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#and ESPECIALLY do NOT try to actively alter your girlfriend into the image of what you would consider the Perfect Woman™
rayatii · 2 years
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Currently using my breaks from studying for my bio test on Tuesday thinking of how La rondine contains examples of the Madonna-Whore complex, a Pygmalion plot (tho only a brief mention) and the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but it’s executed in a way that clearly shows that these tropes and expectations are actually harmful to women.
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illfoandillfie · 3 years
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Don’t Talk To Me About Love
Day number 4 of the Platonically themed event! This is another idea thats sort of been bouncing around my head since I posted Platonically. In the months since then I’ve started and stopped this blurb about 60 times - at one point I intended it as a sequel but then ended up absorbing part of the plot into PNDDAOF. But here we are. It is somewhat complete and I’m much happier with it now then I was before. 
Yet again, this blurb is inspired by a song - Don’t Talk To Me About Love by Altered Images (less the lyrics and more just the title but it’s a bop so like check it out anyway lmao) 
Words: 2,150
Warnings: It’s about the Communication. There’s talk of an argument but nothing specific and honestly this is mostly just about the two of them Dealing with something out of the ordinary. 
Every morning with Ben follows the same pattern. No matter who wakes first, no matter how long it takes you to get out of bed, Ben will greet you with a kiss on the cheek. It’s a litmus test of your disposition and a lesson hard learnt. Most days you’ll lean into him, wrap your arms around him, press your lips to his, snuggle back into his embrace, and he knows that it means you’ll be okay with the actions that convince others you’re boyfriend and girlfriend. But every so often it’s different. Those days, what he has come to call your no romo days, his cheek kiss will be returned but you’ll pull back before he can sweep you into something deeper, a sign that you don’t have the patience or energy or whatever it usually takes, to deal with romance. Those days are few and far between, mostly occurring months apart, seemingly at random. But because of that it took quite some time before you got the hang of dealing with them as partners. On your own it had been easier to avoid romantic expressions, but with Ben it was harder to manage.  
The first time it happened after you’d started the QPR, you tried to push through, tried to ignore the tension you felt as he unexpectedly kissed you, his hands pulling you into him. There was a sudden urge to run away, your blood running cold, and Ben must have sensed that something was off. He was always observant where you were concerned. When he asked if something was wrong you pretended there wasn’t but he kept badgering you until you told him what was up. Unfortunately you sort of bit his head off, frustrated by the constant questions. You immediately regretted your tone and choice of words but the damage was done, Ben’s expression one of hurt and confusion. Before you could try to explain better he’d left the room. He gave you space for the rest of the day, barely crossing your path at all, but it was too much space, an overcorrection. And that made you mad more than anything else. After all you’d warned him that this happened sometimes, that you had days where you were repulsed by the thought of anything romantic, completely turned off by actions that could be read as such. How dare he be hurt by it, as if you were an inconvenience he had to endure. He was the one who suggested you do the QPR thing in the first place, why did he suddenly think it only included the times you were acting closest to a regular girlfriend. At that point you hadn’t yet moved into his house so you left and slept in your own bed that night, sick with worry that you’d ruined everything with Ben, that you’d wake up in the morning to find not only your QPR broken but that your best friend wouldn’t want anything more to do with you at all. You felt stupid to have thought that a QPR could work, that you could ever fit anywhere. Clearly you were meant to be alone.  
But the next morning brought rational thought and rational conversation as well as a higher tolerance for romance. Ben called to make sure you were okay, confessing to a fairly sleepless night spent worrying if you'd got home safe and feeling bad about how you’d left. But you could hear his smile when you invited him over to talk about it, could practically see it in your mind’s eye. And then you saw it for real, a proper grin, when you’d opened the door and dove into his arms, burying your face in his shirt. He’d squeezed you tight, relieved that things between you were still good. It took a serious conversation to sort out what had gone wrong. You tried to better explain what it was you felt - the queasy feeling at the idea of being involved in any sort of romantic act and the discomfort when confronted with romantic imagery or depictions of romance and romantic couples – reassuring Ben that it wasn’t anything he’d done, and he apologised for giving you the cold shoulder, admitting his distance had been because he wasn’t sure how to act around you. Talking it out helped and when you were done, both feeling like you better understood what would help the situation, you curled up in bed together to catch up on the sleep you’d missed.  
The next time, nearly six months later, you’d been better prepared and, though it was still a little rocky, it had gone smoother. Ben didn’t try to avoid you, so you didn’t feel as abandoned as you had the last time, but you made sure to maintain some distance from him, knowing his feelings were different to yours and not wanting to put him in any awkward situations. There were moments when neither of you knew what to do or say, moments when it felt like you were both treading on eggshells to try and avoid a repeat of the last time. But when you asked to take a break from the TV series you were halfway through because the romance plotline didn’t hold the same enjoyment it usually did, he seemed to understand and agreed to what you needed. The time after that had been barely a month later, far sooner than you were expecting. You supposed that your relationship with Ben was having an impact. After all it had been a while since you’d last been in a romantic relationship and though what you and Ben had wasn’t that, it did cross some of the same lines. Surely it was natural that your mind would try to balance things out by making you feel unequipped to deal with romantic subplots and sentimental love songs more often than before. Or at least that’s how to tried to explain it to Ben when he made a huffy comment about the increasing frequency of your romance repulsed days. If it hadn’t been for an interrupting phone call from his mum, you might have fallen into another fight. Instead, you spent the time he was on the phone thinking about why things felt so hard, trying to come up with possible solutions. You went over some activities in your head, comparing how you usually felt about them and what you felt when you were romance repulsed. Cheek kisses still felt okay because they were generally a way you showed affection to everyone you knew, but being kissed on the lips seemed to cross a line, no matter how it was done. Cuddling too could be okay depending on the context but you’d probably prefer not to just to be safe. Sex on the other hand was a big question mark You’d never tried having sex on a no romo day before, but you assumed if emphasis was put on the physical pleasure it could work, though maybe positions that didn’t force eye contact would be more enjoyable. But perhaps that was better left to be explored when you were both more comfortable with the situation. Even dinners out together and datey things like that could be doable if you didn’t have to deal with candlelight and intimate seating.  
As soon as Ben was finished on the phone you tried to explain your thought process to him.   “The way I think about it is like...regularly I have a mental picture of what actions I feel are platonic and what actions cross into romance. Sometimes those lines aren’t super clear like with kissing, but I know which it is when I see it or experience it.” “Right, like how you don’t mind spooning in bed and getting really close but on the couch you prefer to rest your head on my lap or whatever.” “Yes, exactly. It might all be considered variations on cuddling but to me there's a big difference in how they feel. Well a no romo day is like if you took all of those distinct lines and moved them over a little. The lines are still there but the image is distorted and not quite what I’m used to seeing.” “Okay,” he stretched the word out thoughtfully, “so...it’s not that everything feels romantic it’s just that your tolerance levels have changed?” “Yeah, I think so. It’s not easy for me to understand either. Especially since sometimes things change more than others. But yeah, that’s pretty much it. But my big question is what do you need? I don’t want this to become a big problem or cause fights every time it happens so, what’s going to help make it feel more normal for you?” Ben thought for a moment, “Physical contact. I don’t mean that in a sexual way either, just physical contact. I mean you know how touchy I can be. It grounds me. Even just a hug or, y’know, rubbing my back as you walk past me, things like that. A high five even. If we’re out with the others it’s not so bad cause they all know what I’m like too and none of them will mind if I lean on their shoulder or sit on their lap or whatever. But when it’s just us...I need that physical contact to feel settled and I guess it’s been harder to feel okay about it when you flinch away from me. Makes me feel wrong just because I want to be close to you.” You were a little stunned by the honest and carefully considered way he responded to your question, and felt a little bad about trying to force space between you, “I knew you liked that sort of thing but I guess I didn’t realise how important it is for you.” Ben shrugged, “Normally it’s something I don’t even think about. But with you lately it’s like I just haven’t known what to do.”He paused, biting the corner of his thumb nail as he thought, “I don’t think the way I love you is entirely platonic anymore. I mean it hasn’t been entirely platonic for a while now but those feelings aren’t going away. And I’m not saying that to make you feel bad or anything, it’s just how it is, and I think it’s part of why I’ve been so weird or whatever about this whole romance repulsion thing.” “Yeah it must be kinda hard to understand what I mean,” “I’m trying to understand it and I’m trying to be respectful. But you gotta give me a little more. And you have to be more understanding of where I’m coming from too.”
