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wasjustred · 1 year

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Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you.

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings.

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen.

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you.

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew.

She’s never been more beautiful to you.

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore.

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down.

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck.

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

#i’ve been super stressed trying to live up to ‘easy does it’ tbh so i hope this is at least decent 😅#don’t think i’ll ever beat the sugar mommy fic lol #ah well!#i love exploring/constructing the parts of larissa we never saw (like her childhood) ﹠. i hope you guys do too!#my girl’s def a rider #i’ll stand by that till the day i die #accompanied by expensive purebred well-trained dogs throughout childhood #but is more of a cat person now – relaxed and easy #guilty pleasure romcom is ‘the proposal’#and not just bc that’s also MY guilty pleasure romcom 😇#n e ways hope you all enjoy :)#lmk your thoughts! 🫶🏼#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #wasjustred

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dinodinodin0 · 2 years

Text

He brought you to me, pretty girl

Pairings: Eddie x innocent! reader

Warnings: fem!reader, Christianity, references and setting to church, daddy kink, oral sex (F!recieving) manipulation of innocent reader so obligated *dubcon*

Part one • part two

The next day, you woke up to Eddie long gone, your window still up as the cold morning breeze hit your face. You yawn and stretch, jaw still slightly sore.

You hear your dad calling you down to the table, "y/n! Come eat breakfast pumpkin!"

You stretch and put on your bunny slippers, walking down the steps and into your kitchen.

"woah, what's up with the pajamas Y/N? It's 9:00 on the dot, you're usually up by now," you mother questioned, checking your forehead and clicking her tongue, as she found no evidence of a cold.

"oh, sorry momma, I had a long night." You said, sitting down at the table and intently watching your dad set down a plate of waffles. You pick up your fork before your mom slaps your wrist.

"ah, grace first year young lady! What has gotten into you this morning?" She said, gesturing to you as she made eye contact with your father.

You apologized and paced a quick, thank you for blessing this food, before scarfing down your breakfast.

You dad walked over to his seat and sat down, tucking a napkin into his collar.

"you alright pumpkin? You've just been a bit off today is all. You never forget grace," he says, placing his hand on yours.

"oh, I'm sorry daddy. I guess I just got to bed late. I had a boy over."

Your mother gasped but your dad kept his surprise down, asking you what you two had done while he was over.

"you didn't bring him into your room did you?" Prodded your mother.

Nuh uh, you shook your head. It was technically true, he had brought himself in. And anyway, Eddie told you not to tell your parents, like you wouldn't talk about a confession. What you did with Eddie was for his eyes and gods, and that alone.

"oh, just some prayer."

You parents sighed and smiled. They never suspected their beautiful, selfless and faithful child to be rebellious anyway.

After mealtime, your father went off to work and you told your mother you'd be helping out at the church.

At church, you did your usual morning rounds and said good morning to everyone volunteering, and the clergy's.

"hello father! How was your night at the church yesterday?" You asked, greeting him with a nod.

"oh you know y/n, the usual. Had some folks stay after communion, and had some come in for confession." He said, reviewing the schedule for the week.

"well I thought last mass was great father, wonderful as always," you smiled to him, continuing on your volunteering.

After a few hours of working, the older church workers had told you they had it handled, and to enjoy the rest of your day.

"alright, goodbye misses Jones! I hope you have more luck with your petunias. Have a good Monday father!" You call out, walking out of the main doors.

You look and startle, gasping as you see the unexpected sight of your boyfriend.

"what is with you and startling me Eddie?" You say, laughing and prancing over to him.

"why do you call the priest father?"

"oh- well it's just a sign of respect, he's our lea-" he cuts you off.

"no. Like, why not call him daddy or something," he laughs, gesturing for you to grab his hand.

You do, giggling at the thought.

"like I call my father? Oh, I get it! That's so silly."

He walks you over to his bands grarage spot,

"you should call me daddy."

You peer up at him, confused. You didn't like questioning him, but you had to admit you were perplexed.

"do you want me to call you daddy, Ed's?"

"well, I mean, it's a sign of respect isn't it? When you confess to your priest, you don't call him by his first name. And like I said, what we do is kinda like confession right?"

You nod, smiling up at him, "okay daddy!" You giggle.

He chuckled at you.

After watching him and his band mates practice, you clap supportively at them.

"you guys did so well! I love the drums, Gareth. Very... Drum-y!" You say, playing air drums briefly.

Everyone laughs at your compliment. Eddie puts his guitar back in it's case and sets it onto his back.

You realize just how strong he is. If you attempted to wear that around town, eventually you're sure it's weight would have you on your back. The guitar was huge comparitivly to you.

The feeling was back. You felt your skin warm up, cheeks flush. You felt your parts get hot, and you felt yourself grow deprived.

You get up, and tug on Eddie's jacket sleeve.

"yes doll face?"

The feelings back, you whisper anxiously.

"awh baby.. d'you wanna get outta here and pray with me then?" He questions caringly, rubbing the sides of your arm.

You nod, feeling him grab your hand and lead you to his van. He helps you up, lifting you by your waist, and getting in on the driver's side.

He calls to his band mates and tells them he'll talk to them tomorrow, then brings his arm to the back of your seat, backing out of their driveway.

He drives faster than you're used to, hand placed firmly on your thigh.

You feel yourself grow needier, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction.

Eddie notices, and brings his hand slyly to your center, rubbing you with his palm.

You mewl quietly, tugging your skirt over his hands as he continues to hold his hand to your warm parts. You grind up into his hand as he chuckles at how pathetic you were for him.

"we're here." He says, removing his hand as you whine at the sudden lack of contact.

"where's here?" You say, curiously.

"absolutely nowhere. I brought you somewhere nobody would see us. Private, remember? This is our secret." He tells you, watching you writhe in his seat, "hop in the back and lay down."

You do as he says, climbing over and laying down on his back seats.

"you're so pretty like this, sweet girl. So needy to worship." He cooes, prying open your legs, "and you're so wet for me, arnt you?"

You whine as he inspects you, sliding your panties off and biting his lip at the sight of your cunt.

"you're so beautiful sweetheart."

"thank you eddi-"

He grips your thighs tightly and looks up to you.

"what did you just call me?"

You swallow, eyebrows knitted in worry.

"thank you daddy."

"attagirl."

He shifts closer to your heat.

'if you pray to me well enough, I can help you with your feeling again. I want you to beg me."

You jump at the opportunity, full of neediness.

"p-please daddy, please help me again. I need you," you plead, voice desperate and waivering.

"I'm going to put my mouth on you, can you beg for that pretty girl?" He says, rubbing your slit with his thumb.

You gasp, "goodness.. please put your mouth on me daddy, I need you down there, please "

He smirks up at you, and slowly licks a stripe from your asshole to your clit, chuckling at your attempts to stifle your sounds.

You slap your hand over your mouth as he continues to lick you, circling your clit.

"t-hank you daddy, " you cry, incredibly sensitive. You've never done this kind of thing, and every sensation was new to you. It felt amazing, you knew god was rewarding you for your efforts, and you were so greatful for Eddie, your daddy.

He sucks on your clit and groans, letting you feel the vibrations from his voice.

"I'm gonna add two fingers, alright doll?"

You barely get to react as you abruptly feel a stretching sensation, having you whimper in pain.

"daddy, daddy it hurts, I-is it supposed to?" You whine, as he gently pumps his fingers into you.

He hisses at how tight you are around him, "of course sweetheart, how else could you prove yourself to me? God makes things challenging for a reason, doesn't he?"

You nod and bear it, painful whimpers evolving into pleasurable moans.

"daddy, gosh, daddy i-i have to.. can't hold it," you cry.

"hold what baby?" He presses down on your abdomen, watching you pant.

"i-i don't know.. I feel something building down there again-" your legs attempt to close, but he prys them open.

"you gonna cum sweet girl?" You nod.

"My poor baby. C'mon, you can cum baby," he taunts you as you feel a wave if pleasure wash over you. You gush on his fingers and tongue, breathing heavily.

He cooes at you, "look at that, You're such a good girl for me. Cumming on my fingers like you did just now,"

You watch as he cleans you, then sucking yourself off of his fingers.

Your eyes feel heavy again, your body exhausted from being pushed to such limits. You grab for him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he places a kiss onto your forehead.

He lays down with you, cuddling you and rubbing your waist.

"my good girl."

#eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie Munson fanfic series #eddie munson series #innocent!reader #corruption #perv!eddie

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silvergeek · 2 years

Text

I had no idea that Tolkien fans were so nasty and racist.

Any time I try to look up any information about Rings of Power, comment sections are overwhelmed by racist freaks. I swear to fucking god, these people don't have anything worse going on in their lives other than a film studio hiring a Puerto Rican to portray an elf or a black English woman to play a dwarf. (Even Isildur is too ethnic for some of these fans. Like jfc, so sorry he's not a WASP.)

What blows my mind is the sheer number of complaints, just about each one of them starting with, "I'm not racist but..." and ending with this rant insisting that Tolkien wanted all of his fictional little magic characters to be white. (Ok. Fair enough. He probably DID envision them all as white. He's a dead guy who was born in the fucking 1800's.)

Lol. "I'm not racist but I can't stop obsessing over the hobbits' skin color!" Jesus christ.

1. I'm currently re-reading the Silmarillion and nowhere does it explicitly state that everyone must be Caucasian.

2. There are numerous citations about some people actually having darker skin (e.g. harfoots).

3. The people who are screaming, "But this is OUR contemporary European mythology! Stop shoehorning black people into it!" Newsflash: there are black Europeans, assholes. Born and raised in your fucking countries. They know no other culture aside from --whichever country they gotta put up with your shit in. (Yes, my grammar sucks. Fuck off.) Why the hell do you act like these people do not exist?

I can't say the USA is any better with these attitudes, but I thank the fucking stars for having visibly outspoken, politically active African American women to keep our bullshit in line.

