#thank you for being a friend of dorothy

[onbearfeet]

Queerwolf By Night: Queercoding, Media Literacy, and Werewolf By Night (part 3)

Lovely to have you back for this, the final part of our examination of WBN being queer as fuck. If you missed the earlier presentations in Media Studies and Writing Hacks With Kat, Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.

We've gone through the Hays Code AND the AIDS crisis so far, and that's a lot, so could I interest you in a cup of coffee brewed over a campfire?

Thanks, Ted. You're a peach.

So let's look at the final scene of WBN through a queer lens. There's a needle drop, color is restored to the world, and we see Jack waking up in the woods to drink coffee, grunt at Ted, and eventually decide that sushi should happen.

(Side note: I have a whole rant about queercoding and sushi, but I cut it, so here's a gif of Aziraphale gayly eating sushi in Good Omens, which you should watch.)

Okay, enough queer angels. Time for more queer monsters.

First things first: this scene is SO DOMESTIC, y'all. They're literally playing house in the woods, in that Ted has built Jack an adorable little house and brewed his morning coffee. The camp is littered with little domestic touches like the French press and the guitar. It's a homey, if slightly eclectic, vibe. (Where did Ted find a payphone?)

There is no explanation for these objects being there, afaik; Ted and Jack both have presumably come from some distance away, involuntarily in Ted's case, so there's no reason Ted would know the location of a well-stocked camp to put an unconscious Jack down in if Jack even set one up. Presumably the camp is Ted's work, but there's never an explanation for where he got any items other than the robe and the phonograph. (I'm particularly curious about the flower mug, personally.) Yet the objects are not remarked upon, and the entire scene is played as if this is a relatively normal morning for the two of them.

In fact, most of the mechanics of the scene are effectively those of a morning-after scene, perhaps a morning after characters fall into bed for the first time. Jack wakes up groaning, crawls out of bed to see where he is, and finds his partner has laid out something like breakfast for him and is prepared to discuss the events of the night before whenever Jack is ready.

And speaking of that discussion, we once again have displays of queercoded masculinity: Jack and Ted being physically affectionate, playful banter, and emotional vulnerability when Jack asks about Elsa. You know the drill by now. The camera pans up as "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" swells and fades out.

Wait.

Rainbow?

Let's talk about music in this film.

Michael Giacchino is primarily known as a composer of film music. WBN is his directorial debut. I guarantee you've heard his music before, because it's basically in every summer blockbuster franchise. If you can't get John Williams, Danny Elfman, or Hans Zimmer (all of whom are getting long in the tooth), you get Giacchino and he turns in a fucking SCORE.

Now, I am not a music person. Not at all. But even my musically illiterate ass knows that traditional film scoring derives a lot from classical music, especially Romantic composers like Beethoven. And that means LEITMOTIFS, baby!

(I learned about leitmotifs from Bugs Bunny and Star Wars. Do not be impressed.)

A leitmotif is a short musical phrase that can be used to signify a character, object, or theme in a larger work of music. For a very basic example of this, look up the Force theme from Star Wars and watch a supercut of all the times it was used to indicate that someone was using the Force. Or just watch this Sideways video about why the music in Rise of Skywalker was ass:

Anyhoo. The point of leitmotifs is to give an audience a feeling without necessarily tipping them off to exactly WHY they're having that feeling. And Giacchino LOVES his leitmotifs.

So when he uses someone else's music, he's extremely aware of the emotions that can come attached to that music. It's literally what he does.

There are two pieces of music used in WBN that Giacchino didn't write: a late 1930s recording of Vera Lynn singing "Wishing Will Make It So" and Judy Garland singing "Over The Rainbow" from The Wizard of Oz. Let's start with Vera Lynn.

Vera Lynn was an English singer most associated with big band music before and during WWII. During the war, she was known as "the Forces' sweetheart", both for her efforts to entertain the troops and for the fact that she was kind of every British fighting man's waifu. What Betty Grable's legs were to American GIs, Vera Lynn's voice was to British servicemen. She's best known for the song "We'll Meet Again", which is about exactly what it sounds like. She was a nice lady, by all accounts, and there is a ferry boat named after her now.

A Vera Lynn song about childhood and wishing is what Verussa plays in the labyrinth, apparently to annoy Elsa, who switches it off (even though that's going to inform everyone of where she is). For the purposes of queercoding, Vera Lynn is mom and apple pie, or possibly mum and fish and chips, and above all she is safe, compulsory heterosexuality. The Forces' sweetheart.

Judy Garland, on the other hand, is a queer icon.

I can't overstate what a Big Deal Judy Garland and Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz are in queer culture. The themes of the story, including acceptance of the unusual and embrace of a found family (along with the sapphic elements of some of the books), resonated so deeply with queer people that for several decades, "are you a friend of Dorothy?" was code for "are you gay?" The US Navy actually launched an investigation to find the mysterious "Dorothy" who was supposedly the ringleader of all the gay sailors.

And then there's the song itself, with its theme of longing for a faraway, more colorful place where those who don't fit in at home are loved for who they are. It's, uh, pretty resonant with the queer experience.

So I now draw your attention to the phonograph. Gramophone. Record player. Whatever it's called.

In WBN, we first see the player set up in the labyrinth, presumably by Verussa or at her orders. It's playing a Vera Lynn song about childhood and wishing, which apparently annoys Elsa so much that she switches it off, thus alerting Jack to her location.

The next appearance of the player is in the camp, where it's now playing "Over the Rainbow" beside Jack as he wakes up. Ted has presumably stolen it; there's no other candidate for that, and we already saw him swipe a murder robe for Jack, so why not a record player too?

In other words, Verussa Enthusiastic Heterosexuality Bloodstone sets up the Compulsory Heterosexuality Machine, after which Elsa Ally-Coded Bloodstone turns it off in disgust, and Ted swipes it and turns it gay for Jack's benefit.