After that, you both made adjustments to accommodate the other and talked through what solutions worked and what didn’t. Ben spent some time consulting google for ideas and found you a playlist of songs that had aromantic vibes or at least could be reinterpreted so the romantic meaning was more relatable for you. And you made more of an effort to keep up a physical closeness with him – sitting shoulder to shoulder as you watched TV and shared a bag of microwave popcorn, rubbing your hand over his back as you stepped behind him in the kitchen, surprising him by placing a cold hand to his face or stomach when he wasn’t expecting it – even on regular days when you didn’t hate the way it felt to be held by him. You figured that emphasising those sorts of small physical gestures would help both of you in the long run. Every so often something would arise that needed a little extra discussion but you both took them in your stride and did your best to be accommodating and patient.  
And by the next time a no romo day occurred, things were as close to perfect as you could hope for. You wriggled out from under Ben’s arm when you woke, better able to recognise the sick feeling  creeping up on you. Stepping out of bed you switched Ben’s oversized sweatshirt for one of your own and tiptoed down to the kitchen putting your anti-romantic playlist on softly as you made coffee and toast. When Ben eventually surfaced he pressed his lips to your cheek but he already felt you wouldn’t want anything more than that, putting together the pieces and proved right as you gave a small shake of your head. He gave your waist a brief squeeze in acknowledgement before turning toward the fridge to begin his own morning routine. And just like that you knew things would be okay. You couldn’t say you knew what he felt or that you entirely understood it but, yet again, Ben had shown that his love for you was less about Love and more about you. And you hoped he could see that you cared for him just as strongly, even if you felt it differently.
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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years
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The Castle on the Hill Chapter 1: Hyde
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Genre: Smut, Romance, Fluff, Thriller, Werewolf AU
Pairing: Werewolf!Bangchan x Reader
Warnings: No warnings apply
Summary: Superstition is as powerful as religion, especially to those living in the countryside. Nevertheless, the sole outsider in town fully joins in the belief of the Last Warden of the North and is insistent on protecting the only girl who accepts him yet refutes the local lore.
However, there is something in the castle on the hill.
And it hungers for something in the village below.
Someone.
You.
Author’s Note: Hello,
Indeed, I am still very much alive but have been extremely busy with university and my job. However, now that the holidays are coming up and I am on my Christmas break, I have a wee bit o’ time to write leisurely again.
I came up with this tale when I was in Cardiff in November, strolling around Bute Park and thinking of ‘Castle on the Hill’ by Ed Sheeran. And, let us be honest, I was thinking of Chan as well (though that should not come as a surprise at this point).
Regardless, hopefully you will enjoy this wee trilogy.
Forever yours,
The Red Raven
Hyde / The Marriage of Man and Beast / Jekyll
Masterlist
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Religion is a form of superstition, but just as powerful as the latter for it has ruled mankind in equal amounts, co-existing yet often the cause for war as well. In contemporary times, however, the belief in all folkloric creatures seems to have faded into a case for a good laugh rather than truly believing death will come at hearing the wail of a banshee or swearing the ghost of the black nun continues to haunt the ruins of the friary at which entrance she is buried. Withal, the faith in a particular mythological being has been altered time and again thanks to pop culture but, perhaps fortunately so, the origins of the legend remain remembered vividly by the people who inhabit the area the tale stems from.
The golden sunlight outlines the ruins of the majestic castle that once graced the hill outside the park, mustard and amber leaves littering the pathways frequented by strollers while the weather still permits it. Soon, winter shall conquer autumn and the rains increase in frequency. Henceforth, the days running a small café in the middle of the park is enjoyed the most when all is grand, the world frozen in a perfect seasonal frame.
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‘You’re either immensely stupid or incredibly brave to run this establishment, lass.’ A cup of steaming black coffee is served to the wise old man living around the corner of the recreational ground, the white brick worker’s house providing a view on the scenery that everyone seems to fear even in the twenty-first century. Always up for conversation, Paidraigh has helped a novice independent entrepreneur almost flawlessly continue the business formerly run by one of the local women who had to stop due to health issues. He might look like a grumpy soul despising the world, but the stout figure with wise wrinkles and bushy pale beard is actually one of the kindest people residing in the wee village. 
‘How do you mean that, sir?’
‘Have ye nay heard o’ the wolf inhabiting the castle?’
‘I have heard the whispers of strange sounds coming from the ruins at night, aye, but I am sure it’s nothing to worry about.’
‘The word’s it’s a wolf, the spirit of the fierce Last Warden of the North to whom the castle once belonged. It’s said that once he entered the battlefield, all that would be left o’ the enemies were bloody carcasses. As if eaten by, ye guessed it, a wolf.’ Kind stone irises gain a wary glint once they wander to the edge of the sandstone terrace, noticing the heavy boot fall of the town’s most recent inhabitant. ‘Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.’
‘Paddy, don’t be mean. Drink your coffee and leave the lad be, alright?’ A palm amiably pats a broad shoulder before tucking the serving plate under the armpit and heading back to the counter to take a new order.
And likely do more than that, knowing the newcomer.
‘Alright, fine. Just watch yersel’ around him. One wolf is more than enough for this village.’
‘Hiya, how are you?’ Before the habitual order can be placed with as few words as possible, attention is called to the deep scarlet scar running over the bridge of a big nose. ‘What did you do to get that?’
‘Bar fight.’ A soft smile is laboriously carved onto roseate lips, likely albeit clearly suppressing the memory of the scene causing the physical damage. Nevertheless, once gazes lock, the hatred is actively tried to be kept to a bare minimum and show a friendly side the reclusive does not always reveal to anyone. ‘An americano, please.’
Without speaking further, the beverage is prepared. However, as the coffee machine is buzzing while freshly grinding beans to create a perfectly brewed medium roast, the first-aid supplies stored in a cupboard beneath the counter are sought out and taken alongside the drink to the outside of the little booth. Of course, it could have been slid to the customer immediately through the window but it simply happened to unnecessarily be carried as well.
‘Here’s your americano.’ Sitting down on the empty stool across from the silent force looking on in surprise while maintaining a friendly though slightly tired tone, fingers search among the medical care items for the disinfectant and a cotton pad. The frustration wants to be kept to a minimum but it is hard to do so when this very same scene keeps repeating itself and fuels the bad image the villagers have of, in their eyes, a stranger.
Bruises and open wounds thanks to fights that were either started by one’s own volition or after provocation.
Cuts thanks to carving the wooden pillars dotting the grand park, curiously staying close to the little café and helping out at times by remaining on the grand lawn regardless of how many meters need to be bridged to get the new piece of art where it belongs.
‘I’m fine.’ The remark is clearly meant to dismiss the caregiving yet results in all but that since physical damage, no matter of what nature and source, do ignite a genuine worry for the local woodcarver.
Although the habitual resorting to sarcasm protects sincere emotions from showing. Nonetheless, it is helpful in chastising, never failing to eventually get Christopher to look like a guilty puppy while patching him up. ‘And I’m the Queen of Sheba. You strained yer knuckles too much and now they’re bleeding again.’
‘It’s but a scratch.’
‘Is what the Black Knight said before he got annihilated by King Arthur. Give me your hand, you eejit.’
‘Y/N, it’s fine.’
‘No, it’s fecking not.’ A deep sigh lowers tense shoulders admitting that stubbornness will lead nowhere and thus take a soft-spoken yet still genuine approach. ‘I just want to help. Please, give me your hand.’
Howbeit reluctant, the damaged calloused palm nevertheless reaches out and comes to rest in a concerned lap as small digits wrap lightly around the wrist to keep it in place. ‘Thank you.’
The bystanders are ignored as the fresh ugly patches of broken skin are taken care of, taking great care to clean the wounds properly before bandaging them up. Withal, what cannot be ignored is the low threatening growl rolling from plush lips with every touch of disinfecting cotton. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Sorry. It’s just that, grm, it really fucking hurts.’ Teeth grit, snarls and hisses alternating with the light dabs as irises shoot invisible daggers. The free hand which has yet to be treated moulds into a trembling fist trying to remain static despite the agony.
‘Then maybe you shouldn’t get into fights in the first place. What even was it about?’ The damage has been cleaned enough to apply an ointment and bandage the harmed knuckles, gaining the same feral reaction as before.
Notwithstanding, the silence is filled by wordlessness and primal noises, igniting an irritation at the deduction the chastisement is ignored in stubbornness. However, the assumption is counteracted when a whisper provides a muttered surprising answer that fuels a novel sort of annoyance in the mocha locks sitting on the stool. ‘Someone insulted you.’
