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be-co-me · 4 months

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En Plein Air

Levi Ackerman

5.7k Words

Summary: A mysterious raven haired painter seeks solace in your flower laden patio and glasses of whiskey when he finds his hidden job turns awry. This is my submission for @kentopedia's valentine's collab event, Love Through The Ages. I urge you to go check out the rest of the fics as they are written and posted! (It tried to link it but it won't work for some reason!) This takes place during the late 1800's in the impressionism era in France. This has always been a favorite era of mine, specifically for the art that debuted around this time. Monet's pieces are my absolute favorite, specifically the water lily series and I think everyone should see it. I listened to Gregory Alan Isakov for the better part of writing this, so if you'd like to listen to some folk music as you read (I think the music is very fitting to the vibe of the fic), my three favorites are Empty Northern Hemisphere, If I Go I'm Goin, and Dandelion Wine.

---

Impressionism. The art movement taking the world by storm along with the budding history and developments of the new age, especially had caught your eye. Vehicles, new necessities; water and electricity even being brought to the lower class, such as yourself would be labelled, though you had not yet been fortunate enough to have them in your own home as of yet.

But specifically, what most caught your eye was the art of the raven haired man sitting across the bar from you, occupying a table all by his lonesome as you polish glasses and watch his nimble hands paint, leaned over a decently sized canvas. 2.5x3.5 meters in size if you had to guess. The tall whiskey on the rocks he ordered earlier tucked to the edge of the table as to not disrupt his painting should it be spilled.

His jacket was discarded neatly across the back of the chair placed next to him, his hat forgotten along with his whiskey glass. You realized you had been polishing the same glass for the last few minutes as you stared, when another patron had come to the bar top to order.

Once you served them, your mind forgot the glasses and silverware that needed polishing to end the evening in favor of staring at the man located across from you once more. You noticed many more details of him as he was the lone subject of your attention now. His eyes had not yet met yours as his concentration must have been so deep.

You noticed the paint layered over his fingertips, vibrants and dulls covering the pale of his skin. The painting looked to be outdoors, and, if you didn't know any better, you would say yourself the painting looked finished, but the last three hours of refinery to detail he had done since the sun went down proved to you otherwise.

He suddenly looked up, his gaze meeting the whiskey glass he had long ignored. His paint covered finger tips grazed the top as he picked the glass up and took a long drag from it, smearing different colors along the rim of the glass, something you didn't think you would mind polishing off later in turn of seeing the finished product.

His eyes met yours as he set the glass into the same wet ring the table now adorned from the glass. You retreated your gaze to that of his drink, the ice now mostly melted, and glass now almost empty. Your staring could technically be deduced to the state of his drink, as you were the bartender, but you were wiser to know he would most likely not believe that statement.

He cleared his throat loudly, pushing his chair back and carefully paraded around his adopted work space as to not knock into it. He brought the glass up to your bar, placing it in front of your empty hands, steely gaze now meeting your own, at a much closer distance than you realized you'd be comfortable admiring him from.

The silence between the two of you was heavy as he did not say a word, the gramophone's music filtering through the space instead, something you had been lucky to receive as a gift from one of your more wealthy, regular patrons, saying he had already gotten a new model. Your gaze met the glass once more and you noticed it was now empty, a feat you didn't seem to notice as he made his way to the bar. He must have finished it off.

"Would you like another sir?" you asked, reluctantly meeting his rigid gaze once again. His head swiveled to the table he had occupied as a group of patrons walked past, eyeing the painting that sat atop it from a respectful distance, carefully critiquing it. His head turned back to you with a nod.

"Yes please." he responded, his gaze turning back to the table. You nodded in affirmation and turned to grab the whiskey he had requested earlier in the evening. You turned back to him as you poured, hoping you may engage in some small talk to find more detail into his character.

"Your eyes will be strained painting in the dim light you know?" you stated, eyes concentrated on the pour you gave him. You set the bottle down into it's rightful place and scooped some fresh ice into the cup, placing it back in front of him before meeting his gaze once more, looking for a response.

He stared for a few seconds before responding.

"Better light than my shitty apartment and I only get light in the studio during the day. This was a last resort to finishing by tomorrow." he replied bluntly, but softly, eyes grazing down your frame to give a once over before meeting yours again.

"Hmm. What's tomorrow?" you asked, leaning a cheek against your palm atop the bar in front of him, happy the plan for idle conversation had worked in your favor. His gaze met the table once again before turning back to you.

" A gallery. Not a large one by any means, although I wish to be represented in one someday." he responded, shrugging his shoulders as he sipped from the new glass.

"May I see what you are working on up close?" you asked. His eyes grazed your features once again as you sat atop your palm, taking another sip from your own glass the wealthy patron had bought you earlier in the evening.

"I'd rather you see it when it is finished." he responded. You hummed in response.

"When will that be?" you asked and he pondered the question.

"Depends on if you'll kick me out when you close or let me stay." he responded. It was your turn now to ponder his statement and you nodded, removing yourself from atop your palm and turning to eye the clock hung over the top of the bar, surprised to see the hands nearing closing time.

"I don't think that would be a problem." you responded with a soft smile. He nodded, standing to make his way back to the table. He sat and placed the glass in it's same dark ring as to not make another stain atop the wood, then plucked a fine tip paint brush off the top of his palette, beginning his work once again.

You stared a bit longer than needed, something you hoped he was oblivious to, before picking up the glasses once again and polishing them off.

As you finished your closing duties, the last of the noisy patrons leaving the bar, you poured yourself another tall glass of floral gin, with a dash of floral bitters and tonic. Your nose wrinkled at the burn of the alcohol, strong but smooth in flavor with a flowery lavender aftertaste.

As you finished wiping the bar top down and half of your earlier poured drink along with the task, the final on your list of duties now done, you eyed the raven head man's table, taking note of the empty glass next to him. You grabbed a fresh, icy glass and poured another out for him, bringing it along with your own drink to join him at the table.

You set the glasses down carefully, plucking up the empty glass placed next to him and replacing it with the fresh one. You carefully pulled a chair out next to him and watched him as he painted many more fine details across the span of the canvas.

The style vaguely reminded you of art you had seen in the papers from Claude Monet, an artist you had come to revere for his Nympheas series he had started not long ago. In favor of capturing the vibrancy of life, dark sharp lines were now replaced with colors, vibrant and dull to show the shadows, light, and depth of life in more fine and true toned detail. It also replaced the stuffiness of painting in studios with that of painting outdoors. En plein air they called it. It became a style you rather wished you owned a piece of, specifically that of Monet's work, though it was far too pricey and that dream would remain just so.

It made you feel free, a dream you wished could become a reality, to live in a home atop a pond of water lilies. Only you were not wealthy; your dresses and occupation told others that much, no matter how hard you could try to front that you were. Although you were the owner of a small bar tucked into the middle upper class estate, you were by no means seen as a respectable business owner to many of the wealthy that came to drink the afternoons and evenings away.

The clink of a glass hitting the table brought you back to reality, his eyes meeting yours as he dusted his fingers across a paint smeared cloth. You eyed the piece, wondering if it had been finished. Your eyes met his steely greys.

"Is it finished?" you asked. He nodded, continuing to wipe his fingers. an unlit cigarette sat between his lips, hindering him from responding to the question vocally. You leaned over the table even more, admiring the small details of the piece, attempting to eye the separate brush strokes.

"I'm assuming this won't be varnished correct?" you asked. His hand obscured his face, cupping around the end of the cigarette as he lit it with a match, waving the match around a couple of times to snuffle the flame out before setting it atop the table. He took a long drag, leaning back into the chair.

"You've done your reading haven't you?" he asked, blowing the cloud of smoke away from your direction. You nodded.

"I'm keen to this up and coming style and seeing where it goes," you started, eyes raking the other side of the canvas as you leaned over farther to catch a better glance at the details, "I find the switch up intriguing and rather more beautiful than works of the past." you responded, continuing to eye the painting.

A large garden bed of French lavender swaying in the breeze caught your eyes before moving onto other flowering plants adorning the canvas. It seemed to be of a farmers market, though you noted the lack of people on the canvas. Handmade dresses fluttered in the wind hung to the side of stalls, and you eyed one you thought may look rather good on yourself.

You spent a long while admiring the work and you both sipped your drinks in comfortable silence. You were sure it was well past midnight at this point, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You finally looked away from the canvas.

"It's beautiful. I may have to find where this market is to see it in person." you told him. Your eyes met the paint tubes littering the table, something you had failed to notice before. Maybe he's a bit wealthier than you are, being able to afford the new storage units for paint.

"You've gotten your paint in tubes. Quite hard to find around here." you noted aloud, meeting his eyes. He nodded, finishing his drink off.

"My uncle got them for me on a trip out of town. One of his customers was nice enough to give him a hefty discount, though I'm not sure I'll ever hear the end of returning the favor to him." he responded.

You pointed a finger to his drink and he shook his head. You opted to finish your own and stand, grabbing the discarded glasses and making your way behind the bar to wash them as he began to pack his supplies up. You made your way to the gramophone and halted the current shellac record that played, placing it into it's designated envelope and back to it's alphabetical bin.

You met him back at the table before grabbing your belongings, ready to also make your way home. He adjusted his jacket into prim and proper place after putting it on.

"I haven't paid for my drinks." he stated. You shrugged in response.

"Guess you'll have to come back and see me then."

---

You realized, rather irritated, the next morning, that you had never gotten his name. In favor of the spring day the farmer's almanac predicted would be warmer than the previous early spring season, you opted to open the outdoor patio of the bar for the day rather than the inside, which you would possibly open in the absence of the sun later in the evening. You now admired the flowers littering the small yard in a new light since seeing the mysterious man's painting. Maybe you could add even more flowers, specifically the French lavender that jumped out to your gaze in his painting.

Your morning went smoothly, your cup of coffee being replaced with that of the drinks a regular had bought you. He drank on absinthe, a flavor he had brought home from the military, something that had become quite popular, though you didn't admire the flavor the same way many other patrons had. You refused to drink it.

In the later afternoon, a warm breeze enveloped the patio and your eyes piqued at the raven haired man you had met the previous evening as he walked through the gate. He carried he same painting supplies he hauled last night, gaze wandering for a table that was open. Currently they had all been occupied and his eyes met your own as he made his way to the empty barstool in front of you. He looped his bag across the rung of the back of the chair, placing his jacket and hat across it before sitting atop the chair. You were rather glad you had worn a nicer dress in favor of seeing him again.

"The usual?" you asked, grabbing a glass to make the drink anyways. He nodded.

"Not quite sure I've been here enough for you to be asking me that question." he responded. You poured into the glass and scooped up the ice, placing the glass in front of him. He took a long sip from the glass, eyeing the drink sitting atop your work space. Your cheeks felt warm and you were sure they were rosy, the tip of your nose tingling at the slight buzz of the gin running through your veins.

"How was the gallery?" you asked. He shrugged, messing with the buttons of his white shirt as he unbuttoned the top two at his collar and the cuffs at his wrists, rolling them up a couple of times.

"I got quite the offer on one of my paintings. I'll be meeting the gentleman here later today." he responded.

"I'm glad I could convince you to come back, let alone bring others with you." you responded wittily, taking a sip of your drink. Your gaze wandered over his raven locks of hair, noticing the cigarette tucked behind his ear. His bangs fell into his eyes, probably due soon for a haircut, but you rather liked the longer hair on him.

He began to dig out supplies from the bag, canvas ditched for a sketchbook in lieu of the considerably smaller workplace he could now work with.

You continued your work as he began his, hastily making drinks as more patrons poured in. You thought you may let him know of an open table lest he'd want to move, but you'd rather he stayed closer, and he was so endowed in his work. You thought it better not to interrupt him unless you brought a new drink along with you.

As the afternoon slowed and patrons rolled in at a lesser frequency, you stood in front of him, taking a break from the drinks you had earlier in the afternoon once your wealthy regular left, in exchange for water. You tried to catch a glimpse of what he worked on, sketching out lines across the pad with graphite rather than any paint as of yet.

Another man made his way next to him, setting his own jacket and hat atop the back of the adjacent chair, and it was only now you got a glimpse of the work as he set the book down to shake hands with the new man. Your eyes scanned the page, a drawing resembling the flowers of your patio across the page. You felt a warmness trickle inside your chest as you looked back up, asking the other man what he would like to drink on after refilling the raven haired man's glass. Another whiskey, but neat this time.

His sketchpad then sat closed atop the bar for quite long as they conversed over the painting the man would be purchasing. You eavesdropped on their conversation, noting the painting being purchased would be the one he spent the better part of the day working on the previous evening.

You felt excitement for your newfound 'regular', dare you call him, when you heard the monetary value placed on the work by the other man, and in the raven man's expression, you found an honest surprise to what the wealthy man would pay for the fine art as they shook hands on the price, a celebration found in lieu of another drink.

As the evening sun faded into the starry sky, you lit the lanterns adorning your patio, painting it down to a bright orange and yellow haze.

"I'd like to tab out, and I insist you put Levi Ackerman's drinks on my own tab." the wealthy man insisted. You eyed the raven haired man, his gaze one of annoyance, in lieu of hearing his name for the first time before nodding. You told the man the total and he made his way out of the bar with his new piece, after leaving a hefty tip.

"It's a beautiful piece, I'm not surprised it was sold so quickly, Mr. Ackerman." you told him, testing his name on your tongue as you poured him a new drink.

"Just Levi please." he responded, taking a long sip of the fresh drink after you had placed it in front of him.

"Okay Just Levi, what are you sketching out now?" you asked. His eyes met yours in warning at the joke, shaking his head as he opened the closed sketchbook back up. Your eyes raked over it, as you found it the same as the last time you snuck a glance at it. He picked the graphite back up, beginning his work on it once more.

You noted the graphite smeared across the meat of his left hand, something you thought must have interfered with his work quite often. For sitting at the bar for the afternoon and evening, the depiction of the space you created was accurate in it's fullest across the page, the lanterns now being added in one by one.

You fell into the same routine as the previous night, Levi worked on his art as you closed your bar down, continuing to pour him drinks every so often. You poured one out for yourself, in search for a buzz from the alcohol again to warm yourself up in the colder breeze the night had brought in.

You finished your duties and your drink, pouring another as you made your way to the seat next to him, watching him as he leaned over the sketch and placed carefully calculated, soft smudges across it with oil pastels now, bringing the page to life with color. You noted the dull fingerprints of the pastels atop his glass, something you again wouldn't mind to polish away. You rather liked the lack of people in his paintings, you noted, as you found the depictions of the wealthy often polluted what you thought the nature of the paintings to be about; what they meant to you personally. Freedom.

He finished off the drink after half an hour, along with he sketch, and you grabbed the glasses, yours long empty and your body warm, as you washed the glasses under the warm water and set them atop a shelf to dry in the evening breeze.

