#its probably discontinuing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wasjustred · 1 year

Note

ahhh iloveyourworkssomuch!! 💖 i'd like to request something along the lines of sugar mommy!larissa (maybe with smut, who knows *wink*) 'cause she's all i can think about these days... anyways, happy early new years!!!

Easy Does It - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa spoils you beyond comprehension. Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x f!Reader Warnings: Smut. A lot of it. (Cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on — all Reader receiving) Word Count: ~4.7k

Author’s Note: I hope this meets your expectations, anon! I originally intended to make Larissa way more domineering, but once I began writing it just didn’t feel like her——I tried to stay true to her character where I could. As always, feedback is welcome ﹠. appreciated! ♡ (un-beta-ed as per usual!) ╱ AO3

The arrangement you and Larissa have has been smoothly gliding along for about six months now: you meet for dinner every weekend, in a town about half an hour outside of Jericho. You wear an outfit she’s picked out for you, she pulls your seat out, you share conversation and good - expensive - food and drinks, and you end on the stoop of your apartment, leaning into the kiss she places on your cheek, with a weekly allowance in cash in your purse. It’s the perfect set-up, nothing you’d dare protest, but sometimes you honest to god wish she’d just break her own rules and rail you ‘till the bed breaks.

Tonight you meet her at The Aviary, draped in a black satin dress with a deep slit up the leg––one of her favorites. Larissa helps you into your seat as she usually does, but before she takes her own, she places a long velvet box on your empty appetizer plate.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” A small, proud smirk turns her lips, eyes sparkling. You run your fingers over the velvet and lift at the seam, features going slack with surprise when you realize what’s hidden inside: a collar necklace, glittering diamond-cut, softening into a single falling arc of gems which ebbs, finally, into a small, shining teardrop. Light from the restaurant’s fixtures seem drawn to it, gleaming to and fro in a scattered stream of reflection. Your gaze snaps back to hers almost immediately, heart pounding.

“Larissa, I–”

“Do you like it?”

“I– Of course I do, it’s– it’s so beautiful..” Your voice softens and tapers off as you return your attention to the box before you. It’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to you, but you stop short of admitting this. “Help me put it on?”

Larissa’s smile grows as she gathers the box in her hands, lifting the necklace from its cushion. She moves to stand behind you and tenderly brushes your hair aside; her hands are as soft as anything, so gentle in the way they handle you, securing the piece around your neck. Your own hand raises to rest atop the new weight at your clavicle, and when she sets her palms along your shoulders and squeezes, you shift your hand up to capture hers.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” Larissa presses her lips to your cheek from behind before she retakes her seat, arching a brow in challenge. The answer is no, of course; this is how you work, special occasion or not. She always manages to keep you on your toes, though, far more thoughtful and intimate than any other ‘financeur’ you’ve ever humored in the past: Tennis bracelets set with gemstones which perfectly match your eyes, a new coffee bar set-up when you mentioned off-hand that Starbucks had discontinued your favorite drink, a signed first edition copy of your favorite book she ‘just so happened to come across’ while out of state. Much more than the simple, routine bank deposits and luxury brand pieces that were never quite you which you received from others. Larissa’s gifts have always been astoundingly personal.

You’ve never told her this, but you stopped dating altogether once your little dynamic began. How could anyone else compare? She makes you feel important without ever having to work for it ––– like you’re lovable, worthy, because you exist, and nothing more. You’re breaking your own rules, being so enamored with her, but you refuse to dwell on it.

“No, you don’t…” You trail off as your food arrives, ducking your head in thanks as the waiter sets everything out before you. Any discussion of her gift to you ends there on Larissa’s own accord, swiftly and advantageously moving on to a new topic as soon as the waiter has left you. The rest of the night is spent sipping expensive wine and musing instead on all of the high-culture goings-on you never get to discuss with anyone else: Art, ballet, classical music. Larissa’s a delicious trove of knowledge and opinions and she impresses you with each turn of a new topic. You often find yourself wondering - not just tonight, but many nights whilst basking in her presence - why she’s chosen you. You can hold good conversation, of course, and have an appreciation for the finer things in life usually reserved for those older and/or wealthier than you, but what’s always been curious, what’s always given you pause, is that she never asks for anything else in return. You have no choice but to ask yourself what it is you possibly have to offer to a woman like her–��but you almost always fall short of a satisfying answer.

She’s talking you both through an analysis of the most recent play she brought you to when you take one of her hands in your own, tracing the lines of her palm as you listen. Larissa stumbles over her words at first contact, a rare occurrence for her, and blushes pink at the sensation. When you glance up at her in question she quickly averts her gaze and carries on, moving to smooth her thumb over yours as you continue. You love her fingers: they’re long, delicate, awfully reminiscent of the Greek statues she enjoys waxing poetic about. It’s an instance in which you’re reminded art, very often, echoes us in a continuous cycle of give and take.

You don’t say a word when you notice her face darken another shade as you press a kiss to the inside of her wrist before moving on to dote upon her other hand.

She’s not once explicitly told you, but Larissa’s never expected you to take a physical liking to her. She set the rules she did early on for a reason, knowing she could live with looking and not touching, taking care of you and watching your face turn alight with each gift or special night out without ever ending the evening by your side. No sex necessary, no physical affection expected. But here you are, fawning over her, and she’s never been more conflicted.

To assuage the feeling, she convinces herself it’s the wine that’s made you this way––a good bottle will go a long way, thus your touch must be the product of inebriation, not genuine affection. You’ve both long since finished off your meals when Larissa pays the bill and drives you home as she normally does, to an apartment she partly finances (not fully, at your own insistence that there are some things you should take care of yourself) and walks you to your door, stooping to kiss your cheek. Routine.