Imagine being a woman or a POC (or both) and anytime you apply for a job, audition for a role, or enter into any sort of competition and actually win based on your talents/skills, just around the corner there's a legion of assholes screaming that you were only picked because of tokenism. Imagine going through life being told over and over that your effort means nothing and that anytime you succeed at any given thing, you're just being pandered to. And imagine that the people saying this shit to you are pretending to be on YOUR side. And imagine, just for a moment, that these same people happily watch white guy after white guy walk into success and never ever question if whether or not their white guy peers are playing favorites -- because surely those people are impartial in all of their decision making. (Did they pick a white guy? It's an impartial choice! Did they pick a black lady? WOKE BULLSHIT PANDERING::blood erupts from esophagus::)

Imagine all of that, then go take a nice big shit in your garage.

Also, this uruk hai is totally gonna eat this little boy. Off topic, really. The pic is just there to get your attention.

Between the nasty backlash of Sandman and Rings of Power, complete with death threats and everything, I have to say this takes me back to the uprising of Gamergate.

They performed all of these same hate rituals, but aimed squarely at women in gaming. Zoey Quinn caught the brunt of it -- people even figured out her father's home phone number and made threatening calls to him.

I remember Anita Sarkeesian would have to cancel expos due to bomb threats.

These are typically the actions of some subhuman demographic, mostly male, aged 20's to 50's, typically white (not always) and either straight or profoundly closeted. Politically... they tend to think of themselves as freedom lovers, but at the root of their ideologies, you'll find stagnant traditionalism dancing in rhythm with contemporary neo-conservatism. Freedom for them, not for anyone else.

These are the people who don't want women to design video games, they don't want black/hispanic/Indian folks in their TV shows except as forgettable side characters, and they don't want the gays. Never ever with the gays. (And anything beyond "gay" doesn't exist in their minds. It's made up.)

I remember all this back in 2014. They review bombed games, in fact. They were a bunch of keyboard warriors for the most part. They eventually lost, because now we have a more diverse gaming industry. Most of them can only find their male gaze fixations with the big-tittied anime girls in obscure JRPG's pumped out by Japan, China, and Korea -- at best.

They're just scum. They really are. And they hate change. And they're cowards.

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 10 days

Text

Sweet Dreams--Part 12

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted.

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

The snap of the camera sounds well after the flash of the light. Then behind it, what sounds like a thousand more shutters erupt. The flashes blink like the silver dots Calum used to call angels when he was a child in his vision. As he approaches the podium, Calum thinks less about the blinking lights. The lights don’t slow him down like they used to. They don’t hurt as much as they used to. This is all well practiced throughout the years. He smiles, lifting a hand in acknowledgement at the crowd that’s gathered. Since the vote, Calum’s been keeping an eye on the way the funds have been helping those in need, continually surveying those that took place in his initial conversations and polls. Things seem to be going well. But at the conclusion of this year, there still are four seats that will need to be filled.

It’s unconventional for Calum to even bring this discussion to the floor for the public. The truth of the matter is, he knows he can’t serve a community and people that he knows very little about. He doesn’t know their concerns. He doesn’t know what specific things are plaguing the majority. He’s sure there’s even more pressing things for select groups--everyone has their own prioritization but still Calum’s not on the pulse like he wants to be. So, he’s here now to re-introduce the surveys and forms available to the public. He wants them to know he is listening. Though it is tedious work to review those surveys on a quarterly basis, Calum’s happy to have a team willing to do the nitty gritty work--him included.

“Thank you for joining me here today. I know we’re closing in on the holidays soon and food and family are most likely at the forefront of everyone’s minds, but still it means a lot that you’ve still shown up here today,” Calum starts, working at the button of his suit jacket. “I’m also happy to see some pretty familiar faces too.”

And it’s true, as Calum peers out at the swarm of reporters, there are a few faces he’s learned to anticipate to see. A few laughs rise from the crowd and Calum takes a moment to glance down at his notes. It’s not a full on written speech, but it is a pretty tightly packed list of talking points.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time today, folks. It is a Friday afternoon after all and I’m not a cruel man. We’re at the tail end of the year and after a particularly tight win in ensuring that additional funds are processed for those in need, it is still very much my intent to keep on the pulse of public concerns. I may be a man a little removed from the day to day struggles of the average person. I am a man aware that the reality of my day to day is vastly different from others. This, most likely, won’t be news to some. But I am hoping that by taking just a few minutes here today, I am able to encourage people to participate actively in their politics and re-introduce them to a tool to express their voice directly.

“As it has been for the twenty years or so, on our parliament’s website there is a section which allows the public to write into us about concerns they have--whether it be about your specific counties roads, or library, or school--you have the space to let us know what is and what is not working for you. Now, to address concerns, I am sure people will have: yes, this was originally buried and hard to navigate to from the home page. There is a lot of news that we do try to share with you all and information we know you need to access more easily. Yet, I do not want this to be a continued excuse that frustrates people to the point where they believe that their feedback is not valued.

“It is, in fact, the opposite. It is important that I know exactly what challenges are being faced day in and day out for my people. I am here to serve you. Given this goal to become more increasingly aware, I’ve worked with our designers to create the “Talk to Us” button.”

Calum waves now to the screen behind him, which in the reflection in some of the glasses from those in the front row, he can see the slide is now showing. The home page--a stale blue--lights up behind him. “The home bar will now, at the conclusion of this press conference, include a direct link to the form, entitled, “Talk to Us”. When you click on this link, you’ll be asked to inform us of location specific details, if necessary, as well as being able to write directly and freely to your government on the actions you see that we need to take or directions you’d like us to head.”

A small murmur starts from the crowd, but it remains low and dies down soon too. Calum knows that soon a new slide should be appearing that showcases an example of the form itself so he continues on, slow and clearly as he speaks, “We will be launching in the new year the opportunity for you to respond to surveys we have created as well once you click on this link. These surveys will be no more than 10 questions at a time and participation is voluntary. The contents of these surveys will be a combination of concerns we have as your government and concerns brought up by you individually. Consider it a feedback loop. The more you tell us about issues, and the more you participate in those voluntary surveys, the better we can serve you. Concerns brought up through the Talk to Us function will be reviewed on a quarterly basis. We hope to hear from you soon.”

“Any questions?” Calum prompts, taking in the faces and notes being scribbled down. A couple hands are being raised after a few seconds. “Yes,” Calum notes, seeing a man in a sky blue button up start to raise his hand.

He introduces himself and his associated press. “Considering that this function has existed on the website long before now, do you have any thoughts on why previous administrations haven’t taken to making this more accessible until now?”

A question Calum anticipated and he hates the way it pits administrations against each other. “I can’t speak for why previous ones haven’t considered reorganizations of the public website. But as we gain more literacy about user experience and design, it has become clearer than ever that the front page of any website is the most important in getting people to what they need as quickly as possible. We are working with some SEO strategies as well to help ensure that this link does show up in the first two pages of search engine results as well. There’s an entirely new field in politics revolving around online presences and social media. Our drive now is also tied to the direct evolution of this technology in the last few years as well.”

It’s a lot of hot air, even Calum knows that, but he has to say it this way. Has to make sure he’s careful of those that have come before him. Something so simple as adding a link seems obvious now but may not have been obvious before.

Calum moves on to the next person--a woman, in a pink almost orange top, who gives her name and associated press as well. “Is there any plan to move these functions to an app perhaps in the future?”

“Not currently at this time, no,” Calum answers. “But the page itself will allow users that need it to use speech to text, screen readers, dark mode backgrounds and ensure to adhere to accessibility guidelines as well.”

Another man raises his hand, a white and black striped shirt. Calum signals to him for him to ask his question. After his name and press, the man continues on, “Are there concerns about backlash? People feeling like their concerns aren’t being addressed fast enough or feeling like there’s a ranking system when it comes to concerns.”

“Our team has assessed as thoroughly as we can the best way to sustain the use of this forum and survey platform. We won’t be able to get to every concern sent in and we will have to look at volume as it relates to each individual item raised. But we hope that by establishing the quarterly review timeline, we can be transparent enough to the public about why things may seem to be moving much slower than they anticipated. I have a team established, me included, who will be continually reviewing what is coming in and how efficient are current practices as well.”

“So, you’re really not afraid of the dirty work,” the man teases. The room bubbles with a soft bout of laughter.

Calum laughs as well. “No, I’m not afraid of the dirty work. It is valuable work to do as I’ve come to learn.” Calum is a little afraid he might be spreading himself a bit thin by taking this one, but should he need to take a step back, he already has people he can pull in to help the team as well. Right now, there’s a lot of the paid interns doing the footwork, but Calum hopes this plan creates a big enough need that he can hire some of them on as full time staffer positions in the next two years.

Calum, keeping an eye on the time, makes mention that he can only take two more questions to ensure he sticks to his early promise of not sucking up their entire afternoon. So he moves on to another lady in purple. She stands with a smile. “It appears that your special friend seems to be making an impression on you. My particular question--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Calum interrupts. “Who’s making an impression on me?”

Her face falls for a moment, but she recovers with an awkwardly thick laugh. “I think it’s quite obvious.”

Calum’s brows furrow. Part of him wonders if this person is referring to you. But this hardly seems like the place for it. Perhaps there’s something else he’s missing. “Well, color me surprised, because I am genuinely unable to follow your logic and statement. Could you clarify what you mean?”

The woman laughs again, but she begins to fidget with the cap of her pen. Maybe Calum’s not wrong about his initial assessment. But the seconds tick on and he’s not sure if he’s going to gloss over it or let her sit in her discomfort. She finally speaks but her voice shakes, “I just-I mean it’s obvious between your speech before the vote and the photos now that have repeatedly surfaced.”