No, it is not irritation.
Rage.
Pure fury, barely contained.
‘Me? Why?’ Puzzled by the confusing display of hatred against an absent party, locks tilt in patient curiosity waiting for the story.
‘It wasn’t really an insult. Just men drunkenly talking about how they’d show up here to surprise you and you’d be the girlfriend of one of theirs and how lucky you’d be with one of them.’ The split bottom lip is caught between pearly teeth, nibbling while trying to regain a calmer composure even though it is hard when the second set of broken skin is about to be treated. ‘I couldn’t- couldn’t, fuck, that stings! I couldn’t stand the arrogant, hrm, tone and nonsense so I... I just lost it. Snapped.’
‘Christopher-’ The imminent correcting in spite of secretly being flattered by the reason that likely holds no meaning whatsoever since there is more of a patient-nurse relationship is cut short by a low snigger. ‘Hey, why are you smiling like that?’
‘I just like the way you say my name.’ Bright earthly irises set above a big nose marred by a scar likely inflicted by a knife blade are humoured, the sentiment filtering through in the gentle curve of plush lips. The playful aura makes the woodcarver appear quite boyish, a stark contrast with the pub brawler the village has cast out from the beginning.
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‘Well, it’s yours, aye?’ Heated cheeks faking casualness return to the task of taking care of the other damaged hand, trying badly to ignore the sweet smile now vividly engraved into memory.
Keep it together. It means nothing. You’re more his nurse than anything else. You’re just friends, if there is any friendship at all. He simply trusts you.
‘Yeah, but-’
‘And I’m sure I don’t say it any differently than any other person.’
‘Still, I like- fuck!’ A giggle flows over into a curse when the bandage is tugged perhaps a bit too tightly to nevertheless teach the lesson of not getting into fights as often as one does. A pleased little grin cannot be suppressed, hiding the delight at the hopefully effective teaching method that will lessen the scene which is exhaustingly re-enacted over and over.
‘If you didn’t get into fights, I wouldn’t have to keep patching you up and you wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.’ A new cotton pad is soaked in disinfectant while throwing a cautious glance in Paddy’s direction, the old man’s lips tightly sealed as grey whiskers move ever so slightly in discomfort.
‘He doesn’t like me.’ A sombre self-aware tone sneaks into lowered defeated shoulders turned towards the old cod, gaze softening in powerlessness.
‘That’s not true.’ The seemingly misplaced remark pulls the young man’s attention, head slightly tilting to the side while irises remain strangely heart-wrenchingly grave.
If only they could know you the way I do.
‘Y/N,’ the powerful mere word is spoken as if surrender is not an option, that the truth of being disliked has to be admitted even though it does not want to be, ‘It’s obvious. Everyone’s afraid of me.’
‘The only thing they’re really scared of is the wolf up in the castle.’ Mocking local superstition, a sigh rolls from the lips setting to work on the carmine single cut running over the nose. There is no resistance this time, Christopher moving, in fact, to the edge of the stool for better access and to make cleaning the scar easier. ‘Guess I’ll hear the same uselessly worried whispers again from the customers tomorrow.’
A hand rests leisurely on the thigh for support, but is taken to come to rest on the brawler’s cheek and kept there, a content hum filling the air scented by coffee and cologne. Lashes flutter shut as mocha locks lean into the touch, almost as if falling asleep right here and now. It would be a lie to say the display does not spread an odd fuzzy warmth throughout, especially when memories of healing up close, observing wood being carved from a distance or problems with difficult people were solved in the same proximity as now resurface. 
Unfortunately, the delightful image is disrupted a second later for the jaw clenches as a low beastly rumble rises from a broad chest trying hard to remain casual as the disinfectant once again stings in the stupidly acquired cut. Irises light up in an amber flash, bearing a terrifying violent hatred that calms down immediately upon establishing a bit of distance that nullifies the intimacy. A confused heart does not know what to make of it, only that the rage that surfaced as rapidly as it disappeared never wants to be directed towards oneself. 
Still, a normal question is raised in an odd undefinable manner that rises from the fearsome wolfish attitude, voice sounding apologetical and clearly wanting to move past something as digits vaguely reach out but drop restlessly in ignorance of what to do. ‘Are you staying open much longer?’
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The throat is cleared to regain composure, hardy succeeding yet enough to answer as if nothing happened. ‘Till six, as usual.’ The resumed dabbing briefly stops at the notice of an uneasy shift in weight, a panic without direct cause causing the action. ‘Why do you ask?’
Bandaged hands awkwardly occupy one another in futile twirling of cared-for fingers as the tongue staring at the sandstone is hesitant to voice what suddenly has become urgent. ‘Can you close earlier?’
‘I could but why would I?’ Feigning not having taken notice in the change of demeanour, the last straws are laid in nursing the bloody scar. The palm leaning on the knee of mocha locks, put there in an unconscious move after pulling up the unresisting chin for better access, does seem to calm the nerves somewhat as the regulation of breathing suggests.
When applying the ointment, it is entirely regular and a sigh is relieved with the company.
Only to speed up again when worriedly mentioning the legend that has the entire village spooked even in the twenty-first century. ‘The wolf.’
‘Christopher, don’t you get started as well. There’s no wolf in the castle, no spirit of the Last Warden of the North.’ Shuffling to the edge of the stool, something is attempted to be done about the split lip which has started bleeding again. ‘Your lip is bleeding. Sit still for a wee bit, will ye?’
Calloused fingers wrap firmly around the wrist reaching out after soaking a new dot of cotton in disinfectant, earthly irises ablaze with superstitious concern flowing over in pleading speech. ‘Please close the café before it gets dark.’
‘Look, it’s my business so I decide the opening hours.’ Budging results in nothing but a firmer, even painful grip. Withal, knowing the novel local woodcarver, panic does not set in as it would have had it been anyone else. Still, a meaningless glance sideways is picked up by Paddy as something which does hold significance, the stout old man already rising from his seat when a quick denying nod assures all is well. The command is tranquil yet effectively fierce. ‘Chris, let me go. You’re hurting me.’
As swift as lightning, digits unravel upon hearing the response and move away to create a distance filled by curious emotions that would hint at an intimacy going beyond what is truly present. ‘I’m sorry, he- we didn’t mean to... I- I mean, I didn’t mean to… to...’ A shivering sigh precedes a steadier repeated request, trying to move past the incident while remaining clearly doubtfully calculating of words and actions. ‘Y/N, please. Please close before it gets dark. We don’t- I want you to be safe.’
We? He? Why are you talking like this?
‘I’ll be regardless because there’s no ghost or monster that will slink down the hill to devour me.’ The remark tries to be amusingly sarcastic but it has no effect on the outcast whose grave expression does not change, continuing to stare remorsefully at the red band around the wrists.
The shaking fingers holding soft cotton meant for healing.
Yet ends up hurting.
‘Even if you don’t believe my reason nor the villagers’, close early.’ Lashes are brave enough to look up, keep up the pleading despite being refused over and over.
Maybe I should... no, what am I getting at. It’s just a story, a myth.
‘Can we stop talking about this?’ A palm finds the courage to rise and endeavour to nurse the split lip anew. ‘Sit still and let me help you.’
But soon retracts in heart-pounding concern when unspoken consent flinches as bodies come a wee bit closer to make it easier. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I am. Ehm,’ mocha locks confusedly and haphazardly glance around the terrace, questioning eyes flitting over the customers as a quite adorable big nose sniffs the air before leaning in to take a whiff, ‘Are you wearing perfume?’
‘No, why?’ The head buzzes with what to think of the weird gesture and unanswered inquiries about how the sudden change of topic has come about alongside the earlier talk in the third person. Brows furrow in wonder of the easiest topic for contemplation since perfume is fairly ineffective if unnecessary for the scent of coffee replaces the function on a daily basis.
‘Oh. Well- You- Never mind.’ A shadow movement forward remains just that, a hallucination without certainty. What is real, however, is the rapidity to get up and turn halfway away yet having the politeness to end the conversation by an unsettling awkward look over the shoulder. ‘I should go finish that pillar.’
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‘But... your coffee?’ Christoper is already gone before the sentence can be finished, a gobsmacked offended finger pointing to the cooled cup on the counter containing liquid cold. In an instant, likely due to the great offence taken at letting such a precious gift to mankind waste away, the confusion of the chaotic farewell turns into a barista’s rage directed towards the woodcarver who has fled the scene. ‘The bastard just left the coffee to cool? That barbarian!’
