#it does feel weird to be so into storytelling and to have been into it for the vast majority of my life and yet to be 'ack!'

[rationalisms]

could you recommend an indie game that does disco elysium or its kind of game better? (/genuine)

i'd be happy to recommend some games to you for sure!

but i would like to preface this by saying that my point (which is hard to explain in a pithy tag aside to be fair lol) isn't necessarily that these will be "better" than disco elysium. that's incredibly hard to quantify anyway since so much of this is based on taste. e.g. i disliked some things about DE other people loved (like the pacing) even though i overall had a good time with the game.

it's more that the way people were talking about disco elysium, especially in terms of like... "professional video game journalism" but also definitely on this site and the other formerly blue side, was tinged with this tone that DE is somehow unique or groundbreaking in its attempt to treat a video game like an artform or a serious vehicle for storytelling. which is insulting especially to the games DE clearly draws from.

a lot of people who don't usually play video games played DE based on recommendations, which is great! but a huge part of the response from those people didn't seem to be "wow, clearly i can have a good time with video games if they're like this, i should seek out more". it instead seemed to be "well folks, pack it up, this is the one video game i will enjoy because it's Deep unlike everything else out there". which is incredibly disappointing.

anyway. whether these recommendations will hit for you will primarily depend on what you're looking for when you say "its kind of game", but here's some games that gave me the same general feeling.

planescape: torment is the game that heavily inspired disco elysium. it's a similarly combat-light crpg with a focus on exploration and story and set in a weird, technologically discongruent setting. i would also recommend its sequel, torment: tides of numenera. i didn't enjoy that one as much but it was still pretty good.

kentucky road zero is a game about a truck driver who has to cross the titular road zero and the many people he meets on the way. it's also magical realism so if you enjoyed the genre of disco elysium this might be up your alley.

beautiful desolation is another game which is based on real world culture/history with sci-fi world building on top. in this case south africa. it's really beautiful and rewards exploration in a similar way.

return of the obra dinn is also an atmospheric detective game set on a ship lost in 1803. it's by the same creator who made papers, please (which is also excellent by the way).

hypnospace outlaw has a similar half absurd, half earnest tone. it also felt similarly nostalgic to me. it's incredibly easy to sink a lot of time into this one though so watch out lol.

orwell, and its sequel, orwell: ignorance is strength, are similar "internet" simulators like HO with a much more overt political tone (if you couldn't tell by the name lol). you play as an employee for a government surveillance program.

stasis if you're looking for more isometric point and click games with a strong atmosphere and great voice acting.

sunless sea, and its sequel, sunless skies, are exploration/roguelike games about a weird, fantastical world. if you've ever played fallen london, they're set in the same universe.

what remains of edith finch is also magical realism and dark comedy, so if you enjoyed the tone of DE you might enjoy that.

some say it has always been here also has a surreal and sometimes oppressive atmosphere. i wish this game was longer, i loved it so much.

i miss the sea of japan is another wonderful bitsy game i got reminded of when i thought about SSIHABH. it's wistful and sweet.

i have no mouth and i must scream is a psychological thriller about five people and their dark pasts trying to outwit an AI. it's very atmospheric and also has variously fucked up (by life) protagonists.

whispers of a machine is another detective game with more of a sci-fi slant, though it's set in a world inspired by sweden and other nordic countries. it's also very atmospheric and has some great voice acting.

buddy simulator 1984 gave me a lot of the same feelings disco elysium did (wistfulness, nostalgia, anxiety, etc lol). i really loved the first half of the game but wasn't as into the second half, would absolutely still recommend it though.

and if we're talking just straight up great crpgs with a heavily political tone, i will always always always recommend harebrained schemes shadowrun trilogy (especially dragonfall and hong kong, both incredible games. returns is... fine lol but definitely not on the level of the sequels) and fallout 1 and 2.

plus, no rec list about magical realism would be complete without life is strange. :') i haven't played any of the sequels and it's been a long time since i played it, but i remember loving it at the time.

games i haven't played yet but that are on my to play list and which look like they could scratch the same itch:

citizen sleeper, also a dice based game which is very narrative and exploration based.

norco, which several of my friends love a lot.

where the water tastes like wine, which is set in the great depression era of the US and about collecting stories and sharing them.

pentiment, another detective game set in a real world approximation. i love everything obsidian touches so i'm sure it's great, but i haven't gotten round to it yet.

night in the woods seems to be popular with people who like DE so it might be up your alley. i'm pretty sure it's also magical realism?

roadwarden is another isometric point and click game about exploration and friends have said it has a great atmosphere.

i hope those are a good starting point for you! i would also genuinely recommend just hopping on itch.io and typing in a random prompt and seeing what you get. i've discovered sooo many wonderful games (many of them completely free, though i will always advocate for tipping the creators) by just noodling around on there. tons and tons of incredible indie games who don't have the luxury of publisher funding made by people who could really use the support.

enjoy and have a lovely day ^__^

#anon #reply

[stromblessed]

Mizu was wrong to let Akemi be taken because they both deserve better

First, a confession. When I saw this for the first time:

I was relieved. I knew that was what Mizu was going to say and I felt like it's what I would have said in that situation too.

When Akemi does this:

I cringed, because if we know anything about Mizu, it's that she (1) isn't quick to make friends (though to be fair, even though Akemi did try to kill Mizu, so did Taigen - multiple times! - and look how that turned out lol), and (2) doesn't take orders.

So when Akemi and Ringo and later Taigen get angry at Mizu, are they being unfair?

Sure, Mizu isn't obligated to treat Akemi - or Taigen or Ringo or anybody else - nicely, or to serve them, or to be honorable, or be a hero to them, or whatever. No human being is obligated to any other human being. We all have the choice to do whatever we want to anybody else. But the point of flawed characters in storytelling is the tension between those characters and their potential. Their growth into someone who can choose the higher, harder path, who chooses to be obligated to others, who chooses kindness and compassion.

Because Mizu's problem isn't revenge. Nobody is preaching at Mizu that revenge isn't the answer. Her circumstances do suck, her life has been incredibly unfair, she is marginalized, and as far as we and Mizu know for most of the season, she is a child born of violence and no one is saying that that violence doesn't deserve to be repaid in kind.

Mizu's problem is isolation. And the fact that she thinks she has no responsibility toward her fellow human beings, because her hatred of her own circumstances and her having no life outside of her quest devours everything else. This is a problem because it turns Mizu into the worst version of herself. A version that hurts the people who like Mizu, the people who care about her.

Practically, Mizu has just taken on an entire army almost by herself. She's hurt. She's exhausted. If she were to defend Akemi now, it'd be yet ANOTHER fight, this time against horsed and armored samurai.

But that's not the reason Mizu gives Ringo. Mizu's ability or willingness to fight isn't even on her mind. All she says is, "She's better off."

"She's better off" is Mizu deciding what's best for Akemi. Akemi's entire story is about her being a caged bird longing to fly free.

One after the other, every man and woman in Akemi's life makes her decisions for her. She has to grovel and smile prettily and lie through her teeth just for the chance to be heard. Mizu judges Akemi for being a rich princess who isn't being more grateful for what she has, all without understanding Akemi's situation, and without any curiosity for why Akemi feels the way she does. From Akemi's perspective, Mizu is just one more person (one more man!) in a long lineup who ignores Akemi's wishes and (casually!) makes a decision for her that impacts Akemi's life greatly.

In the end, even Seki concludes that Akemi should get to decide what's best for Akemi. What others think that Akemi SHOULD want does not matter compared to what Akemi wants for her own life. As Madame Kaji said - Madame Kaji, who despite calling out the weirdness of Akemi's situation as well as the childishness of her decision to run away - is the only person Akemi meets who doesn't try to make decisions for Akemi, but instead only challenges Akemi to work for and be worthy of what she wants - she needs to decide what she wants for her own fucking self, and then take it.

Mizu being born female does not make her automatically wiser for letting Akemi be taken, and it does not preclude her from having a hand in giving Akemi back to her jailers. A patriarchy that Mizu knows full well would stop Mizu from achieving her own goals if she didn't present as male.

Mizu is still understandable here. She just had to kill Kinuyo, a disabled girl sold by her father into prostitution, a girl in a situation so far beyond Akemi's worst imaginings that I can practically feel Mizu's world being rocked just by comparing them in her mind the way she most likely is. That still doesn't make it right for Mizu to let Akemi be carried off to be sold into marriage by her father against her wishes. Those "good options" Mizu thinks Akemi has don't exist, no more than they ever existed for Mizu. Akemi and Mizu both have to get creative, make the best of their circumstances, take dangerous risks, and break rules in order to have any control over their own lives.

