#i’ve been slowly improving myself in so many ways too!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koimethehorizon · 8 months

Text

Adventure Time and Fionna and Cake Theory: The Victimhood of Simon + How the Series Might End

Prerequisite Watching for this Theory:

Adventure Time: Temple of Mars, Betty, Come Along With Me, Broke His Crown, I Remember You, Holly Jolly Secrets Part II

Gonna start this loaded theory with a bit of a hot take. I’ve never liked how Simon and Betty’s stories concluded in Come Along With Me.

For Simon, I’ve always had trouble considering Simon and the Ice King as the same person. Holly Jolly Secrets and I Remember You, the pinnacle of depicting the dichotomy of the two characters is built on us seeing Simon as suffering irreversible memory loss and how his loved ones can grow to accept that. The context is most apt when viewed as a metaphor for dementia, Alzheimer’s, or simply old age.

The scenes in which Ice King reacts so superfluously to characters desperately wishing for his old self to return are striking because of the cruel finality of his condition. Alternatively, the ones in which his loved ones hang around with him despite his condition are sweet in their own right.

One of my favorite Ice King scenes is in Broke His Crown where Marceline invites her girlfriend to meet her surrogate father.

Bubblegum: What's this?

Ice King: It's a present, to bribe you for coming over!

Marceline: You don't have to bribe us silly, we're here because we WANT to hang out with you.

Ice King: No one has ever said that to me before.

*snatches present*

Ice King: You didn't say no takebacks.

There was a real poignancy to depicting an old man with memory-loss slowly having people come to accept him and realize that he’s still a swell guy to hang around. It may be depressing to see this good person who was once so unconditionally caring into a buffoon who could forget your name so easily and turn on you in the flip of a coin.

But even he deserved love from others. And in time, as a result of that love, he did improve.

Which is why, even in Fionna and Cake, I find myself still disturbed seeing Simon in his normal state and Ice King completely erased from Ooo. It kills me that Betty and in extension, the show itself could not accept Ice King as he was and felt that his best course was to undo it all.

All of his experiences for 1000+ years all of a sudden no longer matter, and the acceptance of his peers no longer mattered as well. He's just back to who he used to be in a world where everything he's known is gone.

Happily ever after

Even worse, however, is remembering the wish that allowed Simon to be cured. The person who sacrificed her individuality to get that good person back, because she couldn’t accept reality as it was.

And I’m going to put a second hot take. A spicy one. Simon needs to take the fault in Betty's fate and Fionna and Cake (the show not the characters) seems aware of this.

Throughout Adventure Time, Simon Petrikov was never developed as a character. As far as the audience and the characters within Adventure Time knew, the only traits about Simon that mattered were: that he was intelligent, he was a kind man, and he loved Betty.

This wouldn’t really be a compelling character on its own, but when juxtaposed with the Ice King it’s a tragedy that he lost these traits. The compelling part of Simon was his victimhood to the ice crown and not really him as a person.

It’s why Obsidian’s version of Simon feels somewhat empty, he’s back to his intelligent, kind self but there’s no real hints to how he’s mentally adjusting other than that brief glimpse in Ice King’s robes again.

And he looks really weird in this special too. Color me surprised when Simon Petrikov reads out the problems I've had for years about his ending while also making Simon into his own person. In many ways it just completely redos what we see of him in Obsidian.

He's still a kind man but even he can't handle being so maladjusted to a world so beyond his time. He's still intelligent but his passions aren't reciprocated, and that seems to have always been the case even in the past. Rather than a guy who doesn't take shit from guys like Marceline's ex or a first responder to his daughter's problems, he's a normal guy unable to handle the threats of Ooo's world even after 12 years of living in it. Rather than singing to large communities in bliss, he's a lonely alcoholic who can't even relate to his fellow humans anymore. He loves his adopted daughter but there are even some days he can't muster the courage to be honest with her. And most importantly, he doesn't seem to know how to live beyond his curse or his loneliness.

His mutual obsession with Betty is the only character trait of his that's ever had some distinct flaw and with this new show, the writers must have finally found a way to tackle the subject further. Betty is ultimately a greater victim than Simon. She ends up in a far worse fate than Simon has ever been in. Perhaps more disturbingly, she willingly chose to strip herself of her individuality.

Fionna and Cake brings a contradiction to light about Simon and Betty’s seemingly perfect relationship. Simon and Betty's love is real and they do make each other happy. But there does exist a co-dependency that has worsened throughout the series as a result of their insecurity of letting a bad memory conclude their relationship. Betty's patterns are pretty clear throughout her tenure as Magic Woman but not too much with Simon. Not until now.

In Jerry, Simon stops Betty from pursuing her dreams because he didn’t want her goodbye to be his last memory with her.

In Betty, Simon rewrites history and inadvertently summons her to Ooo because he didn’t want Betty’s look of contempt to be his last memory of her.

And through all of Fionna and Cake, Simon has turned into a suicidal man willing to resummon GOLBetty regardless of the reasons she can’t see him again. All because he didn’t want her sacrifice to be his last memory of her. Despite the fact that Betty’s final wish was to keep Simon safe.

There's also this uneven power dynamic between the two. Simon was far more accomplished as a professor with PhDs even if no one took him seriously. Betty was just a student offering some help, knowing she wouldn't take any credit for helping.

I’ll preface that Betty is a consenting adult in the relationship and made many self-determined rash choices that Simon would never approve of with full context. We’ve enough scenes to show that Simon actively refuses Betty’s help if it means endangering her.

However, Simon’s perception of Betty and his own inadequacy did influence her personality for the worse. Fionna questions Simon on two occasions about how strange it was for “someone she just met to drop everything to go with you”. Even within the flashbacks Betty verbally describes her internal conflict between her individuality vs. her infatuation with Simon and the guy never picks up on it.

Whether he’s aware of it or not, Simon always ends up becoming the center of attention during Betty’s greatest life-changing events because he’s always suffering in some way. And sadly in-character, Betty always prioritizes him first because of how sorry she feels for him.

Simon: Just hold my hand to your face, this will be my… last sensation.

Betty: Don’t be a wimp, Simon!

I don’t want to be too hard on Simon, his suffering is cosmologically depressing. An undeniable tragedy that no one deserves to be alone on. It would be unfair to say he’s being dramatic about something most if not any human would ever go through. He’s not a leech for desiring help, especially from his significant other.

But I do think it’s important to point out that he does have a major flaw in not reflecting on the consequences of Betty’s choices.

Fionna: Damn, that’s romantic. So, you got on the bus with her?

Simon: Yup. Uh what? No. No. Why would I-

This is the reason this post exists. This is the show explicitly telling us that Simon has never really thought about what Betty lost because he thinks his love was greater than the passion Betty once had.

Let's go back to Betty once again for what is honestly the most justifiable takedown you could make of Simon's character prior to the miniseries.

As stated earlier, Simon opens a portal to ask for Betty's forgiveness with a few seconds on the clock. And in that time, he essentially just unloads a giant drama bomb, trauma dump of his suffering leading Betty to ask what she can even do without him. And if the plan went as it was, Simon would've just left her a hundred questions that she'd never have answered for the rest of her life.

Simon: Just know that I love you and I forgive you for leaving me. Author's Note: I dunno, isn't there something a bit off about how he worded this?

Now Simon didn't ask for Betty to jump into the portal, but he certainly was asking for it subconsciously. How else would he have expected a person who loves him dearly to act after this?

Taking any measures necessary and finding a way back together obviously. That's what he's doing too!

And reiterating again, this is the reason why Betty goes on her ego-suicidal quest. This is Simon's greatest mistake, his greatest moral failing as a person and he doesn't seem aware of this.

He’s not wrong that Betty lived happily with him. In spite of losing her dreams, Betty and Simon did love each other unconditionally. But he’s missing the bigger picture about how he could’ve been self-centered in deciding Betty’s fate for himself.

And maybe to stretch somewhat, I think even the quest to become Ice King again is somewhat motivated by his inability to live as anything more than a victim. Some of it is because the citizens of Ooo were being a bit inconsiderate about how much they liked Ice King yes, but Simon should be perfectly aware that Marceline, Betty, and now Fionna would be extremely concerned about him for doing this. Yet, he doesn’t really consider their feelings too much on the matter. He’s too used to the suffering.

Please have one scene with Marceline, I'd be sad if we don't get to see at least one.

This leads me to how I believe Fionna and Cake may rewrite Simon’s ending.

The key is in the episode Temple of Mars.

Upon rewatching the episode, I’m convinced that the Adventure Time cast had a greater plan with the Betty and Simon arc that just never came to be due to production constraints. A lot of Betty’s history and the deconstruction of her relationship with Simon in Jerry are surprisingly details that have already been told.

I thought it was an animation error that Betty’s glasses were different in Jerry but it turns out the continuity director is just that good.

The trip in six months, Simon stopping her, and the realization that Simon superseded her identity. Seeking independence from Simon is the lesson that Normal Man was trying failed to teach her.

Betty: I’ve spent so much time dedicated on Simon that I’m not even sure if there’s any “me” left anymore.

But the most telling detail is how Betty passes Normal Man’s test.

Finn: Even if you are a lost cause, she is not!

Betty: No, Finn’s right. You’ll thank me for this later past Betty.

In an alternate pocket reality, she changes her trip to the day before, preventing Simon from stopping her. And I think Simon will have to change fate once again to do the same.

If Simon comes to realize that he was the one who set Betty to her terrible fate, that all this time his rose-colored lens of their relationship had been detrimental then he could give her identity back. But it can’t be as simple as changing the moment Betty turns into GOLB or Magic Woman or even bringing her through the portal in Betty.

He needs to let Betty go on the bus. Alone.

It’s the only way for Betty to have her life back. If not for his Betty, maybe at least to save one in the multiverse doomed to the same fate.

They both need to cherish their time on the Enchiridion trip back when it wasn’t too late for Betty to go on the trip. Back when they were both equals and not tied to Simon’s needs.

Jerry is absolutely setting up something big with Simon and Betty’s relationship for next week and now that we’re going to the GOLB dimension, we’ll see how he remembers these moments again.

Personally, as someone who has been skeptical about Simon's peace for years, Fionna and Cake's second episode was like a sigh of relief. Simon hasn't found his ending yet, and my hope is that this epilogue will help me see the man happy without having to relive Betty's sacrifice for the rest of his life. Just like the rest of Adventure Time, it'll have to end with him cherishing the time he had with Betty regardless of the inevitability of losing that relationship.

PS. Isn’t quite strange that at one point in time, Simon sought after magic objects that ostracized him from the normal world and now, he lives in a house full of 1980s-1990s objects that ostracized him from the magical world? Maybe he was never really satisfied with where he was in the present.

PSS. I really wanted to write something on Fionna for the Ep 3-6 releases, and I still have the idea, but I couldn’t make it coherent due to how much my brain overthinks everything to the point of cognitive collapse. If there’s enough interest, I’ll go back to write it again.

#fionna and cake #adventure time #simon petrikov #betty grof #fionna and cake spoilers #adventure time spoilers #animation #art #hbo max #fionna campbell #theories #character analysis #discussion #petrigrof #golbetty #simon and betty

531 notes · View notes

concreteburialplot · 1 month

Text

Cool About It // 01

01 - Breaking & Entering

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 6.3k

summary; Noah runs into an old friend while visiting his hometown for the holidays. Noah convinces Amelia to meet him on the playground they grew up on to catch up. Reminiscing leads them to a midnight adventure that reminds them all too much of the past.

warnings; alcohol consumption, breaking & entering? stealing? kinda?, hallmark-y, nostalgic, talks of family trauma, cops (acab!), vaguely sad & distraught Noah, uses 'Sebastian' as his last name, 18+ MDNI

disclaimer; welcome to my new short series! reminder that this is hallmark-y bc i began writing it in December lol i decided to challenge myself w this fic in multiple ways, one of the biggest ones was writing it in 3rd person vs my comfy world of 1st or 2nd person. I’ve never written in 3rd person so, if it’s not my best, i apologize, i’m sure it will improve lol

a/n: this is au and follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

It had been quite a busy morning, and Amelia was slowly making her way through the longest line she’d had in a while. She finished heating up a cinnamon roll and snapped a lid on what felt like the 75th peppermint mocha she’d made that day.

