#and continues some more with finding or making communities of learning and practice and actual empathy
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malakaie · 7 months ago
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steeples fingers
not to be cringe on main but 2025 is going to be the year of aggressively making time for the things that matter to me and spending less time on the things that don't
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mountainsandmayhem · 11 months ago
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BDSMaid - Chapter 3
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Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader
Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni
Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.
Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.
CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.
WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!
AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.
Series Masterlist || My Masterist
I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.
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Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.
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The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 
If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 
One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 
 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 
Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 
The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 
After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.
As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 
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On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 
Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 
Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 
Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.
Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.
  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  
You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 
Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 
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Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 
She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”
You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 
You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”
The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”
His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”
You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.
“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.
“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”
The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”
Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”
He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 
“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 
You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 
“I can too!” 
He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 
You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”
“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.
“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 
Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”
Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 
Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.
His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 
You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 
He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”
“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”
“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.
You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”
“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”
You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”
Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”
“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”
 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 
“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 
He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 
Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 
It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”
“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”
You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 
“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 
His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”
He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”
Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”
He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 
“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 
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Joel
The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.
His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 
Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   
His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  
His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”
Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 
Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 
“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”
Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 
“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”
Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 
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You 
You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 
Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 
“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.
Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”
“You sound like you're out of breath.” 
You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 
Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”
“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 
“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 
“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 
She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”
“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 
“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”
You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”
“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 
Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 
“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 
“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 
“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”
“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.
“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 
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Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  
Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 
You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 
The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.
As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 
Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 
As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 
You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 
Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  
From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.
Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 
You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 
On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 
Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.
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When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 
After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    
You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.
You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 
Spanking, five. 
Whips and Crops, five. 
Paddles, five. 
Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 
Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 
Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 
The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 
Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”
You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”
“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.
A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 
“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.
Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.
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The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”
Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”
A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.
“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”
Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”
You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 
“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 
“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.
“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 
“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”
Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 
Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 
His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.
“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 
“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.
“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.
He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”
“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.
“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.
“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”
As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?
The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.
Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”
He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”
You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”
“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”
You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”
Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.
Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”
You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”
“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”
This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”
Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”
“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”
He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.
“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”
You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”
His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”
He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”
You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”
Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”
You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”
Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”
“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.
He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.
“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 
“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.
Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”
He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”
The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.
He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”
Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.
“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.
“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.
You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.
“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 
“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 
“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.
Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”
Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 
His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 
“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”
He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”
With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 
You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.
Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 
His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”
He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”
He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 
“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.
You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”
It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”
You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.
You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 
You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.
‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’
Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.
“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”
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Next Chapter
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sirfrogsworth · 5 months ago
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I'm glad folks seem to like my light and effort photography post because I nearly melted my brain trying to write it. Every long post I write usually takes several days and a lot of mental discomfort. But I need to write for my sanity, so I keep on keepin' on.
My recovery is going so slow. In two months I have reduced the dose of the offending medication by 75%. Which sounds like a great success when you say it out loud, but it feels pretty miserable most of the time. The last 25% is proving to be much harder.
It is kind of a mindfuck because the worse I feel the more progress I am making. When I feel shitty, I feel productive. When I don't feel as bad, I feel guilty for slowing my progress.
I am bored because I struggle to concentrate. I am lonely because it is very hard to communicate with friends. My CFS is greatly exacerbated to where it feels like my limbs weigh a thousand pounds. My house continues to be a disaster zone because I can't clean. I barely have any counter space because I am too tired to wash dishes.
I've reached that point of desperation where I keep cleaning the same spoon over and over again.
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I have simplified my self care to food, medicine, and sleep. I make sure I am eating. I make sure I take my meds. And I make sure I get as much sleep as possible. I will sort the rest out later.
I haven't been able to do any photography or photo editing in the last 4 months. I miss it very much. But creating that post and giving out photography advice helps a little. Even if it was difficult to write.
It's weird looking at my photography from over 7 years ago. It feels good that a lot of it still holds up. But I know so much more than I used to. Especially when it comes to studio lighting. I have all of this unrealized potential and no energy to create new photos. I have leveled up so much and it is frustrating when I can't show off what I'm capable of now. But I'm hoping if my recovery is successful I can finish building my home studio and photograph cool shit.
In the meantime, I do find photography education rewarding when I have the energy. If my body was fully cured tomorrow I think I would try to be an actual teacher of photography. I really enjoy sharing what I've learned and I think I am pretty good at it. The internet has been a great resource for knowledge but lately it feels like there is a lot of educational noise. It is really difficult for beginners to tell the difference between good and bad information. I look at some of these threads in the "Ask Photography" subreddit and many of the answers make me cringe.
I feel bad because I could really help some of these folks seeking answers but they are stuck with people who aren't really suited to educate. Either they don't know what they don't know and are too confident in their current expertise—causing slightly inaccurate to straight up confusing to blatantly wrong answers.
Or they do know their shit but are patronizing and arrogant to newbies.
I won't lie, there *are* stupid questions. But it is still best practice to act as if there are no stupid questions.
It's hard for me to criticize too much because I started a photography education Tumblr way before I was qualified to do so. I really thought I knew what I was talking about but I did not fully understand what I was teaching. I was mostly parroting what I heard from actual qualified educators. Thankfully when I look back at those posts all of the information is fairly accurate. It seems my saving grace was selecting good teachers.
Knowledge is so weird. You can have the correct information in your brain. You can use that information to get good results. But it is entirely possible to not understand that information.
I actually had a personal "eureka!" moment where everything unlocked almost all at once. I was watching a tutorial and the teacher talked about "image forming reflections" and it felt like every neuron in my brain fired at the same time. I had an epiphany and ever since I have had a deep understanding of light.
Just a single phrase inspired a realization that caused a cascade of other realizations. I've never experienced anything quite like that.
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Have any of you ever had an epiphany like that? Aside from that single instance, I've only had mini-epiphanies. Like when I realized the moon is just constantly falling and missing the earth. My brain always imagined astronauts and satellites and the moon as things floating out in space. But everything in the universe is just free falling... all the time. Tom Petty knows what I'm talking about.
But that baby epiphany failed to unlock understanding for all of quantum gravity.
What was this post about?
I think I rambled into a few tangents.
In any case, I feel like crap and that's fantastic.
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audliminal · 5 months ago
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It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 1 Redux
Masterpost
"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's says, voice only a little tinny through Tim’s headset. "Like, when they started posting, I was kind of unimpressed, honestly. I figured it was worth watching the channel, in case the story was interesting, but it wasn’t really worth it for the sake of the actual puzzle-solving. I mean, the first video was just, like, a slideshow of pictures with a handful of Caesar ciphers and some creepy music. That’s practically the platonic ideal of Baby’s First ARG, but now? They're using literally everything! The current drop is like. The simplest part is the spectrogram! And I think it's intentional."
"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG." Tim smiles despite himself. He can always count on Bernard to distract him from the stress of work; in all the time they’ve known each other, his boyfriend has never been without some curious new obsession, and he’s always happy to ramble in Tim’s ear, while Tim works on whatever.
Right now, Tim is halfway through the tedious process of upgrading the processors in his cowl. The layers of casing and protection alone take forever to remove properly, and the actual components he’s working with are extremely small, so he has to be very careful not to damage or lose them as he works. This means he can’t exactly listen to anything that might fully distract him, but listening to Bernard explain the new ARG taking his internet communities by storm is more than welcome.
"No I mean, like. Yeah, obviously the clues are intentional,” Bernard explains. “But like, the way the difficulty curve is increasing? I don’t think that’s just a thing of convenience, and it’s happening too quickly to feel like it’s them learning about all this stuff. Hell, early on there were all these red herrings and stuff, and basically everybody just sort of wrote them off as a cheap way to increase the difficulty. But the further we get, the more their choices seem intentional. Which doesn’t exactly match with the idea of somebody who’s dropping red herrings to confuse and pull attention away from the actual plot."
"You think they aren’t actually red herrings?"
"What if they aren’t? That would tie in with the whole ‘dig deeper’ thing. Like, if I were making it, I’d be pretty annoyed if people just looked at the immediate surface level clues and ignored everything that didn’t immediately fit together."
"Yeah, telling you to dig deeper, sure makes it sound like they want you, maybe, dig deeper." Tim chuckles, carefully pulling a filter out of place, and adjusting wires, so he can start unscrewing the first processor.
