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ggreactionsandscenarios · 4 years ago

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Number 9 and Yves

Yves x Reader

Prompt n°9 : Bumping into the football captain and his girlfriend

Queen bee

Like most of the time you were late for school, the only difference was that today you couldn't. Avoiding detention was your only goal right now. It was forbidden to run in the corridors but nobody never said anything about speed walking.

Well maybe someone should have because you wouldn't find yourself butt on the floor if they did.

"Are you fucking made of stone like a golem ?! I think you broke my nose."

You didn't know what kind of stupid people you bump into but when you were lift by your collar you guessed it probably was the stupidest one of them all.

"Do you wanna die hoe ? Do you even look around you before running like a horse ?!"

Of course you had to bump into the star player of the football team, no wonders he was only shining on the field with his testosterone's damaged brain.

"I'm sorry your majesty if I'm the one hurt but still need to apologise to some stupid piece of shit."

You weren't the type to let someone talk to you badly, even though dying wasn't that appealing either you had to answer. The joke raised his fist ready to punch the crap out of you. You closed your eyes in anticipation but a voice stopped you.

"Baby, this girl probably hit her head, she forgot who she's talking to. You don't have time for that, go to your praactice and let me handle that."

That voice, you opened an eye meeting hers right away. You sure didn't notice her presence before but of course she'll be there arms clamped around his arm. You and Yves used to be friends a long time ago but you lost contact with the now famous queen bee of the school. Dating the golden boy and being the head cheerleader, yes Yves was the perfect cliché.

"She disrespected me !" The joke was whining like a baby.

You were wondering if you could still make it in time if you let them argue about who would take care of you and sneak out.

"I'll take care of it and of you later."

The way Sooyoung whispered it in his ear made you want to puke. Of course she had to bring up sex to manipulate this dumbass of a boyfriend but did she really have to let you know about it ?

The jackass had finally loosen his grip and you could now breath properly again. He left but not without glaring at you, letting you with your old best friend in an awkward silence.

"Yep .. so thanks but no thanks, I have to go."

As you were about to leave you were pulled by your arm right back at your place.

"In your dreams. I said I was going to take care of you and I did mean it."

In your three years of coexistence with her being the popular girl, Yves never let anyone hurt you neither hurt you herself but maybe this time she had enough.

You weren't able to wonder much about what she was planning to inflict you that you were dragged behind her, her hand clenched tightly around your wrist,rather painfully.

In other circumstances getting pinned against the bathroom door could have been hot or at least thrilling but right now you were just scared of what might be about to come.

For some reasons the blood that had stopped running down your bruised nose began flowing again.

You rose your hand to your nose trying to stop the flow, missing the way Yves face that was worth it of the best poker player until now turned into a soft and worried one.

Her hand caught yours back making you flinched expecting her to drag you painfully again. She gave you a small look, somehow ordering you to let her do whatever she was about to do.

You let her get your hand out of your face, examining the mess her so called boyfriend made. She pulled you softly to the sink, being careful not to hurt you this time.

Not letting go of your hand, she reached out for paper towel with her other one. At this point you were just observing silently, not really sure about what all of this meant but too surprised to think about it anyway.

She let water run on the paper before proceeding to clean the blood that was over your face. You could see how her moves became hesitant as her hand got closer and closer to your face.

You didn't say anything, looking at what she was doing attentively as she finally reach your bruised area, her sudden shyness making her bump into it.

You left a small grunt from the pain, grabbing her wrist with your free hand.

"Sorry."

Even her voice changed you noticed, letting her old caring voice get to your ear.

You were froze, it was too much of your old best friend, too much of the girl you didn't get to see for years, too much of the girl you fell in love with years ago.

Yves was waiting for you to allow her to get back to cleaning your wound again. She wasn't pushing you at all this time, she was just waiting for you to let her hand go and you did.

After few seconds of staring right into your eyes, she focused back on what she was aiming to do in the first place.

She was cleaning your nose carefully, small brush of the paper after small brush, sometimes frowning her brows when blood would run again or wouldn't want to get off.

You could feel yourself falling in love again, seeing this side of her that you missed so much again but you remembered yourself of who she was now, who she became, which was a person that you didn't like at all.

Your heart was saying the opposite though when she brushed your upper lips, staring at it so much that you were suddenly feeling some sort of incredible feelings in your stomach.

When her hand retrieved from your face, you had to fight the urge of keeping it there. What you disliked even more was the fact that her head fall down at the same time as her hand.

Interrogations were fusing in your head at the moment but you decided to do what felt right. You took her hand back and made it cup your cheek, your palm keeping it there.

As link by a spell her look got back on you as well, your gazes meeting in a silent conversation. If the words couldn't come out you were for sure sharing way more then that right now.

It was like all those years apart were slowly disappearing, the same way the distance between you two was. You couldn't tell if you were the one leaning in or if it was her.

What you were sure about was that if that stupid bell hadn't rang, you would have met her lips. The fact that she ran away when it did, made you think that you did miss your only chance to kiss the not so famous caring Sooyoung hidden behind this queen bee title.

Hey, thanks for requesting out of my prompt list😁 I was playing to write this one with Joy but the queen bee vibe does suit Yves really well. Anyway, I hope you'll like the scenario, give feedback 🙂 And of course you can request again whenever you want. -Ael

#girl group #kpop girls #girlfriend #loonaverse #loona icons #loona yves #yves #loona ha sooyoung #loona sooyoung #loona yyxy #loona

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writefinch · 4 years ago

Text

Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears, pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

#story #stories

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estifrendyz · 3 years ago

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Untitled Series Intro

“Listen Nana I understand bu-“

“I just don’t understand!” The youngest wails over (Y/N). “I-I he, it just really felt like we had something special. Like I was special and now..” her voice trails off as she blows into a tissue.

Normally (Y/N) would push these calls to her assistant, or better yet their designated team of support and therapy. However, Nana held a certain place in her heart.

“Nana” (Y/N) started again after the break of hiccups and sniffles. “Trust me I’ve been there,” An sigh rushing past the woman’s lips. She leans back into the booth of the small coffee shop, tucked away in a corner, to keep her conversation discrete. Even on the lowest volume the barista taking her order could clearly hear Nana’s distress.

“This is why I tell you never ever let their world consume yours. Get a job, make money outside this arrangement. Have goal. Shit, they do! The day you think your relationship is anything more than a fun time your screwing yourself out of a happy ending.”

Suddenly (Y/N)’s honey latte had gone sour. She certainly didn’t mean to sound like the bitter older sister but she desperately wanted to keep Nana from experiencing anymore self-inflicted pain.

“When was your last interview anyway? Remember the rule. If you can’t find a passion in 30 days, your out.” You continued more sternly.

“I know, I know. I’m trying! I just- I stupidly got caught up in Kim Hongjoon’s….” the youngest’s voice trails off again. Trying to find the right words but (Y/N) knew exactly what she meant.

“I’ll give you an extension but don’t tell anyone got it? Especially Lei, she will have a fit.”

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!”

A smile crept on (Y/N)’s face at the sudden change of Nana’s disposition, ah to be young again.

“Just remember,” (Y/N) continued “If your arraignment doesn’t yield beneficial results from his company at the end of the month I will have to reassign you.”

“I know”

(Y/N) wanted to say something else to reassure her protégé but a sudden call on the other line peaked her interested and she quickly switched over after bidding Nana and soft goodbye.