“Thanks.” Mumbled the distracted patron and stepped off to the side to grab extra napkins.

“Next.” She said while shuffling dollar bills into the clangy register, then looked up motioning to the last customer. Her hazel eyes landed on a man covered in tattoos pre-occupied on his phone. “Next!” Her call was louder than before and this time edged with impatient annoyance.

A familiar pair of dark brown eyes snapped up at her, his gaze more startled than angry.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together and as if on cue, the register dinged closed in time with her realization.

She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Noah?”

The soft velvet of her voice yanked each edge of Noah’s mouth into a wide toothy smile. “Scout?” He asked in the same caught-off-guard tone. His voice was much deeper than she remembered, and he seemed taller, if that was even possible.

She chuckled at the fact that he used his old nickname for her and felt a tinge of warmth bloom on her cheeks. The ends of her pink lips curled up into an adorably genuine smile. “What are you doing here?” She pressed her palms flat against the cold counter leaning forward and letting soft chocolate curls spill over her shoulder.

“Oh, uh, I’m here with Nicholas.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the town. “He’s here visiting his family, I just tagged along.”

Tagged along.

She should’ve known, of course Noah would be down here with Nick’s family for Christmas. Where else would he be?

“Oh,” She smiled tenderly at his words and nodded. “Of course.”

Every now and then she’d run into Nicholas whenever he came back to town or ran into his parents while out and about, but it was never anything of significance. Whenever it was Nicholas, she wanted more than anything to inquire about Noah or the band but always kept the interactions short, sweet and reserved. The last thing she wanted was to come off as wanting to “catch up” after they gained a larger audience for clout.

He grinned back at her and there was a quiet moment shared between them, as if they both didn’t know what to say. The feeling in the air swung from having nothing to say to having so many words that it was overwhelming to speak.

The gentle moment was broken by the bell dinging above the door as a new customer walked in.

Her first impulse was to make his usual but stopped herself. “Oh um, whatcha want?” She asked, realizing that his tastes had probably changed since he was 16.

“Just a vanilla cold brew is fine, thank you.” He said with a tight-lipped smile, feeling awkward that she was serving him.

She went ahead and filled his cup with the dark amber liquid. “Do you want a snickerdoodle cookie? They’re freshly baked.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Yes please, they’re my favorite.”

She remembered.

Of course, she did.

How could one forget staying up til 2 am at Nick’s house baking cookies and having Top Chef-level trials trying to achieve the perfect spice mixture for what Noah called, “The Most Snick-of-Doodles that could ever Doodle.”

“You got it.” She smiled placing some pastries into a brown paper bag before handing it to him. “I threw in a cinnamon roll for Nicholas, I made sure to give him the one with the most icing.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.” He chuckled gently taking the bag along with his drink. “We should um, catch up soon?”

“Sure.” She pressed her lips together to keep her grin from growing too wide.

Cold fallen leaves crunched beneath Amelia’s feet as she navigated through a park that she hadn’t stepped foot on in a good ten years. A cool chill made her tug her thick knit cardigan tight around her thin frame.

“Noah?” She delicately whisper-yelled into the darkness, the meet-up destination barely lit by the full ivory moon. She should’ve known that Noah wouldn’t be content with catching up at a restaurant or at her house or anywhere normal.

“Scout!” He replied from the swings a bit to her left. A chuckle left his lips, and he quickly clicked the flashlight on his phone, waving it in the air like a search light.

A deep shade of embarrassment coated her pale cheeks, “There’s no streetlights over here!” She walked over and lightly smacked his arm. “It’s dangerous you know.” The weight of her body creaked the metal frame when she fell into the blue swing seat.

“Or you’re just getting old and need glasses.” He teased with a slight slur riding the end of his words.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” She responded with a playful glare.

She looked over at him thinking how funny it was seeing him so large and full grown in such a tiny, low swing. It looked extremely disproportionate and goofy, like a Great Dane in a shopping cart.

He handed her a bottle of cheap red wine, half drank already.

“Oh, got started without me huh?” She sassed before stealing the bottle from his fingers. “Couldn’t have done beer?” She tips the glass bottle until bitter, dry alcohol infiltrates every tastebud, reminding her why she’d switched to martinis or seltzers in her later years.

He waved her off with a tsk, “Too much hassle. Wine was easier. And you took fuckin’ forever!”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes playfully, it wasn’t like she was all that upset over the wine over beer, just that he drank so much of it already. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips once more taking another hefty swig and handed it back to him. “Where’s Nick?”

“Ah,” He swiped the bottle back and took a long gulp. “You know, family stuff.” He wiped the back of hand across his mouth. “I can only handle – so much of it.” His hands motion off his words. “They mean well I just… can’t do too much of it at once.”

Growing up with parents that were as dismissive and absent, then gone all at once like his, knowing how to “family” was odd and foreign to him. As Noah got older, he began to realize that basic family etiquette was a trait he fundamentally lacked, as if he played hooky on some Family 101 course in his formative years. It wasn’t something he inherently prioritized and, at least when he was younger, it would irritate him when friends or colleagues put family above things that he deemed more important, like band related obligations. He never had to deal with family of his own, put it on his schedule or allot energy for it. He simply didn’t understand it.

Sure, he came off as rude at times, leaving friend’s family events early or mentally checking out mid-day. It wasn’t his fault that it was exhausting and overstimulating for him. To him it seemed natural, as if everyone felt that way, something akin to the universal experience of trying to escape school or work. It never crossed his mind that people might actually enjoy their families, nor could he comprehend the necessity for it.

It depended on who, what and when but for the most part it was exhausting to him. Some groups were better than others, like Nick’s family. Over the years they’d housed him for weeks at a time, months even sometimes. As far as Noah was concerned, the Ruffilo’s were his family. He always came and went as he pleased, always an open-door policy to the Ruffilo refuge. But that didn’t exclude Nick’s family from his unintended ignorance and tendency to run. He just could only take so much at once. Lucky for him, they never seemed to mind his behavior much. They never batted an eye; they understood him for who he was and why. Their house was one of the only places he felt comfortable, one of the only places he ever called home.

“I know.” She nodded, wrapping her hands around the thick swing chains. “I remember.”

“Right.” He replies solemnly, taking another sip before swapping it back.

Vivid memories filled Amelia’s brain of 14-year-old Noah tapping on her window like a freshly escaped felon looking for asylum. The heavy, panicked breathing and glassy eyes never matched the mischievous grin plastered across his face. Holidays were the worst; she recalls keeping her window unlocked during the winter months, so he’d always have an alternative escape. The Ruffilo’s were a festive bunch that took any excuse to celebrate. Naturally, Nicholas also only possessed so much adolescent tolerance to endure so many familial festivities so, he too would sneak away with Noah at times but, for the most part it was just him and Amelia celebrating holidays together on her bedroom floor.

The air was still between them while she took a couple sips of sanguine liquid trying to catch up to him.

“So, you’re a big ol’ rockstar now huh?” The girl smiled, nudging him with her elbow trying to lighten the mood. Even though the words are positive and light, they tasted so sad on her tongue.

He laughed, something she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. She nearly forgot what it sounded like, but it hadn’t changed really, just a little deeper now. His now tattooed hands grasped both metal swing chains and leaned back a little, using the tension to suspend his body while he observed the stars above them. “Not big. Just opening for some real bands now. Finally able to headline our own little tour soon. Fuckin’ took long enough.” He dismissed the compliment immediately, snuffing it into the ground like a shriveled-up cigarette butt.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his response. He might’ve not seen it as notable accomplishments, but she knew better than to place the validity of success in the hands of someone riddled with imposter syndrome.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool.” She leaned against the chain closest to the long-haired boy.

His lips pulled to a smile while his eyes stayed focused on the sky. “Thanks.”

She followed his gaze and chuckled, “Sky’s pretty interesting huh?” She teased.

“It is when you barely get to see stars. I never really get to see them in LA. Sometimes I forget they’re even up there.” He replied sadly before sitting back up.

Amelia took another sip of the almost empty bottle, starting to feel the warmth of alcohol spread through her body. Something about the stars and Noah made a memory cross her mind that made her burst out into a cackle. “Do you remember when you put SO much work into your astronomy project for the science fair and fucking Nicholas won with his fucking-”

“Moldy bread!” They said loudly in unison before erupting into booming laughter.

“God I was so pissed.” Noah shook his head, “And then I had to eat his fucking moldy bread.”

“Oh yeah because you lost the bet! I forgot all about that!” Laughter filled her ribcage in a way it hadn’t in years, and it felt really fucking good.

“I was so fucking sure I’d win! I should’ve known, Nick has always been the golden boy. Teacher’s-pet swindling ass.” He kicked the sand just as he would’ve at 8 years old. It’s funny how people’s mannerisms don’t really change all that much as they age. Being there with him on their old playground felt like being in a time machine. “Worst food poisoning I ever had.”

“Didn’t you borrow the telescope you used from Nick too?” She questioned, wondering if she just made that part up in her head.

“Yeah, yeah I think I did actually.” His brows furrowed as he dug through his memories. “You know what? It’s probably still in their garage!”

“Really? Maybe you can find it tomorrow.” She poured the rest of the wine into her mouth, savoring the cheap bitterness of it pooling on her tongue.

“But the stars are so pretty tonight!” He whined in classic Noah fashion.

“Yeah so? What are you gonna do? Break into their garage?” She chuckled jokingly.

He straightened up and looked over at her with wide eyes like a lightbulb just lit above his head - a look she remembered all too well.

“No.” She warned, just like she would’ve back then at whatever scheme Noah concocted in his devious little brain.

He gave her a familiar mischievous toothy grin before pushing harshly off the swing.

“No, no, no.” She sighed as he already left his seat swinging and made his way towards the street.

“Noah!” She called after him. When he showed no sign of stopping, she let out a long sigh, questioning how she ended up having to stop a 6’4 man from breaking into houses in the middle of the night. She pushed off the swing, leaving it clanging and swaying behind her.

“Noah I’m not br-“ Her yell dulled down to a hush when she caught up to him. “I’m not breaking into the Ruffilo house at midnight!” Her words were stern but to Noah they just sounded like a child’s warning against curse words.

“We’re not breaking in ‘melia.” He didn’t match her whisper, his voice was loud and proud for anyone in the night to hear. “I remember the garage code.” He announced with drunken pride.

She scoffed, “And what if someone hears the garage, Noah? Then what?”

He shrugged, “Nick is staying there, we’ll just say we were trying to see him or something. You know I have free reign there anyway.”

“This is a really shitty plan, Noah.” She crossed her arms over her chest with a displeased frown.

“It’s a great plan.” He stated confidently, walking in long strides that she could barely keep up with. “You know all my plans are great.”

“Hmm.” She hummed skeptically. “Statistically, I don’t think that’s true.”

Walking down the street with Noah to Nick’s family home in the dead of the night felt so… familiar, as if she was walking in the same exact footsteps as 15-year-old Amelia had, like her memories were tangible in her hands again. She tightened her fists slightly to remind herself that the past was not solid in her hands again. She wasn’t 15 again on some spontaneous, teenage adventure – but the alcohol-fueled adrenaline prickling at her fingertips begged to differ.

Even past midnight, the small neighborhood’s Christmas lights shined bright. Normally, she’d find them obnoxious, but tonight they seemed much sweeter, only adding to the nostalgia.

“Oh no? All of my plans worked out one way or another.” He defended as if it was factual with a straightened back and pointed finger. “All but one.”

Her brows knitted tightly together at his words, because in her memory, there was a good chunk of her life spent stuck in detention because of his schemes.

“And which one would that be?” She sassed back, watching as his speed picked up even more after her question.

“Not important.” He waved the brunette off, “C’mon, we’re here.”

Unexpectedly, his hand slips around her wrist, and it wraps tingly electricity up her arm then across her entire body. All at once the butterflies that used to be so perpetually embedded in her stomach returned in a rampant flurry. Her gaze slowly snapped up to meet his face. His smile hadn’t changed in the near 10 years apart and neither did the bright glint in his espresso eyes. Time seemed to slow around them for that split second where the electricity sizzled beneath both their fingertips and their eyes found each other’s just as easily as they used to. In that brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking into the eyes of rail thin, tattooless teenage Noah.

“I know they got a Ring doorbell, so we gotta hide between the cars.” He whispered and ducked them both down as he weaved her through the vehicles in the driveway.

