#'gimme the tl;dr:'

[amynchan]

What's the short answer of this?

^^ Actually me. X'D

Okay, so if you don't want to read the long, thought out version with my examples and explanations, here it is:

While Bluey gives kids fun storylines and plotlines, it also gives adults something substantial to chew on without condescending to them.

The long answer talks about two episodes in particular and how it does this, and I'd definitely suggest reading that or at least watching those episodes and judging for yourself in case you think Bluey is all bark and no bite. X'D

[stingyslegslookweird]

EDIT: i’ve sort of abandoned this project for the foreseeable future. if you’d like to continue it on your own, go right ahead, but for the time being, i don’t have the time nor the attention span necessary.

———

need some suggestions for eccentric, unhinged, or otherwise insane toku characters. i’m gonna make a bunch of them in the sims and force them to live together.

the list so far:

dan kuroto

momoi taro

utsumi (from build)

tendou souji

george karizaki

otoya kurenai

kitou haruka

ankh

woz (from zi-o)

jugglus juggler (bruh what even is that name)

amatsu gai

kaidou naoya

noel takao

asakura (from ryuki)

beroba (the pink jyamato supporter girl from geats)

isaac/izaak (aka master logos aka kamen rider solomon)

sonoza (subject to change based on a poll i posted but based on the votes at the time i’m editing this, the 22nd of april, he’s probably gonna get his own separate house)

[gikairan]

.... This was their plan all along, wasnt it?

[carolmunson]

wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[psipies]

Y'all ever wandered exactly what music would Alastor listen to?

Well do I have a treat for you!

tl;dr I've made a biblically historically accurate playlist with jazz from 1920 - 1933. Enjoy!

As an old jazz enjoyer, baby swing dancer, hazbin hotel fandom inhabitant and an adhd owner, recently I developed a raging hiperfixation with history of jazz.

So of course I was into the idea of finding a playlist which have recordings from the ✨period✨

You know, stuff that Alastor could actually air in his radio show. Albeit most playlists I found, between music from 1920, have also electro swing and more contemporary music, as well as songs from the show.

So I've made one myself.

Without further ado, here is how madness looks like:

I highly recommend to listen to the playlist on shuffle, since I added the tracks by artist. So it's more fun to have it a bit mixed 🙃🔀

Based on what I could find, Alastor died in his thirties. Most resources state that it was his early thirties. His year of death is 1933 (after fandom wiki). For this project I made an assumption that he lived between 1900 - 1933 and worked in the radio his whole adult life. So on the playlist you'll find the music recorded in years 1920 - 1933.

Vivzie pointed out that Alastor liked Cab Calloway, Charlie Chaplin's "Smile" and his favorite song would be "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile" from the "Annie" musical. Especially that the latter was an inspiration for his character. BUT.

"Annie" musical premiered in 1977, so songs from that work are too modern for the playlist. Although Alastor could enjoy the "Little Orphan Annie", a 1930/31 radio drama show. As far as I'm concerned, it only had a theme song, which unfortunately I can't find on Spotify.

Charlie Chaplin's "Smile" premiered in 1936, but I decided to include it. Let's pretend that the year of death is contractual in this case 😏

Unfortunately most of the jazz standards from 1920 was first recorded after 1940, so I guess they couldn't got into 20s/30s radio. But maybe I should chill a bit on the radio part and include stuff that Alastor could enjoy live, hanging out with Mimzy at some local speakeasies? Whaddya say?

I hope you'll appreciate my exquisite sense of humor, since I was able to choose some tracks basing on the sheer hilarity of how their titles suits our Bambi 🤡 Can you spot them?

I'm not an expert, just a crazy person with too much time on her hands. So if you spot some inaccuracies gimme a shout 👀

I'll be expanding the playlist, because why the hell not?

Phew! Wasn't that a hell of a rabbithole dive? I hope that I was able to introduce you to some fun, new (...old?) music that you'll love 🎩

Personally I grew to love Duke Ellington and Cab Calloway. How 'bout you? Any favorites?

[creature-wizard]

OKAYYY so you are telling me all those success stories are fake? Um gimme a break already !!??? there are sooo many soooooo many success stories, not only in tumblr but on yt, reddit, amino, twitter, instagram, everywhere!!!

Please, would you give your thoughts on this? Or are u gonna ignore this? Hm?

I've written two posts on what might be up with many supposed success stories:

"If the Law of Assumption is fake, what about the success stories?"

"This Law of Assumption practitioner posted photos, doesn't that prove something?"

