#because i think i don't have THAT interesting of a life or life experiences lmao

[usagifuyusummer]

Is this what you meant @jjimene123, on the Timmy Turner and Pink Diamond parallels lmao?

Been thinking abt this quote from end of an era!! It makes me THINK

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TEN

masterlist | kofi | notifs | *spongebob narrator voice* 4 months later. well, i'm not gonna bore you all with excuses, god knows most of you have heard what's been goin' on with me at this point lmao. but yall have been so patient and lovely and i really really appreciate it. i hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a little bit of bliss before things get... interesting. there's still more to come (about four chapters or so) and i'll try to update much sooner next time but please remember i'm only one person & i write this for fun (and for free) in my spare time!!! ik it can be frustrating when there are long periods between updates but i'm trying my best, please know that. k love u bye 💕 chapter summary: you & joel enjoy your little weekend getaway, far from the prying eyes and ears of your parents. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age gap (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 50s), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink (joel has a big dick), tummy bulge, deepthroating (or...attempted deepthroating), cum swallowing, fingering, pussy kisses, ridiculous amounts of fluff, namedropping one of my fav songs of all time because i can, the tiniest mention of sexual assault (aka noah) word count: 12.9k ao3

You think you might finally understand what it means to experience happiness.

Not the feelings you've faked for most of your life, not the plastered-on smiles and faux giggles, autopilot prayers and forced gratitude. No - real happiness. That tingling sensation of nothing but pure bliss, safety, love, and peace, something that's felt far out of your reach for most of your life. It swells in your chest, makes a home in your heart as you nuzzle into fluffy pillows, warm bedsheets, and feel yourself drift in and out of consciousness, completely and utterly relaxed. Happy, you can't help but think to yourself, I'm so happy.

You're aware of Joel's presence, fading in and out here and there as he wipes a damp cloth between your legs, across your stomach, down your thighs - taking care of you, making sure you're comfortable. Afterward he cuddles in behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, buries his face in the back of your neck and inhales deeply; you wonder if he's feeling the exact same way you are right now - god, you hope he is.

"That felt so good," you murmur to him softly, eyes still closed, "Felt so good, Joel."

He kisses your neck, holds you tighter in his embrace, "I know, babygirl."

"Can still feel you inside me," you breathe, "It's like you're still there."

He chuckles softly, "Not to burst your bubble but that's probably cum. Couldn't get all of it with the cloth." The words that should be dirty - should seem shameful - do nothing but send a warm tingle down your spine, a sleepy smile to your face. You know he's right - you can still feel something warm deep inside you, a slow trickle making its way to your opening, but there's something else. You're still pulsing every so often around the phantom of a shape, an echo of what was still there only a few moments ago.

"It's not just that," you shuffle in the sheets, nuzzling your face further into the pillow, "it's like... like you're still in there, spreading me open."

He groans and his grip around you tightens, fingertips pressing into the malleable softness of your belly. He leans down to press a small kiss to your ear, "Can't just say stuff like that, angel. Gonna get me hard again." You shiver.

"Good," you whisper, "'Cause I want you to do it again."

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets as he pulls you in, scruff nuzzling against the bare skin of your shoulder, "We'll wait a little bit," he murmurs, "You're gonna start feelin' a little sore soon, if you don't already."

"I don't," you breathe, and you mean it. "Doesn't hurt at all, really. It... it didn't hurt. I always thought it would hurt."

You can almost feel his frown against your skin, "S'not supposed to hurt," he murmurs, "Woulda stopped if you'd been in any pain."

You smile, "I know you would've."

He hums into your hair, strokes his hand down along your arm, "S'good," he mumbles, and you're suddenly aware of the heaviness in his voice, the way his lips wrap lazily around the words.

"Are you sleepy?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, "M'sleepy."

You smile at the adorable admission, then lean back into his embrace and settle in. The sun is starting to go down, casting the room in long orange and blue shadows, warm and comforting. Your eyes close again and you focus on that blissful feeling, on the weight of Joel's naked body behind you holding you close, the sound of his breathing, his smell. On the fact that you've never felt more safe in your entire life.

"I'm so glad it was you," you whisper, and you don't mind if he's already fallen asleep.

--

You're not sure how long you both nap, but you wake up soon after to a completely dark hotel room, save for the flickering lights from the traffic below and the warm glow of the buildings outside the window. Your eyes flutter for a few seconds as your brain reconnects you to the present, and you're suddenly very aware of a dull ache in your groin, an unpleasant throb that hadn't been there earlier.

"Ow," you mumble incoherently, reaching blindly for the blankets and pulling them back to peer down at yourself, but the room is so dark that it's difficult to see anything properly, "Ow."

"S'wrong?" you hear Joel mumble beside you, stirring from his own slumber.

You wince in embarrassment, shaking your head, "It's nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y'said 'ow'," you feel him sit up and reach over to turn on the lamp, "You okay?"

As soon as the lamplight floods the room your eyes cast downward, half expecting to see some medical emergency, some horrific reason for the vacation to end early, to ruin everything before it's barely even started - but thankfully it's none of those things. You're just a little swollen - puffier than usual - and aching, but not in a good way. You bring your hand down and cup yourself gently, hissing a bit when your fingers brush against your opening; it feels almost like a bruise.

"Oh, honey," Joel murmurs, and you turn your head to see his brows furrowing in concern, "Y'sore?"

You wince, biting your lip, "Um, a little."

He frowns and pulls his own side of the blankets back, and you can't help the warmth that floods your cheeks when you see his exposed body; the dark hair wisping across his tan skin, his soft belly and strong thighs - and his cock, soft and heavy and impossible not to look at. You've seen him naked several times at this point but every time still somehow feels like the first, like it's brand new. You watch as he crawls downward and gently places his hand on top of yours.

"Lemme see," he murmurs softly, and you allow him to pull your hand back, exposing your sore pussy to him. His brow furrows, "Aw baby, you're all swollen."

"Is that normal?"

He nods, eyes still trailing up and down, "It's normal," he assures you, "It's probably worse 'cause - well," he smiles sheepishly, peering up at you.

"'Cause you're so big," you finish for him, your own lips turning up into a smirk, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, that." You watch as he brings his hands down and very carefully thumbs your outer lips, pulls them apart to assess what's inside. He groans, and you're about to ask what's wrong when you see a thin stream of his cum dribble out onto the sheets below.

"Fuck," you both whisper at the same time, and when your eyes meet you can see that his are suddenly dark, glassy. You feel yourself begin to throb beneath his touch.

"Still full o'me," he murmurs, eyes trailing back down to where you're dripping, "Messy girl."

Your own eyes go hooded as you watch him lean down and press a small kiss to your clit; your hips buck up, a whimper slipping past your lips as his whiskers prickle deliciously against your sensitive skin. He smiles against you, kisses your clit again and darts his tongue out to taste, just for a moment. You whine.

"I know what you need, babygirl" he whispers, nosing your mound and closing his eyes, "I know what'll help."

Your mind races with possibilities. "Wh-what?"

He suddenly pulls back, crooked smile lighting up his beautiful face, "A bath. It'll help with the soreness." Oh. He presses another kiss to your clit, "If I can bring myself to stop kissin' this perfect pussy."

You giggle softly and he opens his eyes to look up at you again, smiling tenderly. He reluctantly pulls himself off you and climbs off the bed, reaching down to grab his discarded underwear from the floor. "I'll start runnin' the water," he tells you softly, pulling them on and taking a step forward to brush your hair out of your face, "You just relax, sweet girl. Don't move a muscle."

The bath is warm and inviting, lit candles lining the counter and floor and dousing the room in a warm glow; it's hard to believe only a few hours earlier you were on the verge of a panic attack on these very tiles. Now you lean back against the cool rim of the claw foot tub, eyes closed as you submerge yourself in the hot water. There's no panic or anxiety in your body anymore, just warmth and comfort and the welcome ache in your groin, the smell of vanilla in your nose.

"Good temp?" Joel asks softly nearby, and you hear his hand breach the surface of the water, testing the heat. You smile.

"Perfect," you breathe, eyes still closed, "Thank you."

His hand brushes lightly against yours under the water and he squeezes it gently, then murmurs, "I'll give you some privacy."

Your eyes snap open, "No," you cradle his hand in both of yours as your brows furrow, "Stay."

A smile breaks across his face, charming and boyish as he seats himself down next to the bathtub with barely any hesitation, like he'd been hoping you'd say that. He keeps hold of your hand beneath the water and tilts his face toward yours - you press your forehead against his and breathe a long sigh of relief.

"Feelin' okay?" he murmurs, "Emotionally?"

You nod, sighing contentedly, "More than okay," you whisper, "I... I still can't believe it actually happened." Your lips twitch upward and you press a soft kiss to his cheek, closing your eyes, "Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again beneath the water before pulling out and bringing it upwards to cradle your face, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes are still a bit sleepy, hair sticking up in all directions and that beautiful smile still lighting up his face as he thumbs your cheek.

"I should be thankin' you," he breathes, "For trustin' me like that, bein' so vulnerable with me." He leans in to kiss you tenderly, but his words send a sudden flutter of insecurity through your body and you pull back to look at him again, unsure.

"Was I... was I good at it?" you ask quietly, "Did I do okay?"

"Oh, angel," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to cup both your cheeks and brush his nose gently against yours, "You did so good. So, so, so good."

He ends up washing your hair, a small but significant gesture that makes the feelings from earlier bubble up again, the warm fondness and tenderness and love. You lean back in the tub, eyes closed, lost in the sensations of his big hands deftly applying the shampoo and conditioner, massaging it into your scalp and making your eyes roll back. It's ridiculous how even this makes you throb beneath the surface, the ache dissipating a bit in the hot water. So much so that when he caps the conditioner and rinses your hair once again, you reach up to take his hand and squeeze, eyes still shut.

"Touch me," you whisper, voice already desperate, "Please."

He doesn't need any convincing, inching toward the side of the tub and reaching inside to cup your pussy in his big hand again, softly rubbing your clit. You whimper and tremble, gripping the edge of the tub for support and whining when he speeds up, circling and rubbing it exactly how you like it.

"Poor little pussy," you hear him murmur, "Just needs some relief after gettin' fucked like that, doesn't she baby?"

"Mmhmm," you manage to hum, squeezing the sides of the tub and nodding furiously, "Y-yeah."

"Took so much cock in this little hole," he whispers, and that's enough to send you over the edge, eyes snapping open as you shake and shiver in the hot water. You see him sitting there, smiling at you with a devious glint in his eyes. He knows exactly the effect he has on you.

--

"What do we do now?" you ask him softly from the couch a little while later, carefully scrunching a towel in your hair and watching as he changes the bedsheets upon your request - you'd felt a bit embarrassed asking, but you'd really rather not sleep in a wet spot. He'd been more than gracious in honoring your request.

It's late, but the nap and the bath have left you feeling wide awake, and you have to admit that you're feeling a bit hungry too despite the full meal earlier. Does sex make you hungry? You file it as a question to ask Tasha.

"Whatever you wanna do, darlin'," he says with a smile, turning down the sheets and gesturing for you to join him in bed again, "C'mere."

You give your hair one last squeeze and pad over to the bed, clad in Joel's Grateful Dead shirt from earlier today. You don't care in the slightest that it's not necessarily the cleanest article of clothing to be wearing after a bath - it smells like him, feels like him. You just can't get enough of him.

Insatiable.

You both climb back into bed and he pulls you in immediately, tugging you close and wrapping his big arms around you. You lean back into him and feel yourself grinning without even really thinking about it, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of his chest moving back and forth against your back with every breath.

"Always look so pretty in my shirts, babygirl," he whispers in your ear, and it sends tingles down your spine, a rush of warmth to your heart. He kisses you gently and you listen as he inhales deeply, nose buried in your damp hair. His hand travels downward and you both watch as he cups your pussy yet again, warm and soft.

"Feelin' a little better?" he asks quietly, thumb trailing gently up and down your outer lips, "Still sore?"

"Better," you reassure him gently - and you mean it; the warm water did help to ease the ache.

He hums and continues to trace your soft lips, nosing your ear and breathing deeply again, and fuck, you could get used to this. This casual intimacy, being touched without any expectations, any fear or anxiety. Feeling safe and wanted and cared for in his embrace, no worrying about getting home early, no time limit looming. Just you and him.

I love you, you want to whisper.

Your stomach growls.

He removes his hand almost immediately. "Room service," he says with a chuckle, and your eyes snap open again as he reaches over and grabs the menu on the nightstand, placing it in front of you both, "Pick your poison."

Your eyes are drawn almost immediately to the dessert section, followed by a short wave of guilt. You're craving something sweet, but you can't help but think back to being a kid again, asking for treats and being denied, feeling as if your desires were unimportant, childish, silly.

But no, you're not that scared kid anymore. You're not. You won't be.

You bite your lip, "You know what I could really go for right now?"

"What?"

"It's silly, but-"

"It ain't silly, babygirl," he murmurs, and his big hand travels down to squeeze your thigh gently, a comforting gesture, "Whatever it is, it ain't silly."

Less than a minute later he's on the phone with room service, ordering you a hot fudge sundae.

You spend the rest of the night nestled in the warmth of your hotel bed, flicking between channels, legs tangled together beneath the sheets as you take turns scooping heaping spoons of ice cream back and forth. Your mouth and fingertips are sticky, chocolate lining your lips, dribbles of melted vanilla dolloped on your chin which Joel wastes no time in delicately lapping up with his tongue.

"God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he whispers to you, kisses you softly, darts his tongue out to taste again. You hum against his lips and try to keep your emotions at bay; he tastes like chocolate and vanilla and safety.

--

Waking up is different with the morning sun shining brightly through the hotel windows, but that's not the only thing that's different; you notice as your eyes flutter open that the ache in your groin is gone, replaced by a growing hunger and arousal in the pit of your stomach.

Oh, wow.

Joel's arms are around you, wrapped strong and solid, and when you turn within them and see him sleeping next to you, the hunger only grows. God, he's so handsome like this - the grey in his hair sparkling in the early light, jaw soft and lax with sleep, cheeks flushed. Almost angelic in his own way, gentle and peaceful.

Until his eyelashes begin to flutter delicately against the streams of sunlight, brow furrowing in sleepy confusion at your sudden movement; he's awake.

The desire in your belly burns.

"You look so cute," you whisper without even really thinking about it, and his eyelashes halt their fluttering to give you another look of confusion.

"Cute's not exactly a word I'd use to describe myself," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, "S'all you."

"Well, I would," you reply with a smile, watching as he closes his eyes again and nestles his face into the pillow. You reach forward to gently thumb one of the lines at the corner of his mouth, deep-set and soft beneath your touch. His eyelids twitch but he doesn't open them, "You're so soft too," you admit quietly.

"Again," he breathes, lips turning up slightly into a sleepy smile, "Not a word I'd use."

"Cute and soft," you repeat, thumb moving downward to trace the shape of his bottom lip, "And mine."

He chuckles under his breath, face smooshing a little more into the pillow, "M'yours," he murmurs, "all yours."

All yours.

You lean in even closer and inhale deeply, nose trailing up and down along his temple. Your eyes almost roll back at the scent of him, the masculine and heady aroma of his sweat alighting your senses. You're wide awake now, pussy throbbing somewhere below as you press a kiss to the apple of his cheek, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

His eyes open halfway, eyebrow raising as he sleepily watches you work your mouth up and down the side of his face, breath coming quicker and more frantic as your legs wind around him under the sheets. Obliging your desperation, his big arms tighten around you and he rolls the both of you, allowing you to settle on top of his large, warm body.

You stare down at him, hunger clear in your eyes.

"You were inside me," you whisper.

His mouth turns up at the corners, "I was."

"It felt really good."

"It did."

You lean your face down to trace your nose along his cheekbone again, eyes hooded, voice needy.

"I want you to be inside me again."

He peers up at you, sleepiness already fading from his expression as he watches yours with mirrored desire, "Yeah? You want me to be inside you right now?"

You nod, "Yes, please."

"Then turn over on your side, angel."

A little confused but certainly not opposed, you do as he says, rolling back over onto your side and resting your head softly against your pillow. You feel his hand dip downwards beneath the sheets, then his fingertips glide smoothly along your abdomen. Your heart hammers in your chest when he lifts up your - or rather, his - shirt and thumbs your tummy gently.

"Are y'still sore?" he murmurs, "How d'you feel?"

"M'wet, Joel," you whimper, grinding back against the blankets and trying to feel him, "M'really wet."

"Lemme feel," he breathes, hand trailing downward even further. His fingers dip into your soft, soaked centre and a low groan rumbles in his throat, "Oh babygirl, so wet for me."

"Put it in," you whimper, not caring how pathetic and needy you probably sound, "Please, Joel, put it in me again."

"Christ," you hear him mutter, arousal burning in his voice, "Okay baby, hold still, I'll put it in. I'll make you feel better."

Seconds later you feel the heat of his tip crowding the space at your entrance, already wet and sticky. A soft moan falls from your throat at the sensation, eyes closing as you feel Joel's hand cup your leg and pull it upwards, holding you open. He hooks it in the crook of his arm, shuffling forward a bit and pushing the head of his cock inside your heat.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, head falling backwards. You feel his nose in your hair again, feel the stretch of your pussy and the widening of your thighs as he pulls your leg up even more.

"Yeah, there you go," he murmurs, pushing inside further. He goes slow, takes his time, until he's fully sheathed inside of you and your eyes are rolling back on their own accord, quiet whimpers tumbling past your lips. "Yeah, look at you takin' that cock."

As if by muscle memory your hand reaches downwards to cup the protruding shape of him at the bottom of your tummy, a low whine in your throat. He's so big inside you, nestled perfectly within the deepest parts of your body just like he'd been last night, large and warm.

"Feels so good," you manage to gasp out, other hand clenching into a fist against your pillow, "So good, so good." It's almost a mantra, voice breathless as you squish your face against the cotton and push back almost lazily against him, his balls settling heavy and warm at the base of your ass. You can feel every twitch of his shaft, the way the tip pulses against that special spot within.

"Yeah, you like bein' full like that, don't you baby?" he murmurs, "Don't even need me to move, do you? Just like feelin' it in there, huh?"

And you almost hate how right he is, how just the sensation of being so full of him already has you on the edge of an orgasm without any stimulation. Because you want more, you want what he gave you last night, want him to fuck you even firmer, deeper, without holding back. You want it to last hours.

But you know it's too much before he even starts to move, that familiar ache in your groin returning as your walls constrict around the long shape of him. He pulls out slowly, takes his time, pushes back in at a snail's pace. You feel a tickling sensation against your clit, his pubic hair pressing deliciously against the wet skin as he fills you - and without any warning, you start to come.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you cry out into the sunlit hotel room, trembling in his arms, legs shaking. You can tell in his body language behind you that he's taken aback by your sudden release, hand suddenly dropping from your calf so he can palm your sternum and pull you against him.

"Oh, honey," he groans, simultaneously tender and aroused, "Are you comin', baby? You comin' just from bein' stuffed full like that?"

"Yes," you grit out, voice a high keen as your body shakes and your release stretches out before the both of you in quick spasms, "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Nonono, no sorries," his voice is honey in your ear, fingertips grazing your nipples as he lays his palm flat against your chest, "You're a good girl, angel. You're such a good girl."

You continue to spasm on his cock, legs quivering and pathetic whines tearing from your throat until your orgasm has passed and you're just leaning back into his embrace, eyes closed. You breathe deeply, lashes fluttering when he noses your jaw and presses a soft kiss to the space beneath.

"S'alot for you," he murmurs, "I know it's a lot, babygirl. Don't ever gotta apologize for comin' too fast, not to me."

You hum softly, still extremely aware of his girthy size stretching you out somewhere below. Your eyes open and you peer downwards, brows scrunching in wonder and pleasure when you see where you're joined, where his flesh meets yours. You really are full, the base of his cock barely visible beneath your folds, the pubic hair that had caused your early release still pressed against your outer lips.

"How does it even fit?" you ask softly, almost by accident, but he just chuckles.

"The human body is a hell of a thing," he murmurs, kissing your cheek and pulling you in even closer, shuffling you on his dick just a little bit and making you wince a bit with oversensitivity, "You want me to pull out?"

"No," you shake your head and readjust yourself in his embrace, taking a breath, "No, I want you to keep going."

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't need telling twice. Within seconds he's resumed his slow and careful thrusts, almost rhythmic in their presses and pulls, filling you and emptying you in melodic succession. You reach down and take his big hand in yours, squeeze his fingers and let him fuck you like he had last night - tender, soft, comfortable. It almost doesn't feel real; how are you in a hotel room in another city, wrapped up in bed with a man three times your age, his cock buried to the hilt inside your body while you whimper and twitch in his arms? How did you get here?

"Y'know, women are a bit different than men in the orgasm department," Joel says gently behind you, stroking your hand with his thumb, "You might be able to come again if we try."

Your eyebrows go up, "Really?"

"Mmhmm," his hand slips from yours and he reaches it downward to carefully prod one of his fingers against your sensitive clit. You buck in his arms but don't protest, watching as he temporarily halts his slow thrusts to rub you softly. Your eyes go hooded, body melting like jelly in his arms as his his thick fingers slowly begin to work against the already swollen bud.

"Feel good?" he whispers.

"Yes."

He continues his careful circling, presses a kiss to your shoulder and resumes fucking into you. The sounds are pornographic in nature, surrounding your senses and filling the room with the low slap of his hips against your ass and the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his palm. But it somehow doesn't feel dirty or shameful - in fact, it's hard to imagine anything that feels more right than this.

"Joel," you breathe shakily, face twisting against the pillow again, heart pounding.

"I know, feels good doesn't it, babygirl?" he noses your skin and breathes you in, hooks your leg under his arm a bit more and groans softly, "God, you're so fuckin' tight. Such a tight fuckin' pussy."

It's your pussy, you want to breathe, it's yours. I'm yours. But you can barely get any words out as his thrusts pick up speed, as the sounds get louder and his fingers against your clit become firmer in their movements. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the fire in your belly burning hotter than ever as you let him crowd your space as much as possible, let his body push yours further and further until your eyes are rolling back and all you can feel is the steady thrust of his big cock and the girth of his fingers against your pussy.