You found the page torn out of the sketchbook when your eyes met his figure again, edges neat and crisp, sat atop the bar. He dug a glass frame out of the bag, placing the painting carefully into it. He then pushed the frame towards you across the bar top, and you picked it up with a sense of delicacy, careful to not mess with the pastels sat behind the glass. Your eyes roamed from the sketch to that of your patio a few times, noting the details even you would have failed to notice.

"Yet another beautiful piece of work. I'm quite honored you'd choose a place of my creation to bring to life." you commented, sliding the frame back to him carefully.

"You keep it. I insist. And let me pay that tab." he responded, fishing out cash from his pocket. You shook your head, taking the painting and placing it in a nook below the gin shelf so you may eye it more often in lieu of when you would be pouring your own favored drink to enjoy after long evenings.

"This is more than enough payment. I insist. So long as you let me enjoy your paintings, you can drink for free in my establishment." you responded. He left with a curt nod.

---

One day passed, then two. Three days became a week before you saw him again. You began to worry, and even felt a bit disappointed at the absence of your newfound favorite patron. A rather solemn look adorned his pretty features the next time you saw him walk through he gates of your patio, and you rather thought that he could be a painting himself as he walked to and sat across from you at the bar top right before closing that evening. You noted the lack of paint supplies and the angry red color under his fingernails and the blistering red of scrubbed hands in the lantern's orange light as he set his palms atop the bar.

"I hope that's paint under your nails Levi." you told him, your gaze leaving his hands as your brow creased in worry, turning to grab the whiskey bottle that sat abandoned the past week and pouring it into a glass. You heard a mutter of curses leave his lips and you set the cold glass in front of him. He took quite a long while before nestling the glass in between his hands and taking a sip from it.

You opted to try his drink of choice for the evening, abandoning your own in lieu of trying a new flavor on your tongue, your eyes still grazing over the oil pastel depiction of your patio every time you made a drink in his absence. The new type of burn made your nose scrunch involuntarily, a much stronger alcohol percentage invading your taste buds.

You turned to him once again as the notes of smoky wood and caramel smoothed over your taste buds, the strong alcohol leaving a rather pleasant flavor behind. You could see why he enjoyed the drink, especially colder.

You sat in a rather comfortable silence, and after he finished the first of what you assumed to be many drinks quickly, he let out a rather exasperated sigh, throwing his head back and leaned far back against the barstool, his arms folding across his eyes. You continued to sip at your own drink, grabbing the bottle next to you to pour into his empty glass, scooping the ice into it. His posture didn't change.

"Want to talk about it?" you asked, voice struggling as you took a sip of the strong whiskey, realizing he hadn't said a word to you in the half hour he had been there and you rather longed for the sound of his deep voice again.

It took him a long while to sit up before shaking his head. You nodded in response.

"I thought I'd have to revoke my offer if you didn't come back to see me you know." you joked lightheartedly, his gaze finally meeting your own, excitement fluttered in your chest as he inhaled to speak to you for the first time in a week.

"How have things been around here? Any trouble?" he asked. You shook your head in response to the rather random question, taking note of the lilt of edge in his voice.

"Just the regular drunk hooligans and their usual shenanigans on occasion. I'm far used to it by now." you responded, taking a sip of the drink. He reached into the chest pocket of his already buttoned down white shirt, grabbing the case of cigarettes and matches from it, lighting one up. He took a drag from it, blowing it away from you, eyes meeting your own once more.

"I'm glad to hear so. Seems to be trouble everywhere else." he responded.

"My offer still stands. Don't you know bartenders aren't only good at keeping bars but also secrets?" you asked with a worried smile, polishing away at a glass you'd forgotten previously to keep your hands occupied. His gaze met over both his shoulders, you assumed to confirm the lack of bodies besides the two of you within the vicinity before freely speaking of his absence the last week.

"Being an artist doesn't make much money you know, unless you're well known, which I am not." he said, pausing to sip at his drink, and you nodded in following attention of what he would explain. His tone became significantly quieter as he spoke next.

"My uncle works for the mafia, and unfortunately I have to help him. I owe him the debt of removing me from the deepest depths of society. No, I owe him my life, as much as I hate to say so. No favors that I repay him would ever be enough." he continued, ashing the forgotten cigarette before taking another drag from it.

You nodded, processing the information as you took another sip of your drink, the ice steadily melting. You wondered if that was all of the information he would allow you to know of the subject or if he would continue on. You eyed his hands once more, the redness of his skin waned, but remained underneath his fingernails. You ran a cloth under warm water as he continued to sip at his drink, grabbing at the brim of the glass in his particular way. You wrung the steaming towel out and placed your arms across the bar top, pointing towards his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but to think the red was placed there earlier in the day, and after attempting to harshly scrub it away, he wanted to seek solace in your establishment and your presence.

"May I?" you asked, your eyes staring strongly into his own, the question coming out as more of a demand rather than a request for permission. His gaze softened and he nodded, placing his drink down on the bar top, the fingers of his right hand staying wrapped around it.

You gently wiped around top of his left hand, lightly rubbing into the creases of his fingers and knuckles before gently turning his palm over and doing the same, making sure to wipe over every millimeter of the skin on both sides before turning his hand over once more and beginning on his fingernails. His glass sat empty in your concentration and he reached for your own, something you didn't mind as you rubbed his cuticles clean.

You pulled the towel taught around your thumb nail, running it underneath his own nails to remove the angry rusty red. Once you finished his left hand, you ran the towel under the warm water once again, cleaning it of it's dirt now, setting your palm onto the bar in demand of his other hand without a word.

He placed his palm carefully onto yours and sipped at your drink carefully as he watched you clean his right hand. As you began on his upper forearms, you felt his muscles untaut across your palm and he visibly relaxed in your peripherals, a sigh leaving his lips. You felt your own shoulders relax as well.

"I like these hands more when they're covered in paint and pastels, not in danger Levi." you nearly whispered, finishing up underneath his nails. You placed the towel under the water once again, cleaning it thoroughly and tossing it onto the back of the bar after folding it up.

He brought his hand back to him, wrapping it around the glass in his other hand as he examined his now clean fingers. His bangs covered his steely grays as he pondered a response to your statement.

"I hope one day that's all you'll have to see them do." he responded quietly in return. You poured a short glass of the whiskey for yourself this time, topping his own off as well, reveling in the intimate environment the two of you had blossomed in the first of his visits.

For, in technicality, the third day of knowing him, you already felt quite a hearty connection to him, even more so than your more frequent bar guests. If anything had happened to him and he didn't come to the bar anymore, so suddenly, you'd be quite upset, on an even deeper level than you'd felt the past week.

"I hope I get to know you long enough to see that happen." you said, used to the burn of your drink now, your eyes meeting his own. You stared into his eyes, finishing the drink and placing the glass down. You stepped atop the milk crate at your feet and placed your elbows atop the bar, hands intertwining with the collar of his shirt as you pulled his face much closer to your own. His gaze penetrated your own as you took over the solemn conversation, noses nearly touching, your eyes flitting down to his lips and all around his visage, taking in his sharp features, dark long eyelashes, and plump lightly chapped lips before tracking back to his eyes.

You noted they were more of a slate grey, the flecks of blue you hadn't noticed before much more pertinent in the close proximity you'd brought about. The color reminded you much of the hydrangeas nestled in the back corner of your now peacefully quiet patio, peaceful, though your heart was thrumming harder than you think it ever had. His palms lay wrapped around your forearms in anticipation.

The color of his eyes dwindled away as they closed and his lips captured your own, the chapping of them brushing roughly against the edges of your lips. You captured his bottom lip between your own in an attempt to soften it against the petroleum across your own lips.

Your hands brushed the briary undercut he donned and his palms brushed over your shoulder blades with a squeeze as he pushed harder into the kiss you had initiated. You could taste the smokiness of his cigarette, homogenous to the smokiness and burnt caramel of the whiskey you had shared earlier in the evening, and you hoped he could taste the same on you.

Your intimacy was broken up by the loud thunder rumbling off in the distance, the breeze picking up strongly, something you failed to notice in your already lovesick state. You broke apart from him, chest heaving, staring into the slate of his eyes that reminded you oh so much of your hydrangeas you had moved closer to the front of your patio earlier in the week.

His palms lay wrapped around your forearms once again, yours in much of a similar manner. You smiled deeply at him and noticed for the first time that he returned the sentiment back to you. You sat in a more than comfortable silence as the pace of your breathing returned to normal, the searing warmth of his palms a comfort to your skin in the late cold breeze. The coarse thunder boomed once more, a streak of bright white light painting the sky and his eyes, before quickly disappearing into the covered stars.

"I need you to always come back. Please. You're my new favorite regular you know." you told him breathily. He nodded in response to the sentiment, gaze following behind you. Your eyes met the path his own followed, staring into the painting he had made for you the week before.

"Who would I tell my darkest secrets to if I didn't? And who would clean my conscience figuratively and literally when I've found myself in trouble?" he said in response, slate greys flitting back to you.

"I'll always be here, whiskey glass in hand, whenever you need it you know. I'm not going anywhere." you whispered. He nodded, rubbing his palm up and down the expanse of your now exposed forearms, your sleeves rolled up earlier to clean dishwares.

The both of you gathered your belongings, ready to fare out the storm brewing as he insisted he walk you home. He pointed out the colors of the dull night, bringing it to life in the now drenched city estate. You turned back to look at your closed down bar, and the flowers of your patio that much needed the rain thundering down from the sky.

And you found yourself more alive than you'd ever felt, standing in the rain, looking upon the result of your life's works in peace and harmony.

The landscape now bloomed in vibrants and pastels in your wake, no longer dull and forgotten. Your world flooded with a new sense of colored hues as you gazed upon your flowers, in a deeper sense of detail than before; and you found that raven colored black he brought about earlier in the week was not the absence of all the colors you had previously thought it was, but rather kin to the mix of the many hues littered about in the bottom of the raven artist's bag and across his canvases.

---

Please let me know what you think! I think this is by far one of my favorite pieces I have written. I wanted to add more, but I felt it would ruin where it leaves off, so maybe a part two will be due at some point if requested. I wrote this last night after a pretty scary time; my college campus had an active shooter and our whole campus was kind of shook for the better part of an hour (no one was injured!), but writing definitely helped to calm me down, so I am glad I made an entry for this! This is lightly edited as I don't have much time before class, so please excuse any mistakes!

#love through the ages #Levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk x reader #snk levi #aot levi #aot x reader #levi aot #attack on titan x reader

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90363462 · 2 years

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A Sex Expert Shares Their Best Beginner Strap-On Tips

Sheriden ChanelMar. 11, 2022 07:00PM EST

I was close to entering my early twenties when I discovered the wonderful world of “pegging.”There was something so arousing about seeing a woman with her harness and dildo in tow, fully dominating a man in a way where he was fully submissive. I dabbled a time or two myself in that arena, and I’m convinced there’s nothing like it. I have yet to encounter another cisgender man who is comfortable enough with his sexuality to allow that terrain to be explored, but I’m just saying.

In addition to being used by straight women on straight men, strap-ons have long since been used for penetrative sex by lesbian women, trans men, people with erectile dysfunction, and more. Strap-ons can be used by anyone to penetrate anyone consensually. It is a sex toyfor the purpose of evoking pleasure and that isn’t limited to any one gender or circumstance and it isn’t contingent on the genitalia of the giver or the receiver.

If you’ve ever wanted to explore strap-on play with your partner, xoNecole has you covered! We talked to certified sex educator Jennifer Eden who says, communication is key. “Talk about what you want to do, how you want to feel, and maybe even why you feel drawn to try it,” they advise. “Porn isn’t always a great sex ed resource, but it can be a great jumping-off point. Find a flick that shows what you want to do, and have a conversation with your partner about what you see. What do you like about it? What would you want to do differently?”

Here are Eden's best beginner strap-on tips to incorporate into your strap-on play.

1.When you go shopping for your first strap-on, know what you’re looking for.

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“A strap-on is technically two components - a harness and a dildo. And in most cases, those items are sold separately," Eden tells xoNecole. "When it comes to your harness, there are a lot of options: adjustable, padded, leather, briefs, boxers, and the list goes on. You want a style and fit that works best for your body and your self-concept. For example, if you would be distracted by straps pressing into the flesh of your hips and thighs, you may want to consider a brief- or boxer-brief-style harness for a smoother look and feel.”

2.Get over the heteronormative and queerphobic hang-ups around strap-ons

“Sex toys are inanimate objects and have no gender. So your orientation or the way you label your sexuality doesn’t change just because you’ve introduced a new activity or accessory to your sexual repertoire. Allow yourself to adopt the mindset of pleasure over everything - over labels, over stereotypes, over limiting beliefs, and especially over that little voice in your head that says ‘you shouldn’t be doing this.’ Ask yourself what’s more important to you - fitting a label or feeling good?”

3.Consider the material, size, and color of your dildo of choice.

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“When it comes to the dildo, there are even more options! You want to consider material, size, and color to narrow down your search. If it’s safe and accessible to you, I recommend going to your local adult store rather than shopping online. That way you can see things in person instead of relying on pictures and descriptions. Which aren’t always accurate.”

4.Spend time wearing your harness before introducing it into the bedroom.

“Your first time wearing your harness shouldn’t be when you and your partner are about to get it on," Eden says. "Spend some time wearing it before go-time. Put it on, stand in the mirror, and move your hips. Do some squats, some lunges, some toe-touches. You’re probably chuckling to yourself at this point but I’m serious. You want to see how the harness moves with your body and, more importantly, if it’s comfortable.

"Is it digging or pinching around your hips or thighs? Depending on the style of harness you have, you might be able to adjust it to your comfort. Is your dildo pointing at the floor? Your harness may not be able to support the weight of the dildo you chose. It’s best to find these things out before your debut performance.”

5.Lube is your friend.

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“The vagina self-lubricates, the bootyhole does not. Both these holes, and any other fold or crease you might want to play with, can always benefit from some added moisture. There’s this myth that using lube is a bad thing. But why make the body do extra work? The body’s natural moisture may change for a number of reasons. Maybe you haven’t been drinking as much water as you should. Maybe it’s cold in the room. Maybe you’ve recently switched up your medications or supplements.

"Whatever the reason, adding a little lube can make it a more comfortable and pleasurable experience for everyone involved.”

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thegreatlibraryfangirl · 1 year

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i wasn't sure which one of the aro questions i should ask so answer whatever 3 questions u like most

Oh bless you anon, you could ask any that you fancied!

But OK fabulous I will pick some.

Where do you fit in the aro community (ex, alloaro / aroace / nonSAM aro / etc)?

Alloaro, sexual attraction is the uncomplicated side of life LOL. I’m also arospec rather than aromantic, because I have experienced romantic attraction before.

How long have you known you are aro?

(more frustrated horse noises). I swear I had posted something on tumblr about this realisation, but can I find it??? Of course not. Some time early 2021 was announcing it to myself.