TL;DR: A lot of it can be explained by psychological benefit, coincidence, and people lying on the Internet. (The fact that people always make excuses to weasel out of providing actual evidence for stuff like growing wings or manifesting a celebrity boyfriend is really, really telling.)

[squash1]

hello would you please propaganda me on the dreamer trilogy i should probably read it, but i have not had the motivation,,, hhhrghgh. gimme your reasons on why i should read it /nf

“propaganda me” is probably that best phrasing of anything ever. and this is also my favorite topic of propaganda. so yes. ofc.

probably the #1 reason to read the dreamer trilogy is to get More of the raven cycle universe. if you love ronan lynch and you want to see him grow (and fuck up) and change (and fuck up) this is THE book series. adam parrish in all his glory is also heavily featured. because who is ronan without adam (that’s a question that will be answered in these books!). and my beautiful, baby boy declan (i’m biased it’s okay) is Given A Voice finally. plus you meet some new Killer character. cough cough hennessy. cough cough jordan. cough cough carmen. cough cough lilliana. (so many showstopping female characters)

my caveat to all of this, is yes, it is different than the raven cycle. in like the most beautiful, necessary way. (i love trc with my whole heart so i’m not saying this will any malice). i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again (propaganda at its finest) the dreamer trilogy is an embodiment of what young adulthood is — what moving away from childhood Feels Like. trc is very teenage, it’s very big and grand and everything is So important (but it’s also silly because they’re 16/17 year olds), the dreamer trilogy has a tone shift but it’s So Necessary. because there is a tone shift from childhood to the early years of adulthood. things feel smaller, and more difficult, and somehow more confusing, but it’s THE PAY OFF that matters the most (because yes, we’re building Healthy, strong relationships on this dysfunctional family).

personally i LOVE the exploration of dreaming in the series and all the various metaphors that can be applied to the concept. i’ve talked Extensively about dreaming as a metaphor for chronic illness and i think going into the series with that lens would make for a really cool and interesting experience.

the dreamer trilogy at its core is this baller, action packed (but also sad) series that’s going to explode your brain and cause you to question your sanity. and i think the true testament to this series is that despite Sobbing upon finishing it (ending was not even sad, it was just the end of an era), i Immediately wanted to reread. because there’s so much Content, so much Intrigue, so Much To Unpack.

tl;dr ronan lynch is a gay icon throughout, read it read it read it.

p.s. i would like to hear all your thoughts and also this might be the last straw to get me to reread.

[chatblancofficial]

"too many sequels they dont wanna make anything original" "nobody asked for this" like, yes, toystory 5 and shrek 5? nobody wanted those. Megamind 2? havent watched it but I know it was poorly done. and Moana was kinda already a completed story, but let's wait to see where they take that one. but people are lumping in Inside out 2 and Zootopia 2 which like?? I've ALWAYS wanted those wdym. Inside out 2 is out already obviously, and it's a hit as I knew it would be, but like, ive been hyped for zootopia 2. im SO excited. I've been wanting that since I watched it. there's SO MUCH you could do with that whole world. the worldbuilding for just ONE CITY is SO COOL in just the movie, and adding the shorts they made to that? YES. PLEASE. I fucking LOVE the rodent crime boss guy, he's such a family man, and he isnt evil or anything! he's a good guy that had to do some murder. everyone has to do a little murder right? (no? just me?) honestly, Inside out and zootopia are concepts that have SO MUCH potential, that like, I wouldn't mind 10 more movies. and the best part is, you dont have to follow the main characters! there are SO MANY lives in these stories that we get small glimpses into. hell, there are CAT EMOTIONS IN THE CAT BRAINS! I wanna see more animals! gimme! gimme! and these movies can cover more serious topics in child friendly ways. inside out covers your mind and individual lives, while zootopia would cover a more societal view. and together they can cover SO MUCH if we just let them run with the concepts! there is SO MUCH you can do. TL;DR: if you say that zootopia and/or inside out shouldn't have gotten sequels, you're wrong, and fuck you.