Even on my first watch, when at first I thought that Mizu had made the right decision and that Akemi was being unreasonable, Akemi screaming Mizu's name while being dragged, LITERALLY DRAGGED, back to her father was haunting as hell.

Mizu had the power to help Akemi, and simply chose not to.

Mizu lets Akemi be taken, Akemi who has just begun to trust Mizu. Mizu calls Ringo weak and quickly - seemingly easily - turns her back on him. Mizu values her quest over Taigen's life, after Taigen has endured days of torture to protect her, and she not only risks his life in the process, but doesn't tell him that Akemi is engaged to someone else, or that she came looking for Taigen, or that she is in danger.

Mizu's sword breaks because it is too brittle. Too pure. Too singleminded. Mizu only melts down the meteorite metal when she mixes the metal with objects from parts of her life that have nothing to do with her quest. Objects from the people she cares about, and who care about her.

All I'm saying is - Mizu doesn't have to be a hero. But she is the better version of herself when she reaches out to help and connect with others. When she's just a decent, kinder human being. And I think that's what this story is telling us that we should want for Mizu.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #akemi #bes #I have so many more thoughts about Mizus tangential relationship to honor and heroism but that is for another post #also reviewing these scenes made me realize that when Mizu calls Ringo weak she LOOKS POINTEDLY AT HIS (LACK OF) HANDS #she legit calls him weak for his disability after EVERYTHING THEY'VE BEEN THROUGH #like Ringo was def disappointed that his master chose not to behave like the (nonexistent) samurai ideal #but what made him ANGRY was the weakness comment and I did not clock that before #also to be explored more in another post #a third thing to explore in another post is how both mizu and taigen have wronged akemi on the basis of Edo period society being A Society #though Mizu starts to correct her own mistake by going back for Akemi - its Taigen whos on thin ice lolol

[hergrandplan]

Wilmon didn't break up... and here's why

Last analysis for now (then i'm just gonna write my feelings into fic) but I know we're all worried about that final scene. However, not only does it solidify my belief in endgame from a storytelling/build-up perspective, I am having a hard time believing Simon is actually breaking up with Wille in the first place. I think, this is him reaching out, telling Wille he's scared, sharing his feelings. He's not going about it well but really, these boys are still not great at communicating to each other.

And the reason why I think this, is because Simon got into bed with Wille.

Let me set the scene: it's Wille's name day, a terrible one I think we can all agree on, and Simon is upset and Wille is upset and no one is really having a great time. This is the first time Simon's actually seen Wille lash out. As someone else pointed out, we know Wille has anger issues. Simon doesn't. Well, now I guess he does. He's scared. He's terrified. He didn't know the boy he's so madly in love with could do this. And we know Simon has a history of violence from someone close to him as well. All in all, he has many feelings. And so, he goes talking to Wille about it.

"I can't do this" is, admittedly, a little bit of a weird thing to say but again, Simon and communication aren't really the best of friends.

But it's Wille's birthday and I like to believe that Simon has the common sense to at least not literally break up with him on his birthday. Not to mention, he's in the middle of nowhere, in a strange place. Like in terms of terrible timing, it really can't get worse than that. He has no place to go besides the bed, and I think it would be very awkward to break up with your boyfriend and to then try and fall asleep next to him.

It could be that it's a heat of the moment thing, sure. But that doesn't change one very important detail: he actually gets in the bed, behind Wille.

If it's a break up, he probably had been toying with the idea before he got back to the bedroom. Nothing explosive happened in that scene to make him decide right then and there. If it was a break up, it would have made more sense for him to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Wille. they still wouldn't have been able to see each other's faces, there still could have been a dramatic turn around or sit up. But from the edge of the bed it would have been easier to leave (to another room, the palace, wherever).

But no. simon gets into bed with Wille, indicating that he's at least planning on falling asleep there (or trying to).

Either Simon is just really dumb, and doesn't think things through, or he's not actually breaking up with him.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#young royals #yr #young royals season 3 #yr s3 #yr s3 spoilers #young royals s3 #simon eriksson

[katiexpunk]

Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary:  You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004 

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again. 

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes. 

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now. 

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over. 

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat. 

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks. 

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place. 

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response. 

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads. 

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response. 

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”  

“Kk! C u soon <3” 

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation. 

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup. 

Lots and lots of fucking syrup. 

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning. 

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty. 

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning. 

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee. 

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words. 

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more. 

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues. 

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear. 

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup. 

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?” 

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes. 

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.” 

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment. 

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun. 

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode. 

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree. 

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy? 

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand. 

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought. 

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why. 

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds. 

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth. 

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close. 

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap. 

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now. 

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.  

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name. 

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious. 

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day. 

So there were four remedies to your situation. 

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel. 

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.  

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl. 

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk. 

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees? 

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day. 

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?” 

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good." 

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes. 

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond. 

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core. 

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware. 

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery. 

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond. 

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.” 

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–” 

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table. 

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?” 

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.” 

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort. 

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them. 

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel. 

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night. 

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths. 

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him. 

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney. 

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay. 

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks. 

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it. 

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it. 

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you. 

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?" 

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh. 

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

 Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles. 

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might. 

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending. 

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire. 

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear. 

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck. 

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether. 

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him. 

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils. 

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning. 

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him. 

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you. 

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.” 

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips. 

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty. 

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention. 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it.  You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly. 

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet. 

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact. 

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically. 

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck. 

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head. 

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip. 

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?” 

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft. 

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could. 

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory. 

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss. 

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago. 

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you. 

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you. 

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace. 

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still. 

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him. 

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg. 

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone. 

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey. 

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans. 

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging. 

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it. 

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you. 

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.” 

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine. 

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him. 

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs. 

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up. 

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry. 

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands. 

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust. 

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care. 

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below. 

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says. 

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table. 

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.” 

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you. 

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him. 

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth. 

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin. 

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster. 

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth. 

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.” 

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter. 

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release. 

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck. 

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him. 

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride. 

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says.  He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.” 

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked. 

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners. 

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him. 

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup. 

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #syrup #early 2000s #pedro pascal

[copperbadge]

I guess you probably get asked why you’re converting a lot but I still want to ask,

I dunno, I don't think I really get asked all that much, to be honest. Usually when I do it's like -- I mention I'm converting to a Jewish person and they'll be like "Getting married?" and I'll explain I'm not, which does necessitate an additional explanation.

It's difficult to vocalize, which is interesting because it has really very little to do with faith, and that's usually the most difficult part of discussing any conversion, I think. Often I'll just say, "I heard a call". Which is actually a rather Christian way of putting it, but I think it's probably the easiest way to explain, especially in a heavily Christian culture.

I had...I don't want to call it religious trauma exactly because compared to most people I know who exited Christianity, it wasn't traumatic -- I was just raised in Christianity and had trouble buying the faith in the various ways it was presented to me, and there's a certain type of ardent Christian who comes at you hard if you're in their church asking awkward questions. A few encounters with some egregious megachurches in my youth left a bad taste in my mouth, so in my twenties I really wanted nothing to do with religion and didn't have the time or energy anyway -- I wasn't actively anti-religion, just disinterested.

But in my thirties I had to ask myself, do I wish to be part of a faith community? And once I'd decided that despite being pretty heavily agnostic I did want that in my life, I had to decide what I wanted it to look like. There are churches within many branches of Christianity that are fine, and there are whole branches that are fine too, but I kept tripping over my disinterest in Jesus. I did almost become a Quaker but although I really like a lot of the Friends' attitudes towards social justice and I enjoyed silent Meeting, it eventually didn't feel quite right for me (the Quakers in my life refer to me as "Friend-ly"). I looked into Zen Buddhism but didn't click with it in quite the way I'd hoped.

Judaism didn't feel perfect, but unlike other faiths, after several years of study I have yet to reach a point where it feels "not for me" in the way the others did after a few months; even when I struggle with some aspects, instead of saying "I don't think this is it" I dig deeper, and Judaism is a place where you can just...keep digging. I like the sense of history, I like the idea that you can argue not only with other Jews but with the divine itself and maybe even win; I don't like arguing but I like that the option is there, which it never was in my Christian confirmation classes. I like the way Judaism frames community and family, I like the emphasis on scholarship and exploration. I've had to unlearn a lot of weird Christian and atheist attitudes about the Torah, but that's been educational too. Ancient cultures have always interested me and Judaism is sometimes the practice of actively conversing with ancient history that has been incredibly preserved but not calcified. I like that I can be an agnostic Jew if I so choose, once I finish conversion.

