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theladysexpistol · 4 years

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100 follower celebration part 1!

Phantom kiss (Guido Mista x fem!reader)

Hey guys, so you’ve probably noticed by now I’ve been a bit slower than normal on the response time to your requests, and that’s because I have been working on my way to celebrate gaining 100 followers on this blog!!

Now that we’re halfway to the next milestone (insert: bree screaming. y’all are literally insane I can’t believe I’m already at 150!), I’ve finally finished the first of three “freebie” reader fics.

To no one’s surprise, the first one is Mista.

I’ve actually been working on this one very slowly, wayyy before I even started this blog. I’m glad I waited until after to finish it up, because I feel like I’ve learned so much already.

The fic’s gonna be under a cut just for length’s sake. It’s totally SFW.

Summary: Mista’s got it bad for Bucciarati’s new ward, a young woman with a Stand power that’s made her the target of exploitation by others within Passione. But if Mista loves her, that means his attention-seeking Stand does too... which can only be bad for him.

“Mista! Mista! Miiiiista!”

Frustrated by the lack of peace and quiet, Guido Mista threw down the pen in his hand and glared at the source of all the noise. The six little figures that make up his Stand had been bothering him nonstop since breakfast, apparently too hungry today to let him accomplish anything. He didn’t like to ignore his Stand, but he was in the middle of finishing a report for Bucciarati that should’ve been done... well, a long time ago. Way before Giorno joined, at least that much he was sure. He didn’t feel like getting his ass chewed out by Abbacchio today - though he was sure there’d end up being some other reason to get nagged at later - and so he was trying to get it done in a timely manner.

When he heard the door to his bedroom open, Mista gave a sigh. It could be Abbacchio or Giorno with some serious business, or Narancia just playing around trying to bug him too. What Mista hadn’t expected was to turn around and for his eyes to land on the beauty that was you.

Soft hair, wide eyes that haven’t had their innocent gleam stolen by the world just yet; slim, defined cheekbones and the slightest upturned nose. His eyes knew the curves of your body quite well, having watched you a fair number of times since you moved in to Bucciarati’s home with them. You were a genuine Italian beauty, and you unknowingly had the gunslinger entirely at your mercy.

“Sorry to bother you, Mista,” you said, and his heart pounded a bit more in his chest. Mista abandoned the report for the moment and straddled the back of his chair to watch you. “I’m just coming to get your laundry.”

“Mia bella, you work so hard for all of us,” Mista leaned his cheek on his hand as he watched you, chuckling softly when he saw your nose scrunch up just ever so slightly. He was well aware and accepted the fact by now that people thought he smelled a bit strange, and had resigned himself to being amused with the reactions. At least yours was cute.

“It’s the least I can do,” you answered as you straightened back up, looking back over toward him with a kind smile. “In return for everything you guys do for me. My Stand’s pretty useless after all...”

“Well I wouldn’t call it useless,” Mista mischievously grinned back. “Isn’t that why you’re even under our protection here in the first place? Because people want to use it for themselves?”

You shot him an unamused look, but knew he was right. Your Stand, Marina Diamonds, gave you the ability to turn anything carbon-based you touched into precious jewels and metals by rearranging the chemical structure of the object. There was little to no combat ability to your Stand, but to a gang that already utilized these strange manifestations of the spirit to a great deal in its everyday business, exploiting a young woman off the streets seemed like a no-brainer. After becoming a target for the greedy mafiosi at the top of Passione, you’d taken a risk and gone to the one group that the people of Napoli trusted for protection, though they also happened to be members of the same gang that was targeting you; Bruno Bucciarati and his team. Bucciarati had a good heart though, had taken pity on your plight and negotiated your safety; however, he’d taken you on as a protected ward in case anyone in the gang tried to go behind his back. Living with a group of gangsters certainly wasn’t the life you enjoyed before your secret ability had been found out, but you were incredibly grateful for their protection and their companionship.

“I’ll be making lunch in a bit too,” You huffed, changing the subject immediately as you walked across Mista’s room and back to the doorway. “I think everyone else left for Libeccio’s, so I’ll make something for you too.”

Mista was a bit hurt to hear he had been left behind by the rest of the team, but was very tempted by the fact that he was left alone with you in the house. He had been trying to put the moves on you for some time now, and he loved the way you got flustered under his compliments, despite that he got the feeling you didn’t take them seriously. None of the others would be around to tease him, or interrupt, or snatch your attention form him. But this damn report had to be finished; so with that he let you go. “I’ll probably have something later, thanks.”

The moment you disappeared from his bedroom however, his Stand returned as antsy as ever.

“Miiiiiista! We want something to eat now!” whined Number 6.

“We get some chow and you get to spend time with that beautiful babe!” Number 2 chimed in. “Sounds like a win-win for everyone right? Let’s go!”

“I already told you guys, I’m busy,” he groaned.

“I bet she’ll give us food without you even being there,” Number 3 mocked him.

“And lots of headpats!” Number 5 chirped, and Mista was surprised to find that not a single one, not even 3, made fun of him for that. In fact, they all seemed rather delighted at the idea.

The pestering continued, perhaps even now with a renewed vigor, and Mista had had enough. “Maybe if you six are going to keep bothering me, you should go bug her for food!”

“Didja hear that boys? Mista said so, let’s go!” Number 7 cheered. “Yeehaw!”

He watched with some relief as the flea-sized Stand hopped off his desk and floated through his open bedroom door, laughing and cheering the whole way toward the kitchen. Mista wasn’t worried; he could sense where all six of them were at all times, and if they were really that hungry they’d head straight to the kitchen without causing any trouble.

No sooner had he gone back to the report he had writing that Mista realized his grave mistake in allowing his Stand to be alone with you. Any chance at peace of mind was immediately squandered when he remembered one simple fact - if he was in love with you, the Sex Pistols were too. And those little bastards had no filter on their mouths; they would tell you. They’d tried before, but he’d been there to silence them. And he had just sent them on their own straight to where you were.

Mista stood up so fast he knocked the chair over in his haste and rushed after them.

He heard you giggling as he approached the kitchen, and the whining voices of his Stand begging for more attention over the others. Figures they would fight over you, you showered them with affection enough to make him jealous sometimes.

The smell of baked lasagne drifted toward Mista, and the rumble of his stomach in response made him regret telling you he’d put off eating til later. The image of you, sharing your heavenly cooking with those little brats who made up his Stand would have him even more jealous if he hadn’t been so worked up over leaving them alone with you.

“Now, now Number 3,” came your sweet voice, and Mista strained his ears to hear what was going on. “How many times have I told you - if you want food and pats from me, you cannot be mean to Number 5. All of you work so hard for Mista! There’s no need for such things. Come here, Number 5.”

There was enough of a silence - aside from the soft protests of the other Pistols - to drag out Mista’s curiosity and he briefly used his connection to his Stand to view, through Number 1’s eyes, what on earth was going on. That was how Mista found himself staring up at you, much larger by the Pistols’ standards, cradling Number 5 in both your hands as you raised him toward your face and puckered your lips.

Mista realized what was going on and pulled back to his own consciousness with a gasp, but that did little to change what happened. At the same time that you must have placed your lips on the little Stand, Mista’s cheek heated with the sensation of a phantom kiss. Some part of his brain shut down as he tried to process what just happened.

You had done that so casually, it couldn’t have been the first time, right? But gods above, he was sure he would’ve remembered something like that. Something like the feeling of your lips on his skin, you, the object of his affections, when he hadn’t seriously fallen for a woman since joining Bucciarati’s team.

On top of that, you had a Stand yourself! You had to know that every sensation felt by a Stand went straight back to the user, right? You had to know that kissing the Sex Pistols would be felt by him too, right?

Almost perfectly in time with Mista successfully gathering his thoughts once again, the Sex Pistols’ whining caught his attention again.

“Bella, you’re so cruel! You can’t just give kisses to Number 5!”

“If he gets kisses, we should all get kisses!”

“There’s nothing more we could want than grub and kisses from a beautiful lady!”

He heard you giggle once again in response, surprisingly genuine and bubbly despite the obnoxious pestering of his Stand.

“I can’t imagine how I’m going to explain this to Mista,” you replied sweetly. “But all right, come here, all of you. You’re just so charming, how can I resist!”

Mista cheered to himself silently. I was the first thing she thought of. If she finds them charming, then I must be downright desirable.

And then his thoughts froze, just as he felt the first touch of your lips on his Stand, and therefore by association his own face. He felt dizzy at the sensation of being peppered in kisses, and leaned back against the wall he was hiding in. He imagined your face, right in front of him, holding his chin before dipping in.

Mista held his breath. It was nearly too much for him to handle, but he didn’t want to make any noise that would give away he had been spying on them. Oh boy, he was screwed.

After a moment, the sensations stopped, and Mista released his tension all at once. He immediately strained once more to hear the conversation, and his heart leapt into his throat.

“Bella, you should kiss Mista too!” Number 6 exclaimed loudly. “He’d like it even more than we do!”

Panic overcame him. Now what could he do? He had to stop the Pistols, but if he jumped into the room right now, you would figure out he had been listening this whole time. A sense of dread washed over him as he realized that there really was no way to get out of this without his feelings for you being exposed. Surely, you knew he was attracted to you; but finding out he was in love would probably be a bit more of a shock. Mista braced himself, hoping it would be all over soon.

“Oh? I don’t know about that...” your voice was gentle and soft when you replied, not at all like it had been before. You sounded... nervous? “I mean? Mista? I can’t imagine a kiss from me being anything special.”

He almost wanted to yell “Yes! Of course it would be!” but other than that obviously giving away his hiding spot, his body seemed to freeze again.

“You should! You should!” Number 5 chirped.

“Mista is very fond of you,” That was either Number 1 or Number 7, Mista’s brain was racing so much further ahead than the rest of him that he couldn’t even recognize the voice of his own Stand.

“He’s always thinking about how he can protect you!” Number 6 exclaimed.

All of their voices began to blend together, pestering and crying as they swirled around you, while unbeknownst to you their master stood a mere few feet away on the other side of the wall. Your face flushed a deep red. Of course you had feelings for Mista. Who wouldn’t be enchanted by the handsome, boyishly charming gunslinger? And the excitement with which his Stand was teasing you, well... you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in your chest at the thought that Mista could possibly feel similar.

With a small smile finding its way into your face, you exited the kitchen to the cheers of the Sex Pistols, a spiritual octopus limb extending from your arm as you rocketed yourself around the doorway and into the hallway toward his bedroom; before you smacked roughly into something built and towering over you. You knew exactly what it was though, and smiled up toward Mista.

His face was a similar shade of red to yours, and you couldn’t remember ever seeing him flustered before.

“Mia bella, my apologies,” he finally found the words as he steadied you, hands on both of your arms. “I came to look for the Pistols, and you know I actually was kinda getting hungry so I hoped I could-“

“The Sex Pistols,” you interrupted him with another smile. “Are in the kitchen. They wanted me to give you something.”

“They did?”

Without answering, you folded your hands behind your back and stood up on your toes, leaning in to plant your lips on the one spot on his face that hadn’t reacted when you kissed the Sex Pistols. When you pulled away, Mista was tongue-tied; even though your lips had pulled away from his.

“I hope you don’t mind,” another giggle escaped from you, before turning on your heel and going back toward the kitchen.

Mista, finally shaking off his shock, stood up a bit straighter as a grin found its way onto his face once again. “Well, guess I shouldn’t have been so worried after all,” he mumbled, following after you with all the intent to return the favor tenfold.

#bree writes #jojo fanfiction #100 follower celebration #thank you sm guys :)))#mista x reader #guido mista #fem reader #phantom kiss #reader has a stand #affectionate stands #i finally did it guys i finally wrote an affectionate stand piece lol #hope y'all like it #brees quest to find all the mista x readers on the internet #except i didnt find this one i wrote it

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kiwidotcom · 3 years

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ok this is like a legit blog post lmao. my sleep schedule is bizarre right now. so 4 am life blog post like its 2014 lmao

so many friends and people i know have been completing big projects in their lives, meeting huge goals, or just doing remarkably well for themselves recently. Of course im so happy for them but its been fucking with my head. for the last 8 years (minus the last 8 months lol) ive just been working full time or more, thinking that eventually id figure out what i want to do in life. but not only did i not figure out what i wanted to do, a pandemic hit and it completely fucked up the weird kinda path i had been on before. i feels like ive lost more than a year and a half it feels like ive lost an entire part of myself.

But pandemic right? i shouldnt feel bad about struggling when were literally living through something whose name the average person probably said four times before 2020. right?? except...

those people arent?? and not to say theyre not struggling. i know everyone has been through it these last 18 months. but seeing people my age, or more usually, a year or two younger than me, painting murals, or publishing magazines, or falling madly in love, its hard. Its hard when the greatest accomplishment ive had in the last few weeks is replying to an email from last october. i wish i was hyperbolizing. I mean its a seriously good day if i get out of bed and eat food that wasnt frozen. and if i clean the kitchen after?!! forget about it, im writing home about that. (i have yet to produce any such letters)

if money wasnt an issue, i know what id be doing. id be travelling all over the world. id be meeting people in hostels and letting them tell me where to go next, id try to learn new languages or be introduced to new cultures, id be using a plane ticket as a bookmark and a favourite food from every place.

but that was 2019 emma. sure she was scared of everything but she clenched her fists and ran toward it. now she cant even get out of bed enough to see out the window.

ok honestly this took a much darker turn than i expected. i actually feel ok right now. ironically, i would never have been able to write about any of this when the depression is really at its worst. which i think is why it all just fell out, because im finally able to verbalize this. because these last 4 or 5 days ive felt ok.

ive realized its ok to be starting my life at 25. as sad as i think that sounds. and that maybe im not as incapable as i think i am. (though, some things i am incapable of and sometimes its not just a matter of pushing through it, sometimes its a matter of recognizing that im brain damaged and to go easy on myself)

its only been for the last day but i think im genuinely considering going back to school. to work on a social work diploma but also maybe take like one art class at a time to finally finish my fine arts diploma???? i did a whole year, like, the pain of being an art school drop out is rough.

but anyway. my sleep schedule is MESSED AGAIN. idek why. it wasnt that bad until 2 nights ago. so im 3 melatonin in and its 4 am and im about to finish love island which i started earlier today. a guy on the show made a joke about his fiance finishing multiple shows and it burneddddd. i dont want to be this person. i dont think i am this person. oh my god i have so much more to say but i gotta stop because im going insane. why do i have so much energy at night ??!!

ok thats all. goooooodnight good morning

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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The Fullmetal Alchemist Live Action Movie Part 7: More Philosopher Stones than their PC Farm Can Possibly Render

So last we left off, a bunch of weird stuff was happening. Mustang just set Envy on fire, Lust and Gluttony kind of walked up from stage left, and Ed and Hawkeye just broke out of bougie jail and barged through a chain link fence on some Jeep. Good thing Mustang is here to explain it all to us:

(FYI I am so bad at spelling homunculus. I don’t even know which way is real anymore.)

What is incredible about this movie is just how much everyone else already knows, while Ed knows freaking nothing. Also, if you know about homunculi, then you know about sorcerer stones, and you’d know about...most of the things in Fullmetal Alchemist. Assuming that Mustang, who can look at a homunculus tattoo and be like “yep that’s a homunculus” doesn’t know anything else is kind of a big leap.

This actor had fun. I legitimately enjoy the actor who plays Mustang, I really do.

Anyway, we do get a little bit more explanation at this point by going back to the part where Hughes dies and just...showing it a second time but with this extra reveal:

(see Hughes die yet again under the cut because this movie did it not just once but twice)

It’s at this point that Hughes turns to the phone and in his dying breath is like “It’s lab 5, go to the old POW camp, at lab 5” but not only did I think that the person on the line was the general (Because Hughes originally said it was the general) apparently now the person on the line is...Mustang? And that’s why Mustang knew about lab 5?

Like it’s...it’s just kind of confusing. I know this plot because I’ve seen the anime, but if you have not seen the anime beforehand or read the books, you’d be so freakin up a creek right now about why we saw this scene twice, and why it was completely different both times.

To make things even more confusing, that whole Tucker side plot is so random, that not even our baddies know what is going on with that whole Tucker side plot.

Anyway we have to give Gluttony and Envy have to do something in order to make their presence make sense. Honestly Gluttony just needs to have a single line in this movie.

Just everything is that same shiny neutral Phong. Look at all that Phong. Like other parts of this movie are passable, this was just so hilariously overlooked.

And like I dunno if this was a teeth harness or not but damn. Damn that looks stupid from the back, hahaha. He kind of lumbers slowly after these 9 dudes (same extras we’ve seen everywhere else, ps—this is still just the same guys) and it’s not all that scary because like...they can easily outrun him. The only way you can die to Gluttony is if you trip and then take a nap for a little bit.

Mustang gets hurt and it’s kind of funny how they shot it. It was actually rough to cap because they have to do so many tricks to not show us exactly what is happening, so they rely on sounds, on zooming in on people’s shocked expressions, because they Do Not Have The Budget to do more than this.

I don’t remember if this happened in the anime, too. Like from this point forward everything is kind of like “can you spot the source material?” because it’s just become so jumbled at this point.

Ed, who as you can imagine is a bundle of emotions by default, suddenly gets really protective of his mean Dad although like...we’ve barely made Mustang seem like a Father. Hell, we’ve barely made Ed seem like a kid. Why would he get weird and conflicted now?

Just the awkward teenage energy that only occasionally stems off of Ed is very unpredictable.

This is a full grown man.

Finally, we make it to Lab Number Five, the correct one this time. It’s got an alchemy circle…

It’s got a ceiling full of...zombie corpses, if you squint real good because I have to shrink all these images (Yes, they fit in the zombie corpses, but could not fit in the North or Father or Ling Yao or like anything Armstrong) It’s got everything that we need to put that nail into that Fullmetal Alchemist coffin, but ran out of time to fully explain or do.

It’s even got Al!

Yep, this is happening now, this part of the show. Ed is just having a WILD TIME trying to keep up with it and so are we.

So apparently Shou could just turn Al “off” this whole time. This explains why Al was just chilling under a blanket for 36 hours, but like...doesn’t really explain how Shou can do this or why he is bothering to do it right now.

But we need Shou because...well someone has to tell Ed what the plot is and what he should be doing at this very moment.

(Winry is here too)

So, with the threat of Winry getting shot in the head, Shou Tucker demands that Ed make it impossible to do any magic, because magic is very expensive and hard to animate. I could be wrong...but I’m pretty sure he also took off his right arm in the show at some point nearish to the end...I think? Forgive me, everything before 2020 is kind of a haze in my memory.