“Wha! The mystery and legend herself!”

“What do you want” (Y/N) slide out of her booth and quickly dropped the untouched latte in the trash before heading to the front door.

“I’m surprised you were even willing to pick up my call, seeing as your so busy.”

“Busy with what? I am but a humble servant of JYP Entertainment” The curly haired legend answered with a smiled as she stepped out into the streets of Itewon.

“Speaking of serving, I’m hoping you can pick up a case for us.” A chill trickles down (Y/N)’s spine and she almost stops on the busy street, slightly tripping over her heels.

“Mene you know I don’t take assignments anymore” (Y/N) answered slowly, turning down beauty district toward CakeFace.

“Trust me, I tried to explain that to them but they were pretty persistent that they wanted you. Lei must have shown them your stats or something. Anyway I set up a meeting with the Stray Kids manager next week. Please be there, if anything maybe you could convince them to sign an arrangement with another girl.”

“Fine fine, add it to the calendar.”

Stray Kids? (Y/N) had definitely heard that name before. A very popular boy group, a very popular boy group who’s leader was 3 years too young. (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel her day was only getting gloomier. However, seeing her business stand at the center of the beauty district certainly made it better.

CakeFace was the most sought after place for anything self care related. The brain child of her and her traitor-ist friend Lei. Once side a spa dedicated to intentional skin care for the masses and the other side a top tier bakery from which you can smell its sickeningly sweet good for miles. One side of the building decorated in sleek black and white interior, the other side wackily put together with eclectic oddities. It completed matched the two friend’s vibes.

“Lei Lei!” (Y/N) sounded so sweet, swinging the door to the bakery wide open to match the open arms she spread to encapsulate Lei in a tight hug.

The customer’s loved a good boss woman coming together moment and (Y/N) played it perfectly planting sweet kisses all over Lei’s cheek and neck to which Lei squirmed in a fit of giggles.

“My office. Now” The giggles slowly died down and the Chinese woman turned her head, to face her executioner.

(Y/N) dragged Lei behind the double doors of the bakery into the kitchen, and then past Lei’s office. (Y/N)’s office sat just on the other side as the two walls they shared separated their two businesses.

“Sit” the executioner barked, taking throne behind her crisp glass desk.

“P-please don’t be mad!” Lei blurted, pulling off her glasses. The barker always had two habits when she was scared. 1) she began to stutter, a tick (Y/N) had helped her work through before opening their business. 2) She took off her glasses so she at least didn’t have to see the evil expression the person was making while they yelled at her.

“You’ve been so busy lately, and gosh so much meaner than usual. I felt like getting back into what fired you up would help! I didn’t actually thinking sending over your stats would cause Mene to reach out!”

“You didn’t think sending over my perfect stats wouldn’t cause Mene to call me?” (Y/N) pinched the bridge of her nose. Once she and Lei had opened CakeFace there was no reason for her to indulge in silly arrangements anymore. Heck that’s why she hired a well sorted team of women, all of which have amazing stats with their idols.

“Not to mention it’s a meeting with Stray Kids, The oldest is 24 years old. I’m 27 what the heck can I do for them? Read them a bedtime story?”

“Hmm, maybe their into that whole mommy kink-“

“Yeah no thanks I’ll send Almonnqiue then,”

“At least take the meeting.” Lei tries to sound more stern but it comes out more of a plea. “You have to know, I’m just trying to help. After Jae-“

“I know what your going to stay” (Y/N) blurted quickly, not wanting to hear his name. “But if you think sex is going to suddenly mellow me out, you must not know me very well.”

Lei looked down, feeling a bit of a sting by those words.

“Your doing really well for yourself, so well. I am so proud of you, your parents are proud of you. But I’ve been with you through the really dark shit.”

(Y/N) takes her hand away to meet her friend’s eyes. They were strong, a difference from their usual flicker. She wonder’s if its because Lei took off her glasses that she feels more conviction.

“I can see, (Y/N). I can physically see you slipping back into that place. Especially now that he is doing is own thing and being successful. I know your happy for him but like, I also know you wished he wasn’t doing this good.”

The ping of truth certainly feels different coming from Lei and instead of denying it the “Face” owner of CakeFace lays her head on the desk and cries. Lei quickly takes her place beside her partner and soothes her back as it quivers.

Two years, Lei thought to herself as she pushed a wad of tissues into (Y/N)’s hand. Two years and you still cry with the same pain like it was yesterday.

#kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop series #cakeface #untitled #arrangement #kpop imagines

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tracle0 · 4 years ago

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WIP Bops Tag

So I got tagged for.... two music/listening related games in the span of two days so I will. Do both in one to save myself idk making another post lmao

First one: I think you just list things you’ve been listening to. Maybe the last ten things you listened to? I don’t know man. Tagged by the wonderful @kaatiba thank you boo

I have been listening to...

Cloud Cult - I stand by the fact that Cloud Cult 500% have the best bops for apparently all my wips. ‘Time Machine Invention’ is peak Leon, don’t try and tell me otherwise. ‘It’s Your Decision’ gives me big Percival vibes. ‘Good Friend’ apparently works for every single WIP I have because I write about friends too much.

Night Vale - I missed Night Vale ok. I’ve listened to it all already, but I wanted to hear the Strexcorp arc again, and the liveshow and Carlos man. Carlos.

I’ll Follow You Into The Dark - isolated song, but I have been listening to it over and over again, because it’s somehow playing my heart strings rather than a guitar. I am obsessed with this song. I learnt it on the ukuele as soon as I could. Major Mika vibes. Made me realise ‘ohhh he’s Catholic ain’t he’ and also made me figure out his friendship with Lynne more. Thanks, song.

Vienna Teng - someone else mentioned her recently, and I went ‘oh yeah I used to listen to her I should do that again’ the only memory I have of hearing her songs is. Not good. So I’m trying to get other memories down lmao.

I need to listen to...

Jake Parker Plagorised My Book which is a very cheerful subject. Quick run-down; Jake Parker is the creator of the yearly Inktober challenge. He plagorised the book of a black artist. I figured I should understand the Drama and then decide what I’ll do in October if not Inktober.

Okay that’s like five, good enough. Next tag game;

Rules: Share some songs that have inspired your WIP or characters, then tag some people to play! - tagged by @albatris thanks homie and I’ve decided I’m going to jump around between WIPs becuase I want to.

So first off I feel like the songs that first made me go ‘oh I could make a story out of this’ - DIAS spawned from ‘Hopeless Opus’ by Imagine Dragons. I got the idea for like. Two characters who were seperated for some reason, both regretting something, and went ‘okay! How.’ and my brain spat out Leon and Ant.

Whereas wip4 sort of spawned from both ‘On Melancholy Hill’ by Gorillaz, obviously, and also ‘Light a Roman Candle With Me’ by fun. And I cannot tell you at all why this story spawned from these songs. I think it was mostly... for Melancholy Hill, it gave me isolation vibes, and Roman Candle was more... a desperate reach for connection. wip4 has a focus on friendship. I guess that works?

DIAS again - ‘The Cave’ by Mumford and Sons is. Peak DIAS, not gonna lie. I have officially storyboarded out an entire animatic that is just the entire plot of DIAS to this song. Every verse sort of follows each act of DIAS and uhh

So make - your sirens song and sing - all you want I will not hear what you have to say

I can’t say why because major spoilers, but that lyric. Fits. Very well.