[jack-kellys]

would u change anything about the jack and crutchie dynamic? how would u portray C? i would love to see a production where hes a little less sunshine and a little more realist (which i think uksies did well) buttttt i know thats your man so gimme some thoughts

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

how ~i~ would direct crutchie. ooough. major. hi again jac

give me some newsies issues and ill. i'll-

so i would cast him a year older than jack, or like. he turns 18 a few months before jack or smth. he just seems to understand things already that jack's whole arc brings him to at the end of the show. "I don't need folks. I got friends." takes jack two hours and a fifteen minute intermission to figure that one out. brotha.

i think making crutchie the only guy in the play who really knows what and how things are going to happen is really... just. makes him interesting. his sense of self-awareness, his personal knowledge of who he is and what he stands for- the wild thing abt him is he already. knows. crutchie stands for his friends. it's why initially he isn't for striking ("let's hit the streets while we still can") bc he knows any other action is going to get his friends hurt... but it's also why he's good with it pretty soon after- well, if they are gonna do this, he's not letting his family do it alone/without him... even if he knows what's probably going to happen to him afterward. give me a crutchie with foresight who doesn't ignore it, per se, but whose moral backbone refuses to make him a coward. (its why he and davey r like🤞🏼 to me.)

i would also let him fight. in the fight choreo. he's winning to morris delancey i do not CARE. i'm having the reason he gets caught be him shoving the jacobs out and away. because crutchie already knewwww. from the moment of "you mean like a strike?" what was goin down.

(i would also make the "romeo! finch!" not be a reaching out, but a "get the fuck out of here" wild gesture. as long as crutchie takes center, no one else is getting hauled through downtown in a police wagon.)

i also think that whenever race makes his little comments to davey crutchie is the one gesturing for him to back off, bc i think it's fun when racer and crutchie butt heads and i rly adore crutchie seeing davey and knowing his potential like. immediately. i think i'd have them be talking a lot in staging it- uksies does this already if ur looking for it, but it's so key to me.

tl;dr, crutchie is the most experienced person at the lodge, and i think it should show. and also like. u can debate me on that? that jack's more experienced or is portrayed to be since he's the leader, but... tell me why jack learns friends are equivilent to family when crutchie knew that shit at 00:00:00 in the musical. lmk. crutchie has almost prophetic knowledge in his brain ok he knows newsies the musical as well as us. i think that's fascinating.

also this is unrelated but the way matthew duckett uses the crutch as a true extension of himself is unlike any crutchie we might ever have again. go watch the boot again and just watch him. he points with it, gestures with it, sits in interesting ways, like. his comfortability with his body is smth crutchie needs to have bc he knows himself, more than the rest know themselves. im so serious.

[samheughanswife]

🎥 📸 💯 📍 🇬🇧

Answering the DM’s who have told me I OWE this dash the photos that were sent to me of the protagonists and child just make me 🤣

Taking a trip down memory lane and I recall that I gifted this space photos. I was subsequently pilloried - even though I owned my actions.

I’ve been off this space for awhile now. Why? Because I have confirmation and I’m satisfied.

This dash is filled with hypocrisy and entitlement. Gimme gimme. But then fuck you when it doesn’t fit with your agenda/narrative/delusions.

Let’s just look at the collective reaction to Sam’s appearance on WWHL. The pearl clutching and horror at the discussion and answers. Sam asked about oral sex and his answers and supposed discomfort. Jesus, such provincialism and hypocrisy.

Need I remind you all about the salacious glee of the gifs from S1 especially. The references to full English breakfast - Jamie giving Claire oral sex. Claire giving Jamie oral sex. The pornification of the sex scenes. The outrage when in following seasons the sex scenes were no longer as graphic and intense. The endless discussion on that tent scene and whether Sam/Jamie had a hard on 🙄

Apparently it’s ok to be sexually explicit here. It’s ok to sexualise Sam, but god forbid someone else does. The infantilism of Sam by most is again 🙄 Sam is grown man who knows exactly what he is doing and why. He can sit beside his female co-star and be sexually risqué. He had the brief, he knew the audience he was playing too. Sam had the right to be as dirty and smutty as other male guests on WWHL.

I have said this to many over the years, the attempt to Americanize Sam - fit with American culture/politics would ultimately slap you all in the face. In the beginning he worked hard to create the impression that he belonged to the North American book purists. Then the large Sam only’s in their various factions. The shippers, the neutrals. And of course the king of men for the horny grannies , JAMMF/ Sam one in the same unless he moved off the fantasy script. And then he just said fuck it, ENOUGH. Which is exactly what happened with Andy Cohen. No one forced him to do that show. Not the nefarious HW overlords. Not TPTB. He has agency. It’s S7/S8. Both Sam and Caitriona are looking at the END and they do not care.

I literally cringed reading the comments and the endless brow beating.

Eish 🥱

TL;DR.