PS him ripping his hand off with all these sparks everywhere gave me serious Star Wars prequel vibes that I can’t explain. Something about the CGI, something about this contrived mess was like “Ah, I’ve felt this insanity before...long ago in a simpler time” and it was kind of nostalgic for me.

GOL LOOK AT THAT.

This Mickey Mouse glove just hot chilling on that sparking end. Hahaha I love it so much!

Shou just...delivers one of the most important reveals, sending Ed on a bit of a spirit journey because the stones he’s wanted for so long are actually very bad.

As you can imagine, because Ed likes to freak out, he has a big ass freak out, to top all freak outs. This actor spent like sooo much of his time just screaming at the ground. Which, I mean this is a shonen, so that checks out.

I’m just letting you know in case you decide to watch this movie and you have some epilepsy issues--skip this part. Just skip it. I don’t personally have it, but like...they went kind of extra in this part.

Now unlike the show, this movie has like...no apology for Dr Marcoh. Freakin stabbed him through the chest and was like “I don’t care if it means we can’t have the original FMA ending I freakin hate this guy” and you know...good on you, movie. Dr Marcoh was a really bad person. Thank you for not even attempting to justify this godawful man.

This crazy ass fanfiction movie.

Anyway, Shou directs Ed to look 10 feet up to get the rest of that juicy content. That Juicy FMA DLC that was within eye distance this entire time but youknow...cropped offscreen so it just didn’t exist.

Can’t believe this wasn’t the FIRST THING you’d notice when coming into this room, since Ed has been hardwired for red stones for like 10+ years. But youknow.

Anyways, we’re getting a ton of visual elements from FMA, just checking off that check list here in the last 1/3 of the movie. But wait, it gets weirder.

What I love about this is that Shou tells us all of this stuff because I guess Ed asked for Philosopher stones once, and even Shou is like...heyyy I figured it out! But like...hell would anyone even want to do this though?

Because that’s what happens when you have Shou freakin Tucker reveal the big master plan when he is not the big master. Like this explains nothing about Father, about Ed’s Dad, about the homunculi, about the corpses in the ceiling, like there’s just no explanation, other than just –“hey! Look at this atrocity I found just now!”

There is actually a horror element to that, where you don’t need to explain everything if you’re doing horror. If this were a horror movie, this would probably...be fine. You could have a fully explained movie by just saying “they turned POW camp people into rocks and now the zombies are here!” and that would be fine.

But it’s just...that isn’t this movie. I had so many expectations. And honestly...I expected way too much from 1.5 hours of content.

So Shou pulls a gun on Ed, which makes sense. Ed is lookin to make stones, and if stones are made out of people—then it’s time to kill Ed. First thing that make sense in this movie, but I don’t know if it makes sense coming from Shou freakin Tucker who made it seem like he just wanted to kill Ed because Ed got him arrested that one time.

It may have been just the translation on my end but like...Shou’s reason for pulling a gun out here was a little nonsense. But Shou himself is already a little nonsense anyway.

So we say goodbye, for the last time, being honest—he’s fully dead—he’s not coming back—to Shou Freakin Tucker. You were a mess Shou. I won’t miss you.

And if I forgot that this guy comes back, I fully apologize ahead of time, but I am 99% positive that I remembered that this guy never comes back.

(He might come back.)

And then Lust is like “Hakuro why did you do that? Like what are you even doing???”

And everyone else is like “Oh, the General. Of course. Why didn’t I uhhh….see that coming?”

Because they had to condense a whole bunch of corrupt Generals for this movie into one character, and so I guess Hakuro took it for the team?

Also these guys are here.

Just every single person standing in this room is pretty confused, as you can imagine. No one really expects to open up Volume 2 of FMA and it’s accidentally printed the last page of the entire series.

Anyway, that’s all for this 15 minutes (It was actually a little short 15 because there was ton of caps) I’m very tired because I did this workout routine with bro that was like 300 squats and I don’t know what day it is. I wrote “update blog” in my bullet journal (because it’s January, so I’m bullet journaling) so I’m just gonna do that because I want to use this green sparkly jelly pen and cross off all of today. Mm. Satisfying.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

#FMA #Fullmetal alchemist the live action movie #live action #fullmetal alchemist #recap #photo recap #ed elric #al elric #though putting al as a credit in this one seems like a stretch cuz he just freakin sat there the whole time #hawkeye #colonel mustang #maes hughes #shou tucker #just can't have enough shou tucker #Can you even believe that this went so quickly when I finally just did it? Amazing. Amazing how little productivity I had last year wow.#Hopefully this year I can get this blog back up to old productivity #we'll see what happens because it's still a bit of a weird situation outside

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x-lulu · 4 years

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gurl 1-99 I dare you😄

haha no if that's too much just 1, 2, 24, 32, 77, 85, 95

well I finally answered them all babe, took me a week haha 💗

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? world away by tonight alive, you give love a bad name by bon jovi, amnesia by five seconds of summer, had enough by lower than atlantis, take it out on me by thousand foot krutch, if I could fly by one direction, I just named the first that popped in my head

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? YOU

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17? a wind came in off the harbour, bringing the smell of the sea

4: What do you think about most? I’m an overthinker with anxiety so yeah I think about everything a lot, so I wouldn’t know what I think about most

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? just an okay haha

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? with, an oversized shirt and underwear

7: What’s your strangest talent? latin maybe?

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) I don’t know rock? I’m not really the kind of person that puts a gender in things

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? uhm I don’t think so, now I feel unimportant haha

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? I’m more an using a hairbrush as a microphone kind of girl

11: Do you have any strange phobias? probably, I’m scared of a lot of things

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? don’t think so

13: What’s your religion? officially I’m Christian, I’m a bit searching for what I believe in tho, I do believe in jezus but not like walking on water and coming back from the death, I might believe in the Greek gods and nature gods

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? enjoying the fresh air, going for a walk/ride and look at cute animals

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? even if you kill me I don’t know what band to say

17: What was the last lie you told? I lied about not being sad

18: Do you believe in karma? I don’t know, sometimes, but like there are people who’ve done terrible things, where is their karma?

19: What does your URL mean? it’s just my nickname, I didn’t want to make it fandom related because I’m a multi fandom and I didn’t want to have to change my url a lot, I also didn’t want to put my real name because I don’t want people to find me who I know in real life haha

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? my insecurity is my greatest weakness I think, I don’t know my greatest strength... maybe being a person who people feel loved and welcome by? Idk if people feel that way and idk if it’s a strength. If I’m gonna be poetic I have to say my greatest weakness and strength are both that I love someone with my whole heart, when I start loving you, I love you so much, I would do anything for you, but when someone fucks up, I’ll still love them even tho they don’t deserve it, so that comes with a lot of pain so yeah a weakness and a strength

21: Who is your celebrity crush? rudy pankow and dylan obrien

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? yes

23: How do you vent your anger? I keep everything to myself till I explode and start screaming

24: Do you have a collection of anything? music records, stones and just memories from places I’ve been to

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? neither? If I’m comfortable I do enjoy video chatting especially in times like these where you can’t speak in real life

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? this is hard one, I’ve never been happy with who I am, I do like me better than who I used to be

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? sound I love is when you’re walking trough the woods just the birds, can’t think of one I hate, I definitely have some they just don’t come to mind rn

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? what if I keep going through and it doesn’t get better

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? yes and yes/maybe

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. my laptop and my pillow

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? flowers

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? xanten

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? uhm west coast? Idk haha

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? harry styles is the first one that pops in my head

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? to find love, can be someone something, experience things that make you happy, enjoy it, learn, better the world

36: Define Art. creating something, it can have a meaning but it also can’t, a lot of people give it a deep meaning, which can be it, I just think art doesn’t always have to be deep are spectacular it can be someone making something because they have so much going in their head and they find peace in creating art and get inspired by their own experience, people also can it just do for fun, there are so many different kind of art and artists, I don’t think it can’t be defined

37: Do you believe in luck? I don’t know

38: What’s the weather like right now? rainy

39: What time is it? 9:54 pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? no licence

41: What was the last book you read? a fanfic on Wattpad fight or flight by ffsumth

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? yes 🙈

43: Do you have any nicknames? lu and lulu obviously, loesje , samantha, pinguïn, polar bear, you called me lulu bear hehe

44: What was the last film you saw? I don’t remember...

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? uhm ive broken a few things, my toes and my arm, but nothing really bad actually

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? no, I don’t want to, I have seen some really close, they’re beautiful

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? again you haha, but like all the stuff I post on here are my obsessions

48: What’s your sexual orientation? I don’t know, I think straight, but I don’t know for sure

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? yeah

50: Do you believe in magic? I’m not certain, maybe I do :) I do live by the saying ‘just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist’

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? sadly yes, like I won’t be mean to you or anything, but I will never ever trust you again, if I’m hurt I’m hurt and sadly I haven’t found a way yet to leave it behind, so I’m feeling a lot of pain and I’m never gonna forget that pain, so yeah...

52: What is your astrological sign? capricorn

53: Do you save money or spend it? uhm both? depends on how I feel and what time of the year it is, I have the bad habit to save it for a few months and then spend a lot of it

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? a apple pen so I can start trying digital art

55: Love or lust? love

56: In a relationship? with you hehe

57: How many relationships have you had? none official relationships, I’m just not lovable okay leave me alone haha

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? no oops

59: Where were you yesterday? home, school, therapy

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? a pillow

61: Are you wearing socks right now? no

62: What’s your favourite animal? polar bears

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? no idea haha, I don’t have one

64: Where is your best friend? at home, like 20min away

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. this is hard so I’m just gonna name the first five that come in my head @nxsmss @rafej-cambanks @thegreatestofheck @chrlsgillespie @nedleed

66: What is your heritage? I don’t know 🤷‍♀️

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? sleeping, I had to get up early today

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? never thought about it

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? no

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Is it bad to say yes? I mean I hate myself but I do think I’m a good friend

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? save the dog obviously!!!!

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? I think I would tell people, I’m not sure, but like so have people got the time to say goodbye the way they want to, I would travel the world I think, do everything on my bucket list, maybe some illegal stuff 🙈 (where no one gets hurt tho obviously), I don’t think I would be afraid... I mean I’m suicidal, I’ve literally been connected to death my whole life, if you understand what I mean

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. uhm trust I think? If I would have love but don’t have trust I wouldn’t really feel loved anyway, I do really want to experience how it feels like to be loved tho...

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? the first song that came to mind is love my life by Robbie Williams, I rarely listen to it, but the lyrics really gives a boost of happiness and confidence

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? 51 54

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? loyalty and trust, you don’t have to agree on everything or be interested in the same things, you do have to be there for each other

77: How can I win your heart? YOU ALREADY HAVE

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? yes I think so

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? to get dogs

80: What size shoes do you wear? uhm 38 eu, 4,5 uk and 7 us

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? a loving ... I hope to be a loving daughter, friend, wife and mother, someone who was always there for others

82: What is your favourite word? fuck haha, no idk but that is definitely a word I use a lot

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. pain....

84: What is a saying you say a lot? enjoy the little things

85: What’s the last song you listened to? ignorance by paramore

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? uhm I do love black, I also like pastels and like a turquoise kind of colour

87: What is your current desktop picture? me and my friend

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? no one, there are a lot of people who did wrong, the need to be in jail, but I’m not saying someone deserves to die

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? what goes on in my head, how I’m feeling

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? scream probably haha

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? teleportation, I would travel the world haha

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? when I was in Ireland by the cliffs of moher

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? uhm this is a hard one, maybe seeing my father almost dying? (he is okay btw, we were lucky), I’ve had nightmares and anxiety ever since

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? I find this so weird to say for some reason... if I have to give a name it would be harry styles I think, because damn look at that man, but I don’t know, I would rather be friends with him than sleep with him tbh, I know you can do both haha, but idk I’m not like yes I want to sleep with him haha, I think I’ve read too many fanfics about him that I would find it awkward

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? ice land or canada

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? don’t think so, not close ones anyway

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? no, I got out in time haha

98: Ever been on a plane? yes, when I went on a trip to georgia in west asia

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? you’re all ignorant assholes haha, no idk what I would say, there are a lot of good people on this world I know, but man there is some fucked up shit, so maybe I would educate some people or it would have something to do with mental health, maybe about loving yourself or that it’s not a sign of weakness and that we should be treated as equals to physical pain, we should be taken seriously... I don’t really know, there are so many things haha

#asks #lara #games

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minijenn · 4 years

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Sigh...

Alright, enough is enough.

Time to give a certain someone exactly what they want.

(long, drama-related post under the cut imo)

So since I would say around May or April, just about every single day, several times a day, I’ve been receiving a handful of negative guest/anon reviews on both UF and Keys on Ao3 and FF.Net alike. The crux of every single one of these reviews basically boils down to hatred for the Stonemason idea being used in UF2, specifically the idea that Yellow Diamond will be redeemed after it. To be even more specific, here are some things this individual (and despite using several different “names” to post these reviews under, I am well aware that they’re all coming from the same person) has accused me of:

1. Singling Dipper out for “baseless angst” (when that’s not even true, that entire arc will stir up angst for just about everyone). Also says I’m wrong just for enjoying writing angst when its a genre that a lot of people like writing/reading, I’m not the only one smh it’s popular for a reason.

2. Being willing to let YD get off scott-free for what she does to Dipper in that arc (something that I never said and even if I did say it in the past that’s not necessarily my current plan now) just because her and the other Diamonds were redeemed in SU canon (which again, I have confirmed that I’m not necessarily following to the letter and I’m still currently very much in the process of trying to figure out what I want to do in that regard)

3. The Stonemason arc being an example of “bad writing” and being full of “holes” despite the fact that its NOT written yet and WON’T be written for another few years or so at this rate

4. Claiming that the only reason why I’m willing to let YD off the hook for her actions is because I see her as “attractive” and a “wiafu”, despite the fact that anytime I say that I’m clearly joking, that’s what I do around here smh

5. Making several blatant attacks on my person, including calling me a fascist, an incel, a pedophile, homophobic (despite the fact that I, myself, am bisexual), claiming that I’m “creepy” for writing fanfiction, claiming that I am a “middle age man” (I’m a 24 year old woman), claiming that I have no sense of morality, get off on torturing children/child abuse, and a number of other horrible, baseless claims

6. Claims that Dipper needs to get revenge on YD by shattering her when that would stir up an entire whole other mess of problems, by 1. starting an entirely new Gem war no doubt since Blue and White would be livid 2. completely against Dipper’s character entirely and against the spirit of GF, SU, and UF 3. not at all ��cathartic” and is really just simple, sociopath thinking expected from a small, immature child obsessed with the idea of “getting even” without growing from an experience and moving on to become the better person instead. Which of course, is probably what this individual is.

7. Has said insane, immature, stupid shit like this. There really is no making this up:

Mind you that this person has left these reviews not just on UF, but on Keys to the Kingdom, a KH fanfic that has nothing to do with UF, but these reviews are still very specific to UF all the same, which yes, does basically make this spam. And indeed it is spam because today alone so far, I have already gotten 6+ reviews from this single person alone:

This person also loves taking things I’ve said here on the blog in answers to asks from years ago out of context, never mind the fact that they might not be in line with ideas I currently have and/or again, are completely without context to what the original conversation was so they can twist whatever I said to fit their bizarre, hateful agenda. Here’s a taste of some of today’s fare, for reference:

At first, I thought this whole thing was just a troll, but really at this point it’s become legitimate harassment. I’m not, nor have I ever asked, everyone and anyone to accept and enjoy everything in UF. I know some people don’t like the Stonemason arc, that’s fine. But I also want people to understand that I haven’t even written the damn thing yet. My entire plotting process for both UF and UF2 alike are always in flux, even from chapter to chapter, in both large ways and small. Minor details and big ones are going to change with time. Not that this person cares about that since they’ve already decided a long time ago that they hate both me and my work for whatever reason (seriously I have no idea what i did to them to provoke any of this).

(also before any of you say “oh well Jen, just turn off guest reviews and this will end!” Ao3 and FF.Net don’t give authors the option to do that, so I’m pretty much stuck where I currently am with this whole terrible situation unfortunately)

Now mind you I do have a theory about who this individual actually is but I’m no going to address that here because stirring others to action against them isn’t my intention with this post. My intention is something I’m sure they’re not even going to listen to but I’d like to make an earnest appeal all the same, so now, my dude, let’s speak to you individually. Since you clearly want attention so badly in all this, looks like you’re finally about to get exactly that.

Look. I get that you don’t like this whole Stonemason arc. Again that’s fine, you don’t have to like it. But you sending me these reviews every single day, day in and day out is not going to change my mind, especially given your downright malicious tone in every single one of these. Consider, just for a moment, that I’m an actual person behind this screen, a person with feelings and thoughts of my own just like you are. A person who is out here writing fanfictions because it is something that gives me a personal sense of enjoyment to see a story I’ve crafted play out, and enjoyment in how others interact with my work. Your reviews haven’t changed any of that, I’m going to keep on writing despite them and I’m going to keep on taking pride in my work regardless of anything you have to say. That’’s what being the bigger person is all about.

But before sending any more of your petty little reviews, just... all I’m asking is that you think about what you’re saying and why. Does sending these reviews make you feel like you’re superior to me? Is that really what you need to feel some sense of fulfillment? Because really, friend, you could find that sort of fulfillment in something much more genuine and wholesome. Read a book, watch a movie or TV show you really love, go outside and take a walk, hell even write your own fic if you despise mine so much. But just... maybe try to find something else to do with your time instead of attempting to tear other people down for no reason.

I highly doubt this is going to change anything, hell you may not even read this to begin with, because again, you’ve already decided you hate me for some reason and that’s fine. Go ahead and hate me. I just want you to maybe do a little self reflection and consider that what you’re doing only makes you look bad in the end.

And with that, MiniJen’s out. Peace. ❤

#i have a lot more screencaps i could have shown off #but honestly at this point im just tired #this is tbh the last thing im gonna say about all this for awhile #and the only reason im saying anything at all is bc its gotten so bad in this past week alone #nevermind that im already dealing with anxiety to begin with bc of recent family developments #i'd rather just be left alone instead of harassed like this #ugh....#jen rambles #drama

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xseildnasterces · 4 years

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walk on.