(Sometimes I joke, "Eh, I'm not really a huge fan of pork, either, so it's an excuse not to eat pork chops," but that's a joke for very specific company. I don't keep kosher or plan to, but I like that there is an option to show one's devotion through acts of nourishment, and that food is always such a huge part of Jewish ritual. And I like Jewish food.)

There is something in me that reacts to Jewish storytelling -- the fear and fasting of Esther, discourse on the sacrifice of Isaac, grumpy Rabban Gamliel from the Talmud, even the history of the Piazza Alla Cinque Schole when I stumbled into it in Rome. I didn't care particularly about the story of Moses when I learned it as a child, but I sniffle at the parting of the Red Sea in Prince of Egypt every damn time. Not even because of the miracle! I'm simply moved by the vision of a people going to freedom, scared but going, protecting each other and singing as they go.

Anyway. I'm in a conversation with Judaism that isn't over yet, and either eventually I'll reach a point where it ends, or I'll convert and be in this conversation the rest of my life. Kind of fun not to know yet which it will be.

#judaism #conversion

[thatcatsalem]

Sorcerer!Sukuna NS*FW Alphabet

Sukuna x OC (Yuri)

For the posts that are in the format of headcanons and such, “you” will be used as a method of storytelling. Outside of those, the main story will revert back to third person.

A = Aftercare

Usually just grabs you and throws both of you in a shower to get clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of dried cum on his skin, but he will happily fool around in the shower as well.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his back and arms, and often flexes his biceps. He also quite enjoys his thighs because you look so vulnerable between them, sucking his cock.

On you, it is your ass. He will constantly have his arms on your bottom, whether it just by grabbing it, stroking it or slapping it. He likes your stomach and hips, it is his favourite place to cum and he will grab onto your sides if you try and squiggle away.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

It tastes a bit tangy, with citrusy bitterness to it. He cums loads during the first round, and often doesn’t have much control on where it goes. He doesn’t like the feeling of dried cum on his skin so when he jerks off, he either aims away from himself or just does it in the shower.

As per you, he loves cumming on your ass or stomach, but also enjoys seeing you trying to swallow it all. He finds a weird sense of pride seeing his cum leaking from your cunt, and will always attempt to show it back.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really enjoys being fingered during oral sex but would rather choke on his own tongue than confess that. You only discovered that because you decided to boss him around in bed and lapped on his ass with vigour whilst fisting his cock. Sukuna came so much that he had to deep clean the bed with a steamer; it soaked through covers and mattress protector.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He had his fair share of hook ups and a couple of beneficial relationships. He has slept with a few of his sorcerer colleagues, both women and men, but never has been one for relationship.

Only with you did he get to truly experiment with his skills, and hone it out so well that he was now able to make you cum with a few flicks of his tongue if they mood is set right.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Mating press. It’s deep, it’s close, it’s fucking hot and he gets to look you in the eyes when he is rearranging your guts. He loves fucking you during your period because you are so much more sensitive and your cervix is practically weeping for him to soak it.

He likes the feeling of your ankles pressing against his shoulders and will growl so loud it will practically make you cum right there. His balls will smack against your skin, ass juggling with each trust, and your moans only will spiral him into madness. It’s difficult for you to concentrate on anything, pinned under him like an animal with a feral beast of a man mounting you, snaked protectively over your body with his cock buried as deep as possible.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He doesn’t have much time for jokes but he will laugh if you get desperate and start begging him. He will tease and outright bully you playfully but won’t break the spell of intimate sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps himself well groomed, with dark happy trail and has piercing on his cock that he definitely regrets as an adult but doesn’t take off because it makes you feel absolutely otherworldly when it rubs against you g-spot. First time it happened, you squirted all over his hips and then some more.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Depends on the mood, really. Sometimes he will be quite intimate and sometimes it will be so urgent and rough that there will be no room for romance.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t like the feeling of dried cum on his skin so when he jerks off, he either aims away from himself or just does it in the shower.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Choking. Choke him, let him choke you. Squeeze his windpipe, let him cover your mouth whilst you cumming and cut off your air supply.

He is also incredibly proficient in art of Shibari, so he will not just tie you up, but will hang you upside down, spread and ready for him to feast on you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Balconies, roofs, windowsills - he likes the thrill of being in a public space yet too far away from prying eyes. He will press you against a window, fully dressed, and will finger you so tortuously that you will have to beg him to let you cum.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He is a man, most things will turn him on. He does get particularly rowdy every time you will be fighting against someone, smooth and deadly, and will immediately will need to fuck you against nearest surface. Power turns him on.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sukuna doesn’t share. Under no circumstances will he even entertain an idea of cuckholding or threesome, the only thought of it makes his blood boil. He will quite literally slice anyone who will look at you funny.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Either, really. He doesn’t think there needs to be a favourite between two, and will always happily partake in 69-ing. He will double his efforts in order to make you break first, and will buck his hips further down your throat to make you choke on his cock as you are cumming in his mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sukuna has to be in a peculiar mood to be slow and sensual, and usually prefers sex to be quite rough and fast. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of fucking for hours on end and finishes his rounds fairly fast, but is ready for another session not much later if not straight away.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He likes them; but in his mind a quickie should be done in semi-public setting, like a car or utility closet. Otherwise, you might as well enjoy the experience.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Sukuna is all about experimenting; but he will need his partner enthusiastic consent or he ain’t doing it. He is not dealing with someone’s teats that aren’t from pleasure. He doesn’t find the idea of hysterics attractive, so he uses strict green, amber and red rule in the bedroom.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Doesn’t last very point but can go as many as physically possible rounds a day. His personal record with you is eight in a row, with only a small break for lunch.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does have toys and enjoys using them on both himself and you. He will not be opposed of you using them on him, and he will demonstrate the variety of his collectibles that ranges between stunning crystal butt plugs and expensive ropes he uses to tie you up to his cat o’nine tails and collars for you to wear.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You might as well just give up, because this man will tease you until your eyes are rolling, thighs are trembling, and until you can only choke on your own saliva instead of any witty comments.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He is not necessarily vocal, but he does moan and grunt in restrained manner, and you will do anything in your arsenal to make him whine. He does it so reluctantly and with defeated growl that it straight up makes your cunt clench.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

In this universe, Sukuna is bisexual. He tends to date and sleep with women, but he has had sex with men, even if he never dated any (he didn’t really date anyone other than you… no one had the patience…). It wasn’t a common occurrence in his life and it doesn’t really poses an opportunity due to his dating life, but he will never say no to you eating his ass out and making him cum from you pressing onto his prostrate.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He is above average, but not incredibly long - it’s mostly his girth that makes you lose your shit. He will reach your cervix through a specific angle and make you whine and cry but it’s the stretch of your walls accommodating him each time that makes it truly unforgettable. He has a piercing on his cockhead and two rings of tattoos around his base. He is well groomed but doesn’t really shave that often.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Quite high but he can go for a week or so without much need for sex - to the point that it won’t even cross his mind to initiate anything unless he it is instigated; he is that constantly tired. Before you, his hook ups were mostly a weekly occurrence, but nowadays are a more frequent engagement.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost immediately - this man is tired and will need a short nap straight away. So it is either shower or sleep. Or both.

If you liked this, leave a comment 🩵

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x oc #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x oc #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut #jjk smut

[riality-check]

steddie prompt! steve struggling with his dyslexia and feeling like he isnt smart enough compared to eddie and the kids?

In an effort to, in his words, "convert him to the light side," Dustin had given Steve an armful of what he deemed "essential reading" and sent him away to "learn the ways of the Force."

If Steve didn't like Star Wars so much, he would've made fun of that little nerd.

But, honestly, he's a little grateful. With no more monsters to slay and it being way too cold to venture outside of his house to go swim or play basketball, the books fill up a good chunk of time.

Too good a chunk.

It's taking him way too long to get through them.

He didn't try The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings because those looked way too intimidating. Dune's first twenty pages were boring as shit, and Ender's Game was a lot, to say the least.

So, he's been making his way through A Wrinkle in Time.