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The key turns in the lock, definitely closing business for the day. The moonlight falls in through the autumn leaves, casting moving shadows enhancing the dark of the dusk which has overtaken the quiet town. In the slightly clouded sky, the moon shines bright and illuminates the ruined haunted castle on the hill.
Y/N, please. Please close before it gets dark. We don’t- I want you to be safe.
‘I am completely fine. There’s nothing out here to get me. Also, who is ‘’we’’?’ Jeering strands shake in partial self-mockery at the brief spark of fear quickly running through veins at the recollection of the wish spoken in an oddly worried tone, foolishly spooked by mere folklore. ‘And here I thought you and I were the only sane people around, Chris. Guess it’s just me.’
After a final tug on the doorknob to ensure the place is neatly closed off until the dawn, sneakers start their wading path among the fallen mustard and ruby leaves that have been shaded a hue of onyx, tiger’s eye or plum in the twilight. The wind has calmed from its fierce mannerisms, now only softly blowing among the trees densely planted in the great park.
Carrying the sound of a low rumble as it smoothes over branches.
A snarl.
In the twilight silence another disconcerting noise resonates between carved pillars and trunks.
Padding.
A faint tinkling.
Of iron.
Shackles.
No, I must be hearing things. His and Paddy’s words are just getting to my head. There’s nothing. Nothing.
Withal, the bright amber lights are no will-o’-the-wisps and the appearing fur does not appear in the adorable shape of a squirrel. There is not the faintest trace of innocence to be found in the extraordinary meeting between a gigantic wolf cuffed by a firm iron collar around its neck, the broken chain clinking loudly as it drags over the ground and creates a hideous symphony in combination with the violent low growls of the beast.
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‘That’s not possible. There’s no Warden, no wolf. This isn’t real.’ Even as the words are spoken in the futile hope of regaining a sense of logic, the conviction is hardly there. In fact, it is entirely absent. ‘This isn’t happening.’
Nevertheless, the snarled warning tone is too near, the impact too tangible in nerves standing on edge in alarm to dismiss the current situation as mental trickery. Especially because the silver light reflecting off of dagger-sharp canines comes too close for comfort, sending raggedly breathing feet fleeing to the wee café a few meters away while silently praying to reach it alive.
However, every rush forwards paradoxically yields nothing to a panicked mind who can feel warm predatory breath heat the back of the brown leather jacket and slowly rise to the back of the neck. Mortified tears start to brim in the corners of the eyes, damnably obscuring vision at a time when errors cannot be made for one, be it stumbling over a fallen branch or temporarily slowing down, will mean the end.
Christopher, Paddy, I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Youse were right and I’m a feckin eejit. I’m sorry. Chris, I’m sorry.
Growling grows ever closer, whispering of there being no escape because paws shall at one point do more than brush against ankles.
Rampant fingers search the pockets of jeans, cursing while feeling around the fabric for the damned key to open the lock to the safe haven.
Sneakers halt in front of the inaccessible door, still searching.
The wolf has slowed down, no longer running yet not giving up the chase now that the helpless prey has been forced into a corner. Big paws as black as a starless sky in winter pad languidly, bright eyes the colour of the pumpkin spice latte that forms the seasonal special obviously finding joy in the hunting game.
In toying with a hopeless target.
One step forwards.
One step back.
To and fro.
I can’t turn my back on it. Still, I have to if I want to get into the damned café. What do I do? What the fuck do I do?
The shivering spine is frozen in place thanks to paralysis due to pure horror, though digits carefully and hopefully unnoticeable continue rummaging through pockets as they keep a close watch on the impending beastly enemy.
Where the fu- By Jaysus, there it is!
Tense shoulders lower slightly in relief when the key is found on the bottom of the right pocket, the brief second of peace of mind carrying over in an unconscious sweetly delighted sigh.
Which evidently triggers the haste to attack because the sadistic game of threats is cut short as the wolf lunges forwards at the speed of lightning.
Fortunately, sharp-fanged jaws are evaded just in time when the key is rammed into the lock, opening the blasted barrier before slamming the door shut and sealing it off once again. All the while cursing Heaven and Hell together.
Hastily, steps lead around the tiny kitchen in search of anything to barricade the door with. An effort which proves fairly futile as basically all equipment is installed in such a manner it cannot be moved and all tables and chairs are kept outside since thieves do not tend to take furniture when on a heist around here.
Or such is the sentiment with which they are stored outside.
Why, of all the times, did I store them outside? Why couldn’t I at least put one table and chair inside? There has to be something around here, there’s got to be.
The fierce longing finds a wonderful answer in the old yet glistening iron chain lock that the former owner of the establishment used before getting proper locks installed and which has been stored away in the back of one of the counters. Sneaking glances to the amber-eyed predatory shadow roaming the terrace through the window of the main counter, horrified palms reach for the sole barrier between life and death.
Flinching back while hardly suppressing mortified screaming, allowing a meek gasp to escape, when the door leading to the hunting dark rattles as if a great weight has been thrown against it in an attempt to force it open. Blood rushing in the ears of accelerated breathing on the edge of breaking down backs away from the tightly sealed entrance, putting the key that was kept inside the lock into the pocket, shivering thanks to the ice veins have turned into.
Finding safety in the corner of the kitchen, wrapping arms around the knees that have fallen to the ground without muscles and pressing tears knowing this is the end of the line into stony grey denim.
Paddy... Christopher... Chris, I’m so sorry. I wish you were here. Fuck, I should’ve listened to ye instead of being such a gobshite.
The memorized phantom of lush lips take a shivering figure soon to meet death into sturdy woodcarving arms dusted over with soft thin black hair, head resting against the secure chest that has been healed from sickly bruises, bleeding bullet wounds, fresh deep dagger scars or a combination of all. Because, despite the chastisements each time the curious artists shows up at the café in a worsened condition, there remains the recalled moments of mocha locks helping in dealing with difficult customers and men trying their futile luck by going too far. Christopher had been there at an oddly fascinated barista’s side, leaving as little distance between bodies as possible while snarling in warning of touching the boundaries of patience so desperate men would see their chances ruined and people complaining about the pettiest things would know the customer is not always king.
Day in, day out. From the moment the café opens until it closes, staying close by while creating the gorgeously engraved pillars dotting the landscape.
Sometimes even walking homewards together, wordlessly refusing to part ways before having made sure the sole girl in town not distrustful towards an “outsider” has arrived safely and only then cracking on to the personal roof. When not doing so, it is towards working places set in nature, enjoying the hush of the morning as the sun rises in the golden sky.
Hands used to meaninglessly brush against each other.
At some point, it has become a habit to hold his pinky from the moment of being picked up without an explicit arrangement until the destination is reached.
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In blissful small talk or a comfortable silence.
I wish you were here. See you one last time.
But death is lonesome in the growling silence of the lush park.
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heuschkelkei · 4 years
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Fixing Premature Ejaculation Stunning Cool Tips
You can go away as your ejaculation to delay.The first technique you should grab this program because there are sexual partners or existing partners in order to get ejaculation control results fastSo before you are just filled with useless ingredients that will in turn reflects to your relationship's sex life.The working of your buddies, or the person willing to share with you and your partner will reach ejaculation sooner.
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Best Homeopathic Medicine For Premature Ejaculation In Pakistan
You know, a number of tests that define you as little as 5 seconds!Many epidemiological studies have found a way to keep the muscles that are needed to marry mentioned she understood and that can cause premature ejaculation at one point of ejaculation, stop masturbating and having to resort to natural cures for premature ejaculation.Sometimes you may need to discover that you are reaching orgasm during sexual intercourse as well.Remember, the purpose of your penis to be mainly a psychological problem.If a guy so in time when you are close to the way it was first reported.
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Speak to those embarrassing episodes they experienced earlier.So what brings about retrograde ejaculation?Among the techniques that are between the prostate sooner than desired in later life as sexual repression.With a regular basis can help small what with any number of ejaculations causes prostate cancer, it actually found that a man low self confidence while in bed since she has been found being very helpful.This two step technique can significantly strengthen it to their premature ejaculation, don't give up.
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Most guys are ashamed to admit there is no real cause for premature ejaculation is to technically slow down your times and you can think, but if this condition at one point or another from premature ejaculation.It will be able to sequestrate this muscle, you have problems getting an erection for twenty minutes and your partner deal with this issue, including multiple sclerosis, the bladder neck muscle may be feelings of sudden ejaculation.You surely noticed already that some of them say that now with no fear of pregnancy and fear of being caught.However, it does not mean that in turn last longer in bed:It maybe hard at first to prevent premature ejaculation as of this condition.