“God, it’s driving me crazy!" Bernard’s voice cracks just a bit, and Tim pauses, gripping the screwdriver tightly. Getting stuck solving a riddle is always annoying, but Bernard sounds more frustrated than he usually is about these sorts of things. Mentally he rolls back over the last few weeks, quickly realizing that they really haven’t spent much time together lately. Both his day and night job have been pretty busy lately, and he knows Bernard gets it – he may not know about his night work, but he knows Tim has a lot on his hands, but Tim also knows Bernard has a bit of a tendency to get a little too into things. It’s one of the many things they have in common; one of the reasons they work so well together.
“Literally every fucking drop,” Bernard continues, oblivious to Tim’s running thoughts. “The same exact words are hidden somewhere in one of the layers! Like it’s low-key become an Easter-egg hunt on the forum! People keep joking about sending prizes to whoever can find it first, whenever anything new drops. Nobody really seems concerned by it, though. I think they all just assumed it was another sort of Red Herring, just one that’s more thematic than actually distracting. Meanwhile I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, because I think we're missing a lot." Tim smiles, as Bernard finishes his rant with a huff. It’s not really anything they usually do, but if Bernard is frustrated enough to go back to the beginning, it presents Tim with a bit of an opportunity. And he did finally solve the Stone case the other day, so he actually could take some time away from the nightlife right now.
“Hey, what if we tried to solve it together?” Tim asks, before Bernard can wind up again.
“What, the ARG?”
“Yeah. We haven’t exactly had much time together lately, and I love a good mystery, so why not?”
“Dude,” Bernard says, voice dropping down a register. “Babe. Are you serious? Because I really need you to tell me now if you aren’t serious because I would fucking love to walk you through SARA.”
“Is... that the name of it?”
“Yeah. Actually that’s the other thing. Nobody’s been able to figure out why the channel is named that. And I think you can agree that it would be weird to have the actual name of your channel be irrelevant.”
“How does Friday sound?”
“It’s a fuckin’ date!”
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wordsnstuff · 1 year ago
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Why does screenwriting have such a weird format? I know it's standard for scripts of all kinds, but it's also alien? It almost looks like it's designed for someone to write quickly??
Why are screenplays the way they are?
Screenplays are interesting pieces of writing because while they can read very beautifully, and quality is apparent in some scripts more than others, it is a medium that is extremely purposeful. The script is not the final destination of the idea, and that is what you have to remember. The script is, more than anything, a map. It gives the cast, crew, and producers the necessary information to get a sense of the story so that it can be adapted effectively. Therefore, the quality of a script is judged by a completely different rubrick:
Adaptability: Scripts are naturally going to go through many changes to serve the filmmaking process. Filmmaking is a fundamentally collaborative process so other members of the group must be able to effectively interpret the script well enough to make strategic improvements. Scripts are definitely works of art in their own right, but the design must account for adaptation into a completely different medium and you will not always be the person making executive decisions on how that is to be done.
Clarity: Creative liberty is acceptable in a lot of forms of writing, and style is definitely apparent in a screenwriter's work, but that is primarily to be found in how they practically form the elements of the story, rather than how it is delivered in words. The clearer your meaning and intent in a script, the easier it will be for the other people you're collaborating with to interpret and translate into the next medium. Even if your work is meant to be experimental, abstract, or avant garde, the script is the place where you make sure everyone that is inside of the production understands the point, so that they can help you make sure everyone outside of it is confused in the desired way. Your talent and style can be showcased in the way you demonstrate the particular brand of humor or suspense or drama in the descriptions, dialogue, and dialogue cues.
Efficiency: Format is extremely strict in the industry because it is a collaborative medium that often brings together hundreds of crew members who are all from different backgrounds/experience. The one thing that must remain consistent and reliable is the legibility of the script. The gaffer and the producer alike must be able to pick up the script and find what they need to learn in order to fulfill their role. The format of the script denotes specific crew member's cues in specific places so they know how to find what's expected of them quickly and efficiently. While on larger productions, there's often many directorial positions who are coordinating and communicating with the crew members who handle more detail oriented jobs, that isn't always the case.
My advice, if you're looking to gain experience in writing scripts that are actually meant to be adapted is to practice self-discipline, pragmatism, and distance. Your script won't always belong to you. There isn't the autonomy in screenwriting that you have in prose. Learn the rules of screenwriting, then learn how to enhance them in your own way.
Best of luck,
x Kate
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rattkachuk · 4 days ago
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patience (it's always you) sidney crosby/evgeni malkin - oneshot (5+1) - wc 3,145 - ao3 link
Or, five time Sidney wanted to kiss Geno and one time he actually did.
Sidney was buzzing after the game, the Penguins were playing well and had just won 8-2 over Toronto. Everything wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was damn good, and he could only see them continue to get better next year.
He was freshly showered and most of the guys had already headed out for the night, but he found Geno by himself, dressed and sitting at his stall in the locker room.
Malkin was everything he wanted in a teammate. From the moment he saw him play in Latvia he suspected they would be a good match, but it felt good to see it in actuality when they were on the ice together now. The trouble they had communicating through their native tongues was minimal, because they understood each other so perfectly when it came to playing hockey.
It looked like he was taking everything in, his eyes wide and looking at nothing, but somehow everything at the same time. Sidney smiled at the wonder he could see in Geno. It was hard for that to not rub off on Sidney.
“Good game tonight,” Sidney offered as he came to stand in front of the other, “Five assists, that’s awesome.”
“You best,” Malkin grins in turn and points at Sidney with an appreciative nod and he takes a moment while searching for the right words, “Goal was nice.”
Sidney feels himself go a little red at the praise, and Geno is already standing to wrap him in a hug. That was something he was quickly learning about this kid from Russia, is that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Admittedly, it’s easy for Sidney to melt into the shelter of Geno’s arms, folded into him, warm and clean, and he actually smells so nice and—shit.
When Geno leans out of it he puts his big hands on either side of Sidney’s face. His eyes are gentle and he says something in Russian as his thumbs pass over Sidney’s cheeks.
“Hm?” Sidney asks, a little dazed but wanting desperately to know what Geno had said.
Geno’s sticks his tongue out playfully in the way he does, and pats Sidney’s cheek gently, “Uh, cute. Pink.”
That only makes more heat rush to Sidney’s face.
“Oh, I, um,” Sidney stammers nervously, watching the way Geno’s tongue flicks out again over his chapped lips. The skin underneath is red and patchy, probably from doing that too many times, but it only makes Sidney unable to look away. There’s a stray thought worming its way into his brain that he can’t let himself entertain. Not here, not now. So he pushes it back down the way he’s always known how and steps back, Geno’s hands falling away, “I’ll see you tomorrow for practice?”
“Practice. Tomorrow,” Geno confirms with an awkward wink that is mostly just him closing his eyes.
Sidney hightails it out of the locker room and doesn’t think about any of it until he’s in his bed and safely tucked under his blankets, hidden away from the world with only the fear that he badly wanted to kiss his teammate to keep him company.
———
They’re about an hour from landing in Denver when the empty window seat beside Sidney finds a passenger in Geno. He doesn’t ask before he squeezes past Sidney’s legs and sits, but Sidney wouldn’t have expected him too. He stretches out his legs and picks at some fluff on his sweat pants, and Sidney can tell there’s something off, but he doesn’t rush to any conclusions and gives Geno his time.
“Sid,” Geno starts, then falters like he has more to say but doesn’t know how to say it.
Sidney sits up a little straighter and watches him curiously, wondering what could possibly have him so worked up, “You okay there, G?”
It was dark and quiet in the shelter between the plane seats, they felt tucked away, and Sidney could almost imagine it was just the two of them, miles above the earth with only the stars to pay them any attention. Here, he could let his imagination run away. For a moment. Entertaining the thought that maybe, maybe, maybe, Geno was going to shed some light on this current running between them that existed but neither had made a move to acknowledge. Maybe.
Geno takes a deep breath, murmurs something in Russian before locking with Sidney’s eyes and starting, “I need tell you something.“
Anything else he was about to say is cut off when the plane jolts violently. Sidney’s breath catches and Geno’s hand latches onto his. Sidney squeezes tighter when the plane doesn’t immediately fly smooth again. He wasn’t a nervous flyer, but even so, it was easy to get shaken by the unexpected sometimes.