“I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this Noah!” She whisper-yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to properly reprimand him.

“Sh!”

They finally found themselves in front of the garage keypad conveniently out of view of the doorbell camera. Noah blinked blankly at plastic number pad without moving. His inked fingers tapped on his own crossed arm while his tongue stayed lodged between his lips in thought.

“Well? Go ahead! Get it over with.” She insisted, motioning urgently to the garage wanting it to be over as fast as possible. She tucked her hands across her body and into her sides giving her some semblance of comfort. The last thing she wanted was for their childish midnight antics to wake up the entire house.

“Hey! Give me time.” He rushed back, lifting a finger in her direction to shush her.

“Time? I thought you said you remembered it!”

“I do! …I think… if they haven’t changed it.” His tone much less confident than before.

“Noah!”

“Hush!” He pressed a finger to his lips at her and took a hesitant step towards the keypad. With a couple semi-sure clicks, the garage door slid open slowly. Amelia exhaled in relief at how the metal clangs of the garage were much quieter than she remembered. Still though, they creaked too loud for her liking, feeling embarrassment and anxiety flood her body.

“Yes!” Noah squeezed his fists up in victory. “See, told you I remembered.”

“Lucky guess.” She rolled her eyes with a smile.

Her eyes widened as the garage door unveiled a gorgeous white car. It was by no means a luxury car, not a Lexus or anything of the sort, but a high enough model to make you look twice. “Damn Mama Ruffilo, ridin’ in style now.”

Noah grinned as he scoots around the car. His smile was reserved, like she had discovered some award he was keeping hidden out of modesty. “Yeah, that’s the one we got her for Mother’s Day.”

“We?” She questioned, her head cocking to the side a bit.

“Yeah, Nick and me. We each paid half.”

“Oh wow, that’s really nice of you.” She replied softly. It didn’t take a genius to calculate just how much it would cost two broke DIY touring bandmates to pay for a new car, even in halves. The vehicle was shiny and spotless, evidently well taken care of – the type of care you’d put into a possession you never thought you’d own, the type of care that came from deep gratitude.

“It’s the least I could do for ya know… everything she’s done for me.”

Amelia nodded knowing exactly what he meant. It was no secret that he was more than a family friend to them, but it was nice to see that he recognized it too. While Noah might not have attended every family event or stayed for long, he showed his love and appreciation in his own small ways. Gifts were one of his favorite ways of doing so. Yeah, Noah might’ve only stayed at a Thanksgiving for an hour or two for food, but he was there long enough to make mental notes for next year, to bring extra cranberry sauce because Nick’s abuela loves it or extra croutons since Nick’s mom tends to snack on them while she cooks. He paid attention and he loved deeply, even if it didn’t seem that way on the surface.

He rustled around some miscellaneous garage junk in the corner, making more noise than Amelia felt comfortable with. She stood up on her tip toes to watch carefully him over the pristine car with her heart beating in her chest begging to rush him again.

“Ah! I knew it’d be here!” He said a little too loud out of excitement and promptly covered his mouth. His wide brown eyes met hers in a silent ‘oops, shit, sorry!’ plea.

In desperate need to escape the anxiety inducing mission, Amelia ran to the end of the driveway the second she saw the telescope in Noah’s hand. It took him longer than it should’ve just to snatch the item, but she didn’t question it or investigate much when he sped right past her after the garage began squeaking closed.

They made it out in record time, holding in their laughter until they reached the end of the street. It only took one look at each other to send them into a cackling fit. Amelia’s delicate hands found his thin arm and used him for stability, while the laughter shook her entire frame.

When they make it back to the park, he set down the telescope and unravels something she somehow didn’t notice he was carrying before.

“Did you steal that from their garage?!”

He grinned and proudly pulled another bottle of wine, white this time, from the blanket he also borrowed. “Yeah? And I’ll just replace them when I bring the telescope back tomorrow.” He carefully sat the wine down at her feet and spread out the buffalo-print blanket over the grass.

“You are so bad!” She chuckled, smacking him playfully with the excess of her long cardigan sleeve.

“Isn’t that what girls want? A bad boy?” He smirked jokingly, getting down on his knees to angle the telescope just right so that they didn’t need to stand up to use it.

She pressed her lips together as she watched him. Sure, that’s what some girls want, but not her. Even when he was landing them in detention every other day and keeping them out way past curfew – even when everyone else considered him a “bad boy” – she knew he wasn’t, not really.

Even now, whenever he got on stage, covered in ink, growling like a demon – she knew he wasn’t, and has never been, “bad”. Not the way she knew him. Amelia had a talent for seeing through people and she always saw right through Noah, from the first time she ever saw him in the back of her 3rd grade class. And all through adolescence, she saw him clearly through all his stormy confliction and thick brick walls.

Noah never saw it of course; how could he believe that someone as sugary sweet as Amelia could possibly ever see him as anything more than comical the social mask he wore with friends. In fact, he would even go as far to believe his mask was thickest and most opaque around her. Whether or not that was factual, didn’t lessen her ability to see him, really see him.

Being told you’re so wrong for so long, makes you believe that no one could ever see you as right. No matter how many friends Noah had at his parties, or fans in his crowds or girls in his bed, he never felt as though anyone saw him as enough. He got so exhausted from constantly trying to outdo himself that sometimes he forgot what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

Amelia never once believed the “bad influence, bad boy” propaganda their parents or teachers ever accused him of. To her, he was just Noah; the weird emo kid in the back of her classes, the neighbor down the street, the other older “brother” of the youngest girl scout in her troop. Amelia knew Noah at his core.

“Ah, bad boys are overrated.” She waved off his words casually.

He turned and gave her an unconvinced look, “Yeah, sure.” he glared playfully before sitting back on his legs. “Well, it’s ready if you wanna look.”

Amelia crawled across the blanket to meet him and peered through the telescope. Billions of tiny stars flooded the glass lens with twinkles and glimmers you’d never be able to see normally. Fluffy white clouds interrupted the view every so often, but it didn’t take away from the breathtaking scene.

“Whoa.” She mouthed quietly, just taking in the sight. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Sure is.” Noah agreed quietly, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them while he watched her.

They took some turns looking out of the telescope and passing the wine bottle back and forth before finally resting side by side on the picnic fabric. The air around them both was full of dwindling laughter over Noah telling silly stories about him and Nicholas and their roommates in LA. At surface level, he seemed to be doing well, despite claiming to hate LA, he appeared to be thriving there. Perhaps it was just the roommates that he enjoyed living with. Noah was never one to enjoy solitude, at least not for long periods of time. When he lived in their hometown, he was rarely wherever he was staying at the time. Getting comfortable anywhere was never his goal or motive. For the most part, it seemed like he enjoyed the constant change, the running. However, the way he talked about their home in California, all the stories he shared that brought the grandest smile to his face or the loudest boom from his chest all took place at their home. Amelia wondered what it must feel like for him to be back in their dreary little town, and if he rattled off all those stories was because he was homesick.

As the space between them flooded with a silence that was equally comfortable and uncomfortable, a question bubbled up that had been eating at Amelia from the moment she laid eyes on the tired darkness hanging beneath Noah’s eyes. His grin for most of the night was wide and toothy but she knew him better than that.

“So,” She turned her head towards him. “How are you, really?”

His eyes stayed transfixed on the stars above and he let a dense quiet settle over them before speaking.

“It must get so exhausting.” He stated, ignoring her question all together.

Her brows furrowed at his words, “What does?”

“Being so bright all the time.” He stated flatly, with a low dejected tone lacing his words.

“The stars?” She questioned with her brows still knitted.

“Sure. The Moon, the cosmos, all of it.” He brought his hands to interlace over his tummy. “Sure, the moon gets a break during the day and gets to disappear for a bit every month. And the stars get to die eventually.

“Right…?”

“But a star’s entire existence is to be bright - they only exist to be bright and then die. The moon works every night to serve as a giant nightlight and to shift some waves around. It must be so exhausting, all of it – being so bright all the time just to burn out into nothing.”

Noah had always been good at avoiding both his feelings and Amelia’s prying questions. It seemed age and time hadn’t changed that specific skill set. Maybe it’s true what they say, people never really change. It worried her that he might’ve not changed at all in that way.

“I mean,” She shifted her head to face the stars again trying to find the answers in the same place he was getting the questions. “You’re not wrong… but, think about the good that they do. The moon does so much on its own for us, you know the tides, the earth’s axis and all that. But we wouldn’t even be here staring at the sky without it all. They’re pretty and,” She shrugs. “And maybe, sometimes, that’s enough.”

“Right.” He responded curtly, pausing a long while before speaking again. “If the moon had consciousness… do you think it would care that most people know it for being pretty and not for being good at its job?” He pondered, not once looking over at the girl, perhaps afraid that his façade would crumble, and he’d spill the truth if he met her eyes.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together once more as she processed his words, doing mental gymnastics to decipher the underlying meaning. Another skill set Noah possessed was being dramatically cryptic, especially when it came to his internal turmoil. Whenever he had some battle waging within him, he suddenly transformed into a makeshift philosopher.

Looking the way he does, it’s fair to assume that his band had garnered recent attention due to his looks – most men would revel in the fleeting female attention, but not Noah. At least not enough to keep him from being contemplative on the lawn of their old park.

Girls or not, Noah had always been particular about his craft. He was lucky he found Nicholas first since he really let Noah take reigns of the entire operation. Like a true perfectionist, Noah carefully curated every song, every show, every rehearsal – even back when they were just playing in Nick’s garage with shitty amps.

Amelia analyzed his words, thinking over her response carefully. “I think the moon would be grateful for the attention either way.” She commented gently. “As long as she’s doing the job she’s meant to do, her beauty getting noticed is just a bonus. As long as she’s doing what she’s destined to do, I think she’d be content doing whatever she needs to, regardless of the affection towards her.”

“Yeah, I guess she would.”

Looking up at the sky, Amelia noticed just how round the moon was that night and how perfectly it was centered in the sky. It looked like the inside of a circus tent, like the star littered sky was just a patterned fabric pierced right in the middle by a giant moon-shaped hole. It felt like it too – as if they were the only ones in some carnival tent far away from anything bad. Below such a vast cosmos, they were just tiny specs of dust in the universe, and she was grateful for the temporary solitude. After years of not even being around Noah, he still made her feel the same. He had a knack for dissolving any real-life problems when they were alone together. When she was with him, she was in a world of their own making. She wondered if she did the same for him, and for his sake, she really hoped she did.

But alas, the bubble they created together that night was not one that could exist forever, and the big top tent must come down after a grand show.

Amelia and Noah ran out of words, at least ones meant to be said that night. They laid side by side with her right hand and his left not even a centimeter apart.

Noah was unaware of whether it was fear, nerves or sadness that fueled the drumming beneath his brittle ribs, but that same force also tugged an invisible string to lift his pinky.

Amelia’s eyes rounded and every muscle in her body tensed up the millisecond she felt him move up and hover over her own pinky.

But before he got the chance to lock over her finger, there was a frightening rustling behind some playground equipment followed by a bright light aimed right at them, blinding the pair.

“Hey! You kids aren’t allowed in here!” Boomed a deep, authoritative voice.

Amelia propped herself up on an elbow and immediately used her arm as a shield to keep the blinding light from burning her retinas any further.

Noah closed his eyes and let out a deep breath through his nose. It was one of the many familiar sounds from the town Noah hoped to never hear again.

“Sebastian? What an unpleasant surprise.” The voice taunted with a vicious edge.

“Officer Hawke.” The eyeroll was thick in Noah’s voice. “So great to see you.”

The big burly man shifted the flashlight beam to Noah directly. “Not shocking that the first time I see you back in town you’re up to no good.” He moved the light back to Amelia’s face. “Also, not shocking that you’ve reunited with your old partner in crime. Corrupting Miss. Alastor again, are we?”

“Officer, we just fell asleep earlier, we didn’t mean to be here so late.” Amelia lied for Noah like she always had. Her and Nick had been the goodie-two-shoes that were always bailing or covering for the long-haired boy. Well, Amelia was truly good, Nick was just skilled at masking his deviant tendencies, using his sweet golden-boy allure to fool everyone. As much as she hated breaking the rules, she secretly loved when Noah enabled it. Her teenage years wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or memorable without the two mischievous boys. Even just lying in the park with Noah after dark made her feel the most alive she’d had in years. It was exhilarating, no matter how much she reprimanded the boy for his reckless rebellion.