She is right about one thing, however, and that’s the potency of the house wine tonight. Not on your reasoning, but your self-control. You spent the car ride home admiring her profile in the passing streetlamps and traffic lights, studying the way each red light cast itself across her, how the passing headlights of opposing traffic bathed her in a cinematic glow you associated only, appropriately, with Vivien Leigh in A Streetcar Named Desire. Ghostlike, almost. Ethereal. And at that same wine’s behest, you lean further now into her goodnight kiss than you’d normally allow yourself.

It’s as she prepares to leave that you decide - anchored by the weight of the diamonds around your neck - that this is the night you’ll throw caution to the wind, fervently hoping it won’t backfire and end with her rejection and a ruined arrangement that you’d both worked to preserve over the past six months.

“Do you want to join me for a nightcap? I know we don’t usually, but.. I’d like you to. If you’d like to, of course. If you don’t that’s–––”

“Y/N,” she interrupts. You can hardly tell but her heart’s just about burst out of her chest. There’s an inner battle waging right on the precipice of her ribcage and your bright, hopeful eyes staring up at her aren’t making it any easier to parse out. Do you feel obligated somehow to pay her back for the necklace? She knows you know she’d never ask that of you, that your arrangement is not a traditional one, but has she unknowingly pushed the bounds all the same? Did you simply imbibe too much and don’t really have a clue what it is you’re saying?

Or, perhaps.. Most dangerously: Do you mean it?

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to… ‘pay me back’ for tonight. That was never my intention.”

She volleys her own inner turmoil dead straight in your direction and stares down at you with what might be, if you squint hard enough, a nervous expression.

You lean sideways against the door and cross your arms over yourself, appraising her. Does she really not want you? What the hell does she get out of this if she doesn’t? You just can’t wrap your head around it, and while you insisted to yourself you’d never outwardly question the bounds of your relationship and why they’ve settled where they are, you’ve put yourself at a crossroads.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She balks.

“What? Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Larissa’s expression is a mixture of incredulity and apprehension. You decide to bite the bullet then as she lingers uncertainly beneath the moonlight.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this. Am I not–– you think I’m pretty but you don’t want to touch me? You pay for my livelihood but you don’t want anything tangible in return?” You both purse your lips simultaneously and you’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire all of a sudden. “You confuse me, Larissa.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small cloud bursting forth as she sighs.

You fucked it, didn’t you? Fucked it right to hell, and now she’s never going to speak to you again.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” The air goes still.

…

It’s news to you.

Larissa suddenly pushes forward and traps you against the front of your door, hands leveled at your waist. “I’ve always wanted you,” she grits out, her arms tensing at your sides. “I just didn’t want you to feel as though you had to. Return the sentiment, that is. You’re too precious for that.” Her voice is low and rough in your ear, strangled. You grab hold of her forearms to keep yourself upright when her tone shoots right through you, breathing heavily. You gradually lift your gaze, poring over every curve of hers as you do, and meet her eyes. They’ve nearly gone black with lust, and a subtle quiver in her lip tells you everything you need to know.

“Kiss me.”

Larissa groans, which is admittedly not the reaction you’d expected, and presses further into you, her nose brushing against your cheek. You can feel the heat of her grow, ensnaring you in perfect contrast to the cool night air.

“You have to tell me you want it, darling. I need you to say it.” … Oh. A new wave of arousal surges through you as you turn your head ever so slightly, her lips hovering just out of reach. The shared breath between you has become fraught with possibility, with the overwhelming, unspent energy that’s been collecting over the last six months without either of you quite noticing. Of course this is what she needs: confirmation, not that you’re hers but that she’s yours, by choice and choice alone.

“I want you, Larissa. Please,” you whisper, squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground yourself. She says nothing in return, instead immediately closing the distance and engulfing you in a desperate, searing kiss. Your cheeks burn and it’s all you can do not to melt into her fully, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue slides against your bottom lip. This, this, you realize, is exactly what you’d imagined: Feeling her against you, wrapped up tightly in her arms, being drawn in and freed all at once, struggling to contain the desire you feel pulsing within yourself. It’s like Larissa’s split open your mind and picked through every thought there, coming away with only the most indecent imaginings and putting them to use as her hips pitch forward and her hands grasp achingly at the roundness of your thighs.

“Open the door,” she husks, suddenly ripping herself away and turning you at the waist to face the door. You fumble for your keys as she scores your neck and shoulders with hot, open-mouth kisses, running the tip of her tongue along the muscle that pulls taut there.

“F-fuck.” The chuckle she gives in response to your whimpering, shaking when you can’t fit the key into its slot, only weakens you further. Larissa must know her effect well as she wraps an arm around you to hold you upright, the other grabbing the key from you and swiftly unlocking the door in one go.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Laughter follows you both as you take the stairs one at a time, pausing every few to take her tongue in your mouth and run your hands along her front. You bypass the living room once you reach the landing - a feat in itself - and lead Larissa straight to your bedroom, kicking one heel off in the hall and the other at the threshold of your room.

She stops you just before you reach the bed and holds you steady for a moment: “Hold on, I want to look at you..” You hair is mussed, curls losing their hold in the heat of your entanglement, chest heaving and red. Larissa steps forward to brush her thumb over your lips, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

She doesn’t find any.

“Christ, you’re a pretty thing,” she hums. The pad of her thumb pulls at your bottom lip and you acquiesce, tilting your chin up before taking her finger into your mouth, rolling your tongue against its tip, watching her with wide eyes that imply an innocence you don’t possess. A hiss escapes her when your teeth come down around her knuckle and she scowls, gripping your jaw with an intensity that rivets the surrounding atmosphere as she rips her hand away, smashing your lips together once more.

In the next second the backs of your knees are buckling against the edge of the mattress and you squeak; Larissa had slipped a hand over your sternum and shoved, launching you down hard into the bed. Wet heat urges your hips forward as she crawls over you, but her hands swiftly come down to force them back into the mattress, trapping you there.

