#feel free to share any thoughts you have

[fear0phobia]

I noticed that in ep 4, when they watch the woman jump off the lighthouse, edwin and crystal have a similar reaction and niko and charles have a similar reaction. what does it mean? idk I just think it's interesting

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[supreme-leader-stoat]

The "deathmatch between your current and childhood favorite characters" post has got me thinking about the inherent comedy that you could wring out of dropping Reepicheep into. basically any other fantasy setting as a detour on his way to Aslan's country. Here's what I've got so far for dropping him into Middle-earth:

Ideally he gets dropped somewhere random, wanders around for a while, and then winds up at Rivendell at the same time at the rest of the Fellowship

Reep might be vulnerable to the One Ring a la Boromir, but there's a chance his faith in Aslan would have some sort of mitigating effect on that

He would absolutely try to fight the Balrog though

Gandalf, trying to hold back a helldemon: "Fly, you fools!" / Reepicheep: Seen 2:41 pm ✔️

He would also try to fight Saruman, or at the bare minimum call him a coward from the foot of Orthanc

And possibly would challenge the Ents before realizing they were friendly

Wormtongue is definitely going to lose a foot or something

“Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!" "It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man!"

[makalyta]

Seeing Brynjolf alone at the Ragged Flagon as he brushes everyone off, stating that he's busy when he is clearly not, is... frustrating. I had to give this behavior an explanation, so I put myself in his position: Brynjolf has just handed over his life and afterlife to a Daedric Prince. Was there really no other choice to avenge the Guild, did he really have to sacrifice his freedom forever, even after death? Empty chests can be replenished with gold, a new Guildmaster can be elected, but he will never have his future back. Maybe he even starts to understand Mercer Frey's choice to betray Nocturnal. There at the tavern, drinking ale and keeping his face hidden to conceal the pain, Brynjolf realizes that there is no escape from the fate he was forced to accept.

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[dao-the-starlight]

Cross your fingers this post actually shows up on the damn tags 🤞

Hello Our Life fans! This is a sort of weird post and I’m hoping this doesn’t break any Tumblr etiquette or something, but I just wanted to gauge something

I’ve had ideas of some long OL fics (1 or olba, 1 or olnf) that are AU type things, one being a Ghibli inspired fantasy and the other a horror/supernatural mystery, and I’m curious if anyone is actually interested in reading them so I thought I’d post the synopsis for each fic and see if anyone’s interested via interaction!

Here’s each synopsis (sorry they’re both long as hell)

I wrote these both a little while ago, so these are kinda subject to change, but that’s the basic gist of each plot! (Yes I’m aware the OLNF one is just stranger things that was the main inspo)

P.S. If I end up deciding to go through with turning these into proper fic series and posting them, uh don’t expect my posting schedule to be even a little bit regular- I have quite a bit of stuff going on irl and I’m really bad at balancing my tasks, so this is just gonna be on a “I work on it when I work on it” kind of project

[bisexualjonahsimms]

Autistic Bones Characters and Diagnosis: My Thoughts!!!

Zack: I think Zack showed a lot of stereotypical signs of autism when he was young (lining up toys, no eye contact, frequent meltdowns, no interest in other children), and given that he was a white boy he was probably diagnosed young.

Despite being diagnosed it was hard to access any sort of support growing up since he excelled in school, and with eight kids his parents couldn’t afford things like occupational therapy (but they did all they could to support him).

Brennan and Cam know from day 1 since they’re his superiors, but his first few months at the Jeffersonian he doesn’t tell anyone else or ask for any sort of accommodations, both because he’s grown used to not having any, and because he wants to ‘fit in’ with the others.

Brennan: Not diagnosed until sometime during the course of the show, and doesn’t consider that she could be autistic until someone else brings it up (either someone casually mentions her being autistic assuming she knows, because let’s be real, it’s kind of obvious, or someone comparing her to Zack who she knows is autistic).

Lots of internalized ableism and definitely rejects the idea that she could be autistic at first. I imagine she has a lot of experience with ‘autistic’ being used as an insult towards her, and her general dislike of psychology ties into it as well. She does get over this, but it takes a lot of work, and even when she does get a diagnosis from Sweets, she can’t accept it right away. But everyone around her loves her and is there to help her come to terms with this information and figure out where to go from here !!