That's the coding. That's BARELY subtext. I really don't know what else to tell you. This essay started with my making an offhand joke to bluemoonperegrine about Ted and Jack being "literally friends of Dorothy" and then realizing nobody else in the conversation had noticed this stuff.

So what do we do about all this? Is WBN queer? Does all the Wolfstone stuff pale in comparison to the glory of Russallis? Am I trying to start a ship war in a fandom so small it probably wouldn't fill up Vera Lynn's namesake ferry boat?

Jack, you can answer this for me.

Nope. Not trying to start anything. I happily read Wolfstone, and technically have written some. I love all three WBN leads and am happy to enjoy them in any configuration (although my personal preference is group napping in a puppy pile, because these characters deserve naps).

I just figured it was worth documenting all this so people who haven't had the benefit of my very strange education would be better equipped to recognize (and ideally enjoy) old-style queercoding when they see it.

Wait a minute. You promised writing hacks. It's in the series title and everything.

Shit, you caught me.

Obviously, queercoding isn't a universal tool. There are plenty of storytelling contexts in which it's much better to make characters explicitly queer. Representation matters, and all that.

But sometimes you won't have time for explicit confirmation (like when your story takes place overnight and nobody really has time to play tonsil hockey). Sometimes you won't be able to include it due to outside constraints (like Disney being Disney).

And sometimes, you'll remember that there are plenty of people who can't or won't pick up explicitly queer media. Homophobic parents who won't let their kids watch Love, Simon ... but who WILL let them read your YA novel about unicorns or whatever where there are two female unicorns who are, uh, life partners. Grumpy uncles who refuse to acknowledge their nephew's boyfriend until they notice that, hey, they kinda act like Finn and Poe from that Star War. And so on. Sometimes, coded rep is the best rep you can get ... and so it's useful to have. A good toolbox has ALL the tools.

So if you're building characters for your story and don't or can't have specific queer goals, throw in a little coding. Put a rainbow T-shirt on a kid. Let two boys hold hands or have literally any feelings. Let a girl say a girl is pretty. Look up some of the older symbols for queer love and have someone growing lavender in their garden, or use newer queer symbols and have a character crack an egg in a key scene. Have a character who's content without a romantic or sexual relationship, and has an arc about something else, because aces and aros exist too.

There's a whole universe of coding out there. Go add some layers to your work.

Or better yet--see if they're there already. You might surprise yourself.

Sometimes the monster has a familiar face.

[puricodraws]

The template for the ideal D&D party! Who's up to play a game of "Caverns & Cheesecakes"?

Available as a print on my Etsy Shop!

[loverhorror]

[babyb3lls]

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ♥︎

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Dorothy being assaulted at 17 and then trapped in a marriage for the next 38 years really makes the queer subtext heartbreaking rather than funny. It also adds a whole lot to how barbed she gets when they discuss her sex life and how vanilla it is or how little sex she had, no wonder it would be a sore subject (and no wonder its consistent that she had very little sex with Stan in her marriage and said she didn't enjoy it when they did).

Yep, that's part of the reason why I think that queer subtext is so insightful!

A queer reading of Dorothy is not necessary to understand the gravity of what happened to her, to be fair. Stan is very clearly depicted as a bad lover in general and an especially inattentive lover to her -- take eg what she says of him in S1E22 Job Hunting:

"It took three seconds. I wasn't sure that we had done anything, actually… until nine months later, when the baby came. Then I figured out that we had."

Which... doesn't seem like a great experience. Add onto it the fact that a) this is a recollection of her first time, b) she was coerced into performing the act either via emotional manipulation or alcohol/substances (as well detailed in this post by @eeblouissant), and c) her situation didn't improve at all during her marriage; if anything it got worse, since Stan was always out cheating on her -- no wonder she has a bad relationship with sex! Actually, I've said before that I think she has a remarkably open and healthy attitude towards sex, all things considered.

Thinking of Dorothy as queer (especially as a repressed lesbian) makes it all even more tragic, though. I think it's very likely, considering that she's a Catholic of Italian origin, that she hadn't even realized she liked women by the time she got involved with Stan -- I myself reached that conclusion in my early 20s! However, by that time Dorothy was already married and a mother; can you imagine how painful the mere idea would have been, for her? Of course she'd never even consider it while still married to Stan, and she'd have a hard time coming to terms with it after her divorce. It adds a thick layer of suppression and self-sacrifice to her whole story that I think is very thematically appropriate for her character (and that personally destroys me lmao. I cannot think about it for too long or I'll cry my heart out).

I think her whole experience with Stan also justifies her enthusiasm for some of her lovers in the show, even in a queer reading. I mean -- after all that, her standards must be on the floor! The bar is so low, she's dancing the lambada with the devil! Even a modicum of attention to her needs would blow her mind, I think -- even if it didn't come from her preferred gender, and especially if she wasn't ready to confront the truth about her sexuality yet. A lifetime of suppression isn't easy to get over -- she'd probably blame her bad experience with sex during her marriage on Stan alone (instead of considering that maybe she'd rather not be with a man at all).

Sorry, anon -- you probably weren't expecting a ramble in response, haha! But yeah, you make a great point; reading Dorothy as queer adds even more depth to her character and greatly enhances the tragedy of her story.

(Just for the record -- I've never thought the queer reading of Dorothy was funny! Maybe I'm reading this wrong, I just wanted to clarify.)