“Patience, darling.” You scoff as she begins the journey down your body, placing lazy kisses to your lips, cheek, jaw, chest while her fingers deftly work to pull your dress from you. You lift your back so she can snake a hand around and drag the zipper down to its end at the top of your hips, wriggling free and moving to pull at her own dress–––but she grabs your wrists, pinning them above you with a devious smirk.

“Ah, ah. Let me spoil you,” she murmurs into the crook of your neck, one hand traveling to cup the dampness between your legs. Electricity cracks against your spine at her touch; you’re sweltering and freezing all at once, watching her eyes rake over you with a hunger you’ve never seen on her before. Her fingers draw idle circles around your clit as she works her way down your body, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake where tongue meets flesh, nipping at the precipice of your hip bones, glancing up at you before she licks you through your panties. There’s no helping the whine you turn free when she all but purrs at the taste she gets of you from the soaked fabric.

“Larissa, please,” you huff, lifting your hips up to meet her mouth. She takes three steps then in quick succession: chuckles into the skin of your inner thigh; pulls your panties down and off of you; and presses a series of messy, teasing kisses to your bare sex. Your fingers clutch at the top of your duvet as she finally begins to devour you, breath hitching as her tongue circles your entrance and delves into you. In a moment of white hot desperation, you hook your legs around her, calves flexing against her back as you shudder into her touch. She’s ravenous, consuming you with long, uninterrupted strokes that ride on the flat of her tongue, lapping your slickness up and winding into you all at once. The coil is tight within you already, pulsing with every movement of her mouth. You’re almost worried it’ll be over before it scarcely has had the chance to start, but a quiet, bemused voice in the back of your mind ridicules you: Larissa is nothing if not generous.

“You taste divine,” she breathes, before returning her ministrations to your clit, sucking and popping with the filthiest fucking moan you’ve ever heard. The feeling of her tongue against that tight bundle of nerves prompts your eyes to roll back, eyelids fluttering, and imbues your hands with a mind of their own, working them swiftly into her hair and pulling her as close to your cunt as you can get her, hips lurching in an unsteady rhythm. You can feel her amusement at your desperation as distinctly as you feel her mouth, but it’s quickly forgotten when she slides two fingers into you with an ease that makes you lightheaded. The sound of your wetness is sinful, and you have to admit it only spurs you on.

“Fuck me, fuck me, pleasefuckme––” Larissa’s grinning against you as she pumps her fingers, curling into you with a startling accuracy that leaves you breathless and aching. You press your cheek to your shoulder in a feeble attempt to keep yourself above the threshold dividing pleasure and bliss, useless as she slips another finger into you and flicks her tongue against you, quickening her pace as she follows the mounting tone of your pleas. Every touch spreads a warmth through you impossible to ignore, stirring a frantic need beneath the surface of your skin.

“Cum for me, darling, cum for me, that’s right.” Larissa presses the heel of her hand into the space just below the swell of your stomach and the coil snaps suddenly, sharply, sucking all of the air out of you at the same time that you yelp and tense with equal force, clamping around her face as your orgasm tears through you. She continues to lap at you even as your hands push at her, holding fast to your thighs to keep her place. Your legs shake as she builds you up in the same breath that you’re coming down, a second orgasm already rearing its head.

“I can’t,” you keen, but Larissa shakes her head and unlatches briefly to disagree.

“Yes you can, Y/N––be a good girl for me.” It washes over you when she lowers her face again and wraps her lips around your clit, sucking with an unfazed firmness that shocks you to your center. You’re tingling over every limb, pacing your breaths to ride you through this second crest. “That’s it..” Larissa coos, running her hand over your leg comfortingly. You can hardly breathe as the shockwaves roll through you one after the other, and the darkness of the ceiling above you seems to double in size as you stare in a daze.

Your muscles melt into the mattress one by one, sinking deep as Larissa finally pulls her head away and crawls forward to kiss you; you can taste your slickness on her tongue, familiar and tangy. When you part, gasping for air, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and press your foreheads together, gazing up into her eyes with the softest look you can muster after so thoroughly falling apart in her hands.

“My turn?” She laughs loud and heartily at your doe-eyed demeanor. You’re itching to touch her, to taste her, and she knows it.

“Mmm, maybe.” Larissa shrugs and rises up from her position over you, sliding off to the side of the bed where you can’t reach her––and not for lack of trying. A whine catches in your throat when she shoots a withering look over her shoulder, patting the space beside her. “Help me with my dress, darling.”

You waste no time in flipping over onto your knees, shuffling over to her and grappling with the zipper of her dress. You flush when she laughs both at your inability to get it down in one swift motion and the frustrated little growl that bubbles up from your chest.

“Not funny,” you complain, gritting your teeth as she shifts and the zipper gives, revealing the smooth, snowy expanse of her back. Instilled with a renewed sense of hunger, you push the fabric away from both of her shoulders and continue the journey down and around to her breasts, thrilled she’s forgone a bra tonight as you palm the supple flesh there and roll her nipples between your fingers. The sigh she expels is a ragged one, her hands dwarfing yours whilst her head falls back against your shoulder. You revel in the sight of her lip caught between her teeth.

“I want to fuck you.” You just barely catch it in between her labored breaths and your own thunderous heartbeat, but you do, and you turn to glance at her curiously before her meaning hits you square in the face.

“But––”

She cuts you off. “I want to destroy you, Y/N. You can taste me later,” Larissa mutters, pivoting without another warning and capturing your lips again. You wouldn’t complain if it weren’t for the utter distress you felt to get your hands on her. She doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, however, as she slips out of her dress and climbs over you, guiding your hands to grip her ass. “Later, I promise.” She pulls back to appraise you, taking a rigorous inventory that she’ll commit to memory if it’s the last thing she does: Your flushed skin, the way you can’t keep still under her touch, the unmistakable shine of desire in your eyes.