Slowly making his way through it. Too slowly.

Steve has been quickly reminded about why he hasn't voluntarily read a book since elementary school, and why he stopped reading the required books in high school.

It's hard. Reading sucks.

He doesn't know how other people get through it when the letters don't make sense and seem to switch, like how "b" and "d" or "f" and "t" look way too similar.

"Whatcha readin'?"

Steve looks up from the book - god, it's probably taken him at least an hour to get through chapter one, hasn't it - to find Eddie in the doorway of the living room.

Guess he's taking advantage of the spare key, Steve thinks to himself, but he's not mad about it, not even a little.

"A Wrinkle in Time," he says, holding up the book so Eddie can see the cover.

Eddie lights up. "Oh, I love that book! I think the last time I read it, I was in, shit, maybe fourth grade?"

Steve knows he didn't mean it, but damn. That hurt a little bit.

He can't even get through a book Eddie read when he was in elementary school?

"What part are you at?"

Steve tucks the book against his chest so Eddie doesn't see how the bookmark isn't very far in. "Not very. Just met Mrs. Which. It's kind of hard to get through-"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie nods. "It took me, like, three days."

"- because the letters keep switching."

Eddie frowns. "What?"

"The letters," Steve says. "Like, they're moving a lot for this book. I don't know why."

Eddie looks at him blankly.

Oh.

"Does that... not happen for you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

Steve huffs out a laugh because of course this would be a uniquely him problem. Of course people like Dustin and Eddie and the rest of the party would like reading, because of course they would be able to do it right.

"I guess I really am stupid."

"It took me three tries to get through my senior year," Eddie says seriously, putting his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Does that make me stupid?"

"No," Steve says instantly. It doesn't. Just because Eddie wasn't good at school doesn't mean he isn't smart. He's a brilliant storyteller and musician, and both of those take brains.

Steve doesn't have a hobby that takes brains because he just... doesn't have enough. Plain and simple. That's how it's always been.

"Ok, then you're not stupid for having trouble reading," Eddie says like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"But-"

"But what? We're all gonna struggle with something. For me, it was school. For you, it's reading. It's why we've got other people to fill in the gaps."

Other people don't fill in the gaps. Steve does. Steve stretches himself thin, makes sure he's everywhere at once to make sure the kids and Robin and Eddie are okay.

No one else can do that because. Well.

Steve has to be irreplaceable somehow. He's gotta be necessary somehow.

This is the only way they need him.

"Get out of your head, martyr," Eddie says, reading his mind. He's not as good at that as Robin is - Steve doesn't think anyone will ever be able to read him like Robin can - but he can still do it.

It's weird, just like Eddie is. Steve's learned to love weird over the past few years.

"Do you want me to stick around?" Eddie asks.

"You can stay, if you want," Steve says.

"I always want to stay with you," Eddie says, and damn if that sentence doesn't take Steve's breath away. "But I figured I'd ask."

So, Eddie lays his head in Steve's lap as Steve dives back into a world of tesseracts and space and time, and when Steve tilts the book down and points to a word that just isn't making sense, Eddie reads it for him.

He doesn't comment on how often he hears the pages flip.

#sorry this sat in my inbox for SO LONG #but i hope you like it anon!! #this was really fun!! #anon #asked and answered #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things ficlet #stranger things #tw internalized ableism #ria writes #dyslexic steve harrington

[comicaurora]

(sorry for the long ask)

So there's this thing? That's been kind of bothering me, I've noticed it in the shera remake but also other places, where all these faceless minions are just there to show how hard/easy it is for the protagonists to get rid of them.

There's a couple of things, but I think that it just boils down to that they're not treated as characters? The hero will push them into a volcano and celebrate, then get all conflicted when facing the villain captain puppy kicker because "if I kill/hurt you I'll be just as bad" and in the same shot there's a pile of downed henchmen. And I get that, because from a meta perspective it would be hard to animate several hundred or however many individual people all fighting, but it's just weird right? In the show the only people without helmets on 24/7 are the main cast and of course the Rogelio/Kyle/lonnie group. Which is Confusing?? Because it seems like there's only a few options, either every single other person likes wearing the helmets all the time with no breaks, or they're breaking dress code and getting away with it, or "cadets" means they're in training. And somehow way more competent than all the other trained soldiers. It's weird, and I'm not even fully sure how to describe it. Do you have any thoughts?

Faceless minions are a time-honored storytelling tradition that persist despite being slightly reality-breaking story convention because-

They make it very easy to choreograph cool-looking fights against a big pile of interchangeable bad guys

You only need as many extras as you'll be showing together in one shot, meaning you can imply a vast army of evil with only like five costumes/character models

They make it easier to pick out the heroes in group shots and fights

They provide contrast against the important villains with unique designs

Easy protagonist disguises for sneaking around in

This is pretty useful stuff, but it does all feed into the effect that armies of faceless minions are generally not composed of full-fledged characters. They're a pile of broadly interchangeable mooks. This is one of those things that's technically dubious from a realism standpoint, but I honestly don't think it's automatically a bad thing for a story to make it really easy to tell who's an important character and who's an interchangeable obstacle in their way.

This does get shaky when the characters start acting like that. To them, in the reality of their story, those mooks ARE real, dangerous people, and their facelessness doesn't detract from that. The protagonist's morality shouldn't depend on how important a character is to the plot or how unique their design is, and that character inconsistency is the more disruptive bit of writing. Mowing down minions by the truckload only to spare the big bad makes it feel like the main character is standing apart from their own story and making the kind of value judgment the audience is, and that's weird. It's not weird that the faceless minions exist, it's weird that the protagonist evidently doesn't see them as real people.

But that doesn't mean every stormtrooper or background orc or ninja needs their own unique design, name and backstory. Narrative conventions exist for a reason, and while I do love a setting that feels like it's absolutely full of unique main characters all living their own lives, it's absolutely not mandatory. Sometimes things in stories are made unrealistic so they don't undercut the impact of the story itself, whether that's simple theater sets that don't draw the eye away from the actors, unrealistic lighting so a movie viewer can actually see what's going on, song and dance numbers, flashy showstopping villains, or convenient armies of ninjas to take down with one punch each. Storytelling has its own tools.

#asks #writing stuff

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is out at a bar with his sister, trying to work up the courage to go introduce himself to the cute guy at a table near them. Death is trying to encourage him, and before she momentarily leaves to use the restroom she promises to help him plan how to chat the guy up.

Except that Dream’s drinks were a little more alcoholic than either of them realized, and while she’s gone it hits him all at once. Suddenly he has all the courage he needs to not only walk over to the guy’s table, but also immediately slide into his lap without so much as a hello.

Death returns and immediately apologizes for her brother to Hob Gadling, who thankfully only looks bemused for the most part at the sudden cute drunk stranger in his lap currently nuzzling his ear.

She tries to pull Dream away, as clearly he’s done for the night, but he refuses to let go. He’s got both arms around Hob’s neck, and he is adamantly clinging on, glaring at his sister for even trying to tug an arm loose. Even when Hob tries to help her by standing up, thus depriving Dream of his lap, Dream simply hooks his legs around Hob’s waist in the process, looking incredibly smug at outmaneuvering them.

Ultimately it’s decided that Hob will come along to Dream’s apartment with the siblings, in the hopes that they can detach Dream somehow on the way there, or at least see if putting him to bed will finally encourage him to release Hob. No such luck though, as when they lay him down in bed Dream executes an impressive twist that pulls Hob into bed with him and allows Dream to roll on top of him in the same move, all without releasing him.

“It looks like I’ll be spending the night here, if you want to stay and keep an eye on us I understand, I promise though that I won’t take advantage of him like this,” Hob says apologetically.

“At this point I’m more worried that he’ll be the one trying to take advantage of you,” Death replies, only half-joking.

(On the way there Dream had been whispering a great deal in Hob’s ear, though thankfully she hadn’t managed to catch any of it herself, as presumably it was something dirty judging by Hob’s blushes)

Thankfully Dream is quickly asleep before any advantage-taking occurs, though Death decides to stay the night anyway. She’ll be able to help keep her brother from freaking out over waking next to a complete stranger if he doesn’t remember what happened, and maybe also keep him from smothering himself with his own pillow out of embarrassment afterwards. However, if all goes well after that, she might be planning to make a discreet exit to allow the two to perhaps put into practice whatever Dream was saying last night that caused Hob’s blushes. After all, she had promised her brother a wingwoman 😉

-🪽anon

Drunk Dream!!!! I love him so much, he's totally precious. Hob is very lucky man to get all that in his lap!