[theleadpipe]

When you come over to my place you get good food in good dishes

[thebirdandhersong]

songbird's season of general sadness/first real grief/sorrow is coming to an end: (in chronological/journeying order) songs and poetry that helped my heart a lot these past few months :)

Always Good, Andrew Peterson / Marjorie, Andrew Osenga / Ask Polly article I read on a whim: 'My Boyfriend Refuses to Change' / You're On Your Own, Kid, Taylor Swift / One Foot in Front of the Other, Griff / Heavy, Mary Oliver / Monday by @madamescarlette / The Letter, Linda Gregg / Summer's Retrospective by @madamescarlette / Ode to Some Lyric Poets, Gregory Orr

(bonus--from the scraps of writing that came out of this chapter of life, which are slowly being assembled into a more coherent story:)

[lemedstudent2021]

in the words of the great dorothy zbornak;

April 28, 2024 - An unintentionally funny video by a zionist propagandist shows off some good organisation and discipline at the UCLA encampment for Palestine.

[luminoustarlight]

As Fate Would Have It | Chapter Two

It's your first day of work at Skywalker Enterprises.

◂ chapter one ▸ chapter three

rating: mature | pairing: dilf!anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 3.7k | read on ao3

warnings: swearing, age-gaps, sexual fantasies

The moms at St. Lucas Preparatory School are shameless. Single, divorced, and married women (and some men) alike can’t help but hold their breath when Anakin Skywalker steps onto campus. The dads are intimidated by him and the moms… well, let’s just say the moms have less than school appropriate thoughts about the billionaire. 

Anakin detests the end of the year. He hates being involved at the school. He doesn’t want to spend 2 hours of his day off packing meals in a crowded gymnasium with other parents who also don’t want to be there. 

He doesn’t want to make small talk or ask about Luke and Leia’s classmates because frankly, he doesn’t give a crap. The only children he likes are his own and he won’t pretend otherwise. 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Leia’s teacher, Ms. Clark sighs, “you are the only parent in my class who has yet to sign up for a slot at this year's Cranberry Sauce.” Cranberry Sauce is just the name the school gives the Thanksgiving Drive to make it sound more “fun”. 

Anakin gives his children a kiss on their foreheads and sends them through the school gates. Once they’re out of earshot, he addresses Leia’s teacher. “I already wrote a check to buy the damn food. Isn’t that sufficient?” 

“Mr. Skywalker,” Ms. Clark repeats with annoyance. If it were up to her, she’d let Anakin donate all of the money he wants in order to keep him from volunteering at school events. She thinks he’s arrogant, stuck-up, and far too handsome for any man to be. So she decides to loathe him since she can’t fuck him. But Headmaster Franklin is adamant Anakin attends the event. 

“I really insist that you participate for at least an hour at Cranberry Sauce next weekend. It is important for your children to see you involved at the school. At their school.” 

Anakin’s tall and broad stature seems to grow even larger at this statement. How dare this woman insinuate anything about him as a father? 

“You think I’m not involved in my childrens’ lives?” Anakin has just enough self-control not to completely raise his voice at his daughter’s fourth grade teacher. Especially since parents are continuing to drop off their kids. “You think I’m an absent father who gives the school money to compensate for my lack of paternal instincts?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Ms. Clark answers cautiously. “There is no need to make a scene. I have no doubts you are an excellent father, Mr. Skywalker. I don’t think Leia would be the young lady she is if you weren’t. One hour. That's all we ask.” 

Anakin raises an eyebrow. “We?” 

“Oh, um, well-” Ms. Clark stammers. Busted. She sighs with defeat. “Headmaster Franklin would very much like to see you there.”

“I’m sure he would,” Anakin replies smugly. Headmaster Franklin wants him there for publicity. Anakin should be more pissed about that than being accused of not being a present parent, but he’s not. He likes his ego stroked every now and then. “One hour.” 

“Thank you,” Ms. Clark smiles tightly. “Does 10-11 work for you?” 

“Fine,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively as he gets a message on his phone. 

Ben Kenobi 

Your new secretary is here. 

Shit. It’s Anakin’s first day without Dorothy. No wonder the morning has gone the way it has. Between Luke spilling orange juice on his shirt, Leia’s uncooperating French braids, and his conversation with Ms. Clark, Anakin can’t help but fear the change in routine with a new assistant. He types his response. 

Anakin Skywalker

Assistant. Not secretary. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 

Ben Kenobi 

If you say so. 

Ben Kenobi is Anakin’s closest friend. Some might even call them brothers. Ben is fifteen years older than Anakin, married to the mayor, and enjoys fly fishing on the weekends. He’s also Luke and Leia’s godfather. Should anything happen to Anakin, there is no one else he’d trust to raise and watch over his children than Ben Kenobi. 

And Ben knows better than anyone that Anakin doesn’t like change. He’s been dreading Dorothy’s last day since she told him she was retiring a year ago. How was he going to find someone as good as her? Someone who anticipates his needs before he does? 

That’s why he tasked her with finding her own replacement. He’s just too busy to interview a replacement for Dorothy himself. He wouldn’t know what to look for, anyway. If he doesn’t know what he wants in a woman to date, how is he supposed to know what he wants in a new assistant? 

.

.

. 

“Mr. Skywalker is not in at the moment. Can I take a message?” You’ve uttered that exact sentence at least seven times since you arrived at the office at 8:00 a.m. Now, as it nears 9:00, you expect to see your new boss very soon. 

Each time you hear the elevator ding, you look up with hopefulness at the arrival of the esteemed Anakin Skywalker. What will you say to him? How will you introduce yourself? Will he be nice and welcoming? God, you hope so. You’ve read just about every article, watched every interview, and listened to every podcast he’s done to prepare yourself for the job. The consensus is the same in all of them. 

Anakin Skywalker is generous, he’s polite, and generally gets along with everyone— if you don’t get on his nerves. And, according to Dorothy, he’s a charmer. 

“Yes, absolutely,” you say while taking notes of the message on a legal pad. Your head is down so you don’t notice Anakin walking out of the elevator. He stops 5 steps away from your desk. His ribs feel like they’re collapsing around his lungs because of that voice. Why does he know that voice? 