"I'm coming," you moan out weakly, "M'coming again, Joel."

You don't hear what he says in response, ears muffled as if you're underwater, pleasure spreading throughout your body and hitting you at full force like a hurricane as he fucks you through it. You're barely aware of the sounds you're making, high pitched and almost feral as his hips slap against yours a few more times. And then you feel it, the hot pulses of his cum painting your insides, filling you up as his cock spasms and twitches deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, voice thick with pleasure and sleep as he buries his face in your hair, hips stuttering, "Fuck. Take it, there you go."

Yeah, you could get used to this.

--

You'd been pretty sure you wouldn't leave the hotel room this weekend, just like you'd told him a few days prior. The thought of staying wrapped up in bedsheets, warm bodies pressed up against each other, sharing soft kisses and quiet whispers and tender looks...it'd be more than enough for an enjoyable getaway.

But it's hot, way hotter than you'd anticipated before arriving - and the pool is calling your name.

Or maybe something else is calling your name.

You stand in the bathroom and stare at your bikini clad form, a smile curving your lips as you assess the thin straps and baby pink frills. To think you'd tried to return this to Joel, briefly refused to wear it. Now you're about to don it in front of a hotel pool full of people like a normal woman, like someone without shame, without guilt, without a mother who'd skin her alive if she saw her wearing it.

Your smile falters.

You'd texted your mother after getting out of bed, apologized once again for missing her calls last night and told her you had a "busy" day at the festival ahead of you, that you'd let her know when you leave tomorrow. All she'd said in response was Ok.

You'd climbed back into bed defeatedly, finding a home against Joel's naked form, "She's mad at me," you'd murmured softly against his bare chest, squished into his side with his heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

"Don't think about her right now," he'd whispered, carding his fingers gently through your hair, "Think about this. How this feels."

He'd peered at you so softly, so full of warmth and affection. Those three words had been on the tip of your tongue again, so close to tumbling past your swollen lips - but you'd held it in.

It hadn't stopped you from texting Tasha though:

we had sex and i love him.

UM!! UMMM!!!! DETAILS????

monday!!! i'll call you

🫡 ok slut just leave me hangin i see how it is. AT LEAST TELL ME HE LIKED THE LINGERIE.

oh he liked it :)

queen shit

"Hi, pretty girl," Joel's voice says suddenly, and you're snapped from your reflection in the mirror to find him leaning against the doorway, clad in a pair of swim trunks and a Bob Dylan t-shirt, "Look at you."

You pose a little bit, hand on your hip, "Think the pool boys will like it?"

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, "I don't doubt it, but they might have some competition." He holds out his hand for you and you take it, stepping forward to let him pull you in close.

"They couldn't hold a candle to you," you whisper honestly, and he kisses your forehead with a smile, thumbing the corner of your mouth.

"Wait 'til you see my breaststroke, that'll really get you goin'."

You snort and slap his arm playfully, "Lead the way, pool boy."

--

Joel may have just been teasing about his swimming ability, but he certainly hadn't been wrong about it getting you going. You watch from the comfort of a lounge chair as he whips back and forth across the broad expanse of the hotel pool like a bullet, kicking off from end to end without much effort at all. His arms are strong and lean, body fast and nimble as the water splashes around his broad form. Every so often his face peeks up from the water and you catch a glimpse of his drenched scruff, the way the greying locks of his hair curl down his forehead into his eyes. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

You're laid out in your bikini just watching, letting him expel some energy before you join him. He'd told you he likes swimming but doesn't get to do it as much as he'd like, what with his work responsibilities. You wonder if he'd ever want to swim in your parent's pool...

You shake the thought away as soon as you think of it. There's no feasible way that could work, no option that wouldn't involve an obscene amount of risk. But still... the thought of watching him from the comfort of your own backyard, just completely alone without any bystanders or hotel guests...

"You gonna join me or what?" Joel suddenly calls from the water, and you blink the thoughts away and throw him a grin. He wades near the shallow end, arms coming up to lean against the concrete edge as he peers at you. "Don't keep me waitin', baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, unable to help but glance back and forth to see if anyone is watching, listening. Everyone else seems to be minding their own business, lost in their own conversations, their own fun. Nobody cares that you're here with him. Nobody cares what you're wearing.

Slipping from the lounge chair, you totter over to the edge where Joel resides and slowly sink down onto the concrete, kicking your legs over the side to seat yourself in front of him.

"God, these legs," he almost groans, immediately taking one in his hands and massaging your calf, your knee, your thigh, "Look at you."

"Stop acting like you haven't seen me naked," you tease, though you still feel a bit shy underneath his gaze as he moves his attention to your other leg.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop admirin' this body," he seems lost in his own movements as he caresses the space behind your knee, "You're so god damn beautiful." His hands suddenly wrap around your waist and without much warning he's carefully pulling you down into the water, moving you in close. On instinct your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"How the hell am I here with you right now, huh?" he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose gently against yours, "How're you even real?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply a little breathlessly, "I've been asking myself that since we got here."

He slowly turns your bodies in the water, peering down into your eyes like you're the only people here - and you might as well be. You're unable to stop yourself from leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, from letting your tongue dart out to gently explore his mouth; he tastes like toothpaste and chlorine.

"Y'gonna swim with me?" he asks after you've pulled away, pupils blown a bit wider, "Gonna put that little swimsuit to good use?"

"I think I'm putting it to good use right now," you breathe, inching closer so your breasts are pushing against his chest. You're genuinely surprising yourself at your own boldness, especially in such a crowded place - it's almost like you're a different person here, the person you're supposed to be, confidence coursing through your veins. You stand on your tiptoes beneath the water, bringing one of your legs up to wind around his waist.

"Hmm," he hums, and his face is still dripping with water, the wrinkles in his skin peppered with little droplets that make you crazy, "You do have a point there, darlin'."

You lean in again to kiss him, feel a burst of pride in your chest when you see the sudden hunger and arousal in his expression. Just before your lips touch however, you pull back from him and throw yourself into the water, turning back to toss him a cheeky grin.

"Gotta catch me first," you giggle, then speed off in the opposite direction, leaving him standing there with a look of surprise etched on his face - followed quickly by a look of determination.

"Oh, I will," he practically growls, diving into the water in the same manner and reaching out to grab your ankle.

Time passes quickly in the pool, Joel chasing you back and forth, catching you time and time again until you're a giggling mess with tears streaming down your face and his fingers pinching your sides. You can't remember the last time you had this much fun, felt so free and light. You suppose your night out with Tasha had been a fun experience for the most part, until you remember the vague feeling of an unfamiliar body pressed against you from behind and the smell of alcohol crowding your senses on the dance floor.

No, don't think about that.

Before long you've exhausted yourselves, settled back near the edge of the pool where you started and just softly talking to each other. His big hands are all over you beneath the water, palms wide on your bare hips and tummy, caressing your thighs and your back, touching everywhere he can reach. You feel almost lightheaded with desire, eyes hooded as you peer up at him and tighten your arms around his neck, pull him closer and silently beg for more. You can feel the shape of his hardening cock through his swim trunks, pressed wet and heavy against your thigh. It makes you salivate.

You suddenly hook your chin into his shoulder, bury your face in his neck and whisper, "I wanna suck it, Joel."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, hands exploring your back and holding you tighter against him, letting you rut softly against his bulge, "You wanna go back to the room and suck on it, babygirl?"

You nod ferociously against him, "Yes. Please."

It doesn't take long at all for you both to be out of the pool and making your way back over to the chairs to grab your towels. It's frantic the way you rush to dry off, slipping back into your flip flops and shaking the water from your hair as quickly as possible. Joel follows suit, ruffling his own towel through his hair and making your body burn with need, lost in how sexy he looks with water droplets cascading down his large and strong form, dipping down his sternum and into his belly button. All you can think while you look at him is how badly you want to lick, to taste.

You're making your way back toward the entrance together when a woman runs up behind you, calling out, "Wait, hang on!" You both turn, confusion in your expressions as she reaches you and holds out something in her hand - your phone.

"I think you or your dad left this behind, sweetie," she says with a smile and places it in your grasp, "Gotta be careful!"

"Th-thank you," you manage to stutter out, eyes wide as she nods and turns away from you to head back toward the pool.

You stand there dumbstruck for a moment, thoughts muddled.

You or your dad.

Your dad.

You turn to Joel then. He's looking at you with what you can only describe as apprehension, lips downturned into a frown as he stands and waits for you to say something - anything. You stare back, words failing you.

And then you burst out laughing.

His apprehension turns into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs along with you and squeezes your hand in his tightly - as if to say, this isn't wrong, what we have isn't wrong and you know that. And you do, which is why he has to practically drag you back inside the hotel as you double over and heave out laugh after laugh, tears in your eyes.

"Silly girl," you hear him mumble under his breath fondly as he leads you to the elevator, and all you can do is keep giggling.

--

"I love your cock."

Your knees dig into the plush rug of the hotel room, ass sitting atop the balls of your feet as you kneel between Joel's wide legs. He's sitting comfortably on the couch, one hand resting to the side while the other strokes circles into the apple of your cheek. His cock is out of his swim trunks, heavy and hard in your palm as you slowly stroke him up and down, up and down, heart pounding in your chest.

You've done this to him before, you remind yourself, and he said it was good.

But not like this, another part of you argues, not properly.

"Yeah, you love it?" he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts. With his words his hand drops from your face and joins yours on his shaft, helps direct it toward your cheek so he can press the tip ever so gently against it, "What d'you love about it, baby? Tell me. Wanna know."

"It's so big, Joel," you practically whimper, brows furrowing together at the sensation of his warm stickiness on your face, "So big and so thick and long."

"I know, baby," he coos softly, smearing it along your jaw in a way that has goosebumps rising all over your flesh, "Bigger than your pretty face, huh?" At his words he delicately lays the length of his cock against your face from base to tip, lets it rest there as you close your eyes and try to calm your breathing. You're so fucking turned on.

"Big," you repeat, as if no other words can find their way to your brain, as if your brain doesn't even exist; all that exists is this. The feeling of his warm dick laying heavy across your face, precum leaking out onto your forehead.

"And what's it taste like, babygirl?" He's suddenly moving it downward, towards your mouth, and you happily lean forward to lap at the tip. It pulses against you, leaks onto the pink softness of your tongue. "Tell me what it tastes like."

"Kinda salty," you whisper, peering up at him with big eyes, "But good, it still tastes good to me." Your nose scrunches and you peer up at him sheepishly, "Tasha said it's not supposed to."

He laughs breathlessly, taps the tip against your bottom lip, and when more precum dribbles out you allow it to drip into your mouth. You swallow, eyes never leaving his, then swirl your tongue all around the head before slowly taking it into your mouth and suctioning carefully.

"God, you make me fuckin' crazy," his voice rumbles in his chest, eyes hooded, "Look at you suckin' on my cock." After a few seconds he pulls it out and taps your lips with it again, hissing a bit through his teeth, "Fuck, this mouth. And those eyes," his head leans back against the couch and he groans, low and deep, "You gotta stop lookin' at me like that, angel. M'not gonna last."

"How am I looking at you?" you ask shyly, a smile playing at your lips.

"Like... you're just so new to everything."

"But I am," you say with a breathless giggle, "It is new to me."

He smiles fondly down at you on your knees in front of him, so vulnerable, "I know," he tells you, "It makes me want you so bad."

"You have me," you whisper, leaning forward to mouth at the head of his cock once again, "M'yours, Joel."

His lids go heavy as you suckle gently on the tip again, reveling in the masculine taste of him and the way you can feel his heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. You suck it the same way you did last time - like a sucker or a popsicle - and you hope it feels good to him, hope you're doing it right.

"That's so good, baby," he murmurs, and you whimper at his praise.

You pop him out of your mouth and take a deep breath, peering up at him curiously, "Can...can you..."

His brow furrows, "Can I what, angel?"

"Can you show me how to... how to take all of it? Like, how to put it in my throat?"

The expression on his face is hard to describe, a mix of disbelief and untamed arousal. His mouth opens to speak but he doesn't say anything, taking a few seconds to formulate a response before clearing his throat and giving you a weak - and slightly wrecked - smile.

"Y'sure you wanna try that?" he asks you, ever the gentleman, "That's....it's a lot to take in your throat, babygirl."

"I know," you breathe, sincerity in your eyes, "But I wanna try."

He reaches down and thumbs a stray hair from your face, pushes it behind your ear, "You're probably gonna gag," he murmurs gently - a warning. "It might be uncomfortable for you."

You raise an eyebrow, "So... you don't want me to?"

He laughs breathlessly, "I... I didn't say I don't want it. But I don't want you to try something you don't feel ready for," he frowns, "Don't want you to feel any pressure with me."

"I don't," you admit honestly, "I don't feel any pressure, Joel, I promise. I just...really wanna try it. I want you to show me."

He takes a deep breath, strokes your cheek gently and then reaches down to hold the base of his cock again. Your hands fall to his thighs, still clad in his swim trunks.

"Lemme just see how far you can go without gaggin' first," he tells you softly, patiently, "Want you to stop when you feel it in that spot, okay? Don't go any further than that."

You nod, already beyond excited that you're learning something new, something that'll make him feel good. You open your mouth to take him back inside but he touches your face again, stopping you.

"Deep breath," he advises quietly. You do as you're told.

He helps guide the fat head of his cock past your lips, watches as you very slowly ease yourself down. You close your eyes, all your focus centered on this singular task, fighting to push past the slight discomfort of having your mouth stuffed so full. It takes barely a moment for you to reach the point he was talking about, when you feel the head of his cock brush ever so slightly against your gag reflex. On instinct, your eyes snap open, your entire body freezing in place.

"Right there?" he asks quietly, but you know he's not waiting for an answer, knows you couldn't talk even if you wanted to, "That's so much baby, good girl." His praise send throbs of pleasure to your pussy, warmth to your cheeks. Your eyes meet his and you can see how turned on he is, see the way the corners of his mouth twitch with pleasure. "Let go when you're ready, honey."

You hold yourself there for a few more seconds, eyes watering a little bit as you hold his gaze, just testing the power of your lungs and the strain of your jaw. When it becomes too much you pull your mouth off him and find yourself gasping for breath, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as drool spills down your chin.

"How was that?" he asks, thumbing your cheek again with one hand and stroking himself with the other, working your saliva up and down his length, "Uncomfortable?"

You shake your head, "It was good," you whisper, voice a bit crackly, "I wanna try and take more, can I?"

He nods, smiles encouragingly and taps his swollen cockhead against your bottom lip again, slow and tantalizing, "Course you can, babygirl," he murmurs, "Deep breath."

You inhale deeply again, gathering as much air into your lungs as possible before sinking your mouth down onto him and allowing his thick girth to fill you all over again. This time when you feel him reach that spot, you let yourself keep going just a little bit further, allow the head of his cock to push more firmly against it and slip the tiniest bit into the back of your throat.

You gag immediately.

It's very loud; a dry wretch that you can admit sounds absolutely horrific in the current circumstance. Before you can even really process what to do next, he's tugging you off his cock, voice suddenly worried, frantic, "Okay, no, that's too much," he says quickly, and you look up to see him shaking his head, "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"M'fine," you try to garble out, but you're shocked when just talking suddenly sends you into a coughing fit. You bang on your chest and squeeze his thigh with your other hand, feeling more drool cascade down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"Angel," he says soothingly, leaning forward to pat your back, brows furrowed again in concern, "I'm sorry, honey."

You shake your head, "I-I'm okay," you splutter out, "Just gimme a second."

"It's too much," he repeats, almost pleading, "Please, baby, I don't wanna see you struggle, that's not fun for me."

As much as you hate the idea of giving up, you have to admit that he's right. That wretch had not been pleasant, and while you think you could eventually learn to take all of him, maybe forcing yourself to do it when you're supposed to be having fun on vacation isn't the best time.

"Okay," you mumble defeatedly, sitting back on your knees, "But I still wanna suck it."

He laughs again, relief flooding his features as he leans back on the couch and smiles crookedly at you, "You can still suck it, darlin'. Just take your time and don't push your limits, alright? Promise me."

"I promise."

You spend the next fifteen minutes or so playing with Joel's cock, stroking it with your hand, kitten licking along the shaft and head, just touching as much as you can without any time pressure for once. He pets your hair as he watches you, thumbs your cheeks and dimples, small groans tumbling past his lips, face scrunched in pleasure as you explore. You take as much of him as you can in your mouth, bob up and down slowly with your eyes trained on his face, feel the way his thick length twitches and pulses against your tongue.

It's almost feral the way you drink him down, hollowing your cheeks and basking in the way his body responds to you. You're so wet, aching to touch yourself but wanting this moment to be just for him, a thank you for this weekend, this hotel, for everything. Instead you palm his balls, roll them in your palm and revel in the desperate sounds he makes.

"I love your cock," you whine, repeating your earlier statement as you fist it up and down with spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, "I love it so much, Joel." You can feel yourself dripping in your bikini bottoms, feel your own slick gathering on your inner thighs.

"I know, baby," he gasps out, running one hand through his hair and the other through yours as his belly tenses and untenses, as his thighs tremble, "I know you love it, s'all yours, baby. S'your cock."

"My cock," you echo, almost a whimper, "Mine."

"Yours, it's yours," he moans loudly, hands curling into fists as his head hits the back of the couch, "Shit, I'm gonna come."

"Come in my mouth," you tell him immediately, wasting no time in sinking back down onto his length. He doesn't ask if you're sure; he's too far gone to be a gentleman anymore, and you love it. You watch as he suddenly sits up on the couch, reaches both hands forward and cradles your head in them firmly. He helps you move up and down, groaning as he does, and then-

His cock pulses on your tongue, thick and heavy, bobbing against the roof of your mouth. You feel a burst of cum hit the back of your throat, then another, and another, all the while Joel moans and holds your head in place, toes curling into the rug. Your eyes roll back as he fills your mouth, overwhelmed by the salty taste and thick texture, and - without really meaning to - you swallow around him to make more space. He practically whines at the sensation, pulsing once more to release one final burst of his spend.

And then he's falling back against the couch, cock popping out of your mouth, expression dazed. Without thinking about it you swallow the rest of his cum, eyelashes fluttering at the odd sensation of it all slipping down your throat. So much, gone in an instant. It's only then that you actually realize what you've done.

"I swallowed it," you say, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach, "Was I supposed to swallow it?"

He laughs softly, covers his mouth with the back of his hand, "It is perfectly fine that you swallowed it, darlin'," he smiles wide and opens his arms, "C'mere."

You clamor off your knees and crawl into his lap immediately, straddling his thighs and pressing your wet bikini bottoms against the slope of his belly. He lets out a little groan, pulls you in and strokes your hair.

"You did so good," he praises you softly, kisses your temple, "So good, baby. Made me come so much."

"There was a lot," you tell him, nuzzling into his neck and letting your breathing slowly even out, "S'why I swallowed it, I was trying to make room."

"Was it okay? It didn't make you gag, did it?"

You shake your head, a pout on your lips, "Felt good in my mouth," you whisper, "I liked it."

He hums, hands trailing from your hair to your bare back where he unclasps your bikini top and lets it cascade to the floor, then reaches down and tugs at your bottoms. You lift up carefully, let him slip them down your thighs and watches as you kick them off, leaving you fully naked in his lap.

"So pretty when you're bare like this," he whispers, and it sends more slick to your folds, oozing down and making a mess on his tummy. He cups your pussy in one hand and slides two fingers easily inside of you, thumb rubbing circles against your clit. You grip his arm, eyes falling closed and pitiful little sounds slipping from your mouth. "My good girl deserves a reward for suckin' my cock so good, swallowin' all that cum, don't you think?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and letting him fuck you with his digits, eyes rolling behind your lids.

"Yeah, you do," he answers for you, "You deserve it, angel. Always."

He makes you come easily, leaving you a messy, twitching heap in his lap as your arms wrap around his neck, body going lax and loose. After a few moments he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, helps you into the shower, smiles when you peer blearily up at him through your afterglow.

"Just close your eyes and lean against me," he tells you softly as the water falls, removing his swim trunks and getting in to stand behind you, "I'll get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

--

You nap after your shower, exhausted and sated in every possible way. Joel wakes you up around two o'clock with more room service - sandwiches and soup that you devour with bright eyes and light conversation side by side in bed. It's domestic bliss the way he thumbs mustard from your lips, pours you more water, slices your key lime pie and feeds it to you with a fond smile.

I love you I love you I love you.

"Would it absolutely ruin this moment if I suggested tryin' our hand at a hymn?" he asks when you've both finished, wiping the crumbs on his fingers with a napkin and gesturing to his guitar case in the corner of the room.

You grimace, "I guess not."

"I'm just thinkin' about your parents," he places his hand on your hip - clad in another one of his shirts - and gives you a sympathetic smile, "It's probably best to pick somethin' and have it ready."

You nod. You know he's right, that your lack of preparedness these past few weeks has been pretty reckless considering it's been the entire "reason" you've been seeing him. With a sigh you slip out from under the covers and traipse over to the couch, listening as Joel unclasps the guitar case.

"I did some research," he tells you as he walks over, hooking the strap over his shoulders as he goes, "I think our best bet for an easy tune is How Great Thou Art. Pretty repetitive chord progression, only uses G, C, and D."

You make a face, crossing your arms, "I can't believe I have to do this."

He laughs, "It was either that or Come Ye Sinners, and I think that one's a little too on the nose, don't you think?" He tosses you a smile and you can't help but return it, feeling your frustration melt away under his gaze.

"Can we do that thing again where I get a reward?" you ask shyly, biting your lip. His eyebrows go up, a smirk lighting his face.

"Hmm, I think that's doable," he sits down beside you, tuning the guitar, "What'd you have in mind?" You notice the way his eyes dart toward your groin and your cheeks warm.