There are at a minimum at least a 100 women who know that I have the goods, having been in groups that benefited from both my anons and information shared that came from serendipity and luck.

Loose lips sink ships - “The practice or characteristic of being overly talkative, especially with respect to inadvertently revealing information which is private or confidential”

Been there done that!

I’ve shared with a couple of friends. I thank you for your confidentiality 💙

Sláinte

[iri-desky]

SO.

I never knew Ramshackle existed, or it's absolutely amazing artist/animator, until just today, when its pilot dropped into my YouTube fyp. Its pilot found ME, I didn't find it. I watched it and immediately fell in love!! Oh my gosh, the art style!? Everything I aspire to be. The characters?! So awesome and all amazingly loveable in their own ways (...Stone...Skipp...Vinnie.... save me Stone Skipp and Vinnie...save me murder hobos...). An wacky little fever dream (in a good way) of an episode where a baby turns into a biblically accurate angel at the end alongside a literal zombified mob of richie-riches implying a universe of a strongly supernatural but destitute nature?! GIMME! Also, can I say that I love the animation again and that it's absolutely amazing with some perfect stylistic touches that entertains but doesn't burn the eyes? This is so cool, guys. This is one of the best pilots in indie animation I've ever seen and I'm definitely in desperate need of more. This is the first time I've felt this excited for an indie animated show since Lackadaisy's pilot! So awesome :]

For anyone who hasn't seen it yet, give it a watch. The artist has a Tumblr account, too; @zeddyzi . They're just as awesome and I've quickly gotten hooked on their work. :]

TL;DR : there's a new indie animated pilot called Ramshackle which released VERY recently on YouTube, which is absolutely incredible, so give it, and its creator, a shot!

[stvlti]

love is the knife in your hand | a Dune fanmix

I finally put all my songs for FeydPaul (derogatory) onto a playlist. This started out as a shitpost which may explain some of the wack song choices. All bangers though, promise

► TRACKS

01. Gimme What I Want - Miley Cyrus /// 02. SIMP - Full Tac, Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty /// 03. Dictator - REI AMI /// 04. I Can See You - Taylor Swift /// 05. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode /// 06. Burn the Witch - PVRIS, Tommy Genesis & Alice Longyu Gao /// 07. House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls - The Weeknd /// 08. ecstacy - SUICIDAL-IDOL /// 09. Tennessee - Kevin Abstract & Lil Nas X /// 10. Matador - Luvcat /// 11. I Come With Knives (Acoustic) - IAMX /// 12. Bells in Santa Fe - Halsey /// 13. Blood in the Cut - K.Flay /// 14. Kiss With A Fist - Florence + The Machine /// 15. Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey.

Tracklist last updated on 15 July.

► META

I wasn't going to add a write-up to this one – it was supposed to be an ironic playlist – but then I couldn't resist coming back to add better and better song choices to the tracklist. It deserves a short explanation now, at the very least.

The tl;dr of it is that I was inspired by this fic and this fic and this fic. The different interpretations and dynamics of Feyd/Paul's relationship shown in those fics form the cornerstones for the relationships portrayed in these songs.

Some of these dynamics may seem contradictory to each other. That is by design. Many of the songs in this playlist are meant to go both ways: depending on your interpretation of Feyd's character and your specific flavour of canon divergence (which lbr is where 90% of FeydPaul scenarios play out), you could justifiably swap the dominant / submissive voices in the song lyrics between Feyd and Paul. Take "Dictator" by REI AMI for example:

The front part of the song is dominated by, well, a dominant persona:

I am not your queen, I'm your dictator

Bend the fucking knee, yeah bitch that was an order

Whatcha say to me? Huh? Bitch speak louder

You know I reign supreme, nah, you can't imitate her

The song takes a 180° turn in the back half, switching up the beat, the tempo, the instrumentation, the cadence; going from rap verses to singing; and going from braggadocio to a vulnerable confession in its lyrics. This forms, for all intents and purposes, a second distinct "voice":

You're so mean I'm scared to say "I wanna leave"

Cause every time I try, I get a tighter leash

You never know

Everything I do when I'm feeling low

Always about you, that's the way it goes

The way it goes, just the way it goes

Cold, why you gotta treat me so cold?