I mentioned ‘Time Machine Invention’ by Cloud Cult being a major Leon song, because it is, so I’ll talk about that here; Leon gets blown up at one point, and loses his leg. This, along with the fact he thinks Ant is dead, makes him Very Depressed. Vincent comes along like ‘hey dickhead stop being depressed’ except said in a slightly nicer way, and gives him a vote of confidence he needs to get up and try and fix one of the problems he has, that being the leg.

If we give this moment our fullest attention, we’ll just keep moving forward, with no need for going back.

Which is honestly, just really good life advice, but is also kinda Leon finally starting to let go of the guilt he has over possibly killing Ant and starting to live life without any new regrets.

wip4 again because this is getting long but I still have things to talk about; ‘Turn The Lights Off’ by Tally Hall is big It vibes, and I cannot tell you how but it does. I’m delighted to put ‘Holding Onto You’ by Twenty One Pilots as a major Keaton song, for the simple reason that Holding Onto You has tried to be a wip song for EVERY SINGLE wip, but it finally actually fits. Heck,

I’m taking over my body, back in control, no more shotty, I bet a lot of me was lost, t’s uncrossed and i’s undotted

is like. The first verse, and is also major Keaton being like ‘WOW WHAT THE HELL I WASLITERALLY DEAD UM WHAT’ and also the entire struggle against It. Fun times.

‘Hello, My Old Heart’ by The Oh Hello’s is a Big Percival Mood, and I can’t really explain why - extreme protectiveness over himself and trying to save himself??? Maybe. Uhh. I’ll give you an Abby song and then done with wip4 - ‘Icicles’ by The Scary Jokes fits her freakishly well. I just found out the artist is nonbinary, which is cool, but I’ll talk about that another day.

I can only be forgiven if I'm givin' myself up to you On a silver serving tray Must I bare myself to the stabbing of your knife and gnashing teeth While our lovely company appears so entertained?

I think Abby recognises that she is in the wrong for a lot of the story, but also thinks that admitting this to Percival would sort of... reverse their roles? That he’d want revenge and would inflict the years of pain she’d put him through onto her. He wouldn’t but she doesn’t realise that. So ‘must I bear myself to the stabbing of your knife and gnashing teeth’ is just. What she assumes she’d have to deal with.

Okay! Final song and it’s for DIAS and also for Simon cause we’re talking about villains okay. He’s got ‘The Greatest Show’ but specifically the cover by Panic! At The Disco. Simon is, to quote the lovely Summayah, ‘a dramatic fuck’ and this song is dramatic as fuck.

Don't fight it, it's comin' for you, runnin' at ya It's only this moment, don't care what comes after Your fever dream, can't you see it gettin' closer? Just surrender 'cause you feel the feelin' takin' over

Which is a pretty good way to explain Silvertongue commands and his general attitude to them, don’t you think?

I’m done now. I have more songs and entire playlists but I’m done, I’ve rambled enough, this is long. I will tag: @joyful-soul-collector @druidx73 @petrolstationflowers @scmalarky @the-starlight-chills and you sir, over there, please, tell me about songs.

#writerblr #tag game #songs #tagged in #id k man #was combining two tag games where I was bound to ramble a good idea?#maybe not #but we did it anyway and here is the result #congrats if you read this far this took me super long to type out for no reason lmao #if anyone wants the wip playlists they can have them #the dias one is the best of the two #because dias has been written and so I refine it constantly lmao #whereas the wip4 one is me going 'this kinda vibes chuck it in'#and when it's being written I'l be like 'oh I never used this song I shall remove it'#but yea if you wanna listen to them feel free lmao

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escapismprison · 5 years ago

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stutter- c.b.

a.n.- hey y’all, i wrote this a little while ago and i thought i might as well post it. there’s nowhere near enough friends fics, especially for chandler so. i listened to stutter by maroon 5 while writing it so if you wanna get the vibe, listen to that. this is set around season 1 of friends bc that’s the best chandler look tbh. also i would die for mondler. enjoy ✨

the first time you opened the door to central perk you noticed two things:

one, the smell of your saviour, your messiah, your own personal jesus (although depeche mode was never really your thing). coffee.

two, a group of six twenty-somethings, making slightly too much noise, hanging around a collection of comfy-looking sofas and chairs near the centre of the café.

now fairly obnoxious groups of friends wasn’t something you weren’t used to, often being a member of said groups meant you were surrounded by them in clubs, work etc. however, this particular group caught your eye. seating yourself at the bar and sneakily inspecting them further, it’s instantly evident there are six very different personalities within the collection.

you see one girl with short-ish blonde hair (who’s conventionally attractive looks pen her to be the princess) playfully poking a cute, cheerful, mixed-raced guy who appears to be enjoying the attention. the player, you assume. next, you cast your eyes over to the worn sofa and see a woman with black bobbed hair and sharp cheekbones, sat with her hands placed carefully in her lap, listening intently to her wildly gesticulating other-blonde-friend. the mom friend and the weirdo, of course.

finally, the last pair in the bunch contains a dopey-eyed, tall guy- the brainiac- who is trying to get the attention of his floppy-haired, attractive- very attractive actually- friend; who just so happens to be glued to his spot on the chair, staring at you with wide-eyes and mouth agape.

his brain seems to catch up with the rest of him, however, as he jerks himself out of his trance, meets your inquisitive gaze, and realises his current predicament. you watch with amusement while he desperately attempts to hide his ever-worsening blush with his hands, leaning on one with his elbow on the arm of his chair, then frantically switching to sitting upright and covering his mouth with the other.

quietly conversing with his friend, he covers the side of his face with one hand, acting as a shield to protect his cheeks from the burning sensation your stare has inflicted on them. despite his concerns, the gesture is pointless as, regardless of his make-shift barricade, the racket from the remainder of the shop would prevent you from hearing his impromptu confessional anyway.

you quickly note you haven’t thought of the role this man has in his friendship group and bring your gaze down to survey his fashion choices. these, unfortunately, don’t reveal a lot to you as baggy clothes and untucked shirts are typical current fashion. a trend follower maybe? though he hasn’t quite mastered the cool and collected persona of many men you had met before. (admittedly, these men had an 100% chance of ending up being dull as dish water.) but curiously, he didn’t seem to be a ‘many men’ kind of guy.

in your reverie you hadn’t noticed the man, as discreetly as possible, (so not very), pump himself up to approach the mysterious woman who had been observing him so carefully. you panic a little as this handsome figure hastily finishes his conversation with his, presumably, wingman companion. he has also managed to achieve the support of the group surrounding him, who award him with not-so-subtle thumbs ups and pats on the back. you clock a few evaluative glances thrown your way. turning your head to avoid their inspection, you manage to fumble into your handbag and pull out your round pocket-mirror, for a rushed last-minute appearance check. the mirror being an item that has been heralded as a life-saver many times in previous desperate situations.

by the time you have closed the mirror, placed it back in your bag and zipped it up again, the man is half-way to your stool at the bar. his friends watch his movements eagerly, waiting for the outcome of his brave decision.

you scan him as he nears you and re-affirm that he is definitely very attractive. a stab of nerves materialises in your stomach.