"I was actually thinking that maybe..." your hands play with the hem of his shirt nervously, unsure what he'll say, "maybe you could play something for me? You said last night that you've written some songs," you shrug, trying to be nonchalant, "I'd... I'd really like to hear one, if you wouldn't mind."

He peers at you for a few seconds, smirk fading briefly only to be replaced with a tender smile, eyes softening as he gazes at you. Warmth blooms in your chest. You never want him to stop looking at you like that.

"I can do that," he tells you quietly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "I mean... I can't promise it'll be good, but-"

"I don't care."

He chuckles and nods, grips the guitar again and clears his throat, "Well, alright then. Let's get started."

For the first time ever, the lesson is actually a lesson. No undercurrent of sex, no inappropriate touching or sensual glances, no teasing or filthy words. You're not sure how you're able to hold yourself back so easily, able to really focus on what Joel is saying and showing you, helping place your fingers in the right locations and teach you the strumming techniques. Maybe it's because you're tired - you did come three times already today - but it's not just that.

It just feels so... normal. So easy. You think back to that first lesson, the nervousness you'd felt and the pounding of your heart in your chest, the anticipation and the fear.

It's different now. Now that he's been inside you, become one with you, it's like your whole dynamic has changed - for the better. Of course you still feel that curious nervousness, the innocence, the electricity between you. But there's something so solid and tangible about it now, something certain. Something real.

He shapes your fingers along the neck of the guitar, praising you softly every time you play a note that sounds right, encouraging you as you repeat the G chord a few times, then C, then D. You strum along slowly, taking your time, and before you know it you're playing something that actually doesn't sound half bad.

"We definitely need to work on buildin' up those calluses," he murmurs, stroking the tips of your fingers under his thumb, "Well... If you're gonna do this long-term, I mean."

You peer at him curiously, tilting your head to the side. He looks sheepish, like he's said something he hadn't meant to.

"You think I could do this, like... for real? As a hobby?"

His mouth turns up at the corners and he nods, "I think you can do anything you set your mind to, darlin'."

Your heart is suddenly in your throat at his words, emotion bubbling under the surface of your skin. You drop your hand from the guitar and reach up to cup his face, pulling him toward you to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kisses you back just as soft, just as careful.

"Thank you," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "Thank you for saying that."

He presses his forehead to yours, shakes his head ever so slightly, "Don't gotta thank me for sayin' what's true, angel. You deserve to hear it every single day."

You finish the lesson with tears still welling in your eyes, a lump in your throat. When you lean the guitar against the side of the couch he cradles your face in his hands and gently kisses the tears away, brushes his lips along your eyelids and cheeks, your jaw and your lips, saying everything without saying anything at all.

"Okay," you sigh, taking a deep breath and opening your eyes to smile sweetly at him, "Time for my reward."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes a little, reaching for the guitar and beginning to tune it again. You watch as he twists the keys, strums a little here and there, hums softly for each note to match his voice. Anticipation rises in your chest.

"Now, uh," he clears his throat a bit, avoiding eye contact, "It's been a while since I played this one but it's, uh," he takes a breath, "It's one I wrote when Sarah was born. Used to sing it to her to help her fall asleep."

You melt at the words, smiling wider, "What's it called?"

He finally meets your eyesight, lips pressing together sheepishly, "Sarah."

Oh, duh. You nod in encouragement, leaning back against the armrest of the couch and waiting for him to begin. He takes another deep breath, dropping his gaze to watch his fingers shape the first chord. It's then that you notice his hands - usually deft and steady - are trembling a little bit, so much so that he has to readjust his position on the strings a few times.

He's nervous.

He stares at his hand, takes another deep breath.

You wait.

"Sorry," he mumbles under his breath, "Sorry, just gimme a minute."

"It's okay, take your time." Your voice is barely a whisper, awestruck by the sudden vulnerability you're witnessing. He'd agreed to the reward so quickly, you'd been sure he didn't mind. But now as you sit here waiting, you're not so sure. You watch him take more deep breaths, watch as he closes his eyes and seems to center himself.

"If you don't want to-"

"I want to," he says immediately, shaking his head, "I want to, I've just... I haven't sung in a while."

Your brow furrows, confused, "You sang yesterday in the car, didn't you? And you sang Tangled Up In Blue when we first met, and that other one, the one from the eighties."

His lips turn up at the corners, a welcome smile, "Take On Me."

"Yeah, that one."

He sighs, tightening his grip on the guitar, "It's not that I haven't sung I guess. Wrong wordin'," he bites his lip, "It's moreso that I haven't sung this one. Or any of my originals. Not for a long time."

You frown, "How come?"

"I guess... I just..." he searches for the words, staring at the floor, "No one's really asked me to. And it's not like I'm playin' gigs or tourin' or any of that pipe dream stuff I thought about when I was a kid." He laughs humorlessly, like the concept is ridiculous, "So I guess I just kinda... stopped, after a while."

You feel a sudden sadness that you can't really explain, picturing that bright-eyed little version of Joel, stuck in a household that wouldn't let him grow, wouldn't let him be himself. All those dreams and big ideas, dashed before he was able to get out and make his mark. Life getting busy, too busy, other responsibilities taking up all his time until the thing he loved most became nothing but a memory. A pipe dream.

It makes your heart ache.

"D'you mind if I just..." he meets your gaze again finally, eyes soft and a little sad, "Could I maybe just hum it? Instead? I know that's kind of a cop-out, but-"

"Of course you can," you breathe out, hand coming down to rest atop his knee, "Of course you can hum it."

"I'm sorry, baby, I know you wanted -"

"It's hard being vulnerable, Joel," you interrupt him again, shaking your head and stroking your thumb against his skin, "God knows it's been hard for me, and you've been nothing but patient." You give him a watery smile and he returns it, "Please take your time. I can be patient too, I promise."

You can tell how much he appreciates it. He reaches down and picks up your hand, presses a gentle kiss to the back of it before setting it back down and taking one last deep breath.

"Well, here it is," he says with a little more confidence, a smile playing at his lips.

You've heard him play before, obviously; you've already seen the way his fingers work the strings like it's just second nature, the way his thumb strums out the chords effortlessly. But this time is different. Knowing what he's playing is completely original, born from his own creativity out of love and devotion, a father's affection and protectiveness, it just sounds special. New. He begins to pluck out a soft, slow, soothing melody that immediately puts you at ease, makes you lean back further against the couch and loosen your body. It's tender, quiet - a lullaby.

He hums softly, voice crackling a bit in his throat at first but then settling into a smooth and comforting sound. It's almost like a waltz, the way the chords change back and forth, in and out, slow and steady. Of course you wonder what the real words are, what his quiet hums are substituting, but you find that it doesn't really matter. What matters is the look on his face, eyes distant, as if he's picturing his daughter as she was when she was little. You try to picture it too, thinking of the photograph in his house, the one of him pushing Sarah on the swing. Just a father and his little girl, against the world.

It isn't a very long song. It fades out relatively quickly, and as soon as he strums out the final chord you sit up on the couch and clap ferociously, tears stinging in your eyes all over again.

"I'd usually, uh, play it a couple times for her," he says awkwardly, "'Til she fell asleep."

"It was beautiful," you tell him earnestly, "It was so beautiful, Joel."

He shakes his head with an embarrassed laugh and swivels around to go place his guitar back in its case. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. You know how he feels when you spot the tips of ears, tinged pink, warm from your praise.

--

The rest of the day passes in what feels like a warm, luxurious, passionate blur. You go to dinner that evening and order lobster, revel in the way it practically melts in your mouth with sips of champagne and bites of blueberry cheesecake. Joel tells you a little more about his life, tells you everything you want to know about his daughter and his ex. It's not a difficult or uncomfortable conversation like you'd been worried it might be. Instead, you feel closer learning these things about him, feel even more connected to him than you did before as he tells you about Mish and Sarah, their relationship, the arrangement.

"I think I understand it better now," you tell him thoughtfully, "Now that I've actually..." you peer at him shyly, "You know... done it."

He chuckles, "Sex is a powerful thing, it really is. And when you find someone you're compatible with it can be really easy to keep goin' back to 'em. Settle into it, you know? Even if the other parts of your relationship don't work."

"It's like...friends with benefits, right?"

"Exactly. And it really does work for some people, worked for Mish and I for a long time," he shakes his head and reaches across the table to take your hand, "But that's over now, I need you to know that. It's over. You're the only woman in my life and that's how I want it to be. You believe me right?"

His eyes are soft, warm, loving, sincerity practically glowing in his expression.

"I believe you, Joel. Of course I believe you."

You have sex again when you get back to the room, slow and intimate and tender and perfect. You claw at his back as whimpers and cries tear from your mouth, writhing in pleasure beneath him on the bed as he fills you over and over, murmurs filth in your ear and presses down on your clit with his thumb. It's like you've died and gone to heaven, this feeling of permanent bliss and satisfaction, the sensation of being so full and so connected. It's the closest you've ever felt to real inner peace; who would have thought that sitting on a cock instead of in a church pew would be the thing to bring you closer to godliness?

I pray at the church of Joel Miller, you think to yourself as you recover from your fifth orgasm of the day, laying there with fluttering lashes and heaving belly, mind foggy and eyes bleary. Joel is kissing your thighs somewhere below, whispering praises, humming against your skin as he wipes a warm cloth over your twitching pussy.

"I keep thinking about how many sins I've committed in the last twenty four hours," you mumble to him, sleep quickly making its way into your psyche, "And then I remember that I don't care."

His laugh is the last thing you hear before you drift off.

--

Sunday morning is bittersweet. You spend most of it wrapped in Joel's embrace, tracing the freckles and scars on his skin, drifting in and out of consciousness while he peppers kisses all over your face and neck. You have to leave the hotel by noon, get back on the road again and head back home, but the bed is so warm. He's so warm. Everything is warm.

"You never fucked me in the shower," you whisper to him softly, so quiet you wonder if he can even hear you, "Or on the floor."

"I still can," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep, fingers trailing delicately through your hair, "We have a little time."

You nuzzle into his warmth and close your eyes, sighing contentedly, "No," you breathe, "I just want you to hold me."

So he does.

--

The drive home is quieter, but not in a bad way. You're still tired from your escapades and find yourself dozing every so often, vaguely aware of Joel turning down the volume or switching the song to something more chill when he notices you starting to drift. His hand is ever-present on your thigh, stroking the skin over and over like it's just habit at this point. You know you should be forcing yourself to stay awake, to enjoy these last few hours before life goes back to normal, but he really did a number on you.

It's only when you stop at a gas station - the same one where you first saw the playlist you weren't sure you were meant to - that you finally start to feel more awake.

"So tell me about this Angel playlist," you say with a smirk, waving his phone at him as he gets back in the truck, "Can we listen to it?"

A look of surprise crosses his face, but he doesn't seem upset, "How did you even find out about that?"

"I'm in control of the music, remember? It's your spotify."

He groans, cheeks flushing as he pushes on the gas and pulls out of the station, avoiding eye contact. "You were not supposed to see that."

Intrigue floods your brain, fuels your grin, "So it's for me?"

He takes a moment to respond, thumb stroking the wheel as he eyes the road, lip between his teeth. You can tell he's debating whether or not he should answer you, but his silence says everything. Impatient, you practically bounce in your seat, "Can we listen to it? Pretty please?"

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Who is this girl sittin' in the front seat of my truck?" He squeezes your thigh, "You're gettin' bold, darlin'. I like it."

"Enough to let me listen to the playlist?"

He sighs, but you know he's not mad, can see the smile tugging at his lips, "...Maybe. At least enough to listen to one song. Will that tide you over?"

"Yes, it most certainly will," you're already tapping Angel, eyes alight with curiosity, "Which song?"

"Northern Sky by Nick Drake, should be the first one there."

You turn to him with a raised brow, "How do you know that's the first song?"

"'Cause I made the damn playlist."

"And you listen to it a lot?"

He laughs again, eyes rolling fondly as he turns his attention back to the road and grins at your words, "You're somethin' else."

You've still got a shit eating grin on your face as the song starts, the soft strumming of guitar filling the small space. Oh, this is pretty. You playfully nod your head to the chords and he rolls his eyes again, strokes your thigh and keeps his attention focused on the road.

And then the lyrics start.

I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky

Your grin fades almost immediately, realization blooming on your face as the reality of what this playlist actually is begins to dawn on you. You'd thought maybe it was songs he wanted to share with you, songs he wanted to teach you how to play. Just random tunes that he compiled together with you in mind.

No, that's not what this is at all. As the lyrics continue, the melody growing more steady, more beautiful, you realize that these are songs that remind him of you. An entire playlist dedicated to the way he feels.

You stare at the road as the song plays out, not speaking. Your eyes are stinging with tears but you can't bring yourself to say anything, to even look at him. You feel him squeeze your thigh again, a comforting and reassuring little gesture. As if to say, l know, I'm here. As the final chords fade out you frantically reach for his phone and press pause, out of respect for his privacy but also because you're completely unprepared to hear another song like that. You catch him peering at you in your periphery, and you will yourself to look at him with watery eyes.

"Satisfied?" he asks softly, giving you that gorgeous crooked smile.

All you can choke out is a "Yeah."

--

Arriving back at the parking garage hurts. Joel pulls his truck in beside your car, still in the same spot you'd left it, and takes the key out of the ignition with a long sigh. You look over at him, emotion burning in your throat.

"I don't wanna go home," you whisper.

"Oh, babygirl," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "C'mere." He holds his arms open and you clamor over the center console to settle into his lap, burying your face in his neck. He holds you tight and rubs your back, hushes you softly when you start to cry. How is this weekend already over? How are things just supposed to go back to normal now?

"I don't want you to go back there either," he breathes, "If I had it my way you'd be comin' home with me." You feel him press a kiss to the spot just beneath your ear, "But you're strong. You're stronger than you think you are and I know you can get through this. Whatever they have to say, whatever they do, you'll get through it. We'll get through it together."

You don't say anything else, just melt into the warmth of his body and let him hold you, comfort you, until your cries and hiccups fade into even breaths. You pull back slowly and peer at his beautiful face, long to say the words you've been holding back all weekend - but you know there's a reason you've been holding back, know this isn't the right time, not yet.

Instead, you kiss him. It's soft and sweet, a tender goodbye. Temporary, fleeting. You know it's not forever, know you'll probably sneak over tomorrow night to see him again under cover of darkness, find yourself in his bed, get wrapped up in him. But it's a goodbye nonetheless. A goodbye to this - the simplicity, the sense of normalcy and lack of time constraints, the domestic bliss and the thrill of the escape. A goodbye to the bliss.

Driving away from him a few minutes later, watching his truck fade into the distance in your rearview mirror - you think it might be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

[sashayed]

I haven't said as much about electoral politics this year as I have in previous cycles, because I am exhausted like everyone else and have nothing new or helpful to add. That is still true, so caveat lector I guess lmao!!! Happy American Election Day Fellow Sufferers!!

I have been experiencing an internal backlash the last few years to my extremely Sorkinpilled D.C. private school upbringing -- my childhood spent as a kind of convent schoolgirl in the faith of The System Is Good If We All Participate, which of course has a uhhh let's say generously a minimal engagement with the ways in which many of us are by design shut out of participating. I don't think idealism is necessarily childish, but I think MY idealism certainly has childish qualities, an undergirding of 90s feel-goodism, of civic participation as a subtle ego stroke and of voting -- although I would never have consciously put it this way -- as a way to feel superior to people who don't vote.

Lately there has bubbled up in me a sludgy, adolescent fury at this whole stupid country that has made it very very hard to feel like I should do even the bare minimum. For these people? AMERICANS? The ones that not only want Donald Trump to be president but saw what happened the first time and were like, We love this, do it again but worse? Whatever, fuckos. "I hope you people get your dearest wish and it chews you to death slowly," I may have thought.

I have also thought: why is it so controversial to ask elected officials to stop funding a genocide? Why are we treating people who make that ask, who are watching the current administration directly fund death on a mass scale and objecting to that choice, as if they are being babies and just need to get over it? How are they supposed to get over it? Why is anybody over it?

Anyway all this means that I, a known chipper door-knocker and caller of congresspeople, have been pretty low-key this current cycle. I think that is OK. I don't want to make this a big dramatic confessional about how I didn't write enough postcards or whatever. We all get exhausted and this was my turn.

But it has also been an illuminating cycle in that it's made it clear to me how much at my big age I still want politics to make me feel good, and when they don't, I still have the urge to throw a lil tantrum about it! I can get very superior and intellectual about how right-wing operatives manipulate their voters emotionally WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING that I too have been manipulated, in my case into the feeling that nonparticipation is a kind of revolutionary act.* Just absolute "I threw it on the GROUND" logic happening inside my head. "Maybe if I don't vote I will be doing Quiet Quitting, which is uhhhhh anticapitalist." I'm not a part of your system!!!

Anyway, I am trying to have self-compassion about it, and one way for me to do that is to project my internal experience onto a theoretical reader. That would be you, my imaginary friend who clicked on this post for some reason even though you have already decided not to vote! I just want to tell you that I am more sympathetic to your point of view than I have ever been in my whole life, and I'm sorry I have historically been a glib, holier-than-thou asshole about it in ways that may actually have made you MORE resistant to civic participation.

And you're right: it doesn't make that big a difference whether I personally vote or not, or whether you do. But if there are hundreds of us, and I think there are, then each of those people individually do starts to matter.

I guess I would humbly request that you and I both pay attention to what people who need help are actually asking for. I would ask that we both notice who wins when we abdicate this single responsibility. I would remind us both that participating in the electoral process is not some kind of weird either-or with participating in decentralized community building and mutual aid, and the best people we know do both. Isn't it interesting that somehow, insidiously, without even consciously becoming aware of this belief, we have started to think that you can only do one or the other? Who is telling us that story? Who does it serve?

Anyway. I took the stupid 90 minute round trip to my polling place which was VERY hot for some reason and I stood in the stupid line and some babies waved at me and I cast my vote for Kamala Harris and I'm glad I did it in the same way I'm glad after I do the dishes or take a stupid shower. Doing work doesn't always feel like anything. I also saw a really wonderful small black and white dog that I thought was a cat on a leash. I would not have seen that dog if I hadn't gone to vote. So politics can still make you feel good!!!

*I mean all this analysis is cute and everything BUT ALSO i did switch antidepressants twice in the last year, an astonishingly grueling process that almost made me [affect the trout population]. Could these things be related? hmmmmmmm, don't understand the question, won't respond to it.

[mulletmitsuya]

Tokyo Revengers Groupchat (Final Timeline)

Warnings: suggestive (i might have to change this warning to "mentions of sexual content" bcs it's too tame of a warning for the stuff that's actually in here), swearing, the word "pedophile" is mentioned, mentions of substance abuse

Desc: Everyone finds out Takemitchy and Mikey are time leapers, which leads to some...interesting questions

Mitsuya: so let me get this straight

Mitsuya: you're a time traveler, and you've lived dozens of timelines to prevent Hina from dying but she kept dying anyway but then when you got to one where she didn't die, Mikey was some deranged criminal lord and was miserable and depressed and tried to kill himself so you had to go back in time again to make sure everything was fixed but ended up dying while fighting Mikey but then somehow you both went back in time and rewrote all of our entire lives??

Takemitchy: yeah...

Baji: cap

Mikey: it's not

Mitsuya: so Mikey's a time traveler too?

Mikey: yeah it's crazy i know

Draken: do you guys have any way to prove this?

Chifuyu: this explains why i keep getting random visions of me in alternate universes. holy shit

Haruchiyo: weird ass prank

Takemitchy: i think it happened since you're close to me and we basically did everything together. i'm not sure

Inupi: we're just gonna believe this?

Koko: wait, i kind of do

Kisaki: this...defies all logic of anything ever.

Mikey: shut up Kisaki

Mikey: i'm sorry it's just that in ever other timeline you've ruined my life so it's difficult to be nice to you sometimes

Kisaki: so you don't like me because of something i did in another universe?

Takemitchy: *timeline

Mikey: yeah. my bad

Baji: i'm gonna entertain this cause i'm bored but what was i like in other timelines

Mikey: dead

Baji: ...all of em?

Mikey: yeah, it kinda drove me to insanity

Baji: damn

Baji: why?

Mikey: you killed yourself to save Kazutora

Baji: what was the context

Mikey: long story

Baji: there wasn't any other way?

Mikey: you're kinda pissing me off cause that's what i was wondering, actually

Baji: damn

Kazutora: thanks man. appreciate it🙏

Kazutora: i'll slobber on your meat later, as a proper thank you

Baji: i'd appreciate that. thanks homie🙌

Koko: what about me?

Baji: you wanna slobber on my meat? i mean i won't stop you. as long as i can call you kitten.

Koko: ...i was talking about me in alternate universe's😐

Takemitchy: i don't think we should go there guys. there's too many timelines, and not everything was exactly the same. and also in general it was a really traumatizing experience for me and i kind of want to end my life every time i think about it

Hanma: womp womp. what about me???

Mikey: murderer

Hanma: YESSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭

Hanma: THANK GOD, I KNEW IF I COULDN'T DO IT HERE, MULTIVERSE ME WOULD HAVE LIVED THE DREAM

Hanma: are me and Tetta-san together in every universe

Mikey: surprisingly, yes

Hanma: and he denies we're soulmates😔

Kisaki: i will not hesitate to get another restraining order

Hanma: a piece of paper won't stand in my way. let's get married

Kisaki: i will call the police

Draken: guys are we really entertaining this?

Mikey: you went to jail in one of the timelines and you were bald LMAO

Draken: sure

Baji: why'd he go to jail?

Mikey: these guys killed Emma and Ken-chin took revenge

Baji: respectable

Mikey: he was given a death sentence

Baji: that's tough fr

Ran: i'm kinda curious

Ran: humour me, what was i like?? was i famous?

Mikey: you were a criminal. killed people

Ran: sounds about right if i'm being honest

Ran: and Haruchiyo and Rindou?

Haruchiyo: leave me out of Takemitchy's psychotic episodes

Haruchiyo: i think you have a hallucination/delusion disorder or something

Mikey: but don't you believe me?