My whole life I’ve never had a romantic/sexual relationship with anyone. It tends not to bother me, other than what I would phrase as “I want to be someone’s most important person”, which is the desperate attention whore in me lol and technically isn’t a romantic or sexual desire, though of course it’s unlikely to be fulfilled any other way (mumbles about amatonormativity). My mum still believes I’ll find someone, which,like, I am in my 30s. I have had a lifetime of not sharing my life, my bed, my time. I’m not sure I could comfortably accommodate another person in stereotypical couple living conditions now even if I did love them.

In 2020 I had an unsuccessful (for several different reasons, including covid) attempt at starting a relationship, which made me realise that I might actually be less likely to create romantic feelings than other people (previously i’d just assumed that you either found The One immediately or that romantic feelings just grew for everyone over time. I had to explain dating to myself somehow lol. the whole dating thing feels like nonsense to me.).

Then in about Feb 2021 my best friend of a decade started Going Through Some Shit and I discovered that adding the resulting increase in emotional intimacy to the cocktail of ten years of bestfriendship + existing lowkey sexual attraction = romantic feelings. Mainly of the “I wish I could fix it for you” variety, but romantic feelings nonetheless. And then I was like, ooooh okay, so this is the deal. This is an unusual feeling, I don’t know if I’ve had this before.

And then (thank you a decade on Tumblr steeping me in both microlabels and anti-gatekeeping concepts) I just shrugged and said okay, and called myself demi. I’m still not sure if that’s the correct label, so sometimes I use greyaro or arospec.

Do you have any aro-spec headcanons?

Oh yes! I have blathered about all of these before but yes, let’s go over them again.

Annis is aromantic and allosexual. She doesn’t feel romantic attraction like she knows other people do, and she’s not bothered by it. Happy in her skin.

Glain is ... well, I waver constantly between making her aroace or aroallo, but regardless, she’s aromantic, and romance-repulsed.

Wolfe is. Hm. We say Nic-sexual a lot on here, and like, basically that lol. Wolfe has had one romantic and probably one sexual attraction his entire life, and it’s to his Niccolo. Exactly which label to pick for that, who knows? Demi? Definitely neurodivergent??

Morgan is arospec, label unknown to her or me lol. Based on her thoughts in Smoke and Iron, where she admits that she really cares for Jess, but doesn’t love him.

I was browsing microlabels yesterday and oops now i have a new headcanon: Thomas is nebularomantic, which is basically quoiromantic (can’t distinguish romantic from platonic feelings) but exclusively for neurodivergent people. Because I also headcanon Thomas as neurodivergent of some sort, and I absolutely interpret an awful lot of his canonical relationship with Jess as blurring that line between friends and “in love”.

#asking things #Sexuality headcanons

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orcinus-the-orca · 2 years

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[DCMK SS] Another inquiry for you! Could you please share some of your headcanons for Kaito/other DCMK characters you enjoy? Things you might like to see integrated into a fic written for you (no promises that I WILL integrate them, but I'm still heavily in the idea generation stage).

Mmmm, head canons, let’s see. Most of mine are garnered from the fandom, and it’s to the point that I don’t have an original one, but I do have quite a few!!

In terms of bigger ones:

High-key, I’m one of those who loves AroAce Kaito. I can’t really explain it, only that it feels right. Wish I had a way to explain better, haha.

I also strongly head canon that he has Inattentive-Type ADHD. The former because it feels right, like it fits him, and the latter is sort of the fault of projection. I have Mixed-Type ADHD, and a lot of what I see him do (such as doing other activities in class, whether that be thinking to himself or reading a newspaper, to getting easily bored and moving on to a different subject/not really paying attention to people) I find myself associating with a lot I do. I see where people can see the Hyperactivity-Type, but it feels more deliberate than an actual compulsion he has no control over.

I like to head canon that Kaito would oversleep and miss classes if it weren’t for Aoko. Sometimes she’ll just break into his house and wake him up so he won’t be late.

Kaito’s incredibly introverted and his only admitted friend is Aoko. Like, sure, there’s Saguru and Akako, but he seems to have very little interactions with any other students and is more content to sit by himself. He has to be adopted rather than being the one who is adopting (I know the manga kinda disproves this, but seeing as he doesn’t have any prevalently named friends I pretend I do not see)

However, I am also a fan of “Knows no boundaries” Kaito who is not afraid to get close to others physically. Yes, I have read many fluff fics–

Also, sort of based on canon, but I like to think Kaito doesn’t open himself up to others because he just doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of a relationship that might be taken away. Uses masks to make everyone think he’s okay, but never really opening himself up.

Kaito is not a morning person. His job aside, he seems to be the type who would get distracted and then not go to bed until later at night. Hence, he ends up oversleeping.

Aoko will often come into his house just to hang out. She rarely asks permission, just walks on in, plops on the couch, and starts movie-watching. Kaito’s had to start making excuses as to why he won’t be home because she ends up coming over a lot when her dad is working and she isn’t hanging out with friends.

While I think making it explicitly supernatural saps a little bit of the fun out of it, I do love Kaito being incredibly lucky and then Shinichi/Conan being incredibly unlucky. Just the idea that Kaito is surviving because luck as an entity is keeping him alive? The fact that Shinichi will never be out of work because said entity hates him, I guess? Beautiful.

And then there are a few smaller ones such as:

Saguru boxes (because if Shinichi is willing to play soccer to stay fit like Holmes, why wouldn’t the #1 fanboy himself do it, too?). It’s also a sport often seen associated with Europe, and I think the Ekoda gang needs a martial artist (even if it isn’t technically considered martial arts).

Shinichi and Mitsuhiko are autistic, because no child hyperfixates like that and is neurotypical.

Vermouth knows about Kaito and Chikage but wards any dangers away from them out of respect for Toichi. Whether or not that’s obeyed, however…

Chikage left Japan because without Toichi she didn’t feel comfortable sitting around and possibly being labeled as a target due to her past as Phantom Lady. Why she left Kaito? Now that, I’ve yet to figure out…

Chikage and Yukiko will sometimes hang out in person and get coffee together (bonus: they talk about their respective sons, but they’re super cryptic about what their sons are actually up to).

I’ve posted it before, but I love the idea of Saguru being the oldest, followed by Shinichi, then Kaito, and then Heiji being the youngest of the boys.

Those are the ones that come to mind! I hope some of them you might be able to use, or maybe even inspire you! While we’re here, what are some of yours? I do love seeing some of the head canons offered by the fandom and I’d be interested in the one you might have, also.

Thank you for the question and take care!!

#asks #dcmk headcanon #dcmk secret santa #dcmk

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fictoromanticism · 2 years

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Hello I'd like to ask what I would qualify as if I love a fictional character but I don't really see myself in a relationship with them?

I love this character for nearly a decade now so I doubt you'd call that "casual" and I definitely have these typical love feelings towards them. But here is the trick: I know that this character wouldn't fit to me, I tried to selfship but it didn't feel right. I still don't mind the thought of being with them but idk executing it just another thing because my fantasy of the fantasy and the "fantasy-reality" (in lack of a better word) are different things.

I've been told that technically i'd be considered a waifuist in a broader definition. I personally don't really claim any label for myself (I also am in a 3D relationship) but I'd be curious about your personal opinion on all of that because I've been called waifuist sometimes already.

i’m generally of the opinion that whatever labels someone uses for themselves are the most correct, so i’d say it’s more up to you than anyone else. the only real “qualification” for the labels is loving a fictional character and identifying with said labels! you don’t have to directly ship yourself with a character to love them, and some people prefer certain communities to others enough that that matters a great deal to them. i’ve gone on the record before as saying that i’m much less comfortable in waifuist communities and don’t consider myself one because some of them can be very contrary to my political sensibilities and standards for relationships, for example - even when i was in waifuist communities i didn’t really think of myself as a waifuist.

if you’re interested in exploring alternative labels, fictosexual or fictoromantic might also fit, since those are more about your experience of attraction towards the character rather than about a certain relationship to the character. but ultimately it’s really more about what you resonate with and think fits you, in my opinion!

-mod moon

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”

“Said I stare at you all the time.”

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”

“Why? You going somewhere?”

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #twd fanfic #twd fic #twd fanfiction #collecting stories imagine

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chocolatecakecas · 3 years

Text

The Fabric of Your Life

@spnprideweek day 1: coming out/flags

warnings: internalized biphobia, implied past physical abuse, alcohol mention

The first time Dean watched Star Wars, he was ten and his dad dumped him and Sammy at some crappy motel with a promise that he'd return soon. Dad hadn't bothered to register either of them in the local school, since it was supposed to be a "milkrun", so by day four they were both climbing the walls. And Dean was sick of it, so he took the money he had left, after buying a box of cereal and a three pack of mac and cheese at the gas station, and dragged Sammy to the video store he saw when they drove into town. He rented, Star Wars: A New Hope because he remembered some kid at their last school wouldn't shut up about it, and wow was that kid right. Dean loved everything about it, especially Han Solo, with his fast ship, and his blaster and his cool hair and, smooth talking. Every time he was on screen, Dean got this weird funny, excited feeling in his tummy, and he assumed it was because he wanted to be just like him when he grew up.

(read the rest under the cut or read on ao3)

It was the same feeling he'd get later, whenever he caught an old western at the movies and Clint Eastwood or John Wayne would saunter across the screen, but he tried not to think about it too hard.

When Dean was fifteen they were stuck in some small town in Nebraska for four months. The town was shit, but Dean had luckily made friends with this guy named Jake Preston who was two years older than him. They were practically inseparable, sneaking into movies, late night joyrides in Jake's crappy pick up, swiping beers from Mr. Preston to drink under the bleachers. And sometimes when Jake would do a successful donut with his truck, or con their way out of trouble, or wink at Dean before he snuck them out of school early, he'd get that same funny feeling in his stomach. But Dean would just chalk it up to admiring the guy for being so smooth and getting away with anything. Of course until the night they were drunk on the bleachers and Jake grabbed Dean by the shirt, smashing their lips together. And after the momentary shock, Dean found himself pulling Jake closer for more. But then Jake angrily shoved him away, as if it was Dean's fault and left without a word, leaving him alone under the bleachers, terrified about what he had just done and wondering if Jake would tell anyone at school. But it didn't matter because they quickly left town the next day, his Dad saying he finished up the hunt, so for years, Dean would just shove that memory off as a drunken accident.

When Dean was twenty, he kissed Lee Webb for the first time. They had snuck off while their Dads wrapped up the hunt, swiping a few of John's beers before heading to their motel room. They acted like assholes, loudly recalling the antics they had got up to on the hunt. And Dean found himself unable to look away from Lee's smile, his eye, his arms, laughing loudly at his jokes and felt that funny feeling in his stomach whenever Lee would laugh. And the next thing Dean knew, he was kissing him like he'd done with girls hundreds of times, but hadn't with another boy sinc-not in years. But unlike with girls, Dean was quickly pulling away horrified at his own actions. But then Lee was pulling him back in, deepening the kiss as he struggled to get Dean's flannel unbuttoned. And just as Dean was starting to realize that Lee wasn't going to angrily shove him away, and that maybe this was okay, he heard the door unlock, and was met with a very drunk John Winchester, who quickly made his opinions about the scene before him, known. And Dean quickly realized that he couldn't just push off this off as some drunken mistake, because that's the moment when he first knew.

And now at age 42, he's happily married with a handful of kids that are his in every way that matters, living in the suburbs with a big kitchen and a deck out back, and it should make those moments feel like a lifetime ago.

But he's still somehow there. They're still fresh in his mind as if they happened a few days ago, the feeling of fear still fresh. Even though he's come so damn far, he's gotten farther than he ever thought he would, he still feels like that terrified little kid again.

All because of some stupid, flimsy piece of fabric.

And Dean knows it's ridiculous. He's married to a man for gods sake, a man who he kisses in public and fights with in the grocery store and who's hand he holds when they walk down the street. And it's not like he's worried about anyone's reaction, since they were all at the wedding, they've been to dinner at their house multiple time, not to mention it would be a little hypocritical of pretty much everyone he knows.

And Dean knows all of that, but he still just feels li-

With a heavy sigh, Dean sits on the corner of the bed running his hands through his hair.

Because it's not that he doesn't want the "label", or thinks that he needs to have it or thinks the label is wrong. He wants the label. He likes the idea of being able to call it something. And he knows it's the right one because during the very few times he was brave enough to google it, he realized it was the one that fits the best.

So why can't he just hav-

Pulling his hands away from his face, he slowly turns to look across the bed, heart leaping into his throat when he catches sight of it. And he finds himself frozen, unable to look a way, let alone reach out for it.

And Dean knows he's being ridiculous because he's faced far worse than this. He's died so many times he's lost count, he's saved the world multiple times, he's killed monsters, ancient cosmic beings, been to other dimensions, he's fought Heaven and Hell, and damnit he's even fought God.

But after all of that, he's still afraid of a little fucking scrap of pink, purple and blue fabric currently clashing with the floral comforter. Paralyzed by fear at the sight of it.

So with a grunt Dean practically launches himself across the bed grabbing the offending object and he's on his feet again pacing around the room.

It's just a piece of fabric. It's just a word.

But you know it's more than that.

And something drops deep in the pit of Dean's stomach, as that familiar feeling of fear continues to creep over him, consuming his thoughts.

Because it's more than just a piece if fabric, it's more than just a word and Dean knows that. To him it means something more, and god he wants to have what it means.

Why can't he just let himself wan-

Dean's footsteps stall, and he finds himself standing in front of the mirror.

And when he meets his gaze, all he can see is that confused little boy looking back, that terrified fifteen year old kid, the twenty year old who was just caught and nearly killed by his own Da-no.

Dean shuts that thought down while he's ahead. Because he learned a long time ago not to let his father dictate his life choices, he learned how to stop letting his ghost prevent him from doing what he wants. He's already worked through and made peace with that trauma, well as much as you can work through that kinda crap, that is. But he's come a long way, he's married, he's got kids, he's got a family, he's got a life that he's damn proud of. So he's sure as hell not not gonna let John Winchester have a place in this.

Because this is about Dean. And what Dean wants.

So shaking his head, Dean finds his eyes in the mirror again.

It's just a piece of fabric. It's just a word. And it's a word Dean wants to own. It's a piece of fabric Dean wants to hold. So why the hell can't he just le-

Because you still can't let yourself have what you want.

His heart skips in his chest as he grips the dresser attached to the mirror

After everything he's been through. After saving the world, and Cas's confession, and the wedding, and the house in the suburbs. He let himself have Cas, but he can't let himself have this thing and-

Oh.

Dean can barely admit it to himself most of the time, but he's aware that he believes that wanting, is selfish. That he thinks his wants are inherently selfish things and so he can't let himself want. And logically he knows that's crazy because everybody wants something, but he jus-can't let himself. And for years he could barely let himself think about wanting Cas, and then after everything that happened he jus-he to let himself be selfish just once and want him. But that was only after he knew Cas wanted him too, which made Dean's want, "unselfish" because it would make Cas happy too. That want was technically for both of them, and that's what he told himself.

And that's why Dean hasn't been able to let himself want the label too.

Because wanting the label is something, just for himself.