Fridays off are literally the best thing ever. Work sucks right now and to be honest I don’t see it getting any better any time in the near future. The whole thing stresses me out, and in all honesty, I hate my job. Not my actual job as an archivist, but the current job I am in. I wake up most days with anxiety and complete fear about checking my work emails, so Friday is literally a day of rest. I day to recuperate and actually feel like a human being and not in a constant state of panic. Last night was great. I was in the office yesterday and got home and just lazed around. I finally finished the show I’m embarrassed to admint I was watching – and I’m glad it’s over. The first few seasons were good but by the time it got to season 4/5 I was struggling to care about watching it anymore. However, I really struggle to stop watching something mid way through, in fact, it’s like that with most things. I need to see things through. So I finished it and wasn’t really in the mood to start anything new, but felt like watching something more like a documentary. I started watching a show (that has three seasons) on scientology and I am hooked. I have always known it was an incredibly crazy religion *ahem* cult *ahem*, but watching this show has been so enlightening and made me realise even more how insane it is. I made some super comforting food, got cosy on the sofa and just chilled out for hours. I did a good yoga session and went back to watching my show. It was 2am by the time I got to bed, which is so not like me anymore. I can’t sleep when I get to bed usually but last night I was exhausted and slept like a baby until 11am this morning. It was wonderful. No crazy dreams, no anxiety and panic attacks. It was just so good. I wish I could do that every night.

Today has also been a pretty lazy day, but again, I needed it and I am loving it. The lie in was wonderful, especially considering yesterday I had got it in my head that I had a 6am NP meeting. I actually realised it’s next week and I can send a video instead of attending if I want to. I think I will as there will be so many important meetings that I actually need to attend and this one isn’t that important.

Last night as I was getting ready to go to bed at 2am, I got a text from my mum as she was getting up for work. She didn’t know I would be up, so I called her and we had a really nice chat. It was funny that I was just about to get into bed, and she was just getting up. The strange way of the world. The strange thing that is time differences.

I gave myself a mini facial this morning whilst watching the scientology doc series and then decided to take the time to do some cleaning and tidying. Since moving to the US and having this lovely apartment I have become obsessed with cleaning. I want it to look perfect all the time and I LOVE hoovering. The only thing I hate doing, is the bathroom. It just takes so long and as pathetic as it might make me sound it hurts my arms actually having to scrub the bath. I came up with an awesome way to clean the walls using my Swiffer. So, all my walls and tiles are sparkling. I finally got on with it and now I feel so much better. Tomorrows task is the kitchen, but that won’t take too long, and I really need to do laundry! I’m feeling good though. I’m feeling happy. Just having time to myself to get things done, watch TV and listen to music has been soooo needed. Ask me on Sunday and I’ll be crying over the fact I’m sad and lonely, but I’m just enjoying the current mood and riding the wave.

In slightly less happy, sort of selfish news, I’ve been thinking over the conversation I had with R the other day about her sister getting married. I didn’t think about it at the time, but after overthinking it, I feel a twinge of jealousy. Not for C getting married, but for R being her maid of honour. I can’t help feeling like K robbed me of that opportunity by running off and not really having a wedding and starting a disaster of a marriage in Bangladesh. It almost makes me mad that I even find myself being that selfish, as I really am someone who thinks anyone should be able to do whatever they want in their life, but especially in terms of weddings. Invite who you want, don’t invite people just because you feel you have to, and elope and just be the two of you if that’s what you want… but I think it’s knowing that this wasn’t what K wanted. She wanted the white wedding. She wanted me as maid of honour and my dad to give her away. She wanted that dream that most little girls have. I feel like her husband robbed her of that, and in turn she robbed me of being able to celebrate her day with her. It might sound so wrong, but I try so hard to be my real and fully authentic self on this blog. It’s one of the few places that I can be, and that includes the good and the bad parts of me. I just feel sad about the situation. I could go on about this, and everyone my age getting married and having or planning to have babies… but it’s worth a bigger discussion that then tail end of this blog, so maybe next time.

[Blog title: Walk On – Escape The Fate].

#walk on #escape the fate #me #personal #diary #relationship #journal #writing #write #journaling #emotions #emotion #real #life #update #thought #thoughts #feeling #feelings

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Catch Me If You Can (28/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: I know everyone is caught up in JJ Sneed land if my dash is any indication, but I know some people are itching for a new chapter today! So here we are!

Also, everyone go check out this FANTASTIC piece of artwork from @imagnifika | here | because it’s awesome, and I’m still blown away by it and seeing this story come to life in someone else’s eyes! Let me stare at it forever. Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading all these words and being a great encourager! 💙

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |

Tag list: @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings

-/-

There are technically eight different types of cookies, and it all depends on how exactly they’re baked or, well, not baked. This isn’t something Killian knew until about two o’clock this morning when he was googling cookie recipes desperate to find something other than chocolate chip cookies to bake. But then he got sucked into a wormhole of research and discovering the difference between rolled cookies, bar cookies, and dropped cookies.

Seriously. There is an entire website on the history of cookies. He looked at it for an hour. It’s kind of insane.

It’s also not really important to him, but weird things happen in the middle of the night, especially since he hasn’t been sleeping well the past few days and his mind needed to focus on something concrete.

That’s also how he ended up wandering to the nearest twenty-four-hour market at three in the morning to buy ingredients for black and white cookies, buckeyes, and sugar cookies. He doesn’t even know how or why he picked those three. All Killian knows is that he’s been stress baking for days now, something that’s a bit hard to do when he’s trying to take it easy on his right arm, and he’s pretty much wiped out all of his cabinets of the good ingredients.

His refrigerator, however, looks like a bakery threw up inside of it. He really needs to take some of the things to Liam and Elsa, but when he went to their house yesterday, all Addy and Lucy wanted to talk about was his arm and Emma and even though it was completely innocent, it was too much for him. He can’t quite go back to give them cookies if all they’re going to talk about is Emma.

Every bit of this is his fault. He owns up to that.

But it’s still too much.

The fact that Ariel, Eric, Will, and Robin are all pissed beyond belief at him doesn’t help. He’s sure that for the four of them things will go back to normal soon. He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks they will. He’ll never be able to clutch his shoulder again without having someone yelling at him to go see a doctor, but that’s likely for the best.

(Killian should have gone to a fucking doctor.)

They all deserve the multitude of sweets in his fridge. He’d take them to each of their apartments now, but they’re all still too pissed that he lied to them over and over again. Plus, they’re leaving for Boston tomorrow morning and likely busy even though today is their last day off from the small break that they got after Labor Day.

He’s not leaving for Boston. He’s staying right here sitting on his ass surrounded by cookies.

Emma’s going to Boston. At least, he thinks that she is. She should be. He’ll have to ask her when she comes over.

When she comes over.

Emma is coming over today. In about fifteen minutes actually, and that’s entirely why he’s been stress baking (more than usual) throughout the entire night. Killian doesn’t even know how he looks right now. There are probably some major bags under his eyes and his hair is all over the place, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had flour or icing or even both smeared all over him.

Shit. He hasn’t shaved in four days.

For some reason, it’s that that thought that has Killian dropping his piping bag he was using to frost the sugar cookies to turn the corner in his apartment and run down the hallway to get to his bedroom so he can shower. In the past few days, in all of his moping and self-inflicted misery, he managed to pick up all of Emma’s clothes and hung them in the closet. That might be a little too hopeful thinking, but it seemed like the natural thing to do.

The sticky notes, though, have stayed exactly where they are, and he looks at them before quickly twisting the nobs on his shower and stepping inside the moment the water gets to an acceptable temperature. He doesn’t have much time, so Killian picks up his body wash, leaving Emma’s where it is, and scrubs over his body while doing some light stretches with his shoulder. He needs to put another ice pack on there.

That’ll have to come after this.

Six minutes later, Killian is out of the shower. Two minutes after that, he’s dressed in a pair of his gym shorts and a t-shirt, one from a charity game he played last year, and after looking in the mirror, he knows that he doesn’t have time to shave, not if he wants to brush his teeth again.

He should probably brush his teeth for…reasons.

That’s optimistic.

Killian can’t help it. For four days he has felt his entire world crumbling around him, and it’s been his fault. He’s known that it was. There was no denying it even when he most wanted to, and he’s wanted to a hell of a lot.

Missing the rest of the season, possibly having to miss parts of the play-offs which could mean that he could miss the World Series, is obviously crushing. There’s no denying that. The game has been his life for nearly twenty-three years, and he doesn’t want to keep screwing things up. His track record might not show that, but it’s true. He’s going to try to be better. He’ll go to all of his therapy, tell those who need to know when he’s hurting, and he’s not going to overdo it. He’s not.

But as much as all of the stuff with his job is killing him, not having Emma to talk to is worse.

The game was his life for so long, and while he doesn’t want to say that Emma is his entire life now, she’s up there in the most important category.

Probably topping the list.

Everything about his life has her mark on it. From the clothes in his closet and the bottles in his shower to the coffee creamer in his fridge and the throw blanket that she left on his couch. There are all of these physical signs that show how she’s changed things, but he knows that a hell of a lot of how Emma has impacted his life comes in the way that he’s more conscious about spending times with his loved ones or the fact that his demons don’t seem to find him as much in the dark of the night. The smile that was missing for so many years has found its place again.

Emma didn’t fix his flaws. They’re all still there. But she has inadvertently helped him to be a better person.

Even if he is still screwing up and will continue to.

Killian loves Emma, and there is no denying that. None at all. He’d never try to.

“Why does it smell like Little Debbie threw up in here?”

Killian’s head turns at the sound of Emma’s voice, and even though it causes the slightest sting to his shoulder, he doesn’t care. Because she’s real and standing in front of him wearing running shorts and a tank top, her hair tucked into a Yankees cap so that he can’t really see the green of her eyes. But he can see the timid, hesitant smile, and he never wants her to be hesitant to see him again.

“How did you – ”

She holds up a key. “I have a key. Figured it was still okay for me to use it.”

“Yeah, love.” Killian smiles and grabs a clean hand towel to dry off his hair so he’s not soaking wet. “That’s perfectly fine.”

“Good. So why does it smell like Little Debbie threw up in here?”

“Stress baking. Do you want a cookie? Or brownies? I have a large parfait. There’s also a cake that was meant for…the other day, but it’s a damn mess.”

Emma lets out a small laugh and shakes her head while her hand reaches for the chain around her neck, her fingers fumbling with it. His breath hitches at the sight. Over the past few days, his hand has instinctively clutched for it, reaching out and trying to find something to hold onto, and every time he comes up empty. He gave that to Emma because he wanted her to have it, and nothing about that has changed.

His mom would want her to have it. She’d love Emma. Killian doesn’t remember that much about her, but he knows that she would love Emma. They have that same kind spirit and an infectious laugh that makes everyone else in the room want to laugh along.

Bloody breathtaking.

And hopefully the ring brought her luck and comfort when she got to commentate the other day, and hopefully she knew that he was cheering her on the entire time. He still hasn’t heard how that went. He almost watched the replay of the game so that he could see for himself, but it felt wrong to do that without Emma and to know that most of the tape would be focused on his injury anyways.

That’s not how it should be.

And maybe a part of him couldn’t handle hearing her voice as she had to speak after seeing him leave the mound.

“I might want a cookie later,” Emma says, shrugging her shoulder. “I feel like if I start eating now, I’ll consume everything like I’m a vacuum.”

“Isn’t that how you usually eat?”

She’s closer now, so he can see her roll her eyes. “I’m still mad at you, so I’d watch what you say.”

That sobers Killian up, the playful smile tugging at his lips disappearing into a firm line, and he nods his head while his left hand reaches up to scratch behind his head. “Aye. Do you want to go talk in the living room?”

“Yeah.”

Emma turns on her heel and walks out of his bedroom, and he’s following right behind her. As much as his stomach is absolutely churning right now, Killian knows that the sooner they have this talk, the better. Unless, of course, it ends with Emma ending things between them. That’s not for the better. If it’s what she wants, it’s what she wants, but he can’t believe that it’s for the better even if he is an idiot who likes to mess things up.

Emma grabs her throw blanket from the basket and sits down in his oversized arm chairarmchair, settling herself in like she’s comfortable here, and he likes that she’s still comfortable here. That comforts him. Killian doesn’t grab a blanket, but he does sit down on the couch and pull a pillow to his chest so that he has something for his hands to do.

Is his heart still working? He’s not sure.

“How’s your arm?” Emma starts. This is probably the conversation she feels most comfortable with, and he doesn’t blame her.

“It’s okay. I need to ice it soon, but I’ll be fine. Just a lot of resting it, which is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Do you want to ice it now?”

“No, no, Swan. It’s fine. I promise. I know – I’m sorry that I lied to you.” They aren’t the words Killian meant to say quite yet, but he does mean them. “I truly am. I can’t express how much of an idiot that I am. I hid away something really damn important from everyone when I should have shared it the first time my arm started hurting. I should have gone through the steps of preventing this. I should have told you what really happened with my accident. I should have told you everything that I didn’t tell you, and I can’t imagine how shitty it makes you feel that I didn’t.”

Emma scoffs. “Pretty shitty.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I just – ” She lets out a big sigh and adjusts the blanket over her legs again. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I know you’re sorry, and I believe you when you say that. I’m sorry that you’ve been going through all of this alone and that you haven’t felt like you could tell someone, but it did…it does hurt me that you couldn’t tell me. People have always let me down, and – ”

“I never intended to let you down.”

Emma smiles, something soft and a little sad, and he swears that it breaks his heart the slightest bit. “I know that. It took running far too much, eating my weight in food, and then having Ruby talk some sense into me, but I know. And it’s why I’m going to choose to see the best in you.”

Good.

Good. This is going a hell of a lot better than he thought it would, but he’s still terrified that maybe he doesn’t deserve this forgiveness from her.

“And I you.”

“I mean, there wasn’t a lot of bad to see about me.”

Killian laughs, for what is probably the first time in days, and something inside of him rights itself so that the pieces of the puzzle continue to click into place instead of being all mixed together.

“Well, not in this particular situation, no.”

Emma’s smile is a little more hopeful now, and he watches it change as she tugs on the brim of her baseball cap. “Why didn’t you tell anyone, Killian? Be honest with me. If we’re going to continue to make this work, and I really do want to make this work, you have to be honest with me. I’m done with guys who aren’t honest.”

He knew this question was coming, has had to answer it before, but no answer seems like it’s enough. They all fall short, and he knows that’s because he fell short in who everyone was expecting him to be. In who he was expecting himself to be too.

“I was scared. That sounds like such a pathetic excuse, but it’s my truth. I have been through a hell of a lot of ups and downs in the past nine years, and I had finally gotten out of the downs when the accident happened. I worked so damn hard, love. I – ” He stops to take a breath, still at a loss for words since it all sounds ridiculous and yet makes perfect sense in his mind. “I finally had my life back on track. Things were going really well for me, and I was pissed that it was all taken away from me because some kids were drunk and driving a boat. I didn’t think I’d ever get the game back, but I did, you know? I was on top of the world, so when my arm started to hurt again, despite all of my better judgment, I figured if I never said anything, I’d never have it all taken away from me. And not telling you about any of it…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to think of me as being any more broken than I already am.”

That’s it. That’s his truth. There’s no altering it or making it better or making him seem like less of an idiot. That’s simply it.

Emma said she’d see the best in him. He hopes that’s true.

For a moment he thinks it’s not because Emma is rising from her chair, and he fully expects her to walk out the door despite everything they’ve already said today and when they talked in Elsa’s office. But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she walks toward him and very slowly places her knees on either side of his thighs and leans down to sit on his lap so that they’re nearly eye level when the palms of her hands land on his cheeks and he can finally see the green of her eyes again underneath her baseball cap.

He’s now realizing the cap is his.

And it feels really damn good to feel the touch of Emma’s hands again. That’s also what has him wrapping his arms around her lower back and tugging her closer while Emma continues to rub her thumbs under his eyes in soothing circles.

“Killian, I am obviously not the most emotionally equip person in the world and am not the best with words, but you have to know that you and me, we both have shitty pasts. We both have things that we’re terrified of and sensitive to, and I think that’s why we work. You understand that I’m not going to leap head first into things, and I understand that you have this weird sense of self-loathing that you shouldn’t have. You were terrified of losing something you love. I would be too.”

“You were pretty damn good with words there.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about things.”

“I like you thinking.”

“Funny, most men don’t.”

Killian chuckles and leans forward to rest his head against Emma’s shoulder, and he takes the moment to breathe her in and breathe in the smell of her perfume. The pillow next to his has smelled like hers for the past few days, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

“I’m not going to lie to you again,” he mumbles into her skin while her hands start messing with his hair so that vibrations are running down his spine. “Or my family. Or my teammates. I promise I’ll be smarter, yeah?”

He tilts his head up to look at Emma, and he’s about to say something else when she leans forward and presses her mouth to his. He’s kissed her hundreds of times, probably more than that – he’s not counting – but there’s something different about the way that her mouth moves over his now. It’s slower, more passionate even if he knows it isn’t leading to something more than this, and the raw emotion of it all travels from his lips to the pit of his stomach before moving back up to his heart and constricting it.

But in the best way.

Killian has missed her.

He has missed the sound of her laugh and the way that she hogs the entire couch. He has missed the way she tastes and the fact that she never seems to put her dishes away on time. He has missed the notebooks she leaves around with all of her mid-game scribbling and the way that she can’t seem to make up her mind on what she wants to eat for dinner. Barely any time has passed, but not knowing exactly what’s coming next even more than usual has put a hell of a lot of things in perspective for him.

His love for Emma is one of the most important things in his life, and he doesn’t want to ever jeopardize it again by not being able to own up to his past and how it still has a stranglehold on his present.

Killian gently pecks her lips one, two, three times before trailing along the side of her neck and peppering kisses against her skin, never moving his hands from where they’re holding her to him.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, the desperation obvious in his own ears. “You have no idea.”

“I think I might have a bit of an idea,” Emma laughs as he leans back to look at her again, the brightest smile he’s seen all day stretched across her lips. “I love you too, by the way. But I still hope everyone you know gives you shit about this whole thing until we all know for sure that you’re not going to keep hiding things as important as your health.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he sighs. “Now, I don’t know about you, Swan, but my girlfriend had a very big day at work the other day, and I still haven’t heard about it.”

“Oh, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, no. I want to hear every detail. I almost watched the tape, but I figured that’d be a little miserable hearing your voice while watching myself be an idiot on the field.”

“Yeah, that would probably suck.”

“Exactly. So, tell me all about it. I’m all ears.” Emma opens her mouth, but he stops her. “Aye, I know – little pointy ones.”

Emma does tell him all about it. For a few minutes, she’s kind of fumbling around trying to find her storytelling stride, but then she settles in and knows exactly where she’s going with her tale. She’s not one to talk a lot, even when it comes to him, but when it’s something that Emma is passionate about, she could talk for hours without taking a breath.

Emma is passionate about this.

He can tell in the way the smile on her face rarely dissipates and with how she keeps using her hands far more often than she normally was. Plus, her voice gets that little bit higher in pitch, and he has to bite his tongue not to tease her about it. He also has to bite his tongue when she starts detailing all of the petty little ways that Isaac and James tried to demean her instead of acting like professionals. Emma promises that it wasn’t too bad, but Killian can tell that their little digs bothered her, especially the ones about her integrity and him.