“I will let Mr. Skywalker know you called as soon as he gets into the office.” You hang up the phone and as you look up, there he is in all of his gorgeous glory. 

You actually have to tell yourself to take a breath because he’s even more handsome in person. Faint lines around his eyes represent years of life he lived before you were born. His dark blonde hair is combed back effortlessly and is it wrong that you want to run your hands through it? Yeah, probably. He’s your boss and over twenty years older than you. 

“It’s-” Anakin can’t even say more than that because holy fuck. Is he dreaming? He squeezes his eyes and then opens them, only to see you now standing with your hand extended to him. “It’s… you.” 

“Um, yes,” you say while awkwardly returning your arm to your side. “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Skywalker.” 

“I- um, yes,” Anakin clears his throat. Christ, that wasn’t even a sentence. “I need to take care of something,” he says on his way towards his office. “I am not to be disturbed until I come out. Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes. Yes, sir,” you barely answer before Anakin’s office door is shut violently. Well, that certainly wasn’t the introduction you were expecting or hoping for. You’re starting to think not meeting him beforehand was a bad idea. It honestly should’ve been a red flag but Dorothy insisted it was fine. 

It doesn’t seem fine. 

And things definitely aren’t fine. For Anakin, that is. To say he’s freaking out is putting it lightly. He paces the length of his office, shoving his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself. “It can’t be. There’s no way it can be her.” 

Maybe he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s having an incredibly vivid dream where his favorite OnlyFans performer, who he has known as HoneySuckle for the last three years is his new assistant. What did you say your name is? Anakin couldn’t hear you over the erection that was forming in his pants because he knows your voice. He’s cum from your voice alone. He’s cum because of you so, so many times. 

This can’t be happening. 

He’s never seen your entire face but he knows it’s you. He’d recognize your lips in a police lineup. He hears your voice in his wet dreams. He just knows it’s you. 

And the fact that he has a hard-on is a problem. A problem he wishes you could take care of but you can’t because now you work for him and he’s your boss. This is all so, so wrong. 

Anakin doesn’t so much sit on his leather chair as he does collapse into it. This was never supposed to happen. Yes, he has dreamed about meeting you on more than one occasion. He’s thought about telling you who he is during your countless direct messages so many times. He’s thought about using his infinite resources to find out who you really are on more than one occasion.

But he always concluded that it would be so insanely wrong and borderline creepy if he did that. You were always supposed to remain a fantasy. Just a nameless woman on a screen who doesn’t live in the same country, state, or city as him. 

Yet here you are— sitting outside of his office, taking his calls, calling him Mr. Skywalker and being even more beautiful than he could have imagined. 

You are no longer the woman on his tablet spewing filthy words as you make yourself orgasm. You’re tangible. You have a name- although he can’t remember what it is. He replays the interaction over in his head. The feeling he felt when he saw you was reminiscent of seeing his wife walk down the aisle at their wedding. He was a blundering mess then, just as he is a blundering mess now. 

He doesn’t even want to think about your first impression of him. He’s supposed to be Anakin Skywalker for crying out loud! The suave, handsome millionaire who has the ability to make men cower and women fall to their knees. The embarrassment he feels from that interaction is enough to subdue his hard-on. He pours himself a bit of Bourbon, shoots it back like it’s a normal thing to do at 9 in the morning, and prepares to reintroduce himself to you. 

Anakin smooths his hands down his slacks before opening his door. As his eyes are magnetized to you, his heart starts beating irregularly. Get a fucking grip. 

You stand attentively when you notice Anakin walking towards you. Worried you made a terrible impression on him, you wait to speak. But Anakin doesn’t say anything either and now he’s standing in front of your desk, all tall and lean and smelling like Cedar and Whiskey. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read. Did Dorothy tell him anything about you? Or did he go into this just as blind as you did? 

His eyes seem to dance all over your body which makes you feel like he’s studying you. Or criticizing every single thing about your appearance. From your simple burgundy dress to the pearl studs you bought with some of Skyguy81’s most recent (and overly generous) tip. 

Finally, because his gaze on you was becoming too much to bear, you are the one to talk first. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Skywalker?” 

Yeah, you can remind him of your name for starters. “Do you have messages for me?” is what he asks instead. 

“Yes,” you answer, picking up the pad you’ve been scribbling notes on for the last hour. “Rex sent over the final schematics for the 0525 project that needs your approval by 3 p.m. today in order to begin production. Mayor Kryze’s office called about the upcoming Gala in December and wanted to know if you would be in attendance. And if so, how many tickets should they reserve? Oh, and someone from St. Lucas Preparatory School called to let you know that your son ripped his pants and needs a new pair brought to school because they don’t have any new pants in his size.” 

Anakin taps his index finger on your desk while he listens to you. He barely registers anything you say because it’s really hard to hear your voice without getting aroused. It’s hard even looking at you without automatically picturing you naked. There’s not an inch of your skin he’s never seen. Well, except for the top half of your face which now, of course, he has seen. And God, does he love what you have to offer. 

You’re still relaying messages but suddenly you’re bent over your desk, gripping the edge of it with pale knuckles as Anakin slams into you over, and over, and over. He’s making you yelp his name so loudly the whole building can hear you. 

“Mr. Skywalker?” 

Anakin snaps back into reality where you’re still fully clothed and definitely not moaning his name. “What?” comes out a little harsher than he intended. And he immediately regrets it when he sees you visibly shrink right before him. 

“What- what would you like me to tell the Mayor’s office?” 

Anakin has gone as a bachelor to the last two Christmas Galas. Ben stays close to Satine the whole night and he really doesn’t see the point in asking a woman he has no interest in to be his date. Plus, going alone lets him leave the party with whomever he wants or to call it a night and go home early to watch ELF and drink peppermint cocoa with his kids. 

“Have them put me down for 2.” 