Geno makes a small noise and Sidney blinks up at him, he didn’t realize just how close he had leaned into Geno’s space while holding his hand. Geno is watching him with an odd look in his eyes that Sidney can’t place. Sidney hums, threading their fingers together without even thinking about it while the pilot announces over the intercom that it was just turbulence, nothing unexpected, and that there may be more of it before they land. The side effects of flying into Denver.
Sidney’s eyes flick down to Geno’s mouth, and he thinks he could easily bridge the space between them and Geno wouldn’t mind, but he hesitates, and slowly lets his hand uncurl from Geno’s instead.
Geno rubs a small circle on Sidney’s palm before fully letting go.
There’s some unhappy groans from some of the guys around them and the beeping reminder of the flickering seat belt signs, and now its not just them anymore. There was a moment, and now it was gone.
“Well. That probably woke all the boys up. Hope everyone is good,” Sidney remarks thoughtfully, looking up over the seats to check in on everyone. When he turns back, he tugs at Geno’s sleeve gently, “Hey, what did you want to talk to me about?”
There’s a couple people talking to Sidney now that everyone was up, and his attention was struggling to not answer them immediately, but he didn’t want to ignore Geno, either.
Geno slumps a little, shaking his head softly, “Was nothing. Talk about game, can wait.”
Sidney know that’s a lie, but he doesn’t press it any further and Geno sits beside him the rest of the flight until they’re safe on the ground in Colorado. Geno seems to move past it, and doesn’t bring anything up again the whole road trip. The ‘what if’ of it all haunts Sidney for far longer.
———
One thing Sidney hadn’t been prepared for in the Olympics was facing Geno in the handshake line.
He knew it had to suck, and he couldn’t begin to put himself in his shoes. Sidney tried though. He thought about what he would want on the other side of things. Would he want to see Geno? Probably not, but Geno was a different person than Sidney when it came to that kind of thing. Maybe it was better to leave him be and say all that needs to be said when they were both back in Pittsburgh. On solid, common ground. Maybe he should be a normal friend and just go see him. Or text him. Something.
Sidney isn’t really sure of his plan, but he doesn’t have to think about it much longer when he leaves the locker room and finds Geno waiting for him in the hall, looking like a kicked puppy.
“Geno,” he says.
“I come tell you I’m fine, okay? Now you can go be with team and not feel guilty.”
“I don’t feel guilty.”
Geno rolls his eyes, and averts his attention to kick at something on the ground. Sidney doesn’t really know Russian, but he knows the next words out of his mouth aren’t particularly pleasant ones.
“G, if you want someone to be mad at, it’s not me,” Sidney says, voice quiet but far from soft.
Geno makes a frustrated noise as he shakes his head, “Not mad, I just…usually we on same side, Sid. I hurt, you hurt, but not this time. Not nice feeling this without you.”
Sidney relaxes slightly at that. He can see the hurt in Geno’s eyes and he doesn’t think there is anything he can do to make it better, but God, he wants to try. Sidney steps forward and wraps his arms around Geno in a hug, partially so he didn’t have to see that pained look anymore.
Geno holds him tight, and Sidney lets him.
“We’ll be back home soon,” Sidney breathes against Geno’s neck.
It’s quiet in the hallway, and Sidney knew the boys would be wondering about where he got to, but he’s content in Geno’s arms. It’s easy to forget about everything there.
Eventually, Sidney does pull away, because he has to, “You gonna be okay, bud?”
“Yes,” Geno says, voice uncharacteristically small, “I see you in Pittsburgh. Good luck, Sid.”
“Thanks, G.”
And then Geno leans in before Sidney has a chance to react, and he kisses his cheek.
Sidney panics. What was he supposed to do with that? His hands hang awkwardly by his side, and he quickly stuffs them in the pocket of his hoodie so he doesn’t do something stupid like pull Geno back into him and kiss him for real.
Geno pulls away and there’s a small smile tugging the corner of his lips at Sidney’s flushed cheeks, but he just says, “Is for luck.”
He carries that with him all the way til his overtime goal that wins Canada the gold medal.
———
Sidney knows he’s in real trouble when it follows him on the ice during a pre season skate. Geno runs into him near centre ice, and Sidney grabs onto him when they are both taken down with a thud. Geno breaks Sidney’s fall, but he still takes a moment to get his breath back.
Geno groans and Sidney readjusts to try and stand up, failing in the tangle of limbs and cumbersome hockey gear. He’s looking down at Geno, who’s looking up at him with an embarrassed smile.
“Sorry, Sid,” Geno apologizes and laughs even though his voice is strained from Sidney’s weight pressing down on him, “Not see you.”
“It’s ok, G. You good?” Sidney asks, kind of exasperated but he feels fine. He’s more concerned about Geno having taken the brunt of the fall.
Geno nods.
“Good,” Sidney says, and feels trapped in the moment as he watches Geno’s eyes through the clear plastic of their visors. His heart beats a little faster.
“Maybe we get up now?” Geno asks after a minute too long of Sidney wordlessly laying on top of him.
They get a few wolf whistles from the guys, and Sidney is snapped out of it and laughs because if he doesn’t then he’s going to keep thinking about the closeness of Geno’s lips to his.
He takes off his gloves to help Geno back up, and for the rest of practice he’s thankful that they were wearing their visors, otherwise who knows what would have happened.
———
The early summer air was warm and muggy, and Sidney’s whole house was bustling with activity. Fresh off of their second consecutive cup win, there was an ease in Sidney’s body that he hadn’t truly experienced before, not after the first win in ’09 and not even the second. This one felt grounding. He wasn’t sure what came next, but here in the moment, there wasn’t much else he could ask for.
Leaning on the deck railing, Sidney watches the activities that are taking place in the yard below, which is mostly some of the guys kids playing outdoor games. Geno is crouched down and seemingly having a very serious looking conversation with Flower’s daughter underneath one of the trees in the yard that is still blossoming. When he looks up and catches Sidney’s eye, he beams.
He says something else to her and she runs off gleefully with the other kids, bubbling with laugher. Sidney watches Geno make his way towards him across the yard and up the stairs until he’s leaning right beside him, their elbows brushing.
“What were you two talking about?” Sidney asks.
“She want me to keep playing game, but I still feeling hungover,” Geno said with a dissatisfied huff, “So I say is Captain’s order to go rest, and that you are no fun. She think it’s funny.”
“So you put the blame on me, eh?” Sidney says with mock disappointment, looking away from Geno to hide the smile on his face.
“Yes, but don’t worry, Sid. I know you tons of fun.”
Sidney looks back at him and laughs, noting the lines by Geno’s eyes and the way his hair is all out of place. There’s a stray flower caught in the mess, and without thinking Sidney reaches to take it out. He doesn’t think he’s imaging it when Geno leans into his touch, so he smooths out the stray hairs down a little with his free fingers and when he lowers his hand he holds out the small pink flower to him.
Geno takes it between his fingers and shuffles a little closer with their fingers still brushing, reiterating his previous point, “See, fun! You give me flowers.”
Sidney’s heart skips a beat and he thinks how nice it would be to lean in and kiss him in the summer sunshine. It would be easy, no one was paying them any attention. Just a quick peck to the lips and that would be it.
He doesn’t.
———
It’s late and Sidney was starting to feel the weight of the past couple days. Having the Penguins in Cole Harbour was like a dream for Sidney. He loved showing off his hometown, and he loved getting to organize it all for his boys. It was busy as hell, though. He should be heading to bed and getting some needed rest, because their weekend was far from over yet. All the guys had already headed back to their hotel by now.
Well, almost all.
Geno was still sitting across from him on his couch, scrolling through his phone. The house was still messy, and Sidney had the urge to tidy things up and make it look more presentable, but his feet were comfortably tucked under Geno’s thigh and watching him doing nothing was way more interesting than cleaning.
Sidney thinks about his it had always been easy with Geno, existing together was never something he had to think about too hard. They understood one another, and having him here in his home showed Sidney just how well they fit together outside of hockey. Because of it? It didn’t matter. It felt like this weekend meant something bigger, for the first time he was seeing a vision beyond it all, him, Geno, here, home. His heart felt too big for his chest.