‘hi,’ he says ‘c-chandler is, my name.’ horror washes over his features while he visibly attempts to pull himself together. his hand twitches and hurriedly runs itself through his hair. you internally scream at this gesture because, amazingly, he has managed to make himself ten times more attractive with a single action.

you were fucked.

chuckling lightly at his apprehension and as a result of your own nerves, you reply with ‘hey chandler my name is (y/n)’ in an slightly incomprehensible mumble.

you all but giggled at your equally embarrassing anxious state. the childish sound made your cheeks heat up instantly and you meet the eyes of the man standing in front of you.

he seems to have somewhat regained his confidence as he gently laughs in relief at the realisation that his target is just as unsure as himself.

‘that wasn’t a great start was it?’ he sighs.

‘maybe not,’ you respond, smiling brightly at him, ‘but it was a start at least.’

a cheeky smile adorns his face that you’re pretty sure gave you heart palpitations for the few seconds proceeding it.

after a moment of eye-contact, chandler snaps himself out of his second trance of the day.

‘mind if i sit there?’ he asks, anxiety still lingering in his words while gesturing towards the empty seat to your right. you curse yourself for forgetting basic manners.

‘yeah of course.’

pleasant silence, with a twinge of awkwardness, settles over your end of the bar. you play with your hands and don’t quite notice the fascinated look chandler has. eyes fixated on your hands as they dance around each other in uncertainty.

‘so, hey.’

you gently break the quiet and hope to restore some momentum into your encounter.

‘oh, yeah sorry, hey.’ chandler gives you a lop-sided grin and adds ‘not really on my game today.’

you laugh.

‘so, uh i was just wondering if, yknow, possibly, maybe s- sometime? going out? would be nice?’ he bites his lip and reckless-you wants to jump into his lap, wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

but you don’t do this, much to reckless-you’s disappointment.

instead, your eyes widen slightly, the sudden request taking you by surprise, but the warm feeling from his adorable vulnerability and openness overpowers any shock.

‘yeah, sure.’ you give a kind smile.

‘oh, i’ll give you my number.’ he briskly pats his trousers and recognises his lack of phone.

‘shit, sorry don’t have it. i’ll go check over there.’ he gets up to leave and you reach for his wrist.

‘no it’s fine’ you assure, tugging him back to his seat gently.

quickly grabbing a notepad from your bag, you scribble your number with a stray pen lurking at the bottom of the bag.

‘a lady that’s prepared huh?’

you shake your head playfully as you attempt to rip the paper in a straight-ish fashion. you’re suddenly aware you’re under scrutiny of the man in front of you and your heightened nerves cause you to tear haphazardly and make a huge mess of it. tiny scraps of paper fall from your hands as you sigh at yourself.

he chuckles and you meet his eyes. ‘god they’re right about blue eyes’ you think. as the saying goes, you found yourself drowning in them.

you jump slightly when he clears his throat and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed about being entranced. he’s wearing a smirk that you’re not sure if you should hit him or kiss him for.

‘here,’ he says, holding out his hand, palm faced-down onto the table in front.

‘you could write your number on there?’

‘yeah. good idea.’ you hold out your dominant hand and place the tip of the pen on the back of his sacrificial hand. you shakily inscribe your number and it’s a miracle you could remember it in the melt-down state you’ve found yourself in.

‘there.’ you pat your handiwork and fleetingly admire the natural art of chandler’s hands. you decide his faintly protruding veins and bones make for a particularly pretty exhibition.

‘thanks.’ he says.

‘no problem’ you reply.

sharing equally sheepish smiles, flushed cheeks and all, you look at each other. you look down at your watch and realise with regret you need to get to your job interview.

‘shit. i gotta go, job interview.’

‘oh wow. good luck, you’ll do great.’ he smiles kindly. ‘way too cute.’ you think.

he leaves his seat and you stand up next to him, putting your jacket on.

‘until next time?’ he proposes.

‘yeah of course.’ you gesture towards his hand containing your details. ‘call me.’

‘definitely.’ he grins at you and you grin back.

‘see you.’ you say, not really wanting this to end, but deciding that you’d like to have means to pay rent.

‘mhm.’ he replies, not seeming to be paying much attention, eyes casting over you as if he was trying to burn you into his memory. in a moment of uncharacteristic boldness, you get on your tip toes and kiss him gently on the cheek.

he blushes at this and gives you the biggest smile yet.

‘bye chandler.’ you squeeze his hand and make your way to the door you entered through, when you were completely unaware of the adorable guy sitting in the group of six obnoxious twenty-somethings. when walking out the door and past the windows of central perk, you don’t notice chandler sinking to the floor and clutching his heart. and you also didn’t know that this was a telltale sign that he had, literally and figuratively, fallen for you.

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 5 years ago

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Lover 1 month later thoughts

So for those who have missed my other posts, going back and listening to an album from start to finish at the 1, 2, 3 and 6 month points to see how my opinions on songs + the album itself change is a thing I do with Taylor albums now. If you’re that interested, here is my Lover release date thoughts along with my Reputation release date thoughts, my Reputation one month later thoughts, my Reputation two month later thoughts, my Reputation three month later thoughts and my Reputation seven months later thoughts.

All up: I tend to agree with people that it’s wild that this album has only been in our lives for a month. While it’s definitely still got that new shine to it that makes me listen to it more than most my other music at the moment, it feels as if it has integrated itself into my other music very well and feels like it’s been there forever. The general feel of the structure this album is reminiscent to Speak Now for me which probably sounds weird to say, but I feel while Taylor’s other albums felt like reading a chapter of a book into her life or watching a movie, these two albums feel like looking through a photo album. They are moments with great depth but are more loosely connected all together in a linear sense. I will also say that certain songs on this album were definitely growers for me to the point I probably could have made a Lover 1 week later post that was different from my first listen thoughts. It also means that while I have a clear top 3 and bottom 1 song, my ranking for the rest of the album moves around dramatically dependent on my mood. I’d also probably say that due to the growth of certain songs plus the different sounds throughout and quality of Lover, it has probably moved comfortably and purely into being my third favourite Taylor album behind RED and Reputation instead of sharing third place with Fearless. Finally, the more I listen to this album, the more I pick up little things that remind me of Australian artists I listened to in my childhood which is a nice throwback and makes me cherish those moments more.

I Forgot That You Existed: Hot take? The laughs in this song are the happiest parts of this album. Like that moment she realises she’s free from their grasp? Amazing and I can say from experience, is the most freeing feeling in the world. I definitely think it still gives off major Kate Miller-Heidke vibes, especially with the inflictions and voice/music changes on the indifference and blur lines. I also think it’s still Bad Blood’s older, wiser and just generally better sibling. In saying all of this, I can also understand why this would be a mood based song for some people because there are definitely days where I could listen to it on repeat while others it just plays in the background while I do my uni work or cleaning or whatever.

Cruel Summer: This song has definitely grown on me. I’ve also realised that a large part of the reason I wasn’t feeling it at first may or may not have been because it reminded me of a time and person I didn’t really want to think about so I legitimately think my brain subconsciously blocked out this song to the point it took weeks to learn the words when I had the rest of the songs down in days. I don’t know, that probably sounds stupid and weird but yeah, it was a thing. I also have to say that I couldn’t help myself laughing at people who thought she was calling his body blue because like all I could think of was Avatar to be completely honest. But then again, who am I to talk because I still have issues not hearing “he looks so pretty like a devil”? I also find it interesting that Taylor wants to make this a single given the perfect time for that would have been before the album came out given her focus on American charts. On that note though, I will say that a November/December release could be amazing for her if she is trying to broaden her horizons for tour because that’s Summer for the Southern Hemisphere and given how well Getaway Car did in Australia without being an official single and how related the two songs sound, I could see Cruel Summer smashing the charts here.