You say you love me but I don't know, don't know

The original song intends for both voices to reflect 2 sides of the same speaker, which could also work in the case of Paul (the first voice being the strongman leader he presents himself as in front of his followers, but also the dom persona he takes on to exploit Feyd's vulnerabilities in the bedroom; the second voice being the insecurities he has in his feelings for Feyd, which he can admit only to himself). But these 2 voices also work well as a dialogue between Paul and Feyd: Paul as the dominant voice and Feyd as the submissive, plaintive one, in a Feyd Lives AU / any AU where Paul holds all the bargaining chips; or Feyd as the dominant voice and Paul as the submissive, confessional one, in a Feyd wins the duel / Paul is captured by the Harkonnens AU. Ymmv.

There are a few songs where it only fits a specific interpretation of the dynamic though. The more fics I read, the more I think about the political positioning either of the boys take up in canon, the more obvious it is that any way you slice it, Feyd is at a disadvantage. He doesn't have Paul's prescience or the Voice, among other Bene Gesserit training, to say nothing about his Mentat abilities. (This is excluding the AUs that assume Feyd, being another prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach bloodline, has some level of prescient abilities akin to Paul's.) This is true even before Paul consumed the Water of Life and gained full access to his ancestral memories, and once he unlocked the Other Memory, Feyd is simply no match for him. So tracks like "Matador" and "Bells in Santa Fe" work better if you think of them as speaking from Feyd's POV:

Your cape is crimson

And you're waving it, snarling

The air is full of danger

I only wanted to put on a little skirt, a little show for you

...

I came crawling in on all fours

Knocking at your door, knocking at your door

I don't wanna bleed anymore

I just wanted love, but you wanted gore

You're my matador

While Feyd is the gladiator with a number of wins in the Geidi Prime arena under his belt, Paul is named after his grandfather who fought bulls for fun. Feyd is a Harkonnen, which is etymologically related to the "härka", Finnish for the bull. When they meet each other blade for blade, Paul is the metaphorical matador to Feyd's bull, not the other way around.

I'm also a fan of simp!Feyd, which is how we ended up with Lil Mariko & Rico Nasty on the track list (lol). But on a more serious note, I like my Feyd softer and besotted with Paul, with or without the context of Paul as Emperor ordering Feyd around. In that light, it's obvious who would be the one to come crawling, begging for love from the other man.

Leaving through the door without a word

You won't even notice, little bird

Better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to hell instead

So don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait

It's not a happy ending

...

But, Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas

I could keep your bed warm, otherwise I'm useless

I don't really mean it, 'cause who the fuck would choose this?

Self loathing hours with Feyd lmao. I don't believe Feyd is capable of shame, but he bested Rabban in currying favours with the Baron and securing the na-Baron title. He must have a mind for politicking, and in a Feyd Lives AU, he would know full well that he is only useful to Paul's empire insofar as he amuses him and keeps his bed warm. It also really only makes sense for Feyd to call Paul "little bird" and not the other way around, seeing as Paul is the one who brings the Atreides hawk symbol to their union.

Speaking of union, I went back and forth on the inclusion of the Lana Del Rey track until I remembered that she wears a wedding dress in the music video. I've never paired "Ultraviolence" with my ships, not even for my most fucked up faves, for mainly 2 reasons: (1) I don't like to romanticise the domestic abuse detailed in the original context of that lyric. I prefer a dynamic where both parties retain a degree of control and reciprocity in the fucked up shit they do to each other. But in the case of FeydPaul the pain kinks just write themselves, and they would be fully reciprocal. I can see Feyd being the masochist to Paul's more violent tendencies as much as I can see Feyd enacting his learned sadism onto Paul. They would both enjoy it. Also, as every shipper knows, in another life these two would've been betrothed to each other according to the Bene Gesserits' breeding programme.

Heaven is on earth

I will do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

It's literally a wedding song!

(2) I never included "Ultraviolence" in my ship playlists before because the lyrics are kinda cringe. "tears of gold like lemonade"? really? But then again, FeydPaul is largely a Romeo & Juliet type of pairing - they're star-crossed, they're madly in love, and they're teenagers! They would be the type to make cringey promises to each other.

[onecornerface]

the time I trolled 4chan as a fake flat earther for six hours in 2012

In July 2012, I got on 4chan and pretended to be a flat earther. I passionately argued for flat earth theory for six hours with almost no break. I kept a single thread going the whole time, getting over 400 replies. I’m not sure if I still have a PDF of the thread, but I do have some quotes from people who responded to me. Looking back over this a decade later, I am proud.

[CW: Slurs]

"There's no way you're actually this dumb. There's just no way."