You nod whilst making another note on the pad. “And what about your son’s pants?” 

“Did they say where he ripped them?” 

“Right down the middle,” you answer. 

Anakin shakes his head. “Oh, Luke,” he mutters to himself. “Alright, I’ll go home and get him a new pair.” 

“Icandoit,” rushes out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“Sorry, my mouth moved faster than my brain,” you reply, hoping Anakin will find it endearing instead of annoying. “I said I can do it. I don’t mind. It’s my job, isn’t it?” 

Anakin opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Yes, technically it’s your job to do this sort of errand. But Anakin doesn’t want you going to his house alone, sifting through his son’s drawers, and bringing him new pants to his school. 

Primarily because he’d much rather you be in his home under different circumstances. 

“We’ll go together,” Anakin decides against his better judgment. “I’ll drive.”

.

.

.

So, Anakin definitely didn’t think things through when he said he’d drive. 

In what world did he think sharing a close, confined space with you was a good idea? This whole morning has been a cluster-fuck. Honestly. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around who you are. When you announced Squirting for Sky was going to be your last video, he thought what a devastation it would be to not look forward to your videos every week. Who would’ve thought you’d be the one replacing his dear old assistant the very next week? The odds of it all are overwhelming. 

But isn’t this what he’s always wanted? The opportunity to meet you? To know your name and know you personally? Every wish of his has been granted— except for the fact that he is your boss and you are technically his subordinate. He says technically because Dorothy always felt more like family than an employee. 

You could be family. 

You could be so much more than his assistant.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Anakin. Be reasonable. She’s your employee. She’s practically a kid. 

Anakin looks over to you for the first time since getting in the car. You’re pressed against the side of the passenger door, knees angled away from him and arms crossed over your chest. “Are you cold?” 

“Oh,” you say, looking at him with a tentative smile. “A little.” 

“You should’ve said so,” Anakin turns on the heater and your seat warmer. “My kids call seat warmers butt toasters. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty.” 

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

There’s an awkward pause as Anakin realizes what he just said. He absolutely cannot think about your butt any longer than he has to because we all know how that will end.

 (A hard cock, in case that wasn’t clear). 

 “I mean, uh- shit,” Anakin briefly closes his eyes to compose himself. Let me know if your butt gets too toasty? 

“Just turn it off yourself if you get too warm.” 

Do you make him nervous? No way. You decide to let it go. “Kids? Plural?” 

“Yeah.” Anakin drapes his right arm over the center console and taps his fingers against the gear shift. Long, dexterous fingers at that. You have to look away before you start thinking about something completely inappropriate of your boss. “I have twins. A boy and a girl. Luke, he’s the silly one. Right now he’s big into archeology. He’s also pretty clumsy, hence the rip in his pants. And Leia, my daughter, she’s far too serious for any 9 year old to be. She says she wants to be a senator when she grows up.” 

This is the longest you’ve been able to look at Anakin without feeling your cheeks burning. Now, they’re just hot because of the heater blasting in your face. “You light up when you talk about them,” you say. “You must love them a lot.” 

“More than anything,” Anakin doesn’t hesitate. “Here we are.” 

You should’ve been paying attention on how to get to his house from the office. Surely, you’ll be running these errands on your own if things go well with your employment. Oh, well. That’s what the Maps is for. 

Anakin’s house is a stunning Eichler. It looks straight out of an Architectural Digest cover. The lawn outside is perfectly cropped and perfectly green but littered with a soccer ball, football, a baseball bat and whiffle balls. You wouldn’t have pegged Anakin for a mid-century modern kind of guy. You would’ve thought he’d opt for an insanely modern, sterile house. 

As you walk through the atrium and into the main body of the house, it’s clear it is a family home. Anakin uses his foot to sweep his kids’ shoes out of the way so you don’t trip over them. “Sorry about the mess.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug. Anakin’s house isn’t even all that messy. It just looks like a home. There are so many pictures on the walls, it would be impossible to look at all of them in one go. One in particular, though, catches your eye. It’s the largest out of all of them and the only one in black and white. A significantly younger Anakin is at the bedside of who you presume to be his wife with two bundles of babies in their arms. They are both looking down and smiling. His wife was stunning. They definitely made an attractive couple. 

It’s not lost on you that there are no other pictures of Anakin’s kids with their mom. He’s only spoken about his wife’s death in one interview, about a year after her passing. If you remember correctly, she died shortly after the twins were born. 

You can’t imagine the kind of pain and heartache Anakin must have felt losing his wife. You don’t know what it feels like to experience that kind of grief. You want to tell Anakin you’re sorry for his loss, but what good will that do? Is there any consolation in that at all? 

You’re still looking at the photo when Anakin returns from Luke’s room with a new pair of tan pants. You can feel his presence right beside you and the silence is louder than words. 

He shouldn’t have brought you back here. It’s only your first day and you’ve already seen too much of his life. 

“Let’s go,” Anakin orders. You nod without a word and follow him out to the car. 

The tension in the air is palpable on your way to St. Lucas Prep. You feel like you’ve done something wrong by simply stepping foot in Anakin’s house. His whole demeanor shifted when he came back to the front room with Luke’s pants. Does he regret bringing you to the house? If so, why? Dorothy clearly laid out your responsibilities to you. Tending to personal matters at Anakin’s house is part of the job. You are not just a professional assistant, but a personal assistant, too.

You can’t stand not knowing why someone is upset with you. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Anakin’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “No.” 

Wow, how reassuring. “Okay, then why do I feel like I did something to upset you?” 

You’re really pressing your limit with him right now. You’ve only just met 2 hours ago. See, this is why meeting him should’ve been part of the hiring process. You’d be a lot more acquainted with each other than you are right now. 

If only you knew how acquainted Anakin is with you… 

“You didn’t,” is all he says. But with a twitch of his jaw, you still feel like he’s not telling you the truth. 

