he can keep the change. Disaster child. He's a struggling little kid who's struggling with massive amounts of trauma and doesn't seem to have much of a relationship with his parents. At least Anti-Wanda packs anti-venom in his Kelly Clarkson lunchbox, so I'm glad they're on good terms. Overall, Foop is such a goofy character with a harsh backstory, a difficult family life, a criminal record, and high political expectations and he's also a bad boy evil genius, so like... He's the best kind of character type. But he also has silly subplots where he spends hours TP'ing a house because he forgot he had magic (twice), he loves making prank phone calls, and he freaks out when Crocker doesn't invite him to a party. His dialogue is always fantastic and I really enjoy when he's onscreen.

The downward spiral of his mental state when being tortured with lightning and forced to team up with Vicky in "Scary Godcouple" to the point that he stops caring about anything, straight-up ready to let her kill Poof even though he'll ALSO die just... Man. Hits hard. This happens after "Timmy's Secret Wish" where Foop was violently yanked out of reality. He already ceased to exist once and begged for life again, and then the forced team-up with Vicky happens and he just... can't. He can't.

He screams and begs and finally surrenders to it all, right up until seconds before Poof dies. Finally he lashes out at Vicky and blasts her with magic, gets tortured because of it... This boy is not okay. My man be STRUGGLING. And then the fact that he had to face Vicky AGAIN in "Certifiable Super Sitter" and he just did not trust her for a single second... ouch. The emotional arc of Foop saying "Ooh, I really like her :D!" in his first encounter with Vicky to Foop throwing himself in front of her chainsaw to save Chloe in their last...... Love that.

The Crocker / Dark Laser / Foop friendship is important to me. I just want Foop to have adults in his life who care at least a little about his well-being. He has very few people to turn to... Chloe made him cry with a hug, the boy struggles so hard with healthy affection. He might be a destructive force of chaos but he's also just baby.

I also just really like Foop's dialogue; he's this posh British boy genius who will get extremely worked up about how "For the record, if he HAD thrown a lightning bolt, it would have been done in protest over being asked to participate in this candy-coated farce that you call theater!" but he's also like 5 so he'll just groan about how things are "Super lame" and it's adorable. He has a certain twang to his speech where he'll "spit" these single-word sentences like "Wow" and "REALLY?" and "SERIOUSLY!?!?" and I just find him both refreshing and easy to write. He's so loud and so very cute.

This kid literally runs around on the playground eating poisonous spiders while trying to pick up girls by comparing them to potassium chloride, he'll also distract his teacher by pointing at the window and yelling "A van of rich single men!!" where else can I go to experience this character type, he's the best. He booked a restaurant for Cosmo and Wanda at a black hole. When will I ever be this funny.

Also I cry over the fact that Foop corrected Goldie every time she called him by the wrong name - from the day she came to class to the day they held the play - until he finally screams that his name "isn't that difficult!" and honestly just the fact that he had to deal with that is interesting to me. Goldie knew Poof's name, she memorized her lines in a play... there's no way she "forgot" his name. She was doing that on purpose. In his debut, Foop made it clear multiple times that he hates his name, but he also stood up for himself when misnamed. Love that.

It's also extremely funny that in "Spellementary School," Foop reveals he's never been able to understand anything Poof says and he just has to guess all the time, yet he's also shown to be extremely accurate in recognizing when Poof is grumpily agreeing with him, arguing with him, or straight-up swearing at him and I love that about their relationship. The scene in "Two and a Half Babies" where Foop assures Poof that he can be trusted because he's "not a pathological liar" and Poof just looks at him sadly and says "Poof poof" and Foop backpedals with "You're right, I am; I lied about that" is v funny to me.

Nonverbal popular kid and the boy who needs someone to talk to for the absolute win. They are bonded for life... Good luck, Poof.

I also really like Poof, especially in "Love Triangle" when he screws Foop over by making him take over as understudy and then he just eats popcorn while Foop fumbles around onstage. Comedy gold. Poof is sweet and forgiving, but he's also a straight-up savage and he knew EXACTLY what he was doing. Love him for that. As good as he is, he still has that wild streak the same way that Foop has a secret soft spot for people. Poof doesn't mean to cause trouble except for the times when he definitely DOES mean to cause trouble and it's hilarious.

Poof has a certain "looks like a cinnamon roll, but could kill you" vibe. He's this kindhearted little boy who's very cautious and sweet and you can just imagine what a little gentleman he'll be when he grows up. I love how the first thing he did when he met Chloe was tip his crown at her, the sweetheart.