“Mhm. Sounds about right, you covering for Mr. Sebastian here, for god knows why.” He speculated, unconvinced. “It’s like I stepped back in time. It seems you both haven’t changed much.”

While the cop had been berating the two, Noah had already began packing up the picnic trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible.

“Sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” She lied.

“Sure.” He retorted. “Get you and your boyfriend out of here. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”

With that he turned and headed back to his vehicle. It was surprising that he just left the pair– not surprising that he just sat and watched them from the comfort of his cop car across the street.

Amelia helped Noah pack everything up before they made their escape from the park. Shortly after they were down the street, the cop car finally drove off. She walked in the direction of her house, thinking that Noah would part ways to maybe head towards Nick’s house to return the stolen items or to Vince’s where he was staying for the time being, but he stayed walking alongside her. He was quiet, which for Noah was strange, especially with her.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home? I know you’re staying in the opposite direction.” She said, stuffing her cold hands in her pockets.

“I want to. It’s dangerous for you to walk alone.” He replied flatly, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk concrete.

Her house wasn’t particularly far from the other two’s, nothing in the tiny town was necessarily far from each other. With a town as small as theirs, a night walk home wouldn’t usually be considered dangerous.

“Well, thanks.” She replied cautiously.

She let her mind wander to the interaction they had at the park with Officer Hawke. Noah’s mood had been fairly consistent all night up until then. She mentally scolded herself for not realizing that running into the overly familiar cop would affect his demeanor. Maybe she just assumed that after so many years into adulthood he’d be over it, but evidently, it was foolish and incredibly mindless for her to believe so.

The rest of the walk was silent, just filled with the sounds of nature in the winter. The crisp cool air zipping with the wind, crashing into every solid object available while owls coo-ed into the darkness.

Finally, they arrived at the chain-link gate of Amelia’s small home. She rested her arm atop the pointy wires of the fence. Any other night she’d probably invite him in, but it was so late and all of the night’s events had already been enough to overfill her tummy with static-y nerves.

“Well, I-“ They fumble over each other’s words. Warmth blooms across Amelia’s cheeks at the joint misstep.

“You go.” She urged.

“No, you go.” He pushed back with a sheepish grin.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and dropped her attention down to her feet. “I was just gonna say that this was… nice.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “It was really nice to see you again Noah.” Her tone soft and genuine, as her eyes meet his again.

He was unprepared for how her eyes looked with the moonlight shining directly into them. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked into them so clearly. He forgot how different they were from each other, well, they weren’t really – but they were when one spent looking at them as intently as Noah had since he was 8 years old. Her eyes were both a hazel but one much more brown while the other had a pretty emerald hue.

“Yeah, it was really nice.” His words sounded true, but his voice was still strained by the sadness from the walk there. “I’m really happy I went into the shop this morning.”

Her lips worked overtime to keep from pulling into a giant grin and suddenly she was grateful for the darkness hiding the red staining her cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”

Noah sucked in a breath to speak but pauses, before returning again, “Um - Nick’s family is throwing their annual Christmas party this weekend, I’m sure he and the Ruffilo clan would love to see you.” He stated with his words moving slightly faster than normal almost like he was nervous to even ask, which is silly isn’t it? Being anxious to invite an old friend to a holiday party you both attended every year growing up? It shouldn’t be that nerve wreaking, right? He scratched the back of his neck. “If you want that is.”

Her eyes nearly light up enough to cut through the darkness. “Yeah,” She beamed a sweet smile up at him. “I think I’d really like that.”

taglist; @lma1986 @alastriaa @missduffsblog @xxkittenkissesxx @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens @measuredingold @jilliemiw86

[comment to be added to taglist<3]

A/N; thank you so much for reading - again this is my first time writing in 3rd person so i hope it was decent! i hope you enjoyed even though it is definitely not christmas time lmao - lmk what you think! 💗

#hope you liked it!#concreteburialplot works #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x oc #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fluff #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #nosh sebastian x fem!oc #noah sebastian series

82 notes · View notes

imaginewoso · 2 years

Text

I Like Your Jersey - Jessie Fleming

A flustered Jeff trying to talk to reader wearing a Chelsea jersey in coffee shop (with a little help from everyone’s favourite wingwoman Janine).

“Just go talk to her,” Janine said with a smirk on her face once she realized Jessie wasn’t paying attention to a single word she was saying.

After a long training session prepping for their pre-Concacaf Championship friendlies, the two had decided to spend their free afternoon in the city. Which is how they found themselves in a quaint coffee shop in Toronto staring at a patron at the back table—huge textbooks laid out in front of her and a dark blue Chelsea jersey adorning her torso.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jessie puffed out as she averted her eyes back to the steaming cup in front of her, cheeks red from having been caught staring.

“Come on, Jeffrey,” Janine whined. “She’s cute, super smart if the books she’s reading are any indication, and she’s a Chelsea fan. You’ve been staring at her since we got in here. Go make a move already.”

“I can’t just go up to her, she’s clearly busy,” Jessie tried to argue as they both looked to the stranger whose furrowed brow deepened with every second she spent glaring at the page in front of her.

“She looks like she can use a break actually. Just a quick ‘hello, my name’s Jessie, what’s yours? I love your jersey, I’m also a big Chelsea fan, I kinda play for them sometimes. Oh hey, by the way, I think you’re super attractive and I want to kiss you,’” the blonde teased.

“Janine!” the midfielder exclaimed as she put her hands to her face in an attempt to contain the heat creeping up her neck.

“Am I wrong?” the older girl asked, a smug look on her face. It was always so easy to get the brunette flustered.

“…no,” Jessie mumbled reluctantly while sinking into her seat, clearly embarrassed.

“Jess, I’ve never seen you this interested in anybody,” the blonde said earnestly. For as long as Janine knew her, Jessie had lived and breathed football. No matter how many people asked her out (and there were a lot), or how often the team tried to set her up with someone (too many times to count), Jessie just didn’t engage, preoccupied instead with improving her skills. To say Janine was shocked when she realized her best friend had been sneaking glances across the coffee shop was an understatement. Which is why she was determined to get her to at least say hi to the girl. Besides, the rest of the team would never let her live it down if she didn’t at least try to be a proper wingwoman.

“Look, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but what’s the worst that can happen? Channel some of that on-field confidence. If nothing else, you guys can bond over your love of the wrong shade of blue,” Janine ended dramatically, always ready to make a dig on behalf of her former club.

Jessie looked at Janine, and then back at the girl, contemplating her options. She’d never felt this way before. Her eyes were glued to her the moment they entered the coffee shop. Though she was drawn in by the familiar blue Chelsea kit, she couldn’t look away from the slight pout on the girl’s lips whenever she seemingly read a confusing sentence, or the way she politely smiled up at the barista bringing her a refill.

Jessie was smitten. She knew Janine was right. She couldn’t not talk to her.

“Okay, yeah I can do this,” she said more to herself than to her now beaming teammate in front of her.

Jessie got up from her seat before she could talk herself out of it. She slowly made her way over, internally hyping herself up as she walked the short distance. Her breath hitched when the girl looked up with a small tilt to her head, curiously eyeing the midfielder who planted herself in front of the back table.

“I like your jersey,” Jessie blurted out, Janine’s entire speech long gone from her mind as she looked into beautiful Y/E/C eyes.

“Thanks, I quite like it myself,” the girl rasped back with a small smile on her face. When met with silence, she quirked her left eyebrow, staring as the soccer player’s face seemed to get more red with every second that passed. “I’m Y/N,” she said and put a hand out toward the shy brunette.

“Y/N,” Jessie whispered to herself, not moving and inch. That is, until she heard a not-so-quiet whisper coming from behind her, “shake her hand and tell her your name, Jeff.”

“Right, yeah, I’m Jeff, wait no not Jeff, Jess. Jessie,” the midfielder rushed out in one breath before exhaling loudly, annoyed at her stumbling. She took a moment to gather herself. “Hi, I’m Jessie,” she said, voice wavering only slightly as she finally shook the hand still out in front of her, gasping slightly at the spark she felt.

“It’s nice to meet you Jessie,” Y/N responded to the clearly flustered girl with a small chuckle.

More silence.

Janine smacked her hand to her forehead as she watched her friend stare at Y/N, not letting go of her hand. She shook her head before beginning a coughing fit in an attempt to snap the brunette out of her daze. The things she did for the girl.

Jessie, concerned, turned around (her and everyone else in the shop). Janine winked at her while graciously accepting the water brought over by a nice worker, proud her plan seemed to successfully snap her teammate out of it.

The midfielder turned back toward Y/N, reluctantly letting go of her hand. “Are you a big fan? Of Chelsea?” She paused, considering her question. “Obviously you are, you’re wearing a jersey, sorry that was a silly question,” the brunette spluttered out once she realized what she had asked.

“I am, yeah,” Y/N responded softly. “They were my dad’s favourite team. I grew up watching Lampard and Drogba so the support kind of came naturally,” she reminisced.

“Definitely not a hard team to fall in love with,” Jessie said, grateful Y/N didn’t seem to mind her rambling. She found herself getting more comfortable in the conversation—football she could definitely talk about. “Do you play?” the brunette asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

“I used to. School takes up a little bit too much of my time right now. This summer class is kicking my butt,” the girl sighed tiredly, looking at the pile of books in front of her.

“What class?” the midfielder asked, eyeing the textbooks and the UofT Law water bottle she hadn’t noticed before.

“Environment and the law. Figured I’d try and knock some credits out in the summer but they really aren’t lying when they call them intensives,” Y/N said jokingly.

“Oh no way, I minored in environmental science,” Jessie exclaimed excitedly at finding out they shared yet another interest.

“Actually?” Y/N asked, eyes lighting up.

Jessie sat down on the empty chair, swept up into the conversation. Her teammates loved to tease her whenever she brought up random geography or biology facts (all in good fun of course) but it was nice to be able to talk to someone equally as passionate as her.

The two chatted animatedly, Y/N explaining the class content and Jessie responding with her own knowledge and some anecdotes from her time at UCLA. They were in their own world, content with the back and forth conversation.

*****

“Hey, I really don’t mean to interrupt but we have to head back now. Team meeting starts in a half hour,” Janine said, reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to let the two keep talking. Jessie looked up, disappointment clear on her face.

“I should also get back to this,” Y/N said, arms gesturing to the mess on the table in front of her.

“Right, yeah, sorry. I didn’t realize how long it’s been,” Jessie said apologetically, standing up. She hadn’t noticed just how much time had passed since she first approached the back table. It felt like she had been there for no longer than 10 minutes.

“No need. Thank you for the very needed distraction and the lovely chat,” Y/N said genuinely, with a kind smile that made the midfielder’s brain turn to mush.

“Totally,” she said breathlessly, unable to get anything else out while the girl looked at her like that. Lucky for her, Janine was there to fill the silence.

“You know, Jess can probably hook you up with some Chelsea tickets if you’re ever in London. She’s got a few connections. You guys should exchange numbers,” the blonde tried to subtly find a way to make sure her friend did not leave this coffee shop without a way to contact the girl. Jessie’s wide-eyed look an indication that her attempts at subtlety were not at all successful. A slight nudge to Jessie’s elbow by her teammate spurred her into action.

“Oh definitely. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen them play but if not you’ve gotta see your favourite player in person at least once in your life,” Jessie rushed out, grateful for Janine’s push but still very flustered.

“I’m actually gonna see my favourite player in action in a couple of days,” Y/N smiled as Jessie tried to work out how that could be with the men’s season nearly over.

“I like number 17,” Y/N clarified at the look of confusion.

“17? There’s no 17 on the squad. Is he new?” the Chelsea player questioned, confused by Y/N’s statement. She’d for sure know if the men suddenly signed someone with the same number as her.

“Who said anything about he,” Y/N said while turning around and lifting her hair slightly to reveal the name written on her back in bright white letters—

J. Fleming.

“That’s my name,” Jessie whispered in disbelief. “I-I’m your favourite player?” she asked, voice wavering slightly. She couldn’t believe the girl in front of her was wearing her jersey.

“I’m a big fan of your game, Jessie Fleming,” Y/N said with a small smirk on her face as she took in the shocked looks on the girl’s face.