Killian shudders at the thought of their relationship becoming public because of the hell hole that it’ll put Emma into no matter how respected she is in her field by those who actually know what they’re talking about.

A part of that will always be on him and his actions of ten months ago, but he’s under strict instructions not to apologize for that again. And right nownow isn’t about him and his own self-loathing. He’s already taken away days of both of their lives for that, and he’s not going to do that any longer.

Right here, right now…this is about Emma finally getting to do something she’s dreamed about.

He does get up in the middle of her going on about what it was like after his injury – which sounds more than horrific for her – to get his ice pack, and that causes them to trail off onto all of the exact details of his tendonitis and his treatment. He promises Emma that it’s truly not that bad, but that his case is a little bit more intense with his history and the particular severity of it all. That’s when she asks him when exactly it hurts, and the pain on her face when he tells her he can feel it pretty much any time he moves his right arm more than a few inches is not a pained face he wants to keep on seeing from her.

But it only gets worse when Killian details that sometimes it’s so bad that it wakes him up from sleep, and Emma starts to piece together all of the times she’s woken up in the middle of the night to find him out of bed at odd hours.

Bloody idiot. That’s exactly what he is.

It’ll get better though, with rest and physical therapy and a little bit of luck, and as much as it sucks, it could be worse. This could all be worse. He’s not going to let it, though, as he’s not going to be dumb enough to not get treatment and to keep pushing himself further than his physical limits.

And as much as Killian would like to be able to hover over Emma and roll his hips into hers and join their bodies together after what feels like forever apart even if it’s only a few days, he knows that he’s not quite physically able to today. Emma, though, the spirited lass that she is, lets a smirk curl across her lips as she directs him back to his bedroom and tells him to lie on his back as she takes the lead so that he doesn’t have to move his shoulder too much.

Creative solutions have always been the best solutions.

It’s glorious being joined with Emma again, feeling her warmly wrapped around him as she moves above him in slow circles that have him dying in the haze of ecstasy. His mom’s ring falls between her breasts with each movement, and his good arm reaches up to toy with it. She’s going particularly slow, each roll of her hips seemingly meaning something deeper, and as good as it feels, a part of him thinks it’s some kind of torture since she knows he can’t do most of the things he’s usually capable of doing.

The sly smile on her face when he tries to thrust up into her and go deeper inside of her tells him that he’s right.

The minx.

And if slow and steady is what Emma wants, it’s exactly what she’ll get. She’s always been one to take charge.

The heat simmering between them must eventually begin to burn, however, because the rolls of her hips become faster and she places his hand where they’re joined so that he can help her find her bliss in the few minutes before he finds his, little shocks of electricity working down to the base of his spine as he comes undone with Emma’s name on his lips and his love for her curling around each and every other word that he manages to mutter.

Almost losing her, even if he didn’t think this would truly tear them apart despite the way his mind kept convincing him that it would, has made him appreciate Emma in ways that he hadn’t before.

He thought he appreciated her in every way, but there are always things to learn.

“I have so many damn cookies,” Killian laughs later, after they’ve cleaned up and crawled back under the covers, a new pack of ice on his shoulder and his body pleasurably aching. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with them.”

Emma laughs against his chest where she’s curled up, her hand over his heart and her feet tucked in between his calves so that they’re back where they belong. “I would say I could take them with me on the road trip, but then I’d have to check a bag to get them with me through TSA. Or maybe not. I’m always confused on the food thing.”

Oh.

He’d nearly forgotten that life was moving on outside of his bedroom and this bed and the freckles scattered over Emma’s skin. The only clothing she has on is the necklace, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“So, you are going to Boston then?”

Emma hums. “And then Detroit after that. I have off for the Blue Jays, though, so I’ll be coming back home instead of going to Canada.”

His hand scratches against her back, drawing lines and words and anything that he can simply to feel her again. “I hate that I’m not going to be traveling with you.”

“It’s going to be kind of weird,” she whispers before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m going to have a hotel bed to myself.”

“To be fair, you pretty much always have the bed to yourself even when I am around.”

“You have been forgiven for about two hours now, and you’re already talking shit about my bed hogging. That’s a bold move there, Jones.’

“Oh, I know,” he yawns, his lack of sleep catching up to him even if it’s only six in the evening, “but I’ve slept alone for a few days now, and let me tell you, it’s glorious.”

Emma scoffs against his chest before sitting up so that she’s looking down at him under her mess of wild blonde hair that’s curling over her chest. “You’re being an ass.”

“Well, we have undoubtedly decided that I am an ass, right?”

“Pretty much.”

Emma’s arms stretch over her head, the muscles of her stomach on display, before she’s rolling off of the bed and standing up so that he has a particular good view of her ass that has his body humming. But then she’s walking to his dresser and pulling out a t-shirt to put on. She obviously pulled it from the back because it’s an older one he hasn’t seen in years, and he imagines he’ll probably never see it again with Emma’s penchant for stealing his things.

“You going somewhere, love?”

“Yeah,” she sighs as the t-shirt lifts from her thighs when she’s pulling her hair back up into a messy bun on the top of her head. “You have a bowl of icing in your kitchen, and the TV in the living room is better than the TV in here. If we’re not going to the US Open because I don’t want to leave this apartment until I absolutely have to, I’m going to watch it here.”

“Do you want me to join you?”

“Eh,” she teases, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t really care. Apparently, I am a bed hog, so I’m leaving you here to have the entire bed by yourself while I go lounge about on the couch eating the sweets you made while you were mooning over me.”

“You’re impossible.”

Emma winks. “And you love me for it.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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m0etenchandon · 5 years

Text

I think you need to be punished, Ben (Reader x Ben Hardy)

Summary: Ben has been slacking around the house and Y/N is not having it so she decides to tie him to the bed and make him think twice before doing it again

Authors note: I was debating doing this with Joe, but I feel like Ben would be an even bigger sub if given the chance. Also, OMG, thank you for all the response and love on “A game of beer pong”. It´s honestly so overwhelming, and I cant thank you enough. Im sorry i havent replied to your comments but this is my side blog and Im terrifyed that the many people from irl that follow me on main will figure out how much of a hoe i really am on here

Pairing: Reader x Ben Hardy

Warnings: SMUT (pure filth), sub!ben, being tied to the bed, overstimulation, cumming in pants, unprotected sex (reader on birth control). 18+!

Word count: 2.9 K

Masterlist

You and Ben always had an agreement that when it comes to household chores, you would both contribute equally. However, he had recently been slacking in that department. Bowls of cereal in the sink, not bothering to throw his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, and coincidentally never being home when it was time to dust and vacuum. Obviously, he had a lot going on with awards season and interviews, but it wasn’t like he was never home either. He had plenty of time when you were off to your day-time job, but there was never dinner on the table or an empty dishwasher when you walked through that door. Most of the time he spent playing videogames online with Joe.

After slumping down onto the sofa after dinner, which you again had to cook, Ben went to pull you into his side. You however were mildly annoyed and sat back onto the other side of the couch.

“Is there something wrong, Y/N?”

“Nah, its nothing. I’m just having a rough day”

“Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, knowing deep down that you were overreacting. Ben was so caring and attentive to your needs, he always listened when you complained. It was just that this was getting on your nerves, and you didn’t even know why.

“I know something I can do that will cheer you up, you know”. He had a smirk on his face as he inched closer. You didn’t push him away, always being a sucker for those kissable lips. You looked from them to his green eyes, then down to his lips again. Leaning in to give him a kiss, you closed your eyes. His lips moved slowly against yours, but the kiss didn’t last long. Ben left kisses at the corner of your mouth, your jaw, just under your ear, before moving down to your neck. He found your sweet spot, knowing fully where it was after two years of being together. Small moans left your mouth as he sucked gently, ever so slightly running his teeth over the sensitive spot as you pulled on the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Satisfied with his work, he pulled away and looked at you while caressing your cheek.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it, love?”

“Mmm, yes. Later, I promise”

You were still very much enjoying his sweet touching and little kisses, but there was still some annoyance left in your body. Normally, Ben would be quite dominating in bed, never letting you get the upper hand. However, there was something about having him a whimpering mess underneath you that made your heartbeat rise and wetness forming in your panties. You had never dared to speak your mind, but now he definitely needed to be punished.

“Actually, can we try something new today?”, you asked running a ringer down his shirt. His muscles tensed under your touch sending electric bolts straight to your core.

“Sure, anything for you my love”. He was back to kissing your neck earning a satisfied hum from the bottom of your throat. You stood up and held your hand out to him, beckoning him to come with you to the bedroom. Ben couldn’t keep his hands of you, clearly excited to hear what you had planned. His hands roamed your hips, over your boobs and across your thighs as you moved up the stairs to the master bedroom.

“What did you have in mind then miss Y/L/N”, he teased when you came to a halt at the end of your bed.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could be in charge this time”. He visibly gulped as you ran your hands over his chest and down his abs, stopping right before you reached the waistline of his sweatpants. It was your turn to nip at his neck, leaving small bites along his collarbones as well.

“Fuck, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. You know that”. Ben tried to grab onto your waist, but you were quick to pull his hands away. He let out a low whimper. You already had him around your little finger.

“I know, I have a solution for that”

You walked over to your closet and pulled out the box that was stored into the very back. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs along with some ropes, you could practically hear Bens heartbeat going up. You also pulled out one of the vibrators that he had used on you countless of times. Smiling at the memory of the last time he had made you cum 5 times in a row with it, you walked over to him again. You put the vibrator and the ropes down on the dresser but dangled the handcuffs from your pinky.

“I think it’s your time to try these”, you teased. He slowly nodded staring at you, his eyes growing several shades darker. His breath was deep and fast, and you could already see a slight bulge in his pants. Your fingers ghosted along his waistline before tugging at his t-shirt. He lifted his arms and let you pull it off him. You bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you, never getting used to the way his muscles tensed, the lines disappearing into his pants and the little trail of hair leading way to his favorite body part.

Pushing him onto the bed, you started to crawl up his body. Settling on straddling his stomach, you grabbed one of his hands and put it inside one of the cuffs. Next, you slid it through one of the poles of the head board of the bed before locking his other hand into place.

“Is this okay baby? Do you remember our safe word?”

“Y-yes, fuck this is so hot. Please touch me”, he begged. Simply smirking at how desperate he already sounded, you let your lips fall to his neck again. Now that he was unable to touch you, you sucked harshly onto the skin just below his ear knowing it drove him crazy. His hips bucked into thin air and moans left his mouth. You giggled and let your lips fall on top of his. He kissed back with lust and neediness in the way his tongue made its way into your mouth. You, however, were not having it and pulled away. He tried to stretch his neck and kiss you again, but you had already moved down towards his chest. You left kisses across his collarbones and down towards his defined pecks. Leaving small kisses next to his nipples, whines fell from his mouth. Never having tried to touch his nipples before during sex, you decided to nip at them gently, earning loud moans from your boyfriend. He was completely wrecked, and you hadn’t even got to the fun part yet.

“Fuck, b-babe. P-p-please, touch me. Do s-something”, he whimpered. You started to kiss down his stomach, going between his abs. Once you reached his happy trail, you let your tongue lick small kitten licks down towards his pants. His bulge poked your chest as you bent down and Ben thrusted his up, desperate for some sort of pressure on his aching cock.

“Now Ben, you need to be a good boy and not move for me okay?”

He frantically nodded as you grabbed the ropes from the bed side table. You tied each of his legs to a bed post before moving off the bed yourself. While Bens eyes were all over you hot like a fire, you started removing pieces of clothing. Making sure to sway your hips a little extra, you shimmied out of your skinny jeans before pulling off your jumper. Now that the only clothing that covered you were a bra and panties, you crawled over to him on the bed. You settled yourself over his crotch earning a whimper from him. You were driving him insane with every movement and you were enjoying every second.

“You’ve been a very bad boy lately, Benny. Leaving dirty dishes in the sink, dirty socks on the bathroom floor, driving me insane. You know I hate when its messy in the house, yet you still sit on the couch playing video games with Joe all day”

You had started moving your hips over his hard length and he was looking at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

“I think you need to be punished, don’t you baby?”

“Please, I-I swear I will pick up the slack. Just please, fuck, t-touch me. I’m so hard it hu-urts”

“But I am touching you baby” you cooed.

“Naughty boys don’t deserve to be sucked off. Its either this or nothing”

He let out a long whine, tugging at the handcuffs. Loving the effect you had on him, you moved your hips harder. His cock was pulsating through the fabrics separating the two of you, profanities leaving his mouth. He had never been this hard in his life and it turned you on like crazy. Wetness had seeped through your panties and onto his sweat pants, forming a wet patch just above the tip of his bulge. Ben looked down to where you were rubbing yourself against him and moaned at the sight.

“You want me to stop baby?”

“N-No please don’t. Fuck, I think I’m gonna c-cum Y/N”

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum in your pants like a horny teenager? Gonna cum from me just rubbing my wet pussy all over your crotch, baby?”

His eyes had closed, and the rest of his face was red and sweaty from the contact with his cock. Determined to get him to cum, you scraped you nails down his chest. He was a whimpering mess underneath you, desperately trying to buck his hips up towards yours to get some more friction. He was at the very edge when you leant down to whisper in his ear.

“Be a good boy and cum for me. I know you want to, baby. Maybe then I will let you fuck me. Do you want that, baby? Want my warm, tight pussy around your aching cock? Want to feel my walls clench around me as you make me cum. Your cock always makes me cum so hard?”

That was all it took. Ben screamed out your name as he came. Tears were threatening to leave his eyes as he rode out his orgasm. You placed a few kisses on his chest before moving to get off of him. The patch on his crotch that was once just your wetness was now accompanied by another much darker one. Bens chest was moving up and down at a rapid pace as he tried to regain his breath.

“I can´t believe you just made me cum my pants”, Ben said still breathless. He was so embarrassed.

“Oh, I think it was really hot. So hot in fact that I´m literally dripping”. You got off the bed and slid your panties off before unclasping your bra. Ben was pleading to touch you, his eyes darker than ever. You moved up his body, placing your pussy just out of the reach of his tongue. He pulled at his restraints, desperately wanting to taste you. He could see how wet you were for him.

“Please let me taste you, love. You always taste so fucking good”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you deserve it yet”, you teased. You moved forward a bit so that his tongue could barely touch your clit, making you shudder at the contact, before moving back.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes, please Y/N, I need more”

You moved a forward a bit further, this time enough for him to drag his tongue through your folds. He pushed his tongue into you as far as he could go and lapped up all your juices. You completely forgot who was in charge as he started sucking at your clit, slightly grazing his teeth over the sensitive nub. You were rocking against his mouth chasing your high. He was moaning against your heat, sending shivers up your spine. You abruptly pulled away from him earning a whine from Ben. His chin and mouth were glistening with your juices and it took all you had to not sit right back down on his pretty face.

“I need you inside me, Ben”

“Y/N shit, I can’t, I’m too sensitive”

Ignoring his pleas, you tugged his pants and boxers as far down his legs as they would go while still being tied to the bed posts. His cock was still wet from cum and he was half-hard.

“You sure, baby? I really need it, and by the looks of it, you want it too”. You traced a finger over the prominent vein on his shaft, making him shiver. His cock started to stir. You had him completely under your spell as you lent down and kitten licked at the cum around his tip. It was all too much for Ben, who was tossing and turning on the bed. Taking his tip into your mouth and sucking lightly, his hips bucked up making his cock hit the back of your throat. You immediately let him slip out of your mouth.

“I just told you naughty boys don’t get sucked off, and yet you push your big cock right down my throat”

“Babe, I’m so s-sorry”

“I think you should show me how sorry you are by letting me ride you. Don’t you think that is a good idea, baby”

“Shit, please, I’m too sensitive”

You reminded him to use the safe word if it was too much, before lining him up with your entrance. All the teasing had got you all riled up and you were so wet he slipped in with no resistance. You kept eye contact with your boyfriend as you slid down onto his hard cock. Tears were pricking at his eyes as he bottomed you out. He was so sensitive, yet it felt so good he didn’t want you to stop. You took a minute to get used to his big cock, before lifting your hips and quickly slamming back down again. Ben was a moaning mess underneath you as you picked up the pace. You lent down to press a kiss to his mouth, but he immediately deepened it, craving the intimacy. Your orgasm was slowly creeping up on you, feeling the pit in your stomach grow tighter. His lips left yours, the kissing taking too much of his energy. He whispered sorry´s into your ear as you let your head fall onto his chest. You could tell he was close as his breathing became uneven.

“Are you gonna cum for me again, baby”

“Fuck, yes Y/N. It f-feels so g-good”

You grabbed the neglected vibrator from the bed side table and placed it against your clit. You were so riled up that it pushed you right towards the edge. Bens eyes nearly popped out of his eye socket at the sight before him. He threw his head back in ecstasy as he came, you follow shortly behind when you felt hot ropes of his cum coat your walls. You clenched around him as you came down, riding out your own and his orgasm. He was so sensitive by this point that a tear actually escaped his eye. A yelp left his mouth as he slipped out of you, the friction being too much for him. Leaning down to him, you kissed away the tears on his cheek before giving his lips a soft kiss. You unlocked his handcuffs as well as the ropes tying his feet. His arms immediately wrapped around you as you put your head on his chest.

“You okay?”, you asked tracing small circles on his chest. He kissed the top of your head.

“Yeah, it was just a lot. In a good way though. And I’m sorry for being lazy around the house. Seriously, I´ll do better. I promise, love”

“It’s okay. Besides, I´ll just have to punish you again if you don’t pick up your slack”, you smirked as you looked up at him. A flash of panic swept his features before they softened.

“Hmm, I did enjoy this whole scenario, but I think that next time you should be the one that’s tied up”

“Do you now? Don’t know if I dare after what I just put you through. You might be revengeful”

“You´ll just have to find out, won´t you”, he teased leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“Maybe I´ll just abstain from sex and I won´t have to worry about that”

“Yeah, and that will last for about 2 days before you can’t say no to this anymore” he gestured at his torso and then down to his cock.

“You’re so full of yourself”, you pushed his chest laughing.

“I´m not wrong though, and you know it, love”

“I know.. it’s a curse really”

“Sure it is, it’s hard having orgasms every night”

“You´re such a wanker, Ben”

“But I´m your wanker”, he pulled you so close you could barely breathe. You laughed and pushed him away from you.

“You´re lucky you’re cute or I would have kicked you out of my bed right now”

“You know you love me”

“Unfortunately, I do, you dork”

“I love you too, Y/N”, Ben said, placing a sloppy kiss to your lips. You smiled against him and kissed him back.