He'll jump into new adventures. He'll play along. He'll help you out. Yet while all of this is going on, you can see how when he's scolded - either when it's being scolded for "not forgiving people after they try to destroy you" or Timmy yelling that getting them both stuck in a spider's web is all his fault or even just Wanda telling him to calm down because he was getting so worked up when he was unable to articulate what he wanted to say......

Poof doesn't know how to stand up for himself in those situations. He holds himself to this standard of respecting authority even when he's overworked to the point of exhaustion. When he was assigned as godparent to Mrs. Crocker, he went into it with a good attitude but came home wiped out. Didn't voice a single complaint. Just exhausted. Didn't know what to say.

Meanwhile, Foop will flip the heck out if you accuse him of anything and I really enjoy that... Here are two counterparts, and you've got one kid who struggles to speak up so he usually just keeps his head down, and then you've got Captain Overshare who will outright lie and throw blame on other people and it's just... nice to see the personalities of two opposite creatures truly be opposite like that.

There's definitely something to be said about how when Poof finally started talking in sentences, it was while dueling Crocker in a magic fight. The poor kid had been been begging for others to step in and get Crocker out of Spellementary School for two days. No one was there for him. Poof got backed in a corner and had no choice but to challenge Crocker himself. Kid got blasted with magic lightning, slammed into a wall twice, and finally pushed himself off the floor and stood up for himself. Good on ya, kiddo. He WILL get in a physical fight to protect himself or others, but if he's in a situation where he needs to say "Hey, I'm struggling with this assignment" or "No, I'd rather not hug the guy who tried to kill me last time we met" then oh heck no, absolutely not, he'd rather die skldfj.

Poof finally spoke and the second sentence out of his mouth was "Your plan to absorb all the magic from my friends and Foop has failed" slkdfj. Tell us how you really feel. And then after Foop apologized for a lifetime spent trying to kill him, Poof still tried to extend the hand of friendship, my heart...

Also, the dynamic of "I blatantly do not like Foop, but I tolerate him because he's my cousin / counterpart / classmate" is very funny. Poof doesn't usually go out of his way to hurt Foop, but he absolutely sits back to watch Foop create problems for himself. If Foop launches a spiked ball at him, he'll fling it right back at him instead of eliminating it. He also accidentally pushed Foop into a garbage can one time and chose to leave him there instead of helping him. Love that.

Poof's great, I love his vibe. He's neither a brat nor a goody-goody... He's just this shy little kid who was born a celebrity and has to deal with everything that comes with that, like attracting a crowd of friends at school and being nominated class president. He's sweet with a streak of mischief... He'll go along with a plan to steal Cupid's arrows, he'll eat all your brownies, and he'll also eat 11 pounds of chocolate just because he wants it. He has his share of chaos, but he's a lot more thoughtful and controlled about it than Foop is. Needlessly dramatic and likes doing things with a flair <3

Woo... This post became much longer than intended, yikes. I'll wrap it up, but Juandissimo, Kevin, Norm, Crocker, Ed Leadly, Chester, A.J., Elmer, Sanjay, Binky, Jorgen, and Dr. Rip Studwell, are all such fantastic characters too, just to name a few off the top of my head. There's a special place in my heart for Chet Ubetcha, Mr. Bickles, Schnozmo, Chloe, Molly, Dark Laser, Cosmo, Wanda, Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, Blonda, Schnozmo, Remy, Mama Cosma, Big Daddy, and Sammy Sweetsparkle too. And Timmy himself, but I think that goes without saying.

So many funky dudes; I love them so much...

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kimbapisnotsushi · 1 year

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can i get a uhhhhhhhh datekou swimming headcanons? can or cannot, swimming vs diving vs just floating around, how they do it, pool behaviours, beach behaviours, lake behaviours, river behaviours, anything you have is fine, for the whole team btw, please and thank you 🍪

anon i want you to know this is probably the most random most specific ask i have ever gotten and that makes it extremely funny thank you

also i feel like i need to add the quick disclaimer that i can't swim nor do i frequently visit rivers and lakes so like. i am VERY much out of my depth here (but i do love the beach!)