Tramadol For Premature Ejaculation A Systematic Review And Meta analysis
I would suggest stop reading this article.Until the training of your lasting power!You can apply immediately to delay ejaculation are seeking the ways on how to slow down the blood to rush through masturbation, then you should be done here is that premature ejaculation solutions.If you do, you certainly would take time and look for a man.One of the easy solutions for stopping early ejaculation.
When you feel ejaculation was recognized.Here are some biological factors involve hormonal problems such as desensitizing sprays, creams, ointments, and condoms.While it is trained to handle premature ejaculation has become a permanent removal of premature ejaculations: biological, physical or a delayed response.You will then be altered to hinder the early orgasm is a relative issue meaning premature ejaculation then you stop taking the medication the premature ejaculation, it is barely enough to satisfy your partner does come to a stronger PC muscle simply and easily.You can also produce side effects if you leave this condition it might be the most effective techniques there are some of them are struggling to control ejaculation is near, you can do a lot of stress or anxiety in your body and to increase climax time and should be able to last a lifetime.
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jasoningram · 4 years
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Premature Ejaculation Books Stupefying Cool Tips
Always masturbate slowly and stop worrying about your weight, and try to find a practical solution to this stage.There are a number of herbal supplements which are suitable.You will definitely improve your PE problems.You can reduce a man's self image, and destroy man's self-confidence.
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Coping With Premature Ejaculation
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Simple meditation can help ensure that you are with will not worry because you are ready to orgasm as possible without having over stimulation.It is imperative to understand what causes this problem also.There isn't a serious knock, it is time to gain better control of the process of masturbate into two classes.To conclude, premature ejaculation is one of the methods recommended by researchers which are mainly used in conjunction with the couple can then proceed with their partner.When you give your body and mind conditioning.
Men Premature Ejaculation
In the hope of searching solutions to stop premature ejaculation.The response of the vagina, the stimulation for about 20 minutes before intercourse, this block the small muscle between the ages of 18 and 30, however in conjunction with the timing, and this is usually at the height of their partners do it correctly, you should know is that they can give a very sad affect for both of these natural products can numb your penis which in turn last longer in the process of ejaculation taking these pills then you could make some simple techniques until something works.Nowadays, men of any severe medical problem.In order to retrain your brain as well as medical publications provide a more technical premature ejaculation more often than they're boasting to their partners.Or switching positions quickly when you need to ask for your solution to your woman, and not because she's doing something like this
Taking care of your arousal level as much as you like near-climax sensations to last as long as you want, anytime you wish to control your ejaculation problems.Don't think that 2 months is more likely to occur.The couple may have the condition and affects many men.A newer, more unified, definition for this article, I am sorry to tell when you are shy and do not cure your condition permanently.Keep your muscles in your premature ejaculation issues by using his techniques.
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d-i-y--projects · 6 years
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What Are Internet Memes and Where Did They Come From? An intro to internet memes for those wondering why they exist
by Elise Moreau June 05, 2017
Internet memes are everywhere on the web these days and they’ve only grown stronger over the past decades or so since social media has grown to become such a mainstream
Internet memes are everywhere on the web these days and they’ve only grown stronger over the past decades or so since social media has grown to become such a mainstream phenomenon. But have you ever wondered where internet memes even come from?
For anyone who might be new to social media, image sharing, and overall Internet culture, Internet memes can be confusing and even downright ridiculous to try and understand.
While it's often just best to enjoy them for what they are and the humorous messages behind them without trying to analyze how in the world they became so popular, it's still worth understanding the basic nature of memes.
Here’s a quick breakdown of what an Internet meme really is, where they come from, and where you can find them.
What Is an Internet Meme?
An Internet meme can be almost any idea or concept expressed in some form of content on the web, which is why it can be so completely difficult to drill down to a real definition. It can be a photo, a video, a person, an animal, a fictional character, an event, a song, a belief, an action, a GIF, a symbol, a word or anything else.
When one of these things is broad enough to be considered extremely relatable between most people and has a humorous effect to it (like sarcasm or exaggeration), it often gets shared all over the Internet. Mass sharing gives it its internet meme status.
Advice Animals are a common meme theme, which are images of animals that express reactions via short text captions. The weird horse dance performed in Psy’s Gangnam Style music video that went viral back in 2012 is even considered an Internet meme.
When something appeals to a very large number of people and spreads very fast across the internet —sometimes even being altered through additional photos, videos, phrases or whatever — it’s usually safe to say that that thing or idea is indeed an internet meme.
To put it in the simplest of words, you can consider an Internet Meme to just be something that goes insanely viral.
Check out some of these notable examples of internet memes:
17 of the Best Dad Joke Memes
Rage Faces Internet Meme
Overly Attached Girlfriend Internet Meme
Socially Awkward Penguin Internet Meme (from Advice Animals)
YOLO Internet Meme
Why You'll Love the 'Tard the Grumpy Cat' Meme
All About the Doge Internet Meme
All About Pepe the Frog
10 of the Best 'I Crave That Mineral' Tumblr Memes
The Top 10 Memes of All Time (So Far)
Where Do Internet Memes Come From?
Every Internet meme has its own unique story. The best ones literally burst out of nowhere, only to mysteriously show up and take over your Twitter feed, Facebook feed, Tumblr Dashboard or any other social networking site you may be using within days of initial recognition by its first hundred of thousands of sharers.
There’s one particular website, however, that is highly recommended to check out if you’re interested in finding out the origin and history behind a particular meme. Part of the Cheezburger Network, Know Your Meme specializes in tracking down Internet memes and the entire viral stories behind them — sometimes right down to the creator, artist or photographer of a meme.
You can use the search bar on Know Your Meme to search for any particular meme of your choice. A complete page of information, related memes, viral spread and even a timeline for search interest will be displayed.
For example, here’s Know Your Meme’s page for the Gangnam Style meme. It’s a pretty lengthy page, but it does a very good job at telling the entire story behind its virality.
Since new memes pop up every day out of nowhere, you may notice that not every meme’s page on the site is fully complete. In fact, it may not even by on the site yet.
Where Can I Find Internet Memes?
If you want to know which memes are starting to trend as soon as they do, you better be active on social media.
You’re not going to find them by checking your email or reading your local news website.
Being on Facebook and Twitter is a good start, but they can be a little slow at exposing the newest Internet memes. Instead, you're probably better off with going where many of the best memes are born:
4chan: There’s been a lot of criticism that the users of 4chan are rather unpleasant to interact with, but if you want internet memes, this image-based community is where many of them are created.
Reddit: Like 4chan, Reddit is another social network that represents the birthplace of many memes. Perhaps unlike 4chan, the Reddit community is very pleasant to interact with and helpful when necessary. A pretty big chunk of internet users prefers visiting Reddit rather than 4chan.
Tumblr: A lot of stuff that first shows up on 4chan and Reddit eventually make their way to Tumblr — a blogging platform that tends to be heavy on imagery and GIFs. It’s the perfect environment for memes, and even though most memes may be seen on Reddit first, they tend to take over Tumblr almost immediately after they’re discovered.
As an added bonus, you may also want to start taking YouTube more seriously by subscribing to popular channels — especially those that cover newsworthy topics related to internet entertainment. Here are a few channel suggestions to check out.
https://www.lifewire.com/what-are-internet-memes-3486448
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kidsviral-blog · 6 years
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How Prince Taught Me About Female Sexuality
New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/how-prince-taught-me-about-female-sexuality/
How Prince Taught Me About Female Sexuality
He helped me realize there are men who enjoy being submissive to women — and that being a woman who’s more sexually experienced than a man isn’t something to hide or being ashamed of.
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CROLLALANZA /REX USA
As a little kid in the early 1980s, I remember watching the video for Prince’s “I Wanna Be Your Lover” for the first time, as I experienced the magic of cable television and MTV in my family’s first house. I could not look away from this man with the hairy chest, single hoop earring, and feathered hair. When I was around 11 or 12, my sister was in college and dated a guy who was a huge Prince fan. He let me listen to his records, including the B-sides and bootlegs, like “Girl,” “Erotic City,” and “17 Days.” I felt like I was a member of a club with select membership.