Part 2

Masterlist

#ben hardy #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fic #smut #ben jones #ben jones smut #queen smut #queen imagine #borhap #borhap imagine #borhap smut

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ivalice-tifalucis · 4 years

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Alright speaking of football, I really and completely dive back into this again. I notice the last time I watch football religiously (like waking up at early morning almost every week just to watch Barca’s game) which was around 2013, I wasn’t active on tumblr yet. I did occassionally reblogged football stuffs. I watched important games like few El Clasicos or Champions League finals. I did sporadic live blogging during the last World Cup. But now that I’m back like really back I notice things are different.

First, women’s football. I once ramble in someone’s post about the inequality of women’s football compare to men in USWNT. I said that women’s football didn’t really develop until 1970s while men’s football was starting to develop since 1900s and so it will take time for women’s football to get more developed. The difference that I notice is that now more mainstream media especially in England, where the center of football is, promotes their women’s team more. I notice Barca also do that for quite a while now, I just couldn’t believe that others do the same!! What I love even more is that if you take a look at let’s say Barca Femeni (who just got a new stadium fyi) or Liverpool’s women videos on youtube, the comments are mostly positive and most come from fanboys. They wish the female team all the best and to succeed, even include them in some banter. People also discuss how to improve women’s football since no matter what female will always going to be physically inferior than men and football is very physically demanding. Like many people suggest that women’s football need to have different regulation with the game. This shows that people care about female football. People also comment on footballers daughter who was just playfully kicking ball with “wow imagine if she becomes a footballer too” like these kinds of comments and discussions didn’t exist 5 years ago.

Second, the wheels are turning. Like a circle of life, there’s also circle of football domination. Last time I’m in, Barca was still a club that everyone are afraid of. Today, we are so poor it makes me sad. Liverpool comeback is just one of those moment. No, not the worst football club yet. We’re just becoming clown now, it’s embarassing. La Masia is also such a mess. That little boy Takefusa Kubo is now Real Madrid young player???!!! I hope we will get better soon (after the board members sacked!!!). I even missed out that Real Madrid won 3 UCL in a row (I only notice 2 until I went to Bernabeu tour and realized they have 13 trophies now 😑). Premier League dynamic has changed a lot. No more big 4 teams, they now have Leicester City too as dark horse. I was shocked when my brother told me they were about to win Premier League like what even the hell was that club?! Manchester United is sucking hard, Chelsea is shifting from rich club who buy everything to so so club to club who grow talents, Liverpool is only few weeks away from ending their 30 years of no league title (no longer a club who only talk about history), Manchester City is undisputedly giant crazy rich team along side PSG. Arsenal is the only one who stay the same, because Arsenal. Germany is suddenly not so good anymore.

Third, best player in the world. Apparently my favorite players are now old and soon will retire (some even have). The banter has shifted to discussion and general consensus that *insert player A* is great player instead of trying to compare A with B. Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo fans have finally find consensus that both players are the best ever. Sergio Ramos is now the best defender ever??? (Make sense tho the guy captained Real Madrid who won 3 UCL in a row, forget the fact that he loves collecting red card so much). Gerard Pique also the best now. Neymar since his departure to PSG has become mediocre, sad. Frenkie de Jong, I root for him to be successful. Who else hmm... Jamie Vardy is top scorer (I like him in a way that his life is motivating that sometime good things don’t come immediately like his life and career is quite insane for pro footballer standard, he supposed to not even become a football superstar!!). Mohamed Salah, I heard a lot about him because I have a cousin who is Liverpool die hard fan and media talk about him, he’s great (and sorta feel proud for him because he’s conservative moslem from Egypt, sadly a politically unstable country, and arab which is great for representation. He manages to lift the image of arab people and moslem especially around Merseyside just by being great). Another talent from Liverpool would be Virgil van Dijk that gd soft tall man and good defender but most important is Trent Alexander-Arnold (corner taken quickly which breaks my heart and amaze me at the same time). Kevin de Bruyne is what Pep really love in midfielder and indeed what a talent he is. Erling Haaland is looking good, I hope he’s not just one season wonder. Manuel Neuer is no longer as good as he used to be since terrible injury (now I understand his bloop in WC 2018) but now there are more sweeper keeper just not as crazy as him. He definitely set standards for future goalkeepers.

Fourth, retired players. One by one, players that I watched while growing up have retired. I saw Puyol and Xavi retired. Then Iker Casillas, the most recent one to retired after heart surgery scare last year, now a candidate for RFEF President. Iniesta is soom gonna be retired. David Villa, Fernando Torres. My favorite Spain NT players are now all retired ☹️. Schweinsteiger, Lahm, Robben, Mertesacker. Mertesacker is now Arsenal youth coach??!!! Mikel Arteta is now Arsenal’s coach. Other star players from Premier League like Frank Lampard (now Chelsea’s manager), Steven Gerrard, all have retired and become football manager. And a bit unrelated because I never actually see him playing (because I only start properly watch football since 2010 and by that time he had retired and I only heard stories) but Gary Neville as Valencia’s manager for short time?? 😂 (of course I would know that’s important information for all Carraville shippers). Everytime I hear news about footballer retirement I would be reminded again that I’m old.

Fifth, shipping. If you don’t notice this already, I now ship Jamie Carragher with Gary Neville which is not surprising since I always low key ship Gerard Pique with Sergio Ramos anyway. Apparently I always have a thing with pinning rivaling defenders who are hot headed, reckless, and hate each other at first until one day they don’t. And I swear that’s the most random ever. I’m not even Liverpool fan and never really into Man United (although my brother is sorta fan because he knows much about MU). But it all starts from me going around Liverpool’s tag on tumblr and found Carra’s instagram live. After watching all of their videos in Sky Sports on youtube, consider my self as a carraville. I even always try to find live streaming from Sky Sports for every Premier League matches that I watch. I must say, they’re the ones that make me want to go back to football fandom again.

All in all, I will never stop loving FC Barcelona. I may watch other games, less Barca games maybe because they’re not that enjoyable to watch these days. But now I understand, the feeling of watching Barca loses is different. It just so heartbreaking 😭 my heart only belong to that team. I’m so happy I finally got to be in Camp Nou even though I just lost my wallet at that time.

#my ramblings #story of my life #football #men’s football #soccer #fc barcelona #lionel messi #premier league #liverpool fc #manchester city #manchester united #carraville #real madrid

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whatsthepointofphilosophy · 5 years

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Zeitgeist Disease

Something a bit different today. Paul Graham describes himself as “a programmer, writer, and investor”, although he studied philosophy in university. In January of 2004 he wrote a blog post, and I’m posting the entire thing here. Again, I didn’t write any of it, apart from this opening bit, and it’s fifteen years old.

It’s fundamentally a vigorous defence of philosophy and it’s more relevant now than ever before. I’ve called this post Zeitgeist Disease, but he calls it What You Can’t Say.

What You Can’t Say

Have you ever seen an old photo of yourself and been embarrassed at the way you looked? Did we actually dress like that? We did. And we had no idea how silly we looked. It's the nature of fashion to be invisible, in the same way the movement of the earth is invisible to all of us riding on it.

What scares me is that there are moral fashions too. They're just as arbitrary, and just as invisible to most people. But they're much more dangerous. Fashion is mistaken for good design; moral fashion is mistaken for good. Dressing oddly gets you laughed at. Violating moral fashions can get you fired, ostracized, imprisoned, or even killed.

If you could travel back in a time machine, one thing would be true no matter where you went: you'd have to watch what you said. Opinions we consider harmless could have gotten you in big trouble. I've already said at least one thing that would have gotten me in big trouble in most of Europe in the seventeenth century, and did get Galileo in big trouble when he said it-- that the earth moves.

Nerds are always getting in trouble. They say improper things for the same reason they dress unfashionably and have good ideas: convention has less hold over them.

It seems to be a constant throughout history: In every period, people believed things that were just ridiculous, and believed them so strongly that you would have gotten in terrible trouble for saying otherwise.

Is our time any different? To anyone who has read any amount of history, the answer is almost certainly no. It would be a remarkable coincidence if ours were the first era to get everything just right.

It's tantalizing to think we believe things that people in the future will find ridiculous. What would someone coming back to visit us in a time machine have to be careful not to say? That's what I want to study here. But I want to do more than just shock everyone with the heresy du jour. I want to find general recipes for discovering what you can't say, in any era.

The Conformist Test

Let's start with a test: Do you have any opinions that you would be reluctant to express in front of a group of your peers?

If the answer is no, you might want to stop and think about that. If everything you believe is something you're supposed to believe, could that possibly be a coincidence? Odds are it isn't. Odds are you just think whatever you're told.

The other alternative would be that you independently considered every question and came up with the exact same answers that are now considered acceptable. That seems unlikely, because you'd also have to make the same mistakes. Mapmakers deliberately put slight mistakes in their maps so they can tell when someone copies them. If another map has the same mistake, that's very convincing evidence.

Like every other era in history, our moral map almost certainly contains a few mistakes. And anyone who makes the same mistakes probably didn't do it by accident. It would be like someone claiming they had independently decided in 1972 that bell-bottom jeans were a good idea.

If you believe everything you're supposed to now, how can you be sure you wouldn't also have believed everything you were supposed to if you had grown up among the plantation owners of the pre-Civil War South, or in Germany in the 1930s-- or among the Mongols in 1200, for that matter? Odds are you would have.

Back in the era of terms like "well-adjusted," the idea seemed to be that there was something wrong with you if you thought things you didn't dare say out loud. This seems backward. Almost certainly, there is something wrong with you if you don't think things you don't dare say out loud.

Trouble

What can't we say? One way to find these ideas is simply to look at things people do say, and get in trouble for.

Of course, we're not just looking for things we can't say. We're looking for things we can't say that are true, or at least have enough chance of being true that the question should remain open. But many of the things people get in trouble for saying probably do make it over this second, lower threshold. No one gets in trouble for saying that 2 + 2 is 5, or that people in Pittsburgh are ten feet tall. Such obviously false statements might be treated as jokes, or at worst as evidence of insanity, but they are not likely to make anyone mad. The statements that make people mad are the ones they worry might be believed. I suspect the statements that make people maddest are those they worry might be true.

If Galileo had said that people in Padua were ten feet tall, he would have been regarded as a harmless eccentric. Saying the earth orbited the sun was another matter. The church knew this would set people thinking.

Certainly, as we look back on the past, this rule of thumb works well. A lot of the statements people got in trouble for seem harmless now. So it's likely that visitors from the future would agree with at least some of the statements that get people in trouble today. Do we have no Galileos? Not likely.

To find them, keep track of opinions that get people in trouble, and start asking, could this be true? Ok, it may be heretical (or whatever modern equivalent), but might it also be true?

Heresy

This won't get us all the answers, though. What if no one happens to have gotten in trouble for a particular idea yet? What if some idea would be so radioactively controversial that no one would dare express it in public? How can we find these too?

Another approach is to follow that word, heresy. In every period of history, there seem to have been labels that got applied to statements to shoot them down before anyone had a chance to ask if they were true or not. "Blasphemy", "sacrilege", and "heresy" were such labels for a good part of western history, as in more recent times "indecent", "improper", and "unamerican" have been. By now these labels have lost their sting. They always do. By now they're mostly used ironically. But in their time, they had real force.

The word "defeatist", for example, has no particular political connotations now. But in Germany in 1917 it was a weapon, used by Ludendorff in a purge of those who favored a negotiated peace. At the start of World War II it was used extensively by Churchill and his supporters to silence their opponents. In 1940, any argument against Churchill's aggressive policy was "defeatist". Was it right or wrong? Ideally, no one got far enough to ask that.

We have such labels today, of course, quite a lot of them, from the all-purpose "inappropriate" to the dreaded "divisive." In any period, it should be easy to figure out what such labels are, simply by looking at what people call ideas they disagree with besides untrue. When a politician says his opponent is mistaken, that's a straightforward criticism, but when he attacks a statement as "divisive" or "racially insensitive" instead of arguing that it's false, we should start paying attention.

So another way to figure out which of our taboos future generations will laugh at is to start with the labels. Take a label-- "sexist", for example-- and try to think of some ideas that would be called that. Then for each ask, might this be true?

Just start listing ideas at random? Yes, because they won't really be random. The ideas that come to mind first will be the most plausible ones. They'll be things you've already noticed but didn't let yourself think.

In 1989 some clever researchers tracked the eye movements of radiologists as they scanned chest images for signs of lung cancer. They found that even when the radiologists missed a cancerous lesion, their eyes had usually paused at the site of it. Part of their brain knew there was something there; it just didn't percolate all the way up into conscious knowledge. I think many interesting heretical thoughts are already mostly formed in our minds. If we turn off our self-censorship temporarily, those will be the first to emerge.

Time and Space

If we could look into the future it would be obvious which of our taboos they'd laugh at. We can't do that, but we can do something almost as good: we can look into the past. Another way to figure out what we're getting wrong is to look at what used to be acceptable and is now unthinkable.

Changes between the past and the present sometimes do represent progress. In a field like physics, if we disagree with past generations it's because we're right and they're wrong. But this becomes rapidly less true as you move away from the certainty of the hard sciences. By the time you get to social questions, many changes are just fashion. The age of consent fluctuates like hemlines.

We may imagine that we are a great deal smarter and more virtuous than past generations, but the more history you read, the less likely this seems. People in past times were much like us. Not heroes, not barbarians. Whatever their ideas were, they were ideas reasonable people could believe.

So here is another source of interesting heresies. Diff present ideas against those of various past cultures, and see what you get. Some will be shocking by present standards. Ok, fine; but which might also be true?

You don't have to look into the past to find big differences. In our own time, different societies have wildly varying ideas of what's ok and what isn't. So you can try diffing other cultures' ideas against ours as well. (The best way to do that is to visit them.)

You might find contradictory taboos. In one culture it might seem shocking to think x, while in another it was shocking not to. But I think usually the shock is on one side. In one culture x is ok, and in another it's considered shocking. My hypothesis is that the side that's shocked is most likely to be the mistaken one.

I suspect the only taboos that are more than taboos are the ones that are universal, or nearly so. Murder for example. But any idea that's considered harmless in a significant percentage of times and places, and yet is taboo in ours, is a good candidate for something we're mistaken about.

For example, at the high water mark of political correctness in the early 1990s, Harvard distributed to its faculty and staff a brochure saying, among other things, that it was inappropriate to compliment a colleague or student's clothes. No more "nice shirt." I think this principle is rare among the world's cultures, past or present. There are probably more where it's considered especially polite to compliment someone's clothing than where it's considered improper. So odds are this is, in a mild form, an example of one of the taboos a visitor from the future would have to be careful to avoid if he happened to set his time machine for Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1992.

Prigs

Of course, if they have time machines in the future they'll probably have a separate reference manual just for Cambridge. This has always been a fussy place, a town of i dotters and t crossers, where you're liable to get both your grammar and your ideas corrected in the same conversation. And that suggests another way to find taboos. Look for prigs, and see what's inside their heads.

Kids' heads are repositories of all our taboos. It seems fitting to us that kids' ideas should be bright and clean. The picture we give them of the world is not merely simplified, to suit their developing minds, but sanitized as well, to suit our ideas of what kids ought to think.

You can see this on a small scale in the matter of dirty words. A lot of my friends are starting to have children now, and they're all trying not to use words like "fuck" and "shit" within baby's hearing, lest baby start using these words too. But these words are part of the language, and adults use them all the time. So parents are giving their kids an inaccurate idea of the language by not using them. Why do they do this? Because they don't think it's fitting that kids should use the whole language. We like children to seem innocent.

Most adults, likewise, deliberately give kids a misleading view of the world. One of the most obvious examples is Santa Claus. We think it's cute for little kids to believe in Santa Claus. I myself think it's cute for little kids to believe in Santa Claus. But one wonders, do we tell them this stuff for their sake, or for ours?

I'm not arguing for or against this idea here. It is probably inevitable that parents should want to dress up their kids' minds in cute little baby outfits. I'll probably do it myself. The important thing for our purposes is that, as a result, a well brought-up teenage kid's brain is a more or less complete collection of all our taboos-- and in mint condition, because they're untainted by experience. Whatever we think that will later turn out to be ridiculous, it's almost certainly inside that head.

How do we get at these ideas? By the following thought experiment. Imagine a kind of latter-day Conrad character who has worked for a time as a mercenary in Africa, for a time as a doctor in Nepal, for a time as the manager of a nightclub in Miami. The specifics don't matter-- just someone who has seen a lot. Now imagine comparing what's inside this guy's head with what's inside the head of a well-behaved sixteen year old girl from the suburbs. What does he think that would shock her? He knows the world; she knows, or at least embodies, present taboos. Subtract one from the other, and the result is what we can't say.

Mechanism

I can think of one more way to figure out what we can't say: to look at how taboos are created. How do moral fashions arise, and why are they adopted? If we can understand this mechanism, we may be able to see it at work in our own time.

Moral fashions don't seem to be created the way ordinary fashions are. Ordinary fashions seem to arise by accident when everyone imitates the whim of some influential person. The fashion for broad-toed shoes in late fifteenth century Europe began because Charles VIII of France had six toes on one foot. The fashion for the name Gary began when the actor Frank Cooper adopted the name of a tough mill town in Indiana. Moral fashions more often seem to be created deliberately. When there's something we can't say, it's often because some group doesn't want us to.

The prohibition will be strongest when the group is nervous. The irony of Galileo's situation was that he got in trouble for repeating Copernicus's ideas. Copernicus himself didn't. In fact, Copernicus was a canon of a cathedral, and dedicated his book to the pope. But by Galileo's time the church was in the throes of the Counter-Reformation and was much more worried about unorthodox ideas.

To launch a taboo, a group has to be poised halfway between weakness and power. A confident group doesn't need taboos to protect it. It's not considered improper to make disparaging remarks about Americans, or the English. And yet a group has to be powerful enough to enforce a taboo. Coprophiles, as of this writing, don't seem to be numerous or energetic enough to have had their interests promoted to a lifestyle.

I suspect the biggest source of moral taboos will turn out to be power struggles in which one side only barely has the upper hand. That's where you'll find a group powerful enough to enforce taboos, but weak enough to need them.

Most struggles, whatever they're really about, will be cast as struggles between competing ideas. The English Reformation was at bottom a struggle for wealth and power, but it ended up being cast as a struggle to preserve the souls of Englishmen from the corrupting influence of Rome. It's easier to get people to fight for an idea. And whichever side wins, their ideas will also be considered to have triumphed, as if God wanted to signal his agreement by selecting that side as the victor.

We often like to think of World War II as a triumph of freedom over totalitarianism. We conveniently forget that the Soviet Union was also one of the winners.