And Dean chuckles lowly at the irony. Dean Winchester has free will for the first time in his life, and he still just can't let himself have what he wants.

He rubs a hand down his face, pausing when he spots the fabric in the mirror. Dean slowly looks down at his other hand to see it clutched in a white knuckled grip.

And he thinks of the way he felt when he first saw it on some website, after finally convinced himself to open his laptop in the late hours of the night all those years ago. And he thinks of the smile on Sam's face when he handed it to him after their weekly Friday night dinner, as he was on the way out the door. And how he never specifically talked about it with him, but Sam seemed to know anyway, like always. He thinks of Cas' understanding smile as he softly told him he definitely didn't need it if he wasn't ready or didn't want it, and how he didn't even have to come today. And how he never expressed any of this to him, but Cas seemed to know, like always.

And he thinks of how he might feel, holding the scrap of fabric a little more gently. And he thinks of how he might feel holding it today, where everyone can see.

And he makes his choice.

So with unsteady hands he releases his iron grip, and carefully threads it through one of his belt loops. He squeezes his eyes shut, as he tilts his head back up towards the mirror. Then he slowly opens them.

Dean's breath catches when he sees as the flag hanging at his hip, stopping just above his knee. He takes a moment just to stare at the way it sways slightly, side to side. Then his eyes continue their ascent upwards until they meet his face in the mirror. And he finds a small smile pulling at his lips, reflection becoming a little blurred.

Because for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester is going to let himself have what he wants.

Simply because, he wants it.

He spends the next few minutes just staring at his reflection like an idiot, and that thought causes the smile to grow wider, tipping his head back as a soft laugh bubbles up his throat.

But god he's felt lighter than he has in years.

"Everyone's here, are you ready to go?" Cas asks suddenly appearing in the doorway with a soft smile as Dean meets his eye in the mirror. His hair is a mess like always, but he's decked out in a rainbow striped shirt and socks, and he's even got a little flag painted on his cheek, and his smile grows even wider as his eyes pan down to Dean's waist.

And in three strides Dean's across the room and wrapped in his arms, staring into those wide eyes.

"I'm bisexual" Dean chokes out suddenly, voice thick as he releases a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. He quickly looks down, unable to meet Cas’ eye, unable to look at his reaction. Then hands are cupping his cheeks, slowly tilting his head upwards.

"I'm so proud of you" Cas whispers, thumbs wiping away stray tears Dean hadn't realized where falling. It pulls a watery laugh from his chest.

"Cmon, let's go before Sam starts bitchin’ about how late we are" Dean laughs, trying not to think too much about how big of a deal what he just said was. And he knows Cas can see right through him, but he thankfully lets it slide. But not before pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips, and leading the way into the living room.

And later when Dean's standing downtown, he realizes he's more relaxed than he thought he'd be. Luckily nobody made a big deal about the flag at Dean's hip, and hell he even let Jack paint three little stripes on his cheek, but he definitely didn't miss the wide smile on Sam's face. And when they got to the small Pride event, Dean was surprised see a decent amount of people sporting the same colors, one girl even had her hair dyed the same colors, each person shooting Dean a small smile of acknowledgement. And now with Cas' arms wrapped around his waist, watching Claire, Kaia and Jack all dance around to the music blasting in the streets, as he wonders where Sam and Eileen have gone, he tries to memorize how he feels at this exact moment. Because he rea-

His thought is cut short by Cas suddenly pulling him down for a kiss, like he’d done a billion times before, but one of his hands comes to rest by the flag at his hip.

"I really am so proud of you" Cas whispers into the kiss, and Dean can feel the smile stretching across his lips, pulling him closer.

Yeah. Lighter than he's felt in years.

Tag list:

(please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @bichaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @subbydean @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @writtendevastation

@tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @sinnabonka @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149 @dakiaty @seffersonjtarship @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @jewishdeanwinchester @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @aestheticflyer26

@slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @angelic-bee-enthusiast @nguyenxtrang @idiot-on-the-hill @fandoms-and-things @doreschary @confix @itsanending @thiscowboyisbisexual @milfcodeddean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @smokerdean

#okay fuck it. here it is #i really wasn't going to post this because like. this is a LOT and a lot of this is me projecting my thought process so pls be kind if its #shit or doesnt make sense or seems a little out there asffhakfha #i wasnt gonna write anything bc i knew this would make me insane and i was right. it did #this is quite literally so much projection.#literally this is 90% me projecting my 'bisexual journey' onto dean but i do think this would be his thought process i do #my bi dean manifesto #basically. deans bisexual journey with a psychoanalysis #bisexual #<<<<yay colors #bec writes #dean winchester #destiel #spnprideweek #destiel fic #castiel #jack kline #claire novak #sammy #eileen leahy #kaia nieves #deancas #casdean #destiel fanfic #qaslight #userzaddy #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #offbeattraxx #friendshapedcastiel

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

I really wanna know what happened during the painful bath that Nanda promised Jameson a while back. Baths in whump have the potential to be so soothing and excruciating at the same time, which kinda fits Jameson’s whole character don’t you think?

CW: Pet whump, dehumanizing language, intimate whumper, dubcon touch NSFW (not explicit), implied dubcon (fade to black), referenced blood and whipping, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, creepy comfort, drowning, talk of sui (to escape torture), implied death by drowning (unnamed oc)

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

NEW VIDEOS of the Box Boy Killer! Never Before Seen!

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 14h ago

So I got a really good response to my short series on the mysterious Box Boy Serial Killer (you can find my previous write-ups here, here, and here).

Well, recently I discovered something entirely new that I think you'd enjoy getting a look at! Found among personal items belonging to Nathaniel "Nanda" Matthew Benson: a medium-sized external hard drive containing nearly 750GB of photo and video content.

The hard drive was labeled 'Personal'. Police stated there was a second hard drive labeled 'Professional', but what content was on there, if anything, has never been released.

Technically, neither has this. Someone from within the police department leaked a bunch of videos and photos at some point, and I was able to get ahold of them thanks to a friend of a friend (who shall go unnamed, don't want to tip off whatever FBI agent is watching his internet activity, haha... or is it her or their internet activity... FBI Agent will never know.)

In my writeup on Nanda Benson's life with his Boxie, I didn't have a ton of details on how they interacted with each other. Finding this trove of info definitely changed a few things on how I view their relationship.

Take a look and let me know if it makes you maybe reconsider a few details, too. FYI: This does have nudity and some spicy times! Nothing worse than you've seen on HBO or whatever, but like, fair warning.

[Embedded Video Player With Title: Bathtime With Boxie: NSFW and Yet Somehow Still Oddly Wholesome Kind Of]

The video begins with the tub already filled with water, hot enough to gently steam. It's a gigantic soaker tub, large enough for four people to easily sit without crowding, nestled alongside a window in a truly enormous, incredibly well-lit bathroom. Everything is in shades of white, which makes the person in the frame even more immediately the enter of attention.

A young man with short, shaggy brown hair and dark eyes sits in the tub. He looks up, wrinkling his nose and glancing away. Only then does a bright red mark, darkening already to a bruise become obvious on one side of his neck.

"Don't fucking tape this," He says. His voice is slightly rough-edged, as if he's been screaming, and he sounds exhausted. "That's weird. Not taping the fucking but taping the after bit."

Red welts are visible above the line of water, marking his shoulders and arms. The welts are a deep red that is nearly purple - they are surrounded by bright red irritated flesh.

"Oh, but I like you like this." The voice holding the camera is deep and amused. The camera wobbles slightly and then settles, and soon enough a second man enters the screen. It's clearly Nanda Benson himself, stark naked.

Where the Boxie is heavily bruised and beaten, Nanda himself would be spotless if he weren’t flecked with drying red spots that are clearly the pet's blood.

"Yeah, well." The pet shifts to the side as Nanda steps in, hissing softly in contentment at the sudden burst of heat when he enters the water. He settles down against a bench set in to the side of the tub, and opens his arms.

The pet moves immediately into them, without hesitating. His eyes flicker nervously back to the camera and then away again.

"Yeah, well-... yeah well what, pet?" Nanda laughs as he pulls the Boxie into his lap, toying one hand already damp from the tub over the ring at the front of his collar. "Cat got your tongue after that fun we had together?"

"Tongue's the only thing you didn't take," The pet responds, almost playfully flirtatious. "I guess you'd miss it too fucking much."

"If I took your voice, who would call me a fucking idiot before I fuck him into the ground, hm?"

The pet flushes, looking down at the water, at the slightest pink of his blood still running into it. "Sir-"

"Ssssshhhh. I like you insulting me. I like punishing you for it more." Nanda mouths at the unmarked side of the pet's neck, pulling him back-to-chest where he sits, so he's facing the camera directly again. The pet's back arches when Nanda's teeth dig in, making a soft, high-pitched whine as his head drops back onto the man's shoulder.

The camera picks up the quiet splash of water as the pet tries to move away and is pulled roughly right back, catches the refracted sight of Nanda's hands on the pet's thighs forcing them apart, each of his calves on the outside of Nanda's thighs.

"Please-... H-hurts-"

"You love it," Nanda whispers, and bites down again, right into the crook of the pet's neck where it meets his shoulder. The cry this time is wild with a mix of pain and something darker, the pet's hands moving helplessly up and back to clasp just behind Nanda's head. His back is nearly a bow, every muscle trembling with a need to escape and to hold perfectly still, both at once.

When Nanda pulls back this time, the camera picks up the blood smeared on his teeth before he runs his tongue over them. It finds the light glinting off the fresh blood welling from the new bite along the pet's shoulder.

"It's too much," The pet says, struggling to sit back up straight, turning to look at Nanda. For a moment, his shaggy damp hair and angle hides his expression from the camera's gaze.

The twist of his spine, though, shows the bloodied whiplashes making their way up his back nearly to the nape of his neck.

"It's too much," The pet repeats, in a whisper. "Please. Please, it's too fucking much, if you fuck me again I'll fucking die. Please."

"Now, pet," Nanda teases, flirts shamelessly, running his wet hands through the pet's hair. He grips on tight and forces his head back again. The profile of the pet's face shows the slight bump of a broken nose healed almost perfectly, but not quite. The gasp he makes when Nanda's free hand presses over the welts on his chest is loud enough for the camera to catch. "You know you don't get to say when it's too much."

"You'll f-fucking kill me," The pet protests, voice tight from the angle forcing his collar to dig painfully into his throat. "Please, I... everything hurts so much..."

"You love the pain." Nanda's eyes look up to meet the camera before a more sinister smile finds its way across his face. "I know what you can take better than you do, pet, and I think you can handle one more. Sssshhh, here we go. There..." Nanda exhales softly as the two of them shift in the tub, the pet making a soft pained sound, his hips rolling as he is worked slowly down into position.

Then Nanda chuckles and slides his entire arm over the welts marking the pet's torso, holding him tightly in place. "Now take a deep breath."

"Wh-what?" The pet's eyes widen, comprehension coming a half-second too late. "Wait, don't-"

Nanda's hand gripped into the pet's hair plunges him forwards, bent at the waist, forcing the Box Boy's head suddenly under the water. The pet struggles desperate trying to get his head back up to breathe. Nanda grunts in a rhythm as his hips snap up and down again. He groans, "So fucking tight, goddamn I love you, you fucking slut for me-"

[/END VIDEO]

The video cuts off there, but my friend tells me the rest of it is basically the kind of stuff you have to pay a monthly fee for everywhere else on the internet.

But there's another video, from way later, that I find a really interesting contrast and comparison. Same friend got me this one. It involves Robert, whose write-up you can see right here.

[EMBEDDED VIDEO: Titled Holy Shit, No Wonder He Killed Him]

The screen is black for a few seconds, with the sound of someone taking the cap off a camera before things come into blurry view and then slowly into focus.

The bathroom in this video is tiny. It's barely large enough for everything in it, and a person sitting on the toilet will damn near bash their knees into the side of the bathtub. The grout in the tile floor is dark with old stains, and the tile itself needs either serious scrubbing or an exorcism.

Sitting naked in the bathtub is a young man with long blond hair that hangs in filthy, dirty clumps down to his shoulders. His face is streaked with mud and worse, and he has a black eye that has nearly swelled his left eye shut entirely. His hands are bound with rope stained brown with dried blood, held up in front of him.

His one good eye, maybe blue, follows with a kind of resigned terror the person behind the camera.

He sits in water up to his waist, but by the way he is shivering, it's clear that the water is not even warm, let alone hot. Further bruises mark his ribcage and his legs. One leg juts out in front, and something about it seems like it might be broken.

The camera is handheld, panning slowly from the young man's torn and lacerated heels and feet through his bruised leg - one swollen - and then back up to his face.

"Tell me your name." The voice is Robert Weber's.

The young man's mouth twists in a snarl that fades as quickly as it came and he looks away, to the side of the tub marked with deep soap scum. When Robert's house is searched, there are scratches in the tub as though someone had clawed that deeply into the sides in an attempt to escape. "It's..." The young man inhales, winces at the pain. "It's twe-... Twenty-One. M-My name is... Twenty-One."

"Good. And-... what did we practice saying next?"

The man's jaw trembles visibly onscreen. Then he says, flat and numb, "My name is Twenty-One and I have... two weeks to l-live."

"Perfect. Now I promised you a good scrubbing if you played along downstairs-" The young man flinches, closing his good eye and curling up in the tub as best he can. "-and I will keep that promise." There's a pause, jostling as the camera is slotted into a tripod to continue filming. Then, Robert's voice is suddenly deafening. "Dog! Get the fuck in here!"

The door opens with the creak of hinges deeply in need of oiling, and then the Boxie moves into view. He's skinny, malnourished and underfed, and his hair is roughly cut short in uneven hunks. He has bald spots worn in by the muzzle that is buckled over his mouth, making his breathing an audible rasp. He glares with unhidden hatred.

"Give Twenty-One a bath," Robert says, and his hand moves into view as he pats the Boxie on the head. The Boxie flinches but then forces himself to hold still, closing his eyes as the pat turns into prolonged petting. His muzzle is unbuckled and then removed. Robert's fingers drift over his bald spots, play along the red marks pressed into his skin by the muzzle, move over a scar cut into one side of his mouth that wasn't there in the video with Nanda.

The Boxie is naked but for an old dog collar around his neck.

Robert hums, disappears entirely from view. The door opens and closes again. The sound of a lock clicks.

The Boxie looks at the young man in the bathtub, who doesn't look up. "Fuck this shit," The Boxie mumbles, but he moves - dragging one of his legs a little, and there are ropes tied around his ankles that ensure he can do little more than shuffle - and finally kneels next to the tub. "Are you going to be a shit?"

The young man looks at him with surprise. "You... I've never heard you talk before," He whispers, looking fearfully to the side towards the door.

"You've never seen me without the fucking muzzle before, either," The pet replies. His voice is far rougher than the first video, suggesting long-term damage to his vocal chords. "I asked you something. Are you going to fight me and be a shit about this or no?"