Lover: My thoughts on this song have basically stayed the same. The whole song has grown on me so I like it all now, but there’s just something so special about the bridge that it’ll probably always be my favourite part. It also still makes me want to ballroom dance/waltz and have a romantic partner, but alas, I do not have the time nor resources for either of those. I also can’t wait until Summer because I’m still feeling those Summer night time vibes and it’d be great to experience that. Either way, like I said the first time, it comes off Cruel Summer very well and feels more and more right being placed where it was in the album.

The Man: I think that this song is one of the most relatable songs Taylor will ever write to be honest. Like it is still a mood and one of the songs I listen to most from this album. There have also been two things that have made me appreciate the song even more. Firstly, my ex told me that despite being a man, The Man is in his top three songs for this album because he relates it to how people perceive his bisexuality and the racism he has faced. Secondly, I ran into my other ex (yes I’m that girl who stays friends with most her exes, mind your own business), and he told me that he was shocked that it wasn’t in my top three songs for the album because it’s ‘so [me]’, and I mean he’s not wrong. I guess that just speaks volumes of how strong my top three for this album are though because like if they can beat out a song I listen to constantly that people see as my song and thought was in that top three, then the others must be amazing haha. The only thing less than positive I will say about this song is I still think it feels a little weird coming off Lover.

The Archer: This song has been hitting more than usual lately (especially the bridge), but I still maintain that this song hits the hardest when you are in a specific mood. I also still maintain that The Man leading into The Archer is the best contrast transition on this album and I’m shocked more people have not spoken about it.

I Think He Knows: Talk about a grower. This somehow went from “yeah that’s cute” to one of my most played songs for this album. I still hear a mix of “That’s my toe” and “That’s my soul” instead of “Bless my soul” though if I’m honest. Also, I am very shocked at people being like “No Taylor, he doesn’t know holding a glass is attractive because there’s literally nothing sexual about that” because my god is that line relatable. Like there were so many times with my ex that I’d look at him doing something mundane and just go “Shit, I fucking love/want you right now”. I mean it wasn’t always sexual, like sometimes the way he held a kid would make me feel the romantic love I had for him more, but there were definitely sexual moments where he was doing mundane shit too. So yeah, I like get what Taylor meant a lot. As a final note, I made a post that I wanted booty shorts that said “Boy I Understand” across the ass and Imma be real, if Taylor doesn’t release them, a sequined version of that may or may not be my current tour outfit plan.

Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince: Imma be real, I completely missed the political undertones to this song on my first listen. And it makes me feel stupid not only for missing it but for then in the same breath saying I wanted a whole song on “If boys will be boys then where are the wise men?” because this song is literally that. Having the political view of this song definitely made it a lot better for me, especially seeing as even though it is a very American song, it heavily relates to how I feel about Australian politics at the moment. I also read a reading of it surrounding sexual assault, and as a victim, it both broke my heart and made me love the song even more. I still think it has very movie like and Lana Del Rey like vibes to it. This is the other of the songs my ex wrongfully guessed was in my top 3 because he got the political message straight off and as such also thought it was ‘so [me]’. All up, I think this is one of the most important songs Taylor has written and I can definitely see myself listening to it for years to come.

Paper Rings: This is still a feel good bop that I can mostly put on at any point and enjoy, but to be honest, it’s still not one I’ve gravitated towards. Like it’s got some killer lyrics in “Without all the exes, fights and flaws we wouldn’t be standing here so tall” and the bridge in general. But yeah, something about it just hasn’t stuck with me past “it’s a cute song” which is interesting given how many people I’ve spoken to that say this is a favourite of theirs.

Cornelia Street: I saw a post a few days ago about how someone can’t listen to Lover because they keep stopping at Death By A Thousand Cuts and repeating it because they love it that much and to be honest, that’s how I feel about Cornelia Street. Like even now, I’m fighting the urge not to just listen to this for the next few hours on repeat. I’m not exactly what it is about this song but something just grabs my soul every time I listen to it in a way that most songs don’t. Upon my first listen, I felt that this and Soon You’ll Get Better shared the spot for my favourite song on this album, but now I have to say that Cornelia Street has surpassed it and is a clear favourite. That’s really all I’ve got to say about this song; like it’s just that good.

Death By A Thousand Cuts: Lyrically this song has grown on me a lot in the last month, especially the line “I ask the traffic lights if it will be alright; they say I don’t know” and I think had this come out on Reputation or a year before, it would have been a favourite lyrically because it would have been relatable as fuck; but I’m not in that headspace anymore. The production also still isn’t my favourite so I’m glad she’s done that acoustic version at the France show, but I still also really want a piano version at some point.

London Boy: I’m gonna be real, I can probably count the amount of times I’ve listened to this on my hands. Like it’s cute and I’d have no issue with it playing, but it’s just not at relatable to me and there’s just songs on the album and otherwise I’d rather listen to.

Soon You’ll Get Better: As I alluded to in my first post, the most heartbreaking thing about this song for me is knowing the person I relate it to most isn’t going to get better because she doesn’t want to. Much like Death By A Thousand Cuts, had this come out at a time where I still had that hope, it probably would have rivaled Ronan as my favourite Taylor song ever. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a top two track on this album for me, but I know when I eventually get around to reranking all of Taylor’s songs, it’s going to be a lot lower than it otherwise may have been. It also somewhat concerns me hearing “Who am I supposed to talk to, what am I supposed to do if there’s no you” after hearing Taylor saying that she’s not getting professional psychological help and Andrea is the main source of venting. Like I know she’s got other support, but losing someone that vital (as much as we don’t want to talk about it, Andrea is probably going to die before Taylor, cancer or not) is rough when you do have professional help, let alone when you don’t. I mean I know it’s not my place to push anything, but it definitely does make my “protective mum friend” mode come to life and want to protect Taylor and I just hope that should the worst happen, she’s got everything she needs to move past it.

False God: Again, another song that has grown a lot on me. I think the production and New York City line being part of this song just felt so leftfield for me upon the first listen that I somewhat threw it away, but like after getting used to it, I adored it.

You Need To Calm Down: I don’t really have much to say about this song itself. It’s still an absolute bop that I listen to at least daily. I do find it interesting that most people said that this would be the song they would take off the album because it doesn’t ‘fit’ because in some ways I see that. But by the same note, I feel like it connects really well with The Man and I Forgot That You Existed that it does fit. Personally I feel like if it was in the first half of the album, less people would have said it should have been the one to chuck, but I guess we’ll never know.

Afterglow: I honestly haven’t listened to this song as much as I thought I would. Like this would have been a 2018 me anthem, but 2019 me has not burnt any bridges or caused bad fights so there’s just not the need to listen to it. I did listen to it enough to realise that the Weeknd vibes I heard production wise was a similar beat to Wicked Games. Also, the way Taylor says “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to do this to you” gives off major The Veronicas vibes which I have to wonder if that was intentional given Taylor’s friendship with Ruby Rose during the time Ruby and one of the girls dated. All up, it’s a good song that I’m sure I’ll cry to and heal with one day, but today is not that day.