More now than ever Calum’s positive what she’s been trying to hint at--you. There’s hardly been news of the two of you lately, seeing as you worked, painted, and fussed over your siblings, Calum and you hadn’t been out in the public much over the last few weeks. Maybe there were pictures of your late night run for cookies at Calum’s insistence last week. But that hardly feels worthy of being brought up in a political press conference.

“I’m sorry. Can you remind me of your name again?” Calum asks. “I think I missed it initially.”

“Pamela,” she offers though she does have to repeat it given how softly she says it the first time. Like how Calum imagines a child reacts to getting in trouble--sheepish and embarrassed.

“And your press?”

“Times--Politics division.”

“Thank you, Pamela. I think given the particular reason for this conference this is not the place to divulge into personal affairs--mine, yours, or anyone else’s. Now, I do believe that Times sees you as talented and nuanced at political coverage, lest you wouldn’t be in the room responsible for covering their story about our meeting. I know this news is relatively small and for someone like you it may not take you more than an hour to write, edit, and publish. So let’s ensure that we continue to show Times your brilliance at politics. That sound good?”

She nods, fervently so that the strands she’d tucked behind her ear fall out again. “Ye-yes, Your Highness. I’m sorry.”

Part of him wants to say no worries. But he is a bit annoyed by such a comment she attempted to make, the things she might’ve been trying to insinuate. It could be harmless and it could’ve been so much more sinister. Calum merely nods. “Apology accepted. Now, what’s your question?”

“Thank-thank you. My question is, uh, in regards to the longevity of this new launch, can we expect this to be a long term investment in your tenor when you transition to take over for your father?”

Calum nods at the question. “As long as I remain at the helm, I do intend to continue to promote and invest in transparency on how the public can and should influence their government. The ‘Talk to Us’ is essentially launch zero, if you will. It’s, again, a function that’s been integrated into the site for years now. But I hope that these initial changes to its location help open the door for much more political discourse between the public and parliament.”

Her descent back to her seat is not graceful by any means. Pamela dives back to her seat and Calum feels a small pang of guilt in his gut. “Thank you again for your time,” Calum turns to address the entire room. “I fear we’re out of time for today. But I do greatly appreciate you spending your Friday afternoon with me. I hope you all have a great weekend.”

Calum steps away from the podium and sees Pamela still buried in her pad. Perhaps, she hadn’t meant harm, but the more Calum let slide, the more people would feel brave with their off handed comments, or worse probes into his personal life. This is a world he’d learned to navigate thanks to the years he’d been raised in. You deserve any and all amounts of privacy that can be scraped together.

His phone is returned to him when Calum returns to the wings. “Great work out there,” Miranda comments before she turns back to her iPad.

Calum watches her squint, releasing a sigh before he reaches up to her hair and takes the pair of red glasses down. She’d finally caved in getting the prescription but still refused at times on wearing them. “You might even be able to tell me I did a better job if you could see it.”

“Well my hair’s made the lenses greasy,” she huffs.

Calum offers his spare handkerchief tucked away into the inner pocket of the suit jacket. “Keep it for the sake of your eyeballs please.”

Miranda hums at the offer, which Calum knows will most likely be her only response to it. “I’ll keep an eye out for the response about Pamela’s probe. Should we ask Times to not put her back on the rotation?”

This question sounds genuine and when Calum turns the corner, he risks a glance over to Miranda. Nothing follows the question--no quip, no retort. For a moment, Calum’s positive it’s a trick question but the silence lingers and weighs for longer than usual. “Uh, she asked a good question in the end.”

“Yes, she did. But from what we’ve discussed, we are in the ‘loose lips, sink ships’ position. And this is your relationship, so speak now before I make the call.”

“Don’t box her out,” Calum returns. “Doing so might send too strong of a message and we’re not really in a position to bring down the hammers.”

Miranda nods. “Could make us look desperate and unfair too. You handled it exceptionally well though today, so I am very proud of that. Next week, the fitting is scheduled as a heads up for the charity event. This does mean, I have to ask, will you and your partner be walking the carpet together? We wouldn’t want to use this event for any sort of announcement, but if the two of you are comfortable with the idea, then we’ll need to just review the etiquette for the event with them.”

Now that’s the kind of question expected from Miranda. Direct, no nonsense, objective focused and lasered in. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll be on display with their painting though and my volunteer time.”

“It’s whatever the two of you decide. I’m just saying should you two walk the carpet together, we make no announcements. You walk, you talk to a couple reporters that are outside but you don’t say anything about the relationship. Even if asked.”

Calum nods, tucking his folder up under his arm after pressing the call button for the elevator. Miranda’s right. The charity event would not be the right place for him to say anything. And he’d be a hypocrite now after handling Pamela to try and steal the stage for such an important event. The two of you could walk it separately in blocks close to each other--he goes first for a minute or so and then you follow. But the two of you would inevitably wind up locked arm in arm as the night progressed. But to walk the carpet together and explicitly not answer any questions would be more awkward in the end. Though, it would matter at the end of it what you preferred.

“How much should I bet that you need a final decision by the time we meet for the fitting?” Calum asks, letting Mirand into the elevator first.

Miranda snorts at the question. “I wouldn’t bet anything you couldn’t afford.”

You’re supposed to be going back home tonight after your shift. Though it feels like a good portion of your belongings have drifted into the palace, you spend a decent portion of your time at your own place too. Where you live is technically closer to your job and easier on your car for sure. Calum takes a look at the time. It’s pushing just a couple minutes past four pm. The dinner rush would undoubtedly be starting in the next hour or so and Calum knows he can’t squeeze any extra time out of his day.

But he spies a text from you, from ten minutes ago, and wonders if he could snag you still once he gets back to his office. The preview of the text stares back up at Calum, Have I ever told you just how…. It piques his interest and he swipes to start input his passcode. “You’ll have an answer Monday,” Calum returns to Miranda.

“Sounds good.”

Have I ever told you just how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press? Because if not, I really should tell you how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press.

Another text comes through just as Calum starts to type.

In all seriousness, thanks for handling that particular comment like you did. I know sooner or later things will come out in the open, probably the charity event undoubtedly, but it means a lot for you to still keep this close to the vest still. And you are hot too, which helps. Love you.

The doors open again and Miranda gestures in Calum’s periphery. He looks up to see her holding out his handkerchief. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t I tell you to keep it so that you have no excuses for not wearing your glasses?” Calum laughs.

Miranda’s body half way between the doors keeps them from shutting but she eyes him, lips curled up in an unamused smile. “I think it’s a little inappropriate.”

“And I think you should be able to see.”

“Take it,” she orders, waving the cloth at him to take it. “I have a lens cloth in my office.”

Calum edges closer to the opening of the machine. She refuses to meet his gaze and it makes the suspicion increase tenfold. “Show me. Because if you’re lying.”

“Oh, fine,” Miranda huffs. “I lost it. The same fucking day I got the damn glasses and I lost the cloth.”

“Then keep it,” he laughs. “I’ve got too many of them anyway.”

“Thanks,” she mutters and then starts down towards her office.

“You’re welcome,” Calum calls out watching the doors slide closed.

His attention turns back to your text even with the tuft of laughter he releases at Miranda’s stubbornness. I hope I wasn’t too harsh on her. But thank you, baby. I’ll keep that in mind for later. He adds a winking emoji before continuing on, Is it bad yet for you guys? Love you more. He asks even though he’s sure he won’t get a response until either your next break or until you leave for the night. But he sends it anyway and swipes through his other missed messages.

There’s one from Luke in the groupchat, We’ve got Forest reserved at 5:00 PM the Saturday before Michael’s birthday. The restaurant does close earlier than most at 8 just as a heads up.

Calum hadn’t been fully aware that Forest was even an option for the dinner. He’d tossed out a few options, one was a sushi place that Michael loved for late lunch or a really early dinner and the other was a French inspired cuisine. But it wouldn’t shock Calum if he’d lost track of the names. It does make Calum wonder if it would be feasible to ask you to join. Would it be too awkward for you?

There’s a few more texts in the chat so Calum scrolls down. Ashton asks about the other options they’d discussed and Luke replied that they’d been booked for the time for the time or wouldn’t let reservations be made this far in advance. Forest has a three week window for reservations which allows them to get to the slot now. Given how rapidly schedules shift, Calum knows it’s better to take this now rather than wait too much longer.

Luke, how many did you confirm for? Calum asks.

They can only support a group of 12 max. So I went with that. I can keep checking other places too in the meantime.

Calum settles into his office chair, popping a few more buttons at his dress shirt. A text from Michael comes through. Forest is cool with me. My parents and I are doing things on my actual birthday. We should be good at 12. There’s you three, me, our plus ones and then a couple dudes I worked with previously I’d want to do dinner with. We can say 9 for a bigger group at some local bars and then call it a night by midnight if that’s cool?

Sounds good to me, Luke replies.

Cool with me, Calum answers and Ashton replies with the same sentiment of an affirmative.

Calum wipes to take him back to his text message threads and taps on your name. Michael’s birthday dinner is going to be 5PM on the 17th. It’s at Forest. Do you know if you’ll be working?

The answer feels like a no. You wouldn’t know because he doubts the schedules made that far out in advance. But Calum prays. He hopes maybe by the cosmos divine art you can see the text message here soon. A watch pot never boils and his eyes glued to the screen won’t make you respond faster. So Calum turns back to his office computer, saves some work for the templates, and data collection. It is a Friday and there’s very little work that he’ll be able to get done or want to get done at this moment.

The elevator settles and the doors open up to the residency hall. Calum, if he ever had a tie on, would absolutely be tugging it off his neck as he walks towards his bedroom door. Instead, he only has the buttons he works at on his shirt. There’s still no text from you. He knows the dinner rush has gone up in its major swing. But when his phone buzzes, and Calum checks it to be sure if it’s not you, he contemplates if he’s going to agree to the schedule he made of working out in the evenings. He knows he should. There’s been a lot of time spent indoors, cooped up by his computer and various documents. It’ll be good for him, even if it’ll hurt just a little, so Calum pulls himself free from the dress pants, shirt, and shoes. He dawns himself into the basketball shorts, his workout sneakers and a t-shirt. He even takes the stairs back down.