Haruchiyo: ...

Haruchiyo: Mikey, you're also pretty mentally ill

Mikey: says you???

Haruchiyo: i just have substance abuse problems and i'm getting clean so...

Mikey: GUYS I'M TELLING THE TRUTH I SWEAR

Mikey: I'VE BEEN GOING CRAZY KEEPING THIS A SECRET

Draken: when was the last time you slept?

Mikey: ☹️

Baji: guys just play pretend.

Rindou: what about me?

Mikey: same as your brother just uh, less gay and slutty?

Rindou: story of my life

Inupi: you didn't do Koko

Mikey: criminal

Koko: the whole time?

Mikey: yeah

Mikey: Inupi got normal at some point because he and Ken-chin got close and they fixed bikes together and had sex

Inupi: Draken????

Draken: you're really starting to piss me off.

Mikey: Akane died in the fire though like she was BURNT

Takemitchy: uh Mikey-kun...

Mikey: she was a crisp i'm telling you

Mikey: Inupi you had an ugly red scar on your face and no one wanted you

Mikey: Izana i know you're reading this, you were fucking insane dude like you killed Emma for some fucking reason then Kisaki shot you 3 times in the chest and you died while having a really bad mental breakdown. it was a major L on your part

Chifuyu: Mikey why are you leaving out the fact that the common denominator in every single timeline was that you killed every single one of your friends in the most brutal ways possible🤨?

Mikey: no comment

Smiley: how'd he kill me?

Chifuyu: uhhh

Chifuyu: Takemitchy help me out here

Takemitchy: i don't want to talk about it😐

Chifuyu: I REMEMBER

Chifuyu: backshot

Smiley: ...

Smiley: he killed me by giving me backshots..?

Smiley: i would NEVER take it from behind

Smiley: especially from MIKEY

Smiley: small dick having ass

Smiley: my bootyhole is not to be messed with

Smiley: i'm so pissed off right now holy shit

Smiley: how did i even die???? dick so good it killed me?

Smiley: i'm so angry

Angry: and i'm Smiley😂

Baji: 3/10 joke 👎, poor delivery, fell flat

Smiley: i hope you kill yourself, Mikey

Mikey: trust me, i've tried

Chifuyu: ???

Chifuyu: he shot you in the back with a gun?

Chifuyu: what's wrong with you

Smiley: oh my bad i though you meant like, he was taking me doggy style

Smiley: i'm no bottom

Ran: what is happening

Chifuyu: i'm moving on😐

Chifuyu: Hakkai was tied to a chair and burnt to death

Hakkai: wha-

Hakkai: WHAT DID I DO??

Hakkai: jesus 😟

Chifuyu: why am i getting all these memories, i'm freaking out

Hakkai: Mikey please tell me what i did to deserve that ☹️

Mikey: idk Hakkai i was going through a lot

Draken: have you been diagnosed with anything?

Mikey: i don't need a diagnosis bcs i'm fine now, you're all alive and i don't have any murderous intent!!! yippee🤗

Mikey: isn't this great Takemitchy??

Takemitchy: well, yeah no ones dead so that's great

Izana: this is obviously completely fabricated

Izana: are you guys that bored?

Senju: man for all that time traveling you sure are a shit boyfriend😭

Takemitchy: how????

Takemitchy: did Hina say that☹️??

Senju: it's an observation

Senju: you've had way too many coincidental close calls with other woman💀

Draken: yeah you pissed me off when you thought i was gifting you a prostitute. you had a whole ass girlfriend. shame on you

Senju: and you also almost slept with Emma and you "don't remember"

Smiley: Mitchy's low-key funny as hell because what do you mean you stripped yourself and another girl down to your underwear by accident

Baji: wouldn't Takemitchy be a pedophile then?? Emma was 13 dawg🤨

Mikey: he was 14 though😭

Baji: you're gonna ride Takemitchy's dick to defend him from trying to sleep with your 13 year old sister??? crazy

Baji: wasn't be mentally 26🤨?

Baji: bro i'm gonna beat your ass actually

Mikey: hmm

Mikey: you know what Mitchy, why did you do that 🤨?

Smiley: LMFAOO

Mitsuya: why did i come back to Takemitchy facing pedophile allegations, like what's going on right now

Kazutora: is it not enough that he changed the space and time continuum just to be with his girl?

Kazutora: cheating this cheating that, my boy deserves all the pussy he wants

Kazutora: he's been beaten, shot, stabbed AND killed

Kazutora: i personally believe he's the goat

Baji: ?

Chifuyu: goat is an acronym for "greatest of all time", Baji-san

Baji: what's an acronym

Chifuyu: i'll dm

Kazutora: bro you're so fucking stupid😭

Draken: i don't care if he was skinned alive by an orangutan, there's no excuse to cheat on someone

Rindou: i think being skinned alive by an orangutang warrants having more than one girl. idk that's just me tho

Ran: not the point that's being made rn

Rindou: what exactly is the point that's being made

Rindou: is this real. are we being serious.

Rindou: i don't think i get the joke

Haruchiyo: i think we should all stop talking now

Mikey: Mitchy we need to talk a bit

Takemitchy: i told you this was a bad idea

[whenmemorydies]

You love taking care of people: Fine Dining in the Time of Late Stage Capitalism

CW: this post discusses toxic and abusive workplaces and makes brief mention of institutional child abuse and intergenerational trauma. I might also talk about global systems collapse, for shits and giggles. Also this is another long one. You know the drill. Lets have a cuppa. Also this is my last minute submission to Sydcarmy Week 2024 and the theme of “you love taking care of people”. Enjoy!

I have a confession to make to The Bear fandom:

The food is my least favourite part of this show.

Its not that its not interesting. It definitely is. I'm a home cook and for the most part, I enjoy cooking (when I can do it at my leisure and not like most mothers, while balancing the mental load). I just find all the other aspects of the show much more fascinating.

In fact, I think this show about a bunch of cooks in commercial kitchens is so popular not so much because of its take up of cooking but its unflinching and loving interrogation of grief and trauma, including the kinds that get passed down through families.

The truth is, I've also never been overly excited about the world of "fine dining." I grew up in a large, Tamil family and so our meals were big, shared and not necessarily conducive to the minimalist plating preferred in exclusive, "gourmet" spaces:

Photograph is mine, delicious Jaffna Tamil spread is the handiwork of my great aunt (Kunchi Ammamma or “little maternal grandmother”), arguably the best cook in our sprawling, extended family.

As tumultous as family life could get, I often experienced meals (that, lets be real, were almost always prepared by the women in my family) with my loved ones as a happy experience. I mean we also had our share of blow ups at the kitchen table but what was always consistent was the love and care that went into the food that we were given to eat. It was woven into the rich and complex flavours that made up the curries, varais, and sambals we had on our plates (and that even now, make me salivate just thinking about). It was spread throughout the warm, coconut-y rotis and steaming rice and puttu we ate with our hands and used to mop up all that spicy, flavourful goodness.

And if there's one question I heard more than any other from older family members growing up, it was "ni sappittiya?" ("have you eaten?"). More than "how are you?" and definitely more than "I love you." As with many Global South cultures, for Tamil folks, food is used for nourishment but also as a primary means of conveying deep care. Obviously Tamil people don't have the monopoly on using food to show their affection (or even the monopoly on using food to replace actually saying the words "I love you" lmao). Food has been found to increase interpersonal closeness and can also contribute to emotional regulation. Feeding a child is one of the first means of bonding between parents and children. Food also plays a big role in the course of romantic love: as a basis for first dates and future time spent with a partner, and of course also as an aphrodisiac.

As Cesar Chavez, Mexican-American civil rights activist, labor organiser and co-founder of the National Farm Workers Association (which later became the United Farm Workers union) said,

The people who give you their food, give you their heart.

You love taking care of people

Conveying care and love through food is a theme that comes up repeatedly in The Bear. Recall 1x02 Hands and the phone conversation with Nat and Carmy:

Natalie: Chefs always say a big part of the job is taking care of people, right?

Carmen: Yeah, yeah. No I guess.

Also recall an almost identical bit of dialogue between Carmy and Sydney, under the world's most famous table that had absolutely nothing wrong with it in 2x09 Omelette:

Carmen: You love taking care of people.

Sydney: Yeah I guess.

Here's some further mirroring between Sydney and Carmy about giving people joy through food. Recall again the phone call between Carmy and Nat in 1x02 Hands:

Natalie: When did the breathing problem start?

Carmen: I think maybe sometime in New York. I was throwing up every day before work.

[...] Chef was a piece of shit.

Natalie: Then why'd you stay there?

Carmen: People loved the food. It felt good.

Also recall the conversation between Sydney and Marcus in 1x08 Braciole:

Sydney: I want to cook for people and make them happy, and give them the best bacon on Earth.

Be gentle with each other, so that you can fight stronger together: seasons 1-2 of The Bear

As rough and tumble as The Beef was, the clear throughline in season 1 (when The Beef was in operation) was the importance of the relationships and care between the show's characters. This was also the case in season 2 where the majority of the season was spent in the context of renovations and training prior to the opening of The Bear (in that season's last episode).

In season 1, we had Carmy leading the crew at The Beef by being patient, clearly explaining technique and positively reinforcing his staff's work.

Above left: Carmy walking the BOH crew through making Donna Berzatto's Lemon Chicken Piccata in 1x05 Sheridan. Above right: Carmy encouraging the crew to keep up their current pace in 1x06 Ceres.

We saw him working with Sydney, supportively encouraging the team to go further, to push themselves. We even saw Carmy at ease enough to talk about Mikey and his mother while at work. We had a Carmy showing us how integrated he can be.

Above: Carmy and Tina in 1x05 Sheridan

Heck, we even had a Carmy who wanted to get a compost installed at The Beef for processing food so that it didn't go to waste. Recall this golden bit of dialogue between him and Sweeps in 1x01 System:

Carmen: Eh yo Gary, you set up a compost for me today, Chef?

Sweeps: After I do my thing in the place.

Carmen: That's very clear. Thank you.

We had a Carmy who had time. Recall the below scene in 1x02 Hands before Sydney gives Carmy her draft business plan for The Beef (that she drafted on her own initiative and time to support his family's struggling business. If this man doesn't hurry up and fight for her in s4 istg...):

Sydney: Hey you got time?

Carmen: Always. What's up?

Similarly, we had Carmen in the first episode of season 2 making time to talk to a clearly distraught Richie:

Richie: Yo you ever think about purpose?

Carmen: I love you, but I do not have time for this, alright? *starts to walk up the stairs out of the basement*

Richie: *Nods, looks dejected, sniffs*

Carmen: I have time for this. *comes back down the stairs and sits with Richie*

Most pointedly in season 1 we had the conversation between Sydney and Carmy in 1x03 Brigade which lays the blueprint for their joint vision for the restaurant and which should have acted as a touchstone for both of them in season 3:

Sydney: You know, I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.

When I said I didn't think that the brigade was a good idea, you didn't listen. And its not that you told me that I had to. [...] But you just didn't really listen and if this is going to work the way that I think we both want it to work [...] I think we should probably try to listen to each other.

Carmen: Yeah. You're right.

Sydney: The reason I'm here and not working somewhere else, or for someone else, is 'cause I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don't wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don't care about, or running brunch, God forbid.

Carmen: *nods vigorously*

In season 2 while The Beef undergoes its facelift into The Bear, some of the show's most beautiful moments were when characters displayed their faith and trust in one another. Recall 2x01 Beef where Sydney asks Tina to be her sous chef, or 2x02 Pasta where Sydney and Carmy send Tina and Ebra to culinary school (and Tina's unwavering belief in and support for a nervous Ebra once they get there), and 2x03 Sundae and 2x04 Honeydew where we see Carmy and Sydney send Marcus to Copenhagen to stage with Chef Luca and build up his skills as a pâtissier.

So what happened at The Bear?

Season 3 of the show has been the most divisive of the series, with its preceding two seasons being almost unanimously adored by fans and critics alike. There's been a lot of debate on here and elsewhere as to why this is the case. What appears to be a dominant line of reasoning in this regard is the shift in Carmy and his approach to running The Bear as a fine dining institution.

At The Bear, we have Carmy as an Executive Chef who's berating, hostile, and blaming everyone else for his emotional state ("You guys are fucking killing me"). We have a Carmy who has taken "every second counts" to a point so minute that he has given up smoking because of the time away from the kitchen that it will cost him. We have a Carmy who has no patience for his team, almost all of whom have no experience working in fine dining before the opening night of The Bear. We see how out of sync Carmy and Sydney are ("Been off"). We have a Carmy who is reverting to patterns of behaviour that have been modelled for him by two of his abusers: his mother, Donna Berzatto and his previous boss, Chef David Fields, Executive Chef at Empire.

Perhaps second only to Donna and her stand in Claire, Chef David Fields' toxic legacy haunts season 3 of The Bear.

This is nowhere more clear than in the sheer wasting of food and money in season 3 epitomised by Carmy's insistence on changing the The Bear's menu every day (to quote Tina: "Every day, Joffrey Ballet?!") and his repeated throwing out of dishes he deemed "not perfect."

The waste did not go unnoticed by other characters on the show. Recall Natalie telling Carmy off in 3x03 Doors:

Natalie: The menu cost is out of control.

Carmen: Nat, figure it out.

Natalie: Oh. Oh. Figure it out? Wow.

Carmen: Figure it out.

Natalie: Why don't you fucking figure it out?

Carmen: I'm trying to use less shit.

Natalie: Okay, well, whatever you're doing, the R&D [research & development] of that, its fucking us.

Carmen: Well, we're using the best shit.

Natalie: Duh. Duh. Well, duh.

Carmen: Duh? Don't duh. No duh. [lmao this dialogue]

Natalie: Don't buy fucking crazy shit and then use it once, Carm. It's so wasteful. Duh! Duh, duh. Fucking duh, bro.

In episode 3x05 Children, Uncle Jimmy commissions The Computer to come in and run analytics on The Bear in an effort to get its costs under control (LOL at his assessment below, scrawled on the back of the dodgiest looking pie chart I've ever seen):

Computer: This sample is based on the month and a half we've been operating and does not take into account any funds spent previously on build, friends and family budget, other assorted fuckery.

Carmen: I mean, there hasn't been that much fuckery.

Cicero: Oh neph. You specialise in the fucking fuckery, bro.

Uncle Jimmy had plenty to say about Carmy's use of the former's funds (which Jimmy has duly invested in The Bear to support his nephew) including Carmy's decision to spend $11,268.00 on Orwellian butter (aka Dystopian Butter from the Fucking Rare Transylvanian Five-Titted Goat, lmao).

Even Carmy was under no delusions about how wasteful he was being this season. Recall his discussion with Sydney in 3x05 Children:

Sydney: You know what we should be doing?

Carmen: Produce vendor. You don't have to say it.

Sydney: Okay, I didn't say it then. I didn't say anything. Do you want me to say something?

Carmen: That I'm jamming us up 'cause we have a new menu every day and the economics aren't great?

Sydney: Well, I'm an accomplice, so...

Note: the language in this small bit of dialogue struck me as being off. Why does Sydney needs Carmy's permission to say anything? Its like she knows that he knows the constantly changing menu and exorbitant expenses are an issue but doesn't want to say anything until Carmy brings it up first. @yannaryartside has a great break down drawing the analogy between Sydney's "accomplice" confession here with Molly Ringwald's (sorry I dunno what her character's name was) confession about facilitating her partner's substance abuse, during an Al-Anon meeting in 1x03 Brigade.

We have Carmy repeating harmful patterns of behaviour at work that he has picked up from his personal life (for example, from his mother) but also from his professional experience.

The world of fine dining that both Carmy and Sydney came to The Beef from was marked, by their own admission, with "complete and utter psychopaths" who screamed, pushed and yelled at their staff (recall Sydney's disclosure to Carmy at the end of 1x05 Sheridan) or "fucking assholes" (in the case of Chef David Fields), who made their staff "very, probably mentally ill." Sadly, this aspect of The Bear is not fiction. @moodyeucalyptus pointed out in this post that both Carmy and David Fields appear to have elements of their characters based off of real life fine dining wunderkind Chef Charlie Trotter: a Chicago-based chef known to be brilliant but who mistreated his staff so badly that he had two class actions brought against him (one by FOH staff, and another by BOH staff led by James Beard Award winner Beverly Kim).

There are other stories about the grinding nature of the fine dining industry which we'll get into below. We'll also look at a few stories of chefs who are leading a renaissance away from the "toxic, hierarchical shit show" that has historically plagued fine dining and who Joanna Calo and Chris Storer may have front of mind as they take us through Carmy and Sydney's journey together in season 4 (because as tempting as Shapiro's offer is, we know Sydney isn’t leaving Carmy). But first, we need to go further back in time to look at how the fine dining industry itself has created the conditions for a chef like season 3 Carmy to exist in the first place. Lets look at the system, baby (to quote Tina in 1x01).

The Bear's culinary ancestry: Chef David Fields and the Fine Dining Industry

I should say that I did not want to go too far into history with this post. After Carmen, Natalie, and the Berzattos, I was committed to trying to write shorter meta (/snort). But I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about the origins of fine dining, and before that, the rise of Europe as the base of "haute cuisine" (which itself is directly tied to its history of colonialism and...Empire *badumbum* @freedelusionshere has made the point that The Bear writers have given Chef David's restaurant the name Empire purposefully and they're not wrong). All of this informs the current state of fine dining today.

Though France is often credited as the place where restaurants began (in the 1700s), its been established that folks were eating in communal restaurant settings all over the world, including in China about 700-600 years earlier. The origins of western fine dining (the tradition that Carmy and Sydney have trained within) however, are synonymous with French cuisine and the efforts of Georges Escoffier (who Carmy name drops in 1x03 Brigade).

The French Brigade

Escoffier was responsible for developing the French Brigade system of organising kitchen staff which is still used today in many restaurants worldwide, including at The Bear. The French Brigade was based on Escoffier's own military experience in the Franco Prussian War and was set up to identify roles in the kitchen and increase efficiency and consistency so that restaurants could scale their work to serve larger numbers of customers.

The thing with anything based on structures found in the military is that its going to replicate hierarchy (a chain of command is central to the running of military operations). In fact, much of 1x03 Brigade is spent with Sydney resisting what she identifies as the imposition of a "toxic hierarchical shitshow".

Mariya Moore-Russell, the first Black woman in the world to get a Michelin star (who also happens to be from Chicago) talks at length here about the benefits of the French Brigade for systematising commercial kitchens but also how easily it can get corrupted if the wrong people are in the kitchen. She says in those circumstances, the Brigade can quickly perpetuate, racism, sexism, perfectionism and "all of the isms." My fav quote from the video? When Russell talks about the French standardisation of cooking adopted by most kitchens in fine dining industry (at 23:39):

They were like okay, how do we take what Grandma does, what Mama does and make it you know efficient and consistent but also just extremely stressful for everybody involved? (lmao)

Note: Moore-Russell has a series of videos on YouTube about her experiences in fine dining which are very illuminating. She's also such an engaging storyteller. For example, watch "My path through the restaurant industry".

Service à la française to service à la russe

In addition to the French Brigade, another development in the history of western fine dining was the shift in styles of food service from service à la française to service à la russe. Service à la française ('service in the French style') involved serving all the dishes for a meal at once, allowing patrons to serve themselves. Think something akin to buffet style. See below for table layout using service in the French style from 1775:

Source: Wikipedia.

To me, service in the French style looks kind of similar to how my Tamil family lays out our meals (as can be seen in the first picture of this meta, minus the pheasant, moonshine and roasted woodcocks...lol). This style of service also looks a whole lot like "family style" dining which can be described as: "when food is brought to the table on large platters or serving dishes rather than being individually plated. Guests then serve themselves from the dishes which are passed around the table." In fact, service in the French style or family style dining is how many cultures serve and eat their food, both in the home and in restaurant settings (whether they use these terms to describe that layout is another matter).

I also seem to recall a couple of soulmates Jeffreys deciding to open a family-style restaurant in 1x08 Braciole (which @bootlegramdomneess has also pointed out in her post here).

In the 19th century, service in the French style became replaced in European restaurants by service à la russe ('service in the Russian style'). This style of service is what Western fine dining and haute cuisine restaurants utilise to this day. It involves bringing courses to the dining table in sequence, one after the other. Courses are portioned and plated before being brought to the diner by service staff.

In the case of Western fine dining, Escoffier shaped haute cuisine ('high cooking') through the use of his French Brigade system and the implementation of service in the Russian style. Haute cuisine has undergone shifts and changes since the 19th century including with the nouvelle cuisine movement in the 1960s which was marked by a focus on fresh produce, paired-back menus and a focus on invention. Haute cuisine of today has been described as a fusion: employing elements of nouvelle cuisine and more elaborate techniques and processes from Escoffier's system.

To my mind, service à la russe involves a lot more people (definitely more wait staff) to have it deployed effectively. When you have more people, you have more room for error (like all those dropped dishes in season 3). Family style service or service à la française allows people to serve themselves. It encourages sharing. Personally, I prefer the latter. Also can we talk about how small the portion sizes are in haute cuisine? lmao. I get it, its art. You need a gigantic plate for a small piece of hamachi because thats the canvas. Some (read: me, lmao) might also say its big ol' waste to wash a plate that size for food that takes up maybe a 1/5 of its surface area. Can we also talk about the concept of "chargers" (which the Computer rightfully rips into Carm and Sydney for in 3x05 Children) - why do you need a table setting that no one's gonna use? I'm sure there's other aspects to haute cuisine that make no fucking sense but honestly this meta is gigantic enough as it is so I'll stop there lol.

Anyway, notably it is service à la russe and food that would be described as haute cuisine that we see at The Bear. Family style is nowhere to be seen in season 3.