Hodgins: My audhd king. Late diagnosed ADHD, never diagnosed autistic (but he is, argue with the wall). His autistic traits all get written off as ADHD or anger issues.

I don’t think he’s at a ‘disadvantage’ by not being diagnosed, because he works in such an environment that he can get the support he needs without it, and ADHD diagnosis helps him to understand why he is the way he is (especially in the context of his childhood and realizing that he wasn’t ’a problem child’ he was just neurodivergent)

[kingofanemptyworld]

pokémon: verdant winds —beginnings and endings

WBK Pokémon AU | 1.5k

In the middle of the ash-painted hills just east of Fallarbor, Sakura sits in the shade of a rocky overhang, relying on its scant protection against the volcanic debris to keep himself mostly clean. The jacket’s a hand-me-down from a relative he only met twice, and his shoes might as well as never have had tread to begin with with how badly he’s worn down the soles. It’s not the clothes he cares about, really, it’s the pokéball cupped in his hands that he’s been staring at for god knows how long.

He presses the center button and the pokéball expands to fit perfectly in the curve of his palm. He presses it again so that it shrinks into a size he can hold between his thumb and forefinger. Presses the button, expand, presses it again, shrink. Rinse, repeat, like those games he’s seen other kids play with flowers.

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.

Stupid way to make a decision, in his opinion. No flower’s gonna be able to tell you what a person thinks of you. It’s actions that matter, not words, and not hearsay. The only thing you can rely on is your own damn judgment. Whether you can see through the facade is on you and you alone.

He loves me…

Expand.

He loves me not…

Shrink.

There’s a weight in Sakura’s hand that doesn’t match the size of the pokéball, big or small, and there’s a weight on his chest that he tries to breathe through, forcing air past his too-tight throat.

Love has nothing to do with this — it’s got nothing to do with other people, either. He has a choice to make, that’s all. Which he can’t do until a certain someone shows their face and gives him a chance to answer the question he’d been asked when this pokéball was first dropped unceremoniously into his lap.

The ash continues to fall, smearing across Sakura’s shoes when he kicks out in a frustrated shuffle. He could have stayed holed up in his house today, avoiding the townspeople and traveling contest participants alike. He wouldn’t be dusty then, at least. His parents wouldn’t notice or care about the mess — they won’t be home for another week, the conference they’d been asked to attend was in Sootopolis and they’d gone by cruise. But he’d still have to clean up after himself, and it’s a bitch to mop the floors every time he comes back from Route 113.

“Shit.”

Sakura stows the pokéball in his pocket, shrunken, and pushes himself to his feet. He brushes off his shoulders and the front of his jacket as best he can, ignoring the soot he can feel settling in his hair. He shouldn’t have bothered waiting all this time. They’ll be leaving Fallarbor in less than a month, anyway, so there’s no point in—

Pebbles skitter down from the overhang above him just as Sakura moves to step out. A shadow sails over him, blurry and indistinct among the drifting ash, and then there’s a body blocking his path.

Absol.

He cuts a striking figure in an otherwise desolate-looking landscape. Bright white fur, sharp claws that glide easily through the soil. Curving horn that carves straight through the air ahead of him.

He’d scared the shit out of Sakura the day they met. Appearing out of nowhere from the underbrush, on the heels of a Sandshrew frantically trying to dig itself an escape route, and nearly flattening Sakura in the process.

The anger had come first, quick and blistering the way it always was — is — and Sakura had snapped out some insult he can’t even remember now. Absol had turned a cool, assessing look on him, abruptly ignoring the Sandshrew even as its tail disappeared into the earth. They’d stared each other down, unmoving — until the rockslide started Sakura into taking cover.

When the dust settled and he’d realized what had happened (two Skamory fighting over scraps gouged a chunk of rock out of a nearby cliff, which knocked everything loose in its path to the ground), Sakura had found Absol standing over him, his piercing eyes on the fallen rocks.

That Sandshrew would’ve gotten crushed.

The thought hit him like a truck. Absol had chased the other pokemon out of the danger zone, and prevented Sakura from moving into it. And not by accident.

He’d heard stories about Absol; you couldn’t grow up in this region without getting your ear talked off by some crotchety old person with their own harrowing tale of disaster from their youth. Absol was a bad omen, a sign of impending doom. They only showed up right before a fire, or a storm; even experienced trainers rarely saw them out in the wild unless trouble was brewing.

But they didn’t cause the disasters, did they? They acted as a warning.

When the Absol finally turned to leave, Sakura didn’t expect they’d ever cross paths again.

Every time Sakura ventured out onto Route 113, though, Absol found him. He watched, in the beginning, from high vantage points. He came closer whenever Sakura stayed still for long enough, as infrequent as that was.

Sakura started — talking, at some point. To himself! Just thinking out loud, so the quiet, dampening effect of the ash wasn’t quite so prominent. Dumb things, inconsequential things, like complaining about stubbing his toe against a chair that morning, or the unsubtle stares from the kids lingering outside the contest center. One day Absol started talking back. Little growls and chirps and weird vocalizations Sakura didn’t have a name for.

And now they’re here, with Absol standing in front of him, head cocked in question, and Sakura feeling for the pokéball in his pocket.

“I’m, uh.” Sakura winces, clenching his hand around the pokéball. “You dropped this,” he says, ripping his hand free of his pocket and uncurling his fingers enough to reveal the pokéball. “Before. Last time I was out here.”

Absol continues to regard him silently, like a goddamn statue. Sakura curses and lets the pokéball roll from his hand, where it drops to the ground and rolls to a stop right in front of Absol’s neatly tucked paws.

“Y’have it back now,” Sakura says, gruff, turning his head so he’s not making eye contact with Absol. “So we’re… good.”

He scuffs his heel in the dirt, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched. Still looking away from Absol. And he can’t even say why, exactly, this is getting to him so much. He’s leaving, he’s not a trainer, he’s — Sakura Haruka.

He’s used to this. He’s had to get used to this.

Something nudges against his foot.

Sakura looks down instinctively. The pokéball’s just bounced off his sneaker, rocking back and forth for a moment before falling still. He raises his eyes slightly to see Absol bent down, eyes rolled up to look back at him, clearly having just sent the ball back towards him.

Sakura’s shoulders drop even as his fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. “What, Pick Up ain’t your ability?” He knows it’s not, he’d looked it up before. Purely to know what he was dealing with. “You dropped a pokéball in my lap,” he reminds Absol, “and the only other thing I can think of is—“

He cuts himself off, scowling.

“Not a trainer,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Absol, who returns his stare, unblinking. “I’m not doing the gym challenge, or contests, or… or anything cool. You don’t wanna come with me, alright?”

In answer, all Absol does is raise his head and lift his paw to trap the pokéball. Without taking his eyes off Sakura, he rolls the ball forward again, placing it firmly between Sakura’s feet.

Sakura’s ears burn and he furiously scrubs a hand over his face, knowing full well it won’t do anything to wipe away the red scrawled across his cheeks.

God, fuck, he hates this. Absol is offering— and he’s so stuck on the what-ifs, so unsettled by the possibility of anything working out in his favor.

His thoughts snag on the excuse he’s just given. I’m not doing the gym challenge. He isn’t, and until now he hasn’t been interested in it. Hasn’t had a Pokémon to take it on with.

He thinks of the empty house he’ll be walking back into. The weeks of radio silence from his parents. The promise of always sticking around a town just long enough for him to become the local pariah before he’s uprooted again and again and again.

Sakura crouches down, slowly. Plucks up the pokéball, slides his thumb over the button. It expands to fit snugly in his grip, and Absol picks himself up and pads closer, until he’s practically nose-to-nose with Sakura.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me if you regret this later.”

Absol squints at him — almost like a smile — and butts his nose against the pokéball, triggering it to open. He disappears in a flash of red light, and the pokéball rocks in his grip. Once, twice, three times — the button lights up and something in Sakura’s chest unravels.

He holds onto the pokéball all the way back to Fallarbor, full-sized and warm against his palm.

Three days later, he registers himself for the gym challenge and doesn’t look back.

[melit0n]

Somewhat of a random thought, but I've always been interested in the slightly distorted voice in Decending.

We've had talks about how some songs are response to others, from Vessel to Sleep or Sleep to Vessel, such as Sugar being a response to The Offering, but I don't think it's been talked about much with the two responding to eachother in one song.

This leads me to Decending, particularly, the main chorus. It's the only part of that song which has some sort of vocal distortion: a reply of sorts.

The lyrics begin to take a bit of a different shape: "You come crawling back to me, but I'm already on the ground", sounds like someone's being brought down to their level. Vessel is just as close to being a forgotten corpse as Sleep is.

Then, we have more of a response in, "And we all know that talk is cheap." to "So come on and save me now". Obviously, this one can go both ways. Both are in need of saving, and the 'response' begins to sound a bit more desperate.

Next, we have, "And you wonder what I believe." to "But you don't wanna be around". This can be joined into one, but I like it better as a two part response.

Finally, "So, what would you do for me?" and "Yeah, what would you do for me?" It's a clear-cut deal. Both know what they have to lose and both are very ready to risk it.

When put into context, it feels like a somewhat desperate, forcefully playful back and forth. Depending on your viewpoint, you could swap who's speaking when quite easily too, and still arrive at a similar conclusion.

Either Vessel is feeling somewhat confident and joking around with Sleep for the sake of a gain, or he's watching a dead and dying God of old tongues realising he's the perfect host.

Just a little thought.

P.S: I am very, very aware that this is half baked-thought and this could easily just be a production choice made for funsies. Hence why it is just 'a thought', lol.

[milksnake-tea]

sometimes i think about the way sunday is 100% fine with doing fucked up things as long as he thinks the people he’s doing those things to deserve them

[hirazuki]

For Now [Chapter 16 snippet]

Sasori/Haruno Sakura, Sasori & Haruno Sakura | T | Blank Period | canon divergent | angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to friends | ongoing [AO3]

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“Oh, my.” 

Sakura's attention snaps. 

Her body whirls on its own, as though she is camped out in the wilds of Grass and a twig just broke in the darkness, because she knows that voice – its soft rasp snaked into her ears long ago and sunk its fangs into her dreams – and, more importantly, Sasori knows it too.

She’s only a split second faster than him – she’s still in active service and completely healthy and he isn’t – but that’s all she needs, because, once she grabs hold of him and it comes down to a contest of strength, she’s always had the advantage. 

Her hands close around Sasori’s forearms and she disrupts his chakra flow with her own before he can shoot any threads from his fingers, grappling him from behind and forcing him to the ground to keep him secure, safe, from both Orochimaru and himself; even as he fights back, viciously. 

“Stop,” Sakura frantically whispers, as close to his ear as she dares without risking him cracking his head back against hers. “I get it, I really do, I promise, but you need to stop.” She pins him down with a knee on his back, digging in until his torso is virtually immobile against the pavement. “You can’t attack him in the middle of the village!” 

He’s not listening at all, though. 

It’s like all of his composure, all of his apathy, all of his progress has fled in the face of this man standing before them, this rottenness and ruin given human form – and she has to bite down her panic at the familiarity of this, at the remembrance of someone else’s composure and reason falling to this very same person in another time, another place – and, it turns out, Sasori’s joints are as bendable as his puppets’; despite her strength, it’s taking all of her attention to maintain control of his hands. 

Orochimaru – for better and for worse – has not moved a single step.

“You really do see some interesting things if you live long enough,” she hears him remark, perfectly placidly, from somewhere above them.

Sasori increases his struggling at that and, between the angle that his right arm is at and Sakura’s absolute terror that she’s losing her grip on him and he’ll break away and fight and draw attention, and get hunted and captured and killed, her chakra control – always so precise, so exact, her longtime pride and crowning glory – slips, and she feels two of his fingers crunch loudly, sickeningly, under her own.

He doesn’t scream – he’s too well-trained, too war-wrought for that; he only goes still, completely still, for a single moment and that’s somehow worse.

“Get lost!” she snarls at Orochimaru, in a voice that she hasn’t used towards him since that awful day, when Sai proved to be a double agent and Naruto burned from the inside out and Sasuke-kun left again and Kakashi-sensei wasn’t there; the day she thought she’d lose her whole team, really lose them this time.

She didn’t, but she may very well be losing someone today.

Orochimaru chuckles but, thankfully, humors her – although he does make sure to pass right by them as he does so. 

“I do hope you found it well-kept for you,” he says – how can he sound so sincere? –  as he disappears into the darkness between the buildings.

There’s a shallow breath and then two and then five, and Sakura counts ten whole breaths before she very, very carefully pries herself off of Sasori, moving as though he is an explosive tag she has stepped on and set to detonate.

Free of her hands and her weight, he scrambles out from under her and doesn’t stop until he’s several feet away – shuttered, wordless, cradling his right arm to his chest.

The resulting hurt at his reaction to her is excruciating, but she reminds herself that she has no right to it. She doesn’t even know where to begin to give voice to her mortification, or her remorse. 

“I – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, here, let me –”

Sasori levels a glare at her – of the kind that she’s seen him throw at Chiyo-baa-sama and Orochimaru, at the mention of Kabuto and, more recently, Akatsuki; the kind that’s personal, poisonous, and brimming with betrayal; the kind that she’s never seen directed at herself, before – and vanishes with a body flicker.

Sakura lets out a shaky sigh and falls back on her feet, utterly uncaring about the dirt on her expensive yukata or the mess that is her hair or even the fact that no one saw this happen, since the crowds started thinning from this particular street some time ago and she’s all alone, on the ground, on a dark, empty sidewalk under a multi-colored sky.

She only has enough in her to pick herself up and walk herself home, before collapsing in a sobbing heap as soon as the apartment door closes behind her, feeling like time has turned back and she's twelve again – small and useless and like the world is ending.

[25centsoda]

I am Once Again thinking about disaster preparedness

and, like, what are we doing?? D’y’all know how many tornadoes we’ve had in my area in the last month?? Way more than usual! A lot more flooding in the past 8 or so years also. What are we doing.

also shoutout to FEMA (US Federal Emergency Management Agency) for finally including considerations for disabled people on their easy-to-find infographics on disaster preparedness, I’ve been reading these articles since I was like 7 years old and it’s nice to see more than the assumption that everyone in a household is young and able-bodied. It just takes a few extra lines to say, or one more infographic to make

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

little kid suguru with an imaginary friend…………. but then, years and years later, he is working in a big city and his mom is coming to see him to spend a mother-son day since he doesn’t come back home often nowadays……………. so he decides to surprise her with a flower bouquet but the cashier at the flower shop looks a bit too much like his imaginary friend………..

(hi ari!! :333 hope you’re having a good day/good night and that you’re resting and doing well!! <3333)

HIIIII ANON <33333 i’m having a lovely day so far and i slept a Bunch last night, i hope the same goes for you!!!!! :3

BUT GOSH. this concept!!!!! it’s so interesting?? i’m a little obsessed???? this technically counts as a childhood friends au right………. I’M SOOO INTRIGUED BY THIS PREMISE i’d love to know what you have in mind anon…. did suguru only think reader was imaginary? or is it more of a magic realism kinda thing where suguru dreamed reader into existence??? :0 or maybe more like a soulmate au……. or just a rlly funny coincidence that binds the two of you together. there r so many possibilities!!!!! i can imagine the meeting so clearly. suguru looking into your eyes, staring at you for a moment before clearing his throat and excusing himself. going back to the same flower shop just to speak to you……… i feel like you could sneak in soooo much tasty flower symbolism into a fic like this too. I’M JUST VERY ENAMORED…. tysm for sharing this little treat with me <333

[damarcore]

Are you still doing writing prompts? Because a touch-starved fic with Corlath not realizing that Harry's background means she's never had much physical touch except for her family would make my day!!

Or a fic where Harry's kelar goes offline briefly, and the war hasn't been over long, and she's nervous/insecure about how Corlath would react to it?

Absolutely no worries or pressure, I just saw some of your prompts and went, "we could make a fic out of this" and also I'm DELIGHTED to find the Blue Sword fandom!

hi friend! my writing braincells are currently offline (along with my damar braincells - i still love them but i forgot about this blog, oops), but let's play with that first concept anyway, because i love it. this isn't writing, just headcanons (kind of), but i hope you enjoy! under a cut bc it's a little long.

...

so, i think harry doesn't even realize she's touchstarved, because yknow. fantasy victorian english repression. when mathin reaches out to correct her grip, or when one of the other riders claps her on the back, or when the king briefly touches her arm*, she does not know why her heart races, but while she draws into herself, she does not stop them.

(*corlath knows his position too well to touch people freely, when they might fear saying n to him. corlath, i think, would understand harry's problem completely. however - )

corlath, ever observant, draws a slightly wrong conclusion from watching harry stiffen every time someone touches her: he thinks she doesn't like to be touched at all. that's fine, he tells himself. she's in a country full of people and customs she doesn't know. it's reasonable so he bids the servants to let her dress and wash herself, he reminds the riders gently not to jostle her around as they do the others, he leaves her alone and thinks all is well. and then they get married.

harry, for her part, has neatly boxed the problem away by this time. (don't listen to her. this is more repression. she hasn't dealt with fuckall.) married people are allowed and encouraged to touch each other, so she clings to corlath like a limpet in private. he's surprised, but definitely not unwilling to indulge her, so most mornings find them curled up in a pile. (often with narknon, sometimes without, because she's very offended by the things they get up to when she's not there.)

eventually, he does ask her about it. "i assumed you didn't like being touched," he says one day. "might i ask what changed?"

"...what gave you that impression," she says, currently in such a tangle of limbs that it's difficult to tell who begins where.

they talk it over. at some point, they admit to each other that they can probably count on both hands the number of people who have ever hugged them, and hold each other a little tighter.

anyway fast forward corlath encourages her to touch him whenever she wants, because there's no one to tell them no. harry, still outlander enough to balk at the idea of PDA, holds his hand under the table, and feels very daring. she touches richard more often, too, reminded that she can - often slinging an arm around his shoulders to annoy him, or hugging him when he leaves. she's shier with jack or the riders, but she accepts their renewed touches with a smile.

i don't have a good way to end this, but i hope you enjoyed! ^^

[hephaestuscrew]

You listened to Greater Boston, right? Is there a metaplot? Like, is it a conspiracy theory red string board podcast or a listen on long car trips looking out the window podcast?

I’m trying to listen to more things post w359 and heard Greater Boston was good, so… yeah

Hello Anon! Yes I do listen to (and love) Greater Boston! I'm going to try to to focus on the particular questions you asked here, but for more of general attempts to pitch the show, you can look at these posts of mine: Greater Boston description ask , Greater Boston pitch post. (These posts are from a while ago, so stuff has happened in the show since, but I still think they provide a decent introduction, to the extent that it is possible to sum up this show.)

Greater Boston very much has an ongoing plot, or rather a range of interweaving ongoing plot threads. I hesitate to call it a 'metaplot' because I almost think that implies an apparent anthology structure (like in The Amelia Project or The Magnus Archives, both of which I'd describe as anthology shows from which a metaplot emerges. Greater Boston isn't really that). The first couple of episodes might seem slightly like they are each a few somewhat self-contained stories, but that approach changes quickly. The show follows a wide range of characters and events, but I'd say that the connections, throughlines, and returns to key characters are frequent enough to create the sense that you are following one big story.

I'm not sure I completely understand what you mean by your dichotomy of red string vs long car ride podcasts. Greater Boston definitely lends itself to a fair amount of red string thinking, given that there's an extremely high number of characters who interconnect in a range of ways, and some really interesting stuff going on with the nature of the storytelling later on.

But, at least in my eyes, Greater Boston is not primarily focused on figuring out a mystery/conspiracy, or theorising about what will happen, in the way that the 'red string' approach might imply. There are some mysteries, but for all of the utterly wild stuff that happens in this show, what appeals to me the most about Greater Boston is the characters, and how the show forces you to engage with everyone from the main focus characters to the smallest minor character to the antagonists you thought they couldn't make you sympathise with. What ultimately keeps me thinking about this show is the emotional journeys of these characters, the ways they struggle and impact each other and relate to one another... (And to be honest, I don't really kid myself that I can actually predict where this show is going to take you next.)

Does Greater Boston fit the "listen on long car trips looking out the window" vibe? If the long car journey vibe means a show you can just let wash over you while you tune in and out of it, then probably not. But if you mean something that can hold your attention for a long period, with enough variation in tone and plot to keep you interested, then Greater Boston definitely slots into that category for me.

Obviously I'm going to say you should listen to it, because, well, you came to a fan of Greater Boston in order to ask about it, but I hope this response helped you figure out if it's the vibe you're looking for at the moment!

(From the past tense of 'listened' in your ask, I wonder if you might be under the impression that this podcast is fully released. So I just thought I'd mention that while the Season 4 finale had some sense of resolution, there is still a fifth and final season of the show planned!)