“In th-the nightstand,” you stammer. Suddenly the realization that Larissa is here, in your bed, and you, at her mercy, is too much at once. You’re trembling with need and anticipation. She tilts her head at you, one second, two passing before she follows your guidance and pulls the drawer open, grinning wickedly at what she finds there.

“Harness?”

You nod vigorously, propping yourself up on your elbows and directing her through another drawer of your dresser. The slow, methodical way in which she fastens the leather around herself surely burns itself into your brain, and you can’t help the shameless moan that seeps out when she smooths an indulgent layer of lubricant along the silicone from base to tip, a delicious sight between her legs.

Larissa approaches with an emphasized swing to her hips, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips before she nudges you to scoot back into the middle of the bed, positioning herself above you with a hand on either side of your head. She dips her face down into the hollow of your throat.

Her voice vibrates against you despite her hushed tone. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

Your brain short-circuits at her words, imperfect timing. God, she’s fucking hot.

She lifts her head again to catch your gaze and smirks, nibbling on the tip of your chin. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” you rasp, drawing your nails down the broad expanse of her back in anticipation.

The moment she slides into you is pure ecstasy: your toes curl and you haphazardly clamber for purchase upon her skin as she buries herself deep within you, stalling for a few moments to give you time to adjust. The way Larissa groans into the motion draws out an amusing - filthy - rumination about her being able to feel every stroke as with her own body, delighting in your wetness. She fills you seamlessly, snapping her hips against you before slowly drawing herself back, only to repeat the pattern and plunge into you as deeply as she’s able. It’s bruising and pleasurable all at once, how she brushes up against your walls and the ridges of the toy hit what your mind insists is every nerve-ending within you.

You rock together desperately, bodies moving as one as if you’d been doing this for centuries, mapping each other out and bringing each other to your peak. You savor the novel, tangled scent of sweat and arousal, a newly formed association with the sound of Larissa’s broken whimpers now frozen in your psyche.

A startled breath leaves you as Larissa abruptly anchors her weight to one side and pulls you on top of her, flipping your positions. Her arms wrap tight around you, looped at your back and around your shoulder as she fucks up into you at a crushing pace. You whine into the crook of her neck and realize you’re on the verge of tears, an overwhelming wave of pleasure and desperation wracking your body. Quiet grunts accompany her each thrust, slowing just so until it’s a steady pattern you can count to like clockwork, brutal and sharp at every buck of her hips. Your knees are aching, folded as they are, but the tight, coiling sensation within you overrides any and all discomfort, merely a quiet nagging in your brain; your focus is settled precisely on the angle of her cock and how her nails dig into your skin as you grind against each other. She’s close, too. You can feel it. It’s there in the shallowness of her breaths, in the urgency of her pelvis against yours, in the subtle arch of her back. You try to meet her where she’s at in your muddled state, pitching your hips backwards and down when she thrusts upwards––and you know it’s worked when she gasps and her hands scramble to lock together at the small of your back.

“Yes, that’s it darling. Just like that,” Larissa pants, using the leverage of her hold on you to help you fuck yourself. The only sounds permeating the room are that of your mingled breaths and her cock driving into you with a consistent, almost unforgiving rhythm.

“Pleasepleaseplease, ohfuck––”

“Y/N–––”

She tenses with you and cries out as your orgasms hit you both at once, ravaging you beyond reason. You’re hyper-aware of the way her breasts feel pressed against you, the way one of her hands flies up to bury itself in your hair as you ride her through your climax. Larissa’s hips stutter as she whines into your shoulder, sinking her teeth into you, and you marvel at the feeling of her muscles clenching around you, from the sinewy stretch of her arms to her thighs rested between your own.

Everything you’d hoped for. Fantasized about. Greedily deliberated again and again whilst watching her across the table in another fancy restaurant in another unfamiliar town.

Larissa is careful as she pulls out of you, slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tenderness there. You remain curled on top of her but she doesn’t complain, rather rubbing your back in long, languid movements and whispering affirmations in you ear, a sweet mixture of ‘breathe darling, I’ve got you’ and more headily, ‘you did so well for me, you’re so good, you took me so well’. When you allow yourself to fall to the side of her, she shimmies out of the harness and tosses it somewhere off the edge of the bed, ignoring its clatter as she wraps you up in her arms. You burrow yourself further into her warmth and sigh at the feeling, content.

“Now is it my turn?” you ask, voice low and raked over with exhaustion. The belly laugh she gives is worth all the weariness in the world. “You’re incorrigible!”

#i also tried not to dive too deep into any specific kinks since there was no request for any #i think what i’m gonna do is add to my masterlist what kinks i will and won’t write and go from there!#that way ppl can request as they please :)#if anyone has any constructive/technique-specific comments on the smut pls send them my way!!#i have a tendency to be super explanatory/forward in a way that i don’t think always works for smth so intimate #so i’d love any help i can get!#ANYWAYSSSSS enjoy #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x f!reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #principal weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #answered (request)#wasjustred

2K notes · View notes

petermorwood · 6 months

Text

Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)

Long ago, @dduane and I had a Whirlpool combi microwave - micro, grill, fan oven - and It Was Great, big enough to use as a proper oven when what needed cooked in a proper oven was small enough that powering up the big proper oven in the cooker was a bit much.

Still with me...?

IIRC it was one of those Christmas presents where Mum, ever-practical, told us; "get yourselves something really useful but not too expensive (I did say practical!) and I'll go halves."

In 2016, after something like 15 years of pretty-well daily use for one thing and another, the old thing expired by stages, micro first, grill second, oven last - it made great bread up until the end - and went to recycling heaven.