“Look, Mr. Skywalker,” you begin. “I understand Dorothy meant a great deal to you, and her leaving is going to be an adjustment. But I promise you I am capable of this job. I’m never late, I’m up late all the time so if there was anything you needed, I’d be able to fulfill it. I love kids, I’m a hard worker and I would really appreciate it if you gave me a chance before making any decisions about me.” 

“You’re right,” Anakin says. “I’ll give you a chance.”  But he’s already made up his mind. He doesn’t have to ‘give you a chance’ to know that he wants you. He is crawling out of his skin with how badly he wants you. And he knows it’s wrong, probably immoral, but he really doesn’t care. Because now that you’ve been inside of his home, the boundary that should exist between him as your boss and you as his employee feels impossibly blurry.

◂ series masterlist ▸ chapter three

[loverhorror]

[witchybitchybisexual]

We all deserve some cheesecake!

Happy #NationalCheesecakeDay

[mercurygray]

Friends, I have failed you all. I've seen a lot of posts over the last week with a lot of great biographical detail about many of the flyers and aircrew who've been name-dropped so far in Masters of the Air - and I haven't seen a single thing about the one name that is directly in the center of this blog's lane.

In Part 2, returning from their mission to Trondheim, Cleven and Egan walk into the Interrogation hut and Egan accepts a cup of coffee from a woman he thanks as Tatty. Later on, at the dance, James Douglass remarks that he will be 'coming in hot' on one of the American Red Cross women on the other side of the room, and one of his friends asks "General Spaatz's daughter? Or the other one?"

Katherine "Tatty" Spaatz was a member of the American Red Cross Clubmobile service and the daughter of General Carl "Tooey" Spaatz, who commanded the Eighth Air Force on its move to England. (General Spaatz later moved to overall command of the entire Army Air Forces in the Europe Theatre of Operations, or ETO. He is, as the kids say, rather important.)

But we're not talking about him here. We're talking about her.

Katherine was 22 years old when she arrived in Europe with the Red Cross. (One of her traveling companions that trip was Kathleen Kennedy, daughter of former U.S. Ambassador Joseph P Kennedy Sr., also coming to serve overseas with the ARC.)

The American Red Cross's mission in Europe had many facets during the Second World War - in addition to activities we might think of today, like collecting blood, providing disaster relief at home and running first aid seminars, they were responsible for collecting and distributing packages for Prisoners of War.

They also operated large canteens like the Rainbow Corner club, a recreational facility in London where soldiers on leave could get a room for the weekend, a bite to eat, and a number of other amenities. Smaller clubs called Donut Dugouts provided a space where a serviceman could always be assured of a cup of hot coffee, a donut, and a pretty girl to talk to, specially recruited for being friendly, fair, approachable, and specially trained to be the girl next door overseas. In addition to these more permanent installations, they also operated the Clubmobile service, a mobile version of their popular Dugouts that moved operations into retooled Green Line Bus Company buses to take donuts and a taste of home to the front line.

Tatty, as she was called, worked on the Clubmobile "North Dakota" along with Julia "Dooley" Townsend, Virginia "Ginny" Sherwood, and Dorothy "Mike" Myrick. Life Magazine did a full article on their clubmobile in February of 1943, which you can read online at the link. There is another lovely blog post with pictures here. She also worked for a time in a more permanent post at the USAAF base at Snetterton Heath, and was later sent to France. You can read a little bit more about her and see more pictures at her bio page at the American Air Museum in Britain website.

If you'd like more information about Tatty, Helen, and women like them, as well as the Clubmobile service, consider reading the following:

Slinging Doughnuts for the Boys by James H. Madison Battlestars & Doughnuts: World War II Clubmobile Experiences of Mary Metcalfe Rexford War through the Hole of a Donut, by Angela Petesch Goodnight, Irene (fiction) - Although this is a novel, it is based on Luis Alberto Urrea's mother's time as a Clubmobile worker and her personal papers.

[lovemybluebully]

All Hail Queen Bea!

Based off of this Anon note. 😄

https://www.tumblr.com/lovemybluebully/765290767074951168/i-feel-that-even-if-logan-doesnt-admit-through?source=share

Super short little fluff-filled tickle fic that I just threw together really quick. lol Enjoy!

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

Word Count: 609

"Staahahahaap! Wade pleheeheeheeease!" Logan begged through his wheezing laughter as Wade delivered the umpteenth raspberry to his quaking belly.

"So we're in agreeance then? Dorothy is definitively the best Golden Girl?" Wade paused with his face still hovering close above his roommate's most ticklish spot as Logan looked over at him with sparkling but pleading eyes and panted out his reply.

"B-But I haven't....even watched.....a whole episode yEHEHeHeheHEHET!!" Wolverine screeched, going totally wild once Wade began nibbling on his lower belly while making extra effort to target his unbearably sensitive V-line, "OKAAHAHAAAAY!! OKAAHAHAHAHAHAAYAAHAHAHAAHAA!!"

Wade kept it up for another minute while simultaneously reaching in with both hands to bury fingers into his squirming sides and make sure his point got across. Once Logan was reduced to nothing but a satisfying squealing wreck, he finally ceased the playful torture and sat up.

"Don't you ever disrespect Bea Arthur in my prescence again, you insolent cretin. We don't take kindly to that around here," he smirked and wiggled a few fingers under Logan's chin, getting some more giggles out of him before his hand was weakly smacked away.

"Heeheheehe.....Fuckin' geez.....All I said....was that Betty White.....seems like a pretty cool lady," Logan gulped for air while not making any attempt to get up from where Wade had pinned him on the couch.

They didn't have "The Golden Girls" tv show in Logan's universe and Wade was more than happy to have an excuse to run a marathon of all seven seasons.