The air is crisp outside; it hits his lungs sharply and Calum’s grateful for it. The grass crunches just a little under his feet as he settles the free weights down. Calum starts with stretches, trying to loosen the left hip that likes to get a bit stiff on him. It’s an old injury, probably from one of the few times Calum pushed himself a little too hard in games. He hardly feels it when he’s on top of his physical therapy regime. But he falls off every few weeks when things get busy and the stiffness makes itself known more and more. Calum knows he should coordinate another appointment with his physical therapist about it. Maybe during the holiday break he’ll snag an appointment.

His headphones play a thrash of guitars, the high tssing of the symbols on the drum kit come filtering through. Calum pulls the dumbbell up, the tightening of his bicep letting him know he’s doing the exercise right. As much as it can feel like a drag, as much as the weights do get heavier as the sets go on, Calum finds the small sliver of peace. When he’s got no thoughts but keeping track of his reps. The motions are up and down, the brace of his core, the inhale and exhale. Calum focuses on the press, the pushing of the ground away from his body as he goes through a round of pushups.

Twenty-nine, thirty.

His music lowers for a moment, a chime louder than his music. Calum keeps pushing up, taking himself back down, and then pushing back up. Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six. Another chime cuts through.

Forty.

His knees brush the ground first as he releases his plank and digs out his phone. I wish I’d seen this sooner, reads your reply. Turner just asked me if I was okay with working that day because of a large party and I said yes.

Calum pants, the sweat running down the lines of his face. Though it’s cold outside, the jumping jacks, the exertion of his exercises have made him sweat. Calum can’t lie, part of him is tempted to ask if you could switch out the hours, but he knows. You’re not just working to kill time in the day. You’re working to survive. You’re working to take care of yourself and potentially as it looms your siblings too.

Calum wipes at his brow before working over the screen to reply. Well, the invitation for you to join for drinks after will still stand if you’re up for it.

Sounds good. I’ll make sure Michael’s well taken care of though. Promise. To make up for missing out on the festivities, could you find out his favorite sweet treat?

Calum nods without thinking. I will. Let me know when you get home, yeah?

Of course. Also, to answer your earlier question: it’s busy as fuck. I’m literally in the freezer right now trying to compose myself just for a second.

Calum snorts at the mental image--you in your uniform tucked into the walk-in freezer. But he also knows what it means, just how busy things have gotten. A piece of guilt rises up in his throat, like bile it burns. He’d never meant to make things worse. He never meant to put you in such positions. But nothing changes what’s happened. The only thing now is forward. The only thing now is what could be made of what’s happening in the present.

Tell the tomatoes to be kind to you, Calum replies.

“Don’t tell me I need to call the nurse with the way you’re breathing.”

Calum looks up to his father, who grins down at him. Calum laughs at the quip, as patchy as it comes. “No, no need to call the nurse.”

“Dinner’s ready, you know. Pretty sure it’s some fancy pasta I’ll never be able to pronounce."

With how thick the early evening is around them, how dark it is for only how early it feels, Calum is not shocked that it is dinner time. He nods, wiping at his dripping brow again. “I need to clean up but I’ll be there in a minute.”

His dad lingers and the words are pressing at the back of Calum’s teeth, if everything is okay, but his dad beats him to the punch. David grunts as he lowers himself into the grass next to Calum. “You’ll help me up, right?”

“Yeah, Pops, I will. What’s up? I thought dinner was ready with some fancy pasta you can’t pronounce.”

“It is, it is. But I was, well, I know there’s been a lot of conversation that’s sort of up in the air about when me and your mother are going to take a step back from the game. And I know it’s something you’re thinking about. You did real well in your press conference today. I do think that sometimes the best solutions are the most simple ones. I just wanted to see when the two of us could really sit down and talk about what that transition will look like and when we’re both comfortable with it. And, and I’m not asking we do it right now. But soon, in the new year, we look at our schedules and find a good day for it.”

It’d been an ever approaching deadline--something that would happen and would happen sooner rather than later. But it still felt far away in praxis. Transitioning of power was a thing that was approaching but it hadn’t hit the horizon. Now, though, as Calum watches his father, he thinks perhaps he’d been counting on at least a couple more years, something closer to thirty than not but nothing ever happens like anyone wants for it too.

Calum nods though at his father’s request. “Yeah, we can find a time for that.”

“Good, good,” David returns, patting at Calum’s knee. “And things are okay? Anything you need to talk about?”

“Things are okay.” They’re far from perfect, but they’re not bad. Yet, Calum doesn’t voice that. The balance in the universe was not to make things perfect by his definition.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. You alright?”

“It’s--it’s just life, Dad. You know? Every up has a down.”

“What kind of downs are we talking?”

From the night, Calum catches the scratch of the crickets tuning up for the night time songs. The darkness is closing in rapidly and ruthlessly. As much as Calum did want to voice his concerns, he also knows his father is going to be a solution oriented person. The second a problem crops up, his father wants to find a solution for it. Calum’s not really looking for solutions right now. “It’s anthills,” Calum answers. Because they are, they are small concerns in the grand scheme of everything. “But I can handle them. I know I can.”

“Well, if you need reinforcements, I got your back.”

“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”

“And, and if you need to just vent, I’m here for that too.”

It’s anthills. And they were small, but still mighty. “Guess, it’s just sort of scary to know I’ll actually be taking over, you know? It was real, but was always sort of in the distance.”

“It is scary,” David agrees. “It’s very scary. But just because you’d be taking over doesn’t mean I’m not there to help. Consider me a consultant.”

“What’s your retainer fee?” Calum jokes, watching the grin bloom on his father’s face.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. But it’s okay if it’s scary. You’re human doing something new for the very first time. It’s going to be scary. And the next time you do something for the first time, that’ll be scary too. But the more you do the things, the less scary it gets you know. It’s like when you learned to drive. You were terrified to get behind that wheel. But look at you now. A driving whizz. It’ll take you some time, but I’ll still be there for you. Promise, son.”

It’s reassuring, certainly. Calum won’t be doing it all alone, but it’ll be his face and his name that’s riding on everything that comes after the transition. That’s the part that terrifies him. Yet, Calum can’t control what hasn’t happened yet. To worry about what hasn’t happened wouldn’t only serve to paralyze Calum in the long run. But the fear bubbles, like a pot left on simmer, Calum can feel it in his gut. It’s going to be a strange time. “Thanks, Pops,” Calum offers softly.

“You’re welcome. Now, help me up, yeah?”

Calum laughs as he works himself up. “No one told you sit down on the grass.”

“Oh, hush.”

It’s with a few grunts, but Calum helps his dad up. “You good?” Calum asks and gets a nod in response. “I’m going to get these weights inside and at least wash my hands and face before joining you and Mum.”

“See you inside.”

Calum’s left with a pat on his back, but as the night chirps around him, he hopes that he’s not really alone in all of this. The weights are a little heavier than they were before but Calum gets them up with no issue. He ducks into one of the bathrooms on the first floor, washing his hands before splashing water over his face. He watches the water drip down his chin. He wants to tell you--how scared he is, how much he doesn’t want to do this, but knows he’s got no other choice. But will it seem trivial?

Yet somehow right behind the doubt, he hears your voice, telling him that it doesn’t matter if it’s small, all that matters is that he’s scared. And that it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, Calum chants to himself down the hallway and back into the kitchen. It’ll all be okay. Because it has to be okay. Because it’s been six years of Calum in Cabinet and it’s all worked out so far. So it’ll keep working out in the end.

“Oh, you stink,” Joy laughs, as Calum slides into the bench across the table.

“I washed my hands and face at the very least,” he grins-- a rule ingrained into him from his childhood.

She shakes her head, sliding the plate closer his way. “At least there was that.”

The warm water is a welcomed reprieve, after dinner and clambering his way back upstairs, Calum can feel himself craving bed. It’s early, he knows. But the fear from transition is heavy on his bones. It’s not even late enough for you to be off work so he can’t call as you drive back to your apartment. And he wants to stay awake long enough for that, for the hum of your drive and the soft lull of your voice.

But in the stillness, Calum holds to the quiet voice in the back of his head. What will it all mean when he takes over? All the while you asked him what he wanted to do, what really made him happy, and all the while Calum answered that he would always do his duty, he would serve. And he’d be proud to serve; he is. But his father has already been the crutch. Calum’s never been on his own doing this. Does he actually want to do it? Or is this just the natural reaction of fear?

It all feels like being underwater. When he falls into his mattress, Calum feels the whoosh of air like a head ducking under the surface of water. There is a world above him--the duty he’s always followed, the path that always felt like loomed before him no matter what twists and turns he took in his life. But he is in the water, arms scoping water at his sides to keep him afloat and his movements feel slow and sluggish. Is this really all that he’s wanted? Could it all be just the things Calum’s told himself to believe so it makes it feel less like force and more like choice?

The ticking of the clock is long, but at some point his ears goes numb to the sound, focused instead of keeping up with the race of his thoughts. He chases them round and round as they go.

The ringing of his phone pulls him back up and out of the rush and thump of his internal dialogue. Calum fumbles for a moment to get the phone off the charger, but when he finally gets a firm grip, he answers the call.

“Hi, love,” you answer--certain and confident that it’s even Calum who’s answered.

“Hi, baby,” he returns, falling back down into the mattress again.

“What is it? Something on your mind?”

“How’d you know?” he laughs. To him, he sounds all the same. But the immediacy in your question makes him wonder if he’s really as good as he thinks at keeping things under wraps with you.

“Just a feeling,” you return.