“She’s definitely talking about your on-field game,” Janine mumbled to a still-frozen Jessie, a smile on her face (she could not wait to talk to her teammates).

“Why didn’t you say anything?” the midfielder finaly asked shyly.

“You weren’t the only one who was a little nervous. It’s not every day a cute footballer approaches you to have a chat,” Y/N chuckled as Jessie turned red for what felt like the 5th time since she entered the shop.

Just as Jessie went to respond, Janine’s phone went off with text messages asking where the two were.

“We gotta go, Jeff,” the blonde said apologetically, waving goodbye to the girl in front of her. “Bye Y/N, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around,” Janine said with a smirk as she gave the two some privacy before they had to leave.

“You’re coming to the game on Sunday?” Jessie asked, hopefully.

“Definitely wouldn’t miss it,” Y/N told the brunette with a firm nod.

“Okay good. I mean not good like good you better be there but good I’m glad you’re coming type of way,” Jessie sighed at herself, turning slightly toward Janine to see her patiently waiting at the door. “It was really lovely meeting you,” the midfielder recovered from her earlier ramblings with a genuine smile in Y/N’s direction.

“You too, Jessie Fleming.”

Jessie stared at the girl, biting her lip. Y/N looked at her, and back toward Janine, expecting the football player to make her way toward her friend and out of the coffee shop. What she didn’t expect was for Jessie to take one of her pens and write out a ten digit number on the corner of her notebook.

“Okay, that’s my number. Maybe after the game we can grab a coffee or something?” Jessie finally managed to get out, blushing as soon the words left her mouth.

“I’d like that,” Y/N responded, watching as the footballer smiled, nodded and headed out the door, one last glance back before she disappeared.

*****

Jessie liked Y/N’s jersey, especially when she saw it in the stands a couple of days later when they played South Korea.

But, she liked the girl in the jersey—her jersey—a whole lot more.

#jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #canxnt imagine #canxnt x reader #uswnt x reader #woso imagine

619 notes · View notes

beauty-and-passion · 1 year

Text

Eurovision and the jury’s problem (but mostly the jury’s problem)

Ah, the Eurovision national juries. I love them so much. My love is so big that, since I started this tradition of writing a post about Eurovision, I’ve always included one paragraph to openly express my love for them and, not surprisingly, my love took the shape of FUCK YOU JURY.

So this year gave me the final push to do more research and finally give them the post they deserve, in which I will finally explain why they do more harm than good and are generally useless.

If that’s what you wanted to know, you can close the post now, thank you for your time. But if you want to know why I think the jury is useless, then allow me to expand more and properly explain myself.

_______________________

The jury has always been part of the show!

Yes, but now always with the same power.

Let’s do a bit of history: Eurovision started in the 50s, right after the end of WW2. TV was starting to grow stronger and with the birth of the EBU, they were searching for a TV program that could’ve involved and united all nations.

And so, an Italian journalist said: “Hey, here in Italy we have this sick song competition called Sanremo. We can make something similar, but every European country should send an artist.”. Marcel Bezençon, general manager of the EBU at the time, liked the idea and, after a few meetings, it was decided to make this music competition that will become Eurovision.

So yes, this is how Eurovision started. It’s because of Sanremo. It’s because of Italy. My country might do stupid shit, but we are still able to do something good once in a while.

The first edition counted 7 countries: Belgium, France, West Germany, Italy, Luxembourg, The Netherlands and Switzerland. Four of them will become the “Big Five”, because they are the ones that put more money into this competition. Other countries will slowly join in.

The jury was first introduced because, well, there was no possible way to call every single person who was watching the show. The TV was still in its infancy, let alone the global communications, so of course there was a jury. IT was the only way.

However, over time the televoting system was born and it started to improve. In 1997 five countries used it for the first time and from the year after all countries could use it. The jury was left in the back and used only under exceptional circumstances when televoting was not possible.

This lasted from 1997 to 2009. Then from 2010 it started the 50/50 system.

So yes, the jury has always been part of the show. But at first it was present because it was the only way to choose a winner, then it was pushed in the back, only to regain more power in the last 10 years.

But hey, you may ask: since Eurovision has been inspired by Sanremo, maybe this is how Sanremo voting system works too, right?

Nope. We are Italians, so we should make the most complicated voting system ever. Sanremo is currently articulated in five evenings and every evening has different juries and different ways to vote. I won’t go into too much detail because it’s bonkers, but I can tell you that:

1) There are multiple juries: the public, a jury made of 150 accredited representatives and the opinion poll jury. This one in particular is a group of people chosen by the national public broadcasting company RAI (which broadcasts Sanremo) out of a sample of habitual music users and selected according to criteria of age/geographical origin.

So no, the system is completely different and yes, this system is evolving too, because the opinion poll jury counted 1000 people last year, this year only 300 and who knows how many there will be in the future.

2) The final result is the sum of all three votes: 33% of the final voting is made of the representative’s jury, 33% of the opinion poll jury and 34% of the televoting. So even if by just one measly point, the televoting is the most important one out of the three.

Is this system perfect? No, it doesn’t work either and it’s fucking complicated. But at least it acknowledges that the public deserves to have more power than the juries. And there is also more than one jury, which at least allows a wider vision of things.

_______________________

The jury is here because it brings more variety!

Aww, how adorable.

I specifically searched for every single winning song from 1997 to 2023, thus including both the years without jury (1997-2008) and the ones with jury (2009-2023). I checked which is the musical genre of every winning song.

Do you want to know which genre won the most? Pop.

Do you want to know how many times a pop song won in the years without jury (including europop and latin-pop)? 9 times.

Do you want to know how many times a pop song won in the years with jury (including folk-pop, dance-pop and electro-pop)? 10 times.

Please, tell me more about the variety the jury brings. Can’t wait to hear it.

_______________________

The jury is here because it brings variety 2: Englishvision

Europe: a country with a shit ton of languages and we use always the same one for singing.

Do you want to know how many times we had a winning song that wasn’t in English from 1997 to 2023? 7 times and in two of them there were English parts.

The first three winners come from the years without jury (Dana International - "Diva", Ruslana - "Wild Dances", Marija Šerifović - "Molitva"). The others come from the years with jury and my god we had to fight tooth and nail to have them:

Jamala - "1944"

Salvador Sobral - "Amar Pelos Dois"

Måneskin - "Zitti e buoni"

Kalush Orchestra - "Stefania"

Those are people’s winners. Well, except for Jamala who no one wanted as a winner, because the public wanted Russia and the jury Australia. However, let’s leave it in for now: it’s a particular case I want to talk about later.

What I want to let you know is that, in order to have these winners, the public had to do a massive collective effort to give them enough points to overcome the jury - especially the last two. And if you know them, it’s because they are in the top 10 list of the public’s favorites.

But what if I tell you we could’ve had two more songs in their native languages on this list?

In 2015 the public’s favourite was Italy with Il Volo. An Italian song, genre classical music. It lost against Sweden’s pop song.

In 2023 the public’s massive favourite was, as you know, Finland. A Finnish song, genre hyperpop/industrial metal. It lost against Sweden’s pop song.

What a strange coincidence, isn’t it? Both times a song in a native language lost against an English pop song. Both times, the public’s favourite lost because the jury’s favourite won. Both times it was against Sweden.

Please, tell me again about the fairness of this system and how much variety it brings.

________________________

The jury is here because the eastern countries all vote for their neighbors!

Just because the western countries all hate each other’s neighbours, it’s not a valid reason to blame the eastern ones for that.

Also, hey, wasn’t that a music competition? Why should we even care about which country the winning song comes from? Shouldn’t the jury think just about the music? Please tell me more about the impartiality of the jury.

Another thing: maybe it’s just me, but I supposed everyone studied math or had a basic knowledge of how many countries are in Europe. Well, I did both for you and if we divide Europe in half, we will have more o less 21 countries on the west and 26 countries on the east (I am including Australia in the west).

In my world, 26 is a bigger number than 21. So if the east slightly wins more times than the west is, well, understandable. The probability for them to win is higher, because there are more artists from those countries and so they have more chances to bring the winning song. I don’t think it’s so difficult to understand.

Maybe the reason why the western countries win less is not because “the easterns votes for their neighbours”, but because the westerns do not take the competition seriously and send shitty songs. Why Italy rarely gets a bad position? Because we care about music and we want to send something good. Why the UK fails a lot of times? Because they don’t care enough to send a good song. They are both Big Fives and they both put money on this show: the only difference is that one cares a bit more than the other. So instead of blaming the east, maybe it’s time to start bringing more decent songs.

And this “the east wins more” is even more stupider, if you look at the countries with the highest number of victories: Ireland, Sweden, the Netherlands, the UK, Luxembourg and France.

In my world, those countries are all in the west. I know we all hate each other, but knowing when our rivals are on a map would be a good start.

Do you want to know why this stupid theory exists? It’s all because of the years without jury. It’s because in the years 2001-2008 we had this series of winners:

Estonia

Latvia

Turkey

Ukraine

Greece

Finland

Serbia

Russia

Since they are all in the east, they thought these countries were all voting for each other’s. That’s it.

I don’t know how they justified Ireland winning 3 times in a row (1992-1994) in their minds but hey, maybe that’s why I’m not a member of the EBU.

_________________________

The jury doesn’t have a favourite!

Very cute.

Do you want to know which are the countries with the most victories in the years 1997-2023? Here is a very funny list:

Israel: 2 times

1998 (no jury year) with Dana International - "Diva" (public’s favourite)

2018 (jury year) with Netta - "Toy" (public’s favourite)

Denmark: 2 times

2000 (no jury year) with Olsen Brothers - "Fly On The Wings Of Love" (public’s favourite)

2013 (jury year) with Emmelie de Forest - "Only Teardrops" (public’s favourite)

Ukraine: 3 times

2004 (no jury year) with Ruslana - "Wild Dances" (public’s favourite)

2016 (jury year) with Jamala - "1944" (not public’s favourite, but highly appreciated by the public)

2022 (jury year) with Kalush Orchestra - "Stefania" (public’s favourite)

Sweden: 4 times

1999 (no jury year) with Charlotte Nilsson - "Take Me To Your Heaven" (public’s favourite)

2012 (jury year) with Loreen - "Euphoria" (public’s favourite)

2015 (jury year) with Måns Zelmerlöw - "Heroes" (jury’s favourite)

2023 (jury year) with Loreen - "Tattoo" (jury’s favourite)

I don’t know you, but I notice two victories that made the public unhappy because both times the jury’s power overcame the public’s power. How weird it happened for the same country that won three times since the 50/50 system has been introduced.

Sure, the first victory was wanted by the public, but the other two were against the public’s will. And please allow me to repeat it again because this is what upsets me the most: both times an English pop song won instead of a song in a native language with a different musical genre.

And what makes these two victories even more undeserved, is that in general the winner has always been the public’s favourite. In 27 years the public’s favourite won 23 times and two times it was a public’s appreciated artist (Jamala, Duncan Lawrence).

The only two times public’s favourite didn’t win, it was a Swedish artist with a massive push from the jury that made it impossible to defeat it.

But hey, maybe this point is a bit unfair. After all, it’s not Sweden’s fault if they learned what the jury likes and keep sending the same kind of song to get their votes. Maybe I am just jealous: I mean, my country basically invented Eurovision and yet we’re not able to exploit this show to win all the times? Gosh, we’re useless :P

The problem is not Sweden’s cleverness. The problem is that the jury always uses the same criteria, so one country has been able to recognize and exploit them. In a democratic world with a fair competition, the organizers of said competition would say: “okay, maybe we should change the criteria all the time, so no one would be able to use them and the jury will remain impartial”. But I suppose this was a too difficult choice for the EBU.

Or maybe they just own Sweden some money, who knows. I really have no idea.

_____________________

The jury is here because otherwise people’s votes would be political!

Oh, so hilarious.

This is the list of the winning entries by jury and by the public:

Until the recent years, public and jury agreeded on the winner and when the public chose a winner, it was jury’s second choice. So if the public’s votes were political back then, the jury’s votes were political as well.

Only in the last editions jury and public started to truly diverge and unless I missed something, Israel just had a catchy song, Italy’s victory had nothing political behind, Ukraine’s victory was a massive collective justifiable effort to say “fuck you” to Russia and people just like Finland’s song more. So, again, nothing political behind.