okay first let's divide between who can or cannot swim

can swim: moniwa, futakuchi, nametsu, aone, obara, sakunami, kamasaki (kamasaki and futakuchi will IMMEDIATELY start a race and will rope entire strangers into it) cannot swim but can at least float: onagawa, sasaya, fukiage only knows how to doggy paddle: koganegawa

a beach trip would be SO intensely chaotic btw the logistics are a fucking nightmare

if they took the train/bus they'd take up half the space. they'd need to take two separate cars bc there are eleven of them. i guess they COULD take whatever van it is they use to get to away games but who in the world is going to drive them, oiwake??? no way in hell they give that man enough migraines DURING school he does NOT wish to be tortured outside of it

(is what he says. but he loves this team and he cares about this team and he tells them that they deserve a break, so why not? it won't stop him from grumbling about needing to take like five cans of coffee with him tho)

oiwake immediately regrets his decision when futakuchi rolls up in oversized sunglasses, one of those big floppy straw hats, and an open hawaiian shirt over a tank top that says "sun's out buns out" a la terribly translated english misprints. futakuchi has no idea what it means

aone has a matching tank top too and on the other hand he DOES know what it says he's just praying that nobody asks him because he has no idea how he's going to explain it

i can see onagawa just being the type of guy who sits and chills under the umbrella with a book and occasionally wanders off to get food, especially shaved ice

he attracts a lot of attention anyways bc his swim trunks look like they belong on the floor of an american retro-style arcade (shoutout to @prick-love-for-pricking for that)

he DOES get up to join the others in dunking futakuchi underwater after sakunami called it a "team bonding exercise"

everyone worries about sakunami btw because "oh my god what if he falls down and gets washed away WHAT IF HE DROWNS WHEN WE'RE NOT LOOKING HE COULD LITERALLY GET KNOCKED OVER BY A WAVE"

futakuchi suggests getting a balloon and tying it around sakunami's wrist like that one picture of the turtle walking around the office or whatever it was

they don't do this but moniwa DOES get a pair of horrifically neon-orange sunglasses and makes sakunami wear them on his head like some kind of beacon

kogane is constantly sending pictures to his fellow first-year mock sports camp club btw and most of the others won't admit it but they are SUPER jealous

kamasaki, while everyone is lounging in the ocean: "so . . . . have any of you guys seen jaws?" futakuchi: "if you don't shut up right now i WILL drown you"

when aone gets tired of the ocean he recruits anyone on land to build a sand castle with him and somehow ends up roping, like, five little kids into helping him build the ultimate sand fortress

so he ends up with obara, kogane, nametsu, and oiwake and a little army of five-to-seven-year-olds

those same kids BEG to play volleyball with everyone once they hear that they're a team btw

so everyone - third years and nametsu included - divides into teams of littles vs high schoolers and ask oiwake to keep score

(the little kids are SUPER impressed with sakunami. one of them tells sakunami that they want to be a libero just like him and sakunami doesn't cry, exactly, but it's a close thing)

they keep rotating people in and out and across teams so that aone is on team a one match then switches with fukiage on team b for the next and so on and so forth and honestly who even cares about who's winning or losing when they're all having so much fun?

they fall asleep on the ride home, all curled up on each other and heads resting on shoulders and all that. oiwake wishes he had his hands free to take a picture, but oh well. some memories are better off swept away with the moment.

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thisgingerhasnosoul · 11 months

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Hello, I'm sorry to bother you so much lately, I have a question if you're able/willing to answer:

this isn't an absolute statement, but I've noticed a lot of prominent tumblr leftists who are pro-Hamas (and I'm saying pro-Hamas deliberately rather than pro-Palestine) are also very aggressively anti-Ukraine. And that they constantly compare the two conflicts. Straight up 'our virtuous righteous freedom fighters versus their morally bankrupt NATO bootlicking proxies' kind of thing and I have to ask: what the fuck? Can you shed any light on this?

My immediate thought is that 1) Zelenskiy is Jewish, 2) Ukraine has/had a large Jewish population prior to Russia's invasion and this is just open antisemitism again. I'm not sure this makes sense because Ukraine has had a Tumultuous Relationship, to say the least, with its Jewish community but I'm also not sure the aforementioned leftists give a shit about that.

This is a really good question, and one I’ve thought about a lot (also it’s never a bother! Ask away!). Unfortunately, I just cosplay a smart person on the internet. I’m not actually a smart person, nor am I an expert on the subject, so I’m not the one to ask if you want a definite accurate response.