Even completely sozzled, Dream is certainly a storyteller. Hob can feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck as Dream whispers to him. All kinds of things: about the hair on Hob’s arms, and how sexy his hands are, and how Dream wants to kiss his plush lips and cum all over Hob’s face. He doesn't hold back, and instead of weird or creepy or embarrassing, it's totally the hottest thing that's ever happened to Hob. He's being a good guy these days, though, so no fulfilling all of those fantasises until Dream can walk in a straight line again.

(Hob does indulge in a fantasy of later - some day where he's allowed to keep Dream for himself, forever. One where Dream gets just as delightfully drunk, and where Hob is allowed to ravish him just as he is. Red faced, glassy eyed and tasting of potent red wine. Its a guilty fantasy, but Hob can't help himself. He muffles his moans with his hand over his mouth as he jerks himself off. Dream is right there, snoring and oblivious. Even if Hob can never have him, at least he'll have this....)

In the morning, Dream is utterly mortified, but the embarrassment fades slightly. He knows that nobody took advantage of him, but he can smell the faint whiff of cum nonetheless. So, Hob can't think that he's completely repulsive, if he managed to jerk off... Death is rolling her eyes and wondering if she can survive a jump from the window btw. She's starting to think that these two deserve each other.

They really, really do. And when Death has excused herself, they fuck the remnants of Dream’s hangover away. Naturally they're both made for each other.

#🪽anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw intox #cw alcohol

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

TTPD Track Speculation/Prediction: @wavesoutbeingtossed Edition

Against my better judgment, I’m putting down my predictions before I am proven completely wrong on April 19.

on the other hand I did correctly attribute all of the 1989 TV vault track teaser lyrics to their songs before it was released so maybe I’m just that good jk.

I’m putting everything under a cut because it’s long and mostly just shooting the shit but it’s a long weekend so what the heck!

I started writing this the night the album was announced at the Grammys in February, so obviously things may have evolved in the meantime. It will be very interesting to see just how wrong I am!

Here be speculation, musings, jokes and more! Enter at your own risk!

SOUND:

I honestly have NO CLUE. I’ve said many, many times that I would be absolutely gagged for an Americana-folk type sound like Carolina/Safe and Sound/some of her acoustic performances on tour. I don’t really expect TTPD to sound quite that stripped back, though. (Prove me wrong, Taylor!)

I am kind of feeling pop-rock-y though, à la WCS, TTDS, based on absolutely nothing but that is also a genre/sound I love that I am begging to hear more on albums.

Completely off the wall guess: Something more jazzy-big band-y, based on nothing but her styling in recent months on the red carpet that harkens back to golden age of Hollywood vibes (especially the Grammys), the inclusion of Clara Bow (renowned flapper girl) on the track list, and the way she keeps talking about being grateful fans accept her bending and switching genres over the years and support her when she does “weird” things.

FORMAT (?)

OK this is just me spitballing, but I said awhile back that I am just getting vibes that there may be, like, a story within a story with this. As in, using some fictional settings as an allegory for the story about herself. The example I used then was The Lumineers, and how they wrote their album III about three generations of a fictional family dealing with addiction, which was an allegory for the lead singer’s own family’s experience with it (without directly calling out the family member in question at the time). There were characters in the album, but many of the songs were sung from an “I”/“you” perspective. I may not be explaining myself well, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are “fictional” stories in that they’re sung about characters (e.g. Clara Bow?), but it will be obvious to fans that she’s using the characters to speak about herself and her experiences. I’m just getting big “storytelling” energy from the hints. Which means I’m totally wrong!!!! Don’t listen to me!!! (I do think there will be some shades of this somehow, though.)

TRACK LIST SPECULATION

Fortnight: Think you are all on the money about it being the time between the start of tour and when Joever happened for good. Sort of a “two years of uncertainty coming to a head in two weeks” thing. Spending two weeks agonizing over what to do. Two weeks for your whole life to blow up. Finally being removed from the situation and grasping onto your dreams that have been on hold for years and realizing your mind’s made up because you won’t give this part of you up even if it means letting go of what you thought your future held. But another thing I’ve thought of: some common wisdom claims it takes two weeks for a new routine to become a habit, so… outside chance it’s like, two weeks go by and you’re finally used to/accepted whatever it is you’re trying to kick? Also had a thought that there could be many two-week periods that can mark your life and give pause. 

The Tortured Poets Department: No idea really lol. For some reason I feel like this is going to be a little more experimental, “laying the groundwork for the defense” type of vibe, kinda like Mastermind, or using the investigative/academic metaphor to delve into it like, Mad Woman or Vigilante Shit. (Or: it could be super petty roasting the infamous group chat lol. In all seriousness though I would doubt that because I feel like this album is very much about Her… unless said group chat was so insufferable she needs to blast it on main.)

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys: I saw some talk on my dash about this giving renegade themes (you fire off missiles because you hate yourself but don’t you know you’re demolishing me), and I totally thought the same thing. Also those of you who pointed out the parallels to Cardigan are geniuses (when I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed you put me on and said I was your favorite). Again kinda think there might be some more metaphor in this but guessing it may be along the lines of “he’s only doing this because he knows I won’t leave” themes? It instantly gives dark and uneasy. It gives, the people you love are the ones you hurt the most. All signs point to Not Good.

(Or this is about Benji destroying his spin toys or is that just my cat that does that.)

Down Bad: Someone said (on Jaime’s blog I think*) that this is giving False God but icky and I can TOTALLY see that. (Then again I’ve always found False God sad in the sense that it’s like, “even when we fight so bad we can’t communicate we still have the sex holding us together.”) But, Taylor does like to take sayings with common meanings and twist them on their heads, so I also wouldn’t be surprised if “Down Bad,” isn’t referring to being down as in being horny for someone, but being down as in, feeling devastated/hopeless. (Or, even worse, mean both at the same time. 😵‍💫)

(*I wrote this post in February after the announcement, I don’t have a clue when any of this was said anymore sorry)

So Long, London: like a lot of people, I feel like this is her goodbye to the life they had and more importantly/poignantly, the dreams she had of their future. (I don’t know but, “remember looking at this room we loved cause of the light, now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time” just feels like it’d be part of this story.) So because I’ve said that, watch it be an excoriation of London Boy lol. (You know I’m mad at a London Boy / who just really won’t leave Camden / Market in the afternoon / he hasn’t seen my American smile / in two months cause he won’t come to see me / when I have a show to do…) Feel like it’s going to gut us. BUT, also wonder if this is her “I’m getting the fuck out of dodge ROCK FLAG AND EAGLE” anthem haha. (Or: she ran away to London to escape the Bad Stuff but then got stuck in another kind of Bad Stuff living there for so long…)

But Daddy I Love Him: Pretty obviously the Little Mermaid reference. Very curious if the actual quote is in the song, or if it’s just named that to set the scene but the song instead is an expounding on the theme of giving up her voice for the sake of the relationship like Ariel. Also wonder if this is an overtly diaristic song or if she is going to use characters/figures/fiction to expand on the theme subtly, a little like Maisie Peters’ History of Man or Florence & The Machine’s Cassandra or even more pointedly like her own Last Great American Dynasty or The Lucky One. I do assume the overarching theme is going to be the push-pull between keeping her love and giving up things that are important to her to make that love work.  (Watch this be about her arguing with her father about marrying *** lol.)

The theme of giving up your voice/what you hold dear for love is so loaded, and has some parallels to Clara Bow’s story, which is also on the track list so… Lots to chew on I’m sure.

Fresh Out The Slammer: Totally think the reference to her locking herself up for years at home because she was scared in the Time POTY interview is a likely link to this. Feeling free after the weight of this decision is off her shoulders, yet the sheer terror at now being on her own and rebuilding her future. It could be uplifting but I could also see it being like pure chaos. BUT, a thought I had earlier is that, if this is a song that was written pre-Joever, maybe it’s about the aftermath of a rough patch. Like, we just got our get out of jail free cards, we made it through the other side of this Big Thing that almost ended us (e.g. the final blow in YLM), where do we go from here?