ME!: This is still by far my least favourite song on the album, but I’ve gotten to the point where it can play in the background and given I’m in the right mood, I won’t actively skip it. Really its only saving grace in my opinion is how well it comes off Afterglow. I do also wish she would have put something else in the “spelling is fun” part because as much as that part was not my favourite, it sounds empty as fuck now to the point it’s kinda awkward.

It’s Nice To Have A Friend: Okay look, I get that this is potentially the most different sounding song Taylor will ever write and a bit to get used to, but it grows so much on you if you let it. Like the Sunday after release date, me and the ex that relates to The Man were just laying on my bed, drinking Camomile tea and listening to Lover (for the first time for him and first time in company for me) in silence and in the moment this song was playing, it clicked for me. Like it truly is nice to have a friend. And in that moment, it was just so relaxing and I was so at peace with myself. So I’m not going to stand here and say that this song is the one I’ve listened to most, but given the right mood, this song really hits and I hope that you all get to experience that one day because it truly was incredible.

Daylight: My new ‘song written for a romantic relationship that I relate to on a self love basis’ song. I’m not quite sure if it meets This Love’s standard on that front purely because again, timing is a funny thing and This Love came out right when I needed it whereas I don’t “need” Daylight as much. But I still love it to the point that it rounds off my top 3 for this album and is the one song my ex correctly guessed was in that top 3. I will say that I find it interesting that most the interpretations of the line “Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke” where positive, because to be honest, I did and still take it as “being too nice gets you in trouble” teas. Like I assumed that she meant that she was so desperate to make things good with certain people that she injured herself in the process. Either way, as I said, I love this song and as I said the first time, it’s definitely a good closer to the album

#taylor swift #lover album

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stitches-for-solo · 6 years ago

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I Dunno About This One...

Sorry for the wall of text. This is why I need to figure out how to put in a “Keep Reading” cut.

I feel like I slept all day. Probably because essentially, I did. I’m sliding further and further back down the hole I threw myself into a long time ago, and am watching the progress I’ve made since the almost dying incident vanish before my eyes. I know fucking well enough that I’m responsible for my own actions, but little things here and there only give me a tiny bump of positivity, motivation, and energy, if anything at all. (I keep thinking of the minute payback of doing something small, like getting dressed, like taking a little bump of coke off a key, which, to be clear, I’ve never done.) To be frank, considering my mindset and the effort little things can take when you aren’t well, some days, it’s not worth it. Almost instantly, my dysfunctional brain gobbles it all up as fast as it can. Like... [insert creative comparison here, akin to a starved man who’s just been served a 5-course meal, but, y’know, creative]. In theory, if I could take all the little bits of brightness I can manage to churn out and hoard them all in one big pile, ingesting them at the appropriate time, satiating my chemical receptors, and then letting them rest, regulating the process, I would. (Depression for Dummies?) Just like my problems with alcohol and drugs, my brain is a fiend for serotonin, that instant gratification, and there’s nothing I can do about it, or any deficiencies of other neurotransmitters (dopamine, norepinephrine) I probably have. (And man is it sloppy up there in my head, which is appropriate, since I’m the epitome of messy. Unorganized. Shit is everywhere, yet I know where everything is. Yeah, I’m one of those... but it’s not dirty — don’t ever call me dirty. It’s simply a disaster to the untrained eye. I’ve actually read articles linking neglecting to clean with depression, but I’m not sure where or how credible any of the research was. It makes no difference — either way, I’m not the best at keeping areas tidy. I keep going off topic...)

Anyway, I’m really in no condition to do anything drastic that would potentially yield a more substantial “reward”. Everyone tells me to just try. Try the little things, and you’ll adjust, and before you know it, you’ll be ready for more significant things. But good things are just that — good. They aren’t fixes and they aren’t cures. And I’m not using the previous sentence as an excuse to lay down and give up. I’m just being realistic. I know too much about my own problems, thanks to my higher education. I know too much and my peers/family know too little. There’s gotta be a balance between the right actions/effort and the right medication(s), and none of that is happening for me. There’s not a whole lot I can do about my medications, besides take them. It’s apathy that’s the fucking bitch. Why did I sleep till 3pm and not get out of bed until 5pm? Because I didn’t care, you can’t make me care, and I certainly can’t make myself care. (Also, I stayed up all night and it was really cold in my house so I didn’t want to get out from under the blankets...)

Now consider this — it would be one thing if that’s all that I was dealing with. But that’s just a portion of it, and I don’t even know what is wrong with me anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just weak and make bad decisions, then blame said bad decisions on my weak resolve to even try to do the right thing. Maybe I’m just overly sensitive and I am content with wallowing in my own self-inflicted misery. After all, I get to be the laziest, most spoiled bitch I know, sometimes. Big emphasis on sometimes. But then something inevitably happens, and that sick fantasy is shattered over and over again and I have to face facts — it’s not just my personality. I think it’s normal for me to sorta gravitate towards strange things and (trying to choose my words wisely here) unique people. But unless everyone I know is hiding things from me, I sure do feel like a dysfunctional fool a lot of the time when I try to explain certain thoughts or feelings or physical responses that I have to various stimuli. I don’t mind being different. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being drawn to the macabre and unusual things. I enjoy horror movies/books and crime shows, and like researching things like diseases, old torture practices, serial killers, and the crazy shit you can supposedly find on the dark web. And yeah, I’ll cheer for the bad guy. (Kylo 🖤) None of that makes me disturbed or ill. I like normal things, too, like cats, space, sports, game shows, and the Food Network. And music is sometimes my salvation. It’s my thoughts & actions that bother me. I was driving last night and I had a pretty pathetic thought: I don’t have a mental illness; I’m mentally ill. 😶

It probably sounds ridiculous and that I’m dramatic, lazy, not trying, overreacting, making excuses, annoying or even infuriating, but I don’t share everything that goes on upstairs with just anyone. I’ve been places, and I do not want to go back. I will not go back. So I keep my mouth shut. It tends to get me no where good or anywhere fast. Which is fine; I think it’s throwing a wrench in my doctor’s attempt to properly treat me, but if I was completely open and honest, I don’t really know what would transpire and where I’d end up. And in terms of friends/family, I firmly believe it drives people away. I see it. I’m not stupid. People abandon me. They tell me I deserve better, but they don’t give me better. Maybe they just want someone else to do it. They want to know it’s happening, but don’t want to/ can’t put the effort in themselves. I know I’m not verbally or emotionally abused or mistreated, and I think I tend to treat people as they do me. I don’t yell at people unprovoked. (There are exceptions, one of which I have written about above.) I don’t attack my friends and then try to make them feel guilty about it. Sometimes I get frustrated when I get sent pictures of someone’s (boyfriend’s) brand new house for the 6th time and I have to be all excited for them, meanwhile I’m living in my little sister’s old room. Yep, I had to move back in with my parents because I got too sick to be alone and had no where else to go. My mother wouldn’t even give me my old room back. And equally as frustrating is when I have to hear for the 15th time “I put my hand in the cage, and it bit me again. This time I’m bleeding. I know something isn’t right and it has to change..” But then, it’s right back to the same. And I get it. I’ve been there. My ex ripped my heart to shreads, and not just once. And I just kept letting him hurt me, because I believed that somehow, if I just kept trying, if I just kept changing, if I just let all the shitty parts run their course(s), in the end, it would be worth it. Was it? Of course not!