“Come for a walk with me?” Sidney asks him sleepily, nudging him with his foot.
“Now?” Geno says incredulously, putting his phone down and looking at Sidney with something like disbelief, “In dark? What if we get attacked by, like bears, or something?”
Sidney raises an eyebrow and leans forward to put his hand on Geno’s arm, “I think we should be okay.”
“Not so sure, Sid,” Geno shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“I’ll protect you,” Sidney offers with a laugh, “Come on.”
That seems to sell Geno. They slip on their shoes and walk out into the night. The air is cool, and it’s dark, the stars above are bright and unapologetic without any clouds to cover them, and the moon is still big enough to give them enough light to see where they were going.
“Where we even go, Sid?” Geno asks, just a step behind Sidney.
Sidney reaches out to hold Geno’s hand as they get to the dock, “Don’t worry about it, eh?”
Geno rolls his eyes but fits their fingers together, like they’d done it a hundred times before.
That’s how it’s always been with everything they do, like two halves of a whole that just knew how to be together. If Sidney believed in any sort of magic, it was whatever him and Geno had. Fate, destiny, something that burned the same in both of them. Sidney had been holding out for the better part of twenty years, and can’t keep himself from it a second longer.
“Hey,” he breathes into the night air, and Geno stops and turns towards him, the dock gently bobbing beneath their feet, “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”
Geno just grins, teeth bright in the dark.
Sidney takes that as his answer, letting one hand find the back of Geno’s neck to bring him in closer as Sidney surges up to crash their lips together in something that had been put off too long. His lips are chapped and they both start smiling so hard so it kind of wrecks the whole thing, but it’s still perfect.
Sidney keeps one hand on Geno’s hip, hooking his thumb into one of his belt loops.
“Sidney, Sidney,” Geno says quietly, gentle hands on his face like that first time Sidney had entertained the thought of kissing him, “So many years I’m waiting.”
Sidney frowns, he knows what it’s like to be kept waiting. He waited for Geno to come from Russia, and in the waiting there had been so many uncertainties. But he always had the feeling that things would turn out well for them, it felt like a given, something instinctual that Sidney just knew would work out. Still, until Geno was beside him on the ice for the first time, he couldn’t believe it. He wonders if Geno had the same feeling waiting for him all of these years. “I’m sorry, G,” he says quietly.
“I know you need get here by yourself. Sidney Crosby so strange about things. I think tell you sometime how I’m feel, but then, no. Tell myself, when Sid ready,” Geno is all smiles as he rambles.
An unfortunate thought crosses Sidney’s mind, “What if I was never ready?”
“I knew one day you would be. Knowing you pretty good by now, Sid.”
Sidney puts a gentle hand on Geno’s cheek and watches him fondly, “Thanks for being patient with me.”
“Of course I’m being patient, I’m in love with you. Would wait another ten years, doesn’t change anything.”
Sidney’s lip quivers just a little as he exhales deep through his lungs.
Geno looks around them for a second then gasps like something had dawned on him, and he hits Sidney’s arm playfully, “Ah, you didn’t want walk, you just want nice place for kiss.”
Sidney shrugs, and kisses him again in lieu of an answer.
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lily-s-world · 11 months ago
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Julie and the Phantoms vs. Julie e os Fantasmas
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I had recently been practicing my Portuguese and listening to music in that language, which lead me to the soundtrack of Julie e os Fantasmas. The original Brazilian version of the show. Funny how music works, because the more I listened to the songs the more I remembered about the show. Which is why I decided to make a list about the main differences between the shows.
First, the Brazilian cast and the name of their counterparts so you know who am I referring to:
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Side note before we start, their music is also pretty cool. My favorite one is Essa noite somos um so (Tonight we are one).  You can find it on Spotify:
The Brazilian show lasted 1 season with 26 episodes, which were divided in two parts from 2011 to 2012. However, the show was always planned with one season only, so it had a proper closure.
In the original version, Julie isn’t dealing with the loss of her mother. Her mother is alive but decided to take a job far away from them, which leads to Julie resenting her because she feels that her mother doesn’t care about them and only shows when it is convenient for her. This makes Julie feel invisible across her life.
Both shows revolve around music and how much Julie loves it. Julie (BR) suffers from stage panic, one of the reasons she had never sing in front of people. The phantoms help her with this. Also, her preferred instrument is the guitar.
The phantoms had a more tragic death on the BR version. They were trying to replicate The Beatles’ Abbey Road cover, but where hit by a truck and died instantly. One member was alive, but he retired from the music industry after the accident. They had been dead for over 30 years and were trapped on a vinyl record instead of a CD.  
The phantoms don’t have their instruments like the new version. After they help Julie with her stage panic, she buys them new instruments and decides to form the band.
The name of the band on the show is Os Insólitos (The Unusuals). They play in different venues and parties across the season. Unlike the new version, they sing the same songs repeatedly across the episodes. There are some special episodes where they reveal a new song.
The Julies share basically the same personality on both shows. Martim and Reggie are also really similar, being a flirt and a little bit clueless. Felix is way more anxious and fearful than Alex, he was scared of ghosts since he was a kid and being turned into one didn’t help with that. Daniel and Luke are probably the ones with different personalities, while Luke is this cutie that falls for Julie almost immediately; Daniel is egocentric and cold at the beginning of the show. It takes a long time for him to warm up to Julie and is resentful against the world for what happened to them. He had a lot of character development during the season.
Pedro (Carlos) and Bia (Flynn) learn about the ghost right after Julie does. Pedro and Martim develop a friendship based on pranks and jokes.
Julie, Pedro and Bia are the only ones that can actually see the phantoms. Whenever they play in the band, they hide behind masks and keep the idea as a mystery to attract followers.
Julie and Thalita (Carrie) were also friends when they were younger. The reason their friendship didn’t lasted, was because Julie realized that Thalita was a bully that picked up on other girls. Julie cut out all communication with her, which Thalita didn’t took well and continued to antagonize her until they were teens.
The main difference is that Caleb doesn’t exist in this original version, there is an agent of the Ghost Police that looks for the boys because he is convinced they escaped the rules of death. They should have crossed over, but never did. There also some kind of ghostbuster that is looking for them.
 At the end of the first part of the season, the boy say goodbye to Julie because they are planning to cross over; however it is later revealed that the ghostbuster capture them. They manage to escape and return with Julie.
Daniel develops feelings for Julie in the second part of the season, Julie also starts liking him, but she also likes Nicolas who had been her crush for years. Nicolas and Julie start spending more time together after he broke up with Thalita, and he develops feelings for Julie. At the end of the show Julie ends up choosing Nicolas, because she had liked him longer and he makes this grand gesture for her at school. She has a talk with Daniel about what they feel, and they both decide to still be friends and continue with the band.
Some fun facts: The show was sponsored by Monster High, so you can see a lot of merchandise in the show; Julie even dresses up as Frankie Stein for a Halloween party. The show was super popular, earning nominations for Kids Awards in LATAM.
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bonewaryreblogs · 5 months ago
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Giovanni Zatara and Zatanna Zatara
Coming from a long line of stage magicians who immigrated from Italy to America when his father, Luigi Zatara, was a child, Giovanni Zatara decided early to continue the family legacy. He was drafted into World War II as a young man but continued to practice stage magic when he could, often using it to entertain his comrades during rare moments of rest. While overseas, he met the Phantom Stranger, who told Giovanni he had the potential to use “real” magic, not just sleight-of-hand stage magic, and gave him a notebook written by Leonardo da Vinci, Giovanni’s ancestor. He tried to decipher the notebook but didn’t succeed until he got home and could actually focus on it, rather than using it to distract himself from the horrors of war. He spent the next decade learning all he could about real magic, falling in love with a natural magic user named Sindella, learning about the magic community though her, joining the Justice Society of America under the name “Merlin the Magician” along with his mentor Sargon the Sorcerer (John Sargent), and eventually fathering Zatanna with Sindella around 1950. Shortly after Zatanna’s birth, Sindella “died” in a car accident, leaving Giovanni to balance raising Zatanna as a single dad, being a superhero, and continuing his day job as a stage magician.