I'm not saying that struggles are never about ideas, just that they will always be made to seem to be about ideas, whether they are or not. And just as there is nothing so unfashionable as the last, discarded fashion, there is nothing so wrong as the principles of the most recently defeated opponent. Representational art is only now recovering from the approval of both Hitler and Stalin.

Although moral fashions tend to arise from different sources than fashions in clothing, the mechanism of their adoption seems much the same. The early adopters will be driven by ambition: self-consciously cool people who want to distinguish themselves from the common herd. As the fashion becomes established they'll be joined by a second, much larger group, driven by fear. This second group adopt the fashion not because they want to stand out but because they are afraid of standing out.

So if you want to figure out what we can't say, look at the machinery of fashion and try to predict what it would make unsayable. What groups are powerful but nervous, and what ideas would they like to suppress? What ideas were tarnished by association when they ended up on the losing side of a recent struggle? If a self-consciously cool person wanted to differentiate himself from preceding fashions (e.g. from his parents), which of their ideas would he tend to reject? What are conventional-minded people afraid of saying?

This technique won't find us all the things we can't say. I can think of some that aren't the result of any recent struggle. Many of our taboos are rooted deep in the past. But this approach, combined with the preceding four, will turn up a good number of unthinkable ideas.

Why

Some would ask, why would one want to do this? Why deliberately go poking around among nasty, disreputable ideas? Why look under rocks?

I do it, first of all, for the same reason I did look under rocks as a kid: plain curiosity. And I'm especially curious about anything that's forbidden. Let me see and decide for myself.

Second, I do it because I don't like the idea of being mistaken. If, like other eras, we believe things that will later seem ridiculous, I want to know what they are so that I, at least, can avoid believing them.

Third, I do it because it's good for the brain. To do good work you need a brain that can go anywhere. And you especially need a brain that's in the habit of going where it's not supposed to.

Great work tends to grow out of ideas that others have overlooked, and no idea is so overlooked as one that's unthinkable. Natural selection, for example. It's so simple. Why didn't anyone think of it before? Well, that is all too obvious. Darwin himself was careful to tiptoe around the implications of his theory. He wanted to spend his time thinking about biology, not arguing with people who accused him of being an atheist.

In the sciences, especially, it's a great advantage to be able to question assumptions. The m.o. of scientists, or at least of the good ones, is precisely that: look for places where conventional wisdom is broken, and then try to pry apart the cracks and see what's underneath. That's where new theories come from.

A good scientist, in other words, does not merely ignore conventional wisdom, but makes a special effort to break it. Scientists go looking for trouble. This should be the m.o. of any scholar, but scientists seem much more willing to look under rocks.

Why? It could be that the scientists are simply smarter; most physicists could, if necessary, make it through a PhD program in French literature, but few professors of French literature could make it through a PhD program in physics. Or it could be because it's clearer in the sciences whether theories are true or false, and this makes scientists bolder. (Or it could be that, because it's clearer in the sciences whether theories are true or false, you have to be smart to get jobs as a scientist, rather than just a good politician.)

Whatever the reason, there seems a clear correlation between intelligence and willingness to consider shocking ideas. This isn't just because smart people actively work to find holes in conventional thinking. I think conventions also have less hold over them to start with. You can see that in the way they dress.

It's not only in the sciences that heresy pays off. In any competitive field, you can win big by seeing things that others daren't. And in every field there are probably heresies few dare utter. Within the US car industry there is a lot of hand-wringing now about declining market share. Yet the cause is so obvious that any observant outsider could explain it in a second: they make bad cars. And they have for so long that by now the US car brands are antibrands-- something you'd buy a car despite, not because of. Cadillac stopped being the Cadillac of cars in about 1970. And yet I suspect no one dares say this. Otherwise these companies would have tried to fix the problem.

Training yourself to think unthinkable thoughts has advantages beyond the thoughts themselves. It's like stretching. When you stretch before running, you put your body into positions much more extreme than any it will assume during the run. If you can think things so outside the box that they'd make people's hair stand on end, you'll have no trouble with the small trips outside the box that people call innovative.

Pensieri Stretti

When you find something you can't say, what do you do with it? My advice is, don't say it. Or at least, pick your battles.

Suppose in the future there is a movement to ban the color yellow. Proposals to paint anything yellow are denounced as "yellowist", as is anyone suspected of liking the color. People who like orange are tolerated but viewed with suspicion. Suppose you realize there is nothing wrong with yellow. If you go around saying this, you'll be denounced as a yellowist too, and you'll find yourself having a lot of arguments with anti-yellowists. If your aim in life is to rehabilitate the color yellow, that may be what you want. But if you're mostly interested in other questions, being labelled as a yellowist will just be a distraction. Argue with idiots, and you become an idiot.

The most important thing is to be able to think what you want, not to say what you want. And if you feel you have to say everything you think, it may inhibit you from thinking improper thoughts. I think it's better to follow the opposite policy. Draw a sharp line between your thoughts and your speech. Inside your head, anything is allowed. Within my head I make a point of encouraging the most outrageous thoughts I can imagine. But, as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. The first rule of Fight Club is, you do not talk about Fight Club.

When Milton was going to visit Italy in the 1630s, Sir Henry Wootton, who had been ambassador to Venice, told him his motto should be "i pensieri stretti & il viso sciolto." Closed thoughts and an open face. Smile at everyone, and don't tell them what you're thinking. This was wise advice. Milton was an argumentative fellow, and the Inquisition was a bit restive at that time. But I think the difference between Milton's situation and ours is only a matter of degree. Every era has its heresies, and if you don't get imprisoned for them you will at least get in enough trouble that it becomes a complete distraction.

I admit it seems cowardly to keep quiet. When I read about the harassment to which the Scientologists subject their critics, or that pro-Israel groups are "compiling dossiers" on those who speak out against Israeli human rights abuses, or about people being sued for violating the DMCA, part of me wants to say, "All right, you bastards, bring it on." The problem is, there are so many things you can't say. If you said them all you'd have no time left for your real work. You'd have to turn into Noam Chomsky.

The trouble with keeping your thoughts secret, though, is that you lose the advantages of discussion. Talking about an idea leads to more ideas. So the optimal plan, if you can manage it, is to have a few trusted friends you can speak openly to. This is not just a way to develop ideas; it's also a good rule of thumb for choosing friends. The people you can say heretical things to without getting jumped on are also the most interesting to know.

Viso Sciolto?

I don't think we need the viso sciolto so much as the pensieri stretti. Perhaps the best policy is to make it plain that you don't agree with whatever zealotry is current in your time, but not to be too specific about what you disagree with. Zealots will try to draw you out, but you don't have to answer them. If they try to force you to treat a question on their terms by asking "are you with us or against us?" you can always just answer "neither".

Better still, answer "I haven't decided." That's what Larry Summers did when a group tried to put him in this position. Explaining himself later, he said "I don't do litmus tests." A lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. There is no prize for getting the answer quickly.

If the anti-yellowists seem to be getting out of hand and you want to fight back, there are ways to do it without getting yourself accused of being a yellowist. Like skirmishers in an ancient army, you want to avoid directly engaging the main body of the enemy's troops. Better to harass them with arrows from a distance.

One way to do this is to ratchet the debate up one level of abstraction. If you argue against censorship in general, you can avoid being accused of whatever heresy is contained in the book or film that someone is trying to censor. You can attack labels with meta-labels: labels that refer to the use of labels to prevent discussion. The spread of the term "political correctness" meant the beginning of the end of political correctness, because it enabled one to attack the phenomenon as a whole without being accused of any of the specific heresies it sought to suppress.

Another way to counterattack is with metaphor. Arthur Miller undermined the House Un-American Activities Committee by writing a play, "The Crucible," about the Salem witch trials. He never referred directly to the committee and so gave them no way to reply. What could HUAC do, defend the Salem witch trials? And yet Miller's metaphor stuck so well that to this day the activities of the committee are often described as a "witch-hunt."

Best of all, probably, is humor. Zealots, whatever their cause, invariably lack a sense of humor. They can't reply in kind to jokes. They're as unhappy on the territory of humor as a mounted knight on a skating rink. Victorian prudishness, for example, seems to have been defeated mainly by treating it as a joke. Likewise its reincarnation as political correctness. "I am glad that I managed to write 'The Crucible,'" Arthur Miller wrote, "but looking back I have often wished I'd had the temperament to do an absurd comedy, which is what the situation deserved."

ABQ

A Dutch friend says I should use Holland as an example of a tolerant society. It's true they have a long tradition of comparative open-mindedness. For centuries the low countries were the place to go to say things you couldn't say anywhere else, and this helped to make the region a center of scholarship and industry (which have been closely tied for longer than most people realize). Descartes, though claimed by the French, did much of his thinking in Holland.

And yet, I wonder. The Dutch seem to live their lives up to their necks in rules and regulations. There's so much you can't do there; is there really nothing you can't say?

Certainly the fact that they value open-mindedness is no guarantee. Who thinks they're not open-minded? Our hypothetical prim miss from the suburbs thinks she's open-minded. Hasn't she been taught to be? Ask anyone, and they'll say the same thing: they're pretty open-minded, though they draw the line at things that are really wrong. (Some tribes may avoid "wrong" as judgemental, and may instead use a more neutral sounding euphemism like "negative" or "destructive".)

When people are bad at math, they know it, because they get the wrong answers on tests. But when people are bad at open-mindedness they don't know it. In fact they tend to think the opposite. Remember, it's the nature of fashion to be invisible. It wouldn't work otherwise. Fashion doesn't seem like fashion to someone in the grip of it. It just seems like the right thing to do. It's only by looking from a distance that we see oscillations in people's idea of the right thing to do, and can identify them as fashions.

Time gives us such distance for free. Indeed, the arrival of new fashions makes old fashions easy to see, because they seem so ridiculous by contrast. From one end of a pendulum's swing, the other end seems especially far away.

To see fashion in your own time, though, requires a conscious effort. Without time to give you distance, you have to create distance yourself. Instead of being part of the mob, stand as far away from it as you can and watch what it's doing. And pay especially close attention whenever an idea is being suppressed. Web filters for children and employees often ban sites containing pornography, violence, and hate speech. What counts as pornography and violence? And what, exactly, is "hate speech?" This sounds like a phrase out of 1984.

Labels like that are probably the biggest external clue. If a statement is false, that's the worst thing you can say about it. You don't need to say that it's heretical. And if it isn't false, it shouldn't be suppressed. So when you see statements being attacked as x-ist or y-ic (substitute your current values of x and y), whether in 1630 or 2030, that's a sure sign that something is wrong. When you hear such labels being used, ask why.

Especially if you hear yourself using them. It's not just the mob you need to learn to watch from a distance. You need to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance. That's not a radical idea, by the way; it's the main difference between children and adults. When a child gets angry because he's tired, he doesn't know what's happening. An adult can distance himself enough from the situation to say "never mind, I'm just tired." I don't see why one couldn't, by a similar process, learn to recognize and discount the effects of moral fashions.

You have to take that extra step if you want to think clearly. But it's harder, because now you're working against social customs instead of with them. Everyone encourages you to grow up to the point where you can discount your own bad moods. Few encourage you to continue to the point where you can discount society's bad moods.

How can you see the wave, when you're the water? Always be questioning. That's the only defence. What can't you say? And why?

#philiosophy #heresy #morality #fashion

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (18/?)

But then he came back and won the World Series.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Thank you all for being so incredibly kind to me all of the time! You don’t have to do that, and I can’t thank you enough! We’re back from London in this chapter, and they’re having that “sleepover” that was talked about. In a totally not cheesy (or at least my tolerable amount of cheesy) way ❤️

Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for beta-ing, and @carpedzem, I think you might like this one!

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-/-

“I have four days off of work, and I feel like you.”

Emma sighs the words as she drops a bag in the entryway of Killian’s apartment, the black and white bag making a small thud against the hardwood. He’s got absolutely no idea what she has in there, but it sounds like every book she’s ever owned plus a brick or two that she somehow picked up on her subway ride over here.

Killian fakes a laugh, rolling his eyes a bit as Emma walks up to him and wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pressing up on her toes to gently brush her lips over his in greeting.

“You’re so funny,” he says sarcastically. “You know for a fact what I do on my days where I’m not pitching. I work a solid two hours a day on all of those days.”

Emma hums as her fingers curl into the back of his hair, and he can practically see the mischief dancing in her eyes. “You poor, hard-working man. I don’t know how you do that.”

“I put one pant leg on at a time like everyone else in the world.”

“You are basically a hero.”

“I definitely think I have a mark in a hero column.” Killian dips his head to run his lips over hers again in a better greeting than the one they just had. “I’m happy you have four days off. Whatever are you going to do with them?”

“Tonight, I was promised a sleepover with my boyfriend where he’s going to bake for me. Tomorrow, I think I’m going to go hang out with my nephew and take him outside to sweat it out in this insufferable July heat, and then for the next two days – who knows? I think I might just sleep while you spend your days exercising and suffering outside.”

“I am particularly interested in the activities you’re going to do on the first day.”

“I thought you would be. Can I take a shower first, though? I went to spin class with Ruby this morning, and I feel super gross.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything about the smell but – ”

Emma slaps his chest and laughs before baking away, a smile on her face. “Shut up, you ass. I’m finally going to go see what kind of shampoo it is that you use to make your hair soft and smell so good. You can learn a lot about a man from his shower.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you, love? It feels wrong that you’re seeing my bedroom and bathroom for the first time without me.”

“Oh no, it’s awesome. Like I said,” Emma sighs as she picks up her bag supposedly full of books and bricks, “I’m about to snoop. Be back in however much time it takes me to go through your stuff.”

“The hot water twists to the right,” he yells at her before picking up his mug of coffee and taking a sip, laughing under his breath at Emma.

Ridiculous woman who he loves.

So much.

Every part of him wants to tell her, wants to say the words out loud so that she knows just what she means to him, but he’s still biting his tongue. He thinks Emma might love him too, that she might be in the same place emotionally, but he doesn’t know. There have been moments in the past week where he thinks maybe just maybe she’s going to say something, but then she’ll change the subject or smile at him and he’ll know that the words aren’t coming.

Emma’s been burned so badly in her past, from her parents to her exes to the assholes she works with, and he’s still so amazed that their relationship is going so well. They very obviously had a rocky start, but the faith and trust that he has in her and that she has in him to share the depths of her heart astounds him.

This is – this is everything that he never thought he’d have again, and he keeps telling himself to calm down in his future thoughts because it’s still so soon.

When has his timing ever matched up with conventional standards?

But she makes him so incredibly happy, and even when they get into little arguments, he’s glad to be having those. Weirdly, he missed them. He missed having someone to debate dinner plans with and to have to schedule time to spend with and all of those other little things.

Emma was so good with his nieces in London last week too. He knew that she would be since she has so much experience with Leo, but it was refreshing to see how taken she was with Addy and Lucy. Or really, how taken Addy and Lucy were with her. Killian knew that asking her to come to Addison’s birthday party was a bit of a gamble that she likely wouldn’t take him up on, but he’s so glad that she did. Watching her walk around the room in that yellow dress effortlessly talking to his family was absolutely everything to him.

Logically, he knows that once they decide to share that they’re dating with those closest to them, Emma’s going to have to do some kind of reintroduction to the family, and he hopes that it goes well then too, that no one is mad at them for hiding such a big thing right under their noses.

That’s not going to happen. It simply won’t.

Elsa and the girls had nothing but nice things to say about Emma after that day, especially when the girls kept trying to sit next to her on the plane ride home, and all Liam did was tease him about asking her out and how she must be the most forgiving woman on the planet.

She must be.

Killian can hear the water run through the pipes to the shower in his bathroom, and since he heard no screaming, he assumes Emma figured out how the shower works well enough on her own. So, he opens his fridge and starts pulling out the ingredients he needs today. He had to go grocery shopping this morning, which was a bit of an ordeal since he had no idea what he was shopping for, and he feels like his fridge is stocked with food to make enough baked goods to stock one of those insane sales that Addy and Lucy have at their school every few months.

How much money can they really raise through selling baked goods? Donating money would likely be more effective, but he is very obviously not on a PTA board.

But he told Emma that he would bake for her one of these days, or really, that he would bake with her, and he’ll be damned if they don’t finally do that today. He swears that things keep getting more and more hectic lately in between traveling for work and then doing actual work, and they never get a moment to just breathe and be in each other’s company.

Or talk.

They have a hell of a lot to talk about as well, and there never seems to be time. Hence why they’ve been home from London for over a week and still haven’t been able to talk about telling their friends and family.

What is life going to look like during the off-season? He wants to imagine, but he can’t. Not quite yet. That’s getting ahead of himself once more.

As the water in the bathroom runs, he starts mixing the ingredients for the crust of the strawberry lemonade bars they’re going to make. He knows that Emma is a bigger fan of chocolate while he is not, and on another day, they’ll do something more up her alley. He’s got things for smores, mostly as a joke, and he imagines she wouldn’t mind simply eating the chocolate bars.

The water turns off in the bathroom, and yet twenty minutes later, Emma still hasn’t emerged from his bedroom. Curious, he puts the whisk he’s using down and wanders back down the hallway to his bedroom, his door open so that he can see Emma sitting on his bed with a brush in hand as she works at a tangle in her damp hair, gaze focused out of one of floor-to-ceiling windows to the city skyline below.

“Hey.”

Her head twists toward him, a soft smile curved on her lips.

“Hey,” she smiles, tugging at her brush, “you have a super nice shower, and I’m totally going to utilize that more often. Also, your bed is comfortable, and it is a shame we have never used it before. Like, I love your couch a lot and the times we have had on it, but I think the bed may win.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing in here this entire time? Thinking about my bed?”

“Yep. I wasn’t really going to snoop. That’s weird. I just wanted to make sure your bed was comfortable, and I was right.”

Killian chuckles under his breath as he steps further into the room and bends his knees to brush a kiss across her temple. “I wouldn’t have minded if you snooped. There’s nothing to hide in here.” She arches a brow. “Really? You don’t have some kind of super weird shrine of me hidden in your closet?”

“Hmmm, no. I have one of Erin Andrews though. She’s my favorite blonde sportscaster.”

“You’re the worst,” Emma groans even as a chuckle passes through her lips. She tosses her brush behind her, letting it bounce on the mattress, before falling back onto the mattress herself. It’s then that he notices she’s wearing a matching set of pajamas, pink and white striped shorts with a button down with the same pattern. “Your jokes are not homeruns today.”

“Yours aren’t either, darling,” he sighs before sitting down next to her and running his hands up her inner thigh before messing with the hem of her shorts. “Did you bring matching pajamas simply to mess with me?”