Florida!!!: Emphasis on the “!!!”!!! Honestly it had me at FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE. I’m soooooo curious and sooooooooooooo pumped for this one. I don’t want to let myself hope it’s going to sound like a Florence song BUT I HOPE IT SOUNDS LIKE A FLORENCE SONG. I’m going to guess it may be a reference to the first stop on tour after the news broke. Wasn’t that also a show where a ton of things went wrong? I can see it going so many ways! Is it a hopeful “Florida I’m coming for you you’re a symbol of my great escape my prison break my entire life crumbling and rising again”? An introspective “I never thought I’d have to rebuild my whole world after it imploded, in Florida of all places?!”? Is it a sarcastic “fucking Florida always the scene of the crime I can’t believe my life is falling apart and I need to go to FUCKASS FLORIDA oh great every thing that can go wrong with my show is FLORIDA!!!!”? Is it a rant about the corporate mouse? Or a scathing takedown of Republican politics ahead of the 2024 elections? (lol) Who’s to say?!

Guilty as Sin?: Sooooooooooo curious about this. I’m a Carolina Stan and I know there is 0% chance there is a link between the two songs other than the lyric which is a common term, but it does make me happy. My first thought about this one is that it’s going to be biting or self-reflective — kinda like the bridge of Is It Over Now? Or the chorus of Anti-Hero. As in, “what is it exactly that you think I’m guilty of?” (E.g. ambition? Drive? Seeking attention? Being selfish? But could also be sad: Loving too hard? Caring too much? Being too needy? Hmmm.) I’m kind of feeling like it’s a “if it’s wrong to be guilty of these things I don’t want to be right.” Again if I had to guess I’d wonder if it would have the same vibes as the bridge of YLM. (For some reason, with the question mark, I don’t necessarily think it’s going to be accusing someone of something…)* I also had a thought about the seven deadly sins and this title and… THOUGHTS ARE THINKING**.

(*I may not have found it accusatory in February, but with the benefit of hindsight in March I… reserve the right to change my mind about this.)

(**Future Waves here: the thoughts may have been thinking for February Waves but March Waves has no idea what she was talking about.)

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?: I don’t knooooooooooow. At first the title kinda gave me Blank Space vibes, like, you don’t know how much I could fuck this up if I wanted. Then some people mentioned the similarity to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And now that’s absolutely all I can think about. If you’ve ever seen the movie (or the play), it is rooooooooough. Watching George and Martha drunkenly eviscerate each other as their guests watch on in horror is… oof. (As someone who has seen this happen in real life and was trapped on a boat with a couple in full unhinged mode… OOF. Just OOF.) Of course there’s the Burton-Taylor of it all too so… (there’s also an interesting theme in Virginia Woolf about buying into illusion to avoid the messiness of reality… and Martha resenting George’s lack of ambition.) Is this song cheeky? Or a threat? Is this a Better Than Revenge/Vigilante Shit rebuke or is it Bejeweled owning her personhood?

(Like any of these songs, there’s also the chance that it’s heartbreaking and is really a reflection on how the things that make her her can be weaponized against her… Or how her struggles/vices alienate her to the person she loves a la Anti-Hero…)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): My first thought is this is going to be one of her sarcastic/satirical/funnier ones, based on nothing except that this sounds like it could be an Olivia Rodrigo cheeky song lol. (Like, I immediately start singing this to the tune of “Get Him Back.”) Never beat those allegations, Taylor, we’ve all been there. It definitely feels like a stereotypical tale of “girl tries to fix a man who doesn’t want to change and refuses to give up.” Watch this actually be a sad ballad about the flip side of renegade and trying to help a partner through a crisis 😬 

loml: the quiet menace in this list!!!! Obviously we’re all immediately thinking “love of my life,” but because this is Taylor, we should not rest easy. The fact that it’s all in small caps is curious to me and calls back to text speak, so is this a term of endearment that turns into a final parting sign off? Is it from an email ahem? Is it a sweet song about the good parts of being together? A wistful song about a lost love? BUT THEN, because it’s Taylor, I can totally see this being a bait and switch and it standing for something else as some of you pointed out, like loss of my life, or love OR my life. Or something entirely different. I’m pretty convinced that this one is going to be devastating in some fashion. I just feel it in my bones.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: Like many of you, I’m fairly certain this is going to be a bittersweet Long Live-esque ode to the Eras tour. The pick yourself up by the bootstraps, get out of bed, the show must go on and the show is saving my life story. Just thinking of the quote from the Time POTY interview where she said, “I know I’m going on that stage whether I’m sick, injured, heartbroken, uncomfortable, or stressed.” And in those early weeks, it seems like she might have been all of those things at once. Just trying to talk yourself into getting out of bed when all you want the earth’s core to swallow you whole and never come back. Kind of like, I can pick up the pieces of my life and carry on even when I am dying inside. 

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: Obviously this is about one Benjamin Button, please. OK, in all seriousness, it’s giving, well… *shots fired*. It’s giving “your integrity makes me seem small.” It’s giving “I’m a monster on the hill, too big to hang out.” It’s giving “all you are is mean.” So, part of me thinks it’s going to be turned on its head a little bit, just because… it seems to point to something directly and sometimes Taylor enjoys a bit of misdirection. So is this about someone who takes shots at someone else and in so doing, displays their own insecurity? Another thought I had is: Is this about someone who retreats into their own world so much that they’ve shut out everything and everyone else? Their whole world gets shrunken down to the four walls around them? I have a strong feeling this is an allegory-type song, using a fictionalized and possibly fantastical story to tell the real life one, but obviously I could be wrong.

The Alchemy: gonna be real with you all: I didn’t know that alchemy was the practice of turning base metals into something that looks like gold. I think I was mixing it up with apothecary or something, lol. I thought it was the practice of making potions and whatnot. #TheMoreYouKnow ANYWAY, I think the idea of “turning nothing into something that shines” is going to be important. Is it about using her best colours for a portrait to hide the cracks underneath? Is it about trying your best to make something work and thrive but ultimately coming up empty because the foundation is gone? Is it about turning these base experiences into art that fuels her? There are so many possibilities! (@taylortruther’s post about The Alchemy and other comments got me thinking too about the magician/illusionist scenario in So It Goes and now my brain is on fire.)

Clara Bow: Soooooooooo intrigued by this one too. People have pointed out so many of the interesting coincidences and parallels in their lives. Clara Bow was a silent film star who found her voice in the talkies — that right there is one metaphor about finding your voice in your art and your life. But it’s also an interesting parallel that she managed to parlay her success in silent film into talkies, at a time where few actors enjoyed a successful transition, which mirrors Taylor’s transition from country to pop. There’s the way Clara’s private life was splashed all over the press, driven by salacious rumours about her sex life and her perceived revolving door of lovers, which seems like something Taylor would empathize with. There’s the way she had a breakdown and left Hollywood, which may have some shades of 2016. Or that she got married and started a family, but insisted on keeping it a secret for many years to maintain privacy, which is interesting because in this case it seems like *Clara* was the one driving the need for secrecy, not her husband. (At least I read that in one article somewhere, sorry if that’s wrong!) Ultimately though, she died relatively young and was forgotten by mainstream Hollywood, a relic of a past uninteresting to all but the most diehard of film buffs. I’m getting vibes of “The Lucky One,”  (and “Nothing New”) both in themes and in storytelling. So, watch it be completely different and not a story about Clara Bow but instead just have it be an off-hand line lol.

BONUS TRACKS

The Manuscript: I’m veeeeeery intrigued by this one. (I know I say that about all of them. That’s because they all intrigue me.) I love the idea that this wraps up the “standard” album; the chair(wo)man of the Tortured Poets Department has submitted her thesis for review, and it’s up to the board to draw their conclusion. OR: the idea that this is the unfiltered submission to a publisher, before the editor’s review that will cut and tighten and ultimately make it better, but loses the author’s initial vision in the process. (Like self-editing to share the most palatable story to your reader. Which… Also gives Dear Reader/Midnights in general vibes.) OR EVEN: this is the author’s story, submitted to the audience for their review, leaving it up to them to draw their conclusions and annotate. There are sooooooo many ways I can see this going. 

The Bolter: A curious one indeed! I feel like of all of the bonus tracks at least, this is the one I have the least idea about. My immediate guess is that it refers to a person who runs, which would have all kinds of implications. Running from the law (unlikely lol), running from commitment, running from conflict… running for your life. Like running from commitment because you’re scared of being tied down (single girl version) to running from commitment because you’re scared of being tied down (bitter wife* version). (*NOT saying there was a secret wedding lol. I mean as in, that’s the future that was in store if one stayed.) I saw other takes saying bolter is also slang for jailer, which is also interesting with the Ready For It of it all. 