However, there are also two very interesting cases, the only ones in which the winner was a country no one chose as favorite:

2016: public’s favourite: Russia - jury’s favourite: Australia. Winner: Ukraine

2019: public’s favourite: Norway - jury’s favourite: North Macedonia. Winner: the Netherlands

Do you want to know why the jury’s favourite of 2016 is Australia? I don’t know. What I know is that Australia joined Eurovision in 2015 and it was supposed to be just a one time thing, so they were automatically qualified for the finals. But in 2016 they joined like everyone else and had to make through the semifinals and... well, it wouldn’t be nice to send back home a country that just joined. I am not saying these two things are related, but it’s a bit of a weird coincidence, isn’t it?

Do you want to know why the jury’s favourite of 2019 is North Macedonia? I don’t know. What I know is that on June 2018 the country changed its name to the Republic of North Macedonia. And, you know, it’s nice to hear it more times, just to leave an impression on people’s minds. Again: I am not saying these two things are related, but it’s a bit of a weird coincidence, isn’t it?

Okay, let’s leave the tinfoil hat theories on the side. Do you really want to know where the “the public’s vote is too political” thing comes from? It comes from Jamala winning in 2016. Because Russia has already started with their bullshit in Crimea and Jamala’s song (despite not specifically talking about that invasion) was a reminder of that situation. And so everyone blamed the public for this victory and said that “the public was influenced by the actual political situation”. All while Jamala was second favorite of both the public AND the jury. So, again, if the public was biased, the jury is biased as well.

Actually, in her case the jury is a lot more biased than the public, because the public’s favorite was Russia! So, well, who is the political one now?

The truth is that the public is made of people and of course people will be influenced by the situation in which they live. But same goes for the jury: the jury is also influenced by the current situations, both Eurovision-related and world-related. So it’s totally unfair to blame the public for having a heart and a mind and for their will to choose a song over the other - especially when they are not influenced by the world situation (like in 2016) or when they are as it happened in 2022.

And, honestly, I’d much rather prefer people choosing a winner because of a fucking war, than a bunch of people choosing their winner for reasons that will benefit them only.

______________________

The jury is made of experts and they give their expert opinion!

Awesome. Now explain to me how can you objectively choose the best song between a pop one, a folk one, a metal one and a rock one. Tell me which universal criteria will you apply.

Voice? But each genre requires a different kind of voice. An opera singer has a powerful voice, but growl music requires a powerful voice as well - heck, it’s even more complicated than opera, so it should be more praised than that! I mean, try growling without sounding like an idiot: it’s immensely hard. How can you decide which is better in an objective way? Do you just focus on which is more difficult to perform? But then it’s unfair to the pop singers, who also have good beautiful voices. How can you objectively choose the best?

Performance? But every genre requires a specific kind of performance. You can’t put an energetic performance on a ballad or slow dancers on a rock song. If two performance are equally beautifully ftting for their music genre, how can you decide which is objectively better?

Lyrics? But not everyone knows the lyrics of all songs and some lyrics might have multiple meanings or refer to particular aspects of the country’s culture, so you might not understand how beautiful they are. How can you choice which one is better, without knowing all these details?

Overall impression of the song? That’s not even an objective criteria, try harder.

The truth is that you CANNOT choose between different songs and different genres in a universally objective way. You will always be influenced by your own preferences and musical tastes.

Do you want to know how these criteria could’ve worked? If everyone brought the same song. Then okay, you can objectively make your choice: after all, we are talking about one genre and one song. In all other cases, this criteria makes zero sense.

And before you say “the jury needs to recognize the good singers”: people have ears. If a singer is bad, people can hear it by themselves. Polish people proved very well that they can recognize a very bad singer from an extremely good one and I doubt the entire country of Poland is made of musical experts or that everyone likes dance-pop/electro-industrial music.

Same goes for all the people around the world who praised Jann and said Blanka is terrible: I doubt they are all music experts or Polish. Maybe they just have ears.

Sure, some people have better taste than others, I don’t deny that. But considering that all humans have ears and a brain, I don’t think they need someone else to tell them that yes, this thing you like is good or no, that thing you don’t like is bad. Maybe they can understand it by themselves.

And if the problem is that the public doesn’t have a taste, then give them the means to acquire said taste. Let experts give more insights about an artist: they could explain why their voices are good or bad, why their performance works or not and why the lyrics are complex or simple. Let the public take a decision, instead of treating them like toddlers who should be spoon-fed.

______________________

The importance of the public

What makes this 2023 victory so empty, is that it has nothing Eurovision stands for. It’s not the victory of an unknown, talented artist. It’s not a victory the majority wanted. It’s not a victory that sends a good message.

It’s the victory of mainstream and safety. It’s a victory that doesn’t look forward and doesn’t try anything new, because it prefers to rely on the same old stuff. It’s a victory of nostalgia, industries and brands.

And if it hurts so much, it’s not just because the public’s will has never been so blatantly clear about who they wanted to win, but also because after two years in which we had native languages and new genres on the top, we were really, really hoping for a switch towards something different.

I don’t blame the past artists for not trying more, the years were different. But we are in the 20s of the year 2000 now. We are more open to different people, genders, sexual orientations. We don’t have to play safe anymore, not in a world that is moving forward. We can have different winners, we can have different cultures and we can have different genres.

I really hope that this year will teach something, not just to us, but to the EBU and to Europe. If things will change, good. And despite my harsh words, I am okay if the jury stays: it has always been present, after all, even when pushed in the back. So if we have to keep it, let’s keep it.

But it’s time to give them less power. It’s time for a 30/70 or a 20/80 system. 50/50 is just not acceptable anymore.

Or, as the 2023 public’s winner said:

Thank you for your time and please, keep support your winners.

(Clips from THIS video)

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #esc #esc 2023 #käärijä #this will always be his year #sorry not sorry #will I ever grow past this year?#maybe I'm almost ready to move on #maybe #just to be sure I'm not hating loreen #nor sweden as a country #just the unfairness of a system #so don't even start #we countries are all brothers and sisters and we should make fun of each other #and of ourselves

131 notes · View notes

linguacoreana · 1 year

Photo

Learn 30 Words Per Month

This is a good goal because it's pushing you, but not beyond your limits. 30 words per months ends up as one word per day on average. That's not too unreasonable, right? We usually have 5 minutes here or there to learn how to use a word very well. If you don't have time, that's okay because you can make up for it with the flexibility of this goal.

Flexibility is okay as long as you have a way to get back on track if you fall off. I tried to learn 365 Chinese characters this year. There were months where I did nothing. However, because of the flexibility of the goal, I was able to quadruple up at the end of the year, and I still reached my goal. It wasn't as smooth as I had hoped, but I achieved it. My push helped me learn to read and write 365 Chinese characters I wouldn't have known if I didn't make this resolution.

If I had made the goal one Chinese character per day, I would have beat myself up after the first failure and totally given up. Instead, having flexibility (but firmness) baked into the resolution meant that I actually made it without punishing myself for one mistake or overly busy day.

Do 6 Hours of Listening Per Month

I am a big fan of listening as I have talked about on my YouTube channel. I personally think you should drown yourself in native speaking examples. This is an amazing goal because of all the passive benefits of listening.

As for the specifics of the goal, this is very reasonable, but still allows for you to push. On average, you would need to watch 12 minutes of content in your target language per day. That's totally reasonable. Follow a YouTube channel in your target language! If you want long-form content, that accounts for 4 movies of 90 minutes in length. This means you could watch one movie on the streaming platform you already pay for every weekend. This is absolutely doable, but the results accumulate so many good benefits.

Write 1 Sentence About My Day Per Day

A key to get better is to produce the language and get feedback. There's no better way to produce the language than calmly, carefully making a good sentence.

On top of that, with a goal like one sentence per day, you'll have so many good sentences after just one month. At the beginning of the year, you might start with "today was so busy" or "today I relaxed all day," but after some time, your sentences will grow in complexity. For me, my goal would be to write a complex, rich sentence like "Originally, I was planning to run by the grocery store to grab a couple high-caloric snacks to treat myself, but I ended up falling asleep on the couch with my dinner in my hands stained with pizza sauce on account of my crippling depression." Imagine the possibilities...

Take 1 italki Lesson Per Week

Consistency is so critical. Creating a regularly scheduled event, especially one connected to another person, will definitely keep you on track.

Even on weeks where your progress is slow, or you can't find time to do language study, a regularly scheduled event keeps you on the path to improvement.

On top of that, although reading, listening, and writing can be fit into a busy schedule rather easily, it's hard to regularly find time to speak the language with a native speaker unless it's a speaker who has a set time to speak with you.

I've had so many busy weeks where life obligations prevented me from doing my reading or listening or any other goal on this list. However, thanks to my dedication to proving to another person that I have done something in the week, I do even get minimal progress in those weeks that would have been zero progress had I not had the recurring task.

To get $10 in your student wallet after spending $20, use this link to use italki as your tool to progress.

Record Yourself Speaking Once Per Week

Something we lose sight of with language learning is perspective. It often does not feel like any progress is being made. This is because change happens slowly, and we don't notice when it happens. If we record ourselves from time to time, we can see the progress firsthand.

This goal also is really nice because you don't have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of native speakers. You don't have to post this or show this to anyone. Just by recording yourself speaking, you've done two things: (1) you have a record of your level at that moment for future comparisons, and (2) you got your brain practicing speaking and forming sentences.

I accomplished this goal with Turkish, and it was very exciting to see progress. I love to go back to my old footage and noticing such a huge leap in my progress. It's very motivating while being minimal commitment on your part. As a goal, this is beneficial because you do regular practice in a way you might not have done; you can get out of your comfort zone.

Finish 1 Novel By December 31st

This deadline might not be pushing the envelope for a lot of people, but if you have never read a novel in your native language before, it's distant enough to not feel overwhelmed while being close enough that you don't procrastinate forever.

Novels are such a great source of vocabulary. Authors tend to use a very sophisticated mélange in their writing, so you are bound to encounter tons of new, good phrases while hopefully enjoying yourself.

Even if you do want to do more listening or speaking, reading in general is such a great passive way to improve your speaking with deep, rich expressions and elevated speech. If you drop some idiom from a novel into your daily speech, you're bound to impress natives.

Speak 1 Hour Everyday in April

"April" is just a placeholder for any month. What I am really suggesting is do something that is probably out of your comfort zone for an extreme push in a limited time. the duration is bound by a beginning and end so that you don't continue until burnout. However, the time is long enough that sustained effort will make a difference to your skills.

Assuming you don't speak the language regularly, a daily push is enough to get your brain to really take the speaking skill seriously.

Who do you speak to? That's your choice. This could be a daily tutoring lesson, recording yourself, or making an agreement to meet with a native speaker friend or language exchange partner.

The main point is that one very good goal is to set a bound time where you will push much harder than you will normally.

Finish My Grammar Textbook by March 31st

Although grammar is not everything, you will never speak fluently until you have at least a basic grasp of the main grammatical concepts of the language. Grammar is somehow divisive in the language community, but I am firmly on the side of getting it done as fast as possible so you can start focusing on vocab acquisition, accent, and native-style sentences.

Giving yourself a due date for finishing a grammar textbook is a way to cut through the procrastination and get a critical piece of learning done.

March 31st is an arbitrary date. Choose a date that makes sense with your schedule and your book. A good speed could be one chapter per week or one grammar point per day depending on how your book is organized. What you should be focusing on is setting a due date for this thing that could take years if you procrastinate enough.

You need to eat your vegetables before you can have dessert.

#language #languages #language resolutions #resolutions #new years resolutions #new years #happy new years #language goals #goals #polyglot #language learning #learning languages

94 notes · View notes

chimcess · 2 years

Text

Nosey Neighbors {K.T.H}

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Other tags: Dom!Tae, Sub!Reader Genre: FWB, Dom-Sub Relationship, PWP (sort of), Smut (ig?) (18+) Word Count: 1.25k Synopsis: When you and Taehyung decide to have a bit of fun his elderly neighbors almost ruin it. Warnings: Implied sexual activities, tongue kissing, spanking (one time), Reader is tied up, Kidnapping kink, mentions of dub-con, dom/sub relationship, Exhibitionism, Mentions of public sex, Mentions of outdoor sex, Mentions of Dungeons, Reader is tied up, Reader is in Tae’s trunk, Tae is way too forthcoming, Poor Neighbors, They meant well A/N: So, this is me dabbling into writing a bit of smut. I’m currently in the middle of writing a one-shot that I plan on writing smut for but am clueless. I’ve never done it before so bare with me and let me know what I can improve on. Everything I’ve tried sounds cringe and forced (or maybe that’s just me). This drabble is based on THIS TikTok and Tae seemed like the type. I could make a part two? Unedited.