The young man hesitates, then shakes his head. "I couldn't fight if I wanted to anymore," He says, like a man confessing a sin. "It all hurts too much. You know? I had a girlfriend-"

"Stop it." The pet cuts him off and leans over, picking up a stiff washcloth and soaking it in the water until it's soft enough to use again, running it over the young man's shoulders. For all the edge of meanness in his voice, the pet's touch is clearly gentle. "You're going to fucking die here, better if you don't talk about stuff that gets you fucked up first. Forget her."

The young man leans over to give easier access to his back. The soft whimpers he makes show that there must be some grievous injuries back there that the camera can't see. "I-I know I will. Die, I mean. Do I really have-... is it really two weeks?"

"Yeah." The pet takes a bar of soap and runs it over his own hands, rubbing them together to work up a lather. The soap found in Robert Weber's house after his death is Irish Spring and Dove - it is believed he used different soap for different captives according to his own odd whims. "He's put little heart shapes on a calendar he marks off. He'll hurt you a little worse every fucking day and then make you beg for him to end it."

The young man slowly nods, looking at his bound wrists. There's a soft sniff, but he seems too tired for tears. "There's no chance of getting away, is there."

It's not really a question.

The pet answers anyway.

"You're the twenty-first, and none of the others have. What do you think?"

"I-I can't do this."

"You have to." The pet gets a red Solo cup sitting on the side of the tub, fills it with water, and pours it down the young man's back. He hisses and cries out softly in pain. "He doesn't exactly ask your goddamn preferences."

"Help me escape," The young man pleads. "Help me get out of here."

"I'm fucking hobbled," the pet snaps. "He'll be on us both before we even made it out of the hallway. You think I'm fucking stupid? I'm the only one who might not die if I stay good. Come on, lean forward so I can wash your hair."

The young man moves to obey, hands disappearing beneath the filthy bathwater, and then he turns, looking over his shoulder. He and the pet share a long, silent moment. Then he leans over far enough to put his mouth nearly to the pet's ear and whispers something so low that the camera doesn't pick up the words.

The pet inhales sharply.

He looks at the door, and then back to the young man.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and the edge is totally gone from his voice, now.

The young man nods, slowly. "Please," he says, a little louder. "If I have to-... please. Not him. I-I know you'll get punished, but... please. God, please, just this one thing." His hands come back up to grip onto the pet's hand where it lays along the side of the tub.

The young man leans forwards, and his forehead gently rests against the pet's. They are silent for a long moment.

"Please, don't let him be the one to kill me," The young man says. "I know I'm g-going to die, but... let me take that a-... away from him. Please. God, I don't even know your name, but-... please."

The pet swallows, then nods, tipping his head back to press a kiss to the young man's forehead. "I don't have a name. What's your name? I'll remember it. Your real name."

The young man's throat bobs and he whispers into the pet's ear again.

He sits back up, leaning over until some of his long hair falls into the water. "I'm-... I'm ready."

The pet takes a deep, deep breath, moves up to kneeling with his thighs vertical, lays both hands on the back of the young man's head, and says, "I hope it's better, wherever you go."

Then he pushes the young man's head underneath the water.

[/END VIDEO]

According to my friend, there's more to that video as well, but obviously it's been cut to take out the end of the poor guy. Now, my friend swears up and down the pet is crying at the end of the video, that he can see tears, but I'm not sure.

That doesn't really line up with the pet killing people before this, you know?

But one thing it does prove is that the Boxie knows the name of one of the unidentified victims. If he could be found, we could give that man back his name and get his family the closure they deserve.

I know some of you argued with me last time that the Boxie is clearly a VICTIM and not a PERPETRATOR, and I definitely admit this second video maybe suggests you're on to something there.

But I still think we have a Boxie killer on our hands here - I just think maybe I was wrong about why he's killing them at all.

I guess we'll find out if he kills again.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary @burtlederp

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who-is-page · 3 years

Note

We sort of started this discussion at Chimeras' Othercon panel, but I wanted to keep it going so I figured I would send an ask. What do you think it would mean for our community to drop the focus on voluntary and involuntary identities? I agree that we fundamentally should, but a bunch of things immediately jump to mind.

Our community has spent years leaning heavily into the lines between voluntary and involuntary identities and taken special care to make massive distinctions between them, leaving little to no room for grey area. It's no bit surprise that alterhuman spaces have had actual, legitimate, longstanding issues of grilling and gatekeeping. Nonhumans with nuanced and complicated identities are forced to shove themselves into a box to fit into the community, and the ideas we have about certain identities needing to be involuntary are absolutely baked into many aspects of our community and its history.

At the same time, we have used this unjustified gatekeeping in part to protect the community from genuine threats and appropriation of our terminology. The way we have limited our concepts of who is allowed to identify in what ways is generally wrong and has no doubt harmed a subset of kin, but at the same time is understandable in the sense that it has a cause. Yes, this was an issue even before KFF, but KFF certainly don't make it easy to create space for genuine voluntary kin and other voluntary alterhumans.

How do we create the space for nuance and fluidity and complexity in these terms and identities after we have spent so long defensively creating rigid boundaries and restrictions regarding the ways people are allowed to identify? How do we address community gatekeeping while also protecting our community from the people who use our identities and terminology in bad faith?

I have a lot of ideas, but this is obviously a very complex topic that we can't just solve in a day. I was just curious to hear your thoughts, if you had any. Hopefully once our personal website is up one of our first essays will be about this issue. (Also, how is Page? /hj)

So I know we’ve been sitting on this ask for... -checks watch- ...almost two weeks now, but it’s genuinely because I just wasn’t sure how to answer it for a good long while, and I didn’t just want to throw out some haphazard, half-hearted answer to such important questions. So here’s our thoughts on the debacle.

Voluntary and involuntary is a focus I doubt we’ll ever see any of the alterhuman communities permanently drop, for several reasons.

The first and foremost being that, by the definition of the term “alterhuman,” defined here as “a subjective identity which is beyond the scope of what is traditionally considered ‘being human’,” both experiences at their most extremes technically fall underneath the label, rendering the distinction (to some) vitally important to helping understand and define their identity/identity labels. The difference between KFF as an alterhuman identity and forms of otherkinity as an alterhuman identity, for instance, as you mention.

And then there’s the societal factors to consider. People like nice, neat little boxes: people like to be able to compartmentalize their communities, with no overlap, with no spillage, with no complications or grey areas or nuance. It’s a fact of life that people often instinctively want to water down labels and identities into more easily digestible formations, though there are arguments around why people precisely do it. And, as you point out, that often means alterhumans and nonhumans with more complex or nuanced identities typically get shoved into one box or another that they may not perfectly fit into.

When we zero in on specifically the otherkin community, this becomes even more complicated given the community’s rife history: abusive p-shifter groups, the appropriation of language by roleplayers and fiction writers, zoophiles attempting to forcibly associate otherkinity with pro-bestiality movements, and the blatant general misinformation spread by laymen and academics alike, just to name a few relevant problems the community has faced and continues to face. The community is stubborn to a fault, largely because it’s had to be in order to survive. It holds to its preconceived notions and rigid boundaries like a dog with toy aggression to their favorite plush stegosaurus. Fittingly so, really.

So how do we take that stubbornness and change it to be more inclusive to our own? How could we, while still surviving all that onslaught and more? That’s the big question.

In regards to the larger alterhuman community, we’re blessed in the fact that it’s still such a young concept: it hasn’t quite yet had to face the “pathological anger” Religious Studies professor Joseph Laycock has described otherkin as bearing the brunt of. It’s still a community figuring itself out, with much of the anger you find related to it aimed at specific subsets of community within it, rather than at alterhumanity as a whole. And I think the fact that the alterhuman community is still metaphorically air-drying on a table means we have the opportunity to prevent anti-nuance and anti-complexity attitudes from taking hold in it. How we do that is another battle in itself-- I feel like the encouragement of inclusive dialogue, of open discussion intermingled with considerate or civil attitudes, within alterhuman-marketed spaces is a good starting point. I also think that the encouragement and legitimization of “alterhuman” as its own standalone term would be a positive force, where it functions as a broad, diverse identity label in addition to being an overarching, joining umbrella label. A label where someone doesn’t have to give details away of their identity if they don’t feel comfortable doing so, or shove themself into a box they may or may not actually feel they fit into. Something functionally similar to how many people use “queer,” if you will.

But that still leaves aside the issue of identity and terminological misuse, I am aware. And that is...an abstract thing to ward against, at absolute best. I think that the defining of our own spaces not only through our words but also through our actions would perhaps be the best thing we could do, realistically. The cultivation of websites, of group projects--books, zines, comics, pictures, forums, anything!--, of community-led conventions and meet-ups and howls and gatherings. Things which foster and build a community identity of sorts is the best defense against those who would try and distort that which makes us, us.

Zooming back in on the otherkin community, these answers change slightly, because--going back to the clay metaphor--the otherkin community has already metaphorically been glazed and baked (in the fires of hell). That history is cemented, the ways people have wronged it and continue to try and wrong it is cemented, the assumptions and attitudes are cemented.

With the otherkin community, I think that the burden of changing minds and pervasive attitudes falls a bit more onto the shoulders of “community leadership,” because of how the community functions and values both community experience and articulation. There’s a reason we don’t have a term comparable to “greymuzzle” in any of the other alterhuman communities, after all-- it’s a well-known and often aggravating quirk of the otherkin community, to hold certain individuals in such high esteem and put them on a pedestal because of their longevity and the things they’ve done and said. I hate to say that they have to set an example, but in the otherkin community that really is one of the best ways to advocate for change, or to push against those gatekeeping and grilling attitudes--by those who are largely well-respected putting forward ideas that have previously been mocked or disavowed, pushing debates on their legitimacy into community consciousness until it eventually trickles into community normalcy and foundation.

(This is, as you can imagine, a double-edged sword depending on how it’s used. But that’s a discussion for another day.)

That’s not to say that the ideas of creation and creativity with the goal of cultivating an inclusive community identity, like I suggested for the alterhuman community, is inapplicable to the otherkin community: but the otherkin community already has a long-term community identity, so it’d moreso be creation and creativity for the sake of formative inclusion. “History is always written by the winners” is a very, very literal phrase in its application to the otherkin community. Our community memory, for lack of a better way to put it, sucks from individual-to-individual. The future of the otherkin community, its eventual-history, is determined by its historians and creators of today: day-to-day arguments and discussions, unless deemed historically relevant by one archivist or another, disappear to the sands of time, and much more long-term recordings such as essays, websites, comics, etc., often go far beyond just its creators hands and get passed around and down for years, potentially. If you want a more nuanced and inclusive community, you have to dig up the clay for it, shovel by shovel, and bake it yourself, brick by brick, and eventually, with luck, or enough backing prestige, or just because those bricks are so astoundingly solid people can’t resist taking some to build their own foundations to nonhumanity, things will change. It will take time above all else, but once it’s there it will be impossible to remove, because people will just assume those bricks have always been there given enough years.

But those are just some of my thoughts and opinions on it. It’s an issue with so many layers of complexity to it, that there’s really no perfect answer out there that I can offer, and I know even what I’ve shared here has its flaws and drawbacks. I’m sure plenty of my followers also have additional thoughts on the subject, and I’d love to hear from other people what they think in the replies and reblogs.

(Also, Page is a very tired boi.)

#long post #otherkin #alterhuman

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90363462 · 2 years

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A Sex Expert Shares Their Best Beginner Strap-On Tips

There's more to strap-on sex than what meets the eye.

Sheriden Chanel

Mar. 11, 2022 07:00PM EST

I was close to entering my early twenties when I discovered the wonderful world of “pegging.” There was something so arousing about seeing a woman with her harness and dildo in tow, fully dominating a man in a way where he was fully submissive. I dabbled a time or two myself in that arena, and I’m convinced there’s nothing like it. I have yet to encounter another cisgender man who is comfortable enough with his sexuality to allow that terrain to be explored, but I’m just saying.

In addition to being used by straight women on straight men, strap-ons have long since been used for penetrative sex by lesbian women, trans men, people with erectile dysfunction, and more. Strap-ons can be used by anyone to penetrate anyone consensually. It is a sex toy for the purpose of evoking pleasure and that isn’t limited to any one gender or circumstance and it isn’t contingent on the genitalia of the giver or the receiver.

Here are Eden's best beginner strap-on tips to incorporate into your strap-on play.

1.When you go shopping for your first strap-on, know what you’re looking for.

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2.Get over the heteronormative and queerphobic hang-ups around strap-ons

3.Consider the material, size, and color of your dildo of choice.

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4.Spend time wearing your harness before introducing it into the bedroom.

5.Lube is your friend.

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"Whatever the reason, adding a little lube can make it a more comfortable and pleasurable experience for everyone involved.”

Let’s make things inbox official! Sign up for the xoNecole newsletter for daily love, wellness, career, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.

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Sent from my iPhone

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caffeinatedseri · 3 years

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The Significance of Sunsets

We’re introduced to the significance of twilight during the Cannibalism Arc via the Tripartite Tactic.

The essence of the Tripartite Tactic supports 3 core themes of BSD: moral ambiguity, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty of humanity.

First, the Tripartite Tactic establishes the moral balance of the BSD universe through the government, PM, and ADA’s interactions with one another to ensure the balance of Yokohama.

Day and night are binary opposites, similar to how the government and mafia operate on opposite sides. That would imply that the government and mafia are always at war with one another, working to bring the other down, but the Tripartite Tactic suggests otherwise.

Both the government and mafia’s survival are necessary to secure the balance of the city, just like how day and night, good and evil have to coexist in a state of balance.

However, there is a middle ground that bridges these opposing concepts together: twilight — as represented with the agency.

As the evening acts the neutral point from day to night, the agency acts as a morally neutral organization between the government and mafia. They don’t necessarily abide by the laws and rules of “justice,” but they still work to establish a semblance of “good” in this world.

We’ve seen the government act in suspicious ways, we’ve seen the mafia act in good natured ways, and we’ve seen the agency do both of the sort. Even though the government and mafia are supposed to represent “good” and “evil”, the fact that they break these molds serves to once again prove the moral ambiguity within the BSD universe.

Twilight also symbolizes another important idea — the cyclical nature of life. As the passing period between day and night, it represents the end of a day, which will always lead to the start of a new day.

This cyclical nature lends itself to a feeling of hope that drives the journey of redemption — the hope that the night will pass and a new day will begin encourages our characters to persevere and hope for something better.

Cycles also show themselves through character interactions throughout the generations.

Mori abused Dazai → Dazai abused Akutagawa → Akutagawa abused Kyouka, In this case, the cycle of abuse is born (although it fortunately stops at Kyouka).

In parallel, Oda helped Dazai → Dazai helped Atsushi → Atsushi helps Kyouka, For this, the cycle of redemption is born.