*****

We couldn't find a one-for-one replacement (we needed a free-standing counter-top appliance, everyone was selling built-in), so until once was available (optimism) we bought an ordinary microwave.

NB, this and its successors were only used for ordinary microwave things like reheating, defrosting and dealing with freeze-cook stuff. They got nothing like the amount of use of the old combi, mostly because of being incapable of doing a lot of it. As things turned out, this didn't help much.

About eighteen months later, we had to buy another. If a microwave's enamel interior develops a crack (to this day I don't know how), moisture gets in, rust begins and the enamel pulls off the bare metal. That's when you get "sparking".

This demo is deliberate; believe me, when it's unexpected it's even worse.

youtube

A private welder show or lightning storm at the end of the kitchen counter when all you want is a hot cuppa is distinctly unsettling. Also, it's only going to get worse, and we could imagine - boy, could we - what "Much Worse" might look like.

To the recycle dump!

(NB, micros with stainless steel interiors don't seem to do this, probably because they're already tuned to deal with the bare metal.)

The replacement, another ordinary micro, Just Up And Died after eighteen months and, guess what, the quote for a check-up and replacements-if-required was as much as the price of a new one.

(Inkjet printers seem to operate on this principal too.)

To the recycle dump again!

We got a third new one (which BTW is still running just fine, because it's been downgraded to Extra, read on), totalled up what we'd spent on ordinary microwaves, said a few well-chosen words about planned obsolescence and the "Vimes 'Boots' Theory of Economic Inequality" and got ourselves a pre-pay credit card whose top-ups were dedicated to Get A Combi Again.

We didn't bother with GACA baseball caps.

That would have been silly.

I don't know if these cards exist in the USA; we treat them as the modern version of a piggy-bank...

...except that to get at the money you need two people acting in accord.

*****

And in 2021 we got one.

Okay, this next bit is going to read like an ad.

It isn't, because the appliance is discontinued. (Whirlpool FINALLY do something similar but not identical.) It's just enthusiastic users discovering there's even more to a gadget than expected.

*****

The New One even bigger than the old one, which had 28 litres capacity; the new one was 33 L (was .99 ft³, is now 1.16 ft³). In non-tech terms, wow, More Room To Cook In.

Reading the figures was no help (to me, anyway) in visualising what a maw the thing had, but opening the door did that and no mistake.

I said something to DD about "bite radius"...

...and she instantly responded with "anyway, we delivered the bomb".

We're a quotesy household. ;->

BTW, The New One does a very good job on seafood, too...

*****

Since we got this, almost exactly two years ago, we've used it from reheating tea to roasting meat to making chilli / goulash / stew / curry (you can run the oven / grill separately or add simultaneous zaps of microwave for much less cooking time) to baking bread.

One of the best things about it is that when the set cooking time is done, the appliance switches off automatically. No risk of busyness, absent-mindedness or out-in-the-garden-ness ending in clouds of smoke, ruined food and possibly even worse.

As for breadmaking, it has a dough-rise setting which is a Time Machine, reducing a two-hour "doubled in size" rise time to about 35-45 minutes...

It also has the most reliable Defrost Butter setting either of us have ever encountered, turning a rock-solid butter brick from the freezer into something spreadable while never - to date - doing the "never mind a butter-knife, give me a spoon or a paintbrush" thing.

*****

However...

There's also a "Chef Setting" where there are some simple recipes. Here's the pastry page.

Basically, you assemble and mix the ingredients, input the correct settings and the machine does all the timing, heating and cooking.

We'd never used this until yesterday, when DD said, "Let's try the sponge cake..."

Yes, this post was entitled "Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)..." and here we are...

We did all the measuring correctly and checked it by pouring the mixture into a baking container while on the scale, wondering betimes why the recipe says 900g, the ingredients total 925 and what actually poured into the container reads 906... Weird. Really weird.

Then we put the container into the oven, entered the correct code, and let things do what they were going to do.

A little later we discovered something else about the recipe besides a weight anomaly.

It didn't mention the required size of the container. Or or how much the mixture was likely to rise.

It rose...

Let's say more than we expected...

The fluted ceramic container used for baking this one makes it look like a Vesuvius cupcake; not quite a pyroclastic flow, but a lot of flow regardless.

Once it cooled we separated the sponge-cake from the escaped sponge in the same way as sculptors work with wood or marble - "Chip away everything that doesn't look like a cake" - and found that despite its misshapen looks, it tasted pretty good.

So today DD made another, this time using a larger container.

...and this time it stayed put until removed using the cunning base-and-lifting-straps of baking parchment.

It's not the loftiest or best-risen sponge cake either of us have ever seen (a smaller-diameter higher-sided container would probably deal with that) BUT if there's something needing sponge cake in a hurry - this went from cupboard ingredients to done and cooling in less than 55 minutes - that treatment seems to fit the bill.

We're now wondering what other secrets lurk in the simple recipe pages; falafel, quiche Lorraine, stuffed peppers, even Flammkuchen* from scratch.

(*Though I have my own views about Flammkuchen, mostly involving a plane flight...)

And we'll be paying a lot more attention to what size of dish we put them in. :->

#food and drink #kitchen appliances #combi microwaves #sponge cake #anecdotage #GNU Terry Pratchett #Youtube

272 notes · View notes

sukimas · 6 months

Text

On Shrine Maidens, Gods, and the History of Gensoukyou

My personal opinion is that shrine maiden #13 (from the PCB prologue) is Reimu's predecessor; the attitude that she holds is similar to PC-98 Reimu's, in that both seem to be aware of youkai as a problem but neither act especially threatened by them. The "kind of an airhead" trait seems to be common among shrine maidens.

Now, why do I think that she's the thirteenth shrine maiden since Gensoukyou was founded, specifically? That's primarily because the Hakurei Shrine has... well... a lot wrong with it in the modern day. A god of youkai extermination is working alongside youkai.