“I think my number’s been called. Dad wants to talk in the new year about transitioning out of power.”

You hum. In the background, Calum hears the beeps of cars, the rush of the wind as you walk, probably to your car. “It was always coming. But I sense something more.”

“It’s scary. Didn’t think it would be so soon. Don’t know if it’s fear or genuine how much I’m worried about taking over.”

“Fear of what?” you question. “Fear just because it’s new or something else?”

Calum pulls his phone from his hear, tapping to switch the conversation to speakerphone. It’s buying him time. Because if he says it out loud, it feels like he’s making it true. But he’s not going to hide from you. He won’t let himself do that. “Fear that I don’t know what I really want.”

“We’re all afraid of that.” Your voice echoes against the four walls of his room, fills the space in such a way that he could hardly imagine that you’re just in the bathroom.

“You seemed pretty confident about cooking.”

“It’s a means to an end. Something that I can use anywhere to make ends meet. I like cooking, at the end of the day it helps me not feel so bad about life. But I don’t know if I was put on this planet just to cook or not.”

“I guess that’s the question, huh. Have I been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

“Well,” you start, a pause echoes with the thud of your car door. “Have you? Have you been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

He wants to say no. But if he’s honest, this has always been the end of the line for him. Taking over as King was his finish line. That was the stamp on his youth, to mail it off and close down the chapter. Calum’s always thought that this is in fact the end. It’s a means to an end. But even if Calum wants to agree that he hasn’t been put on this earth just to wind up as King, he doesn't know what else is there?

“But what am I if not meant to be King?”

“Well, you’re Calum. Who trained for a summer in Brazil for football, who plays the guitar, writes some songs. You’re Calum who loved his dog for every second he walked the earth. You’re Calum who baked his mother a birthday cake and it actually held together. You’re Calum, who manages to find just the right words when they’re needed, who loves deeply and selectively. And you’ll be so much more too. But the truth of the matter, you will never find that answer in a day, in just one conversation. It’ll take years. You’ll be a King, and work in politics, and be so much more. This is not an either-or situation, maybe. I know I asked previously about it. And I apologize if that made it seem like you had to choose. Perhaps, you don’t have to choose.”

Perhaps, you don’t have to choose. “Yeah,” Calum agrees, gaze focusing in on his ceiling. He does actually miss those stars now that he thinks about it. He wonders where he could find the stencils again. Would it be stupid to paint them back? “Maybe you’re right.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood au #prince!calum #calum hood x reader #calum hood x gender neutral reader #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #h writes

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etherealspacejelly · 8 months

Text

Intro Post

Just realised I haven't done one of these yet so here we go!

Name: Robin

Pronouns: they/he/it/xe

Age: 20

Gender: demiboy, genderqueer

Sexuality: aroace

I have ADHD and autism (self-diagnosed but beginning the formal diagnosis process currently, and I consider myself peer-reviewed by the autistic people in my life with actual diagnoses).

My special interests are Doctor Who, Queen (the rock band), the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and animals! I am also into Supernatural, Good Omens, Hannibal, and plenty of other things too.

My favourite video game is Undertale, tho I am currently obsessed with Paleo Pines.

My favourite animal is sharks, specifically lemon sharks but thresher sharks are a close second :)

i am a furry and i have a lemon shark fursona called Lemmie!

I mostly post about things I'm currently obsessed with, and like to reblog memes, metas, and fanart that I enjoy.

I consider this blog a safe space for everyone except bigots and bullies. if you come onto any of my posts with some bigoted bullshit you're getting instablocked.

I am a queer inclusionist, and I am chill with all communities considered 'cringe' by general society. (e.g. furries, therians, otherkin, xenogenders, neopronoun users, neurodivergent folks of all kinds, etc.)

nsfw blogs are free to interact and follow, but i probably wont follow you back because I am a sex repulsed aroace person and I personally dont want to see nsfw content, but i have no problems with it existing.

minors are also free to interact and follow, I do swear a lot but i dont post nsfw.

Picrew of me:

DMs and inbox are open!

Love ya!

#introduction #intro post #pinned intro #autism #actually autistic #good omens #supernatural #doctor who #queen band #marvel mcu #marvel #mcu #audhd #neurodivergent #hannibal #sharks #lgbtq #trans #aroace

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answersfromzestual · 6 months

Text

I want to talk about something today. Something very important for younger people and newer people coming out.

Research with legitimate sources, aka scholarly articles and medical journals/studies. Wiki is not a good source, people can change info at any point true or untrue.

We want to look for articles with medical and area professionals clearly placing their name in and on the article, or the most reliable sources are called scholarly articles and medical journals/studies, also some gender affirming clinics lay out a lot of information on their websites, most clinics dont mind answering your questions or concerns via email or phone (they may get back to you at a later date). When looking for information, you want peer reviewed medical information. Google has these features that can help narrow down your search for more accurate results. Using quotes around exact words or phrases is a trick to narrow down to more on topic search results.

Also, use Google Scholar (just type "Google scholar" into the search bar to find only actual medical articles and studies. Even lawsuits.

This is the google search bar for scholarly information below:

****READ THE ARTICLE FROM START TO FINISH OR AT LEAST THE PART(S) THAT PORTAIN TO YOUR RESEARCH!(some articles can include more than one study)****

Don't only use one source for your information, find as many as you can until you feel confident in the field of medicines and your concolusions about them. Information you use should be verified by several responsibly written articles, journals, and/or studies.

Call surgeons' offices, ask questions.

Research doctors in your area or a doctor you really like, again don't be afraid to call or email clinics!

When it comes to surgery and your body, if you have a bad feeling, any bad gut feelings before they put you under, about the surgeron or their methods, even team. You can back out until you are knocked out. You can say no as soon as you walk into the surgical suite. You worry about you.

Please, when going onto transgender groups (facebook and stuff), that not everyone is being genuine with you. People can be anything or anyone on the internet, behind that screen. I see trans people spreading anti-transtional propaganda (not on purpose), and they don't notice or know better. The negative people tend to pick out their victims early, cling onto someone newer in transitioning or even just joining the group. They probably try getting chummy really fast, getting into a lot of detail very early. They will start bringing up [negative] transitional things when they have nothing to do with the conversation you are having. It's a red flag when you can't talk about anything but "transitioning," and its a sign you need to block if all they say are negative, things. Life happens, but you don't need to drown yourself in negativity. Beware of people on the internet. Their intent is not always good, anyone can lie, anyone can find fake pictures for their profile, anyone can pretend to be someone they are not. Some of us should know that well as trans folk. Some people are even legitimate and are perhaps mad/ unhappy about their results and tend to use way overly dramatic words to describe their results, these people usually aren't telling you the whole truth. People also tend not to want to put any blame on themselves. If you aren't being honest yourself about your results and what and where things went wrong thats not okay. That,or telling someone not to do something that prevents transitioning or calming their dysphoria, that's considered transphobia.

It's important to also know that Facebook, Twitter, etc. are often looked at by employers, so many people will not use their own profiles to be a imaginary person.

Edit: Yes, transgender people can be transphobic as well. Look up Caitlin Jenner and what she's said and tried to do. Let me tell you now, she said transwomen should not be allowed to compete in sporting events, claiming "allowing transwomen to compete destroys women's sports" . So please, if you use that card, put it back in the deck. It's not true, and it's just a wrong blanket statement altogether. There are people who finish their transition and forget they had the rights they want taken away.

I want you to know and it's important to know many end results almost solely rely on the person and how they take care of themselves pre-op and post-op (yes taking care of your body before matters for optimum results). If you are heavier, your body has a harder time healing. This can cause complications and less favorable results because of those complications. I do have a post on being larger and surgical complications that are involved with that. (Here are some links about plus sized risks and general risks: plus size, general risks)

From Dad Shadow: Remember, don't tell anyone online personal information, even if you have been talking for years. Also, do not place yourself (ex. "Im gunna to go to the Starbucks on fifth around the corner from my house." this is especially bad if they may know your partial location) Someone can figure out your identity/location. Don't reveal anything you'd be asked to use as an account recovery question. When I was a younger adult, I saw someone post an image of a girl he met on 'Omegle', saying, "They accidentally got disconnected." Within two hours, everything about this girl was on this thread... from her name, where she was attending school, her personal address, her Facebook. All of it. It was more than one person looking and posting as well. People can be like this... I know you know, but the Dad in me wants to remind you. Browse safely!

I hope you read this and found it helpful everyone. I felt this is a need and it doesn't need post secondary education classes to teach you how to properly find sourced information for reports (same as your knowledge on the subject you are talking about).

P.s keeping your skin elasticity is very important, so mosturize your pecks, let it dry, then put on your binder.

Stay Golden Everyone ✌️ 💙 💜

#transgender #trans ftm #transman #ftm transition #ask me things #phalloplasty #ftm phalloplasty #phalloplasty blog #lgbtq #phallo education #ftm top education #ftm surgery information #how to properly find sourced information #this is how and where you should be looking #internet safety #internet searching #getting correct information #unbiased informational sources #google scholar

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decepti-thots · 7 months

Note

☕️- if you feel like it, the spectrum from deeply academic to un-canon-based in meta? You described it a bit in your various meta posts, and your views sounded interesting...

I think this kind of misidentifies the potential spectrum actually! I don't think "academic" > "based in non-canon" is necessarily a logical progression. Whether or not a piece of work is "academic" has more to do with its form, proximity to things recognised as "academia" in terms of distribution, and/or perceptions of what it means to originate "from and for fandom", IMO. All of these things are variable, too. Is something which accurately invokes critical theory enough to call it "academic"? In some fandoms, yes- and in some fandoms, maybe not. (I always go back to this as a kind of logical extreme, but Tolkien acafandom expects more than just "doing literary theory" IME to be called "academic", whereas I think if you wrote an essay in TF fandom explicitly using poststructuralist frameworks, that would count in that fannish context as "academic". The distinction is (sub)cultural as much as anything, I think, based on expectations of what an imagined baseline is.)