(I know he canonically never uses a superhero name, instead using his public stage name while being a superhero, but this bugs the ever loving CRAP out of me so I’m changing it. In my story, Giovanni didn’t want people to think he was “cheating” in his profession by using real magic on stage, or risk making non-magic people think they can do superhuman feats via stage magic illusions. He really wanted to keep the two separate.)
He may or may not have been cursed by the Evil Allura before he was found and saved by Zatanna and the Good Allura. Either way, this was all before the Justice League debuted, which he considered joining but ultimately decided he’s too old for this, retired from the JSA (and heroing in general), and opened a magic shop (stage magic, not real magic, though he does consult for real magic stuff on the side).
Born around 1950, around the same time Clark Kent was adopted, Zatanna Zatara was naturally gifted in magic and very passionate about learning everything to do with magic and the occult. Her father, Giovanni Zatara, kept his superhero identity a secret from her until her teens when she expressed interest in becoming a superhero. Zatanna had asked to learn more “practical” spells, like those a superhero might use, and the two danced around Giovanni’s superhero status and Zatanna’s budding desire to become a superhero before they ultimately came clean to each other, bringing them even closer as father and daughter. While he was proud of her choice, he could admit that the thought of his daughter being a superhero made him nervous. He was all too aware of how difficult and dangerous the life of a superhero was and didn't necessarily want that for his daughter, but more than that, if she was to become a superhero, he wanted it to be because she wanted to, not because she wanted his approval or felt obligated to follow in his footsteps or, heaven forbid, trying to impress a potential partner! Those were nice bonuses, sure, but he wanted to make sure the desire came from within Zatanna, not from an outside source.
Giovanni trained Zatanna for a few years and she was just starting to make a name for herself as “Zorina” when Giovanni went missing, prompting Zatanna to search for him and becoming a superhero in a trial-by-fire kind of way. He is eventually found and decides to take a step back from heroing, retiring from the JSA (slightly miffed that they didn’t help Zatanna more in finding him) and acting as Zatanna’s “sidekick”/background mentor as they work independently for a while, slowly falling back into a more consulting role rather than being out in the field himself. At some point, both of their identities had been revealed to the public but they decided to roll with it, incorporating real magic into their shows as a wow factor display and only keeping “superhero names” as a symbolic gesture to the superhero community.  
By the time the Justice League debuts in 1994, Giovanni is in his 70s and really feeling his age, despite his magic keeping him young for longer than the average human. Zatanna, in her 40s, still feels like she’s in her prime and appears to be in her mid-20s; due to her mother’s magic lineage, Zatanna inherited “decelerated aging” and a long lifespan similar to Atlanteans. Zatanna happily joins the League as the Mistress of Magic and while Giovanni himself doesn't join, he agrees to consult in all matters magical and even help teach younger magic users to respect the craft. Zatanna looks maybe 30 by the time Danny is introduced to her, even though she’s in her 50s.
Sindella didn’t actually die, she was abducted by “her people”, who are a clan of magically inclined humans that call themselves “homo magi” rather than “homo sapiens”. They live in the mountains of Turkey and are similar to Atlanteans, though without their particular bias towards water-based abilities. They may also be mildly related to Themyscira, as the Amazon's language is described as a mix of classical Greek and Turkish.
I picked the name Merlin the Magician for Giovanni Zatara’s superhero name because there was a similar magic superhero by that name created shortly before Zatara debuted in DC Comics, and while this Merlin was originally made for Quality Comics, he does have ties to DC Comics and is apparently affiliated with the All-Star Squadron, which is very much a DC team. Both Merlin and Zatara were based on Mandrake the Magician, generally agreed to be the first comic book superhero as we would recognize them today, and (aside from a green cloak said to belong to King Arthur’s Merlin) both had the classic “stage magician” look with a tux/suit, mustache, and cape/capelet. Zatanna’s titles, Zorina and the Mistress of Magic, were much easier to pick, as she had apparently used them before according to the DC Wiki.
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megs-98 · 8 months ago
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i had to shower without music so naturally i spent the entire time thinking about what the datv companion/rook bathrooms would look like
i'm gonna add my thoughts under the cut but everything will be sfw, there's just going to be a lot of rambling cause i will be talking about every companion and my rook. also i haven't finished the game yet so some thoughts are definitely incomplete
now i don't know if the fade would generate bathrooms for each character or if this place that can seemingly produce anything would just plop down a communal bathhouse. but i like to think the caretaker would make sure each person has a personalized ensuite. i also think that these bath areas would change as you get farther along in that companion's quest, similar to how harding's room gets more and more plants in it as you do her quest.
like
harding, for example, would her shower start off as a waterfall cascading off of rocks. symbolizing her love and appreciation of her ancestors and then by the time you finish her quest would there be a massive leaf coming from the rock side causing the water to cascade down? similar to the giant flower coming from her ceiling, tying in her love of plants
or with davrin. at the start, would he just have a pond? of questionable water? cause those wardens are roughin it for sure. but then as he and assan find their turlum, the water clears and rock walls form so assan can jump into the water from different heights? giving both davirn and emmrich a heart attack cause we know manfred would want to give it a try
would neve have a small area with basically just a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a cloth? essentially only giving herself a bird bath cause she has leads to follow up on.. but as she continues through her quest and knows she has people to count on and is not alone in the world so she, for lack of a better word, grants herself time to enjoy a relaxing moment bathing, so an actual bathtub with nice soaps and soft towels appear. it doesn't need to be elaborate, she still enjoys things that are practical and get the job done
bellara's could go one of two ways in my head; either her shower would be more akin to rain falling through the tree canopy. or would it start as a small waterfall feeding into a stream. not sure how it would improve on itself from there though. maybe the foresty area comes more and more to life maybe having a calmed relic or two
taash, i think taash's would start as something more qunari centered, but as they learn more about themselves !and especially if rook encourages them to embrace their riviani culture! it would turn into a desert oasis and is just their small patch of paradise to enjoy however they choose to
emmrich i think his would be a practical bathroom but with a flair. i honestly haven't finished his questline yet but i know he's secure with himself and knows what he likes. so of course it would have all his creature comforts, maybe even have a box or something that would warm up his robe for him
lucanis would have a rather grandiose bathroom. he is used to the finer things in life and has an appreciation for style. he would have all the latest items popular with antivans, but he would prefer a small flow of water coming from the ceiling. could you imagine how broody he'd be in the shower, and it would probably cold too so he doesn't fall asleep. but then as he and spite are able to work together, he feels more comfortable to sit in a warm bath, appreciating how relaxing it can be, especially with a good glass of wine, hopefully even spite enjoying it to whatever extend he's able too
now for rook. my main rook is crow!rook, named yaryna (goes by yary) hers would definitely be practical but still have her favorite items. she's knowledgeable about plants, she is a poisoner after all, so she'd have eucalyptus hanging from the walls, some aloe vera, maybe an orchid or two. just a decent amount of high humidity plants, a *mirrorless* vanity table where she keeps her skin/hair care and makeup. and as she progresses through the story, finding more confidence in herself, a mirror would appear. her area wouldn't necessarily turn better, but she'd appreciate what she has, what she has always had, seeing the importance in "average" things, just as she does with herself.
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pkmnirl · 4 months ago
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The thing about using generative AI for roleplaying practice is that you do not learn essential communication skills. You do not learn how to plan out of character with your roleplay partner, you do not learn how to build a satisfying story or greater narrative for your characters, you don't learn how to connect these threads together. You also simply do not learn how to make roleplaying an enjoyable writing experience for your partner, you're training yourself to see them as a tool for you to obtain your pleasures as a writer. You're seeing them as about as important as any other element that shakes up your story to prevent writer's block, the same way you'd use a writing prompt or a dice roll.
You do not learn patience of waiting for someone to craft a reply, it comes to you instantaneously, with no clarifying questions if they might have misunderstood your previous passage. It just assumes, it hallucinates, it regurgitates. So when you move to roleplaying with a real person you find yourself frustrated when it takes a while. You find it annoying that they ask for you to clarify something. You start to hate having to actually talk to someone—it feels like a chore.