The Albatross: So much has been said about this one, so I don’t think I have much to ado about this one! The famous poem is rife with all kinds of allusions: the bird soaring on its own for up to six years, but being brought down by man’s cruelty. The bird looking majestic in the skies, but the burden of its wings dragging it down on land, slowly killing it. The story being a metaphor for how the very thing poets are exalted for in society are the things they are punished for personally. I think it’s safe to say this one is going to hurt regardless, whether it’s a reference to herself, to ***, or something else entirely.

The Black Dog: Also another one I’m not sure I have many thoughts on yet. The black dog being a metaphor for depression is likely the inspiration, and I’m assuming this has the potential to be one of the most vulnerable songs yet. I have a feeling most of this album will be, but the imagery of this — the black dog being a constant companion, wanted or not, casting a pall over its master’s every move — points in a pretty obvious direction. And one that is probably going to gut us.

Well there you have it folks! I am ready to be completely wrong!

#the tortured poets department #Happy Good Friday this post has risen from the dead #(oops was that uncouth of me) #three weeks!!!!!! #i need this album now #my brain is on fire #Writing letters addressed to the fire

[babydollmarauders]

KISS ME — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem! drysdale! reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “forget it you’re a fucking asshole” & “that was kind of hot” & “please just kiss me already” with Trevor.

warnings: alcohol, heavy make out sesh

i wouldn’t necessarily describe Trevor and i as ‘friends’. we argue way too much for that. which isn’t great when you take into account how often i see him. as Jamie’s twin sister, i go nearly everywhere with him; i moved to California with him, i attend almost every game, and i’m at nearly every hang out with him. which is why tonight, i’m stuck at a party i don’t necessarily wanna be at. i tried telling Jamie that i would much rather stay at my apartment tonight, but he insisted that i must come to he and Trevor’s party for at least an hour. he stated it was my ‘obligation as his twin’, whatever that means.

so now i sit on his overcrowded sofa, a soda in my hand and a timer on my phone counting down from an hour. i’ve only been here for fifteen minutes and i’m already sick of Trevor’s obnoxious storytelling. i watch him as he stands barely five feet away from me, recounting an insane goal he made from behind the net to a group of girls in front of him. his hands gesture wildly as he speaks, and i can foresee an accident happening before it even does. and lo and behold, i’m correct. what i didn’t expect was that it would be on me. his drink flies out of his grip, splashing and landing straight on me, and i gasp at the feeling of cold beer hitting my face and chest.

“oh shit!” Trevor exclaims, chuckling at my misfortune. “sorry, y/n!

“are you kidding me, Trevor?!” i stand and wipe at my face with my hands, looking down at my brand new dress that’s now covered in alcohol. “you— ugh! are you seriously laughing right now?”

“i said i was sorry.” he rolls his eyes.

“yeah! as you laughed!” i argue.

“what do you want me to do?!” he chuckles.

“forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” i state, looking around for my brother in hopes that he can lend me a change of clothes, but i don’t see him anywhere. i huff out a breath and start walking towards the exit. he’ll just have to deal with me leaving, he probably won’t even notice anyways.

“hold on!” Trevor shouts over the music, grabbing my arm. “c’mon, i’ll give you some sweats.”

he pulls on my arm, leading the way towards his bedroom, and i roll my eyes. i guess it’s the least he can do, after all, he is the one who spilled his drink on me. we step into his room and he immediately bee lines toward his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an Anaheim Ducks t-shirt, holding them out for me. i take them from his grasp, muttering a sarcastic ‘thanks’ and pulling the sweatpants on under my dress, having to roll the legs up at the bottom. i pay no mind to the boy standing in front of me and pull my dress over my head, leaving me in a bralette before yanking the t-shirt on. i look back at Trevor, who stands wide eyed. he gulps before speaking.

“that was kind of hot.” he admits, and i let out a chuckle. “i mean, you- you’re always hot but…”

“you think i’m hot?” i ask.

“well, yeah.” he replies, but then his eyes get wide. “but Jamie would kill me if he knew that so please don’t tell him.”

“why would i tell Jamie?” i question.

“well, you guys are twins, so don’t you guys like, tell each other everything?”

“no?” i give him a weird look. “i don’t know about him, but, i don’t tell him everything.”

“really? Jamie seems to think you do.” Trevor glances toward the closed bedroom door as he speaks, as if he’s worried about being caught alone with me.

“well, i don’t.” i state. “i didn’t tell him i thought you were hot.”

“you think i’m hot?” Trevor exclaims.

“yeah. but you’re also pretty annoying, so sometimes those two things cancel each other out.” Trevor laughs at my joke for a moment before his expression turns serious.

“so, you think i’m hot, i think you’re stunning, what do we do with that information.” he raises an eyebrow, stepping closer to me so that our bodies nearly touch. i roll my eyes and speak.

“please just kiss me already.”

Trevor wastes no time in doing so. his hands grip my waist and he pulls me into him, his lips crashing down on mine with intensity. lust charged electricity flows between us and my hands come up to the nape of his neck, gripping the hair there and pushing his lips harder against mine. he sucks on my bottom lip, eliciting a moan from me that he swallows up. he pushes me backwards, my back coming into contact with the wall behind me, and my leg raises to settle on his hip. his head dips down as he leaves open mouthed kisses down my neck, and he rolls his body, his bulge pressing into my core. i let out a whimper at the contact and he repeats the movement, but before we can get any farther, a knock sounds at the door.

“y/n? you in there?” Jamie’s voice is muffled from the wood between us, and Trevor and i jump apart at the sound. i wipe at my lips and neck, fixing my clothes and flattening my hair as Trevor readjusts himself and runs a hand through his hair.

i walk over to the door, pulling it open to reveal my brother on the other side.

“heyyy.” he drags out, his eyes darting between Trevor and i suspiciously. his gaze goes down to my outfit and he raises an eyebrow.

“hey. Trevor spilled his beer on my dress, so he lent me some clothes.” i explain. Trevor hums in agreement, nodding his head.

“oh, okay.” Jamie nods before looking at Trevor. “wanna play beer pong?”

-

-

-

-

#faithlynn’s 500 celly! #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras x reader #anaheim ducks #nhl fic #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

One thing I love about the harringrove fandom is the agreement both that Steve is dyslexic and Billy is a MASSIVE reader.

Because while Steve’s always been surrounded by teachers or his parents or exes who either believe that he’s incapable of appreciating reading or that he just doesn’t care, Billy thinks that’s bullshit.

Because when Billy gets told to tutor Steve in English, he doesn’t start with a book for toddlers or fucking Shakespeare. They start with Billy reading him Wuthering Heights.

And at first Steve does not fucking get it. He doesn’t understand the plot, the message and especially not the dialect. But he finds himself enjoying it a lot. Billy’s a natural storyteller. He could be on stage.

Billy’s taste in books is both eclectic and weird. He’s reading Finnigan’s Wake for fun. In Irish. He likes Portuguese romance books and German surrealism and a lot of George Orwell. So much so that Steve kind of feels that love rubbing off on him.

He’d used to like reading. Before he was told he was doing it wrong. And even though he despised the books set by Hawkins High with every fibre of his being, there was this fire set in his belly, a want to impress Billy.

So he starts with The Hobbit. Eddie “Freak” Munson’s the only other dyslexic Steve knew and he loved that shit. How hard could it be?

The Hobbit is fucking difficult. It starts with a map, Steve thinks is in Elvish and some of the chapters feel like they go on forever. The words still bounce around the page and switch constantly. He likes it though. It’s weirdly fun as a story and he finds himself rooting for Bilbo.

Henderson can never know. That is the one thing Steve is certain of.

Billy doesn’t laugh when Steve tells him that’s what he’d decided to start with. He just rolls his eyes, not meanly and says he used to read that with his mom. Back in Cali. Before Neil fucked everything up.

Billy reads a lot of Oscar Wilde. The Importance of Being Earnest is constantly tucked into his back, dog eared and well loved. Steve knows enough about Oscar Wilde to know what that indicates.

Billy’s a poof. A faggot. A queer.

Billy is like Steve.

He doesn’t have the courage to look out for anything gay. Nothing even that hints at the matter. Steve knows that his dad has The Iliad tucked away in his office. He’s away on business while his mom sits in the kitchen and complains about America. Even after 15 years in the States, she still misses Poland.

His daring heist after she goes to bed leads to him sitting on the kitchen floor, crying about Achilles and Patroclus. Billy’s right, classics are a fucking bummer.