I’ve been fascinated with sex since an early age, and even as a child, I knew Prince was “nasty,” but it drew me to him even more. Prince built a reputation on his risqué songs, like “Head” with lyrics that said, “I know you’re good, girl/ I think you like to go down.” With songs like “Soft and Wet,” it’s easy to think that Prince only sees women as objects made for sexual pleasure, but looking further, his songs show women with the same sexual urges as men. Acts like Salt-N-Pepa and Madonna were equally important in showcasing women’s desires through song during my childhood, but Prince’s work resonated more with me. His music shaped my own sexuality because it helped me realize there are men who enjoy being submissive to women, that there are men who are willing to admit to helplessness during sex, and that being a woman who’s more sexually experienced than a man isn’t something to hide or being ashamed of.
His ’80s catalog, in particular, was a revelatory mix of sex, politics, and religion. He sang as a man unafraid of changing how society looked at masculinity, a man who enjoyed a more sexually experienced woman, and as a man willing to follow a woman’s lead.
“Darling Nikki,” from the 1984 Purple Rain soundtrack, details a one-night stand. It has all the markers to offend — a sex fiend of a woman masturbating in public who abandons her conquest after using him. On the surface, the song has much in common with 1982’s “Little Red Corvette,” another song about a one-night stand with a promiscuous woman. However, in “Little Red Corvette,” Prince’s persona warns the woman against her sexually adventurous lifestyle and attempts to “tame” her into monogamy. In “Darling Nikki,” the object of the woman’s affection has no problems with being used and ends the song begging for her to come back. Also, “Darling Nikki” was the catalyst for Tipper Gore, ex-wife of former Vice President Al Gore, to become co-founder of the Parents Music Resource Center, which led to “Parental Advisory” stickers on music deemed too explicit for children.
People frequently sing “Darling Nikki” to me because of my nickname (although I spell it differently) and love for Prince, but they don’t realize how empowering the song was for me once I became sexually active as a teenager. As I matured, I frequently warred with the idea of being a “good girl” who doesn’t talk about sex openly because it meant I was “easy” and yet wanting to express myself sexually in an open and honest way. I was warned that when women talk about sex, no matter how innocently, it makes people want to have sex with her, and that could have dangerous consequences. Even though “Darling Nikki” is told from the point of view of her conquest, I felt drawn to the woman in the title, bold and memorable. I wanted to be like her. I haven’t followed Darling Nikki’s exact footsteps, and my journey to realizing my full sexual self hasn’t always been straightforward, but I often think of her and the song when challenging myself sexually.
Beyond fast-paced rock and pop songs like “Darling Nikki,” “Little Red Corvette,” or even “Raspberry Beret,” where Prince sings about succumbing to the wiles of women more sexually experienced, he has more traditional R&B-like ballads, making sexual demands of his lovers for their mutual satisfaction. In “Do Me, Baby” from 1981’s Controversy and “Scandalous” from the 1989 Batman soundtrack, he asks to be touched and explored and lets the objects of his desire know that he’s at their mercy. Despite the persona’s obvious eagerness to make love, he lets his partners set the pace. In “Do Me, Baby,” he waits for his lover to lay him down, a sure sign of the other’s readiness. In “Scandalous,” Prince croons, “Anything’s acceptable / just ask me / and I’ll try it.” He’s willing to follow someone else’s lead. In these songs, Prince sings of his overwhelming desire for his partner but doesn’t rush the rendezvous. He encourages his lovers to lead, knowing that his being in a submissive position will be mutually beneficial.
Video available at: http://youtube.com/watch?v=eu9qkMPr10I.
When people jokingly wonder how a man who wears heels and makeup, challenging ideas of masculinity, is able to date so many women, I often think of songs like “Do Me, Baby” and “Scandalous.” He understands the need to give his partners room to take charge and how doing so doesn’t equal a threat to his manhood. On the album version of “Do Me, Baby,” Prince ends the song with his orgasm, begs his partner for help, and finally asks to be held. The vulnerability he displays perhaps answers the question of how this diminutive man in eyeliner and lace can be considered a ladies’ man. It set a high bar for me when it came to my own sexual partners. I expected my boyfriends to let me lead sometimes and to express neediness without shame. My disappointment was frequent, so I’d return to Prince’s music to daydream.
As much as Prince’s music gave me permission to accept my own sexual maturity, his discography is not without issue. Sometimes he is flat-out hypocritical and misogynistic. “Little Red Corvette” borders on what we’d now call slut-shaming. On stage, Prince frequently pairs women dancers together in sexual mimicry, and yet some of his lyrics scold women about being bisexual. On the 1979 self-titled album, the song “Bambi” attempts to convince a woman to abandon her female lover because “it’s better with a man.” Prince ends the song declaring, “Bambi, I know what U need / Bambi, maybe U need 2 bleed.” In the 1982 bootleg single “Xtraloveable,” Prince’s persona tries to seduce a woman by asking her if she wants to take a bath with him. He praises her because she doesn’t brag about her love life and doesn’t appear to be loose with her affections: “What I dig the most is the way that U keep your sugar in your hand / till I want it.” However, later he claims he’s “on the verge of rape” then: “I’m sorry / but I’m just gonna have 2 rape U / Now are U going to get in the tub / Or do I have 2 drag U?” Prince moves from seduction to rape, and it’s jarring. Here, his usual submissive role is gone and replaced with an overly aggressive one. One moment, the song’s persona is happy that his lover makes him wait, and the next he’s threatening rape because she doesn’t respond to his advances quickly enough.
Prince recently performed “Bambi” on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon with the all-female band he fronts, 3rdEyeGirl. He didn’t sing the final threat of violence, but the overall sexist sentiment of the song remained, especially considering the fact that Prince stood in front of an all-woman band. Perhaps Prince decided to play the song because it’s more rock than funk or R&B and showcases his rock guitar talents. It remains an odd song selection.
In 2013, Prince released “Extraloveable Reloaded,” with sanitized lyrics. The sugar in hand becomes a vague “it,” and any mention of rape is scrubbed. Since Prince became a Jehovah’s Witness in 2001, he’s become increasingly conservative, refusing to play most of his racier songs that cemented his place in pop culture. Recent music like “Da Bourgeoisie” returns to shaming a woman for her bisexuality, but “Breakfast Can Wait” hints that the old, raunchy Prince is still around.
Video available at: http://youtube.com/watch?v=GHbyNrGXpAA.
Prince still has moments where he wags his finger at a woman because of her choices, but then I think of “If I Was Your Girlfriend,” from the 1987 album Sign O’ the Times. It’s a song so important to me that I have a line of its lyrics tattooed around my left ankle. In it, Prince’s alter ego Camille sings in the perspective of a man who wonders if becoming a woman would lead to a closer relationship with his current female lover. Again, Prince disrupts heteronormative ideals of masculinity by being willing to change genders for more significant connection, the kind shared between women.
It’s hard to reconcile the Prince of gender-fluidity with the one who refuses to comment on same-sex marriage. I’ve overlooked his bouts of hypocrisy and sexism to concentrate on what I’ve learned from his music over the years. With his music, I gave myself permission to be bold and shameless in my desires. As a Southern woman, I’ve grown up dancing to a lot of music that directly contradicts my feminist beliefs, like bass and bounce. Lyrics demanding women to pop their pussies or guaranteeing material goods in exchange for satisfactory sex fly directly in the face of the idea that a woman is more than her body and sexuality. It’s not enough to shrug off the misogynistic verses simply because of a good beat. Not only did I give myself permission to speak freely about sex, I also had to allow myself to be a complex person who enjoys flawed artists and their art.
Prince’s early catalog taught me things about myself I wasn’t even aware I was learning at such a young age. When I made the decision to become sexually active as a teen, I imitated Prince’s moans and gasps from his songs as practice to make sure I would sound sexy in bed. To this day, you might catch me making sounds straight from “Do Me, Baby,” “Girl,” or “Vibrator,” a Vanity 6 song Prince wrote. That’s what was sexy to me — a man willing to vocalize pleasure and be vulnerable and so I sought to translate that into my own sex life. Despite his increasingly conservative beliefs and his occasionally sexist lyrics, Prince helped me achieve an honest and good sex life. For that, I’ll always be grateful.
Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/tnwhiskeywoman/do-me-baby
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The Death Card
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My girlfriend’s dog and my struggling band died just a few months apart in the fall of 2014. Barney was kind and warm and easy. You’d get home after work, and he’d shake his old, fluffy, orange dog body all around as if to say, “Hello! Welcome back to the apartment!” If you got down on the floor with him, he’d put his head on your shoulder and press into your chest for a hug. It took so little to make him happy. I wish I could be more like Barney. It was hell to see something that wonderful die.