As twilight is a time for sunsets, sunsets are an inevitable motif for these themes. The arrangement of colors in the sky, characteristic of a sunset, tends to evoke feelings of awe or admiration for the beauty of such sunset. The beauty of a sunset symbolizes an appreciation for the beauty of humanity, aligning with the theme of accepting human nature as is. (think Dazai)

Keeping in mind these 3 aspects: moral ambiguity, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty of humanity, the significance of every scene with a sunset becomes more prominent.

Sunsets in BSD always appear at important points of the narrative, with my favorite being:

This scene’s significance is primarily Dazai’s transition out of the mafia as represented through the light shining through the window — as if light is being shined on the darkness that had surrounded his life.

This scene happens to be one of my favorites because it touches upon all three themes that the twilight-esque light represents.

Moral ambiguity: Oda knows that Dazai doesn’t care about justice or evil, or defining aspects of morality, so Oda argues Dazai should work for justice. Oda doesn’t try to argue that justice is morally correct, but he simply says it is “better” in an extremely vague way.

The idea of Dazai joining the side of justice with no strong moral conviction opens up the concept of moral ambiguity. Is it important for him to have a moral code if he wants to find the purpose of his life? Can he help others if he doesn’t believe it’s the “right” thing to do? Does it matter?

Most importantly, does saving others whilst not believing in the standards of morality place you within the boundaries of justice or evil? Or are there no such defined boundaries?

Cyclical nature: Oda pushes for Dazai to save people, instead of killing people, mirroring the actions of Natsume-sensei who helped Oda come to that same resolve. This starts the cycle of Dazai helping Atsushi, Atsushi helping Kyouka, and hopefully Atsushi getting to help Akutagawa as well.

This scene also reflects the idea of the “end of the night”, or the start of a new day as Dazai abandons the PM, and starts anew in the Agency.

Beauty of humanity: PM Dazai was arguably the most “inhumane” version of Dazai that we’ve seen, due to his heavily logic driven intellect and distrusting tendencies.

However, in this interaction with Oda, we finally see his humanity shine through. Oda gives no reasonable, straight-forward explanation as to why Dazai should leave the mafia, but Dazai follows his advice regardless because of their trust.

The ability to trust and love, an innate part of human nature, can be seen as foolish from the eyes of the logic-driven, but ultimately that’s what makes being human beautiful.

I admit the last scene may have been a little vague with whether the setting was actually a sunset, but this one is more obvious!

This takes place after SSKK’s fight with Francis, and they regroup with Dazai, Fukuzawa, and Kyouka.

Cyclical nature: As the finale of the Guild Arc, the sunset represents the end of a day and the start of another as they close this chapter of their lives. It also parallels Dazai’s “redemption” scene, as Kyouka finds her redemption in sacrificing herself for others and becoming part of the agency.

Just as Oda was able to help Dazai in the previous scene, Dazai is the one who tells Kyouka exactly what she needed to hear in order for her to survive and find a home in the agency.

Beauty of humanity: Being human means to be compassionate, and I’d argue that Kyouka was uncompassionate in the past, just because no one had shown her what compassion was like. However, Kyouka grows from that — with the help of Atsushi and Dazai showing her empathy and kindness, she’s able to reciprocate that feeling and be willing to give up her life for the sake of others.

Dazai also praises Akutagawa for a short moment in this scene, which is also an act of compassion from Dazai although Akutagawa deserves more than that.

This scene follows the party at the end of the Cannibalism Arc, as Dazai and Atsushi have a nice heart-to-heart.

Dazai’s toast here is technically an anime-only moment, but obviously all of the sunsets are anime-only. Regardless, I’ll be discussing his entire talk with Atsushi here, along with the toast.

Moral ambiguity: Akutagawa’s promise to not kill anyone for 6 months mirrors that of Oda — a mafia member who doesn’t kill. By doing so, he directly challenges the morality involved with being a mafia member (what would be “bad”) and breaks away from the black and white labels of “good” and “evil.”

If we followed the code of justice, presumably the morally “right” way, then it would dictate that Akutagawa would need to be punished for the crimes he committed. However, Atsushi’s decision to form that promise with Akutagawa gives him an opportunity to grow and redeem himself, even if Akutagawa fits with the “evil” label.

Akutagawa and Atsushi are obviously foils — they’re different in almost every way, which you could use to define Atsushi as the hero and Akutagawa as the villain, but it’s undeniable that they also share many similarities. As the line between “good” and “evil” blurs, moral ambiguity is developed.

Cyclical nature: Once again, this scene closes out the Cannibalism Arc, with the sunset symbolizing both the end and beginning.

Atsushi’s promise with Akutagawa parallels that of Oda’s dying wish to Dazai; they’re both founded on the basis of trust, and they push towards a brighter future for Akutagawa and Dazai respectively. Thus, the cycle of redemption repeats itself once more.

Dazai’s “To the stray dogs” statement also parallels his toast with the Buraiha trio (Dazai, Ango, Oda). It could be just a callback to Oda, but it also expresses Dazai passing on the toast to Atsushi, from one stray dog to another. Nevertheless, this still represents a cycle of actions in which the previous generation affects the present.

Beauty of humanity: Dazai toasting to Atsushi with the phrase “stray dogs” offers a sense of compassion and hope. Dazai and Atsushi have undoubtedly grown closer to one another throughout the entire series up to this point, so it makes perfect sense that Dazai shows that he cares by sharing a piece of his past with Atsushi.

Toasting directly to the stray dogs implies a celebration of sorts for these dogs, who are stray but ultimately not alone. The toast is indicative of a hope for a better future whilst also acknowledging how one can feel lost in life (and how that’s okay).

Atsushi’s promise with Akutagawa also serves as an attempt to teach Akutagawa the beauty of humanity, since Atsushi believes that Akutagawa doesn’t see the value of life (which is preventing him from getting Dazai’s approval). I would argue that it should be the other way around, but Atsushi has good intentions here.

After Atsushi discovers the death of the Headmaster of his orphanage, Dazai gives some comforting advice.

Moral ambiguity: Atsushi struggles with his conflicted feelings towards the Headmaster’s death, which is perfectly understandable.

The Headmaster can’t be defined as completely good or completely bad, because he did impact Atsushi’s life in a way that led him to where he is today (once again, no definitive black or white answer as to whether that’s good or not).

Atsushi struggles with the thought that he has to pick whether to feel glad or upset, in order to fit within the neat labels of black and white, happy and sad. In response, Dazai (the definition of a morally ambiguous man) simply says:

Although Dazai says “There’s no one who can fully grasp the deepest feelings of another person,” in the anime, I think the meaning of that is better stated in the manga. Dazai reasons that he can be both glad or upset, his feelings can be mixed, and there is no clear cut answer for how to feel (as Dazai only gives a general piece of advice).

Cyclical nature: Dazai’s statement, “when someone’s father dies, they tend to cry”, could honestly be interpreted in a multitude of ways.

Dazai’s reference to a father figure suggests that this “father” is simply a person who impacted their life greatly and made them who they are today. (since both of their fathers are unknown).

Following this definition, Oda is the father figure to Dazai in the same way that the Headmaster was to Atsushi. Although their methods of “helping” Dazai and Atsushi differ very drastically, the same cycle of this “father” figure impacting the life of their metaphorical son repeats.

Oda giving advice to Dazai, and Dazai giving advice to Atsushi is also another cycle — the cycle of reaching a hand out to someone in need. (which is the more sensical of these two conclusions)

Beauty of humanity: Dazai’s ability to be compassionate truly shines in this scene and shows just how much he’s grown from his time in the PM.

In contrary to PM Dazai’s unfeeling self, Dazai is able to empathize with Atsushi on a personal basis; just as the Headmaster was a integral part of Atsushi’s past, Oda was the same for Dazai.

Dazai’s growing ability to understand others demonstrates his willingness to grow more accustomed to human nature, and love it for what it is.

Atsushi’s confusion in dictating what he should feel also speaks on the nature of humanity; his feelings don’t have to make sense for him to feel them. In fact, the more illogical his emotions are, the more human he is.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #bsd analysis #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #bsd kyouka #just me gushing over how much i love sunsets #there are many more sunset scenes that i didnt cover hmmm

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 3 years

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[1/?] Sorry for venting. I just saw some bad takes that gave me a lot of feelings. Personally, JC stresses me out every time he comes on screen, but I don't mind it when JC fans say fan-typical things like how they like JC because he wears purple, or is grumpy, or they think he's hot, or that they ship x*ch*ng because the cql actors have nice jawlines. They're harmless, fun takes, and while I don't agree with some of them, I see where they're coming from

Hello there anon, vent away as that is what my blog is open for as I love/hate on Jiang Cheng as he is in the plot, as well as all of my beef with what has been done to him for the EN side of the fanbase! I am more than fine listening and engaging with the unsavory "unpopular" discussions of his canon behavior and this goes for anyone of course that needs an open play area. I'll try to engage with what you have sent point by point as succinctly as I can.

[2/?] (some of these are obviously crack, and I am a fan of a few problematic faves). But then there are stans that just have to put other characters down to make JC look good. Like, I think some fans take their freedom of interpretation for granted because most of these takes aren't even labeled 'headcanon,' 'ooc,' or 'crack' anymore. Stans feel that their interpretations are valid, and while they are, valid =/= canon, and they're treating these takes as canon, which becomes popular fanon.

I enjoy Jiang Cheng for what he is, however as I had said it took me another reread to get to my stance of him being the negative mirror to Lan Wangji's positive and my comfort with that for the story once I realized what purpose he served. He is only insofar tragic in regards to his circumstances, but it does not absolve him for what he is at his core (no pun, but I can make a very nice metaphor that even with a piece of Wei Wuxian in him he is still forever unable and unwilling to stand by him equally all while stagnating where as Lan Wangji is able to flourish, grow and mature with nothing of import left from Wei Wuxian in a technical sense). As for ships, I am a little dirty Xicheng whore for fun and can say there is a sense of entertainment for me making it work with two people where one is wildly ignorant and the other wildly rabid. But that is outside of what is established as canon in the work and I always try to keep the two strictly separate due to the skew fanon perpetuates.

3/?] And now, it's not clear what part of the fanon references canon JC or the canon events of mdzs. JC is an asshole; I don't like him as a person, but I do think that he's a complex character motivated by many issues (sup, YeeZY), which makes him fascinating to explore. Unfortunately, erasing his culpability also removes his agency. JC should be allowed to be an asshole character who makes his own decisions even if they're the wrong ones. He has made his own tragedy by constantly casting Wei Wuxian as the villain of his life.

Now thanks to you I will be using YeeZY to forever and now to acknowledge Madam Yu (this is your fault for the new tag). From a standing from storytelling I agree that he is complex in the Jianghu for MDZS. Where in the usual political intrigue of Wuxia, he would be the mustache twirling villain that is outright unforgivable in narration, it is by favor of Wei Wuxian's narration that has an early steeping of empathy for him. And he is not meant to be seen as ultimately sympathetic, the work builds up his hate against Wei Wuxian who tries to rationalize it all several times until he is finally unable to. Jiang Cheng is the antithesis to Lan Wangji and the false bait to get attached to in Wei Wuxian's first life. I will make the note their meeting in Yiling is lukewarm between both as they exchange nothing really in terms of conversation and all pleasantries are left in terms of Jiang Yanli for Wei Wuxian. By this point Wei Wuxian has already switched his yearnings of platonically wanting a part of Jiang Cheng's life, to subconscious romantic inclinations about Lan Wangji and the perceived loss of being in the other's life.

The very point of Jiang Cheng as the deconstruction, is that he has no passion in life despite his apparent exploits because he put a shadow to hang over himself as an excuse to say others think he is not good enough. He has no deeper motivations than pure selfishness by the end of the work and is pure frivolity that he has built up losing the meaning of his sect as a tradition. He had his agency (more than anyone I might add in the work due to his social position) that he used to build his reputation as a passive rich sect leader that has little to do with civilian problems.

4/?] And I think a JC, somehow, that realizes that he did something wrong and is working hard to change for the better and gain self-actualization to become that UWU best jiujiu the stans want him to be, who is ready to talk (not yell at) with WWX, apologize to him, and create a better, healthier relationship with him is a much more powerful reconciliation and happy ending than 'everyone is wrong and mean and they all apologize to JC, which magically gets rid of all his issues'.

He is forced out of culpability in reconciliation because simply put, his audience do not like the reality that relationships fray and dissolve with no further resolution other than we as adults both need to move on for safety and good health. It is not acceptable in real life and fiction is allowed to place that also in it's thematic relationships. He has a small, small spark of recognition at the end of the main story, however he himself seems to choose to ignore it, as change is hard and he has never taken to that well as was foreshadowed with his dogs and the idea of sharing a space with Wei Wuxian. To write this is an awful lot of work into his psyche which is not a nice place, he is a terrible being and downplaying that to make a sugar sweet person does not work instantaneously. He is the one responsible for the entire fallout with Wei Wuxian and he hysterically realizes that even as he tries to continue to blame Wei Wuxian.

The issue that I have with his current stan culture, is that they already view him as something he is not. They play at bicycle with all of the other protagonists that have positive traits that they strip as they see fit; Good affirming loving to children adult Lan Wangji, Self-sacrificing ultimately did it all for love and care Wei Wuxian, Hard exterior but softened to who they consider an annoyance Wen Qing, Loyal as partners in their exploits on the field and always have each others back Wen Ning. They even take Jin Guangyao's persona of playing damsel and using that as a positive to soften up Jiang Cheng into something he has never been for anyone for ships.

[5/5] Also, making WWX/WN/LWJ apologize just makes them look better than JC. Like, stans supposedly love JC, so they ahouldn't be lazy and work hard to give him actual character development. Again, I'm sorry for spamming your ask. It just really baffles me about where they get these 'hot' takes (All I'm going to say is that JC was ungrateful, and WN had a reason verbally dismantle him).

They see this, but, they will spin it in any way to excuse Jiang Cheng due to the story itself showing that he was in the wrong to everyone he flung accusations at and his hate. No one but him is at fault for his spite as he had gotten his revenge on the ones that had ruined Lotus Pier and killed his parents. His own resentment pitted him against good and well meaning people that he refused to help as he mimicked his mother's words about raising their heads higher out of goodness instead of keeping low and staying self-centered. There is the underlying criticism of taking individual arrogance as self-care at the cost of others. Each point that Wen Ning makes is exactly what Jiang Cheng himself knows as he hated Wei Wuxian for being something he could not be or even wanted to be. Jiang Cheng wants kindness but does not understand that kindness to others needs to be selfless and accept the hurt that can come with that in life. He encompasses the fall from the path of buddhist lifestyle, "The Three Poisons" to Wangxian's "Without Envy" at the stories end.

[6/5] P.S. I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it. I think it would be interesting to see what force of nature would push him through a character development because throwing a therapist at him would result in a murder.

"I'm not saying I want reconciliation fics, but I just feel that if stans want JC to have a happy ending, then I think that he should actively work for it."