When you're done with a plot thread with something like Character AI you can close the window to drop the topic instantly. You do not have to learn to resolve it—you can't after all when the bot is programmed to always get the last word in. You do not concern yourself with questions of if that roleplaying experience was enjoyable for the person on the other side of it, because you have grown accustomed to there not being a person on the other side. Everything ends abruptly at your whim.
AI will either hallucinate something so wildly different than what you wanted that you will be forced to rein it in, hit whatever undo button the bot provides you with, and tweak things until it cooperates, or it will never surprise you. You'll chat with 8 different characters and they all speak more or less the same, or they speak about the same things, or they'll perform the same predictable actions with a new coat of paint slapped on top of it. Because they're all ultimately pulling from the same pool of other people's words.
Generative AI will not offer you anything new to learn that roleplaying with people will not teach you. Often, writing with peers will teach you these things better. You may find yourself giving credit to the AI for teaching you these skills or providing you with easy practice, but those things are not the bot. Anything of merit that rises from these conversations with bots you will realize came from yourself, making the best of what you were given if it made no sense. This satisfaction is from you, and you could find that elsewhere without any of the downsides that comes with generative AI. There is little value to be found in speaking to a glorified predictive text algorithm trained on the amalgamation of works of real people you could be speaking to with your limited time on earth. If you really think that will be more rewarding, just write. You don't have to roleplay. Just write your own words by yourself. Don't waste your time on a bot that has nothing good to teach you.
-Mod Sneasel
Some videos if you want to continue the conversation on generative AI. Just for fun since I actually keep up with a lot of AI related topics in my spare time. These are nowhere near all of them, just the ones that I felt like had a nugget of relevancy without themselves being made by AI.
Video discussing specifically fiction writing using AI and the pitfalls within in. Note: The creator of this video states in a community post that they use ProWritingAid and is instead a criticism more on ChatGPT and the dubious claims of AI fiction writers.
Video about the debate sparked by NaNoWriMo claiming that not supporting AI is racist and ableist. Note: This video centers around backlash against ProWritingAid as a sponsor.
Video explaining the controversy surrounding someone trying to create an AI teaching tool for writers. There is a focus on the concern of piracy and copyright infringement, and while the tool is meant to be for providing a detailed analysis of the text you put into it there were discussions of adding GenAI in the future. The point is, the video breaks down why using other people's stolen works "purely for learning" can still be controversial.
A comedic and generalized conversation about the current state of AI.
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internetgiraffekid1673 · 9 months ago
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It says in your little thing that your Mormon, are you still Mormon cuz respectfully I've heard a lot of shit about Mormons and how they are very transphobic and homophobic! So not trying to be rude just genuinely wondering if I read that wrong or something.
Hey! Yeah, I am a mormon, but I love all my queer siblings, including/especially my trans people. But it's a complicated religion and I have a complicated relationship with it, so I understand the confusion.
The short answer is that I was raised mormon, continue to find a lot of comfort and truth in SOME of their teachings, and I am perpetually very pissed with a lot of their other teachings, cuz yeah, a lot of them are Not Good. So I'm mormon and mad about it. It's kind of like. . .imagine if you were raised Catholic and only really have good memories of your Catholic community and find a lot of comfort in teachings about God's love, but you absolutely despise the administration of the Catholic church and like, everything they say about queer people. It's like that.
The long answer is this:
A) The mormons get a bad rap on the internet for stuff that isn't actually true. If you ever have a specific question, I am happy to answer to the best of my abilities.
B) Having said that, a lot of the teachings of the mormon church regarding queer people are really really bad and I do not support or encourage this even slightly. I myself am queer, and I have to put up with hearing all kinds of queerphobic shit from the church all the time. And I hate it and I speak against it whenever it is safe for me to do so. It just. All of it goes soooo against the other teachings of the church. I am not the only queer member. There is an entire community of us on tumblr over here. We all work and suffer through it together.
C) I still believe in the stuff that's at the fundamentals of the gospel though. Namely, God exists and he loves all of us unconditionally. He sent us to Earth so that we could learn and grow and become happier through our experiences here. Free agency/the ability to make independent choices is very VERY important to him. He sent Jesus Christ to suffer for our sins so that when we do fuck it up, we don't have to live with that guilt forever. Jesus also suffered for our pain and sorrow so that we didn't have to and can bring us healing. We're supposed to love our neighbors with our whole hearts.
I also believe that Joseph Smith did translate the Book of Mormon, although he was still a human being who made mistakes and I don't believe in a LOT of the stuff he said and did. I doubt you've read the Book of Mormon, but it's really just The Bible Extended Edition. There's a reason it's full name is The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. It covers what the hell was going on in the Americas during the biblical times.
I also believe that God has chosen prophets for our modern day to continue giving us revelation. I also believe those prophets are mostly crusty old men with outdated personal opinions that they mistake for revelation, that they fuck it up a lot, and I wish a lot of them would hurry up and die so I no longer have to listen to their bullshit.
D) Religion and faith are personal. I'm not here to convert anyone, especially other queer people. I continue practicing my religion because I have had literal years and some really amazing people to help me sort out what is good and bad and to figure out what parts of it are best for me as a person. I understand that what's best for some people is literally none of it, and I also understand that while some people could benefit from just doing what I do, that the way the church treats queer people (and also women sometimes) does more harm than the good parts help. So while I talk about my religion sometimes, it's always more about my personal relationship with it and never to try to convert people. I fully support ex-mormons who left the church, because sometimes the environment can be truly toxic and the religious trauma they have experienced is real.
E) The culture of the church and the actual doctrinal teachings of the church are two very different things. Utah mormon culture is also different than regular mormon culture. All of these things have good aspects to them, but church culture and Utah mormon culture also have a lot of really harmful things too, and these don't even have anything to do with the crusty old men being homophobic/transphobic. I am also mad about this, and I also complain about this fairly frequently.
I'm glad you asked because I understand that this stuff can be confusing. I think it's impossible to be any kind of religious queer person and not have a really complicated and deeply personal relationship with your religion.
I hope that answered your question, and I completely understand if this makes my blog feel like an unsafe space for you and you feel like you need to unfollow me. I do, however, tag every church related post I make, both with a religion cw and the tumblr mormon tag. Do what's best for you, and much love.
Also, unrelated, but I really appreciate all the posts you make and every time I see a little notification from you on one of my posts, it makes me so very happy.
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ros3ybabe · 2 years ago
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October Language Goals 🎀
I was thinking of posting a more structured study schedule for studying Japanese, but right now, I don't think that's a good idea because I'm not actually following a strict study routine or schedule. My available time to study varies so much on the day to day so having flexibility in how I study is definitely going to be and has been helpful.
These goals do help give me some useful guidance in how I use my study time, especially when I have a longer amount of time to study.
I am going to add an updated list of resources at the end of this post as I have found a good set of resources that are/will be helping me along this language journey.
🩷 Goals for the Month of October -
complete Genki I lesson 1 + lesson 2
build a flashcard list of 50-75 vocab in AnkiApp (currently 32/75)
learn 10-15 most common phrases/greetings
make a list of common things I say and find their Japanese equivalent
keep a 30+ day streak in Duolingo
keep a 30+ day streak in Busuu
post a speaking exercise per "chapter" in Busuu
test out WaniKani and see if I would like to utilize it as a resource
buy 2 to 5 manga in japanese (for future learning)
finish season 4 of Bungou Stray Dogs (for fun)
begin using AnkiDroid Genki I flashcard set in correspondence with the textbook lessons
start a beginner langblr challenge (either my own or find one to join in on)
I think this is a very doable list of goals given how busy my months and weeks have been. I will have a decent amount of free time, especially if I schedule all of my stuff efficiently. Now, on to a list of current resources!
🩷 Updated Japanese Language Resources -
Duolingo - I know she gets hated on but I love duolingo right now just for some daily practice on days where I have low energy or less time for studying. I turned off the romanji so I'm forcing myself to get more familiar either hiragana and katakana and I just find this app useful for vocab and silly daily practice.
Busuu - ohh, she has my heart right now. I actually bought premium for busuu for one year to give me time to actually use the app and get the most out of it. The audio is a little robotic sounding, but the exercises are helpful. They have speaking exercises that you can post to the community page and get native speakers to correct you! I honestly just love this app, and it also has a streak feature like Duolingo to keep me motivated to do some daily practice.