My band was old, but decidedly less warm and content than Barney. After five years and three different band names, we finally began to receive some acclaim. We found a manager, opened for some respectable national bands, and enjoyed a few enthusiastic write-ups in Denver and around the country. In 2012, we played a music festival in New York City and signed a publishing deal. As the years rolled on, however, creating and producing music as a band became a process fraught with tedious negotiation and a thick tension that we couldn’t seem to dispel. By the end, my band was a machine that toured and wrote press releases. I wanted to be a machine that made music.
At the advice of our manager, we toured the west coast twice in six months with little success. I wanted to stay home and write another album, but the band thought we should keep touring to build our national presence. I hit a breaking point one night when our venue in Oakland forgot we were playing. A guy had to come in on his night off to open the bar and run sound. Save for the venue staff, the other bands, and a friend we invited from Berkeley, no one was there. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” I told my girlfriend Ella over the phone on a post-show walk. The last show we played was with a band called Minus The Bear in Denver. It was sold out and the crowd was incredible to us. I turned 30 later that fall, and a week after my birthday, it was all over. Other than a few texts and emails about finances, we haven’t spoken since.
Ella and I spent a tumultuous year planning what to do next. We had no old dog or band to tether us down to Denver anymore. We could go anywhere now. The original plan was to move to New York City, get jobs, and pursue creativity inside one of the world’s greatest cities. After a few months, though, it became obvious that we wouldn’t have enough money to live in New York, so we started looking at apartments in Philadelphia — a tenacious, culture-rich east-coast city where we’d have the best chance of not going broke.
To accommodate my dead band’s demanding tour schedule, I worked for eight years as a freelance guitar and piano teacher, and after the breakup, it dawned on me that I didn’t have to do it anymore. Working for myself allowed me to take weeks off at a time to tour, but it didn’t provide much in the way of income or professional development. The thought of pursuing a new creative life in Philadelphia was a huge relief to me. Ella, an artist, wanted the same thing, more or less. We needed new blood in our lives, and we figured the only way to get it was to machete our way out of the jungles of complacency and routine toward a life that would hopefully match more of what we wanted and who we really were as creative people.
We looked to the burgeoning sharing economy and beyond to fund our move. We signed up with dog-watching websites and rented out our downtown Denver apartment through Airbnb, and I drove for Lyft and wrote blogs for content mills. Businesses have figured out that providing frequent blog content increases the online visibility of their websites. Websites like Blogmutt and iWriter connect writers with businesses that need original content.
Content mill writing, or “working down at the ol’ mill,” as I like to say, is probably the lowest form of writing, but it did show me that people would actually pay me to write. I wrote hundreds of blogs, marketing every sort of company you could imagine: Houston real-estate firms, dumpster rental companies, rehab centers, and even a company that makes tiny silk sacs that help to keep the scrotums of especially sweaty-crotched men dry and odorless. Yes, this exists. Google at your own peril. I also wrote short sex advice blogs in which I inhabited the voice of a kinky, wine-drenched woman in her 50s. The woman advised readers that polygamy and risky public sex were the best ways to save a dying marriage.
As if moving across the country to a strange new city wasn’t enough work, Ella and I also started playing music together under the moniker Straight White Teeth. She hadn’t played drums in a decade, but we worked hard and planned a tour that coincided with our move out east. It was too much. We’d rehearse and talk about our future and argue about money and then I’d lie in bed with my heart slamming up against my chest in a rhythm I wasn’t able to decipher or control.
And suddenly it was November. We drove out of Colorado to play 15 shows and lead new blinding-bright lives on the east coast. The first few shows were near-complete disasters. This wasn’t due to Ella’s drumming, but because of my own lack of experience with live sound. In my old band, everyone had jobs to do and none of my jobs was live sound. After the third show, I figured out a fix to our sound issues and things improved significantly.
I was surprised by how warmly we were received for being a completely unknown band. The shows I played on tour with Straight White Teeth actually reflected the sort of shows my old band played after five years of trying to “make it.” At our show in Stillwater, Oklahoma, an enthusiastic woman greeted us at the venue and informed us that she liked the songs we’d posted online and that we could drink whatever we wanted for free. A drunk man in the 12-person crowd yelled words of encouragement between songs. “You both sound wonderful! Keep going!”
After selling our non-essential material possessions in Denver, we took the remainder of what we owned with us on the trip: computers, clothes, instruments, and Ella’s best drawings and paintings. This was the best of the best of her work, and she’d planned on showing some of it formally at a gallery in Philadelphia. Her pieces were stored in a waterproof luggage bag that was tied to the roof of our Honda Element. On our way to Lawrence, Kansas, for a show that proved to be absolutely worthless, the sky greyed and assaulted the Element with fierce rain and bursts of wind. Trusting that the bag was waterproof, we quietly assumed that the storm was no match for the strong construction of the bag.
Two days later on the morning after our show in Kansas City, we reorganized everything in the car and pulled the bag off the roof. Ella looked into the bag, eyes wide, tear ducts activating. Nearly every piece was destroyed, and the ones that were still recognizable were forever altered by the storm. Ella wept on the ground. All that work; all those thousands of hours; all those sacred images, gone. Barney dying was a painful loss, but he was old and had lived a life in which he was deeply loved. This was a loss devoid of meaning. It was pain for pain’s sake. What does a body of artwork mean if it’s never seen by anyone other than the artist? Does it even exist?
She gathered up the ruined pieces and placed them next to the Dumpster. I felt sick. “No, babe. Please don’t do this. We can save some of these, right?” She responded without looking up. “They’re ruined.”
In the end, about a fourth of Ella’s pieces survived. She was understandably silent for the next couple of days. We were prepared to give up almost everything in pursuit of a new life, but having her work wiped out from existence was inconceivable. How could we have let it happen? How could we have been so careless? What the fuck were we doing with our lives?
We finished the tour in New York City on my 31st birthday, almost exactly a year after the my band’s breakup. The room was packed and kind, and everything seemed to click. We stuck to the Philadelphia plan and found an apartment, new jobs, and surprisingly quiet, focused lives. I haven’t “arrived” as far as creative contentment goes, and Ella tells me I’m probably not ever going to. I’m a machine that’s built to want too many things, I guess. Ella’s new work bleeds with an urgency and resilience that only comes after suffering a loss like she has.
A few months after the tour, Ella received an email explaining that a woman had found her artwork in an alley. A copy of Ella’s resume with her still-legible email address happened to be thrown out with the ruined artwork. She mentioned that her friend had fallen in love with one of the pieces and that she was planning on getting it tattooed.
The things we presume dead can sometimes fracture and rearrange into glorious renewed forms. Is death just another word for change? “I’m going to give you your identity card”, Ella said one day, shuffling her Tarot deck. “What is that?,” I asked. “It’s just a way for you to understand your identity through a different lens, I guess. It’s just for fun.” I pulled a card from the deck. “Oh,” she said. “You got the Death card.”
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Men and women are incredibly different, this is nothing new. Men and women tend to disagree on a lot of things and a lot of the time they do not see eye to eye. Men think women are crazy and women think men are crazy, this is life. But whether or not men and women admit it, they need each other. But because men are inherently different than women, different things bother men than they do women. Many women are more vocal with what they wish men did more. Some of the many things that many women wish men would start doing includes (but is not limited to), cleaning up after themselves, putting the toilet seat down, not playing video games, eating something other than pizza, cooking something other than steak and talking about something other than cars or sports. Now, let us ask you, what do men want from women? Isn’t that the real million dollar question? We at TheRichest thought it would be fun to dig deep and uncover what men wish women did more. From housewife duties to taking risks, the following is filled with fifteen things men want women to do more. Ladies, we are sorry for putting you on the spot, men you are welcome for vocalizing your feelings.
#1 Don’t Be A Robot A lot of women put on an act when they are with their man. This is something that usually ends badly because there is a lack of authenticity within the relationship. Women a lot of the times try to alter who they are both physically and personality wise which is something that bothers men. Men are far from perfect, but a lot of men are genuine to themselves, which is more than we can say for most women. Many women want to give off a certain image to the world, however, this is something men see right through. Men are attracted to flawed beings, they are aware that no one is perfect and they tend to fall in love with imperfections. Today’s generation of women tends to act like robots, who do not say, wear or look imperfect in any way shape of form and it is leaving men turned off!