It is very possible to write highly academic work that is accepted as such which I'd argue is based more on cultural reception than "canonical" textual analysis, and it is possible to write using modes of analysis that are extremely idiosyncratic to fandom which are frankly reverent of the idea of Canon Lore TM. What is "academic" is something that is often distinguished by ideas about form, norms, even prestige and a perceived "legitimacy" more than close adherence to text. Similarly, if fandom has a reputation for anything, it's at least as often a slavish (even unhelpful) adherence to "lore" and "canon" in the abstract as it is a tendency towards fandom-telephone-fanon, right? (Think of all the folks out there who will write 6 hour youtube essays ignoring blatant symbolism in favour of working out the diagetic 'explanation' for things in canons where the work clearly requests a certain amount of emotional interpretation and generosity.)

It's why articulating what makes meta "academic" and what academic analysis does or doesn't get to be "meta" so hard. It's partly a judgement passed on any given work by the consensus of fannish norms in whatever cultural fandom. You can paint some broad strokes (meta has to meaningfully originate from within and be intended for fandom folks, academic work has to engage with something clearly originating from a framework culturally recognised as academic), but. There's no clear answer. I do think some things (hyperdiagetic analysis that treats characters as somehow existing independent of their texts for fannish transformative purposes) are clearly outside any academic framework, like there are types of analysis that are distinctly fandom-derived that are of no real use to academia. Or external observations of fandom as subculture that are clearly not for the in-group (even when produced by members of that ingroup) that are clearly not meta. But at the risk of chickening out of an obvious answer, it's so contextual. The lines are blurry! I routinely read a peer-reviewed journal that started as a literal Tolkien fanzine! They still produce an actual fanzine in addition to that! Are the works in that used-to-be-a-fanzine meta? If they aren't, when did they stop counting? If they are, do we consider peer-reviewed journal articles for e.g. Transformers "meta"? What's the difference? It's an interesting question, more interesting I think than setting up that imagined spectrum.

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the-dirt-eater · 7 months

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maybe I make a pinned post. as a treat. this blog is a mess. it’s got everything i love in it, so it’s not specific to anything. welcome to the train wreck etc

call me dirt! she/her, genderqueer-ish lesbian. deemed autistic via peer review. (not diagnosed bc that shits mad expensive. but my therapist says that I am ‘very likely’ autistic so.) I’m a menace and I sometimes bully people as a love language. please please tell me if something I say is too far for you and I’ll try to be more careful <3

use my ask box for anything! but especially music recs and fun facts :D

I’m 21 so minors… be cautious? I’m not always gonna be pg. curate your internet experience to your needs.

TERFs, SWERFs, ace/aro exclusionists, pro-lifers, anti-palestine, anti- sex ed, anti- critical race theory, or any other flavor of bigot not allowed. i’ll stomp you into a paste :)

also I will block accounts that look like bots. if u follow me and don’t have any activity on ur acc imma block u. i’ll usually give people a day to like put a profile pic up but if you don’t you’re gone. <3

i’m not always good at tagging. my bad

more specific stuff about me past the cut :3

super into plants and bugs and mushrooms and music. can crochet and learning to knit. I rarely do art but I’m slowly learning to be better at that too.

specifically currently interested in:

• punk/rock/indie music

• tarantulas

• jumping spiders

• isopods

• cockroaches

• california native plants

• terrariums

• minecraft

• cats :3

• pet web games (horse isle 2, star stable, recently got into flight rising)

also interested in (but less knowledgeable about):

• internet culture and history

• queer culture and history

• freshwater aquariums, including

- fishkeeping (bettas, comet goldfish, koi, various small tropical fish)

- shrimpkeeping!!!!

- aquascaping/aquatic plants

- low maintenance systems (no filter etc)

• video games and streaming

I watch way more youtube than is probably healthy so there’s that too.

omg I nearly forgot fandoms!!

currently obsessed with fall out boy and twenty one pilots. also into:

• hannibal

• good omens

• our flag means death

• heartstopper

• young royals

• community

• doctor who

• some minecraft/gaming youtubers and streamers (ranboo, tommyinnit, nihachu, grian, technoblade. ik he’s gone but still)

• hermitcraft but i’m not up to date ever

• unus annus (rip)

• dan and phil

• watcher entertainment/buzzfeed unsolved

• wings of fire

• percy jackson

probs more that i’m forgetting

music I like is. a bunch of genres tbh. indie, folk, punk, rock, some pop, video game music, some classic 2000s-2010s emo bands. very specific flavors of country-adjacent stuff. some psychedelic rock. more that i can’t think of. I have some halfway decent spotify playlists :P and here's my last.fm page

some bands/artists i like:

fall out boy

twenty one pilots

paramore

the crane wives

hayley kiyoko

los campesinos

the oh hellos

chloe moriondo

chappell roan

STRFKR

miracle musical

wallows

jack stauber

sir chloe

hozier

girl in red

jackie hayes

yea that’s me :) enjoy your stay here. drink water etc. bye!

last edited 2/23/2024

#common tags:#dirt speaks #music #art #save for later #other tags:#about me #pinned post

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 8 months

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so i was looking at old chinese songs (research for my fic) and. guys. I'VE CONNECTED THE DOTS you didn't connect shit I'VE CONNECTED THEM!!!! So this poem is called "the Blue-collared Lad" from the state of Zheng (771–701 BCE). Blue robes were associated with scholars btw. it's commonly interpreted as a girlfriend lamenting her indifferent scholar boyfriend. (or perhaps, a scholar boyfriend lamenting his indifferent scholar boyfriend)

san guo fans notice anything??? ill give you a hint: the phrase "blue-collared lad, my heart longs for you" is REMIXED WORD FOR WORD into the poem Cao Cao wrote called Drinking Song The purpose of this poem is to a) flex his poetry skills and b) encourage all the talented scholars of the land to flock to his court. THE FACT THAT HE COUCHES HIS LONGING FOR TALENT WITH THE SAME WORDS OF A DESPERATE LOVER. IS. TRUELY SOMETHING!!!! also something about "folk music" making its way into "high art" makes me so happy. ⻘⻘⼦衿，悠悠我⼼。但为君故，沉吟⾄今

Oh, you blue-gowned scholars, You linger on my heart. It is only because of you That I still chant these words.

呦呦⿅鸣，⻝野之苹。我有嘉宾，⿎瑟吹笙。

But the deer call to us from the fields As they eat the charmed grasses. I have illustrious guests Play the drums and zither. Blow the reed pipes!

明明如⽉，何时可掇？忧从中来，不可断绝。

You are as brilliant as the moon When can I make you mine? Worry comes from within It never fully ends.

some of my favourite passages from the poem include this REALLY clever wordplay where "you you" [my heart "longs" for you] is echoed in the next line's onomatopoeia [the deer in the field bleats "you you"]. my brain really likes that. oh, and of course my all time favourite, "the magpie flies south and circles the tree three times, where shall he land?"

anyways someone whos better at chinese than me PLEASE peer review this. im half convinced it's just a mercury-fuelled delusion from eating too much canned tuna again.

#i said this as a joke before but now im DEAD FUCKING CONVINCED #if i ever wrote a cao cao/guan yu revisionist history in the style of Song of Achilles #as im getting rotten fruit thrown at me. cao cao's ghost will rise from the back row and be like #“why are you heckling this clown for telling the truth? sure. the writing is subpar but give it a few decades and it might become mediocre!#san guo #cao cao

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emblazonet · 11 months

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So, the Black Jewels Trilogy

Saw these books recommended in a thread about adult sexy fantasy books, and my brain went ??? Wait. They weren’t that adult???? They had dark themes, but they were fluff.

I’d almost forgotten about them. I read them about 15 years age (wat!) in high school. My friends at the time peer pressured me into it. They would tell me about all their favourite scenes and squee about them as we whiled away lunches in the stairwell, which both spoiled a lot of the fun of reading them the first time and I still remember which scenes were spoiled as I did my reread.

I enjoyed them well enough at the time, because they were dark and a bit gory and a bit sexy and I was ravenous as a teen for anything with sex, violence, and especially BDSM. I grew out of them by uni.

So the thread was specifically recommending them as an adult alternative to the trendy ACoTaR books by Sarah J Maas that I have never read and don’t intend to. I have since learned that some hold the opinion that SJM plagiarized or otherwise cribbed heavily from Black Jewels. (The other alternative offered in that thread were the Kushiel books, which I would agree are more adult, both in subject matter and style.)

On a reread, I think my initial impression that these books are more for teens—or people who specifically want and need an id-based power fantasy—holds up. Content warnings for literally all the standard bogeyman: rape, pedophilia, implied cannibalism, torture, etc etc. It dives shallowly into all the dark stuff in order to get to the revenge fantasy at the heart of the series.

Extensive spoilers under the cut. There’s a few things I liked, but there’s a lot more I didn’t enjoy about it too. (And it’s not because of any of the content warning stuff above.)

I wrote my review of the first three books before reading any of the sequels. Sequel reviews will be forthcoming.

The Setting

The worldbuilding is a mess. I have no idea how the economy works or why there are even nonBlood ‘landens’ (basically magicless folk) at all when they Literally. Never. Show. Up.

Yet! For all that! It is so rare to see a matriarchy in a fantasy setting that I will forgive the cardboard worldbuilding and pretend like economics doesn’t matter it’s just fantasy. I love that the greatest power is downwards, the Darkness rather than the heavens. Dark stuff more powerful. It’s neat! Like even today the books feel different, even when they’re extremely 2000s aesthetically. Goth vibes ftw. Less good is the gender essentialism and the caste system, which feels like a forerunner to A/B/O in some ways.