"the flat earth society is one of the best trolls i've ever seen, in all those days of /b/"

"I tried some scientific research on this topic a while ago. I ordered a pizza, got two because the first was not what I ordered. I let the first dry out under a light bulb. Eventually, after a couple weeks, living creatures started populating Planet Pizza, after a while orbiting their home planet. This is proof, that the earth is flat. tl;dr Earth is a pizza, probably on a bigger pizza which probably is in a room with an even bigger pizza."

"Sir your thesis contradicts climate, you don't know what refraction is, you can't explain day and night, ebb and flow and you're also paranoid and/or outright stupid since you believe in conspiracy theory."

"You are a stupid faggot, and the whole of society would be better if you stopped breathing it's air. ...unless, of course, you're a troll. In that case, I'll award you an 8/10."

"I however, HAVE BEEN TO SPACE. Twice. I assure you, having orbited the planet many times, it is indeed a sphere. OP is an idiot, his only defense against me is 'omg gimme proof' which I can, and once given, 'u r part of the illuminatee' Ugh. Ignorant dumb ass piece of shit."

"Damn OP 9/10"

"If we dealt with this on a daily basis i would kill myself."

"Yes my jimmies are rustled, because I hate ignorant, inbred fucks like OP. Go die in a hole. Oh wait, you couldn't, you'd be scared of just falling through into space."

"10/10 OP good trolling, keeping in character and sounding legit"

"9/10 OP. My jimmies will be rustled for the whole rest of the day after reading this tripe."

"[S]ome eyebrows must be raised in the direction of the /b/ros still continuing to argue about this. Better standard should be expected from you guys, but taking away nothing from OP. Excellent work."

"If you're not a failtroll you are, by far, one of the most deluded and idiotic people I've ever seen post on /b/, which is a tremendous feat."

"9/10 for commitment"

"love this thread op 10/10 for still being here." (This was three hours in.)

">Focuses on the obscurely worded >Ignores every other point >Provides no answers About what I was expecting."

"Go hung yourself, please Humanity doesn't need such stupid people like you are"

"I'd believe someone who says the earth is flat compared to someone who claims otherwise and can't grammar correctly."

"I haven't laughed so hard at something on /b/ for a long time."

"OP, I'm not gonna bother asking you anything. I just wanted to let you know this is the best thread I have seen as long as I can remember. You truly are amazing. Good fucking job."

"nice arguments though i am in awe of your reckless faggotry and ignorance and skills of producing believable logical fallacies."

(Four hours in) "I can't believe this thread is still going. OP is the most successful troll of all time."

">Earth is flat >Every other celestial body is round >mfw 1/10"

"Great thread. You are not a troll, I saw you other times here and I knew personally a man from this society."

"holy shit 0 of fucking 10"

"Billiard balls are also flat. Isn't it obvious that they sprites?"

"10/10 OP wins"

">almost 5 hours of this shit 10/10"

"Big respect OP. OP is alpha as fuck"

"but seriously, OP is the man destroying everyone with his devasting arguments for hours huge respect man if i would suck a cock then I'd suck yours and I'd propably come before you do"

"3/10. Painfully obvious troll, yet impressive to see so many anons actually failing to make a compelling argument."

"Willy Wonka travelled around the world in 80 days, and ended up back where he started, just in time for tea. You can't explain that."

"Did you ever wonder what happened to Amelia earhart? She flew too far. Gov't shot her down past the ice wall. They obviously couldnt have her come back from that trip, she would tell everyone"

"I myself subscribe to modern rational empiricism, in accordance to which OP's arguments are absolute bullshit. And yet the attempts to challenge his unfalsifiable beliefs have proven mostly futile. A great majority of those posting in this thread have no idea why they should believe the earth is round."

"There has to be trolling here, I seriously can't believe what I am reading."

"this is beyond epic"

"I'm starting to enjoy this so i'm upping you from a 2/10 to an 8 but it ends now."

"OP is now argueing since 6 hours. This is the longest discussion I've ever seen in my life. Of ALL discussions, not only 4chan."

"arguments presented thus far by flatty: >did you personally do the experiment? no? then the results are invalid >here's my evidence; as demonstrated in this experiment someone else did also >oh; you did the experiment itself and it basically shows that the earth is round? >there's probably crazy gravity or some shit; hell if i know or >just because we can't explain every one of these phenomena and a spherical model can doesn't mean we're wrong. i'm serious you guys also >pictures lie and you should never believe them; despite mind boggling quality and quantity available for universal use online"

"Explain how we can have fat asses and tennis balls but a flat fucking earth."

"9/10 OP, well done!"