They do not think he has to work for it, they say his tragedy is enough, while heaping accusations against Wei Wuxian and saying his own are not enough to absolve him. Something Wei Wuxian has never denied and told all present they are allowed to forever hate him for what he had done in the past, but that they need to find a way to live in a life that is always moving on. He learned that grudges do nothing once they are absolved and it leaves you with hate with nothing else to do with it once that object is gone. In terms of reconciliation, I do not ever think that either want anything other than a distant peaceful out of each other's life set up. Jiang Cheng does not need Wei Wuxian in his life to be satisfied and never has since he used him as the handicap to hide behind to stay angry and miserable. Being without that fallback opens the world far more for him to change than him ever interacting like an old friend with Wei Wuxian ever again, if he ever had the guts to do that.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #yeah I am using that tag block me if it upsets you #pokes this sorry for the length I tried #listen... only i am his trash queen

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frostops · 3 years

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I have some thoughts about how FGO has handled trans and trans-adjacent characters, and I’m frustrated how many people talk about the mishandlings without discussing the transmisogyny in it, but this is long as fuck, so its under the cut.

Its a good thing that FGO is having more characters with the genderless trait who aren’t given that trait for shitty reasons, but framing this as FGO being better at handling nonbinary characters, while technically true, ignores what caused many of the early issues. That cause is often transmisogyny.

Transmisogyny has been an issue in the game since Da Vinci’s introduction. Da Vinci doesn’t have the genderless trait, but she’s still important to discuss to understand FGO’s mishandling of trans characters. Mash and Romani are both angry at the idea of Leonardo Da Vinci not being a man, and call her a pervert, among other things. This is immediately after both find out King Arthur was actually a woman, but neither seemed to care then. Its understood by the writing that some believed to be a man turning out to actually be a cis woman isn’t deserving of malice, but that person turning out to be a trans woman is. The writing surrounding Da Vinci slowly got better, with characters being less shitty about and eventually respecting her gender. While Da Vinci initially describes herself as beyond gender, she says so in response to Roman and Mash’s reaction to her gender, where as whenever she is referred to as a woman (Lancelot saying he couldn’t hurt a beautiful women in Camelot, Napoleon calling her mademoiselle in LB2), she eats it up. Her early description of being beyond gender feels more like a tongue-in-cheek way of degendering a trans woman. While overall the writing treats Da Vinci better now, there are still times where it gets shitty, even as recent as the event where Van Gogh was introduced, where Hokusai talks about both Da Vinci and Van Gogh having an inherent maleness that bleeds into their art. This event did have a guest writer, but it was still allowed into the game.

The first character to have the genderless trait is D’Eon. Historically, D’Eon was intersex and trans feminine, and very likely a trans woman, but the fate version is introduced saying they were crazy in life, intended to be in reference to how they presented their gender. They are also presented as caring more about loyalty to France than what gender they are seen as, when the real D’Eon blackmailed the king into legally recognizing them as a woman. Transmisogyny, as well as intersexism, is pretty obviously what made Type-Moon take reduce D’Eon to just jokes about gender. D’Eon feels degendered in way similar to how Da Vinci is at time, though D’Eon gets it worse

Astolfo debuted in Apocrypha, where their presentation is used for a joke where Jeanne, believing Astolfo to be a girl, freaks out when she sees that Astolfo has a penis. The joke is that it is such a horrible thing to find a penis on some you think is a girl. I shouldn’t need to explain the transmisogyny behind that, or that Astolfo ostensibly not being a trans woman doesn’t make the joke less transmisogynistic. There are other, better things about Astolfo in Apocrypha, but most of their writing in FGO is in the same vein as the joke with Jeanne. This is crystalized in Agartha, where both Astolfo and D’Eon were used for many transmisogynistic, intersexist, and homophobic jokes.

The third, and for a long time last, character to have the genderless trait was Enkidu. They are given this trait due to changes to their myth. In Fate, Enkidu is made of clay, and had a nonhuman appearance until meeting Shamhat, and modeling their appearance after her. They don’t have a physical sex, but, due to originally being a male character and appearing feminine in fate, the writers and fans alike treat them similarly to how they treat Astolfo and D’Eon, though less aggressively. Usually when Enkidu appears in a fate work, one character has to talk about how they can’t tell whether Enkidu is a man or a woman, before settling on neither, but only reach that conclusion because they don’t have a physical sex. The transmisogyny isn’t as strong in Enkidu’s writing, but its still there.

Until LB3, no other character would be given the genderless trait, and what all 3 of them have in common is being AMAB or originally male characters who present femininely. Technically Da Vinci fits this description as well, but her body is considered female by Type-Moon’s standards, so she gets the female trait. Also, with the exception of Astolfo, have bodies that wouldn’t considered male of female by most people. In Deon’s case, this is the result of intersexism, and even more frustrating when you remember that D’Eon blackmailed the king to be seen as a woman. I’d wager the reason Astolfo is grouped with the other two is itself a continuation of the joke from Apocrypha. It’s a coy “We all know what Astolfo’s ‘real’ gender is, but we’ll play along with the joke.”

I think this also explains other characters who, arguably, could be included in the genderless trait, but were not. Nezha, like Da Vinci, only got a “female” body after dying, so they get the female trait too, despite not really being comfortable with any gender labels. Mordred, who consistently gets violently angry at being called a woman, and whose bio states that they don’t like being referred to as a man either (though this wouldn’t be implemented into writing until LB3, where they are clearly far less bothered by being referred to as man) also has the female trait. King Hassan’s bio has his gender listed as “?????” but he is treated as male by the game and has the male trait.

None of the newer genderless servants fit the same description of amab/originally male and presenting femininely, which does show a more nuanced understanding of gender identity and expression, but it doesn’t show anymore respect towards trans women and transfems. Both Shi Huang Di and Douman have somewhat androgynous presentations, but we still don’t really have trans fem character whose gender and presentation is treated respectfully other than Da Vinci, and that’s frustrating. For the most part, though, these characters are all pretty well handled.

Two of them, Mao Nobu and Romulus-Quirinus, are new versions of characters who already had the female and male trait respectively, meaning the game has at least someone moved away from equating the genderless trait to a character’s physical sex, but not entirely since part of the reason Shi Huang Di has the trait is their inability to reproduce.

There is some disagreement about how Caenis is handled, and I do have thoughts on that topic, but if I talked about that this would be twice as long. The short version is that the necessity to make characters fit into fanservice, something which negatively affects all of the characters I mention here, limits the ways in which Caenis’s relationship to their gender can be explored. Its also why we have Caenis and not Caenus, and why Caenis is rarely allowed to where a shirt.

There is also Dioscuri, who is two characters, one man and one woman, who are collectively on servant, so even though they have the genderless trait, they're not really relevant.

We do have more originally male characters now in female bodies. Vritra and Van Gogh, who were added recently (Vritra’s bio says she was originally male and now has a female vessel and Van Gogh is Vincent Van Gogh in Clytie’s body), Kama, an originally male deity possessing Sakura’s body, is being added to NA this year, and even back in part 1 we had Quetzalcoatl, another male god in a female vessel. All of them are given the female trait, and Quetz in particular seems to be very comfortable being a woman, but this still feels like what happened with Nezha, where the “physically female” body matters more than the identity of the character, especially with Van Gogh, who had no choice in being put in Clytie’s body.

Mechanically, the gender traits only affect certain skills and nps, having extra or stronger effects. The genderless servants are exempt from the extra effects, with one exception. Once of Blackbeard’s skills has an effect for female servants, but D’Eon and Astolfo (And maybe also Enkidu, but I don’t remember) were included in this effect as well. The joke here was that Blackbeard is written to be reflective of the worst qualities of weebs and otakus. many of whom would refer to those two as traps, a transmisogynistic slur, so Blackbeard is into them in the same way. Servants with the genderless trait added afterwards weren’t included in this effect, even though some of them (the ones who transphobic fate fans consider to be women) would still be seen as attractive by Blackbeard. So rather than coding each one individually to be included, they added a new trait, the female looking trait, for Blackbeard’s skill. The genderless servants included in this one all present feminine, but the inclusion of this trait is to make continuing a transphobic joke easier, which almost feels like a step back from some of the previous progress in handling trans characters.

I also think some people are a little too eager to give FGO credit when it may not deserve. For instance, a lot of people liked Douman being included in the genderless trait, and on its own it fine, but the my room line where Sei talks about trying to check under Douman’s robes concerns me. Many people took it as Sei just being horny for Douman, but it could easily be intended as Sei trying to check what’s really in his pants, especially since the canon reason Douman has the genderless trait is that he combined himself with some spirits and deities, one of which is female.

None of this is to say its wrong to view any of these characters as nonbinary (I do view most of them as nonbinary), but I don’t think we should view the genderless trait as equivalent to nonbinary. Not only are there characters included in it who probably shouldn’t be (like D’Eon) and characters who don’t have it who probably should (like Nezha), doing so treat nonbinary as a third and wholly separate gender. And if you’re going to talk about the transphobia of FGO, please be willing to use the word transmisogyny.

#transmisogyny #transphobia #fate grand order #fate/go

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www-artforoddballs · 4 years

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Headcannon for Levi-

Autism Update!

The man meets a human with Autism and is like

"...huh"

So he asks Lucifer to get him tested, and Lucifer is like "Okay sure"

And the results come back that he is, indeed, autistic.

This former angel, this demon, who by human standards is an ancient being of yore...

He gets diagnosed with Autism. High-functioning Autism, but he's autistic regardless.

And it all makes sense.

Boy suddenly feels way less alone in the world because he knows there are other people out there who hyperfocus on things they love just like him, who can't socialize or easily relate to other people just like him.

I also feel like after having this revelation, his brothers would ease up a bit on the teasing.

Brothers react (quickest acceptance to slowest)

MAMMON:

-Surprisingly (other than Luci and Satan, because...c'mon, Satan loves knowledge and Luci is a Responsible Big Brother *tm*) Mammon is the first to learn more about autism. He may not be the smartest of the brothers, but (in my opinion) is probably the one that's most in touch with his feelings and his empathy, despite still having that selfish streak.

-He wants to know more about Autism so he can understand Levi better and help make his brother more comfortable during their interactions.

-He'd also start stealing things from Levi less, because he now knows that there's another level to that memorabilia from anime and games for Levi than just stuff he likes.

-Will 100% buy Levi a stim toy when he gets some extra cash but shhHHHHH it's not from the tsundere crow man

-Probably comes around to fully understanding everything the quickest, despite both Luci and Satan reading up on it n stuff.

LUCIFER:

-This one is tricky, because he understands what autism is from a logical standpoint, but he still has a bit of trouble really understanding how it effects Levi

-Will also get a stim toy for his brother, probably like an infinity cube or something

-Still not really getting it until Levi has a meltdown

-Lucifer has dealt with Levi's meltdowns before, but moreso in a "my brother who is the avatar of envy is just throwing a fit" way instead of a "my brother who is having a meltdown as a cry for help needs me" way

-Instantly goes to Levi with probably either a handheld game or one of his stim toys

-Uses nonverbal ways for his brother to communicate with him so he'll know how to help him through this

-Will 100% get his brother noise canceling headphones and also take rigorous notes on what is ok with Levi and what isn't when it comes to stimulus

BEEL:

-Autism??? What's that???

-Poor boy is a bit dense at times but we still love him

-Supportive but not really sure of what to do or what to say or how to react

-If Levi had a meltdown around him though you'd best be certain that he'll be the first to scoop his brother up and REMOVE HIM FROM WHATEVER SITUATION IS CAUSING HIM HARM

-Gradually starts to understand more and more about the condition

-After all, his brother is still his brother. This label doesn't change anything, Levi has always been autistic, this label just helps people better understand him

-Will be the first to deck someone if they make fun of Levi for his autism. Doesn't even care if he gets in trouble later, you don't make fun of anyone, especially his family, for something they can't control.

-8/10, overall good bro

SATAN:

-OK I know I put Beel higher than him and this is why

-Satan read up on what Autism is, yes.

-But the man is still TECHNICALLY the youngest. He is the only member of the family who was never an Angel, as he was born from Lucifer's wrath toward everything when Lilith "died", which was when Lucifer ceased to be an angel completely. Everyone else was an angel at some point, so even though Belphie is the "youngest" because he has the weakest power, Satan is far younger than everyone else when it comes to actual age. Okay? Okay.

-ANYWAYS IGNORE MY RANT

-As the youngest (and I am technically correct here on him being the youngest ok bye-) and because he was literally born from nothing but wrath and hatred, the man is still learning on all the other emotions. And this is a canonical fact, anyways.

-So like his brother-father, Luci, Satan understands what Autism is, but he also doesn't understand what it is at the same time.

-He read up on it, that's good enough for him.

-He still cares about Levi, and just like everyone else (even though I only listed it for Beel) he knows that this label doesn't change who Levi is at all

-Gradually he starts getting a better grasp on everything. Will 100% be next in line to deck someone if they make fun of Levi for being autistic.

-They both like TSL so it would be an activity where he could really relate to his big brother and learn more about how his brain works so he would be better equipped to help him and how to best be there for him and relate to him in the future.

BELPHIE:

-Belphie is kind of a jerk toward everyone except Beel. But it is clear that he loves his family in his own weird way (even Lucifer, but he'll kill you if you even think of revealing this fact to Luci).

-Doesn't really get it, but the man isn't as self-absorbed as Asmo, which is one main reason I think he'd come around to it quicker than the lustful demon.

-Does want to understand it, but is also asleep like 70% of the time, so when anybody tries explaining it to him he ends up falling asleep.

-Eventually will probably get an audio book about the subject so if he falls asleep he can just resume from wherever he remembers it leaving off.

-Understands how Beel acts and reacts to situations where Levi is having a meltdown or is getting overwhelmed by noises or amounts of people and attention, so this does for sure help him better understand and accept the condition. Because Levi is still Levi, ultimately.

-Will probably let Levi rant to him about his favorite things. It would make Levi happy and seeing his brother happy would make him happy, even if he ends up falling asleep during Levi infodumping onto him.

ASMO:

-Man is self-absorbed.

-Not that he doesn't wanna get it, but he was barely paying attention when the results were shared with everybody because he was looking at a makeup tutorial on DevilGram.

-Like a month later he's pulled aside because he did something to really upset Levi, like bugging him repeatedly to take pictures for the gram with him and forcing him to livestream, and he's like

-"Yeah but I always do that?...he had a meltdown? What's a meltdown?"

-Will actually look up what a meltdown is after this

-Probably feels terrible but still doesn't really get it.

-"Why should I have to change myself for him?"

-Because you shouldn't be consciously making anyone uncomfortable, autistic or not, ASMO.

-Probably takes the two of them getting into a big fight and Levi to actually start crying for him to snap to his senses

-Will actually take time to do research and try to understand it better

-Still doesn't really fully get it, but he's doing his best to do this for his big bro

-6/10

#obey me headcanons #obey me leviathan #obey me #obey me shall we date #leviathanobeyme #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me satan #obey me mammon #autism

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dragonheartftherpays · 4 years

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Twi’lek Skin Color Genetics

Hello naughty children, a few weeks ago I spent five hours or so hashing out how Twi’lek skin color works genetically, and now I’m here to make that everyone’s problem. This is going to be a very long post, so I do apologize for that, feel free to hit J on desktop to skip. But it’s interesting, and it’s actually worked for every canon Twi’lek family I’ve tried it for so far (not that there are many to try), so here we go!