Renshuu - I still love renshuu as a resource because it’s the only reason I re learned the hiragana and katakana so fast, although I have not being using it as often lately. I still highly recommend the app! I want to keep using it and see how helpful it continues to be!
Language Drops - I like using this one to practice and learn some vocab every now and then. The free version only really lets you do five minutes a day but for a quick vocabulary review, that’s all I really need!
Genki I + II Textbooks and Workbooks - I've looked through the first lesson in Genki I and I honestly am so excited to use it once I have the time to sit down and study from it. My plan is to take notes from the textbook in my own notebooks, practice the exercises in the textbook and workbook, listen to the dialogue, and lots of flashcards!
Writing workbooks - I want to start using the two I have because I think it'll help me retain my knowledge of hiragana and katakana and even Kanji, once I get to the point where I'm learning Kanji.
Ankidroid/AnkiApp - These are two different apps, but they are both for flashcards. Their functionality is a bit different from each other, but they're still incredibly useful! I make my own flashcards in AnkiApp, but I use decks made by others in Ankidroid. This way I can keep studying what I already know but also can learn other things, if that makes sense? I'm using the Genki I deck on Ankidroid currently as I am preparing to use the Genki I textbook.
Google Keep Notes - I use keep notes to keep a record of my goals, resources, routines, etc. it’s so easy and simple to use and access, so I thought I’d mention it here
YouTube - I love watching YouTube videos about learning languages, thought I’m not advanced enough to start watching native Japanese content. Some YouTubers I like for their language tips are Tanya Benavente, Lidie Botes, and Zoe.languages. There’s a couple random videos about languages from, oh no Nina and The Bliss Bean, too.
that is all my goals and main current resources for the month of October. I’m thinking of starting like a language bullet journal, like a bullet journal/language tracking journal for Japanese? But I don’t know if I should? Maybe you guys can vote and give me some motivation to make a decision?
thank you guys! I did manage to complete most of my September goals, so that is definitely keeping me motivated right now! I haven’t had the most energetic of days but I think even a little bit of studying can be beneficial!
til next time lovelies! 🩷🤍
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ringofnightshade · 2 months ago
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i would like to hear all of your malevolent crackships/rarepairs. and WHY you ship them
I'm sorry I didn't see this!! Uni's had me in a chokehold. Anyway-
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Oh boy. I’ve got quite a few that @absoluteocellibehavior and I have developed over the year, so buckle in. A lot of these come about as a result of the AU we have, which essentially works out that one way or another all the boys end up in the same apartment in modern-day London. So I’ll break down the “why” into how it came about as well as any canon info and how they operate in the AU!
I’m going to try to keep it brief too, because there are a lot, so if you want more details about any feel free to follow up!!
All of the names listed are either ones the wider Malev community gave to these ships or are the genius brainchild of Ocelli <3
Okay. Here we go!
The most outlandish:
Second Chances - Antoine x Yellow
This started as a joke. I told Ocelli that if Harlan hurt Antoine I was taking him away and shipping him with Yellow, and, well. So now they’re kissing and everything is fine! Really though, I think these two would be a good pair. I’ve already posted a little about this but these two are good together because they both have to figure out what it means to love. Season five Antoine has been used and abused and thinks to love is to serve. Meanwhile, Yellow’s been a god and doesn’t know what it means to be human with someone, and he thinks to love is to use. You’d THINK that means Yellow attaches onto this little peasant boy because he wants that servitude, but Yellow realizes that he doesn’t. He finds Antoine to be gentle, and he wants to return it in kind. It takes practice for the both of them, but they get to learn together with the help of the others.
Devotionals - Antoine x Yellow x Oscar
Another joke, part of this so-called “help.” But again, it comes back to that growth and kindness. Oscar is the only one without active hatred towards Yellow in the beginning, and Yellow clings to that gentleness. Meanwhile, Antoine, the shy, servient kid he is, looks to Oscar as a role model, the perfect balance of kindness and confidence. Their love is pretty soft. 
??? - Antoine x Yellow x Oscar x Charlie 
We still haven’t nailed down a name yet for these guys, but ohhh the brainrot they give me. That’s all. In the AU, this one also comes about as a side quest to the advice that Charlie and Oscar give to Antoine and Yellow in their relationship. Yellow and Charlie are tense in the beginning, but Charlie very slowly (over the course of a year) recognizes the honest changes that Yellow is working to make in his life, and, admittedly, there’s still some old, albeit misguided, feelings from when he was with the KiY (oh yeah, I guess technically also Charlie x KiY, before the King really starts torturing him). One thing leads to another. 
Continuing on the Charlie train! A lot of these are just because Charlie is soooo very pretty. Everyone loves him. Tell me I’m wrong. 
The Main Boys:
Holy Ghosts - Charlie x Oscar
OUGH these two just live in my head rent free. I pay them actually. From their small interactions in season four (like Charlie telling Oscar good work for hitting the Butcher and Oscar’s little “...aye”) to our AU where they end up first at the London apartment and have time to mutually work out where they are, what’s going on, etc., they become so in love. 
Ourthur - John x Arthur x Oscar x Charlie 
Mostly because in general we round-robin these boys. It starts as Charlie x Oscar and John x Arthur, but Oscar still loves Arthur even though he abandoned him, and Charlie loves John, and Arthur finds Charlie attractive, and Oscar thinks John is pretty, and you get the point. 
Dollins - Charlie x Dennis
I’m sorry, if you don’t think these two knew each other before and have been in games of cat and mouse, you’re CRAZY. The chemistry of 40 part 2 is off the charts. 
Tripwire - Oscar x Charlie x Dennis 
Like a lot of these, it comes about through some healthy brainrot. But, unlike some other versions, our Oscar doesn’t hate Dennis. They get together after Charlie and Dennis have been together for a while, so the animosity has faded away. Once he’s not so mad at him, Oscar has to admit that Dennis is attractive. Oscar likes older men *pat pat.*
Smoke & Mirrors - John x Charlie x Dennis 
Listen, John is possessive. Do with that information what you will.  
Charlie continues:
Most of these (except the last) are all Ocelli’s babies that she’s got me HOOKED on. If you wanna know more about them, I highly recommend popping over to her.
Smoky Dreams - Charlie x Roland x Delphine
Leather N' Suede - Frank x Charlie
MIAs - Noel x Charlie
Divine Punishment - Charlie x Kayne 
Shaken Not Stirred - Charlie x Nell 
This one is a lil bonus! Again, Charlie is the hottest man. Nell is actually an OC of the AU we have, a 1920s New York mafia member who knows this universe’s Charlie, not the Malev one that gets pulled in later. I left this one on the list because I fell in love with the ship name Ocelli made and everyone deserves to see the sexy Bond reference. 
Finally done with Charlie! Can you tell that we have a favorite? 
Last but not least:
Parkthur - Arthur x Parker
Because look at them. You’re going to look at me and tell me that they aren’t together? All I’m saying is, there’s something in the plumbing of their building, because all these PI’s are doing a little more than investigating cases. 
Sweet Dreams - Lilith x Alia
OUGH!! There’s just something about how Lilith talks about Alia. The protectiveness, the concern, the fury. They’re kissing. 
So yeah! I think that’s all of them.
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son-of-avraham · 4 months ago
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Hi, it's me again coming back with three questions:
1) How do I know if I'm chasing a sugarcoated version or Jewry? I'm not sure if sugarcoated is the right word, English is not my first language. Sorry if this will cause any misunderstandings. I mean, if people are trying to aestheticize and appropriate, and I'm eating that shit.
2) Is it okay if there's isn't an "official" conversion? Because my entire family will unite together to kill me otherwise, I'm dead serious.
3) Is mix and matching with some philosophies/other faith okay? I'm not saying that Judaism is imperfect or anything, but I'm also drawn into Buddhism a lot that I'm sure it's more than a hyperfixation.
Just a reminder preface that I'm not an expert
So, for question one... I think it's always good to practice critical research into what jewish resources you're looking into. See what jews say about it and why. Webites like sefaria (a repository of jewish resources), myjewishlearning, and chabad are all common resources jews and non-jews use to learn more about judaism.