It’s fucking frustrating when someone you care about is being mistreated. In fact, it blows my mind what some people will put up with, but again, I understand, because I did it, too. I think it’s a lesson everyone has to learn for themselves at their own pace and on their own time. These things aren’t teachable. And I know it’s selfish, but sometimes I get a little irritated that I end up so far down on a friend’s list of priorities when I’m only trying to help, and I feel like I could use some help, too. There’s other contributing factors and every situation is unique, of course. But when I’m just trying to be genuine and caring, even if it does come off as harsh, that sucks. But it’s life. It just makes me feel like I’m believing a heaping pile of bs, which does upset me. I’m not egotistical. I don’t need to be #1. But there’s a big difference between not being #1 and being put off to the side so the friend in question can go spend time with the someone else who treats them like absolute shit. (I need to expand on this, because it’s misleading, and I don’t believe an explanation will fit in this post. I’ve also moved things around so much, I feel like it’s not flowing properly, so I’ll be making an additional entry — in a little while. So wait before you judge or assume anything.) But I’m also not stupid. I say that a lot, but my actions must betray my words. Somehow I must be giving off the vibe that I’m an idiot. It’s painful, especially when I want to give more of myself to someone.. invest more time, energy, support, all those things, into the friendship, but the feeling isn’t mutual. I wonder what people think of me. “I don’t want anything to do with her, but she’s fucking insane so I’m afraid she might come after me or hurt herself...” I mean, I am crazy, am I not? So why wouldn’t someone think that? Especially when I’ve heard the same words come out of their mouth before, but about someone else. And I’m not just talking about one or two people here. This seems to be an ongoing theme, and the common factor is me. When I was going through rough times with my ex, I think that’s when the alienation from some of my friends started. I guess they could only take so much, and everyone has a limit, but I also think the person being hurt sees things very differently than those on the outside. I can’t do much, y’know? So I try to give advice or help, but I think I need to learn to back off. I’m scared I’m destroying the relationships with the few people I have left in my life. Sometimes I already feel a shift. Hell, I know things are different. I don’t want to lose everything I have left with my handful of friends, but I am not the type of person who can take unhappiness and paranoia and anything else negative and just squash it and keep quiet. I have to let things out, or they grow until they reach monstrous proportions and I completely lose control. As annoying as it is, I have to ask family and friends “is everything okay?” “Did I do something wrong?” “Are you mad at me?” and eventually it escalates to “What the hell did I do?” “Why are you ignoring me?” etc.. Christ, I must be fun to know.

I was kind of writing before about things that make me feel happy. Having friends made me happy, and I try, but it seems that beyond talking online, no one wants to take me up on any offers anymore. I think I burned all my bridges and trying to start all over is challenging at my age when most people have careers and families. I don’t fit in anymore, and honestly, I have a suspicion that potential dating partners my age are still single because they’re not interested in settling down. I feel like I’m going to end up alone. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Life was supposed to be so much more fulfilling and just a pleasure to live. I know everyone goes through rough patches, and I absolutely hate talking like this, but I know I was expected to be so much more than this. It wasn’t me who was pegged as the one who would make such a fucking mess out of everything. I’m in a position where putting myself out there for rejection is a bad, very bad idea. It’s damaging. But so is being alone/surrounded by people who you don’t get along with. I’m stuck; I don’t know what to do, where to turn, and who really cares. One more note about friends.. Or who I refer to as my friends. I write about them in here, and they don’t even know this blog exists. No one really checks up on me, and I know that could be for lots of reasons. I don’t tend to reach out anymore either, but it’s because I don’t really have anything to offer. One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do was to accept that my old best friend didn’t consider me his best friend anymore. I guess it’s been a while now, and I’m okay with just calling him a “friend” or by his name. But it was tough. I was so broken down about my breakup that I completely fell apart, and he really just abandoned me. I’d see all the pictures he would post on Facebook.. out hanging out with his “BFF”, all smiles and having fun while I’d stayed in bed and cried all day with no one left to go to for comfort or company. I felt so disgusting, needy, weak, insignificant, hopeless.. all this after I let him borrow a substantial amount of money because he had moved 1500 miles away and needed financial help getting home because he had decided he didn’t want to be there anymore. I was so desperate and distraught that I let him borrow.. a lot of money. And that was what I was met with when he got back. I was still alone, he never wanted to hang out because I was always so down, and I haven’t seen a dime of my money. I could go on... but I won’t. Lesson learned.

I think there’s some parts here that don’t make sense. I was copying and pasting and moving stuff around and adding/deleting things, and it’s almost 7am. I might work on this later after I get some sleep. Or I might decide it’s a waste of time cause no one reads my rants anyway. Obviously I didn’t mean to offend anyone, and I mean no ill will towards anyone I know. Like I said, there are some things I just have to get off my chest.

#Mental Health #Depression #Friends #Friendships #Rambling Rant #Lonely #Alone #Expanded Above

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richmegavideo · 6 years ago

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Twenty Years Later, '10 Things I Hate About You' Is More Relevant Than You'd Expect

For me and all the other mid-80s millennials, 1999 didn’t signal the end of an era. It was the start of our definitive teenage years, rich with all the compulsive hormone-driven drama that would ultimately shape us into the adults we went on to become.

1999 was the year I started high school; the year that I got what was, at the time, a state-of-the-art three-CD player on which I blasted TLC’s FanMail, Backstreet Boys’ Millennium, and Sugar Ray’s 14:59 on endless loop. It’s also the blessed year that 10 Things I Hate About You was released.

I’m guessing many adolescent girls—and boys, for that matter—at the time could relate to at least one of the characters in 10 Things I Hate About You. There was quippy sidekick Michael (David Krumholtz), doe-eyed and floppy-haired new kid Cameron (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), effortlessly and often infuriatingly twee Bianca (Larisa Oleynik), the tragically underrated Mandella (Susan May Pratt), and of course, the mewling, rampallian wretch herself, Kat (Julia Stiles).

Like Kat, I existed on the fringes of my fairly affluent, mostly white public school’s society, although my banishment was less self-inflicted than hers. Yes, I haunted bookstores in my spare time and plastered my room with torn-out pages from Bust Magazine and dELiA*s catalogs, but I was neither thin, blond, or a voluntary member of any sports team. I couldn’t understand how someone who could effortlessly bare an enviably toned midriff be so bold as to snub male attention, which was the only type of attention I craved as a swarthy 13 year old who had yet to be kissed.

But her defiance of conventional feminine attitudes captivated me. The idea that one could subscribe to their own ideals rather than conform to anyone else’s expectations was a completely new concept in a time when teenage self-discovery was only just taking root. I did give a damn ‘bout my reputation… but maybe I didn’t have to.

In 1999, Kat’s brand of feminism seemed pretty extreme. But looking back on it 20 years later, it’s surprising how mainstream certain aspects of it now come across.

“Every time I watch this movie Kat seems more and more relatable,” explains Sarah Barson, co-host of Bad Feminist Film Club, a podcast that reviews movies through a feminist lens. “At the time this movie came out, I think Kat was supposed to be a super ‘out there’ radical feminist, but the stuff she talks about feels very relevant to modern conversations about pop culture and a woman's right, or even responsibility, to speak up and challenge social norms.”