"And of course she is! But as you have just learned, you just don't speak out against the Queen Bea like that," Wade smiled, secretly knowing that wasn't exactly a punishment for Logan, as he settled back into the couch and un-paused the television to resume the first episode.

In a tired, giggle-induced daze Logan somewhat sat up to lean against Wade and allowed his now relaxed eyes to shut. The merc just chuckled as he began softly running fingers through Logan's wild hair, noticing how much fuller it had grown-in ever since the feral mutant came to live in his universe.

"All tuckered out, huh? Don't worry, after you wake up I'll fill you in on everything that happens."

There were some quiet giggles bubbling out as Logan could still feel the phantom tickles all over his upper body with them even causing him to squirm slightly to Wade's delight.

"Still feeling tickly? That's how you know I'm a pro. Don't mess with me, these hands are deadly weapons. Well....technically you don't have to mess with me to get it. You spent a lot of years without smiling, Peanut, and I promise those days are long over. And if I have to tickle you to death every day just to see it then so be it."

Wade then shivered with excitement as he began to feel vibrations emanating from the Wolverine, though he held back from commenting on it. Only when Logan was truly at-ease and happy did this purring from deep within him manage to surface itself.

"Thank you...," Logan muttered softly and Wade almost melted on the spot from the indescribable joy he felt at hearing him say that. He looked down, wanting to question him about it, but Logan had already fallen asleep as he lightly snored against him.

Wade's smile widened, knowing that his friend had truly meant it. That admission along with how little Logan had fought it during and how relaxed he had become afterwards confirmed what Wade already knew; Logan liked being tickled.

"Any time, big guy," he replied and continued to gently massage his scalp, pushing Logan further into his blissful slumber.

[12woso12]

Dorothy lands in North London - Part 5

Part 4

When you finally made it back to Emily's apartment block, it was a quarter to seven in the morning. It was obvious that neither you or Kyra were time conscious which you could see being quite a problem for the two of you in the future. Quietly, you slipped inside the block and began to ascend the stairs to the fourth floor, eyes aching from the lack of sleep. Your joggers clung to the bottom of your legs, soaked from hours spent rolling around on wet grass. You must have looked as though you'd been dragged backwards through a hedge.

As you unlocked Emily's apartment door you found the older woman waiting for you at the kitchen counter, stoney expression on her face.

'Decided to return have you?' she mused, aggressively taking a bite of toast. 'How's Kyra?'

You flinch nervously at her tone. 'Sorry Em, I should've messaged you'

'Yeah you should've! If i hadn't of seen that dumb instagram story, which the club aren't going to be happy about by the way, then i wouldn't have known where you were!'

'I'm not a kid, Em' You retaliated 'I was with Kyra, we had a kick about at the park'

'At 3 in the morning? God help us all deal with you and Kyra being friends' She rolled her shoulders and began to ease up slightly. 'Want any breakfast? I've got cereal under the counter'

You gratefully find a box of something called Cookie Crunch and begin to nibble at a few pieces from the box. 'Wow, the Brits sure made this tasty didn't they?'

Emily snatched the box from your hands and took a bowl from the sink. 'Don't stick your hands in there! Look how muddy you are, you're going to need to take a shower before you get picked up for the Emirates'

You ate in silence, casting an occasional glance in Emily's direction in an attempt to see if her mood had changed. When after ten minutes the line in her brow still hadn't shifted, guilt coursed through your veins and tied your stomach in knots. Your fellow American had taken you in and this was what you repaid her in - sneaking out and mud caked shoes.

'I am sorry.' You said 'I couldn't sleep and Kyra was messaging me...I was exited to meet someone new and so i didn't really give much thought to the consequences'

'Thank you for apologising' Emily smiled for the first time that morning and then: 'Why couldn't you sleep?'

'Jetlag' you lied, Emily didn't need to know about your nightmares. You hadn't told anyone before. Of course, people knew the basics about your life, or at least what they'd read in the press. But you didn't think they needed to know how your father's abuse still haunted you or how you could still see the blood splatters from your mum's head.

'I'm getting picked up at 8:30 right?' You glance at your phone.

'Yeah. Know what you're wearing?'

You shrugged. 'Haven't even touched my suitcases yet.'

Emily stared at you in disbelief. 'Then how did you brush your teeth last night?'

'Gum?' you said matter of factly. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy feeling fresh before bed but it had been a long day and figured it could all wait until the following morning. What you hadn't counted on however was having little to no time in the morning due to your impromptu meeting with Kyra.

'Bloody hell' Emily murmured

'God you're so British now aren't you' You teased Emily

'Just you wait' Emily grumbled 'The Brits will get to you too'

'Never!'

The journey to the Emirates took a long hour of fighting traffic through the streets of London. You'd been picked up in a black and shiny SUV driven by an elderly man named Michael who you weren't exactly sure should have a license after you witnessed him reversing backwards over pavement.

But who were you to judge? You couldn't exactly drive either.

When you finally built up the courage to tackle your suitcases you had picked out a pair of loose blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a tweed blazer to fit over the top. You decided that smart casual was the way to go, not wanting to seem too eager but also excited to sign such a professional contract.

You were nervous as you approached the stadium. Your stomach was fluttering and your jaw clenched tightly as every second passed by. You weren't too sure what to expect, you knew Jonas Eidevall would be there to greet you at some point and you knew you'd be meeting the player liaison who would be helping to settle you in, but that was it. Everything else was the complete unknown.

As the SUV churned to a halt and you bid goodbye to Michael, the door swung open and you were met by a short woman who introduced herself as Jennifer.

'Sorry about all this secrecy' she said gesturing around her at the emirate's parking garage that you had been brought to. 'We try and keep all our signings under wraps until announcement day'

You sniggered slightly knowing that Arsenal could never keep a secret 'When will i be announced?'