Explicitly not for the purposes of youkai extermination, at that:

You could see them as a collaborator in the Gensoukyou project, except for this:

If they were aware and a willing architect of Reimu's job being just "to balance between humans and youkai" rather than "to tend the shrine", it would be hard for them to be angry because she's always off doing her job. I think it's quite likely that they're angry about the fact that A.) They've been forgotten entirely and B.) Their shrine maiden is working with youkai instead of exterminating them.

There's another piece of the puzzle in terms of their role in Gensoukyou:

A youkai calling the Hakurei Shrine her shrine. Not "our" shrine, like you'd expect if the Hakurei God was a collaborator on this project- Yukari's shrine specifically. (Of course, we can conclude from the "god of youkai extermination" and "the god of this shrine is angry" comments that Yukari isn't a god playing at being a youkai, either.) The Hakurei Shrine, as it currently stands, is something that you can consider an "artificial creation of youkai."

Rinnosuke comes to a similar conclusion.

So, the Hakurei Shrine is a defiled mockery of a shrine, that much is true. But what does that have to do with shrine maiden lifespans? Well, if the shrine was created in its current form alongside Gensoukyou, that implies about 140 years of history. (138, to be specific, but let's not bother with the details. This will still be on my blog by 2025, hopefully.) We get the 13th Hakurei shrine maiden's inscription (presumably before the year 1996, since she's not Reimu.) describing the current conditions of Gensoukyou as similar to those of the PC-98 games.

However, how do we know that she's the 13th shrine maiden since Gensoukyou was created, rather than simply since the Hakurei Shrine was founded? Well, it's a simple process of inference. The Hakurei Shrine prior to Gensoukyou as it is today was likely a proper youkai-exterminating shrine.

That it has become what it is now is a surprising discontinuity.

There aren't any records that remain to tell what the Hakurei God's name is, which is somewhat odd; you'd think that in a land which has been known as a place where youkai extermination is necessary for hundreds of years, people would remember that there was a god of it.

That is to say, the records probably didn't just stop being kept; they were probably deliberately lost, or destroyed. But we have the 13th Hakurei Shrine Maiden's inscription of Gensoukyou's current state- so it isn't like all records of what happen with the shrine disappear.

It's easy to infer, under these conditions, what happened. The god of youkai extermination, losing influence as youkai also lost influence, had a shrine that nobody visited any more. Youkai viewed that shrine as a good keystone for the barrier surrounding Gensoukyou, due to its location, and revived it, beginning a new series of shrine maidens entirely; the first Hakurei shrine maiden was, of course, the first since that revival. The god in there didn't gain anything from this, of course; there's no reason for the youkai to allow it to, and in fact it would be quite inconvenient if people knew the shrine's blessing was really youkai extermination.

But 14 shrine maidens is quite a lot in 140 years. That's an average tenure of a little more than 9 years per shrine maiden! (Excluding Reimu, it's around 8.5). It was, of course, a fairly dangerous job prior to the spell card rules; we don't know how dangerous, though. Or do we?

Thank you very much, Komachi, for solving the mystery of the shrine.

#touhou #怪 #hakurei god #(i GUESS miette is technically here.)#gensoukyou meta

159 notes · View notes

misomiho · 8 months

Text

now playing..

𝙍𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

☆Part 1, Part 2

Genre and TW: Sfw, Angst with comfort. Mentions of blood and body parts.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Medic!Reader

A/N: Satoru is an asshole, please bear with him :D

✩Synopsis: After Gojo Satoru found out about your cursed technique and your connections with the higher ups, he'd sworn you were his nemesis, will reconciliation happen or will your relationship go back to square one?

Having immense capabilities and strength comes with great responsibility and discipline upon oneself, even if you were deemed strongest, those below you still deserves respect but for someone, those were rules that he thinks could potentially hinder him from his true power.

Apparently it is the inevitable that you somehow will still lack respect for others, you choose who to get along with and sneer at people you don't get along with even if their ranks were heavens above you.

A cocky grin, if Satoru Gojo were to be described as per characteristics: its cocky, if Satoru Gojo were to be a form of the lips: it's grin, if someone were to ask who Satoru Gojo is it's: an asshole with a cocky grin, even if that doesn't make any sense perhaps those who were asked that question could somehow not escape the young man's signature emotion plastered on his face all the time.

"Huh?! another reverse curse technique user?" a loud voice boomed over jujutsu high early in the morning where the cliche sing song of birds were discontinued, luckily there wasn't many students at such school because peculiar students seem to only enter it's grounds with one goal in mind: to become a respectable sorcerer.

"Calm down Satoru, it isn't the end of the world that someone else has the same ability as Shoko.." a disappointed sigh escaped Suguru knowing the fact that his prideful ego is through the roof sometimes.

"It is tho Suguru! those nasty brats stealing Shoko's techniques..I wil- ouch!" unbeknownst to him, the slap in the back of his head was from an irritated brunette watching the scene unfold infront of her.

"Why are you so childish? that first year is my assistant and what were you supposed to do..huh?!" a slap and a menacing glare was enough to silence the white haired boy, who knew the calm healer of jujutsu high was this scary.

"S-suguru..help me" Satoru pleaded, sparkling stars popped out of nowhere while glistening can be heard, much to his dismay Suguru was already backing away while forming an 'X' with his hands to simply imply he's not helping.

"Tch.. getting beat up by a healer was probably the dumbest thing a human could hear.." his blue eyes travelled upwards to look at the swelling on his head while one arm kept rubbing the stinging sensation of a slap at the back of his neck.

"I already knew it was bad to tell you about that information, I'm probably gonna see you next time scaring off the juniors in their building" Suguru shook his head, his hands busy too with weights of ice pack for his friend.