Colonialism, Empire and the rise of Western food cultures

A fact that is often left out of discussions about why the French and other European countries developed such globally renowned food cultures as well as their staggering wealth and status as "first world countries" (particularly in the period between the 1600s to the 19th century) was that at around the same time, these nation states were expanding their own empires by colonising other parts of the world with the express purpose of acquiring ingredients (and other resources) that they did not have access to in Europe. A brief and non-exhaustive list of examples below:

Europe's demand for flavour was so great in the 1600s that the Dutch traded Manhattan to the British in order to secure the Indonesian island of Banda Run which, at the time, was the world's only source of nutmeg. When they first arrived in the Banda Islands, the Dutch killed and enslaved much of the Bandanese population, taking control of the island's local nutmeg plantations. This violence would come to be known locally as The Banda Massacres.

It was the hunt for a direct trade route with India for black pepper that Christopher Columbus used to pitch his voyage to the King and Queen of Spain and which ultimately led him to the Americas. Columbus' arrival precipitated the colonisation of the Americas, which resulted in enslavement, disease and outright genocide, decimating First Nations populations throughout North and South America.

The colonisation of the Americas would also lead to the exporting of various foods that have come to be staples in European cooking. For example, the tomato - the key ingredient in many Italian (and Italian American) dishes - orginated in South and Central America and was brought to Europe via Spanish colonists.

The British set up their infamously brutal East India Company (EIC) to control the Indian subcontinent and the trade of various resources including precious metals, opium, textiles (silks and cotton), spices (such as cinnamon, black pepper, nutmeg, cloves, mace) and other food items (like salt, sugar, coffee and tea). The EIC would later be supplanted by the British Raj in Britain's stranglehold on India and after almost 200 years of imperialism and economic fraud, it has been estimated that the British drained India of nearly $45 trillion. I can't even begin to fathom an amount of money that large but the British could, and that theft powered much of the empire during its height.

The influence of Indian ingredients and cuisine spread throughout the British empire, including back to Britain itself. In fact, through colonisation and empire, Indian influences appear in various global cuisines (including other European cuisines as well as in the Caribbean).

Indeed the British's impact on food globally included its colonisation of Australia and New Zealand. These two colonial outposts essentially became gigantic cattle and sheep runs for the British who facilitated the wholesale theft of land - and in the case of Australia, did so without even bothering to enter into treaties with First Nations people - in order to run livestock that was then exported to feed Britain.

In order to satisfy its sweet tooth, France operated huge sugar plantations on the backs of the labour of enslaved Africans, particularly in Haiti (known at the time as Saint-Domingue). In the late 1700s, Haiti was responsible for exporting 40% of all the sugar consumed in Europe. The human cost of this was high and brutally violent. Eventually in 1803, after many armed revolts, enslaved African-descent people kicked the French out of the country after over a hundred years of heinous exploitation (thereby creating the first Black republic in the world). The French were so economically dependent on the colony for its production of coffee and sugar that when Haiti got its independence, France decided to punish the new republic for the loss of future income on Haitian exports, demanding 150 million francs in gold as compensation. The French sent warships to enforce this cruel debt. All in all, Haiti spent approximately $21 billion paying off France for the freedom that its people had already lost their lives and shed their own blood for. The debt (which involved the fledgling republic taking out exorbitant loans and fundraising amongst its citizens) was not paid off until 1947: 122 years after it was initially enforced. The French even charged Haiti interest.

Were it not for its vicious history of slavery and its century-long extortion of its former colony, I'm pretty sure France wouldn't have had the quantities of a certain key ingredient necessary to develop its worldwide reputation for pastries and desserts. I mean, you try making a crème brûlée, an eclair, a tarte tatin, a sweet galette, a mille-feuille, a madeleine, a crepe...without sugar.

This history deeply informs fine dining today. For centuries, Europe underdeveloped much of the world (borrowing Walter Rodney's turn of phrase) through colonialism and imperialist extraction. It then used those spoils and excess wealth to, among other things, develop its own food cultures and then self-proclaim itself as the cutting edge of the culinary world. To be clear, you can only faff about in a kitchen and create fancy sugar palaces and 10-course meals if you have the means and resources to do so. Haute cuisine is a product of wealth and resources, accumulated over time. Europe's colonial history also dictates which cuisines are recognised via awards like the Michelin star system. Hell, it dictates why you have the French (Michelin is a French tire company) dictating what constitutes "good" food in the first place. If you want to read more about this topic, this essay on Medium provides a good overview of the sad, racist state of affairs over at the Michelin Guide.

Where Europeans colonised and settled, this same lens was applied. This is why you have the undervaluing of Indigenous cuisine and ingredients in Australia, a situation which has only recently begun to shift. The colonisation of Australia actively involved the lying about Aboriginal foodways in Britain's attempt to falsely claim that Aboriginal peoples were nomadic hunter gatherers who did not use their land. Its why the history of how enslaved Africans brought their food cultures with them through the Door of No Return and transformed American cuisine, is not more widely known. Its why so few chefs of colour have been recognised for Michelin stars globally.

Empire and The Bear

Season 3 of The Bear pays clear homage to the impact of European empire on the world of fine dining in a few ways. The most obvious is the fact that Chef David's restaurant is literally called "Empire" lol. Another example and one of the most visually striking to me occurs in 3x01 Tomorrow. First, recall Chef David Fields' outright theft of Carmy's dish (I think we've established that you can't get more empire than the theft of food, yes?). Can we talk about how not only did Fields steal Carmy's dish but also, turned it into the most beige meal we've seen on The Bear to date, bar that single sprig of dill fighting for its life?

Carmy's penultimate plate (the final version being The Best Meal That Sydney Ever Had™):

Chef David Fields' dick measuring exercise version:

Carm was not a fan:

Can we talk about how the original plate featured the colours of the Italian flag (green, white and red) - emblematic of Carmy's cultural heritage and what is certainly one of the single biggest influences in his culinary journey (the dish also features fish, just like the main course in La Vigilia, the Feast of the Seven Fishes) - but after Fields was done with it, that shit was practically three shades of mayonnaise?

Can we talk about how Carmy's version of the dish almost certainly had a varied and dynamic flavour profile while Fields' looks just how I imagine it tasted like: whatever flavour meh is. The dish literally has no acid from what I can see (ingredients: paupiette of hamachi, fennel soubise, potato chip and dill). And I *know* a balanced dish has salt, fat, acid and heat (cos Chef Samin Nusrat told me).

Can we also talk about how Fields hates the most commonly traded of spices? The one that Columbus was looking for when he landed at what is now the Bahamas. The one that was an integral part of the East India Company's business plan rort to fuck India and South East Asia more generally?

Carmen: He hates black pepper for some reason I'll never understand. (from 3x10 Forever)

White folks in Europe were so hungry for spices to liven up their food that they invaded large swathes of the rest of the world to get the stuff. And yet, here we have Chef Fields, disliking Europe's gateway spice: the one that the Romans (Carmy's ancestors) had been trading with the East for centuries prior to Europe’s imperial frenzy, and which now makes up 20% of the world's spice trade.

Is the man so dedicated to meh that he couldn’t even bring himself to embrace pepper? Used to be one of the best chefs in the world, is right Chef Luca.

On top of dubious taste (I'm not a food critic but no one can tell me that hamachi and fennel soubise dish tasted anything other than fucked lmao. idc idc), Chef Fields is also one of the clear antagonists in The Bear. Along with Donna Berzatto, he is one of Carmy's two primary abusers. His impact on Carmy was never as clear on the show as it was in season 3. Lets take a closer look at that impact below:

Culinary ancestry and intergenerational trauma

Both Donna and David are ancestors of a kind to Carmy. Donna is clearly a biological ancestor in that she's Carmy's birth mother. I've argued here that David Fields is a culinary ancestor to Carmy. For ease of reference, I'll include my explanation of what I mean when I say "culinary ancestry", from that earlier meta, here:

Most folks understand ancestry to refer to our family or genetic lineage. When I was in university, I learned about intellectual ancestors or genealogy: where one can trace your intellectual lineage - the thinkers and creators that have shaped your understanding of the world and/or your chosen profession. I think its useful to take this concept and apply it to The Bear to help understand what the show is saying about legacy. I wouldn't limit the concept to "intellectual" ancestry though. It might be more helpful to talk about culinary ancestors in this context because the process of creating food - crafting dishes - isn't solely an intellectual exercise. It engages our intellect yes, but also each of our senses, our memories (recall that chocolate banana from 2x10 The Bear), and the need to nurture and be nurtured. Culinary Ancestors Carmy's culinary ancestors are varied given his work history. We know he's cooked under some of the best chefs in the culinary world of The Bear, including: Daniel Boulud (of Daniel), René Redzepi (of NOMA), Thomas Keller (of The French Laundry), David Field (a sociopathic Joel McHale, of Eleven Madison Park Empire), and Andrea Terry (a sublime Olivia Colman, of Ever). I'd also include here Mikey, Donna and Natalie Berzatto. I'd include cousins Richie Jeremovich and Michelle Berzatto as well. These are the home and line cooks Carm grew up with, watched in his mother's kitchen and at The Beef. He took his lessons - the good and the bad, learnt voluntarily and involuntarily - from all of these people, incorporated them into his working self and transmuted them into his food.

NOTE: In "Ancestors and The Bear" and in other meta I've written, I've incorrectly noted that Chef David Fields was the EC at Eleven Madison Park (instead of Empire). This was due to the fact that up until 3x10 Forever, we are not told the name of the restaurant that Fields and Carmy worked at together. In the draft script for the pilot, the restaurant is identified as EMP (Eleven Madison Park) by Sugar (see p 23 of that script), however this appears to have changed to "Empire" during the course of the show's development.

Through the lens of culinary ancestry, there is a clear connection between Carmy's wasteful R&D and menu choices in season 3 with the "lessons" he received under the tutelage of Chef David at Empire. For example, and as discussed above, the refusal to serve any dish that isn't viewed as "perfect" led to extreme amounts of waste at both The Bear and at Empire.

Additionally, Chef David focused on "subtraction" (recall his writing "SUBTRACT" on green tape and sticking it to the expo of Empire in 3x01 Tomorrow) and never repeating ingredients in the dishes that came out of Empire. Instinctually, these two strategies appear to me to be techniques to create needless scarcity. They're attempts at repression in and of themselves. Carmy adopts these philosophies and tries to implement them at The Bear as well. They manifest in his unilaterally overhauling the original menu at The Bear (without Syd's input) as well as his insistence that the menu change every day.

Minimalistic subtraction of elements was also a characteristic of Escoffier's approach to cooking which would be taken even further with the nouvelle cuisine movement in France. That movement focused on minimalistic dishes with fewer seasonings and sauces. Chef David Fields is clearly rooted in the French school of fine dining in this approach.

Subtraction also shows up in the show in a more dire way: in the cutting off of relationships and the whittling away of self.

I recently come across a promo still for The Bear. It features Carmy as the CDC of Empire, plating a dish. I've seen the image before but I never noticed the writing on the wall next to Carmy before. It reads:

"Its only after we've lost everything we're free to do anything"

This quote also appears in the 1999 David Fincher film, Fight Club (which itself is based on the book by the same name by Chuck Palahniuk):

Left: Carmen Berzatto, CDC at Empire in The Bear; right: Tyler Durden, general nihilistic fuckwit in Fight Club, also preaching the gospel of David [Fields].

This ethos, written on the wall and haunting the kitchen at Empire is emblematic of how Chef David operates. It reads like a fucked Psalm, giving a poetic shimmer to Field's abuse. Chef David tears down his staff, verbally degrading them to the point that he has the gall to whisper "you should be dead" to them. (OK. Can we...for a minute...imagine being a manager and that being your management style? Telling your best performing staff that they should be dead? Excuse me, mon cheri? A literal devil).

Chef David literally strips his staff of their dignity and their connections to the outside world. He makes them lose their sense of self and claims its all to make them better chefs. He tells Carmen in 3x10 Forever:

Chef David: So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent.

The parallels between Carmy's experience at Empire - and even in the Berzatto household - and the critique of performative violent masculinity that Fight Club was trying to get across are worth pointing out. In Fight Club, white men beat each other up to try and assert control over a perceived loss of power. At Empire, Chef Fields consistently berates and degrades Carmy, clearly threatened by his CDC's talent. Similarly we have Richie complaining about having to take orders from "toddler" Carmy, saying "I was a baby too once, Syd. Nobody gave a fuck" in 1x02 (which could have been the origin story of any one of the men who joined Brad Pitt/Edward Norton to carry out "Project Mayhem" lmao. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of the dudes on Reddit fawning over Richie circa seasons 1-2 also watch Fight Club as if it was some sort of aspirational manifesto and not the satire that Fincher intended it to be).

Chef Fields is meant to be representative of a toxicity found in the restaurant industry globally. There have been numerous reports of the physical and psychological violence meted out against kitchen staff by those higher up in the brigade.

Additionally the structure of the French Brigade system is such that those at the bottom - stages - are often expected to work for free. While unpaid internships are common in various lines of work, those industries start to run into trouble when large amounts of their products and services depend on unpaid labour. In fact, darling of The Bear, René Redzepi of Noma faced criticism of his restaurant's unpaid internship program. The internship program was rife with stories of ridiculous working conditions. Redzepi finally began paying interns in 2022 but then announced that Noma would shut down regular service at the end of 2024 due to being unable to afford its staff (at one point, unpaid stages made up almost half of Noma's staff).

The fact that entry into the world of fine dining means people need to work for free as a stage automatically eliminates this as an option for folks who cannot afford to volunteer in order to gain work experience. This would disproportionately impact on certain communities, particularly communities of colour whose members may not have access to sufficient wealth that would allow them to work for free. This is clearly illustrated in The Bear where we see that Carmy has the safety nets and access in place that allow him to stage at various fine dining institutions and gain much sought after experience (e.g. his family's ownership of The Beef and his ability to work there, his cousin Michelle's restaurants in NYC and his access to those spaces). Sydney, Tina, Marcus and even Richie have very different entries into the world of restaurants and fine dining.

The issue of sexual abuse and harassment in the restaurant industry is also very subtly broached in The Bear (though it is more heavily implied in the draft script for 1x01), particularly in 1x07 The Review with Richie accusing Sydney of giving a food critic head in order to get a positive review for her risotto (season 1 Richie was genuinely the worst). But the issue is huge, with more sexual harassment claims filed in the US in the restaurant industry than any other field of work.

Even scrubbing floors by hand and cleaning with a toothbrush, while ensuring sparkling kitchens, have also historically been used as a means of punishment, particularly in institutional settings. During Australia's Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, there were numerous reports of children in care homes being forced to scrub floors with toothbrushes as a means of physical punishment and control. (CW: the above link discusses accounts of institutional child sexual abuse).

Given the above, its clear to see that the industry - the system - facilitates a whole lot of shit that its workers are subjected to. So when Chef Adam Shapiro catches Sydney as she leaves the train station in 2x04 Violet and asks her how she's doing, her response is telling:

Sydney: It's been a long month [at The Bear].

Chef Adam: Ah. That bad?

Sydney: No, just-- Restaurants.

Chef Adam: Yeah. Right? Why do we do this to ourselves?

Sydney: 'Cause we're crazy.

Chef Adam: Yeah. What was this month's crazy?

Sydney: Um. The kind that's inherited.

Chef Adam: *Nods emphatically* Understood.

This Financial Times article on the dark side of restaurant culture in Copenhagen, sums things up perfectly:

“We always had this joke, an explanation for why things are so horrible: shit falls down,” [Chef Levi] Luna told [the author Imogen West-Knights], with a cold laugh. In the kitchen, the head chef gets mad at the sous-chef, who gets mad at the person below him, a chef-de-partie, who then takes it out on a stagiaire. Then one day, the sous-chef is the head chef, and he has learnt how a head chef behaves: badly. It should give a sense of the strength of feeling I encountered about how damaging this system is that several people independently described it as being like children who are abused going on to commit abuse as adults. This is the dark flipside of the restaurant-as-family metaphor.

Challenging the status quo @ The Bear

By the end of season 3, Carmy appears to recognise that subtraction in his life is not going to bring him happiness. In fact, in 1x08 Braciole, he identified subtraction - specifically, the cutting out of people from his life - as the reason his life got quiet as he grew more isolated. In 3x10 Forever, when he finally confronts Chef David, Carmy laments the psychic and physical impact of Fields' abuse as well as the isolation it engendered. Fields, psychopath that he is, remained unfazed:

Carmen: You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and-and nightmares. You--You know that, right? Do you-- Do you understand that?

Chef David: Yeah, I gave you confidence, and leadership, and ability. It fucking worked.

Carmen: My life stopped.

Chef David: That's the point, right?

Additionally, its worth pointing out that despite all the focus on precision, minimalism and (quite frankly) rage being put into the impeccably plated dishes of The Bear, it's the messy, juicy, multi-ingredient filled Italian beef sandwiches that remain the site's best seller. Indeed, in 3x05 Children, Nat tells Carmy that the sandwich window is the only thing at The Bear making any money. So much for subtraction.

We also see Carmy resisting a total acquiescence to Chef David's approach to running a kitchen early on in season 3. His non-negotiables read in the hindsight of the entirety of the series like his attempt at integrating the lessons he’s learned from various kitchens. It’s why the list says “no repeat ingredients” AND “vibrant collaboration”. We know that vibrant collaboration had to come from someone else’s kitchen cos Fields certainly wasn’t collaborating with anyone. That asshole was out there dictating like a fascist.

Additionally, while Carmy has realised the dangers of the fine dining industry by the end of season 3 (and not for the first time - recall in 2x01 The Beef when he called the Michelin star system "a trap"), and while Sydney grapples with her role as an "accomplice" to Carmy's season 3 bullshit, their protégés Tina and Marcus continue to keep the flame of genuine care, collaboration and inspiration alive. This is most clearly seen during the conversation Tina and Marcus have in 3x09 Apologies where they discuss Marcus' mother and his memories of her as well as brainstorm ideas for Tina's cauliflower, brussel sprouts and horseradish dish (please for the love of gad, give us more Tina, Marcus and Ebra next season).

Challenging the status quo in the real world

There are also actual chefs in the real world who appear to be doing something different with their work: embracing their own food cultures that have historically been locked out of the world of fine dining and also trying to run their kitchens in more egalitarian ways.

Above clockwise from top left: Chefs Tim Flores and Genie Kwon of Kasama, Chef Adejoké Bakare of Chishuru, Chef Asma Khan of Darjeeling Express and Chef Mariya Moore-Russell formerly of Kumiko and Kikkō.

The first, most obvious example of this for The Bear fans is Kasama, (shout out to @currymanganese and @thoughtfulchaos773 for introducing me to the above linked, short doco) the Filipino American restaurant founded and run by Chefs Tim Flores and Genie Kwon (who also happen to be married) in Chicago. Kasama is also where Carmy and Syd were meant to have their palate cleansing "reset" in 2x03 Sundae and where Sydney may have also been hit on by fellow Coach K fan, Kasama bae (shout out to @sydcarmyfan for verbalising what I squee-ed about on first watch of this episode lmao).

Both Flores and Kwon come from fine dining backgrounds but appear to challenge some of that industry's basic tenets, including the messianic role of the EC as top of Escoffier's brigade food chain. Flores openly states that his cooking is an ode to his Filipino mother who regularly taste tests his food. In the Nick Cavalier doco linked above, Flores states "if [his mother Lolly Flores] eats [the food] and there's no reference to her dish at all, I'm not doing the right thing." Flores and Kwon also operate Kasama using a hybrid model (that I think would send regimental Escoffier into a tailspin) where they offer fast and casual service featuring Kwon's baked goods during the day and offer a Filipino tasting menu led by Flores for dinner service only. Kasama was awarded a Michelin star in 2023, the first Filipino restaurant in the world to achieve that title. It also took home a James Beard Award that same year.

Note: if you haven't already, have a read of this interview of Tim Flores and Genie Kwon conducted by the Michelin Guide. ISTG Storer and Calo have read this and lifted whole paragraphs for The Bear's script. An excerpt that stood out to me, in particular:

The two first met at Bib Gourmand restaurant GT Fish & Oyster, also in Chicago. "He was leaving as I was starting. So we didn't overlap for very long. But I actually went to eat at the restaurant that he was working at afterwards, and I had one of the best experiences of my life at a tasting menu. And after that we started talking and hanging out, and eventually started dating," recalls Kwon about how she and Flores first met.

Sounds a lot like a couple of Jeffs we know, yes?

Also check out Chef Adejoké Bakare, who in 2024, became only the second Black woman to get a Michelin star in the world (the first being Chicagoan Mariya Moore-Russell who announced in 2020 that she was taking a break from her career for her mental and physical wellbeing and who also...is married to a chef lol). Bakare's restaurant, Chishuru in London, specialises in West African cuisine rooted in Bakare's Yoruba, Igbo and Hausa cultures. Bakare, like Genie Kwon, has a background in biological sciences. She also began her career as a home cook, then ran a fish and chip cart while studying at university in Nigeria. Once she moved to the UK, she ran a supper club and later won the opportunity to run a short term pop up restaurant. During the ceremony where she got her Michelin star, Bakare noted "[i]t did feel rather odd at last night's ceremony that 90% of the room was white middle-aged men. But the passion I see among young women in the industry is such that I'm confident things will change."

Take also Chef Asma Khan, who got her start in the industry as a home cook and then began running supper clubs out of her house in the UK. She then opened up the Darjeeling Express with a group of South Asian women she had met when they were all fairly recent arrivals in the UK, none of whom had formal culinary training. To this day, her kitchen remains fully staffed and run by women.

In this TEDx Talk about her work, Khan says:

"I wanted to cook but I actually wanted to feed people. This gave me the greatest pleasure. I felt at my most powerful when I was able to serve someone something I had cooked. In some ways it was my way of showing affection and love, and being able to give them something that took them home."

Sounds familiar yes? Like a couple of Jeffreys in season 1 of a certain show?

About the systemic sexism in the industry, Khan says:

"But at that time, in England, anywhere in the West, everywhere you looked it was male chefs you saw that was on television [...] in the media. It was always about men who were cooking kitchens. The greatest irony of it all is that [...] in every South Asian home you go to, you will invariably find a woman [cooking] but in every South Asian restaurant you go to, not just in India but in Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, almost everywhere in the world, you will usually find a man cooking in the kitchen. And it was a desire for me that I wanted to cook but there was no road or route in front of me."