But according to 10 Things I Hate About You writers Karen McCullah and Kirsten “Kiwi” Smith, Kat may have ended up differently if written for today’s audience.

“I think Kat would have to have a more extreme form of rebellion,” says Smith. “We’d have to dig her even further into a counter-culture, because in that era, it was all pretty simple.”

Rather than merely dreaming of playing in a riot grrrl band, Smith says Kat would’ve already been shredding on her pearly white Stratocaster, playing her angsty songs at different gigs. Had 10 Things been written in 2019, McCullah sees a version of Kat that’s more in touch with the activism of today’s teens.

“Like, kind of the Parkland student vibe, I think. We would add a little bit more of that,” she says. ”I think those kids are amazing, what they’re accomplishing. When I think of teenagers right now, that’s where my brain goes first.”

Smith agrees. “That’s a good point, yeah. When we wrote it, we were kind of in a freewheeling 90s bubble, not really thinking about the larger world around us. Now, as Karen pointed out, the experience of the youth is much different. They’re much more global in their thinking than we were.”

10 Things I Hate About You has its share of shortcomings, although it’s held up better over time than other teen flicks of previous eras, like Sixteen Candles. I’m willing to bet that a fresh audience today wouldn’t laugh quite as hard when Kat flashes her soccer coach to help Patrick (Heath Ledger) sneak out of detention—even with his swoon-worthy dimples—or let it slide when Bianca drops the R-word during an argument with Kat. And let's not forget how “nice guy” Cameron manipulated the entire love triangle just so he could have a shot with the younger Stratford sister. Oof.

Even so, the characters' relationships with one another and even their personal shortcomings hold up relatively authentically in a way that few other movies have been able to accomplish.

“The Craft was the perfect movie for any woman who felt disenfranchised, and Never Been Kissed really did stress the importance of self-confidence and self-acceptance, but 10 Things I Hate About You was about real characters to whom average women could relate,” says Dr. Randall Clark, author of At a Theater Or Drive-In Near You: The History, Culture, and Politics of the American Exploitation Film and associate professor of Communication and Media Studies at Clayton State University.

Dr. Clark’s students have expressed surprise that Kat was open about her sexual experience and yet managed to escape some of the consequences that society tends to heap upon young women who have sex at what they consider to be a young age.

“It was just a fact of her life,” he says, giving credit to the movie for being “not at all judgmental about her past.”

The filmmakers’ non-superficial portrayal of an unapologetic and (one-time) sexually active feminist was a groundbreaking achievement at a time when few other feature films even dared to explore the complexities of teen girl relationships. In the 90s, and to some extent today, feminism is often mistakenly equated with man-hating, an idea that both writers resoundingly reject.

“Feminists need love too!” laughs Smith.

Earlier teen-centric comedies like 1995’s Clueless helped lay the groundwork for 10 Things by weaving together real-life scenarios with tongue-in-cheek banter that managed to entertain, but also illuminate some of the basic pillars of modern-day feminism. The fact that both are remakes of classics— Clueless being a contemporary version of Jane Austen’s Emma and 10 Things I Hate About You being a modern adaptation of William Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew—that revolve around young women with BIG personalities makes perfect sense. Women finding their place in the world, and being tamed by men, is by no means a novel idea.

But one thing that many of these iconic films of the late 90s and early 2000s lack is a sense of intersectionality. Bad Feminist Film Club co-host Kelly Kauffman cites Bring It On as one example of film from this era that addresses issues of race and class that other films—including 10 Things—shied away from.

“There's definitely some parts that haven't aged as well, but on a recent rewatch, I was struck by how the movie [Bring It On] touched on sensitive issues that most mainstream movies try to actively avoid,” says Kauffman.

10 Things I Hate About You may have helped shape the modern definition of “girl power” and inspired movies like Bend It Like Beckham to depict alternative stereotypes of femininity, but it’s not perfect. The one major theme I find particularly problematic upon rewatching is the apparent lack of understanding about consent throughout the film. Kat and Bianca’s father Walter (Larry Miller) doesn’t seem to grasp the concept that sex tends to occur between two people choosing to participate. His fears are clearly distorted for comic effect, but his misguided worldview holds his daughters hostage (as Bianca points out) rather than holding their partners accountable.

This concept extends to the prom scene when Bianca’s BFF-turned-nemesis Chastity (Gabrielle Union) smugly informs Bianca that pretty boy villain Joey (Andrew Keegan) “was gonna nail you tonight,” as though Bianca wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter. Then there’s the entire plot of the film’s inspiration: in The Taming of the Shrew, multiple men scheme and plot over who could obtain the most submissive, docile wife.

But the writers are adamant that the idea of “taming” doesn’t carry over to the film.

“I think at the end of the movie, you never get the sense that her character is going to be controlled by Patrick, in terms of Taming of The Shrew,” says McCullah. “Obviously, she’s not tamed and we don’t think Patrick is the type of guy who would want to control her. That’s why she likes him.” She goes on to call him an ally, or at least a prototype for one.

Seeing a privileged angry white girl like me grapple with trust, relationships, and finding herself inspired me to follow a more unconventional path in my own right. By the end of 1999, I had moved from Sugar Ray to crust punk, spiked my hair, and amassed a collection of ballpoint pen-decorated Chuck Taylors. I eventually dabbled in dating and going to art school, although I unfortunately never did start a band. But seeing someone chase her unorthodox dreams in a world designed to stifle misfits allowed me to dream outside the box in a way I'd never been shown before.

Compared to 2019, 1999 was a relative vacuum of women in media. “There were not a lot of female writing teams when we first started,” recalls Smith. “Now it seems like the appetite for female voices and female-fronted stories is ever-expanding."

Movies like Mad Max: Fury Road and Captain Marvel, with Brie Larson starring in Marvel’s first female-fronted superhero film, prove that we’ve come a long way with female representation. Both Smith and McCullah hope the trend continues, both in their future work, in the entertainment world at large, and with the resonating impact of 10 Things I Hate About You.

As McCullah says, “I hope it keeps inspiring young girls to be badasses and not let other people define them.”

Follow Beth Demmon on Twitter.

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richmeganews · 6 years ago

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Twenty Years Later, '10 Things I Hate About You' Is More Relevant Than You'd Expect

In 1999, Kat’s brand of feminism seemed pretty extreme. But looking back on it 20 years later, it’s surprising how mainstream certain aspects of it now come across.

But according to 10 Things I Hate About You writers Karen McCullah and Kirsten “Kiwi” Smith, Kat may have ended up differently if written for today’s audience.

“I think Kat would have to have a more extreme form of rebellion,” says Smith. “We’d have to dig her even further into a counter-culture, because in that era, it was all pretty simple.”

Even so, the characters' relationships with one another and even their personal shortcomings hold up relatively authentically in a way that few other movies have been able to accomplish.

“It was just a fact of her life,” he says, giving credit to the movie for being “not at all judgmental about her past.”

“Feminists need love too!” laughs Smith.

But the writers are adamant that the idea of “taming” doesn’t carry over to the film.

As McCullah says, “I hope it keeps inspiring young girls to be badasses and not let other people define them.”

Follow Beth Demmon on Twitter.

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