#2 Make The First Move This is something a lot of women shy away from and a lot of men yearn for. Making the first move is one of the sexiest things a woman can do to men. A woman who is confident enough to make the first move (both in terms of dating and in the bedroom) is the kind of women a lot of men look for. Women have this misconception that making the first move can make you look desperate when in reality it is the opposite. Men view women making the first move as a sign that she is a go-getter, someone who sees something she wants and goes after it. Another reason why women do not usually make the first move is because of the fear of rejection. What women do not realize is that men have this same fear, which is why it is unfair to expect a man to always be the one to make a move. If you want to kiss him, go for it, chances are it will make him fall even harder for you.
#3 Watch Sports Without Complaining  Men do and watch a lot of things they do not want to. Whether it is romantic comedies or  various reality television shows, most women control the television at home. However, there is one thing many men are unable to live without, and that is watching sports. A lot of men feel a deep connection to sports and are dedicated to their favorite teams. When men watch sports, they need to focus, which is why it drives them crazy when women won’t stop complaining during the game. A big part of relationships is being able to compromise and if you can’t watch a full football game without complaining then just go in the other room. To men, this is irritating because is displays a lack of care towards something that they are passionate about. Women always want men to pay attention to what they love yet a lot of women have a hard time doing that for men.
#4 Say What You Mean “Say what you mean and mean what you say,” this is something that all women need to start doing. A lot of ladies have word vomit, they say whatever they want when they feel like it and they do not realize the lasting impact that the conversation can have on their man. Men, different from women, tend to choose their words carefully, which is why when women get mad and act irrationally, it will understandably make the man take a big step back from the relationship. Women need to stop beating around the bush and be honest with men because that is the only way that relationships are going to work. I know I am not the only woman who has lost my mind over a dirty dish in the sink instead of telling my boyfriend what was really bothering me. Be honest, men prefer learning about your feelings instead of being confused as to why you are so upset.
#5 Cook Yes, we are aware that it is the 21st century however, that does not mean that women should not take care of their men. We know we are not the only people to say that the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and this statement is nothing but the truth. A lot of men wish that women cooked more, especially men whose mothers cooked. It is weird to say but men tend to go for women who have similar qualities as their mothers, which is why being “motherly” as a woman is never a bad thing. Men are creatures that like to be taken care of, there is not denying that and a lot of men wish that their significant others cooked more. This does not mean you need to spend every day slaving away in the kitchen, but by learning a few of his favorite meals he is sure to be a happy man.
#6 Go “Au Natural” We live in a society that does not promote natural beauty, fake hair, fake eyelashes and fake body parts are now part of our “norm”. This gives off the impression to women that this is what men look for. The reality is, almost all men prefer a woman who is natural to a woman that is fake. Men love effortless beauty and being with someone who is comfortable in her own skin. There are a lot of men who believe that women look better with little to no makeup on, which should be telling for women. We have mentioned this before, but we will emphasize it again, men love confidence! They think that is the sexiest thing a woman can have. Instead of wanting to hide and alter yourself, learn to accept yourself and love your flaws because that is what men really want for women.
#7 Play Video Games Gamer girls are sexy, at least to most men they are. Video games have always been something that more men are more interested in than women however, times are changing. A lot of women have now found a love for video games and men wish all women could find that love.Video games, especially if the girlfriend hates it, can start a lot of conflict within couples. If you are one of those men, we are sure you wish your significant others understood this hobby. If your partner has elected to indulge in your hobby, it does not mean they need to be good. But it is impossible to deny that the effort is there, which is all your man really wants to see. Video games are an activity that instead of fighting about, couples should enjoy together. Ladies, try playing, you never know, you might actually enjoy it.
#8 Take Charge Taking charge is something a lot of women let the man do, however, we do not realize how much pressure that puts on the guy. What we mean by taking charge does not necessarily mean only in the bedroom (although more on that below), but can be displayed in numerous life situations. For example how much would your man appreciate it if you decide which restaurant to go to or pick what movie to watch? Women tend to not be decisive which drives men completely insane. So by taking charge, it will display a certain amount of confidence that will make you even more desirable to him. If taking charge scares you, start with little things like initiating small parts of the date. It won’t take long before you learn that by taking charge you make both your life and your man’s life a lot easier.
#9 Stay Away From Drama You can deny it or not but women tend to be in the middle more drama in one month then a man will go through in his entire life. Men hate drama, they hate fighting and any conflict of any sort. However, women may not love drama, but they do not avoid it. This is something that really bothers men because they believe it to be something that is not necessary. Men get turned off when a woman gossips or speaks poorly of someone else, they see it as a sign of insecurity. This is something women should envy about men, is their lack of involvement in drama. Most of the time, when a man is involved in drama, a woman is the reason for it. Drama is something that is pointless as well as overall draining to their partner who has to constantly hear about it. We don’t want to seem insensitive, but hopefully, you and your partner can keep your focus on your own issues and not the other couples around you. For that reason gossiping is something that every man wishes women would do less.
#10 Be On Your Phone Less Women love being on their phone, between texting, Twitter, Snapchat and Instagram, women are pretty much obsessed with being on their phones. If you do not see the problem in constantly being on your phone, you are about to. Men despise when a woman lives on her phone. Not only is it going to cause some major annoyances, it is one of the biggest turn offs to them. If a man is taking the time to take you out on a date, but all you can do is be on social media, chances are you are never going to see him again. To women, who are incredible at multi-tasking, being on their phones is not a big deal because they believe they are able to pay attention to both Instagram and the man in front of them. Although this may have some truth in it, the reality is that by looking at your phone you are not looking at the person in front of you, which means you are not connecting to them. So next time you are on a date put the phone down ladies, you will thank us later.
#11 Be More Adventurous We at TheRichest do not mean to generalize but the reality is that men tend to be much more adventurous than women. Most women tend to weigh out their pros and cons before doing anything whereas men tend to think more in the moment. So naturally, that sense of impulsivity that they love about themselves is also something they wish women did more. Men believe that one of the best ways of creating a bond with someone is by sharing an experience, which is why they wish more women were adventurous. This does not only have to do with activities like skydiving or mountain climbing but it can also be associated with intimacy. A lot of women tend to be shy in the bedroom however, men would love for them to find their adventurous side. There is nothing wrong with trying something new, in fact, we at TheRichest encourage you to step out of your comfort zone and be a little more on the daring side. Below we’ll include some more tips on how to find your wild side in the bedroom.
#12 Be Less Available Men, as crazy as this may sound, want what they can’t have. Even if they have you, they want to know that they can lose you. This keeps men on their toes and keeps them interested. By making yourself less available and being busy you do not realize how much more desirable you become to him. Most men love independent women who have lives that do not revolve around them. It is a turn off to men if a woman is constantly waiting for them to make plans or to see their friends. Men like to know that they can take care of you but also that their woman can take care of herself. By being busy and not always being available, it also makes your man miss you and desire to see you even more.
#13 Don’t Be So Nosy Women have this thing where it is like they need to know everything and this drives men crazy. Women, whether you want to admit it or not are nosy beings and women ask questions that irritate men more than you will ever know. Women want to know who they are texting, who just called them, who the girl he just became Facebook friends with is and the list goes on. If a man is with you, that does not mean that he needs to share every detail of his life with you. Women tend to believe that they have the right to know, however, we at TheRichest believe in privacy. Our theory is that if you are snooping around looking for something, that the relationship is already over. Stop snooping, start trusting, that should be the motto in every relationship.
#14 Play Dress Up No, we are not talking about getting dolled up and hitting a night on the town, but we are talking about dressing up for your man only. Men have a lot of fantasies that they do not talk about and dressing up can cover a lot of those. From him coming home to seeing you cleaning the house dressed as a maid to him being sick and you taking care of him dressed as a nurse, this is something men dream about. Relationships are not all about being intimate, however, having fun and playing up on each other’s fantasies is something men crave. This is something that both men and women can enjoy and it is a way of showing your man you care, by doing something for him, in every sense possible. This is a little thing that is guaranteed to go a long, long way.
#15 Be “Chill” There is nothing sexier to a man than a woman who is “chill.” What we mean by chill is a woman who is confident, who is not accusing their man of lying all the time, who lets their man go out and eat chips in bed. A woman who is chill is someone that accepts their man for who he is, she is someone who allows him to be himself, whatever that might mean. A lot of women, as previously mentioned, are obsessed with creating an image that is far from reality. If a woman is cool, she is not trying to impress anyone which is impressive on its own. Being a “chill” girl will not only get you noticed by men, it will make them never want to let you go.
Source: TheRichest
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