Khan elaborates further on the skewed and gendered manner in which elite fine dining operates, in this article:

“There is no public hanging [in her restaurant]. Male chefs have made cooking into a combat sport. I think it’s a reaction to the idea that cooking is feminine: I’m not the dinner lady! I’m not your grandmother! Sorry, but if you’re constantly screaming at staff it means you’ve trained them badly.”

Khan is describing the hyper-competitive nature of fine dining (and her suspicion that in a highly gendered industry that is populated by majority men, that there is a need to perform a hypermasculinity in order to put distance between themselves and the historically feminine-gendered roots of the act of cooking) and how Khan wanted no part of it, for herself, her staff or her patrons. In this Guardian article, Khan points her attention directly at the toxic work cultures of many fine dining institutions:

Khan sees herself as a vital heckler on the sidelines of the industry, rather than part of its elite club of star chefs. She is especially scathing of a macho restaurant culture that has allowed workplace bullying and abuse to become normalised – and of those who enable it.

“My deep concern during the pandemic is seeing very prominent people with considerable wealth remove the entire workforce without a safety net.” A surge of restaurant and pub workers were reported to be sleeping rough in central London in April, a fact Khan can’t shake. “It is so shameful, my heart bleeds for the industry, it is immoral. I don’t want restaurants to be ranked by Michelin stars for the fluff and edible herbs they put on a plate. I want to know how they treat their people, they should be ranked on that. Where there is bullying and racism, where there is sexual harassment, where staff don’t feel safe, people should boycott those restaurants. I don’t want to see them prosper.”

Honestly, after reading some of the horror stories about work place practices in the restaurant industry, I'm with Khan. I'm also with Flores, Kwon, Bakare and Moore-Russell. I reckon Storer and Calo are also with these folks too and that we're going to see a shift in season 4 of The Bear that reflects the larger industrial change in the world of fine dining that chefs like these are heralding.

The death of fine dining

Above: Carmy's phone in 3x05 Children

Like @freedelusionshere says here, I don't think its a suprise that season 3 ended with Ever's funeral. The fine dining of Empire and even Ever is dead. How can it not be given the way its been largely running to date, as discussed above? How can it not be when we are living in a time of severe food insecurity precipitated by runaway consumerism and the twin existential threats of global climate and extinction crises. How can anyone in good conscience justify charging exorbitant amounts of money on a plate that is not going to fill patron's bellies while there are communities worldwide who do not have enough food to feed their children? When some communities, even in so-called "first world" countries like America and Australia cannot access clean drinking water?

Truly, the argument for fine dining posited by Will Guidara in 3x10 Forever made me (and I'm sure many others) actually cringe.

There's nobility in this. [...] We can give them the grace, if only for a few hours, to forget about their most difficult moments. Like, we can make the world a nicer place. All of us in this room. We have this opportunity, perhaps even a responsibility, to create our own little magical worlds in a world that is increasingly in need of a little more magic.

There *is* nobility in nurturing people, in feeding them. But in a time of the multiple and rolling, global existential crises, where particular communities are being targeted not just for marginalisation but whole scale eradication, this is not a time for more "magic"; particularly when those "little magical worlds" are reserved for the select few who can afford them. We don't need more holes to bury our heads in. We need real spaces of care that are accessible, kind (read: not nice, but kind. there is a big difference) and nurturing. And those spaces need to be those things not just for the patrons who visit them but also for the staff who work there.

There is also literally no time for escapism, at least not of the kind that late stage capitalism promotes and as described by Guidara in 3x10. We are living at a time where food systems are said to make up one third of all greenhouse gas emissions, pushing the climate crisis further to the point of no return. What's the point of making magic worlds to escape an actual world on the brink? And while your magic-making contributes to the brink getting closer? Its like putting lipstick on a pig.

Indeed some have posited that it was the British Empire's remaking of the world to feed Britain (which we've looked at briefly above) that has been the single biggest contributor to the current environmental crises facing our planet. The Bear acknowledges the issue as well. Recall 2x04 Violet when Tina visits Jerry at the farmers' market and his explanation for why he has so little produce to sell:

Jerry: There's fewer and fewer moths to grow vegetables now, and 'cause of that, there's fewer and fewer farms. Used to be you could come down here, buy everything you needed for a full menu. All in one spot. Whatever grows together, goes together.

The reason there are fewer months to grow vegetables is because of climate change which has impacted on everything to season length, groundwater and rainfall levels (as the two main sources for global farming irrigation) and increased periods of drought and heatwave.

So whats next for The Bear?

Season 3 put us through the ringer with Carmy replicating toxic practices in his restaurant that are rife in the industry at large. Yes, Carmy also has mental health issues and is a survivor of multiple sources of trauma. We know this. I've talked about this at length here and here. But he's also a guy who's running his own business with folks who are dependent on their place of work for their livelihoods. As such, he, Nat and Uncle Jimmy (as co-owners of The Bear) have responsibilities to their staff.

As EC at The Bear who is directly responsible for managing BOH, Carmy has a choice to make about whether he "blows his trauma through" (shout out to Dr Resmaa Menakem and his book My Grandmother's Hands) the bodies of those closest to him, including the crew at The Bear. Just as parents have to work on themselves so that they don't replicate harmful patterns of behaviour in raising their children, so too do we all in our daily relationships, including where many of us adults spend most of our waking lives: at work.

Like Richie observed, Carmy is not integrated in season 3 but neither is the industry in which he's working. A menu that constantly changes, wasteful food practices, a food production and agricultural industry that contributes to a third of global greenhouse gas emissions leading to increased global warming. These things are absolutely not integrated. In many ways, Carmy's mental state in season 3 - anxious, agitated, exhausted, is a reflection of the times. Given all of the above, Carmy's "I'm so fucking sick of this" in 3x09 Apologies hits me harder in the chest. Yes Carmy, you should be. Now go do something about it.

Having looked at the career trajectories of a few talented, conscientious chefs in the course of writing this meta, I think its pretty clear that the old way of running restaurants a la Chef David Fields is over. As we sit at the precipice of climate disaster, watching multiple genocides unfolding at once, during a time of massive food insecurity, who the hell has time to be suffering in the way Chef David made his employees feel in the course of making food that is meant to nourish people? What fucking cognitive dissonance is required to continue on THAT kind of a path?

Come season 4, I reckon we are going to see a massive shift in the trajectory of The Bear. This will be precipitated by multiple things (like the review Carmy got at the end of 3x10 and whatever the fuck Uncle Jimmy is up to with that box and those golf clubs lol) but most significantly, by a realisation on Carmy's part that his version of Michelin mode IS NOT IT.

I reckon Carmy and Sydney are going to continue to work together but they'll go back to the original plan they made with one another in 1x08 Braciole. They're going to go back to family style. They're going to treat their staff better (after Carmy apologises lol). They're going to shift from wasteful, haute cuisine to sustainable food practices that support producers and the planet more broadly. They're going to leave Chef David Fields' scare tactic of subtraction behind and lean into using more pepper.

Above: Sydney's notebook as she workshops a recipe at home in 1x08 Braciole.

Tagging: @moodyeucalyptus @currymanganese @hwere @freedelusionshere @thoughtfulchaos773 @ambeauty @brokenwinebox @devisrina @espumado @fresaton @kdbleu @vacationship @birdiebats @bootlegramdomneess @mitocamdria @tvfantic87 @angelica4equity @anxietycroissant @turbulenthandholding @yannaryartside @afrofairysblog @ciaomarie

cos you may be interested but as always, I'd love to chat to whoever wants to about this stuff!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello!

Could I request for some reverse comfort for Toby, Tim and Masky please? Maybe they’re insecure or feeling emotional and the reader is very sweet and empathetic towards them, so they try their hardest to make them feel better even if they don’t open up?

Thank you!

- 🐨

Ticci Toby, Masky, and Tim getting comfort from the reader

Obligatory Tim isn't a crp character (and neither is masky but I've Frankensteined the og and crp versions for this blog LMAO), but hes included here WOO yeah baby

Characters: Tim, Masky, Ticci Toby

Notes: reader is GN, written on mobile so expect more typos than usual

CWs: death

TICCI TOBY

Mixed bag of issues with this one, a lot his feelings are internalized thanks to his old home life as well as the bullying we went through- not talking about his feelings is basically natural to him because asides his sister, no one really cared

Takes a long time to let himself he vulnerable like that around you, but he does appreciate that you're so open and kind.. he almost feels...

Bad.. he tends to bounce between thinking highly of himself and thinking hes scum aaaand more often than not he thinks he sucks when hes in a not good mood

You let him get his feelings out, even if it's not through speaking; you let him get heated when he talks about something that's stuck with him, you go out with him to kick rocks, stuff like that to just let him

Let go

And you don't judge him, you let him feel and express

MASKY

Not all that emotive so it's very hard to gauge when hes in a sour mood or generally not happy or neutral

Hes like a cat when he seeks you out, kind of just leans into you physically and remains there

Doesnt let you touch him though

Will gently push you away if you try to hug him or anything like that, likes being in control when hes like this so he'll move on with it if he wants some physical affection

You'll never find out what's got him feeling unwell since he doesnt talk, both literally and "he doesnt talk about himself"

This is the most you'll get, though it's not terrible

TIM

Theres no denying that this dude has been put through the ringer, and theres a lot of stuff that needs to be unpacked

A lot of which hes not going to tell you, regardless of if you know about what happened to him or not

On the chance you dont or that he simply doesnt want to jinx things and make it all start again, he may reframe his experiences into something else or just point blank say people had died

Asides from the jinxing thing mentioned hes just not that interested in showing his feelings and hardships in general

He does appreciate your support, though

Sometimes sitting with you can help alleviate some of the noise going on in his mind; doesnt matter if you're doing something together or independently

You just have a calming energy

A lot of the time when his mind is being unkind, you both sit on the porch and just exist

Morning, afternoon, nighttime.. anything is free game

Very open when telling you when he needs something from you, whether it be time with you or alone or to not pry

[wraithdance]

https://www.tumblr.com/wraithdance/765961917651140608/i-really-liked-your-explanation-of-the-whole?source=share

I am really bad at articulating my thoughts but I think about this a lot as someone who hopes to 1- major in neuroscience (i'm 18, going to uni next year) and 2- is trans. I know being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, very cognizant of that, but more to the point where I relate to the aspect of not being able to get over the like mental wall of seeing "neutral" readers as me? I don't know what my brain is doing when i read certain fics but sometimes i can't do it.

I feel like I should close read some of my favorite fic and least favorite fic to see if there are triggers I didn't notice on the first read. does that make sense or seem similar to what you experience? Again I know it's not the same thing, but like i am so curious as to what cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white.

I am sorry if this bothers you, really not my intentions, I am obviously a future brain nerd and i can't stop thinking about this

Congratulations fellow Nerd! You've activated my interest in Race theory and fandom writing from an academic perspective!

Writing reflects life and to answer this question properly, I have to talk about life shit to catch you up to speed, (this should help if you take a sociology or cultural anthropology class lmao) So, Welcome to:

Calvary yaps: Sociology & Intersectionality in fandom writing 101!

Disclaimer: I'm just a random bitch on the internet who loves English and the ridiculousness of social hierarchies, this will be referencing American social constructs and in groups only, with a focus on my experience as a Black American woman who reads a shit ton of books. Don't fight me if you hate my explanation, I will simply not respond.

Read my house rules before sending me an ask, I'm just being a dumb ass rn and word vomiting my interests, so pls i beg no follow up questions unless I say I'm open to em later.

Definitions to know:

Socialization: the act of preparing individuals to participate in society by learned social norms taught in ones family or social settings like school/friend groups. (one can be socialized in gender, race, cultural practices, etc.)

Social Hierarchies: systems of social organization in which some individuals enjoy a higher social status than others (in my opinion this is a lingering safety measure from lizard brain cavemen hunter/gatherer days)

Intersectionality: A term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw; The process of acknowledging the unique parallels a marginalized person experiences when they have more than one marginalization (ie: race, class, gender, sexuality, ability, size, etc.)

Matriarchal society: Social groups/family structures that center female figures as representatives of authority.

Implicit Bias: Unintentional bias a person may have towards a group or individual based on learned stereotypes, prejudices, perceptions based on another's background or state of being.

first, yes anon you are making sense! So the main question:

'What cis straight white people put in their fic that makes it so obvious that they're cis straight white?'

I've been mulling this question around in my head for a few days and tried to figure out how to articulate this without going into depth in Sociological theory, but I can't! So here we are lmao, this is long as fuck so TLDR here.

I've talked to a LOT of Black and PoC people over the last months because I thought I was the only one who felt strange or could tell immediately when a writer was white, despite doing the best job they could to be neutral.

Every person I spoke to agreed they could tell right away even if we don't share similar racial backgrounds.

The answer I've come up with to why that is, is because white people are socialized (taught by society/their parents how to behave) in a way many black and PoC people are not, so their reader characters will often act in a way PoC people have learned not to, so it flags for many of us.

I plan to answer another question about this at a later date so an example is with shit like:

An over deference to hyper masculine male characters (for PoC cultures like certain Black/Latine groups that are often matriarchal in nature and don’t ascribe to as many traditional gender roles, this is a flag), lack of interpersonal/familial connection, over meekness, no challenging of external factors so things just HAPPEN to the reader and lack of awareness of surroundings to name a few. 

A lot of the language of the irl world places white cis people from Western countries as the default and everyone else as others. In which, PoC people have learned to navigate the world very carefully with a hyper-focus on what will potentially bring them harm/scrutiny/ostracism especially in white dominant spaces.

That extends to when we have down time while reading or partaking in media smfh.

I'm sure you've had to learn the same as a trans person navigating cis spaces and it's the same with any marginalization! If you are disabled you have an awareness of able bodied people and their expectations, same with being fat amongst skinny people, etc.

The more marginalizations you have, the louder the rules of social hierarchies become. Which is why many marginalized ppl stick close to those who 'get it' in their social groups as an act of safety in numbers. (Many of us attempt to have strong family connection/harmony because of this)

So referring to your comment about being trans is not the same thing at all as POC experiences with fic, it is when you are a Black or PoC trans person! My angel face @/buttdumplin has spoken a lot about that as a Mexican transman reading fics by cis people!

(Please for the love of God no one come to me explaining how marginalized they are so they shouldn't be lumped in with the white ppl PoC are cognizant of, I will check myself into a psych ward)

So what does that gotta do with reading fics?

No matter what anyone thinks, it is damn near impossible to not frame your writing from the perspective of your lived experiences. It's why even when I try my hardest to make my characters not sound Black, they will always read that way because I have been Black all of my life!

And it doesn't just happen with race, go on tiktok and search male authors writing women. (or here's another article lmao)

Also ask a Southerner how they know someone has never been to the South and don't know shit about our accents when they write Graves. There are linguistic tells that flag off and why we flame actors who pick up southern accents for their roles.

(They chew on that terrible goddamn Appalachian or Louisiana Accent not realizing Southern accents come in many fonts.)

So when I read a fic about Kyle Garrick from a non black person, I can tell the writer is non black by linguistic implications, the things they emphasize about him and what they don't. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy reading fics from non black people, I can just tell!

And sometimes that means I, and other PoC's associate the Reader as a white OC while reading fics.

For example, all black people are not monolithic because of our cultural and regional experiences, but many of us share common threads. That's usually family involvement, colloquialisms, that stupid fucking cookie tin our elders put sewing supplies in...

Other non Black PoC people might share similar cultural practices, so when I'm reading fics from say a latina, I will cock my head and go wait.... are you...? And surely enough, they are a person of color. 

But even while reading from a non black PoC, I have to tread carefully because anti black sentiment exists in many cultures, which is why you'll hear me say Black and PoC/Non black people interchangeably.

It’s how the conversation of Implicit bias comes up, because unknowingly non white characters can sometimes be written with a hyper focus that makes them seem inhumanly one characteristic or with little to no background while the other characters are fully fleshed out.

like the character of color is just a stand in to move the plot around white characters forward. 

So all that to say, without sometimes meaning to white writers will always sound off to me in a way that my brain can pick up on in the most minuscule ways because my awareness of my blackness/otherness has been drilled in from birth and reinforced by social norms.

I can even tell immediately if a white person has been around only white spaces their whole life with the jokes they tell lol.

In the grand scheme of things the race of the writer is most important to me when something jarring comes up that slaps me away from the experience, it explains so much of the disconnect.

Every marginalized person has a threshold for what they can ignore as a ‘trigger’ before they’re ejected from reader inserts, mine is usually the association with racial historical happenings, certain gender dynamics, etc.

It's why I mention crying like a little bitch when I read my friend Jess's (Kyletogaz) TF 141 Hair series, Dragon’s (Dragonnarative-writes) Transferrable Skills, and even Xavi's (Buttdumplin) Piercing fic.

Reading those fics felt like safety and familiarity. It was a moment where I realized I could drop the mental load I had no idea I was carrying, where I was trying to prepare myself for potential emotional damage and just READ.

It's also why as a Black person who fucks with kink and sex work it's been so touch and go when navigating dark fics/kink fics/fics about Sex workers.

Because there are different rules of engagement non white kinksters have to be aware of and that leads to a point on the collective vs. Individual experience as a PoC in kink, that I’ll eventually make a post about at some point or another. Maybe…

So yeah I’m tired of yapping. I hope this long shit was enough of an explanation!! Thanks to my friends Kiko, Jules, Xavi and Folded for yapping with me so I could articulate this better!!

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

as a japanese learner, im curious what the experience of memorizing all the different ways to read the same kanji is for a native speaker ? im currently learning about all the different ways to count things and ive never had to take so many notes about anything in my entire life lmao, its hard but its also fun

First of all, I'm glad to hear that you are enjoying learning Japanese! 😆 The Japanese way of counting things is obviously very hard to remember! It's often cited by Japanese people as a typical example of the unreasonableness of the Japanese language: When counting long objects such as sticks or rope, the particle "本(hon)" is used, but when written in kanji, it will be like "一本(1)," "二本(2)," "三本(3)", but they are read as "ippon," "nihon," and "sanbon," respectively. Even though they all use the same kanji! 😅 (This is probably what you're studying, right?) Even native speakers cannot explain this regularity, but I'd be happy if you found this kind of unreason interesting. :)

Regarding the question of what kind of experience it is for native speakers to learn different readings of the same kanji, I think native speakers often know the word by sound first, and later understand that "Ah, this kanji is used for this word. This may be something that can only be experienced through the listening of Japanese many times.

Also, although you may already know this information, it is actually possible to guess the reading of kanji by guessing.

For example, in the case of the kanji "枝(eda)" used in Nagito's surname:

In some cases, this is read as "shi" in some kanji compounds. For example, "枝(eda)" can be combined with the kanji "葉(ha)" in Yasuhiro's surname.

If you combine the kanji "枝(eda)" and "葉(ha)", it will be "枝葉(shiyo / shiyou)". The word "枝(eda)" means "branch" and "葉(ha)" means "leaf," but when both are combined to form the word "枝葉(shiyo)," it means "non-major or non-essential things.

I think the reading "葉(yo)" is unfortunately reading you have to memorise it, but as for "枝(shi)", it's a reading that can be guessed. This is because the kanji "支", one of the parts used in the kanji "枝(eda)", is read as "shi".

For On reading* of kanji, the reading of the parts composing the kanji is often used in this way. If native speakers encounter a kanji they do not know how to read, they use this rule to predict the reading. (*Kanji has two general readings: Kun reading and On reading. In the case of "枝", "eda" is Kun reading and "shi" is On reading.)

For example, a slightly more difficult kanji than "枝" is "肢," which is also read as "shi". This is a kanji means the branched parts of the body, mostly the limbs.

Thus, as long as you learn the basic kanji that are used as parts of other kanji, you will be able to read them by guessing rather than by memorizing them. 😄

You may already know or be aware of this: "支" means something that is branched. A similar example is the kanji "岐", which means "forked road".

Now, after reading all of this, you might think: "Wow, kanji is very easy to understand! And the reading of this kanji must also be "shi"! 😄

...Unfortunately, it is not that easy, and that is the complication with Kanji. Actually, the kanji "岐" is read as "ki".

Native Japanese speakers often fall into this trap as well! 😅

In most cases, the only way to read kanji correctly is to memorize it, but if we don't know it, we try to guess the reading from the parts. But this is just a matter of luck, and it often fails. 😭

However, as I showed earlier in the picture, kanji is something that can already convey meaning by its shape. So even native speakers often encounter kanji that they are not sure how to read, but they may guess that it probably means something like this from the parts and ignore what the reading is.

Even between native speakers, the other person may be speaking with an incorrect reading, but it can also be guessed by imagining the parts used for the kanji. For example, there is a kanji compound "分岐" that is correctly read as "bunki," but suppose the person I am talking to reads it as "bunshi. Even in such a case, I can think that the person probably thought it was "分岐" because the character for "岐" has a kanji part "支," so the person read it as "bunshi. (Most of the time I will point out the misreading to the person, but sometimes I will just ignore it because I can understand what they were trying to tell me.)

The same is true for the same kanji with different readings. For example, the kanji compound "枝葉(shiyo)" introduced earlier can actually be read as "edaha," but in that case it simply means tree branches and leaves. So it is one of those kanji compounds that uses the same kanji but has a different meaning when read differently. But even if you didn't know that it should be read as "shiyo," I don't think you'd have much trouble, because I think you'd be able to understand the meaning of the sentence in which that compound is used based on the image of the kanji.

In conclusion, even for native speakers, it is difficult to memorize how to read each kanji. In most cases, we know at least one basic reading for basic kanji, but rarely do we know all the other different readings. So we often try to read it somehow by guessing from the parts the kanji uses. And as a result, we often get it wrong. 😅 But I think we can guess what they are trying to say from different aspects of each other, so I don't think we care too much.