[haloguyfttp]

After the past like 2 weeks or whatever of getting back into Arknights I have some gripes I want to get out of my system. It's long and rambly but Tl;Dr: I hate the trial and error. A bit is fine, but Arknights does it so goddamn much it's just infuriating.

1) Enemy pathing shows up for way too damn little. This barely matters in most levels but when it's time for any stage of actual difficulty, seeing a weird ass path appear while I was focused on something else, and then a speedy guy comes out and I have no clue where it's going is infuriating. Kinda just have to keep taking Ls until you just memorize the annoying ones.

2) What am I gonna fight? Since the game never shows what's coming pre-mission, you throw a run away to even see what enemies spawn, let alone their numbers. Will there be a dozen slugs? Or 5 tanky bois? Who the fuck knows. Hate it.

3) Lack of useful info and consistency. "This enemy can stun" ok, how long? What's the sniper dude's range? Sometimes it's like 4 tiles and others it's half the map. Some stuns last seemingly no time and others knock Cuora for so long a tanky slow dude crosses the length of the map before she gets up.

4) Some boss gimmicks feel really shit. Like, there's that guy in the Trails for Navigator or whatever with the gun. He enters phase 2, lines up a shot(s?), and deletes anyone who isn't drowning in buffs. Like... what? W just instakills if her target... exists in her range for too long? This isn't even me bitching about difficulty it just feels shit. Slumbering of Sui is on the ground and needs to be hit a ton, but then it also can hit ranged tiles for some reason?

Hell this is its own thing honestly, like rule of thumb i got is "ground units only hit ground, unless they have a gun or crossbow or whatever, then they can hit ranged" and then the drunk dude with a hammer somehow can. The Slumbering of Sui can. The goddamn bull from that same event can. Gimme some goddamn consistency.

Honestly most of my disdain is enforced trial and error. And yeah, I'm still playing and enjoying once I get past that initial blind run, but the constant guessing of what the hell is coming and what can enemies do is really annoying. Hell even defenses are weird. Rule of thumb is armored units need to be hit with arts and everyone else needs physical, and then there's random in betweens that resist both. Or larger ones weak to physical and vice versa, like the current event rerun thing where almost everything is weaker against physical. Idk it's just confusing as hell and again, trial and error spam.

Also fuck the "hit this thing 10 times quick to kill them for good" from this event rerun thing.

[askbombasticblake]

Wait hold up. Patch supported a pedo?!

Alright, I'm caffeinated enough to answer this.

Strap yourselves in, folks. This is gonna be a ride.

So during my year-long mental roller coaster ride back in 2021, one of the things Shiloh confessed to me during one of my spirals was that Lily was not the first predator they had run defense for.

No, that honor goes to their college roommate, a trans/intersex (can't recall which, I just know they're not cis) woman named Tianwei (forgive my spelling). Tianwei had told them 3 things, hoping that 1 would be excused because of the other 2.

First, that she was a pedo and had pedophilic thoughts about children regularly. Second, that her parents abused her for one reason or another. And third, that she nearly died in a house fire.

Now, to most sane people, the latter two wouldn't matter, because the first is still fucking horrid. Not to Shi! They bought into Tianwei's bullshit hook, line, & sinker, and let her continue to pursue her education instead of reporting her to campus police.

In hindsight, this puts their willingness to look past both Lily and Poppy's fuckshit in a totally different light, as we now have a pattern of behavior.

Now I already know what Certain People in the Peanut Gallery are gonna say: "What about you? We heard you confessed too!" Well, let's get into that.

As a bit of background, one of the things I am very open and angry about is the fact that I was abused by multiple members of my family. Sexually (by my dad & my sister), verbally, emotionally, financially, psychologically, and most importantly, physically. I'm not just talking spanking, either. One of the most common forms of abuse I can remember from everyone in my family is them hitting me in the head as punishment/in their own fits of anger. I'm talking striking me hard enough to see stars, cause temporary deafness, and in at least two cases, smacking me hard and fast enough to lift me out of my chair.

I say that because I'm pretty sure the aforementioned physical abuse was enough to cause some form of brain damage, and at the very least has scrambled my memory to some degree. Worst case scenario, the abuse at such a young age will cause my inevitable autopsy to show that I've developed CTE. Would certainly explain some things. Anyway, back on track.