A lot of the most common indications that a resource, temple, or other community space isn't jewish comes down to things like messianic practices. When I was looking into shuls, I actually did find a messianic church, and often, it's obvious. Look for things like a cross or crucifix (especially when mixed or paired with a star of david), language about jesus as the true messiah, or (from what I've noticed) language about salvation (through christ especially).
A lot of this stuff comes down to experience and practice, I've noticed. The safest resources are usually the ones that jews either directly maintain or recommend, and from there, you can learn what jewish practice entails.
For the second question, it really does come down to officially converting as to when you can call yourself a jew. Becoming a jew really is like getting citizenship in a new country simply because jews have been a continuous people and nation for multiple millennium. While each movement may have different requirements for people converting (some movements might not have you to move permanently or semi-permanently to a jewish community), most all movements will have the same end point: bringing the convert-in-progress before a beit din before immersion. This comes down to the fact that appearing before the beit din and immersing yourself is an absolute must - without it, the conversion is not halachic (in accordance with jewish law).
For the last part, it may depend on what you would want to 'mix' with jewish practice because there are some philosophies and beliefs that are antithetical to religious judaism, such as believing in jesus as the messiah. This is definitely something to bring up with a rabbi (especially because I'm not very familiar with buddism). I have found myself inspired by other religious philosophies, and I think that's very common within judaism. I wouldn't say that mixing the two would inherently be bad, but because I both don't know much about buddism and because I'm not an expert, I hesitate to make any guiding statements.
I really do wish you the best. I know this is can be a very tough time, and you by no means are alone in this.
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dappled-sunlight-dap · 2 months ago
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I just remembered back in the day, when I first got Tumblr and entered the Black Clover fandom around 2020, I saw lots of folks making headcanons for their ships and it was so great!
And today I thought - why haven't I done that? I got a whole ship right here and I haven't shared my silly little headcanons? For shame! So I'm going to fix that right now! So, without further ado...
Vanigrey shipping headcanons!
Grey steals Vanica's coat all the time, because it's comfy and warm and makes her feel safe.
The Spade Kingdom gets really, really cold so Vanica owns a large pile of blankets. Theoretically, each partner should have half of the blankets. In practice, Grey steals them all and creates a blanket cocoon, but she's nice enough to let Vanica join her in there for a cuddle.
Vanica is a notorious tackle-hugger and has caused Grey to lose her balance multiple times from the force of being body-slammed, which causes them to both topple over and hit the floor. No, she will not learn to restrain herself.
Conflicts are settled with actual fights. Whoever wins the fight wins the argument. Except nobody wins because Vanica is insanely strong and Grey knows better than to fight her head-on, so she employs trickery via transforming herself and transmuting magic to stay out of trouble in a violent game of cat-and-mouse until they're both too tired to continue and forget what the problem even was.
Physical affection is Vanica's love language. Grey likes it because it makes her feel loved, and it's a bit hard to have low self-esteem when you have a really intense girlfriend all over you all the time. But sometimes Grey does need space, so she'll turn into a very unhuggable animal to deter Vanica (like a porcupine).
They both have dogshit communication skills. Grey can be too shy to say what she needs to say, and struggles to find her words sometimes. Vanica is just generally quite lost and does not know WHAT she is doing with all this romance business, because she doesn't understand sappy emotional stuff. Because of this, they tend to use physical affection to convey what needs to be said, passing silent messages between each other. After all, it's hard to misinterpret a hug or a kiss.
Grey will hide her face under Vanica's chin when she's stressed or anxious.
Sometimes, when Vanica's bored, she'll ask Grey to transform her into something cool like an eagle so she can experience something new and interesting for a few hours. The best one is apparently the snow leopard.
Grey likes gardening. Vanica doesn't really understand why because plants are boring, but she lets Grey use the balcony as a little alpine plant garden.
Grey is the little spoon. Vanica is the big spoon. This one isn't a headcanon, it's a fundamental law of the universe.
And that's some of my headcanons for these two! Let me know if you'd like more (even if you don't, I'll keep rambling about them anyway...)
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khaire-traveler · 3 months ago
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sorry sorry, i translated my question very similar to how i would’ve asked it in my native language so it came out weird
the thing that scares me with divination as a method to communicate with the gods is that i never know how “right” my interpretations are and how much is just my biases (i guess it comes with practice). what do you think is a correct way to interpret readings? as in: when you do a reading, how do you do it? (hope i worded it in a non-weird way) and do you remember how far in your worship you were when you started?
Khaire, Nonny, absolutely no worries! I was just a bit confused, but you're ok!
I actually began doing tarot before I even started worship because my practice was originally not inclusive of any gods - it used to be more based around witchcraft-y type things. I had no plans of worshipping gods at all, until Lord Hermes - very persistently lol - reached out to me about it. Tarot is something that you get better at with practice, and like any skill, it takes time to build. It's important to be patient with yourself while you're still learning. If you ask, usually the gods are more than ok with helping you as you learn. I've been reading for five years now, and I still ask Lord Hermes to help me with interpretations (which he does very well, and I'd recommend it, if you're open to it).
There isn't one way to correctly interpret readings which is part of what makes tarot a challenging skill that must be built up and learned, but there are other forms of divination that you can learn, if you feel that tarot is too difficult for you right now. I have some mentioned in my pinned post in the Divination section! Honestly, in order to discuss the way I do tarot, I'd have to make a video or something because it's incredibly hard for me to put my methods into words. The biggest thing that I do is try to trust my own interpretations and use any guidebooks I have a baseline, not as a rigid definition of the cards. It's ok if your interpretation is a bit different from how the card is usually interpreted.
Tarot is a story, and when I read a spread, I try to do so in a way that ties the story together. One card starts it off, the next card continues the narrative, and so on. For example, if I have a reverse Empress next to a reverse Two of Cups next to a reverse Ace of Cups, I might interpret that as someone who needs to focus more on self-love (reverse Empress) who tends to give it away far too often to others, specifically to a particular person they're close to (reverse Two of Cups). I'd likely say that person is more concerned with filling the cups of others than they are filling their own, which remains empty due this habit (reverse Ace of Cups). In this example, one card goes to the next and the next, and even though the meanings may not be EXACTLY like the suggestions in a guidebook or online, the reading can still resonate.
Everyone has their own style of interpreting tarot. What I do, with reading it like a story that flows, is not what everyone else does (I find my method to actually be less common, since I don't usually use spreads). Your readings will always have some amount of bias to them, but so will any form of divination, pretty much, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's entirely natural. Even in the example of a Christian pastor interpreting a sign from Jesus, there is still bias involved. This is true for literally every religion. Even in my own readings, I can be biased, especially towards myself. What's important is recognizing your biases, more than anything. Some questions to think about when considering your biases could be: How might your personal beliefs about yourself affect your interpretations? Based on your experience with this deity, does it seem like something they'd reasonably say to you (think about the deity's energy and personality that they've expressed to you thus far)? Is this message lifting you up or tearing you down, and if it's tearing you down, could your current mental state be contributing to that negative interpretation?
Truthfully, you will never get rid of bias completely, but again, that's natural. Everything we do is done with bias - with a personal inclination towards a certain result, method, or line of thought. And that's ok! The gods would absolutely understand this, in my opinion; they've been around for far too long not to. If the gods have an issue with an interpretation, they are more than capable of making themselves heard in other ways; invite them to do so, if you're that concerned about accuracy, and I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help out in that way. Again, I highly recommend reaching out to Lord Hermes when trying to receive a message through divination and/or when trying to practice interpretations. He is an absolutely wonderful teacher with these kinds of things, and I find his communication style to be incredibly clear and easy to understand, even for beginners. He was - and is - a major help for me! c:
I hope this response is helpful! It was longer than I intended it to be, but the questions you're asking are very complex, and honestly, I'd rather answer them in something like a video, if I ever get the chance. I feel they'd require a proper demonstration, at the very least. I also just can't teach tarot effectively over a text post on Tumblr; I've always had more success doing this in-person (I've taught others before, though I'm not claiming to be a teacher of these things; always exercise healthy doubt). Again, I recommend checking my pinned post in the Divination section. You're more likely to find some helpful resources there. Take care, Nonny, and may Lord Hermes bless you with clarity in all your future readings, if you wish him to! c: 🧡
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