Her head pops up to look at him, golden hair darkened by the water and her face bare of makeup. “Yep. You said we were having a sleepover, and I am taking you to your word. If it makes you feel less like we’re teenagers, though, I do not have a bra on under this shirt.”

“Really now?” he growls, twisting on the bed and crawling toward her, his mouth hovering over hers as his hand snakes up underneath her shirt to feel the soft skin and the very obvious lack of a bra covering her breast as he flicks his fingers over her nipple. “Ah, you weren’t lying then.”

“I tend to like to tell the truth.”

“That’s good. Me too.”

His tongue slides into the warm heat of her mouth as Emma gasps beneath him, her hips arching up while her mouth explores his even though she’s most definitely already got it mapped out. It’s as intoxicating as ever to kiss Emma, to glide and nip and tease as arousal tricks down to the base of his spine and his groin. This is not at all what he came into his bedroom for, but intentions were very literally left at the door now that he’s teasing her breast and tangling his tongue with hers in a passionate slide.

It’s quick as he unbuttons the buttons on Emma’s shirt, quicker still as she pushes him onto his back and slides his joggers off of his legs so that she can bite at the skin at his hip, nibbling a bruise into his skin that he’s sure will be there for days. There’s no time to worry about that, though, because then Emma’s hand is settling at the base of his length while her mouth settles around the tip, and he nearly implodes right then and there.

Fucking glorious.

And he tells her so in a stuttered breath, one that he can barely catch from the way that she’s working him higher and higher. His hips arch up off the bed when she hums around him, and his head presses back into his pillow while his eyes shut. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t…and then the heat of Emma’s mouth is gone, and his eyes open as his heart wildly pounds in his chest. He’s just about to ask if she’s okay and then if she is, what the hell is she doing, but then he watches her slide a condom down his shaft before she settles over him and sinks down onto him so that he can feel the most glorious heat of all.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, reaching forward to grab onto her hips, holding on tightly enough that his fingerprints might as well be inked into her skin. “How many times do I have to tell you, love, that you’re going to be the death of me?”

Emma rocks above him, her still-damp hair falling down her back as she arches it. “A few more times, at least. Or until you die.”

“I love that you can be so morbid in a moment like this.”

“I, ah, I try.”

As much as Killian wants to thrust up into her, to control the movements and the pace, he lets Emma do just that as he watches her move above him in what is very well the most glorious sight he’s ever seen. He can turn his head to either the right and see a skyline of Manhattan that looks out onto Central Park, but nothing can compare to this. Not the view from his bedroom or the view of miles and miles of ocean stretching out ahead of him with the sun beating down on his back.

Not even the view of thousands of people cheering for him in the stands.

Nothing compares to Emma.

The muscles in her thighs flex as she continues to move, her hands curled into the hair of his chest and pulling at him, and he can see sweat beading at her forehead. He imagines that later she’ll complain about how she just showered, how she was already sore from going to spin class, but there are no complaints now as his orgasm rolls in on a slow motion that has him cursing Emma’s name instead of confessing his love for her.

That may very well be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but thankfully he could focus on his own falling apart and then Emma’s, her orgasm coming to her with her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

That’s another glorious sight right there. They seem to be never ending.

“Just for the record,” Emma sighs several minutes later when they’ve cleaned themselves up and changed back into clothes, “that was not my intention for this morning.”

Killian cocks a brow and moves to cross his arms behind his head from where he’s propped up in bed, a sated smile on his face. “Am I simply that irresistible to you?”

“You smelled really good, so obviously I just had to fuck you.”

“Oh, well, of course.”

Emma giggles against his shoulder before looking up at him and brushing her lips over the corner of his mouth. “And maybe. I feel like I can’t tell you that you’re irresistible because then I’ll inflate your ego too much.”

“Ah yes. That could be an issue.”

Emma opens her mouth to say something, and he feels his stomach twist in anticipation only for Emma’s stomach to audibly growl. “I feel like now would be a good time to get that baking done.”

“Oh shit,” he curses, gently moving Emma off of him so that he can get up from bed, “I left the ingredients out on the counter before I came in here. They’re not supposed to sit out that long.”

-/-

“You’ve got a little something on your cheek, love,” Killian teases as the two of them stand in his kitchen, his countertops covered in bowls and pans with cartons and bags left open. It’s far from the tidiness that he usually keeps, but no part of him minds this morning as he and Emma get more time together.

Emma scrunches up her nose in response, reaching her hand up to wipe at her face on both sides and only managing to get flyaway hairs from her still-damp braid stuck to her cheek.

“Did I get it?”

“No,” he lies, squinting his eyes so that he can focus in on her face just that little bit more. How is he so enamored with those freckles? “On your left cheek, Swan. Right in the middle.”

She huffs with a slight roll of her eyes before raising her hand and rubbing at her cheek while he reaches into the bowl of icing for their strawberry lemonade bars they’re (mostly him) making and swipes his finger through the cream before running his finger down Emma’s cheek as her lips part and her eyes quickly blink up at him.

“Did you just make up me having something on my cheek so that you could put icing there?”

“Yep.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re calling me that a lot today.”

“Yeah, well,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as the pout that’s on her face begins crack, the corner of her mouth ticking up the slightest bit on the right, “you are being one.”

“Hey, love?” he asks, knowing that he’s about to start truly pissing her off, “you have a little something on your cheek. You should probably get that.”

If her eyes could roll to the back of her head, they would, and while Emma says that he’s the one without a great poker face, she doesn’t have too great of one right now either. She uncrosses her arms, and she looks like she’s going to wipe at the stripe of icing that’s on her cheek, but at the last minute, she lunges for the bowl only for him to grab her wrists and pull her arms upwards so that she can’t get the icing.

“Asshole,” Emma repeats while he laughs, nudging her knee away from his so that they can move out of the kitchen. Or at least a little. He’s pretty sure that Emma has her knees locked so that she won’t move. “You can’t just put icing on my face and not give me the opportunity to do the same to you.”

The words “love isn’t fair” almost escape his lips, but he bites his tongue, one particular word in that sentence not something he can say unless he’s calling Emma “love.” Even that sometimes seems risky, but it’s as natural as saying her name.

“Maybe later,” he falsely sighs, dipping his head to brush his lips over her cheek so that he can taste the icing that resides there, a sweet taste of strawberry. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“I don’t think I’m covered in cheese.”

“Oh my gosh,” Emma groans, leaning forward so that her forehead presses into his chest, her laugh loud enough so that he can feel the vibrations of it. “I cannot believe that I’m actively choosing to date you.”

“Trust me, darling, I ask myself why you’re dating me every single day.”

“As you should.”

They eventually get back to actually baking, the two of them working in companionable silence even though he keeps having to tell Emma to keep going on mixing the batter. She wants to use a mixer, which is fine most of the time, but this is always better if it’s done by hand. Emma is not a baker in the slightest, and while he knew that, it does surprise him the slightest bit when she asks questions that he thinks most people know the answer to. Then again, she never had someone to teach her to cook or bake or any basic life skills, which is probably why she loves grilled cheese sandwiches and other simple foods like that. They were something she could teach herself.

Liam taught him how to cook. Brennan never cared enough to.

But then again, past the knowledge that Liam gave him and that he learned from watching the Cooking Channel, he’d know nothing about baking if it wasn’t for the accident and his broken arm and torn rotator cuff. Almost instinctively, he rolls his shoulders back and begins stretching his right arm to loosen it up. It’s felt fine the past few days, but he felt a slight pull in it late last night and is hoping that it’s not going to start acting up again. He knows that his injury is most likely going to have a permanent effect on him, but like always, some days are better than others. And he’s doing everything to prevent it. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if presented with another long injury lay-off. Would he even have the motivation to try to come back?

That’s not a thought that he wants to have.

So, he doesn’t. He goes back to telling Emma about his day yesterday and how well he thinks the team is going to do for the rest of the season. His confidence with his arm may fluctuate, but his confidence with the team does not. They’re playing damn well this season, better even than last season, and he can’t help but hope that they’re going to be standing on the field as winners at the last game of the season.

Getting ahead of himself. He’s got to stop doing that.

“Yeah, well, if that happens, you still can’t ask me out on air,” Emma teases, bumping her hip into his while she pours the batter into the pan.

“Swan, we’ve very much established that only you ask me out in this relationship.”

“Exactly. I’m obviously the person who always makes the big moves.”

Killian shakes his head before kissing to top of her head and turning around to put the tray into his oven, closing the door and setting a timer for thirty minutes on his phone. He and Emma settle down onto his couch, Emma throwing her legs over his lap and stretching her arm over his shoulder while his hand settles on her inner thigh. It’s comfortable, relaxed, and he could fall asleep with the way the sun is softly coming through his windows and the television is playing quietly in the background.

But he doesn’t. Mostly because Emma starts talking.

“So, we need to talk.”

His head twists toward her so that he can look in her eyes. “I feel like that’s something you’ve said before.”

“Funny,” Emma laughs, nibbling on her bottom lip, “because I have, and we’re about to have the same conversation.”

A sigh passes through his lips as his mind connects the dots. “Ah, well, what is it you want to say? I figure you have an itemized list in that head since you’re the one who brought it up.”

“It’s not itemized, per say. It’s just kind of there all mixed around.” Her free hand moves as she says this, and she sinks a little further into the couch, splaying her legs out over him even more. It’s the most comfortable and awkward he thinks she’s ever looked in his presence. “I’m…it’s hard, okay. Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says even as he laughs, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip while Emma glares up at him. “Okay, okay. You’re just so flustered, and it’s adorable.”

“How do we ever have serious conversations?”

“Usually we’re in a hotel bed.”

“Damn, you’re right. I’d say we go back to your bed, but I feel like I’ll get distracted by how soft your sheets are.”

“Oh, and not by me?”

“Nope,” Emma chuckles, bopping his nose, “not at all.”

His hand taps at her hip, fingers curling up underneath her top so that he can pinch the skin on her stomach. “Share what’s on your mind, darling.”

She sighs, her lashes fluttering closed against cheeks.

“So, I really, really want to tell people about you and me. I want to be able to not have to lie to Ruby about where I’ve been or not be able to tell David and Mary Margaret what’s going on in my life. And I want you to be able to tell Liam and Elsa. I don’t want to go to any other parties where I just happen to be there and have to act like I don’t’ know all of this information about your family. But then it’s just so complicated because, like, what about your team? Obviously, we can’t tell everyone, but you probably want to tell Robin and Will, maybe even Eric. And telling Eric means telling Ariel, probably Belle too, and then it’s just this wide web of people who know and can’t say anything. And it really doesn’t change how we spend our time together except adding a few apartments for us to hang out in. By the way, there’s a dude with a camera hanging out outside the apartment building, and I had to wait for him to leave his spot to come inside. So, there’s that too.”

Emma just spewed a couple hundred words at him in what must have been a singular breath, and he feels like he’s whiplashed as he tries to work through them all and pick exactly where he needs to start.

Damn, okay. This is complicated. This is all so complicated, and it’s very much his fault for his actions of nearly a year ago. There are other factors and complications, and while yes, the two of them could very much say that they’re dating and be able to live their lives more freely, they both know that it’ll be easier to possibly share once the season is over. It’ll make Emma’s life and job less complicated and while things are obviously going well, those few extra months will make it easier for them to actually know what they’re doing here.

“Okay,” Killian finally sighs, figuring he might as well take it item by item, “so first of all, I can get you a key to the back entrance so you don’t have to deal with the occasional obnoxious paparazzi who obviously don’t know that I’m not that interesting. I should have already done that, but I felt like that would be a bit presumptuous.”

“Yeah, I would have freaked the fuck out.”

“You’re not doing that right now?”

She shrugs. “Only a little.”

“So that’s one problem solved,” he sighs, tapping one finger against her stomach for emphasis. “Next, when you go home tomorrow, I want you to tell Ruby and Graham, okay? That’s going to be step one, and I’d honestly really like to come over and see your apartment and meet them. The same goes with David and Mary Margaret and even Ruth. Those people are all your family, and if you want to share that you have the most handsome lover in all of New York, I want you to do that.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to tell Ruth and David. I’m going to call you my lover and see which one freaks out more. I bet David asks me for sex details.”

“Swan,” he groans as his head leans against the top of his couch, his lips curling into a smile, “that sounds like a good way for me to get murdered.”

“David is not that scary.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve found that no matter how progressive the world gets, older brothers tend to be far too protective, and no offense, but David is that type. I bet when we meet that he’ll squeeze my hand far too tightly in the handshake.”

“I hate that you’re right about that.”

“Exactly. But we’re clear on that. You tell your family, and I will tell mine. We’ll both make it clear that this doesn’t get out, and since we trust them, we know they’re going to respect that, yeah? And just so you know, I guarantee that Liam is going to insist on meeting you again and pull all of that older brother shit too.”

“Maybe we should just let he and David hash it out.”

“That’s exactly what we should do,” Killian chuckles as his phone starts to buzz, the timer for the oven going off. Emma’s legs slide off of him for him to stand from the couch and walk to the kitchen, grabbing two oven mitts to remove the hot pan and place it on the burners. “But seriously. We take this slow, okay? I know that I’m going to tell Liam and Elsa first, and you’ll likely tell Ruby first. And if it goes well, we take baby steps to move onto other people.”

“Are they going to totally hate us for keeping this a secret from them?”

“Maybe but not once they see how happy we are.”

Emma stands from the couch and walks over to him in the kitchen, leaning over his island to eye the cooling lemonade bars. “So, when are we going to be able to eat those?”

“In about an hour, so you have to be patient.”

“I’ve never been particularly good at that.”

-/-

Walking around the apartment, Killian starts opening up curtains to let the florescent lights of the city in, his bedroom painted in a soft glow of red and greens and yellows. The only light he has on in his bedroom is from the television, so he keeps seeing Emma’s features in flashes. It’s likely the laziest day he’s had in years, and while they did hash out details of letting their under-wraps relationship be a little more public, most of their day has been spent in bed exploring each other or watching Netflix and eating their baked goods and the pizza that he ordered. He knows that he and Emma teased each other about this being a sleepover when they’re both grown adults who are dating and not teenagers who are spending the night at their friend’s house, but they’re somehow falling into all of the stereotypes they teased each other about.

The glass of rum he’s had and the glass of wine Emma’s nursing surely help.

Maybe a little bit of boredom too.

“Truth,” Emma says flatly, pulling his comforter further up over her lap.

“Hmm,” he hums while he makes his way back to the bed, crawling under the covers and shifting to run his legs over Emma’s so that he can feel her smooth skin, “tell me the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“My boyfriend asked me out on TV.”

“Is that your serious answer?”

“Yep.” Emma twists in the bed and scoots down further under the covers, her blonde hair still twisted into a braid, but a lot of the front pieces have fallen out and are landing on her bare shoulders. “That’s what I’m sticking with for now. It’s your turn. Truth or dare.”

“I feel ridiculous playing this game.”

“But it’s fun.”

“Aye,” he laughs, reaching over to grab her hand and tangle their fingers together before resting their hands in the small space between them. “Truth.”

Emma’s eyes close as she thinks, her lips pursing, and he’s got absolutely no clue what’s about to come out of her mouth. “What is your least favorite thing about me?”

“Damn, Swan, that’s dirty.”

“Usually you like that.”

“Different kind of dirty. Um – ” Killian clicks his tongue as his mind runs through a short list of things that annoy him about Emma as he tries to think of something that won’t get Emma truly pissed at him. “I don’t like how difficult it is to get you to answer the phone.”

“That’s a copout.”

“So was your last answer.”

“Fine. I’ll accept it. Dare.”

“Kiss me.”

Emma rolls her eyes right after he says the words, but she still presses forward to briefly brush her lips over his, a soft, slow kiss that has his body aching for more. But Emma pulls back before he can deepen the kiss, and he’s left with the feel of her lips on his.

“That was also a copout,” she murmurs as her hands reach down to pull the covers all the way up over her shoulders, her breasts disappearing from sight. “Truth.”

“Tell me your absolute favorite movie.”

“The Princess Bride. Feel free to quote it with me any time, and I will quote it right back.”

“As you wish.”

Emma’s eyes widen and her lips part at his words, and earlier he should have said that his least favorite thing about Emma is how hard it is for him to read her even when she’s an open book to him. But an open book half printed in code where he partially knows what’s going on but can’t quite decipher the rest.

“Your turn,” Emma whispers, snuggling further into the pillow. If he doesn’t watch out, she’s going to take his pillow home with her like she did his Vandy sweatshirt.

“Truth.”

“If you could talk to your dad again, would you?”

It’s a question out of nowhere, one he wasn’t expecting, and as much as it makes his blood boil to even think of his dad, he doesn’t mind being open like this with Emma, not when she squeezes his hand to reassure him and looks at him with green eyes that might as well hold the stars for all the light overshadowing the darkness that he sees in them.

“No,” he answers immediately before biting his tongue. “Maybe, but only to tell him how much he’s screwed up my life. I don’t – I believe in forgiveness and learning from your mistakes. I would be nothing without all of that, but I – a dad should love his kids and be there for them no matter what, not on the condition of how well one of them is playing baseball. I know that if I ever have kids, I want them to feel everything that I didn’t at home. I want to be more like my mom in all of the love that she showed, you know?”

Emma doesn’t say anything then, but she does release his hand to reach forward and grab the chain around his neck, letting his mom’s ring fall into her palm. “You’re a good man, you know that, twenty-nine?”

“Eh.”

“You are. I promise.”

Emma moves across the bed so that she can wrap her arm around his waist, simply sitting still with him in the quietness of the room as sirens and car horns blare outside, the life outside the city continuously moving as they stay still, reveling in the silence of the cocoon of his bedroom and not letting the outside world get to them. This has been one of his favorite days this year, which is saying a lot when he’s had so many that have already meant the world to him. He doesn’t know how it could get better.

Lips brush across the muscles on his stomach, soft and gentle and everything that Emma can be. “Killian?”

“Yeah, love?” he mumbles, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down the smooth expanse of her back.

“Dare me to do something bold.”

He chuckles, not entirely sure where this is coming from, but he does what she says anyways. “Emma, love, do something bold.”

Her intake of breath is something that he feels against his chest before she says, “I love you.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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devilstree · 4 years

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Answer the questions and tag 11 people you want to know better!