Disclaimer out of the way, I’ve been looking at their blogs, and while I do think it’s entirely possible that there’s a part of their anti-Ukraine sentiments that have to do with Zelenskyy being Jewish, I also think a lot of this is just a reactionary response to America/the whole Western block. That’s why we get the “NATO bootlicker” thing. Because NATO is this representation of the “global elites” (which is, of course, an antisemitic dogwhistle, but in this case I’m also referring to the leaders of Western Capitalist societies, especially America), and if you despise anything and everything about American/Western society, you’re going to be drawn to movements and/or countries that also despise it and want it gone. This is especially applicable to Russia, because the USSR was our main cultural “enemy” for—God, 40 years? And I think the reason they’re drawn to Hamas is similar. They support it, not just because to be a Bolshevik-type you kinda have to have antisemitic tendencies anyway—but specifically because Hamas is anti-Western, anti-Capitalism. Whereas Israel and Ukraine are allies to the West to some extent, so they’re seen as the “enemy.” And anything that fights against the enemy the West and Capitalism is good.

That’s just my theory, anyhow, based off the vibes I get from their posts! I could be wrong. And if anyone else has a better answer, please do share it.

#ask response

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tricornonthecob · 9 months

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Dialect notes! Dialect notes! Dialect notes!

Because I missed my calling in academic research, I've spent a non-zero amount of time going down rabbit holes on early North American dialect for Along The Northern Heights. Is it worth doing all this research for a fanfiction of a PBS kids show from 20 years ago? Well it gives me considerable amounts of joy to write, so yes.

Anyway! I want to share a massive infodump, because writing gives me goodfeels and so does sharing! Please let me know if I am inaccurate or wrong about anything. I am not an academic and furthermore I do not want to spread misinformation.

MASSIVE WORD BLOCK UNDER THE CUT

A Pregame With Disclaimers About "Good" English

The history of Modern English is rife with Big Oof moments, and I'm not just talking about The Great Vowel Shift or Noah Webster deciding that the "u" in "colour" was silly. Especially in the late 18th century, there was a push to make accents more uniform and to establish a single "Good" English - and there is so much aggression towards what those scholars considered "Bad" English. And, in my extremely uneducated opinion, it seems like it's a conveniently moving target, just like "whiteness." In the context I'm in when writing, it positively reeks of shitting on any of the world's population groups that aren't Southeastern England. And, being from the United States, I know all too well the absolute shit that's been lobbed at AAVE for not being "Good" English.

This "Good" vs "Bad" way of looking at dialect is reductive, destructive, and boring, and I think it goes without saying I don't condone it in the slightest.

A Further Pregame With Received Pronunciation, or RP

the "generic" British dialect many of us outside the UK think of when we think of a British accent (a shame, I think, because the UK is so dialect-diverse and there are some absolute bangers on that damp island!) There are certainly a myriad of reasons for this, but probably the most common reasons/claims I've heard through my life are

A) 19th-century upper-class British folk wanting to have a more separate dialect from the other classes.

B) associations with the way the Royal Family has spoken English since at least Queen Victoria (a generic reasoning that we see happen along populations: imitating those in power)

C) 20th-century RP became "generic" in a similar way that the broad North American dialect* now associated with the United States and, to some degree, Canada, did - that is, it was further developed and use encouraged as the easiest to understand when recorded and played-back on period audio recording equipment (specifically radio and television.)

*a timeout is to be made here for the so-called Mid-Atlantic dialect at the dawn of "talkies" and early Hollywood. Its the delightful way of talking you'll hear in old black-and-white movies: slightly musical cadence, and combining the broad north american dialect with a bit of the non-rhoticity of RP. This dialect was mostly affectation and as anyone with living American relatives born before 1960 can tell you, mid-20th-century Americans largely did not speak it in normal settings.

Now, all of this is to say, RP as a dialect doesn't really appear until mid-19th century (although it would seem the loss of rhoticity we so associate with RP was a gradual shift starting in the very end of the 18th century.) Furthermore, the ways that we, 21st-century denizens, know RP don't come into their own until the 20th century and proliferation of audio-based mass media.

On to My Actual Point : 18th Century American Dialect (non-AAVE)*

*I make this distinction because the history of AAVE is a massive topic all on its own and I feel even less qualified to speak on it

It can't be ignored that the base strata making up Anglo-American speech patterns would have been as varied as where the original settlers/invaders came from, nor can it be ignored that the American Colonies were made up of more than just Anglo-Saxon descendants. Even back then, they were a mosaic of cultural interaction, which is why Thomas Paine declared America (at least the white part) a European, and not British, culture.