Hmmm. I think Japanese is a pretty lax language, but maybe the Japanese are lax too! My explanation has gone off on many tangents, but I hope you continue to enjoy learning Japanese. 💖

[crumplstiltskin]

twin au thoughts

sorry you can just ignore this if you're not interested, i'm rambling again bc i'm procrastinating on work 🫶

twin au sukuna and yuuji where sukuna has mocked yuuji all their lives for having no talent in sorcery but he's also the loneliest boy in the world bc no one else can tolerate him like yuuji does (actually uraume lmao but we're talking about flesh and blood here). but yuuji could disappear one day and sukuna would be alone, feeling like his limbs have been amputated and all of a sudden there's a void where his brother used to be.

even though they grow up and yuuji (being the late bloomer he is) eventually manages to get on equal footing with sukuna, he still feels a resentment towards sukuna that he will never voice.

sukuna always has something to prove and yuuji just wants the best, if playing along with the higher ups and following the stupid laws and being diplomatic can be called that. but sukuna knows his potential, and yuuji's. but yuuji doesn't have the same ambition he does so they drift apart.

(i don't think people talk about losing a sibling enough in the context of choso and yuuji or any brother au where they grow up together as a family that's kind of close. like yes, he would bully yuuji but not in the way that is hostile. if you have siblings you know...lol. you have days where you hate each other and hours later you're laughing at some stupid tv show. they're not your friend but you're confidants and they are someone you can be vulnerable with without shame. you grow through similar experiences that someone from the outside can never quite understand.

the grief from losing someone like that is immense. and what's worse; losing a brother because of a tragedy that befell him or losing a brother because he was driven away by circumstance and makes the conscious effort to avoid you for the rest of your life?)

edit: ALSO BIG DIFFERENCE

sukuna having followers who respect him out of fear or admiration of his power vs yuuji being surrounded by people who respect and adore him out of love and friendship

[beesfairlyland]

Hii bee, wanted to ask u question.

I'm really interested in nd right now, but I have to admit I'm afraid. I have been thinking about my long dream life, realities I would to shift and experience, I'm afraid I'll stop having the illusion of all that, the excitement. Because as far as I know, the little that I know rn about nd, you kinda stop desiring too bc that's part of the ego too right?? I would like to live knowing I'm just a consciousness, awareness, no need of worrying about other things bc they are not real, and at the same time I wanna experience the dream life I've been dreaming about a long time, but again desiring is part of the ego, as far as I know. If I stop desiring, knowing that nothing is real, that ime everything, don't you fall into the solipsism??

I wanna have the peace inside but I'm afraid of depression honestly lmao. Ur one of my favorites account here, and I would like to here ur point of view :) I will also like to send it to some other nd accounts to hear other points of view :)

Hiii pretty girl!!

You didn't quite completely understand the basis of non dualism, or it's better to say no concepts, afterall ND is another word given by us.

Non-duality= no seperation/oneness.

When there's no seperation, there's no desiring. Because we desire things that we don't have. But we are already Everything rn. Desiring something is operating from lack. But is there anything that You lack?

And now to your question....no nothing becomes boring.

You tell me when you know it's a dream, do you lose excitement?

The only difference will be that instead of desiring, you'll be choosing.

There is no desperation, it's all fun. You can have fun, it's not prohibited when you Know yourself. Infact you enjoy to the fullest, Knowing that nothing can hurt you and it's just a play.

Instead of desperation, all there will be is peace and enjoyment!

Hope i could answer properly!🫶🏻

[cathedral-of-sinners]

I humbly request a Tighnari NSFW alphabet please whenever you're free and if you're willing to dear author!

Tighnari, Tighnari, Tighnari, Ti-

For him, I'm always willing <3 (being free and having motivation was a different story though lol)

CW: gn!reader (no pronouns/genitalia mentioned), reader can be either sub/dom and top/bottom depending on the letter, creampie (C)

— Tighnari: Full Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's deliciously buzzed, so high on cloud nine that he doesn't want to come down. His head will drop to rest on your shoulder or in the crook of your neck, trying desperately to inhale as much of your scent as possible. You’ll even catch his tail flicking gently like a happy puppy’s would, something you can't ever bring up outside of the moment or else he'll never recover (not to mention the teasing Cyno would bring if he ever somehow heard of this habit lmao). Once he's collected himself though he grows insanely soft, ears relaxing as he places a kiss on your forehead, asking if anything hurts or if you want anything. Food, some water, medicine or a warm/cool cloth, he had it all set up on the nightstand before you started and reaches for what he needs before curling up beside you, tail wrapping around you in some way.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of their partners)

Your shoulders and arms! Adores when you wrap your arms around him both in and out of the bedroom, their presence something he simply really enjoys. Loves when he can bury his nose in your shoulders too, careful though, he's a biter ;)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Addicted to cumming inside or on your stomach. The way his seed dribbles and dots your skin makes his head swirl - as for inside? He could pass out from how good it feels to stuff you full <3

D = Dirty Secret

Has very big thoughts and feelings about teasing you all day with a toy. Wants you to roam the forest or into the city as he stays and does some paperwork in his home, the knowledge that you're no doubt struggling to keep it together until you get back at the forefront of his mind. By the time you get home he can smell the arousal dripping from you as he turns and smirks. Don't worry, he rewards generously to well behaved individuals :)

E = Experience (How experienced are they?) 

Honestly could see him as both a virgin and not. Like, there's the idea that he's not interested in sex at all during his studies and then when he became a Forest Watcher there was both no time and no one that piqued his interest. But then I think he could also be the kind to have a one-night type thing once or twice while he was in school. He’s an I do want when I want kinda guy in some ways after all.

THEN AGAIN!! Fennec foxes mate for life sooooo, there’s that… but other than that he’s had plenty of moments when the topic came up in his research or conversations he’s overheard (both willing and unwillingly), therefore he’s really only lacking in the practice aspect.

F = Favourite Position

Lotus!! This is mainly because of how close the position makes you both, chests pressed up against one another, every breathe felt and every noise of pleasure heard. Plus, like mentioned before, it lets Tighnari rest his head on the crook of your neck, drowning him in everything that is you.

A close second is doggy style.

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

He’s sassy no matter where he is (man has no fear honestly) so I’m damn certain he’ll unintentionally (or even intentionally) be funny during the moment. For the most part though he’s pretty serious.

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

*chef's kiss* he is very well-groomed. Tighnari takes extremely good care of both his ears and fluffy tail, so it’s only right he takes equal care down below. Firm believer that his pubes are the same shade as his tail and not a mix like his hair or solid black. Pretty clean shaven, the thinnest of bushes present.

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

He can be very romantic when he wants to be!! Holds your hand, kisses you all across the face, down your neck, across your chest, he’ll whisper praise and compliments in your ear, all the things like that!

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t jerk off much simply because he doesn’t feel the need to. The only times he would are if you’re not available (like out of town unavailable) or if he’s in a rut and you’re just taking too long to come home :((

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Marking: He's a bitter like I said but Tighnari also likes to admire the scratches left on both of you after an intense round. Really likes to trace them with his eyes as you both cuddle or as he takes care of them.

Breeding: I’m totally not adding this because of his fennec fix urges lmao (I am a little), but it doesn’t matter what you got downstairs, your hole will be stuffed with his cum to the point of overflowing.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Tighnari isn't picky about where you do it but he favors the bedroom slightly above the rest. It's just far more comfortable and there's less of a chance of being interrupted by a patrolling Forest Ranger or some random hiker

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

Let him drown in your scent and he's yours. Also, he’s really sensitive when you kiss or drag your tongue over his Adam’s Apple ;)

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

He likes the risk but he's not stupid enough to risk your safety. He likes to play around with strange mushrooms and flowers but if he doesn't know everything about them - effects, antidotes, the like - then he's not bringing it around you. (But that’s honestly what any good lover would do).

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

Honestly??? He’s got no preference. However, there is one pro when it comes to sucking him off: you get to see his ears cutely twitch.

A natural when he goes down on you. It’s partially due to his boldness and lack of hesitation. With minimal kitten licks, he dives right in like he might die if he doesn’t get a taste of you right that second. Bonus points when he looks up at you through his lashes too - it's really a sight to behold.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He's honestly a mixed bag, he can go either way most days. It also depends on the circumstances: did you tease him? How much time do you both have on your hands? What are your preferences in the moment? As a default though he leans slightly more on the fast side.

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

"Really? Now? Right before I'm suppose to leave for patrol?" He'll act like it's an inconvenience but really he doesn't mind. If either you or he are feeling needy before one of you have to leave or are expecting company he's not opposed to busting out a quick round. Just to satisfy you both until later where you have all night to play.

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

Again, dude's got no fear. Can and will fuck anywhere he wants (with your consent of course). Forest? Hell yeah. In the Akademiya? Oh how it’d piss the higher-ups off! Tighnari also doesn’t mind introducing new things he thinks you might like or something he wants to try, always opening up with “there’s something I’d like to try, if you’d let me?”.

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

Tighnari in heat can go for what feels like forever even though it’s really only a mighty 7 or 8 rounds. When he’s not in heat however, the Forest Watcher averages about three. He’s always able to take some time before orgasming.

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

KINKY TIGHNARI 🥵😫 (I thought it once and I’m never going to let it go, it’s permanently stuck in my head)

Owns every fucking toy under the sun (exaggeration but damn close to the truth). Loves using them and doesn’t mind bringing them into the bedroom with you either. For himself, has a favourite combo between a dildo and a cock ring (vibrating or not doesn’t matter to him). He just fucking loves bouncing on it, hitting that one sweet spot with the added stimulation from the ring.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nodding my head vigorously. He so loves to tease you. “What? Did you really think I was going to touch you? Just like that? You’ve got me all wrong.”

Fucking loves teasing your nipples too. No explanation, it is what it is.

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

If you manage to catch him off guard he’ll moan really loudly and slutty before growing red at the lewd sound ;) Tighnari whines and whimpers more than he does moan. He’s usually not too load but when he gets lost in pleasure, drunk on you, he can get pretty loud that people passing by will hear it

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

Enjoys seeing you in lingerie and would die a happy fox if you surprised him in a black set, body draped along his bed as you await for him to unwrap his unexpected gift.

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

Average length, ‘bout 5 to 5 and a half inches. Definitely has a little more girth to it though. Has a prominent vein that travels along the side of his dick. Is a grower.

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

Not overly high, like it’s there but its also not. Before meeting you and before things in Sumeru calmed down there was just so much to do. Withering Zones, Elezar, the Akademiya constantly bothering him, the list goes on. The only time it's high is during the season *wink wink*

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

After catching his breath, going through the motions of caring for you both and finally laying down, Tighnari is asleep after 10 to 20 minutes, provided there’s minimal post-sex talk. He doesn’t mind chatting so if you do then he’s out after about 45 minutes.

Tag list: Not a Soul

If you'd liked to be tagged in any future works lmk via comment, DM or my askbox!

[meanbossart]

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

[hadesisqueer]

I like Zaheer as a villain but he is so overrated tbh. Not only because he's not as smart as neither him or people think he is —if he were, he wouldn't have prevented facing Korra in a fair fight only for at the end being like "Oh, Korra, we're poisoning you so we can force the Avatar State and kill you in it; I'm sure that straight up telling you that and therefore giving you a heads up instead of taking you by surprise —like Azula did with Aang— will not matter at all because you totally won't be able to defend yourself after we trigger a literal defense mechanism that gives you the power of a God. Yeah the chains will totally stop that from happening because they're platinum so you totally won't break free even though the Avatar State also enhances your already impressive physical strength." Definitely that was not his smartest move.

It's because they put him as one of the top Airbenders in the franchise and like. That's not true lmao. Zaheer was a good Airbender compared to most of the New Air Nation but tbh you can't compare a guy who was already a skilled martial artist and who was adapting his skills to Airbending to a random guy from Ba Sing Se named Wang who's 38 years old who just got Airbending and hasn't done any martial arts before in his life. Most of Zaheer's advantage in fights comes from 1) him being already a skilled figher 2) people being taken by surprise because they didn't know he was an Airbender 3) people not being used to fighting Airbenders 4) him not holding back unlike most Airbenders. You think he's impressive for suffocating the Earth Queen? All Airbenders with a bit of training probably have the ability to do that (Gyatso literally did that against a whole battalion of Comet Firebenders), they simply choose not to because it goes against their ideals.

Airbending Zaheer could deal with average and a bit above average-good benders/fighters (like White Lotus members or Kya; Kya was a healer, not actually a fighter, and the White Lotus are talented and all but you can't compare those guys in Korra to the main crew lmao) due to his martial arts skills that adapt well with Airbending. He was talented, okay. He defeated Tonraq on top of a mountain while Tonraq had a limited access to water, cool. Now, him being one of Top Best Benders of the franchise? No lmao, most actual Top Benders TM like Iroh, Jianzhu or Amon could probably deal with him pretty easily. The rest of his Red Lotus pals could beat him. He is not even one of the best Airbenders, so don't put him in that top; he just got Airbending, he's talented but there is no comparison. You really think this guy is anywhere close to Gyatso? Kelsang? Aang?! Zaheer wasn't even at Book 1 Aang level. Zaheer needed to gang up with the rest of the Red Lotus against Tenzin because he was kicking his ass and Tenzin wasn't even breaking a sweat while doing so lmao. You put him against an actual Master and he gets bodied. Book 3 Korra would mope the floor with him with Waterbending and she could probably deal with him with just Airbending. Post Book 4 Korra could probably mope the floor with him with just Airbending. The only thing Zaheer does that makes him stand out against any other Airbender with more experience than Random Guy Wang or literal children is that he doesn't hold back like most Airbenders and that he learnt how to fly. And the flying thing, as impressive as it was, was less of a talent thing and more about that he could do it because he didn't have any earthly attachments anymore.

Zaheer was a great antagonist. I really liked him as a character, he was very interesting, his philosophy was interesting, to me he was the best antagonist in all of TLOK along with Amon and just behind Azula and Yun as my fave antagonist in the franchise. And he was talented and skilled, and a threat. But he is just not as powerful as some people make him out to be imo and that's it. Actual Top Tier Benders could eat him for breakfast.

[strwbmei]

Matchup Event

Matchup for: @dukemira

Matchups: Fu Hua, Firefly, March 7th

Contains: fluff, nsfw, creampie, mentions of bondage, mentions of choking, mentions of temperature play, soft sex, public sex, mentions of nipple play

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Honestly, with Firefly's section, I have no idea how to bake so I apologize if anything is incorrect!

Ask: Long time no see I guess? Haha, anyway it's been a while and you look good, also congratulations for your 1000 followers! Okay I'll start. I will use Mira as the name, my mbti is INFJ, and my zodiac is Virgo. I'm a listener type person, I'm not speaking that much, unless the topic is interesting (or I like the topic) for me, I'll ramble so much. Many people see me as a stoic person, like I don't really care what happened later, or right now Even if it gets me in trouble. You could say I'm a hardworking person, I'll try everything to achieve what I want. If you don't mind, I would like to choose both. My first date scenario? Maybe we watch stars and aurora while drinking hot coffee and some snack (I like quiet place, irl I always go out at night like pm and go home at 3 in the morning lmao) it's just, so refreshing y'know? I'm indeed a dominant, and more into vanilla sex, soft, gentle. (Sometimes I wanna tie them up, and close their vision) (pls don't match me with male characters) The fandom Im in, honkai impact and honkai star rail.

Fu Hua

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Like you, Fu Hua often takes late-night walks to clear her mind. The day she decided to take a different route for a change of scenery, she had no idea that this choice would end up affecting the rest of her life.

: ̗̀➛ It all starts off as the both of you passing each other on a quiet, isolated street; things like you glancing at the woman the first time you saw her because of how rare it is to see someone else around these hours. The most you'd get were stray animals and the occasional taxis, and you liked it that way.

: ̗̀➛ Your overly carefree attitude towards life and Fu Hua's overly cautious and apprehensive nature perfectly balance each other out like yin and yang. Not one is greater or worse than the other; both are inseparable as are the sorrows and joys of living that you'd gladly experience with each other.

: ̗̀➛ Change is a fearsome thing. All of the insignificant differences come together until eventually, you realize that your surroundings have already changed beyond recognition. Fu Hua firmly believes in this, and yet, it was the same change that brought her to meet you. As such, you're also the one to introduce her to new things. It takes her a bit of coaxing, but she's willing to try anything as long you're with her.

: ̗̀➛ Generally speaking, the two of you have so many similarities and just as many differences. Somehow, though, you make it work. Not because you just happen to be the right person for each other, but because you want to make it right.

"Fu Hua?" Your voice breaks Fu Hua's train of thought. She'd been gazing up at the sky for a while now, reminiscing about the past as she does so. It's not something she particularly chooses to do the first dusk of every new year, but she always ends up doing it nonetheless.

"Ah, you're awake. Did I wake you when I got up from bed?" She turns to you with a somber yet warm smile on her face. Her gaze goes down to the two cups of hot chocolate in your hands and mutters a small "thank you" as she takes one of them. You shake your head in response to her question. "Mm. I just got a bit worried when I woke up and you weren't beside me."

"What are you thinking about?" You ask before taking a quick sip of your drink. The dark and rich taste is perfect for calm, quiet mornings like this. Last night was filled with celebrations and festivities, and now that they're done, the city has fallen asleep. The sun peeks out through the horizon to greet the start of the new year.

"It's nothing important. It always amazes me how quickly time can pass and bring change." Her gaze falls down onto the jewelry shop at the corner of the road. It used to be a small diner run by a nice elderly couple. They had a dog; a small Australian terrier named Winter. Ironically enough, Winter did not like the cold. She wonders where they are now and how they're doing.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, the sunlight illuminating the unlit city. Fu Hua smiles at the sound of the dogs barking; it's the one thing that has stayed constant throughout all these years. She hopes spending mornings with you like this will become one of those things as well. "Happy New Year, my love."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Very vanilla and traditional so Fu Hua thinks she should always be submissive, at least at first. She's open to trying out new things in bed. We all know that she'd be submissive regardless of her old fashioned mindset, though.

: ̗̀➛ Fu Hua is open-minded when it comes to kinks, so she's willing to try anything at least once as long as it isn't anything too extreme or unhygienic.

: ̗̀➛ She's really big on safe sex. Fu Hua is actually very educated on sex despite having little to no personal experience with it/things related to it, mostly because she's had to give her disciples "the talk" before.

: ̗̀➛ During sex is when Fu Hua is the most emotionally vulnerable. She accidentally slips out words that she'd be way too prideful to say in any other situation, says "I love you" a lot more than usual, and reaches out to hold your hands subconsciously.

: ̗̀➛ She can go for a lot of rounds, but afterwards, she's immediately falling asleep. She'll try to give you the best aftercare she can (even if you were the one on top,) with the energy she has left, but the most she can probably do is get you a glass of water and a towel.

"My love..." She sighs, desperate and needy. Her legs rest at either of your sides as your hips rut slowly and softly against hers. Slender, calloused hands rest on your back, clawing ever so slightly whenever you hit a certain spot inside of her.

The room is dimly lit with scented candles, your clothes scattered on the floor while sensual music plays in the background. A scene telling of the romance and passion between two lovers.

You adjust yourself to hit deeper inside of her, and Fu Hua sings. She sings your name like an angel gently comforting you with her embrace; soft, and loving.

Feeling yourself nearing climax, you groan her name and bury your face into the side of her pale neck. As if in unspoken understanding, her fingers reach out to intertwine with yours, and her legs wrap around your waist.

Your hips stutter, and you fill her deep with your cum. Her chest rises up and down as she catches her breath, and she looks ethereal. You're set on spending the rest of your life with her.

March 7th

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ You and March 7th are the epitome of the saying "opposites attract." Or so, people say. While that might seem true on the surface, you actually have a lot of similarities like two stars in different galaxies, shining with unique brilliance yet connected by the vastness of the universe.

: ̗̀➛ For example, the two of you like quiet places; only for different reasons. You like quiet places because you like being able to be at peace and be alone with your thoughts. March likes quiet places because she can often find you in them. She loves bustling atmospheres and the blinding city lights, but she loves you more.

: ̗̀➛ Her troubles affect her more than they seem to, and when she can't silence the negative thoughts in her head, it's you that she comes to for respite.

: ̗̀➛ There's something about you that makes March feel so... safe and secure. She feels comfortable telling you about things that she'd normally repress herself. You keep her grounded. You help her get through the bad times and replace them with good ones.

: ̗̀➛ You care for her and try to comfort her the best you can, but you don't really care about things like "who she used to be" and "what she even is." Human, alien, or even as an emanator, you'd love her all the same. What matters to you isn't her past, but the future that you can have together.

"Hehe..." March looks up at the new ring you bought for her. The cold, silver metal shines when the moonlight hits it just the right way. To her, its glint symbolizes your love and the future to come. "Do you really like the ring that much?" You ask since she's been staring at it intently ever since you first got it for her. Of course, you're flattered since you also chose it, but you know March can be a bit overdramatic sometimes.

March turns to you as soon as the question leaves your lips. "Of course! You bought it for me, after all." She smiles with pride. You chuckle at her reaction and pat her head. "I'm glad you like it, but don't dote on it too much. I can always buy you a new one, y'know?" You weren't exactly rich, but that ring wasn't exactly expensive either. It was just something you bought because it seemed to be her style.

"Sure, but every gift from you is special to me. Even if you get me an extravagant wedding ring one day, I'll still treasure all of the handwritten notes you leave me sometimes." You blush at the implications of marriage. Of course it's been on your mind too, but to hear March mention it so casually has you feeling a bit bashful.

"When that time comes, let's get a big house and a whole army of pets! Ah, but that might make it difficult for the express... What about 5? Or if Pompom allows us, 10?" You chuckle at her ambition. You can already imagine Pompom going crazy with cleaning all of the fur. Still, a future like that with her sounds quite nice.

"We'll get as many as you want, March."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ She's not a stranger to the concept of sex, but there are a lot of things that she doesn't know about it. Despite that, or maybe because of that, she's always wanted to try.

: ̗̀➛ March 7th mostly bottoms--she counts on you to take the lead since you're more knowledgeable. She can definitely be the dominant one if asked, though. Top or bottom, her main goal is for both of you to feel good.