@devildomz tagged us in an ask game. ok hell yeah this is a 2 in 1 blog

1. What do you prefer to be called namewise?

adri: adri !

nat: nat ........ lol our names are right there

2. When is your birthday?

adri: june 29 ... cancer season 😌 ✌️

nat: december 11 sagittarius gang only

3. Where do you live? (You can just give the country’s or state name if you’re not comfortable with sharing the city name)

adri: both of us are from the sf bay area

nat: what she said

4. Three things you are doing right now?

adri: i made fresh strawberry milk + boba and i am sipping on that. i am also listening to weeb music. i am also drawing somn 👀

nat: i am dyeing fabric in a pot with acrylic paint bc im in the throes of finals week and also im blasting fall out boy just one yesterday cause its 2015 again. yeah

5. Four fandoms that have your peak interest right now?

adri: at the forefront it is literally obey me the demon dating sim and haikyuu the volleyball anime is my ultimate comfort media. thats all folks i dont have four

nat: obey me is my emotional support quarantine hyperfixation but also animal crossing

6. How has this pandemic been treating you?

adri: not kidding! godawful! i hate it here ive never been more depressed in my life

nat: my life is gonna turn around as soon as im done with class next week but for now i am literally going through it.

7. A song you can’t stop listening to right now?

adri: tattoos together -- lauv

nat: mouth of the devil - mother mother

8. Recommend a movie

adri: marie antoinette dir. sofia coppola. is something that can be so personal

nat: phantom thread 2017 dir. paul thomas anderson. absolutely insane

9. How old are you?

adri: i am 19

nat: me also

10. School, university, occupation or other

adri: university but summer break just started 4 me. double majoring in english/environmental studies

nat: university also i go to art school. studying textiles & trying to double major in illustration. still working on the last one tho........

11. Do you prefer heat or cold?

adri: for outside weather sunny and warm, for indoor temp cold

nat: 70 degrees is the ideal living temperature i dont take feedback. also it is better to be cold than hot

12. Name one fact about you that others might find unusual

adri: bruv i am a normie i cannot think of an unusual thing. i am a vegan thats my weirdest unusual shit

nat: idk uhhhhhhhh. actually ok i thought my birthday was the wrong day for 10 years

13. Are you shy?

adri: i do not think that im shy i literally am just woefully picky with people i have in my life so i snip out people i dont immediately click with. not shy just unfortunately frigid akhddkg

nat: no only on the internet

14. Do you have preferred pronouns?

adri: she/her

nat: anythings cool honestly but i prefer he/they slightly.

15. Biggest pet peeves?

adri: gross but. aggressive burping without apology when i dont know u like that

nat: hate it when ppl try to be rude funny like what is ur damage lol.. only do that if i know u -_-

16. What is your favourite “-dere” type?

adri: i had to look this shit up bc i didnt know any dere type other than tsundere but i still say tsundere because its so fun

nat: not a weeb so i had to check anyway its deredere i love happy bitches. good for them

17. Rate your life 1-10. 1 being crappy, 10 being amazing.

adri: last week it was a -8 but today it’s a 5??? im unfortunately going thru some shit rn but im on the up again

nat: 3-4 right now but i am finally getting off my ass for my finals. as soon as next week passes i guarantee i WILL be at 10

18. What is your main blog?

adri: @adrisama where i blog about haikyuu and rb whatever else i want

nat: @goo-mies its just everything there.

19. List your side blogs and what they are used for.

adri: oh christ. they are all lowkey dead for now bc i literally caught obey me disease but @twilitinhere for twilight blogging. @puffsleeves for blogging about anne with an e. @agrestes for miraculous ladybug. u are looking at the newest sideblog here at devilstree dot tumblr dot com

nat: i have an art blog @dovebranch and an aes blog @solohsis which r the only ones im really using rn. i used to have a tf2 sideblog but i havent touched it in 2 years and the art is old so i am NOT sharing

20. One thing you think people should know about you before they become your friends?

adri: this is just for people who follow this blog and play obey me.... i stan satan and mammon. yes they r on critical opposing ends of the sapiosexual/morosexual spectrum. i have two hands!!!!! 🤧🤧🤧

nat: im just gonna piggyback off of what adri answered. anyway i stan levi and asmo who are also on opposite extremes except its the two ends of the cringe-sexy scale. (pinches fingers together) its about the duality

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sheenaghshanmusicblog-blog · 4 years

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Music Theory Analysis Blog

Hey guys! It’s Sheenagh. I hope you’re all keeping well. For my second post here I thought to put some of the music theory that you guys learnt in my first post into practice. To do this, I am going to analyze the use and function of several theory concepts in two popular contemporary pieces of music- “Blank Space” by Taylor Swift, and “Jolene” by Dolly Parton. This will hopefully put some of the key elements of music theory into context for you!

Song 1: “Blank Space” - Taylor Swift https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg

The first song I have chosen to analyze is the 2014 pop hit “Blank Space” by the ten-time Grammy award winner Taylor Swift. The song “Blank Space” is written in a satirical style, addressing how the media perceived Swift and her relationships for years. Swift co-wrote the song with Max Martin and Shellback. The three writers wrote it from the perspective of the crazy serial dater that the media was making Taylor Swift out to be for so long. I will begin by providing you with the song’s lyrics below.

Lyrics:

Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things Magic, madness, heaven sin Saw you there and I thought Oh my God, look at that face You look like my next mistake Love's a game, want to play? New money, suit and tie I can read you like a magazine Ain't it funny, rumors, lie And I know you heard about me So hey, let's be friends I'm dying to see how this one ends Grab your passport and my hand I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it's over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane 'Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

'Cause we're young and we're reckless We'll take this way too far It'll leave you breathless Or with a nasty scar Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane But I've got a blank space baby And I'll write your name

Cherry lips, crystal skies I could show you incredible things Stolen kisses, pretty lies You're the king baby I'm your Queen Find out what you want Be that girl for a month Wait the worst is yet to come, oh no Screaming, crying, perfect storm I can make all the tables turn Rose gardens filled with thorns Keep you second guessing like "Oh my God, who is she?" I get drunk on jealousy But you'll come back each time you leave 'Cause darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

'Cause we're young and we're reckless We'll take this way too far It'll leave you breathless Or with a nasty scar Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane (Insane) But I've got a blank space baby And I'll write your name

Boys only want love if it's torture Don't say I didn't say I didn't warn ya Boys only want love if it's torture Don't say I didn't say I didn't warn ya

Style, Melody, And Harmony

Within the pop music genre today, primary elements of music theory such as melody meeting certain criteria is extremely important. Typically, pop songs have catchy, simple melodies, in particular memorable hooks that are sung over 3 or 4 chord progressions. They generally have both a verse and a chorus, each with different musical material, and in a lot of cases, a bridge connecting them too. The vocal style that is found in many pop songs has been largely influenced by African American musical traditions, for example, Rhythm and Blues (R&B), gospel music, and soul music. A strong sense of melodic direction is characteristic to all of these types of music.

In relation to “Blank Space”, the song definitely features a very interesting, attention-grabbing melody that reflects the theme of the song. Furthermore, it is in the key of F major, and features no key changes. The chords change consistently every two bars as is common in the pop style. This means that the song’s harmonic rhythm stays the same for the entire duration of the song.

The song’s vocals on the whole are pretty thin in terms of timbre and texture, which is why they are double layered (as in the majority of pop music). The inclusion of vocal harmonies in the chorus and bridge is also due to this, as is the occasional overdub. This adds an extra layer of instrumentation to the song.

Instrumentation And Rhythm

As I discussed above, the song “Blank Space” includes a very memorable melody, which essentially strips down to a basic riff loop. This riff loop introduces a new instrument every 4 bars, which is effective at keeping listeners engaged. The song’s instrumentation largely consists of synthetic instruments, such as digitalized drums, bass, lead and pads. In the second chorus, the introduction of the clean acoustic guitar and vocal harmonies can be heard to create a thicker texture to the chorus. This is effective at creating a sense of build-up in the song before the bridge, a technique used widely in pop music.

In relation to rhythm, pop songs like “Blank Space” include a lot of emphasis on the song’s rhythm. Throughout the years, the rhythms and the sound of pop music have been heavily influenced by the genres of rock and roll, reggae, swing jazz, funk, disco, and in more recent years, hip hop. These styles of music all emphasize rhythm. This oftentimes includes syncopation, a basic stripped-down riff, or simple loop that is repeated throughout the majority of the song. Such repetition as seen in “Blank Space” is a technique that is successful at making a song more memorable. Additionally, “Blank Space” has a 4/4 time signature, which is again, typical to the pop style- the most common time signature within the pop genre. Similarly, its tempo of 96 BPM falls into the typical pop song range.

Structure

The song “Blank Space”’ has a structure typical to that of a song written in the modern pop style- a generic verse – chorus structure. To examine it in more depth however, it essentially consists of an intro (which is 2 bars long), verse (16 bars), chorus (16 bars), interlude (2 bars), second verse, repeated chorus, bridge (8 bars), and then the chorus again. At 3 minutes and 51 seconds long, the song fits perfectly within the bracket of 3-5 minutes for the average length of a pop hit.

Additionally, the fact that this song is written in a very standard pop song style like the rest of Swift’s songs, while being entirely different in subject and in perspective, is very ironic and a part of the satirical nature and structure of “Blank Space”. As the song is written in the first-person narrative in a satirical way, this play on how most pop songs are self-referential is a technique that Swift used in "Blank Space” that is unique and clever.

Song 2: “Jolene” - Dolly Parton https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ixrje2rXLMA

The second song that I have chosen to analyze is the iconic country song “Jolene” written by Dolly Parton, released in 1974. Written without any co-writers and in many ways very different to “Blank Space”, this song addresses honest, universal emotions in a very admirable vulnerable way, and would be a lot more relatable to listeners than “Blank Space” would be. Such themes include envy, insecurity, and a fear of being abandoned. I will begin my analysis of this song by providing you with the lyrics below.

Lyrics:

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare With flaming locks of auburn hair With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green Your smile is like a breath of spring Your voice is soft like summer rain And I cannot compete with you Jolene

He talks about you in his sleep And there's nothing I can do to keep From crying when he calls your name Jolene

And I can easily understand How you could easily take my man But you don't know what he means to me Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

You could have your choice of men But I could never love again He's the only one for me Jolene

I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him even though you can Jolene, Jolene

Subject - What Inspired “Jolene”?

The song “Jolene” was inspired by a beautiful red-haired lady who worked at the local bank where Parton lived at the time, who would regularly flirt with Parton’s husband Carl Dean, shortly after he had married Parton. Parton felt inadequate and feared that this woman (whose real name was actually not Jolene) would steal her husband from her. In an interview, Parton told the story of how she chose the name Jolene for this lady- at one of Parton’s shows a young fan who asked her for her autograph told her that her name was Jolene. The name instantly captivated Parton who began saying it over and over to herself, before telling the girl that her pretty name sounded like a song, and she was going to write a song called “Jolene”. This leads me on to the songwriting technique of repetition that is cleverly employed in this song.

Repetition And Melody

Just like when she heard the name first, the name Jolene is continuously repeated in the song in a haunting, memorable way. As Parton said herself, both the song’s melody and the repeated word “Jolene” are so intriguingly simple and repetitive that even a first-grader or baby can sing it! The fact that the name “Jolene” is repeated so much throughout the song not only helps to make the song really catchy, but also reinforces the emotions of desperation and begging, that are center to the song’s theme. The song’s repetitive nature can also be seen when we consider that there is a catchy riff that is repetitively heard throughout the song (as heard in the song’s four-bar intro). This riff undeniably reflects the anxiety that Parton felt about the Jolene situation perfectly. It sounds mysterious, yet unquestionably nervous, envious, and desperate. However, Parton adds an element of strength and bravery to her situation by boldly repeating Jolene’s name with such confidence. The fact that the melodically most memorable part of the song is Jolene’s name conveys this. Although Parton is in a place of weakness wondering whether or not her husband will cheat on her with this woman he sees regularly that she is clearly jealous of, there is power in Parton imploring Jolene through directly saying her name. Jolene’s name is repeated in the verses as well as the chorus, which is effective at emphasizing the sense of urgency that Dolly Parton in relation to getting through to this woman.

Melody And Harmony Continued!

In stark contrast to the chorus’ melody, which peaks and holds on the last of the four “Jolene”s, the verse melody keeps moving. It is not accidental that the highest note in the song is on the word “Jolene”. In both the verse and chorus, the melody essentially ascends and then descends. The verse finishes rising at the G#, and the chorus rises even higher, to its climax point at C#. “Jolene’s melody stays within a range of an octave and a second (B up to high C#). When the song is in such a high pitch, this vocal range is particularly impressive. Another interesting fact about the melody is that it begins with the exact same notes as the roots of the chords (namely C# and E), but when it gets to B (the third chord), the note is an F#- this note sounds great against the bass note- D#.

Structure

The song essentially consists of a chorus, three verses, then the chorus a second time, two verses, and the chorus again. This means it follows the ternary form of songwriting, which means it has an ABA structure. Often called the song form, this form of songwriting means that the song consists of an opening section, a following section, and then a return to the first section, namely the chorus-verse-chorus structure that “Jolene” has. This pattern is obviously repeated a couple of times. Ternary form is the most simple structure of songwriting, as seen with “Jolene”. The song is simple and direct, and in ways predictable, but interesting enough to keep us engaged. Unlike in “Blank Space” there is no bridge in “Jolene”, which means that the emphasis is entirely on the verses and choruses which naturally really stand out, the chorus in particular. It is a relatively short song too which adds to how radio-friendly it is. At 2 minutes 42 seconds, it is over a minute shorter than “Blank Space”, which is 3 minutes and 51 seconds long.

Further Structure Analysis

The song “Jolene” was written in the key of C sharp minor. The chord progression is unusual, but simple- C# minor, E major, B major, and C# minor, then B major to C# minor again. There is also a bar of C# minor at the end of every phrase. The fact that the chord progression both begins and ends on the C # minor really contributes to how it remains sonically rooted in the minor key for the entire duration of the song. This really contributes to the mood that is created in this song, as the sense of hope that can be heard in the melody on te C #or-E major-B major chords is lost once we return the C# minor chord.

Style and Lyrics Part 1

The song “Jolene” is a country song, typical to the country music genre. Traditionally, country songs would usually consist of ballads and dance songs that have simple forms just like “Jolene” has, narrative, honest lyrics, strong vocal melodies, and harmonies that are accompanied on traditional instruments. These instruments would typically be the fiddle, the banjo, both electric and acoustic guitars, and steel guitars. In the country genre, the lyrics tend to take precedent over the sonic soundscape. We can see this in “Jolene”, as it is a song which centers around the story that Parton tells through her lyrics, with simple yet effective instrumentation. Her lyrics tell the emotionally powerful and complex story of Jolene truthfully, bravely, and coherently. The feelings addressed are universal (such as envy), yet are often viewed as the more negative emotions that shouldn’t be fully dwelled on or admitted to. Dolly Parton confronts these feelings with directness that is characteristic to the country music genre. This being said, Parton is surprisingly dignified, and does not express any anger or spite towards Jolene, in spite of how clear it is to us that she would have many reasons to be annoyed and frustrated at her. Similarly, the fact that the song is written with Dolly Parton speaking directly to Jolene is very typical to the country music style of writing. A noticeable amount of country songs are written in this style, a lot more than songs from other genres such as the pop genre. For example, Taylor Swift wrote “Blank Space” from the point of view of the serial dater that the media was saying she was at the time, rather than from her own point of view speaking directly to the media.

Style and Lyrics Part 2

One aspect of the country music style that is evident in “Jolene” is the fact that the song both begins and ends with the chorus. While “Blank Space” ends with the chorus like “Jolene” does, it starts with the verse rather than the chorus. Additionally, the level of detail that Dolly Parton conveys through the song’s lyrics in spite them being very simple and comprehensible, is incredible, and very country-like. For example, the brief line where Parton asks Jolene not to take her husband away from her “just because {she} can”, adds a whole extra layer of depth and additional anxiety to what at first might seem like a basic jealousy song. Similarly, there is an interesting twist in the first verse, which is the longest of the verses. The second verse after the chorus is half of the length of the first one. The first verse starts with Parton complimenting Jolene for her beauty- her “flaming locks of auburn hair”, and her “ivory skin and eyes of emerald green’ for example, yet halfway through it, she heartbreakingly exposes how vulnerable and insecure she feels about herself in comparison to Jolene, as she “cannot compete” with her.

Instrumentation And Harmony

Sonically, the song “Jolene” is very vocals and harmony based, as I have already explored when discussing the song’s melody. Parton’s voice is very clear and distinct, and although the song has quite a high pitch to it, she hits all the high notes effortlessly. Towards the end of the song, Dolly Parton and the harmonic backing singers call out Jolene’s name one last time, in a higher register. This note is both the highest and longest note in the song, to fully capture the anguish behind the song. This note to me has always stood out because of this, and is the perfect ending to the song. In fact, it is consistently said that the impressive vocal range in “Jolene” is one of the song’s stand-out features. In terms of the instruments played, it can definitely be said that it is a relatively sparse song instrumentally. However, every time the chorus starts all of the instruments start playing to increase the sense of intense fear and desperation in the song. In spite of this, the chorus overall is loud and lively. The sound of the fiddle contributes to this as it is vivacious in tone and sound (1:40). Instrumentally, the song like the melody is memorable and repetitive, especially the chorus, which is where the song truly peaks in intensity and angst. This is in stark contrast to “Blank Space”, which instrumentally and melodically peaks in intensity at the end of the bridge, just before the chorus comes in.

Rhythm

The rhythm in this song is fast and consistent, it does not speed up or slow down at all for the entire duration of the song, typical to the country music style of songwriting. Its tempo is 111 BPM which places it among the more faster of country songs, yet still within the expected range. Its BPM is slightly faster than that of ‘Blank Space”, which is somewhat surprising when one considers that “Blank Space” is a song written in the pop style- pop songs in general tend to have faster tempos than country songs would have. Like “Blank Space” it has a time signature of 4/4, the time signature most commonly found in both the genres of pop and country alike.

Timbre

The song “Jolene” has a slightly surprising warm and mellow tone to it, in spite of it clearly being in a minor key, and about a serious topic. It has even been said that it sounds a bit too lighthearted and vivacious considering its theme, yet this is probably largely due to its fast tempo. There is very little (if any!) shift in timbre throughout the song. When one considers the element of hope that is heard with the first three chord changes in the chorus, namely, C# minor-E major-B major (before it falls back to the C# minor chord), it can perhaps be said that it is Dolly Parton’s voice and lyrics (rather than the song’s timbre or melody) that predominantly contributes to the song sounding as emotional and melancholic as it does. The fact that a song so dark in its subject can be recorded to sound brighter than one would have expected is a characteristic of the country music genre in itself, as seen in other famous country artists songs’, for example Johnny Cash’s famous ‘I Still Miss Someone”, which features a fast, upbeat tempo, like Parton’s “Jolene”.

References Used:

https://www.realworldmusictheory.com/2016/05/13/blank-space-by-taylor-swift-real-world-music-theory/

http://tonyconniff.com/dolly-partons-jolene-getting-inside-a-great-song/

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