'Day after tomorrow, if all goes to plan'

You eyebrows shot up 'That's quicker than i thought it would be'

'We were aiming for next week but it seems as though you and your new Australian friend decided to throw a wrench into our schedule' Jennifer made reference to your instagram post 'You've created a lot of buzz and we want to make sure to utilise it, so within 48 hours you'll be officially announced'

You decided not to defend yourself, the last thing you needed was your own player liaison to take a disliking to you. Instead, you followed her silently through a set of double doors and into the halls of the mighty Emirates stadium.

'This is David, he's our media specialist' Jennifer pointed to a man who was dressed head to toe in Arsenal gear. He held a phone in hand, video clearly on and pointing directly at you. 'He'll be following you around today, getting some content for the fans and that type of thing'

'Well as long as he doesn't follow me into the restroom' You deadpanned attempting to hold in laughter as Jennifer's eyes widened and David turned a deep shade of red.

'Have Kim and Leah been warned about you?' Jennifer half-joked. You shrugged and shot an apologetic glance towards David who instantly averted his eyes. 'This way, we need to get you into some red'

Jennifer led you and David down a maze of hallways and through a dozen doors until you finally came to a rest outside the player changing rooms. 'There's a kit waiting for you inside, once you're changed we can head up to the offices. I think Jonas has arrived so you can get to signing the contract. After that, we've got a welcome video to make'

You nod and hesitantly turn into the changing rooms. You were overcome with an overwhelming nausea suddenly and as you entered the Arsenal changing rooms for the very first time, the transfer became scarily real. The first thing you noticed about the room were the lights, they were harsh, almost too harsh for your tired eyes to take in. The Arsenal cress was printed onto the floor in the middle of the cubbyholes, it glistened with history and somehow sent a wave of pride into your bones despite having yet to wear its colours.

In the centre cubby hung your new kit. Usually you played with the number 13 on your back but since that had already been taken, you'd opted to swap the numbers around for 31. You made quick work of changing into the kit and ran a quick hand through your hair to add some volume. You paused in one of the mirrors to study your appearance and were happy to discover that the red kit suited you.

It wasn't too often that you worried about how you looked. You had the fortunate gene of appearing skinny and gorgeous, at least that's what your mum used to tell you.

You kept your own trainers on and folded the rest of your clothes to sit neatly in the cubby as you readied yourself to step back into the hallway where David would most definitely be waiting, camera in hand.

'Not bad this kit, is it?' you re-enter the hallway and smile at Jennifer who nodded at you impressed.

'Suits you' She said 'Come on then, up to the offices we go'

As you trudged up several flights of stairs, your hands grew sweater and you began to worry whether you'd be able to grip the pen tight enough. You tried to shake off the stupid thought and happily found yourself distracted when you finally came face to face with your new manager.

'Y/n!' Jonas exclaimed as Jennifer led you into a media room. 'It is great to meet you, we are all so excited to have you here' The Swedish man thrust a hand towards you which you took enthusiastically, meeting his wide smile and firm shake.

'Good to meet you' You replied as he gestured for you to take a seat at a table in the centre of the room. You sat down in front of a maroon wall, the Arsenal cress above your head. On the table lay a pen and paper, ready and waiting for your signature.

'I really hope we're able to build something here together' Jonas told you as he picked up the pen and handed it to you. The snap of David's phone capturing the moment was difficult to ignore.

'Me too, i'm excited to get started' You lower the pen to paper. Your life was about to change, for the worse or better, you didn't know. The pen moved fluidly as you drew out your signature and Jonas clasped you on the back in celebration.

You'd done it. You were officially an Arsenal player.

'Well, now that's out the way we're about to do something a lot more exciting' Jennifer smiled.

'The video?' You questioned

'Yep. And we've got a special guest'

[witchybitchybisexual]

I think you can all guess my answer (even though I love them all dearly)

[lanymme]

it 1000% feels like, for the lack of time/aid/skill, the translators end up using machine TL for events, and that image you posted as an example feels like a prime candidate for that

fiammetta's file lines to this day are awkward and stunted because they're almost word for word machine TLs

Okay I was gonna wait a little while for this post but you hit the nail on the head.

My (apparently not-so) tinfoil hat theory about this game: nearly all of it is machine translated.

While reading Dorothy's Vision in preparation for Lone Trail, I came across a (probably infamous) stretch of critically story-relevant text that was not translated at all. A friend of mine directed me to the arknights story reader, where I looked into the EN translation and, yep, that's still Chinese. So I ran it through a Machine TL to get the jist of it. It was serviceable, a lot of the terms translated surprisingly well, but the moment to moment writing was obscured to me by the TL quality.

And in a moment of dread I realized it read EXACTLY like any old bit of Arknights story, and everything clicked. The problems I have always had with the sentence structure and word choice feeling strangely disjointed, lacking in logical flow--all of it showed up the same from this raw machine translation.

Y'all. We've been getting a poorly touched-up machine translation of the Chinese text this whole time. All the effort you have to put in to just figure out what's being said--it's not your fault, the story is not too smart for you, it's because you're being asked to read a machine translation, without the context that it will be rough and full of holes.. Everything that writing is--beyond merely conveying information or a sequence of events--we get none of that.

Think about all the nuance we missed of your favorite characters. Your favorite moments. How much of their nuance and depth did we miss?

How many other characters and moments did you dismiss or skim because the writing couldn't convey their emotional core? How many of those could have been as important to you as your current fave?

The fact that Kal'tsit comes across as unintelligible--does she instead sound wise and poetic, in the original?

How much of the full text of Arknights do you think is available to us? 80%? 40%? Who can say.

But I can say one thing. What we have now is not acceptable.

Edit: hey, it’s been put forward by people with actual expertise in this field that MTL is highly unlikely here, and I realize I was a bit bold for this. If this is coming up in your feed pls seek out their explanations of things instead of reblogging the root! Thanks!