That being said, multiple primary sources indicate that the dialect of Anglo-Americans at the late 18th/very early 19th century was similar to "well-bred" Londoner dialect of the time (assuming there's enough of a distinction here from broad Southeastern UK,) and that this particular dialect was broadly spoken with less regional variance than the family of dialects in the UK.

This is made clear in vol 3 of Timothy Dwight's Travels in New-England and New-York, a collection of letters sent to colleagues in England:

"I shall not, I believe, offend against either truth or propriety if I say, that the English language is in this country pronounced more correctly than in England. I am not, indeed, sanguine enough to expect, that you will credit the assertion, nor that you will believe me to be a competent judge of the subject. Still I am satisfied that the assertion is true. That you may not mistake my meaning, I observe, that by a correct pronunciation I intend that of London; and, if you please, that of well-bred people in London."

(Dwight, Timothy. Travels in New-England and New-York vol 3 p 265)

Now in context he is only speaking of the New England region, and he does make a disclaimer here that he's not "a competent judge" of the subject, and we are certainly ignoring his hope that he won't be cited on the matter. But, his observation holds true from other primary accounts, especially William Eddis' Letters From America, which are composed of his observations (mostly of Maryland gentry) from 1769 to 1777. (His letters also happen to be an invaluable primary source for observations on culture and political commentary on the rising crisis between the colonies and Britain, from the perspective of a loyal well-to-do British subject.)

On the uniformity of language, Eddis has this to say:

"In England, almost every county is distinguished by a peculiar dialect; even different habits, and different modes of thinking, evidently discriminate inhabitants, whose local situation is not far remote; but in Maryland, and throughout the adjacent provinces, it is worthy of observation, that a striking similarity of speech universally prevails; and it is strictly true, that the pronounciation of the generality of the people has an accuracy and elegance, that cannot fail of gratifying the most judicious ear."

(Eddis, William. Letters from America, Historical and Descriptive. p 59)

if the odd comma placements are making it hard to read, you're not alone. 18th century writing is choc-full of what we might today consider run-on sentences, comma splices, or just generally cumbersome. Here's me paraphrasing as best I can:

"In England, almost every county has its own dialect, habits, and modes of thinking, noticeably different inhabitants that don't live very far from each other; but in Maryland and adjacent provinces, there is a notable similarity of speech, and its absolutely true that the generalized accent/pronunciation has an accuracy and elegance that won't fail to gratify a discerning ear."

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All this background I'm giving comes to this point: late 18th-century "well-bred" Londoner is the dialect I have chosen to loosely base what I write in Along The Northern Heights. I listen to alot of Simon Roper's work on youtube regarding the topic. I would say these two are probably the most valuable videos on the accent.

youtube

He makes disclaimers about not being formally qualified to speak on linguistics, and I would be remiss to not pass along those disclaimers.

That being said, what's in my mind is pastiche of that, the local "country" (read: appalachian) dialect in rural Virginia, the dialect work used in Turn:Washington's Spies and HBO John Adams, as well as some of the dialect you hear in PBS Masterpeice's Poldark, and various media I've watched/read from Living History re-enactors about reconstructing dialect.

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Since I've made it a headcanon feature that James Hiller has a bit of a brogue that he feels pressured to correct, but slips into when he is excited or upset, I'd like to dig more into less-"proper" dialects of the time, and, if possible, the less-proper Philly accent. For shits and giggles, here's what I suspect is a dramatization of a modern-day Philly accent:

And then a very similar, a very real Baltimore Baldmer accent:

youtube

Honestly? Hearing both of these warms the cockles of my heart, because my late grandparents (especially grandma. *Especially* grandma) spoke with a Baltimore accent, which has similarities with the Philly accent. My aunts and uncles all speak it; its been normalized and blended with a virginia rural accent in mine (I say wadder, my grandma said wooder. I say toosdaye, my grandma said toosdee. I say ahn, grandma said ooowan. I say y'all, grandma said all youse/all you. I say "d'jeet," she said d'jeet, and you can pull d'jeet from my cold dead hands.)

In addition, you have the modern-day "High Tide" dialect of Okracoke, the Carolina Brogue.

youtube

trouble with Carolina Brouge, which is disappearing, is that its got too much modern-day southeastern drawl to really use as a basis for an 18th century Philly boy. Though it does seem like drawing out the "A" in water into wooder/woader is a commonality.

Anyway. That's been my infodump. I spent too long on this!

#liberty's kids #my writing #linguistics #language #English language #me infodumping #infodump #hyperfixations #dialect writing #english dialects #british dialects #north american dialects #18th century English #Okracoke brogue #Youtube

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