And yes, I made APA citations for this. Because I’m a nerd.

How Does Twi’lek Skin Pigmentation Work, Anyway?

Because it’s not as simple as humans. After all, Twi’leks come in a huge range of colors. The first challenge I had to deal with was figuring out how exactly Twi’lek skin coloration works in terms of pigmentation, before I could even start to figure out the genetics behind that.

See, in Earth mammals, most if not all pigmentation comes from melanin. Melanin comes in two forms, eumelanin (black/dark brown) and pheomelanin (reddish), and between the two of them in various concentrations melanin can produce colors ranging between black, brown, gray, red, yellow, and tan (Douma 2008).

Problem: Twi’leks, obviously, come in a lot more colors than that. See, mammals don’t generally produce blue or green pigments. However, you know what does produce green and blue colors? Reptiles and amphibians.

(No, I’m not suggesting Twi’leks are reptiles or amphibians, put that pitchfork down. They can hybridize with Humans, I think it’s pretty solidly canon that they’re mammals.)

So how do reptiles and amphibians produce blue and green colors? Well, instead of their coloration being based solely on melanin like us, many reptiles and amphibians have cells called chromatophores, cells containing certain types of pigments. Chromatophores generally come in three layers, from top to bottom: xanthophores, which contain yellow pigments called pteridines, iridophores, which don’t contain a true pigment but instead contain platelets which reflect mostly bluish light through physical structure and thus act as a blue “pigment,” and melanophores, which produce melanin. The topmost layer can also contain erythrophores, which contain reddish-orange/orange pigments called carotenoids (aka the reason you’re always told that if you eat enough carrots you can turn orange). Between differing amounts of each of these cells and their respective pigments, the three layers of chromatophores can produce a wide array of colors (Douma 2008).

Wide enough to cover all known wild type (naturally occurring, without mutation or intentional genetic manipulation via breeding) Twi’lek skin colors? Let’s find out.

Thanks to Wookieepedia, we do have a list of canon colors Twi’leks can come in, although I take issue with some of them (Twi’lek 2020).

Known wild-type colors: blue, green, tan/pale, orange, pink, purple, teal, yellow Known mutations: Albinism, leucism, red (erythrism?), vitiligo

Cosdra seems to have vitiligo, but it might be paint - it’s hard to tell (Cosdra 2019). Technically, since pink/red eyes do exist as a wild type in Twi’leks, it’s possible Bib Fortuna isn’t actually albino and just happens to have white skin and red eyes, but given how rare white skin seems to be and how he’s portrayed, I’m assuming him to be albino (Bib Fortuna 2020). Leucism, partial loss of pigmentation that most often results in white skin/hair/fur and dark eyes, is also a guess, technically speaking. We see what appears to be leucism in Lyn Me, with “true white” skin and dark eyes, but it’s not confirmed officially; however, due to how rare white skin seems to be, I am comfortable assuming Lyn Me to be an example of a leucistic Twi’lek (if she isn’t, she may instead be an EnEnii genotype with very little melanin production, as discussed later) (Lyn Me 2020).

Wookieepedia claims Twi’leks can have black skin, but it doesn’t have a citation, and I took the time to click through the entire list of canon Twi’lek characters and didn’t find a single black-skinned Twi’lek (”true black,” not dark-skinned). If a Legends character exists with “true black” skin, I feel comfortable assuming that to be an example of a melanism mutation or something similar, rather than a wild type color morph, due to its rarity.

Red being labeled a mutation is interesting, and I believe it’s technically Legends instead of strictly canon material, but I also didn’t find any counterexamples in canon, which leads me to believe it may as well be considered canon (Lethan 2020). I’ll talk more about the “true red” color mutation later in this post.

For now, we have a list of wild type skin colors. Can chromatophores, with variation between the various pigment cells, account for all the different colors Twi’lek skin can take on?

The answer is yes.

I didn’t take the time to chart out a hypothetical melanophore variation chart, since in most phenotypes how much of each type of melanin is present merely affects the saturation and brightness of the dominant color. Anyway, I imagine melanophore genetics would be more similar to human skin color genetics to begin with.

But Dragon, I hear you ask, I don’t see teal on this chart! Patience. We’re getting there. Because in order to talk about teal skin color, we have to talk about the actual genetics - teal comes from two incompletely dominant alleles being expressed together, rather than being a trait with its own allele.

So let’s get into the genetics, then!

The Genetics Behind It All

I’m going to put the Punnett square hell I went through beneath a cut at the bottom of this post for anyone who’s interested in seeing my evidence for this conclusion, and for everyone else I’m just going to put my conclusions.

I’ve assigned each allele an abbreviation, although they don’t display properly on Tumblr because I don’t know how to do subscript and superscript or if Tumblr supports that in the first place:

Ex: Xanthophores (yellow pigment) present. Ee: Erythrophores (reddish-orange/orange pigment) present. En: Neither xanthophores nor erythrophores present/both nonfunctional.

I: Iridophores (blue “pigment”) present. i: Iridophores not present/nonfunctional.

For the purposes of figuring out this system, I actually used a hybrid family, the Lawquanes.

Wait, hold on, why a hybrid family? Well, first off because they’re the ones who started all this, because someone pointed out how the hell did a pink mom and Human dad end up with a teal-and-tan child and an orangey-tan child? So I wanted to answer that question in a way that also fit any other canon Twi’lek families.

However, using this family had another advantage, as I quickly realized: because Cut Lawquane, the father of the children, is Human, we know his genotype for the purposes of the relevant first two layers of chromatophores: he doesn’t have them. He’s homozygous for both non-expression traits: EnEnii. That simplified figuring out the genotypes of the children and his wife a ton - in fact, I’m not sure it would have been possible to extrapolate those answers, if not for the fact that we know his genotype for these traits 100% for certain.

So without putting you through the whole process, this is what I came to:

Suu Lawquane (mother): EeExIi (pink phenotype) Cut Lawquane (father): EnEnii (tan/melanin-only phenotype) Shaeeah Lawquane (daughter): ExEnIi (teal phenotype*) Jek Lawquane (son): EeEnii (orange/tan phenotype**)

* I’m not dealing with the patching Shaeeah has going on because I’m assuming that’s an effect of hybridization on her phenotype, since we haven’t seen markings like that on any canon full-blood Twi’leks. I’m assuming teal to be her “base” phenotype as far as Twi’lek genes go, since teal obviously isn’t a color we see in Humans. ** I’m genuinely not sure whether to call that skin color orange or tan, nor do I know whether Ee or En is dominant or if they even have a simple dominance relationship - more on that in a moment - so I’m leaving that be. The point stands.

So these are the rules of dominance we end up with:

1. I (iridophores present) is dominant over i (no iridophores present/functional). Evidence: Suu Lawquane must be heterozygous Ii in order to have produced both a teal (I phenotype) and tan/orange (i phenotype) child with her homozygous ii husband. Furthermore, Shaeeah would be yellowish-tan if i were dominant over I, since she must be heterozygous due to having a homozygous ii father and yet displaying the I trait as her phenotype.

2. Ex and En are incompletely dominant with each other. Evidence: this is how you get teal children, a mix between blue (EnEn) and green (ExEx). An EeEx x EnEn pairing is capable of producing an ExEn child (Shaeeah), which tracks with this logic.

3. Ee (erythrophores present) is dominant over Ex (xanthophores present). Evidence: Suu Lawquane must be heterozygous EeEx in order to have produced both a teal (ExEn phenotype) and an orange/tan (Ee and/or En phenotype) child with an EnEn husband while still displaying the Ee phenotype (pink) herself. Since she displays a strong Ee phenotype and must also have an Ex allele, the Ee allele must therefore be dominant over the Ex allele.

These rules can be applied to other Twi’lek families, as well - for instance, the Syndullas (not counting Jacen Syndulla, both because he wouldn’t be an interesting addition due to his Twi’lek influence being Also A Green Phenotype and because I will never forgive Rebels for that horrible boring hybrid design) work out to:

Cham Syndulla: EeExii (orange phenotype) Tislera Syndulla: ExExIi or ExExII (green phenotype, not enough data to prove conclusively whether she’s heterozygous Ii or homozygous II) Hera Syndulla: ExExIi (green phenotype)

Because En and Ex are incompletely dominant, neither Tislera nor Hera can be ExEn, and they must be homozygous ExEx because Ee is dominant over Ex. Because Ee is dominant over Ex and his daughter must be homozygous Ex, Cham must therefore be EeEx, showing the Ee phenotype but carrying the recessive Ex allele which he passed on to his daughter.

There is one small problem: We still don’t know for sure the relationship between Ee and En. I just don’t have enough data to figure it out. I went through the entire list of canon Twi’lek characters on Wookieepedia and didn’t find a single family with the right color combinations and enough data to figure it out. I even went through some Clone Wars crowd shots in hopes of finding some, only to discover that apparently the Clone Wars series doesn’t really use child models in their crowd shots, only adults. Maybe someday I’ll go through the entire list of Legends Twi’lek characters in hopes of finding a family with the right genetics to solidify my guesses, but for now, all I have to go on is how common various phenotypes are. Which isn’t perfect, because how common a trait is doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with whether it’s dominant or recessive if it’s an advantageous trait, but it’s all we have. My current hypothesis is that En is dominant over Ee, because blue and tan are both more common phenotypes than purple and orange, but that wouldn’t hold up to the standards of biology by any stretch of the imagination. I simply don’t have enough data to give you a better answer, unfortunately. Maybe some of the new media coming out, like the High Republic series, will give me that - I don’t know. They might not even have a simple dominance relationship; they might be incompletely dominant with each other like Ex and En are, producing bluish-purple, though I find this unlikely given the phenotypes we’ve seen in Star Wars media thus far.

So Why is Red Skin a Mutation?

It’s an oddly specific thing to be labeled a mutation, because you’d think it would just be a variation of the Ee-i phenotype, which normally produces orange or reddish-orange. In order for this to make sense, we have to assume one of two scenarios:

a) Erythrophores in Twi’leks are typically more orange than red, or b) The melanin produced in orange Twi’leks (the Ee-i phenotype) prevents a “true red” from showing as the final skin tone.

In the first option:

1) True red is produced by an erythrophore mutation that causes the carotenoids produced to be more red than normal.

In the second option:

2) True red is produced by a lack of melanin, leaving the final visual color completely dependent on the red/reddish-orange carotenoids rather than mellowing it to orange, or 3) True red is produced by a mutation in the melanophores that cause them to produce only a very red pheomelanin with no eumelanin to balance it out.

Alternatively to both of these:

4) True red is produced by a mutation in the xanthophores in a Twi’lek lacking iridophores (the Ex-i phenotype), causing them to produce a true red pigmentation rather than the yellow pteridines they would normally produce.

Even in Legends, as far as I could find, we don’t have any families of Lethan Twi’leks (Twi’leks with the true red mutation), so I have no evidence to support any of these possibilities (Lethan 2020). However, in any of these cases, the mutation would be rare, not only because the genetic mutation itself is rare, but also because it must occur simultaneously with a specific set of other conditions to produce the true red coloration: 1) and 2) must occur in conjunction with the Ee-i phenotype (and in the case of 1, presumably with melanin that’s light enough to not obscure the true red coloration), 3) must occur either with the Ee-i or En-i phenotype, and 4) must occur in conjunction with the Ex-i phenotype. Since I is dominant over i and seems to be the more common trait, that helps explain why the true red mutation(s) is/are so rare.

Bonus: Why Do Twi’leks Come In So Many Colors, Anyway?

(This section is entirely conjecture and headcanon on my part.)

Because, really, most species tend to consolidate until they’re almost identical color-wise, because the environment tends to select for a given color scheme. However, there are instances in which this is not the case. Personally, my headcanon explanation for this is that Twi’leks as a species tend to have a preference for the unique - if you’re the only person in a group with your skin color (or some other notable physical characteristic), you’re more likely to be found attractive than if you’re in a group of people with the same skin color (or other physical characteristic). This is a form of negative frequency-dependent selection, in which the fitness of a given trait or genotype decreases as it becomes more common (Frequency-Dependent Selection 2020). Negative frequency-dependent selection is itself a form of balancing selection, which serves to actively maintain multiple alleles in a population rather than selecting preferentially for one trait (Balancing Selection 2020).

(What’s the evolutionary advantage behind finding the unique attractive? Who knows. But the point is, it is feasible, and negative frequency-dependent selection is something we see out in the real world.)

In Conclusion

In conclusion, it turns out there actually is a system that works consistently to predict the genotypes and phenotypes of Twi’lek families, with the small exception of not having enough data to determine the dominance relationship in one out of the four allele pair relationships yet. If you know of a canon or Legends Twi’lek family, feel free to try to apply this! If it doesn’t seem to work, feel free to poke me about it, and I’ll see if I can make it work - if I can’t, I’ll have to take another look at the system. (Heck, apply it to your own OCs and see if it works, if you want - or use it to predict offspring traits of various pairings, if you like.) I learned a good bit about chromatophores and pigmentation in animal biology while doing this, and I hope you enjoyed the ride and maybe learned something too. Reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoyed yourself, found this interesting, or learned something! Thank you for reading! (And don’t forget, if you’re interested in reading about the process of how I figured all this out, the screenshots of that are below the cut!)

References

Bib Fortuna. (2020, April 4). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bib_Fortuna.

Balancing Selection. (2020, April 18). In Wikipedia. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balancing_selection.

Cosdra. (2019, September 9). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cosdra.

Douma, M., curator. (2008). Biological Pigments. In Cause of Color. Retrieved 30 March 2020 from http://www.webexhibits.org/causesofcolor/7I.html.

Frequency-Dependent Selection. (2020, April 15). In Wikipedia. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frequency-dependent_selection.

Lethan. (2020, April 13). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lethan

Lyn Me. (2020, April 4). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lyn_Me.

Twi'lek. (2020, April 20). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Twi%27lek.

Bonus: The Process

Because y’all deserve to see my screaming in full. This was a five-hour process, do remember. Everything from hereonout has been just copy-pasted from the Discord server where I liveblogged the process of figuring this system out. Some things I said at various points were wrong, because that’s how the process works. Please note that I was also using different notation for the top-layer alleles at this point: E instead of Ee, X instead of Ex, and e instead of En. This did get confusing at one point because I forgot that it was X (Ex) and e (En) that had the more complicated dominance relationship and not E (Ee) and e (En), which was my fault.

#star wars #swtor #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #twi'lek #track this #this has been such a passion project for me y'all #this is not how i expected to use my biology degree but here we are #and i have actually really enjoyed myself i'm very proud of this #i kind of don't expect it to get more than a handful of notes but i wanted to put it out there anyway

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