It was hot in the middle of June, so hot that I could feel the sweat pooling in the pits of my knees slowly begin to drip down my legs. The sunlight flashed into my eyes for a second causing me to flinch and quickly close them. I heard Taehyung chuckle. The rope he was currently tying around my ankles got tighter.

“We picked the wrong day for this,” I complained, blowing a stray piece of hair out of my face.

The sweat on my forehead prevented it from moving and I groaned as it fell right back where it had been. Noticing my frustration, Taehyung took a break from the rope and slicked back all the hairs on my head. I kissed his hand as he caressed my face. He smiled before going back to my ankles.

“I’m having a great time,” He teased, tying the first knot.

Taehyung and I had been in a dom-sub relationship for over a year now. We had met at a dungeon in Seoul. At the time, he had a sub named Jiho and I was just there for a good time. I had gone with a switch friend of mine, Yoongi, and I had originally seen Tae when he was performing a scene. While Yoongi was busying chatting up a femme dom at the bar, Taehyung and his sub approached me. I joined one of their scenes and we stayed in contact for a while after that. When their arrangement ended, that is when Taehyung and I entered an agreement, and unlike Jiho, I did not share. He did not seem to mind.

While I had done many things in my life, Taehyung was the freakiest man I had ever been with. This is why I was currently being tied up in the trunk of his car in broad daylight. Two months ago, I had confided in my dom that I had watched a porno of a girl being kidnapped. We talked about how it made me feel and that I was open to trying something similar out if he was interested in it as well. After testing the waters with some dubious consent scenes, Taehyung had finally brought up the idea of a day trip. We both agreed that doing it during the day might ease my nerves and we would take things slow. A typical scene with him was nothing like this. Taehyung was a hard dom who would never dream of smiling while we played but I knew he was being casual to help calm my nerves.

“Is it wrong that I’m more concerned about melting than the neighbors?” I asked, a smile playing on my lips.

“Dirty girl,” Taehyung leaned over and gave me a quick kiss.

I sighed into his mouth and haphazardly struggled against my restraints. Taehyung chuckled against my mouth before roughly grabbing my face and roughly shoving my head into the foot of the trunk. His tongue licked at my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth without hesitation. I wiggled and felt myself becoming wet. This is what I loved. Being tied up and helpless underneath Taehyung was perfect, his slim figure meaning nothing in the wake of his strength. He was skinny but strong and could easily hold me down. He pulled away and shoved my body further into the trunk. I was now on my stomach

“Safeword if you need to, okay?” He said, voice rough.

“Yes, sir,” I obediently replied, relaxing and preparing myself for subspace.

“That’s a good girl,” He praised before a sharp, painful smack was delivered to my backside. “Now shut the fuck up.”

My panties were soaked, and I desperately rubbed my thighs together for some sort of friction. It was pointless. Taehyung had tied my restraints so tightly that it was almost impossible to move my legs individually. Still, I wiggled in hopes that something would give. I needed release.

Taehyung grabbed my ankles, and I heard another piece of rope sliding in between the knots he had created. He then took my wrists, which were bound behind my back, and looped the rope through them as well. After successfully hogtying me, Taehyung hummed n satisfaction. I could not wait until we were in the clearing.

We had planned on going off a hiking trail by a camp nearby and having sex in a flower field that Taehyung had taken me to when we were still getting to know one another. While it was his favorite meditation spot, he had decided that it was a perfect place to go to get away from people and still have it open as he wanted it. We both knew I was not ready for something very public, and Taehyung was not fond of getting the police called on him. Just as he was making finishing knots to make sure I secured, a car honking snapped us both out of the scene. I could not move to see what was happening, but Taehyung was gone very quickly after.

“What’s going on here?” A woman asked.

“Everything okay?” A man asked immediately after.

I recognized the voices as his elderly neighbors. Shamefully, I felt myself getting impossibly wetter. I loved the idea of getting caught and doing it felt euphoric. I blushed in embarrassment. Taehyung would know how excited I had gotten as well.

“Oh, yeah, everything is fine,” Taehyung laughed it off.

“We thought we saw someone in your trunk,” The woman continued.

She sounded concerned. I bit my lip to hold in my laughter. I had no idea where Tae would take this.

“Oh, that’s just my girlfriend,” He said.

I heard the woman gasp and I snorted. The laughter was unavoidable, and I fought to keep quiet. These poor old people. Whatever arousal I had dried up. My body shook from how hard I laughed but I managed to keep my voice down. I could not tell what was funnier, Taehyung calling me his girlfriend or the face I had imagined them making.

“Oh, well, okay,” The man replied, and I could hear the awkward way he spoke.

“We were just making sure everything was fine,” The woman laughed, the sound forced and oddly high-pitched.

“We’re great, Mrs.Lee,” Taehyung replied, bright and bubbly.

I heard rather than saw the car pulling off. The hum of the car faded away and I could no longer hold my laughter back. Taehyung broke soon after. He climbed back into the trunk and lay his head down on my ass. The car shook with both of us.

“That was so embarrassing,” He complained. “My neighbors think I’m a serial killer.”

I laughed harder.

“Well, that ruined the mood,” I said, sighing.

Taehyung sat up and slowly ran his hands from my toes to my inner thighs. I let out an embarrassing sound and the mood from before was back. My breath quickened.

“Are you sure?” He whispered, kissing my neck.

I shook my head.

“No, sir.”

Taehyung smiled at me and got out of the trunk. He winked and asked me if I was okay again. After I reaffirmed that I was indeed fine, he nodded before his features became cold. My heart rate sped up and I knew how wet I had become all over again. With the neighbors out of my mind, I allowed myself to relax and sink back into our scene. This should be fun.

Then, Tae slammed the trunk shut and our test was on.

78 notes · View notes

creation-help · 1 year

Note

Hiya! I’m here because I’m conflicted about pursuing an idea for a creative project that’s been popping into my brain a lot lately.

I’ve been convincing myself to stick to simpler and more light hearted stories because I don’t think I have what it takes to follow such an ambitious goal.

I do really want to end up making something out of it, but my current drawing skill level and my certainty that it’ll just be lost in the sea of other better stories and never get any attention is really turning me away from it.

I’m not sure of what to do anymore. Sorry if your not currently answering asks, your under no pressure to respond to me

Dear fuzzyman, I understand wanting to limit what you do to avoid unneeded stress and keep things casual, in order to keep it more fun. But I strongly recommend you don't limit yourself in what you want to do, just bc you think it wouldn't turn out good enough! I understand that feeling too, I have many things like that for myself, and I've been through the crushing ordeal, of putting alot of passion into an ambitious project only for it to crash or sizzle away slowly and painfully (the reason this blog exists, actually, fun fact). I've talked about it fairly often on this blog by now, but social media really is ruining artists on a large scale. Getting engagement feels rewarding, and it's natural to want recognition for what you do and to be seen by other people, bc heck we put alot of effort and just, alot, emotionally speaking, into our art. The way social media has become a fast consumption, blow up now or remain a nobody forever -kind of landscape really abuses that. Unfortunately alot of it is done intentionally to benefit businesses, not people. Anyhow.

I wanted to say all that to acknowledge that your fears are founded, and valid, but despite all that I also want to say all this that follows.

Your drawing level doesn't dictate how well you make things. It doesn't dictate what you should or shouldn't try. You do. If you truly want to make something even though it would be challenging, then you do that! If you want to wait on it and gather fuel for the fire slowly then you do that! I know it's easier said than done but prioritize yourself as an artist over the final product. Why do you create? I know some create just to share, and some just to get recognition, and while both have their own negative sides (and I wouldn't recommend the latter to anyone), they're still legit reasons to create. I'm not gonna tell people why they should or shouldn't make art. If they have the want and drive to make it, that's about it. Art in itself is just about making things to express or vent out some feeling or idea.

However you did say yourself that you really want to make something out of it. So while I wanted to acknowledge the complexity of these things, if you're here to just get that push to finally do it, I'm doing that to you now! I'm pushing you (gently). Do it even if it would only be seen by some few people, do it even if you're afraid of it not reaching up to your standards, bc guess what that's okay! Nothing can be perfect and art is never done. You'll continue to learn and improve over time if you work on these things and look into it, bc storytelling is also something that can require alot of learning and effort. Don't let that intimidate you, bc you aren't one of those other artists who, in your eyes, does it better, and you're also not the person who has already failed. You're a person who has an idea they want to pursue. You're the artist that can do exactly what you can do, and that is unique to yourself. And that is enough. Focus on that. And I do promise, every other artist has these same doubts, and the people you look up to have their own struggles. And that you can and will improve in these things as you go along. I really really encourage you to ignore the numbers and make bc of what you want to make, and out of the passion for what you do. It can be very hard, I know, but I promise it's better for you in the long run.

And like I've said before, it's not "That cake is way better than mine", it's "Yay more cakes!".

However if you don't feel ready to tackle this project yet that's fine. Neither you nor your story is a failure for not existing, or being left incomplete. Every creation is just it's own experience. That said you can come here to share your story and I can boost the stuff you make! All the best, fuzzyman

#Ask #artist inspiration #artist positivity #Help #artist motivation #Important #Artists on Tumblr #writing positivity #creatives on tumblr #This is just alot of words for: It's fine! Just do it if you want to!#And I stand by that

27 notes · View notes

hyptrance1 · 1 year

Text

What’s Under the Hypnotist’s Tree

This is a story I thought of to keep me happy and hypno entertained. Hope you all enjoy before the holiday season.

______________________________________________________________

I slowly woke up on Christmas morning tempted to stay in the warm comfort of my bed. But as I slowly remembered what day it was, and what was awaiting me downstairs, I excitedly got out of bed. It was not just an ordinary Christmas morning. It was one I would not forget.

I had for a year or so been working on my hypnosis skills. Slowly improving my techniques with each session, gradually increasing the number of guys under my control. It was a lot of work, and a lot of hopeful effort that was also wasted, but I felt that my efforts with many of the guys were going to prove fruitful today. I had never specifically told them what I wanted for Christmas, but when there had been murmurings in their minds and in our chats that they all seemingly were planning something big. I couldn’t hold in my excitement much longer.

Descending the stairs I looked at my wonderful tree, decked out in the exact way I wanted it this year. The lights glittering over the assortment of presents that flowed out from underneath the tree. From large ones, like the huge one in the corner taller than myself, to the small ones as small as a ring box decorated the room. These presents were not here when I went to bed last night, although I did hear two of my local subs come in a few minutes later, bringing in all the presents, making sure that they made it look nice for me. I’ll be sure to let them cum for their holiday reward.

I ignored the bigger presents, and the naked jock with his ass up in the air, to grab my stocking first and plop down on the couch. It was one of my favorite moments: sitting down, the anticipation of seeing what I’ve gotten sending shivers down my spine. Not that this year I didn't know the majority of things I got, but it was almost a better feeling since I felt like I was preparing for this moment all year.

The stocking was filled with a lot of sex toys: dildos, and plugs, cages and ball gags. Seems like the stocking wasnt going to be the only thing stuffed tonight. Additionally, there were keys to many a lock; the names or numbers on them the only indication of who they were keeping locked up.

One smaller one was to an infinity collar on the neck of a guy named Mike: an athletic accountant and one of the guys that brought in all of the presents last night since he was one of only a handful I have given a key to my place to. He was collared last week, a late recruit to my little group, but as eager as someone who’s been mindfucked since January. I’m sure he was throbbing through his slacks and dress shirt as he made quiet work of his decorations, hoping that he could stay the night instead of leave once his task was done. He was coming over tonight anyway, where he would get his own present, over and over again. Maybe I could see his mindless face in pure bliss again, like I saw it when he heard the click of the collar around his neck.