That previously mentioned scrambled memory is what caused me to THINK I had done horrible things as a teenager. However, my saving grace is the fact that my friend/brother Kaiser was in contact with me during my teenage years, and he has a much clearer memory than me. As the Twitter post pinned to my blog states, I told Kaiser EVERYTHING back then, because I wanted to seem more active than him (I was stupid and competitive, gimme a break). Because he himself said that I never told him about something that heinous, but DID tell him any time I met with older men who were grooming me online, combined with the fact that he has trusted me enough to name me the godparent of his daughter, I can safely say that my guilt and manic spirals were caused by false memories, and thus my name should be cleared.

The same cannot be said for Shiloh. Between Tianwei, Lily, and Poppy, it's clear that they have a history of defending and enabling predators when those people have something to offer them. This pattern should call into question their own history, accountability, and lack of personal responsibility going forward.

TL;DR: I got hit in the head alot & falsely accused myself, Shi is a grifter & pred enabler. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[vacantgodling]

holds microphone up to u

may i hear about tmc

gimme your thoughts

WELL <3 since you asked so nicely <3 (jkjk but thank you eeeee)

so-- surprisingly atm i'm trying to figure out The Plot. i wasn't sure if i was ever going to make ?? a proper plot for tmc just because like. i love tmc and the kiddos so much but bc i know i want it to be a webcomic style thing that's just scared me off from working on it. basically bc art hard. But i should do it because i want to have fun and i had a few like. lingering dream-thoughts about some things so i thought i'd try and push it more.

rn i'm toying with the idea of expanding what's going on with society. because right now basically, there's the "city thing" that chidori and co live in which is dominated by trains. but i don't think anyone knows the kinda Back Drop for tmc?? cuz i never talk about it?? but basically this is a futuristic wip where humanity had to adapt to earth's sea levels rising WAAAAY up (in a way that is totally improbable but like i'm not hard worldbuilding this world at all bc this is supposed to feel shonen anime like PFFFF. basically anything goes cuz i said so energy). so they use train rails and special train types to get around. tm.

this is old art from an old ask but this is the gist basically LMAO im sorry its so shit PFF

i was originally thinking of making wholly different societies that have something different instead of train masters BUT TBH, i think everywhere has train masters like its a global thing but chidori's city is just a big ass city and governments are still different like how bangkok, nyc, and paris all have different currency pff. basically my scope of the world is just expanding.

anyway tho, chidori's city has the largest population and by virtue of that its the one most prone to diseases, struggling, and economic stagnation. rich people gotta rich so they hate this.

my thought for the plot is actually around the strength of the sturgeon dollar. tl;dr the money in chidori's city is called "sturgeons" like the fish (and is colored similarly) but its actually got a poor exchange rate with the other cities. this is something that is concerning to the herme family who bellamy is the youngest child of. (bellamy below--the diamond prince and one of the s-rank train masters tm)

bellamy is technically the "odd one out" of the herme family and is treated very poorly behind closed doorsaside from his illustrious and beloved image by the public. his family is full of law makers and politicians, but they also have heavy ties with crime (which is what i'm kinda developing now) and they have links to crime various other syndicates across the flooded world. the problem is, because the sturgeon dollar is so weak it puts them at a disadvantage when it comes to negotiations with other politicians and syndicates. so with the under-the-table go ahead from the government, they have begun operations to start working towards destabilizing pretty much every city society (at the expense of civilians obvs) to try and either make the sturgeon dollar stronger, or to introduce an entirely new method of currency only for the elites.

me playing with the idea of yagmur being a double agent has to do with the fact that yagmur is a secret train master branch basically akin to the fbi or z-rank. they're covert ops. he's technically been assigned to work for the government of chidori's city to help with whatever tf this plan is but at the same time, he and bellamy are in a not-so-secret secret relationship and despite coming from money, bellamy hates his family. so yagmur is loyal to bellamy before anything else. but at the same time, bellamy isn't necessarily concerned with citizens--he's concerned with revenge and tearing down his family. so if i were to classify things as they currently are:

chidori and his main friend group (amehana, solange, bev, folami, and markis) are on the side of their city and protecting it from like everything.

bellamy and yagmur on their own side trying to take down the herme family.

the herme family and government (and some other entities) are on their own side trying to sabotage other cities to strengthen thier own dollar and since yagmur works for the government he's also kind of involved in this too.

so that'sssss currently where i'm at. i still need to figure out how the train academy works, what's up with these semi-magical weapons, redesigning folami (AGAIN but thankfully i think i have a good idea this time) and just other stuff to uhhhh make this make sense. maybe figure out the city situations as well?? just a lot tbh LOL