: ̗̀➛ Getting tied up and wearing nice lingerie are her favorite things! The intricate designs make March feel prettier, so she sometimes wears them underneath her clothes just for that confidence boost.

: ̗̀➛ She's up for it anytime anywhere mostly, but she's a bit hesitant to have sex in busier places. She likes it when there's a chance of someone spotting the two of you in the act, but she doesn't want to actually get caught. That would scar her for life.

: ̗̀➛ Loves it when you get more assertive. She loves how gentle and caring you are with her, so seeing a side of you that's so different gives her whiplash in the best ways possible.

: ̗̀➛ Her nipples are the most sensitive part of her body. She could have an orgasm just from you playing with them. A close second is her neck, though. Whether you leave kisses all over it or choke it ever so slightly, you're sure to get her gushing in her panties.

"I swear to Akivili, I'm going to kill you once all this is over!" March whisper shouts, turning to face you with an angry red all over her cheeks. Whether it's from embarrassment or arousal you're not sure.

The Astral Express had been invited to a fancy dinner, and as a result, you're spending the night mingling with the other guests; mostly the bigwigs of the planet you had just arrived on.

Or so, that's how March expected the evening would go. Now she's sat on your lap, legs spread as she gets fingered by you under the table. To others, you'd merely look like a young, naive couple in love, unaware of how her cunt drips slick and clamps down on your fingers.

Everyone turns their heads towards both of you when March whimpers in the middle of her sentence. She's quick to dismiss their concerns, and you chuckle at their cluelessness, saying March is just feeling a bit nervous.

You hold her gently by her chin and press a seemingly chaste kiss on her lips, swallowing her moans as she cums all over your hand. The rest of them are left none the wiser to the filthy acts the two of you are committing behind the scenes.

March hates how good you can make her feel.

Firefly

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship is one full of secrets, but neither of you really mind. You understand that everyone has things that they wouldn't want anyone else to know, and that being their partner doesn't make you an exception.

: ̗̀➛ She doesn't question you when you come home at ungodly hours of the day. You don't question her when she comes home smelling like smoke and motor oil. You rush into each other's embrace regardless of the day you had beforehand. It gives you comfort and warmth and makes you feel like nothing else matters other than being in your lover's arms and the steady beating of their heart.

: ̗̀➛ Her favorite activity to do with you is baking! Neither of you is particularly skilled at it, but she finds the experience therapeutic and wants to share it with you. Firefly also has fun experimenting with the recipe to see what works the best.

: ̗̀➛ Firefly is a very kind and gentle partner, but only when she's awake. When the two of you are in bed together, (which is very rare considering how different your schedules are,) she becomes a heartless monster who hogs literally all of the blankets and pillows. Yes, blankets with an s. You've tried to solve this problem by getting your own, but to no avail.

: ̗̀➛ Honestly, it'd be pretty easy to take the blankets away from Firefly since she isn't very physically strong, but you can't. She just looks so peaceful asleep like this (despite leaving you vulnerable to the cold) and you know that she's tired. Hell, it's probably been a week or two since she's slept this well. You just don't have the heart.

"See, all you have to do is place the icing into the bag and..." Firefly rambles on about the techniques she uses when decorating pastries, even going as far as to give you a live example on the cake rolls the two of you were currently baking.

You cherish every second of these comfortable, domestic moments with her given how rare it is for the two of you to have the whole day to spend with each other like this.

However, there is one problem.

Earlier, you noticed that she accidentally put salt instead of sugar when making the batter. Should you tell her, or let her taste the consequences of her actions?

As you're faced with this life-threatening dilemma, Firefly looks up at you with a concerned expression and asks, "Are you okay, Mira...? We can always do this another time if you want."

For a moment, you almost take pity on her. Thinking of all the nights she took all the blankets and pillows (albeit unconsciously) and left you without protection against the cold, you make your decision. This blanket hogger must be brought to justice.

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ It's good that you're more into soft sex because that's quite literally all that Firefly can handle. Seriously. Don't go rough on her unless you want her to get sent to the hospital.

: ̗̀➛ She can get a bit insecure about this and think that you deserve someone that you won't have to restrain yourself for during sex, but you reassure her that isn't the case and that intimacy isn't the most important part of your relationship with her.

: ̗̀➛ Due to how frail she is, it takes a lot of trust for her to engage in intimacy with someone. Chances are, you're probably her first time. She trusts you to not only make her feel good, but she also trusts that you'll be gentle and respect her boundaries.

: ̗̀➛ She's more on the vanilla side, but being physically weak doesn't stop her from having a few kinks of her own. For the most part, she'd be into getting blindfolded and temperature play.

: ̗̀➛ Whether Firefly is on top or not, she's way too gentle to ever hurt you, even accidentally. She's definitely the type to ask for consent/ask if you're feeling good every 5 minutes, regardless of how horny and desperate she might be.

When Firefly walked through the door with a sense of restlessness in her footsteps, rushing to take off her coat and straddle your hips as you sat on the couch, you already knew what she wanted.

Every time she's away at work (if you can even call it that) for a long time, she comes back all tense and desperate to please you. It's her favorite way to destress, she says. Still, you can never get used to your sweet and gentle Firefly being so... lustful.

Of course, you don't mind and you'd gladly help her take her mind off work, but the contrast in her behavior never fails to catch you off guard.

She buries her face into your neck, breathing heavily as her hands fumble for the waistband of your pants. "Pants, please?" You snap out of your inner monologue and help her.

Once she looks up at you, you can't help but notice the glint in her eyes. It's... different, and hungry. You can't help but be glad that you don't have to wake up early the next morning.

[bonefall]

BB!TPB Titles

Having some fun just absentmindedly thinking of titles for the BB overhauls of main arc books. I think I'm gonna do it for all of them, because I actually really like renaming these and explaining my thought process

But here's TPB for now, because it's on my mind after that little scene bundle I wrote

Below the cut;

Arc Rename: The Prophecies Begin -> The Forest Four

Into the Wild -> Into the Clans

Fire and Ice -> Thermal and Undertow

Forest of Secrets -> Forest of Flowers

Rising Storm -> Rejected Rites

A Dangerous Path -> The Hunting Trail

The Darkest Hour -> Before the Dawn

The Forest Four

It's the intro to the original four, y'know? Plus, I use this term all the time in Clan Culture entries to specify when something is different about SkyClan from the "Forest Four." Makes sense it's the arc title.

Plus, there's a bit of a thing going on, especially in the later books, where the number of the Clans comes up a lot. Three Great Clans, but only four modern ones, River and Shadow combine to make TigerClan leaving three, BloodClan would make four, LionClan's alliance leaving two...

In BB, they know about SkyClan in history lessons, but Firestar doesn't think about it much until after this arc is done. More importantly, his choice to spare Scourge at the end of the arc suddenly means there's a Forest Four, and a Town One. I just think that's interesting.

(for some reason I also just love Scourge's insult where he calls Firestar a "forest fool" lmao. four forest fools.)

Into the Clans

The book with the expanded intro to the culture of the Clans. I feel like it's more fitting for BB to not call it "into the WILD" because... well, Clan cats DON'T see themselves as ""wild"" like animals. They're in Clans, with culture. They have ranks, politics, family, and even cooking and little kitty tools. It doesn't really make sense to me that they define themselves as "wild" just because their home has nature.

To them, loners are who's "wild," y'know? Rusty isn't totally coming to the Clans because it's wild, he's coming because of the community. Friendships and bonds with cats like Ravenpaw, Graystripe, Frostfur, Spottedleaf, Bluestar, and the sense that he could belong here. That he matters to these people.

This title's the one I'm actually waffling the most on, though. I don't like it very much yet. I don't feel like it captures the feeling I'm going for. It's also really close to a field guide title.

Thermal and Undertow

I've always interpreted "Fire and Ice" to be about how differently Graystripe and Fireheart are as people, and how that starts pulling them apart. The thing that people focus on is their "reconciliation" at the end of the book, but what stands out about it to me is that this is the book where Fireheart's TRULY integrated into the Clan.

His friendship with Graystripe is strained because of the HalfClan relationship Gray gets in, and he starts looking back to his roots for comfort because he doesn't feel like he's completely part of ThunderClan. I love this irony; they're BOTH struggling with loyalty in this broken system, experiencing types of xenophobia that prevent them from having happiness, but not yet wise enough to recognize they have a similar problem.

They're both breaking the law to talk to outsiders. Their forbidden love, both familial and romantic, makes Clan life harder. They're BOTH not doing anything wrong, but the STRUCTURE of their society is setting them against each other.

Graystripe responds, eventually, by leaving. Fireheart thinks he can make a home where he is. They're both wrong. The STRUCTURE needs to be challenged.

And meanwhile, they must go to fetch WindClan after it was driven out. They have to face RiverClan AND ShadowClan when Crookedstar and Nightstar show that power acts through them, as leaders. All the while, they experience the simple truth that love for cats in other Clans makes cruel, bloodthirsty battles like these too difficult to be sustainable.

And that's just canon!! I fucking love this book!!!

So in the rename, I'm putting emphasis on the natural flow, above and below. A wind is controlled by the temperature, rising up into a warm thermal. An undertow is a ferocious current that will pull you into the cold depths. They're not so different, in the end.

Forest of Flowers

And that leads right into canon's Forest of Secrets, where we learn that the older warriors also struggled with those pressures. Fireheart and Graystripe were never alone, cats have been suffering under this cruel system for GENERATIONS.

In BB, this is where I'm dropping the flower symbolism for the three major branches of politics in Forest Four society, which persist and are expanded on for the rest of BB;

Traditionalism, represented by the Honeysuckle, is used to justify the current system. "The Clans are branches of a honeysuckle bush. We fight and strangle each other for the light, and this prunes the weakest sprigs and rewards the fittest. When the winter comes, the strongest branches ensure the survival of the bush."

He also learns, much earlier, of Tigerstar's mentor. He hears the Parable of the Thistle, a story about how a young apprentice was forced to attempt to uproot a bull thistle, only managing to spread its seeds across a clearing, and won a trip to the Cleric's den for the trouble. How Tigerstar, and others, believe the honeysuckle must be challenged.

And meanwhile, he uncovers the story of the Forget-me-nots. A friend group even stronger than his collection of allies, with cats of every Clan, and how ambition drove it apart. How Bluestar looks back at it with both silly shame and deep appreciation.

The kindling ember in Fireheart's chest as he realizes he is the heir of a Forget-me-not, and that surrounding the obvious slash across Tigerclaw's nose, are the subtle pockmarks of thistle thorns.

Rejected Rites

I feel like Rising Storm is the "weakest" book of TPB, because it's where canon's cracks begin to show.

There's still a lot I love about this book. I love the way that Bluestar's cruelty arc begins with her grace and altruism towards other Clans not being returned without a catch. I adore the rescue of Bramblekit and Yellowfang’s guilty, harrowing death insisting she deserves judgement as Fireheart insists she is a good person. Its harsh ending revealing Tigerstar as leader of ShadowClan is a gut punch in an already brutal book, making an excellent mid-arc climax

But I feel its sudden turn towards suggesting the status quo was actually good drags it down.

For example, Cloudpaw is constantly arguing with Fireheart, in ridiculous fights Fire started. He's abducted by humans and returns in the same book, suggesting his uncle was totally right all along and he Totally Promises he won't mess with humans any more. The fact Fire was projecting on his young nephew and denying him answers when he questions their way of life, in a way very similar to the shame Firepaw himself went through, is not addressed.

A lot more of this book than you remember is also dedicated to Fireheart and Sandstorm arguing because the writers think a good romance is when you hate each other but stay together anyway.

So instead, this book in BB focuses more on what I DO like; Fireheart learning to be a LEADER. He's young, inexperienced, and has acted mostly alone up to this point. The Clan is in a moment of SERIOUS tumult as it reckons with how no one saw ANY signs about Tigerclaw.

As he loses his mentor Bluestar to paranoia, he has to learn which warriors are truly trustworthy, and try to win back those whose loyalties might stray.

In this way, Rejected Rites is about the WHOLE Clan. It's Whitestorm throwing his reputation and experience behind Fireheart. It's Goldenflower and how her disgust with her ex-mate blows her mind open and she shifts into Fire's most ferocious champion. It's Mousefur deciding that Tigerclaw was a uniquely bad person and refusing to admit fault with a Clan that supported him.

And of course it's about Cloudpaw, grappling with how Fireheart insists he's his mentor, not his father, not his friend, going back to how he botches the Queen’s Rights on bringing him to the Clan. Fireheart, too, is a flawed person capable of being complicit in damaging systems.

The Hunting Trail

The dog plot barely needs a recap, it's this fandom's bread and butter. But there's a small, VERY popular misconception about; in canon, Tigerstar only uses the dogs at the END of this book with a rabbit trick. Before that, the dogs are practically a natural disaster he has nothing to do with.

There's a reason why it's misremembered. It works better if he's more involved with them the whole time, showing how DANGEROUS he is, how Bluestar's fixation on her war with StarClan is blinding her to reality, and adding to the tragedy and madness by having Swiftpaw getting wrapped up in his father's/stepfather's quest for revenge.

So in BB, Tigerstar's involved MUCH sooner. He freed the dogs.

The title change reflects that. There's a hunting trail and the cats of ThunderClan are its prey, but it doesn't specify who the predator is. In the end, it was Tigerstar's scheme all along and Bluestar sacrifices herself to save her apprentice.

(I also want to take the moment to highlight how short-sighted and impulsive Tigerstar's plans actually are, something I find fascinating about him as a character. He's malicious and intelligent enough to make some incredible schemes, taking advantage of every opportunity. But he never accounts for details like... "what if my dogs don't go right to where I want them to go?" or "what if I'm not picked as deputy after I kill Redtail?" or even "what will i do after my demons kill all the living cats?")

TigerClan is also forming earlier. It begins in THIS book. Stonefur and Mistyfoot are "detained" after leaping into the ravine to rescue Fireheart and Bluestar, it's all the "evidence" Tigerstar needed to accuse them of divided loyalty. To finally start his persecution of HalfClan cats.

Before the Dawn

...In spite of its iconic moments, I'll be honest; Darkest Hour is actually the book that makes me the angriest about the original series.

All arc long, we are shown that the Clans are flawed. They have been, long before Rusty set foot in the woods that day. It NEEDS bigotry to exist the way it does, fostering xenophobia between Clan cats so that love and friendship won't get in the way of violence, encouraging and even rewarding extreme Jingoism, and even setting clanmates against each other for these senseless problems instead of the STRUCTURE of Clan society.

Darkest Hour SLAMS the breaks on that theme, and brings the message to a screeching halt.

FIRST of all, this is the book where it's explicitly stated that StarClan "doesn't interfere," even giving them a moment where they yell at protagonist about free will or whatever while simultaneously barking a vague, ultimately useless prophecy at him. The first of many scenes like it in later arcs. It feels completely and utterly out of left field, instantly turning StarClan from a mysterious, possibly not even fully benevolent force, into THE most annoying plot device ever.

Secondly... BloodClan.

BloodClan is introduced as a TRULY EVIL group of horrible atheists who hate love and friendship, to the point of banning families, and are now here to destroy our glorious society and steal our home. They're depicted as being ruled by fear and brutality, unbound by concepts like "honor" or "loyalty." You cannot reason with them or spare their lives, the barbarians must be killed and kept out, lest they replace us.

(there is even a moment where it's implied that if the soldiers lose the war, BloodClan will come and murder the elders and children too.)

It is SO bad and SO egregious, and it's played completely unironically. It bothers me so badly I've talked about it before. Multiple times, actually

After Tigerstar gets his well-deserved grallocking like a 10-point buck, the endgame villain of TPB is a foreigner and his army. Scourge is a foil of Firestar himself, but THIS one hates the clans and doesn't worship the right god, which makes him dangerous. Firestar is textually stronger than him because of his faith in StarClan.

At the end of the day, TPB, and the rest of the series that follows, doesn't refute Tigerstar's ideology. It even agrees. Weakness IS abhorrent. Outsiders ARE to be distrusted. Split loyalties ARE detestable. It just didn't like that he challenged the status quo.

Foreigners and their leaders ARE less trustworthy and more villainous than Clan cats. Wariness and even violence towards them is necessary, "justifying" the isolationist structure of the Clans. Scourge is only the first in a very long chain; then comes Sol, One Eye, Slash, and Darktail. Even Hawkfrost and Willow Tail can fit into this pattern.

With the death of these evil, troublemaking cats, the Clans return to the status quo. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The Darkest Hour frames this like a wonderful, triumphant thing, with Firestar noting how the now-leaderless BloodClan fighters look so inferior to Clan warriors, Scourge's evil will never haunt them again (Tigerstar gets to be grieved though), and that with LionClan disbanding, they will all return to their petty bullshit squabbles.

So, BB's renaming.

I had a lot of ideas. I really liked the name "Moment of Truth" because it's the book that really brings together the theme of the arc, ending with Firestar realizing Scourge is right to distrust the Clans and that change is DESPERATELY needed, but the more I thought about it... the more I liked Before the Dawn

Reference to the phrase "The darkest hour comes before the dawn" BB is a much more optimistic story than canon, by tweaking the themes and details while following the major beats. Something is just... idk poetic? About picking the more uplifting part of the idiom. It feels right, like it's almost too perfect to go with any other title

It's a new era for the culture going foward It IS right before a "new dawn." It's the start of major changes to Clan culture, setting the events of the rest of BB into motion. The years and generations that follow are going to see major changes to the code, territory, culture, and philosophy in the universe. The choice that Firestar makes here is going to bring the Clans into a new epoch. Plus the cats are crepuscular now so I can literally have the final battle take place just before dawn because subtext is for CHUMPS

I like the idea of opening up the next arc with Dawn Just because that's really funny to me lmaoo. Something is cute about titles that reference each other. Maybe the first book of TNP could be "Dawn of the End" since the destruction of the forest starts early. Maybe add in some apocalyptic prophecies and such...

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey, this is the same 14 year old from earlier. first, i want to thank you so much for such a well rounded, thoughtful response. i went through all the resources and they were all very helpful. after thinking about it, i think i probably won't do this after all. technically i think i am ready, i understand the possible consequences, i know how to be safe, etc etc, but i'm just kind of anxious. and it might be a better idea to wait to do things like this with someone i actually have romantic feelings towards, because i'll probably enjoy it more then, right? i'm not exactly sure why i agreed to do it in the first place, i guess curiosity or for the sake of formative teenage experiences or literally just "why not" lmao. i do have one more question if that's alright, do you know of a good way to tell her that i don't really want to do this anymore? we haven't set up an actual date and time yet but she's serious about it and i was serious about it but obviously my opinion has changed. i feel kind of guilty about backing out especially because she kinda wanted this as a rebound after breaking up with her girlfriend of like, six years (which means it might be good if we don't do this anyway, this might be an impulsive decision on her part that she ends up regretting).

also one more question (sorry) if you have the time and energy for it. i know there's a lot of people asking you questions haha. how would you get an STI or STD through oral sex? i understand the basics, its spread through genital fluids and gets into your body that way, but how would the symptoms start showing in your own genitals? or would they not and just show up in your mouth or throat? the planned parenthood link kind of talked about that, but it said that it was rare. anyway thank you so much! you've been genuinely so helpful and kind and i appreciate it so much!

hello! welcome back! it's great to hear from you again, and I'm glad that response was helpful. it's awesome that you were able to weigh all the available information to make that decision. you'll have plenty of other opportunities for formative teenage experiences, very few of which have to involve sex at all - I'd be a bad sex witch if I didn't tell you that I didn't have sex with another person for the first time until I was almost 21!

cancelling this plan with your friend might feel awkward, but it doesn't need to be worse than dipping out of any other activity. "hey, I think I changed my mind about wanting to see this movie; I don't really think I'm going to vibe with it. thank you for inviting me, though!" 'I'm actually not feeling up to going to the game, but I hope you can find someone else to go with." "sorry to change our plans, but I think having sex actually isn't something I want to do right now. thanks for being understanding."

this may hurt your friend's feelings; it can often feel extremely personal and hurtful when someone doesn't reciprocate an interest in sex, and feel much worse than someone saying no to other kinds of plans. this may be especially true if you're right about your friend trying to rebound from a previous relationship - six years is a long relationship for anyone, especially someone for whom six years is almost half of their life, and there's a good chance she's still feeling sore from the loss of that relationship and is seeking comfort and validation from another source (you). good on you for being insightful enough to notice this and recognize this! that's an important trait to have, both as a friend and in your future romantic and sexual relationships.

if your friend doesn't take it well when you change your mind, you may need to get a little space from her while her feelings cool off. remember, while you should be kind when you say no - obviously nothing like "I wouldn't want to have sex with you, you're gross and just rebounding" - you're not doing anything wrong at all by changing your mind, and if your friend starts trying to pester you into changing your mind or acting more harshly to you, we've definitely crossed into the territory where she's the asshole. (not that you're the asshole for saying no; nobody is the asshole in that scenario.) if she takes it poorly, it's okay to ask her for some distance and spend less time around her until the hurt feelings are mended.

remember: you don't need to feel guilty for changing your mind. you are always allowed to do that, even if you're in the middle of having sex. you don't owe anyone else access to your body, ever, and anyone who tries to convince you otherwise can go straight into the trash.

and please don't ever feel the need to apologize for asking about STIs, they're one of my favorite things to talk about!

for many STIs that can be transmitted to the mouth, the symptoms will stay in the mouth and/or throat. sometimes that will look like sores or blisters in or around the mouth, which are sometimes painful and ooze discharge and sometimes don't feel like anything at all. it can also feel like an ordinary cold, with a sore throat and some difficulty swallowing. in most cases, the symptoms won't spread to your genitals unless you also contracted the STI there as well - for instance, if you touched your mouth and tongue to an infected partner's genitals and then also touched your genitals to theirs as well. but while the symptoms looks different, the medicines that treat STIs affecting the genitals are just as effective at clearing up infections in the mouth and throat.

I'm super happy to help, and please know you can send in more asks any time :)