"I'd probably do something more than that"

"This is why no one takes you seriously"

Satoru groaned at the continuous scolding and reminders of his friend from the fact that he is indeed disrespectful towards anyone.

"Why are you saying that as if you don't do the same?"

"You're literally much worse..!"

"Yet you're still doing the same..?!"

Fortunately for them, this school was thrice bigger than normal schools in Japan where students counts as low as 20, no one can hear them bickering except for the gust of winds and rattling of trees.

"Excuse me..?" a voice abruptly made them stop their rambling, you were standing there dumbfounded as to why two grown men are arguing to each other, you have medical supplies heavy on your hands and you want to go pass them when they are completely blocking the way.

"Oh sorry.." both teenagers said in unison while each taking a step back to let the poor girl make her way towards her destination.

"Wait.. aren't you the first year assistant that Shoko was talking about?" you heard the 'man' called out to you while mentioning your mentor's name, you assumed that these two were the other second years that Shoko was talking about.

You smiled a bit to be more approachable since these two are practically your seniors, "Yes I am, I heard about the two of you from Ms. Ieri herself"

A snort came out of someone from behind the 'bangs' guy. What's up with you and the nicknames anyways. You began your silly little construction of names for the other guy too in which you came up with 'snort' guy. Yeah that fits.

"I can't believe Shoko is getting called 'Ms.'"

the snort guy stuttered out in which you even found more confusing because your mentor was fine with everything you call her.

Because of the unbearable weight from your items, you gently dropped them on the ground as to persist yourself to have a small chat with your new acquaintances.

"I don't see anything wrong with calling my mentor 'Ms.'"

"M-mentor..?!" the white haired guy snorted even more which is you guessed quite humourous of yourself because he was slapping his knees as if he were an npc character from a game.

"Sorry.. don't mind this guy, he's a little bit of an asshole which is why your mentor taught him a lesson" the bangs guy smiled innocently while pointing his fingers at the visible swelling on top of Satoru's head. At least this one's more sensible.

"God this girl is funny, anyways who is she again?"

"You're really not paying any attention huh? she's Shoko's assistant"

"Statement withdrawn"

You just stood there blinking your eyes rapidly as to why this guy is glaring at you with his mouth formed into a pout, should you leave? your presence might be uncomfortable for him assuming from the way he responded to the other guy.

"Sorry again, this guy is just insecure because he couldn't harness reverse cursed technique as easily as you"

"Don't speak over me Suguru..!" this snort guy crossed his arms and continued to stare daggers at you, if those were literal daggers, your body would've been mutilated.

"Oh it's okay, I couldn't handle my technique properly because it works differently from Ms. Ieri so the principal just made me her assistant temporarily" you darted your eyes down to your materials, tons of medical equipments to use.

The black haired guy understood right away and offered to shake your hand for an official introduction, "I'm Suguru, Geto Suguru and this guy.." he glanced behind him to signal that Satoru should introduce himself too.

Much to your dismay, your offered hand to him was left hanging in the air. The man just walked past you even making sure your shoulder bump which was what upset you more.

You made sure to put a mental note about asking Shoko what this lily guy's name is, even if he's angry at you especially that you did nothing wrong, you're still curious about him.

Suguru sighed and made an apologetic smile towards you, "That guy is Gojo Satoru, that's just how he is when he's meeting people, I'm sure he'll warm up to you in the next few days"

"Gojo Satoru..? I've heard that name many times and I'm sure yours too, you guys are grade 1 sorcerers whose often tasked to high ranking missions" you held up your fingers at your chin to ponder more about when you heard their names before.

"I was actually surprised you didn't recognize us" Suguru tilted his head a bit and chuckled.

"Oh sorry.. I'm always isolated at the basement for my lessons from Ms. Ieri, I don't go to missions since it's dangerous but the higher ups always shows up for evaluation"

You immediately slapped a hand to your mouth when words were spilling out like water out of you, mentally cursing yourself out for telling that much information.

Suguru glanced at you with narrowed eyes.

Isolated..? why are higher ups even involved and what evaluation?

"Don't worry, I won't tell other people even Shoko"

There were numerous questions waiting to be answered in Suguru's mind yet he forced himself shut and kept himself relax to not scare you off, what you just said is valuable information and questioning you more may stir up more problems. He doesn't want to be involved within the higher ups.

Your sigh of relief is enough to confirm Suguru's thoughts, you are someone important to the higher ups.

You extended your gratitude and hurrily grabbed your materials to continue your way towards your mentor, not forgetting to say your name before you parted ways with your new acquaintance.

Suguru just couldn't keep you off his mind, telling Satoru about that information would probably frustrate him even more.

The corridor's wooden floor creaked even more with Satoru's each step, sunlight peeked through the transparent windows while he adjusts his blue sunglasses.

Focused on the slow moving clouds with an annoyingly blue bright sky lighter than his eyes, he didn't notice you until your body made contact him, he didn't move an inch while the person infront of him stumbled a bit.

You glanced up expecting each of you to apologize in which you went ahead first but a sneer greeted you instead, you sweat dropped but you didn't mind him. Maybe he isn't a morning person despite the radiance illuminating through him.

"Oh it's you.." you mumbled as eyes shined in recognition towards the person infront of you which irked him for some reason.

Suguru probably told her about me, that guy really..

Satoru groaned while you stood there dumbfounded, "Yeah yeah, you probably heard my name from that guy"

No apologies.

This man is the worst.

Somehow universe has it's own way of bounding you to meet the person you least wanted to meet. The next few weeks were starting to get worse and worse.

Shoko somehow convinced you stay with her in their classroom for the next few weeks since first years were being sent for different missions anyways, her lazy nature doesn't want to walk over the first year buildings just to get you.

nor can she convince Satoru to warp there and get you. Obviously.

The room was rather quiet when you got there, Suguru was waving his hands happily while shoko pointed at your seat which is unfortunately next to your nemesis, Satoru. Or his nemesis.