Steves not as stupid as other people think. He knows that if this were a book, him and Billy are hurtling towards deaths door. Even in real life, he’s seen the guys on tv, worn down to the bone on hospital beds.

Gay does not equal a happy ending.

He resolves to never touch The Iliad again.

Billy comes to their next session with a black eye and his mullet chopped off. They don’t talk about it.

1984 is depressing. And surprisingly apt for how Steve feels that his 1984 has gone. He does feel like he’s constantly being watched. Like being in love is illegal. Like saying anything too far against the government will have consequences.

Steve asks if Billy thinks Orwell wrote 1984 about America or Russia. Billy snorts but doesn’t answer.

That’s the note they end on for the year.

Christmas comes and goes. So does New Year. Two months of not seeing Billy aches in his gut.

Then he comes back.

It’s the middle of February. Billy’s been kicked out for a week. Steves playing nursemaid.

He’s beaten up pretty bad. Still, Billy insists he’s had worse.

Steve hedges around asking why it happened. Like the confirmation might suddenly make the full scope of their plight real.

Still, eventually Steve asks. Billy looks at him like he’s particularly simple.

He’s gay. Obviously Steve. And he actually has the balls to go out there, meet men, dance. Even if it does mean getting caught by Neil.

During his explanation, Steve notices they’ve gotten closer together. Like significantly closer.

They’re grazing hands. Electric.

Then Billy moves.

Billy kisses him and Steve’s world turns into a fucking supernova.

They kiss and it doesn’t make Neil vanish in a puff of smoke, it doesn’t make the shopkeepers who sneer at his mother go away, it doesn’t make Steve magically able to read.

But it does make Steve feel like maybe they’ll survive.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #dyslexic steve harrington #tw homophobic language #tw abuse

[cupofteainme]

So many weird choises with the social media plot. It didn't work for me for three reasons.

First: It's stupid

The royal court left Simon and Wille completely alone to deal with the media. The court with a massive PR-team relies on the troubled 16-year-old prince to keep his boyfriend's social media behavior in check. Okay. I guess everyone in the court were busy trying to bring some life into Ludvig while Kristina was too sad and no-one thought to give her pills before episode six 🥲 (good thing that hearing how bad parent she is cured her depression)

I read a theory that leaving Wille to handle Simon's social media was intentional on the court's part to drive a wedge between Wille and Simon. It's a good theory if you believe in the evil monarchy (I guess Lisa does). I didn't see any indication about it in the show though. In episode 3 after Simon posts the First of May photo, Farima tells Wilhelm, "Talk to him. Or we will." This makes me think that it was Wilhelm and Simon in the first place who denied the court to have any contact with Simon. That I can believe at some level.

Simon would want his autonomy, but I don't understand his naivety concerning social media, especially since he recently was a victim of a grave online violation and got unwanted attention because of it. I assumed that he was already laying low in regards to social media after the sex video.

Wille was trying to talk to Simon about not posting with sensitivity and he apologises that Simon must do accomodations because of his Crown Prince status. Why didn't Simon listen at all?

Second: It doesn't fit the narrative

I have a hard time understanding why Simon felt so erased after deleting his social media. It was never established in YR universe that social media meant so much to Simon unlike in the case of Felice, for whom it played a big part in season one. She used it to create a version of herself that she felt other people wanted to see. In YR posting on social media has often been about conveying an image: Felice at the stables despite not wanting to ride, August posing at the gym while suffering from eating disorder. It didn't fit the show's use of social media that an authentic person like Simon would feel so sad about deleting his account.

I got the impression that Simon used little social media. It was implied that it was for example his first song that he posted (he got a comment that was surprised he could sing). So social media hadn't been an outlet where he commonly shared his creativity. Simon seemed to be sorry to delete pictures of people he saw all the time anyway, family and close friends. It's not good storytelling that we didn't see any foreshadowing about Simon's feelings towards social media earlier in the show. 

Third: It breaks my heart

The part that actually makes me cry is that it was established in season one that Wille and Simon truly see each other despite their differences. Wille was the first one in Hillerska to treat Simon friendly and be interested in him and it made Simon feel special and seen. In the same way Simon saw Wilhelm as a person first rather than a prince. Isn't that a big part why we fell in love with their love? Isn't Wille the person that makes Simon feel seen and not strangers in his social media? 😭

There where so many things that created or could have created drama between them; the drugs, August, Micke, their different backgrounds, homophobia, classism. I don't think that Simon posting was a needed storyline in the show.

Sorry to be a complete romantic, but the way Simon looks at Wille from season one—I thought he'd happily toss his phone to the lake to finally be with this boy.

#I hate to have mixed feelings about season 3 #trying to make sense of them #young royals #young royals analysis #young royals social media plot #young royals season 3

[moonpaw]

Skypiea really was one of the arcs of all time. It may not hold a candle to all the crazy stuff that’s been going on recently since it’s considered early One Piece still, but honestly nothing could compare to how Skypiea came to be and it’s overall tone.

The sense of mystery and adventure as the crew finds out there is an island in the sky, and as they scramble to find clues of its existence, even after getting laughed in their faces for believing such a thing could be real. Learning about the weird ocean current where there might be a CHANCE that this massive cloud just might be holding the island, with no real for sure proof that it’s really there, knowing that if it wasn’t they’ll all fall right back down and die.

Then the knockup stream shoots up and everyone is sailing on a vertical current as the original opening starts to play and-- there it is! A sea of clouds! They can sail on it, catch fish that have adapted to living in the sky, lounge is chairs made of fluffy clouds, discover dials, meet people who made their home up here and are a bit different than those down in the blue sea and it’s all so wonderful it really feels like a secret vacation hideaway were you can just live your best life in leisure!

Then there’s plot with Upper Yard, God Enel, and the Shandians and the whole thing quickly develops into a large scale free for all treasure hunt-- where is the city of gold? The Strawhats have a pretty good idea! Let’s go find it! There’s currently a large scale war going on in Upper Yard, but it’s not really #TheirBusiness at the moment. Until it is. Enter Enel, and he’s a huge threat. The tension keeps building and the treat level only grows and grows because what can you do against lightning? He has all the gold, after discovering where the city was years ago and he’s about to destroy the very island the Strawhats worked so hard to get to!

But then Luffy’s back after getting eaten by a giant snake (don’t worry about it) and proceeds to kick his ass hilariously just because he’s rubber and lightning doesn’t work on him. He does this just because he wanted to ring a giant golden bell so the 3 people down in the blue sea would hear it and because Enel made the weather a bit stormy on their day off.

Also that bell was the reason the Shandians were fighting so hard btw. Yes their home got stolen 400 years ago but they were sooo angry about the bell and wanted to ring it so so bad, because the previous top warrior was in love with a chestnut from the north blue and he wanted to let him know they were still here.

Peak writing and storytelling, slay

#one piece #this meant to be a short post but i cant help it i love skypiea too much

[thoughtfulchaos773]

I watched this reaction video for 2x08 Bolognese a few months back- I couldn't remember who it was exactly-but the reactor thought Carmy was making dinner for Sydney at the end of the episode. This person, from what I remember, was not a sydcarmy shipper. The ending montage of 2x08 is a great example of how the story is coming together and imprinting itself into the subconscious of the audience through repeated action, imagery, and editing.

Repeated actions: Sydney and Carmy cleaning the floor- two images followed by going home late- tired and lonely. Seeing this image repeat in 2x08 Bolognese does not sit right with the audience- because we saw Carmy in that same state before. and because of this established relationship- viewers unknowingly feel weird about the other woman. Sydney shouldn't be lonely because Carmy should be there.

Repeated actions: Making Pasta- the last time we saw Carmy make pasta was with Sydney- and this scene was relaxing enough to enter the viewer's subconscious- another sydcarmy scene tucked away to give the audience that feeling when they see Syd and Carmy together it's often a relaxing moment that gives the audience reprieve from the chaos.

So here we are- seeing Carmy make pasta for someone who isn't Sydney. It is the same as when the love music played- another signal to the audience- saying- yes, you see Claire- but remember when a love song plays- that's Sydney and Carmy.

This is meta that's been mentioned before but this is just an appreciation for the storytelling of this show. It's really genius, and watching some reaction videos where they have yet to make sense of the images, music, writing, and editing is just as entertaining as watching the show.

#he made dinner for sydney first #because they're still catching up #sydcarmy #it's just a big psych experiment for the show runners #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy