#taster dive
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Infectious--but in a positive way
As in the likes of Peter Potamus' cousins (nieces Pamela and Peggy and nephew Patrick) being attracted to "the diving bug" in the spirit of their adventure-minded uncle--but more often than not preferring (at least while diving) to "wear just themselves", though while giving dive instruction preferring tankinis or boardshorts.
And their uncle Peter not seeming to mind the three eschewing the trademark safari jacket and pith helmet.
Still, their fondness for being rather patient and yet amusing when giving dive instruction, or leading groups of disadvantaged youth into "taster" dives, gets to be rather amusing. Particularly the time when an outing from a group home for the mentally- and emotionally-challenged was given Peggy to lead them in diving lessons and a "taster" dive "which, at least, got them as much out of their dull and predictable surroundings as gave them something of an amusing experience," as Peg explained it. "I say 'amusing' in the sense that pretty much everybody in the group never knew they could spend time underwater, and have fun in so doing!"
Pamela, for her part, recalls where her spending time at a somewhat "old school" motel somewhere in the Florida Keys included the opportunity to lead guests into snorkelling adventures in some coral reefs offshore with one-piece mask/snorkel combis that surprised some guests, in at least one instance catching a guest unaware that such existed.
And Patrick, not to be outdone, can tell you about the times he led diving tasters in resort towns up among northern Minnesota's lakes, usually advertised on short notice, and getting surprised looks by such as manage to join in otherwise accustomed to waterparks, to which Pat responds, "Consider the underwater side of a lake to be a sort of natural waterpark in its own way ... just sense the grasses and the fishes swimming by, the sun's light streaming through the water, even the thrill of sitting or kneeling on the sand bottom of the lake to relax a moment or two before returning to the surface; how relaxing a waterpark can it get underwater?!"
But still, one thing they have in common: Guests joining them in dives or dive lessons are inevitably bound to ask how hippopotami like themselves are fond of diving, or are somehow qualified to lead diving lessons to begin with ... and more often than not, the answer is bound to be "It's just how we hippopotami are, to begin with!"
(With a likely reference back to their uncle, Peter Potamus.)
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@warnerbrosentertainment @railguner34 @jellystone-enjoyer @xdiver71 @archive-archives @thylordshipofbutts @screamingtoosoftly @thebigdingle @themineralyoucrave @princessgalaxy505 @warnerbros-blog1 @iheartgod175 @theweekenddigest @joey-gatorman @warnerbrosent-blog
#hanna barbera#random observations#peter potamus#pam potamus#pat potamus#peg potamus#hippos diving#dive instruction#taster dive#diving experience#discover diving#hannabarberaforever
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@iknowthebattle tagged me for the last line meme! Here’s what I’ve been working on for a danloumand fic, starring chubby!daniel and a/b/o shenanigans (which I dive in later on in this fic.)
—
Louis still keeps feeding him great amounts of food, anyway.
Supposedly, he's going through his momma's old cookbook so he needs Daniel nearby as a personal food taster. (Vampirism is not without its drawbacks.) It's a way to go back to that old humanity he whines so much about missing, or so he says. He definitely can't stop waxing poetry about people’s tie to food and all the different cultures behind it and how most people don't even appreciate it anymore and, "Daniel, take your time with the next bite. Savor it. Taste it. Tell me all the flavors you experience, the texture of the meat, what comes to the forefront of your mind. Actually experience the food, boy."
Even when cooking Louis can't help but be a snob about it.
Although, it is sweet how excited he looks when he gets a recipe right. Louis' 8th gumbo attempt was his best so far, and when Daniel congratulated him on it, the vampire beamed at him with an open smile, laughing to himself, green eyes glowing like the stained glass of a grand old church.
Louis is the most beautiful when proud, he thinks; second to the sweet vulnerable side the alpha tries to keep hidden.
Honestly, he could've just said he wanted to spend more time with him. Daniel would've gladly said yes to anything.
Armand is the same. He makes these excuses about needing a human eye to watch movies with—marathon after marathon of another VHS he got from the video store—but it's clear the damned freak doesn't need him. He can recite Planet of the Apes from start to finish, like, down to the actor's fucking twitch of his jawline! Why the hell does the beta need him for? Armand would've put all those nerds back in highschool to shame, that's for sure.
Not to mention his other… hobbies? Daniel thinks they're hobbies, anyway.
—
I’m gonna tag a few people but feel free to join in as well! (Feel free to ignore this, too. I just wanted to tag some people <3)
@dykedarmand @dykekingofhell @flyingpurplepeopleeater42
#last line meme#danloumand#danlou#loumand#armandiel#armandaniel#devils minion#devil's minion#the devil’s minion#the devil's minion#the devils minion#daniel x louis#louis x daniel#armand x louis#armand x daniel#iwtv#iwtv fic#this is pretty sweet despite how they met#Why do i make fucked up couples have these sweet tender moments?? Why do i force them to have semi-healthy interactions??#Answer is trauma
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switchblade | masters of the air | taster
Coming here is functionally a grounding. That much is clear. The B-17 is a metal coffin that, by some aeronautical miracle, has managed to attain the gift of flight despite everything – poor defensive coverage, inadequate range, weak nose structure – that suggests this should not have been the case.
Olivia Mariner looks up at the B-17s sitting obliviously in the hangar at Thorpe Abbotts and thinks about what it might be like to shoot one of them down.
It would be an easy target. B-17s are not intended for aerial combat, and their one singular, solitary tactic is apparently to fly continuously in formation even when being shot at, because performing evasive manoeuvres runs the risk of disrupting the formation and causing collisions. Mariner imagines herself in her P-51, armed with its two fifty-calibre nose-mounted machine guns and four thirty-calibre wing-mounted machine guns, the only conceivable match for the Luftwaffe’s fire-spitting death machines that she isn’t afraid of as long as she’s facing them down in her Mustang. She imagines herself as the enemy. How would she approach a Flying Fortress? How would she bounce it? It wouldn’t be difficult at all: she could outmanoeuvre a B-17 without breaking a sweat. She would move into its blind spot and break into a steep spiralling dive downward so the B-17’s Brownings – for which they do not carry sufficient supplies of ammunition that could last them over a minute of continuous gunfire – wouldn’t be able to maintain a target lock on her. Then she would pull her aircraft back up, sharply, abruptly, until she’s below the body of the B-17, where she has the perfect vantage point to shoot out the unprotected fuel tanks within the wings.
That’s all well and good, a strategic manufacturing error that could be fixed, without a doubt, throughout the Flying Fortress’s production run that will last until the end of the war. Until Mariner remembers that, in this scenario, she will no longer be the one in the fighter plane but rather the one getting burned to a crisp in the B-17 because the fuel tanks just exploded and eviscerated the fuselage before anyone even had the chance to bail.
Perhaps the situation would be less grim if she knew how to fly a B-17 at all.
How did she even end up here?
Fighter squadrons come before bombers. That is the standard principle of air warfare. Once air supremacy has been gained by more aerodynamic single-engined high-speed fighters – P-51s and P-40s and P-47s that require only a light touch to manoeuvre, the deft hand of a skilled pilot who knows their plane and its operational mechanisms as though it is an extension of their own body – that is when larger, long-range bombers come in to deliver their payloads of air-to-ground weaponry to strategic targets. Bombing raids cannot take place without the prerequisite of air supremacy as bombers, sufficiently implied in their name itself, are not themselves intended for aerial combat against enemy aircraft.
And therein lies the problem. To Mariner, it’s difficult to see the B-17 as little more than a large and defenceless flying flak-magnet. A warplane that cannot roll on its longitudinal axis, cannot pull into vertical climbs, cannot dive or loop or fly at steep angles or allow for aerobatics without disembowelling itself, is hardly a warplane at all, at least not in the sense that she defines what should constitute a warplane. She understands that heavy bombers are an entirely different grade of aircraft, one that requires a different series of skills that are no less demanding than that of a fighter pilot, one requiring the ability to work with a team, first and foremost, the idea of which she finds herself thinking of with a pit of tension in her lower stomach. She understands that this is necessary because a war cannot be won with fighter planes alone, as much as she would like to think that is a possibility. What she does not understand, however, is why she has been presently chosen to fly a bomber.
So that was what she told her squadron leader, word for word, when she first learned of her reassignment.
“I understand your concerns, Mariner,” was what her squadron leader, Tillotson – a thirty-something USAAF officer who had been in the Eagle Squadrons with her, primarily because he knew her father for some reason or another that she never bothered to find out – said in answer. “But it is an operational need. The 100th has a shortage of pilots and they can’t continue flying missions at the volume they’re expected to if this shortage continues. We’ve reached a point in the war where our strategic focus must shift toward bombing campaigns. You have the relevant flying experience that qualifies you for retraining and reassignment toward where the war effort needs you most. Repurposing you as a bomber pilot now, of all times, makes every sense to me.”
Mariner blinked in disbelief. She didn’t like the suffix makes every sense to me, the finality of it, the implication that this was now a non-negotiable and non-retractable decision already made by her superiors, a decision that centrally concerned her yet one she had no part in making.
“Sir,” she began, “heavy bombers require escort fighters. Our squadron can do that. I’ve been asking for it in my sitreps since we first started strategic bombing. Wouldn’t it be more practical to keep me here and deploy us as escorts as I recommended, rather than retrain me from the ground up?”
“It is something we thought of, yes. But having enough pilots is crucial for whether the 100th can remain operational. If they can’t fly missions, you’ll have nothing to escort. Now is when we need our best and brightest to step up and fill in for the shortage of pilots capable of flying those missions that a complete novice coming out of flight school cannot.”
Best and brightest. The sudden compliment took Mariner by surprise, filled her momentarily with a glow of pride radiating from that little hollow at the base of her throat that warms up every time she receives some kind of validation. She cleared her throat self-consciously.
“Who else is getting reassigned? Smith? Heppell?”
Tillotson paused briefly. “We decided that you alone would be the best fit for the transition.”
Apart from the fact that it made no sense to single out one member of a squadron for a reassignment, there was almost no chance that she would be the best natural candidate. Mariner thought for a brief half-second that she would not pick herself to be reassigned to a bomber unit if she had the choice of other members in her squadron, members who would indubitably be more patient and longsuffering when it came to flying a heavy bomber, both of which she was not.
And then the realisation dawned on her, like the awful downward shudder of the blade of a guillotine. The previous glow of pride disappeared, replaced immediately by a simmering indignant rage that bubbles to the surface. “You’re bumping me out of the squadron!”
“Mariner—”
“That is exactly what you’re doing! Best and brightest my ass. You think I don’t fit in with the rest of your squad because of how I fly. Because you think I’m going to collide with my wingman every time when I so much as move my aircraft a centimetre to the left. Because that one time on patrol, when I was guarding your tail, I said your call sign when I wasn’t supposed to and broke formation, and that was because I saw three 109s above us on our six about to pulverise us and you hadn’t even seen them yet!”
Another thought came to her then, one that sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through her as though her dam of restraint – which admittedly was never a particularly robust structure – had broken. She was aware that she was losing her temper. She was aware that she was not to lose her temper around her superior officers under any circumstances. But that awareness was purely academic now, and at any rate it was disappearing quickly out the window.
“You can’t trust me in a single-seat fighter, is that it? You think I need a whole team of people behind me to make sure I don’t fuck up?”
It was less of a question and more of an accusation, and the very idea of it was absurd to Mariner. Saying it out loud only cemented its absurdity. Who in their right mind wouldn’t trust her in a fighter? She’d been in combat with Bf 109s since before Pearl Harbour and America’s formal entrance into the war. It was indubitable fact – one that seemed to be obvious to all except Tillotson and the others responsible for making this ill-conceived decision – that she was one of the most competent fighters in the squadron. Three years of flight experience with the No. 71. Seven aircraft destroyed. An ace by the end of the Battle of Britain. Such accomplishments were not coincidental. Mariner knew it. And unless you have some kind of malfunction, she thought bitterly, then you don’t transfer a pilot with those accomplishments under their belt out of your squadron as petty punishment. You’re supposed to keep them and hold onto them and deploy them on high-risk missions that accurately reflect the value of their skill set!
“Lieutenant Mariner,” Tillotson said, raising his voice now, in a way that brooked no argument. “I was hoping to save both of us from this conversation and let you accept your reassignment amicably, but it appears you’re determined to have this conversation, in which case I’ll be clear with you. You’re not a good fit in my squadron. You take unnecessary and ill-calculated risks that endanger not only yourself but also your wingmen and the outcome of the mission as a whole. On our last sortie, you completely disregarded formation and went off on that solo chase of yours after an enemy fighter, leaving your leader’s tail vulnerable to attack. And what is most alarming is the fact that this incident is not an isolated one, nor is it the first time you’ve flagrantly disregarded orders to do what you think is clever. We’re lucky nothing catastrophic has happened so far, but luck won't always be on our side, as you seem to believe it will always be on yours.”
He paused for a moment, his brow low and creased, his eyes fixed upon Mariner’s, as though examining her closely for her reaction.
“You’re rough on the stick, Olivia, but I’ve seen potential in you. Even so, talent alone won’t cut it and your consistent lack of discipline is compromising the overall effectiveness of our unit. I’ve seen pilots like you – good pilots capable of exercising mathematically precise command of their aircraft – shot down for less. You should know better than anyone that, up in the air, in a Mustang, split-second decisions can mean the difference between life and death. I need to be able to trust every member of my squadron to make those decisions, and make them correctly. And right now I can’t trust you to do that.”
There was a long agonising pause. Mariner’s expression remained unchanged, though she thought her stomach had vanished. She was suddenly conscious of how she was standing up very straight with her body held up at her sternum, and of the tachycardic rhythm of her heartbeat that for a brief moment she irrationally feared Tillotson might hear it.
It is a rare thing for words from a superior officer to cut so deep, though Mariner doesn’t like the idea that any words might be able to cut her at all. She has gone through flight training like everyone else and made her share of mistakes in every plane she has learned to pilot – Mustangs and Warhawks and Thunderbolts alike – and she has grown accustomed to the stony visages of instructors, their crushing expectations and the feeling where you irrevocably begin to question your own strength of character and purpose and worth whenever you fail to meet them. Yet she came through with top marks and everyone who has ever been disappointed by her has eventually been proven wrong. She would have thought that, by now, her skin has already thickened into something comparable to steel.
Yet, when she stood there in Tillotson’s office, being told that she could not be trusted to fly, Mariner felt utterly reduced. It was a humiliating kind of reduction. And humiliation made her angry, a unique cornered anger of its own kind that seethed all the way down to the bone.
Tillotson seemed to sense this. His voice softened slightly, becoming conciliatory, in the way only a victor acutely aware of his own impending victory could afford to do.
“This is not an exile, Mariner,” was what he said. “This is when you prove yourself. Maybe a change of perspective will help you understand the gravity of your actions and teach you some restraint. It is an opportunity. Don’t squander it.”
“It’s an opportunity?” Mariner’s jaw clenched. She knew now the reassignment was inevitable. She knew that the decision had indeed been made on her behalf without any of her input and she had, somehow, been played so well that she happened to be the last to figure it out. And if she was to start learning restraint on her reassignment, she supposed that she didn’t need to begin now. “It’s not a goddamn opportunity, and you know it. It’s punishing me for something I haven’t even done. Yeah, I went after that enemy fighter on my own. And you know what? I shot it down. I saw an opportunity and I seized it instead of waiting around for the 109s to regroup. Isn’t that what we’re trained to do? Adapt, improvise, overcome, all that?”
“There’s a stark difference between adapting, improvising and overcoming, Olivia, and putting the rest of your squadron at risk,” Tillotson replied firmly. And then, what really pissed her off: “You have to learn, one way or another, that the USAAF is an ecosystem where every element, down to the individual fighter, must depend upon command structure to function. It’s not a place for young Turks wanting to prove themselves and be a hero. Don’t worry. I’'ll make sure no one else takes up the Switchblade call sign when you’re gone.”
At this Mariner felt her blunt fingernails digging pink crescent moons into her palms. That was an extraordinarily low blow. It was not merely the complete misconstruction of her character – as a willful contrarian who thinks only of their own glory, apparently – that incensed her, but beyond that it was the fear that thrummed at a deeper sub-cellular level, a fear that this may be how she was truly seen by her superiors, how her efforts and achievements were being interpreted by those who disregard her as little more than an ordinary pilot who likes to think of herself as extraordinary. And the placement of the command structure meant that she could not rectify this mistake or defend herself against this obvious besmirching of her name and reputation without risking a dishonourable discharge from the military altogether.
So she did what she does best.
“Fine. You want discipline?” she said, her voice lowering into something hard and cold and stubborn. “I can do that. I’ll get into a bomber. I’ll drop a few bombs. But mark my words, sir, you’re making a mistake. Both you and I know exactly what I can do and what I should be out there doing, whether I’m in a Mustang or a tin can with wings. And when the time comes, when you need someone with enough balls to fly through hell and back under twenty-millimetres and flak, don’t be surprised when you come back to me because there’s no one else up for the job.”
She did not resign herself to waiting around for Tillotson’s reaction. Instead she saluted him sharply in a way that suggested an obvious grudge, pivoted on her heels and marched out of the room. She refused to even attempt to try and understand Tillotson’s reasoning as there could be no possible reasoning on God’s green earth that could justify this decision. Perhaps an attempt at figuring out his reasoning, however unfounded it may be, could come later, when she has spent enough aimless months with the 100th to supposedly have learned her lesson and earned a place back on her former fighter squadron. But the embers of rage were still very much scorching hot in her hands, hissing and spitting and burning wherever they touched her skin, and she refused out of pure spite to put them down, so she carried them with her all the way until she reached Norfolk, England.
#series: switchblade#oc: olivia mariner#masters of the air#meet your local cocky flyboy#or flygirl#olivia mariner is an unreliable narrator
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Brew and Me - also on AO3
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Claudio's finally gotten the opportunity to visit the small coffee shop he's been lusting after, and Wheeler tags along.
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For @rosabellebelieve because she deserves smiles <3
~
Wheeler wakes up to his alarm blaring, blinking away the sleep. He slaps at the bedside table and answers without checking the name. “The fuck do you want?” he grumbles, shoving his face back into the pillow.
“Wake up, Wheeler,” Claudio says, sounding way too cheery. “I’m downstairs. Have been for a bit now, love. Come on.”
Wheeler groans and rolls over. Claudio’s side of the bed really is cool. “Why do you do this to me?” he sighs, sitting up. “Normal people sleep past,” he checks the clock, “eight in the morning on a Sunday, fuck.”
“You agreed to go on a coffee tasting,” Claudio says. “The appointment is at nine. You should be getting ready now.” Wheeler rolls his eyes and stands, going for the closet.
“You’re lucky I showered last night,” Wheeler mutters, getting dressed.
“Of course I am,” Claudio says, and he’s unfairly perky. “If you hadn’t, I would have woken you up when I woke up.”
“If you ever wake me up at five in the morning on the weekend, I will lock you out.” Wheeler can’t help but smile at Claudio’s excitement though. It’s an appointment at a small local coffee shop that Claudio’s been lusting after since a late night google search a few months back, and they finally got a Dynamite date in the area. They extended their stay a little, just to get the appointment.
“You would not,” Claudio replies. “Now come down to the lobby.”
Wheeler brushes his teeth and does his best to style his hair and beard, then makes his way downstairs.
Claudio looks cozy in a double breasted coat, a little warm for the weather but the effect is more than worth it.
��Hey,” Wheeler says, leaning down to kiss Claudio. “You already taste like coffee.”
“I had to have my morning brew.”
Wheeler rolls his eyes. “Come on. I have the keys.”
Claudio tries to grab him out of the way to drive, but Wheeler dives into the seat before Claudio can get there.
“I,” Wheeler says, grinning up at Claudio, “am driving.”
Claudio huffs, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you chauffeur me.”
“Let me,” Wheeler scoffs, starting the car as Claudio makes his way around. “You’re such a dick.”
Claudio slides into the car. “What about dick?”
“Buckle up.”
Wheeler may or may not disregard some speed limits as they make it to the coffee shop, and he’s convinced he’s taken a wrong turn as he pulls into the driveway of what looks like a sweet little New England Cape with blue shutters and a red door.
“Are we sure this is the place?” he asks, hand still on the wheel. “It feels…homey.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Claudio asks. “It’s correct. Look.” He points to a miniscule sign Wheeler can barely make out. Brewology with Steph.
“I still think it’s a stupid name,” Wheeler says, stepping out of the car. “What is Brewology? Who’s Steph?”
“Steph is a highly qualified, extremely experienced taster,” Claudio says, and he adjusts his coat in a way that makes Wheeler get a little hot. “We’re in good hands.”
As he steps out of the car, he resists the urge to suggest something else that could go in Claudio’s hands, and walks next to him to the shop.
“Ah!” a woman says as they walk up. Wheeler has to presume she’s Steph. “Welcome. The two of you must be my nine o’clock appointment.”
Claudio nods. “Yes, I am Claudio, and this is my partner, Wheeler Yuta.” He grins down and it flares warmth in Wheeler’s chest. “Glad to be here.”
“Welcome,” Steph says. Wheeler had expected someone pretentious and a little obsessed with themselves, maybe demanding attention and respect for their talent without proving they deserve it yet.
Instead, Steph is a tall, short haired woman who talks about coffee as casually as Wheeler can rattle off wrestling stats. She and Claudio connect immediately, which gives him the chance to scan the place and get an idea of what’s going on. It’s still got the typical bones of the design of a Cape, but each room provides a different coffee lover’s fantasy. Normal coffee makers, filters, espresso makers, and French presses line the walls of a large kitchen. There’s multiple rooms lined with jars of coffee beans. He’s not a fan of the taste of coffee, but the smell he finds to be an immediate comfort. He’s woken up dozens of times to that smell floating in from the kitchen where Claudio and his obscenely early wakeups brew a pot of his personal favorite, and this building echoes with the scent like it’s built into its foundation. He peers around as they enter a new room to see that each shelf is labeled with a style or location or region where the coffee was grown. Wheeler doesn’t know quite what the words mean, but he knows they’re important from the way Claudio gets excited about them.
The place feels homey in a way Wheeler hadn’t expected. But he likes it.
“Alright,” Steph says. “We’re here to taste, not to talk. Let’s get started.”
He’d expected a few brew options, maybe different spices or whatever to add like Starbucks has at their counter.
He didn’t expect to follow Claudio as he points to random jars that Steph takes down and hauls to the kitchen. Wheeler tastes so many coffees he thinks his brain hurts. He fakes using phrases that Claudio and Steph throw around like a new language.
“I sense a hint of chocolate.”
“The caramel on the back of that cup is delightful.”
He gets a weird look when he says, “Sorry, this one tastes like burning tires,” but Claudio takes another sip of the same cup and frowns.
“You have a point,” he concedes, and puts down the cup. “I think this one is less than a preference, Steph.”
“That’s the case for many tasters,” Steph says, moving the bag of beans away. “It’s a unique blend that most people don’t particularly enjoy.” She turns, smiling at Wheeler. “You have a sensitive tongue, Mr. Yuta.”
It takes everything in Wheeler’s body not to say something wildly inappropriate. “Can I try that chocolate cherry thing one again?” He asks. “I can still taste burning tires.”
Claudio slides him the coffee and Wheeler takes a sip. Now that he knows what a bad coffee tastes like, he supposes, he can appreciate one that tastes the way he wants.
Like a switch, he gets it. The next few he’s able to actually describe. Not as well as Claudio, of course, and nothing close to Steph, but they start to nod along when he describes brews as having a plum taste or reminding him of a woodfire.
“Now,” Steph says, once Wheeler’s buzzing with caffeine and has tasted something like 25 different kinds of coffee, “the conclusion of the tasting is for you two to choose your favorite blend.” She smiles at them. “You could choose a single brew, if it’s to your liking, or you can create your own blend of flavors and underlying tastes.”
“Not the burning tire,” Wheeler says. “Other than that, Claudio? It’s all you.”
Claudio nods, brow furrowing. “I take that challenge with pride.”
It’s a bit like watching a mad scientist, as Claudio puts together flavors and mutters to himself.
“He’s really into coffee,” Wheeler says. He’s not sure if he’s telling this to Steph as an explanation or an apology. “Like, really into coffee.”
“I can see that,” Steph says. She leans against the table and takes her own mug, the one that had been sitting on a back counter, and takes a sip. “You know what the weird thing is? I prefer my coffee with sugar and milk, but I do appreciate all the flavors, you know?” She takes another sip. “But it is much easier to discern the individual personalities of each coffee without any additional details.”
Wheeler nods, like he’s not the kind of person to chug a java chip Frappuccino and call it a day.
“Aha!” Claudio says, eyes triumphant after a sip. “This is it.” He holds the cup up to Wheeler’s lips. “Try it and tell me what you think.”
Wheeler sips. He can taste cocoa, a little cherry. Some hints of spice and wood smoke in the back of it.
The problem is he still doesn’t like it. At all.
“Yeah,” Wheeler says. “That’s – that’s my favorite out of all of them.” He smiles at Claudio.
“You still hate coffee, don’t you,” Claudio says, and at least it looks like he’s fighting a grin.
“Not on purpose!” Wheeler says. “It’s just – look, coffee’s mostly your thing, and I like…” He trails off. “Well, I like you.”
Steph makes a little squeak. “Sorry!” she says. “That was just really sweet.” Her smile turns into a bit of a grimace. “I’ve had couples where one partner doesn’t like coffee come in and they will be just miserable to their partners, you know?” She fades back into a smile. “It’s nice to see the opposite.”
They make small talk as Steph packs up Claudio’s blend of coffee and wraps it with a bow. “And there you are.” She beams at them. “I hope the two of you have a great evening. You have a flight tonight, right?”
Wheeler nods. “Couple hours from now.”
“Make sure to keep that in the bag and put it in checked luggage,” Steph says. “You don’t want TSA getting handsy with it.”
“Duly noted,” Claudio says. He flashes one of his pretty smiles at Steph. “Thank you so much for your assistance. Next time we’re in town we will certainly stop by again.” He holds out his hand and Wheeler takes it as they make their way out of the store.
“So you really don’t enjoy coffee,” Claudio muses, thumb rubbing Wheeler’s skin. “I thought 27 would change your mind.”
“It’s not, like, a switch,” Wheeler laughs. He lets Claudio push to the driver’s seat this time and takes the coffee out of his hands, resting the bag in his lap as he sits. He glances over at Claudio. “You really like coffee.”
Claudio nods. “It’s quite an adventure, tasting coffee.” He gazes at Wheeler, making Wheeler’s entire chest swell. “Similar, I think, to being with you.” He reaches out and rests a hand on the side of Wheeler’s neck. “Different experiences, flavors, notes. But always the same, at its base.” His eyes soften. “Always, at the root of it, something that brings me comfort.”
Wheler leans over the center console and kisses Claudio. He doesn’t quite understand the words he wants to say, knows they’re there but not how to form them with his lips, so he tries to show it with his kiss. Claudio kisses back gently, insistently, and it’s familiar like he’d said.
It’s comfort.
It’s forever.
“Claudio,” Wheeler says, his heart racing. He hadn’t planned to do it now. He fumbles in his pocket. It’s been there for weeks now, never leaving his side. “Fuck. I meant to – get out of the car, okay?”
“Get out – why?” Claudio’s rarely baffled, but he follows Wheeler’s lead. Wheeler scrambles out of the car. The last time he felt nerves like this, the last time his adrenaline pumped like this, was Blood and Guts. When Claudio stands, Wheeler drops to a knee.
“Claudio Castagnoli,” he says, looking upwards. “Will you marry me?”
Claudio laughs and throws his head back. “Wheeler, you madman, I was planning – I was supposed to do this!” He drops down to Wheeler’s level. “Yes, of course.” He leans in and kisses Wheeler with fire behind it. “You always have the jump on me, don’t you.” He rests his forehead against Wheeler’s. “Would you believe me if I said I have a ring in the dresser at home?”
“Possibly,” Wheeler says.
Claudio strokes Wheeler’s jaw, pressing his lips to Wheeler’s cheek. “Will you let me propose to you later?”
“Yes,” Wheeler says, wiping an errant tear from his cheek. “Now. Let’s get home.”
Claudio shakes his head. “Certainly not.” His smile turns a little devious. “I think we should find a hotel room and reschedule our flights, no?”
Wheeler grins at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”
~
Mini Playlist: Starving - Hailee Steinfeld Numbers - The Cab Speechless - The Veronicas Forever and For Always - Shania Twain
#ClaudiYoots#Hello this is fluffy for rose!!! I had so much fun with the fluff!!#But get checked for cavities after this#wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes
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Doctor Who: The Sirens Of Time Review
Introduction
And here we have my first deep dive into the main range. Did it deliver? Absolutely for the most part. I'm really impressed that despite the first set of audios releasing 1999 they still hold up as decent listens. I have some Nicholas Briggs novels on my tbr so listening to Sirens Of Time was a brilliant chance to get a feel for his writing and it's a very good vibe I'm getting. This multi Doctor Story was very bold for being Big Finish's first ever Doctor Who release but the risk payed off for the most part.
It felt like the Classic Who version of Day Of The Doctor better fleshing out these three Classic Doctor's. Still on 1 in regards to my Classic Who watch but this was a really good way to get a feel for the other Doctor's and I liked how they all clashed in respective ways. Five is the nice awkward one, Six is the stubborn one and Seven is the traumatised wizard trying to hold the group together. Peter Davison, Colin Baker And Sylvester McCoy play their chemistry together really well. I also love how we got to know The Doctor's separately in single episodes before they all teamed up in the final part.
Was a bit off putting it being companionless but extra characters would have made this convoluted story even more convoluted then it already is. The sound design added to the while eiree listen and despite it being two hours long it felt like ages to listen too. Despite having not seen much off it I still could believe that I was watching an episode of Classic Who. It was tense and the cliffhangers had me on the edge of my seat. It shows me that Big Finish were definitely the right people to trust with the Doctor Who licence. Maybe I'm too generous but there haven't been any real stinkers for me yet.
So let's get on with the review....
What I Liked
As mentioned in the introduction The Sirens Of Time perfectly pays tribute to Classic Who with its structure of a full on screen story arc. It's also very brave and bold in the story it tells the listener.
I loved the aesthetic and feel of this audio. 1999 and the audio still holds up aesthetically, as with other Big Finish audios I can easily close my eyes and picture what's happening on screen. What was happening was really dark too. It's formated exactly like Classic Who and stays true to the shows style. Like I said I haven't seen much of Classic Who but through the writing you can tell how much respect Nick Briggs and the rest of the Big Finish team have for the source material. This story felt like the Classic Who version of Day Of The Doctor with the high stakes to save Galifrey and all of time itself. I also love how the full audio is split into several different parts and that it uses each part to build and introduce each Doctor before they all come together. It also means that as a result its a great jumping on point for new listeners. If your new to Big Finish and want a taster this definitely is the story to start with.
Secondly I need to praise the creativity and bravery. Doctor Who hasn't done much adult or dark content due to constraints but The Sirens Of Time goes wild and that is its strength. No confined by TV ratings. Nick Briggs and the team are able to pull off a truly fantastic time whimey story that really explores the time travel aspect of the show and the butterfly effect. Without spoilers I can say that it really expands on The Doctor's character and shows that he isn't always right. It also has a villian that's really compelling, the villians motive is really basic but the methods and means they use to get what they want is super dark and disturbing. Your on the edge of your seat the entire time praying all The Doctor's will be okay and that everything will be okay in the end.
Finally the sound design. Considering the fact that this is one of Big Finish's oldest Doctor Who audios it's really impressive how well it manages to still hold up. Released in 1999 and its still brilliantly edited together. It felt like I was watching a serial of Classic Who. I was very immersed and able to easily visualise the story in my head as I listened. The sound scapes are perfectly designed by Nicholas Briggs allowing you to feel immersed in the location, when your on Galifrey you feel like your on Galifrey. When your on a planet with quick sand, it feels like your on a deadly planet with quick sound. It's not a hundred percent perfect but it's really good for its time. It shows the potential to grow Big Finish has and it has indeed. The Sirens Of Time is worth if for the sound alone.
It's fantastic 👏 and made excited to look at other main range stories.
What I Disliked
As its the very first Doctor Who audio produced by Big Finish its not perfect but it's still very enjoyable. More like an 8/10 for me but I enjoyed it more than other people. They are more like nitpicks but still valid ones.
In two hours a lot of things happened and the set up was well done but I think it happened to rapid for me. I'm use to the normal landing place let's explore formula but instead nearly five minutes in we're head first into the action and considering the fact that it's 2 hours I wish there was room to breathe. It also would have helped if we get proper build up to Five being separated from his companions instead of it happening off audio. With 2 hours it really felt like there should have been more time to breathe with each Doctor instead of diving head first into an action packed timey whimey plot.
Another thing is that I feel while we got to explore The Doctor's flaws as a whole, the stakes were mainly high for only Five. He was a punching bag for the whole story and as a result it left no chance for Six and Seven to get their own angst defining moments. Give the timelord a break he was two other incarnations to explore. With him being the Punching Bag it kind of felt like he had nothing to do and no purpose to being there other than exposition. I still liked Five in this story though don't get me wrong.
Conclusion
Overall I'm now committing myself eventually to the main range at least the first 50 and then I I might buy some of them in the future as it seems like a reasonable good range to sink my teeth into based solely on listening to The Sirens Of Time and Phantasmagoria. I'm generally blown away and it shows the high standards that the Big Finish team have. I can't wait till I can get to the Davison, Baker and McCoy eras of the show.
I'm really getting use to this episodic format and it's really entertaining to listen too. There's definitely gonna be more intresting original villians and big plot twists to come. I only felt a little bad for what happened in the end but Sirens Of Time does a really good job at balancing showing The Doctor's strengths and flaws. It's a really decent start. I also loved exploring all the different settings despite no visuals.
I'm so excited to dig into more Big Finish next year and be blown. I plan to listen to Zagerus next year and I've heard that's weird. Every Doctor seems to have something different to offer which is absolutely thrilling.
Highly recommend giving this one a listen for free on Spotify. The first 50 main rages are on Spotify for free so do give it a go if you can't afford to buy audios.
Bonus:
On my Storygraph @melsage1823 I am doing a public listening challenge with Big Finish prompts to make my first year of listening easier and more fun. Which I might bring back next year.
Basic prompts of listening from Doctor's 5-12 excluding War and Ten. With some bonus prompts of course. Its been really entertaining filling these prompts as I go along.
Feel free to join if you want to
Here's the link:
Until the next review whovians! 😀
-Melody-
They/Them
#doctor who#big finish#big finish review#the monthly range#doctor who audios#fifth doctor#sixth doctor#seventh doctor#classic who#big finish main range#doctor who big finish#Spotify
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On your Strictly AU… Kai and Angela are giving me Violet and Michael vibes.
Imagine a year or two after Anthony does is when Sophie and Kate are on maternity leave Violet is approached to take part and gets partnered with none other than Michael Stirling!
Anthony and Benedict completely scandalised at the high kicks and seeing their mother being tossed around whilst Kate and Sophie are giving her helpful tips and Frannie is just 😍 wanting to get to know her mothers dance partner!
Omfg yes!!!!
While Anthony is competing Violet loves being in the audience to support her son though she comes to realise that a part of her also envies him, wishing she could have the chance to be taught such technical dances by championship dancers. Whenever she came to visit him during rehearsals or when he came over for dinner she would eagerly pester him to teach her some steps just to get a taster of what it must be like to do a ballroom dance. Naturally she was thrilled to see her son win the Glitterball trophy and she was even more excited when she found out that not only was Anthony dating Kate, but that Benedict was seeing his brother's dance partner Sophie; and of course whenever her sons' girlfriends were round she'd eagerly pick their brains about everything dance related and they were always more than happy to teach her a few dance combinations.
Several years later Violet's agent called her up to give her the news she had always hoped to receive; the BBC had offered her the chance to be a contestant on the show. She said "yes" in a heartbeat and she was fizzing with excitement to share the news with her kids. She was quite dismayed when the reaction she received wasn't as supportive as she imagined, with Colin and Eloise quipping a few jokes at her expense and her eldest sons doubting whether she was up to par to be on the show. Thankfully her daughters-in-law were her saving grace as they hyped her up and vowed to be there for her day and night should she ever want to get some advice or help with her dancing.
Cut to the launch show where the pairings for which contestant will be paired up with which professional are revealed and much to Violet's delight - and her children's shock and horror - she gets paired with the newest pro; Michael Stirling. She is the envy of all the other contestants and viewing audience alike as the ridiculously sexy Scotsman proves to be an instant charmer and wins over just about every person he meets - well, almost everyone.
Of course Anthony and Benedict are the most scandalised especially after seeing Michael Stirling stretch their mother's leg this high;
"What a traumatising way to find out mum's that flexible."
But what would additionally be a funny aspect to Violet's participation is if Edmund is still alive and well - and positively terrified that the Strictly curse might strike his blissfully happy marriage. He had never wavered in his love for Violet and he had always been secure in himself to never doubt the strength of their marriage; but Michael Stirling's sudden presence in his life unnerved him. Considering he had watched his wife act opposite many other good-looking actors brimming with charisma, there was just something about the young Scotsman that got under his skin. He had youth on his side, was ridiculously handsome, had an irresistible grin that made every hot-blooded woman swoon, and there was a permanent flirtatious tone whenever he opened his mouth; how could anyone possibly turn down his advances?
Of course he'd try his best to ignore his own insecurities as best he could and put Violet first, being her biggest fan and sitting in the audience every week to support her. However it didn't help that the tabloids had done a deep-dive into his wife's dance partner's prolific Casanova past with various ex-lovers selling their stories about how Michael had seduced them. He had reportedly slept with married women, several women his senior, and had allegedly even once had dalliances with Kate and Sophie; which wasn't true in the slightest as Edmund's daughters-in-law laughed the claims off and stated that Michael was just a flirty friend - not that it stopped Anthony and Benedict from suffering from near-breakdowns at the thought of Michael having gone anywhere near their wives. There were even fans online who seemed to be legitimately shipping his wife with her professional dancer, and it was difficult for Edmund to ignore what seemed to be the world trying to signal that his marriage was doomed.
Then one day Violet invited Michael over for dinner to celebrate getting through to Blackpool week and Edmund truly felt as if he was being tested as he plastered a genial smile on his face throughout the meal. Anthony and Benedict were equally peeved to be in Michael's presence as the dancer occupied their mother and wives attention, something which Colin found quite amusing until Michael kept stealing Penelope's attention away from him and constantly kept making her giggle much to his chagrin. Unbeknownst to the men, the reason why Violet had invited Michael over was actually to set him up with Francesca, who had expressed interest to her mother after visiting them during rehearsals. Violet had noticed Michael took an instant shine to her daughter and ever since he had always asked after her in particular more than any of her other children, and she was hopeful that they would make a perfect match.
As Violet progressed further in the competition, Edmund became fearful that the more hours she was putting in had nothing to do with training but that she had succumbed to Michael Stirling's charm and had begun an affair with him. He tried not to let it get to him but one day while Francesca was round his irrational thinking got the best of him and he blurted out his suspicions that he thought Violet was sleeping with Michael. He was outraged when Francesca cracked up laughing and he began having a go at her for not taking him seriously and went on and on about how he was sure his wife was cheating on him.
"Oh for god's sake, dad! Mum's not sleeping with Michael!"
"And how can you be so sure?!"
"Because I'm sleeping with Michael!"
At which point Edmund fell silent, dumbfounded as to how to respond since the possibility that Michael was sleeping with his daughter and not his wife had never crossed his mind. After a very long five minutes of shocked silence Edmund cleared his throat and asked whether or not it was serious between them, to which Francesca informed him that she had spent every night of the last few weeks with Michael. Edmund nodded in acknowledgement as he now tried to wrap around his head around the possibility that Michael Stirling, rather than being a threat to his marriage, could very well end up being his future son-in-law instead.
Eventually much to her overwhelming joy Violet ends up winning the show with Michael and despite his misguided paranoia, Edmund couldn't be prouder of his wife. He also warms up to Michael when he sees just how besotted he is with Francesca, and especially after Michael offers to teach him the foxtrot to surprise Violet with for their upcoming wedding anniversary.
#asks#strictly come dancing au#violet bridgerton#michael stirling#edmund bridgerton#francesca bridgerton#vedmund#franchel#violet x edmund#michael x francesca
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Break from the main campaign this week gave me a chance to finish chapter two of Ready Now. Who knew I was capable of writing 20k words of anything, let alone mostly smut! Certainly not me. Oops.
Taster here, more on AO3 if you enjoy it ☺️
Imogen pulls Laudna’s lip between her own and sucks delicately, arms contracting around Laudna to pull her even closer; Laudna can feel her breath becoming more and more ragged with every movement, and she didn’t know her body could react to someone’s touch like this, she can’t believe she’s gone so long without it.
Imogen pulls back again, and Laudna can’t help the disappointed huff that escapes from her lips, holding on to Imogen’s shoulders more firmly to stop her from moving too far away. When she comes back in, Imogen kisses the corner of her mouth, then further along her jawline, down to the angle under her ear, and, oh -
She presses a searing kiss to Laudna’s neck, her lips so soft yet impossibly firm at the same time. Laudna’s head rolls to the side instinctively to allow her more access, and the warm feeling in her chest ignites into an inferno that burns through her and settles down in her core. Imogen’s lips move further down her long neck and Laudna feels her tongue dart out, warm and wet in stark contrast to Laudna’s cold skin, and it feels like stars are erupting where Imogen’s tongue traces slow circles against her.
Laudna sucks in a shuddering gulp of air - it isn’t often she is left breathless, she doesn’t usually need to breathe - and as she exhales a soft cry escapes from her lips. A surprised hum bursts out of Imogen at the sound, lips still pressed insistently to Laudna’s neck, her tongue tracing slowly down her jutting collarbone as her arms tighten reflexively around Laudna’s back to pull her in even closer.
Laudna glances down to see Imogen’s eyes fluttering closed in concentration, focused on her, on making her feel good. She can’t believe how lucky she is, to have this beautiful woman wrapped around her like this, kissing her and wanting to share something like this with her, of all people. She doesn’t understand. But in the moment she knows she needs to repay the favour, to make Imogen feel how she feels now. Instincts she didn’t know she had start to kick in and she pulls back so she can cradle Imogen’s cheeks in her hands and look at her reverently. An embarrassed smile spreads across Imogen’s face, averting her gaze. Laudna strokes a finger along her hairline, a few strands of purple plastered to her forehead where the skin is flushed, and a need to please the brilliant woman in front of her floods through Laudna.
So she copies Imogen. She pulls Imogen in for another delicate kiss, lips barely grazing each other before she moves down Imogen’s cheek, across to her neck. Laudna doesn’t know what she’s doing - but Imogen does, she’s so capable… She feels Imogen’s fingers lace into the hair at the back of her head, pulling her in closer, giving her the encouragement she needs to continue. Her tongue flickers tentatively against Imogen’s neck and she feels the fingers wrapped in her hair clench encouragingly, so she continues to trace down towards the base of her throat. She mirrors what felt good on her and returns it in kind, desperate to elicit that reaction from Imogen again as she feels Imogen’s breath stutter. Laudna settles into it, her hands grasping at Imogen’s sides for support as she presses another open-mouthed kiss against the gentle dip where Imogen’s collarbone meets her throat. Her tongue trails across the lightning marks that creep up under the skin. Laudna frowns curiously for a moment, then dives back in. This time, when she plants a kiss to Imogen’s lightning-touched skin, she sucks experimentally.
Laudna is unprepared for the guttural moan that rips out of Imogen - she feels it hum against her lips as it escapes her throat, and she flinches back, anxiously meeting Imogen’s gaze, worried she has crossed a line or hurt her. She is shocked to see the flushed grin on Imogen’s face, eyes half-lidded and rolling back with pleasure as she entangles her fingers more firmly into Laudna’s hair.
“Fuck, Laudna, that was… something else.” She clears her throat and takes in a shuddering breath.
“You… didn’t mind it?” Laudna chews her lip nervously.
“Gods no, Laudna, I want you to do that to me everywhere…”
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Last line tag
Snatching up @reneesbooks‘s open tag to share some new idea I was randomly bowled over by yesterday! We talk a lot about the knight/bodyguard loyalty (as we should) but what about royal tasters. What about them? ;)
“I’ll be honest with you,” the boy said, shoving his foreign curls off his forehead, and gesturing wildly with his chopsticks, “There’s nothing to say about having a taster that will make you feel better, so I’m not even going to try.”
Sal blinked at him. He was still diving into her noodles with gusto.
“You know,” he continued conversationally, like they were two friends on a dinner date, “The poison. The reason I’m here is so I drop dead and not you. We don’t have to talk about it.”
It’s really more than a line. I have no apologies. No pressure tags for @blind-the-winds @talesfromaurea @asher-orion-writes @ashen-crest and @autumnalwalker <3
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A new season of anime is near and instead of doing a taster, it might be time for us to return to our roots...
and dive deep into some brand new Edgy Mahous®
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@manybcdthings liliana / harvey dupont fundraiser
-
The evening seemed to be a success so far, but Liliana was far from enjoying it. She was trying to duck and dive from not only Oliver but Noah, all while making sure she could prove to her parents she was an asset and not a hindrance. "Those are for our vegetarian guests." Lily made a quick passing comment as she saw her brother, stuffing his face as usual. She abandoned what she was going to do, attempting to sneakily take the little taster from his fingers. "I literally saw you eat a farm's worth of bacon this morning, don't even do this right now." she knew Harvey wasn't going to go down without a fight especially over food so her eyes widened at him. "Please, can you just be a normal person?"
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10.05.23~ Wednesday
WHY I LOVE ALMOST FAMOUS (2000) - A Film by Cameron Crowe-
I think it would be most appropriate if I debuted (if you will) talking about one of my favourite films, though that title shouldn’t have a hefty weight to it. I fell in love with this film a while back, in a moment where the soul craved an escape into a 70s rock scene, & it landed in the best place. Last year, I watched this film- & I wish it was an exaggeration- around 50 times. Whenever a pick me up was needed, I sought it out. Why? That’s what I’ll talk about now~
Where to start? The favourite thing is easily the music, all of it just fits into place. It is elevating, & gives you such a good taster for what that era had to offer, especially to someone who might not know a lot about the 70s but wants to learn- the soundtrack is highly recommended. For those of us who already know a bit, it was a nice toasty reminder of the best songs that fit into each mood of the film, & reminded you to just slip those songs back into your playlists. Easily, if the music doesn’t feel like your vibe, I feel like the film kind of slips away a bit, but stick with it! I think there is something highly beautiful about the characters that I’m going to leave you to discover, because tbh, I don’t want to talk about them all. However honourable mention to fringe guy (Ed) who spills his guts on the shaky plane, I got you babe, Sonny & Cher style. Also holy mother of fuck! The amount of just amazing actors in this film…where do I begin? Kate Hudson, Billy Crudup (he is also in another favourite of mine; 20th Century Women- maybe I’ll write about it; we won’t mention Alien Covenant…), Patrick Fugit (love his surname), Anna Paquin (honourable Trick ‘r Treat mention?), Zooey Deschanel (who’s that girl?), Jason Lee (I don’t have to mention his career), Philip Seymour Hoffman, Frances McDormand, bloody Jimmy Fallon, Fairuza Balk, Noah Taylor (submarine man), Rainn Wilson, Eric fucking Stonestreet just showing up outta nowhere, same as Nick Swardson (bowie!!!) & Susan Yeagley (you have a good day) just casually being there for 2 seconds. Ok I’ll stop geeking out for no reason, it’s just exciting!
I think I’m gonna just dive in. This film is special to me because of the way it changed me. I always daydreamed this idea of what I wanted to be like, & then I saw Penny Lane for the first time, & I watched in awe, because she is everything I’ve always wanted to be. & it made me realise that nothing is stopping me, I can be extroverted & talk to people. It doesn’t cost much to open yourself up like that, & to be honest her character isn’t perfect, she is flawed, but in the ways I am, which reminded me to be more gentle with myself, & also it puts everything into perspective. Penny is lonely, she is “surrounded” by people, but in reality none are there for her, she is there for everyone. When it comes to shedding this persona she has crafted, no one wants to hold the girl underneath it all, apart from William, who is the only person who genuinely loves her. She to others is a means of time-passing entertainment, while she?- a young girl who’s influenced, falls in love with everything, she is incredibly perceptive & though she acts tough, she gets heartbroken & falls apart like all girls do at 16, she was a victim of a power-play relationship; we could deepen on that, but at the moment I want it to be surface level, this was the 70s, & it was incredibly common & not spoken of, all hush hush. I think the most heart-breaking scene to me is her birthday scene, this is cut out & in the extended versions, but to sum up: it’s right before the ‘what kind of beer?’ scene, & the façade is coming to an end, everyone is getting ready for the next adventure, & Penny doesn’t know where else to go. She just assumed she’d be with Russel, & as she cuts more cake & asks anyone if they want any more, everyone starts quietening around her; she practically asks a void, then loses her voice, & the dawning reminder that she has to start leaving enters her mind. She half smiles through this whole realisation, but you can see her heart start to crack under it all. She was just a pawn in their game, they knew this, let her think otherwise, & it just reminds me of all those times of suddenly feeling like the place you knew so well wasn’t shaped for you anymore, & you start to outgrown it, or more, it starts to outgrow you, & you lose your footing. I think this scene changed my perception of Penny’s character for me a lot. Initially watching the film I star-gazingly watched her, but as I got older & paid attention to the small moments that valued a lot in her character, I realised her whole act is just that, an act. & there’s a frightened young girl who wants to also be just as loved as this Penny Lane, Lady Goodman, & she is the true person who is only ever shown to William. I do want to mention, I don’t think William or Russel is a fit for Penny, I think, though William’s love is more authentic, he is young, & regardless of if he realises, he won’t benefit her much. I do think he loved her for herself rather than what she could be for him like Russel does, but I think Penny needs someone who isn’t involved in all of that rock n roll life. Last thing to mention with Penny Lane naturally is her clothes, I’ve also purchased an afghan coat that I wear every winter, & it makes me live out my best Penny Lane dreams. But I’ve read a LOT about what the costume designer (Betsy Heimann) has said about how Penny Lane’s clothes were fashioned. & I read a lot about how the coat was more than a coat, it symbolises her ferocity & strength when it’s on, a shell, without it she is wearing not much material, she is bare, & that is the real Lady Goodman underneath it all. However I will say I love that the fur on the coat is actually an Urban Outfitters rug that has been dyed a ton. I wish I could have that coat…one day.
I think we have to talk about William, doy. I think I also relate to him a lot, I also think he & Penny are so much more similar than he realises, because she is living in the world he wants to, but she is just as much an outsider, it’s all about how you present yourselves in those environments. William is playing us, the audience, he goes through the same motions of awe & admiration at this incredible life that happens on the road, it’s jolly & warm in the beginning, he is excited to be a part of something at first, not realising he doesn’t fit in with their views of the world, as Lester Bangs states, he is ‘uncool’, which he feels (we could argue that then means as the audience that we too are uncool spectators of their lives just like him; important to consider that Cameron Crowe wrote the film basically about his life as a rock journalist, so his POV is our POV). What even does ‘cool’ mean to each & every person? Something different, I think it’s not such an argument to make about William’s coolness, but instead to consider what the rock n rollers think cool is, which is themselves, William is a dorky guy who does journalism & carrier a tape recorder around with a notebook glued to his palm. Things to consider guys. Aside from his outside not fitting in (maybe a mullet would fix it?) he also actively stands outside from what they are doing, because he is there to watch them, but you can feel that sense of wanting to be them by the way he looks at them. I think I like William’s character because I also think he goes through the different stages of being with musicians, it’s so cool at first, as Lester Bangs says, ‘they make you feel cool’ & like he is their friend, but he is not. & I appreciate his innocent & honest outlook on all of it, sometimes he kind of seems like the kind of person who is at the wrong place at the wrong time, he just is there as a stepping stone, then gets used up like Penny. I will be honest, I don’t know much to say about William now, maybe because I left it for a bit & came back so my train of thought on William has strayed. But also, he is 15, & so I don’t really know how to judge a character as much when they’re half-baked as people (not half-baked characters- 15 is just so young, you’re so unfinished). I rather just appreciate his views, & that he doesn’t let them corrupt his innocence as much, unless you account the band-aids all sharing the room with him…
I think without a doubt, the best & most overlooked character is Lester Bangs, he says some things that just always light up my perception of everything. He is an incredible character. We don’t know MUCH about him personally, though he is a big music connoisseur, so maybe that really is all he is. But the scene with him in the café with William (lol also at the ‘I don’t have time to sit around & talk to my many fans’), he says something I think, if anything is to be taken from this film, it is this line: ‘be honest & unmerciful’, go headstrong into the world, be soft when the moments call, but if you’re honest & open, then you’re doing something right (with moderation of course). I think so much could be said about this great film, & to be honest cutting it short to this feels unfinished, maybe I’ll add stuff on later as it goes on. But I think it’s something everyone should really watch when they need to be taken away. It’s an easy film to follow, & I think it will mean either too much to some people, or others won’t find it a necessary watch. Whatever floats your boat?
I highly doubt anyone will see this, I am writing to clear my mind which is always so full of words. I watch so many films all the time, & I love to talk about them. Having an open space to just call out into any abyss (which is better I know nothing about where this is going to) feels like conversation enough. I’ll maybe write more, but in reality I just need to push forward & see how I can articulate my words in a better format & way, but for now. Diary entry style should work for me. That’s all. Thanks spooky!
P.S. I am more of an avid horror film fan, but I can be diverse!
#almost famous#cameron crowe#70s rock#penny lane#movies#film thoughts#kate hudson#patrick fugit#philip seymour hoffman#billy crudup#zooey deschanel#groupie#films#comedy drama#2000s#elton john#tiny dancer#stillwater#led zeppelin#the doors#the who
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We now join Mildew Wolf mentoring a few young campers in the skindiving experience at some northern Wisconsin summer camp
[Having led his group of largely neophyte campers into the lake's shallows, we find the following ensuing--]
MILDEW WOLF, snark obvious: Hello, campers ... at any rate, Uncle Mildew is going to show and lead you into what is bound to be a new twist on the usual swim routine--SKIN DIVING!
A CHEEKY CAMPER: Do you mean we're going diving--
MILDEW WOLF, cutting short the camper's remark: I assume the next word from his lips was going to be "naked." Regrettably, such a term as "skin diving" does not imply your going "into the raw" underwater necessarily; and besides, our experiences will involve [holding one such up for all to see] a mask/snorkel combination and flippers, which is a rather interesting way to see things beneath the water's surface, and besides, there is much fascination to be had in what lies beneath!
ANOTHER CHEEKY CAMPER: Does this mean we'll be seeing lake monsters during this dive you're talking about?
MILDEW WOLF: Don't be silly ... and besides, Scooby-Doo has exposed more lake monsters as Outright Frauds than you've had hot dinners! More than anything, our dive taster will be a close-to-shore such, yet one offering some interesting perspectives as well! At any rate, let's get the masks cleaned off with the "spit-and-rinse" technique demonstrated previously ...
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@warnerbrosentertainment @joey-gatorman @nighttimehound @theweekenddigest @iheartgod175 @archive-archives @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @warnerbros-blog1 @princessgalaxy505 @thebigdingle @jellystone-enjoyer @thylordshipofbutts @warnerbrosent-blog
#hanna barbera#fanfic friday#fanfiction#vignette#mildew wolf#summer camp experience#skin diving#mask and snorkel diving#one piece mask/snorkel#up at the lake#lake monsters#taster dive#discover diving#hannabarberaforever
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These Woods Aren't Your Home || Jerry Melano (Solo)
Timing : The recent past Location : Wicked's Rest State Park Summary : Park Ranger Jerry Melano tries to enjoy the dawn of a beautiful new day, but duty comes first when a terrified visitor stumbles his way and needs protection from the local wildlife.
Warnings Physical & Psychological Abuse (suggested, not overt), Feelings of Fear / Terror, Violence (suggested, not overt)
The park was especially beautiful at this time of the morning. The sky had that kind of pre-dawn glow that made promise of a glorious sunrise and the wilderness felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for the new day to start. A few birds gave voice to premature song - testing their voices for the chorus to come - as the early-rising grazers snuffled around in the undergrowth seeking out the tastiest morsels before the morning rush turned breakfast into a melee.
There was a slight chill in the air, not unexpected for the time of year, and a haze of mist clung to the dew soaked plants lending the grove an almost mystical quality. A handful of stars still painted the sky between the drifting clouds, as if the Night was trying to hang on a little longer and witness the new dawn as well. Somewhere overhead the Moon would be slowly gliding towards the opposite horizon, pursuing Night's velvet cloak across another slumbering place, but the towering great pines blocked her from view. Still, just knowing she was there brought a special kind of comfort.
Everywhere felt at peace.
Jeremiah Melano - known to his few friends as Jerry - gently swung the pack off his shoulders and lowered it to the ground, being careful not to startle any of the wildlife (or wyrdlife for that matter) that would have observed his arrival. They were almost impossible to spot in the pre-dawn light, even with Jerry's exceptional eyesight, concealed as they were among the bracken and foliage, but there was no mistaking the individual scents in that riotous kaleidoscope of forest smells. White-tailed deer, martens, thrushes and cottontails all watched carefully, ready to run at the slightest provocation. Jerry could taste their fear, each having a different flavor and texture unique to the species. It was like a taster menu, and each sensation was an exquisite morsel on Jerry’s tongue. His stomach growled loudly in anticipation of a larger meal, nearly scaring a nervous cottontail into fleeing. Jerry chuckled to himself, carefully taking a zip-lock bag of trail mix from his jacket pocket, scattered a handful on the ground before eating any himself. A pair of Martens, their own hunger momentarily overcoming any apprehension they felt, dashed out and snatched some banana chips and roasted nuts before diving back into cover, but it was enough to give some of the others confidence. Smiling to himself in peaceful satisfaction, Jerry chewed on the mix of fruits and nuts as more woodland creatures came out to help themselves to his shared breakfast as the sun started to crest the horizon, sending out shafts of molten gold to herald the new day.
Distracted by the beauty of the moment, Jerry almost missed the scent of a young woman as she crashed through the undergrowth, but there was no ignoring the abject terror that came off her in waves. After having his taste buds teased by the nervous fear of the forest animals, this was like being suddenly slapped in the face with a piece of exquisitely-prepared Wagyu Beef.
The wildlife scattered as she stumbled into the clearing, eyes wide in panic as the wild haired woman cast repeated glances into the forest behind her. She wasn’t dressed for spending the night in the State Park; her dirty feet were bare and the ripped jeans that she wore were sodden and mud-stained. She was trying to hold her flimsy satin top up with one hand where the thin spaghetti strap had broken, but her hands were shaking so much that she kept dropping it. On seeing Jerry, the young woman froze like one of the woodland creatures, unsure whether to run or hide. It was clear that there was no fight in her, she was exhausted and her legs were just barely holding her up.
Jerry wet his lips as he got up slowly, keeping his hands in view and wide open, trying to present himself as calm and non-threatening. The temptation to gorge himself on her terror was difficult for Jerry to ignore, but he’d learned a long time ago not to be a slave to his bugbear heritage. He was much more than that now, a Senior Park Ranger with duties and responsibilities that mattered more to Jerry than anything the circumstances of his birth had ever given him.
“It’s okay, Sweetheart. I ain’ gonna hurt ya,” Jerry said quietly, turning towards the panic-stricken woman, while keeping his hands raised. Her eyes fixed on his golden badge as the dawn’s light flashed off its metallic surface, and a heart-rending sob suddenly broke out of her. She ran forward and collapsed into Jerry’s arms, tears flowing freely down her dirt streaked cheeks as she clung to him.
Jerry gently wrapped those arms around her, offering comfort in a soothing voice as he might to a child or wounded animal. The woman buried her face into his padded jacket, her body shaking with every sob and cry that she uttered.
Somewhere amongst the shadows between the trees, along the trail of broken undergrowth that the scared young woman had left behind in her panicked flight, a figure moved.
Raising his head, Jerry sniffed the air. There were three of them, all young males and all bugbears like him, making their way carefully through the forest towards the clearing. It was obvious to Jerry that they were in human-form, which at least meant there was a chance that they could be reasoned with.
Extricating himself from the young woman’s grip, he removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, guiding her to sit on the mossy ground behind them. She jumped and gave a tiny squeal of fear as he raised his voice to address the trio hiding in the woods.
“Y’all might as well come out into the open, fellas,” Jerry said, his voice projecting authority as he signaled for the scared woman to remain still and quiet. “I already know there’s three of you out there and it’s too damned early in the day to be chasing anyone through these woods.”
The shapes stepped out from the gloom into the new day’s light, their shadowy figures coalescing into three bare-chested young men, probably no more than sixteen years old to Jerry’s eyes. The one in front grinned at Jerry with teeth that seemed too white and too large for his thin-lipped mouth.
“Well shit, Ranger Yogi, we was just out trying to find little Darlene there… She got away from us, didn’t ya, Darlene?”
His voice tried to drip honey and sound sincere at the same time, but there was an edge to it that Jerry recognised; hunger. The Ranger rested a hand on the handle of the revolver holstered at his hip, and returned a smile of his own towards the adolescent.
“We both know what you were doing out here, Pike. Now you and your boys have had your fill of fun and breakfast, so why don’t you turn around and head on home now… and if your friend keeps trying to creep around me like that, I’m gonna make sure that he regrets it.”
A second boy, his cropped blonde hair spiky with sweat, froze as the one named Pike glared at him.
“But she’s still good for a meal or two, and me and the boys is still hungry. You can taste her fear, can’t you, Yogi? My Pa told me that you ain’ much of a bugbear, but I bet you can still taste that fine terror on her skin. We might even share her with you, if you treat us nice, old man.”
“You think chasing some woman that you picked up at a bar through the woods is real fear?,” Jerry scoffed, his voice tight and low. “Your Pa’s right, I ain’ much of a bugbear ‘cos I wasn’t never scary, not like you boys. I had to learn about fear, to understand it and how it can affect folks in different ways.”
“What’s your point, Yogi Bear?” the last of the trio piped up, looking confused.
Jerry smiled. “You ever learn about the ‘Fight or Flight’ response? I don’t suppose it’s anything real bugbears like you would care much about. See, when a creature feels threatened, its gotta decide in an instant whether to run away or try to fight. It’s triggered by fear, you see - fear for yourself, fear for your home, fear for your family - and not everything runs away from what it fears.”
“Get to the damned point!” Pike yelled, taking a step forward, his eyes flashing angrily at Jerry’s still smiling expression.
“Truth is, this forest ain’ your home, boys. It’s theirs... and they know how best to protect it.”
As Jerry stopped talking, everyone gathered in the clearing became aware of how quiet the forest had become. The sun was high enough to dispel the shadows and a thousand pairs of eyes watched the scene from perch, burrow and bracken. Each pair of eyes was fearful, but it wasn’t the fear felt by prey as it ran from a predator. It was the fear from having been backed into a corner and knowing the only way out was through. A thousand pairs of eyes, blinded by the illusions subtly cast as Jerry spoke, fixed on the trio of young bugbears and as one they moved.
They say that bugbears aren’t capable of feeling fear, but as Jerry helped Darlene out of the forest and back to Wicked’s Rest, he was fairly certain that what he heard in the screams from the three young bugbears was a pretty close approximation.
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Bro cyberpunk is my favorite genre of anything, EVER. I’m trembling even imagining the power you’d have with writing something cyberpunk-y. You could go like OG cyberpunk, like retrofuturistic/steelpunk/formicapunk, or take it more towards cyberpunk/nanopunk and I’d still eat that shit up like a woman starved at a royal banquet. Both directions would go wonderfully with a noirpunk/cybernoir storyline or undertone. I myself am writing a cyberpunk story rn (it’s not exactly fan fiction so idk what to call it) and even just imagining a cyberpunk world through your lense of prose is making me vibrate violently. I devour anything and everything even remotely related to this genre. Obviously no pressure for you to write it, and I don’t mean to infodump in your inbox but please just know if you actually write a techno-punk flavored ANYTHING I will worship it like it’s my Bible
Noirpunk/cybernoir is honestly such a fave of mine, so I'm really leaning toward something in that direction.
I sorttttt of have a story mapped out already? (But it's mostly just random thoughts that came about from too many midnight musings after gorging myself on clips of Akira and old nostalgia hits of GitS, and the loose Cyberpunk/cassette-punk/space noir/space western genre abomination that is Cowboy Bebop.)
And no worries at all! I'm always down to talk -punk anyway (especially cyberpunk), and I welcome any and all advice about this, or suggestions because it's such a massive thing, right? Like, there's tonnes of directions it could go, it's almost overwhelming 😅
My biggest blank, atm, is the design of the characters. I haven't quite decided if it would be a reader-insert or an oc (which gives me tonnes of flexibility with upgraded parts/cyborg leanings, but. It's also an OC 😬 and I am notoriously bad at them).
I'm def writing something, though! It might not be a full dive, but I'll have a taster soon enough to lay the groundwork, and then branch out from that point!
Thank you so much!!! I rambled a lot in this, omggg!! But cyberpunk is a favourite of mine, so reading this, and all the lovely things you said, made me so happy!! 🖤
#ahhhhhhh#i talk too much#im surprised that isnt a tag of mine already#thank you for this!! seriously!!!!#i rambled so much about my excitement about Cyberpunk#but your kind words have absolutely made my entire night and im so ready to jump into this!
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Mussel Monday Madness: Must-Try Mussels for Monday Mood Boost
If you’re looking to beat those Monday blues with a dash of flavour and a hint of history, look no further than the Belgian Beer Cafe’s “Mussel Monday Madness.” Nestled in the heart of Dubai, this authentic venue brings the rich culinary traditions of Belgium straight to your table. Today, we’re diving into the world of Belgian mussels, a national delicacy that promises to lift your spirits and tantalize your taste buds.
A Taste of Belgium: Freshness and Flavor
At Belgian Beer Cafe, mussels aren’t just a dish; they’re a tradition, crafted with care and served with pride. Sourced from the finest waters, the mussels here are celebrated for their unbeatable freshness. Each mussel is plump and tender, cooked to perfection using time-honoured techniques that bring out its natural flavours.
Whether you’re a seafood enthusiast or a first-time mussel taster, these dishes will transport you to the coastal regions of Belgium with every bite. The mussels are served in a steaming pot, their fragrant aroma wafting through the air, enticing you to dive right in. You’ll find them swimming in a variety of broths that range from classic white wine and garlic to creamy sauces spiced with herbs that add an extra layer of depth to each mouthful.
Signature Mussel Dishes to Try
Moules Marinière: This classic dish features mussels cooked in a delicate broth of white wine, shallots, parsley, and a hint of cream. The subtle sweetness of the wine, combined with the brininess of the mussels, creates a symphony of flavours that’s both light and indulgent.
Moules à la Provençale: A nod to Mediterranean influences, these mussels are simmered with tomatoes, garlic, herbs, and a touch of chilli for a slight kick. This dish is perfect for those who crave a bit of spice in their seafood.
Moules au Roquefort: For a bolder taste, try the mussels cooked with Roquefort cheese. The creamy texture and sharp flavour of the blue cheese blend harmoniously with the mussels, creating a rich and savoury experience that pairs beautifully with a cold beer.
A Perfect Pairing: Mussels and Belgian Beers
No meal at the Belgian Beer Cafe is complete without exploring their extensive beer selection. Mussels and beer are a match made in heaven, each enhancing the other’s flavours for a dining experience you won’t forget. Here are some pairing suggestions to elevate your Mussel Monday:
– Moules Marinière with a Belgian Witbier: The light, citrusy notes of a Witbier complement the delicate flavours of the white wine and garlic in the dish, creating a refreshing combination.
– Moules à la Provençale with a Pale Ale: The hint of spice in the Provençale sauce pairs well with the hoppy bitterness of a Pale Ale, balancing the heat while enhancing the dish’s herbal notes.
– Moules au Roquefort with a Belgian Dubbel: The rich and malty flavours of a Dubbel beer perfectly counterbalance the strong, creamy taste of the Roquefort cheese, bringing out the best in both the beer and the dish.
Step Back in Time: The Ambiance of Belgian Beer Cafe
Walking into the Belgian Beer Cafe is like stepping into a historic 18th-century bar in the heart of Brussels. The warm, wooden interiors, vintage decor, and soft lighting create an atmosphere that’s both inviting and nostalgic. The air is filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, echoing the lively spirit of Belgian taverns of old. It’s the perfect setting to unwind after a long day, surrounded by good company, great food, and exceptional beer.
Tips for the Ultimate Mussel Monday Experience
Come Hungry: The generous portions at Belgian Beer Cafe mean you’ll want to arrive with an appetite. Each mussel dish is hearty and perfect for sharing.
Experiment with Pairings: Don’t hesitate to ask the knowledgeable staff for their beer recommendations. They’ll guide you to the perfect brew to complement your meal.
Soak It Up: Don’t let the delicious broths go to waste! Be sure to have some crusty bread on hand to soak up every last drop of the flavorful sauces.
Savor the Moment: Take your time to enjoy the experience. Sip your beer, savour each mussel, and let the ambience transport you to the heart of Belgium.
Join Us for Mussel Monday Madness
Whether you’re a seafood lover or a curious foodie, Mussel Monday at Belgian Beer Cafe promises a culinary journey like no other. With each bite of these perfectly cooked mussels, paired with a world-class Belgian beer, you’ll find yourself carried away to the historic streets of Belgium. Come for the mussels, stay for the memories, and discover why this Belgian tradition is the ultimate way to beat those Monday blues.
So, gather your friends, set your sights on the Belgian Beer Cafe in Dubai, and make every Monday a celebration with our Mussel Monday Madness. Cheers to good food, great beer, and unforgettable moments!
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Discovering Specialty Coffee Near Me: A Coffee Lo
What is Specialty Coffee?
Before diving into where you can find specialty coffee near you, it’s important to understand what makes it unique. Specialty coffee refers to high-quality coffee beans that score 80 points or higher on a 100-point scale by a certified coffee taster (Q grader). These beans are typically grown in ideal climates, harvested at peak ripeness, and carefully roasted to highlight their distinct flavor profiles.
Unlike mass-produced coffee, specialty coffee emphasizes the entire process—from bean to cup. It often involves:
Single-origin beans: sourced from a single region, farm, or even specific lot, providing a unique flavor profile that reflects its origin.
Small batch roasting: ensuring the beans are roasted to perfection, avoiding over or under-roasting.
Expert brewing techniques: methods like pour-over, Chemex, Aeropress, or espresso are used to extract the best flavors from the beans.
Why Specialty Coffee?
If you’ve ever wondered why coffee lovers rave about specialty coffee, it’s all in the experience:
Complex Flavors: Specialty coffee often has more nuanced flavors, from fruity notes to hints of chocolate or spice, depending on the bean’s origin.
Sustainability: Many specialty coffee shops prioritize sustainability and ethical sourcing, ensuring fair wages for farmers and environmentally friendly practices.
Freshness: Specialty coffee shops tend to roast their beans in-house or source from local roasters, meaning you’re getting the freshest coffee possible.
Artisan Craftsmanship: Baristas in specialty coffee shops are highly skilled, using precise techniques to ensure each cup is brewed to perfection.
How to Find Specialty Coffee Near Me?
Finding the best specialty coffee near you can be an adventure in itself. Here are a few tips to help you discover your local coffee gems:
Check Google Maps and Reviews
A quick search for “specialty coffee near me” on Google Maps can reveal a list of coffee shops in your area. Be sure to check reviews and ratings, as these often give insights into the quality of the coffee, the ambiance, and the customer service.
Look for Local Roasters
Many specialty coffee shops either roast their own beans or partner with local roasters. Supporting local roasters not only guarantees fresh coffee but also helps small businesses thrive.
Ask for Single-Origin Coffees
When you visit a coffee shop, ask if they offer single-origin coffees. This is a good indicator that the shop is focused on quality and is sourcing beans with distinctive flavor profiles.
Explore Third-Wave Coffee Shops
The “third wave” coffee movement focuses on coffee as an artisanal product. Third-wave shops are often the best places to find specialty coffee, as they emphasize sustainability, quality sourcing, and skilled brewing techniques.
Attend Coffee Events or Workshops
Many specialty coffee shops host cupping events or brewing workshops, where you can learn about different coffee beans, brewing techniques, and flavor profiles. These events can introduce you to new favorite coffee shops and roasters in your area.
Specialty Coffee Shops to Try Near You
While every city has its hidden coffee gems, here are some common characteristics of specialty coffee shops you should look out for:
Locally Sourced Beans: Specialty coffee shops often have a direct relationship with coffee farms or local roasters. Check out the origin of their beans for a unique flavor experience.
Barista Craftsmanship: The baristas are typically well-trained, and many shops take pride in using high-quality equipment, such as espresso machines from Synesso or La Marzocco, to produce the best brew possible.
Brew Methods: Specialty shops often offer more than just your standard espresso or drip coffee. Look for shops that offer pour-over, cold brew, or nitro coffee for a different coffee experience.
Supporting Local Coffee Roasters
One of the best parts of finding specialty coffee near you is supporting your local coffee community. Specialty coffee roasters often work closely with coffee farmers, ensuring fair trade practices and a focus on sustainability. By choosing to drink local specialty coffee, you’re not only enjoying a superior product but also contributing to a more ethical and sustainable coffee industry.
Why You Should Explore Specialty Coffee Near You
Exploring specialty coffee in your area is more than just finding a good cup of coffee—it’s about discovering a culture that values quality, sustainability, and craftsmanship. Each coffee shop offers a unique experience, with different roasts, brewing techniques, and atmospheres that cater to coffee lovers and casual drinkers alike.
Next time you’re searching for specialty coffee near me, don’t settle for the ordinary. Seek out a local café that embraces the true art of coffee, and enjoy the complex flavors, warm ambiance, and the satisfaction of supporting local artisans.
Conclusion
Specialty coffee isn’t just a drink—it’s an experience. From the origin of the beans to the skilled baristas crafting your cup, there’s something truly special about the care that goes into each brew. Whether you’re a coffee connoisseur or just someone looking for a better cup, finding specialty coffee near you can introduce you to new flavors, local roasters, and a deeper appreciation for this beloved beverage.
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