"Why is a first year in our building"

"I'm only here temporarily, don't worry"

"Ohh didn't knew she could talk dirty"

"My words aren't laced with sarcasm, it's the truth"

"Whatever"

Your approach was calm and relaxed on the other hand, Satoru is being straight up passive aggressive infront of you face.

He's the worst.

You decided to stay behind while your other three seniors bought their own lunch, you've decided that making your own healthy bento would benefit you more in harnessing your curse technique.

Your eyes narrowed down, you're tired of sickly green leaves.

What would cheesecake taste like?

That damned curse spirit wanted a healthy body-

You clenched your fists, blood seeped out while curse energy of color purple surged through.

"Your curse energy is spilling out"

That voice snap you out of it, a familiar white locks leaned into the doorframe observing your every move, you dart your eyes around the room, to Satoru and to your hands. They're healed.

"If you can't handle things in here, just quit"

He doesn't have the right to say that.

..Truly the worst.

You hum in thought thinking about your first meeting and all the unpleasant interactions you two both had.

Months have gone by and reconciliation will never be in your vocabulary nor in Satoru's.

It's training day, Shoko ordered you to look after the two teenagers as if you were babysitting in case one of them may get injured. In reality, your mentor just wants her smoke break.

Would they even get injured? considering how strong they are..I mean.

The sunlight wasn't bad today and the soft rustle of trees provided some refreshing wind, you sat by a shed watching Satoru and Suguru train.

"I don't want her reverse cursed technique, just teach me already!"

"it's like swoosh, woosh, swoosh, I kept saying it to you guys yet you aren't listening.."

You slightly caught yourself grinning at the memory earlier when Satoru refused your help and insisted Shoko help him with her technique. It was rather funny.

Out in the middle of the field, ocean eyes watched you from his peripheral vision while you're daydreaming.

What's she laughing about?

How can she sit there and laugh-

"Satoru...you're bleeding" Suguru whispered at his friend

"You're distracted that's why, miss medic please treat Satoru's bleeding..!" Suguru shaped his hand to cup his mouth and called for you in which you responded with a nod.

Seeing that his baffled white haired friend was standing still, staring down at his bleeding hand, he took this opportunity to edge him even more about you.

"Or were you distracted because of her?" Suguru narrowed his eyes and a wicked smile was plastered on his face.

"No way!" he retorted, slowly but surely, a blush crept up upwards spreading all across his cheeks and ears.

"Yes way, medic please hurry, he might die" he fired back.

"I'll force myself to learn reverse cursed technique"

That man really...cannot let go of his prideful ego, you've tried every ways of communication yet ending up again in another heated argument Suguru will stop. Satoru started all of them. Where did all of this even started? you just wished that you weren't ordered by Shoko that day to deliver those materials. That way you would've not met him.

His blabbering was shut off when you grasped his arm gently to observe the profuse bleeding, "Let me see?" your eyes glanced up at him.

When did you even get there?

He shook off your hand like nothing, "I don't need your help"

He walked off to God knows where, you won't be surprised if that stubborn head of his will forcibly learn reverse cursed technique.

Suguru sweat dropped, slowly regretting the awkward situation he made. He tried to comfort you by placing a hand on your shoulder but before he can even place it, you followed Satoru.

"These two...why can't they just make out or something?"

"Gojo!"

You weren't a friend of his to call him by his first name nor were you even an acquaintance, you're probably a stranger in his eyes.

He looked back at you with a scowl, "What do you want?"

"Why do you even hate me so much? did I do something wrong? Is it because of my technique-

Because of the continuous bleeding, Satoru can't think straight and blurted out words that his mouth will probably regret, "I hate people who worship the higher ups like they were some kind of God especially a person like you who follows them around like a dog"

Your eyes widen, that isn't true, if anything you hated those higher ups.

So this is what he's getting worked up for? is he jealous of you? but even so, you can't blame him.

You were always nowhere to be found and you were transferred in the middle of the year, that was suspicious enough.

You were untrustworthy in his eyes.

"You don't know what you're talking about"

"I don't know that your connections got you here in this school?"

He's in the moment, saying whatever he can come up with. He wanted to stop yet he can't shut his damn mouth off.

You took a step and grabbed ahold of his collar, it wasn't aggressive but it was enough to hold Satoru's mouth shut, "You..you don't know anything about me nor my past, I didn't want to be in this stupid school in the first place, I didn't want to be a healer nor did I want to be reduced to some kind of robot others can take advantage of..!"

You looked at him, your eyes were starting to sting out of all those pent up anger you've had for years, "I was cursed by a cursed spirit, in exchange for a huge abundance of curse energy used for reverse cursed technique, that damned curse would take chunks of my body like it was nothing, flesh, skin, tooth, fingernails, blood, ears, eyes"

Everything it wanted

"Things will heal like nothing but the pain I've felt for years as if my body is missing something would always hunt me forever"

"I need to always keep myself healthy, that my vision should be clear, that there's no cavity in my mouth, that there's no disease that could potentially displease it, as if I'm being sacrificed to a cannibal"

Silence enveloped the both of you.

Satoru took ahold of your hand and intertwined them with his as if a puzzle were connecting them both.

Satoru never knew any of those, he just heard that the higher ups were protective of you like you were some kind of trophy that needs to be shined every day.

Satoru's pride was overwhelmed with guilt yet words were never spoken. Is he just gonna eat his words just like that?

No.

He took your hand and pushed you towards his embrace, you never said anything but comply.

His actions contradicted the things he has said and done but he knows repenting for it would never be enough.

Satoru just held you in his arms, asking forgiveness for 1 million ways will come later, for now let him feel the pain you've endured for years.

→ Part 2

#Gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo angst #jjk gojo

238 notes · View notes