Basically, like in A/B/O, everyone has like a secondary biological gender that determines their rank in the hierarchy. So women who are born Queens are biologically meant to rule, and men are drawn to serve them. (It’s stupid, but I respect the inherent service kink aspect.) Some males are Warlords, who are more aggressive, and some men are even higher caste as Warlord Princes, who are ‘predators’ who want to murder ppl all the time, but they’re supposed to be controlled by the women I guess. They're emotionally immature alpha males. Yuck.

I still have no real idea how the fuck Terreille and Kaeleer are different tbh, one just has sentient animals? Are they different dimensions?? The physicality of the environment in this book is like wisps of smoke. Stuff just appears, usually when it needs to, and then goes away again, much like how the magical protagonists are always calling and vanishing objects.

Daughter of the Blood

For a trilogy with a deeply repetitive, emphatic style that over-relies on (dorky) catchphrases (‘and the Blood will sing to Blood,’ ‘everything has a price,’ ‘Mother Night’) each book does have a unique flavour and its own problems.

Weirdly, the thing I hated the most about the first book was the random fatphobia. I never even noticed it as a kid, but almost every time a fat character is introduced they’re a gross dude and likely a pedophile. Don’t like it, tired of seeing it, stop. I’m not even going to forgive the series for being from the early 2000s. I don’t care. Cut it out. At least it only happens in the first book.

The Mary-Sue (she really is! I mean that with affection!) Jaenelle is a child in this book, and her main problems in life are getting sent to a mental institution called Briarwood that is run by pedophiles. We also—at no point ever in the books—get her POV, so a lot of the horror is mitigated by how much the details are glossed over. I think that was meant to be more horrifying but the author isn’t good enough at building atmosphere to make that work. The book chooses a couple specifically horrible situations and then hammers into them in a way that feels both schlocky but also makes the world and the situation feel smaller. I don’t like the way repetition is used in these books. It’s certainly a choice but it’s one that drives the nuance out of book. Almost every villain in this book is a rapist, which makes the rape feel cheap by the end—and I don’t think cheapening it was the intention.

Yet, to be honest, I think this is the strongest book of the three. I actually really like the beginning, with Tersa being crazy and giving prophecies. I don’t know, the writing just draws me in somehow. It’s not great writing, I want to be clear. It’s got nothing on, idk, Tanith Lee. But it is extremely readable and compelling. I was having a good time.

Also, Lucivar and Daemon, like, kiss? And that is just about the only gay thing that you will see in the books until Daemon fakes raping his father in the third book. It is unrelentingly heterosexual otherwise. But I think I was hooked early on as a teen hoping for some gay action. I was disappointed at the time and I’m disappointed now.

This is also the book with probably the most sex and violence. Men are castrated on screen a couple times, there’s explicit cannibalism of one of the other children at Briarwood, one of our viewpoint characters is an assassin, etc etc. Much bad sex happening. Daemon and Lucivar, the hot dudes who are brothers, have been sex slaves for like 1700 years which is objectively hilarious that is SUCH an absurd amount of time to just... be more powerful (aka have darker Jewels) than any of your slavers and just not gotten free? Even with magical cock rings that control them, it's still so stupid.

Also, our main character is actually their dad, Saetan (I WILL NEVER BE OVER THESE NAMES) who is like 50k years old? That makes me giggle so much. That’s so old. Why. Honestly props to Anne Bishop, she really just went for it. I have so much respect for how batshit absurd everything is.

Honestly I just kinda like the first book? It’s paced a lot better than the other ones, it’s dark and ridiculous and full of bad things happening. Jaenelle reminds me of a friend of mine, oddly enough. She’s probably tolerable because we never get her POV.

I also liked Daemon and Jaenelle’s relationship in this one. Under the worldbuilding power fantasy terms of this setting, Jaenelle is literally made up of the dreams of people in the world, and Daemon’s dream was to be the lover of the Most Powerful Matriarch Ever, who in the book is called ‘Witch.’ So meeting her as a kid he’s constantly bombarded by his attraction to her spirit/power/Witch-self, whatever. But she’s a kid and he’s Very Not Into That. He and Saetan are constantly respecting her consent at every opportunity, so it doesn’t squick me out in the slightest.

Because you know, at that age (12-14), I would have killed for an ancient powerful lover who is The Hottest Guy In All The Realms to be all but overcome with lust for me and yet completely absolutely in service to my every need and desire.

It’s a power fantasy, yo.

Anyway the next two books will completely kill any interest I have in their relationship so really, Daughter of the Blood could have ended here and I would have been satisfied.

Heir to the Shadows

Wow, does this one have middle book syndrome. It’s a slog. Someone out there probably likes it. One of the scenes my high school friends liked is the introduction of the Arcerian cat Kaelas where he squashes the Sceltie puppy Ladvarian. I remember them telling me about it with glee. It’s cute, but not enough to save this book.

Everytime a conflict happens it’s almost instantly resolved. Jaenelle grows up, Saetan spoils her, she has friends. All the characters feel really one note. There is almost no sex in this book, but there is some gore. The extremely boring villains, Dorothea and Hekatah, who are basically the same person except one of them is undead (‘demon-dead’), do some violence. Our protagonists do more violence. There’s a unicorn genocide. I can’t keep any of the characters that are in Jaenelle’s court straight (except for Karla and the aforementioned cat and puppy).

Oh, Daemon’s just insane for the whole book, and I ended up skimming all his sections because nothing happened in them.

That sure was a book. Took me longer to read than the other two combined.

Queen of the Darkness

Back to a compelling read, somehow. I blasted through it.

A major issue I have with this series is about how power is framed. Might makes right. The good guys happen to be more powerful, so they can unleash their often bloody revenge, which is always framed as a good thing, a triumph. And also, no one just talks to each other, because bad guys are bad and good guys are good. There is no real compromise, and no nuance.

Like, Bishop is writing a matriarchy, but instead of, idk, expanding on that idea, she just kinda writes the same power imbalances that exist in our world except more villains are women, which instead of feeling empowering or whatever reeks of internalized misogyny. Yeah, I get it, women are bitches and oppressing the mens, so then the sad menz all rape vulnerable women. So it’s a patriarchy, actually, with the Queen-caste women as figureheads. WHY YOU DO THIS.

Honestly I find the ‘might makes right’ part much more problematic than any inclusion of sex slavery, unicorn genocide, or pedophilia. All the latter are perpetrated by villains; what's the excuse for the good guys?

Like this book is more about being righteous and also horny than it is trying to say stuff about politics or whatever, but it’s saying stuff about politics anyway, and what it’s saying is that the most powerful people make the rules. And being an emotionally unregulated nuclear bomb person is perfectly fine so long as you’re the good guy. And frankly, I hate that, and I disagree with it.

And ok, sure, so the Queens are supposed to emotionally regulate their Warlord Princes except that’s mostly just by hoping they hold onto their tempers until they can unleash them in a better direction which doesn’t strike me as real emotional regulation. And who’s supposed to regulate Jaenelle? Just... Jaenelle? Like theoretically the males who serve her, but the way they treat her seems more likely to cause nuclear explosions. She is herself a walking bomb.

Honestly the way males treat females in this book is gross. Men just like overprotect and patronize to the point of infantilizing a woman. And Big Yikes if she so much as gets a period—which is apparently The Worst and makes them unable to use power which THANKS I HATE IT—and it’s just awful, the men treat them like INVALIDS. Not romantic. Didn’t like it as a teen, don’t like it now.

Additionally, I don’t like how emotions and trauma are handled in this. I love a good broken traumatic character, and it's even better if they're powerful and need to navigate not causing harm whilst healing. I lap that shit up. Black Jewels fails me here. All the characters are so fucking one note and so the trauma/healing stuff feels shallow and uninspired.

Additionally, Jaenelle and Daemon are so boring and they’re ‘courting’ each other like high schoolers with zero personality and I hate it. They had better sexual chemistry when she was 12, which is probably just because Daughter of the Blood was the better written book.

Also, they got like a romancey fade to black sex scene? Yeesh.

I DO appreciate that Daemon has no magic healing dick: Jaenelle is still pretty traumatized about stuff after they bone. She’s better about sex, sure, but she’s still upset about being a Queen, etc etc. You know, this series has ooooodles of problems, but I really don’t think Jaenelle is one of them. She works for me. (Although Daemon being a virgin after 1700 years as a pleasure slave? I HATE THAT, that’s stupid. Miss me with that bullshit. At least Jaenelle is never punished by the text for not being a virgin.)

I don’t have much to say about the end. Because we go in knowing Daemon's got back up plans it takes all the tension out of the climax. The story ends with an expected triumph. The book doesn’t set up the idea that Jaenelle will die well enough either, like it’s telegraphed from the first that the Kindred will save her, and then they do. Ok then. Wow, so tense. Much thrill.

So like, I raced through reading this, sure, but it still wasn’t a satisfying read. But it wasn’t a slog. And there were some fun interactions—I enjoyed Surreal and her wolf Graysfang. There were moments.

Honestly this series is so unhinged that despite all the ridiculosity of it, I think I’m coming away feeling weirdly affectionate towards it? It’s bad, the alpha male tropes are nauseating, the matriarchy failed hard, and it’s repetitive as fuck. I’ve been thinking about this series for weeks now, and I have no idea why I find it compelling! It’s infuriating! Maybe it’s compelling because it’s infuriating.

In conclusion: I guess I’m going to read all of this garbage and yell about it. Stay tuned for the sequels.

#Amber reads the Black Jewels series #black jewels trilogy #book review #sort of more like unhinged book screaming #there's like so much other shit I could probably add to this screaming but like it's long enough #and the sequels really dig into many weaknesses #so ... yeah #why did I do this to myself

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feline-evil · 4 months

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To try and make my memory issues less Annoying i'm going to start cataloguing what i watch and my opinions on said things, i forgot to do it fresh after watching these first few things but in the future ill try and do it more soon after. You can block the tag jay tv time if you wanna filter this out and not see it!