Another key locked the large dick of the other visitor last night: A construction worker named Ray. A meathead through and through, he was a womanizer before I met him. No wonder why too, his huge cock peaking at 10 inches, but not longer. The muscle mans now smooth crotch was caged with only a one inch cock cage, its giant captive begging to be unlocked each day as it slowly shrinks into a nub. He will also get to release his pent up horniness tonight, although only through rubbing his locked cock till it leaks out a dribble of cum. It’s always fun to see his massive pecs bounce and jiggle as the pleasure spread through his body with each new moan. Who knew the boisterous hunk who would once laugh at the thought of any man totally controlling him would really love being so fully obedient.

Focusing back on the stocking stuffers.There were some other keys in there too: A key from a man in Japan, one for a cock cage in England, another for a house across the country where the subject wanted me to come in any time and trance him to be a perfect butler for me. They jingled in my hand as I held them and a wave of glee filled my chest. I put them aside, back in the stocking so that I would not lose any of the small presents.

Moving onto the actual presents, I picked one of the smallest ones first. Opening it up, I was happy to see a wallet. It was filled to the brim with cash, and cards, and even its former owners I.D. card. Max Walter was an up and coming “Alpha Cash Master” before he started talking to me. A muscular blonde jock with big muscles and an even bigger dick, his cockiness and aggression came off as a cover for his insecurities, hence why he showed off his big muscles and why he couldn’t stop talking about how he was a real man. It didn’t take a week of talking for him to start talking about wanting to be a good boy. His attitude changed after that. He still took money from others, but was much more appreciative of it. He stopped using his vulgarities, he stopped talking about how he was “a real man”. He was now my happy, dumb himbo. His former scowling pics showing off his feet now transformed into smiley pics which showed off his big hard cock, now refered to as “my sirs cock”. The note attached to the wallet read, “Heya sir. I thought I should finally give you what’s already been yours for a while now. It felt so good to wrap this up for you I had to stroke your big himbo cock. Can’t wait for you to play with it again. Yours, Max.”

I smiled at the sweet note from my sweet himbo. The money he got from findomming now went to me, which had been such a help. I really couldn’t wait to travel to see him in a few weeks and get the money right off of his hard, leaking cock as he emptily smiled at me. Finally getting to wrap my hands around his cock as he talks about his own transformation was such a turn on I deamily sat for a moment until a soft groan from the naked, posed man under my tree returned me to my current wonderful time.

The next present I moved onto was a long rectangular one. Unwrapping it, I was introduced to another dildo, this one thought being a lot more important to me than the others I’ve seen so far. This was the dildo of my Jocktoy David, personally molded from his own large, 12 in cock. I’m sure it must have been hard for him to keep his hardon still for the mold, but so worth it. It was a perfect replica, each vein and curve shown in perfect detail. The balls on the bottom were a nice addition since I had always talked about wanting to play with his balls. Being in another country, one across the ocean, it was unlikely that I would be able to meet up with him any time soon, but it was my pleasure, and his, to play with his “dildo dick” as much as he would let me. He recently in our talks began bringing up more and more the idea of wanting my personal dildo to be available for me at any time, even when he was busy. I smirked at his ingenuity, and of the thought of how I would tease his cock through the screen next time we chatted. Im sure he and I will both love me bringing the dildo onto the desk in front of me, greasing it up as his own cockstarted to inflate, watching his eyes glaze over and his sentences turn to grunts as I continued to stroke and edge his dick. I’m sure he had that vodoo trick in mind when he decided to give this to me for the holiday.

His letter, like Max’s, was heartfelt and dick throbbingly sweet. “I hope you can use your personal dildo any time you want,” it read, “and that you come over soon so that you can use the real thing repeatedly. It’s throbbing and emptying my head as I write this, wanting you to come and claim it. Happy Holiday Sir, Your jocktoy and your dildo dick.” My dick and ass couldnt wait to use this.

The excitement did not wane as I leisurely opened through other gifts. Those subjects who became just friends, and those who were only starting their submission process sent items from my wishlists and some additional treats: jockstraps to wear and collars to put on, handcuffs and ropes and piece by piece a whole leather outfit meant for a dom daddy that I had apparently become for some of these guys. Other things were less sexual: some new books I had mentioned to a friend or two, a game I wanted to play, and many a heartfelt note and card. I spent a lot of time reading these, appreciative of the words of guys that I had become friends with, who thankfully had seen me at my best and my worst and still were thankful to have me in their lives. I was feeling truly blessed, and I was only starting the day.

The next present that I opened was a large and thin one. It turned out to be a framed picture of a guy who I was pretty surprised to see sent me anything. His name was Nate, and when I had met him several years back in a hypnosis chatroom. He had a lot of issues with his self image, always thinking himself too small. He also has gone through about 5 “masters” during the few years I had known him, always looking for more control and changing his demeanor every time I sporadically talked to him. One time he was in full drone mode, the next a normal guy, then a horny jockslave. I had slowly but surely started to get to know him, always through interrupted conversations and veiled inference. I started creating photoshops of his pictures he would post, which opened him up even more.

It was only after his last master left him that I brought up the courage and asked him to give me a try. He was genuinely surprised, which I had to laugh at since I thought I was groveling at him hand and foot at times wanting to talk to him. It was tough work, he was a subject that had a hard time opening up to let me know what he wanted, and it was hard to try to improve his own self image at the same time. I was currently working on another subliminal file for him to try out, hoping that this one would do the trick finally.

The picture was of him, fully clothed, in front of the grand canyon. He looked happy, just posing there in a v-neck and jeans. His card gave me more of an idea what this letter was about. “I wanted to thank you somehow,” he wrote, “ for doing your best to figure out what I want. My other masters have told me what to be, and I didn’t have open up as much as you make me. I know I don’t say it, but I really appreciate your style and I hope to continue working with you. I don’t speak about my personal life a lot with you, but I thought you would like to have a picture from my first modeling gig at one of my favorite places. Wouldn’t have been possible without you telling me how hot I look on the daily. Maybe I could show you it personally sometime. Merry Christmas man, Nate.”

I had to sit for a minute, looking at his picture. He was right in the fact that he never really opened up. It was really quite shocking to know that anything I did helped him with his body image. But look at him! His biceps were basically bulging out of that tight t-shirt and those thighs that I had seen grow more and more recently were popping out of the jeans. How could someone look at him and not find him absolutely stunning.

I was putting the frame and card down when I thankfully caught one more thing he had written, “P.S. there’s another picture in the frame that I think you’ll love as well. I know I do ;P.” Intrigued, I flipped the frame over and took out the original picture. Turning it back around I was shocked to see a picture I knew well. It was Nate, naked and flexing; his large cock standing at attention as his eyes were covered in a spiral that I knew was a frame of a gif I photoshopped into his eyes, as well as the collar around his neck. There was a caption below which was new though: “Once a jock drone for a master, always a jock drone for a master.”

Well fuck. This is going up somewhere immediately after I finished unwrapping gifts. He was much more appreciative than I realized. I was now thankful for putting in so much effort in to all those subliminals and biting the bullet and asking him to try me out.

It took me a moment to regain my composure and move onto the next box. Pulling out the jiggly, squeezable thing I realized it was another sex toy. This time it was a pocket pussy in the shape of a brain. I knew pretty immediately who it was sent by. Clay was a law student who had reached out to me on one of my kink social medias. He really loved some of the himbo posts I had made, and was liking the idea that I brought up about mind fucking. Talking to him over and over again, I figured out he was really interested in this idea. A session or two later I was sliding my big dick into his brain repeatedly; slamming my balls on the back of his head as his brain turned to mush, or better yet molded into the perfect fitting condom on my cock in his head. He really loved the part where the pleasure center of his brain was repeatedly thrusted in between my hot cock and his skull, causing his whole body to bounce with pleasure. It was always nice, slapping my hand on the table to make the same sound as my balls slapping his head and seeing his eyes roll back in his head and his hips buck with pleasure. The last time we did it he even came handsfree, his cum now replaced with mine, and his brain also now replaced with my cum.

It was an even better look, seeing this younger, fit, well dressed lawyer slowly degraded, stripping into his himbo uniform– a gold thong which barely held his constantly hard dick. Even better to hear him, on the verge of going into trance, babbling about his desire for me to use his brain as a cumdump, a hole for my huge dick, transforming him into a cum brained himbo, cummands filling his mind.

His card was more of the same babble, starting off very eloquent and formal as his writing slowly became less neat and more hurried, a transformation from a lawyer to cum brained himbo in a letter. My cock sprung up again as I imagined him seeing me fucking his pocket pussy brain and him immediately stripping into his now normal home attire.

I stopped for a moment, taking stock on the pile of presents, cards, and appreciation that I had not been prepared for. My cock was aching with appreciation as well. I only had two presents left: a huge box and the naked man still posed under my tree after all this time. I decided to go for the box first.

The reason the box was so big was because there was a person inside. Frozen, a large smile on his face, was Bradley. He was a guy I started talking to because I had an interest in learning about his dollification kink. He told me in detail of his desire to feel empty, hollow, and plastic. His fantasy was becoming a real life Ken doll, Sex Toy Ken really. And from the looks of the box he had made and set up, his fantasy came to life today. The box was a bright pink, with a plastic window showing off a naked Bradley. The blue lettering at the bottom of the box read “Brainwashed Bradley Doll”. It even had an age rating at the bottom which I couldn’t help but chuckle at. Bradley himself had his arms posed in a strange, doll like way. Inside the box also had the looks of a small wardrobe of very hot clothes, jockstraps and singlets, even a leather jacket.

I saw a door on the side of the box and opened it. Pulling Bradley out was a challenge since he did not move at all and I was dodging piles of presents and discarded wrapping paper. I finally was able to sit him down on the couch and look at him more clearly. It seemed he had been working out recently since his muscles seemed to be larger. He also had a barcode above his right pec, which I was tempted to scan and see how much he would cost to buy. Tapping his face, I saw his face switched into different expressions: neutral, angry, and –my favorite –wide eyed and opened mouth. I asked Bradley how long he would stay in this state and his monotone response was that he would stay in this state until the end of the day and he would happily do or act any way that I wanted him too.

Musing over this. I told him to go into my kitchen, get something to eat and drink as well as take care of any physical needs. He droned an agreement and robotically got up and moved. Thankfully, that allowed me to “open up” my last present under the tree.

The bright red hair on his head gave who it was immediately away. His name was Jake and he was the personal trainer at my gym. I had worked with him a few times and each time I was more and more smitted with the recent college grads personality and demeanor. The twunk was a natural himbo, and his charisma and kindness made it obvious why he did so well working with others. He had a large wealth of knowledge too, helping me improve my form on several of my workouts.

I actually was the most surprised about him being one of my presents. I never talked to him about hypnosis, and was blissfully content to see him smiling at one client or another. To see his pale ass, presented so nicely under my tree, a bow perfectly placed on his posterior was a wonder to see. His hole was winking at me, and looking at his face I could see headphones in his ears and a VR headset on his head. It showed a loading screen on itself, showing how far into his brainwashing session he was at. From the looks of it he was almost done with his programming. I could hear him whispering the mantra that had probably been in his ears all night: “Personal trainer personally trained for your personal pleasure. Personal trainer personally trained for your personal pleasure.” I assumed that one of my other subs that joined that gym also had their eyes out for me, and started getting Jake interested in the idea of going under. He will be surprised when he wakes up and sees that his now brainwashed brain gets a ton of pleasure in following my orders.

I pressed my thumb at his quivering hole and started to massage the entrance. It immediately caused the hot hunk to moan and beg to be of personally trained service. His husky begging cause my already teased cock to quickly grow into its full lengtha and I sadly had to take my hand off of his ass before I started using him before he was fully brainwashed.

Smiling at my whole bevvy of wonderful presents. I started to get up and clean the piles of wrapping paper that had accumulated and think of how I was going to use all my new toys and playthings today.

Once cleaned up I heard my doorbell. Walking towards the front, I passed the tree where Jake had now stood up and was repeating “Personal Trainer Slave ready provide personal pleasure”. I passed Bradley, now fed and ready for a day of mindless toying around. I peeked through my front door to see Ray and Mike, my two hunks who had most likey set all of this up for me. They were smiling, ready to get presents of their own.

I smiled to myself and thought to myself before opening my door “May we all cum to have a very Merry Christmas this year.”

15 notes · View notes