POST NUMBER ONE: THREE THINGS WATCHED IN JANUARY 2024

YURI ON ICE

I'd heard vaguely about this way back when on tumblr and hadn't had any interest at the time; this was back when i was more interested in getting involved in discourse than really taking any media recommendations from my peers around me lol, older days on tumblr were a dark time huh. Anyway, watched this with my boyfriend this year because i have an interest in ice dancing, i like the sport, i wanted to see some sports anime drama around it!

So, my opinion and review. The show's opening credits are nothing to write home about, very clean looking yeah but kind of bland in a sort of mid 2010's corporate fashion- the show itself though starts with a boatload of charm and a very likeable main lead! The atmosphere was charming and fun and bubbly, everything felt very cozy; LOVED our main leads internal little monologues with little diagrams, loved his family his mom is like peak platonic ideal of an anime mom, loved the tongue in cheek nature of it! Aaaand then we hit what i would call the lowest point for the show, and one that i fully understand if it would be a complete deal breaker for people. That's right folks, we get fatphobic comedy! Whoo. This isn't the WORST i've ever seen but in those first two episodes or so it was prevalent enough to have me rolling my eyes, feeling uncomfortable and saying yeah, if this continues on we might drop the show. If not for how charming the rest of the show was I'm sure we would have dropped it right then and there! But what i am glad to say is that yeah, it drops off; of course it comes with the caveat that it only drops with the main lead losing the weight he was being mocked for, SIGH, but it at least started to feel less like we were going to have to sit through endless weird attitudes towards NORMAL WEIGHTS FOR A GODDAMN HUMAN BODY TO BE, and more like 'oh yeah these hardcore professionals in these fields have shitty attitudes towards bodies. That makes sense. Wish we didn't have to linger on it still because i dislike it thoroughly.' So anyway. Moving onto the next episodes the show really started to pick up for me and got me invested in the ice dancing; while a lot of characters come and go during the lead up to and the competition itself i found so many of them likeable and charming that i was rooting for them each time they took to the ice! I adored the 'rival' of sorts, fifteen year old yuri (not the titular one, different yuri) and we were cheering him on a lot; he's just a little angry kid that loves cats and wants to be the best!!! We wanted him to do good and have fun!!! And we found we were rooting like this for so many people, really feeling the vibe of watching a sport you enjoy and feeling the love for the art of it all.

Now speaking of art i will say i found myself not always totally in love with the animation during the skate segments; this show is really pretty looking for sure and certainly TONS of hardwork went into it so i don't wish to say anything against that- i don't even know if there IS a better way to animate this but. Well on occasion it felt as if the background slid at the wrong speed or angle or direction and didn't fully match the figures skating, making some of the speed and elegance of ice dance evaporate. A lot of animation also felt a little reused, a lot of the same motion being done with little variance aside from what the commentary dialogue says over top, but again i respect a ton of hardwork no doubt went into this and i'm sure animating competitive ice dancing is a daunting task so i'm not making any statements against effort or skill on part of the animators!! Just stating that i myself wasn't too taken with the animation during these segments.

Of course, at its core, what yuri on ice is really about is a blooming relationship; and oh my god. Okay so i'm kind of used to things tumblr called gay back in the day being....mmmm metaphorical, subtextual. Sometimes even not gay at all. So i wasn't prepared for how openly gay this was! There is clear romantic and sexual intent shown from JUMP, it is not shied away from nor shown as something to be demonized or to bring doom on the characters they are just Gay. Like REALLY gay. And maybe you're going 'well duh of course' but hey. I didn't grow up watching anything with gay characters or people in it, i still am not used to seeing open and happy gay people in media. Its still fresh to me! And it makes me happy! I don't know how they got this show to be SO gay, i would be surprised at something gaining mainstream popularity with 'THEY STRAIGHT UP GET ENGAGEMENT RINGS' level of gay nowadays never mind back then so i'm just sort of taken aback! That's cool!! That's still new to me!!

Now my overall review is: This show is a good fluffy watch, nothing too complex or complicated, might not blow your socks off but if you want something feel-good it's worth a try! Obviously with the understanding that if those first few episodes leave too bad a taste in your mouth i compleeetely understand and would not begrudge anyone switching off at that point, you'd be well within your rights because good lord we didn't need that put in. But yeah! Show's gay! Show's got ice dancing! Someone should take Yuri Plisetsky to the rainforest cafe!!!

DUNGEON MESHI

OK SO THIS WILL BE A SHORTER REVIEW BECAUSE WE HAVE ONLY SEEN ONE EPISODE VERSUS YURI ON ICE BEING A FULL SEASON, ALSO DO NOT FUUUUCKING SPOIL DUNMESHI STUFF MY BOYFRIEND HAS READ THE MANGA BUT I HAVENT.

Dungeon meshi is something i've known about for ages and known that i'd like, but i also knew it had a plotpoint adjacent to something that (genuinely depending on the day, its like a damn coin toss) can squick me out OR trigger me a bit, SO! I'd never read it, which i know is a damn shame! But my boyfriend really wanted to watch the first episode of the new dunmeshi anime and i really really wanted to watch with him and i'm really glad i did because it is SO good. It is so fun and witty and bursting with charm, every character is so likeable and it feels like you've known them forever from jump they settle so easily within your fondness for them! I adore how much they do not shy away from Laios being a very passionate weirdo, i love that the guy who is pretty much our main lead in our cast is. A PECULIAR MAN WHO YOU JUST REALLY CAN'T HELP BUT HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR. I've been this man before, the guy who's really into something nobody else gets!! I get it Laios i get it! Marcille Chilchuck and Senshi are all absolute delights too and each has their personality show vibrantly different from each other, feeling like individuals all with so much to like about them all; Marcille as the person to constantly be unsure about the CLEARLY PECULIAR THINGS THEY ARE DOING is especially great!! Not only is this show a romp so far but it looks DIVINE, the animation knows exactly when detail and motion is needed and when a minimalist approach is needed to sell a gag; each character is rendered PERFECTLY from manga to anime, they are translated over with an expert touch that loses none of their charm- and according to my boyfriend this anime is a very straight forward adaptation, beat by beat following the way things are laid out in the manga's panels the way they are presented within that medium, and that's SO cool to me that they're managing to make precise things that worked so well on paper work just as well in motion! I can't say too much about this story-wise or plot related just now as again, we've only seen the one episode, but it has left me hungry for more and really excited to watch the rest of it, and that's fantastic!! PONYO

Oh wow this is three for three animated entries for the jay tv time list; not intentional but that's pretty cool co-ordination! Animated January..... ANYWAY!

CAN YOU BELIEVE I HADN'T SEEN PONYO YET! I've seen Spirited away and My Neighbour Totoro, but this was my first time watching Ponyo and ohhhhh my god it's wonderful. Every character is a joy, the world around them looks gorgeous, its all so sweet and nice and aaaaaaa Sometimes small kids can be. Grating in movies, or the plot can be moved along in ways that are annoying to watch a toddler progress through, but not with this movie; the kids are SO cute, Sasuke is such a sweet lil kid and Ponyo is so fun- also the line early on at the daycare where the one lil girl says 'you don't have a job you're FIVE!' KILLS ME! This movie portrays little kids in a way that never crosses into the annoying small child thing that a lot of movies can do; and that's not all it does right! It's conflict never feels contrived or irritating, it always flows nice, it's characters never feel boxed into Bad or Good everyone is just a person trying to do what's right, the world never feels Too hostile or Too cosy it just feels nice and balanced! It's a joy to watch it really is, it's not a complex nor complicated tale but it doesn't need to be, its a movie to watch when you want to have a big happy smile on your face; it makes you want to clap and go yayyy!!!! So often because you love what's happening so much! Sasuke's mom is SO FUCKING GOOD. Spoke about platonic ideal of anime mom earlier but Sasuke's mom takes the award for Coolest mom; she's driving fast and furious, she never once judges Ponyo for being a fishy, she's cool!! Ponyo's dad is equally good, i love a well meaning man who just can't help but come across as a Total Weird Asshole because he is just so much of a tired grumpy mess; and i love that he's not portrayed as evil or mean, just protective and misguided in places but ultimately just as kind as everyone else in this movie! And that's something i really appreciate, so much kindness flows through this movie, so much love for your fellow man (or fish); the community feels like a community because of it, families feel like families because of it. Kindness is so wonderful and the kind of kind, gentle understanding in Ponyo makes it's characters come alive! The final moments when Sasuke accepts Ponyo makes so much sense, he's a sweet lil five year old, he doesn't have any prejudice engrained in him, he likes his fishy friend!! And the world is saved by that!! And isn't that just delightful! Also hey if we may get unprofessional Sasuke and Ponyo's moms had a little something going on between them, i think they could've had a lil something something. I'm just saying. I also love Ponyo's dad SO Much. I couldn't fix him but. well. nay, i shan't say. ANYWAY!!! REALLY GOOD, SWEET MOVIE! Definitely one i'll revisit on days when i want a nice sweet pick me up! It's gorgeous, it's heartwarming; oh my god and the ANIMATION!! THE ANIMATION! Every frame a delight, i appreciate so much of how well done the creatures of the sea are and how much are filled into every scene, making it feel bustling and alive, i appreciate how unafraid to make Ponyo look WEIRD they are it really adds to the charm, and the animation in general is just so perfect, its a work of art... I REALLY ENJOYED THIS MOVIE! AND I THINK THAT'S IT FOR NOW, STAY TUNED FOR UH. MORE THINGS I WATCH I GUESS.

#jay talkin #jay tv time #this is more me more than anyone else i just think its funny to also publish it #its kinda a accountability thing then. maybe ill reemmeber to do it more if its public #and then maybe i wont forget things about things i enjoy!!!! bc my memory is bad lately LMAO

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